So Long, Marianne.

Marianne’s POV

It was late April and I was sitting in my kitchen with my best friend Shelly. She was going to marry her boyfriend (no, who else?!) once the war was over and we were making “test cakes” to see which ones were the best for the cake. I wasn’t particularly paying attention to what Shelly was saying to me. She could go on and on for days and wouldn’t even notice if you left the room. I was staring deeply into the bowl, mixing it hard and thinking about Will. When wasn’t I though? I wondered if he would be coming home soon. A lot of soldiers were already coming home by the trainload and there was talk of the war being over soon.

After he left, I tore apart my room to find a stupid ‘best friend’ locket thing he gave me, along with his class ring I stole, and put them together on a nice looking chain. It was the only jewelry I wore. I guess it was kind of discouraging to guys looking to go out with me; a lot of girls whose boyfriends were out fighting would wear their rings and whatnot. I smiled, slightly fingering the piece of jewelry.

“Marianne are you even listening to me?” Shelly asked, annoyance written all over her face.

“W-what? Of course I am!” I spun the batter some more.

“Hm,” She looked me over. “As I was saying, my father says the war is going to be over in a couple months! It seems like it’s been going on forever. Hopefully Kevin and I can have a summer wedding…” and she lost me again.

There was suddenly a hard knock on the door. I tried to see who it was out the kitchen window, but I couldn’t. I pulled off the striped apron.

“Coming!” I screeched, walking to the door. Shelly frowned at my loud voice; she thought I was very “unlady like” but would never say it to my face.

I pulled opened the door and a handsome looking soldier stood behind it. I momentarily wondered why he was here. I leaned against the door and smiled.

“Hello,” I said slyly. He nodded to me.

“Hello,” he looked nervous. “Is this the, uh,” he looked down at a piece of paper. “The Cummings residence?”

“Yeah it is. Why?” I furrowed my eyebrows.

I was momentarily distracted by another guy getting out of a car that I didn’t even notice was there. He took off his shoe and threw it at the guy in front of me.

“Hey Ronnie is this it?” The other guy yelled in a thick Louisiana accent. The guy in front of me, Ronnie, picked up the shoe and threw it back.

“Yeah,” He called, and then turned around to me. “I’m sorry he was brought back in such bad condition, I’m sure all he needs is some sleep and fluids and then the infection will be gone.”

“Wait, what?” I looked back and forth between Ronnie and the other guy. The other guy was pulling out the passed out but obvious form of my slightly more grown up Will. A hand flew over my mouth. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

“His mother said he could stay here until she returns, is that still alright?” Ronnie looked worried.

“No, no that’s fine! It’s fine.” Shelly was suddenly behind me and I grabbed her hand, fighting the urge to cry. The guy holding Will was walking up the steps. “Let me show you where to take him.”

I opened the door wider and walked up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. I pulled down the sheets and the guy carrying Will put him in the bed. I looked at Will for a second before turning to the soldiers.

“What happened to him?” I asked. They both looked at each other.

“He was, um, shot in the hip. It’s infected, the doctor in Maine told us. That’s probably why he’s still out. He said to keep him cool to bring down the fever.” Ronnie said. I bit my lip and nodded.

“Thanks for bringing him home.” I could feel tears already forming. The two soldiers passed an uncomfortable look before deciding to leave. I showed them to the door. Shelly decided to leave also.

I watched her leave, standing behind the door and waving goodbye. Once I was sure she was gone, I turned on my heel and ran up the stairs (tripping many a-times) and into the guest bedroom. I walked quietly over to the almost lifeless figure lying under the sheets. He’d gotten a lot older looking in the 4 years since he’d left.

His hair was a lot darker, and he was slightly tanner. He’d lost all his teenaged awkwardness. His face was thinner and it looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. I ran a finger down his jaw line and smiled to myself. He had definitely gotten more attractive.

I leaned down and pressed my lips to his burning forehead.

“Welcome home Will.”