The Silent Sister

Frank sisters once more!

Anne let me read another portion from her diary today. She shares with Kitty many of her personal thoughts, as do I. She has a hard time getting along with her roommate, Mr. Pfeffer. She calls him “Mr. Dussel,” which means “idiot”. He is not used to the company of children… Since I am a woman by every measure, I could not continue to sleep in the same room as the dentist. Anne, Mummy and Daddy decided, is still a young girl. We shared a room at first, but once Mr. Preffer came into hiding I had to leave. Poor Anne! She’s slowly becoming a young lady, and she shares a room with a grown man!

I now sleep near Mummy and Daddy. It is awkward too. It is unnatural to share a room with one’s parents!

She became the inevitable roommate… Anne and “Mr. Dussel” don’t get along at all! She writes about his strange habits in her diary… The dentist suspects as much. Anne doesn’t really care because writing to Kitty at this point is her only outlet.

Her loneliness is not disregarded or ignored. She probably feels the same way I do, but she reacts differently…It was good to read her thoughts, though. Kitty makes a patient friend, which she needs very much right now.

We Frank sisters are more alike than we would care to admit. Hence our diaries!

On another matter: the Frank sisters have become spies of the Canal street. We don’t want to admit it, but we watch the men and women on the street and across the canal with too much interest. I am a bit ashamed of this sport, but we cannot help ourselves. We watch the street below before and sometimes after our baths. How much can we study, read, fuss about the house, scratch old stains, and peel half-rotten potatoes? We need entertainment! Our theatre has become the street. Our feature film never repeats itself. We have ongoing, streaming bits of reel at any moment we desire! It is simply perfect.

The “actresses” are neither skinny nor beautiful. Indeed, many are plump and avocado-shaped. The bargeman immediately opposite is now known as “Cornelius the Budge-man,” since he is always shifting loads around the deck and yard. His noisy pet dog I call the “Boo-doo” since he likes to answer nature’s call in hiding spots. Anne likes to refer to his wife as Bloedworst, or Blood Sausage: the woman’s flaming red hair tops her oblong figure, and from far she looks like a packed sausage, especially when she wears her red dress. She seems unkind, and we catch her spanking her son, also red-haired and robust, with a wooden ladle. Creative humor can now take a front seat: Bloedworst Mother chases her son. Son, all too-churlish, begins to empty mussels back to their homeland, the Zeeland. Boo-doo joins the mess. All this happens as Mr. Budge-man is on the street trying to sell yesterday’s catch. Someone points to Son, and Cornelius becomes Cornelius the Red. His anger is palpable, and Churlish Son runs squealing into the house. Commotion soon ensues, and Son is banished from sight. Mother Sausage rushes to the street to continue where her husband left off. The crowd begins to disperse as the Gestapo come on the scene and ruin our few moments of entertainment, filing us all with terror.

Sometimes, a reprieve is only that— a reprieve; Anne and I move away from the window, go back to the Hideaway and help Mummy peel potatoes. Perhaps we have been too silly for one day.

******

Anne and I are growing closer, but there is still a distance between us. I don’t think she trusts me enough; she assumes I will mock her or won’t understand her deepest feelings. But this is a misunderstanding on her part, since I am ready to hear all she has to say; I am open, although I am closed the entire day, keeping to myself, quiet and altogether mouse-like.

I have become this way, in part, to protect myself from criticism. I saw the way the adults encroached on Anne’s private actions or every word she dared mutter. If she joked around a little too much for someone’s sensitivities, then a proceeding and hearing followed. The onslaughts kept coming. Each time I witnessed Mrs. Van Pels or Mr. Van Pels (and the dentist) grow impatient, I grew more and more introverted, fearful of criticism and of being judged. I wanted to throw fits too; I had moments I wanted to mutter to myself or ignore my chores. But I had to rewire my core reaction to suit the sensitivity of the adults. I did not always succeed. If I reacted negatively, it was mostly towards Anne (whom I secretly blamed for my withdrawn and angry attitude).

This slowly changed as we grew out of our own shells. I buried myself with studies and started to follow Father’s example and make use of myself. Writing helps. Sharing my thoughts with Anne helps too. Anne’s attitude has changed dramatically in the last year; one can hardly recognize her from pre-war Anne. We have learned to detach ourselves from our parents and their reactions (mostly Mummy) in order to protect ourselves from all the negativity of the adult scene. So, if Mummy and Mrs. Van Pels begin one of their many political rows, Anne and I will not react with the same anxiety or frustration as we did in the beginning. I quietly leave the room, and now Anne and Peter spend more time in the attic (in the evening) than with the family in the dining room (so they avoid the quarrels as well). It is a sad, but universal truth that spending too much time with another person will lead to quarreling and bickering. And that is mainly because people need breadth of space to grow. Yet, in spite of it all, Anne has grown into a young woman, and I have done so as well. In spite of it all, we have learned a great deal about ourselves, how we want to conduct our lives and our homes after the war…

Anne would like to pursue a career in writing or journalism. She is serious about becoming a published author. She believes writing is a way to make a mark in this world. I just want to live in Palestine, in a country all my own. Once I am safe from Hitler and this war is all over, I want to continue learning medicine, especially gynecology and obstetrics. Becoming a midwife, a purveyor of life, will help me dispel my fears of death. And in this way, I will live my life pursuing life. And perhaps the thought of death will escape me, even if it is for a single sweet moment.