When We Danced on Water (15 page)

Freddy jabbered on about Hitler, Berlin, the war, art, his castle, the Alps. He talked at length about Weimar Berlin, about clubs with names like the Zauberflöte and Cosy-Corner, places he had frequented a decade earlier as a student. He talked about American jazz and sang along with the band through many of their songs, his hand on Teodor's thigh, or wrapped around his shoulders. He seemed to know the words to every song, in English, and translated some of the choice lyrics. When a certain Jimmie Lunceford song was announced, Freddy pulled Teodor close and crooned in his ear.

The first time I saw you,

I knew at a glance

I was meant to be yours, yours alone;

As I stood before you,

My heart seemed to dance,

And I prayed you would call me your own.

When I look in your eyes,

I am thrilled to the skies,

And I feel like a king on a throne,

The first time I saw you,

I knew at a glance

I was meant to be yours, yours alone.

He could not understand it all, but Teodor was fascinated, had never met anyone remotely as interesting as this German nobleman and soldier. He held his ear close to Freddy's mouth, trying to absorb and remember all the stories and information flowing his way. Once, at the end of a melancholy story about an American jazz singer whose name Teodor did not catch, Freddy leaned a tad closer, pressing himself into Teodor and planting a small kiss on his ear. “You are a charming and lovely boy,” he said in a tone so low and close that shivers ran up and down Teodor's neck. Nobody around them seemed to care or even notice. Teodor wished to think quietly about Sofie, but there were so many distractions that each time he conjured her face she disappeared.

Later in the evening, when nighttime threatened to turn to daylight and the music had reached a frenzied pitch and beat, Freddy suddenly stood up straight and pulled Teodor to his feet. “How foolish of me!” he shouted. “All this wonderful music and I've kept you sitting next to me all evening, telling you stories. It's time for you to dance.”

Teodor was intrigued but perplexed. For all his training, he knew no moves appropriate to this extraordinary music, and politely demurred. But Freddy was insistent, and Teodor was curious, so when Freddy pushed him a few meters away from the table to where couples had broken into a throng of soloists, and then sat back down to watch, he did not protest. He stood still and alone for a moment in the sea of whirling humans, looked around at what some of his fellow dancers were doing, and slowly, subtly, began to move. To their low and slinky moves he added Danish ballet turns, Russian arms, the Charleston that a friend in Copenhagen had taught him, and then whatever else seemed right and natural with this music. In minutes he was swinging, swaying, spinning and strutting with the rest of them and the crowd began to make way for the lithe young man all on his own. Occasionally he turned toward Freddy, who was watching him intently. The serious look on his face caused Teodor's chest to tighten each time he saw it, but he kept on dancing, finally losing himself in the music, losing all track of time or the people around him.

He did not know how long he had been dancing when Freddy was suddenly there with him in the center of the circle of dancers, standing completely still. He held out his hand to Teodor. “I've come to take you home,” he said. Teodor gave him his hand and let Freddy pull him from the dance floor.

The morning came far too quickly for Teodor, who had a difficult time waking up. His roommates asked him where he had been, and Teodor conjured a weak excuse, but the clothes next to his bed stank of beer and smoke and he doubted anyone believed him. They ate a quick breakfast in the hotel dining room then returned to their room. They would be traveling back to Stettin, where they would catch an afternoon ferry to Copenhagen. While he packed, Teodor thought about jazz and corn on the cob, and quite a bit about Freddy. After walking him to the hotel, Freddy had embraced him on the stairs of the hotel, but only briefly. He said he would come to say an official good-bye before the troupe left in the morning, and Teodor wanted to be ready in time.

There was a knock at the door just as Teodor laid his ballet slippers on the top of his valise. Niels answered the door. Two German policemen stood outside. “Mr. Teodor Levin, please,” said one.

The boy stood aside and motioned to Teodor to come to the door. “We have orders to bring you to headquarters immediately,” said the policeman. Teodor looked to Niels, who shrugged his shoulders.

“Why?” he asked simply.

“Security clearance for departure. Your papers are Polish, not Danish, and we need to ask you a few questions, that's all.” The second policeman coughed and looked down the hall.

“I'm not permitted to go anywhere outside the hotel without my ballet master's knowledge,” he said, hoping his ballet companions would not betray his late-night absence.

“You, boy,” said one of the policemen to Niels. “Fetch the ballet master right away.” Niels darted down the hall. In the meantime, Teodor stretched the bedspread over his bed and fastened the latch on his valise. Niels returned with the ballet master very quickly.

“What's all this about, gentlemen?” he asked with some irritation. The policeman again explained his mission.

The ballet master listened politely. “I'm certain this is a mistake,” he said. “Mr. Levin's papers did not draw any attention on our way in to Germany.”

“The situation between Germany and Poland has changed since then,” the policeman said by way of explanation. “He is now a
feindliche Ausländer
.”

After several long minutes of argument, the ballet master turned to Teodor. “They say you're an enemy alien now that Germany is fighting with Poland. This is certainly an unnecessary and untimely diversion, but perhaps you'd simply better go with these gentlemen to the station, clear up the matter and return as quickly as possible so that we shall not miss our ferry.”

Teodor nodded his agreement but did not like the idea of setting out accompanied only by these two policemen. Still, he did as told, gathering up his papers and heading down the hall in between them.

It was a short ride to headquarters. He was shuffled from one desk to another, asked the same questions again and again and made to wait. After two hours the ballet master arrived, in the company of Freddy.

“Teodor, I have good news for you. When Baron von Edelwald came to say good-bye and learned you'd been temporarily detained, he offered his help. I'm afraid it's going to take just a little while longer and the troupe cannot imaginably stay, but I have the baron's assurances that he will see to it personally that you are released as quickly as possible and on the first train and ferry back to Denmark.” He patted Teodor on the shoulder. “You are in very, very good hands.”

Teodor glanced at Freddy. Today Freddy was all business, though for Teodor's eyes only he managed a small, secret smile. “Thank you, baron,” Teodor said. He did not smile in return.

Two hours more passed, then three and four and five. Teodor was mostly alone during this time, though Freddy would occasionally pop into the office where he was waiting to say, “Only a little longer” or “This bureaucracy has become unmanageable” or “I am outraged and will be filing a complaint about this.” It was seven in the evening by the time he was released to Freddy's custody.

Teodor was hugely relieved to be leaving the police station, and thanked Freddy for rescuing him. Freddy's car and driver whisked them away from the center of town. “My poor dear boy, you must be completely distraught. And certainly quite hungry and tired. I'll take you to my home in Grunewald, where Cook will feed you a nice soup, draw a bath for you, and we'll put you up in a guest bedroom for the night. Then tomorrow morning we'll have you on an early northbound train.” Teodor laid his head back on the soft leather of Freddy's Mercedes and closed his eyes.

He awakened from a short sleep just in time to notice the car turn onto quiet, leafy Erbacherstrasse. They stopped in front of a heavy iron gate that looked like a row of medieval spears. It was opened immediately by a waiting servant, and they drove up to the grand front door of a large, square villa flanked by two smaller buildings, which Teodor guessed to be stables or servants' quarters. The house had a tall, sloping tiled roof and a balcony over the front door. Immense trees secluded the villa behind a wall of greenery, and no other house stood close on either side. A well-tended garden stood between the front gate and the door to the villa.

Cook was barely cordial to him when he sat at the dining room table, clearly hostile to his presence in the house. She did not seem to believe her master's story about the boy's origins, the scion of a noble Danish family. As soon as she placed a hot potato soup and thick brown bread with butter in front of him she announced she would be leaving for the night. Teodor ate greedily, his first food since breakfast. The smell of nutmeg reminded him of his mother's own potato soup. He wished he could see her just then.

Freddy sat watching him in silence. When he finished eating, Freddy led him upstairs, to the bath. Steam rose from the scented, foamy water and the room was warm and cozy. “You may undress here and use these pajamas and the robe hanging on the back of the door,” Freddy told him. He stood as if waiting for Teodor to begin removing his clothing. Teodor did not move, however, and after a moment Freddy left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. When he was sure Freddy had gone back down the stairs, Teodor locked the bathroom door.

He soaked for a long time, at once relieved to be free and at the same time apprehensive. He was sorry the troupe had not waited for him. He was grateful to Freddy and wondered how much longer he might have been trapped there were it not for him. Where, he wondered, would he have gone when released, alone in this foreign city?

The pajamas were silk, a deep red and sensuous to his skin. He wrapped himself tightly in the matching robe and descended the stairs. He found Freddy in a small study off the living room, poring over several full-color reproductions of paintings. When he noticed Teodor he returned the pages to a manila envelope.

“Ah, there you are, all fresh and rosy from your bath!”

Teodor smiled slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Come to the kitchen. Cook has left us some chocolate cake, and I'll put on a pot of tea.”

Teodor plodded after Freddy toward the kitchen. Several bright watercolors and gouaches on the walls of the hallway caught his eye as he walked past, but he did not stop to inspect any of them.

Freddy bustled about the kitchen, though he did not always know where to find what he needed. Sometimes he yanked open the same drawer three times before he found whatever spoon or tea sieve he was looking for. Teodor waited patiently at the table, warm and comfortable after his bath.

After several minutes of banging around the kitchen and cursing the cook, Freddy managed to get the tea to the table. He added brandy to each cup. “This will warm up your insides and make you properly sleepy before bedtime,” he told Teodor.

Freddy was unusually silent as they sipped the tea and nibbled the cake. After a long silence Teodor asked, “What time will I be leaving in the morning?”

Freddy stopped chewing the cake in his mouth and put his teacup down on the saucer. He stared at Teodor. “Are you uncomfortable?” he asked sharply. “Are you lacking something? Have my cook or chauffeur somehow disappointed you? Or is it my company that is not to your taste?” His voice was tight, as though his teeth were a dam holding back an angry flood.

“I'm sorry,” Teodor interjected, cowed, “I just thought I …”

“You did not think at all. You did not think what an inconvenience it was for me to spend my day working for your release. You did not think about all the more important matters I could be tending to. You are a Pole and you are a Jew, two points against you. Do you have any idea how many strings I had to pull, how many VIPs I had to call today to be able to free you immediately? No, of course you don't. And now you sit in my kitchen, wearing my pajamas and enjoying my hospitality and all you can think about is when you can leave this horrible little house.”

He snatched away the cups and saucers and plates, banging them into the sink. One saucer smashed to the floor, but Freddy ignored it.

Teodor remained at the table for a while after Freddy had thundered his way out of the kitchen and down the hall. There were no sounds at all anywhere in the house. He did not know if he should wait for Freddy to return, to show him where to sleep, or whether perhaps he was now meant to put his head down on the kitchen table and sleep right there, as punishment for having insulted his host. He wondered whether his faltering attempts at German had been too abrupt, or whether his manners had been inappropriate.

After a while Teodor stood up from the table and, with a sigh, collected the broken china from the floor. There were shards everywhere, a few crunched under his knees as he slid along the floor hoping to find every last piece. When he was certain he had gathered them all, he stood up and paced the kitchen, inspecting Cook's utensils, her cookbooks, her collection of aprons. As he was peering through beveled panes of glass into the darkened back garden, but catching mostly his own reflection and that of the room behind him, the kitchen door suddenly flew open and he spun around.

Freddy's face was flushed and his eyes red. He looked disheveled, hardly reminiscent, in fact, of the neat and polished officer Teodor had met only the night before. He was breathing hard, and seemed to be weighing something in his mind as he stared across the room at Teodor. He straightened himself before speaking, checking his posture and pushing a hand through his mussed hair. “You must be exhausted. I'll show you to your room.” His voice was level, with effort.