City of the Sun by Juliana Maio Page B

since and was becoming increasingly less lucid. Just last week she’d seen him stand up, take a few graceful steps, and bow, as if to an audience.
    “Maya,” Vati said after a few steps. “The violin. Can I carry it myself?”
    She stopped and turned to her father. All he had left to show for his sixty years of life was a violin. She suddenly regretted having become so annoyed with him for leaving the house. She pressed her fingers to the corners of her eyes, ashamed of her selfishness, and squashed any remnants of resentment.
    “Of course,” she answered, kissing the violin and handing it back to him.
    As they approached the apartment building they saw Erik come limping out of the gate toward them. How could he have climbed down the steep, narrow staircase by himself?
    Her brother had just turned twenty-four when he’d contracted polio, a cruel birthday present. From the onset he’d made it clear that he didn’t want to be fussed over, quickly silencing any expressions of pity or even concern. “I’m not crippled,” he’d insisted, “just inconvenienced.” Though he was stoic, their escape after Hitler took Paris had been especially hard on him. They’d spent nine insufferable months hiding from Vichy police in a tiny apartment outside Bordeaux in the unoccupied south, followed by ten weeks in an attic, where the ceiling was not even high enough for him to sit up. Having his legs immobilized for so long must have caused more damage to his joints than all the walking he later endured when they trekked across the country to catch the train from Lyon to Istanbul. Through it all he never, ever complained.
    How could Erik ever understand that his stoicism only exacerbated the chasm that had started to grow between the two of themwhen they left Germany after the schools and universities closed their doors to Jewish students? As Maya watched him struggle along, his right leg dragging painfully behind him, his face gaunt, and his cheeks sunken, she felt sorry, not just for him, but also for herself and all the dreams she had lost. Her life was over before it had even gotten started. Worse yet, Erik’s heroic reaction to his polio had taken away her right to scream about the unfairness of it all.
    When Erik reached them, he did not scold Vati. He did not need to. His eyes did it for him as they reproachfully met their father’s. Vati acted as if he hadn’t noticed and without a word started toward the apartment, leaving Erik seething behind him. Maya did not say anything either, but she caught up to her father and accompanied him, wrapping her arm around him protectively.
    When she reached the apartment, Allegra was standing in the doorway, a concerned look on her face. A handsome woman by all standards, even with her six-months-pregnant belly, she had changed into a bold green dress for lunch and wore a gardenia in her chignon, which seemed at odds with her hesitant demeanor. Her gold bracelets jiggled as she put her right hand on her hip.
    “Everything’s fine,” Maya reassured her, her arm around Vati’s, Erik in tow.
    “We have hot water now,” Allegra said, showing them in. “I’ve run a bath for you.”
    Maya barely started to mouth the words “thank you” before Allegra disappeared. More of her aloofness, Maya thought before retiring to her room that she shared with Lili. A cot had been set up for her there, while Erik and Vati had been given one of the boys’ rooms.
    Once alone, Maya took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as she looked over the room. It struck her as particularly pretty today. She noticed how the soft yellow of the walls perfectly matched the trim of the white satin quilt that covered the bed. There seemed tobe more face creams, lipsticks, and perfume bottles on top of the mirrored vanity than usual, and there was a new swath of sheer white fabric lying next to the Singer sewing machine in the corner.
    She carefully opened the antique French armoire to retrieve her robe,