The White Rose

The White Rose

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Memories VIII

Munich University: 1943
I was reading in the shade of a large oak, the sunlight casting dappled shadows over the page I was reading, and a light breeze teasing strands of my hair out of their neat braid. I reveled in the serenity of the moment. Events had taken a turn for the serious and after everyone had returned from summer break. Sophie was chalk white, with dark rings under her wide eyes. She was less prone to chatting, and more so to sitting deeply in thought, somehow still managing to look like a hunted rabbit. She was twitchy and irritable, only enforcing my suspicions of some sort of mysterious event taking place. Willi had also returned grave. His recent trip to the front lines seemed to have drained him of his vitality. A shadow blocked the words I was reading, and I looked up to See Sophie stationed above me, a smile on her face.
“How are you Bea? So nice to see you! I haven’t been around recently, I’ve got this terrible schedule – hardly a free minute to spare,” she chattered.  I grinned up at her, then patted the ground beside me.
“Take a seat, won’t you? We can have a little chat. A little gossip session. We need to catch up,” I said, smiling at the prospect of an afternoon with Sophie. She slid down the tree next to me. I started chattering away immediately. She wasn’t listening, though. She had this strange little look on her face, this half smile, somber little expression that she got when she was deep in thought.
“Soph. Soph! SOPHIE!” I chanted, getting louder as she continued her strange stare. She was starting to frighten me. Finally breaking out of it, she asked
“Are you still reading that book? The B. Traven one? The White Rose?” I glanced down at the cover.
“Yes, I had to put it down for a while because of a busy schedule, but now that things have calmed down a bit, I’m taking it back up again,” I said, still puzzled over her quizzical look.
“It’s a nice title. Expressive. I remember your analysis of it – purity and innocence, bravery in the face of evil. What happens, though? You’re almost done. I’m interested. What happens to those in the White Rose?” She laughed at her little rhyme, but her serious expression told me she really wanted an answer. I was almost done with the book. The ending had disappointed me so far. Becoming less and less of a romance novel and more of an action one, the last scenes were gory and graphic.
“They die,” I said simply. “All of the main characters, anyway.” I looked at Sophie, waiting for another onslaught of questions. But they didn’t come. Sophie had gone completely white.
“They… just die. That’s it?” She murmured. I laughed at her stricken expression.
“It’s just a book, Soph. You can shut it any time you want. If you stop reading early enough, you can make your own ending – pretend they all live happily ever after. The sun still shines,” I said jokingly. Sophie just stared grimly ahead, then glanced at her watch and jumped up.
            “I have to go now, or I’ll be late.” Abruptly remembering my existence, she stared at me with a mix of sadness and longing.
“Bea, I’m – I just wish…” She stopped, looking at me brokenly.
“Soph, what is it? What’s wrong?” I asked in concern. Sophie took a moment, and then seemed to collect herself. Plastering a faux grin onto her face, she chimed
“Nothing. Oh Bea, don’t mind me. It’s just the stress of these exams and all the classes… and summer break was no vacation. Nursing wounded soldiers, seeing what happens out there… it changes a person.” I looked at her concernedly.
“Soph, if you need to take a week off to recuperate, I’m sure the teachers would understand. Other people do it, and with a much weaker excuse,” I said helpfully.
“No, I’m fine. I just need to lie down for a while. After I get to this meeting, that is. I have to rush now, I’m already late. I’ll see you later,” she replied, and walked off quickly in the opposite direction. Narrowing my eyes at her retreating form, a suspicion began growing in my mind. As far as I knew, Sophie wasn’t involved in any extracurricular activities, clubs or such that would require a meeting. And professors never had meetings after hours. This strange meeting that she couldn’t be late to must have had something to do with the mysterious pamphlet I’d found on the train. I had to figure this out. Gathering up my books, I hurried after Sophie’s retreating form.

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