The eldest of three children, Adalyn was the only sibling sent to work with their father at the small cafe. Her two younger brothers, both brunette and rather annoying, were helping - or, more likely, just fooling around - at home, blessed with the company of their firm but warmhearted mother. With her waist-length mane and fast mouth, Nathalie was the epitome of a French woman and quite possibly the glue of the Saks family. Her work was at home, mending and laundering clothes for clients that always had a smile and some kind words to offer her offspring. The boys both had her face while Ada was a replica of their father, a fact that they often teased her with. But the girl never minded. Although they might always go on and on about not having a favorite parent so as to keep in good graces, deep down she knew that it had to be him. How could he not be, after he had passed his knowledge down to her and taught her how to play the first love of her life?
It was a well-known fact amongst family friends and neighbors that Mr. Saks was the more susceptible of the two. Not to say that he was a pushover; no, far from it. He was just more gentle and whimsical than his wife, and it was always rather easy to sweet-talk some coins for candies out of him. Perhaps it was because of his belief in silly idioms such as 'opposites attract' that Martin decided to marry such an imposing woman. Whatever it was, the universe was happier for the union, which struck a balance within the family that defined their childhood. All the laughs they'd gotten from the subtle, amused glances Martin would steal at them whenever Nathalie would launch herself into a fit over the smallest detail: The way he would repent by grabbing her into a dance that may or may not have matched the tone of the song on the radio: The begrudging smile that would inevitably mold her mother's lips before she beckoned the children to join in. This was what Ada called her home.
Lately, however, it seemed that her father was taking page by page from his wife's book, for there was a noticeable change in his demeanor since the air within Germany had begun to shift. Although he hadn't become a loud, nagging machine, he was much quieter, and less joyous - especially during family outings to the Temple or even to the sweets shop. The children couldn't understand why, nor could they yet interpret the meaning in the way Martin's head seemed to hang a little lower. They couldn't understand, but they knew something within the Fatherland was stirring. It didn't take long for them to notice that even friends from the neighborhood were beginning to treat them differently, giving them funny stares or else ignoring them completely. What it was all about, Ada did not know. But she knew that she did not like it one bit.
The funny stares and occasional rude comments followed them all the way to their workplace, which was unfortunate, because it wasn't as if they could simply walk away from them like they did on the streets. Whenever it happened, Ada had learned from her father to simply apologize and keep her mouth shut, though of course, being the daughter of her mother, she wanted to do everything but. Thankfully, since the flow of customers was slow today, and many seemed to be too busy to take notice of the girl striding between their tables, cleaning after them, the incident counter so far was low.
While balancing a plate, cutlery, and a glass still half full of milk, Ada began the mundane journey back to the kitchen, where she knew her father would be, munching on a sandwich made by her mama and chatting with the other servers. Having done this many times before, she might have been an expert at maneuvering through the maze of patrons, careful not to tilt her tray too far in one direction. But suddenly a chair at her side scooted backwards so far that she could not avoid it, and it pushed into her side with a force that caused her to drop the tray. The sounds of the silverware clattering onto the floor, as well as the shattering of the glass and the plate, seemed to echo in the silence that ensued, during which everyone seemed to have their judging eyes turned towards her.
The large man who had run into her with his chair immediately jumped up from his place and towered over her, his eyes wide with impatience. "Do you not watch where you are going, stupid girl?!" he spat at the top of her head, for she stood frozen, her apron wet with the spilled milk, staring wide eyed at the mess on the floor. It was only at the last bit that Adalyn seemed to start, and she turned around to correct him with an expression that her mother might have been proud of. But even as she opened her mouth to retort that it had been he who had caused the trouble, she stopped herself short. From the corner of her eyes she had seen the kitchen door swing open to reveal her father, who gave her the slightest shake of his head.
With a burning inside her belly and the frustration nearly spilling from her throat, she closed her mouth, inhaled through her nostrils, then said through slightly gritted teeth, "I guess not, sir. I apologize." And before he could answer, she dropped down onto her hands and knees, careful to avoid the white and crystal pieces of the broken tableware. She heard him grumbling above her but had already tuned him out, only listening for the sounds of his heavy feet as the pounded away from her.
Her eyebrows were furrowed together with indignation as she took out a rag and began scooping the shards back onto her tray, pursing her lips together to keep from muttering her irritation under her breath. It was only when she had begun reaching forward to pick up the forks and spoons that she realized she was practically underneath another patron, and she lifted her eyes to him if only to see if she'd bothered him, as well. "Don't mind me, sir," she said, a bit more roughly than she had intended. Clearing her throat as if that might excuse her tone, she pondered about how strange it felt to be calling someone that looked to be about her age "sir" as she took in his appearance. Deciding that he looked much like the friends that were likely to give her a cold shoulder, Ada turned her attention back to the fork that had slid near his chair without another word.
Before she could reach it, however, she retracted her other hand quickly from the floor as if it had been made of fire. Having moved it forward in order to lean on it, Adalyn hadn't noticed the clear, sharp piece of glass on which she had just cut the side of her thumb. "Ah," she hissed as she looked at the small incision, which was already spilling blood. With a frown, she placed the wound inside her mouth and sucked it clean, still keeping her gaze away from the boy as the piano notes began to fill the air once more. She resisted the urge to throw her father a pointed glance, knowing that he was just doing his job, knowing that he was counting on her.
