Making It Work

by Kathleen Glassburn

  “Looks the same around here.” His voice caught as they passed through the gates to the base.

  Sheila wondered why he hadn’t said anything about her changed appearance. “You look so good. I didn’t expect you to be this tan.”

  “Not much to do on a ship but hang out in the sun and read magazines.”

  Sheila didn’t ask what kind of magazines.

  As they got closer to Medio Street, both grew completely silent. In a few minutes they would be holding each other in the privacy of their own place. Sheila thought, Please don’t have the Potters come out.

  Jim pulled the apartment door shut behind them, and said, “Glad the Potters weren’t around.” Then, he carried her to the waiting Murphy bed.

  She’d left it open with new, freshly-laundered sheets in a happy peach-colored tulip design. Because of her own excitement, she forgot all about the radio.

  At a bit after 2:00 a.m. the next morning—spent and asleep—they were jolted awake. Not wanting to concern him, Sheila never wrote to Jim about the bartender and his barmaid and their horrible noises.

  “What the fuck? Is he going to kill her?” Jim quickly sketched out his options: call the manager; call the cops; put on his pants and go save her himself.

  “Just wait.” Sheila put a hand on his arm.

  After the next-door ruckus came to completion, the young couple cuddled on the bed listening to the snores and snuffles from the Ancients on one side and the complete silence from the Bruisers on the other.

  “They’re probably sharing a smoke and rubbing new owies,” Sheila said.

  “I guess that’s one way to keep excitement in your marriage,” Jim said.

  “You’re plenty exciting just like this.”

  Jim nuzzled up to her neck. He rubbed his hand over her ribs, and said, “You really got skinny while I was gone.”

  “What about my hair … my face?”

  “You’re beautiful.

  She gave him a long, appreciative kiss, and that led to more lovemaking.

  Sheila took off the rest of the week, so they spent a lot of time in that Murphy bed.

  On Sunday Jim reported back to the ship, so she attended mass and gave thanks for his safe return. During those first few days, along with even more intense sex, as if they were trying to make up for nine months of missed opportunities, Jim talked more than usual—like he’d been storing up his words for nine months. He liked all his shirts and was thrilled with the $3,000 in her passbook.

  “For a car.”

  “I can’t believe you were able to save so much.”

  “I didn’t have much else to spend my paycheck on.”

  After seeing the presents he’d brought her, Sheila blurted out, “Brenda said that guys who feel guilty about what they did on leave always bring home the most gifts. I’m glad you brought me only three things.” She rubbed a gold compact, opened the lid of a shiny jewelry box, and twirled the pearl ring on her finger—not looking at him.

  “You know I’d never cheat.” Jim put a hand over his eyes as if pushing back a pain. “What about you?”

  “There’s no need to even ask.” She cringed thinking of that suspicious doctor. “I went to work and stayed in the apartment every night unless I was visiting Brenda or Jane.” With her initial anger gone, Sheila recalled the woman who had dumped the baby boy with her. Maybe the doctor saw a lot of that sort of navy wife. She decided not to tell Jim about this or about playing the guitar with Bradley. It bothered her too much wondering what had happened to the little guy, and making music with Bradley seemed as harmless as a game of Monopoly with her brother. Why bother Jim about it?

  “The street girls were plentiful and more than willing. When the ship docked in Yokosuka, Ted came on board. He invited me for dinner and to spend the night.”

  “That was nice,” Sheila said, even though she didn’t mean it.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  Her throat constricted.

  “He urged me to bring a girl … said Brenda wouldn’t mind.”

  Sheila caught her breath.

  “What do you think she was doing in San Pedro every Friday night?”

  Was Brenda like some of those other navy wives? “I can hardly believe one of my closest friends here in Long Beach would allow … encourage you to … or that she ran around while her husband was gone.”

  “Believe it. That’s what they do. Ted told me about their unspoken agreement. ‘Makes the time apart go faster,’ he said.”

  The remark Brenda made the day the ship left, about making time go faster came to mind. “I’m sure Leeza and Chuck don’t have any kind of agreement like that.”

  “He never left the ship when we were in Japan. Mostly, he studied for his next promotion and read every book he could get his hands on.”

  She told Jim about Ted’s visit to the apartment and how he had come on to her.

  “That really pisses me off.” He scowled. “But it doesn’t surprise me. Some of the guys are like that. Most aren’t. I had Rolly all wrong.”

  It took her a few days of stewing to figure out how to handle Brenda’s lack of loyalty, but one night after work, with Jim gone on duty, Sheila wrote a note to her with a single sentence: “I thought you were my friend!” She never received a reply.

  In spite of happiness over his return, soon a nagging worry set in about the next time he would have to leave.

  “Enjoy what we have,” Jim told her.

  And Sheila tried to appreciate what time they did have together, but always she wondered, When will the ship go on another cruise? The times when it was out on maneuvers were hard enough. Her stomach clenched every time she contemplated another long separation.

  And earlier that summer, eight student nurses had been murdered in a Chicago dormitory. Along with the dread of Jim being away again, since hearing this violent news, living by herself had become more scary and difficult as her imagination went into overdrive.

  Then one night he came home to her dinner of chicken and dumplings. “It sure smells great in here,” were his first words. “Glad you learned how to cook while I was away.”

  “Thanks to Jane.”

  He ignored this remark. “I’ve got a surprise! My shore duty orders came through. I’ll be staying right here in Long Beach.”

  “Oh my God. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Sheila sat silently, for several minutes, trying to settle her nerves. She put a bite of chicken in her mouth, then bolted for the bathroom.

  “I’m sorry.” She returned to the table a few minutes later. “Your news made me sick when I realized my worries are all over.”

  “I’ll never leave you again.”

  “Never.” She crossed her arms on the table and placed her head atop them.

  The next Friday night, which Jim had off, they celebrated in their usual way. The movie they saw was The Sound of Music. Of course, Sheila loved all the songs.

  Jim said, “I’m sure glad we didn’t go to that new Beatles’s movie.”

  He was referring to Help which she’d first suggested.

  “They’re getting mighty weird.”

  After the movie, they had dinner at a favorite Mexican restaurant. Both Sheila and Jim had developed a fondness for this kind of food, and during this meal they made plans to move to a bigger place.

  A month later she returned their keys to Mr. Grey, who stood in the doorway of his apartment with his wife lying asleep on their sofa.

  “Had to evict those neighbors of yours. Hope they didn’t cause you too much trouble,” he said.

  “It has been awfully quiet! But yeah, I survived. Besides, living next door to the Potters has been a delight.”

  “They’ve been married almost sixty years and still act like honeymooners.” His voice conveyed a sense of longing. He glanced toward his wife.
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br />   Sheila didn’t think this quite the case, but decided, Maybe from his perspective.

  “Those others, the bar people,” he continued, “fifteen years of wedded bliss and somehow they haven’t killed each other. It don’t seem fair.” After a sad pause, “You’ve been a good tenant. All the best to you and your fella.”

  Sheila hesitated a moment before giving him a quick hug, feeling glad that she didn’t have to see Mrs. Grey again. Mr. Grey smelled of cigarettes and beer and sorrow.

  In spite of his reassurances, after Jim’s revelation about the Rollys, Sheila grew to hate the gifts he’d brought home from the cruise. She wondered what to do with a fancy gold compact, a garish red and black enamel jewelry box, a pearl ring that slipped around on her finger. Every time she looked at these things, it brought back her broken friendship with Brenda and the Rollys’ messed-up life.

  She put the gifts to the back of their closet. Jim never asked where they went. On that last day at the Van Dorn Apartments, when she saw these things again, Sheila never thought twice about putting them in a sack and leaving it next to the Potter’s door.

  Right before Christmas of 1966, Jim and Sheila christened their palatial-seeming, two-bedroom furnished apartment in the queen-sized bed. It stood under a closed window, not next to anyone else’s wall. For the first few weeks, enjoying a very special holiday, all went well.

  But by the first of the year, 1967, it seemed like after every lovemaking session, Jim brought up the subject of Sheila going off the pill. He kept saying, “The other bedroom could be for a baby.”

  “A baby … sure,” she would say, all the time thinking, I don’t want a baby yet!

  Sheila hadn’t changed her mind. She wasn’t even twenty-one. After Jim got out of the navy, she had things to do. Her friends back home were edging ever closer to obtaining their college degrees. She was stuck in a boring clerical job where she typed almost identical change orders for eight hours a day.

  Invariably she would say, “I’m not ready to think about it.” Or, “I’m too young to have a baby.” Or, “We can’t afford this. I can’t quit work.”

  When she hedged, Jim answered with words like, “We’re young. This is the time to have kids, when we can have fun with them.” And, “The navy will take care of everything. They’ll pay hospital bills, raise your allotment.”

  She’d say, “Okay. I’ll think about it,” to placate him.

  Once, he even said, “If I were to re-enlist, we could live on base.”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Just kidding, but I wanted you to know how the navy takes care of its own.”

  Finally, one night he said, “I don’t know what’s with you, Sheila. I thought you wanted to have kids.”

  “I don’t want a baby right now. Do you know how that would tie us down? I have things I want to do first.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “You know I want to go back to school. I told you I was thinking about night school when you were gone. You said that was a bad idea, so I didn’t do it. I’ll wait for a while, but I’m not going to wait forever. I want to get my music degree. I want to teach. I don’t want to work in an office the rest of my life. And, if we have a baby now, I’m afraid that’s what will happen.”

  “I didn’t realize you felt this strongly about it.”

  “Haven’t you heard me?” As long as she’d started this, Sheila decided she might as well go on. “There are other things I want first, too, like a permanent place to live, a house, all that kind of stuff.” She paused, trying not to cry, “I have plenty of time to have a baby. Can’t we just enjoy being together?”

  “I won’t pressure you anymore.”

  He did try. Still, Sheila could see when they were out, walking along the beach or strolling through their new neighborhood, how he always noticed families with little kids. He didn’t say much, but there was a yearning look on his face that she couldn’t disregard.

  She hoped they would get to know Chuck and Leeza better—that Jim would become really good friends with Chuck. Other than one dinner at their place that was almost exactly like the first one with the Rollys, they never saw them. Leeza had lost weight, her skin had cleared up, and her hair was shiny, with a flattering trim. In addition, the boys were so happy to be with their father. Chuck and Jim played baseball with them out in their yard, with no broken windows or other mishaps, while Leeza and Sheila got the enchilada dinner ready.

  When they were preparing the meal, Leeza said, “Do you ever hear anything from Brenda?”

  Sheila couldn’t help herself; the words came tumbling out. After she got done tearing Brenda apart, she said, “I’m sorry. Brenda was my friend, but she really hurt me.”

  “You don’t have to apologize to me,” Leeza said. “You learned a lesson. If Jim should stay in the navy, you will meet different kinds of people. You’ll have to figure out the ones you want to spend time with, the ones who have values like yours.”

  “I’m glad you’ve become my friend.” Sheila didn’t say how much she hated to even think of Jim staying in the navy.

  Leeza gave a soft smile and handed her a bowl of tortilla chips to put on the table.

  While driving home in the car that Jim had purchased—a 1960 white Chevrolet convertible—he said, “See how great it is to have a couple of kids?”

  “Sure, I can see what you mean. Chuck and Leeza and the boys seem extremely happy.” She didn’t say, Would I be?

  Sadly, Sheila didn’t even have a chance to invite them for dinner at the new apartment. Chuck got orders to be stationed in Washington, D.C., at the Pentagon, and they left a short while later.

  That spring Sheila applied for a new job at Douglas. She hadn’t told Jane about this, but once hired, she did, during an afternoon coffee break.

  With a scraping sound, Jane wheeled her chair toward Sheila. “Why would you want to be Marcelle’s assistant? Such a hoity-toity.”

  “Extra money,” Sheila said.

  Since Jim had returned, there was more rent for the apartment on the beach. It wasn’t the Villa, but it was so much better than the Van Dorn, and now they were paying $150 a month. Plus, there were dinners out, movies, going to clubs with new navy friends—casual relationships that didn’t mean much, but fun nonetheless.

  As far as the new job went, there would always be the memory of that awful interview with the office manager at the fancy attorneys’ firm who acted as if she was issuing proclamations from a throne. Louise Hewett. Sheila’s hands still got clammy recalling her own homemade, crooked-hemmed dress, and how the woman said, “You are not a good fit for our firm. Perhaps Douglas Aircraft is hiring.”

  “It’d take more than a couple cents an hour to get me to fetch and carry for the Belle.” Jane’s plump, usually cheerful face looked squished and peevish.

  “Marcelle’s okay. I remind her of a younger sister back in Beaufort.”

  “Yeah, right.” Jane sniffed. “You’ll be so far away.” The new office was at the other end of the plant. “Marcelle Dahlin isn’t as classy as you think. Once you start working there her true colors will surface.”

  “It’s Dah-leen, not Dah-linn.”

  Marcelle had told Sheila her sister was named Laureen, and “Wouldn’t it be silly if she’d married a Dahlin?”

  “You’ll be sorry.” Jane used this same tone trying to talk her own kids into or out of something. Mary Beth had griped about it, and Bradley merely tuned her out. Jane had never before talked to Sheila in this way.

  She felt secure and comfortable with her job in Jane’s department, but despite their friendship, she had grown weary of the repetitive work. Plus, and she could barely admit this to herself, the lure of working for head of procurement, a more impressive role, even as assistant to his personal secretary, had proved to be too tempting.

  CHAPTER 13

 
; More Changes

  BEFORE SHEILA TRANSFERRED TO HER NEW OFFICE, SHE HAD ONE LAST LUNCH WITH Mary Beth at the employee cafeteria. After buying her usual salad and roll and Coke, she sat down at a table for two along a side wall and waited. Mary Beth had recently come back from a visit with a high school friend who had moved to San Francisco, and Sheila looked forward to hearing about the trip. She looked at a photo collage of early Douglas Aircraft on the wall that showed employees around the time of World War II. The women wore colorful scarves over their heads and held massive tools. She tried to picture what her new position would be like. She wanted to tell Mary Beth about her excitement and nervousness. Since Jane considered the move to be such a big mistake, she never brought it up with her soon-to-be old boss. Jim was so involved with his new job on base that his distracted attitude kept Sheila from speaking of her own work.

  Now, thinking of Mary Beth’s unhappiness, she considered that maybe her friend should find another department to work in. Jane, of course, would be upset about this, but Mary Beth worked so close to the Change Order Department. If Jane had her way Mary Beth would be working for her, but this was against company policy. It might do Mary Beth good to move to another building.

  Sheila decided that once she told Mary Beth about her own new position, she would bring this up. Mary Beth shuffled to the table and dropped her overloaded tray across from Sheila. Bacon peeked out from the bun of her double cheeseburger. A heap of French fries filled the rest of her plate. A chocolate milkshake overflowed from its frosty glass. She plopped into a chair and took three fries, dipped them in a puddle of ketchup, stuffed them in her mouth, and reached for the shake.

  “I’m going to miss having our regular lunches each week,” Sheila started.

  “Yeah.” Mary Beth nodded, her mouth full.

  “You know I’ve decided to take another job. It’s located across the plant.”

  “Oh.” Another nod.

  “We can still get together occasionally, but …”

  “I won’t be around for long anyhow.” Mary Beth took a break from her munching.