the law of attraction | reus + lewandowski

TWO

April, 1943

—

An entire month passed. It would be an overstatement to say that I was used to my way of life here, if it could even be considered that.

Marco was unpredictable. Most of the time, he was snarky, constantly criticizing the way I shined his silver or cleaned his sheets. I hated cleaning the sheets more than anything. Every night it seemed Marco was with his girlfriend, Erika. Or whatever she was to him. Every night they made a disgusting mess in that bed of his.

His dog, Mario, was perhaps one of the scariest things I'd ever seen. And that meant something, coming from me. The thing was a beast, with short black hair and a body the size of my own when he stood up. Marco made me tend to the dog, bathing and feeding with him, because he knew how much it frightened me. Needless to say, I hadn't warmed up to the commandant at all—I doubted that I ever would.

I most looked forward to his meetings with Robert, who I still wasn't quite sure about. I knew that he ran a factory that profited off of Jewish slave labor, but I didn't know what the factory produced or what kind of director he was. Regardless, I appreciated the fact that he'd enlisted my father as his accountant. Once a week, he'd go by Marco's place to talk about business, in particular buying more workers. I wondered which I would prefer—working among my people, or working for a man as sadistic as Marco. It was a silly dilemma.

I was picking flowers in the front yard for the living room when I saw Robert walk up to the staircase, passing the guards with a brief Sieg Heil. He approached me before I could realize he was heading in my direction. Blushing, I stood up as straight as I could.

"Good afternoon, Herr Direktor."

Robert smiled. "Magda. It's chilly out here, what are you doing?"

I blushed, then motioned to the rose bush. "Marco told me to pick as many roses as I could find."

Robert grinned, intrigued. "Magdalena," he spoke, "These are climbing roses. They grow in the fall." He looked up at the balcony, unsurprised to see that Marco was staring down at us. "Well," he shouted, "Weren't you going to say hello?"

Marco rose his eyebrows. "I was going to, but I saw that you were preoccupied with the Jew."

I frowned. The Jew. Was it an insult? Robert smirked. "Nonsense." Discreetly, he shoved something into my hands and excused it as harshly brushing past me. I quickly stuffed it in my pockets before rushing to open the door for him, keeping my eyes on my feet as he entered the house.

"So, how are things going?" Marco sat down at the head of his table as I poured both of the men wine, attempting to be as discreet as possible. I could feel Robert's eyes on me as I poured his glass, causing me to nervously tilt the bottle in such a way that hardly anything came out.

Robert smirked. "Good, you know. What do the Americans say? Business is booming. My accountant is excellent, I would like to refer him to you. He—" Robert paused. "Magdalena, I don't have all day. I'm thirsty."

"Sorry, sir." I tilted the bottle over more, and gasped as too much came out—it fell all over; onto Robert's plate, the table, and his shirt. Quickly, he stood up, and I immediately set the bottle down before speaking.