The Day the Flowers Died (24 page)

“How am I to acquire affidavits from America citizens? I don’t
even know anyone in America.” Eli’s brows arched.

“You told me Rebecca has an aunt.  You could request a
sponsorship letter from her.  You said Rebecca speaks of her
aunt highly, that she is a compassionate woman.” Eli nodded. 
“If she’ll write the letter for you, then you can present it to the
American Embassy in Germany.  In the meantime, while waiting
on the letter, you must assemble all the other documentation.”

“What about my marriage to Rebecca? Won’t that help?” Eli
asked.

“You’ve only just married her.  For American citizenship,
you’ll have to demonstrate your marriage to her for at least a year
or two.” Aaron shook his head and continued, “Even after all the
paperwork, you’ll still need to convince the American consuls and
the state department officials that you will be a benefit to their
economy, not a burden.”

Eli looked out the window, watched a few youths pass and then
returned his thoughts to Aaron.  “What about my family, my
parents and sisters?”

“They’ll have to undergo the same process and, even if you all
comply with the regulations, it doesn’t guarantee your visa will be
approved.” Aaron played with the papers on his desk, avoiding the
inconvenient truth.  Eli laid his hands over the mahogany desk
and moved close to Aaron.

“What does that mean?”

“There has been a steady increase in immigrants to
America.  Roosevelt has tightened restrictions on immigrant
policies to protect national safety and guard against an influx of
foreigners.  The President is fearful of the swollen
unemployment rates in America and doesn’t want immigrants taking
jobs from American citizens.  The quotas are low at just over
one hundred and fifty thousand immigrants for the year.”

Aaron’s face grew weary.  “This number includes everyone
from every country wanting to enter America.” Eli looked down at
his hands in Aaron’s response, hands once manicured but now
neglected.

“Compassion takes a back seat to protocol when the majority of
American citizens are opposed to refugees.  Anti-Semitism is
rampant in the general public and in many key governmental
offices.” Aaron stood and walked to his bookcase against the wall
to browse with his finger, tracing over the titles of books.

“But there is another way.” Aaron’s eyes hinted of a devious
idea.

“What?”

“The documentation can always be forged.” Aaron whispered the
last few words as if others might overhear.

“Forged?”

“If it comes to that; if you don’t hear from immigration or if
they deny your visa.”

“If I don’t hear from them?” Eli looked confused.

“I’ve heard visa processes have been slowing.  Immigration
is not inclined to do you any favors.”

“What about my family?” There was a hard swallow in Eli’s
throat.

“They should all start applying for visas now,” Aaron said, “but
if I were you, I wouldn’t wait on the American immigration
office.  I know the legal system like the back of my hand and
I would talk to Mr. Reiner.” Aaron whispered the name, but his
insistent tone led to many more questions in Eli’s mind.

“Mr. Reiner?”

“I will take you to him if you need me to.”

“Thank you.”

“Just promise me the two of you will get out of here.”

“I promise.”

* * *

Rebecca left the hospital on her lunch break and strolled up the
road with her friend who had become like a mother to her.  The
woman’s dark hair was rolled into a braid and she wore spectacles
for distance.  Rebecca guided her along the German cobblestone
sidewalks to the flower shop she frequented.

Rebecca wanted to pick up more of her favorite varieties since
the flowers she had were fading and the baby flowers outside the
apartment were mauled. Upon arriving, loud cries from an elderly
woman of the shop pervaded outside the shop’s broken glass window.
Glass was scattered all over the sidewalk and inside the shop. The
elderly woman sat wailing on her stool with flowers torn and ripped
up around her.  Rebecca rushed to her side, shielding her with
her own arms in an embrace.

“What happened?” Rebecca’s voice shook in panic and anger. 
Her friend stared at the destroyed shop, shaking her head in
disgust in the corner behind Rebecca.

“Nazi boys. My business ruined!” The woman’s jagged nose
reminded Rebecca of the nose she adored on Eli. “They had such
sinister smiles on their faces when they threw my flowers and pots
against the cement floor.” She held her mouth with her hand and
then told the rest of the story.  “They laughed while stomping
all over them.  My precious plants.” Her sobs kept her for a
moment.  “How can anyone delight in destroying a
livelihood?”

The older woman burst into more tears, but Rebecca had no
answers to offer and could only hold her in her arms, consoling her
in silence.  After a moment, Rebecca began lifting the broken
pots off the floor and her friend helped sweep the dead flowers
into a bag.  The broken glass cracked underneath their feet
until they swept it into another bag.  The woman’s shop stood
empty of flowers as she sat in hushed agony while Rebecca and her
friend departed to return to the hospital for work.

Work only provided a whole new set of problems for Rebecca.

Upon learning of her wedding to a Jewish man, her boss had given
her the snub nose every time he passed her.  Eyes that once
held a healthy respect for her now dimmed with slanted, tightened
edges of revulsion.  Rebecca would cordially smile and look
away, pretending to not notice the change in his demeanor. 
She wasn’t sure if he felt this way because she married a Jew or
because she married at all.  During the few encounters she had
with him, he hinted at being single and wondered if she was
available.  Rebecca had said no.

On top of this, an overflow of patients depended on a declining
staff, some of whom were asked to leave because of complaints to
their character or personality, though Rebecca knew it had more to
do with their heritage or sympathies.  The woman with long
blonde hair rarely said anything to her anymore, though they had
once been close friends.  Most of the doctors avoided her,
except for one who on occasion still enjoyed her discourse.

The hospital felt like the streets of Munich to Rebecca. 
There was no longer the fellowship among equals.  Care for the
patient no longer came above all else. Rebecca would see certain
patients fitting the Aryan profile given treatment first over
non-Aryan patients, though they may have entered the hospital
earlier.  She would see preferential treatment to blond haired
men and women to those with dark hair.

She couldn’t justify the rationale, though, not officially law,
it was practically a mandate by the Reich Chancellor.  Then
she wondered how long it would take for the Nazis to make it law,
not just social prejudice, not just something done because everyone
else did it, not just something done because you felt
threatened.

On her way home from work, she saw the streets mauled with Nazi
soldiers clinging to their structured forms, red twisted crosses,
and perverted ideals.  The streets to her smelled repugnant,
like raw sewage or burnt food, and she wanted to throw up. 
Looking at the German youth idealizing this man, this god to them,
marching in perfect rows up the streets made her want to weep.

She thought about all the generations of young boys and girls
who would grow up with ideas as twisted as the crosses they wore
and wondered how they would ever be taught something different,
something that would tell them this is not right.  The cab
drove her to her apartment building and she plodded up to the
steps, gazing at the dead flowers in the grass bed as she opened up
the door with its broken latch.  Her fingers fiddled over the
latch, reminding her of the first time she met Eli and how long ago
it seemed.  That thought stayed with her all the way up to her
room and kept her smiling.

She walked to her kitchen sink, wanting to fill her flower vases
with new water, but the flowers wilted and new water couldn’t
revive them.  Even the spring sun could not save them. 
She waited for Eli to come home from work and prepared dinner of
boiled potato and beans.  Meat was expensive and, without her
parent’s financial support or her father’s occasional slip of
money, she had to save every penny.

Eli also tightened his finances.  Though he worked for his
father so long as his father had the firm, Eli’s paychecks also had
to be cut.  Ezekiel’s firm had steadily declined since early
1932 and his employees felt this lack of income.  When Eli
walked into the room, the air lifted and the heavy weight of the
day disappeared.  Rebecca ran up to her Eli and allowed
herself a brief visit at his chest before he took off his trench
coat.  He could smell dinner and his nose enjoyed the
fragrance.

“What are you cooking?” Eli inquired.

“Nothing special; just beans and potatoes.”

“Still, it is the best beans and potatoes I have ever smelled,”
Eli joked and nudged Rebecca in the shoulder, drawing a taut smile
from her.  It was difficult for her to let go of the sadness
of her days.

“It will be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Good, gives me time to wash up first.” Eli washed his face in
the sink and then gave himself a mock bath with a washrag and a
little bit of water in the basin.  They tried to conserve
water usage.  He sat in the tub, mulling over what Aaron had
told him and considered if forging his family’s passport
documentation would be the best course of action.  He could
wait on his own papers, but he didn’t want to put their lives in
danger.

He needed to know they would be safe.  After he finished
his wash, he wore a comfortable tee shirt and pajama pant.  He
sat the table where two plates were ready to be filled with
dinner.  Rebecca carried the platter of food to the center and
plopped comfortably into her seat.

“Bon appetite!” She attempted a failed French accent which
sounded a cross between the hard German sound and the soft
Dutch.  Eli smiled and then his face froze in seriousness.

“Rebecca.” At his tone, Rebecca sat motionless in her chair.

“Yes?” Her eyes widened.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I’m listening.”

“I love you, and it is because I love you that I need you, I
need us to leave this country.” Rebecca reached, stretching her
hands to him.

“I’m not leaving without you.” Though he had said us, she needed
this fact to be very clear to him.

 “I wouldn’t want you to.” He consoled her worry, “but I
need to request your passport from the American Embassy to show you
have dual citizenship.  Your passport is the only way you can
get out of Germany and to America.  I will need documentation
to verify it is you.”

“America?”

“You have family there, your Aunt Martha.  I remember you
telling me about her once.”

“And what about you?” Rebecca’s concern quickly transferred to
Eli.

“Aaron and I’ve talked about it.” Eli cleared his throat, “I’ll
send another letter to your aunt for her support in sponsorship to
say I’ll be staying with her.  While I wait for her response,
I’ll send my documents to the American Embassy here in
Germany.  I have to show my marriage certificate contract and
my financial statements and acquire some papers from the German
police.”

“What if it’s not enough?” Rebecca’s heart jumped and her calm
disposition became nervous.

“It will be,” Eli encouraged, but he knew the chances were
slim.

Since the 1930’s, immigrants had been leaving Germany by the
shiploads to land in other European countries or on liberal Western
soil, carrying their dreams and hopes.  Since Hitler’s
Chancellorship, the numbers doubled and the visa immigration
departments everywhere began furthering already stringent
restrictions.  The number of anti-Semitic men in the
immigration offices and the increase in fraudulent claims of
marriage for green cards added to this problem.  Eli knew he
would have to get his paperwork into the immigration office as soon
as possible to be approved.

Rebecca’s head lowered and Eli reached for her hand, clasping it
in his own.  “It will be enough.”

They finished their dinner in a haunting silence only disturbed
by the sounds of chewing.  Rebecca pondered over this
information, trying to figure out what it all meant.  Eli
thought about his letter to Martha and the right wording for his
request.  After dinner they sauntered into the bedroom and
Rebecca rested for the evening.  Eli stayed up writing and
rewriting his request to Rebecca’s Aunt Martha and preparing the
documents he would have to drop off at the immigration office, as
well as thinking through his visit to the German police.

Dear Aunt Martha, 

I am writing on behalf of Rebecca Baum, your niece, and myself,
Eli Levin.  As you may or may not have heard, we have been
married since the 31st of December.  You may already know of
the troubles in Germany under the new Reich leadership, but I will
inform you of some of the hardships.  Social prejudice is
rampant with more and more Jews being asked to leave their place of
employment.  Violence against Jews is increasing and, sadly
under the Nazis power, is overlooked and even expected.  I
have been a victim of a couple fights while living here and the
initiator of a few myself.  However, Rebecca and I hope for a
world where liberty and equality is foremost and one does not have
to fight to survive.

We hope to receive a letter of sponsorship from you for myself,
Eli Levin, in hopes of soothing the legislation of immigration that
dictates visa approval.  Rebecca tells me you are a fair
minded and compassionate person whom I look forward to
meeting.  Within the letter, we would need confirmation of
your approval of us living at your home until more suitable
accommodations can be arranged.  I will be forwarding my
information to the immigration offices soon and, when I receive
your letter, I hope to add it to my documentation.