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May, 1945
Natalia lay practically lifeless on top of the thick blankets on her bed. The sun shone bright through the open window and into her eyes, though the girl hardly noticed.
She hated to admit it, she knew she was lucky to be home, alive and well, but she longed to be back overseas. She missed the action, she missed the feeling of purpose, and most of all, she missed her crew.
Natalia has only been home for a few weeks and so far half the town has stopped by to give her their condolences. Mrs. Travis had to start shooing people off the front porch so her daughter could sleep, or so she thought Natalia was sleeping.
The radio was constantly on, replaying the same three news stories over and over. It was all the same: the war. Updates on the Americans, the Germans and the Japanese. Natalia was obsessed with knowing every little detail.
Natalia hardly slept, ate or bathed. Her brain believed she was in an aid station instead of safe at home in Arkansas. Her mother tried desperately to get her out of bed, go for a walk around the block or visit old friends in town.
All attempts had failed.
"Natalia? Honey." Mrs. Travis slowly creaked open the bedroom door, a bowl of spaghetti in her hand; "I've made lunch."
"Thanks, mama." Natalia muttered, nearly inaudible. The end of the bed sunk down as her mother took a seat, putting the bowl on the nightstand.
"Are you going to eat, my love?"
"Mhm..." Natalia slowly rose from her comfortable position. Her hair was tangled, greasy, and the shirt she wore hadn't been changed in nearly a week.
Mrs. Travis watched as her child hesitantly filled her mouth with the soft noodles coated in tomato sauce. They sat in silence, neither one feeling the urge to say anything. Natalia could hardly muster the strength to say a quiet thank you.
The older woman hardly recognized her own daughter. She was a different girl, a grown woman now. She could tell the effects of the war were consuming Natalia the same way they devoured her husband. She wanted to ask questions, to get inside her child's mind, though Natalia was content with keeping everything locked away inside.
Mrs. Travis knew it was only a matter of time until Natalia exploded.
•
June, 1945
Mrs. Travis stood in Natalia's bedroom doorway, admiring the white dress that clothed her figure. The girl had lost so much weight overseas, the dress was more of a sheet thrown over her body.
