Author's Note:
Aubrey1: I am so glad you love Florence. She's loosely based on an old friend of mine who was always a blast to be around. Thank you so much for your sweet comment! You are a doll.
Florence leaves the room before I do. She's promised to give me a ride to the hospital but wanted to race down to the town bakery for a strudel. I pace back and forth from the bathroom to the window, gnawing my thumbnail.
Sinking into a chair by the door, I pick up my copy of Beowulf and leaf through it. I haven't looked at it since finding it in a used bookstore in London. It's remained buried at the bottom of my trunk until recently. The familiar words are a comforting distraction.
…he had dwelt for a time in misery among the banished monsters, Cain's clan, whom the Creator had outlawed and condemned as outcasts.
I smirk. Part of me has always felt empathy towards the monster Grendel. In High School, I had argued with my traditionalist teacher that perhaps he was only misunderstood. Ignored and exiled simply for where he had originated. Perhaps he wasn't as gruesome as he seemed. Maybe if the Danes had given him a chance, things might not have turned out so grotesquely. She stared at me slack jawed before returning to the blackboard without a response.
…the vicious raids and ravages of Grendel, his long and unrelenting feud, nothing but war…all were endangered; young and old were hunted down…so Grendel waged his lonely war, inflicting constant cruelties on the people, atrocious hurt.
Pausing, I bite my thumbnail again. Perhaps my teacher was right. Grendel was born of monsters, dwelt among them, and thus became one. Whether kindness had been extended to him or not, his personal destiny was inevitable. I glance down at the bandage on my hand. Snapping the book shut, I make my way to the door.
Walking out onto the landing in front of the staircase, I peer down towards the front hall. I hesitate, my hand lightly resting on the railing. They stand alone at an innocent distance from each other. Morning light glows through the half window in the door. The tension between them is thick even from this distance.
Florence holds a paper bag in one hand. Lipton says something in his gentle tone and her head dips forward, a pink tinge blossoming in her face. A blonde strand of hair drifts over her cheek and he reaches out. My heart stops as he curls it behind her ear. Her hand lifts. Their fingers hook and hang midair between them like a bridge that should have been burned months earlier.
My face is cold. I backtrack to the door and shut it firmly enough so it can be heard. They both look up at me as I turn the corner. Their hands swing at their sides and Lipton withdraws a step. I manage a cagey smile.
"Lieutenant." I nod towards him as I descend the stairs.
"Ruth, how are you?" He asks a little too brightly.
"Fine, thank you." I give Florence a pointed stare and her face pales, "I'm going to be late if we don't leave now."
"Of course. Have a good day, Lieutenant." She quips without looking at him.
"Good day." He manages to say before we shut the door behind us.
The first half of the trip is stagnant with silence. Florence shifts the gears, her arm perched on the door with a lipstick smudged cigarette hanging between her fingers. She barely smokes it. I stare ahead.
"You saw us, didn't you?" She breathes.
"Why did you break off your engagement with Tom after Haguenau?"
Florence takes a drag from her cigarette, "I realized I wasn't in love with him."
"Where did that realization come from?" I turn my body towards her, "Did he make you question your commitment to Tom?"
Florence shifts the gears with a grimace.
I sigh, "Florence, I'm sure that whatever this is feels real-"
"There was a moment." She interrupts, taking a quick puff of her cigarette, "We had a moment. In Haguenau. Carwood was sick with pneumonia."
"I remember that." My hands are folded calmly in my lap but my thoughts are racing, "He had a bad fever."
"I persuaded him to take some rest. I helped him back to a bedroom." She flicks the cigarette into the wind, "He was nearly delirious. I propped him up on his pillows and he reached out, touched my face. We would have kissed."
"Did you?"
"No." Florence lets out a slow breath, "Captain Speirs came down the hall at that moment. He didn't see anything thankfully."
"Has anything happened since?"
"That's the first time we have been alone since it happened." She runs her once finely manicured fingernails over her lips thoughtfully, "Honest."
"I believe you. What are you going to do now?"
Florence snorts and runs her forefinger under her eye. I notice a damp run of mascara staining her skin as she returns her hand to the wheel.
"Nothing." She breathes, "Nothing at all."
I swallow hard, "I suppose there isn't anything to be done."
We pull up to the entrance of the bivouac. She jams the jeep into park and whips towards me.
"You know that isn't the real me right?" Her voice chokes, "I feel like I've changed, this war has changed me. I would never do anything like that at home. My mother would be so ashamed of me."
"But we can't give circumstances as an excuse for our actions. We are still responsible for who we are, despite what happens to us." I reach out and lay a hand on her shoulder, "Florence, you and Carwood are good people. Don't let this warp out of control."
She presses her red lips together with a nod. Giving her a small smile, I leave the vehicle and walk towards the MPs guarding the entrance.
I stay busy. A new slew of surrendered soldiers have been hustled into the already packed camps around Zell am See. Allied Officers are nervous about letting any of them leave too soon before they are thoroughly screened. There is always the chance a high ranking Nazi is masquerading in a Private's or Corporal's uniform. The very thought of it shakes me to the bone, as though Grendel himself is hiding amongst the war weary German boys.
It isn't hard to avoid Leon. I dare a peek towards his cot. It's empty and I cannot see if his personal items are still there. I have no idea whether he has disappeared from my life forever or not. I'm not sure which option is worse.
Behind one of the few privacy screens in the hospital, I attend a doctor as he treats a soldier with a bad neck wound. One of the other nurses mentions he is seventeen years old. I am having difficulty detaching at the sight of his silent tears streaking his dirty face. The doctor does his best to remove a piece of shrapnel from the blistering infection. I stick his arm with a morphine syrette. He meets my gaze with a wide eyed pleading glance.
The nurse and doctor bring him to a cot, leaving me to clean up. I am thankful for the moment of solitude to gather myself. I close my eyes and lay a hand flat on my stomach. I breathe deeply, the hot air thick with antiseptic and body odor.
"Ruth?"
My eyes snap open. I turn to see Leon leaning against the rod holding up the screen. I barely acknowledge his presence before busying my hands with the leftover bandages. He has never before sought me out.
"Ruth, I wanted to tell you-"
"You shouldn't be on your feet so much." I interrupt, rolling a bandage.
In the relative quiet of our corner, he approaches me from behind, blocking my escape.
"I need to tell you something." His voice is weak, "About who I am."
"You don't need to tell me anything, Leon."
He reaches out and grasps my bare elbow. His fingers are clammy and trembling. It makes me hesitate. I turn towards him and peer up into his face. There is a damp sheen to his furrowed brow, his blue eyes burning with fever. He wets his dry lips, full mouth parting as though he is trying to mete out his next sentence. However, I am more concerned with his obvious symptoms. I place my hands on his cheeks. His skin is seething. The infection has clearly worsened. My breath catches in my throat at the realization. He lifts a hand and places his fingers over mine, resting into my touch. He sighs slowly, his eyes growing heavy lidded.
"Leon." I say evenly, "Leon, how long have you felt like this? Has anyone seen you?"
"I think I have fallen through the cracks." He gives a faint smile, running his nimble fingers down my wrist.
"You need to get back to your cot now." My voice is strident with worry.
I wrap an arm around his side and lead him to where he has been sleeping. He lays back with a thud, the hinges on the worn cot creaking with his weight. I pull off the boot on his injured leg. Leon is quiet, a hand over his eyes as though the light is too bright for him. I can tell he is edging near delirium. Rolling up his pant leg, I peel back the bandage. It hasn't been changed recently. Veins of spidery blue curl around the seeping wound, white puss coating the torn flesh like a layer of silt. I can only hope it hasn't gone septic. My heart pounding, I lean over him.
"Leon, I'm going to go get some things to make you more comfortable." I say as evenly as I can manage, "I will bring the doctor back as well."
His hand lifts and wraps around the back of my neck. His touch scorches the sensitive skin beneath my hairline.
"I want you to know me." He begs weakly, "Who I am when I'm not here- like this. When I'm not this monstrous-"
"I don't think you're a monster, Leon." I cut him off, taking his hand and placing it to his chest. I feel his quick, heavy pulse through his shirt, "I know- I know you aren't."
Numbly, I realize that what I say is true. He wets his lips again to speak.
"Don't. Save your energy. I will be back in a moment." I instruct before rushing away.