Gabe - Eight

Gabe

            After Biology on Friday, we all headed back to the dorm to relax and bask in the glory of Friday afternoon. The week had been tough. Between the four of us we had failed two Biology labs, missed an Economics test, and passed out drunk in class while writing an essay on African History (to be fair, that one was only Jim). Just about every professor, except Professor Crackers, who still didn’t know I existed, had threatened to have us suspended. That got us off our asses and into the library, and we ended up spending Thursday and Friday with our noses in books.

            So by the time four o’ clock rolled around on Friday, we were ready for a break. We ambled towards the dorms, laughing and smoking. As we made our way across the grounds, we saw big groups of guys gathering on the lawn with wooden tubs and clothes.

“What the f**k is this?” Jim eyed them suspiciously. We watched as the groups, roommates, probably, drew water from the pump near the shower building.

“I think it’s laundry day,” Hersch said.

“Laundry?” Erich asked, sounding annoyed. “I don’t know how to do any goddamn laundry. That’s what you get dames for.”

“If that’s all you use them for, you’ve got a problem,” Jim laughed.

“Piss off.”

“We might as well try,” I offered. I had washed clothes in Italy, but that wasn’t something I was about to share with them.

Jim sniffed his shirt tentatively, pulling back and looking disgusted. “You got that right, Moretti. Let’s go get the stuff.”

As soon as we opened the door to the dorm, Erich slipped on something. “S**t!” he yelled, looking angrily at the floor. “What the hell was that?”

Hersch bent over and picked up the papers that had been slipped under the door. “Letters!” he said, seeming happy to see them.

There were four, and for one second, I thought one might be for me. I thought someone in the world actually cared enough about me to see how I was doing away from home.

“From Christian Amery…” Hersch read, handing a letter to Erich. “From Lillian and Robert Banhart… from…” he trailed off, not reading the name of the person who had written to him, “…um, for me. And… a notice from Knight.”

Of course no one had written me. Why would they? My parents were long gone, and it was unlikely that my aunt and uncle would send me anything but a bomb or a vial of poison.

Hersch dropped his letter on to the desk. Erich glared at the envelope and shoved it into his pocket. Only Jim opened his letter, grabbing a bottle of whiskey out of the boiler as he scanned the page. “Oh, boy,” he said, taking a sip, “letters from home. We’re gonna need this,” he laughed holding out the bottle.

“Forget that, Banhart,” Erich said, clearly agitated by the situation. He headed for the large wooden laundry tub, “grab your clothes and let’s get this over with. Give me a hand here, Gabe.”

I rushed over to grab the other side of tub, glad for a distraction from my lack of correspondence. I couldn’t possibly explain that the people who I had spent the last two years with wanted absolutely nothing to do with me without revealing what had happened in Italy.

Erich and I hauled the tub outside and over to the water pump while Hersch carried the huge pile of clothes and Jim read allowed from his letter.

“Dear James,” he began, mimicking his mother’s voice, “we hope this letter finds you well. All is well here. I’ve planted a victory garden to make up for the rations. The newsman says London is still under German fire. You’re not going into London are you? Are you reading your Bible? Have you made any friends?  Are you making good choices?” We all snickered at that.

“Well you can’t bloody well answer ‘yes’ to any of those, can you?” I laughed.

Jim chucked and went on. “Sending you our love and prayers, blah blah blah blah, love Mom and Dad. P.S. Jesus’ eyes are always on you.”

We all exploded with laughter at that. “Goddamn it, Jim!” Erich hooted. “Sounds like your parents are a little concerned for your soul.”

“Ha! You got that right,” he said as we set the tub down under the water pump. “I guess they didn’t exactly approve of the way I lived my life back home.”

“Yeah, and they thought sending you over here with us was the way to get you on the right path,” Hersch said sarcastically, pumping the water into the tub.

“What they don’t know doesn’t hurt them,” Jim laughed. “If I told them I was rooming with a Jew and a German and a…” he trailed off and looked at me as I willed him not to say the word he was thinking, “… whatever the hell you are, they’d probably have a heart attack.”

We all laughed as the tub filled up. It took all four of us to get it over to the lawn once it was full of water, and my hands were splintered by the time we got into the shade of the big oak tree.

“Bleeding Christ!” I exclaimed, looking down at my hands. My palms used to be rough and calloused, from working in the vineyard all day. But they were going soft already.

“Don’t be a fairy, Moretti,” Erich said teasingly.

My breath caught in my throat at the word. Luckily, Hersch broke in before I had to defend myself. “Hey, what was the notice from Knight?”

Jim dropped a shirt into the water and shrugged. “Fucked if I know. Probably a reminder that we’ve all got to bow to him as he walks by.”

“Bow or bend over!” Erich snorted. I chuckled. It was easier to deal with the queer jokes if they weren’t directed at me.

“Well, let’s see,” Jim said, pulling the notice out of his pocket. He read to himself, scanning the page. Then a huge grin slid across his face.

“Holy s**t!”

“What?”

“Holy s**t!” he said again, as if that answered everything. “I’ll be right back.” He took off running towards the main building, flailing his arms like an idiot.

We just watched as he dashed away from us. “Real convenient, a*****e!” Hersch shouted after him. “If you’re not back in one minute your clothes are going in the tree!”

“Wanker,” I muttered under my breath.

“If he doesn’t come back that guy’s gonna lose some teeth,” sulked, scrubbing at a pair of pants. “Goddamn, don’t we have any soap?”

“What? Got some unsightly stains there, Amery?” Hersch asked jokingly. “Not getting too excited, are you?”

            Erich scoffed. “Yeah, because there’s so much to get excited about around here,” he said sarcastically. “I just can’t control myself. Gabe here just makes me so stiff.” He pounded me on the back.

            I froze. It took me a second to process what he had said, and two more to realize he was joking. I wasn’t sure what reaction he expected, but all I managed was a strangled, half-hearted laugh as I stared at the ground and lit a cigarette nervously.

            “Hey,” Hersch sounded irritated, smacked Erich on the arm, “lay off him.” I couldn’t bring myself to look either of them in the eye. I just stared at my hands and picked at my splinters.

            Erich snorted fell backwards onto the ground with his hands behind his head, irritated that no one had appreciated his joke, abandoning his pants in the laundry tub. I stifled a relieved sigh. It was getting worse. Whatever made Erich to say things like that about me wasn’t going away. Hersch seemed to be on my side, more than the other guys at least, but I couldn’t let him defend me every time. I had to show them I was tough.

Still, I threw a grateful glance at Hersch, who either didn’t see or didn’t notice. He had turned his gaze towards the main building, where Jim was tearing out the door and around the corner towards us.

“Arschloch,” Erich sat up and cursed in German under his breath.

“Just listen to him,” Hersch said, looking down into the tub and pushing his glasses up his nose. “He’s smarter than we think.”

Erich looked at him incredulously this time. “Jesus Christ, a little tightly wound today, are we Abrahamson?”

“F**k off.”

Erich sat up with a menacing look in his eyes, but Jim got there first. “Guys!” he was out of breath, waving the notice from Knight triumphantly over his head as he came to a stop in front of us.

“Nice try,” Erich grumbled, “there’s no way you’re leaving us to do your goddamn laundry.”

“Guys!” Jim tried again, more insistent. “Guys!”

“What?” Hersch asked, annoyed.

“Guys,” he wheezed one more time, “we’re going to London.”

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Doing laundry and having a good conversation. Funny part this is a true way of life. People are more friendly with nothing else to be done. I enjoyed the chapter. I like the letter and the honest conversation. A excellent chapter.
Coyote