
{This is a response to Mike Jackson’s Tuesday Scribes photo prompt. We are to write 200 words and no more, inspired by the photo. Thanks for the prompt and thanks, as always, for stopping by to read!}
For once! Emily rejoiced. An empty subway carriage!
Backpack beside her, book open on her lap, she willed herself through paragraphs of perplexing literary German. The train jostled, threatening to jolt the words right off the page.
Next stop, two young black men, about her age, stormed in. Head-to-toe camouflage, pants tucked into their boots.
A few rows ahead, kitty-corner. Perfect for eavesdropping.
They joked, laughed, shoved. Emily’s eyes bored downward. Mustn’t look up. They’ll know.
Peeking, she discovered one staring back. He nudged his buddy.
“Told you! She’s listening. She understands!”
Emily’s moon-like face waxed red. Turning pages.
Undeniable failure.
Six months of effort, polishing her American accent into oblivion. Bright patterns, flip-flops, trashed. Replaced with morose monotones.
Somehow, they knew. She was an open book.
Krankenhaus. Her stop.
Exiting, she noticed their dark eyes, brimming with regret. So much left behind: home, family, girlfriends, simple conversation.
She could pass for German. How could they, wearing despised uniforms and the wrong skin tone?
Sliding door, fluorescent lights. Emily bolted, then turned.
Fingertips to lips, she blew a kiss. “Have a nice day!”
The door crushed shut.
The soldiers’ smiles remained glued to the glass, disappearing only with the train.
Another winner!
Thank you Brad. I had an experience similar to this on a train near a town with an American base on it, back in the 80’s. The reception of US soldiers by Germans at that time seemed, from my vantage point, to be mixed: partially hostile (mostly in passive-aggressive ways, rather than overtly) and partially welcoming, engaging. It was the Cold War, after all, and they considered Germany to be Ground Zero in the likely coming (likely nuclear) battle between the US and the Soviets.
But I also wanted to show that teenage/early twenties urge, to be like everyone around you, to blend in, and how impossible that can be when it comes to something as complex as culture nd language. This encounter also reminded me of the racial struggles in the US, and the attempts of those with lighter skin to pass for white, given the world of opportunities that then became accessible to them, if they succeeded in “passing.”.