Chapter 10: I am drawing the story of how hard we tried

Author's note: Once again, thanks to everyone reading and reviewing this. Way cheaper than therapy.

You wake up to a banging on your door. Gladys is already awake and sitting up but you're worried about the way she's just staring at the wall.

"Yeah, what is it?" you yell to the door-banger, sitting up and putting a hand on Gladys' shoulder. She doesn't flinch or turn to you. She just keeps staring at your wall. You take a peek at it yourself. It's not as interesting as all that.

"Betty, you're going to be late!" Kate yells through the door. You look at your little clock and damn, she's right. You've slept in. It takes a few seconds to remember why your limbs feel so relaxed and why you're only wearing a shirt and smalls. Kate pushes the door open slowly, like she's afraid of what she'll find. You mustn't have locked it after Teresa left; your arms were too full of a weepy Gladys waving an American government stamped letter at you.

James. Oh god, James.

Kate steps gingerly into the room and peers at Gladys.

"Is she…" she starts but trails off when you pick up the letter and hand it to her. She reads the first few lines out loud and then trails off again. You both look at Gladys but she's unresponsive.

"I think you better call Mr. Akins," you tell Kate. "Tell him we won't be in today. He'll understand." Kate nods and turns to leave, then turns back and bends to hold the stiff torso of Gladys against her. Gladys just keeps staring at the wall and you wonder how long she's been awake and staring. Kate leaves, darting a worried glance back over her shoulder.

You take your hand back from where it slid down Gladys' arm and pull some pants on. You're almost glad she's not the most observant at the moment because as understanding as Gladys is about you, you're not quite ready for her to know about last night.

But then you feel selfish because she's just lost her fiance and what with her mixed feelings and accusations of cheating and her own dalliance with Gene she must be feeling… well. You sit back down next to her and stick an arm around her shoulder. You really can't think of anything to say, but when you rub her back she curls into you and her forehead hits your collarbone and suddenly her tears are seeping straight through your thin shirt. You're surprised she has any left, but anything is better than that blank face staring at the wall.

Kate hovers in the doorway for a few moments before you notice her and beckon her in. She places a hand on Gladys' back but talks to you.

"We're cleared for the day off." We're? You meant for her to tell Akins that you and Gladys wouldn't be coming in. but if Kate wants to give you a hand you can't turn it down. Someone's going to have to call Gladys' parents, and see to her hotel room and you don't know how any of this is going to work. Gladys can't stay at the rooming house indefinitely, and she can't stay at the hotel if James isn't paying for it, and she doesn't want to go home but maybe that's the best place for her. You decide to call the Withams but Gladys just keeps tightening her already firm grip on you every time you try to stand. You look beseechingly at Kate and somehow you manage to transfer your broken friend into her arms.

You have half a cigarette in the common room before you make the call. It's been a long, strange twelve hours and you need time to decompress. It's hard to feel sorry for Gladys or James when you can still feel the fingers of your soldier-girl ghosting over your skin.

You leave the other half-cigarette as incentive to make the call. A reward for when you're done. The call is about as pleasant as you'd imagined, very matter-of-fact and brusque. You don't blame Gladys for trying to move out. You tell her father you'll collect her things from the hotel in the Packard at noon and drop Gladys back home. You don't want to, but there's nowhere else for her to go. When you relight the cigarette you feel slightly sick.

Kate's looking overwhelmed by the sheer volume of Gladys' anguish when you get back to your room. You tell her the plan and Gladys' head listlessly tips back to look at you. You think she's going to object, but a full two minutes later she nods and buries her head in Kate's chest. You cough and look away, but not before you see a seriously annoyed look on Kate's face. Aimed at you, not Gladys.

"Can you take her for another couple of minutes? I gotta freshen up before heading to the hotel." Kate can't drive and Gladys is incapacitated and you don't want to leave her alone so you guess you'll be packing Gladys' things on your own.

You wipe a wet cloth over your face and underarms, brush your teeth and head back. Kate's awkwardly maneuvering Gladys into a horizontal position and you assume she's asleep. You've just pulled off your crumpled shirt when Kate grabs you by the arm and turns you to face her.

"What did you do to her?" she hisses. You hope Gladys really is asleep.

"Nothing! She was like this when she came to my room last night!" You hiss back, yanking your arm back out of her grasp. She grabs you again and you back up against the dresser but she's in your face.

"I heard you! After the cavalcade! You were in here giggling and…" her voice trails off and there it is. That look of disgust you remember.

You don't know if it's because she thinks you did that with Gladys or if it's because of the way Gladys is acting now, like she thinks you broke her, like she thinks that cheating on James with you has made her catatonic.

"That wasn't Gladys, Kate. I would never. Not ever." Kate steps back and her face is transformed back to the girl you actually like and are not afraid of. You can see the question hovering in the air before she asks it and you cut her off. "None of your business, Kate." She shuts her mouth and nods grimly. "Got bigger things to worry about. Can you watch her while I go get her things?" She nods and her eyes flicker down and so do yours and dammit, you didn't put your bra back on last night. Still, it's nothing she doesn't see at the factory but she's blushing; at least she's let go of your arms and is stepping out of your personal space.

"Uh… I'm… um. Sorry," she says. It comes out quietly and sounding like a question but you ignore her, pull a bra out of your dresser and haul a fresh shirt on.

Today's going to be a long day.

Author's note 2:

This has nothing to do with the story but I was just cramming spanning tree protocols and it was 1am and my 6 foot 3 male housemate starts making distressed noises so I go out and he's doing the male equivalent of standing on a chair and shrieking because there's a mouse in his bedroom so I have to man up and catch this mouse with my bare hands and then he wanted to flush it and I said that was inhumane and that's how I ended up doing a 4km walk past the murderhouse at 1am. Woot for run-on sentences!

Update: When I got back in my room my housemate had left a plate full of m&ms and pods on my bed as some sort of offering.