Battle of the Rhine

Michael was not very good at writing, he could write words in order and the grammar was correct, but he was not very good at using figures of speech.A middle school teacher commented on his composition, "It's as dry as grass outside."

Today, in Europe across the ocean, Michael can find an appropriate description for his feeling: his stomach is like a ton of napalm, and his anger can be ignited at any time, turning that damned woman into a restaurant. for ashes.

"..."

It was undeniable that the woman matched Quinnessy in appearance.If Emma was still alive and walked with Quincy, she probably would have looked like that.Although she was a bit shy, she behaved generously—Charlie was probably the only girl who didn't show a shy expression when she saw Quincy. Michael stared at the door of the restaurant, holding the steering wheel with both hands, wishing he could rush in now. Get Quincy out and take him home—

Take it home, but it's not his home.Soon, in less than a month, he will leave that house and go to another strange city alone.Michael drove around the road a few times. On Friday, the Germans who worked overtime walked in a hurry.Mothers leading babies with huge baskets with bread, vegetables and milk bottles; men in dark jackets crossing the road, frowning in a knot; tired and excited young workers on bicycles walking and talking, He speaks heavily accented High German.It's like a European genre painting, a movie scene, a photograph.Michael, on the other hand, does not belong to this painting, this scene, but is an intruder in the photo, out of place with his surroundings.

At eight o'clock, Quincy and the woman emerged from the dining room.The woman was wearing high heels, and Quincy, very gentlemanly, held out a hand and helped her down the steps.Michael honked the horn, and Quincy turned his head, showing a momentary surprise, then the flat, typical German look.

"Carl," Michael poked his head out and waved his hand, "what a coincidence, huh?"

The woman looked at Quincy suspiciously, and Quincy explained something to her with a smile. "Come on, let me see you off!" Michael said loudly, "It's just on the way."

The woman's surname is Lehman, and she teaches in a school.It must have been introduced by Charlie, Michael thought through gritted teeth.Ms Lehman has deep green eyes that sometimes turn gray in the light. "Thank you very much," she said, elegantly. "Goodbye, Mr. Fiennes. Goodbye, Carl."

Quincy opened the car door for her.The house Ms. Lehman lives in is as elegant and beautiful as she is, with a few potted plants on the windowsills.Michael waved exaggeratedly at her, feeling like a villain in a Chaplin movie.As soon as the woman was out of sight and he pulled the car off the street, the ton of napalm hidden in his belly was ignited—"You're like a fucking M2 flamethrower," Michael thought, feeling his face The muscles in his chest kept twitching, hoping that he could really hold a flame gun at this time, "Fuck! Sit in front! What the hell do you think I am? The driver of His Majesty the King? How polite are you Germans!"

Quincy got out of the car in silence and sat in the passenger seat with her back straight and her hands curled into her knees.Michael grabbed the steering wheel angrily, and controlled the jeep with the last bit of reason, so that he didn't rush into the Isar River with the car. "Great! 'Carl'? How many times have you met? First time, huh? First time you're called by your Christian name, she's happy with you, isn't she? Listen to her voice, 'Again —see—', that's fucking disgusting!"

The edge of the night sky is glowing with a strong red, which may indicate that the clouds are coming again. "--Is she also from your small circle of nobles? Is she rich? Is she also a prince or princess? What are the benefits of marrying her? Will I have to curtsy and pull my tongue when I see you in the future? Pretending to be a civilized gentleman, 'Oh, Mr Lehman' - that's what the fuck you want, right!"

Quincy was silent and expressionless, while Michael kept on babbling, honking his horn furiously, "Fuck, are you blind! Can't see a car? - Fuck, and you, what are you acting like?" ... You will settle accounts every day, ha, college student, I know you can count, there is no one in the world who cares about everything more than you! I will be charged a penny for every drink... I don’t care how many marks it costs to invite this woman to dinner! Or Said she invited you? Yes, she likes you, what's the food, you marry her, and all the jewelry in her house belongs to you! If you like money so much, why don't you fucking sleep with John? He's eager to fuck your ass, never It started at the age of ten! Doesn’t his family have money? He doesn’t have a title? You say you don’t like him, but you still keep seducing him...to be friends! I don’t believe you can’t see what he means to you!”

"I didn't," said Quincy suddenly, very slowly, "I—not—because—"

"Aren't you because of what?" Michael yelled, "Didn't you have dinner with that Miss Lehman because of the money? Date, it's amazing, if I wasn't at the door, are you going to send her back and sleep with her by the way , got married in the newspaper on Monday?"

"Don't—you—" Quincy breathed rapidly, "Don't, don't allow you to insult me ​​like this, you—"

"I'm telling the truth!" Michael snarled. "Fuck you, you fake—"

With a sudden brake, the car scraped the curb and stopped.Quincy choked Michael's neck, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Why did you do this to me?" he said in English, perhaps overly agitated, a little lisp, "why did you do this to me, Mike? Because I was a disgusting gay? Or because I was German and served in the military , was assigned the title of second lieutenant, and fought to the last minute?” He choked up, “I never joined the Youth League, I never joined the Nazi Party, I never killed Jews... I tried my best to stay away from politics, hide by the lake, Looking at the newspapers with fear!—Why are you doing this? Because I didn't speak out against 'Night of the Crystals' when I was 16? Because I didn't do justice for the Jews? Because I didn't write articles criticizing the policy of attacking the Soviet Union? Or because you were Righteous Americans, victors of world wars, and I'm just a pathetic captive? Yes, me and my country lost, a total fiasco, so you just trample on my dignity and fuck me when you're happy , get tired of kicking me into a corner like I'm some kind of dirty, shady thing?"

"Does it humiliate you to admit that you have feelings for me?" Quincy let go. "No, maybe I was wrong from the beginning. You're right, Mike. You're not gay and you didn't love me .You just want to find someone to vent, and that person happens to be me."

He got out of the car, buried his head and walked into the darkness.Michael froze for a few seconds, chasing after the thin figure.One was in front and the other was behind, until Quincy walked to the door of the house, opened the door and walked in, and the light in the living room came on, then Michael turned and left.

The night wind is howling, there are no stars, no moon.Michael sat in the car smoking one cigarette after another.He seldom smokes, buys a pack of cigarettes and carries them with him for "entertainment".Tobacco made his mouth bitter.When the last cigarette was burned out, he sat in the darkness, holding his military badge and begging the Lord for guidance.

"God, please," Michael cried, "tell me what to do..."

Quincy was right, no one saved him, no.Finally, Michael returned to the cold house and took three cold showers to wash away the heavy smell of cigarettes.Then he crept upstairs, the door was unlocked, and Quincy was curled up in a deep sleep.

"I'm sorry." Michael knelt down beside the bed, not daring to touch Quincy with his hands, for fear of waking him up. "I'm sorry," he apologized quietly.He wanted to say those three words, the simplest sentence, but he couldn't open his mouth after all.