I had it, Helen, in the palm of my hand, the hope of something more, a way to truly make a difference. This whole new outlook on life, the hope of becoming what I'm meant to be.
But the price was too high, and I'm done paying. I'm sick of it, sick of the whole game.
There is still hope, though, something in me is still smoldering. Hope is such a strange thing, isn't it? However small and insignificant it appears, we grasp at it, until the very end.
Even if it didn't happen the way I wanted it to this time, I'm not letting go.
Margaret downed her drink and felt the alcohol burn its way down her throat. It wasn't enough, though, not enough to burn away the anger, the humiliation, how he had made her feel. How dared he, how dared he talk to her like that, to just assume, how dared he make her remember? She wasn't that person anymore, would never be again. The starry-eyed little idiot, so willing to play the game, so willing to be of service. So willing.
She grabbed the bottle and poured herself another drink. That one didn't burn nearly enough either. She felt restless, her body crawling with tiny bugs, her head spinning. It was late, but there was no way she was going to be able to go to bed, sleep felt like an abstract phenomenon you only read about in books. She needed to move, get some air, to clear her head.
She put her glass down and walked to the door, peeking out carefully before stepping outside, making sure he wasn't out there. He was probably in his tent, packing up his things, wanting to get away from this dump as soon as possible, since he now knew he would get nothing for his trouble of showing up.
The coast looked clear out there, and Margaret sent up a silent prayer she wouldn't meet anyone else either. She hadn't made it more than five steps before she crossed paths with Able and Kellye, walking towards the nurse's tent. Of course. People, always people everywhere.
They wished her a good evening, but she could only nod in response, didn't trust her voice. She wanted to tell them how good they did in triage, how proud she was of them, but her head was too tangled, and putting words in order seemed way too hard. Human interactions were too monumental an effort.
Suddenly she realized where she wanted to go, who she needed to talk to. Margaret turned on her heel and started to walk in another direction.
Sophie blew warm air over Margaret's face, making her laugh.
"Thank you, sweet girl."
The ran her fingers over the horse's silken nose.
"You are such a beautiful girl. You're so lucky to have Colonel Potter, you know, he's a rare specimen."
Sophie sighed as if in agreement.
"I wonder where you were before," Margaret continued, stroking Sophie's head. "What happened to you, who were you with? Do you ever think about that? I know exactly where I was before, I was busy being a little idiot, making stupid decisions that would follow me for the rest of my life. I don't even…"
"Evening, ladies."
She jumped at the sudden voice, and that made Sophie take a couple of steps back.
"Is this a private conversation, or would you like to spice this girl talk up a little?"
Pierce. Leaning against the fence. How had he managed to sneak up on her?
"What are you doing here?" she said and turned back to Sophie, reaching her hand out. The horse nudged it gently, took a few steps closer to the fence, and let her eyes fall shut as Margaret continued to stroke her.
"Well, I was coming out of the mess tent after a lovely late-night snack of lukewarm coffee and white bread, and I saw you do a rather impressive turn on your heel and head over here. You looked upset, so I came to see if you're okay."
He walked closer as he spoke and started to run his fingers through Sophie's mane. Somehow, that annoyed Margaret.
"What's it to you, anyway? Why are you always around?"
Lord, that sounded so mean. But she felt mean, the anger inside was like hot, stinging needles, and the only way they could leave her body was through her mouth. Still, she regretted it.
"Sorry. It was nice of you to check."
"Well, contrary to popular belief, I can be quite nice. So, what's going on? I thought you were with Dumbkopf, making plans to take over the world."
"We were. He offered me a position in Tokyo, actually."
"Oh."
Did he sound a bit disappointed, or was that just in her head?
"Yup. And a promotion."
"Oh."
"Yes, I can be a Lieutenant Colonel just like that." She snapped her fingers.
"Oh."
She was right, that was a disappointed 'oh'. That made the hot needles inside cool a little. A tiny, tiny bit.
"So," he continued without looking at her, Sophie's mane had his full attention. "When are you leaving?"
Margaret sighed, now it was her blowing air over Sophie's face.
"I'm not. I'm staying. Staying right here. In the dust and the mud and the rain and the cold. Among the lice and the vermin and the never-ending stink. It turned out, you see, the offer of Tokyo came with a price.
"Oh?" He turned to face her. "Wait, Margaret, he didn't hurt you, did he?"
She was silent for a second, for yes – Lyle had hurt her, if not physically. But his insinuations, his expectations that she would fall right back into her old role had hurt like hell. Pierce's eyes had grown dark, very serious now.
"If he touched you, I swear to God…"
"No, he didn't touch me, I'm fine. He told me I should come to Tokyo. We would work on the program and he would give me a promotion. Only thing was, If I wanted some pretty new brass on my shoulders, I would have to be up for romantic dinners and fun and games up in his room."
"Oh. That kind of a price. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, that's just the way of the world, isn't it? You always have to pay. If you're a woman, that is, if you're a man, things are just handed to you, whether you deserve them or not. But if you have the bad taste of being born a woman, or even worse – a woman with any kind of ambition – you better believe you are going to have to pay. And you have to balance on such a thin, thin line, you see. You're supposed to be smart, but not too smart, you don't want to intimidate anyone. You can be ambitious, but not bossy, never ever bossy. Beautiful, but demure, a fierce feline, but behave like a tiny kitten."
She had taken a couple of steps closer, and now she was staring up at him, challenging him. One of the lucky ones, with the right set of chromosomes, one of the kings the world was built for, revolved around. Lucky bastard.
"And the worst thing," she continued, hearing her voice getting shriller but she could do nothing to control it, "is that it wasn't even that long ago I was more than happy to pay, to just play the game. 'Yes, general', 'Of course, general', 'How do you want me, general'. Such a stupid goose."
He shook his head and shrugged.
"We all make mistakes."
He sounded so sweet and kind, and that truly pissed her off.
"Really, Pierce? We all make mistakes? Well, I'm sure your mistakes don't come back to bite you in the ass over and over again. I'm sure your mistakes aren't sitting in a jeep right now, driving away from here, thinking about how they can possibly fuck up your career from here on. I'm sure your mistakes didn't give you a rather demeaning nickname, one that you yourself haven't been exactly shy about using. But you know what's even worse than all that? It's that sometimes I miss her, that person who knew to just play her part. God knows her life was easier. And it's not… I…"
Suddenly, she felt so very tired, it was like every ounce of fight just left her body. Why bother with anything, why bother to argue, or try and explain anything when it was her choices and her choices alone that had brought her exactly where she was.
"I also wish I could go back in time and punch that stupid goose in the face. Hard."
She turned back to Sophie. Poor horse, having her evening ruined by a raving harpy with anger issues and bad decision making-skills. Gorgeous, patient creature.
"Hey." Pierce took a couple of steps closer. "I don't think you were ever a stupid goose. I think you have always been a clever parrot."
She glanced up at him.
"Yeah, a beautiful, clever parrot trying to make her way in a world built to pull the feathers off clever parrots and tell them they can't fly."
He let his hand rest over Margaret's where it laid against Sophie's neck.
"I'm sorry he was such a jerk. I'm sorry I was. Am. But I'm not sorry you're here. That program of yours, it will still do a lot of good, you know. It will save lives, all because of you. Because you can fly, Margaret. Even if it's just here, in the dust and mud, among the vermin and jerks like me, you still fly."
His hand was warm over hers. His eyes looked warm too. It made the sting of the hot needles inside fade away a little. It was something, at least. What she had accomplished, what they all had, it did mean something. Lyle wasn't going to take that away from her, he didn't have the right.
"Thank you".
"I mean it."
She believed him. In the time she had known him, she had learned to recognize the moments when he was sincere.
"You know," he said, "if you want, I can put on my Dumbkopf-outfit again and you can slap me around a little."
She chuckled and shook her head. Pulled her hand away and started to stroke Sophie again.
"Thank you, that won't be necessary."
"You sure? Maybe I can tempt you with some punches in that smug gut of his? A couple of kicks to the old star-studded derriere, that might make you feel better."
"It's okay. I'm gonna stay with Sophie for a bit and then just go to sleep, forget about this whole thing."
"Okay. You know where to find me if you change your mind."
"If I feel like kicking, I'll come knocking."
"You do that." He looked at her in silence for a little while and then took a step back. "Okay, I'm gonna leave you two ladies alone. Evening Margaret. Evening Sophie."
He made a careless salute and walked away, the belt of his bathrobe dragging behind him like a tail. Margaret watched him leave and turned back to Sophie.
"Well, how about that. He was being very nice."
Sophie blinked.
"I know, I'm suspicious too."
Margaret let her shoulders sink and tried to relax. She did feel a little better. Not burning hot inside anymore, just smoldering. There would always be men like Lyle in the world, people who knew her back when, and all she could control was how she handled them now. Seeing them without the rose-colored glasses she once wore was actually good. Sobering. To see reality as it was, to accept that what was done was done. There was nothing she could do about the past, but she could learn new ways to play the game.
"I am a clever parrot, you know," she said to Sophie. "No clay pigeon, no silly goose. Men like Lyle will fear me. Because he's small. I won't meet him there, I won't shrink myself down, not ever again. Not for someone else's pleasure. It's time we make it our world now, isn't it? Our rules, our game. What do you say, Soph? The revolution starts here."
Sophie said nothing, and for a long time, Margaret didn't either. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against Sophies.
Sometimes, all you need is a quiet moment with a sister, in whatever shape she comes.