Mariyah's Blog

Christmas break was arriving much faster than Ghassan had expected. An enjoyable fall with Alexandra had made the time whisk by. As the snow gently fell, once again, on the Stuttgart streets, he regretted only one thing – that he hadn’t been able to take her somewhere special, just the two of them. He understood Frau Hanauer’s desire to put limits on their freedom, but he had hoped she might grant them a little more, even if it were just a walk in the snow. He had wished to be able to hold Alexandra in his arms, to touch her face, and perhaps even to sneak a kiss – all things impossible in a proper sitting room. For weeks these thoughts had been building in his mind. Today, being Sunday, he had decided that he would finally talk to Frau Hanauer about the possibility.

On this afternoon the skies were overcast, but the freshly fallen snow which blanketed the ground and the roof tops gave the neighborhood a magical glow. The nip of frost in the air was invigorating as opposed to oppressive and Ghassan breathed deeply as he trudged through the streets to Alexandra’s. Many of the homes along the way had beautiful fir wreaths with festive ribbons adorning their doors. Ghassan laughed to himself as he stopped to watch a cat, huddled on a windowsill, yowl unpleasantly at its owner through the glass. Only a cat, he thought, could be so unpleasant and still so adored. Further along, as he approached Frau Hanauer’s, Ghassan felt a spring in his step – a lightness that came only with the thought of Alexandra.

Frau Hanauer’s home was always neatly kept. Today, the walk was shoveled, fresh sprigs of evergreen followed the wrought-iron banister to the bottom of the steps, and a tidy welcome mat invited one to wipe one’s boots before stepping upon the threshold. Everything appeared as it always did and Ghassan had no reason to expect anything out of the ordinary behind the large, wooden, front door. But when Frau Hanauer opened the door, her face was sternly set. In a loud voice she shouted in German something about not wanting any, and forced Ghassan back out onto the landing as she closed the door behind her.

“Ghassan, dear.” began Frau Hanauer in a hushed tone, “You can’t meet with Alexandra today.”

“But why, Frau?” Ghassan staggered with confusion. “What’s happened?”

“Her father is here.” Frau Hanauer looked directly into Ghassan’s eyes to ensure that he understood her message. “You’d better go home.”

Ghassan looked back at Frau Hanauer wide eyed with surprise. “Her father.” He repeated. As he did so, a twinge of fear nestled itself into his heart. “But why?”

“He has come to take her home for the holidays.” Frau Hanauer stated simply. “But I suspect there’s more to his arrival than he has stated. I think he wants to survey my home to make sure all is as it should be, according to his instructions.”

Ghassan stood completely still, his eyes on Frau Hanauer and his mind spinning. The fear that had tried to implant itself was now being washed away by fiery Arab blood. The darkness of anger and frustration began to pool in his already dark eyes. Stiffly, he stood tall while he placed his hands behind his back and clenched his fists.

“I need to speak to him.” he said coldly.

“Ghassan, please.” Frau Hanauer implored. “He is not a man who is easily reasoned with. Go home and let me deal with him.”

“No. I will not. With all due respect, Frau, this matter must be settled by me and Alexandra.”

“He does not know.” Frau Hanauer said sternly. “He thinks everything is as he had ordered. What do you think will happen if you go in there right now? How do you think that would affect Alexandra? He could take her home and never let her return.”

“This charade must end. I must face him.”

“Not today, Ghassan.” Something in Frau Hanauer’s voice alerted Ghassan. Her face was stony and her eyes fierce. “Go home.”

Ghassan’s instinct was to push past her and to enter the house. But as he felt his blood boiling, he felt a deeper gratitude to, and respect for, this staunch woman standing before him. He turned briskly and descended the stairs and then turned again to look at Frau Hanauer.

“My heart is in your hands, Frau.” he said with a slight edge to his voice – partially a plea and partially a warning. As he walked quickly away, he heard the large wooden door close again as Frau Hanauer went back inside.

As the fall months of 1955 drew on, the North wind blew into Stuttgart unsettling the withered leaves from the trees, tossing and spinning them along the nearly abandoned streets. Occasionally lone figures pushed against the wind’s icy blast, huddled in a desperate attempt to retain some bodily warmth. Unlatched gates, loose shutters, hung signs and pendant lamps, all swayed and groaned an eerie discord that echoed harshly against the gray stone buildings that made up Stuttgart’s neighborhoods. The only break in the bleakness were the bright, warm lights glowing from the windows that punctuated the gray facades.

If happiness could have shone, it too would have lit the streets from the windows of Frau Hanauer’s home. Inside, the kind-hearted mistress had wrestled the roots of young love from the clutches of an early demise. She lovingly planted them in fertile ground and gave them the sustenance they needed to grow and blossom. And blossom they did under her watchful eye. Every Sunday the sitting room, was the meeting place for Ghassan and Alexandra. At one end of the room, they sat close together holding hands, and talking in hushed tones. At the other end, sat Frau Hanauer usually with knitting or a book. She had felt that she needed to respect Professor Cochrane’s wishes to some degree.

Alexandra had never minded Frau Hanauer’s presence. She was so grateful to the woman for allowing her to see Ghassan at all, that she hardly felt that she could complain. Sitting with Ghassan’s warm, gentle hands holding hers and losing herself in his deep, dark eyes while he told her stories of his homeland, she rarely noticed anything else around her. They would sit together for hours, often talking but sometimes in silence – just allowing themselves to feel the unspoken poetry of their closeness. During these moments, Alexandra could imagine she could hear Ghassan’s heart beat in time with hers.

At times, when Frau Hanauer was particularly engrossed in her reading, Ghassan would pull Alexandra closer and softly nudge her cheek with his nose. She would feel his breath on her face and nearly go mad with an urge to kiss him. The warmth of desire would spread throughout her body like a torrent. She felt weak and anxious all at once. The pit of her stomach would be filled with what felt like a hundred butterflies and the hair on her arms and the back of her neck would stand on end. Sometimes it was almost too much to take. She felt as though she would succumb indelicately if she didn’t pull away from him with a teasing admonishment.

When the time came to part a the end of the day, the lovers moved slowly and reluctantly to say goodbye. Alexandra almost felt as his hand slid slowly from hers, their fingers stretching beyond their reach to avoid moving into empty space, that she wouldn’t be able to go another week without him. But she always did and the week always went better than she expected it would. Just knowing that Sunday would come again and so would he, was enough to make it through. In fact, she was happier than she had ever been. She often caught herself humming while doing her homework, or smiling radiantly as she walked along the street. She felt that carefree lightness of heart that comes with being in love.

Alexandra didn’t want to allow herself to think about how long her meetings with Ghassan could take place. She dreaded the thought of returning home for Christmas with no hope of hearing Ghassan’s voice during that time. She dreaded the thought that someday she would have to face her father again; to tell him that she was seeing this man from Syria against his wishes. Even more so, she feared the long arm of her father’s authority. How would he react when she told him that she might marry this man if he asked her? Would he continue in his attempts to suppress them? What she didn’t realize was that she would find out sooner than she had thought.

Ghassan had been escorted quickly from the front steps of Frau Hanauer’s home to the salon. The other girls who lived at the residence had arrived back from the library in time to see him there, sopping wet and miserable. One of the girls recognized him from the restaurant where he had first seen Alexandra and they immediately took pity on him. Frau Hanauer’s salon was comfortable and handsomely appointed. A modest fireplace drew the eye to the far end of the room from the entrance. It was lit and cast a warm glow about the room. Seconds after he had stepped foot inside, Frau Hanauer, approached with a concerned look on her face.

“Young man! You’re soaking. What in heaven’s name were you doing out there?”

“Alexandra.” Was all that Ghassan could muster.

“Oh! You must be Ghassan!” Frau Hanauer’s warm eyes set steadily on the tall, wet, bedraggled man who stood before her. “Willkommen. Sit. I’ll get a blanket for you.”

“Please, Frau, please tell me what as happened to Alexandra.” Ghassan’s voice was urgent and pleading.

Frau Hanauer wrapped Ghassan in a blanket and walked him to the chair near the fire.

“Alexandra, my dear, has been sequestered by command of her father. You mustn’t blame her. She is very distraught.” Frau Hanauer spoke in a very soft voice. “We will have to work out an arrangement by which you can see one another. I cannot stand to see your two hearts ripped apart.”

Ghassan stared at the woman in disbelief. Had he just heard her correctly? Had she just conspired against Alexandra’s father to help them? As he watched her face break into an enormous smile, he couldn’t help but smile himself.

“Thank you, Frau. Thank you, with all my heart!”

“You’re very welcome.” She looked at him long and hard and then winked. “You are a handsome young man aren’t you even if you are a little damp?”

Ghassan blushed as the other girls in the room giggled.

Frau Hanauer didn’t wait for him to reply. “Now,I must get Alexandra. The poor dear has likely cried herself into oblivion.”

—–

Ghassan struggled from his chair as Alexandra’s eyes met his. Seeing the distress in her face, made him forget all of his own discomforts and concerns. For what seemed like forever, she stood in the entrance staring at him.

“Alexandra. Its me, Ghassan.” He smiled gently at her. “I know I must look like a drowned rat, but it is me!”

The moment of realization that a wrong has been righted, that a love has not been lost, is one of elation, almost of euphoria. A heart that, moments before, had felt as though it was reduced with an intense sadness, becomes full again almost to the point where it feels as though it may burst. The emotions, that have traveled from one pole to the other in a matter of seconds, become entangled in their desire to be expressed. A body becomes a slave to these overwhelming feelings and the expression of these feelings can be as confused as the situation.

Alexandra covered her mouth with her hand as tears of joy tumbled down her cheeks. She burst forward as though driven by some unseen force. Ghassan let the blanket drop as she approached and he took her into his arms. As he did so, he felt her small body melt into his. She buried her face in his chest and he stroked her hair softly. Suddenly, the rest of the room and the other people in it had become redundant. Neither Ghassan or Alexandra had noticed the collective sigh of admiration that had escaped the lips of the other women there. (to be continued)

As the rain beat against her windowpane, Alexandra felt as though her heart was being ripped from her chest. The ticking of the small clock on her side table pounded like thunder in her ears. September 15^th, 1955 had become the worst day of her life. By 2:30 the tears streamed endlessly down her face as she sat in her window. She had desperately hoped to see Ghassan’s figure in the street so that she could signal him. So that she could find some way to let him know that she had wanted to see him. But no one had appeared on such a miserable day and Alexandra stared through her tears into the rain and across the rooftops into a gray mist.

Frau Hanauer had been so apologetic. She told Alexandra that she knew that Alexandra’s heart was breaking but that Professor Cochrane, Alexandra’s father, had tied her hands. She couldn’t allow Alexandra out on such a day to meet with a man. She sat with Alexandra in her room for a long time with her arm around the girl’s shoulders in a motherly fashion. Alexandra had appreciated the gesture but her anger at her father had intensified to the point that she couldn’t be comforted. Her first instinct had been to lash out at Frau Hanauer but when she looked into those soft, kind eyes, Alexandra realized quickly that this would have been a mistake. Instead she thanked the woman and asked to be alone for a while.

It was that horrible loneliness that accompanies anger and grief, that hung in the room like an invisible demon. As the last gray light of the afternoon stretched across the floor, the dark shadows threatened to creep from their corners and to slowly devour the light. Alexandra shivered as the dampness from outside pervaded any inner warmth. How could she face Ghassan after this? The poor man was likely soaked and cold by now and as miserable as the day because he was fruitlessly waiting for her. Alexandra began to sob loudly as the hopelessness of the situation engulfed her.

Downstairs, the other girls at the residence had gathered, as usual, in the salon for some social time. Today, however, instead of their usual giddy banter, they spoke in hushed tones. Alexandra was aware of their presence but had no desire to join them. She figured they were talking about her. But there was something else. Some other commotion that was out of ordinary. She couldn’t make it out and soon pushed it from her mind. Being wrapped up in her emotions she felt no desire to investigate. She was looking longingly at her bed with a need to curl up under the warmth of the covers, when Frau Hanauer’s voice startled her.

“Alexandra!” Frau Hanauer called sweetly, “Come downstairs Frauline, bitte!”

“Please, Frau, I’d rather not.” Alexandra begged from her doorway.

“Dear, you must.” came the reply.

Reluctantly, Alexandra made her way downstairs, wiping her eyes and face as she went. She imagined that she looked quite wretched but she hardly cared. She met Frau Hanauer at the base of the stairs in the foyer. The gentle woman embraced Alexandra and whispered in her ear.

“I’ve explained the situation, Leibschen. Together, we will find a way to make this work. I promise you.” Cooed Frau Hanauer and smiled sympathetically.

“What situation, Frau? What do you mean?” Alexandra was confused.

Without answering, Frau Hanauer ushered Alexandra into the salon. All of the girls sat watching Alexandra expectantly. As she looked back at their faces, Alexandra almost hadn’t noticed the anomaly. At the far end of room, huddled in a chair and wrapped in a blanket, sat Ghassan. (to be continued)

On September 15th the thickest, darkest rain clouds imaginable loomed over Stuttgart. The rain fell in thick, heavy, and unrelenting droplets; indiscriminately soaking everything in its deluge. Only several individuals braved the fierce rain on the usually busy Konigstraße, scurrying across the wet pavement and bent under their black umbrellas. In the grayness, the tall, stone buildings took on the appearance of enormous megaliths; their blackened windows like empty eye-sockets punctuating their facades. Even the trees and flowers were a shade of gray as if the skies had sucked up every color left on earth and replaced it with a monochrome gray.

Ghassan stood precisely at the corner of Konigstraße and Kronenstraße at 2 o’clock and leaned against the tall black street lamp. He had arrived early for fear of missing Alexandra should she not have waited for him if he had been late. He cocked his umbrella to shield himself as well as he could against the rain, but even for his best efforts, his leather shoes and the bottom half of his pants were soon soaked. He watched the street alertly – he had planned to whisk her quickly into the closest café to protect her from the rain.

Ghassan’s heart pounded at the thought of seeing his fair Alexandra again. He envisioned her shining eyes as they looked into his and her petal pink lips as they curved into a gentle smile. He remembered the softness of her delicate, ivory hands and the gentle feminine fragrance that arose from her hair as she leaned against him. His ears rang with her lovely Scottish lilt like the music from the lute of some Pictish faery. While he held to these thoughts he felt sheltered from the bleakness of the day.

As time moved on past 2 o’clock, Ghassan watched each and every face as they approached. Rarely did a passer-by notice him; the misery of being wet and cold set into their expressions. Each small, female figure, as it drew near, brought a small flutter to the base of his stomach and then a pang of disappointment as it became clear that the form was not that of Alexandra’s. By half past two, Ghassan was starting to feel the cold. His pants dripped and the dampness had made its way in, around, and through his entire body. As time ticked onward, Ghassan started to feel the misery he had seen in so many other faces on Konigstraße.

It had not occurred to Ghassan that Alexandra would not show deliberately. He had been concerned that she may not have received his message, but Frau Hanauer had assured him that she had placed it on Alexandra’s desk where she would be sure to find it. What could be keeping her? Was she due to return later than was expected? Was she ill? Was she lost? The questions circulated in his mind. For a moment he though he should search for her but he couldn’t pull himself away from the corner. What if she appeared and he was no longer there? But it was nearly 3 o’clock. He decided that he would start walking toward Frau Hanauer’s. At least if Alexandra were on her way, they would cross paths. If not, he could find out from Frau Hanauer what had kept her.

Past the pedestrian area of Konigstraße, cars splashed along the streets in an almost rhythmic fashion, their lights illuminating the torrents of rain. Ghassan trudged onward as the water squelched in his shoes and his umbrella struggled against the wind. He no longer took in his surroundings but rather tried to avoid other people and objects while he ducked behind his umbrella. As he reached the steps of Frau Hanauer’s he stopped and looked up at the brightly lit windows. He was admiring how welcoming it appeared when he noticed a figure sitting in one of the upper windows. The form was so familiar and Ghassan felt a jab of pain in his heart as he realized it was Alexandra. She seemed to be looking into the distance, across the roof-lines and not down to the street. He stood immobilized, staring up at the window as the rain pelted his face. (to be continued)