Point of No Return

by Gellhorn, Martha;

  “This went on for ten days, and then she got a letter from Dick. He was perfectly okay, not even wounded. First she cried like a baby, just lay on her bed and sobbed. She couldn’t stop. Then she slept for about twenty-four hours. We were in a big camp then and the other girls and I agreed to say she had a light case of flu, because there was a sort of field supervisor woman poking around.

  “Then Grace, that’s her name, came out of it. She drove us mad by singing all the time and she joked with the men and looked as pretty as a picture. She was a lovely girl, with long ash-blonde hair. She wrote four letters a day to Dick and had it all planned how she was going to get to France.

  “So everything was divine for two weeks and then she got a letter from a friend of Dick’s, who knew about her, saying that Dick had been killed. Sniper, I think it was. Anyhow, I gather it just happened on an average day when there wasn’t anything extra going on.”

  Lieutenant Colonel Smithers finished his drink. “What became of her?”

  “They shipped her home. Nervous breakdown from overwork, I think it’s called. I haven’t heard from her since she left.”

  “Poor kid.”

  “Yes.”

  “Still, she had something.”

  “Had what?” Dorothy Brock said. “What sort of life is that? You call that having something? I call it hell and insanity. Listen: my father’s too old; I haven’t got a brother, nor a husband, nor a fiancé, nor a man I’m in love with. Have something! All I want is not to have anything.”

  Her voice sounded very strange to her; why did she let him get under her skin with that stuff about true love and babies. Who wanted to talk about the war? Why couldn’t they drink and stick to gossip or stories about the places they’d been?

  “But Dotty, after the war—”

  “After the war!” This voice did not belong to her; it couldn’t. “After the war!” Suddenly Dorothy Brock hid her face with her hands. “I think Ricks and Ruthie are horrible, too! I hate mean people! I hate killing! I hate doughnuts!”

  Lieutenant Colonel Smithers was too shocked to move. Did I do this? he thought. She doesn’t even know what she’s saying. She’s gone all to pieces, crumpled up, gone to pieces. This was the hard girl who didn’t show anything.

  “Dotty, honey, I didn’t mean to,” he touched her hair awkwardly, and Dorothy Brock moved her head to get rid of his hand.

  She’s all alone here, Lieutenant Colonel Smithers thought, and she works like a dog at that club, she’s up at six-thirty every morning and she’s tired and she sees how things are. It’s got her down. She can’t keep it up all the time, being so tough and independent. She’s just a girl, after all. He felt that he was the one who was sure, he was the strong one, he was necessary. Dotty had broken up, the way girls had a right to, and now he would take over.

  “Honey,” Lieutenant Colonel Smithers said, “I’m going to put you to bed. You need some sleep.”

  Dorothy Brock was quiet now, but still hidden behind her hands. She shook her head.

  “Oh yes you are,” he said. “You’re going to bed. And to sleep. Nothing else, hear? And if you feel like crying you go ahead. I could cry myself, plenty of times.”

  Dorothy Brock looked smaller, hunched in the bulging armchair, and younger, and at last she was behaving the way Lieutenant Colonel Smithers expected a girl to behave.

  “Come on,” he said, “up you get.”

  She could not look at him and she wanted to run from the room and disappear before she died of shame. How could she have let herself go like that? And she still felt stunned by the emotion she could not stop, and lost in the loneliness that had made her cry. What has happened to me, Dorothy Brock thought, am I cracking up? Her eyelashes were stuck together in points, and her nose needed powder and her smooth brown hair was rumpled around her face.

  Lieutenant Colonel Smithers took her hand and led her down the hall as if she were a child on a dangerous street crossing. “People aren’t getting enough sleep around here,” he said.

  Dorothy Brock stood inside the doorway of the bedroom and looked at it as if she had never been there before. Lieutenant Colonel Smithers turned on the small table lamp and said, “Sit down, honey, while I take your shoes off.” She obeyed in silence. This was not the Dotty he knew; she had cried herself into another girl. You could really fall for this girl because you’d know you mattered to her. He was happy undoing her coat and taking off her blouse; happier than he had been when the other Dotty, willing and indifferent, undressed herself. And she still wouldn’t meet his eyes, she was shy now, and this made her more desirable than ever before but Lieutenant Colonel Smithers repressed himself. He was going to leave her strictly alone. She’d had enough wolves making passes at her. That was why she put on the tough act. She was a sweet kid at heart, and if she’d acted like a hard little bitch that was because there were too many guys who’d take advantage of her if she let them. He was sorry for her, here all alone, and worn-out, and she could relax and trust him. He was in charge now.

  He turned his back while Dotty pulled her slip over her head, and then he put out the light.

  “You comfortable, honey?” Lieutenant Colonel Smithers asked. Dorothy Brock murmured something he could not hear. It was fine having his arm around her, and her head resting just below his chin, as if she knew it was a safe place and she belonged there. Lieutenant Colonel Smithers lay on his back, and felt his body loosen in contentment. He did not know exactly what it was that he wanted, but he knew he had found it.

  10

  Usually Kathe told him the events of the day. Jacob Levy was always amused by the way she bounced at his side and chattered in her funny voice with every sentence rising to a question. It was unimportant to Kathe that Jawn could not understand. Perhaps he could understand for often she paused, in between telling him how expensive eggs had become and that Madame Verney came to the restaurant wearing a new blouse of figured crêpe de chine, and asked, “Tu comprends, Jawn?” Then Jacob Levy would smile down at the eager little face, somewhere near his elbow, and say, “oui, oui.” Sometimes Jawn stopped and hugged her in the middle of a sentence. And then they walked on, with Kathe’s conversation like a breeze around them.

  But tonight she was silent. She felt the cold through her thin old coat and the cold was part of the darkness and sorrow of the city and part of the war which went on and on. The trees looked starved and bony against the night sky; the squat stone apartment houses that lined the street seemed empty. No one was happy; no one was even alive. Kathe felt this terrible weary waiting of the world, of the people and the houses and the abandoned land, and she was lost in it. She had wanted her own happiness, however brief, and now she was losing it; she could feel Jawn going away from her.

  They walked down the cobbled street and Kathe listened to the noise of their feet, and shivered with cold, and thought that soon she would have nothing at all, not even this sad and lonely walk home through the night.

  Jawn was sitting on the straight chair now, at the end of her bed, and his legs stretched out nearly across the room. He kept his cap on, which showed how he felt. He would not keep his cap on unless he were unhappy, for he was the most courteous man she had ever seen: he always held doors open and took her arm crossing the street.

  “Dis-moi,” Kathe said, “Dis-moi ce que je dois faire. Je veux te plaire, Jawn, je veux que tu sois heureux.”

  Jacob Levy looked at her and smiled.

  Kathe sat at the foot of the bed and reached around the white iron bedpost to take his hand. “Jawn, pleeze,” she said.

  “It’s not your fault, honey.” Jacob Levy patted her hand and put it away from him.

  Kathe was trying not to cry. Jawn had not kissed her; he had not unbuttoned her coat. He came to her with love and she had failed him, and he would go away for he could have whatever he wanted and why should he waste himself sitting on a chair in Kathe Limpert’s bedroom. He would go away and that would be the end, and she could only blame herself.
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br />   “Tu viens te coucher, Jawn?” Kathe pointed to the bed timidly.

  Jacob Levy shook his head. “I can’t take it, kid.” His mouth seemed to want to smile and his voice sounded as if he were saying something to smile at. “Not being made of iron,” he went on, “it gets a fellow down. And then, you see, I guess I’m pretty hungry too and it wouldn’t do you much good to be raped, now would it? We better leave it be, honey, though I’ll regret it.”

  He looked at his watch. A long long time to sit on a chair, Jacob Levy thought. Might as well go out soon and chew the fat with that sentry at the car park. Or find some woman, just to stop thinking about women. And lose Kathe because he was a dope and didn’t know how to act. Maybe she’d thank him for it someday but it made him feel pretty sick right now.

  The light went out. He could hear Kathe undressing. She’ll be warmer in bed, Jacob Levy thought. He’d give her a brotherly goodnight kiss and beat it. This was a fine life and he was enjoying every minute of it. If the car park sentry had been stationed here a while, he’d probably know some cat house addresses. No, not tonight anyhow. Maybe not tomorrow night either. Maybe he just thought he needed a woman.

  “Jawn,” Kathe whispered.

  Allright, one brotherly kiss and beat it.

  Kathe did not want to be kissed; he could not understand what she wanted. She was trying to find his hands in the dark. Now she had his left hand, by the wrist, and was pulling him towards her. Jacob Levy sat on the edge of the bed, mystified. Kathe whispered something, and guided his hand. What was all this? Then he felt a warm round naked breast, and recoiled as if the skin conducted electricity. Kathe had stopped whispering; she was holding her breath. She’s taken off her petticoat, Jacob Levy thought, she hasn’t got a stitch on.

  “Kathe! Kathe, you mean you want to?”

  “Viens vite, Jawn!” I am only shivering from cold, she informed herself.

  Jacob Levy took off his clothes and threw them on the floor. If she wants to, it’s different; it’s not like putting something over on her. He remembered to slide slowly into the cot; he remembered the rusty springs. Then he had Kathe in his arms; cold feet against his legs, cold hands at the back of his neck, and all the rest warm, silk soft against him, all his, all given to him gladly. He had never felt this way, only holding a girl, and his blood pounded in his throat and his temples.

  I feared this, Kathe thought, I feared it. No wonder people would die for love, no wonder there were all the poems and songs about it. She wanted to laugh with joy. She was breathless and tingling as if she had rolled in snow. She could not hold Jawn close enough; and she had all the lost time to make up for, the nights she had thrown away because of her ugly imaginings.

  Jawn moved. Come back, Kathe thought, do not let me go. Now he was moving her. What did he want her to do? This would be some new delight which he understood in his wisdom. Yes, she thought, anything; Jawn knows; he will show me what I must do.

  “Ah non!” Kathe whispered. Jawn would stop and they could be as they had been before.

  “Non, Jawn, non!” Kathe gasped.

  “Relax, Kathe,” Jacob Levy mumbled, “loosen up, Kathe.”

  Her muscles had contracted; she lay like a stone. Jacob Levy could feel the sweat on his forehead and his lip. Millions of people got married all the time; girls mostly didn’t know anything when they got married. It couldn’t be so bad or they wouldn’t get married, millions of them. There had to be a first time. Take it easy, go slow, it’ll be allright if you take it easy.

  In the dark, Kathe’s eyes were open and staring at Jawn’s blurred face. What had happened to the floating joy; this was like the animals. The animals could not be blamed, they knew no better; but it was shameful horrible wicked for a man to do this. She was crushed and in pain and Jawn panted as if he had been running. He was hurting her with his hands, with his shoulders, with his hips, with all of him.

  “Arrête! Arrête!” Kathe commanded, and tried to free her hands and push him away.

  Can’t stop, Jacob Levy thought, can’t stop, mustn’t stop, has to be one first time, can’t, can’t, can’t.

  “Don’t worry, Kathe. I won’t make you a baby. Don’t worry, honey.”

  Jawn sounded as if he were crying, and suddenly he groaned. Kathe caught her lip in her teeth and put her hand, that was useless to protect her, over her mouth. At least she must not cry out and wake the Hefferichs. Her face was smeary and hot with tears and Jawn didn’t care if he killed her. Then Jawn said something, and wrenched himself from her, and rolled over on his back.

  Kathe turned her face to the wall and lay in a tight ball of misery, crying into the pillow and feeling the pain blunt itself and spread in a dull ache through her body. She listened to Jawn, gulping in air, and she thought he had tricked her and destroyed her and how could he be so cruel to a girl who had never harmed him.

  “Kathe,” Jacob Levy whispered, “are you allright?”

  She would not answer him. She would never speak to him again.

  “Kathe. Say something.”

  He thought he could kill her and she would still speak to him. If she didn’t hurt so much, she would turn over and beat at his face. I’ll never walk again, Kathe thought, I’ll never speak to him and I’ll never walk.

  Jacob Levy reached out to stroke Kathe’s shoulder and she shook his hand away.

  Oh God, Jacob Levy thought, I guess I must of hurt her, I guess she’s sore. But she’d have to find out someday. I did the best I could. I took it as easy as I could. I didn’t want to hurt her.

  “Kathe, I’m sorry if I hurt you, honey. It’s bound to be rough the first time.”

  I hate you, I hate you, Kathe said in her mind. How dare you talk to me after what you’ve done?

  “Va-t-en,” she said, forgetting that she had meant never to speak to Jawn again. “Va-t-en. Je ne veux plus jamais te voir.” She had to bury her face in the pillow to keep from sobbing aloud.

  I guess she’s sore, Jacob Levy thought. This took all the pleasure away. There had been a rugged stretch when he thought he’d give it up but it would be just right now if he could hold her in his arms, with the hunger satisfied, and only the quiet and goodness left. As it was, Kathe spoiled everything; he felt like a heel because she was sore. But she did take off her petticoat; she certainly seemed to invite him. How could you ever get things straight with a girl?

  Might as well go, Jacob Levy thought, no sense staying here being unfriendly.

  He got out of bed carefully. Those springs must have sounded like a command car on a mud road. Thank God nobody came, anyhow. He felt heavy and hollow and stupid; it was no good if it ended like this. I didn’t want to hurt her; she might understand that.

  Dressed, Jacob Levy stood by the bed and looked down at Kathe, shrunken into a lump against the wall.

  “I’m sorry, Kathe.”

  There was no answer.

  “Je venir demain,” he offered.

  The lump shook, disagreeing. From the pillow, in the muffled voice of a bad cold, Kathe said, “Non.”

  “Okay, if that’s how you want it. But it seems pretty stupid to me. You had to find out sometime. And you’re not going to get a baby or anything.”

  “Non,” Kathe said again.

  “Goodnight, then.”

  There was silence. Kathe sat up in bed and called, “Jawn!” She wanted him to put his arms around her and comfort her; she wanted him to tell her everything was allright, that this was the way life happened and that it was only difficult and painful until you understood it. She wanted to cry in his arms and be petted and loved and made safe. And then too, she had taken a unique decision and suffered all its consequences, and she deserved to be thanked a little, and admired. “Jawn,” Kathe whispered. But he was gone.

  11

  After he left Lieutenant Colonel Smithers at the rue Philippe, Jacob Levy took counsel of the car park sentry. He wanted a drink, he said, he wasn’t after anything more. The place the sentry recommended seemed
to be a speakeasy, a small storeroom lined with bare shelves, behind a shoe store. There were five wooden tables and the clientele was all soldiers. The civilian who served cognac and beer, the only drinks, looked nervous. The soldiers talked quietly too; nobody wanted the M.P.’s on their necks.

  He listened to four soldiers talking football; then he listened to three soldiers talking automobiles. He attended, with indifference, an argument on the relative merits of life in Texas and Arizona. He was invited to join a muted poker game, with matches for chips. It seemed to Jacob Levy that the night lasted a week.

  The next night Jacob Levy decided to wait for half an hour and drive back to the rue Philippe. It would be warmer inside that downstairs hall and he had a blanket which he used as a seat cushion in the jeep. He could wrap himself up and sleep on the floor.

  Miss Brock and Lieutenant Colonel Smithers found Jacob Levy, curled in an architecturally useless niche that had been built into the lobby wall.

  “He’s something to look at, isn’t he?” Dorothy Brock whispered.

  “He looks sick to me. I’ve been keeping him out a lot, lately.”

  Lieutenant Colonel Smithers woke Jacob Levy and asked, “Do you feel okay, Levy?”

  “Yes sir. It was warm in here.” He was embarrassed that the Colonel and Dotty had seen him sleeping and he managed to appear more awake than he felt. On the way back to Weilerburg, in the cold dark, Jacob Levy said to himself: I couldn’t feel lousier if I was dead.