My father was. The last war. I know you know that already. When I was a boy a little older than you.
And he was hurt.
That’s so.
He had to have a plate of metal in his head for the rest of his life. Could you see the metal?
No, it was under the skin. But you could see the scar and see it better as he lost his hair.
They made the top of the hill, kept the hulk of the gymnasium to their left on the crescent road round it.
That’s where you went to school.
That’s right. Secondary school.
A gray van drew up to the iron gate, gray fog smoking from the tailpipe. Two guards swung the gate.
Did you know Mother there?
No. She came there after I had left. I didn’t know her until later.
It’s kind of you to walk me to school every day.
Do you like it?
He shrugged.
I like it, Trn said. It’s the best part of my day.
But you don’t have to anymore. I know the way now.
I know you do.
And the German boys, they don’t shove us into the street anymore. Not really. We can walk on the sidewalk.
If you would like to go by yourself we could arrange that. Or I could go only part of the way. What would you like best?
I don’t know.
Or we could go on as we do now.
He squeezed and the warm hand squeezed back.
***
You know I don’t have the English for that, Trn said.
But you do. You had that time in London. Even Oxford. You used to talk about the library there, the round one. I’m sure universities in England and America would be—
Her eyes searched two corners of the room for a word.
Very excited to have a Czech scholar on their faculty.
Her teeth smiled behind the idea. He looked at the clock on the sideboard.
How can a professor who doesn’t have a position in his own country get one in another? And who would want to study the history of a lost tribe?