touch his sleeve.
“Forget about him.” A man’s voice spoke right at Liesel’s ear, startling her. She turned and saw a broad face flushed with alcohol, a big grin reeking of the same. “He’s got his thumb up his ass so far, he has to open his mouth to sieg Heil .” The cuffs of the man’s black uniform were damp, slopped over from the two full glasses he was carrying. “Here –” He forced one glass into her hands. “Drink up.”
The liquor’s sharp taste ignited her anger. She was about to hurl the glass and what was left of its contents to the floor when the drunken SS man caught her arm. “ Na, na –” He laughed, clasping her against his chest; the dregs of his glass spilled on her dress. “Plenty of others. What’s one more or less, when you’re having a good time?” He bent down to nuzzle her neck, his breath hot and wet.
She leaned back, hands pushing against his shoulders but unable to break free of his grasp. The alcohol fumes were still inside her head, thick and dizzying above the column of fire in her throat.
The radio’s music had started again, louder and faster this time. More couples came out on the floor, their laughter louder as well. The drunken SS officer swayed, eyes closed.
Over the heads of the crowd, she could see the stairs. One figure stood there, her hand timidly holding onto the banister, as though the sight of the dancers had frightened her from taking the last few steps down into the room.
The drunken man hugged the breath from her, his arms locking behind her back. He swung her around, her feet grazing the floor. Through a swarm of black spots in her vision, Liesel saw Obersturmführer Stoehr, his gaze cutting past all the dancing figures. And she knew where he was looking – toward that conniving little mouse, the shy, pretty girl on the stairs.
FIVE
“I don’t know what to do.” Marte sat on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap. The dress was the one Frau Hegemann had loaned her, that being the one thing her father had forgotten, a pretty dress, a special one. This one was pink, with a squared neckline fretted with lace. She closed her eyes and remembered, though it had only been yesterday or a century ago. The mirror, and Frau Hegemann smoothing the dress in place, then stepping back to judge the effect. A pity your hips aren’t broader , the older woman had said. You’ll have trouble when the baby comes .
Marte opened her eyes. The girl in the mirror had been wearing this dress, that she wore now. So this must be her, sitting on a bed in a small room with a man in it.
“I don’t know,” she said again. How white her hands and her bare arms looked. She could imagine them floating, drifting in a river, caressed by the green tendrils of water weeds.
“That’s all right.” The man draped the jacket of his black uniform upon a chair. His shining boots stood against the wall. He stripped off his undershirt. “I do.”
Then everything would be as it should. She didn’t have to try to be anything. As long as he knew what to do next, she could watch what happened to the girl sitting on the bed, from inside, and it wouldn’t matter where she really was. If she was anywhere at all.
He stood in front of her. He pushed the dress off her shoulders. She looked up, past his bare chest, to see if there was any reflection of herself in the dark centers of his eyes.
* * *
“You bruised me.” Liesel lifted her arm and looked under the curve of her breast. There were big darkening marks on both sides of her ribs. She slapped Heinrich, not playfully. “Bastard.”
He laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He took another pull from the bottle he’d filched and brought up to the room. Liesel had had some of it, too, pouring fuel onto the fire that had leapt up inside her when she had seen the prize slipping out of her fingers.
“Forget about him.” A man’s voice spoke right at Liesel’s ear, startling her. She turned and saw a broad face flushed with alcohol, a big grin reeking of the same. “He’s got his thumb up his ass so far, he has to open his mouth to sieg Heil .” The cuffs of the man’s black uniform were damp, slopped over from the two full glasses he was carrying. “Here –” He forced one glass into her hands. “Drink up.”
The liquor’s sharp taste ignited her anger. She was about to hurl the glass and what was left of its contents to the floor when the drunken SS man caught her arm. “ Na, na –” He laughed, clasping her against his chest; the dregs of his glass spilled on her dress. “Plenty of others. What’s one more or less, when you’re having a good time?” He bent down to nuzzle her neck, his breath hot and wet.
She leaned back, hands pushing against his shoulders but unable to break free of his grasp. The alcohol fumes were still inside her head, thick and dizzying above the column of fire in her throat.
The radio’s music had started again, louder and faster this time. More couples came out on the floor, their laughter louder as well. The drunken SS officer swayed, eyes closed.
Over the heads of the crowd, she could see the stairs. One figure stood there, her hand timidly holding onto the banister, as though the sight of the dancers had frightened her from taking the last few steps down into the room.
The drunken man hugged the breath from her, his arms locking behind her back. He swung her around, her feet grazing the floor. Through a swarm of black spots in her vision, Liesel saw Obersturmführer Stoehr, his gaze cutting past all the dancing figures. And she knew where he was looking – toward that conniving little mouse, the shy, pretty girl on the stairs.
FIVE
“I don’t know what to do.” Marte sat on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap. The dress was the one Frau Hegemann had loaned her, that being the one thing her father had forgotten, a pretty dress, a special one. This one was pink, with a squared neckline fretted with lace. She closed her eyes and remembered, though it had only been yesterday or a century ago. The mirror, and Frau Hegemann smoothing the dress in place, then stepping back to judge the effect. A pity your hips aren’t broader , the older woman had said. You’ll have trouble when the baby comes .
Marte opened her eyes. The girl in the mirror had been wearing this dress, that she wore now. So this must be her, sitting on a bed in a small room with a man in it.
“I don’t know,” she said again. How white her hands and her bare arms looked. She could imagine them floating, drifting in a river, caressed by the green tendrils of water weeds.
“That’s all right.” The man draped the jacket of his black uniform upon a chair. His shining boots stood against the wall. He stripped off his undershirt. “I do.”
Then everything would be as it should. She didn’t have to try to be anything. As long as he knew what to do next, she could watch what happened to the girl sitting on the bed, from inside, and it wouldn’t matter where she really was. If she was anywhere at all.
He stood in front of her. He pushed the dress off her shoulders. She looked up, past his bare chest, to see if there was any reflection of herself in the dark centers of his eyes.
* * *
“You bruised me.” Liesel lifted her arm and looked under the curve of her breast. There were big darkening marks on both sides of her ribs. She slapped Heinrich, not playfully. “Bastard.”
He laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He took another pull from the bottle he’d filched and brought up to the room. Liesel had had some of it, too, pouring fuel onto the fire that had leapt up inside her when she had seen the prize slipping out of her fingers.
Similar Books
Shadow Catcher
James R. Hannibal
Lucy’s Wish
Joan Lowery Nixon
Scrapped
Mollie Cox Bryan
Camp Nowhere
R. L. Stine
Rough Justice
Lisa Scottoline
Dancing After Hours
Andre Dubus
Rebecca
Jo Ann Ferguson
Kilts and Daggers
Victoria Roberts
Teaching English as a Foreign Language for Dummies
Michelle Maxom