A Night at Blob’s Park © Elsa Wolf

Having nothing better to do, Heidi tagged along with her parents to a cocktail party. It was the usual scene: clinking glasses, polite laughter, and clusters of people murmuring about business, politics, and the mundane dramas of upper crust society. She’d acquired a glass of red wine from the bar and swirled the contents around, while trying to blend into the ornate wallpaper and disappear. The evening stretched on uneventfully until a man with a thick German accent appeared by her side singing under his breath.

Heidi had never seen him before within any of her parents’ circles of friends or at any embassy function that she’d been obliged to attend. His name was Claus. Not a particularly tall man. Maybe he was five-foot-eight or so. His hair, unlike Heidi’s, was blonde and cropped short against his pale scalp. Despite his otherwise unassuming appearance, something about him unsettled her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Heidi,” Claus said, his voice warm but edged with something she couldn’t quite place. How did he know her name? Throughout the evening, they spoke at length, his stories veering from tales of his youth in Germany to accounts of his love of dancing. As the party was coming to an end, Claus announced he was going to Blob’s Park for a German meal and dance event in the coming days. He went every month, and his dance partner wasn’t available this time round. With a charming smile, he invited Heidi. At first, she was a little hesitant due to his age. But before she could refuse, her mother swooped in with her socialite enthusiasm.

“Oh, Heidi, you must go!” her mother gushed. “It will be so much fun. An adventure to be had.

Heidi sighed, inwardly cursing her mother’s obsession with propriety, and reluctantly agreed.

A week later, Claus came by her parent’s home in a polished black sedan. Heidi slipped into the passenger seat, her heart thumping with nerves. The drive to Blob’s Park took forty-five minutes and led down country roads she’d never been before. Tall trees cast shadows that crisscrossed the roads as the sun set. She clutched her purse a little tighter. Claus’s conversation, though friendly, did little to calm her nerves. He seemed nice enough, but something about him felt slightly—off. All the scary movies she’s watched down country lanes started to get under her skin as she and Claus talked.

She’d never traveled away from home with anyone but her parents and attempted to distract her mind from the unfamiliar situation. Blob’s Park, what a strange name. Was it named after a Mr. Blob? If it was, he was probably teased as a kid.

Claus seemed like a nice enough man, but there was something peculiar about him. Finally, the car pulled into the gravel parking lot of Blob’s Park in what appeared to be on the remote outskirts of Jessup, Maryland. The place had a kind of old-world charm with a Tudor-style façade adorned with flower boxes bursting with bright red geraniums. Strings of white fairy lights hung over the entrance. An old wooden sign read Blob’s Park in bold letters with the subtitle Bavarian Dance Hall.

Claus piped. “It’s an institution with memories of decades’ worth of polka, waltzes, and laughter for every attendant.”

“Blob’s Park,” Heidi murmured, taking in the building’s appearance. The oddness of the situation caused her to shiver when Claus placed his hand on her back as they entered.

Inside, the atmosphere buzzed with life. A hostess greeted them at the door of the hall. Wrought-iron chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling and an enormous dance floor took up the center, surrounded by people chatting and clinking steins of beer together. A mural of the Bavarian Alps stretched across one wall, making the place feel as if it had been plucked straight from Europe and dropped into rural Maryland.

The hostess took them to a long wooden table draped with red-and-white checkered tablecloths by the edge of the dance floor. Pre-arranged German beers and plates of sauerkraut with bratwurst were placed in front of them. Heidi had barely taken a bite before a voice from an overhead speaker asked the guests to enjoy their meals while music playing in the background. They said the show would begin shortly. After they finished eating, musicians came out pulling instruments on wheels resembling enormous cob pipes that extended ten-feet across the floor. Claus informed her they were called Alpenhorns. The thunderous notes reverberated through the hall, rattling the glasses and echoing in her chest. The performance was followed by cloggers whose lively rhythmic tapping filled the room. Next, high school age kids came on to the dance floor, demonstrating German folk dances in traditional Bavarian costumes. The dancers departed. Finally, the music softened and continued at a reduced volume in the background. Coffee and dessert were brought out by servers dressed in costume. The air smelled of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee, but Heidi found it hard to relax. She preferred small gatherings with activities and people she knew. This situation was beyond her experience. She tapped her foot out of sight under the table, attempting to follow the beat of the music instead of showing her true angst by voicing her objections to the entire scene.

Someone turned up the music, and an announcer invited everyone to dance. Claus stood and offered his hand to Heidi. He guided her onto the floor with confidence and grace, leading her through waltz after waltz, his movement smooth and practiced. She felt like a clumsy child, but Claus’s calm direction kept her from stumbling too badly. Initially, she wasn’t sure how to respond, as she’d never been taught any type of formal dancing, much less danced with an older man who was not her father. The memory of dancing with him drifted into view. She’d stood on her dad’s feet as a child while moving through the steps with him. The recollection brought a smile across her face that Claus seemed to appreciate, even though it had nothing to do with him.

At the end of the evening, she was more than ready to go home and still felt odd about going to a dance with a man who must have been at least fifty. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this whole outing had been a mistake. Claus guided her back to the car, but instead of retracing the now familiar route, he turned down a narrow road.

“Where are we going?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Claus didn’t respond right away. He stopped in front of an old stone building with a dilapidated sign dangling from one of the two hooks. Looking sideways at the crooked letters, she reads St Francis’ Orphanage. At that moment, her skin prickled and she thought of horror stories once again. Then Claus told her why they were there.

 “It was closed a decade ago,” he said quietly. “When I visited the nuns years back, I was quite disappointed that the place was empty. It was the last place I saw my baby girl.”

Heidi stiffened, and her throat tightened. What was happening? Heidi knew she had been adopted, but this announcement didn’t make a bit of sense to her.

“I had to leave her,” Claus continued, his voice cracking. “I couldn’t raise her alone.”

“Take me home,” she demanded. “I’ve heard enough.”

Circling the conversation back to the dance, Claus said, “Soon, soon. I enjoyed the special evening we shared and wished we could spend more time together.”

Now she was really creeped out, and wanted nothing more than to be taken home, and never see this peculiar man again. What had her mother been thinking when she encouraged her to go to Blob’s Park. After all, the park wasn’t too far away from the prison. Could he be a recently released convict? No, her mother would never have suggested she go along.

“I wanted to say…” Claus began.

Taking a deep breath, Heidi waited to hear what Claus would come up with, but he was staring out the window with his mouth open, as if he’s been stupefied. Finally, he told her what their evening was all about.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I never should have left you.”

“What?”

“Your mother was gone and—and I left you, too. I left you here.”

“You’re crazy,” she said. “Take me home.”

“No, it’s true. You were only six months old. I couldn’t take care of you. Your parents, your dedicated parents, adopted you from this orphanage a few months later. I was able to find you through archived records. After that, I contacted your parents and they agreed to help me. That is why I showed up at that cocktail party where I first met you.”

“No!” Heidi’s voice shook. “Why didn’t they warn me instead of sending me off dancing?”

“Truthfully, they wanted us to spend some time together before I told you.”

“Not their best plan. I’ll need a while to absorb all this. Please, just take me home so I can talk this over with them.”

“Understandable. I’m sorry for everything.”

The weight of his confession hung heavily between them. The night felt colder, heavier, and more complicated than it had only been a few hours before. Finally, he started the car, his hands trembling on the wheel. He drove her home in silence, neither one knowing if they would ever meet again.