A straight white man—that was my future. Trundling around pretending to be Jewish to steal a bit of pseudo-minority status. I’d turn invisible, privileged, easy in the world. Who would I be when I wasn’t exactly me anymore? Nothing like Jakub. A whiney, diminished man, disavowing the privilege I obviously hoarded, and worse, that I’d bought for myself.

Rosie had left her tattooed, compact husband for me, considering our love her next great, dangerous adventure. She wouldn’t be able to bear the new me, and I couldn’t either. All my nebbish anxiety was only endearing in a girl. Jakub was still giggling, hand sealing his mouth. I vibrated with desire, but rage threaded through it. I wanted to kick him in the stomach, to shut him up for acting like he knew more about me than I did. The feeling swelled: urgent, muscular. I wanted to fuck him, hard, to peel off his body and wrap myself in it.

I lunged out, meaning to touch his thigh, even kiss him, but the heel of my hand grazed his balls, shockingly loose and soft in his silky athletic pants.

“Hey,” he said, his color turning ashen. He sliced his hand through the air as though his English had deserted him. “No, no.”

“I’m sorry.” I jumped back. He was way overreacting. “I didn’t mean to.”

Jakub kept slicing his hands, curls dancing, as if I’d physically harmed him. Why was he freaking out? People had died on this grass. Dogs had shit and children had scampered over ground where people had lined up for head counts. Even looking that misery in the eye was invasive, even considering their trauma at all. But that was my job: poring over the hardships of others and pretending to understand. I stood up in three separate creaky motions. “I’m getting out of here.”

“No,” he said. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” His voice was a whisper. All the menace of his sturdy Polish face distilled to soft, rodenty worry. I looked away. “It’s just—never mind.” His voice shook like he feared what he might tell me. “Forget it. Let’s keep up with the tour.”

“No,” I said, so forcefully that he shrank into the lee of the monument. He looked like me: hunched, defensive. I left him there, shaking his head. I couldn’t even bear to say goodbye.