A Thing Called Love

Chapter 10

Winter was all but gone now, though one could still feel a cold breeze cascading at night and in the early mornings. The passage of time was not exactly something Rosemarie liked to think of lately. Every day that went by brought them one day closer to Elvis' departure.

It was March 1959. One more year, almost exactly. Soon enough she would be counting months instead, then weeks and finally just days. Hours and minutes in the very end.

Their future was another thing she didn't want to think of but it was the first thing her mind drifted to whenever she wasn't busy. Particularly late at night, when she was trying to fall asleep and on her walks from and to school. It didn't help that Elvis refused to talk about the future but she couldn't blame him either. He didn't know what it would bring any more than she did.

There were more fans in front of Elvis' home as of late. Their dates, too, were becoming less intimate and peaceful. Last time they were surrounded by a horde of teenage girls. If things kept going in that direction, then they wouldn't be able to go anywhere but his house soon enough.

Berating herself for thinking of such things so early in the morning, on her way to school, Rosemarie forced herself to banish the thoughts from her mind.

She heard the commotion that could only come from the school even from the distance. Quickening her pace, she tried to ignore the foreboding that coursed through her. Whatever it was that was happening at school, it could be dealt with. What she found upon arriving was the last thing she'd expected. Time stood still as the throng of people armed with cameras and notepads spotted her.

All Rosemarie could do was stand there as her stomach took a plunge into her feet. The reality of the situation she now found herself in overwhelmed all of her senses. Questions about Elvis were fired at her while cameras clicked away. It seemed as though her knees were shaking to the point where she was no longer capable of taking even a single step but when she looked down her legs looked as still as a statue. Her mind was scrambling but she couldn't seem to find it in her to produce a thought that may entice any sort of bodily response.

Someone grabbed her from behind suddenly, making her jump in horror. Relief engulfed her when it turned out to be Hans. He tucked her under his wing, practically dragging her past the reporters and photographers. They followed them up the stairs leading to the school house but stopped at the double doors. Once inside, Rosemarie found herself forced to learn against the nearest wall.

"Alles klar?" Hans asked. All Rosemarie could do was nod her head.

Whether Hans reciprocated in her feelings of shock would stay a mystery for his eyes remained neutral. Hans' hand was coiled around her shoulder. He was speaking, but the words were swallowed up by the shrill ringing of the tardy bell.

Class. She had to go to class. Her legs carried her toward her class room. Rosemarie arrived to find her class complete, at least at first glance. They were in the midst of animated discussions when she walked in but by the time she had made it to her desk everyone had found their seats and fallen silent.

"Guten Morgen," she told them, waiting for the class to respond in unison. Several heads swiveled toward the window, where cameras were flashing. Why did her classroom have to be on the first floor?

"Was wollen die denn? (What do they want?)" Daniel, one of her more outspoken students, asked.

"Uns nerven. (Get on our nerves)," Rosemarie told them, causing the children to laugh.

She strode over to the windows and drew the blinds one by one. Before she could finish, the door was pushed open and none other than the principal himself walked in. His aged face, decorated with deep wrinkles around his cheek that caused him to resemble a bull dog, was grim. The children chanted 'Guten Morgen, Herr Direktor' before erupting into speculations in the form of whispers