79
Ludwig-Maximilians-University Hospital
Munich
THOMAS BAUER SAT WITH his children, Ridley and Maxine, one on each knee, in the waiting area as his wife, Amalie, emerged from the hospital room where her father was being treated.
She tried to put on a brave face for the children, who were not allowed to see their opa and were told only that he had had an accident.
That “accident” had included missing teeth, broken ribs, a perforated left eardrum, a broken nose, a concussion, and contusions all about his body.
“You guys sit right here,” Bauer said to the children, placing them on the chairs.
“Oma is crying,” Ridley whispered. “She’s trying to pretend she’s not, but she is.”
Bauer turned back and saw his mother-in-law leaving the hospital room, her hands obscuring her face.
“Well, she’s upset because Opa got hurt,” said Bauer. “But the important thing is that he’s going to be just fine. So sit here for right now.”
Bauer found Amalie down the hall, embracing Marina, each of them trembling as they broke down, letting their emotions pour out. It occurred to Bauer that the two of them may never in their lives have seen Selig in a position of weakness.
Amalie, her chin on her mother’s shoulder, locked eyes with Bauer. “He wants to see you, Tom,” she said.
“Okay.” Bauer braced himself as he entered the room.
As a soldier and a kripo, he’d seen all manner of injuries and death.
But Selig was unrecognizable. His skull was heavily wrapped, his nose in a splint, his face a swollen blob of purple and black.
His blue eyes barely showed through the swelling.
He managed to raise a hand and summon Bauer closer.
Bauer stood over him, ear close to his face.
“You were right all along,” Selig whispered.
Bauer took Selig’s hand. “I have never wished more to be wrong.”
“So tell a stubborn old man. What would you do now, if you were me?”
Bauer pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed, leaned on the guardrails.
“Selig, you’ve made a fortune. More than enough to live a comfortable life.
” He sighed. “Look, I know it’s been in your family for almost a century.
It’s your life’s work. But Munich? The whole country?
It’s changed, and it’s only going to get worse.
They’ll extort you, they’ll threaten you, and one day they just might take it from you. ”
“You’d sell the business?”
“Yes, I would. I would retire.”
“Not stay and fight?”
“Fight for what?” said Bauer. “More money than you’ll ever need? Some things are worth fighting for, Selig. But that’s not one of them.”
With some effort, Selig sat up in the bed.
“You know something, Tom? When they paraded me around the town, I was sure I was going to die. I thought they would walk me up to my store and execute me—just shoot me in front of my employees.” He paused a moment, a tear rolling down his battered, swollen cheek.
“And that whole time, I didn’t think once about that store.
I didn’t think once about profits or money.
All I could think about was my family. Marina and Amalie, my grandchildren. ”
He put his head back on the pillow.
“Not me, though,” said Bauer. “You never thought about me.”
They both laughed, though Selig clutched his left side in pain.
“So this is Munich now,” said Selig. “This is Germany. They can do whatever they want to us because we’re Jews.”
Bauer stood. “They do whatever they want to anyone,” he said.