Battle of the Rhine

Michael never dared to tell Oliver that he lived in the "King's" house. "Big Girl" sent a letter to "Little German," and he married a dark-haired New York girl. "Big Girl" greeted Mike by the way, "Bad guy, off to Germany . . . He must have got the Germans crazy, and that's fucking treason during the war."

"That's the German accent you like," Oliver concluded. "Stern, silent, with head held high, looking at people through your nostrils."

Michael was noncommittal.He didn't know if he was being charmed by a German, but it was an indisputable fact that he slept in the same bed with a German every night.

"I met Charlie today."

Supper was a German dish, which Michael cooked from a recipe.However, he was not sure whether this was German or Austrian food. The two countries are next to each other and both speak German, so there may be no difference.Quincy cut the sausage with a small knife, one cut at an angle of 45 degrees, another cut, and a delicate isosceles triangle appeared, and then, without knowing how, the casing was peeled off, clean.

"where is it?"

"Marian Square... do you know that she has applied to be a primary school teacher?"

"know."

"There were a few in the car at the time... There was one of my comrades in arms. He didn't leave the army, and that was Oliver. He could speak German because his grandfather was German." Michael carefully observed Quincy's expressions and movements, and the man even The tip of her eyebrows didn't even move, "Would you like some more apple soda?"

"Thanks." Quincy went on cutting the sausage, one small triangle after another. "Oliver Bowman, I met him at the bank a few months ago—is that him?"

Michael tops up Quincy's glass with apple soda, a drink the Germans are especially fond of.There was no alcohol in the soda, but Quincy's tone was a bit strange, and he must have been unhappy, "It's just... Oliver's talking nonsense, Charlie seems to—"

"She should know that you served in the army."

"What?"

"It's normal for an American man your age, in good health, to have been in combat." Quincy moved the pile of small triangular pieces to a white porcelain plate, "like me, who served in the Wehrmacht and was a Nazi." , it's quite normal, isn't it?"

"Didn't work go well today?"

"No."

Something must have happened, but Michael was unwilling and afraid to touch Quincy, who still had wounds on both arms.They finished their dinner in silence, cleared the dishes, took a shower, and went to bed.Michael recited the vocabulary for a while, then turned off the light and lay down.The smell of soap made him rub his nose, he had to find something to talk about.

"Well... Today, Mr. Franz asked me what my plans are for Christmas. I said that I would sleep at home and rest. He said that he had saved some money and planned to take his wife and children out to a small city. "

Michael recalled it for a long time before he remembered the place name.It took Quincy a moment to reply, "Well, I've been there."

"How's the scenery?"

"There's a nice brothel there, and the beds are very comfortable."

Michael turned his head, and there were a few lights floating in the darkness, "Brothhouse?" His voice raised unconsciously, "Have you ever been to a brothel?"

"Why can't I go to a brothel? Haven't you been?"

"I did. Tim took me there. But I didn't do anything. It didn't cost me a dime."

The topic offended Michael so much that his stomach was on fire. "How could you go to a brothel?" he asked aloud. "How the hell could you go to a place like that?"

"Why the hell can't I go to a brothel?" Quincy's voice also raised. "You Americans are allowed to whore women, but I can't?"

"Don't say that word!"

"Stop yelling at me, Fiennes," Quincy said, sounding smug, "I ain't your dear little Tim, oh Tim, that's nice, let's go to whorehouse, you fucking Didn't he still sleep with the same girl?"

Here we go again, here we go again, even without drinking.Michael sat up and turned on the wall lamp.Quincy lay on the pillow, her face flushed slightly, her lips trembling slightly, "Mike, how many whorings have you had?"

Calm down, Sergeant Fiennes, calm down, "Not a single one." Michael grabbed his military registration card, "I hate that kind of place."

Quincy smiled sarcastically, it was infuriating to make such an expression with such pretty lips, "...hate that kind of place... talk about nothing but women being women—if you don't go whore Not normal, is it? To be manly is to drink, whore, prostitute, and talk lewdly..."

"I'm going to bed," Michael said. "Good night."

Quincy didn't like to let go, "You're angry."

"No," Michael said, turning his back on him, "you're right, it's normal—most men have this need, and I can understand it."

Quincy turned over heavily, "College students are not so pure and flawless, they also have 'this kind of need'-ah, yes, yes, I can't go whoring, I can only be honestly used to be whored by you, can't I?"

"You fucking—" Michael sat up suddenly.Calm down, he puts on his sweater, don't argue with him, think about those horrible scars. "I'm going to sleep downstairs." He said forcefully, "Good night!"

"Your dear Tim never let you get mad, miss him?" Quincy said sarcastically.

Quincy hated Tim, as Michael had learned several times before.The sofa in the living room on the first floor was much more comfortable than Michael's own sofa. Michael added firewood to the fireplace. In the silence, there was only the crackling of firewood.He lay on the sofa, his stomach rolling.The apple soda for dinner may have been mixed with alcohol, as some Germans do.Throw out that bottle of soda tomorrow, and Michael fumbles for his military badge. Quincy's unreasonable outrage is really hurting him.

At midnight, Michael fell asleep.Early Saturday morning, he awoke from a chaotic dream with a sore shoulder.Quincy stood in the kitchen, back straight.

"I didn't go to find the girl." He said suddenly, "I was sent there from the very beginning. Occasionally there was a day off, and everyone made a fuss, so I had to go with me."

Michael rubbed his temples, "uh—"

"I originally wanted to sneak away, but I didn't expect that I could take a hot bath there."

"..."

"Give me money, and I can do it at any time. As long as they pay, they are willing to do anything, such as washing clothes, ironing clothes, shining shoes..."

Michael clutched his stomach, it seemed that the unknown fire had subsided, and Quincy returned to normal, "Whenever I have a holiday, I will go there to take a shower and let them wash my clothes. The bed there is very comfortable and clean, without the disgusting smell of sweat .”

"Well," Michael sniffed his armpit, "yes, the smell of sweat is disgusting enough."

"Let's eat." Quincy put the plate on the table. "I really didn't have sex with that girl, believe it or not."

"I believe it." Michael moaned and hugged his head, "Honey, can I have a cup of coffee first?"

On Sunday afternoon Michael took Quincy to the choir as usual.The choir was rehearsing the songs for the Christmas mass, and the pianist's wife had just given birth to a child, so he took a long vacation to take care of his wife and children at home.Quincy sat at the piano and played it over and over carefully.Michael didn't bother to find out why he had lost his temper on Friday night, which he'd manage to calm down until after Christmas anyway.It's time to prepare Christmas presents, Michael wondered, what should I give?