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“Who is Hank?”
She pushes her hair away from her face. “I met him a year ago! At least he doesn’t send me the letter he meant to send to someone else!”
“What the hell do you mean by that, Margaret?”
She never realized before how tall he was. Now he towers over her, and she suddenly feels very small. His face is beet red, and the vein in his forehead pops out. Still, she squares her shoulders and maintains eye contact. “Remember Darlene?” She feels a small stab of satisfaction when Donald’s eyes flash. “You accidentally sent me her letter. You didn’t even check to see if you had put it in the correct envelope!”
“And then– then you just go off and have an affair? Is that the level you’ve stooped to now?”
Margaret’s eyes flash with red, and she really wishes she were taller because standing on her tiptoes doesn’t have the same effect. He still towers over her, but she really doesn’t care. “He was there for me, Donald! We were thrust into a bad situation, and he was there, and he was warm, and he genuinely cares about me, like you never have!”
Donald laughs bitterly and scratches his chin. “I can’t believe I married a whore. Mother was right about you, you know.”
Her jaw drops. “How dare you! How dare you refer to me as such! I am a good nurse! I am more than a source for pleasure! How dare your mother say that about me, even before she knew me! You have never respected me once in our marriage, and that’s all that I have ever wanted from you! I didn’t even expect you to love me, but you never had the decency to respect me!”
Donald clenches his jaw. “Your reputation preceeded you, Margaret.”
“I don’t care! Why did you propose to me, anyway? You had known me for all of three days, and we rarely ever saw each other between then. You cheated on me during our engagement and our marriage, and I never once broke it off, when I should have a long time ago!”
She feels the sting on her cheek before she processes what just happened. Donald raises his hand again, and she backs away from him, and the fear begins to bud in her chest.
“I am the best thing that’s ever happened to you! You would still be with that sniveling Frank Burns, waiting for that coward to divorce his own wife. You would have waited for something that would never happen, and when the war ended, you would have been at the same place you began. I saved you!”
“You did not! At least Frank made me feel like I was loved, like I was special. You never did, and that was all you were ever supposed to do! I used to have to defend Frank against BJ and Hawkeye, and now I go to them whenever I get news of your new mistress.”
Donald’s eyes flash, and he backhands her again. Her cheek feels like it’s on fire. “You tell them about our relationship? I never gave you the right.”
“I needed your permission? I am capable of making my own decisions. And I want out!”
His hand wraps around her throat and he pushes her against the wall. “I will not let you.”
She pulls at his hand. “Sto……sto-p.”
He lets go and steps away from her. “I can’t fucking believe I married you.” He stares at her for another moment, shakes his head, and leaves the room. The door slams behind him.
She slides down the wall and holds her hands close to her chest. The room is cold and heavy.
She’s pathetic. Donald has said as much. She has survived mortar shelling, bombs, front lines, and an entire war, and she crumples at the sound of her husband’s voice, at the sting of his hand against her cheek. Generals have advanced on her against her wishes, majors took advantage of a young woman studying nursing, and it ruined her reputation, but she cries when her husband takes her to bed. Trapper insulted her day after day, sometimes stepping across lines that even Hawkeye didn’t dare to cross, but she whimpers at her husband’s harsh words.
Womanizer though he may be, Hawkeye never did this to her. Even when his anger boiled, even when his voice was loud and harsh, even when steam blew from his ears, he never touched her in his anger. Even though he flirted with her day in and day out, he never did anything to her without her permission. He may have insulted her in days past, but he has tried to make amends, has tried to be friends with her.
When the bombs kept falling, he held her. Even when he was angry with her, he never yelled like Donald has. Hawkeye’s anger is righteous. Donald’s anger is terrifying.
“Hawkeye,” she sobs, “I need you, Hawkeye.” She sobs again, and she keeps whispering Hawkeye’s name. The night falls, and then she gets up and packs.
She wants to be free.
*
When her Jeep pulls up to the 4077th, BJ is sitting out in front of the Swamp, writing a letter to his wife. He looks up, ready to point her in the direction of Colonel Potter’s office, but when he sees that it’s just her, he relaxes and then tilts his head in confusion. He sets his notepad on his seat and gets up to greet her.
“Margaret!” he says, helping her out of the Jeep. “Long time, no see. It seems like just two days ago, we were seeing you off.” He grins and gets her luggage. She doesn’t respond to his terrible joke, and his smile falters. He jerks his head towards her tent. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your tent. You can tell me about what’s bothering you.”
Her heart jumps into her throat and she shakes her head. “No, I- I’m fine, BJ. Thank you for your help.”
BJ looks her over, trying to figure her out. He shrugs and lets her lead the way to his tent. She opens the door and holds it open long enough for him to step inside.
She straightens her jacket and tucks her hair behind both ears. “Thank you, Captain, that will be all.”
BJ gently shakes his head. “No.”
She lifts her chin defiantly and turns to face him. His smile is soft and the look on his face is not one of pity, but one of sorrow.
“What is it, Margaret?”
She shakes her head and steps away from him.
“Where did that bruise come from?”
She lifts her left hand and brushes her fingers over her cheek. “I, uh…I ran into…I, uh…”
“Margaret, don’t lie. You’re terrible at it.” He forces a smile. “Come on, you can trust me.”
She swallows heavily and wipes at the tears falling down her cheeks. “It’s…it’s Donald. I went to go see him, and just…we were –” she gestures wildly with her hand, “– together, and then it was terrible from that moment forward. He antagonized me for withholding some of my pay from him, and then he brought up the letter I wrote to him as payback.”
BJ nods. “The one about Hawkeye?”
“That’s the one. And then…” she licks her lips. “He hit me.”
BJ purses his lips and nods slowly. After a moment of silence, he rocks up on the balls of his feet. “Margaret, you need to get out of that relationship.”
She shakes her head. “BJ, he won’t let me.”
“Who gives a shit about what he wants, Margaret? He’s hit you. That’s– it’s wrong. There’s no excuse for that.”
“He’ll kill me if I divorce him,” she whispers. Her throat feels really tight all of a sudden. “He’ll kill me.”
“No, he won’t. Hawkeye, Potter, and I will protect you. Even Charles would be willing to.”
She sniffles. “Charles doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.”
BJ lifts a finger. “Au, but contraire…he punched an orderly in the face yesterday for referring to a Korean as a gook.”
“Charles? Are you sure? Did you get the right man?”
BJ winks. “Listen, Margaret…Donald won’t hurt you anymore. We’ll take care of you. Please, I’m begging you…think of yourself.”
She presses her lips together. “He’ll kill me, Beej, he’ll kill me.”
BJ walks closer to her and hugs her. “I promise, Margaret, none of us will let that happen.”