A girl and her camera

Chapter fourteen

Guilt.

The feelings between Martha and Vera seemed tenser than ever now. They both came and went from the apartment, only as they needed, and scarcely spoke to one another. And in those rare moments when they did speak, it would only be something like 'Please pass the salt', or 'what time is dinner?'. It was extremely uncomfortable for the both of them, but neither wanted to be the first to raise the white flag and call a truce. Martha, because she grew tired of being the grown-up in this situation, and wished for her mother to be her mother again. And Vera, because she was simply afraid.

During a time like this, Martha was only too happy that she had means of distraction. In fact, three means of distraction, to be exact. The truth, the documentary, and Samuel. And there was no guessing what her favorite distraction was. Or who, to be specific. And Samuel himself, was only too happy to take her mind off of such troubles, in the best way he knew how. Kissing her, and kissing her, and kissing her, until he could hear her moan, gently in submission. Martha loved that. In fact, she loved it so much, that sometimes, kissing just didn't seem like enough. No, she didn't want to go that far with him. Yet. But after all this time, she wished he'd do just something else. Like maybe, perhaps, kissing a part of her that wasn't just her lips...

Like a flash, Martha snapped out of her daydream, and Hanna began to speak to her. The two were in the classroom they used for the school paper, during their study class for the afternoon. And since the two had no homework, their teacher thought it only fair that they be allowed to use that time to work on the school newsletters. After all, the teachers awaited their share of the news, just as anxiously as the students awaited the next edition of the truth.

"So as we left the cinema, Bart told me to wait at the door for a moment. I wondered, what on earth is he doing? And then he came out, with a bouquet! Isn't that romantic? And they were Crysianthyms, my favorite."

Even Martha had to admit, that was rather romantic. How did Bart even know that Crysianthyms were Hanna's favorite flower, anyway? Did he see her admiring some, once? Or did he just take a wild guess? Either way, it was such a thoughtful thing of him to do. Exactly what Samuel wanted to do, Martha thought, if he could. If this miserable war wasn't keeping them apart, Samuel could've romanced Martha to her hearts content.

"That's really sweet," Martha agreed, "Did he kiss you at the front door?"

"Actually..." Hanna was blushing! Martha could hardly believe this. Another thing Hanna had rarely done was blush. And now that she was, Martha could only guess one thing. Hanna, like her, was falling in love.

"Tell me every detail!" Martha demanded, excited. "I want to hear."

"Well, there isn't too much to tell," Hanna explained, "He walked me home, we stood at the front on the door for a minute or two; not saying anything, but just looking at one another. And then he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. That was it. But Martha, it felt so..."

Like she was floating? Martha knew the feeling, all too well. Samuel's kisses made her feel like she was a balloon; floating, blissfully in the sky, without a care in the world. And now Hanna could feel that too, with Bart. It just seemed like sheer luck, that Martha and her friend were falling in love, exactly at the same time. Like a big, silly coincidence that most best friends dream of having.

"I cannot wait until this war is over," Martha said, wistfully. "Then Sam and I can be a proper couple, with you and Bart."

"And then we can go on dates together," Hanna added, "We'll have real love. Not the cheap, lousy kind that Eve and all her boyfriends have."

It was strange to talk like this with Hanna, but it felt good too. It felt relieving, for Martha just to be a regular teenager again. Even though being a grown-up was part of her responsibilities, Martha did miss just being sixteen. It was freeing, liberating...normal. And normality was hard to come by.