The next few days were crammed full of lectures, exams, long shifts and surly patients at the hospital; Patsy barely had time to eat. But as she lay in bed each night, utterly exhausted, her thoughts would drift to Delia: wondering how her day had been, if she was getting enough sleep, if she was thinking about her at all. Then she would rub her face and groan.
You're being ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous.
When she finally had an afternoon free, she stopped by Delia's room but there was no answer to her knock.
"Are you looking for Delia?"
Patsy turned to see a plump redhead walking down the hall. "I am, yes."
"I passed her at the park about 15 minutes ago."
Patsy was moving before she had even tossed a polite "thank you" over her shoulder.
She hurried down the street and into the park. As she rounded a large, neatly pruned hedge, she spotted Delia sitting on a bench; actually, it was the same bench where they had met. Her steps faltered and she paused a moment to simply observe: Delia sat with a book in her lap, completely oblivious to the world moving around her as silky tendrils of dark hair fluttered in the breeze, licking a finger before turning a page. Patsy thought she could easily watch this woman all day, but voices in the distance got her feet moving.
When her shadow fell over the woman on the bench and her book, Patsy crossed her arms and tried to sound stern. "I believe you are in my spot."
Carefully closing the book, Delia squinted at the figure above her. "Yes, I know. It seemed to work out well for you. So I thought I would try it out for a bit." She gestured a hand toward Patsy, "and here you stand."
Patsy smirked, this woman was different from anyone she had ever met. "Care for a cup of tea, Ms. Busby?"
"Always, Ms. Mount."
Delia poured tea for them both, looking expectantly at Patsy with her hand hovering over the milk and sugar.
"Just a splash of milk...a bit more. Perfect. Thank you." Pulling the cup across the table, Patsy stirred slowly and spoke softly. "Tell me something about yourself. Something no one else in London knows."
Delia pondered the question for a moment while she prepared her own tea, then leaned in, dramatically whispering "I hate needles."
Patsy barked a laugh, covering her mouth in apologetic embarrassment when other patrons in the tea shop flashed annoyed glances at them. Head bowed, she looked up sheepishly, afraid she had hurt Delia's feelings by laughing at her fear. But Delia simply grinned at her. Patsy tipped her head, eyes squinting with suspicion, "Are you pulling my leg?"
Taking a sip of her tea, Delia shook her head. "No, I'm completely serious."
"I'm afraid you may be going into the wrong field."
Delia waved a hand in the air, "Oh, I can stick other people all day long without flinching, I just don't want them...you know...sticking in me."
Patsy chuckled. "I see."
"What about you?"
"I...cannot...swim." She punctuated each word with a tap of a finger on the handle of her cup.
"Are you afraid of water?" The look on her face showed that Delia was genuinely curious.
"No, I just never learned. It wasn't proper when I was younger, and then..." she shrugged. "It didn't really matter once I got older."
Delia peered her over the rim of her teacup. "Well, perhaps someday, you will let me teach you."
Aaaand the butterflies are back . "Perhaps, someday."
Delia's gaze grew unfocused, smiling softly at a distant memory. "It's odd. I don't remember a time when I couldn't swim. My father would tell you I turned into a fish every summer."
Patsy smirked at the idea of a tiny Delia frolicking in the cool waters on a blistering hot day. "And your mother? What would she tell me?"
Delia sighed and gave a half-smile that hinted of sadness, her a finger drawing invisible doodles on the starched, white tablecloth. "She would enjoy telling you all about how I disappeared every summer, shirking my female duties. She loves to remind me of the importance of learning to be a good wife, and how disappointed my husband will be."
"You don't believe those things are important?" Patsy found that she was suddenly very interested in Delia's answer.
Delia just shrugged noncommittally.
They quietly finished their tea, casting shy glances across the table at the each other. Patsy peered out the window, softly asking "Would you like to take a walk? Back through the park, perhaps?"
"Yes. I would."
They strolled side by side down the path, arms brushing occasionally. Patsy had Delia in tears laughing at impressions of their very stern night matron. Delia's chest tightened at the sound of happiness in Patsy's voice. She wanted to reach out and take Patsy's hand, her palm practically itched for it.
When the woman beside her grew quiet and somber, veering off the path, Delia followed without hesitation. Delia watched a moment, waiting as her friend leaned back against the tree; it was obvious she was struggling with something and needed time to make a decision. So Delia did what came naturally, she talked.
"I used to love climbing trees when I was younger. I would wear a pair of my cousin Liam's old trousers, but I would still go home covered in scrapes and bruises. Mam would get so angry with me. Lecturing me on how it wasn't lady-like behavior to be running and climbing and doing what 'only the good Lord knows what else.' I didn't care, it was fun. And if the boys were allowed, then I didn't understand why I shouldn't be allowed, too. I was just...enjoying life. After all, we're only given the one."
Leaning against the trunk of the tree next to Patsy, their arms touched. She was gazing up into the branches, at the sky peeking through the leaves, when she felt Patsy take her hand. The connection was real, it was powerful. And when Patsy began to pull away, Delia held tight; she wanted just a moment longer. But when they heard voices on the path, Delia gave the hand a squeeze before letting go.
Pushing off the tree, Patsy began pacing, sighing deeply before she began her "why nursing" story. She spoke of life in a Japanese prisoner of war camp, with all of the pain and suffering she experienced, about the nightmares that still woke her, covered in sweat. Delia cried silent tears as she listened to how Patsy had cared for her mother and sister, and many others, in the dirty medical facility as they succumbed to typhoid and other diseases. How she worked double shifts to earn extra food, which she gave to the extremely malnourished patients. How, as a child of 10, she had to help choose who would receive the limited supply of antibiotics, and who would die.
Delia couldn't move, even to wipe the tears streaming down her cheeks, for fear it would startle Patsy, reminding her that Delia was there, listening to her put words to her demons. It was plain that no one had been allowed behind these walls, not even to help Patsy heal. And so Delia stood and listened, her heart breaking again and again over terrible stories of beatings and rape. It was surreal that this intelligent, funny, kind, beautiful woman had endured these horrors.
Some time later, Patsy stopped; she just stood there, looking broken and alone. But Delia would be damned if she was going to let Patsy feel alone and afraid ever again. So she went to her, and wrapped her in her arms. Patsy was rigid at first, then melted into the embrace and sobbed into Delia's neck. Delia held on tight, rubbing her back and stroking her hair, until Patsy had cried herself out and pulled back.
Both women scrubbed at their tear stained cheeks.
"Delia, look, I'm..." Patsy's voice was raspy and raw from the release of such intense emotions.
But Delia wouldn't let her finish that thought. "No, don't. Come on."
"Where?"
"To my room. I have a bottle of whiskey, and I'm pretty sure that's exactly what we both need right now."
They were quiet on the walk back to the dorm and up the stairs. Halfway down the hall, one of her classmates stuck her head out of her room. "Oh, Delia, thank goodness! I heard footsteps and I desperately hoped it was you! Can you please, please, please help me? I've been working on this Latin assignment for hours, and I just...help!"
"Sure, but can it wait a bit longer? I need to..."
But Patsy cut her off. "No, you don't. I'm just going to go." She was backing down the hall before she had even finished speaking.
Delia took a couple steps after Patsy, calling out "No, wait..." But she was already gone.
"So, do you think you could help me now?"
Still looking down the hall, Delia mumbled a distracted reply. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Of course."
To be continued...
