Max and Magda

The days on the train were long, but they couldn’t risk wasting the little money they had on beds in strange cities along the way. So they slept in their seats and watched the scenery change as it raced by. Once, they played cards with a young couple who were going to Moscow. Magda and Max didn’t speak much. There was not much to talk about that didn’t elicit pain or anxiety. The past was taboo because even their happiest childhood memories were tainted now. There was no point in talking about the future because that way fear and worry lay, waiting to swallow them. There was no one in the world to help them. They were as alone in life as any two people had ever been. Forget family; they hadn’t a single friend between them they could call on. A part of Max was happy with being alone with Magda, just the two of them and no other. As if the war had ended all other life on Earth and they were the only people alive to tell the tale. The last lovers left alive after everything was gone. Except the world was full of people and the two of them weren’t even lovers. She had been ill. Was that why he hadn’t made a move? Was it because he was petrified of the notion she might be insulted by the very idea? So offended or repulsed she’d walk away and he’d never see her again? 

***

As expected, there weren’t many jobs in town. Magda cleaned houses and pubs, whatever place would have her. Max got himself on a factory line. It was good to feel all the metal machinery around him. Once they had enough money to put down a rent deposit, Max suggested they move to a tiny wooden house he saw in the woods. More of a cabin than a house, if he was being honest. He only thought of it because Magda still had trouble being around people whenever they left the small room they were renting. She was always miserable in a crowd. The only time she seemed more happy than not was when they were alone. 

They hadn’t consummated their relationship, whatever their relationship was. Max didn’t dare disturb the peace of the fragile rhythm they had fallen into, living together but barely pecking each other on the lips. If she’d reached for him in that way, he would have. Of course he would have. Did Magda know that? Was she also uncertain as he was? No, it was not possible. He loved her as best he could. As well as he could remember how. It was unthinkable that she wouldn’t see this. But perhaps her pain, as great as his own, blinded her to any joyous feeling around her. Blinded her to how great Max’s love was for her, that he was much more than her steadfast companion. Or he would be more, if only she’d let him know that’s what she wanted. 

One night they were sitting by the fireplace in the little forest hut. Magda looked content. Her eyes kept leaving her sewing and finding his gaze instead. Making a snap decision, Max stood. Walking over to her felt like it took an eternity and no time at all. His skin was on fire. Her hand, when he reached for it, was so hot to the touch he almost let it go. That’s how you know something is alive; it says no. He’d heard someone say that once. Magda had put her sewing down before he took her hand in his, as if she knew. Not having the words for any of this, he gently pushed her shirt lower on her shoulder. The small motion revealed more of her collarbone. Her eyes never left his. Max wasn’t entirely sure if he kissed her or she did him.

Magda laced her fingers up to the buttons at the neck of his shirt. After unbuttoning the first few, she asked: “Yes?” 

He laughed from feeling so foolish. All this time waiting for her to return his feelings and she asks? How could she be so far off base? 

“Yes. To everything. Always. Whatever you like.” 

That made her pause. “How should I know what I like? I’ve never.” 

He kissed her again. “So find out.” 

It was not exactly what he thought it would be. Max did not know it was like talking without words. Being close to someone in a way words can’t achieve. 

“I’ve come to think of caring as weakness,” he whispered in a voice so low even she would barely hear. “I had become what I had to, to endure the world. As long as you are with me I don’t think anything can take me back to not feeling again.” 

She reached for him in the dark. “I have no pretty words like that. I love you too.” 

I love you. I love you. I love you. 

He didn’t know he was kissing her until he felt her whole body against his own, naked under the covers. 

“You don’t have to give me words. You never have to speak to me if you’d rather not. Or speak Russian, even if I can’t make heads or tails of it all. Just come to me like this and I’ll understand everything I need to know.”

Magda laughed at him but that was all right. Max knew he was being ridiculous. 

“You are a very strange boy,” she told him. 

He smiled as he kissed her short hair near her eyebrow, holding her tight. 

“You don’t know half of it.” 

As he jokingly said that, he thought of the odd little trick he used to have with the spoons at dinner back in Berlin with his family. Then Magda’s hand traveled down and he thought no more of such silly things as floating spoons.