Auschwitz At Dawn; 1935 part I
Author: racistdragon
Title: Auschwitz At Dawn
Summary: A homosexual love story.
Warnings: A little bit of cursing but it's tame so far.
Part: Part I of "1935"; part one of many.
I watched the condensation slip down the side of my glass as I waited for Kurt to return from the bar. He always brought my drink back first, which was nice of him, but what kind of boyfriend would I have been if I hadn’t waited for him? He told me that I was silly. We constantly fought over this, though it was more playful jabbing and less of an argument. He didn’t want to place himself before me and I didn’t want to drink without him. We were both in the right.
Kurt and I had known each other since 1933. We met in university. He, a slender, blond-haired, blue-eyed music student, was highly popular amongst the general student population whereas I, tall, gangly, brown-haired, green-eyed and horribly shy, was not. I was a literature student and I kept to myself most often, until he one day took it upon himself to disturb me while I was writing. I never would have imagined that he would be interested in me. He was surprising.
“It’s crowded tonight,” he said as he returned to the chair beside mine, glass of beer in hand. “Everyone’s talking about Germany.”
“Oh, let them talk,” I said, smiling through a sigh. “I haven’t seen you all day.”
Laughing, he leaned over and kissed me. “You chose to come here.” I could tell that the talk made him uneasy. Though his Polish was good, he was still German and the news disturbed him. I got the sense that his feelings of loyalty mingled with feelings of disgust. He wasn’t alone, of course. The voices in the bar were rife with German accents. Agitated ones. “Anyway.” He shook his head as though that would help knock out the rumors. “How are things in the shop?”
The shop was a small, family-owned clothing boutique called Lipinski’s, just at the center of Warsaw. Most of its clientele consisted of elderly businessmen and the wives of elderly businessmen, but it was a nice place and it worked well as a day job. It helped me pay our bills. As a violinist, Kurt earned his keep but the market was a lot less stable for him. I was always a bit worried that he would not be able to find work, but he somehow managed to do so, whether because of his skill or his adorable nature. It was impossible not to love him.
“Mr. Topolski still doesn’t know my name,” I said with a small laugh of my own.
Kurt leaned back in his chair, smiling. “Ah, Jules, you never have good news!” He sipped some beer.
“How is that bad news? It might not be good news if he knew my name,” I pointed out. “It might mean that he’s had a complaint with me before.”
Shrugging slightly, Kurt cast a glance back over at the crowd by the bar. I never knew him to be such a worrier before. That was typically my job. “How was your day?” I asked, making an effort to keep him distracted from what was obviously an alarming debate for him.
“Good, good,” he said with a little nod, taking another swig of his beer as though it were a remedy. It was no secret to me that he had come to Poland to escape the Reich. Countless others had as well. I didn’t really understand what someone like him had to worry about, however. There was no controversy in his background. His father had served in World War I. His older brother, Wilm, had a biology degree from a university in Frankfurt. His mother was in a book club, but that was innocent. And Kurt was the same way: innocent. Unless the German government had a thing against innocence, I did not see a problem.
But Kurt clearly did. I was loath to continue with such a topic, but it was clear that he wanted me to want to talk about it. And talking about anything else was growing to be uncomfortable small-talk. Not the kind of talk you want to have with your lover. “What are they saying about Germany?” I finally asked, keeping my sigh to myself. I would give him what he wanted and maybe be able to get him to stop with the worrying.
He leaned in closer to me then, his blue eyes appearing black in the dim light now. “They are saying that clubs are being shut down,” he said emphatically. “They are saying that Boys Clubs - not ladies’ clubs - are being targeted. And they are saying that some of the members have been sent to prison. That’s what they are saying.”
I stared at him. “What does that have to do with you?” I knew, but I did not want to admit that I knew. Homosexuals, like me and Kurt, were being cleansed out of Germany now. I wondered who would be arbitrarily targeted next. Stamp collectors? Hitler and his followers had clearly lost their minds… or never had minds to begin with. Just air inside their skulls. Kurt continued to stare at me with those dark eyes which seemed as though they reflected everything except what he was thinking. I brought my arm to the top of the table and gently slipped my hand into his. “We are going to be okay,” I said. I wasn’t so sure that it was true, but I greatly wanted to believe it. “We’re all the way here, in Poland. They can’t get us here.”
Kurt attempted a small smile and nodded, looking down at our hands. “No German would be crazy enough to come to Poland.”
I laughed softly, and he laughed with me. At last, at least some of the tension had gone away. I leaned in and kissed him. No one in the bar minded. Why should Germany?
Out in the streets, people were less fretful, though it was clear that the news had been spreading throughout Warsaw. The attitude overall was more disgusted than scared, however. Whether because people were shocked at the Nazis’ insanity or because they were appalled by the idea of homosexuals, I don’t know. We didn’t stop to ask anyone. As we walked to Maria’s flat, we were silent, both thinking the same worried thoughts.
Maria Polanski was a mutual friend we had met during our time at university. A friendly, jovial girl, she had been extremely generous with her time for us over the years. This struck me as a bit odd because such a lovely girl certainly had much better things to do with her time than to spend it with a platonic pair of friends. What could have possibly been in it for her? However, she really did seem to enjoy our company, despite our uselessness. We spent much of our free time, when not at the bar, in her home.
Kurt knocked on her front door and she peered out at us through the curtains in her window before cautiously opening the door. The way she acted, you would think that she believed us to be enemies of the state. Kurt acted as though he didn’t notice and, instead, smiled. “Hello, Maria,” he said sweetly. “We have returned from the bar and are ready for our nightcap.”
Normally, such joking would make her laugh. Instead, she looked from him to me and then held the door open wider for us to enter. “I thought that you two might stay away,” she said, “after what has been announced.”
“Why should we stay away?” I asked, trying to retain the pleasant air that Kurt had introduced. “What better way to spend a Thursday evening than in the company of our dear friend?”
She looked at both of us, frowning. “You don’t know?”
“Know what, Fraulein Panic? That the Third Reich is now after people who commit ‘homosexual indecencies’? First I’ve heard of it.”
“How can you be so calm?” she asked. She sounded disappointed and more than a little cross.
Kurt shook his head. “I’m not calm,” he replied. “I’m fucking terrified. But neither being calm nor being fucking terrified is going to get us anywhere.”
“Besides,” I added. “Germany is not the boss of us.”
“And I have a friend in the United States,” said Kurt. “I can get in touch with him and we’d be out of here within the week, if we really wanted to leave.”
Maria collapsed onto the couch. “You two are crazy,” she said. But she was smiling.
Title: Auschwitz At Dawn
Summary: A homosexual love story.
Warnings: A little bit of cursing but it's tame so far.
Part: Part I of "1935"; part one of many.
I watched the condensation slip down the side of my glass as I waited for Kurt to return from the bar. He always brought my drink back first, which was nice of him, but what kind of boyfriend would I have been if I hadn’t waited for him? He told me that I was silly. We constantly fought over this, though it was more playful jabbing and less of an argument. He didn’t want to place himself before me and I didn’t want to drink without him. We were both in the right.
Kurt and I had known each other since 1933. We met in university. He, a slender, blond-haired, blue-eyed music student, was highly popular amongst the general student population whereas I, tall, gangly, brown-haired, green-eyed and horribly shy, was not. I was a literature student and I kept to myself most often, until he one day took it upon himself to disturb me while I was writing. I never would have imagined that he would be interested in me. He was surprising.
“It’s crowded tonight,” he said as he returned to the chair beside mine, glass of beer in hand. “Everyone’s talking about Germany.”
“Oh, let them talk,” I said, smiling through a sigh. “I haven’t seen you all day.”
Laughing, he leaned over and kissed me. “You chose to come here.” I could tell that the talk made him uneasy. Though his Polish was good, he was still German and the news disturbed him. I got the sense that his feelings of loyalty mingled with feelings of disgust. He wasn’t alone, of course. The voices in the bar were rife with German accents. Agitated ones. “Anyway.” He shook his head as though that would help knock out the rumors. “How are things in the shop?”
The shop was a small, family-owned clothing boutique called Lipinski’s, just at the center of Warsaw. Most of its clientele consisted of elderly businessmen and the wives of elderly businessmen, but it was a nice place and it worked well as a day job. It helped me pay our bills. As a violinist, Kurt earned his keep but the market was a lot less stable for him. I was always a bit worried that he would not be able to find work, but he somehow managed to do so, whether because of his skill or his adorable nature. It was impossible not to love him.
“Mr. Topolski still doesn’t know my name,” I said with a small laugh of my own.
Kurt leaned back in his chair, smiling. “Ah, Jules, you never have good news!” He sipped some beer.
“How is that bad news? It might not be good news if he knew my name,” I pointed out. “It might mean that he’s had a complaint with me before.”
Shrugging slightly, Kurt cast a glance back over at the crowd by the bar. I never knew him to be such a worrier before. That was typically my job. “How was your day?” I asked, making an effort to keep him distracted from what was obviously an alarming debate for him.
“Good, good,” he said with a little nod, taking another swig of his beer as though it were a remedy. It was no secret to me that he had come to Poland to escape the Reich. Countless others had as well. I didn’t really understand what someone like him had to worry about, however. There was no controversy in his background. His father had served in World War I. His older brother, Wilm, had a biology degree from a university in Frankfurt. His mother was in a book club, but that was innocent. And Kurt was the same way: innocent. Unless the German government had a thing against innocence, I did not see a problem.
But Kurt clearly did. I was loath to continue with such a topic, but it was clear that he wanted me to want to talk about it. And talking about anything else was growing to be uncomfortable small-talk. Not the kind of talk you want to have with your lover. “What are they saying about Germany?” I finally asked, keeping my sigh to myself. I would give him what he wanted and maybe be able to get him to stop with the worrying.
He leaned in closer to me then, his blue eyes appearing black in the dim light now. “They are saying that clubs are being shut down,” he said emphatically. “They are saying that Boys Clubs - not ladies’ clubs - are being targeted. And they are saying that some of the members have been sent to prison. That’s what they are saying.”
I stared at him. “What does that have to do with you?” I knew, but I did not want to admit that I knew. Homosexuals, like me and Kurt, were being cleansed out of Germany now. I wondered who would be arbitrarily targeted next. Stamp collectors? Hitler and his followers had clearly lost their minds… or never had minds to begin with. Just air inside their skulls. Kurt continued to stare at me with those dark eyes which seemed as though they reflected everything except what he was thinking. I brought my arm to the top of the table and gently slipped my hand into his. “We are going to be okay,” I said. I wasn’t so sure that it was true, but I greatly wanted to believe it. “We’re all the way here, in Poland. They can’t get us here.”
Kurt attempted a small smile and nodded, looking down at our hands. “No German would be crazy enough to come to Poland.”
I laughed softly, and he laughed with me. At last, at least some of the tension had gone away. I leaned in and kissed him. No one in the bar minded. Why should Germany?
Out in the streets, people were less fretful, though it was clear that the news had been spreading throughout Warsaw. The attitude overall was more disgusted than scared, however. Whether because people were shocked at the Nazis’ insanity or because they were appalled by the idea of homosexuals, I don’t know. We didn’t stop to ask anyone. As we walked to Maria’s flat, we were silent, both thinking the same worried thoughts.
Maria Polanski was a mutual friend we had met during our time at university. A friendly, jovial girl, she had been extremely generous with her time for us over the years. This struck me as a bit odd because such a lovely girl certainly had much better things to do with her time than to spend it with a platonic pair of friends. What could have possibly been in it for her? However, she really did seem to enjoy our company, despite our uselessness. We spent much of our free time, when not at the bar, in her home.
Kurt knocked on her front door and she peered out at us through the curtains in her window before cautiously opening the door. The way she acted, you would think that she believed us to be enemies of the state. Kurt acted as though he didn’t notice and, instead, smiled. “Hello, Maria,” he said sweetly. “We have returned from the bar and are ready for our nightcap.”
Normally, such joking would make her laugh. Instead, she looked from him to me and then held the door open wider for us to enter. “I thought that you two might stay away,” she said, “after what has been announced.”
“Why should we stay away?” I asked, trying to retain the pleasant air that Kurt had introduced. “What better way to spend a Thursday evening than in the company of our dear friend?”
She looked at both of us, frowning. “You don’t know?”
“Know what, Fraulein Panic? That the Third Reich is now after people who commit ‘homosexual indecencies’? First I’ve heard of it.”
“How can you be so calm?” she asked. She sounded disappointed and more than a little cross.
Kurt shook his head. “I’m not calm,” he replied. “I’m fucking terrified. But neither being calm nor being fucking terrified is going to get us anywhere.”
“Besides,” I added. “Germany is not the boss of us.”
“And I have a friend in the United States,” said Kurt. “I can get in touch with him and we’d be out of here within the week, if we really wanted to leave.”
Maria collapsed onto the couch. “You two are crazy,” she said. But she was smiling.