The Other Half of Life Read Online Free

geschmeckt?
” he asked Frau Affeldt.
    “I'm not very hungry,” she replied.
    The waiter frowned and retreated, but he mumbled loud enough to be heard, “No taste, these Jews. Some of them won't even eat
caviar.”
    The Affeldts and Thomas sat in silence. Under his fancy jacket, Thomas felt hot. Professor Affeldt sighed and raised his eyebrows as if to say there was nothing they could do but pretend they hadn't heard the man.
    “Your mother had no choice but to send you alone,” he said, taking his wife's hand. Thomas could see him appreciating his own family's lot in life—how it could have been even worse. Like Thomas's family, they might have had to split up to escape.
    “You must miss your parents terribly,” Frau Affeldt offered. “I'm so sorry, Thomas.”
    It was the first time she had spoken more than just a few words and the first time she had really acknowledged him. He was surprised to find her voice clear and confident.
    “Yes, I do.” At his words, Thomas felt a stab inside him again. He wondered when, or if, that would go away. “A professor of German literature,” Thomas said. “That explains the Goethe you quoted as we left shore.”
    Professor Affeldt cocked his head at Thomas.
    “
It's only action that can make a man … from Faust,”
said Thomas.
    “Well done,” Professor Affeldt said.
    Thomas explained, “My parents have a large collection of Goethe.”
    “Vati's always quoting Goethe or Schiller or Grill-parzer,” Priska said. “And he makes us memorize it too.” She looked up at the ceiling and quoted: “
As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live
. That's from
Faust too.”
    Professor Affeldt gave Priska a sidelong glance of approval and then asked Thomas, “Have you had any news of your father?”
    “Last we heard he was in Dachau, but that was many months ago now.” Thomas shifted in his seat, making sure he felt his father's pawn in his pocket.
    The same waiter returned and delivered the next course: chicken bouillon and egg drop soup with vegetables. He placed the delicate china bowls in front of them with quick movements, as if he didn't want to be near them at all. The only time he paused was when he served Priska. He stared at her a moment too long, looking from her face toher chest, and then back up to her face again. She dipped her chin and averted her eyes. The waiter cleared his throat and retreated.
    Thomas witnessed this brief moment and saw Priska as the waiter had seen her. It dawned on him that the waiter had stared at her because she was beautiful. Thomas had been too distracted by the ship and leaving home before, but now he saw her clearly: the smoothness of her skin, her bright eyes, the swell of her breasts under the frilly white dress.
    She looked up at Thomas and their eyes met. She smiled and returned to eating her soup.
    Priska ate in a polite and reserved manner, while Marianne hurried spoonfuls to her mouth. Frau Affeldt didn't lift her spoon.
    Professor Affeldt wiped his mouth with the linen napkin. “What was your father's profession?”
    “Our family owned a printing press.”
    “Was it shut down after the boycott?”
    “No, my mother isn't Jewish, so she became the face of the shop, while my father and I stayed in the back room.”
    “And in Cuba?” Professor Affeldt asked.
    “My brother's there. He's ten years older than I am. Half brother, actually.”
    Thomas wished he hadn't mentioned that Walter was not his full brother. How could there be such a thing as half of a person? People shouldn't ever be divided up in such a way.
    “We're from Dresden,” Priska said. “We had a wonderful life before Herr Hitler. Our nice house, our cat, school, friends. I know there's no such thing as perfect but it was pretty close, wasn't it, Marianne?”
    Marianne wiped a dribble of soup from her chin. Her bowl was empty. “I miss Alfie.”
    “That's our cat,” Priska informed Thomas. “We had to leave him with a neighbor. We'll get a