We swapped my bag for a cloth one that had seen better days, and then she handed me a small pillow that I shoved beneath the dress, using the waistbands of the stockings to keep it in place.
“I hate letting you go out there alone,” Paulina said, eyeing my padded stomach and reaching to adjust it.
“Then come with me,” I said.
For a moment, she looked wistful. But then she gave her head a little shake and handed me the coat.
“Paulina?”
“I am too old. Too slow. Too fearful to take such risks,” she said. “And your mother... Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid. You won’t try to be a hero if you see something bad happening to someone on the street. You go, take a look around, and if you don’t see your friend, you come right back, understand? I imagine they still have people watching the house you went to and if someone sees you and thinks you look suspicious because they don’t recognize you...”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
We walked swiftly past my mother’s room where her soft snores could be heard, and down the stairs.
Paulina led the way to the kitchen and reached a hand out for my bag. I gave it to her and then watched as she placed an apple and a sandwich wrapped in wax paper inside.
“In case you find yourself having to hide somewhere for a long period of time,” she said.
At the front door, she pulled me close.
“I know it is awful for me to wish that you’ll need to come back,” she said. “But despite the circumstances, it’s been so lovely to see you again, Gisela.”
“And you, Paulina,” I said, holding her tight. “If I don’t see you again, take care of yourself.”
“I will. And you remember what I said. Don’t linger. Don’t be a hero. And come back immediately if you don’t see your friend.”
I nodded, gave her a last squeeze, and hurried out the door.
The cold was biting as I walked slowly so as not to garner attention, my head down, the scarf covering my hair feeling as though it might blow away.
There were even fewer people out today than there had been yesterday, and I kept close to the walls of buildings as I made my way to my destination, hoping no one took notice of me or, if they did, would dismiss me as someone not worth bothering with.
At the street where I’d seen the woman get shot, I crossed to the other side so as not to be standing in the same spot where I’d been when she was killed. From the opposite corner I had a better view of the front of the house. Her body had been moved, but a bloodstain on the pavement could be clearly seen. Not wanting to linger in one place too long, I began to walk down the street, ducking my head, my eyes searching my surroundings for signs of Max as I passed an older man walking his dog, a young woman pushing a pram with a crying baby inside, and a flustered-looking woman with two young boys trailing behind her. But neither Max, nor the car we’d arrived in, were anywhere in sight.
At the end of the street I stopped and looked back. The quiet was eerie. Unnatural. I had imagined a different sort of scenario here. A hostility in the faces of the people I’d pass. But then I remembered. Not all of them had chosen this, and they were paying a price for the monsters who had. Monsters like my parents.
My stomach turned uncomfortably and I pressed a hand to my lips as I paused beneath the barren branches of a tree, leaning against the trunk and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible as I ducked my head and glanced around.
It was a risk to stop. I was a stranger here and should anyone be watching, I would stand out. This would be good if someone Max knew was keeping a lookout for me, but bad if a nervous neighbor noticed and called the police on the suspicious-seeming woman loitering about.
I pretended to be searching for something in my bag while discreetly scanning the area. Should anyone stop and ask, I could say I’d lost my key. Since there wasn’t one in my bag, it was the perfect lie.
But as the minutes ticked by with no contact from anyone claiming to know Max, I began to falter, defeat weighing me down, disappointment and fear welling in my eyes. It had been a risk to come here. An unknown woman stood out. Especially on a street where a safe house had been found. I wouldn’t be able to come again.
I gave the street one last look before pushing off the tree and slowly beginning my journey back to my mother’s house.
There was a box of food on the kitchen counter when I returned. After changing out of the borrowed clothing and back into my own, I returned to the kitchen to see how I could help Paulina.
“Stir,” she said, pointing to a pot on the stove where the scent of an aromatic broth filled the air. “Your mother will be up any minute and will be hungry.”
“She sleeps a lot these days?” I asked, remembering a time when she always seemed to be awake, watching, scrutinizing my every move.
“Most of the day,” Paulina said, removing a cloth bag of vegetables from the box. “And the night.”
I nodded and picked up the ladle to give the soup a stir.
