Rakehells

Her gone, his face dropped. Tone severe, he addressed Abercrombie.

"What sort of story will this produce?"

Even as he heard the Pole, knowing Marianne had coaxed him under inadmissible duress, the reporter acknowledged that this post-war skullduggery would never be filed. Perhaps fictionalized it might someday see print. Of course then there'd only be surmounting an editor regarding the denouement's palatability.

Abercrombie said, "Any article resulting from our interview will be entirely appropriate and suitable to all agreements you and Fraulein Witmershaus reach."

"Excellent!" the Pole said. "And I expect never to see or hear of either of you again. Good day!"

Marianne bounded into the late cold afternoon. She'd barely buttoned her overcoat. Abercrombie doubted she felt any discomfort. She was a gleeful dozen steps ahead before noticing him laggard from her side. A slow pivot, hers, and she tried reading his attitude.

Above his heavy dress coat and scarf Abercrombie was bemused. He slowly joined her. They then ambled along the sidewalk. An irrepressible grin brightened her face throughout their next steps.

"You caught him at the right time," he said.

"We caught him at the right time," she replied.

"Five years ago I bet he had plenty of fuck-you steel still in his spine. Enough to out-brazen you. Enough to call and raise your bluff."

"Today I wasn't bluffing," Marianne said.

Abercrombie scoffed. "Today you played at the high-roller table with chump change. You bet your ass you were bluffing."

Marianne shrugged. "Doesn't matter. How you play doesn't matter. Just so you win."

He let that slide. She continued.

"I'll be able to move oma into a better home. Muti can start enjoying life now. Oh, she has no complaints but I know she feels shorted. Especially after my father deserted us. Fuck him. Weaklings only get bags of shit. Dried shit at that!"

"What about yourself? What do you get?"

She answered immediately. "Peace of mind. Satisfaction. I don't know. I'll figure it out."

Abercrombie didn't bother asking whether this the happiest moment of her life. Instead he tacked backwards.

"If he'd called your bluff, he would've had us thrown out. Maybe even arrested. For you I'm sure he would've insisted on immediate deportation. Me, well, me he likely would've spared no effort in ruining. Did any of that occur to you?"

They proceeded several steps in silence. He stopped and she did likewise one step beyond. His last question removed her grin. He looked into her hardened face.

"Yes," Marianne said, "I considered all that ... None of it mattered in the least."

Abercrombie paused, shook his head. Such self-absorption made him laugh. She let him know where she stood. That was better than soothing him through false or flimsy justification.

His laughter lightened her face. He moved towards Marianne and slid an arm around her waist. She snuggled against him. They started walking again.

"Harsh as it is, Marianne, you have a brutal relationship with the truth. Whatever you do never lose it."

"You know," she said, "I was thinking. Perhaps next time I visit America I may be able to afford to buy you something nice."

-30-