Drowning in the East River

by Kimberly Pierce

  "What happened?" Alice asked, sitting forward from where she was smoking in the corner. She was young, maybe fifteen or sixteen. She looked over at him as she took a deep drag on her cigarette. Her mousy brown hair was pulled off her neck in a quick ponytail. She had lined eyes, and despite her young face, her old eyes gave him the distinct feeling that she had seen a lot. She stopped, realizing how her question must have sounded to him, "If y' don't mind me asking, of course."

  Jacqueline stood up, "I need some air. I'll be right back." She dabbed her nose with a handkerchief as she glided towards the door. She was almost silent as she stepped outside into the foggy day.

  As Jacqueline shut the door smoothly behind her, David turned, seeing Aidan also watching her. As the two men made eye contact, Aidan busied himself finishing the black edging around the tattoo. "Are you two...?" David asked, his eyes following Jacqueline's path out the door.

  Aidan shifted his glance up to David's eyes, "We were," he said, focusing intently on the tattoo. He furrowed his brow, stopping only to wipe a layer of sweat from his forehead. Despite the cool air which had taken refuge over the city, the steam radiator in the old factory was working overtime. He licked his lips. "But it's ancient history. She's not interested in much of anything."

  "I don't know about that," David said, wiping a layer of sweat from his own forehead. His voice stumbled in a sense of relaxation, the pain gradually morphed into a strange sense of relaxation. He tried to stifle a yawn. "She seems to like you."

  "Whiskey?" The other girl asked. She held up an aged bottle.

  "Please." David said, flashing her a small smile.

  She poured three fingers into a small glass and slid it back to him. David threw back the drink, the alcohol hitting his empty stomach like a ton of bricks.

  Aidan stopped and sat back in his chair, lighting a cigarette. He sat the wand on a small side table. He spoke slowly, considering his words carefully. "We had a... thing for about six months last year. She was the one that called an end to it."

  "Did she say why?" David asked.

  “No. I'm assuming she never mentioned it," Aidan said, taking a long drag on his cigarette. He looked around the room, keeping an eye for Jacqueline to make a reappearance. He glanced at David and raised a suspicious eyebrow. He chucked softly as he continued. "Watching the two of you, I would assume you're pretty close right now."

  "She hasn't said anything," David replied. He looked over his shoulder at the now finished artwork. The skin around the ink was red and inflamed, the beat up skin wanted to start bleeding. Aidan gently blotted the tender spot with a bandage. "She just told me that you were one of the few people she'd trust with her life."

  Aidan sat back, a somewhat sad smile crossed his lips. "That means a lot."

  Both looked up as the door from outside opened. Jacqueline stepped inside, she rubbed her arms briskly, trying to bring back circulation. "What did I miss?"

  Aidan stood up, brushing his hands on his pants. "I think we were going to talk over some of the plans."

  David sat up, gingerly grabbing his shirt from where it was draped over the chair.

  "Wanna join us?" Aidan asked, flashing David a curious grin. "If that girl considers you a friend, that's good enough for me.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Putting the key into the lock of Aidan's tiny row house, David could hear the sound of muffled conversation from the dining room. The main floor felt claustrophobic, much like the old apartments in Manhattan. The room was dark, lit only by the little sunshine able to squeeze through the porthole of a front window. Draping his coat over the rack, David moved deeper into the narrow room. "Hello!" He called out, listening for signs of life.

  Besides the small factory, the house served as the group's headquarters. It was one of a number of identical buildings on an easily forgotten block, a few minutes walk from the shipyard. "A good hiding place," as Jacqueline had called it when she had led him to it for the first time.

  The front door opened straight into a tiny living space, just large enough for a small sofa and radio tucked into the corner of the room. A half-finished cup of tea sat on the coffee table, while a newspaper was draped over the arm of the sofa. The decorating scheme was minimalist. The walls were painted a simple cream color, a few nondescript pictures lined the walls in simple frames.

  David moved through the living room towards the small door leading to the cramped dining room in the back of the house. As he braced his hand on the knob, he stopped. The hushed conversation which had been barely audible had escalated in volume. He envisioned Jacqueline hunched over a map, engrossed in one of her many plans.

  He knocked twice on the thin and hollow sounding door. It was the code.

  A heavy male voice called out from the other side, "Come!"

  David pushed open the door and stepped through into the kitchen and dining room. He was hit with a wave of humid air. Jacqueline huddled around the kitchen table with the small group of men. He didn't know all of them by name, but they were all part of her inner circle.

  The setting sun was visible through the windows which overlooked the alley behind the house. They had already lit candles, which were spread around the room, casting just enough light to see by.

  Jacqueline glanced over her shoulder with a smile as he stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him. "Take a seat, David. We’re just getting started."

  "Take your time," David said. He sat down in one of the dining room chairs which had been pushed against the back wall to make room for the group gathered around the table. He folded his arms and leaned back in the chair.

  Aidan looked across the table, his cigarette hung loosely between his lips. He leaned over a makeshift map showing the English military encampments, small flags dotted the urban landscape. He gestured to a particularly dense grouping of flags. "The English have been moving into this area with greater frequency lately."

  Jacqueline looked over the map. Her eyes shone with intensity as she glanced up at Aidan. "Do you think they are building their forces for something major?"

  Another man, who David had heard called Callum, stood up from the chair where he was seated on the far side of the room. Callum brushed a strand of his thick chestnut hair out of his eyes as he moved towards the map. He spoke quietly, in a rough Irish accent. "I have people telling me that the English are building up to smother and take down the insurgency efforts."

  "They've tried that before," Jacqueline said, staring at the map configurations. David could see her eyes shooting across the spread, struggling to decipher the patterns in her non-military mind.

  Aidan stabbed out his cigarette in the ash tray on the table. His movement was harsh and abrupt as he continued, "My brother mentioned that they've all been moving through the rural area outside of town. That would be the perfect spot to stage an operation."

  "Operation?" David asked, sitting forward in his chair. He cracked his knuckles loudly. He stood up, and crossed the room to where the group huddled. He slid in next to Jacqueline, bracing a hand on the edge of the map as he continued. "What are you thinking?"

  Aidan leaned over, pointing at a cluster of flags in a wooded area on the map. "They always utilize this road here. It's actually a very poor decision. It's a wide open road, with lots of overgrown foliage on either side. We could hit them from here, and they would hardly be the wiser."

  David dug into his pocket and pulled out his packet of cigarettes.

  "Let's do it," Jacqueline said, staring at the map. She held a drink in one hand, her other on her hip. Her hands were unnervingly steady.

  As he lit his cigarette, David looked down at his own hands trembling.

  "How are we doing this morning?" The nurse said, walking by his bed. She stopped in front of him, taking a moment to adjust her headdress. She spoke is slightly broken English, her French accent poking noticeably through as she gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. She smiled softly as she continued, looking him up and down. "You seem to be getti
ng a little more color in your cheeks."

  David strained to raise his head off the pillow. Outside the window, the sun was starting to come up over Paris."I don't feel much better." A shiver rippled through his muscles, "Why is it so cold?"

  The nurse dug in her apron. "Let's see..."

  David closed his eyes as she settled for running a smooth hand over his forehead."You still have a bit of a fever, but considering the shape you were brought in, I'd say you're doing much better."

  Looking up at her, he finally had a good view of the girl who had been taking care of him for the last three months. Probably eighteen at the most, she had elegant, aristocratic features. She had striking caramel colored hair, which was always hidden underneath the nurses head wrap. It was a long, white cloth, reminding him of the nuns back home. She had a full, curvy figure, which was hidden under the loose fitting white dress and apron. "I don't feel much better." He said, dropping his head back onto his pillow.

  "You're going to bounce back," she said, checking the bandages which were covering his arms. After a moment, she sat back and looked him over with a scrutinizing eye."Your body has been through some major trauma. It's just going to take a little while. You can't expect to simply get better overnight."

  "What's going through your head?" Jacqueline walked into the library after him. She sized David up, her hands on her hips. Jacqueline pulled the door shut behind her as she stepped further into the room. Her voice dropped to a non-threatening whisper. "You know you can talk to me. You left the room a little too quick.”

  David shrugged in response, taking a swig of the drink he had just poured himself. He stared at the floor in front of him, deliberately avoiding her dissecting gaze. He gently swirled the bourbon around in its glass. He bit his lip as he sat down in one of the chairs, the earlier conversation playing on a loop in his head.

  The clack of her heels echoed on the floor as she circled around the room, gingerly getting to her knees in front of him. "Are you all right?" Jacqueline asked, resting a gentle hand on the inside of his thigh. She looked into his eyes, her's soft and wide. Her voice was soft as she continued. "I'm sorry you had to hear all of that."

  When he didn't respond, she ran a soft hand down his cheek. She gently hiked her skirt up around her thighs, straddling him on the chair. Her voice was gentle, but there was an almost sobering note of realism present. She braced her hand around the back of his neck, staring into his eyes as she continued. "I do care for you, David. I want you in my life, but this is something I need to do."

  He looked up into her eyes, for the first time making eye contact with her. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears spilling down his cheek. He broke eye contact, glancing passed her to the floor to ceiling bookshelf lining the far wall. His voice cracked as he continued. “Do you really have to go about it that way?"

  Jacqueline stood up abruptly, and moved towards the bar in the corner of the room. She continued as she poured herself a drink. "You were the one with the little Moran girl when she died. I would have thought that you would be the one person who would understand what we have to do." Her voice had a hard edge. He had insulted her.

  David sat forward. He took a deep breath, struggling to keep his tone in check. "Doesn't this type of warfare make you just as guilty as those troops?"

  Jacqueline pursed her lips and dropped into a couch. She looked over at him as she took a deep sip of brandy as she continued. "I'm surprised your view of everything is so black and white. Did serving in France really not show you that nothing is so simple..."

  "You sound like Jessica," David said, cutting in with a soft chuckle. He shifted in his chair, and glanced up into her eyes, which were staring at him intently.

  "Good," Jacqueline replied. She cracked a smile as she ran a hand through his hair. Her voice was a gentle as she continued. "She sounds like a good sort."

  "She was," David replied. He stood up and moved towards the bar once again. He refilled the brandy. David turned around, looking over Jacqueline. After a moment, he came to his decision. His voice trembled as he spoke. "What do you need from me?"

  "You don't have to do anything," Jacqueline said. She walked over to where he was standing, resting a gentle hand on his forearm. She looked him straight in the eye, making sure he heard her. "Honestly."

  "I know," David replied. He reached up and gave her hand a gentle squeeze and forced out a centering breath. He glanced towards the kitchen and ran his fingers through his hair. He spoke slowly, thinking through his words carefully. "I won't lie, the thought of this scares me to death, but I wouldn't be here if I didn't want too.”

  Jacqueline ran her hand down his bicep, seemingly convinced. “You’re sure?”

  David nodded, biting his lip. “Yup. I’m not sure how I can help, but I want to try.”

  “Good,” Jacqueline said, a smile spreading across her lips. She ran her fingers down his jaw, ruffling the scruff which spread across his cheeks. “That’s what I hoped you would say.”

  “I’m sorry,” David replied, collecting himself. He ran his fingers through his unruly hair as he pushed himself to his feet.

  “Are you sure it’s okay?” David asked, looking down at the squirming baby in her arms. “What do I need to do?”

  “Come here,” Jessica said, a tired smile spreading across her face as she looked up at him. A few days had passed, but she still looked wan and pale. She patted the mattress next to her. “Sit with me. Hold your son.”

  David slowly crossed from the door, and gently sat next to her. Outside the window, he could see the sky turning pink with the setting sun between the buildings. Looking down at Thomas, the baby stared up at his mother with wide, but content green eyes. He felt his muscles tighten. “He looks fine with you.”

  Jessica laughed, “Will you stop being scared? I need to shift, and can’t do it with him in my hands.” Hoisting the tiny figure up against her chest, she pulled the strap of her silk nightgown higher on her shoulder. “I swear, for a man who was in the trenches, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be scared of a baby.”

  David looked down at the baby as Jessica passed the small bundle over to him. He didn’t respond, because it sounded foolish in his head as well.

  “You look so uncomfortable,” Jessica said, adjusting Thomas’ head under David’s elbow. Jarred by the sudden movement, the baby started to squirm in his arms. As she looked at the two of them, “Loosen up your grip on him, sweetie. You won’t drop him.”

  “He’s beautiful,” David said, a slow smile spreading across his face as he looked up at Jessica. Every muscle in his body felt tight, petrified at the thought of dropping the tiny bundle. “He looks just like you.”

  “You must be blind,” Jessica replied, stretching out her back. “He’s going to look exactly like you when he grows up. I’ll take him back if you want.”

  David gently handed Thomas back over as she held out her arms for him. “I feel sorry for him then,” he replied, pushing his glasses higher on his nose.

  Jessica held the baby up at her eye level, a bright smile spreading across her face as she looked at Thomas.“Yes, he has your eyes, and definitely your smile.”

  David looked up, tickling his son’s chubby cheeks.

  "Are you ready?" Jacqueline asked, taking a half step in the direction of the dining room door.

  "As I'll ever be," David said. He took a centering breath as she pushed open the door into the dining room.

  “Are you guys all right?" Callum asked, looking up at them. He glanced between David and Jacqueline, mild suspicion passing over his eyes.

  "We're fine," Jacqueline replied. Looking back at David, she reaching out and took his hand inside of hers as they moved back towards the map. “How are things out here?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A bitter wind blew over the wide open plain. With the exception of the dense foliage on either side of the road, there was nothing to block the wind howling across the frosty, empty farmland just outside of Dublin.


  "It's fuckin' freezing," Callum said. He braced his rifle on the ground. He blew into his hands, trying to bring himself a little warmth and return to circulation to his fingers.

  "Should have done this in the summer," Aidan chimed in. He cracked a small smile, but the presence of nerves in his eyes was undeniable. His eyes were glued to the road through the trees. "Fuckin' weather.”

  Callum glanced towards David. He kept his voice low as he spoke. "You doin' okay over there? You're awfully quiet.”

  David forced out a soft chuckle and a centering breath as he continued. "I haven't been this scared in a long time." He stared down the sights of the rifle in his hand, hoping it would distract him from the waves of nausea pulsing through his system. If he'd eaten any breakfast, he probably would have vomited it up by this point.

  "Probably a good time to say any last minute prayers, boys." Aidan called, pulling a set of rosary beads from his pocket. He closed his eyes and pressed the strand of beads to his lips. He closed his eyes, likely trying to hold onto the moment of inner tranquility.