Page 47 of The Words Beneath the Noise

“He doesn't think he's brave,” I said. “He thinks he's a coward. Sits behind a desk while other men fight and die.”

“Yes, well.” Fortuna's smile was sad. “That's Arthur, isn't it? Carries the weight of the whole world on his shoulders and still thinks he's not doing enough. Some of us are built that way. We feel everything too deeply, take responsibility for things that were never ours to carry.”

She stood, moving to a small cabinet where she kept bottles of various spirits. Poured four measures of something amber into mismatched glasses.

“A toast,” she said, handing them round. “To the brave and the foolish. Which, in my experience, are usually the same people.”

We drank. The liquid burned going down, but it was a good burn. Clarifying.

“So what now?” Dilly asked. “What are you going to do with all this wisdom we've imparted?”

“I don't know,” I admitted. “I came here looking for answers, and all I've found are more questions.”

“That's rather how it works,” Maurice said dryly. “The questions never really stop. You just get better at living with them.”

“One thing, though,” Fortuna said. She caught my arm as I made to stand, her grip surprisingly strong. “Arthur doesn't know you're here, does he?”

“No.”

“Good. Keep it that way, for now.” Her eyes held mine. “He needs to come to things in his own time. If he feels pursued, pressured, he'll retreat. That's how he's built. But if you give him space, let him set the pace...” She released my arm. “He might surprise you. He might surprise himself.”

“And if he doesn't? If he decides I'm too much risk?”

“Then you accept it. With grace, if you can manage it.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “We don't have the luxury of demanding love, soldier. We take what's offered and we're grateful for every moment of it. That's the bargain we make just for being who we are.”

I nodded. Stood. Felt the wobble in my legs that had nothing to do with the drink.

“Thank you,” I said. “All of you. I don't know if I understand any better than I did when I walked in, but I...”

“But you feel less alone,” Dilly finished. “That's what places like this are for. We're all lonely, soldier. Every one of us, in our own way. We just try to be lonely together.”

Maurice walked me to the door. In the corridor, away from the others, he caught my arm.

“Tom.” His voice was low, serious. “Whatever you're working out, work it out carefully. Arthur has been waiting his whole life for someone to see him properly. If you're going to be that person, be sure. If you're not, step back now before you make things worse.”

“And if I don't know yet?”

“Then figure it out. Quickly.” He held my gaze. “Time isn't something any of us have in abundance. The war takes people without warning. So do the police, the courts, the men who think violence against queers is sport.” His grip tightened briefly, then released. “Don't waste what little time you might have. That's the worst sin of all, in the end. Wasting time you can't get back.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“One more thing,” Maurice added. “Bona fide, that means genuine. Real. If you're going to be anything to Arthur, be bona fide. The false ones break us worse than the cruel ones.”

I walked back through the main room, past the candles and the conversations and the couples leaning close together in the dim light. Past the gramophone still playing its mournful songs. Past the woman behind the bar who watched me go with unreadable eyes.

Outside, the night was cold and clear. Stars scattered across the sky like someone had thrown a handful of diamonds at the darkness. I stood in the alley for a moment, breathing deep, trying to sort through everything I'd just heard.

They were all so brave. So defiant. Living their truth in the face of a world that wanted them erased. Building communities in the shadows, finding love in stolen moments, creating joy out of nothing but determination and hope.

And they were all so tired. So worn down by the constant vigilance, the endless performance, the knowledge that any day could be the day it all came crashing down.

TEN

NOT ALONE ANYMORE

TOM

Morning brought grey light and a knock at my door.