Etta and Otto and Russell and James (23 page)

T
he morning after he’d met with Winnie, Gisèlle shook Otto awake. Her hair was up and back and she was wearing a Voluntary Aid Detachment nurse’s uniform. If we’re going to do this, she said, we have to do this now. No more sleeping. Her accent was gone.

Okay, said Otto, sitting up, standing up, pulling on his trousers and buttoning his shirt, okay, thank you.

Put your hand to your ear, like it’s still ringing,

It is—

and your other arm around mine, like this, like I’m leading you. Good, yes, okay, let’s go.

They walked out into the full morning light, light that Otto hadn’t seen for weeks, down streets and up avenues until the people on the sidewalks and roads were no longer just old women and children, but men and boys, American, English, Australian, French, and Canadian, on crutches, with eye patches, missing arms or legs or noses, and, among them, a flurry of young women nurses, all dressed exactly like Gisèlle. Gisèlle led Otto deftly between them, looking straight ahead. They walked up to an old stone building. It looks like a church, said Otto.

It’s not a church, said Gisèlle.

They walked up the steps and in the front door, Gisèlle nodding briskly at the matron manning the check-in desk before they continued across the lobby and through some swinging doors into a long hall. Room one-oh-six, said Gisèlle, on the left. They made a sharp turn into a room lined with beds, five on each side, divided by curtains. Boys, some awake, some asleep, were in all of them except
the third one on the right. There you go, Private Vogel, said Gisèlle, leading Otto to it. Back to bed. Would you like help with your boots?

Oh, said Otto. No, I’ll be fine. He unhooked his arm from hers and sat down on the bed, letting his other hand drop from his ear. It was tingling from being up for so long. I can manage.

Gisèlle unbuttoned his shirt as he undid his boots. Trousers too, she said, you know the drill.

The other soldiers, the ones who were awake, paid them no attention at all.

There you go, in you go, said Gisèlle, pulling back the cot’s tight white sheets. She folded his trousers and shirt and placed them, with his boots, under the bed. Then Gisèlle leaned in low over the bed, her breath on Otto’s cheek.

Goodbye, Otto, she said. You really were one of my favorites. Your chart is in the envelope at the end of the bed. There’s a letter from Winnie in your boot. You really were.

She leaned in further and kissed him, silent and fast, on the side of the mouth. Really.

And then she straightened up, pulled the sheet up to his neck, and walked off, looking straight ahead.

Once she had gone, Otto waited, counted to a hundred and down again, then sat up and reached across his legs to the envelope that held his chart. It looked like all the others at the ends of all the other beds. Inside was his name, rank, unit, hometown, and condition: Severe Ruptured Eardrum and Psychological Shock/Trauma. It was date-stamped three weeks and two days ago. Otto slid it carefully back into its envelope and reached around to his boots. A small, folded bit of paper in the left one. It was an old train ticket, Saskatoon–Halifax. On the back it said, in black pen,

It’s sorted. You’ll go home soon. Take care of yourself until then. Take care of everyone else after. My love to Etta. It was good to see you, Otto. Let’s do it again, after all this.

O
tto refolded the ticket along the original lines and put it back in his boot, then stretched out under the thin sheets, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

W
hen he woke there was a doctor standing over him with a nurse beside. Oh, right, said the doctor, he’ll be the transfer. Send notice Western Union, that’s fastest. Out just as soon as all okay in the ear and the head. Keep an eye on and let me know. He turned from the nurse down to Otto. Hey, Vogel.

Yes? said Otto, unsure if he should sit up or not, what was polite.

Can you provide us an address for back home?

The Teacher’s Cottage, Gopherlands School, Gopherlands, Saskatchewan, Canada, said Otto, without sitting up, without having to think at all.

19

A
nd Etta and James walked. East and south. The smell of salt, the feel of water in the wind.

A
nd Otto cleaned out his bowls and spoons and made table space. He mixed flour and water. He tore the last of his newspapers into long, thin, strips.

A
nd Russell drank dark coffee in an almost empty café where a man even older than him drew invisible lines on the plastic tablecloth with his finger: this road and then this road and then this road and then you’ll get to the airport. Two flights a week.

S
tand up, said the nurse.

Okay, said Otto. He pulled his legs free of the sheets, out of the bed, and stood up.

Good. Can you walk to the far wall and back?

I think so, said Otto. He walked to the far wall and back.

Good. Can you tell me your whole full name?

Otto Vogel.

No middle name?

Well, sometimes 7.

Seven?

Never mind. No middle name.

Good. Can you touch your toes?

I think so, said Otto. He reached out, bent at the waist, looked down toward his feet, and felt them rush up at him. His head snapped back, he fell onto the bed.

Okay, said the nurse. That’s fine. Can you go to the window and tell me what you see?

I don’t know, said Otto.

Try, said the nurse.

Otto walked to the nearest window, by the bed of a boy with both eyes bandaged. I see the sky, said Otto. Tops of trees, spires of churches.

And down below?

No, said Otto. I can’t.

No? said the nurse.

No, said Otto.

Okay, said the nurse. That’s fine. You can come back here. You can sit down if you want.

Thank you, said Otto.

The nurse sat on one side of him, his left, and whispered, Can you hear this?

Yes, whispered Otto.

Then she got up and sat on his other side, his right, and Otto felt the soft wind of her breath and heard nothing.

Okay, said the nurse, standing up again. That’s just fine.

T
he next day both the doctor and nurse stood over his bed again. Hey, Vogel, said the doctor, have you got anything you need packed up? Any personal items apart from these clothes?

No, said Otto.

Okay, said the doctor, good.

T
he nurse walked Otto to the train station. Her arm over his just like Gisèlle’s. If it gets too loud, she said, remember: She held her hand, the one that wasn’t leading him, up to her ear and pressed, closing her eyes and frowning.

Yes, said Otto, thank you.

Before dropping him off she said, Has your hair always been that white?

Yes, said Otto.

O
tto bought a sandwich and a coffee from the station café and took them to eat and drink outside, on the platform, where the wind from
the trains made it cooler and easier to breathe. His train was due to arrive in thirty minutes, going west.

T
here was only one sheet of paper, and on it only three lines. It did not have any holes in it, not one. Etta ran her finger along the folds, flattening until they were barely visible. It said,

Pvt. Otto Vogel has been dispatched with injuries.

He will be aboard the Canada-bound HMS Nova Scotia due September 14.

He has requested you be informed of this.

Etta walked to her kitchen window and pressed the letter up against the glass. Russell pulled the reins, steered his horse away from the dandelions and to the window. He read the three lines then looked up to Etta. Through the glass, his skin looked uneven, old.

Oh,
he mouthed.

Yes
, she mouthed back.

Oh thank god
, he mouthed.

Yes,
she mouthed back
.

20

S
he could hear the brass band from a few miles out. Could make out the banners and bunting.
They’re even more excited to see you than ever
, said James.

I’m going to go around, said Etta. I’ll meet them on my way back.

She followed the outer edge of the peninsula, water on one side, the backs of houses on the other. From over the houses, she could hear the band playing “Make We Joy.” It was out of time with the waves. Etta hummed along.

Halifax is pretty nice
, said James.

O
tto tested the little girl’s hair to see if it was dry. It looks dry, said Kasia.

Yes, it is, said Otto. It’s done.

They carried her carefully out the front door to the yard, Otto holding the shoulders, Kasia helping with the feet. Right here, I think, said Kasia. So it’s the closest one to the house.

Okay, said Otto.

They positioned the statue right there, then sat down together on the front steps.

This is a great collection, said Kasia.

Thanks, said Otto.

Can I have it if you die?

Okay, said Otto.

T
he HMS
Nova Scotia
was a beautiful ship. Isn’t it beautiful? said Otto to the soldier beside him in line, on crutches.

Looks like the rest, said the soldier.

O
tto had trouble keeping his balance on deck, but spent most of his time out there nevertheless, clutching the rail. The wet cool air matted down his hair and condensed into heavy drops down his neck.

E
tta ironed her blue dress and pinned her hair away from her face, leaving it to curl down to just above her shoulders. Because she didn’t have any better shoes, she polished her boots until they looked almost new.