Revenge takes a turn into a painting portal

Revenge takes a turn into a painting portal

“Thanks for coming to help, Aaron. This is my mom, Elsa” We left the hospital at the same time. This way I could follow her to the house and still have a getaway car in case things go south. These are some nice digs. And she lives here by herself? Some people have all the luck.

“Nice to meet you.” Elsa is an elderly woman with the signs of living a long life on her face. The lines reflect years of sadness and joy. She looks a little shell shocked now sitting quietly in a chair while her children sort and box the accumulations of years of existence. Each one contains memories, some good and some wishing she could forget.

“Careful with those paintings. They were a gift to my mother from her friend in Vienna.” She speaks with an accent that I haven’t heard before. It sounds a little British but not entirely. She said she was from Vienna, but her accent is British.

There is an assortment of four paintings: two with people, one of a building and another of a landscape. I look at the one with the building and ask, “Where it is from?”

“Oh, that was our apartment in Vienna. We didn’t live in the Ringstrasse, but were not far across the river. Ours wasn’t as luxurious. The painter, Ingrid, was a neighbor and friend of my mother.”

“That’s a beautiful painting.” I say. “Did you take it with you when you left Vienna?”

“Oh, no. We left with nothing. I was only ten when my parents sent me alone with my older brother, Hans, on a train to England. I couldn’t take more than one small suitcase. They had to wait to get out, visas and all that. They couldn’t take any more than I could. I think some of her paintings were done from memory.”

Oh, shit. Maybe it wasn’t luck. How did they get to make enough to buy a house like this? I wonder what her story was. “Did you learn English in England?”

“I didn’t know any English when I left Austria, but I learned fast. It’s a lot easier when you are young and desperate.”

“Where did you go? Were you with a family?”

“Alone, my parents went on to America while my brother and I had to stay in England. My parent’s passports were stamped with only a temporary visa which said they had to leave in six months and couldn’t return. I was sent to a girl’s school north of London. At lot of girls from all over were there to escape the German bombings. We had chores to do. Only some of us were German speaking.”

“You must have been scared of the bombs.”

“It was exciting. I thought they looked like fireworks. The house supervisors would yell at me to get down from the roof. Young girls can be so mischievous.”

Oh, to be young and ignorant. I was scared shitless in Afghanistan. But my life was on the front lines. I guess that is why I detached myself and dissociated from my body. “You were a brave girl.”

“Others thought I was stupid.” She smiles at me. It was the first smile I saw from her since I came. “You seem like a nice young man.”

If she only knew my motivation; I came for revenge against her son-in-law, my ex-psychiatrist. She has dealt with a lot of trauma and seems to have done well for herself. I bet I can learn a lot from her. I wish I could go back to see what she had to deal with and more importantly learn to be so calm about it. Maybe, I can learn more from examining the painting.

I look deeply into the painting. I thought it was a painting of one home, but it is a series of attached houses. There are many doors and windows. You can just make out some of the people in each of the windows. There is a boy or young woman entering one of the entry doors. It seems to be drawing me in. I slide down into the painting and can feel myself moving closer to the front door. It is like Alice going down the rabbit hole. I am approaching the doorknob to open the door. There is a woman greeting me as I open it. “Oh, hallo Ingrid. Nice to see you. I wish it were on better terms.”

“Yes, the Nazis are coming after everyone that they deem an enemy. ‘The enemy is within,’ he tells them. You are a Jew and I a socialist, both Hitler likes to scapegoat. And the Austrians will welcome that monster into our country to make him the new leader. Shame on them for not seeing the evil in this man. My only solace is to think that we will get away, and they will suffer the consequences of their blindly accepting his lies as truths.”

“But I never considered myself a Jew. I know nothing of the religion. It has been over a generation when anyone went to synagogue. We have been loyal citizens for over a generation!”

“It doesn’t matter to them. They need scapegoats to blame for their failings. We are no longer safe. You need to get your children out before it is too late. Marie tells me about her contacts in England. They can take Elsa, but I don’t know about Hans. He might be too old, and the British don’t trust German speakers.”

“Will they just send him back? I want Hans to accompany Elsa. She is so young.”

“No, I hear they are sending the older German and Austrian boys to a remote camp in the north of England and decide if they are risks.”

“This is so terrible. Who ever thought our wonderful city and country could be taken over by an evil charlatan. How could so many Germans have voted for this felon? He was expelled from Austria before moving to Germany. I heard that he was arrested in Germany for treason and they wanted to deport him back to Austria, but we refused to take him back.”

“Yeah, it was in prison that he wrote Mein Kampf. Amazing that only made him more popular. I heard that 44% of Germans voted for the Nazis in 1933. And it wasn’t long before they took over the whole government. Once in office they couldn’t get him out.”

“And now the madman plans to march into Austria with our countrymen welcoming him with open arms. No election necessary.”

“Not all of us. We don’t have much time to escape. We have to use whatever connections we have in the remaining free world.”

“Else and Hans are taking the train to Switzerland with transfer to Calais France tomorrow. I hope Marie’s connections are honest. I hear that some are planning a Kindertrainsport in a few months to take the Jewish children through Germany to Holland before crossing the channel to Harwich England. I don’t think I trust the Germans to allow it. I think Switzerland would be safer. I’m not sure how my children without Jewish training will relate to those children. What about you? What are you, Gustav and Otto going to do?”

“You know Gustav left for Palestine months ago leaving me alone with Otto. He was attending those Zionist meetings. Otto doesn’t like them. He feels no connection to Judaism and finds those meetings distasteful. But they awakened something in Gustav. He sees that Hitler has fueled fear and hatred of Jews around the world and believes that only going to Palestine will he be safe. I think I might be safe. Other than my marriage to Gustav, I have no Jewish connection.”

“Aaron, can you help me with these other paintings.”

The familiar voice jolts me. What happened to me? I drifted into the painting. Is this one of my dissociated episodes? I thought Dr. Best cured me of that. It is as if I could see and hear all that happened in the past by stepping into the old painting. I can imagine the fear and turmoil associated with that tragedy. What I heard in that experience sounds so familiar to what is happening now. Is history repeating itself? Are we in a time warp or am I just going crazy?

“Here Aaron, take this to the basement. Are you alright?” A familiar voice is talking to me. It’s Lisa, Dr. Elle’s wife, my old psychiatrist who I am seeking revenge on. But why? I take the painting and walk slowly to the open staircase. Was I seeing Lisa’s mother? She reminds me of the vision I dreamed of my mother. She is kind and concerned about her children. She’s protective. Parents should be protective of their children. But my father? No, he wasn’t. My mother says she met my father cleaning his apartment. I was told she was an orphan whose mother gave birth in a Convent. My mother supposedly lived in the convent until Mr. Riley, my father, took a fondness towards her and offered to pay her to model for him. When she got pregnant, he married her, but it didn’t last long before he abandoned her. I don’t know how I ended up in America. I was so young. I never knew my father and I guess my mother abandoned me since she was young as she had no means of caring for me. At least that is what the foster parents told me. All I know is that I have Irish roots and somehow ended up in America like Lisa’s parents.

“Aaron, are you coming. I want to get this done before my husband returns.”

Oh no. Dr. Elle will see me if I don’t leave now. “Sorry Lisa, I just remembered that I have to be somewhere now. I will leave the painting here.” This painting is special. I wonder what she will do with it. I need it. It draws me to it. I must have it. “Lisa, what are you doing with these paintings?”

“Oh, I found a gallery in Vienna that wants to buy them.”

“But this one, the one with all the buildings….”

“Yes, what about it?”

“It’s special…”

“Yes. To someone they are all special.”

I need it. I can’t say that. “Can I buy it from you?”

“They want the lot, but I guess we can discuss buying just one of them.”

“Please save this one for me and tell me your price.” I hope I didn’t sound desperate. “I really like it. It speaks to me.”

“I guess that is what a good painting does.”

“Yes, please save it.” I really have to leave before her husband returns. “I will see you at work. When will your next shift be?”

“Oh, sorry you have to leave so soon. You should meet my husband.”

“I really have to leave now.” How will I find out when her shift is? Dr. Elle can’t see me since I was his patient. “Will you be at work Monday morning?” Let me take a guess.

“No, I won’t be there until Wednesday.”

“I don’t know my schedule yet.” I don’t want to sound like a stalker. I really don’t work there anyway. “Hope you manage the move smoothly. I assume your husband can help.”

“He still has to work the next week. But thanks for your help.”

“Maybe I can comeback Monday after I check my schedule.” I have another opportunity.

“Don’t come before 9 am as I won’t be here.”