“It’s okay, you’re safe with me,” she said.
Max looked off into the distance, contemplating for a long while,before he opened his mouth. “I lived in an orphanage in Germany before I came to America.”
Sophia felt uneasiness come over her. “What do you remember?”
“A lot of things. I remember the women in charge wore black habits. Catholic nuns, I think.”
“Those black robes with their hair covered?”
He nodded, and his eyes looked like he was traveling back to that place far away. “There was a play area. A patch of dirt, really, under the shade of a tree where the grass just didn’t grow. I used to ride a tricycle, and there was a rope swing that I pushed my friend on.”
As he described the swing, Sophia could feel her stomach drop, the feeling of going up and down and flying through the air. Silence passed between them as they watched the teenagers light the bonfire. A big flame went up into the sky.
“That looks so dangerous.”
“I hate fire,” he confessed.
“Me too.” Then Sophia turned to him. “Why do you hate it?”
“I was caught in a fire once. When I still lived in the orphanage. Have you ever seen that dark mark on my arm?”
“No.”
Max removed his suit jacket and started rolling up his sleeve. There was a dark mark just above his forearm, blistered over. Sophia didn’t know what came over her, but she reached out and touched it. A spark surged from her finger to her elbow.
“Go on, finish the story,” she pushed.
Max described the kitchen fire. Sophia closed her eyes, and as he spoke, her recurring nightmare flashed through her mind. She could feel the heat of the fire shooting up her arms. And then she remembered. Black skirts. There were black skirts in the dream but no faces.
“I have a burn mark too.” She turned to him. “It happened when I was little, but it’s on the back of my thigh.”
“How’d your burn happen?” he asked.
Ma Deary had told her that she’d gotten too close to the fireplace and the logs had crackled and spat fire at her. She couldn’t remember it and had always wondered if Ma was leaving something out.
“Here’s mine.” She turned to Max and lifted the skirt of her dress. Max pushed his finger in her burn mark. Sophia closed her eyes against his touch. She saw herself walking to a door in a dark room. She reached for the door and pulled it open.“Auf Wiedersehen,”she said softly.
“Goodbye? Have you been practicing German too? Your accent is perfect.”
The words were just there and then oozing from her mouth. She couldn’t hear the teens down by the fire or the music streaming from the dance. Just their breathing. Rhythmic. It seemed like Max was feeling something too.
“There you two are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Willa stood holding a plate.
Sophia dropped her skirt back over her legs, hoping that Willa hadn’t noticed.
“I figured you’d want something sweet.” Willa handed the pie to Max.
“Thank you,” Max said, and Sophia watched him slip away from her and back to Willa.
“Now, what were you two talking about so intently?” Willa put her hands on her hips as Claude came up beside her.
“Basketball,” Sophia replied.
“It’s all this dude thinks about.” Claude pointed at Max.
“Ladies, please say good night.” Sophia turned to see Ms. Meacham, her physics teacher and the girls’ dorm mother, clapping her hands and calling out, “It’s time to return.”
Willa reached her hand in Max’s direction; he took her hand andkissed it. Sophia realized she was supposed to do the same thing to Claude and acquiesced. His kiss was wet, and she desperately wanted to wipe her hand on her dress but resisted the urge. As she walked to meet the other girls in line, she stole a look back at Max, and to her delight, he smiled and mouthed,Auf Wiedersehen.
