Blue Glass

Big Deals

July, 1917

"May I come with you to tend to Richthofen again?" I asked Käte the next day.
She gave me a strange look. "Why?"
"It was a yes or no question," I said. "May I or May I not?"
Again the strange look. "You suddenly seem so adamant to tend to him, Lea."
"You haven't answered my question." If I had to resort to using drastic evasive tactics to get what I wanted, so be it.
Käte fixed me with a pointed glance. She didn't say another word to me the rest of the way to Room 23.
Manfred was propped up on a stack of pillows, reading what looked like an army report. He looked up as we entered, his gaze flitting past Käte to land on me. My stomach promptly tied itself into knots as his hooded blue eyes met my dark ones. It felt like he was staring into the depths of my soul.
Käte shut the door behind me a bit more forcefully than she ought to. I jumped a little at the slam; Manfred arched an eyebrow but said nothing more.
"Good afternoon," I said finally. "I trust you're feeling better?"
"To an extent, yes." He set the newspaper he had in his hands down. "And how are you...Natalia?"
I didn't know whether to relax or to bristle at his usage of my nom de guerre.
"I'm fine," I said tightly. "Thank you for your concern."
"The pleasure is all mine."
The chair squeaked as I eased myself down into it. Manfred picked up the newspaper and flipped to a certain page.
"Do you read army reports?"he asked.
"I have yet to start."
He nodded slowly as if to himself, his blue eyes darting from one side of the page to another as he read.
"Are you good at reading out loud?"he asked.
I blinked. "Yes..?"
"You see, part of being a celebrity is contending with the loads of mail I get from girls all over Germany. If you would be so kind as to read some of them for me..."
I nodded slowly. Inwardly, I was sort of curious to find out what sort of things these girls wrote to him on a daily basis. "Where are they?"
He gestured to a stack of envelopes on the table next to his bed.
The first thing I noticed when I picked them up along with the letter opener next to them was that they all reeked of a mixture of cheap and expensive perfume. I didn't bother to guess why and proceeded to slit the first one open. It was from a certain "Viktoria Weiss" from 14 Hindenburgstrasse in Brandenburg.
I turned the contents over and out fell a folded sheet of paper and a glossy square that was clearly a photograph.
"This is she," I said, struggling to keep my voice level. I didn't look at the picture as I held it in front of his face.
Manfred cut his eyes to one side to cast a cursory glance at the girl in the picture. His lips curled in a tiny smile that vanished almost as soon as I took the photo away from him and turned it towards myself.
A dark haired girl with a heart shaped face stared up at me with soulful eyes. Her lips were parted just so, almost like she was inviting the person looking at her picture to kiss the glossy paper. I couldn't even look like that with ten pounds of makeup on my face, I thought miserably. White hot jealousy coursed steadily through my veins as I set the photo down and picked up the letter that accompanied it. It  wasn't much—just your typical sappy admiring  love letter overflowing with mushy phrases that I read out loud to Manfred in the most apathetic of tones I could muster, although I felt like crying inside. For his part, Manfred listened in silence, the only indication of his amusement the tiny smile that hooked his mouth whenever I read an overly sentimental line.
"She has a way with words, doesn't she?"he said when I finished reading.
I nodded slowly. "It must be so fun, getting letters like these from so many girls every single day."
"Between you and me, I hardly ever read them. I use them to allay my boredom here. Read me another one, please?"
I picked up another letter and slit it open, shaking out a photo and a piece of paper. This girl was just as pretty as the last, with blonde hair instead of black.
"She's pretty." Manfred nodded approvingly at the picture  I held up. "What does she have to say to me?"
I silently read through the contents of the letter and cringed. "This girl is literally prostituting herself out to you."
Manfred smirked. "Let me see."
I passed him the letter and watched him read it. His face barely changed; if anything, I could commend him for his amazing self control.
To my surprise, he reached over and handed it back.
"She sounds boring," he said dryly. "Next one, please."

I was halfway through the fifteenth letter when Käte opened the door carrying a steaming tray of food. I had never been so happy to see her throughout my stay in the hospital as I had then and jumped up to go so fast I nearly knocked my chair over.
"Take it easy!" Käte said disapprovingly. "Where are you off to now?"
"My cousin," I said over my shoulder as I breezed out of the room, not caring that the crackly tears in my voice were clearly audible. "I ought to see to it that he's being fed."

Later that night, as I lay on a cot barely large or strong enough to hold me, I tried to put my finger down on why I felt so sad whenever I thought of Manfred in between crying jags.
I should have known he already had admirers. I should've known that he probably writes letters to and calls millions of other girls in his country.
Then why am I making such a big deal about it?

A/N: sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than usual...things get serious in the next few chapters though so stay posted!
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