Chapter X

Over the following weeks, life continued on much the same. During the times I was with Lukas, Leah, and the others, my mother believed I was studying or hanging out with Anton, the thought of which began to eat away at my conscience. Because of this, I tried to secretly make it up to her by becoming more invested in church when we began to attend the local parish.

I’ll never forget the first day I met Father Matthias. I had eagerly expressed to Mama that I wanted to finally get around to finishing my preparations for my Confirmation, so she spoke with one of the other priests and he introduced me. It was a Sunday afternoon, warm light slanting in through the windows of the church study hall. Other people studied quietly at the rows of tables, while Father Matthias sat at a desk in the back.

He was a younger man, with thin brown hair and solemn dark eyes. When he glanced up to see the other priest heading over with me in tow, he regarded us with a sort of caution.

“Father Matthias,” the other priest began, “this is Milo. His family’s new to the diocese and he’s interested in studying for his Confirmation. Milo, this is Father Matthias. He helps counsel all those who’re studying their catechism.”

I impelled a self-conscious smile.

“Thank you,” Father Matthias said to his colleague, who gave a friendly nod before walking away and leaving us. Father Matthias then looked to me with an odd squint. “How old are you?” he asked.

“Sixteen.”

“And you’re only now starting your Confirmation?” 

I couldn’t tell if the question was one of derision or curiosity, so I spoke fast, attempting to explain. “Well, I started back when I was thirteen, but I got distracted a lot, then my father got sick and we were really busy, and then my father died and that’s why we moved, and now that we’re here I figured I’d get working on it again.” 

Father Matthias stared at me, speechless. He blinked, the realization hitting him. “I apologize,” he sputtered. “I didn’t mean to seem insensitive — I just — um — please, take a seat.” 

       I clumsily pulled out a chair and did as suggested. Father Matthias leaned forward.

“Your father’s passing,” he said, “how long ago was it?”

“Three months,” I replied, and it felt unreal to even quantify it with time. It seemed simultaneously as if it had happened both days before and years before. Three months. 

“I’m sorry that happened.” Father Matthias sighed, looking down at all the books he had strewn about his desk. “I know it’s a platitude to say he’s in a better place and all that, so I’ll just ask you how you’re doing.”

“I’m —” I stopped myself. I was going to say I’m fine. Fine. But that  would’ve also been a platitude, if not an outright lie. And how could I lie to a priest? “I’m not sure how I feel,” I admitted. “I know how maybe I should feel, but it’s — it’s more complicated than that…”

Father Matthias pursed his lips. “Would you say that confirming yourself in the Church was something your father expected of you, and now that he’s gone you’re doing it to make up for lost time?”

I was surprised by the words. “I — I’m not sure,” I said.

“Well, when you find out, let me know. Taking the next step in your faith should be something you’re doing for yourself, not for anyone else.”

At first, I was confused, as that seemed antithetical to what he’d said earlier, but I learned rather quickly that Father Matthias was a complicated man.

“But, aren’t I starting so late?” I asked.

He shook his head dismissively. “Never mind that — we all get caught up in society’s expectations, don’t we? I misspoke — misjudged, really.”

A humble man, I thought. And that instantly set Father Matthias apart from others in my mind. “It happens,” I mumbled. 

“Look,” he continued, “we all have things we need to work on, and that’s the point of all this, isn’t it? Think about why you really want to go forward with your Confirmation, and you can tell me what you’ve thought of next week. Then we can start studying the catechism.”

I smiled and agreed, and for the next week, I really did think about it. Of course, my father had expected me to go forward with my Confirmation, and of course, he had expressed frustration about me dragging my feet over it, and of course, the thought of it all me feel guilty now that he was dead. But was that really the reason I was going through with it?

I thought about my mother, and how I really looked up to her.  Her faith was important to her, and she often dedicated time to helping out others with charity and volunteering. I thought that if my Confirmation was truly the next step, then she was the sort of Christian that I wanted to be. Of course, I was far from perfect and had many things to work through, but I hoped to become a better person by helping others.

Then I remembered how I’d been lying to my mother about hanging out with my friends, and I circled back to the guilt that had made me invested in church again in the first place. It seemed silly to lie about such a small thing, so at mass the next Sunday when I saw a familiar face, I decided to say hello. 

In a pew towards the front, I noticed Salomé instantly where she sat with a woman and two other girls who could only have been her mother and sisters. Initially, I hadn’t realized that other people weren’t sitting near them, almost as if they were inside some sort of invisible bubble. It was only in hindsight that it had occurred to me after what happened next.

I walked over to the pew. “Guten Morgen, Salomé!” I said cheerfully. “I didn’t know you went to church here.”

Salomé had a nervous look in her dark eyes, but she still smiled kindly. “Guten Morgen, Milo,” she replied. “It’s nice to see you.” 

My mother, noticing us, wandered over with Max, Lorelei, and Otto. “Is this a friend of yours, Milo?”

I nodded.

“We’re new to this parish,” my mother continued, looking to Salomé’s mother, who just smiled awkwardly but remained quiet. I noticed the sisters had uneasy expressions on their faces as they glanced past me. A quick look over my shoulder showed me it was Otto they were put off by. His eyes were narrowed as he regarded them all with contempt. Mama noticed his demeanor too, and before she could say more, he skulked away. 

“Well,” Mama said, trying not to seem flustered, “we better go find a seat.” 

The rest of us followed uneasily after Otto and sat down at what had become our usual pew over the last few months. 

“That was a little rude,” Mama said aside to him.

He ignored her, turning his attention to me instead. “Where do you know that girl from?” he demanded in a hushed tone. 

I tried to come up with the most innocuous way to explain it. “Oh, she  works at the clothing store I pass on the way home from school.” It was true, I just left out the more important details.

“What is she, a gypsy?” He almost spat the word.

The outburst startled me. Of course, I knew that Otto’s devotion to the Party meant he believed all their hateful ideas — but he usually kept such things to himself, probably because he knew Mama would have none of it. It was at that point that I realized why I felt compelled to be secretive about my friends. It wasn’t because of my mother, it was really because of Otto. Having a Sinti friend was one thing, but if he knew I had Jewish friends like Lukas and Leah, too? 

“Yeah,” I said, trying not to sound too indignant, “I think her family’s part gypsy. So what?”

Otto glared at me. “So you ought to choose your friends more wisely. Those people can’t be trusted, you know that.”

“Those people,” Mama said with venom in her voice, “are members of this church and they seem perfectly fine to me.” 

Otto shifted his glare from me to her, but didn’t say anything more. He just folded his arms, pouting for the rest of mass. Ever since he’d finally told Mama that he’d signed up for the Schutzstaffel, the two of them had become increasingly hostile with each other — especially at church. In fact, I don’t think Otto ever set foot inside St. Maria again after that. 

Later that same day, I met with Father Matthias again and told him I’d found my reason, just like he’d requested. He seemed to think it was sufficient, and I began my studying of the catechism. Just as I had recalled from my initial studies, it was mind-numbingly boring, but at least it helped me keep my thoughts off Otto for a bit. 

However, a few days later, my worries only returned. It was right after supper, and my younger siblings and I were sitting in the living room chatting with Mama as she worked on knitting a new scarf. We all looked up when we heard the creak on the staircase. It was Otto, and he was descending the stairs dressed up in his brand-new SS uniform. 

It was starkly black, which made him look even paler than usual. The buttons were polished silver and SS runes stood out like white thunderbolts  on his jacket. The only colors were the blood-red of the armband and the little bit of his undershirt’s tan collar that could be seen. In his hand, he held the peaked cap he hadn’t put on yet. It was adorned with the silver emblem of the eagle, a swastika in its clutches, and below that, the ominous skull and cross-bones. The Totenkopf.  

Upon seeing him, Mama could do little to hide her outrage, so she just turned her head away. Lorelei and Max smiled though.

“What do you all think?” Otto asked, grinning as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “I have my first meeting tonight.”

“It looks handsome on you, Otto,” Lorelei said, “but the all-black is a little dark and scary…”

“That’s the point, isn't it?” Mama observed with a sarcastic grunt. “To be more intimidating to all the people they’ll order you to push around?” 

I glanced back and forth between the two of them. Mama’s jaw was set defiantly, but so was Otto’s. They nearly had the same face, after all — and the same propensity for stubbornness. 

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that, Mama,” Otto said, and he really did sound upset by it. 

Mama gritted her teeth even more, her brown eyes burning furiously. She set aside her knitting, and I knew that meant she was now fully invested in this fight. 

“Please,” I begged, “can we just … not argue about this.”

Naturally, they both ignored me.

“I wish you would have reconsidered joining up with those ruffians!” Mama snapped.

“Ruffians!? You act like I’m still trying to join the Sturmabteilung. The SS is different! They hold themselves to a higher standard!” Otto took an infuriated breath, in a futile attempt to calm himself. “And I didn’t sign up to push people around.”

Mama stood up to look him square in the eyes. Next to me on the couch, Lorelei shifted restlessly, and Max fidgeted. 

“Why then, hm?” Mama demanded.

“Because I care about Germany! Because I want to make things better for us, for you, for your future grandchildren!”

“And you think this is the way to go about that?”

Otto paused, his lips pressed into a thin line. It seemed like he was really trying to hold himself back, but there was a tempestuous fervor behind his grey eyes. Mama stood her ground, waiting for whatever vitriol flowed past the dam anyway. 

“Tell me,” he went on, “have things not improved for Germany since the Führer became Chancellor?”

Mama simply glowered at him.

“We aren’t struggling to feed and clothe ourselves anymore,” Otto proclaimed, all pretense of self-restraint replaced by pure fanaticism. “We no longer allow ourself to be the League of Nation’s whipping boy. We’re now a force to be reckoned with and we’re greater than we’ve ever been! Would you really have us go back to how it was before?”

The living room was silent for a long moment after Otto’s tirade was finished. Mama said nothing, though it was obvious she wanted to. In the end, she just sighed, probably realizing that continuing to argue with him about this was a battle she’d never win. Tossing her hands up in defeat, Mama retreated to the kitchen. Max, a worried duckling, immediately followed after her. Lorelei exchanged a concerned look with me before also joining. 

That left Otto and I alone in the living room. There was now a look of genuine hurt in his eyes, and perhaps a twinge of guilt. He seemed to set that aside as quickly as possible though, forcing himself to smile as he adjusted the buttons on his jacket. 

“Why must you provoke her like that?” I asked him.

He aligned his last button and sighed. “I just want her to understand where I’m coming from,” he said. “I want what’s best for us, and I don’t want to stand on the sidelines any longer.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe Mama wants what’s best too, and you both just happen to disagree?” 

The worry painted on Otto’s face softened and he patted me on the shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Milo.” 

I bristled slightly at his touch, because his words struck me as infantilizing, but I kept quiet. Otto put on his cap and made his way to the door. 

“I don’t want to be late,” he told me. “Can you please tell Mama that I’m sorry?”

“Sure…”

        He smiled at that, then left. I had already decided I wouldn’t tell her a thing though. I was annoyed enough to let Otto settle his own issues with our mother since it was his ideals causing the tension in the first place. Besides — I just had to get out of there.