The Glassblower(11)
The young men of the village often gathered down on the foundry square after work. While great bursts of flame shot out from the furnaces inside the foundry, the girls sat outside on the low wall and giggled. The boys stood by the wall, digging one another in the ribs, cracking jokes, or smoking cigarettes that more often than not made their eyes water. The boys and girls traded glances—appraising, amorous or scornful, flirtatious or brazen, or even downright shameless. Some were all smiles and elegance, while others made fools of themselves.
Johanna never felt that she had missed out on anything by not going down there. Quite the opposite; she hated the way the young men gawped as she walked through the village with Ruth and Marie. And Ruth had always claimed that she would rather wait for a Polish prince or a Russian nobleman to come courting than walk out with one of the clumsy boys from the foundry square. Johanna reminded her of what she had so often said.
“Maybe those were just a young girl’s daydreams,” Ruth said, waving a hand dismissively. “I don’t want life to pass me by. Do you think I enjoy being stuck here in the house and only ever doing chores? I want to wear pretty things the way the other girls do. And I want to sing with the choir, or join in the theater shows where they wear such splendid costumes! Or even just go to the fair one of these days. Who knows, maybe that’s where I’ll meet my prince. But it certainly won’t happen if we just shut ourselves away like hermits!”
Johanna gazed at her sister, aghast. All of a sudden she felt she knew far too little about what Ruth wanted in life.
“But we can’t just go out in the street and find a man to marry, easy as that!” Marie’s skepticism broke the sudden silence. “I can’t think of anyone who wants to marry us!”
Johanna sighed again. Sometimes Marie was just too naive.
“I can, but it’s not me he wants to marry . . .” Ruth laughed. “Who keeps paying us neighborly calls, and wanting to talk to one of us alone?”
Marie giggled.
Johanna rolled her eyes. It was hardly news that Ruth thought that she and Peter were more than just friends. She thought of him as a big brother, someone she could talk to without having to mind her words. “Peter’s a good friend. To all of us!” she said, although she didn’t want to talk about it.
“Maybe you think he’s just a friend. You think he just spends his days making false eyes for others . . .” Ruth raised her eyebrows and paused meaningfully. “But he’s making real eyes at you!” she burst out, giggling.
“That’s an awful joke!” Marie snapped at her. “I think Peter’s very nice. But who could ever think of marrying a man whose family name means maypole?” And she broke into giggles as well.
“You’re a pair of silly fools, both of you!” Johanna got up from the table and started to take the dishes to the basin. “For all I care you can go and find a man to marry,” she told Ruth. “But when I look around the village, it hardly seems like an earthly paradise! Times are hard, and it makes no difference whether you’re married or not. Do as you like though . . .” She shrugged. “While you’re at it, you can make sure that whoever he is, he has a brother, and then that’s Marie taken care of. As for me, I’m going to Sonneberg tomorrow!”
6
It was still dark outside when Ruth shook Johanna awake. For a moment Johanna just lay there, uncertain whether she was still dreaming, but then she remembered what she had to do that day. While Ruth went downstairs, still in her nightgown, Johanna got dressed. She had taken her clothes from the wardrobe the night before and gotten everything ready. She looked with dismay at the thick woven jacket, but it was too chilly to go in just a thin knitted cardigan.
Down in the laundry shed she scrubbed her face with a wet washcloth and combed her hair. It had gotten tangled up in the rough collar of her jacket, but she teased it out and braided it tightly. Then she wound the braid around the crown of her head and fixed it in place with several pins. She bound a headscarf over it and knotted the ends so that the corners were tucked away out of sight. If she had done her hair any other way, she would have trouble with the load of glass she had to carry. It was in a deep basket with shoulder straps, and when she hoisted it on her back, the top of the basket reached high above her head. She looked briefly at herself in the mirror, but all she could see was a pair of vast dark eyes. Every time she saw her face without its frame of hair, she was astonished at how different she looked. Her mouth looked much bigger as well. Maybe the mirror was rippled? She opened her mouth slightly and saw that the mirror told the truth—the change was indeed in her face. Her lips curved sensually, and it almost looked as though she were blowing a kiss to her image in the mirror! Johanna frowned. Father had never liked the idea of sending her off to Sonneberg on her own. He had always insisted that she dress modestly. Not for the first time Johanna wondered whether she had achieved the effect he had in mind. Then she stuck out her tongue at the woman in the mirror, and went back into the house.