21. Ralf
August 31, 2025 at 5:48 PM
Returning home in the twilight's gloom, I pondered: why had Lorna turned so deathly pale and trembled at the sight of Standartenführer Seidel? Had something passed between them, something so terrible it nearly caused the Italian girl to faint? So many strange things. Far too many.
Passing by the Hofbräuhaus, from which echoed drunken shouts and merry songs, I paused and gazed upon its dark, elegant facade. It was here, back in 1920, that the first gathering of the German Workers' Party was held, where our Führer first presented the "25 Points" program to two thousand souls. A truly legendary place. The sharp features and severe gaze of his face surfaced in my mind.
Forget weakness. A youth that will make the world tremble.
Yes, Hitler was right. One must not fall apart. Germany needs people of strong spirit, those capable of courage and bravery for the Fatherland. I must follow these words. I am obliged. The brave are respected, the weak are despised—a golden rule. And another—"The strong are strongest alone."
But I would never consider Adler a weakling. Never.
I arrived home. Father was in his study; the soft melody of "Eine Frau wird erst schön durch die Liebe" drifted out. I tried to ascend the stairs as quietly as a ghost and slip into my room—I wished to be left undisturbed.
— Ralph, come here.
Damn. But I obeyed and entered his tidy, well-kept study with its massive oak desk. He sat in his armchair, dark circles beneath his eyes. Poor man. He must be so very tired.
— How are you? Holding up?
— Yes, father. I can manage. After all, it's not the first death in my life. One must cope and move forward, remain steadfast. — I said precisely what he wished to hear.
Father looked at me intently.
— I am sorry, son. You two truly were good friends. I understand you.
Wow, unexpected from him. For the first time in so long, he spoke of my personal feelings.
— It's fine. Forgotten. May I go?
As I turned to leave, I heard:
— Ralph, I do love you, truly.
I closed the door behind me and exhaled. I am so tired of all this. So tired! My head is splitting! I want to die, to forget, to drink myself into oblivion—anything to stop this ceaseless thinking!
And still, why does Seidel frighten Lorna so? What did he do to her?
I shed my clothes and fell into bed. Sleep would not come. I rose and went to the window, craving a smoke. Damn, my cigarettes were downstairs, and I hadn't the strength to roll one.
Fine. I'll endure. Perhaps I'll fall asleep faster.
How mistaken I was.
I did not sleep all night. With eyes of red, I descended to the kitchen. Father was gone, but his scent still hung in the air—sharp, mingled with smoke from his favorite cigars. After some oatmeal, I decided to step outside. A pale sun shone, a cool wind blew, and patches of blue sky peeked through, though the heavens were mostly veiled in gray cloud. Perfect. Simply perfect. Not hot, not cold—just right.
I decided to walk to the town hall at Marienplatz and simply sit on a bench like a vegetable, doing nothing. Perhaps all day. My mood was bleak; I wanted to do nothing, and frankly, to flee this damned city for a day. It infuriates me. Everything is so infuriating.
— Ralph?
Alright, perhaps I'll stay here today. Seeing the Italian girl approaching me in her beautiful checkered dress, a pleasant wave of warmth washed over me. I rose from the bench and offered my hand. Lorna shook it, and a delightful tingling lingered in my palm long after.
— What are you doing here? It's only nine in the morning.
— I could ask you the same, — I chuckled, — you are here, after all.
She smiled and looked up at the majestic town hall, its spire reaching high into the sky. The Rathaus was beautiful, but the one sitting beside me was a thousand times more so. Should I ask her about Seidel? Was she ready to tell me what happened between them?
I decided against it. In time, she would tell me herself...
— You probably want to know about Seidel.
I looked at my friend in surprise. Could she read minds?
— Uh, well...
— Don't, Ralph. I understand perfectly, I can see you want to ask. So be it, I will tell you.
I rejoiced inwardly, though my exterior feigned only a cold interest.
— I encountered him soon after we arrived here. It was night; there was a knock at our door. One does not refuse the Gestapo, so I opened it. And then...
She closed her eyes and exhaled.
— Then he, Seidel... he did an awful thing–raped me, threatening that if I told anyone and he found out, he would kill Paolo... Besides, he knows I had a... liaison with an SS officer, and that is perhaps the worst of it...
Her voice broke, and Lorna fell silent. I was stunned, speechless. This poor girl had endured such a monstrous atrocity. I placed my palm on her cheek and turned her face to mine.
— I am so sorry, Lorna. That sack of filth deserves punishment. He is unworthy of his rank.
She said nothing, only looked at me with her sad, brown eyes. I couldn't bear it.
I drew nearer and gently kissed the right corner of her mouth. Lorna giggled.
— What? What's so funny?
— It tickles.
— Ah, so you're ticklish!
I began to tickle her ribs. She squirmed and squealed with laughter. The day had become a hundred times better.
— And what was between you and Sturmbannführer Eichenwald?
Why did I ask that? Why? Lorna narrowed her eyes.
— A fleeting intrigue, nothing more. It ended; we remained friends.
— Do you love anyone now?
Shit! Will my mouth ever shut?!
— I... I don't know, Ralph, I don't know. I want to love you and be with you, but we cannot, please understand. We are from different worlds. It is simply forbidden.
— So what? Some Germans marry Frenchwomen...
— But I am not French!
— Sorry...
— It's nothing.
An awkward silence fell. Truth be told, I was both angry and upset. Why must race dictate everything in this country? I stole a glance at Lorna; she was staring at the town hall again. It isn't fair. Why shouldn't I love her just because she is, for God's sake, from Italy? Idiocy.
— What if I don't care? — I pulled her close, my arm around her waist, whispering in her ear. — What if it doesn't matter to me?
— Then you are a fool, Ralph Stelmacher.
It was like being doused in ice water. I blinked and drew back from Lorna.
— Are you serious right now?
— Yes. If my words hurt you, that is your problem.
— Yeah, mine! What kind of bullshit is this?!
I began to shout at her, not knowing why myself. Lorna also joined me.
— Start thinking rationally! First, you are the son of a Nazi; I hate them! Second, you are Aryan, I am Italian. In this life, in this country, we are not meant to be together! And finally, you will soon leave for the front! The damned front!
It felt as if my heart had been ripped out.
— Fine. — My voice was unrecognizable. — If that's what you think, then you won't see me again.
I rose from the bench and walked away from the square without looking back. Lorna did not call out. Did not follow me. Only after thirty meters did I turn around. The girl sat there, her face buried in her hands. My heart ached for her. I would not be heartless and cruel. In these times, we lacked those qualities so much. And she was broken. She needed a helping hand. I returned to the Italian girl.
— I won't leave, Lorna. I spit on these laws. They are made to be broken.
Lorna looked at me, her eyes wide with astonishment.
— You changed your mind rather quickly."
I smiled, pulled the girl to me, and held her.
— Yes, because it's me. And stop being such a bore.
I kissed her passionately, pulling her close; surprised, she gasped and buried her delicate fingers in my hair.
— Perhaps, Ralph, for you, I might change my mind.
— Hah, well, try. Shall we walk?
The two of us walked along the street, and one thought would not leave me—how astonishing it was that beside me was a person with whom even Herr Hitler lost his influence, with whom the world became different.
And I liked it very much. It gifted me warmth and the hope that the world might, soon, be healed of its anger and rage. Walking beside Lorna, I became someone else entirely.
I love her. I love her.
