I'm awful and haven't updated in a while but maybe the anticipation(if there is any) will make it more interesting. Please, please, please review! Enjoy!

June, 1895

Last year after the Diamaids were gone, things were very grim. We had known how important the idea of community was to us. We didn't know how much we counted on it. Niamh had lost her closest equivalent to siblings. Wendla and I lost friends. Both of us had lost some relatives, like a great-uncle something, but never friends. Well, I mean, we did lose… I just…We realized how much we had probably hurt those back at home. I mean, I realized that. Wendla…I just… didn't know. I thought I didn't know. Anna also was among the missing, or rather, the not present. She moved into the apartment downstairs. She was often in our apartment but was so distant it was almost as if she wasn't there.

I had been working furiously at the paper: picking up extra shifts, proofreading, some editing. One would think that people that speak the English language would but able to write it. I needed these jobs. Things were getting more expensive. We were practically supporting Anna. Professionally, I had a lot of people to impress. My bosses were happy. My coworkers were getting progressively more competitive. I had received a few letters regarding my articles. One woman even wrote to the editor-in-chief that the grammar of the paper had vastly improved. Things were great. We were moving up. Niamh was almost two and a half. She had light brown curls like me. She also had those scary, haunting, beautiful , deep brown eyes like Wendla. They were eyes that drowned me. They were the eyes to which I could never deny. She was running around, like a spinning top. For a toddler, she had a better vocabulary than Otto. She had the wonder and curiousity that reminded me why she was here. She giggled many a time but when faced with any question, she was extremely serious.

Wendla was always serious now. I thought that she was upset that Oona was gone. However, it became increasingly clear that it was much worse than that. She was working as a seamstress near the Gasoline District. It wasn't what she wanted but she didn't talk to me like she used to and would come home later and later. How could I have known? I even asked Anna what, if anything, Wendla had said to her.

"Nothing, Melchior," Anna said. " From what I can gather, I think she's just realizing that she's still so young. How long have you guys been here?"

" Three years," I said, without missing a beat.

"Back at home, we'd be worrying about silly things, like courtships. Here, well, you know. Wendla worries about what Niamh is having for dinner and finishing her work early. It's just different, though not bad."

Anna was right. I singlehandedly propelled us into adulthood and I never looked back but Wendla did. I should've known that. My schedule was too hectic, though. The tension at home took up all the time I wasn't at work. Whenever I tried to strike up conversation with her, the reply was as short as possible. Whenever I tried to kiss her or hug her, it seemed like she would evaporate.

When the summer season approached, the editor informed us all that our shifts would be reduced because they could only print so much without the ink running due to the heat. At first, I started calculating how it would affect us. Suddenly, I remembered that it would mean more quality time with Wendla and Niamh. When I rushed home to tell Wendla, she continued to look out the window.

"Good," she said.

I thought it would be good. Eating breakfast with Niamh was the most priceless experience. Playing with her was equally great but absolutely exhausting. One day, I suppose I overslept. I awoke to an empty, quiet apartment. In a panic, I ran out into the street in just my underclothes, looking for them. I caught sight of Niamh in a cluster of other kids ranging in age from 18 months to 12 years old.

"Niamh!" I said, running toward her. "Niamh!"

She looked at me, smiled and waved. "Hi, Papa."

"Darling," I said, kneeling down to see her face, "why are you out here? Where's Mama?"

She pointed up the shore of the river. I saw a pale green dress, covering Wendla's figure, walking with great speed.

"Niamh, you know you're not supposed to leave home without one of us."

"I left with Mama. We did this all the time before you were home more."

I was perplexed. It made no sense. Wendla's shift didn't start until later in the day. I knew that for fact. I scooped Niamh up in my arms and I ignored her requests to go play with her friends. The day went by. Wendla eventually came home before the sunset. She ran over to Niamh and enveloped her in an embrace.

"Niamh," I said "go play. You're allowed. I promise"

She ran swiftly from Wendla and down the stairs. I sat on the fire escape. Wendla joined me with a scowl on her face.

"Why did you let her go play? It's getting dark."

"Why do you let her go play in the early morning with kids, whose parents we don't even know?"

"What am I supposed to do, Melchior? Should I let her just stay in here so she can watch her father sleep? When we were children, we were always running out of our houses…"

"There's a big difference between a small village in Germany and the Lower East Side of New York. If something ever happened to her…"

"You think I don't think about that every day! The reason I leave her with other kids to play in the morning is because I have to work to help feed her so she can live for God's sake!"

"I know that you don't have to leave that early. Where are you going to, anyhow?"

"That is none of your business."

I was in disbelief. We had told each other everything and now she wouldn't tell me where she goes when she abandons our daughter.

"Niamh," I called, "dinner!"

I started noticing different things. I found a hair clip in Wendla's drawer when I was trying to tidy up. I had never seen it in my life. It was made from some sort of medal and resembles the form of a flower. I knew it wasn't her mama's because she didn't even bother taking anything from outside her bedroom when we left. She would change her hair and leave a few buttons at the top of her dress undone. I wondered if she knew how good and how bad that made me feel. I was curious as to who or why she was doing this. Was it to make jealous of someone? Was it to play with my mind? On the other hand, I had trouble…controlling myself. Anytime I would compliment her and try to make any kind of advance, she would brush me off and go "take a walk." I wasn't trying to be pushy or rude but I was still a boy of 17 or 18. Wendla and I used to have such good times together. We enjoyed each other but it was different now, strange even. The joy was gone.

Niamh and I would take walks by the river. She would explain to me different colors of the boats and would say them in English and German. One day, we walked far enough to reach another port. That's when I saw her. Them.

There they were, standing at the end of the church aisle. It would be done and when that eternal, nagging question was asked, Ernst would not say a word. He would have to bite his tongue but he wouldn't give into temptation. He hated seeing them performing action in tantum, like kneeling before the priest. I used to kneel before him. He used to kneel before me, Ernst thought to himself. He automatically felt ashamed of himself, thinking such things in the Lord's house. One day, he thought, he will bow to me once again. He watched how attentively Hanschen and everyone else minded what the priest was saying. For the first time, Ernst wanted something other than affection: power. He knew how to get it. As Hanschen marched back past Ernts with his head held him with Thea on his arm, Ernst held his head high too.

I held my head high. If I was going through with this, I was going to do it with confidence. I told Niamh to wait right by the lamppost and to count how many boats were on the river. With all the maturity I could gather, I walked up to Wendla and this stranger that didn't appear to be a stranger to her. He was holding her in places that I and I alone had held her before.

"Wendla," I said, trying to keep a civil tone.

She snapped her head around and her face fell. "Yes."

"Who is this?" The stranger asked, spitting on the concrete.

"This is…" Wendla began to introduce me but something stopped her.

"I'm the father of her child, her two and a half year old daughter. She's right over there actually." I said, pointing. "Wendla, I see you have found someone that makes you feel something. Since I don't have the capabilities to do that nor does your daughter apparently, we can part ways now. Nice to meet you."

With that, I turned on my heel and walked away with Niamh's hand in mine.

"Papa, I counted 15 boats."

"That's many boats," I said.

As we walked back to our apartment that would be one person too empty, I started to cry. Niamh asked me what was wrong and why I was crying. She tried to comfort me. This, unfortunately, went on for days. Anna was a substitute mother for Niamh. She helped around the house and tried to get me to eat but I was completely disheveled. I sat on the fire escape just waiting for something that would tell me we would survive, that I would survive.

"Melchior, she'll come back. Why would she leave her child behind?" Anna asked.

" I don't know. Anna? If you were in Wendla's shoes, would you have left me?"

"I've never met this anonymous man. However, I can't imagine she would leave forever. She loves you, Melchior. You too just found those feelings for each other before most of us knew what those feelings meant. Give it time."

I did give it time. I tried to get myself back in my right mind. I started to write not for work but for fun. I tried my hand at fiction and non-fiction. It was entertaining but it almost always came back to a girl with dark brown eyes. Even looking at Niamh was almost painful sometimes. I had lost my life in Germany, my family and my dearest friend. In America, I had lost someone I considered the love of my life thus far. Sometimes if Anna was with her or Niamh was asleep, I would walk downstairs, hoping to see Wendla. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't blame her for wanting something other than a tenement lifestyle with a child and a spouse. I guess I wasn't really a spouse either. We had never brought up getting married. I wasn't sure I wanted to but it didn't matter anyway. She was gone and I couldn't even catch a glimpse of her on the sidewalk. I started to take solace in Anna's visits. She was rather bright and very open with me. When we were children, I thought she was pretty and thoughtful but nothing more. During this ordeal, she proved to me how smart and caring she was. There were times when I thought about being with her. I never would've acted on it but it was too complicated to think about Wendla. She was like an aunt to Niamh, who adored her. It seemed like a relationship of convenience but there was something else there. She had sent what I thought were signals, touching my hand or ruffling my hair.

Right before dawn, there was a knock at the door.