Last Twilight in Paris

6. Helaine

6

Helaine

Paris, 1939

Helaine scraped at a speck of potato that was stuck to the bottom of the cracked, stained pot from the previous night’s dinner. It refused to budge, so she dipped the pot once more in the sink of soapy water. The tiny kitchen, really just a corner of the single-room flat in Montmartre that she and Gabriel shared, was a far cry from the elegant one in her childhood home. She remembered, as if in a dream, the fine china and rows of copper pans suspended from the rack above the stove.

There were so many things about her childhood that Helaine had taken for granted; she knew that now. That someone would cook delicious food for her. That there would be food at all. She and Gabriel did not starve, but there always seemed to be just barely enough in the days leading up to when he was paid. More than once, Helaine had caught him dusting mold off a stale bread crust, or taking a smaller portion than he wanted so that she would have enough to eat. And it was not just groceries. Gabriel paid all of the bills late, cajoling the landlord and the shops to give them extra time and paying the most urgent only when there was no more grace to be had. Living without enough money was not something to which Helaine was accustomed and it often felt to her like sailing through the air without a net.

It had been more than a year since the night Helaine had left her parents’ home with Gabriel. After she walked from their house, Helaine was flooded with remorse. What had she done? She had abandoned her family and home for a man she barely knew.

When they reached his flat, which was even tinier and grimmer than she recalled from her previous visit, her doubts redoubled. She had never been away from her parents’ house. How would she manage with nothing? “I rushed you with all of this,” Gabriel had said, noticing her unsure expression. “If it’s too much, we can slow down and just be together.”

“No,” she replied. “I want to marry you.” The hollowness she had felt at leaving him and thinking it was over made her realize how much she cared for him and wanted to share his life.

Gabriel laid a blanket on the floor in front of the window because he had no table. He produced a simple dinner of bread and cheese and a half bottle of chardonnay. They ate and then made love, and even though it was only the second time, it felt as natural and perfect as though they had been together in this way forever. After, as they lay entwined, Helaine experienced a contentment that she had never felt in her entire life. Her remaining doubts evaporated. She knew then that she was home.

They wed privately, a small ceremony at the town hall with just the clerk as witness. They did not have a honeymoon. Gabriel could not afford the cost, nor the time away from the orchestra during the concert season. “Someday soon,” he said, “we will have a grand adventure on a ship to America.” Helaine ac cepted the promise and tried not to think of the implausibility of his plan.

Their lives settled into an easy routine together after that. Helaine spent her days making the flat homier by searching the secondhand market for cheap items they needed, plus buying groceries and making their meals. There were many things she had to learn after coming to live with Gabriel, like how to budget to make the few francs they had stretch to the end of the week, how to get the best cut of meat and make sure the butcher didn’t short them. Helaine often felt overwhelmed by her lack of practical experience in the world, having to figure out how to do everything for the first time like a child.

Helaine dried the pot now and set about preparing ingredients for their supper, a simple ratatouille made from the root vegetables she’d been able to buy at the market the previous day. Cooking, now that was the one thing she could do. Maman had taught her many recipes and techniques to keep her from getting bored, and Helaine could knead dough deftly and make a pastry thin enough that one could almost see through it. Each night, she made supper for Gabriel, who was so caught up in his music he might have forgotten to eat if she had not.

Of course, life with Gabriel was not all work. Every Friday evening, Helaine would go to the symphony and sit in the seat in the back that Gabriel reserved for her. She loved to listen to him play, hearing his cello alone amid the instruments. Over time, she had gained an even greater appreciation for his musical talent. Gabriel was not just a gifted cellist, though; he composed his own original pieces as well.

One night, Helaine entered the flat to hear Gabriel practicing a new piece of music. Unlike his usual confident playing, his bow strokes now were tentative. “I’m working on something. Do you like it?”

She nodded. “I truly do. It’s a beautiful melody.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling, and she could see that her opinion meant a great deal to him. “Good, because it’s called For Helaine .”

“Oh, Gabriel!” She walked over and threw her arms around him. He was happy not just because she liked the piece, but because he had written it for her.

He returned her embrace. “The song, like our love, will last long after we are gone.” It was, Helaine decided, the nicest thing anyone had done for her in her entire life.

On his nights off, they would take long walks down the sloped streets of Montmartre to the Canal Saint-Martin, getting to know one another in ways that there had not been time for before their impulsive marriage.

“When we first met, you told me that you liked to write,” he remarked one night a few weeks earlier as they walked along the quay. “What did you write about?” he asked.

She smiled. “I wrote stories. Like I told you, my parents confined me to the house for most of my childhood.”

“That must have been awful.”

“It was and it wasn’t. We had a wonderful home, but I sometimes felt like a prisoner. I know my parents did it out of concern.”

“We sometimes hurt those we love most by trying to protect them,” Gabriel agreed.

“When I was stuck at home, I created stories about a girl named Anna who traveled the world. I still do,” she admitted, worried he would find that silly.

“You should write them again and publish them,” he declared.

“But how do I know if they are any good?”

“I’m certain that they are.” He put his arm around her shoulders.

“You haven’t even read them. How can you be sure?”

“Because I know you.” He stopped, drawing her into his em brace. “You must share your art with the world. Where does Anna travel?”

“Rome, Australia, New York. The places I’ve always wanted to go.”

“Then we will go see those places so that you can write about them more vividly. Or at least, I hope we will when things are better.”

“What do you mean?” Helaine asked. Gabriel had always spoken so brightly about their future. Why was he hesitating now?

“Darling, war is coming.”

“I know.” She had heard it on the radio and read the stories in Le Figaro . The Germans had amassed at the border. This was Gabriel’s long-standing prediction and she had heard him repeat it a number of times since they had first met. Only now it seemed real and inevitable, a prophecy fulfilled.

“I sometimes wonder if we should leave Paris.”

“Gabriel, no.” Though Helaine yearned to travel, she could not imagine leaving for good. “Paris is our home. You have your work here.” She expected him to argue further and was grateful when he did not. They had turned and started for home. Neither of them had spoken more about impending war since that night, but it hung over them like a storm cloud.

When the meal preparation was finished and the dishes clean, Helaine wiped her hands and took off her apron, smoothing the plain cotton skirt beneath. She’d had to find clothes after coming here, since she had left her parents’ home with almost nothing. She had avoided the secondhand shops for this, instead finding fabric at a good price and making her own. The simple dresses were scratchier than the fine silks she’d grown accustomed to as a child, but also less constraining.

Helaine looked around the apartment, considering how to fill the time until Gabriel came home. Despite her happiness, she was often lonely. Left by herself in the apartment for long stretches while Gabriel taught and rehearsed and performed, Helaine yearned for her mother. Before this, Helaine had never been on her own or alone at all. Maman had always been close by, taking care of her and keeping her company. Helaine wondered how her mother filled her days now that she was gone, and whether she, too, was lonely. She had considered more than once writing to her mother but could not bear the thought that she might not reply.

Helaine went to the desk drawer to retrieve her journal and a pencil. She carried them to the cozy seat by the window and sat down. The one thing she regretted leaving behind in her parents’ house was her journal. Gabriel had bought her a new one, a fine leather-bound book that cost more than he should have spent. But it was not the same. She had tried without success to re-create the story she had been working on before she left. Instead, she had begun sketching images of the Montmartre skyline, and of her grandmother’s split locket, the one cherished thing she had brought with her from home.

Sometime later, Gabriel came in and she set down her notebook. Wordlessly, he swept her up in his arms, as though they had been apart for days and not hours. He was often like this after a long rehearsal, the music creating a kind of pent-up passion within him. But now his lovemaking seemed urgent, as though this time together might somehow be their last. He carried her to their bed, the intensity between them as strong as the first time they had been together.

After, Helaine stood and dressed and went to the kitchen area, pulling out two chipped porcelain bowls to serve the ratatouille she’d prepared earlier. As they were about to eat, a commotion came from the street below, a rumbling and then shouting voices. Gabriel stood. “Stay here. I will go see what is happening.”

Helaine wanted to tell him not to go. If there was trouble, why run toward it? But Gabriel was already out the door, so she hurried to the window to see what was happening. People raced by; their faces were grim. Helaine wondered if there was a fire or other accident. Some carried bags as if setting out for holiday, but others looked as though they had been forced to depart without warning.

Gabriel returned a few minutes later, his expression somber. “France declared war on Germany in response to Germany’s invading Poland. We are now at war.”

A shock ran through Helaine. Although people had spoken of war, perhaps even expected it for months, the fact that it was now upon them felt surreal. Helaine and Gabriel stood silently for several minutes, as if unsure what to do. They ate by the window, watching the scene below play out like a movie. Helaine understood that if the French army did not prevail, the Germans might soon march into Paris. Still, she was puzzled by what all of the people were doing in the street. Where did they think they could go?

“Perhaps we should leave,” Gabriel suggested as he had weeks earlier.

“But where would we go?” They did not have a great deal of money for traveling. “Surely many will be trying to do the same.”

“The borders will be flooded,” he agreed. “Getting visas to go anywhere will be impossible. We will stay put—at least for now.”

The next morning, the streets were quiet, as though nothing had happened. Helaine dressed and prepared to go to the market. But as she reached for her coat, Gabriel came over and took her arm.

“You should stay inside.” His eyes were dark with concern.

“But why? The Germans aren’t in Paris.” At least not yet , Helaine finished silently. Despite the patriotic talk everywhere in the months leading up to the war, there was also an unspoken understanding that the French military was no match for German might.

“I know, but I worry that those who dislike the Jews will be emboldened by the German declaration of war.”

Helaine shook her head. Her freedom was recent and hard-fought. “I will not be kept prisoner again.”

“Be careful, then,” he said. Gabriel would worry about her because he loved her, but he would not try to keep her inside to protect her as her parents had done.

She started for the door and then turned back, a thought occurring to her. “Will you have to go and fight?” There had been talk of call-ups, all able-bodied men sent to the front.

“I already tried to enlist,” he confessed.

Helaine was shocked. It was hard to imagine gentle Gabriel fighting in the army. And why didn’t he tell her? Helaine considered that there might be other things about Gabriel that she did not know. “I had no idea.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to worry you. It doesn’t matter anyway. They turned me down.” He gestured toward his leg. Helaine scarcely noticed Gabriel’s limp anymore. But to the military, it had been a detriment, excluding him from service. “I wanted to do my part,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. Helaine realized he also had not said anything because he was ashamed at having been rejected from the military.

Helaine moved closer to him. “There will be other ways to serve as a civilian,” she reassured. Inside, she was relieved. He would not be leaving her.

Helaine went to the market. She should hurry back, she knew, but instead she found herself lingering, savoring the sights and sounds in spite of any danger the looming war might bring. It was more than mere defiance. Gabriel’s words had made her realize that her hard-fought freedom might not last forever. She wanted to enjoy it now, while she still could.

At first, nothing changed in Paris, and it seemed that the declaration of war might have been a bluff. “A phony war,” some called it. Helaine held her breath all through that long winter, waiting to see what would happen, like some dreadful cliff-hanger in a novel. Finally, in May of 1940, word came that Germany had invaded France. Still the fighting was by the border, hundreds of kilometers away. It often felt as if the war was not happening at all.

Throughout the early days of the war, Helaine thought often of her family. Helaine badly wanted to go check on them. That bridge was burned, though, her connection to her family irrevocably severed.

One rainy day as Helaine sat in the garret, trying to read and willing the hours of solitude to pass quickly, there came a commotion from the street outside. Alarm rose in her. She walked to the window and found people crowding the streets, seeming to run in all directions as they had the day France declared war on Germany. But Helaine could not make out what was going on. She put on her shoes and walked downstairs.

Outside, the sidewalk and pavement were packed with people, mostly women, since so many of the men had all gone off to fight. “What happened?” she asked to no one in particular.

“France has been defeated!” cried an elderly woman, tears filling the crevices of her wrinkled cheeks.

Helaine was stunned. She had known that the French army was no match for the Germans’ tanks and steel, and that the Maginot Line, the fortification France had created after the Great War, would not hold them back. But it had been less than six weeks. She had not imagined it would be over so quickly.

“The Germans will be in Paris in days,” the old woman added, her voice more fearful than sad now. “Those who can are leaving.”

Leaving to go where? Helaine wondered. If the Germans had defeated France, they would surely occupy the entire country. One could not simply go abroad. Helaine had so many questions, but the woman was already gone. Watching hordes of people flee the capital, Helaine questioned whether she and Gabriel should be among them.

In the days that followed, French soldiers, who had marched off so proudly less than two months earlier, straggled home, dazed and beaten. The city became engulfed in waves of people. First, those fleeing the fighting washed in from the north. But then the fear of the Germans coming sent people out of the city again in masses. L’Exode, they called it. People left in cars or bikes or on foot, carrying what they could on their backs or dragging belongings with them. One woman pushed a baby in a carriage, valise perched precariously atop it.

During her daily walks, Helaine watched the colors of the city change like leaves in autumn. The Germans arrived in Paris, tanks rolling down the Champs-élysées. Within days, the street signs had changed to German and enormous red flags bearing black swastikas hung from every government building.

One night, Gabriel did not come home at his scheduled time and Helaine grew worried. Had something happened? Finally, close to midnight, he walked into the flat.

“You’re late,” she said, regretting the reproachful way it sounded. “Are you all right? I was afraid that something had happened.”

“I’m so sorry to have worried you. I had an unexpected meeting and no way to send word,” he explained.

“A meeting for the symphony?”

“Not exactly.” He hesitated, then looked away.

“We said we would never keep secrets again,” she pointed out.

He lowered his voice, as though there were others in the flat who might hear. “There are people organizing to defy the Germans, secretly of course. I want to be a part of that.” He held out a leaflet that included a satirical cartoon of Hitler and a list of ways that ordinary people could help resist.

Helaine was worried. “Gabriel, that’s dangerous.”

“Even so, we must do something.”

He was right, Helaine realized. They could not simply sit here and wait; they had to do something. “Then let me help, too.”

“No, I won’t put you at risk.”

“So you can be brave, but not me?” He did not answer. Her frustration rose. “Why is it different?”

“Because,” he said quietly. “You are a Jew.” There it was, the truth, laid before them. No matter how much they loved one another, there were differences that made this so much worse for her. “And I am afraid for you.”

“Do you regret this?” Helaine asked, gesturing between them. “I mean, being married to a Jew right now, it isn’t easy.”

“I’m not here for easy,” he replied, and she remembered then all of the struggles they had faced to be here together. “I didn’t take vows for easy. And I wouldn’t trade this for anything. I only worry for your safety. With you,” he added, “I regret nothing.” He kissed her firmly on the lips, quelling her fears for the moment.

But even Gabriel’s love could not keep the outside world at bay. The streets, which once felt like freedom, were now foreign and dangerous. The anti-Semitism that had bubbled beneath the surface in France for decades flourished in the light. Death to Jews , was crudely painted on a wall along Rue Berthe read. There were dreadful political cartoons in the newspapers portraying Jews as hook-nosed monsters, editorials calling for their expulsion from the country.

One Friday night, Gabriel and Helaine set out for the symphony. Helaine left Gabriel at the stage door and then started for the auditorium. Something was different, she noticed right away. There were two German officers in attendance, seated in some of the boxes with attractive young women as their guests. Uneasiness rose in her, but she swallowed it back and proceeded down the aisle. As Helaine neared her usual seat, she saw a woman two rows to the left pointing at her and whispering to one of the ushers. Helaine did not know them, but she recognized one of the women from the neighborhood where she had grown up.

The usher walked over to Helaine. “Excuse me, madam,” he said. Helaine looked to make sure she had not taken the wrong seat. “Given the current political situation, I’m afraid that it is no longer appropriate for Jews to attend the symphony.”

“Excuse me?” Helaine was stunned—and mortified. How had he known she was Jewish? The woman who had been pointing, Helaine realized. She must have recognized Helaine and remembered her religion. “I’m only here to listen to my husband play.” Who was this man to cast her out? But everyone around her was staring, and arguing would only draw more attention.

Helaine walked out, cheeks flushed, feeling all eyes on her. Gabriel ran out into the street. “Darling, wait! I just heard. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” He took her arm. “Come, let’s go home.”

“But you have a show.” He was ready to walk away from it all for her. “You can’t just leave.”

“If you cannot hear me, then I won’t play,” he declared defiantly.

“No, you must stay. I know that you are trying to defend me, but this is your career.”

“How can I play for people who are rejecting us?” Gabriel, though not Jewish, was casting his lot with her and Helaine loved him even more for it. “I hate this.”

“Me, too. But you must go back. I’ll be fine.” This last part was a lie. If she could not even go to see her own husband play, what else would she be forbidden from? What hope could there be for Helaine or their future together?

Gabriel kissed her and then reluctantly turned away and walked back into the concert hall. Watching him go, Helaine was filled with sadness. There was an undeniable gulf between them, people from worlds too different to bridge, no matter how much they loved one another. And with the troubles that were coming, that distance would surely only get worse. Helaine started for home, lonelier than she had ever been in her entire life.