Author's Note:
mngirl: Haha, personally I'm shipping Ruth/Leon as well... but we'll have to see how things progress. Thank you so much for your unbelievably sweet comment! It meant a lot. Both of those chapters were really fun to write. This one is happier too... just fyi...
Joseph Liebgott and I are an explosive combination when there is alcohol involved. It's as though he's the keg of gun powder and I'm the match. I instigate and he detonates with all the words, spit and fire I wish I could spew. The war has left seeds of hatred in both of us but he expresses his more easily. I like to live vicariously through his fury as I brood nearby.
After my morning at the POW camp, I am desperate to gain some ground under my feet. Leon Wagner has ripped the carpet out from under me and I can feel myself spiraling. Anger makes sense to me. What Leon has awoken, I don't recognize anymore.
"Say, Ruthie." Joe tips the neck of the bottle of wine towards me, "You sure you aren't a nice Jewish girl?"
"I'm positive." I reply curtly for what feels like the tenth time that night.
He snorts, admiring me openly before taking a swig from the bottle. He only makes passes at me when he's sauced. Part of me has always enjoyed the attention. But tonight, I can feel my patience waning.
"I still don't like the thought of our girls patching up those Kraut bastards over there." He snorts, "You tell me if any of them gives you any trouble."
My hand itches around the bandage beneath my thumb. I feel a strange pressure there as though my flesh can't forget Leon's fingers wrapped around it.
"Most of them ignore me." I walk away from him at the kitchen table.
"Most of them?" Joe snarls, "None of them have tried-"
"Don't be stupid, Joe." I snap a little too quickly.
Tab's gaze cuts up to me from where he stands at the window. Music drifts in from the other room and I hear the door open. Female voices speaking in German drift into the kitchen. Joe is bored with me tonight. But I'm too tired to play our usual game. Without another word, he strides into the sitting room where Lester Hashey, Tony Garcia and Skinny Sisk have brought over some local girls.
"What's wrong with you?" Tab asks as I meander over and lean up against the other side of the window, "You've been strange all evening."
I take another draw from my red wine. The acidic fermentation gives a warmth to my bones. However, it's nothing compared to what I felt with Leon behind the hospital that morning. I peer into my half empty cup.
"I'm tired, I guess. It was a long shift today."
"Ruthie," He wets his lips, "I wanted to make sure you are okay about everything that happened. Between us, I mean."
I bite back a pang of guilt. I had almost forgotten about our kiss. I nod my head before taking another drink.
"I didn't know what to say afterwards." Tab rubs the back of his neck, the space between us strangely quiet contrasted with the chaos in the other room, "When that happened at Haguenau, I could understand why. But the other night. I didn't expect it."
"Me neither." I give a soft grin, "Tab, honestly, I'm not concerned about it."
"Well, I was."
I bury my face in my glass.
"Ruthie. When you do that-"
"Kiss you."
"Yes," He smirks, brushing away an errant flop of russet hair from his forehead, "I wondered, is it because you needed me or just needed someone?"
I tip back the glass and finish it off, numbing the ache of guilt. I am trying not to hear the cocktail of hurt and hope in his tone.
"I mean, I'm not in love with you or anything-" He quickly interjects.
"Oh gee, thanks Tab." I snort, glancing out towards the setting sun.
"Shit. I didn't mean that to sound the way it did." He groans, running his hands over his face, "I've never been good at this kind of talk."
"Then let's not worry about it." I reach out and give his upper arm a light squeeze, desperate to change the subject, "It won't happen again, right?"
Tab levels me with a rare solemnity in his mossy brown eyes. He has never taken any romantic liaison he's had seriously. I know this for a fact. With his boyish charm and a jawline reminiscent of Van Johnson, he doesn't stick around one girl for very long. Our friendship is probably his one constant relationship with the opposite sex. He would never risk it for a meaningless fling, unless those kisses meant more to him than I realized. My stomach lurches.
"What are y'all doing in here?"
I release my breath and turn with a relieved smile towards Florence. She cocks her hip out, holding her glass aloft in one hand and a cigarette in the other. With her hair curled up in her signature chignon, she has all the sass and spunk of Ginger Rodgers.
"Hello Florence." Tab groans.
Florence throws him a counterfeit smile, "Don't get too excited, Floyd dear. I'm only here to fetch me an English speaking lady friend. I'm kind of outnumbered in the other room."
She hooks my arm and leads me away from the stilted silence of the kitchen.
"You saved me." I whisper.
"I thought as much. You looked near about to jump from your skin, darlin'." Florence replies, taking a sip of her drink and throwing a toothy grin in the direction of George Luz as he comes in the door, "What did the boy want anyhow?"
"We were edging in the direction of what felt like an ultimatum."
We sit down on the edge of the couch. Florence takes a puff from her cigarette, blowing the smoke from the side of her mouth and leaning towards the ash tray.
"You know I'm not his biggest fan but I couldn't agree with him more." Florence lifts an eyebrow at me, "One kiss with the boy and you can get away with it. You kiss him twice, especially with the way he's always carried a torch for you-"
"He has not." I interrupt.
"Has so and you know it. He deserves to know where he stands." Florence studies me for a moment, "Who is the other boy?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." I light a cigarette of my own.
"Oh don't give me that." Florence scans the room, "Well, I'm guessing it's not Joe Liebgott."
"I'm not Jewish."
"No, you're not." She puts a finger to her chin thoughtfully, "I don't think it's Frank, though he has to be the most precious little nugget I've seen in the 101st."
I shake my head with a grin. Florence glances back to me, her smile fading. My eyes skitter away from her face towards the balcony where a particularly buxom blonde is wrapping herself around a wide eyed Tony Garcia.
"You're not telling me something." She states succinctly.
I dare a look back, taking a quick drag. Florence leans into the couch, wrapping an arm around the back of it and crossing her legs.
"But I'm patient. I can wait until you're ready."
"Thank you, Florence."
GI Jive with Dorothy Collins' clean, chirpy soprano comes alive in the room. George Luz saunters over from the record player, holding out a hand to Florence. He removes the cigarette from his mouth and beckons her over.
"C'mon, Wilkins. Don't let me down." He coaxes with a wink.
"Catch me before I swoon." Florence comments dryly with a roll of her eyes, but she launches herself to her feet just the same, "You drop me again, Luz, and I swear there will be hell to pay."
I stand as well, brushing the wrinkles from my skirt. I set my empty cup down on the coffee table. I'm bored with pretending to be interested in the evening. I feel Tab's eyes follow me as I walk over to the door and leave for home.