The airport public address speakers crackled to life. The cultured woman’s voice first gave the message in German and then switched to English.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please. Lufthansa flight one-six-three from
Sergeant Michael Wilson turned to the woman beside him.
“That’s our flight honey, let’s go.”
The woman looked at Michael and smiled.
“Ready when you are dear.”
---------------
Michael awoke to the gray light of dawn and the sound of smoky saxophones floating through the silent building. Normally he didn’t sleep in the barracks but he had drawn fire-guard, two hours on and two off throughout the watches of the night and he had been catching some rack time. Following the sound he came to the source, a young Private sitting on his foot-locker polishing his boots and listening to a gigantic boom-box. The private told him the name of the song and that morning, after he got off duty Michael went to the P.X. and bought Al Stewart’s “Year of the Cat” tape. He smiled as he popped the tape into his stereo at home. Settling back in his chair he listened as Stewart sang;
“On a morning from a Bogart movie…”
---------------
In a country where they had turned back time, two strangers walked together through crooked cobblestone streets and narrow alleyways. It had been a golden day. Michael and the woman he had met on the bus had shopped for souvenirs in the blue-tiled stalls of the open-air bazaars and sampled olives and fresh strawberries in the farmer’s market of the tiny medieval walled city of
As evening approached, they had kicked off their sandals on the beach and let the warm waters of the Mediterranean caress their bare legs. Then they had chosen a little patio café, shaded by trellises of fragrant flowering vines, where they could watch the light of sunset burnish the yellow stones of the old castle and turn them to gold in the fading light.
The cobalt sky was dusted with the first stars of dusk as Spanish fishermen, hiking up from their garishly painted boats on the beach, offered their choicest catch to the restaurant’s diners from which to choose for their paella. The couple talked as they waited for their dinner and shared a pitcher of iced Sangria. It was the earnest conversation of two strangers who meet on vacation and are drawn to one another. They tell each other everything--and nothing at all.
Later that evening they walked on the battlements talking, and listening to the surf pounding on the rocks far below. Somewhere nearby someone played a guitar and the flamenco music echoed through the maze of ancient streets. A full moon hung low over the tiled roofs like a gold doubloon carelessly tossed onto black velvet.
They stood for a while listening to the music and the surf. The bustling streets of the ancient city had been abandoned by their human inhabitants and replaced by a population of cats. Dozens of cats, of every size and shape, the nighttime citizens of the town, sauntered the moonlit cobblestones on their secret errands.
The couple continued their stroll and followed a winding stairway from the castle’s walls up to the ruins of a medieval church perched high on a rocky promontory overlooking the sea. Although the evening was balmy, Michael put his arm around his companion’s shoulder to keep her warm. She snuggled against his side and looked up at him with moonlight in her eyes. His knees grew weak; his blood throbbed loudly in his ears.
Leaning down to within inches of her lips, Michael waited to see if she would respond. She did, and they melted together in a deep, lingering kiss. The night air was filled with the sounds of surf and Spanish guitars.
She was small, warm, and curvaceous; Michael was tall, with a body hardened by years of soldiering. Sweeping her up in his arms he carried her to the broad marble altar of the ruined church and gently laid her on it. The roof of the ancient building had fallen in centuries ago, so they made love under the blazing stars of the Spanish night.
---------------
Taking his seat on the airplane, Michael sat gazing hungrily out the window, clinging to his final moments in
His throat thickened and his eyes grew moist as the plane left the ground. With his face pressed to the window, Michael watched
---------------
Dawn smiled across her desk at Michael. Since moving to
The man on the other side of the desk was near her age, late twenties, and just under six feet tall. He had the lean muscular body of a soldier and intelligent dark brown eyes that crinkled with good humor and met hers with open admiration and honesty.
From where he was sitting, Michael saw a tall, shapely woman, dressed with style and sophistication in the latest European fashions. Long blond hair framed a delicately chiseled face and cerulean eyes.
They had spent the afternoon discussing art, books, and music and were sharing a laugh over some witticism one of them had made when the door opened and a tall, gaunt, middle aged man with receding hair walked in. He leaned across Dawn’s desk and gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. Pulling up a spare chair he joined them around the desk.
“So what are you two giggling about?” he inquired with mild interest.
“We were just discussing that special exhibit of paintings by Gustav Klimt we saw in
Michael smiled at the older man. “Too bad you couldn’t have joined us, Howard. It was the biggest collection of Klimt’s paintings outside
“Sounds hilarious,” said Howard looking bored. “Sorry I missed it but I was snowed under getting the books ready for the yearly visit of the Inspector General.
“That was a great movie,” said Michael.
“Danny Kay was a genius,” Dawn agreed, and they both dissolved into shared laughter again.
Howard looked annoyed.
“I have no clue what you two are snickering about. This was the real U.S. Army Inspector General, and his visits are no laughing matter. The rest of the accounting staff and I were up ’till all hours the week before he arrived making sure every last bean and bullet on the Kaserne was properly accounted for.”
Howard glanced at his gold Rolex.
“You guys about done? I have made reservations for five-thirty at the Jaegerhaus for dinner and we had better get going if we hope to get there on time. You are welcome to join us Michael if you like.”
Dawn crinkled her nose in disgust but Howard missed it. Michael knew she hated that place.
He smiled at Howard and shook his head.
“Thanks but it is almost time for retreat and I have to make formation around the flagpole before they will release me for the night. Then I would have to change into civvies. I would make you guys late.”
They all got up and moved to the front porch of the World War 2 vintage building while Dawn locked up her office.
“Have a great time. Dawn, I will drop by tomorrow unless I get caught for some detail. Good night you two.”
Michael watched Dawn and her husband walk towards where Howard had parked their car and smiled.
“You may have her body, Howard,” he thought, “but I have her mind.”
Still smiling he sauntered off towards the flagpole.
---------------
When the stewardess came by with the drinks cart Michael ordered himself a Chartreuse. Opening the tiny airline bottle he poured the sticky green liqueur into a glass and savored the aroma of pine needles. A faint smile creased his lips as his mind went racing back.
---------------
The September weeks danced by in a warm sensuous haze of wine, moonlight, and romance. The two lovers took water taxies to
Once, in a festive mood, they ordered the house’s ’special Sangria,’ fortified with brandy. Recklessly they followed that with tall-stemmed glasses of Chartreuse that they joked were big enough to act as birdbaths. Inhibitions pleasantly melting into a green fog they whiled away a blissful hour kissing, the aroma of pine needles from the powerful liqueur scenting their breath.
Walking in an opulent, pine scented, haze to the beach, they would have made love on the sand but for the intervention of a pair of stern-faced Guardia Civil in their comical black bicorn hats who ordered them to get dressed and gravely warned them not do such things in broad daylight in a Catholic country.
Fighting to keep their faces straight, the lovers gave their promise to behave, and then glided off down the beach hand in hand, racked with laughter.
---------------
Emerging from the Neue Pinakothek, Michael and Dawn strolled down Barer Straße towards the
Surveying the formal elegance of the shop, with its stiff white tablecloths and sparkling chrome coffee pots, Michael smiled at his companion.
“They sure take pastry seriously in
Dawn smiled archly. “Are you indeed?”
They exchanged guilty glances and went back to discussing art.
----------
The two people boarded the bus that would carry them home to
Oh he knew her favorite color and the name of her cat back when she had been in high school. He also knew that she loved raw oysters live on the half shell, and long massages and that being kissed on the back of the neck always made her smile.
They both seemed to know how to make each other happy in bed but each had carefully avoided other, more intimate, subjects.
Most importantly, Michael believed, each knew that what they had shared had been a delicious fling, one that both would cherish, probably for the rest of their lives, but nothing more. They continued to talk like lovers all the way across
---------------
The lights in the passenger cabin had been dimmed. Michael got a blanket and pillow from the stewardess, covered the sleeping woman at his side and, easing her head off his shoulder, placed the pillow under it.
He then settled back and let his mind roam.
----------
Entering Dawn’s office Michael noticed immediately that she wore a stricken look on her face and he felt his blood run cold. Sitting down numbly, knowing what he was about to hear but dreading it just the same, he smiled bravely.
“Is it what we thought?”
“Yes.” She was ashen faced. “Howard has gotten his promotion and we will be moving to
“
Dawn shook her head. “Howard thinks that we should not see so much of each other.”
Michael felt his face grow warm.
“Howard knows perfectly well that we are just friends. Furthermore, you and I both know that we have never done anything he could object to. He has no right to complain simply because we enjoy each other’s company.”
A pained look crossed Dawn’s face at this.
“Michael, he is my husband and I owe him so much. He was there for me during a very difficult time in my life and I don’t want to see him get hurt.”
Michael started to say something but Dawn shook her head. “No Michael, my mind is made up. Howard wants it this way so that is the way it is going to be. If our friendship means anything to you, you will not make this any harder than it has to be. Goodbye Michael. I will always treasure the wonderful times we have had together. Please don’t try to see me before I go.”
Their eyes met, and each could see the pain in the other. Finally, Michael simply said goodbye and walked out of the office. As the door closed behind him, Dawn put her head on her desk and cried.
Outside, Michael walked aimlessly. A passing sergeant started to say something to him but saw the look on his face and thought better of it.
----------
When the bus stopped, Michael hung back, fiddling with his luggage, and let Sabrina get off first. She was greeted by a stocky man in the uniform of a senior sergeant. From the badge on his cap Michael could tell the man was part of the artillery battalion that shared the Kaserne with the First-of-the-Fifty-First Infantry, his outfit.
Sabrina hugged the man and he helped her get her bag from the bus’s luggage bay. Michael took his time exiting the bus and had started to walk towards the front gate, heading for his highly unauthorized off base apartment, when he heard Sabrina’s voice calling his name. He turned in astonishment and saw Sabrina leading the sergeant towards him.
“Honey I want you to meet my friend Michael. We met on the bus to
The big man offered his hand.
“Michael I would like you to meet my husband, Al.”
The two men shook hands.
“I would like to thank you for looking after Sabrina,” Al said. “I wish I could have gone on the trip but I just made Motor Pool Sergeant for my Battalion and was anxious to get things squared away. You know how it is.”
Michael agreed that he did indeed know how it was and the three stood chatting amiably for a few minuets before Al went to fetch the car. When he had gone Michael whispered urgently to Sabrina, “Are you out of your mind? What is he going to do if he finds out what we were up to in
Sabrina gave Michael a strange look. “What difference would that have made? Neither of us thought we would ever see the other after we left
Michael was too dumbfounded for words.
“There are people on the bus who may have seen us together in Spain and although I think it is unlikely that anyone will gossip to Al, it is better if we acknowledge that we were friends just in case. Don’t worry. Al trusts me.”
Michael was starting to feel sorry for Al when the sergeant pulled up in the family’s Mercedes. “So Michael where are you headed? Can I give you a lift?”
---------------
Michael hadn’t done any traveling for a long time after Dawn had left. The unit had gone to the field for two weeks, but even after he got back he simply went home to his apartment in the evenings and moped around Crailsheim on the weekends.
Finally, in late August his friend Claude had persuaded him to take three week’s leave and go with him to
---------------
Michael had found an empty table in the mess hall and was reading a book while eating lunch when he noticed someone sitting down opposite him and looked up to find Al with a tray of food smiling at him.
“Hi, I hope you don’t mind if I join you,” Al said. “What are you reading?”
Michael looked embarrassed, “Oh it’s just a book of poems,” he said dismissively. He had received endless ribbing from other soldiers for reading poetry, but Al looked interested.
“Find any you like?” he asked.
“There is one called
Before he could finish Al had closed his eyes and began quoting:
“Ah, love, let us be true to one another! for the world, which seems to lie before us like a land of dreams, so various, so beautiful, so new, hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; and we are here as on a darkling plain swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, where ignorant armies clash by night.”
He opened his eyes and smiled. “I love Matthew Arnold.”
In spite of himself Michael found the thickset motor pool sergeant fascinating. It turned out that he, like Michael, was something of an oddball by Army standards. Like Michael he had gotten his Bachelor’s degree before joining, but while Michael’s was in History, Al got his degree in English Literature.
The two men had been happily discussing poetry for a while when Al glanced at his watch and gave a low whistle. “Where did the time go? This has been fun but I have to get back to the motor pool.” As he left the table Al looked Michael in the eyes and smiled. “I will tell Sabrina you said hi.” he said and then left to turn in his tray.
---------------
Al and Michael started having lunch together on a fairly regular basis. Michael quickly grew to like the man he had unknowingly wronged, and it seemed to him that Sabrina’s husband returned the feelings. Michael felt terrible guilt, but Al didn’t seem to notice.
One day, however, Al sat down at the table and gave him an apprehensive look.
“Michael I would like to talk to you about Sabrina,” he said
Michael felt his stomach tighten.
Al forged ahead as though anxious to get it over with.
“Michael, I like you and think you are an honorable person so if you give me your word on something I will accept it, no questions asked. Do you understand?”
Michael nodded but said nothing.
“My unit is going to the field on Monday and we will be gone for two weeks. Sabrina and I rent a house in out near Lobenhausen, miles from any other Americans. She use to stay with her friend
Al looked extremely uncomfortable. “The thing is that Sabrina has asked me if she could stay at your place. If it is all right with you that is,” he added hastily.
Michael was stunned.
“I did some checking and found out that you live within walking distance of base. She could see her friends during the day and maybe go to the movies in the evening.”
Al was starting to perspire heavily. “Look Michael I am no fool. I know Sabrina is a beautiful and desirable woman. I am sure that a lot of people wonder what she sees in me. But I really love her and want her to be happy. If you give me your word that nothing will happen I will believe you.”
Somewhere in the back of Michael’s mind the beast of desire, which had been too long banished to its kennel, raised its head and snuffled the air with interest.
Michael looked in Al’s worried eyes and felt ashamed. He told himself that he hadn’t known, but that didn’t help. He was silent for a few minutes but finally he looked Al square in the eye and said, “Nothing will happen Al. You have my word.”
In the deepest part of his soul he knew that this was the truth.
---------------
Sunday evening, when Al dropped Sabrina at Michael’s place things had felt very awkward. Finally, however, Al kissed Sabrina, shook Michael’s hand and, looking worried, left.
Michael showed Sabrina to the bedroom and, picking up a pile of blankets and pillows that he had ready, wished her a good night and turned to head back to the living room.
“Where are you going Michael.”
“You’re my guest so you get the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Don’t be silly, Michael, we shared a bed for three weeks in
Michael rounded on her with eyes blazing. “That was before I knew you were married!” he snapped. Good night.”
Before she could say anything he stormed off towards the living room.
“I gave my word to Al and I intend to keep it,” Michael thought as he flopped down on the couch. He gave his pillow a fierce punch, as though it had offended him by simply being. Then he closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep.
Silently Sabrina closed the bedroom door.
---------------
Over the next two weeks Sabrina waged a relentless campaign of seduction, wielding her uninhibited carnality like a weapon, but to no avail. Michael would arrive home in the evenings to find her beautifully dressed and made up, waiting for him with candle lit dinners.
Sabrina’s considerable charms could have tried the chastity of a saint and Michael was far from saintly. To make matters worse, memories of
As the nights passed and Sabrina failed to detect any weakening of Michael’s resolve, dresses gave way to diaphanous negligees, and one evening he arrived home to find soft music, a candle-lit table, and incense perfuming the air. When Michael called her name Sabrina emerged from the kitchen carrying two glasses of wine, wearing a big smile and nothing else. Michael walked the five miles back to base to find a bunk in the barracks, but he couldn’t sleep.
One by one the sleepless nights ticked by.
---------------
When Al’s unit returned from the field Michael went over to the artillery motor pool to find him. Al emerged from under the hood of an armored personnel carrier covered in mud and grease but Michael walked up to him smiled and shook his hand.
A look of relief washed over Al and his grimy face split in a huge smile. He returned Michael’s handshake with warmth.
---------------
Over the next few months Al and Michael became good friends, often getting together after work for a beer and a game of chess at the local Ghasthaus. Sabrina occasionally tagged along but more often than not she got bored and went to the movies instead.
The next time Al’s unit went to the field Sabrina stayed at Michael’s again but she had apparently learned her lesson and this time she behaved herself.
When he got back from the field and dropped by to pick-up Sabrina Al noticed how sparse the furnishings of Michael’s apartment were and made it his business to scrounge up unwanted stuff from his married friends. Soon the place acquired a far more homey atmosphere.
---------------
One Saturday afternoon in early March Michael was home alone. The snow had turned to slush, but Al had taken Sabrina to Garmisch for some late season skiing in the
---------------
Dawn emerged from the bathroom showered and with her hair wrapped in a towel. She was dressed in one of Michael’s sweaters, a pair of his fatigue pants and sweat sox. Michael had scraped most of the mud off her cloths and had hung them near the radiator to dry. He went to the kitchen and returned with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.
She sat on the couch with her feet tucked under her sipping the chocolate and smiling at Michael over her mug. “I missed you,” she said simply.
They talked until early evening without Michael finding out the reason for her visit. He had asked but when she gave an evasive answer he didn’t push. Instead, he let her tell him about
They laughed together as she recounted the saga of her drive to pay him a visit, filled with wrong turns, icy roads and the climax--a broken fan belt. When she told him how she had repaired it with her pantyhose they both laughed until their eyes sparkled with tears.
Dawn joined Michael in the kitchen as he fixed them a simple pasta dinner and they talked long after dark. Michael offered to make up the couch for himself if she would consent to stay the night and not risk the icy roads but she insisted that she needed to get home.
Dressed in her dry clothes Dawn said good-by to Michael at the door. “You are a really good friend Michael,” she said. “I just wanted to tell you that and thank you for…I want to thank you for being you.” Without warning she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then disappeared into the night.
---------------
Al seemed upset when he and Sabrina returned from skiing. He still greeted his friend with a big smile but Michael could tell something was on his mind. He didn’t seem to want to talk about it so Michael let it go.
---------------
In early June Michael was surprised to receive a letter from Dawn. He knew that she was an excellent writer and was surprised to find her letter rambling and formless, filled with vague pleasantries and humorous anecdotes about life in
Michael knew that it was a once a year event when castles and cities along the
The letter ended almost shyly with a mention that she had taken the liberty of booking two rooms for them in a hotel in Bingen and passage on the Nibelungen, one of the better cruise ships.
Michael looked for a return address on the envelope but either by accident or design there was none. He had no way of letting Dawn know whether, or even if, he could be there. The trip was scheduled for the first weekend in July and without a moments hesitation Michael went to headquarters and used up a week of his dwindling supply of leave days just to be sure of having the date free.
Then, he waited.
---------------
The morning of the cruise Michael arrived at the Bahnhof almost an hour early for the train. Once aboard he tried to read but found that he couldn’t concentrate. He spent the trip gazing out the window at the passing scenery.
He found a room in his name waiting for him when he arrived in Bingen, but no sign of Dawn. After checking in he showered and dressed in a Blue blazer with gray slacks. At the last minute he decided to add a red necktie.
Boarding the ship, Michael spotted Dawn, coolly elegant in an off the shoulder white lace dress, standing by the railing gazing out over the river. Her normally straight blond hair was worn in a cascade of ringlets. A single cornflower, pinned in her hair, brought out the blue of her eyes. Her smile, when she saw him, was like a shaft of sunlight shot through the gloom of a cloudy sky.
---------------
Somewhere over the darkened
---------------
The
The months of their separation melted away and their conversation was as light and sparkling as the wine and the music. After dinner Michael and Dawn went up on deck and danced under the gathering stars.
When the sky had grown completely dark a single scarlet rocket blazed across the blackness. It must have been a signal, for suddenly both banks of the river for as far as the eye could see in either direction erupted into a fountain of flame as thousands of fireworks soared into the heavens and exploded in an inferno of colored lights. Volley after volley thundered skyward until it seemed as though they were sailing down a tunnel of fire.
Michael and Dawn paused in the middle of their waltz to observe the spectacle, their arms innocently still around one another in the postures of the dance but, as the sky continued to burn, each turned to the other and gazed into love filled eyes. Wordlessly they melted together in a kiss.
---------------
The next morning Michael awoke to find Dawn asleep beside him, her warm body pressed against him, her head on his shoulder and her blond ringlets tumbled across his bare chest.
---------------
After breakfast they walked together through fields of red poppies, pausing now and again to kiss or simply gaze into one another’s eyes. Michael wanted to talk about what it all meant but when he tried Dawn withdrew inside herself. He let it pass, afraid to spoil the moment. There would be time later to make plans. For now it was sufficient to treasure the day.
The time passed all too quickly and before they were ready the moment had arrived for them to part. He had no phone so she promised to write him and let him know when they could see each other again. She also promised to send him an address where he could write her.
Although she had admitted that her marriage to Howard was a hollow, loveless sham, and that she would be filing for a divorce very soon she reminded Michael that her husband had always been kind to her and she owed him much. She didn’t want to hurt him any more than was necessary and asked Michael to give her time to let Howard down easily. Michael agreed and kissed her goodbye and then stood on the platform and watched her train disappear from sight.
---------------
Anger, pain and confusion warred in Michael’s soul. Anger won.
Dawn’s letter, when it arrived, was blotchy and wrinkled with dried tears. She swore that she did not regret one second of their time together but she felt that she had to put a stop to things before they got out of hand.
She owed it to Howard, she wrote, to give their marriage one last chance and she couldn’t do that if she was thinking about Michael. Their friendship was too distracting and it would be better for all concerned if they didn’t see one another again. Tears had made the last line illegible.
Michael felt as though he had been gut shot. His body went cold and numb and he heard a ringing in his ears. Eventually the shock passed and tears of pain and rage filled his eyes.
He bellowed like a wounded animal. “Friendship! Friendship! She calls it friendship?” Sudden pain shot from his right hand up to his shoulder. He looked down in wonder at his bleeding hand and realized that he had just punched a hole in the wall.
---------------
. Michael’s hand was still in a cast a week later when Al came to see him about Sabrina staying at his place again. Ever since Al and Sabrina had returned from their ski trip it had seemed to Michael as though the big sergeant had been avoiding him. He was still friendly enough when they met but he seemed troubled. Michael had been troubled himself lately so he didn’t give the matter much thought. He gave his spare key to Al and told him to tell Sabrina to let herself in.
---------------
Sabrina had made dinner when Michael got home, but he wasn’t hungry. He seated himself in an overstuffed chair next to the stereo and simply sat there drinking white wine, playing waltz music and staring off into space. With real concern in her eyes Sabrina asked how he had injured his hand but all she could get out of him was that it had been a stupid accident. Reluctantly she gave up trying to make conversation and went to bed. After a few days of this Sabrina gave up even trying to talk to Michael and simply left him alone with whatever was bothering him.
---------------
The two weeks passed Michael by almost without him noticing them. His cast had come off but other than that not much had changed. He still walked around in silent misery and talked only as much as was necessary to get through the day.
On the day Al was due to return, Michael walked into his Company’s barracks on an errand. He barely noticed the burly, squashed nosed, soldier slouching against the wall in the entrance hall with his muscular arms folded across his broad chest. He recognized him as Mitch, the battalion boxing champion, and vaguely wondered what he was doing there since this was not his barracks. He was about to walk past him when the big man straightened up and said, “Al sends his regards.”
Then he punched Michael in the face with enough force to send him flying across the hallway and into the Coke machine which smashed when his body hit it. Michael looked up from the floor to see Mitch in a fighting stance with the Platoon sergeant and a few other soldiers watching from the stairs nearby. He expected the Sergeant to intervene but he apparently was in on the matter because he told Mitch to drag Michael into the latrine and finish him off.
Deep wells of rage burst in Michael and poured out their pent up anger. He came up off the floor like a wild beast and launched himself at the startled boxer. Mitch had the advantage of size, strength and training but none of that mattered. Michael had every intention of killing the man with his bare hands, or ripping his throat out with his teeth, he didn’t much care which. He also didn’t care if he lived or died in the process and that fact blazed in his eyes.
Mitch could see his own death in those eyes and his courage deserted him. His best punches had no effect on the madman before him. Michael’s face was a mask of blood and still he came on, snarling and snapping like a rabid dog. When the M.P.s arrived it took four of them to pull Michael off the boxer and hold him down until some semblance of his sanity returned.
There were enough witnesses to clear up the chain of events for the authorities and finally Michael was excused from duty for the rest of the day and told to report to the infirmary while Mitch and the Sergeant were led off in handcuffs. Michael didn’t bother with the infirmary but headed straight for home. Mitch had admitted to the M.P.s that Al had paid him to attack Michael but couldn’t say why.
When he got home Michael found his place a shambles, furniture overturned or broken and a lot of it missing. He found Sabrina in the bedroom crying. She looked up when Michael came in and he could see she had a black eye and swollen lip.
She told him that Al had shown up unexpectedly at the door with a group of other soldiers and an Army duce-and-a-half truck and had started moving out all the furniture that he had given to Michael. While the other soldiers moved furniture, Al had taken Sabrina into the bedroom and beaten her, calling her a whore and yelling that she could stay here with her lover, he had no further use for her. Then he had left.
---------------
Michael didn’t know what made him angrier, the fact that Al had done all this or the fact that neither he nor Sabrina had done anything since
What he couldn’t get over was the fact that Al had come with an Army truck and a work detail. He knew that the Army was not in the habit of passing out trucks and soldiers to sergeants for the purposes of settling domestic disputes. There was only one person in the battalion with the power to do that, the Colonel. Al was an outstanding motor pool sergeant and was key to the smooth functioning of the battalion. Michael was certain that the Colonel had authorized the truck and work detail to keep his prize NCO happy. He couldn’t prove it, but for what he was considering it didn’t matter. The simple accusation would be enough.
Michael knew enough about how the Army functioned to know that taking his hunches to the proper military authorities was useless. The chain of command would simply sweep the whole thing under the carpet, which was exactly what Al and the Colonel were banking on.
However this was
Michael didn’t have a phone but several of his neighbors had heard the noise and seen the truck and he had little difficulty persuading one of them to call the police. When they arrived he swore out a complaint against Al and his Colonel and then sat back and waited for the fur to fly.
---------------
Al’s court-martial took place at an astonishing speed. Michael had been right in his belief that there was nothing quite like the prospect of an arrest warrant to help clarify a Colonel‘s priorities. Michael had agreed to drop the charges against the officer once the matter was resolved.
At the trial Al confessed that he had acted out of jealousy. He told the court that ever since she had returned from Spain Sabrina had been distant and withdrawn from him and the men of his unit had laughed at him for being stupid enough to leave his wife with another man.
Al, Mitch and the Platoon sergeant were all found guilty, reduced in rank and sentenced to be sent back to the states in chains. As Al was leaving the court Michael tried to tell him that he had been true to his word and not touched Sabrina, but either Al didn’t believe him or didn’t care because he simply walked by without even acknowledging Michael’s words.
Before Al left for the States however he had at least a little revenge. Although he had filed for divorce, that would take time and Sabrina would still be his wife until it was final, but he signed a certificate of abandonment, which meant that Sabrina lost all her privileges as a military dependant. She didn’t have a place to live, money for food or even air-fare back to the States. She was trapped.
Michael agreed to let her stay with him until she could sort things out. That night they made love for the first time since they had left
Afterwards Michael lay awake staring at the ceiling. Sabrina slept with her head on his shoulder, her warm body nestled against his side.
“After all,” he told himself, “love and lust aren’t all that far apart.”
----------
Something had broken inside Michael when he had gotten Dawn’s letter. Whatever it was it had been as delicate as a soap bubble, but it had left shards like razors that cut his heart out from the inside. Sunsets and poetry no longer had any meaning for him. Beauty, adventure, romance were all just ashes in his mouth. He decided that Mathew Arnold had been right and there really was no joy, nor love, nor light, nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain and since his love was not true to him what did it all matter?
There may be no love but at least there was sex. It didn’t solve anything but it made the pain go away, at least for a little while. Sabrina was a beautiful and sensuous woman and an inexhaustible well of solace. Perhaps he could drown his dreams in her arms.
He had been wrong about
Sabrina was a simple soul at heart. A creature of appetites, devotion and sensitivity. Unlike Dawn she was not an intellectual but she was by no means stupid. She possessed a sort of innate, cheerful wisdom that Michael found touching.
More-over she was absurdly easy to please. All she needed was a little attention, some tenderness and respect and she was blissfully happy, and that made Michael happy, or at least less unhappy, which was good enough.
He set himself to pleasing her in all sorts of little ways. He would bring her flowers unexpectedly or leave tender notes tucked into the pages of her favorite books. She loved massage, so he bought a book on the subject and studied it until he was expert in every technique. He bought a white Flokati rug, and at night he would fill the room with candles, incense and soft music and work on her for hours until she practically purred under his figures.
Once he secretly bought her a music box that played her favorite love song and left it playing beside the bed one morning just as he left for work so that she would wake to its melody. Her eyes shone like diamonds for days after whenever she looked at him.
As Michael’s time in the Army drew to a close she chatted brightly about him meeting her parents. Without it ever being said out loud it had somehow become understood that they would marry once her divorce was finalized and they got back to the States. He had once carelessly spoken about when he got out in such a way as to suggest going their separate ways, and her heartbroken sobs had torn him apart inside.
Well, he thought, why not? It wasn’t as though he could ever love again anyway. He refused to even consider the idea; it was just too painful to even think about.
Besides, it would make her happy.
---------------
The months passed, and if they didn’t exactly dance past in a warm sensuous haze, at least they didn’t crawl past at a funereal rate either. And there was wine, and moonlight and romance--well, sex, which was almost the same. It was enough.
The day to leave finally arrived. Sabrina was as excited as a child at Christmas and the sight of her happy face kindled a small fire in the icy chamber where Michael’s heart had once dwelt, warming the hollow space just a bit.
The new Platoon sergeant had offered to give Michael and Sabrina a ride to the Bahnhof. She and the sergeant were waiting by the car parked outside Battalion headquarters while Michael finished up some last minute paperwork. A clerk caught up with him in the hallway to tell him that there was a phone call for him.
This was such an unusual event that he was gripped by a sudden sense of dread. He feared that something was wrong with his parents; maybe they were sick--or dead. When he arrived at the phone he was breathless from running up a flight of stairs. He took the receiver with trembling hands prepared, he thought, for the worst. But he wasn’t prepared for this. A soft woman’s voice spoke his name.
“Michael. Michael, is that you? This is Dawn.”
Ice water flooded through Michael’s veins and he sat down heavily in a nearby chair.
“This is Michael. May I help you?” He sounded insane, even to himself.
“Michael, oh Michael please. This is Dawn. I have filed for divorce. I am free! Howard took a plane back to the states last night. I need you. Can you come to
Michael felt numb. The noise of a busy military headquarters faded from his hearing, replaced by the pounding of his heart. Images of Dawn standing at the railing of the cruise ship assaulted him and he felt as though he should be crying. Tears should be streaming down his face but his eyes were as dry as flint. There was flint in his voice as well.
“I am sorry Dawn. I can’t make it. I am getting out of the Army today. I was just leaving for the airport when you called.”
Pain filled Dawn’s voice. “Please Michael, I need you. Michael, I love you.”
Visions of Dawn were replaced with those of Sabrina’s happy, trusting eyes. He could not, he would not, see those eyes filled with tears. He would not be the cause of her heart-broken sobs.
He knew he loved Sabrina. A little. Maybe. If he was even still capable of love.
All that didn’t matter. Dawn had had to give Howard one last chance. Michael knew that--now. He realized that, now, even as he realized that Dawn must have known, even then, that she didn’t love her husband. It was a question of honor. It was a question of character. You didn’t hurt those who had been kind to you. You didn’t return trust with pain.
It was what made her who she was just as Michael’s honor and sense of responsibility was what made him who he was. If either of them had changed, or wavered, on such a principal, they would not have been who they were. They would have been someone else, not the person that the other had fallen in love with. He knew that--now.
“I am sorry Dawn. I can’t tell you how sorry I am but when I got your letter I…”
Michael’s voice faltered.
“Dawn, there is someone else. I am sorry.”
He could hear her sobs as he put down the phone. He thanked the clerk and walked, mechanically, to the door. He was dry eyed and composed. When he got to the car he smiled at Sabrina.
“Time to go honey.” he said.
Her bright eyes filled with joy. The car left the front gate of the Kaserne and Sabrina turned towards the window to get a last look. Michael tenderly brushed her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck. She turned to him with a delighted smile and kissed him. All the way to the train station she snuggled against him.
This is enough, Michael told himself. Really, this is enough.
---------------
Michael looked down at the sleeping face of Sabrina, softly illuminated by the dim light of the aircraft cabin. He pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, protectively, and brushed a stray lock of raven hair from her face.
Then he reclined his seat, turned off the overhead light and, putting on the headphones of his Walkman, turned on what had been his favorite piece of music for the last year, Al Stewart’s “Year of the Cat.”
As the smoky saxophones of the last bars swelled towards the end of the song he turned his head into the shadows near the window and finally let the warm tears streak his face.
