The Forbidden Dance - Finale

     After that night, Karl received many compliments for his extravagant party. He would host many more parties and gatherings. He received more prisoners who were artists and musicians. However, his dancing prisoners were sent to Auschwitz. Though Hess enjoyed their performance, he noted that they were too fat to perform great German dances, and too fat for Jews.

Anzeka was now responsible for the cooks and the house servants, but rarely saw Karl alone unless it was in passing. With more demands, Karl was too busy to speak to Anzeka, but he thought of her every day and she of him. One time, he thought he saw her smile when he passed her in the hallway, but her stare was directed to the floor so he was unsure. He was also too cautious now to go out of his way to find her when the Herrenhaus was silent from the prisoners’ bustle. He felt Hess’ eyes on him, even without him being there.

A year later, he was sent to Nuremberg as part of a planning committee at Congress Hall. Karl never had the chance to speak with Anzeka before departing. Once the Axis powers had fallen, the Americans and the allies liberated all of the prisoners. Anzeka was never reunited with her family. Eventually, she moved to Hungary where she married and had two children of her own. She even had grandchildren. Anzeka became a widow in 1989.

Karl had brief success in Nuremberg before it was taken over by the Allied powers. Though he was a non-combatant soldier, he was imprisoned for 20 years. Once released, he served as a consultant to various opera houses in Spain, Italy, Australia, and Argentina before settling in Brazil. He never married, never had children. Retiring in Sao Paulo, Karl hired an artist to paint a portrait. It was of a woman sitting on a crate; her face was pale, her eyes radiant and blue, her hair golden. And she wore a black wool coat. A portrait even the painter was almost too proud to sell to Karl.  

In 2002, Karl decided it was time to visit Weimer, Germany. He needed to go back for closure, for memories. As he walked up the road leading to the gates of Buchenwald, he saw an elderly woman wearing a weathered wool coat with two young boys, about six and five years old, rolling on the grass and wrestling close to her. The woman stood there looking at the gates, frozen. He walked to the other side of the gates and stood there, staring into the camp. He looked over at the woman every other moment. After a few minutes, he walked over and stood beside her.

“They say some of the finest parties were thrown here. You’d never know it from what is known about this place,” he mentioned congenially.

The woman remained looking forward, her blue eyes glossy and full of sadness. The boys stopped rolling around and walked up to the woman.

“Grandmother?” questioned the oldest boy in Hungarian. She patted the boy’s shoulder to let him know all was fine.

“Sprichst du Deutsch?” Karl asked the woman.

She nodded without a word. A hopeful smile creased on old Karl’s face.

“Bruckner was the music of choice here, you know.”

She nodded again, directing her gaze towards the young boys now gathered at her legs. With anxiety creeping through his body Karl asked, “Das kecke Beserl?”

The woman turned towards him, a tear fell from her right eye. A smile grew on Karl’s face. The woman reached out her arms and they embraced. He kissed the tear off her cheek. She felt his warmth. He felt her shiver. She put her mouth towards Karl’s ear; he could feel the warmth of her breath as she whispered,”Miene Liebe.”