Chapter Text
The evening air was refreshing as a cup of cold water after a run. Fall breeze lifted the red hair off of Babe’s forehead, as he headed outside to begin for home after work. Filled his lungs deeply with the crispness of it. November weather sending a chill down his neck. The sun, just beginning to go down, promised it would be almost dark before he got where he was going since he traveled on foot.
“‘Ey, Babe, ya not really goin’ home, are ya?” Ronny called out from behind him. “Thought ya were comin’ out for a drink with the rest of the fellas?”
“Yeah, c’mon, Babe,” Hank chimed in. Rubbed his nose on his work shirt sleeve against the weather. “Jim says he’s actually gonna ask Cherry ta dance wit’ him tonight! Ya can’t miss that! Five bucks says he’s gonna trip ova hisself.”
Babe managed a grin that he hoped looked more natural than it felt. Waved them off goodnaturedly, saying, “Nah, got plans with a war buddy of mine. Youse go on, and rememba I gots six dollars that say Jim throws up on himself before he even gets ta Cherry.”
“I’ll take that bet!” Ronny laughed, shrugging into his jacket.
“Not me,” Hank declined with a wide grin. Waved in Babe’s direction with an easy, “‘Night, then, Babe.”
“Yeah, see ya,” Ronny said as a few others came outside to join them in someone's too small car to carry them all over to the nearest bar. Hopefully in one piece. Laughing loudly with intent to make good use of their free time. Boyish rougeness and high spirits.
But Babe in fact did not have plans with anybody. Not any that had been mutually decided upon at least. Just of his own accord bundled with the fact that he needed to see Bill. Usually Bill didn’t mind Babe dropping in uninvited, and thankfully that hadn’t changed since he married Frannie. She’d seemed to mostly just accept that being with Bill meant that sometimes a skinny li’l redhead was going to show up unannounced from time to time.
Most of the time, Babe felt a little guilty about it. Didn’t want to become a nuisance. It was just… He’d been feeling awfully sick as of late. Not sick in a way some of his coworkers had been. Coming down with variations of head colds and week long bouts of the flu. The regular stuff that came along with the weather cooling. Nothing like that.
He hadn’t heard from Eugene. Not once since they’d gotten home. And maybe Babe could’ve just mourned it as a heartbreak and Gene’s way of breaking off any relationship they might’ve had overseas, if it hadn’t been for the fact that no one had heard from him. It seemed everyone else had heard from a few members of the company, and there was enough back and forth amongst them that they all knew how each other was doing. But not a single word from Eugene to anyone. Not even Ralph, who had gone so far as to call a few places down in different areas of Louisiana to try to locate him.
Babe had been hearing more and more recently about men killing themselves. Veterans plagued with intense guilt. Horrors of the war became all consuming, chased them back to their homes. Too stricken with what they’d done or seen to be able to settle back into an old life that they didn’t feel at home in anymore. The peace too foreign. Unsettling. Like being dowsed with cold water while sitting outside in the snow. Memories of the gruesome terror driving them out of their minds until they put a final stop to it all.
Every story he heard he couldn’t help but picture Roe in that man’s place. Wondered if Eugene had even made it back to Louisiana at all. For all he knew, Gene might not have ever gotten on his train. And if that’s true, Babe can never forgive himself for getting on his headed back for Philly. He’d seen how horribly out of it the southern man had been the day they’d last seen each other. None of the goodbyes he’d said seemed to have made it past Gene’s ears. Dark eyes glazed heavily like he didn’t know where he was or who was talking to him.
Leaving him standing there on the platform to wait for his own home bound train with his hands jammed into his pockets and an uncertain frown plastered on his face, was something that haunted the Philadelphian daily. Hated himself for it all. Had just assumed it would be good for Eugene to go home. That even if he didn’t write immediately that he would eventually, and then at least Babe would have an address to write back to.
Clearly he’d been very wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong. And- fuck! He should’ve dragged Eugene with him! Changed his ticket from the bayou to home with the Heffron’s. Where he would’ve known the cajun was safe. Not alone or fucking dead God knows where! Had no idea what was wrong with him on that last day. Didn’t know what he was thinking, and now he couldn’t forgive himself. Tortured by a version of himself that would’ve forced Eugene to come with him.
He almost accidentally walked right on by the Guarnere residence. Lost in a torrent of painful thoughts that were making him light headed and short of breath. Soft glowing yellow lights shining through the cream colored curtains promised they were home at least. His feet turned him around to plunk over to the walk and front steps.
His knuckles only wrapped against the oak door maybe twice before it swished opened. Frannie stood in the frame with her arms folded across her chest. A white smear of flour on her cheek bone, covered a few of her scattered freckles. Chestnut colored hair had fallen out of her updo to wisp around her face. A curl cascaded down her forehead. Dirty apron told the story that supper was in the works, and Babe was secretly relieved they weren’t getting ready to leave somewhere.
“Heya, Fran,” he greeted as cheerfully as he could manage right then. Smiling a little sheepishly at her and her unimpressed expression.
With an overexaggerated eye roll, she leaned back further into the house to call loudly, “Bill! Ya otha half is here ta see ya!”
“What?” Bill’s distant voice returned from somewhere else in the house, sounding every bit like an old man.
Babe scuffed his shoe against the lip of the top step. Suddenly very oddly bashful about just showing up like he did. Clenched and unclenched his hands in a very uncharacteristically shy way before starting, “Sorry ta show up so late ‘n all. I was jus-”
A hand reached out and swatted him upside the head before he saw it coming. “Don’t be an idiot,” Frannie scolded. Beneath her frown lay that older sisterly look of hers reserved only for him, as she surveyed the state he’s in. “I’ll getcha a beer, and I’m settin’ ya a plate for supper.”
Bill’s at the door before the redhead could even fully step through the entrance. “‘Ey look what the cat dragged in, huh?” sharp, booming tone contrasted by that large grin of his. Smirking broadly as he grabbed the younger man by the shoulder to yank him inside. Slapped him on the back in that big brother type greeting.
“Hey, there, Bill.” Forced himself to return something akin to a smile back. A small wave of relief fluttered in his chest at just being in the other’s presence.
Taking a hopping step back, Bill made room for his brother in arms to move further in, out of the way so he could close the front door and said, “Go sit down, Babe. Don’t go actin’ like ya don’t know the place.”
Motioned for Babe to head into the livingroom, while he shifted his weight from his crutch to his leg to lock up behind them. If it wasn’t so visually obvious, Babe wouldn’t have guessed that Bill had lost a leg. Moved around so well. Didn’t lose a bit of that confident swagger. Surprisingly resilient, didn’t let it affect him. At least in any way that anyone could tell on the outside. But stupidly he realized it shouldn’t be all that surprising. This was Bill mother fucking Guarnere after all. Goddamn Wild Bill. Something like a li’l ol’ leg wouldn’t be enough to keep him down for long.
From his own mind the younger Philadelphian couldn’t erase how bad the wound had looked right after it’d happened, though. Just the sheer amount of blood… Between him and Toye, there wasn’t a single bit of snow in that area that had not turned a gory red. Soaked through everything including the worn knees of Eugene’s pants as he knelt in the puddle trying to keep them from bleeding out. Their ragged flesh exposed to the bitter temperature. Loose skin flapping angrily in the wind like a disturbing flag. Both men trying to put on brave faces, after they’d lost their limbs in a horrifying moment of pure agony. Babe couldn’t forget a single second of it. Couldn’t help but wonder if he’d have been able to bounce back like Bill had. If he would be able to walk around with a smug look on his face. Couldn’t imagine having to live with that sort of token from hell for the rest of his life.
Bill’s saying something. Was he asking something or just the usual greeting banter? Fuck. Babe tried to tune back into the world around him enough to engage where he needed to. Opted for a grin and a noncommittal shake of his head. Or maybe it was more of a nod. Bill didn’t seem to catch anything amiss. Probably assumed it was just Babe being stupid about whatever. Large hand cupped his shoulder, and mildly shoved him to the couch Frannie’s folks got them for a wedding present. Still fairly new and stiffly squeaked under Babe’s weight.
As Bill shifted and settled himself in his arm chair across from the other, Babe’s mind dragged him away once again. Was that what it was like for Eugene? Out there somewhere living with every injury he ever had to treat? Was he wearing every single bloody injury he’d had his hands on as a scar of his own? Seared into his brain like a life long wound no one would see.
Eugene had been constantly bloody, since the day Babe had met him. Stains on the cuffs of his jacket that turned deeper and darker shades of red as time went on. Bastogne had been the worst. Blood covered both of his entire forearms. Soaked through his tanker jacket to his clothes underneath. Cracks in his dry knuckles turned brown from others' blood. Running around thought artillery fire with no weapon, desperate to save hopelessly ripped apart bodies with little to no goddamn supplies. Pants just as stained as the rest of him from kneeling in bloody snow. Shoving his bare hands against open wounds to try to stem the endless flow of gore that stuck on more than just his skin. All while spouting reassurances like everyone was going to walk away unscathed…
The pain in his stomach had grown damn near unbearable. So dizzy he felt like he could tumble out of the couch without being able to stop himself. Let his head bounce off the edge of the coffee table. Split his forehead open and bleed all over Frannie’s clean blue carpet.
“M’sorry, Bill,” he rasped. The look on Bill’s face- he must’ve been talking- Babe hadn’t meant to interrupt, but- “I shouldn’t have just popped in like this.” Words stammered and clumsy against his tongue. Foreign. On his feet though he didn’t remember standing up. An alien. “M’sorry, I don’ know what I was thinkin’. I-”
“Babe,” the older man snapped, effectively shaking the other out of whatever spiral he was stuck on. Thick, dark eyebrows knit together sharply. He leaned forward just enough to be able to jab Babe in the chest with his crutch. Threatening him that he better sit his ass back down if he knew what was good for him. Unspoken but deadly certain.
Frannie seemed to have froze at the entry of the room. Walked in right at the worst moment, as Babe faltered and fell back into his seat shaken like a kid waking from a nightmare. There were two cold beers in her hands. She gave Bill a look that he didn’t return. He was still too busy staring Babe down.
“Dinner’s gonna be ready in thirty minutes,” she announced cheerfully like nothing was wrong. Passed Bill’s beer into his hand before turning to give Babe his. Raised her eyebrows in a mock seriousness, added, “Ya betta not be tryna go no where, Heffron. My sauce has been simmerin’ all day, and I already set ya a plate. Don’t go wastin’ my hard work, understand me, boy?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered softly. Cheeks flushed.
She gave him a thin smile, and a single pat on his head that could be interpreted as nurturing or threatening. Really could’ve been either knowing her. Glanced over once more at Bill before heading back to her kitchen.
There was a particular type of warmth in the Guarnere home that coaxed Babe’s body to relax into the couch as much as his stomachache would allow him. Frannie was the best thing that’d ever happened to Bill, and that was God’s honest truth. Both so well suited for the other. Complimented each other in a way that was only in the movies. Rolled with their flaws and shortcomings because it was all worth it for the good they offered to one another. And damn if Bill didn’t deserve a love like that…
“Ya seen Spina recently?” Bill questioned mildly. The elder was still giving him a quizzically narrowed eyes. Working out whatever was wrong with the redhead. Possibly using the casual sounding question to either catch him off guard or get him to relax.
“Nah,” he answered, taking a long swig of his beer. Revelled in the refreshing coolness running down his throat. Hadn’t realized how thirsty he was, or how dry his mouth had become.
Bill just grunted like it didn’t really matter or he wasn’t surprised before continuing, “Joe Toye’s plannin’ a trip up here next week.”
This time a real smile broke across his face. “Is he? Hey, that’ll be swell! It’s been too long since I’ve seen his ugly mug.”
“Eh, s’what I told ‘im too,” he agreed, drinking with a grin of his own. “Anyways, I’s just thinkin’ when he’s up that’d it be good ta get ol’ Ralph and youse ta come ova for a poker night or somethin’. Think Joe’d like ta see as many of the fella’s as we can wrangle.”
When was the last time he’d talked to Spina? Not that Babe had been going out of his way to ignore him or anything, but he certainly hadn’t been keeping in touch as good as he’d been when they’d first returned back home. They’d gotten together a few times a week in the beginning. There had been something that shadowed Ralph’s eyes the last time they’d spoken. Something that was too similar to the look Eugene had been plagued with. That was when Ralph had mentioned to Babe that he hadn’t heard from Gene. Didn’t know if the Louisianan was okay or even alive.
The sick feeling was hitting Babe harder than it had all day.
Cannot escape it. Thought maybe he could tucked away to hide with the Guarnere’s, but it seemed as if he was wrong once again.
“Ya heard from the doc, Babe?”
He about choked on his beer. Fuck, when had Bill become a goddamn mindreader?! The alcohol burned his nose leaving him coughing and sputtering. Gave him a second to gather his thoughts. Wrack his brain to figure out where the hell that question came from. Tried not to whither under that heavy look Bill had him pinned under.
“No, I- Uh- No, no, I ain’t heard from Doc,” he spluttered with all the fluidity of sandpaper against cement.
“Hmm,” the other responded shortly. Seemed to be nodding to himself, while mulling over how Babe fidgeted badly under his gaze. “Any of the otha fellas hear from him?”
Babe just shook his head. Tried to swallow past the lump growing in his throat.
“No one’s heard from him?” he pressed, frowning deeply. Suddenly appearing a bit troubled by the situation, and Babe’s insides clenched at the look. “Ya know where the bastard lives?”
He shrugged in a way that he hoped didn’t look stiff or like he was physically trying to hold himself together so as to not embarrassingly fall apart. “Got a vague idea. Somewhere down Bayou Chene from what I know.”
“Eva think someone oughtta run down there an’ check on him then?”
Babe wanted to snap. To yell. Scream. Of course he’s fucking thought about it! The thought plagued him every goddamn day! Couldn’t stop thinking about dropping everything to search high and low across all of fucking Louisiana until he found out what had happened to his sweet bayou boy.
But he couldn’t say any of that. Didn’t know how to answer that question at all. How could he answer that question in a way like a concerned friend and not a desperate lover? He wasn’t convinced he was any good at covering his queerness, when it came to how he felt about Eugene. Afterall, both Ralph and Liebgott had figured it out long ago, and Babe had just been mother fucking lucky they were safe with that sort of information.
It wasn’t as if he thought Bill would hurt him. Not even for something like that. But it could easily cost him their friendship. He wasn’t sure he would survive a blow like that. Bill was his brother. Felt more at home with the Guarnere’s than he did his own family. If Bill turned to hate him because Babe couldn’t keep himself together…
He settled for a piss poor shrug.
“Well, goddamn, Babe, are ya the man’s pal or ain’t ya?”
The raise in tone had something inside of him snap.
“‘Course I’m his fuckin’ friend! The hell do ya mean?!”
Or at least they were. Hadn’t they been? At one time? They had been at the very least that.
Right?
But what kind of friend goes radio silent for that long without a single sign of life…
“Sure thought youse was,” Gaurnere egged on. “Sure as hell seemed like ya was the only one Doc would even speak ta somma those Bastogne days. Don’t know what kinda friend won’t go check on their buddy, when there’s reason ta be concerned.”
“Think there’s reason ta be concerned?” The bottom of his stomach plummeted to the floor. Shattered like a baseball through a window.
“Nah, probably not,” he admitted. “Doc’s always been a real private fella even before they dropped our asses in Normandy. Figure he’s just adjustin’ ta home again like we all is, an’ jus’ don’t wanna none ya botherin’ ‘im.” He paused only to wash some of his words down with a sip before adding, “But wouldn’t hurt for someone ta check on ‘im. Some of these fellas get home, an’ they-”
He cut himself off abruptly. Halting to actually think through what he was trying to say in a very unlike Wild Bill fashion. Didn’t help the sick churning in Babe’s gut.
“Nah, m’sure Doc’s not-,” he paused again. Frowning at himself, shook his head in irritation. “What harm would it do ta check on an ol’ war pal, eh?”
Frannie cut off the rest of the conversation with the call that dinner was ready. Some of the nausea dissipated as talk at the table was on anything other than old Easy Company members and men who couldn’t handle the shift of being at home. Even found himself laughing like his normal self, when both Fran and Bill tried to get him on their side over a petty argument. That Guarnere warmth chased away the prickling fear for the next few hours.
Healed him enough to stomach the walk home. A new determination settled over him. He’d go see the times the trains were running south, and get himself a ticket. Nothing would stop him from being down to Louisiana before the new week was out.
***
Brown dead leaves tapped against the windowpane on their downward descent. Announcing their death before their final resting place on the ground with all the others that had fallen before them. Drawing out their final moments by swaying in the wind. Twirling and flipping like they’re trying to change direction to avoid fate. But the destination was inevitable. The autumn wind would let them down eventually no matter how the leaves tried to string it out. Only to land in the growing pile of once bright green leaves that had been bursting with life. Leaves that were now slowly being ground up to dissolve into the brown earth that had once been so far beneath them. Their greenery forgotten.
A fate as dreary as the gray sky above. Not dark enough to tease rain, but dense enough to block out most of the sunshine. Air cooling, but not fully lessening the humidity. Still warm enough to break a sweat outside depending on how long someone was out. Louisiana’s humidity a thick blanket to snuff out any aesthetic fall weather. Doing nothing besides adding to the muggy bleakness of that Saturday afternoon. The change of seasons setting in.
Eugene’s eyes twitched underneath closed eyelids. Rolling and moving along with something only he could see in the throws of his own mind. Chin tucked into his chest as his facial muscles contracting against whatever horror he was currently trapped in. Face cast in the shadow of the overhang of his Memere’s porch. Darkness swallowing his countenance.
So far gone in his own head, he was completely unaware of the light, quick footsteps clacking up the porch steps. Sensible pumps clicked against old wooden planks in their approach headed straight for where he sat propped up against the front doorframe. A gloved hand reaching out for the pulsepoint on his neck-
He jumped back so quickly, the back of his head slammed against the house with dizzying force! Black spots danced in his vision as whoever touched him shrieked and fell away from him close to the edge of the porch. Blood pumping hot and quick in his veins, as his body launched him to his feet before his vision or brain had time to clear from restless sleep and the sudden impact to his head. Scrambling to move before the airstrike. Before the world around him started blowing apart. Had to be on his feet before the sure calls of ‘medic’ started.
“Fuck, Eugene!” a voice that didn’t belong in Europe surprised him enough to break through his fog. “Scared me, so bad! What’d you think you’re doin’ layin’ like that on the porch? Looked like you were dead for Pete’s sake!”
Breath was trapped in his chest. His throat. Choking him. Suffocating his brain that was struggling to grasp where he was and what was happening. Floundering like he was submerged under icy water, deprived of all oxygen. Unable to break through to reach for the surface.
“Eugene?” the feminine voice made it through his gargled hearing. Familiar voice. Safe. Someone he trusted. Who-
“Gosh, Eugene, can you hear me?”
A strangled affirming grunt somehow made it passed his lips. At least he hoped it was affirming and not some animalistic growl. His eyes refused to clear up. Fuzzy with sleep and flashing images of blood in the snow.
He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, while squeezing his eyes shut. Force the swirling panic out of his body. Bring himself to whichever reality he was currently in. Pull his soul back down into his body. Force his mind to recognize the figure in front of him.
“- Gene?”
She was speaking. A girl. A woman. Her face-
Minnie. His little sister Minnie. Her brow twisted in something akin to concern or fear or a combination of the two. Large cool toned brown eyes staring at him like he’d grown a second head. And maybe he had for how disoriented he felt. Two heads each in different worlds. One still trapped somewhere deep in a European hell, and the other trying to make sense of the world he’d left behind.
But Minnie was reaching for him. White gloved hand moving out to touch his face again, and he forced himself not to flinch away that time. Didn’t want to scare her. Little sister standing there in front of him dressed far too nicely to be in war torn Europe. Fancy little clutch in her other hand. Dark red outings dress paired with black pumps and tights. Hat a little disarrayed from stumbling away from Eugene, when he’d startled her.
“Hi, Min,” he mumbled. Voice far too rough, too soft. Sounding a mess even to his own ears. Ducked his head against the wash of shame spreading throughout his chest.
Her fingers didn’t linger where they brushed against the light stubble on his cheek. A quick touch. A reassurance that he was still real, and nothing more.
She huffed a little as she dropped her arm back down to her side. Red lips pressed together in an attempt to not blurt out whatever was on her mind before she had a chance to filter it first. Eyes scanning over him quickly like maybe she was looking for-
“Didn’t mean a’ scare you,” he started, cleared his throat. “M’sorry. Y’alrigh’?”
“Shouldn’t sleep outside in this weather,” she scolded, sounding all too much like their mama. “Gittin’ colder out here. You’re gonna git yourself sick!”
He almost laughed. Just about doubled over with just how ridiculous that sounded to him now. How absolutely absurd to call the current Louisiana weather cold. That wasn’t cold. Not anywhere close to fucking cold. Barely a whisper of true cold. And maybe he would’ve called the weather chilly back before he headed off to Camp Toccoa, but he certainly wouldn’t anymore.
The weather felt downright tropical compared to Bastogne. In no way could compare to how blisteringly freezing it had been in those foxholes. The way it got into their bones, and made each and every movement torture. How his gloveless fingers had burned with it. Never knew cold could burn like that. Turning them as red as if he’d placed them in boiling water. Peeled the skin off of his lips. Cracked apart his knuckles. Buried itself so deep into his chest that he still wasn’t sure it was fully gone.
No. No weather Louisiana could dish up would be anywhere remotely close.
But he couldn’t explain that to Minnie. Had no desire to, and even if he did, he had no words to. So he bit off his incredulous desire to laugh to settle for a nod of agreement with her.
Desperate to change the subject, he glanced pointedly towards her car parked in front of the house. “Ain’t bring li’l Maisy with you, huh?”
“No, she’s in tap class Saturday afternoons,” she explained with a sigh and small smile. An upset wrinkle still creased her brow. “I’ll come earlier next week, so as I can bring her with me. She likes it up here, you know? ‘Specially since her new favorite uncle’s here with a never endin’ candy supply it seems.”
Gene huffed a breath of a laugh that was nothing more than a puff of air through his nose. Lips turned up ever so slightly as he shook his head. He’d made it a habit of buying a piece or two of something sweet after every shift at the general store he got work at. He’d worked there as a teenager, and they were happy to have him back while he tried to get back on his feet. They didn’t say anything about his habit of buying a chocolate bar here, a peppermint stick there, or a few liquorice sticks.
Probably assumed it had to do with the lack of sugary treats soldiers had gone without, but the truth was that Eugene could barely stomach most of it anymore. Especially not chocolate. Tasted rotten. Refused to go down his throat. Gagged him with memories and the metallic smell of blood.
But sweet two year old Maisy was quite fond of anything chocolate or sugary, so he made sure she had her choice of treats when she’d come with her mama.
Thinking of those rosy, round cheeks smeared with melted chocolate, had him grinning to himself. It was almost strong enough to dispel the hot, heavy embarrassment of losing his control over himself in front of his sister. Wasn’t fully sure how to move on from that. Felt more awkward than he had, when Minnie had first come to see him after getting home. Alien and out of place. Clumsy with no idea how to be himself anymore.
He moved to sit on the edge of the top porch step. Elbows propped on his knees to allow his forehead to rest on his hand. Rubbed wearily at his temples as he tried to force the rest of the creeping fog away. Attempt to be a human being for at least the remainder of Minnie’s visit. To pretend he didn’t still faintly hear the call for ‘medic’ any time he briefly closed his eyes.
The boards underneath him rattled with age as Minnie moved to join him. Dropped her purse to lay beside her before descending to sit. Her pretty dress, heels, and pressed gloves a sharp contrast to the old home. But she sat next to him with a familiarity that felt very much like times past. Resting on the porch together with nothing to do other than avoid home, after a long day of helping Memere in her garden. A good kind of tired tugging at their eyelids. Listening to the frogs and crickets singing as dusk settled.
“How long have you-,” she stopped herself before she’d truly started. Pulling at the finger tips of her gloves, as she seemed to search for an appropriate rephrase. “Do you, um, sleep outside often?”
Do you forget where you are often? Do you wake up in starts and fits because you can’t discern reality often? Do you act like a raving lunatic often?
“No,” he answered probably too quickly to sound natural. What Minnie didn’t say hung stale in the air. Her concern, though understandable, was deeply unwanted by her older brother. “M’fine, Min. Didn’t mean a’ fall asleep out here, alrigh’? Didn’t realise how tired I was ‘til I came out here an’ sat down.”
She pursed her lips and nodded. Didn’t push it. Busied herself with smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress across her knees, while seemingly mulling over what she was planning to say next.
Dread sat hot and heavy in Eugene’s stomach. His sisters were never the quiet type. Never bothered to soften the sting of their words. Both very opinionated, and didn’t believe in sugar coating anything. Watching Minnie struggle to find a ‘right’ way to say something burned more than anything she could actually say. Made him feel weak. Shattered glass everyone had to tiptoe around so it wouldn’t break further into unrepairable pieces. He’d give almost anything for her to just treat him like she always had. Like he was still himself. Like he wasn’t some strange ghost who fell asleep in random places, and woke up ready to run to calls that belonged in Europe.
“You know,” she began, unable to make eye contact, “I don’t mind helpin’ you with food and things, if- You know, if workin’ is too much for you right now, which is understandable. Mrs. Laundry’s boy-”
“Work is fine, Minnie, I don’ need- I-,” he cut himself off before he said something really mean and stupid that he wouldn’t be able to take back. Lips pressed so tight to keep the rush of anger from slipping out. Didn’t need his little sister taking care of him. It was bad enough that she felt like she had to come check on him every Saturday. Most certainly didn’t need her bringing him goddamn groceries, while he sat on his ass like a useless mother fucking piece of shit over a few rough dreams!
“S’really not as bad as you’re thinkin’ it is,” he forced himself to say measuredly. Brought his eyes up to look dead in hers to make a point. “I’m fine. You don’ gotta worry ‘bout me, alrigh’?”
“Alright, Gene, alright,” she backed down quickly. Smiling falsely and nodding her head like that was all the assurance she needed. “I just wanted to make sure y- Yeah, no of course. You likin’ your work alright?”
“It’s a job.” He gave her a small smile, and shrugged simply. Not much to say. Wasn’t all that interesting of a job, but it provided an income and that’s all he needed for the moment really.
“The Broussard’s mentioned seein’ you to me the other day.” She was never one to be much deterred by the lack of Gene’s participation in conversations. Neither were his other siblings for that matter. An unspoken acknowledgment that speaking to him meant doing most of the talking, which none of them ever seemed to mind. “They was askin’ me about you, and where you’re holin’ up.”
His heart leapt into his throat. The Broussard’s had always been close to the Roe’s. A little too close, and he knew that anything Mrs. Broussard knew, his mama was sure to know too, and that wasn’t something Eugene had stopped to consider since being home.
The look in Minnie’s eyes reflected the expression that must’ve marred his face at the realization.
“Mama know where I’m stayin’?” He’s surprised at how calm his voice sounded coming out. Void of the panic that was sweeping through his system. Of course he wasn’t stupid enough to think that his folks didn’t know he was back. Word gets around after all and if not from the Broussard’s, then from someone else. He’d been back long enough for them to know he’d survived the hell across the sea. But the most he could possibly dare to hope for was that they didn’t know where he was living.
“If they do, they ain’t heard it from me,” she stated boldly. Tiny frown wrinkled her brow. “I told ‘em both a long time ago that I ain’t talkin’ about you to them, and if they want to do somethin’ a’ fix things then that’s somethin’ they’re gonna have to figure out themselves. I ain’t gettin’ in the middle of nothin’! I ain’t even let them know I’d seen you at all since you’ve been back.”
He just nodded as he lacked the words to express more. A sickness took hold in his stomach. Churning and knotting inside. Demanding attention along with the bubbling anxiety.
“Gene?” Irritation drained from her tone, as she did her best to catch his eye. “I wouldn’t go around home just yet. Pa’s still- He… I just don’t reckon he’s safe to be around still.”
An involuntary snort at the words exploded out of him before he said, “I ain’t got no intention a’ tryna speak a’ him. Don’ worry ‘bout that.”
“That’s probably for the best,” she sighed.
They didn’t talk about it further. No reason to. Neither wanting to bring up all that hurt and what had gone down to have Eugene disappear to join the Airborne without a word to anyone. Too much to go into it. Would do more harm than good.
“I’m gonna have to pick Maisy up.” Minnie stood briskly. Dusted her skirt off from any dirt that had been on the porch.
He nodded easily. Something loosened in his chest, as she began making her exit. Not that he didn’t like having her come up and see him or anything. Just hard to have someone give him that sort of attention and scrutiny for more than a few minutes. Made him feel like a bug under a lifted shoe. A wrong move could turn into a devastating blow.
“You know you’re welcome to come by our house tomorrow after service?” she invited, while walking backwards down the walkway to her car. “I know you ain’t ready to come back to church what with Mama and Pa there, but it’d be nice to have you for Sunday lunch.”
A knot twisted in his stomach as he managed out the words, “I’ll think ‘bout it, alrigh’?”
“It’d be good for you to be around folks you don’t just work with, Eugene,” she added with a lightly scolding tone. Shook a finger at him for emphasis, adding, “Wouldn’t kill you to come out and have some fun. Maisy would love it, if you came.”
“I hear you,” he murmured, shamefaced in the knowledge that they both knew he wasn’t going to come. Rubbed the back of his neck that was slowly flushing. “Said I’ll think ‘bout it, Min.”
“You can do better than think about it,” she admonished in her unrelenting way. Opened up her car door, but paused before swinging down to get inside. Seemed to bite the inside of her cheek, and couldn’t make eye contact with him before she added, “Don’t just force yourself to be isolated from people who care about you to punish yourself. You don’t deserve to be punished for any of it, Gene.”
“I’ll see you later.” He forced the words past the unbearable dryness in his throat and mouth. Suddenly so sick, he was fearful of throwing up before she’d closed the car door.
She had no idea what she was talking about. Had no clue as to what he had done to punish himself for. What countless other families should be blaming him for. All the lives he’d failed to save. Of course she didn’t know. How could she? Best that she didn’t too. Couldn’t understand the full weight unless it had been lived. Would be just another wickedness marred on his character for her to be ashamed of. So he just watched the gravel crunch under her tires as she backed up to turn around and leave him to his memories.