"I can't find the keys Heidi." Wilma said, her stress contaminating the air around them. She paced around the apartment, her eyes scanning every little crack of the room. She grunted in frustration as Heidi stood frozen by the door, unsure of how to help. Wilma's temper was much shorter than it had once been and my dera person knew she would erupt into some sort of fury if she were to make one wrong move, so she avoided making any. Wilma's strained face glared right at her, suddenly. Heidi had barely noticed, having stared into space so long her vision had gone blank.
"What?" She asked carefully. Wilma threw her hands up in despair.
"Help me, would you?" She exclaimed in annoyance, both sisters were painfully aware of the time they were losing. The clock hanging from the kitchen wall ticked incessantly, as if she'd suddenly regained control of her body, Heidi started searching. She didn't exactly know what the key looked like, as she'd not yet left the flat, but she figured Wilma didn't have many other keys to keep track of.
She searched in the drawers, even those in the kitchen cabinets, as if they would have ended up there. After a good twenty minutes, as she was searching through the coat rack, as her hand slipped into the pocket of a strangely familiar jacket, she found them. Their metallic surface felt cold on her fingertips and a wave of relief washed over her face. They wouldn't miss the train after all.
"Wilma! I found them!" She called. Her sister's head peered into the hallway. Heidi pulled the jacket off the rack. "They were in this thing's pocket-." Her small smile slowly faded after getting a good look at this. It was a dark purple elegant coat, one that she would recognise anywhere. Trudy had worn it ever since Heidi could remember and had only stopped recently. She took a deep breath, The particular scent of this old coat seemed to hang in the air. Heidi's eyes welled with tears, it felt as though she would hear her mother's voice any moment, as if she were there with them, getting ready to go working, or to go buy groceries at the market, the entire hallway was intoxicated by her presence.
"That's odd," Wilma sighed, "I never wear it."
"Why not?" Heidi asked. "Didn't mama give it to you?"
Wilma nodded slowly, answering only her second question. She reached over Heidi's head for a scarf on a higher shelf and opened the front door with her newfound silver key. Heidi turned to the broken mirror right behind her, slipping the purple coat on without a word, dumping her dark one, which she was planning to wear on the top of the shelf after pulling her mother's rosary from its pocket. It was obvious Wilma was getting a bit impatient, they had already been running out of time, but she said nothing, and at the sight of the rosary, I could see a tear trickling down her cheek. Heidi put it around her neck. "Let's go." Wilma whispered, holding her hand out to her sister. Heidi nodded.
The streets of Berlin were unusually quiet, it was early enough, and the sky was grey. A grey that seemed to stretch for miles, Heidi couldn't help but think it fit the occasion, colours wasn't something she could focus on anymore. The world had never seemed so dull. Wilma didn't say anything on the way to the station and in the silence, Heidi found herself remembering. They passed an old fabric shop, and she somehow conjured the sound of her mother knitting in her rocking chair. A man on a bike cycled by them, and Heidi could almost hear Alexander call after her. The faintest "Mädchen" echoed through her mind. Luckily, the sound of the train eventually cancelled it all out, and for the first time in weeks Heidi was left staring out the window, with an empty mind. I knew it wouldn't last, and so did my dear Heidi, but she savoured it, and fell asleep peacefully, her head pressed against the window.
Wilma had almost debated—for about less than two hours—on whether they should even hold a funeral or not. She wanted to of course, but travelling could be very dangerous these days and she could barely afford anything acceptable, but in the end, she couldn't deny them all that. The funeral was held at the local church, where Trudy had sometimes dragged her children on Sundays, and where she'd recently started going regularly. It felt surreal for the both of them to walk through town, and instead of turning right after st. Maria Promenade to go back to Apfelstraße, turning left and entering the broken gate to the cemetery. Heidi seemed to have woken up, just as they faced the deep graves. There were four caskets, already lowered. Heidi simply stared at their wooden frame for a bit, strangely calm.
Two men stood there, waiting to be told to just throw dirt back on top of them, but Wilma gestured for them to leave, and give them a minute, although they needed an eternity.
"Do you want to say something?" Wilma asked Heidi, her voice hoarse. She nudged her slightly and although Heidi first shook her head, she spoke.
"I'm sorry," She looked down at her hands. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry you were right again, Frieda. You weren't supposed to become a number, and I'm-" She took a deep breath, changing her mind on what she was about to say.
"I see you everytime I look at myself in the mirror, and I used to resent that, I wanted to stop resembling you in every way, but now, " Her lips trembled. "But now I'm scared that I'll stop resembling you." Wilma put her arm around her trembling little sister.
"I'm scared of growing away from you. What happens when I look at myself in the mirror and I don't see you anymore? How can I not look like you? How can we not be the same age anymore?"
I always considered that Frieda turned sixteen with Heidi, and that for a year after her death they were still the same age, because she used to tell people that her sister died at sixteen, but looking back on this now, I realise that frieda never turned 16. She remained fifteen forever, and when Heidi woke up in the hospital, she was already older than her twin sister.