)
Paul waited for the rest of the passengers to disembark, the last one out of his seat. He swallowed two more aspirin without water, picked up his worn, tattered duffle bag, and sucked up the courage to walk the aisle into the bustling Los Angeles International Airport. Even though the hour was late, it was still alive with passengers, packed departure gates, bright lights, and crackling intercom announcements. Maybe someone’s looking for me. He couldn’t make out the muffled voice on the PA system, catching every other word, but still hoped he would hear his name being paged to the nearest telephone. Praying to see someone he recognized, Paul trained his eyes on every face and saw nothing but a sea of strangers. No one was rushing toward him with a warm hug or open smile, no one to shake his hand, no one to make his long journey home worth a damn. At least on this night there were no protestors, no one screaming at him, or spitting in his face. For that, he was grateful.
As he made his way down to the baggage claim and taxi area, he fought off the searing pain in his head, took deep breaths as he had been instructed, and stepped into the closest taxi lined up curbside. “Please take me to eight zero one Hoover Street, Reseda.” It was all Paul had the strength to say, as he lay his head back on the old, smelly seat of the cab and fell asleep.
Chapter 14
Sam felt like a freak. He knew he was a freak. Everywhere he went, people stared and he was aware that they were uncomfortable. Children could be blunt, but at least they were honest. They would blurt out something like, “Where’s your real hand,” or “That must hurt.” They tended to be curious or sensitive, but most grown-ups remained mute. After three months, instead of settling in and becoming comfortable in Nana’s home, Sam kept long hours into the night. The light in his room only dimmed as the rest of the household greeted a new day. Elizabeth let herself believe it was probably a matter of getting used to the time change and everything would return to normal soon.
Sam and Nana were talking at the kitchen table when Elizabeth came home from school. “Pour a glass of milk. I baked fresh cookies, too. Sam’s favorite.” Nana was doing her best, but she had no idea how to deal with a severely injured grandson. All she knew was, it would take time. It was far too soon to expect great change, so she let Sam set the pace.
Elizabeth put her books on the side counter and welcomed the invitation. She searched Sam’s face for a clue of how he might be feeling and thought she discerned a little more color in his face, the tension beginning to release its grip.
“Learn anything today?” asked Nana.
“Well, probably my most valuable lesson was learning that even if the sun is shining, it doesn’t mean it will be warm. And if it’s March on the East Coast, you better be prepared with a heavy jacket and mittens. I’m so tired of this wicked cold.”
Sam and Nana chuckled. “You wouldn’t complain if you had just returned from a jungle climate, ninety-five degrees, and ninety-five percent humidity almost every day. And the monsoons. I can’t even put into words just how awful that experience was. I’ll never complain about the weather again.” Elizabeth knew there was a lesson in this and felt she’d been put in her place. She was also happy Sam had become part of the conversation, at last.
“I’m going to leave the two of you to carry on without me while I take a short nap. I haven’t been feeling well lately, but I’ll be back down in a couple of hours to cook dinner.”
“Don’t worry about dinner, Nana. Sam and I can take care of it. We’ll come and get you when it’s ready.”
“That would be lovely, Dear. I defrosted the hamburger and was going to make spaghetti and meatballs. Salad fixin’s are in the refrigerator, and I picked up a fresh loaf of French bread at the bakery this morning. You two have fun.”
“Oh, it’s good to be home.” Sam seemed pleased the responsibilities of war, the effort needed just to stay alive, was really in the past. He raised his long, thin body from the kitchen chair as if he would be leaving, but instead got a glass of milk and another handful of peanut butter cookies to see him through until dinner.
“I love seeing you eat,” Nana murmured as she got up from her chair. “You need to put some meat back on those bones.”
“That won’t be hard to do with your cooking, Nana. Elizabeth’s cooking, not so sure, but I guess we’ll find out tonight.” A hint of a smile crept across Sam’s face as he hugged his grandmother. “Go rest. We have it under control.”
Elizabeth stood too, hugging her Nana, squeezing her shoulders, and realized she was taller than her grandmother. She wasn’t sure if Nana had shrunk, or if she had grown.
“You heard him, Nana. We have it under control. We’ll make dinner and wake you at six o’clock, sharp.” Glancing at the clock, she saw it was almost four. Plenty of time to prepare dinner and allow Nana a much-deserved afternoon nap.
“Do you need any help?” Elizabeth offered her hand, but Nana hugged them both and went upstairs on her own.
“I don’t have a lot of homework tonight. Feel like playing cards or something before we start dinner?”
Sam feigned amusement. “Really, one handed?”
“I don’t see why not. You could probably play with one hand, but you won’t know unless you try.”
The card deck was slippery and they had to remind themselves how to play Gin Rummy. Elizabeth glanced down at her brother’s right wrist where his hand should be, hoping he wouldn’t think she was staring. “Does it hurt?”
“Not so much anymore. Getting used to it and just a bit of phantom pain. Therapy in Da Nang and here is helping.”
Elizabeth changed the subject. “I’ll deal.”
“No, give me the deck. I’ll deal.” Sam took the fresh, shiny stack of cards from her and she eyed him with concern.
“You look determined. It’s all yours.”
“So, how many cards are dealt in this game? Remember?”
“I think ten, but you have to shuffle first.”
Sam split the deck in half and, using his left thumb and the awkward hook that took the place of his right hand, held the cards by the edge. This should be easy, he thought, as he attempted to weave the cards together and bend the pack to create the uplifting effect of the first shuffle. He felt clumsy and childish. The cards got tangled between his hand and hook, flew from his hands, and scattered on the floor, chairs, and table in a jumbled mess.
“Fuck!” Sam pushed his chair back in disgust, attempting to retrieve the fifty-two cards spread throughout the kitchen.
Elizabeth gasped, “What did you say? I’ve never heard you use that word before.” No one in their family swore, at least not in her presence.
“Well, maybe it felt like the right time to say it. Fuck, fuck, fucking cards, fucking hand, fuck! There, that felt good. I’m done.”
Elizabeth could feel the color rise to her face. “If I ever said that, I’d be grounded for a week.”
“Then don’t say it. Don’t be such a prude, Elizabeth. That was common vocabulary in Vietnam. That, and worse. Damn, hell, shit, crap, motherfucker, asshole, son-of-a-bitch, bastard, slant-eye, gook.”
Elizabeth turned a darker shade of red as she listened to her brother’s sudden tirade.
“You get the picture. I’ll try to be more careful from now on. Why don’t you get those meatballs going while I practice shuffling cards? We should have time for a hand before we call Nana for dinner.”
Even though she hated to admit it, Elizabeth was relieved. It was painful to watch her brother do the simplest of tasks, but watching his anger burst forth seemed far healthier than keeping it bottled up inside. Better this way, she thought, as she got the dinner ingredients from the fridge and started cooking. Once she put the spaghetti sauce on a low flame to simmer, Elizabeth sat down with Sam and marveled at his tenacity and his attempt to adapt to this difficult task. Eventually he mastered the challenge and shuffled like a pro—fluid, smooth, and effortless.
After they cleared away the cards, Sam helped set the ta
ble while Elizabeth tended to the last-minute dinner preparations. “You can still tell Nana it was a ‘we’ effort. I set the table,” Sam said with a slight smile.
“Damn, that looks good, Elizabeth. I’ll go get Nana. Be right down.”
)
Sam was gone a long time, and when he walked back into the kitchen without Nana, his face was ashen. “Sam, what’s wrong?” Elizabeth’s voice cracked. She started to tremble.
“It’s Nana. I couldn’t wake her. She passed in her sleep.” Sam’s voice was so quiet, it was almost inaudible, but Elizabeth didn’t need to ask again. She heard, she knew, and she felt sick to her stomach. Her thoughts reeled, “What will happen to me? Is Sam going to take off again? Nana was supposed to live forever. What will I do—what will WE do, without her?”
Sam reached for the phone and dialed their uncle. Their lives were once again in limbo and everything else could wait.
Chapter 15
“A change of scenery. That’s what I need.” Elizabeth talked to herself, hunched over the white student desk in her bedroom that Nana had bought her soon after she came to live with her. “A young lady should have her own place to study, in private, without interruption or distraction.” She remembered the conversation with a nostalgic tug and was overcome with a wave of sadness that interfered with her concentration.
She twirled the ends of her russet curls with her index finger, attempting to finish the last page of the essay for her English Lit class. It had been assigned weeks earlier, but school felt meaningless to her. She was finding it more and more difficult to focus. Nana’s sudden stroke stunned everyone, and regardless of what the doctor told them, that she had passed peacefully and there was nothing they could have done, it didn’t lessen the pain. Even though Sam had taken responsibility for Elizabeth and the affairs of Nana’s house this time, there was no guarantee that her future would be anything but temporary solutions, like Band-Aids on wounds that bled freely and seemed to deepen with every new season.
From down the hall, Sam disrupted her thoughts. “Elizabeth, got a minute?”
Elizabeth called back from her room, cluttered with research books and manuals, colored pencils and ballpoint pens. She was overly sensitive lately and didn’t feel like talking.
“Can it wait until tomorrow? I just want to get this darn paper written which I’m sure is only ‘C’ work, but at this point, I couldn’t care less.”
“Just want to ask your opinion on something. It’ll only take a minute.”
“Then you come into my room. I don’t want to get up.”
Back and forth, they shouted responses. Sam appeared at her door, poked his head in, and without invitation, sat down on the edge of her bed, pushing back a stack of clean laundry. He planted his feet on the ground. “Elizabeth, I have to get out of here. I’m suffocating.”
“So, go take a walk . . . I’m not stopping you.”
Elizabeth noticed a slight smile emerge from her brother’s usually stern countenance. “No. That’s not what I’m talking about. I mean I have to get out of this city, out of Boston. Anywhere but here. I’ve been thinking about California.”
Elizabeth put her pen down and turned to Sam. Here it comes . . . he’s taking off again. She grimaced and waited.
“Remember Paul?” Sam didn’t wait for Elizabeth’s response. “I wrote him a letter after Nana died. He suggested I move to California. Thought you might like to go with me?” He was silent, hoping to see Elizabeth smile, an expression he had only seen a few times in the last year.
It was not what Elizabeth expected to hear. Her mood instantly shifted. “I can’t believe you’re asking me to go with you! I don’t even care where we end up, but who wouldn’t want to move to California?”
“You still have one more year of high school. There are plans and adjustments that still need to be made.” Calmly, he looked at his sister. “Pace yourself. Slow down. We need to get you through your junior year here first. Not sure yet where we’re gonna live. Paul has offered, but I haven’t thought that far. It may be a good place to start. Still a lot to do. Thanks to our inheritance from Nana, I’ll have time to look for a job and get us settled. ”
Elizabeth jumped from her seat, rushed to her brother, and hugged him for the first time since his homecoming. “I’m just so happy. I’ll live anywhere; I’ll go to any school. I don’t care. I’m done here!” She continued to prattle, animated and energized, but stopped to take a breath as reality cast a shadow over her enthusiasm. She blurted, “But what about Laura and Tina?” She hoped Sam would give her a reason to feel better about moving away from their little sisters.
“We know it’ll be a much longer stretch between visits. Won’t be like it is now, a two-hour drive to the island and every holiday under the same roof. Flights aren’t cheap and it’ll take a week to drive coast-to-coast. I’ve thought about it. I’m goin’.”
Elizabeth was torn, but the thought of starting all over, fresh, leaving memories of her last few years behind in Boston both thrilled and frightened her. She let her brother ramble on about the practical decisions they would need to make as she mentally sorted out the pros and cons.
“You can finish high school here, if you want. Join me after you graduate. Uncle Bill and Aunt Deborah will move into the house with the little kids as soon as this school year is over. It’ll be like a regular family. Or . . .” Sam drew out his last sentence, but Elizabeth knew what was coming. “You can come with me to California, now. We can both leave right before your senior year starts. You don’t have to decide today.”
Elizabeth processed her thoughts quickly and her mind skipped past everything that could happen, might happen, probably would happen if she joined her brother. She took a step back, cocked her head to one side with an air of confidence, looked at Sam and planted her hands on her hips. “Get two plane tickets.”
Chapter 16
The sun kissed their faces as soon as they stepped outside the Los Angeles International Airport, a congested tangle of automobiles, taxis and humanity, all rushing to leave the city or return. Elizabeth had read about the unrelenting smog, the way it sucked the breath from your lungs, and the constant alerts that kept the citizens of LA indoors during much of the summer. Today was not one of those days. It was a gorgeous, mild September afternoon that greeted them, and a far cry from the biting cold air they were accustomed to back home this time of year.
As Paul had instructed, they waited for him curbside, just outside baggage claim, and watched for his black VW Beetle to approach. “I think I see it,” chimed Elizabeth, as it seemed to pass them by and vanish into traffic.
“Well, maybe that wasn’t him. There is probably more than one black Beetle in this city.”
“Here he comes.” Sam reached down to pick up his luggage. Again, the black Beetle drove right past, the driver seemingly not looking in their direction.
“Gee whiz, does everyone drive a black VW Beetle in this town?” With that, Elizabeth giggled, then broke into a full-blown laugh at the thought of so many identical cars in this vast city.
“Welcome to LA!” They were caught off guard as they saw Paul racing toward them on foot. Out of breath, but all smiles, he panted, “I couldn’t get close enough to you . . . hurry . . . run . . . my car’s parked in a red zone and it’ll get towed. Here, let me help with those bags. By the way, I’m so glad you made it. Run!”
The threesome barely made it back to the car, with an airport traffic officer only one car behind Paul’s, and ready to approach his VW, idling and waiting. Wasting no time, they tossed as many suitcases as would fit in the trunk. They forced the rest of them in the back seat with Elizabeth wedged between Sam’s duffle bag and her grandmother’s old, brown case with the snap locks and small leather handle. Lurching forward, Paul put the car in first gear and pulled out into the flow of traffic toward his apartment in Reseda. The Valley, not quite Los Angeles, not quite the West Side, not quite affluent Pasadena. Paul expla
ined it was a good option with cheaper rents, and still made the endless options of things to do in LA readily available. “You’ll probably get teased, though.” He merged easily. “Enjoy the ride.”
Paul effortlessly maneuvered between lanes, and cars rushed past them at a high rate of speed. It made Elizabeth wonder if she would ever get her driver’s license. One freeway merged into another, with long arcs of overlapping concrete pointing in all directions. Back home, traveling by surface streets was normal, but freeway travel in LA seemed to be the preferred method of navigation throughout the city.
Finally able to relax, Paul broke the silence. “So bitchin’, you’re here! I know finding a place to live, a job, getting Elizabeth enrolled for her senior year isn’t gonna be easy, but I’m glad you’re staying with me for now. I found a small place right after I returned from Nam, only one bedroom, but it can work.” Looking in his rear-view mirror, Paul marveled at how gorgeous Elizabeth had become. He tried not to be too obvious, but he was glad the picture he had kept in his head wasn’t tainted. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. “Elizabeth, you can have the bedroom. I don’t think your brother will mind sleeping on an air mattress. I won’t. God knows we’ve seen worse.”
Elizabeth blushed, but thanked Paul for his offer. She subdued her thoughts when she realized she would be living not only with her brother, but with a man she hardly knew, who made her heart skip and stomach flip. The unfamiliar yearnings came as a surprise. She dispelled the idea of anything more than a friendship, and concentrated on the new life awaiting Sam and her—homework in the park instead of a stuffy old room, catching a bus to the beach on weekends, learning to surf, and eating outside in the winter. She conjured up endless images of one continuous summer where it never rained and the sun came out three hundred twenty-five days a year. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Paul—handsome, strong, kind, and eager to help his old friend Sam and his little sister blend into this new city and start over. “Whatever you say, Paul. Thanks for going out of your way to make us feel comfortable.”
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