I didn’t suggest it either, actually. Because it was quite nice. We had found a place in the shrinking shadow of the barracks.

Lou played again, more wildly than usual. She ran back and forth between the drying garments.

The woman was silent. I was silent as well. It occurred to me that I’d forgotten to ask her name, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It felt private, like everything else about her.

Afterward I learned it anyway. We were in the mess hall and had finished our meal. A casserole in dented aluminum bowls. Lukewarm.

Lou wolfed down everything she was given, as if she were afraid the food would disappear if she wasn’t quick enough. It was late in the day and she had only eaten a few dry crackers for breakfast. I had forgotten while we were waiting for the clothes to dry that the child needed food. Scatterbrain. But now her tummy was full and she was calm. She said, as simply as only she could say it: “My name is Lou. What’s your name?”

“Lou is a nice name,” the woman said, abruptly getting to her feet.

“But what is your name?” Lou asked.

The woman took a step away from the table. “Marguerite.”

Marguerite. Like a daisy.

“Daddy’s name is David.”

The woman took one more step.

“That’s nice. Thanks for the company.”

“Where are you going?” I asked. “We could eat together later, too?”

“Yes,” Lou said. “We could.”

“Maybe,” Marguerite said. But it didn’t look like she meant it.

“Fine,” I said.

Makes no difference to me, I wanted to say. But I didn’t say anything. And she had already turned and was heading away.

I thought she needed us. But she didn’t, I could see that now. A woman like her didn’t need people like us.

I was just a child, dragging another child with me. We came straight from the sandbox, both Lou and I. We were dirty, even though we were clean. Completely unlike her. But I didn’t want her to walk away, with that bony back of hers, so slender and erect.

“I was just trying to be nice,” I said to her back.

“Me too,” she said, without turning around. And then she disappeared.

For some reason or other my eyes were stinging. But crying didn’t help, I knew that. Besides, it was so hot, so hellishly hot. The mess hall tent was hot. The sun beat down on the roof. The walls were folded up to let the air in, but it didn’t help, because not even the faintest breeze could be felt. Only dry, sweltering heat.

Around us people sat on the benches, sweating. Red in the face, their skin shiny. Everyone looked the same. I didn’t know any of them.

I emptied the water out of my cup. It was as warm as piss and tasted like rubber.

Waiting and waiting.

I stood up suddenly. “Come on,” I said to Lou.

“I haven’t finished eating.”