The Girls from the Beach

by Andie Newton

  He pulled me closer to him, grabbing on to my arm. “Am I gonna live?” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said, “you’re going to live.” He was one of the lucky ones. The bullet didn’t go very deep.

  Roxy brushed his hair back, smoothing it against his head. “You’re gonna be fine, soldier. A right fine young man you are, and an even finer gentleman you’ll be when the war ends.” She caught my eye, and we continued to patch him up.

  Me and Roxy had cleared two patients before Gail decided to join us. I was proud of Roxy—she’d kept her mouth shut about it, never mentioning the fact that our new “bunkie” was late. But when Gail finally did make it to work, boy did Roxy let her have it.

  Gail folded up her umbrella, giving it a good shake, standing next to the big, bright operating lights. “Clearing station, right?” She shook her feet too, but those sparkling white shoes now had mud caked all over them like chocolate frosting.

  Roxy stood up from where she’d been kneeling, the vee of her unbuttoned uniform puffing with her chest, showing a good patch of skin. “Where have you been?” she said.

  The doctor looked up. Red too. I stayed kneeling, realizing I was the only one who believed Gail when she said she needed time to change. Girls like that took time.

  Gail’s smiling face turned upside down, seeing Roxy. “I got lost.”

  “Lost?” Roxy laughed. “You hear that, Red? Fanny here got lost.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Gail said. “It’s…” She played with the buttons closest to her neck. “It’s Nurse Barry. Thank you very much.”

  “Red, scissors,” the doctor said over their patient, in between a thread and a tug on some sutures.

  Gail looked aghast. “The doctor doesn’t address you formally?” she said to us.

  I dabbed antiseptic on my patient’s arm, getting ready to stick him with plasma. “Sometimes he does,” I said before telling my soldier to hold tight. “Does it bother you?” I’d plunged the needle into his arm while still talking, which to my surprise made Gail squirm like a stepped-on worm.

  “Well, will you get a load of that? Hey, Red!” Roxy yelped over her shoulder. “They sent a nurse who can’t nurse.” She folded her arms and turned to me. “You ever hear of that, Kit? A nurse who can’t nurse.”

  “Never heard of it,” I said.

  “Yeah, never heard of it either,” Roxy said.

  Gail held her dripping umbrella, and Roxy leaned into my ear but talked loud enough for the whole tent to hear. “Maybe she’s one of them?” She nodded, answering her own question. “You know, one of those spies you were talking about. She could be a Hun sent to kill us in the middle of the night with a long knife, the kind that will slice right through a person. Front to back.” She looked at Gail, who had slits for eyes. “Like butta.”

  The doctor snapped at Red, who was so distracted by Roxy’s declaration she’d forgot to hand him the scissors.

  Gail held her head up, her entire body stiff. “I am certainly not a spy.”

  Two medics rushed into our tent, wet as blankets, and lay a wounded soldier on the ground with his stretcher. His skin bubbled with red and black blisters, and the smell, a sweet and sickly char of a body clinging to life in pulses. One eye was wrapped up as if he’d lost the thing, but it was hard to tell under the loose bandage the medic had tied around his head. The soldier reached for it himself not knowing where his own head was, his fingers grasping at air. Roxy injected his neck with a morphine syrette, and that’s when Gail came to life, dropping to her knees to hold the soldier’s hand.

  The medics barked out where’d they found him. “In a burning Sherman. Only survivor.” But beneath their voices was Gail’s, whose quiet soft tone steadily rose above the light tap of rain on the tent canvas.

  “Where are you from, soldier?” Gail said, very near his face.

  His blast-shocked eye suddenly moved. He blinked once. “Toledo,” he said, spitting blood from his mouth, “Ohio.” His head bobbed and nodded like an earthquake. “Are you an angel?”

  “I am,” she said. “And you’re a hero, my sweet soldier. You beat the enemy.”

  “I did?” he said, and his mouth opened as if he was trying to smile, but in fact it was a wide hole.

  Gail ran her hand over his head and through his hair, smoothing it away from his face like a mother comforting her child. Her eyes had an enduring longing to them and looked glossy from welling tears. Then she sang, and her voice traveled like a warming breeze, filling every square inch of the tent with the most glorious sound that harped from her lungs.

  “When the night falls around you, hold my hand and I’ll be there for you…” Red froze, hand reaching for a scalpel, eyes moving from her patient to Gail while Roxy fell plumb backward on her bum. A bandage popped from my hand, unraveling as it wheeled across the floor, my thoughts and ears only on the sound of Gail’s sweet, driven melody. And for a moment, there was no war. There was no blood. “You’re always safe with me…”

  The soldier’s eye fell heavy with morphine, and Gail let out a little breathy “job done” kind of sigh. She stood up and patted her hair, tucking in loose strands behind her ears and making a few noises. “Oh! Looky here,” she said, picking up the roll of bandages near her toe. She tried handing it to me, then noticing our shocked faces, pulled back and looked at us as if we needed medical treatment.

  “She’s a nurse,” Red barked, and there was no more talk about whether Gail was a real nurse or not.

  *

  The patient load dwindled by nightfall and we were let go for dinner. We figured it had something to do with the refueling we’d heard about yesterday. Red and the doctor finished cleaning up after their surgery, and we waited for her outside after the rain had turned into a sprinkle. Gail pretended to smoke, taking waspy puffs off her cigarette and not bothering to inhale.

  “Why’d you call me a spy?” Gail’s voice cut through the smoke.

  Roxy seemed caught off guard, coughing at first and searching for words with a bumbling mouth. Gail never took her eyes off of Roxy, which meant she had to answer, but I felt uncomfortable with the whole situation because I was the one who put spies into Roxy’s head.

  “It’s my fault,” I said, finally, after watching Roxy struggle.

  “Why is it yours?” Gail tossed her head back as if she didn’t believe me.

  “I make up stories, all right?” I blew smoke from my mouth. “And I told Roxy something about spies at the field hospital last night and, well you see, Roxy… She’ll believe anything!”

  “Hey!” Roxy stomped out her cigarette.

  “Well, sorry, Rox. But you do. And you eat up spy stories.” Roxy tilted her head, knowing I was right. “Admit it, Rox. You really do.”

  “Yeah, sure,” she finally said. “I suppose I do.”

  Gail appeared to accept this explanation, nodding, looking at the ground while still taking wispy little puffs off her cigarette.

  “You honestly can’t blame me,” Roxy said. “I mean, look at you.”

  “What about the way I look?” Gail said, reaching for her collar and fingering the top button.

  “You’re all wound up!” Roxy had lit another cigarette and waved it at Gail’s collar. “Tight as anything I’ve ever seen.”

  Gail made a line in the moist dirt with her toe, and I could tell from her flushing cheeks that she was trying hard to keep her temper in check. The beautiful ones you had to look out for, I always thought—the underestimated ones. “I’m different than you.” She straightened her neck. “I’m a proper girl. I don’t wear red brassieres and let people know it.”

  Roxy’s mouth fell open. “Listen, sweetheart,” Roxy said. “You spend a few more weeks out here, caring for boys who may not live the next day, hell the next minute, then we’ll talk.”

  Gail didn’t say anything, and rightfully so. Roxy had a point. Gail was new to the battlefront. Her nursing experiences came from General, where her little white skirt stayed white, and her pa
tented shoes clicked down hallways of tile and stone. It was a place for recovery and rest, not a place for dying with burns glowing red on your skin. Gail, everything from her shiny hair, to that tiny waist and even tinier ankles, embodied General—the place Nurse Blanchfield talked about in the War Department film—where nurses played golf in their spare time, slept in actual dorms and wrote letters to family on real desks with sharpened pencils on crisp, white paper. Gail was exactly what the soldiers needed to see while rehabilitating, and plenty.

  But not in clearing. Definitely not in clearing.

  Roxy stared at Gail, waiting for a response, but I thought her silence was enough. “So, don’t lecture me on—”

  “I think she got it, Rox,” I said.

  “Do you?” Roxy asked.

  Gail nodded with as little neck movement as possible, which Roxy seemed to accept. She looked for a place to snuff out her cigarette, one hand cupping it underneath to catch the ash, while me and Roxy watched her. Finally, she gave up and stuck it in some mud near a tent spike, taking a little breath and wiping her hands over her uniform.

  “And don’t call me Fanny.” Gail looked at her nails before looking up at Roxy who hadn’t said anything. “Please.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Roxy said. “Your little secret’s safe with me.”

  Gail slapped her thighs. “It’s not a secret.”

  “Look,” Roxy said. “Can we start over or what?”

  Gail nodded, and they finally shook hands.

  We stood for a second or two, but it seemed like we’d been standing outside for a long time. “What’s taking Red so long?” I peeked into the tent after smashing my cigarette with my heel. All seemed normal enough, Red and the doctor talking after another surgery. Voices were raised and then quieted, which wasn’t alarming at first until Red backed up into the operating table from something he’d said, dropping a metal tray loaded with instruments.

  I threw open the tent flaps and Red’s face had turned snow-white, twisting and pulling her operating cap in her hands.

  “Everything all right in here?” I said.

  Red broke away after a pause. “Everything’s fine.” She walked toward me, clipping her medical bag around her waist. “Ready?” She motioned for me to walk through the tent flaps first.

  “Kit,” Doctor Burk said. “Can you come here for a second?”

  “No, she cannot,” Red said to him, taking me by the shirt-sleeve. “Our shift is over. Come on, Kit. The mess tent is waiting.”

  Roxy and Gail climbed into the back of the jeep, ready to take us back to camp. I turned to Red as we were walking. “What’s going on?” I asked, but her lips only thinned. “Does this have something to do with the German?”

  “Don’t!” She stopped abruptly, eyes closing. “We said we wouldn’t talk about it, remember?”

  “Jeez, all right, Red,” I said.

  She pushed me toward the jeep, but I was only a step away.

  6

  KIT

  The ride back to camp was a quiet one, only a few pops of gunfire in the east and the glow of bombs very far away. Red had her eyes closed for nearly the entire trip, arms wrapped around her waist. When we pulled up to the mess tent she sprung to life and hopped out.

  Roxy pulled me aside. “What’s with her?”

  I shook my head, watching as Red walked into the mess tent ahead of us, pretending I didn’t know, though I was sure it had something to do with what the doctor said to her.

  “What’s for dinner?” Gail said, holding her helmet to her head with both hands.

  Roxy laughed.

  “Why is that funny?” Gail said.

  “We could get K-rations. We could get stew,” Roxy said. “There’s no way of knowing.”

  Gail looked horrified. “Stew?”

  We walked through the tent flaps and I was relieved to see the cook dishing up real food for dinner. Something salty, something hearty. I tried to place it, taking a deep breath through my nose. “Smells like—”

  “Ick!” Gail covered her nose. “What is that?”

  Roxy smiled, breathing it in while stretching out her waistband with her thumbs. “That’s dinner, doll,” she said. “Be glad it’s stew and not hamburger gravy.”

  Gail gagged in her hand, and I tugged on her sleeve. “Come on,” I said, and we filed in line behind Red to dish up before it was all gone.

  “Why do we have trays?” Gail said. “Shouldn’t we have bowls?”

  I shoved a tray at her. “If they hear you complain you won’t get any of it,” I said.

  The cook spooned up a heap of stew and slapped it on my tray, holding his ladle steady until I looked up. A savory steam hovered between us. “You got that donation for me, Kit?” he said, and I immediately felt the map he’d given me in my pocket.

  Red’s eyes swung in my direction as she shuffled ahead of us in line. “Yeah, yeah…” I said, and he lifted the ladle. “Later, all right?”

  We sat at a long mess table not far away. What a luxury to have real eggs for breakfast and now dinner on a tray. I spooned a hunk of potato into my mouth.

  “What was that about?” Red said, and I shrugged, potato bulging in my mouth, which I thought was enough to deter her, but she wouldn’t take her eyes off me.

  “I don’t know.” I swallowed. “He’s a cook.”

  Red went back to her stew and ate quietly, taking small bites. Gail shoved bits of beef and potato around on her tray with her spoon, which Roxy noticed right away.

  “Are you gonna eat that?” Roxy said to Gail. “Because I’d be glad to take it off your hands.” She eyed Gail with arched eyebrows, pressuring her to give up her food.

  “Leave her food alone, Rox,” I said, and she went back to her own meal after sticking her tongue out at me.

  Noreen, a nosy nurse, second tent down from us, walked up to our table holding a bundle of letters. None of us looked up, except for Gail, but that was because she had no idea that Noreen was a real pill to deal with.

  “Hello,” Gail said, but I kept my head down.

  The usual pause followed—the cold-shoulder kind we always gave her, a pause she never understood, or if she did, refused to acknowledge.

  Noreen cleared her throat. “Hello, ladies.”

  “Noreen.” I set down my spoon. The last time I saw her she was rummaging around in our tent looking for wine. She said she was looking for Red, but her big head was under my cot and her knees were on the ground.

  She plopped the bundle of letters on the table, which Red took. “These were delivered to my tent by mistake.” She smiled, and I saw the bits of beef that had collected between her yellow teeth.

  “Oh, I’m sure, Noreen,” I said.

  “Get lost,” Roxy said. She started to sneeze, mouth open, eyes squinting. “Ahh, ahh…” But she’d lost the urge, and Noreen giggled. “It’s you I’m allergic to, Nosy. Get lost already.”

  “Who’s the new girl?” Noreen pointed with her head to Gail, who was about to say her name, but Roxy cut her off.

  “I mean it!” Roxy stood up, throwing a finger at the open tent flaps. “If you know what’s good for ya.” Several other nurses stopped and stared while holding their trays in their hands, but not just because of the rise in Roxy’s voice, more so because they knew Roxy and Noreen’s history. Roxy caught Noreen lifting a wedding ring from an unconscious patient. Noreen said she’d removed it because his fingers were swelling, but she couldn’t explain why it had ended up in her pocket.

  I stood up next, and Noreen looked very offended.

  “Well, if that’s how you treat other nurses!” She stormed off and Roxy sat back down, mumbling about what a no-good nurse she was. “If anyone’s a spy it’s her—lousy pretender.”

  Red glanced up when she said “spy,” giving me a little look before untying the string from the letters. I waited for Red to say there was a letter for me, hoping there was something from my mother, as she thumbed through them. I wanted to read her words, see her handwr
iting from home, and I was due for a letter, but the mail was unpredictable and always delayed. “Anything for me?” I finally asked, and Red shook her head before handing one to Roxy. “Oh.”

  Roxy patted my hand. “It’s all right, Kit. Your turn next time.” She sat up, smiling, before ripping into it. “It’s from Nonna!” She separated the pages, examining the length of it, before reading the letter aloud. “Dearest Dorothea Teresa,” Roxy said, and Gail giggled.

  “Dorothea?” Gail giggled again, patting her lips with a napkin. “That’s your real name? But it’s so refined… so… so…” Gail looked up and saw Roxy tracking her like two missiles in the night.

  “You got somethin’ to say, toots?” Roxy said, and Gail messed with her napkin, shaking her head. “Now, can I read or what?”

  “Go ahead, Roxy,” I said, nudging her to continue with a flick of my chin.

  Roxy cleared her throat. “Says here she got a new pair of ice-tea glasses that prism in the sun when she’s outside on the patio eating lunch. And… and…” Roxy’s eyebrows furrowed and she got an inch away from the letter, reading to herself.

  “Ice-tea glasses, huh? God, that’s when I know I’ve made it,” I said. “Ice tea on the patio without a care in the world.” I scraped my tray of all its brown sauce and took a warm drink of water from my canteen. Roxy folded up her letter and stuffed it away. I swallowed. “What else?”

  There was a pause, an abnormally long pause for Roxy. Her head hung over her tray. “Roxy?” I said, and she dug into her stew and chewed up sloppy mouthfuls.

  “Is everything all right?” Gail asked, and Roxy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, gulping.