Duchess

Chapter 28

I sucked in a silent breath, trying not to wake Benjamin. I was in excruciating pain, but I knew he would overreact and there was nothing he could do about it.
I glanced over at the bedside clock, dimly illuminated by the dark yellow light of the streetlights through the curtains. 2:57.
Just a few more hours, I told myself, and then Ben will be up and you can tell him. Maybe.
We had been home for less than a week, but Benjamin was already suffering from lack of sleep due to the sheer amount of questioning he had to endure from the OSS about everything that happened.
I had my fair share of the intensive debriefing as well, but Benjamin always made excuses for me so that I could leave earlier and rest. I still was feeling the effects of starvation.
Another stab of pain sliced through my abdomen and into my spine, and I covered my mouth with my hand to keep from crying out.
I think I'm dying.
I had felt this kind of pain before; it was usually the day after one of the operations or experiments the scientists performed on me in the prison camp.
Even if I'm not, I know I'll never have children now.
The pulsing pain turned into a dull ache for a few moments, and I seized the opportunity to roll gently out of bed and stumble to the bathroom.
Quietly closing the door behind myself, I leaned against the cabinet and sank to the floor, my head in my hands.
I grabbed the trashcan and threw up into it, trying to make as little noise as possible.
I couldn't stop the tears as I curled into the fetal position in the middle of the cool bathroom floor, barely able to breathe through the pain.
Previously, I hadn't truly considered my thoughts about the Germans who had tortured and humiliated and broken me in so many ways, but now I knew exactly what I felt. Helpless fury.
I just wished I could come face to face with the surgeon who said, "Don't put her to sleep; I want to hear an American scream."
I wanted to see the man who threw me into that deadly pool of freezing water, or the hundreds of SS guards who daily administered hallucinogens and nerve-destroying drugs.
I knew they were all probably hiding undercover deep in some Austrian forest, but I longed to transfer my pain to them, to show them what it was like for me and the thousands of others who weren't lucky enough to suffer their continuing trauma in the comfort of their own Washington D.C. home with a loving husband.
A wave of pain unlike the others took my breath away, and I couldn't help but let out a stifled sob as I clutched my abdomen on the dirty tile floor.
The bathroom door opened, and Benjamin appeared above me, a look of wild panic in his eyes.
"What's going on?" he said, kneeling beside me, "Where are you hurt? We gotta get to the hospital—"
"Ben, stop," I gasped, taking his bandaged hand, "I'm okay. No hospitals. I'm okay."
"What are you doing in here?"
I put a hand to his face and tried to calm him down. His tendency to take everything to the chaotic extreme was even more stressful to me than ever.
"My abdomen hurts," I said in an attempted soothing voice, "I guess it's my ovaries—I don't know. I'm fine; I've felt this before."
He lifted my satin pajama shirt to examine the area I was clutching, and prodded a few of the leftover bruises to see if any of them were the source of my pain.
I shook my head.
"It's internal, Ben. I can feel where it's coming from but can't point to it."
"I think we should go to the hospital."
"I think you should go back to bed."
     "This isn't funny, Louisa."
     I could barely think through the pain. "I know it's not, Ben, but it's not the end of the world, either. Stop freaking out, and let me breathe."
     He gave a shaky sigh and said, "Let me get you back into bed—then you can explain what's happening."
     "I can't move right now."
     "I'll carry you."
     He pulled me into his arms and I gripped his shoulders as excruciating pain took over my whole body.
     Lying in agony on top of all the covers, I didn't let go of Benjamin's hand as he rummaged through his small stash of medications in his bedside drawer.
     "Here," he said, "this will ease the pain. Muscle relaxant."
     He opened the bottle with his teeth because I was unable to release his other hand, helping prop my head up to swallow the pills.
     "When did this start?"
     "About an hour ago."
     "Why didn't you wake me? I could have helped you."
     "I don't know."
He sighed, prompting me to add, "I guess I don't want you to think about the possibility—" I stopped myself.
     "That what?" he prodded, lying beside me and pulling me into the safety his arms, "That you may be unable to have children?"
     I burst into tears, burying my face into Benjamin's bare chest and letting him hold me.
     "Oh, Lou," he breathed, softly stroking my hair.
     I knew he didn't know what to say. I knew that he wasn't lying when he told me he loved me even without children, but I couldn't help the insecurity from rising up.
     "It's only been a week, Lou," he reminded gently, "and you haven't even been to a real doctor yet. We don't know anything for certain."
     I scoffed, running my hand along his shoulder. "I'm certain about this pain, Ben! What else could be the cause except infertility? I know what all the doctors will say."
     Another wave of pain hit and I sobbed in agony, feeling every terrible emotion imaginable.
     "You said you've felt this before?"
     I nodded. "In the camp."
     "What kind of," he hesitated, "experiments are we talking about? Give me specifics."
     "I already told you; they were interested in reproduction and fertility. They mentioned the Jews a lot, so I guess their goal was to use their findings to stop their population growth."
     He prodded me for more detailed answers, and I gave him whatever I could, but I reminded him that I was usually in a half-delirious or sedated state, and often I was given no explanation. I didn't want to keep talking about the most humiliating, terrifying experiences of my life.
"Is it always going to be like this?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Like what?"
"Always miserable, always thinking about what happened over there. I don't want to live like this."
He kissed me and hugged me closer against his chest. "It won't always be—I promise. I won't let it."
"How do we make it different, then?"
"I guess I don't really know," he admitted, letting me squeeze his hand as more pain came, "I guess we can just start doing things to take our minds off it all. Soon it'll be our reality, and we'll have so many other things to think about that we'll forget about the rest of it."
"Can we go dancing tomorrow night?"
"Well sure, Lou, if you feel up to it. But no aerials—your ribs won't take it."
"And what about we go out for ice cream the next night?"
Ben laughed a little and shrugged obligingly.
     "And then, the next night—"
     "Did you forget, Lou? We are having dinner with the Roosevelts on Saturday. Is that enough adventure for you, or shall I call Franklin and tell him we bought tickets to go see To Have and Have Not at the Apex Theater? I'm sure he'd understand."
I playfully punched him and mused, "No, but that is a good idea. We can go to the movies on Monday night."
Another stab of excruciating pain rose from my gut, and I couldn't help crying out as Benjamin held me tightly to do what little he could to comfort me.
"Sorry," I grunted through the pain, "the pain will be over soon. Then I'll be quiet."
He chuckled a little and brushed wisps of hair from my face. "You're alright. Just rest."
I don't know how long it took me to fall asleep, but I woke up to Benjamin gently attempting to get out of bed and out from under me without waking me up.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "Go back to sleep. I'm going to work. I'll see you at 10:30."
He kissed my forehead and hurried out of the room, only to return a moment later. "I'm sorry—I forgot to ask. How do you feel?"
"I'm fine."
"Really?"
I nodded with a groan.
"Alright, I'm glad. Go back to sleep now."
I had closed my eyes before he had even shut the door behind him.

     At 10:29, I knocked softly on the door to Benjamin's giant office in the OSS building complex.
"Come in, Caleb."
     I laughed and opened the door.
     "Lou!" he exclaimed, coming around his desk to hug me, "I thought you were Caleb at the door—sorry. I would have met you outside the building so you didn't have to come all the way in."
     "Oh, it's no problem," I said, nuzzling against his neck, "No problem at all. It's cold outside."
     Ben put a hand against my back with a smile, and I sat on the edge of one of his chairs, letting him cradle me in a long kiss.
     "We don't have time for this," he whispered, running a finger along my jawline.
     "I know. You lead the way, Major General," I said, standing up and straightening his tie.
     I helped him put on his black woolen coat and navy blue scarf that he got from a friend at Yale.
     "This doesn't match."
     He shrugged and held the door for me. "It doesn't?"
     I looked at him incredulously and held the end of the scarf up to the collar of his coat. "Black and blue, Benjamin! How did you even graduate high school?"
     We both laughed and he slung an arm around me affectionately, taking my hand as we ascended the flights of stairs to our debriefing meeting in the adjacent building.
      "Have you heard anything more about when they'll clear me to get back to work?" I asked breathlessly.
     "No, but I'm working on it. It shouldn't be more than a month. It's boring here without you."
     I scoffed. "Imagine what it's like at home all day!"
     He took my hand and laughed. "You've got me there, darling."
     We passed a long mirror in the glistening marble hallway, and I cringed at the sight of myself.
     I was still pale and gaunt, my translucent skin clinging to my bones for dear life. No matter how much I ate, it was as though my body would never recover from Compiègne.
     However, I was proud of my hair. It was still painstakingly short and hard to set into pin curls every night, but consistent showering had loosened many of the painful knots and I was almost completely rid of the lice. Even Benjamin's bout with the lice had almost come to an end.
     The debriefing was excruciatingly tedious, and lasted over an hour and a half of simple questions and answers.
     They were just part of the trade, but I hated debriefings more than any other part of the job.
     It was impossible to describe and explain every detail of my entire life the past year to people that had never traveled outside America's biggest cities. I was just glad I had Ben here with me.
     When it was over, we politely shook hands with the interviewers and I followed Benjamin into the hallway.
     "What's that smug smile for, Dutch?"
     "Nothing."
     "Are you busy today?"
     "What do you think, Benjamin?" I said with a laugh, taking his hand in mine, "Do I look like I have a full schedule?"
     "Do you want to come back to my office for a little bit?"
     I chuckled. "Maybe. That is, if I can fit it into my tight schedule."
     "Oh, certainly," Ben played along, "I just need help filing paperwork."
     "I'm sure you do."