Celia:
Hey, Cee! Come on out,” a voice called from the street. The
golden one had arrived on the back of a motorcycle piloted by a
long-haired German boy. He wore a ragged black leather jacket
with an American flag patch on the back, sewed on upside down.
It was 7:30 and she was late. Celia had been scared to death
that her new friend wouldn’t show up. Now she was scared to death
because she had. The motorcycle popped and roared and cut off.
Aunt Nita will hear about this, Celia thought. Maybe she won't get
mad...
Celia skipped down the front steps of the building. She could
feel the eyes of every living soul in that building zeroed in on her and
her new friends.
“This here is Eugene, Cee. Only in German it’s pronounced
Oi-gen. I love it. Sounds like some kind of pig. Oi-gen, this is
Celia.” The German smiled and bowed, not at all offended. She
had just finished the introduction when another motorcycle roared
up.
“Hey, Karl, wondered what happened to you,” Goldie said.
“Cee, this is Karl, spelled with a K.” The newcomer extended his
hand and smiled. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and his shirt, rolled
up at the sleeves, was unbuttoned to the waist.
The Germans were friendly and spoke English. All three of
her visitors lit cigarettes and offered her one. She declined. The
Germans talked about the superiority of American brands. She
did not dare invite them into the house. So they got to know one
another out in front of the building, smoke suspended in the glow of
the street light.
Eugene, who was a student in Heidelberg, and Karl, who
worked as an apprentice electrician in Kaiserslautern, wanted to
know all about North Carolina and the USA in general. They
were distressed to hear about her parents and how she was forced
to leave her home. Goldie put her arm around Celia.
“Cee, I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” she said. Karl and Eugene
nodded. It was about the best evening Celia could remember since
the last time she’d stayed up half the night listening to her daddy
and Mr. Henry argue about the Democrats.
“Well, Cee, gotta get home,” Goldie said later. “I’ll meet you
tomorrow at noon by that big pile of dirt in the woods on the way to
the pool, okay? Come on Oi-gen, Karl, let’s go!” They zoomed off.
"My god, Cecilia! German men on motorcycles! Smoking on the
steps. Were they drinking, too? How did they get on base? I can't
believe you did this to me," Celia's aunt yelled the next day. In
trouble again, Celia thought...