Four new nurses come to replace Renee and Anna. She's not thrilled about these girls either, the first day one of them faints at the sight of a man who's innards are nearly falling out of him. They wear their hearts on their sleeves, and get upset when one of the men die. They're weak emotional little girls, and weak emotional little girls don't last long in a place like Bastogne. Of course they'll live, after Patton's arrival there's not much of a chance of the city being bombed again, but Marguerite doubts they'll make it mentally, they're bound to succumb to the surrounding environment and snap.
She doesn't like how naïve and fragile they are. They're too sweet, too innocent for her. They remind her of how she used to be before the war, before her life became to gritty mess that it is. The girls believe that the war will end soon, and that they'll be home in a few months time. They believe that they'll all be whisked away by some fantastic soldier and live happily ever after. None of them are that much younger than her, in fact two of them are actually older than her. She can't understand the idealism of the other girls, and she doesn't think she wants to. Hope and ideals, those sorts of things shrivel up and die in war, without much of a chance, and Marguerite doesn't want any more death than there has to be.
With more nurses, there's more break time for her. She spends her breaks outside, slowly freezing on the outside, while she smokes cigarettes. She likes these breaks best in her day. She doesn't have to deal with demanding doctors, she doesn't have to see the wounded and dying, and she doesn't have to listen to her cohorts ridiculous chatter. She likes to sit a ways away from the new makeshift hospital and think. She likes to think about the past more and more often. She thinks about winters with her mother and brothers. She thinks about the lazy summer days when she and her brothers would go to their grandparent's bookstore and loiter around all day long. She focuses on past memories, because they're the only things that seem to keep her sane.
Just as she lights a new cigarette she swears she sees Eugene. He's walking into the hospital, and he has no wounded with him, or none that she can see anyways. Before she can really think about what she's doing she calls his name out. He turns around and looks at her, he moves to walk towards her, but pauses almost looking conflicted. She walks over to him, and she's not sure why, because she's never really been one for idle small chat, but she hasn't seen Eugene since before the bombing, so she has an odd desire to talk to him.
"Marguerite," he says carefully, as if he's choosing his words so that he won't upset her, "it's nice to see you again."
His voice is a little cold and off sounding, but she can tell that in his own strange way he means it. Now that she's walked over to him he doesn't look as tense and terse as he was when she was across the street, he's more calm now.
"I'm glad you're okay too Eugene," she says quietly, "it's been a difficult few days for everyone, I'm glad to see you made it through it.
He smiles at her, but his lips crack some when he does, causing the smile to look painful. His lips now turn a slightly more red color as the blood pools up closer to the surface. Without much thought she hands him her handkerchief.
He gives her a confused look, and she replies, "for your lip, it's bleeding."
He presses the handkerchief to his mouth, and they stand in silence.
"How," he begins but quickly stops with a pensive look on his face and the handkerchief on his lips preventing any words from spilling out. "How are you faring now?"
She quirks the corners of her mouth up into a small smile and fiddles with her hands, " Quite well, we've got 4 new nurses and three more doctors, and I got a letter from my brothers today, so overall everything is good."
She knows that's not the answer that Eugene had wanted, but she couldn't really think of an answer that would have been anywhere near correct or appropriate, so she answers with that. He gives her a small smile in response and shakes his head, as if he understands why she said what she said. And she truly believes that he does in fact understand, because there seems to be some great empathetic quality to Eugene, and she envies that because she knows its a quality she lacks.
"Your brothers back home in France?" he asks amiably. Talking to Eugene seems to take away the bite of the cold, its easily the most enjoyable part of her day thus far.
"I'm not sure, they're all in the military they could be anywhere."
He doesn't ask for any elaboration, and she doesn't plan on elaborating either. If she divulges, and gets too personal it could destroy the careful balance she has set up. She can't get too close to anyone, she wasn't even that close to Anna and Renee. War doesn't allow it, because when they die, which is inevitable, she can't be completely destroyed by it. In order to be an effective nurse she just simply can't be.
There isn't time to say much of anything else, another soldier calls for Eugene as soon as a silence falls between them. Eugene only gives her a small smile before trudging back to the other soldier. She's not disappointed, she was surprised he was even available to talk for this long. There's no time but for the job ahead, and she knows this all to well. She tosses her cigarette in the snow and walks away.
She walks back into the new hospital, and no one's really bustling about. They're working of course, there's always work to do. But now that there's more people and a clear path out of Bastogne, the workload is nothing like it was prior to Christmas.
"You sweet on him Maggie?" A girl named Flora asks. She's one of the two American nurses, and she's also the one who fainted on her first day. She and the other nurses have a sickening habit of calling Marguerite Maggie, and no matter how many times she insists they don't call her that, at this rate its countless, they still do.
"No," Marguerite says dismissively, "that's just Eugene. We talk sometimes when he goes into town. That's all."
Flora gives her a large toothy grin, "well he's kind of cute, seems to be just my type. You mind if I go after him?"
Marguerite shrugs and walks away towards the man Eugene had brought in. She looks at the hastily written chart for him.
"Darrell Powers?" she asks him softly, not wanting to disturb the other men.
He jerks his head up, as if waking from sleep though he appeared to be fully awake when she had walked over.
"Yes ma'am that's me." He smiles at her, and its the most sincere smile she's seen in months, maybe even years. It's not the forced polite smiles that the other nurses and some of the delivery boys give her, it's not the sad smiles that medics and wounded give, and it's not like Eugene's small ambivalent smiles. Darrell Powers shows all of his teeth when he smiles, and almost looks legitimately happy, though considering he's trapped in a dingy makeshift war hospital there's not much for him to be happy about.
"I'm sorry but it appears your chart hasn't been finished, so would you mind telling me you injury?"
"Oh, well it's nothing really to tell you the truth ma'am. I just got some shrapnel and tree bits stuck in my shoulder from the shelling," he points at his bandaged shoulder, "I don't even hurt all that much Doc could have fixed it up, but I think he brought me here so I could get a nice hot meal and get some time off the line."
His smile is infectious and she can't help but smile back some, "well lets see if I can get you that hot meal then."
"Oh you don't have to do that, being off of the line is more than nice enough"
She smiles and finishes filling out his chart before placing it on his bedside and walking away.
Somehow the village bakery is the only thing that's never really been damaged in any of the bombing that occurred. She trudges over to the bakery, trembling as the wind cuts through her coat, chilling her thin frame to the bone. She can't afford much food, and the bakery doesn't exactly have a lot of food to give away. But she manages to purchase some meat and potato stew, practically a delicacy in Bastogne, bread and coffee. The baker gives her a free croissant, telling her she'll simply be blown away by the wind if she doesn't eat it. She grins and stuffs the croissant in her pocket.
She makes her way back to the church quickly, concealing her back of goodies as she does so. She doesn't want anyone to know that she has stew, if she makes it known everyone who can walk will swamp her for the stew.
When she get's back inside Flora's no longer guarding the door, and she can imagine that she and the other nurses are most likely gossiping over by the furnaces, as that seems to be their favorite pastime. She walks over to Darrell, making sure not to get too close to the other boys so that they won't be able to smell anything.
"Here you are Darrell," she says placing the food on a tray on the side table, "A nice warm meal."
He furrows his brows as he looks at the food, "Oh I know they don't serve this in the hospital," he says loudly before she quickly shushes him, "I'm sorry ma'am but this is too good to even be in the town let alone at my bedside."
"Oh don't worry," she says quickly placing the tray on his bed, "you're superiors eat far better than this. Don't worry if you think you're putting anyone out."
"Well Miss, it's not fair that I get this, and the others don't." Darrell argued. It was clear he was of a good kind nature, his words simply expounded upon this.
"No, it's unfair that you missed meal time, and won't get to eat again for another 4 hours," she replied, "now eat, please. You'll need to build up your strength anyways."
He looks as if he's getting ready to argue with her again, but she gives him a stern look and begins to eat the food in front of him.
Marguerite sits on the side of his bed, and pulls the croissant out of her pocket. She pulls it apart slowly and eats it, watching as flacks from the croissant land on her coat. She likes this moment, because this moment reminds her of being home sitting on the stoop of her grandparent's shop with her brother Alain eating pastries from the Bakery down the lane. They would sit there and watch their elder brothers Georges and Luc play football in the lot across the street with the other older boys in the neighborhood.
She finishes her croissant and stands up wiping off her coat.
"Thank you for the food Miss," Darrell says between bites of his bread.
She nods and smiles, before walking away. She walks past the other girls, who are in fact standing by the heater talking about attractive soldiers, she hadn't expected anything more from them. She tells them that she'll be going off to bed now, and to wake her if the deem it important. They agree, though she knows none of them were actually listening to her.
She changes her clothes quickly, so that her bare skin won't be exposed to the cold for too long, and once she's done she collects her stationary and pen. She hasn't written a letter since the beginning of December, and now receiving three letters, she figures now is a good a time as any to write.
She writes Alain first,as they had always been the closest and she always has loads to say to him.
She tells him about the cold, and how she's jealous of that wherever he's stationed, she imagines its north Africa, where it's too ridiculously hot. She also tells him of how she dreams of being back home, and how she can't wait to be back home in her cramped room with their mother's disgusting cooking. She tells him that she's always glad to hear from him, and how she wishes he would write more, but understands why he doesn't. She also tells him that she's happy that he;s found a nice girl who makes him happy, she tells him that he better bring the girl to her before he marries her, so that she can make sure the girl is good enough for him.
And in that moment she feels that none of her family is all that far away, and nothing's really changed at all.