Elsa sat alone in the dark afternoon room, waiting. The clock on the mantle gently ticked the seconds like a finely crafted mechanical heartbeat. She didn't hear it anymore.
Four days ago word had come that troops were approaching the city from the south. They were marching alongside the river and would be in Citchen by that afternoon. Many had hastily gathered valuables, taken their children and fled, seeking safety from the inevitable. Elsa would not leave, she did not want to. This was her home. Her husband was too ill to travel anyway, and he needed her to attend to him. She would not leave him.
She rushed to finish her shopping. In her hurry to get home she forgot to pick up the medicine at the apothecary for Reman. It was for his heart. Holding the groceries with one arm, she stood waiting for the train to stop. It's doors swung open and as she grabbed the rail and stepped in, she remembered the forgotten pills. In a rare moment of indecision, she opted to get home first to tell Reman of the troops. She would have to come right back after that. It wasn't very far; there would be time. The doors closed and the train lurched forward.
Reman looked weaker than when she'd left him. He didn't wake up when she sat at his side. He looked pale, and his face was beaded with sweat. Gently she wrung out a soft cloth in a bowl of cool water sitting on a table next to the bed, and laid it on his forehead. Bending over she kissed him on the cheek, then whispered that she had to go out again but wouldn't be gone long.
Elsa got her purse and ran to catch the train. The trip to town took only 5 minutes, and there were very few others on board. The errand went without any problem, she'd arrived just before the apothecary closed up. Pills in hand she walked quickly to the train stop. 30 seconds later she was heading home. She had no idea she'd been spotted, and followed.
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Men's voices outside the door brought her back to the present moment.
Elsa sat at the head of a dark wooden table, in the room where she and Reman ate all of their meals together. They were keeping her locked up in her own home and she hadn't seen Reman since they'd taken over her house. Her heart began pounding hard in her chest and she was afraid.
Posture erect, and hands folded in her lap, she sat facing the door and stared straight ahead. The sound of a key probing the lock was soon followed by the door opening, and a young soldier entered the room, carrying a small plate of food. The dark figure of the commanding officer stood in the doorway. "You see, we are not animals dear lady. Here is something for you to eat." he said. Elsa hated the smirk on his face, his arrogance made her blood bolt through her veins. She willed her face to betray none of her feelings. She tried to appear calm and dispassionate, but her resentment was still palpable.
The young soldier put the little plate on the table several feet from where she was sitting, then turned and left the room again. The commander just stood there, grinning at her. She loathed him but would not give him the pleasure of her anger. Her dignity was all he would get.
The young soldier re-entered carrying a small tray with tea and set it on the table next to the plate. The rifle dangling from his shoulder was swiftly rearranged as he took a place against the wall, standing only a few feet away, at Elsa's side. He stood there as stiff as a stone, with the disconnected demeanor of all armed guards, eyes straight ahead, cold, and silent.
The door hinges squealed as the commanding officer slowly pulled the door closed, never taking his eyes off her, never stopping that stupid grin, she expected him to wave at her next, the idiot. The door clicked closed followed by the sound of the key locking Elsa in again, this time with an armed guard to watch her eat.
She rose and walked to the end of the table, picked up the tea tray and the plate, and carried them back to her seat. She laid a napkin in her lap and poured tea into the cup. Still enraged at the arrogance of the commander, she stared hotly at the wall across the room. She did not move for several seconds. Then she spoke.
"Tell me soldier. Do you respect and admire that man so much that you are willing to lay down your life to save his?"
"Ma'am...Apparently so ma'am."
She turned her head back down to the little plate of food in front of her.
Exhaling slowly, her chest sunk, mirroring the disappointment she felt.
Raising her chin, she then turned and looked him in the eye.
"You are a coward." She told him flatly, then turned her face away again.
Incredulous the armed soldier looked at her with disbelief. He'd seen battle.
No one had ever accused him of cowardice.
"How so ma'am?" he responded stiffly.
"A man who is afraid to look into his own heart is a true coward."
She continued. "And you are too afraid to ask yourself what you really think of him, or of anything he asks of you".
She again faced away and slowly took a small bite of bread, then returned it to her plate. She stared straight ahead as she chewed it.
The soldier acted as if he was ignoring her.
"Look at you with your guns. Your protective gear, your
helmets to protect you, from what? Women and children,
and unarmed people? You are so afraid you are like a lost little boy.
It wreaks off of you."
Angered, he restrained the urge to backhand her. She was pushing it.
He could just take her out and no one would care. He glared at her,
she was being warned.
"Do you know why you are lost? Because you do not know your own opinions!
Tell me, how can you possibly know where you are going,
if you're too afraid to see the path you are on?"
The soldier stood without expression.
"That man, your leader. He is insane you know. You are well aware of that."
She smiled slightly at his attempt to pretend he wasn't listening. His silence told her otherwise.
She lifted her tea cup and took a sip, then returned it to it's saucer.
"He has done such terrible things, that man." The disgust rose in her throat and
made the taste in her mouth turn to bile. Her composure stayed perfectly calm.
"Do they tell you what he does, soldier? Are you aware of it? Or do they only
say that he is some kind of hero for your country? Do you believe that soldier?
In your country do you torture children, or is it only other people's children that you kill? Is that what makes a hero where you come from?"
The soldier shifted his weight, he was uncomfortable. These were things he could not think about, but they were things he could not afford to not think about. He almost admired this woman's guts, she had some nerve talking that way to him. She knew it too. She wasn't afraid of him. She was not afraid of any of them.
"You see in our country we love our children, we adore them. They are everything to us, our joy, our most precious possessions. We want to give them everything we possibly can. We delight in the sound of their laughter. We hug them and kiss them many times a day, and we tell them pretty stories at night when it is time for them to go to bed. Do the people where you come from feel differently about their children?"
"No ma'am". The soldier said solemnly, feeling shame.
"Well, at least there is one thing I can understand about your country, you also love your children", she said sarcastically.
Elsa finished her sandwich and tea quietly and neither of them spoke again.
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The next day exactly at 3pm, the same soldier brought her plate and tea to the room and set it on the table just out of reach from where she sat. He'd set them a little closer this time, she noticed. The commanding officer was not with him today. The soldier locked the door himself, then took the same position standing guard as the day before.
Elsa stood up and realized she could reach the plate and tea tray from there. She reached for them and pulled them toward her, first the tea tray, then the little plate.
She sat down and placed the same napkin in her lap, sprinkling yesterday's few tiny crumbs down her legs. She then poured a cup of weak tea, it was barely warm, but she was thirsty and drank it down. Hunger was gnawing at her stomach. She quietly ate what little food she was given; a piece of bread, a piece of cheese, and a tiny boiled potato. She was consumed with worry about Reman and thought only of him as she slowly chewed the dried out food. She ate every crumb on her plate. Her napkin would hold no crumbs tomorrow she thought.
The soldier tried to pay no attention to Elsa. He fixed his gaze on a small irregularity in the far wall and determined to remain fixed on it. Yet several times he caught himself watching her eat and made himself look back at the wall.
Elsa finished the food and emptied the rest of the cold tea into her cup and drank it.
"Thank you for bringing me food, soldier." she said. Then she stared at the wall by the door.
The soldier did not understand why he felt bad when she thanked him. She was
a prisoner, and she was lucky the Commander had given orders to feed her.
He had no idea how to respond. "Yes ma'am" he said stiffly.
"Tell me soldier, where is my husband? He is dying, I want to see him."
"He is dead.", he replied. "I am sorry. He died the day we arrived."
