Hey, it's August!
* August 1952 *
Suspense and tension are two words I sincerely wish could be excluded from my vocabulary.
Something always happens after these words, and it's not always necessarily good.
There's suspense before the big drop on an amusement park ride, then there's suspense before discovering the fate of a sick family member.
Or there's tension between two young siblings fighting over a piece of candy, and then there's tension like that between Liesel and Rudy.
One might say that their relationship has turned toxic, but I beg to differ. It may not make much sense at the time, but in reality I've always found that arguments make a relationship stronger— that is, unless the reason for the disagreement is strong enough the shatter the fragile glasses of marriage, engagement, or simply dating.
Another thing I have noticed over the years is that humans find it difficult to maintain the cold shoulder over a long period of time, particularly when the two people in question are almost constantly around each other…
OoOoO
As July turned into August, and the dryness of July precipitation-wise turned into what felt like a new whirlwind of torrential rain each week in August, life moved on.
Over time, Rudy and Liesel came to an uneasy conclusion, though it wasn't really a conclusion at all— it was merely an agreement to get along generally by speaking to each other as little as possible.
Whether they were planning to save the actual conclusion of their argument for another day or simply forgetting about the entire thing, Liesel didn't know. She hated that she didn't know, and she hated the idea of bringing a baby into a tension-laced environment.
But she was afraid the only way to make up with Rudy was to let Max go.
OoOoO
Seven months along, Liesel's due date now loomed on the horizon and she found it increasingly difficult just to get up and walk around. Hermes fitting on her lap was out of the question, and she felt more bloated and breathless than ever before.
It was on a Tuesday in the second week of August when it came time for her monthly checkup with the doctor. Ever since May, the doctor had agreed to come to the apartment, and especially now Liesel was ever grateful for this.
Doctor Arguinzoni, shortened to Dr. A, was a portly but chipper older man with wispy white hair that failed to adequately cover his shiny bald head. He had chubby cheeks like a squirrel's, and with his muffled voice, Liesel often wondered if he was actually storing nuts in there. Complete with round, dorky glasses with the thickest lenses she had ever seen in her life, he was quite an interesting-looking old man. But, nevertheless, he got the job done, and usually their appointments were quick and painless.
"Ah, good— what time is it, dear?" he greeted her, bustling through the door with his bag and setting his grizzled gray bowler hat on the table as per usual.
Liesel stood up from the couch, setting her book down on the coffee table and blinking up at the clock. "It's a quarter past two, Doctor."
"Golly! 2:15 already? If only I hadn't misplaced my watch, I would've been on time today. Forgive me, Liesel dear, and good mor— er, excuse me, good afternoon," Dr. A rambled.
She smiled politely. "Don't worry about it, I don't have much else to do around here." She ambled toward the kitchen, glancing back at him questioningly. "Would you like something to drink?" She opened the fridge, sighed, and then set her hand on the sink faucet. "Like, a glass of tap?"
"I'm quite alright, thank you very much," Dr. A declined. "So, shall we get started? I'm afraid I have another patient at three, so we have plenty of time now, but they're still not exactly as lenient as you if I were to be fifteen minutes late."
Liesel grinned stiffly and went into the bedroom, lying flat on top of the sheets.
The doctor went through his usual procedures, and Liesel grudgingly stayed silent during the process. When he dragged out his stethoscope, she bit her tongue as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up, her back straighter than a meter stick.
"Very good, very good, you know the drill," Dr. A praised. "My star patient," he added as he placed the stethoscope on her chest.
She hoped she wasn't blushing too much, for she disliked when he spoke to her as if she were a child— perhaps it was the age difference?
"Breathe in," he commanded. She obeyed. "Breathe out," he ordered. She obliged. This repeated a few more times before he sat back and looked her dead in the eye. "Your breath is somewhat raspy— are you recovering from a summer cold, or allergies?"
Liesel clasped her hands tightly on her lap, and considered her options for a moment. Yes, she was breathing hard, but that was only when she exerted herself too much. Besides, it was only because she thought herself to be an enormous whale that her breathing was laborious. Quietly, she nodded, but then added, "Yes, Doctor. Just some allergies— you know, with this heat and the open windows—"
"Ah, yes, I understand perfectly," Dr. A replied, taking note in a little notepad for a moment. Liesel watched his furiously-scribbling pen warily until he said, "Just one more question, Mrs. Steiner. Let's see… you're at about 28 weeks now, so now's better than ever to ask you: are you thinking about a home birth or hospital birth?"
Liesel tensed right away. How could she know what she wanted? She wasn't giving birth right then. She hadn't even discussed this with Rudy, but it wasn't exactly the best time for them to. She sighed, thought, and then answered, "Well, I honestly would prefer for it to just happen here. One thing I was considering was to possibly have a midwife?"
The round little man chuckled. "You don't have to call it 'it'— just say 'birth,' and don't be afraid to. Mrs. Steiner, you'll be responsible for bringing a new life into this amazing world— or, at least, amazing as long as Stevenson doesn't win the primary… but in any case, no pressure! And of course, you can have a midwife come here. I can try to find a less expensive one for you from my office, but it still won't be dirt cheap." Abruptly he stood up and shook her hand. "Well, it's time for me to take my leave, but I hope you have a pleasant rest of the week, Mrs. Steiner. Goodbye!"
He breezed out the door, grabbing his scrubby old hat on the way, before Liesel's own farewell could leave her lips. The strange little man was gone.
OoOoO
As far as Liesel could tell, Max enjoyed his job. He came home around 6:00 each night, usually soon before or long after Rudy. On the nights when he was later than Rudy, Liesel often anticipated his arrival home, for the silent iciness in the apartment alone with Rudy was too much to bear sometimes.
On one particular rainy night in later August, Max stormed in at 5:00, his eyes rubbed sore so that they were red and puffy. Heaving a loud sigh, he slammed the door, tossed his key onto the table, and laid down his five-dollar briefcase, giving it one angry kick for good measure before slumping on the sofa.
Liesel leaned out of the bedroom to see who was home. When her gaze snagged sight of Max's ruffled dark hair, her tensed muscles relaxed and she walked out to him. "What's the matter?"
Max shook his head vehemently, like a child about to throw a tantrum. "It's… this coworker of mine. He found out I was Jewish a few days ago, and now I'll never hear the end of his Jew jokes." He loosened his tie, slid it around his neck, and flung it at the floor, then undid the top two buttons of his shirt. "It's just too soon, you know?" He made a low noise in his throat, similar to that of one of Hermes' growls when the postman came by. "I'm just irritated."
She walked around the couch and caught sight of his disgruntled face and rubbed raw eyes. "I think the most irritated thing here are your eyes," Liesel said softly, going to wet a washcloth and then returning to him, sitting down and pressing the warm rag over his eyes. "Forget about your coworker, he's an arschloch," she urged.
To him the washcloth's warmth was very soothing, and immediately he sank into the couch somewhat. He could feel the light press of her fingers through the cloth, and his own fingers twitched. "God, I need a cigarette," he muttered, reaching into his pocket for his pack.
"No," Liesel argued. "Will that really make you feel any better?"
"Actually, yes, it will," Max replied tartly, pulling his lighter out of his other pocket.
"Please!" she begged. "Just… oh, what's something to get your mind off of smoking?"
He shrugged, sliding the things casually back into his pocket. "Beats me."
All of a sudden, the washcloth fell from his face onto his lap, and he winced as the wetness soaked into his pants, and lukewarm water droplets trailed down his cheeks. "Wha…?"
"I know just the thing to cheer you up!" Liesel chirped, standing up with more pep than usual and disappearing into the bedroom for a moment.
Before Max could turn to see where she went, she had come back to his side, holding a scrap paper and nub of a pencil. "You might find it boring, but it's something I've been thinking about for a while now," she said. She set the paper on his lap, and he could feel her gaze hot on his face, like the sun was beating down on him. "What do you think?"
On the torn paper, a short list of names was carefully written:
Boy | Girl
Rudolf Hans | Roseanne Barbara
Hans Rudolf? | Susan Rose
Alexander David | Catherine Rose
As Max scanned the names, his eyes watered a little. He wasn't quite sure whether it was from emotion or—
Liesel snorted. "Are you crying?"
"No, no, just allergies, I'm afraid," Max retorted. "A- a list of names isn't going to make me sob like a, well, baby."
"Right," she said.
"Anyway," Max said sharply, "One thing I definitely notice is that your handwriting has much improved since the cellar wall."
She shoved him, and his arm tingled. "Shut up! Really, do you like them? I definitely like the sound of Rose— after Rosa, of course, but— oh, I just have no idea anymore! I'm not sure if Rudy wants a son to be named after him, or his parents, or mine— oh Jesus, then there's his late siblings and my brother… or should we do an original name…?"
"Why don't you ask him what he wants then?" Max asked gently, slicking back his shaggy hair with the washcloth.
"This was my private list until now," she told him, taking it back and staring at it. "Besides, he won't take me seriously. He'll say to name it Jesse Owen Steiner, even if it's a girl." She sighed and shook her head, brushing some stray golden strands behind her ear. When her eyes flicked back toward him, he was sticking out his tongue at her, the washcloth draped over his eyes. "Stop!" she giggled, swatting the washcloth off of his damp hair so that it landed behind the sofa with a splat.
"You know, honestly, if I ever had a boy I would name him John," Max stated seriously.
She chewed on her lip, aiming the pencil inquisitively over the paper. "John isn't bad. It's a common name, but I like plain and simple. Besides, how many other John Steiners would there be in an American school? That would be some distinction…" she trailed off, mumbling to herself as she scribbled down John on the boys' side. Her chocolate eyes landed back on Max's water-streaked, stubble-sprinkled face. "What middle name do you think?"
Max rubbed his thin beard. "Hmm. The first thing that strikes your mind?"
"Roast beef!" Liesel burst out. She immediately slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes sliding toward him sheepishly. "I must be hungrier than I thought."
"Write it down!" Max encouraged, tapping the eraser of the pencil as his pine-green gaze gleamed in amusement. "John Roast Beef! He's a famous author waiting to happen: J. R. B. Steiner."
Smiling widely, she wrote down Roast Beef after John and then shifted her hand over to the girls' side. "God knows. Mary? Linda?"
"Rosa Rose Steiner," Max said.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"Okay, okay. Rose Rosa Steiner," he gave in.
"I don't like Rose that much," Liesel objected, hiding a grin behind her folded fingers as she sat in thought.
"I'm sorry if this is a touchy subject," Max began slowly, his innocent sneer falling into a slight frown. "But what was your mother's name?"
Her eyebrows furrowed, and she tilted her head at him for a moment like a confused dog. "Rosa, of cour— oh…"
"Biological mother," Max clarified.
Liesel tapped the grizzled pencil on her chin. "I just always called her Mother." She shrugged helplessly. "I left her when I was, what, nine or ten? I was too young to think of asking her what her first name was… and I've always regretted that."
"Oh, Liesel," Max murmured, patting her back gently. "I'm sorry to have brought it up— I'd thought it would be a good idea to—"
"Trust me," she sighed, combing her fingers through her hair. "That was one of the first ideas to cross my mind. But both sets of my parents are gone, so the least I could do is honor the names of the ones I know." She glanced over at him forlornly. "You know what I mean?"
Max nodded vigorously, eyes brimming with emotion. "Yes. I… I never knew my father, and my mother survived to see the end of the war but then passed away in '46. I was beside myself."
Liesel nodded with a mumbled "I'm sorry."
"I wish I'd tried finding you at that point," Max went on. "I needed a friend." His elbow brushed her thigh as he leaned forward and took the name list, then the pencil from her hand.
He poised his pencil under Catherine Rose, hesitated, and then wrote
Anna Rose
She blinked in mild surprise. "Anna! Why didn't I think of that? It's such a pretty name."
Max hung his head, not meeting her eyes. "You… can call her Annie."
Ardently, Liesel snatched back the paper and pencil and in tiny bullets under Anna, she added Annette and Annie. She then beamed warmly at him, although he still stared at the faded wood planks on the floor. "Thank you, Max! This one actually has a really nice ring to it." She hugged her stomach thoughtfully. "Oh, I hope it's a girl." She sneaked a glance back over at Max, but his head still hung between his knees. "Can you think of any other? You're on a roll— John Roast Beef, Anna Rose…" She giggled, balancing the pencil on his head.
He shot back up, and the pencil went soaring. He sighed and stared at her with mock annoyance. Once he returned with it, he rolled his eyes and took the paper. "By the way, John Roast Beef was all you. Or, at least, the Roast Beef part." Sneering innocently, he was just about to scribble down another name when the front door opened and, unlike his usual self, Rudy came in cautiously, as if he was entering a lion enclosure at a zoo.
He started toward the bedroom, his bare arms slicked with sweat and rain that gleamed in the lamp's light. However, before he got there he halted and turned to face Liesel and Max.
Liesel felt a little delirious as her eyes traced his brawny, sweat-shined arms and his stormy gaze. His hair was particularly lemony right then. But then he spoke. "What… what are you two doing there?"
There it was— the aloofness. And she was turned off immediately. Swallowing a sigh, she took the list from Max and waved it limply at her husband. "Thinking of names," she replied just as coolly.
"Names?" Rudy said, disappearing into their room for a moment and appearing seconds later in a slightly cleaner shirt. The stubble on his face, though blond, was still prominent as he tilted his head at them with narrowed eyes. "T- thinking of names, are you?"
"Yes," she responded, squinting her eyes right back at him. "In case you'd forgotten, we have to name a child in a couple months."
"Believe it or not," Rudy grumbled, burying his hands in his pockets and heading over to the pantry, "I haven't forgotten a damn thing, Liesel."
After grabbing his snack of choice, he disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the door loudly behind him.
She felt tears press against her eyes, and she closed them in a vain attempt to stop them from shedding. "Damn it," she whispered.
"What was that about?" Max inquired, arching a brow.
"Don't worry about it," she muttered, shaking her head and slowly rising to her feet. "I just hope it ends soon."
It wasn't like she enjoyed being on icy terms with Rudy; it was the very last thing she wanted. But yet, it was clear who was treating her nicer right then, and it would take him leaving to make her husband happy. Liesel just couldn't help but wonder if she was making the correct choice.
Shit's going down.