me in the woods to die? I was actually relieved when Michal came back to get me six months later. She had made the arrangements, and I was off to Israel, the place my German parents had taught me should be wiped off the face of the earth, every Jew within it killed.
She laughed again. The same bitter laugh.
It was terrible, Leni continued. As I told you, I was furious. Hateful. There I was, a product of the Reich, a superior Aryan being, suddenly living in the Jewish State.
Oh, she said, sighing. There is no sense reliving it for you. I am sure you can imagine the rest, what awful years I had, what rebellions and scenes. Then somehow it all stopped. Maybe I just matured. Or I resigned myself to the situation. But now—now that I come to think of it—the big change might have been when I began my compulsory service. Michal had a low opinion of the IDF leadership. But when she saw me in uniform—who knows? I looked at her and saw maybe she had some pride in me. In any case … eventually … I made peace with Michal.
Peace? Or what you said before—armistice?
All right. Something in between. But to this day, I will not talk with Michal about what happened after she came for me—I did not want to talk about it with you. I still cannot forgive Michal for destroying my childhood.
We were silent for a time. Leni turned her empty coffee cup around and around.
Then she looked at me, her eyes slowly running over my face.
So now you know, she said.
I looked back at her. She was crumpled into her chair. Her eyes were vague, unfocused. And I saw what telling this story had cost her.
Thank you, I said to her as gently as I could.
Yes, said Leni, low and soft. Look what Michal had done to me. She expected to save me, not plunge me into years of self-hatred.
And when she saw me standing there …
It was nothing about you.
What I thought were bad memories—
Nothing about you.
What she saw was …
The wreck of my life, said my sister.
Immediately she stood up and began bustling around, opening and closing cabinets, drawers, closets.
With her back to me, she said: Michal will be home soon. I think you should leave before she gets here.
Yes, I said. I think I should go.
Abruptly she spun around.
Yes. Go. Leave. Forget all this. Go back to America. Hold on to the life you have there. This is no place to be looking for love. Michal gave all she had left of love when she sent you away, kept you away. Do not expect anything more.
She will be here any minute, Leni said.
She walked me down the hall. She opened the door. And I turned to her.
Should we stay in touch? I asked.
Leni put her hand on my shoulder. It was electric. Her face like mine, her touch.
I will leave the decision to you, she said.
124.
Doctor and patient sat quietly, the end of the session closing in upon them. Dr. Schussler crossed her legs. When her client said nothing, she crossed them again.
Until the patient finally said:
I don’t know what to think about any of it. It’s all so—
A door slammed somewhere down the corridor. Footsteps raced by.
Our time is up, isn’t it?
Yes, said Dr. Schussler. I am afraid so.
The patient stood but did not open the door.
The doctor rose from her chair; walked toward the patient.
Please do not worry, said Dr. Schussler. There is no need for you to decide anything now. You will need a good deal of time to … integrate Leni into your life, if at all.
They stood quietly for a moment, then the patient said:
Thank you, Dr. Schussler. I mean it. I could not have gone through any of this without you.
And then she went out the door, leaving behind that present for her therapist.
125.
So did we come to the tenth of December, on the cusp of the Christmas therapeutic hiatus.
Suddenly we were deep into the rainy season. Trees writhed and shook, tormented by wind. Umbrellas flipped inside out, shoes were ruined, hats bounced down the street and lay sodden in gutters. Inside the office, the windows rattled in their sashes, the glass fogged, and the radiators spat and hissed and clanged in valiant effort against the cold. Across the way, the windows of the Hotel Palace glowed golden against the soaked gray stone of the facade. A bellman hefted up a suitcase in