identity | reus + lewandowski

The sweetness between Robert and I didn't last long, at all. I'd learned what had been going on in Dortmund—all around Germany, in fact—that had kept Robert, Marco, and every SS soldier away from home.

It would go down in history as Kristallnacht. They rampaged Jewish shops, homes, anything that sat on Jewish property or was owned by a Jew—and killed any Jew that got in the way.

"You have no need to worry, Margaret. Marco and I weren't doing any of that." Robert attempted to sooth me as we stood behind the closed door of his bedroom, since Marco and Elisabeth were downstairs—they would be staying the night, since the violence outside was too dangerous.

I was hyperventilating. "I have to go find my mother, my brother—"

"They're safe." He stated, assuringly. "You couldn't have possibly thought that Marco and I were actually out there participating in that destruction."

I felt my heart warm. They were angels. Unhesitatingly, I thrust my arms around Robert. "Oh, Robert...I can't thank you enough."

Robert hugged me back with intent, his strong hold enough to comfort me for the rest of the night. He kissed my forehead and spoke as I stepped away a little bit, biting my lip. "Alright, Maggie, go get ready for bed...I'm going to let Elisabeth and Marco sleep here in my room, and I'll sleep on the couch."

I wanted to say that wasn't necessary, that he could sleep in my bed, with me; but I knew now that it would be a little inappropriate. I nodded, thanked him again, and went to my bed— where I spent the rest of the night, eventually falling asleep while attempting to write an entry in my diary.

I was awoken by the creeping of my door. It was a familiar sound—one that could only mean one thing—Marco. My eyes shot open and I sat up to see him slowly making his way towards me, careful not to make the flood creak. "Liebchen," he breathed, endearingly, "It's been a while."

"Marco, we can't do this." I murmured, my eyes wide as he climbed next to me in the bed.

"Relax, Margaret." His body instantly brought heat to mine as he pulled me into him, his lips grazing my neck. "Have you been with Robert at all?"

I slowly shook my head. Marco grinned as he moved to hover above me, causing me to widen my eyes. "Marco, what are you doing? Your wife is here."

"God, who cares?" He pushed my hair out of my eyes. "Margaret, I want you. What more than saving you and your family's life do I have to do to prove it?"

Maybe Marco was right, but something about this entire affair—besides the fact that it was just that: an affair—seemed so off. Maybe it was the fact that Robert knew now. But Robert didn't have real feelings for me, did he? He couldn't have.

Alas, I allowed Marco to kiss me, but the sound of Robert's footsteps downstairs in the kitchen sent me into a panic. "Marco, Robert is awake...you have to go."

Marco kissed me yet again, in a much more sultry manner as his tongue grazed my bottom lip and his hands roamed as much of my skin that they could before he snapped back into reality and pulled away from me. I sat up as he finally tore his lips away from me and instantly fixed my slip, biting my nails as I watched him run a hand through his hair.

"Is your wife Jewish, Marco?" The question was random, but one I'd been wondering ever since I learned her name and lay my eyes upon her.

Marco frowned. "Why would you think that?"

"She just...I don't know." I shook my head. "Her name, and the way she looks—"

"You don't look like a Jew, but you are one, aren't you?"

I lay back down. "Okay, never mind."

"No, she's not Jewish." He said, ignoring my never mind. "Besides, I would never marry one after what happened to Robert. I couldn't bear it. I'd practically have to become a Jew myself."

And that must be a complete nightmare, I thought. I rolled my eyes. "Goodbye, Marco."

"Margaret, I like you. I really do." Marco wasn't done with his words as he made his way back to the door. "I just want you to know that. I've liked you for a long time."

It'd been a year ever since he got me out of the ghetto, so I suppose that's what he meant by a long time. But I'd been in the ghetto, too, for a year, and Marco had known me even then. "I'm not sure I feel the same. Fancying a married man doesn't appeal to me, Marco...maybe you should like your wife."

Marco leant against the door. "It's Robert, isn't it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you love him?"

"No." I responded, meekly. I didn't think so, anyways. I told myself not to. But, it was hard not to love a man who risked his life everyday just to give you a chance at living yours.

"Are you trying to convince yourself, or me? Because I don't believe it." Marco responded, his voice laced with the slightest bit of hurt. I felt guilty.

"I'm sure of it, Marco."

"Fine, then." His hushed, offended voice cut through the air as he opened the door. "Gute nacht, Margaret."

I closed my eyes and responded to Marco with the same words, my voice barely above a whisper as I did so. I was half asleep. "Goodnight, Marco."