ADDI THE BADDI
I'm up all night thinking about what Ben said. Then I would flick back to my interaction with Tom, hyper-analysing every second I can recall (which, admittedly, isn't very much).
I'm met with yet another visitor: Courtney Revah. She stares at me from the entrance, her head angled at forty-five degrees, without her award-winning grin. Just a frown. I seem to have that effect on people. "Jus' passed Louis in the hall," she tells. "Didn't seem too happy."
I almost ask who? before I realise—Ben. No doubt because of me. My heart deflates.
A couple of seconds tick before she realises. "Did you guys have a fight?"
"I don't think so. Probably not. Maybe."
She laughs. Even her laugh has a southern drawl about it. Sounds like chewing on the end of a stalk of wheat whilst riding a horse. "It's okay, sweetie. No need to explain now. Y'know, the average American marriage lasts seventy-two hours? So all things considered, you and Louis are doing superbly."
Of course. She's here to sus out my fake marriage, to stick a nail in its coffin. Maybe she has a sense of guilt and feels bad if she hits on a married man. A newly-divorced one, however, is much more acceptable. No one would question her morality then.
I want to tell her to stop this pursuit. It would save her a tonne of effort if she asked Ben directly. Inexplicably, I feel a tugging at my chest. I hang my head.
"You'll get through this. I mean, you're Sophie Anderson. You're a workaholic that don't give up, and your man has more hearts than we have prisoners in this hole. One look ain't much, but anyone can tell that you truly love each other. So no stress, girl. You'll be good as new in no time."
Glancing up, I find Courtney wearing a softer expression. Maybe she means what she said. Maybe she was just telling me what I wanted to hear. Either way, I get the sense that she's trying to help me.
And maybe the world isn't against me.
***
Over the next few days, I never seem to see Ben, but some ghostly shell of him. Dave and Courtney tell rumours of him. His face is fleetingly superimposed on another in the crowd. Sometimes, I think I hear his treads outside my tent until I realise they're too heavy or too shuffle-y or too sharp. Sometimes they're absolutely right, but they never enter my tent.
With a rough swatting, the current guard holds back the curtain for Fred and Tom. Switching my gaze outside the tent I catch a glimpse of someone familiar before it shuts again. I hear the mumbles of an exchange, catching a few words—here, stand, construction, swap?—before a set of footsteps retreat.
"Ben's not coming in?" Tom asks. At least he's right by my side. Always has been. A part of me believes it might always be this way too. But me? I'd ventured half the globe and I'm still not there for him. I'd bothered, and that was more than I'd ever done before. Now all that was going to waste.
Why?
Fear of failure. The fear that I'd come this far just to fall flat on my face. Who's to say the guard isn't listening to our conversations? That they won't report us to Johnson? I could be incarcerated, wasting everything I'd done to get to Tom, to make sure he was okay, to get him out.
Thus, I resort to self-sabotage.
...idiot.
"Okay, Fred," I say, still speaking in my poorly-feigned accent. "It looks like you've fully recovered from the infection."
He hurrahs. "Now I can kick those American asswipes with both feet, eh?"
"Sure," laughs Tom. "Though, I'm not sure if that's the best thing to do."
Sweet Tom, always thinking in everyone's best interest. If only my mind worked more like him, I'd be smart, for starters. And then the 'problems' I'm tackling now would be nonexistent. I'd be handling more important things, and we'd definitely be out of here already.
"So I don't have to come back anymore, right?" asks Fred and all of a sudden, I do feel quite sad that I won't be frequently visited by him and Tom.
YOU'RE SO DUMB JUST ASK HIM FOR HELP IF THIS IS A PROBLEM??? IDIOT!!!!!
Oh right lol!! Sorry I forgot I could just talk to Tom as a guard stands ten metres away with no repercussions! Be dumber, Siri.
"No, I think you're good to go," I smile weakly leading them to the exit.
Fred heads out first and Tom sets a hand on my shoulder. Why do all these people keep touching me? Do I look like a door handle? "What's up?" he asks me.
"Nothing," I say, burning him with my coldness. I flick a glance up to him and he looks sorry for asking.
You know what? Ben was right. I can't be like this to Tom.
What about me? I said that too. I'm right too.
Whatever. I have to find my way around this.
As he pulls away, I slam my hand on his wrist. "Just wait," I promise him.
I struggle with the canvas flap, searching for the guard outside my door and searching for an excuse to send him away. That's when I find Ben standing guard outside my tent. "Is something wrong, Nurse?" he asks monotonously. In the distance, Fred is being escorted back by the previous soldier. They must've switched places. Ben must've known I was going to do this.
"No. But thank you, Lieutenant."
