Word count; 2,166
Valentina
By the fence of the front veranda sat Spiers, sprawled over a wooden bench, head leaning uncomfortably back over the arm rest.
"Look what we found."
"What I found." Welsh corrected Lewis. "A very vintage bourbon, made in Poland."
I watched both officers step down from the front door and drift towards us. I was sat on a small stool, a table full of sandwiches and boxes of pretzels to my left. In the time it had taken us to complete such a task, the temperature had only risen, increasing by almost three times than its original state. Bereft of clouds, the canopy of the veranda was one of the only things left to shield us from the heat. Sun beetles buzzed in delight.
"Do not mind if I do." Spiers whispered to himself, raising his head to take a sip and then allowing it back to his original position in pleasure.
"It's good?" Welsh had a sip himself, then passed it to Lewis.
Nixon had a few swigs, the bottle snatched off of him before he could have anymore.
"Want some?"
I regarded Welsh, "Do you have a glass?"
"You heard her, Capt. Nix, go find a glass." The Irishman beamed.
"I don't have any diseases. Take a sip, it's all right."
I scoffed faintly, grabbing the bottle by its neck, "I'm only afraid of catching that attitude you Americans fall into when things don't go your way."
All three men burst into laughter and criticism, arguing to each other on who I was referring to. Eugene returned from upstairs, furrowing his brows at the uproar.
"How do you enjoy this?" I grimaced at the taste of the whiskey, rendering only more eruption.
"More for us, then." Welsh retrieved the bottle from my hands.
"I found this." The medic stood nearby the table of food, talking quietly despite the attention being on the bourbon. "It's a painkiller. Not opium. It will help with the hand. Very mild but for a throb - it'll do fine. Take one whenever it hits. No more than one a day, okay?"
"Thank you." I smiled warmly, taking it from him and stuffing it into one of my pockets. "Do you know when these men will arrive? I fear the bread will go stale. More stale than it is."
"They'll eat it, don't you worry."
"Oh, Valentina." Nixon called from his place not far down the veranda. "I found one of your papers the other day. Welsh just made some shitty joke about salt and it reminded me."
"Hey!" The Irishman pushed playfully on Lewis' shoulder.
A pang shot through my heart and, evidently, Eugene noticed, "All right?"
"Yes." I simpered. "Very fine."
Through the streets in front of us, the faint bellowing of some chant bashed between the walls of houses, swirling up into the sky. I couldn't recognise the song yet the men around me did, all turning to the noise with grins. Slowly, the collective stomp of feet followed.
"Here we go." Spiers mumbled.
The chant became louder. Soon, ranks of men appeared down the street, all jogging in sync, each step a part of the pulse for their song. As the melody closed, each man was told to halt collectively. In this time, Spiers had stood and hobbled down the stairs of the veranda. He had expected to see Winters but even he was vacant from the lines of men. I had expected to see Liebgott - another vacancy in the ranks. However, seeing Luz happily in one of the front rows, I looked to Eugene who disapprovingly shook his head with a smile.
Spiers met up with Lipton, the leader of the run, it seemed. After a brief exchange of words, the Captain returned up the stairs and took his seat back on the bench. I watched Lipton as he gave the orders - commanded by Spiers - but my attention landed on the men nearby before I could truly hear what was being said.
"Right, time to retreat." Lewis chugged the last of the bourbon. "Coming, Valentina?"
I shook my head politely, "I'll be fine."
"Plus, who will take the credit, otherwise?" Spiers proposed, voice croaky.
"Your choice. Come find me later, I'll show you that paper." Nixon turned to Welsh. "After you, princess."
With a sardonic chuckle, both entered the house, shutting the main door behind them. The ranks of men in front of us had fallen out, all gladdened that they could take a break from the endless determination of the heat. A gaggle formed by the steps, Lipton pushing his way through and guiding the men into one straight line.
"Remember, one sandwich, one box of pretzels. Take it or leave it, gentlemen."
One at a time, the men approached, taking the food they were designated with, flashing smiles here and there. Spiers perceived the lack of gratification, as did Eugene. Although I was the one to think of the idea, I was not the only person who conducted the plan.
"Did you do this?"
I looked up from my heel - my stocking caught against one of the chair legs - to find Luz, waiting to take his food. Behind him was John and Perconte, also anticipating a response.
"I cannot take all the credit."
"I told you!" Luz whipped around, clapping Perconte on the shoulder.
Martin, caught in the middle of it, complained, "Hey, hey! Keep to yourself, Luz, you're up next."
"You owe me." Luz pointed a finger at his opponent. "I'm not forgetting this."
"Were they betting on me?" I frowned at Martin, Luz already vanishing around the other side of the veranda.
Picking up a sandwich and box of pretzels, "Most definitely."
"Find me later." I smiled, aware he was getting pushed to move on.
Everyone else passed through the table in due time, leaving only a few sandwiches left.
"Who was in charge of this operation?" I inquired, observing the remaining sandwiches.
Spiers flung himself up, grabbing one and burying it in his mouth before anyone could contend. My eyes followed him as he went inside, his own mission in mind, and I realised Eugene had departed too. I huffed, not out of sourness, but because of the heat. Reaching for a sandwich, I nibbled on the crust, the rest of the bread stale due to the contamination of the air. A few minutes passed and another arrived - Emilia, full of energy, hair billowing as she walked. She ascended the stairs, eyes set on me but bumped into an American. Both apologised to each other, both flustered by their lack of understanding of the other. I regarded her blush, she greeted me, and together we watched Skinny jog away.
"See?" Emilia balanced over Sascha's tearoom balcony, pointing discreetly below.
I copied her, leaning against the parapet with my stomach.
"See that watch?"
"I do." I answered, confused by the point of this gesture.
"I saw it on Sascha's wrist the other day - I had never seen it before. She said it belonged to her cousin. That night, I'm out here stargazing and you know what I see? The watch."
"Doesn't stargazing include looking up, not down?"
"Nevermind that!" Emilia dismissed. "But you want to know who else I saw wearing that watch? When we went to the Americans who were swimming down there? Perconte."
I rolled my eyes, "This is what you have been getting up to?"
"Don't you find it interesting?! When last did Sascha fall in love?"
"I don't think it's love, Emilia. Maybe they like each other, yes."
"You miss the point." She stood up. "How has a random American got the Sascha Lechner tied around his finger?"
"We need to find you something better to do than play detective."
"Like what?" She deflated. "Normally I would go on walks with... but I can't anymore. He's gone."
"So find someone else."
"Like who?"
I thought back to earlier that day, when she collided with Skinny, "What about the boy you ran into earlier? Wasn't he cute?"
"Valentina!" Emilia exclaimed, grinning. "I am not going to turn into Sascha."
"But he was, wasn't he?"
"I mean- that's not the point! We don't even know each other. Even if there was... something... we've already fallen over one another! How embarrasing is that?"
"Even closer to falling for one another."
"Hey!" She tapped my arm playfully. "Don't you start otherwise I will!"
I returned to our original subject, "How about... Jakob's hill? When last did you go there?"
"Back when..."
"Well, how about we go there?"
"Now?"
"Yes."
"Just us?"
"Doesn't have to be. Who else is home?"
"Metilda... Alice... Ida... Petra..." She counted through the residents of our household. "Teo is asleep and Sascha is out."
"Well why don't you ask?"
Something ignited in her eyes, she prepared to run off, but stopped, "Who will take care of the children?"
I sent her away, giving my own faint reason. As she scarpered downstairs, I did the opposite, arriving at Teo's door and knocking on it gently. The doorknob twisted, his face appeared.
"Everything okay?" I asked quietly.
He opened the door wider, "I was getting changed."
"Did you sleep well?"
"A lot better than I have." He simpered. "Are you okay?"
"Yes. I have convinced Emilia and some of the others to go on a walk to Jakob's hill."
"Forgive me if I do not come."
"No, I was expecting you not to. They are a tough bunch to handle."
His lips lifted more, eyebrow raised, "So there is something else you want from me?"
"The mothers need a break. Petra, Alice, Ida. The babes are a sleep but I wondered if it would be possible that you just keep an eye out. All you'll have to do is sit in the nursery."
He nodded gently, "Yes, I can do that."
"Thank you." I pulled him in for a swift hug. "We won't be gone for long. A few hours."
"Take your time."
I put space between us and turned, heading for the stairwell. Halfway down, I met Metilda who, face buried in a book, was shocked by my voice. She was on her way to put on shoes; for the last couple of days she had no reason to leave the house, given Monika had a fever. But the fever was gone, as was the fear to depart into the outside world.
"How warm is it?" Someone yelled throughout the building, accompanied by the sound of drawers closing and opening.
"Incredibly, darling, can you not feel it?" Petra answered, leisurely descending the stairs.
I was by the front door, staring at my chipped fingernails. I recalled a similar time, when Herr Weinder took all the girls to get their nails done; reds, oranges, blues, purples - colours of the sky, they were all there. Though like the man himself, the paint didn't last long. It fell off within a couple of days.
"Are you sure we can go outside?" probed Alice as she arrived at the foyer. "I see you do so all the time, I know, but it is just... weird."
"Nothing has changed. Except instead of fascists, you will see American soldiers." I glanced over everyone. "Where is Ida?"
"Saying goodbye to Armin."
"I will go hurry her." Emilia stated.
"Who is that?" Metilda tied the buckle on her shoe.
We all faced the door, a shadow moving between the blurred glass around the threshold.
"Wait, do not open it!" Alice ordered, observing how my palm blanketed the doorknob.
I exhaled, "I am going to need to at some point."
"But what if it's-"
Smirking, I opened the door, enough so our visiter could see me but no-one else. A soldier stood outside, eyes widened by the movement in front of him. In his hand was an envelope, folded in on itself. He swallowed.
"Yes?" I supplied.
Snapping into the purpose of being there in the first place, "This is for you."
"For me?"
Almost surprised I could speak English, he quivered, "Y-Yes."
"Are you going to give it to me, then?"
"Y-Yes." He extended his arm immediately.
"Are you sure its for me?"
"For Miss Fritz."
"And is that me?"
He wavered, "Black hair, brown skirt, plaster on the hand."
I smiled, "So it is."
He gaped at me, as if I was some type of statue which needed articulate studying.
"You can leave."
At that, he rotated and began to walk off. Only as soon as he thought he was out of sight, he began to sprint.
"Who was it?" Metilda asked, unbothered.
"I don't know." I flipped the envelope in my hands, breaking the seal.
"What does it say?"
"103 Silesius, 7 o'clock sharp."
"That is all?"
"That is all." I glowered.
"What is all?" Emilia inquired, Ida shortly behind her as they walked downstairs.
"We are going to 103 Silesius."
"The town hall?"
"All of us?"
"Yes." I grinned, already exhausted by the endless questions. "All of us."