Smiling into Sophie’s wide eyes, I decided that I liked the undersized girl. Her voice was nice - soft but firm. Having drawn her into a discussion, and conquered the first awkward strains of conversation, I felt my confidence returning, and enquired,
“Are you from around here, or out of town?” As she had just moved in, it seemed the polite question to ask. Expecting an answer of ‘We’re from around here, just moving houses,’ or something of the like, I was caught off guard when she responded,
“No, we just moved to Ulm Ludwigsburg
“Why’dja move? What was it like there? Do you like it here so far? Are there any others? Kids, I mean. Erich won’t believe it if you’ve got any boys!” Taken aback by my barrage of questions, Sophie blinked a few times, and then fueled by my obvious interest, she started answering.
“Yes, I’m the fourth, there’s Inge, Hans, Elisabeth, then me, then Werner.” grinning widely, I asked
“How old are the boys? Hans? Werner?” hoping, for Erich’s sake that one of them was near ten.
“Werner’s nine, and Hans is fourteen.” (New World Encyclopedia) She replied, smiling a bit. I could feel my face going slack and my eyes growing wide in reverence.
“Fourteen… why that’s… that’s practically an adult!” I breathed, my ten year old mind almost incapable of processing that age. Sophie looked annoyed.
“Hans is just a bit older, three years is all, but it’s nothing really. I’m just about as tall as he is!” She stated defiantly, her little chest puffing up in indignation. My grin faltered as I took in the information she had just given me.
“Wait, you… you’re eleven?” I asked incredulously, eyeing her small frame dubiously. Sophie looked offended.
“Why, of course!” she huffed, straightening her back and rearranging her skirt.
“Not that you don’t look it,” I hastily put in, desperately trying to soothe her ruffled feathers.
“It’s just that… well…” I racked my brain, searching for a way to express the reality of her diminutive stature in a way that somehow sounded complementary rather than derogatory. Sophie looked at me expectantly.
Suddenly rescuing me from the awkward silence that had blossomed between us, a huge lanky for burst from the door and nearly tripped over Sophie, who was perched precariously on the top step. The giant uttered a colorful word, which triggered a reprimanding remark to be shouted from the depths of the building’s hallway, invisible to me from where I sat.
“Hans Scholl! Don’t you ever use a word like that ever again! I’ll tell mama, I swear I will!” The giant now identified as Hans, Sophie’s nearly adult brother, had a lot to say to the voice in the hall. A shouting match soon ensued. Bewildered by the sudden action, I covered my ears and ducked my head seeking reprise from the suddenly loud afternoon. Hours later, or so it felt, the shouting was cut short by the closing of the apartment door, leaving Hans to mutter angrily to the wall. Turning sharply on his heel, he seemed to notice Sophie and me for the first time since tripping over us. Grinning ruefully, he nonetheless addressed us nonchalantly, saying,
“Sorry ‘bout that, Soph. Inge just thinks she’s all that, she’s only a year older, and a girl! No offense, Soph,” he addressed his little sister who was glaring at him.
“But it’s true. Us men, well, we’re just naturally superior by nature,” he finished smugly, the proceeded to introduce himself, seemingly oblivious to the look of loathing on his sister’s face.
“I’m Hans. You’ve met Soph already. Don’t let her get you down – she’s too serious for a kid. And don’t listen to anything she says about me. She can be a real bugger, but we love her,” he said affectionately, reaching out a hand to tousle Sophie’s neat braids. Then he turned his charming smile towards me.
He really was handsome, with his thick brown hair, straight nose, and blindingly white smile. In his eyes, there was a bit of the spark I’d seen in Sophie’s, but dimmer. He looked like the sort of fellow who rested entirely on his looks to get him out of any situation he’d managed to get himself into. This opinion, you may be thinking, is one analytical and wise beyond a ten year old child’s mental capacity. And in this presumption you are correct. I was not able to develop a true description of his character until years later. At the time, sitting on the top step, looking into his large, brown eyes, all my ten year old mind was able to see was a dashing, handsome, fourteen year old boy who was speaking to me, merely ten! As a mark of how effectively captivating his persona was, only minutes before he had turned his attentions to me, I’d been despising him for the deprecating remark about women, and his easy disregard of his sister’s feelings. After he’d turned his attentions to me, I fancied myself quite in love. I grinned shyly up at him, putting my hand out tentatively.
“I’m Beatrix Rosenthal. My family lives right over in that building next to yours.”
“Fantastic!” he said enthusiastically, pumping my hand vigorously up and down.
“We’ll have to drop in for a visit then, won’t we Soph?” Sophie shrugged, looking studiously at her hands, which were busy working nonexistent wrinkles out of her skirt.
“Ah, she’s still put out with me. But she’ll come around, you’ll see,” he said cheerfully.
“Now then, I’ll have to be on my way. I’ll be down at the station helping unload our things if you need me, Soph. Nice meeting you, Beatrix.” With those last words he was gone, jogging off to the bike rack around the side of their building.
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