Impersonal Love Chat Connections

So I know you've seen those love connection hotlines late at night while watching Chelsea Lately on E! or reruns of Ridiculousness on MTV. Well, we wondered what it would be like if automated operators were real people fucking with us... Enjoy!

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.”

The Forbidden Dance - Allegro Moderato, Second Coda

It was a three days before the big celebration. Karl moved through the house making sure the musicians were perfecting their pieces. Once, he took the baton and directed the orchestra through Bruckner’s Symphony No. 2 in C minor. The conductor kept rushing the pauses and Karl could feel the adagio being moved too fast. He could not resist anyway, he never turned down an opportunity to share his favorite composer’s art. He made sure the dancers were on step, he checked the menu and taste tested the food, he made sure the sculptures were finishing their works and were readily practicing with the blocks of ice he had sent in for the last month. He inspected every hidden corner of the house with a white glove and inspected the painter’s canvasses for accuracy of the portraits.

He noticed he had not seen Anzeka since her breakdown. Deep inside, he panged for causing her such pain and igniting memories of torment. He felt she was avoiding him, which she was. The day after the incident, he had the coat taken to her bed. Each morning, he found it there, at the foot of the bed, unworn. Though the house was big, it was poorly heated. The cooks stayed in the kitchens at night for warmth and the other prisoners huddled together in beds, covering with the few coats that they had, except Anzeka.

Karl often patrolled the halls at night checking on the progress of the artists who worked through the late hours. One night, he passed by her room and saw her sleeping. She laid there in her day clothes, her shoes on, and just a sheet, shivering. When he was certain all of the other prisoners were asleep, he entered the room and stood over her. He watched her sleep and whispered down to her, “Be warm, miene Liebe.” He moved a lock of hair out of her face, caressing her cheek. For a moment, he sensed she stopped shivering.

New Year’s Eve finally came. Karl now felt the pressure as he was informed that amongst the elite officials attending would be the guest of honor, the maniacal Deputy Führer Rudolph Hess. He put more pressure on the sculptors, having them sculpt swans, castles, and a giant swastika. He rushed the painters to clean up the portraits. He had the cooks change the menus six different times with little satisfaction. The musicians and dancers were performing non-stop with little time to eat.

He finally found Anzeka hanging one of the finished portraits above a fireplace in one of the meeting rooms with three other servants. “I need these rooms cleaned every hour, not a dust in site. I’ll need the bedrooms cleaned spotless and have you remove all prisoner belongings. Take them to the basement. I will need vacancy should any of the guests choose to stay. Then, I’ll need you to arrange each room in uniform, precise. You have 12 hours,” Karl barked at Anzeka and the servants. She nodded and began to leave the room with the others in tow.

Karl grabbed her arm in mid-stride. The other servants stopped as well. “You three can go.” Anzeka stood frozen staring aimlessly forward. When the servants left the room, Karl moved his mouth close to her ear. She could feel the warmth of his breath and his lips on the micro-hairs of her lobe. “I wish for you to stay out of sight this evening. These animals do not deserve to see you, miene Liebe.” His voice was low and stern, but calm. She felt a different force through her body this time. It was now in her blood, filling her veins like molasses. Her body was warm and the muscles in her face relaxed. He released her arm and she floated away.

The night was a success. The guests were pleased with the music and dance, awed by the sculptures, and salivated over dinner. Heinrich Hackmann, an SS captain in charge of personnel, even sent for Karl to come over and meet Deputy Führer Hess. Hess congratulated him on his success. “Corporal Liebermann, you have made greatness here. You have a keen sense of art that is beautiful. But remember, Corporal; you can dress a rat in a uniform. You may even be able to teach it to dance. But it is still just a rat. And rats must be terminated.” Karl forced a smile and nodded, “But of course, Sir.”

Anzeka had done what Karl ordered and stayed out of sight. She remained in a storage closet inside the kitchen, adjacent to the ballroom. There was little room to move around, so she crammed herself amongst the other contents of the closet. She sat there on a box of potatoes with the coat wrapped around her shoulder and a bag of her other belongings for hours. She could hear the orchestra playing. She closed her eyes and thought back to the day she was in Karl’s office. The music was in fact moving to her but the sound of that deathly number, the number 9, shook her bones. This time the orchestra played Bruckner’s first symphony. She knew this from Karl explaining it to the musicians. It was the most moving piece she had heard during her detainment under F kommand. She thought back to warmer memories of dancing with her father as a little girl, standing on his feet as he waltzed with her in their living room, her mother smiling as she watched. Not a night passed that she didn’t wonder if she would ever see her mother’s face again. She knew her father was killed. This information passed down through the camps. Anyone that was sick before transport back in Kashau was shot on the spot.

The closet door flung open. She raised a hand to block her face from the blinding light. The orchestra crescendo grew louder. At the doorway was a silhouette of a tall, broad shouldered soldier. It was Karl. Anzeka stood up. He entered with a smile and closed the door behind him. “The cooks told me I would find you here.”

She directed her eyes to the floor.

“Do you know the name of this piece?”

She nodded.

“Do you know what Bruckner himself called it?”

She shook her head, eyes still looking down.

“Das kecke Beserl… The saucy maid.”

She looked up and into his eyes. She felt the warmth overcome her body again.

“I see you are wearing the coat,” Karl acknowledged. “Have you ever danced before, miene Liebe?”

She nodded, thinking of her father, again.

"I would like to dance with you." He moved carefully towards her, expecting her to recoil. He placed her left hand on his shoulder and grabbed her right hand gently. There was no room for movement, so he pressed against her body and began to sway. 

He inhaled the smell of her hair and closed his eyes, letting the music float through his body as he led her. She hadn't felt such warmth, such tenderness, such love. At least not this kind of love. It was passion, but sorrow all at once. Like yearning for a lost lover. Or one she would never have. As the symphony moved out of scherzo and into finale, Anzeka rested her head on Karl's chest. A tear fell from her right eye...

To be concluded...