arrived home a little after one, roaring drunk. He hammered at the front door, shouting to Angie to let him come in.
Angie had fallen asleep on the sofa, waiting for him, and she burst at once into complete wakefulness. She jumped to her feet and ran to open the door, whispering, “Paul! Stop it! You’ll wake all the neighbors!”
“I’m free!” he shouted, and staggered into the house. He pirouetted into the living room, arms stretched wide, slamming against a chair and turning to grin blearily at her. “I’m free,” he said again, more softly. “Free as a bird. Free as the air. Free as a goddamn civilian.”
She had been going to tell him about Uncle James’ visit, but now she saw that it was the wrong time. He was as drunk as she’d ever seen him, and unpredictable. She had no idea what he might do if she were to tell him that Uncle James had come here tonight. That would have to wait until tomorrow.
“Paul,” she said gently. “Maybe you ought to go to bed and sleep it off.”
“I celebrated,” he told her, unnecessarily. “Took the train, rode the club car all the way. Celebrated! Had a grand old time, on account of I’m a goddamn civilian.”
“I know, Paul,” she replied, smiling at him. She came to him and took his ann. “You deserved a celebration,” she told him maternally. “But now it’s time for you to go to bed.”
“No more Germany,” he mumbled. “No more leaving here, ever. No more Germany, no more Air Force, no more Ingrid. Ingrid! Fah on Ingrid! Who needs her?”
“Right,” she said, guiding him gently toward the stairs.
“Everything’s all right now.”
“Who needs Ingrid?” he cried. He threw a heavy arm around her shoulders, leaning weightily against her, and said, “I’ve got you, Angie, so who needs Ingrid? I’ve got my sweet little goddamn sister and she’s the sweetest, prettiest, truest girl in all the whole goddamn world.”
“That’s right,” she said, smiling, glad of the opportunity to help him and pleased at the things he was saying about her. “You watch the stairs now,” she said. She put an arm around his waist to help support him, and felt his body pressing against hers.
It was a long, slow, tedious trip up the stairs. He kept stopping to tell her all over again how great she was, and how great it was that he was free, and how he didn’t need Ingrid and he didn’t have to go back to Germany and the Air Force could go to hell. She kept agreeing with him and guiding him gently up the stairs, until finally they made the top step and went around the corner and into his room.
She set him down gently on the bed. He lay back at once, arms flung out, lying sideways on the bed, his feet hanging over the side. “Whooey!” he cried. “Did I celebrate!”
“I guess you did,” she said. She knelt in front of him and took off his shoes and socks, then straightened to lean over him and started unbuttoning his shirt.
He reached up, suddenly, grabbing her arm, pulling her down on the bed beside him. He wrapped his arms around her, and buried his face against the side of her throat, holding her close, mumbling something she couldn’t make out because the words were muffled against her neck.
She felt the stirring again, stronger than ever, and forced herself to push him away, forced herself to sit up and laugh and act as though it were just horsing around and fooling and not meaning anything. “Now come on,” she said. “I’ve got to get your shirt off. You don’t want to sleep with your shirt on, do you?”
“You’re a good girl, Angie,” he whispered. He lay on his back, smiling up at her, patting her arm. “You’re one hell of a good girl,” he repeated. “And I’m a goddamn louse. Oh, you’ll never know what a goddamn louse I am.”
“Now, hush,” she said. “Don’t carry on that way. You’ll wake up all the neighbors.”
Then he reached up
Angie had fallen asleep on the sofa, waiting for him, and she burst at once into complete wakefulness. She jumped to her feet and ran to open the door, whispering, “Paul! Stop it! You’ll wake all the neighbors!”
“I’m free!” he shouted, and staggered into the house. He pirouetted into the living room, arms stretched wide, slamming against a chair and turning to grin blearily at her. “I’m free,” he said again, more softly. “Free as a bird. Free as the air. Free as a goddamn civilian.”
She had been going to tell him about Uncle James’ visit, but now she saw that it was the wrong time. He was as drunk as she’d ever seen him, and unpredictable. She had no idea what he might do if she were to tell him that Uncle James had come here tonight. That would have to wait until tomorrow.
“Paul,” she said gently. “Maybe you ought to go to bed and sleep it off.”
“I celebrated,” he told her, unnecessarily. “Took the train, rode the club car all the way. Celebrated! Had a grand old time, on account of I’m a goddamn civilian.”
“I know, Paul,” she replied, smiling at him. She came to him and took his ann. “You deserved a celebration,” she told him maternally. “But now it’s time for you to go to bed.”
“No more Germany,” he mumbled. “No more leaving here, ever. No more Germany, no more Air Force, no more Ingrid. Ingrid! Fah on Ingrid! Who needs her?”
“Right,” she said, guiding him gently toward the stairs.
“Everything’s all right now.”
“Who needs Ingrid?” he cried. He threw a heavy arm around her shoulders, leaning weightily against her, and said, “I’ve got you, Angie, so who needs Ingrid? I’ve got my sweet little goddamn sister and she’s the sweetest, prettiest, truest girl in all the whole goddamn world.”
“That’s right,” she said, smiling, glad of the opportunity to help him and pleased at the things he was saying about her. “You watch the stairs now,” she said. She put an arm around his waist to help support him, and felt his body pressing against hers.
It was a long, slow, tedious trip up the stairs. He kept stopping to tell her all over again how great she was, and how great it was that he was free, and how he didn’t need Ingrid and he didn’t have to go back to Germany and the Air Force could go to hell. She kept agreeing with him and guiding him gently up the stairs, until finally they made the top step and went around the corner and into his room.
She set him down gently on the bed. He lay back at once, arms flung out, lying sideways on the bed, his feet hanging over the side. “Whooey!” he cried. “Did I celebrate!”
“I guess you did,” she said. She knelt in front of him and took off his shoes and socks, then straightened to lean over him and started unbuttoning his shirt.
He reached up, suddenly, grabbing her arm, pulling her down on the bed beside him. He wrapped his arms around her, and buried his face against the side of her throat, holding her close, mumbling something she couldn’t make out because the words were muffled against her neck.
She felt the stirring again, stronger than ever, and forced herself to push him away, forced herself to sit up and laugh and act as though it were just horsing around and fooling and not meaning anything. “Now come on,” she said. “I’ve got to get your shirt off. You don’t want to sleep with your shirt on, do you?”
“You’re a good girl, Angie,” he whispered. He lay on his back, smiling up at her, patting her arm. “You’re one hell of a good girl,” he repeated. “And I’m a goddamn louse. Oh, you’ll never know what a goddamn louse I am.”
“Now, hush,” she said. “Don’t carry on that way. You’ll wake up all the neighbors.”
Then he reached up
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