A Woman Lost by T. B. Markinson Page B

awkwardly.
    “Make yourself comfortable. It won’t take me long to clean up.” I went straight to my bathroom, turned the water to hot, and stripped down. Before stepping into the shower, I frowned at myself in the mirror and said, “Behave, Lizzie. This is Peter’s fiancée.” But I didn’t want to follow my own advice. I felt compelled to pursue Maddie.
    I usually take an extravagant amount of time in the shower, but that day I rushed through the routine. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Maddie in the apartment‌—‌actually, I didn’t care what she got into‌—‌but I didn’t want to waste any time. I didn’t see her that much.
    She was perched on the couch, reading one of the history books I had been perusing for my research.
    “What did you get yourself into while I was in the shower?” I said, towel drying my hair.
    “Your sex toys, of course,” she quipped. She winked and flashed an arch smile. Then she gestured to the book. “The Hitler Youth, from the excerpts I have read, they don’t sound like a fun bunch to hang out with.” She sat up. “I mean, I assumed they wouldn’t sit around the campfire singing ‘Kumbaya’ and shit. But from what I read, some of them were monsters.” The color drained from her face. “And at such a young age.”
    “I think a lot of people don’t like to think that children can be evil. It’s cool in a horror story, but in real life, it makes many people tremble. You have to remember, though, these kids were indoctrinated at an early age.
    “And not all of them were like that, of course. There are stereotypes. Actually, membership in the Hitler Youth was mandatory.” I walked over to my bookshelf and grabbed a book. “Here’s a memoir of a boy who had to join the Hitler Youth in childhood. He was a weakling, and he didn’t fare too well. In fact‌—‌” I stopped mid-sentence. “I’m sorry, but sometimes it’s hard for me to turn off the historian in me. Do forgive my transgression.” I bowed slightly.
    “Your transgression? You and Peter are the only two people I know who talk like that.”
    I felt slightly uncomfortable about the mention of my brother’s name, and about yet another comparison to Peter.
    “Well, Mom beat us if we didn’t ace our vocabulary tests. By the way, how is the old biddy?” I sat down on a chair, heavily.
    “She seems like her old self.” She looked out the patio door.
    “So, still demanding, demeaning, and full of debauchery, but not the fun kind?”
    “I guess you could say that. How is it that I know how your mother is and you don’t?” She turned to me, staring hard.
    “I haven’t spoken to her since we all had dinner together. We aren’t, shall I say, a close-knit family.” I intertwined my fingers and then pulled them apart to enhance my point.
    “I’m not so sure about that.” Maddie sighed. I could only guess that Peter and Mom were pushing family and duty crap on her. I had no idea why Peter agreed with such antiquated notions of what the wife of a well-to-do businessman should be like.
    “Anyway, I have something for you.” She jumped up and went to the counter, where she had set her purse.
    I was extremely curious about what that “something” was.
    She pulled out a small box and handed it to me.
    “What on earth are you up to, Miss Maddie?” I opened the box. A bracelet. It was silver, and it reminded me of those chain-links we used to make in school to decorate the Christmas tree, except the links were much smaller and were not made of colored construction paper.
    “When I saw this, I immediately thought of you. In your office, I noticed you had a copy of Atlas Shrugged on your desk. The bracelet isn’t a blue-green, but it symbolized something else for me.”
    I gazed into her eyes and replied, “This I am dying to know. Do tell.”
    “Seeing you in your domain, aka your office, I saw how you’re chained, in a way, to your studies. I’ve never seen so many books and articles