The Other Half of Life (15 page)

“Was there anything else, Thomas?”

Thomas shook his head.

“Then go to bed. We all need our sleep.”

T
he next day Priska apologized for not meeting Thomas. “I don't know what happened,” she said. “I must have just fallen dead asleep.”

Thomas didn't question her. For her sake, he hoped she
had
been asleep and had slept right through her parents' row.

That day Thomas went to the purser's office to pick up his landing card. But while everyone else took theirs with a broad smile, Thomas remained stoic. He was still not quite ready to believe that the passes were the key to freedom. The two other ships and the possible revoking of the passes loomed in his head, not to mention the strange behavior of the
Ortsgruppenleiter
.

Later that night the crew transformed the social hall from synagogue to ballroom. The tables and wicker chairs were pushed to the sides to create a dance floor, and balloons and streamers hung from the second-floor balcony.

Thomas didn't care that they were not invited to the costume ball, but Priska had begged her parents to at least let her watch the partygoers make their entrances down the grand staircase. Priska, Marianne, Günther, and Thomas stood in the wings of the balcony as everyone arrived. As promised, Priska had gotten her hair done at the beauty salon. Her wild curls had been straightened. Priska was proud of her new look, but Thomas preferred her hair the way it usually was.

“Look at Herr Bruhl!” Priska said, pointing.

Thomas smiled. There was something to be said for the passengers' ingenuity and resourcefulness. With a bedsheet for a gown and a towel wrapped around his head, Herr Bruhl was dressed as an Arab sheik.

The arrival of Paul and Claudia sent all four of them into fits of laughter. Paul wore Claudia's dress and high heels. He had her necklace on and her lipstick too. She wore Paul's coat and tie and had slicked her hair back and drawn on a mustache.

Lisbeth had made herself up as a clown with Margot's tiny hat perched cockeyed on her head, a bow from one of Margot's dresses pinned on her chest, a big red mouth painted on her lips, and red dots on her cheeks.

“And there's Vati,” Priska said, bringing her hand to cover her heart. “Doesn't he look dashing? I helped him with the makeup.”

Professor Affeldt was dressed as a pirate with a scarf tied around his head and a sash around his waist.

“What's your mother supposed to be?” Günther asked as Frau Affeldt took her husband's outstretched hand to walk down the stairs. She wore a regular evening gown.

“She said she didn't feel like dressing up,” Priska replied, her voice quiet. Priska pointed to Frau Rosen. “If I got to dress up, I'd be a geisha girl. She looks beautiful, doesn't she?”

“I'd be a pirate like your father,” Günther said.

“What about you, Thomas?” Priska asked.

“I don't know.”

“Oh, come on. Don't be so dull.”

Thomas scanned the crowd. Günther's father had come as an Olympic athlete. The shirt and shorts revealed how skinny he still was from being in Sachsenhausen. Günther's father was one of the only reminders for Thomas that this wasn't a normal shipboard costume affair. The other was the stern gaze of Hitler staring down from the portrait, which had been uncovered again since the services.

“Marianne and I would wear each other's clothes, like Paul and Claudia,” Thomas said.

Marianne's face lit up. “That would be so much fun.”

The people below danced, talked, kissed, and raised champagne flutes in exuberant toasts. Thomas enjoyed watching. But no one loved it more than Priska. She
hummed along with the music, sometimes shuffling her feet or swaying in time, entirely enchanted.

At ten o'clock, Professor Affeldt came up to the balcony and told Priska and Marianne it was time to go to bed.

“You look very handsome!” Priska said.

“Thank you, my dear,” he replied. He took her by the hand and spun her around in a little dance.

She giggled. “Are you having fun? You should ask Mutti to dance. You haven't danced once.”

Thomas searched out Frau Affeldt. She was at the bar having a drink. Thomas willed Priska not to look for her mother so she wouldn't find her there.

“Do I need to go with you to the cabin to make sure you go to sleep?” Professor Affeldt asked.

“No, Vati, but you really must dance with Mutti.”

“Yes, yes, I will.”

“Promise?”

Professor Affeldt nodded. Priska kissed him good night and the four of them left the ballroom. Outside, the deck seemed strangely quiet. The lights glimmered on the sea.

Priska whispered to Thomas and Günther, “I'll meet you back up here in half an hour!”

Before either could answer, she and Marianne trotted off, hands linked.

Priska came back, as promised. The music had changed from Glenn Miller to rumbas and tangos. They snuck back in and watched men and women dancing cheek to cheek. Thomas spotted Frau Affeldt still at the bar. He saw Priska search the crowd for her, and he hoped again that she wouldn't be able to find her. But she did, and her face fell. After a few moments she said to them, “Let's go back outside and dance.”

Outside, Priska held out a hand to each of them. She called out too loudly, “Who will tango with me?”

Thomas hesitated. The only person he had ever danced with was his mother.

Günther stepped forward, and Thomas cursed himself for being slow and reluctant. “Madame,” Günther said, reaching to take her hand.

As Thomas watched, he became more angry with himself. From the looks of it, Günther was not an expert dancer either, but it hadn't stopped him.

“Straighten your back,” Priska instructed Günther. “Look this way. Your face closer to mine. Now go—”

And off they went, jerking down the deck. Thomas laughed loudly so they would hear him and remember they weren't alone.

A few times back and forth and they were moving more smoothly.

“Now we go to the end, and you dip me and kiss me,” Priska announced.

Thomas froze. Günther was going to kiss Priska? Just like that? He had the urge to run and cut in. His mouth suddenly felt dry. He was the one who was supposed to kiss Priska. He felt she was doing the same thing she had done with Manfred—encouraging Günther's attention even if it wasn't the kind she wanted. He wondered if she didn't have feelings for him after all, or if, for some reason, she enjoyed creating a kind of love triangle like the one she had talked about in
Mazurka
.

The music inside the ballroom stopped and the crowd clapped. Thomas felt a wave of relief that this would put an end to their dancing, but Priska and Günther kept going just the same. A new song started. It wasn't a tango but that didn't seem to matter to Günther. He danced Priska to the railing and tipped her back. Priska's hair swung as she leaned her head back. Her eyes were wide—perhaps she hadn't expected Günther to follow through.

Thomas felt words sticking in his throat. But it was too late. Günther leaned in and kissed her, loudly enough that Thomas heard the puckering sound. He didn't want to be caught looking and turned away.

Günther pulled Priska upright, and they walked back to Thomas, swinging hands and laughing.

“Well done” was all Thomas could think to say.

Priska grabbed her skirt and curtsied. “Why, thank you,”
she said, letting out a nervous laugh. She turned to Günther and held out her hand, entreating him to bow. Thomas clapped as Günther swept his arms out and dipped his head in a dramatic bow worthy of a stage actor. Thomas wished it had only been a charade.

Günther's father pushed open the door to the deck and startled upon seeing his son. “You should be in bed,” he said. But he was smiling and looking beyond them. He pointed into the dark night sky. “Look.”

They moved to the railing. There, in the distance, was a faint beam of light.

“What is it?” Günther asked.

“A lighthouse on the Bahamas. We're really almost there.”

Priska was unusually quiet. Thomas looked at her instead of at the lighthouse, wondering what she was thinking and feeling. The night was balmy, but she wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold.

Finally Günther's father said, “Come, Günther, your mother and I are turning in.” He put his arm around his son, and as they walked away, he added over his shoulder to Priska and Thomas, “You should be in bed too.”

Günther looked back at Thomas and Priska before following his father.

After they had gone, Thomas said to Priska, “You're quiet.” It wasn't like her not to care about the lighthouse. He would have expected her to be jumping up and down.

Priska turned to face him. The wind had wreaked havoc on her hairdo, and her curls fluttered wildly again. Her eyes were bright, even in the dim light. “I wanted
you
to dance with me, not Günther.”

“Then why did you ask both of us?”

“I'm not sure.”

“If you wanted to dance with me, then why did you—” Thomas tripped over the words he meant to say. Saying out loud that Günther and Priska had kissed would only make it more real.

“Kiss Günther?” Priska said. “I wanted to make you jealous. But he wasn't actually supposed to kiss me. You were.” She dropped her gaze to the deck.

“It worked,” Thomas said. “I was jealous.” He stood there, feeling as if the space between them was much larger than it was. Priska had said she wanted to kiss him. This was his chance. He was so close to her, yet he couldn't bring himself to do, or say, anything.

“Thomas?” Priska said.

“Yes?”

“Now is where you kiss me.”

She closed her eyes. Thomas stalled, looking at her. Her face was upturned, as it had been in the theater when Max kissed the beautiful young actress. Thomas breathed in, felt his heart pumping in his chest. He leaned closer and then stopped. Priska opened her eyes.

“No. I'm not going to kiss you. Not like this, when you just kissed Günther.”

In the flickering light of the ship's lamps, Thomas saw tears in her eyes.

She said, “Don't you ever do anything rash? Something you regret later on?”

“Yes,” Thomas said. “You know I do.” Although what he regretted most was what he
hadn't
done.

Priska looked away from him, out at the lighthouse again.

“I'm sorry,” Thomas said.

She said softly, “I am too.”

T
he ship was quiet the next day as people stayed in their cabins packing and readying themselves for their new lives. Thomas had little to pack. It would have taken him even less time to arrange his garments in his suitcase if he hadn't come upon the letter he had received from Walter back in the Cherbourg harbor. He studied the handwriting for far too long, wondering if he and Walter would have more in common than their pen manship.

Later he wandered around the ship, which seemed ghostlike for its emptiness. He didn't see Priska once all day and decided to dine in the tourist-class salon that evening. He wondered if in not kissing her, he had made a mistake he would regret forever, yet he knew it wouldn't have felt right.