[1] Short Story

During the summer, when the heat became unbearable, Bo and I would sit under the shade of the Tilia trees, sucking absentmindedly on ice cubes and whistling at the girls who walked by, laughing as sweat poured down our backs. Those days were filled with the simplicity of adolescence: we pushed each other in lakes, chased each other until we collapsed, and dated more girls that we could count. There was hardly a time when we were not together, and prosperity filled the air; Father was bold in his career, and Ma smiled while making lemonade and bread. Days moved by quickly, blurring together into a bundle of happiness that seemed never-ending. It was impossible to imagine anything different; we lived in the most powerful empire in the world, and we were of a superior race.

Bo, though barely passing school, was always naturally fun and still had his interesting sense of humor. Father said that he would rely on me to make the money for the family when I was older, and I didn’t mind. For once, it was nice to be ahead of Bowen in some way, when everything seemed to come so naturally to him without having to fight for it. There was an aura of magnetism that followed him where he went; while I normally struggled to maintain a simple conversation, Bo would make people fall in love with him in five minutes; he was eccentric, genuinely loving, and fascinating. 

The first time I felt equal to my brother was when I was seventeen; he was only fifteen, and Father had gotten a chemistry tutor for the both of us. The equations naturally made sense to me, and watching Bo finally struggle gave me a strange sense of accomplishment. One day, when he hadn’t shown up to tutoring, I found him afterwards curled up deep in the grove behind our house, looking remarkably small compared to the tree that towered over him. For the first time in Bo’s life, he looked insignificant compared to another. 

“It doesn’t make sense,” he said softly, voice cracking. “How can Dad scold me for not getting this easily, like you can?”

 I couldn’t say anything, and instead I ran down to the corner store and paid for popsicles with the only five Pfennig that Father had given me in two years. Though nothing else was communicated between us, the competitive air I felt around Bo had vanished. That was the year when I learned that it was impossible for anybody to be perfect. No matter how incredible someone seemed, there would always be one thing that they struggled with, whether it be prominent in their life or not. I realized that that was made us so, irrevocably human beyond any means. 

When the Kaiser had declared war on Russia, Father insisted we join the army. Bo and I were filled with patriotism as we both applied for jobs at chemists at a factory in Kiel, by the sea. It was a time of excitement for us both; our conversations were filled with increased vigor and gaiety.