Sturzelberg
The clear, lonely ting of a well-made clock sounded in the other room. Port shifted uncomfortably under Alex's calm gaze. Inky regret clung to his insides like tar. He had failed once again. It was like a cancer for him, coming back every time it seemed like he had done something right. Port swelled with self-pity.
"You sure you going to be okay?" Alex asked with a quirk of his jaw.
All Porter knew at that moment was how desperate he was to lose himself. He wanted to anesthetize the wound with whiskey. Self-medicating had become a way of life for him, just as it had been for his father. Without anyone to hold him back, Porter could slip away into the quiet abyss of a good, solid buzz. He threw back the whiskey in his hand. He didn't even notice the burn anymore.
Glancing down at the glass, his thoughts drew back to the conversation at hand. Dixon had withheld the promotion Porter had expected. Ralph Burbank would be the new Item Company CO. Porter would remain a lieutenant. And the reason Alex said was the bottle in his hand.
"Did the Colonel have anything else to say?" Porter stood.
Alex looked up from where he had laid his hand on the back of a chair. "Nothing other than the concern I already mentioned. He felt you were a better suited staying with Item Company."
"Better suited, huh?" Porter snorted and glanced over into the fireplace. “Better suited and far away from Edith Dixon, I should think."
Alex’s mouth drew back in a thin line as he lifted an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I may have…kissed Edith Dixon the last time I was up at Regiment." Porter dropped his gaze, "It's all a bit hazy to be honest."
Alex's stare went blank. He paced towards the hearth with hard footsteps, "You made a pass at the Colonel's daughter?"
"Yes. He walked in on us."
Bracing a hand on the hearth, Alex ran his hand over his face, "You can't be serious."
"Completely."
Porter swirled his glass. He didn't know why he’d kissed the woman like he had something to offer her. It had been selfish. One moment he was consumed with the thought of becoming Captain, something that both thrilled and terrified him. He still wasn’t sure if he would be able to do what Alex did. Then he was kissing her.
Perhaps he had been trying to lose himself in her as he did in a bottle of whiskey. Lose himself in her marble like solidity. Edith was like a Greek statue. The woman could probably withstand a hurricane without a scratch.
"Tell you what though," he snorted, "The Ice Queen does melt and it's a sight to see."
An uncomfortable silence soaked up the space between them. Porter looked over at Alex. He had his back half turned towards him. Porter noticed that he had a firm grip on the mantelpiece.
"Alex?"
McKay straightened with a brief look in his direction, "Stop calling her that."
He strode from the room without another word, leaving Porter to his whiskey and regrets
#
Alex made his way down a crowded avenue of the German town. The sun bleached streets crunched under the wheels of olive green army jeeps. Soldiers flirted with the local women despite the non-fraternization policy that forbid such liaisons. He passed another officer as he was leaving an abandoned house, his arms full of loot to send home to the States. It had been almost a year since Normandy. Still the invasion to the heart of the country trudged on. Alex didn’t understand why they didn’t just surrender.
He had just left from a meeting at CP. It had gotten his mind off of his conversation with Porter from earlier. But now the man’s smirk and tales of kissing the Colonel’s daughter bled into his memory. Porter was an idiot, but unfortunately he was Alex’s idiot. They had been friends since high school. They volunteered together, went through basic training and Airborne school, even D-Day. He was never going to get away from the guy. Yet after his conversation with the man that afternoon, he wished he could.
Alex couldn’t keep Edith off his mind. He regretted what he had said to her in the Ardennes even if it had been true. The moment he had confronted her about her presence on the line, she had looked crestfallen. She knew what she had done was stupid, did he have to drive in the nail? He smirked, laying a hand on his cheek where she had hit him. No doubt she hated him now as well.
Perhaps it was better this way, leaving her to the likes of Port. At least the man had the guts to tell a woman how he felt about her. Alex could lead men into the heat of battle. When it came to Edith, he didn't have it in him to tell her how she lingered in his brain like a melody.
Alex kicked an empty bottle into the street. A jumbling wagon belonging to a local ran it over with a satisfying crunch. He decided enough was enough. He’d stop trying to chase the Colonel’s daughter. That was if they ever saw each other again. After all, it was war. The chance was slim.
He ducked into the post master’s office. Private Flannery gave him a salute, his unibrow lifted as he smiled.
“Captain! I’m glad you came in-“
“I have something that needs to be posted as soon as you have the chance,” Alex dug into his pocket and pulled out the letter to his mother.
“Yes of course,” Flannery chirped, taking the envelope from his outstretched hand, “There is a letter for you also.”
Alex read the address and saw it was from home. From the looks of it was in his younger sister’s handwriting. He smiled faintly. It was a good day to get word from his baby sister, he needed the cheering up.
“Thank you, private,” Alex quipped.
“Yes sir!”
Pearl was in her last year of high school. Smart, pretty and popular with her classmates, Pearl McKay was going places. Alex had no doubt of that. An older lady in town that she had volunteered to read to on Sundays was even planning on funding her college education.
Alex skimmed the letter. He gripped the edges of it then ran a hand over his jaw with a sigh. Pearl had written not to tell her older brother about the good things happening but about a heartbreak. The boy who was going to take her to a formal dance had been forbidden to by his parents to have Pearl for a date. It seemed they caught wind that she was half Indian. That was the only reason the boy had given her.
Crumpling the letter, Alex dropped his head. He sank down onto a bench outside the post master. He had run into his fair bit of discrimination over the years. Preacher Macon had been a big help in talking him into showing forgiveness instead of his fists. Even before he had volunteered for the paratroopers, there had been grumbling on the orchard where he worked when he became overseer. Some of the men said they liked him, they just didn’t like him in authority over them. The likes of Burk Lane soon proved that the prejudice followed him into the ranks.
He had always hoped Pearl would be spared that heartache but it had been too much to expect. They lived in a fallen world, Preacher Macon always said. Alex wished desperately he had him there to talk to about everything.
Alex scoffed, shaking his head. Preacher Macon would probably have torn up his hide for thinking that. He didn’t need to talk to the Preacher, Alex needed to talk to God.
He folded his hands and prayed about Pearl. About Michael Porter. He always prayed for Porter. Alex paused, squeezing his knuckles. He released Edith to the Lord and submitted himself to whatever God’s plan was for them. The fear that she would never have accepted him for either his heritage or his low upbringing dissipated. Whatever was to happen with Edith, it was out of his hands now.
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