Trapped in East Germany by Carolyn Twede Frank

Author:Carolyn Twede Frank
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-52440-144-3
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2016-06-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Lockwitz, fall 1949

Karin carried an armful of bedding up the stairs to their new apartment. This place Mutti had found for them to live was even smaller and more run down than the rooms they shared with the Somers back in Wittgensdorf. She placed her load on the bottom tier of the bunk bed and turned to Mutti, who sat a meter away on the twin bed against the other wall, sorting through some family pictures.

“I wish you’d have left me in Wittgensdorf,” Karin said. “I’ll be glad to go back. You and Christine wouldn’t feel so crowded here if I did.”

“And you think a ten-year-old can take care of herself, do you? Pay rent? Find food?” Mutti raised her eyebrows. “And go to school on her own—without any prodding?”

“Frau Krujatz would be more than willing to let me stay there. She’d take good care of me. And make sure I got to school. I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t care. And I don’t care that our new place is little more than two rooms. We’re staying together as a family. That’s why we moved! No more going over this. You know this is the right decision.”

Karin gave a reluctant nod and headed down the stairs for another load. She met Christine on the stairs with an armload and had to squeeze flat against the wall to allow her sister to pass. Christine smiled as she slid by, her face beaming with an excitement Karin certainly didn’t share. But then, Karin hadn’t just graduated from school. She wasn’t set up for good vocational training at a prestigious business firm. No business would want to train her for a future career—even if her family were to move all the way to Berlin to find a willing company. The only thing Karin excelled in at school was poetry. Unfortunately, there weren’t many careers looking for that skill.

Karin didn’t care! She didn’t need to worry about vocational school for three or four more years—and she enjoyed memorizing and reciting poems. As of late, she’d even started writing her own poetry. Her creations brought her smiles, whereas Christine’s shorthand and typing seemed to always make her sister cross.

She trudged outside to grab another armful of belongings from the rented truck. Only a box of books and a kitchen chair remained in the bed of the rusty, blue vehicle. The driver leaned against the cab of the truck with one leg bent like the number four to support him where his back couldn’t. He tipped his hat. “Nearly finished, I see. That’ll be three marks.” He lowered his leg and stood. “Could you tell your Mutter? I would like to be getting home shortly.”

“Ja.” Karin grabbed the box of books and carried them up the narrow staircase they shared with a young family who lived in the three other upper rooms. An older woman had the whole bottom floor of the old house to herself. It had a big kitchen, a living room, and a dining room, not to mention two bedrooms.

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