Having slight trouble with my S key, so if you spot any 'hes' that should be 'shes', just know Bebe hasn't had a sex change, my key board just sucks.
Stan's POV
I pulled in breaths rapidly as I approached the apartment, wondering how I would think of a plausible excuse for bringing a clearly fucked up stranger into our home.
Christophe had spent the whole walk briefing me and our plan. He was going to deliver the revolution papers into the ghetto, he was going to make sure the people within knew he were coming for them, they could then be prepared for the weapons we were going to smuggle in. The aim was to smuggle them out and away with the Nazi's becoming aware too soon but, if they did become aware we had enough firepower to fight them.
It was a long shot, but the only one we had.
I stared at Christophe's mud stained trousers and ruined backpack and tried to judge how pissed Bebe would be
She was easily aggravated, I could remember coming home late one night, working hard to keep her in pretty dresses and she screamed. She screamed as soon as I walked in the room told me I was 'selfish' and 'didn't love her' and I just sat there and mumbled my pathetic apologies, while she screamed and cried and blamed me for everything.
I could only imagine what it was going to be like this time. With Mole striding ahead up the five flights of stairs and me hurrying after him, trying to get him to slow down.
"Mole! Christophe! For fucks sake!" I cried, watching him slink around corners.
I pushed ahead, shoving him against a wall as I moved towards the door.
"Calm down sissy," He murmured back to me, lighting up.
I snatched the lighter from his hand and jammed it into my pocket.
Suddenly, I felt his breath on my ear.
"I'd give that back if I was you," He grunted.
I gave it back.
Deftly, I slipped the key into the lock, it opened easily to the open floor plan of the home. The smell of food drifted through from the kitchen, a pie of some sort, mystery meat as usual.
"Oh honey you're home, I'm just putting dinner out," She strolled out into the hallway, gasping as she laid eyes on the roughed up man in front of her. Leaning against the wall in his mud caked Nazi boots and uneven shirt sleeves, Christophe folded his arms in greeting.
"Um, Stanley...?" Bebe laughed nervously, pulling off her red, spotty, oven gloves and placing the large ceramic dish on the oak table. Smoothing down her black, ankle length skirt, she moved towards me, grasping for my arm.
"Hello Bebe," I wheezed, leaning foreward to kiss her as if nothing was wrong, she recoiled slightly, staring behind me at the stranger. "This is my cousin, Christophe," I answered, hoping it was a good enough excuse.
Bebe glared at me, tearing off her matching polka dot apron.
"Christophe?" She the peculiar sounding name
I smacked at Christophe as he whispered "She's hot," In my ear.
"He's my french cousin...?" I didn't sound convincing and there was a heavy silence that covered the meeting like a blanket.
"I'm getting out to deliver the papers," Christophe lilted in his French accent. "I can slip some into the ghetto,"
With a last glance at my girlfriend's ass he stuck a cigarette in his mouth and slid from the room.
It was about twenty seconds before Bebe spoke.
"Who, the fuck is that Stanley," She hissed, her tone so neutral that it was almost sinister.
"My cousin," I whimpered hopefully.
She clicked foreward on her red heels, coming so close that she towered a good couple of inches above me, her red lips twisted into a snarl.
"Who is he Stan!" She yelled, throwing her hands up.
"He's a friend Bebe, a friend," I tried to appease her but it was no use.
I could see she was growing more and more red the longer I kept it from her.
"What did he mean by the 'papers' Stan?!" She cried, bending slightly as she grew more impatient. "Papers in the ghettos!"
A million thoughts streamed through my mind, each one ended the same. With Bebe and me both screaming, one because I wouldn't tell her the truth and the other because I did.
"He delivers papers, that's how we met,"
She stared at me, her eyes slowly narrowing.
"I thought he was your cousin," She whispered, so quiet I almost asked her to repeat what she said.
I blanched and she screamed.
Not a scream of pain but a scream of rage that made me want to cover my ears to block it out. Like an engine roaring cross with a lion attacking an antelope.
"What are you hiding from me Stan!?" She yelled, stamping her foot, "What aren't you telling me?!"
I was afraid of her, I had to admit, she scared the shit out of me. Especially when she was angry.
"Bebe, baby you might want to sit down," I tried to soothe her by laying my hand on her soft skin.
"No," She yelped, flinching away, "Don't tell me what to do!"
"Okay," I replied calmly, holding up my hands. My heart was beating fast and there was a part of me that felt like I was going to throw up any second. "I'm helping them,"
She froze, her ruby lips parting, the M shape rising towards her upturned nose.
She scoffed, pressing a palm to her forehead.
"You're what?!" She groaned, hoping she had heard wrong.
"I'm helping the Jews, I'm going to get them out, I've started something Bebe, something big," I babbled on, realizing just how huge my project had become. Me and Gregory had more and more people asking to join daily, we were becoming quite the army and soon we planned to put our plan into action, soon we would liberate the ghetto and over throw the Nazi's, I felt it.
Bebe screeched again, her angry howl descending into a low rumble at the back of her throat as her eyes burnt into me.
"You idiot!" She cried, "You idiot Stanley!"
She paced the floor, smacking a glass from the table and sending it crashing to the floor and shattering into a million pieces, the light reflecting off of it made it look like diamonds littering the ground.
I jumped at the noise, screwing my eyebrows together as I desperately tried to turn back time. I rested two fingers on the bridge of my nose and screwed up my face.
"You're going to get yourself killed!"Her voice softened and she looked at me, her big blue eyes wet with tears. I loved her then. "You're going to get all of us killed, me killed!"
I hated her then.
"You selfish bitch," I hissed, not caring now when she turned and stormed up to me.
She drew back her hand, ready to strike me but I grabbed her wrist. She pulled against me but I wouldn't take her insolence anymore, I wouldn't hit her, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let a woman hit me.
I never had much of a backbone, I let people take advantage of me and I always backed down easily. Not this time though, not when I found something I stood for, something I knew was right.
Stopping her slap by holding her arm in place, I flung it back towards her chest.
"You are a spineless, pathetic, person Bebe," I laughed, "You're a bitch. An ignorant, ignorant, bitch."
She made a squeak of shock and disapproval but could think of no decent argument to combat my own.
Bebe knew she was only concerned about herself, she couldn't deny what the Nazi's were doing was wrong but she just pretended it wasn't real or, even better, that it wasn't her place to comment. She knew my opinion long ago, but unveiling it to her was obviously too much, she had hit breaking point.
She threw her arms up, shaking her head as she began to cry, her bottom lip trembling as she stomped her foot in defiance but we both knew that this was the end.
"I'm sorry Beeb," I told her, my voice hushed, "But I can't be with someone who can watch the suffering of others and do fuck all about it,"
Bebe kicked off her red shoes and stood in her stockings, taking the pin out of her blonde hair and letting it spill down her shoulders, her eyes surrounded by thick black rings.
I hadn't even taken off my coat.
"And I can't be with you," She moaned, sniffling, "When you're willing to place the people you love in danger for people you've never met,"
"Bebe, you can't tell anyone," I knelt by her, taking her hands, "I'm begging you,"
It was too late, Bebe could either keep it secret or send me to death and from the fight we just had I'm guessing she wanted to latter, I had to trust her. I had been trusting her for three years but now, to me, this was all that mattered.
She stared down at me, her face apathetic.
"I want the good plates," She sobbed, "And the picture in the hallway and the rug,"
She tore her hands away from me and jammed her shoes back onto her feet., I couldn't help smile. Still shallow, still beautiful.
"Keep the flat," She grumbled, "I don't need it, I'll stay with my mother"
I stayed on the floor, kneeling, staring at the carpet, bobbing my head tranquilly in agreement.
"I'll come back for my stuff, but then I'm going away,"
I nodded, sitting cross legged I turned to watch her go. She scooped up a red bag and then she was gone, trotting down the stairs, she never even said goodbye, much less 'I love you'. I would have said it back still, I did love her but it was now more of a comfort relationship then one based on affection. She was gone.
We were gone too, me and Bebe were done and gone. I knew I would never see her pretty face again, never touch her again, she would never be there. Me and Bebe were just too different, Bebe had left me and it was the single most ambivalent moment of my life.