“Smoke?” Betty offered her the pack of Lucky Strikes, and took out her pink lighter, and Meredith shook her head. She had never tried and was afraid it might make her sick if she did. Betty looked like one of the popular girls in a movie, and Meredith didn’t know what to say to her. She was so beautiful and had all the accessories and mannerisms of someone girls would follow and men would fall in love with. Meredith had never aspired to be one of those girls. She’d had friends who were boys in Germany, but she’d never had a boyfriend or a date, and going to an all-girls school, didn’t have any opportunity to meet any. She’d never been boy crazy, and studied most of the time, to maintain her good grades. “My mama said she had a lot of fun when she was here,” Betty said as she put out her cigarette, and it was easy to believe, if she looked anything like her daughter.
They lay silently awake in the dark for a long time, without saying anything, as Meredith wondered if they’d become friends or be like ships that would pass in the night, each of them observing the other like a rare specimen they had never seen before, and they’d be sharing the room for the rest of the year. Meredith had her own natural beauty, but she was totally unaware of it, unlike Betty’s looks, which were carefully studied to make her appear sexy and appealing. Meredith felt like an alien from another planet next to her. What boy would want to meet a girl like her, when they could have Betty, ripe for the plucking? But Meredith didn’t really care. She hadn’t come here to meet boys, but to learn, get her degree, and go on to law school after she got her bachelor’s degree. She wondered if she’d make any friends at all, or if she’d be an awkward outsider forever, wherever she went. And as she puzzled over it, she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Three
Meredith wore her dark hair in a long, sleek ponytail down her back, with a kilt and a black twin set her mother had packed for her, knee socks, and loafers as she hurried off to class the next day.
Betty was wearing a soft pink cashmere sweater, a circle skirt in the same shade of pink, and her saddle shoes with short white socks. Her hair hung in waves and soft curls to her shoulders after the pin curls of the night before. And she’d worn just a touch of pale pink lipstick. There was no dress code, so they could wear whatever they wanted. Vogue had recently praised the fashion sense of the typical Vassar girl, so the students on campus had set a high standard to live up to, which Merrie was determined to ignore.
Betty met up with two other girls in the hall, and they went to orientation together. Meredith walked down the stairs alone and consulted a map of the campus to figure out where she was going. She saw the girl with the long braid walking ahead of her, heading for orientation too. They sat in the same row in the auditorium, but didn’t speak to each other, and listened to all the speeches and introductions, and then left the hall with all the other freshman students. Meredith could see Betty on the other side of the building, and her group of followers had grown. There were six or eight of them walking together to their English class. Meredith had to consult the map again that she’d brought with her. The building she was going to was farther away, for her German literature class, and she was surprised to see the girl with the braid walk in ahead of her. This time they smiled at each other when they sat down in class.
The room was small. There were ten students, and the young woman who taught it had a noticeable German accent, and kept everyone’s interest for the ninety minutes she spent with them. She said they were going to be reading the classics and greats of German literature: Franz Kafka, Rainer Maria Rilke, Hermann Hesse, Thomas Mann, Günter Grass, Hoffmann, Freytag, and Irmgard Keun. Meredith was sorry they couldn’t read them in German, and she was considering buying some of them in the original, but was afraid her German was too rusty now to do so and get the full meaning, although she was still fluent enough to hold a conversation with ease. And she wrote to Anna in German.
She was excited about the serious nature of the course, and she liked the professor, who was a woman in her late thirties and made her description of each book they would be reading sound fascinating. Meredith was disappointed when the professor said the time was up and dismissed the class, and Meredith stopped and thanked the professor in German. The teacher looked at her in surprise and smiled, and they chatted for a few minutes, as the young woman with the braid walked slowly by. She looked as though she would have liked to join them, but didn’t dare.
She was standing outside when Meredith came out, and looked at her with her shy smile.
“Are your parents German?” she asked her in German, and Meredith smiled back as she shook her head. She loved being able to speak the language again, which reminded her of the happiest days of her life so far. She had felt so comfortable and at ease in Germany, more so than in the States since she’d been back.
“No. We lived there for four years. In Nuremberg. Are your parents German?” She continued speaking German to her, which seemed comfortable for both of them. The young woman seemed to hesitate before answering the question.
“No,” she said firmly, “they’re American. But I was born there. In Berlin. Your German is very good,” she complimented her.
“I don’t get a chance to speak it anymore. I was fluent when I got back five years ago. I loved living there.”
The girl with the braid nodded, and then spoke in barely more than a whisper. “I used to love it too. I came here nine years ago.” She had obviously come at the end of the war, or just before, Meredith calculated easily.
“Where are you going next?” Meredith asked her.
“Math class,” she said with a sigh.
“I have English. I think they’re in the same direction. My name is Meredith McKenzie,” she volunteered then, and the other girl stuck out a polite hand to shake hers, which was something one rarely saw between women in the States but was common in Europe, where everyone either shook hands or kissed.
“Claudia Steinberg. How do you do?” It seemed like providence that they had met, in their first class, and could speak German to each other. “My parents don’t really like me speaking German,” she said wistfully. “They want me to be American now that I’m here, but I miss speaking my own language.”
“I miss speaking your language too,” Meredith said, and they both laughed. “Did you and your family come over after the war?”
Claudia shook her head in answer. “No. I came,” she said clearly, offered no further explanation, and Meredith sensed that she didn’t want to share more. They chatted about the school and the dorms on their way to class. She was in the same house as Meredith, on the floor above.
“Do you like your roommate?” Merrie asked, and Claudia shrugged.
“She’s not very friendly so far. We haven’t really talked. My parents were here yesterday to bring me. And she was busy too.”