"Mama!"
The frightened shriek cut through the night. A few men in the tavern paused, but went back to their drinking. They had heard it before; they would hear it again.
They may have resigned themselves to that fact, but the girl in the shadows outside had not. Stepping around the corner to see who the unfortunate was, she felt nausea overtake her.
No. Please, no.
Ignoring the buzzing in her head, Ilse ran forward and yanked hard at the hand disappearing through the door beneath the tavern. Wendla Bergmann, pale and sobbing, fell forward into her arms.
"Ilse, help me! Don't let them, please! Please!"
Ilse felt herself fold under Wendla's weight and sank to the ground, taking the other girl with her.
"What are you doing?" the abortionist hissed, appearing in the doorway and trying to pull Wendla up again. "This is not any of your business!"
Ilse curled her body around Wendla's, forming a protective shell. "Leave her be!"
"Ilse?" Frau Bergmann moved closer. "What are you doing here? No, I suppose that doesn't matter. Ilse dear, you must let Wendla go. She's... ill. Herr Schmitz is going to help her."
Ilse laughed crazily. "Ill? I know what kind of illness Herr Schmitz remedies. Frau Bergmann, please listen to me. Herr Schmitz's methods don't always work. I know girls who've visited him and haven't come back."
"Shut up, girl!" Herr Schmitz raised a threatening hand, but Frau Bergmann pushed it back down.
"There's a risk to everything. We have no choice!" She seemed to be pleading with Ilse. "We have to get rid of it."
"I don't want you to!" Wendla sobbed. "Please, Mama!"
"If she has the baby she'll be an outcast. We'll be outcasts!"
"So I'll take her!" Ilse shrieked, completely losing any calm she had retained through the conversation. "I'm leaving tonight. She can come with me!"
A silence fell over the group at these words. Ilse brushed a hand over her lips, eyes wide with shock.
Did I just say that?
"But the questions..." whispered Frau Bergmann uncertainly.
"Tell them she went to live with a relative. Tell them she went away to school. Tell them she died!" Ilse suggested wildly.
Slowly, Frau Bergmann began to nod. "Yes... yes. If this..." She turned to her daughter. "Wendla?"
"I'll go with Ilse," Wendla said, wiping her tears and smiling hopefully.
Frau Bergmann nodded again, a short and painful jerk. "Alright. Herr Schmitz, your services will not be needed." She thrust a coin into his hand. "For... your time."
The man shot Ilse one last dirty look and disappeared through the door beneath the tavern, softly and violently cursing.
Ilse deftly pulled Wendla to her feet, keeping one arm looped around the smaller girl's waist. "We should go."
Frau Bergmann kissed her daughter's forehead, and then Ilse's as well. "Keep her safe?" she begged softly.
"I will," agreed Ilse. "I'll come back for her things when I can. We won't be far, at least not until... Wendla can travel again."
Frau Bergmann smiled crookedly and turned on her heel, walking faster and faster until she was lost in the night.
The girls stared dully at the place she had been standing.
"What now?" Wendla asked softly.
Responsibility. Ilse had to man up and shoulder it, just as she always had. Wendla was too delicate, now more than ever. Taking a deep breath she said, "Back to my place. It's on the edge of Priapia. Can you handle the walk?"
Wendla shrugged. "Do I have a choice?"
"Nope." Somehow, this remark was insanely funny to both girls. A smattering of giggles turned into full – on laughs, which swiftly rose into hysterical shrieks.
"Oh, God," Ilse gasped, scrubbing at the tears pouring down her face. "We have so many problems."
Wendla nodded happily. "At least Herr Schmitz won't be able to do anything about these ones!"
Ilse tightened her grip on her friend's waist, her throat so filled with unnamed emotion she thought it would split open. "Come on, Wendla. Let's go home."
***
"It's over this way!" Ilse called back to the other girl. The trek through the woods had taken its toll on her; Wendla was lagging behind Ilse by a considerable distance.
"Right," replied Wendla tonelessly.
Ilse cursed herself silently; she had to be careful with her friend. "Hurry it up a bit and I'll make you some tea," she wheedled, pausing so Wendla could catch up.
Together they stepped into a clearing. The sound of running water revealed a nearby river, the same one that ran through town. And in the middle of the clearing sat a caravan, much like that of the gypsies.
"Is that yours?" Wendla asked breathlessly.
Ilse nodded, keeping her head down. "It isn't much, but a friend of mine was moving on and didn't want it, so..."
Wendla was already running to fling open the door.
"Ilse!"
The inside of the caravan was a mess of reds and purples and gold. Scarves were draped across the windows and the two chairs pulled up to the small wooden table; a bright patchwork quilt covered the double bed built into the wall.
"It's not very big, and I haven't exactly been tidying things up lately..." mumbled Ilse, stepping in after her.
Wendla stared at her, her soft lips forming a perfect O. "What are you talking about? It's beautiful!" She immediately began poking around in the built-in cupboards and shelves. "This is incredible!"
Shaking her head, Ilse filled the kettle with water from the barrel and placed it on the stovetop.
"Tea'll be ready in a few, but if you want something hot to eat I'll have to build up the fire again, it's nothing but embers."
"Just the tea is fine," Wendla called from under the bed.
Grinning, Ilse crept over and slapped Wendla's protruding backside.
"Oh!" The sound of skull connecting with wood could be heard. "Ow, shit!"
"Since when did you start swearing?" Ilse asked as she pulled her out into the open. "Head okay?"
Wendla nodded. "I think it was about the time I found out about the baby. I'm already going to hell, so I might as well curse."
Ilse giggled and pulled a nightgown from a drawer. "Put this on, I'll get the kettle."
When the water had been poured into two mugs and dried mint had been added Ilse turned to face Wendla in nothing but her drawers.
"Ilse!" Wendla squealed, yanking the nightgown over her head.
"Sorry," Ilse mumbled. "Here..." She thrust a mug at Wendla and sat down rather shakily on the bed. The image of Wendla's abdomen was firmly burned into her retinas.
Swollen. Protruding. Definitely pregnant.
She had known; of course she had known. But seeing it was different. It was too real and scary.
Wendla, I always thought I'd be the one to fuck things up...
Ilse gulped down the tea and began to prepare for bed, splashing leftover water from the kettle onto her face and scrubbing her teeth furiously at the sink, watching her spit disappear through the drain and straight onto the ground below the caravan.
"I've got a spare toothbrush," she said, keeping her back to Wendla. She shed her clothes and tried to put on a nightgown, but her hands were shaking too badly. Wendla moved in front of her and wordlessly did up the buttons before pulling back the blankets on the bed and gesturing for Ilse to lie down, tucking them firmly around her.
When Wendla had finished her own washing up she crawled in beside Ilse, butting her head gently against her shoulder.
"Are you mad at me, Ilse?"
Was she? But... no, that wasn't fair. She had volunteered to take Wendla with her. And whatever had happened to get her in this condition wasn't Wendla's fault.
Was it?
"Wendla, I..." Ilse sighed and propped her head on her hand so she could see into Wendla's eyes, grey-blue and brown locked together.
This was not supposed to happen to you. How could you let it?
"Just tell me. Who was it?"
Wendla's eyes filled with tears and her voice became very small and high. "Melchior Gabor. Ilse, I didn't mean to... I didn't think... I didn't know!" she wailed.
Ilse opened her arms then, feeling any resentment wash away. Yes, Wendla had been stupid, but she was still her friend and she needed her.
"Thank you," Wendla whispered, burying herself in her friend's embrace. "For saving me and the baby and..."
"Shush, Wendla," murmured Ilse. "Go to sleep now. We'll talk about it in the morning. Alright?"
Wendla nodded, smiled sweetly through her tears, and closed her eyes. Ilse stayed awake a long time holding her, waiting until Wendla's breathing had become soft and rhythmic before dropping off herself.
Melchior Gabor, I will fucking KILL you...