“I’m al-al-almo’ done,” she says.
I study my complexion in the faux gold-plated mirror above my bureau, turning my face from side to side in search of blemishes.
“Wh-wh-wha’ are you l-l-looking for?” Nora asks from behind me.
I open the top drawer and pull out my hairbrush, a little tin, and a box of matches, all the small personal items I neatly organized less than an hour ago.
“My face,” I reply. “It seems I’ve found it in the mirror.” I can almost feel Nora rolling her eyes behind my back. It’s taken no time to fall back into old habits.
With pins holding back my hair in two side rolls tucked into a low knot, I yank each out and exchange them for the brush to smooth out my hair. I pull the curls to the side over my right shoulder and fluff my fingers through the roots. It’s rare for my hair to be completely down, but I like it this way. It has a more mature look. I remove the lid from the tin and shake the broken pieces of red crayon to one side.
“A-A-Arina…”
“Yes?” I take the matchbox and tear one of the wooden stems off.
“Wh-wh-what i’—”
“You’ll see,” I interrupt her.
I strike the match along the box and lift the tin to heat the underneath, hoping the wax will melt quickly.
It takes three matches to soften the wax enough to smudge some of it onto my finger, then my lips, but a girl needs lipstick before meeting with a boy on a roof. I hike up my skirt a bit and tighten my belt. My sweater is long and hides the attempt to shorten my hem.
“A-a-are you going ’omewhere?” Nora asks.
I’ve gotten through the entire day without mentioning a word about Dale. I didn’t want her to think I had forgotten about her for some boy, and she was so happy to tell me about Elek that I didn’t want to steal her moment. However, her moment has turned into hours of writing one letter, so I think it’s safe to escape for my rendezvous with Dale.
“Just up to the roof. It’s a nice place to see the city lights. I’d ask you to come but—”
“I c-c-can’ walk,” she says.
“No, no, not that. I would carry you up there but I’m meeting someone up there, alone.”
Nora places the psychology book she’s been holding hostage, along with her four-page letter, down beside her and sits up straighter than an arrow. “Who a-a-are you mee’ing?” she asks, leaning forward with intrigue. “A b-b-boy?”
“Maybe,” I tease.
“You kn-kn-know abou’ Elek. Wh-wh-why won’ you ’ell me abou’ y-y-your boy?”
I shrug, still staring into the mirror. “I don’t want to make you feel bad that Elek isn’t here. It’s not fair to you.”
“I’m h-happy f-for you,” she says, her words laced with honesty. “I wa-wa-wan’ ’o mee’ him.”
I turn around and make my way over to her bed. “You will. I promise. After tonight, I’ll find a time to introduce you.”
“D-d-doe’ he live here?”
I shake my head, waiting for the motherly raised eye I’m about to receive in response. “He works here as a groundskeeper, but he’s only nineteen. He’s a very charming man, in fact. His name is Dale.”
Nora doesn’t lift an eyebrow, as I assumed she would. She presses her lips together and smiles—a small, firm smile. “I c-c-can’ wai’ ’o mee’ him,” she says.
I lean down and place a kiss on Nora’s cheek. “Me too. I won’t be gone too long. No one will come looking for me, so don’t worry about having to cover for my whereabouts.”
Nora seems like she has more to say but keeps it inside, which might be best for us both right now because I don’t want to be late after I didn’t show last time.
I pull my coat off the two-prong hook on the wall, fold it under my arm and crack our door open to poke my head out. The coast is clear. The new hallway they placed us in is much quieter than the last one. It’s even quieter than the hallway with the solitary rooms, and the emergency stairwell is just two doors down on the left.
The moment I step out into the cold air, I spot Dale sitting in the same place he was on New Year’s Eve with his legs dangling off the side of the flat rooftop. Fog hides the top of the city’s skyline, muting the lights below. Above the layer of clouds is a clear view of the night’s sky and a glimpse of the stars that are usually outshined. I slip my coat over my shoulders and make my way over to him, taking a seat by his side.
“You didn’t stand me up tonight,” he says, grinning.
“I didn’t stand you up last time. I was being held against my will by Vallentine.”
“Well, if you weren’t such a troublemaker—” His joke brings a touch of warmth back into my cold cheeks.
“I wouldn’t have acted on the temptation to sneak up here to meet you,” I finish his sentence.
“You have a point,” he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “How is everything going with your sister? Any better?”
I stare out into the blinking city lights, watching the moonlit clouds skate across the sky with warning of an impending storm. “You were right. We both needed a bit of time to adjust, but everything seems much better now and dare I say, almost like we used to be together. She wants to meet you, of course.”
“I’d like that,” Dale says. “It might be weird seeing two Arinas side by side.” His laughter is cute, but short when he doesn’t find a reaction from me. It’s not that I haven’t heard someone say this before, but Nora and I seem so different now that I’m not sure people would recognize us as identical twins if they didn’t know beforehand. We are identical, but our mannerisms couldn’t be more different, and everything that’s happened to her steals our similarities.
“Nora is in a wheelchair and has trouble speaking. I’d rather warn you now, so you don’t seem surprised when you meet her.”
“Was she born that way?” he asks, curiosity in his eyes.
“No, well, yes, but no. She was born with a stutter, but in Auschwitz, we were subjects in medical experimentations, and she was a prime subject because of her stutter. The surgery left her with nerve damage, affecting her right leg and the tip of her tongue. It doesn’t make much sense, but—”
“That’s why you were blaming yourself?” Dale asks, staring at me.
“Yes. It isn’t her fault she had that distinct feature, but because I didn’t have a stutter too, she was the subject of a horrible experiment.”
“And it isn’t your fault for being born the way you were. What happened to both of you there wasn’t because of something you did. You know that.”
“It’s easy to say.”
“With every new conversation we have, I become more intrigued by you. You continuously leave me like a cliffhanger in a book; wondering and wanting more.”
I fold my arms in against my chest, blocking out the wind and trying to slow my speeding pulse. “What about you? You know so much about me, and I know very little about you.”
“My story is much simpler. I’ve lived in Chicago my entire life. My mom passed away from pneumonia when I was five and my dad raised me on his own ever since. I went to school and began working here while I take the time to figure out what I want to do next.”