The air in the small but overcrowded club was warm and heavy with smoke, an atmosphere Elisabeth usually despised or that would have, at the very least, induced a deep frown and a reproving sigh from her under any other circumstances. Maybe she was in particularly good disposition, or maybe seeing Manuela laugh so effortlessly blunted her usual sternness, but tonight, nestled in a small booth between her lovely wife and her ever-present sister and in the company of such friendly people, Elisabeth felt at ease, unusually so. It was almost like she belonged here, with these people she had come to know and appreciate, in this country she had struggled for so long to accept as her own. Ida, who had wormed her way in like she always did whenever a social event was involved, was considering a very oblivious Ivan with unfeigned interest while he only had eyes for Elisabeth. Strangely enough, it did not seem to bother Manuela in the least, probably as she was in the middle of a heated debate with Pierre and Marius. The three of them were exchanging passionate opinions about whom of Shakespeare or Molière had been the greatest visionary of his time, and Manuela often turned to Elisabeth to solicit her point of view on the matter. The literature teacher in her took great pleasure in the discussion, and in giving her own measured piece of opinion every now and then that they all seemed to quietly process before they went back to arguing even louder. Tucked between the two men was Jeanette, their little sister, who looked beyond drained, both from the conversation and from having her siblings shield her from the rest of the world even in a place like this. Jeanette had auditioned for a role just a little over a year ago, and had instantly been welcomed into the troupe due to her natural aura and her intuitive, albeit still hesitant acting. The only setback had been when her two brothers had walked into the theatre the next day. Jeanette was such a young, inexperienced and frail girl, had they said, and if she was to join the company, it was their duty to follow suit. In other words, if Mr Jensen wanted her in, he had no choice but to accept the entire lot.
Their protectiveness was endearing but suffocating at times, and Manuela often took pity on the poor girl although she was far from being as naïve as her brothers deemed her to be. Needless to say they would have been shocked to hear of Jeanette's relationship with Will, the latest and much controversial addition to the company. The man was currently busy staring at the bottom of his glass in a desperate attempt to avoid eye contact with his beloved Jeanette. The troupe had been vehemently criticised for hiring an African-American man as a regular, but his talent had soon conquered everybody who was anybody in New York, and people were now rushing to get a glimpse of these young and audacious actors who were, slowly but surely, proceeding to renew the fusty theatre landscape. At the end of the table, Mr Jensen and his wife were eyeing the unlikely group with a mixture of tenderness and pride, like one would appraise their turbulent, but otherwise endearing children. Elisabeth felt oddly at ease amongst these people who had welcomed her in without asking questions, just because they knew Manuela cared about her and tonight of all nights, she felt unexplainably cheerful. The fact that she was nursing her third glass of sherry was probably not uninvolved with her current state of contentment, but she did not look as embarrassed about it as she normally would have.
"Are you alright?" Manuela asked, leaning against her and nodding at the almost empty glass with a certain twinkle in her eye.
"Of course, I am," Elisabeth huffed, downing the rest of her drink and eyeing the younger woman almost defiantly.
"Right. Still, don't feel like you have to keep up with these sad drunkards," Manuela insisted with a chuckle.
"Are you implying that I cannot hold my liquor?"
"Oh, I would never," the younger woman said, pretending to be outraged at the very thought. "I like you tipsy, however," she continued, her voice dropping as she leaned against her shoulder. "You are free to have a bit of fun. I am here to look after you."
Elisabeth's eyes narrowed at the suggestion, and she pressed her hand against Manuela's chest, effectively pushing her away.
"This is beyond ridiculous. I am here to look after you. And," she added, lifting a very serious index finger between them, "I can assure you that I am absolutely, categorically not tipsy."
For half a second, Manuela remained stoic before she erupted into laughter and wrapped her hand around Elisabeth's wrist, bringing her still raised finger to her mouth to give it a loving kiss, and blissfully unconcerned with the fact that they were in public. Oddly enough, Elisabeth did not seem to care either, and she smiled at the gesture, letting her finger brush a second longer against Manuela's lips before she withdrew it. Her cheeks, already flushed from the alcohol and the heat in the room, turned a deeper shade of pink. The younger woman studied her for a moment and sighed contentedly before she turned to the animated table and lifted her empty glass in the air.
"Alright, kids! I've got this round."
They were already well into the night and one of the only table of remaining clients when Mr Jensen got up without a word and went to sit behind the piano, much to everyone's surprise. As the first notes of Strauss' Blue Danube resonated in the room, everyone cheered and applauded and his wife shook her head in embarrassment. Ivan, who had been able to focus on little else than Elisabeth all evening took it as his chance to offer her a dance, but Ida, prompt as ever even after a few too many drinks leapt to her feet and offered the man her arm. He blinked confusedly at her.
"Shall we, young man?"
Sensing that there would be no way to negotiate his way of this, he smiled politely and accepted her arm, walking her to the middle of the room as if it had been his idea all along.
"Don't they look perfectly cosy," Elisabeth chuckled as she leant against Manuela's shoulder.
"Should we join them? They look a tad ridiculous out there, just the two of them," Manuela suggested.
"I don't know about this…"
"Oh, come on darling, please. Look," she said, before turning to the people who were still sitting at the table and looking towards the improvised ballroom with amused smiles. "Pierre, chéri, Mrs Jensen looks like she would very much like to dance," she announced, tilting her head purposefully as if he had been a proper boor not to notice.
The woman's round cheeks turned red but, as she was starting to protest abundantly, the man got to his feet and offered his hand with a good-natured smile that she simply could not resist.
"You are something else," Jeanette said, shaking her head in disbelief as she watched them walk arm in arm.
"Speaking of, Will looks he could do with a dance partner as well."
The not-so-secret couple exchanged a puzzled look and, before Marius could even object, they both sprung to their feet and walked towards the other amateur dancers with barely contained excitement. Marius watched the scene unfold with his mouth agape and he sharply turned to Manuela with a murderous glare.
"They grow up so fast," she sighed, batting her eyelashes at the scandalised man in front of her. "Now," she said with finality before she stood up, and extended her hand for Elisabeth to take. "May I have this dance?"
Elisabeth seemed to hesitate for a moment before she finally gave in, and she let herself be guided to the centre of the room by a delighted Manuela.
"You and your persistent ways," she sighed as they stood in front of each other.
"Look where my persistent ways got us," Manuela laughed and lifted her left hand in the air for Elisabeth to take, sliding her right hand up so it rested against her back, just below her shoulder blade.
"I should confess that I am not a very good dancer."
The admission was uttered in an almost whisper that Manuela likely would have missed if they hadn't been standing so close.
"I doubt anyone here tonight is a very good dancer," she indicated pointedly as they started twirling together and Mr Jensen hit the first notes of yet another waltz.
They danced in a sort of daze for a while, lost in each other's eyes and neither of them truly able to believe that they could share such an intimate moment in public without anyone batting an eye. The spell was quickly broken as Ida's tell-tale voice rose in the room, putting words on the piece of music as Mr Jensen's finger were furiously pounding away at the piano keys.
"She truly can't help herself, can she?" Elisabeth commented, rolling her eyes affectionately.
"And miss an opportunity to be the centre of attention? Now, this doesn't sound much like our Ida."
They exchanged a surprised look when they heard Mrs Jensen's voice resonate as well, quickly followed by her husband's, to everyone's amusement and it wasn't long before Jeanette, who was now fully enjoying herself, started singing as well in broken German.
"I suppose Frühlingsstimmen really is a classic anywhere in the world," Elisabeth provided.
"It appears so," Manuela agreed, studying her beloved's soft features. "You were right, by the way."
This caught Elisabeth off-guard and she turned to Manuela with a questioning look.
"What about?"
Manuela bit her lip to stop herself from grinning too much.
"You truly aren't a very good dancer," she finally let out, bracing herself as she watched the other woman's eyes widen at the offence.
"Oh, you pig!" Elisabeth exclaimed, swatting her arm. She remained grave for all but a second before she erupted in laughter. "I did warn you, didn't I?"
Manuela looked at the woman laughing in her arms and just like this, her heart seemed to burst with adoration. She tightened her grip around her, dragging her closer by the waist.
"I love you so much," she whispered hotly. "Even when you keep stepping on my toes over and over again."
Elisabeth was about to retort something equally witty and romantic in its own way when she heard her name being called from across the room. Ida had stopped waltzing with Ivan and was now standing next to the piano with Mrs Jensen and Jeanette, and the three women were motioning for her to join in. She turned back to Manuela in hesitation. The idea of speaking, and even signing in German in front of other people felt foreign, almost as illicit as openly dancing with Manuela, but Elisabeth could not help the primal pull she felt bubbling within her. She decided to throw caution to the wind, if only for tonight, and finally joined the merry choir in a few strides. Manuela followed suit without a second of hesitation, happy to share this unlikely moment with her friends and family.
The fun, however, was short-lived.
"How dare you come here and play your fucking Fritz music?" yelled a man who seemed to be coming out of nowhere, slamming an angry hand on the piano cover. His face was red and his eyes shining with something almost hysterical. The men in the group all stepped closer on instinct, ready to intervene. "Have you no respect for our soldiers fighting in a war that you are responsible for?"
"Come on, pal, we don't want trouble. We're here for a good time," Will said calmly, putting his hands up to try and contain the angry man.
"You don't get to tell us what to do or say, Negro," said another one who got up from his chair and stomped up to him, their noses almost touching.
"Enough!" Manuela exclaimed, and instinctively took a step forward. "Go back to your table and leave us be!"
The two men, who so far hadn't noticed her, appraised the young woman from head to toe, considering her attire with a look that was both mocking and lecherous. This made Manuela's skin crawl, but she firmly stood her ground.
"Oh holy cow, will you look at that now! A bunch of Boches, a Negro and a dyke," the first one sneered. "What sort of freak show is that? All that's missing is a trained seal!"
"Wouldn't look half as pathetic as you two stupid bastards who have nothing better to do than bother honest people when they're having a good time," Manuela stroke back without missing a beat.
"Manuela, stop it!" Elisabeth pleaded through greeted teeth.
"Yeah, listen to mommy, kid. Isn't it past your bedtime anyway?"
"Actually…" said the one who had stepped in first as he leered at Elisabeth with a filthy grin. "I wouldn't mind taking mommy to bed myself."
He turned to his friend and they shared a raucous laughter, but the fun was interrupted when Manuela's fist violently came colliding with the side of his jaw. He fell down on his back from the impact and his eyes rounded in shock, then sheer ire.
"You little bitch," he hissed as he scrambled to his feet. "You're lucky I don't hit women…"
"How gentlemanly of you! Disrespecting women is fine, but you draw the line at hitting them?" she exclaimed, suddenly feeling inexplicably exhilarated.
This time, Elisabeth did not stay back and physically dragged her away from the commotion.
"Will you stop that, you utter idiot?" she spat as the two men were thrown out of the club without further ado.
"I'm sorry…" Manuela mumbled, sitting down on the closest chair and gulping down a random glass of gin.
"Then stop smiling if you want me to believe you," Elisabeth huffed.
"Sorry," the young woman said again before she let out a heartfelt laugh. "Actually, no. I'm not sorry. It felt good!"
"Manuela, are you okay?" was Ida's first question as she rushed to sit next to her. "This was amazing!"
"This was ridiculous, and reckless!" Elisabeth pointed out, outraged by her sister's lack of judgment –but then, what else was new?
"I think I might have broken something. But it was worth it," Manuela admitted, looking down proudly at her bloody knuckles.
Elisabeth wanted to turn away and remain uninterested to make a point. If Manuela's hand hurt, it was just as well. One did not get involved into an obscene bar brawl without having to face the consequences. She stayed stoic all but two seconds before she kneeled in front of her wife and took her injured hand in hers with a concerned frown.
"Does it hurt? Oh darling, it looks terrible!"
"Nothing hurts but my heart when you look at me like that," Manuela whispered in a way that made Elisabeth's breath catch in her throat. "I am not sorry for what I did, but I apologize for scaring you," she added, sincerely, this time.
The older woman remained silent for a while, before she broke into an adoring smile.
"I love you. Even when you fight like a vulgar gangster."
Yes, Manuela thought as she smiled to herself. It had been worth it, without a single doubt.