Keep Forever

by Alexa Kingaard

  As promised, Elizabeth took the bedroom, but she had never shared a bathroom with two grown men. Guys are so messy, she thought, as she wiped the shaving cream from the sink. Hopefully Sam and I can find another apartment close by as soon as he finds a job. Grateful for the small inheritance Nana had left each of the children, she didn’t doubt that she and Sam would be just fine.

  )

  Sam motioned to Paul, “Hey, Man. Can you join Elizabeth and me for lunch after we’re finished registering her at school?”

  “Maybe you know some bitchin’ little place nearby,” Elizabeth added.

  Paul and Sam looked at each other and shook their heads.

  “Somehow that word doesn’t seem quite right coming out of your mouth, Elizabeth . . . cute, really cute. And no—got classes, then work. Maybe next time.” The corner of Paul’s mouth turned up slightly as he thought how strange that word sounded, coming from Elizabeth.

  “It’s not a swear word, right? You told me it wasn’t a swear word.” She turned to Sam. “You told me in one of your letters it meant something that was cool, right?”

  “Yes, Sophomore. That is correct. Paul’s right though. It does sound strange coming from you.”

  “And how about this coming out my mouth . . . quit calling me Sophomore. I’ll be a senior next week.” Elizabeth tried her best to look pouty as she put her hands on her hips and squared off with her brother.

  “Sorry—don’t care how old you get. You’ll always be Sophomore to me.”

  “See how juvenile he can be?” Elizabeth faced Paul for reassurance.

  “Hey, leave me out of this. I have no idea what this sibling rivalry is about, an only child, remember?” Paul gathered his books, dashed out the door, and took the steps, two at a time to the street below, leaving Sam and Elizabeth to finish their skirmish without him.

  “The next two hours belong to us. Where would you like to eat?” Sam got to the door first so he could open it for Elizabeth, and she noticed he was not as painfully shy about his missing limb as he once had been. Being a total “righty,” it had taken Sam months to relearn skills with his left hand. Except for an occasional moment of frustration and a few curious comments from strangers, his level of acceptance became more and more apparent as time progressed.

  Sam continued, “I saw a hamburger stand about a block from the high school. Can we try it out? Didn’t look like there were too many seats inside, but plenty of benches on the outside. Apparently, you can eat outside year round in Southern California . . . bitchin’.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes and finally gave the appearance of the young girl she was supposed to be, not the ever-responsible grown-up she’d been forced to become. She sighed deeply and exhaled all the burdens of the last few years. Right before his eyes, Sam could see the stress and worry melt away from his sister’s face. “Best decision I ever made,” he thought to himself as he realized that new lives were about to begin for both of them.

  Chapter 17

  Elizabeth was excited about her first day of senior year at Reseda Valley High School. She felt stronger, happier, and more relaxed than she had in years. She relished the feeling of the autumn air of Southern California as she leisurely strolled the two blocks to campus.

  Already the streets and parking lot were filled with teenagers of all shapes and sizes, some on bikes, others in cars, and many on skateboards. It was as though she had stepped into a movie. The whole atmosphere, the constant sunshine, the lenient dress code, were so different from Boston. Elizabeth would never have been allowed to wear jeans to school, much less paired with a tank top and a peace sign strategically placed over ample breasts. Some of the jeans had clearly been torn off to well above the knee, exposing flesh on campus she had never seen. Others were covered in patches, ranging from daisy chains to anti-war sentiments, which brazenly said, “Hell no, I won’t go.” Wearing these sentiments so shamelessly on your clothes bothered Elizabeth at first, knowing that Sam and Paul were plagued by the role they played in Vietnam. They still felt a fair amount of rage at the reception the veterans were receiving upon their return. Eventually, she had to let it go and turned her thoughts to making new friends and getting the grades she would need to enter college as soon as she graduated.

  “Could you tell me where I can find the classroom for Seniah English?” Elizabeth directed her question to a boy goofing around in the hall who was sporting a friendly, mischievous grin.

  “What did you say?”

  “Seniah English.”

  “You mean SENIOR English? Stumped me for a minute. Around here, you’ll need to pronounce your Rs.”

  “Ok, sure. I’ll try to remem-BER that.” Elizabeth felt a little smug about her witty comeback, and wasn’t going to let anything dampen her enthusiasm. Her Boston accent would fade over time, she hoped.

  “I’m going there now. Follow me, and you’ll never be lost.”

  Tyler Hamilton was known as the class clown, full of energy, always smiling, and perpetually driving every teacher in the school crazy. They were glad this was his senior year and he would soon be graduating.

  “You must be new here. I know everyone, and I mean everyone. By the end of next week, I’ll know all the incoming freshmen too, and now you know me. My name is Tyler Hamilton.”

  Startled at such friendliness and charm, Elizabeth nodded her head, followed him to class, found a seat in the back of the room, and sat quietly as Mr. Williams introduced himself to the students. During roll call, Tyler took one more glance toward Elizabeth, mentally noting her curly, auburn hair, deep green eyes, and adorable smile, then managed a quick wink, which she didn’t notice.

  )

  Elizabeth bounded home after the final bell, eager to see her brother and hoping to catch Paul before he left for work. Sam sat at the kitchen table, composing his résumé on the manual, timeworn Smith-Corona typewriter he had dragged with him from Boston, the only reminder of his interrupted, carefree college days. The hunt-and-peck method was diffcult with two hands, almost impossible with one. “Damn,” he muttered. “Staying positive, working toward my elusive future, dreams of becoming a professor..all slipping away. For Mom and Dad . . . for Elizabeth . . . for the girls . . . for myself . . . you can do this.” He gritted his teeth with the now familiar determination necessary to pull off tasks that a few years earlier were effortless.

  Sam looked up when he heard the lock turn. He put his index finger to his lips when Elizabeth passed through the door, motioned to Paul and mouthed, “Shhhh . . . he has to get up in thirty minutes. I can tell you had a great day—nice smile.” Paul napped quietly on the couch, his last opportunity to catch some sleep before he had to leave for his job, a night-shift warehouse manager for a downtown department store.

  Elizabeth gently lowered her books to the kitchen table and searched the refrigerator for a snack. She was interrupted when she saw Paul waving his arms. He shouted and yelled unintelligible orders and gasped as his booming voice turned to a whisper. “There . . . over there . . . quiet men . . . they’re over there behind the bushes. Stay down.” He sprung up, went to the middle of the room, and fell to the floor. Crawling on his belly, an imaginary rifle in hand, he looked furtively from side to side. Stunned, Elizabeth and Sam weren’t sure how to react. Elizabeth made the first move. She leaned over Paul, laid her hand on his forehead, and said softly, “Paul, wake up. It’s me, Elizabeth. Please, wake up. You’re scaring me.”

  Paul opened his eyes, disoriented. A look of embarrassment and shame swept across his face. He jumped to his feet and retreated to the bathroom as though nothing had happened, changed into his work clothes, and rushed past them without saying goodbye. Sam and Elizabeth looked at each other, dumbfounded by what they had seen.

  Sam spoke first, “Damn! I thought losing a limb was the worst thing that could ever happen to a soldier, but now I’m not so sure.”

  Elizabeth quietly reached for a pen and piece of paper, deliberated for a moment, a
nd wrote, “Dear Paul, it’s OK.” She folded it neatly and tucked it under his pillow where she hoped he would find it when he came home.

  “Will it ever get better?” Elizabeth hoped Sam had some answers. “I’ve never seen you do this.”

  “I guess it’s different for everyone. All I know is no one ever talks about it. Paul and I don’t talk to each other about the war. Other things, sure, never about Nam. We were all told to ‘man up,’ only the weak complain, keep it to yourself. No one wants to hear what you have to say.”

  “Do you think he would talk to me?” Elizabeth sounded hopeful.

  “Definitely not.”

  “What about a therapist? A shrink?” She knew she was grasping for a miraculous cure, but doubted one existed.

  Sam’s voice rose. “Absolutely, definitely not. That would be cowardly and weak.”

  Elizabeth was shocked. “You think it’s weak for someone to ask for help, Sam?” They were entering territory they had never explored, but Elizabeth felt her heart sink when she heard what her brother felt not only about himself, but for every other soldier who laid their lives on the line, without question, without reason.

  “We were trained as warriors, combat soldiers, disposable, and replaceable. We did what we were told, and we knew better than to complain about anything, while we were there or when we returned.”

  Elizabeth started to fume and Sam could see her reaction to this conversation. “I don’t understand why he can’t go see a military doctor, or any doctor, or have some tests or something. Maybe get some medication.”

  “What medicine? What tests? Paul’s going to have to see this through on his own, and the only thing we can do is be his friends.”

  Sam picked up Elizabeth’s books and shoved them into her arms. “Go do your homework.” These were not the answers Elizabeth was looking for from her brother, but she let the matter drop, if only for the time being. She took her schoolwork and closed the bedroom door behind her just loud enough so Sam would know she wasn’t happy.

  Chapter 18

  With high grades and top scores on college entrance exams, Elizabeth had options of four-year universities across the country. Instead, she enrolled in the local community college to complete her first two years, a strategic move to not only save on tuition, but to stay a little closer to Sam, and Paul whose recurring nightmares still troubled and concerned her.

  Eager to move out on her own, they assisted her one bright, sunny day in May—an effort that required one load in a borrowed truck and another in the back seat of Elizabeth’s own VW Beetle. She didn’t want a black one, indistinguishable from all the others she had seen, so she bought an older, cream-color model, and paid twenty-nine dollars for an exterior paint job. She changed it to British racing green. Elizabeth joked that what she really wanted was a British Leyland MGB GT, if for nothing else than the color. For a sports car, it was affordable, but far beyond the reach of a college student.

  “That’s cool, I guess. If you don’t mind the interiah not matching the exteriah.” Sam teased her.

  Paul interjected. “It’s her car, leave her alone. I think it looks pretty groovy. I always thought that was a neat color. And when are you going to start pronouncing those Rs? You’ll never pick up a Southern California girl that way.”

  Elizabeth nodded in agreement. She had long ago gotten used to the Southern California slang and embraced it like a local. “Thank you, Paul. I appreciate your opinion, and it would have cost another twenty-nine dollars to paint the inside dashboard and trim, so I convinced myself that having the only two-toned Beetle in LA was perfect.”

  By the end of moving day, everything was neatly tucked into drawers, closets, and storage areas. One lonely dish, knife, fork, and spoon were prominently displayed on the Formica-covered breakfast bar. Elizabeth knew her little home was sparse, but furnishing it was on the short list of things to do. For now, her bed and dresser, plus a small sofa and dining set she had purchased from a garage sale would have to be enough. She was grateful for the large picture window in the living room, which made the unit feel grander than it was and gave her the bonus view of the tree-lined street and the hustle and bustle below. It would take some time to fill the empty corners, a stark contrast to the jam-packed existence she had become accustomed to in Paul’s small apartment.

  Paul and Sam were eager to finish. It had been a long, hot day of lifting boxes and climbing stairs, and their only thoughts were the cold beers waiting for them in their refrigerator. Elizabeth waved to them from her balcony and watched them disappear down the street. She had imagined how romantic it would be to be a young single girl in a big city, no one to answer to, no one to ask questions, no one to take care of, come and go as she pleased. Isn’t this what was expected of a college coed? Settled in her own space, Elizabeth felt free, with no responsibility for the first time in her life. She was ready to start her new chapter alone, but now that she was, she questioned if she had made the right decision to leave the safety of her familiar surroundings.

  Don’t overthink it, Elizabeth. She gathered her sweater and keys, locked the apartment behind her, and headed to the supermarket. In the car, she turned up the radio as loudly as it would go, and sang along badly with Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones. She felt grown up and ready as she made a mental inventory of what she would do when she returned to her apartment. First on the list, call Sam and Paul.

  )

  At least twice a week Elizabeth spoke with her brother or Paul. She never told either of them that living on her own wasn’t what she had hoped it would be. She carried twelve units of pre-requisite classes, and one elective. She joined the poetry club, thinking it might add a new dimension to her personality and expand her awareness of the world around her. Regardless of how hard she tried or how much effort she put into engaging the other members, she couldn’t relate to the obtuse rhythm of iambic pentameter, free verse, or metaphors and similes. It was not a good fit. She found the photography club to be a bit more interesting, but the materials were expensive, and the late night course-required photo shoots in Los Angeles made her nervous. The only subject that grabbed Elizabeth’s attention was Early Childhood Education, her treasured elective class, and the stimulus toward getting a teaching degree.

  Elizabeth had made a few friends, met for coffee and study groups, but missed the company of Paul and Sam and the little apartment they had shared. She didn’t want to admit it to either of them that most Saturday nights she was alone. Weekend parties on campus were too unruly for her taste. She invented stories, told them she had gone dancing, to a movie with friends, or out for Sunday brunch—all the cool things she was supposed to be doing. They believed her, envied her, and told her how happy they were for her.

  Elizabeth let the phone ring three times before she answered. “Hello.”

  “Hi. It’s Sam. Say, I know you might be busy, but I was wondering if you wanna go for hamburgers at the Hamlet in Westwood and out dancing. You haven’t met my girlfriend, Linda, yet, and I don’t think Paul has anything to do this weekend.”

  Elizabeth had wondered when she would meet the lovely Linda that her brother bragged about every chance he got. It seemed to her they’d been dating for years, but in reality, it was only a couple of months. “Let me check my calendar.” She shuffled some papers loudly enough to make Sam think she was sorting through a large stack. “Looks like I’m clear. That sounds like fun, Sam. Thanks for including me. Are you sure Paul won’t mind having your baby sister tag along?”

  “I would probably say just the opposite. We’ll grab a burger first, and Westwood has some great bars, dance places, good cover bands.”

  “I’m not twenty-one.”

  “No problem. Girls only have to be eighteen, guys twenty-one. You’ll get a wristband when we go in and no beer for you. Linda’s only a year older than you. Paul and I will do all the drinking. See you Saturday at seven. We’ll pick you up, and drive in one car. Gotta go.”

&
nbsp; Linda must not be from Southern California, thought Elizabeth, and smiled at the way her brother still insisted on speaking with his thick Boston accent.

  “Bye, Sam. Thanks.” Elizabeth slowly returned the phone to the cradle and was excited and nervous at the same time. Is it a date? No, it’s not a date. Quit thinking it’s a date. Paul has never noticed you before, why would he notice you now? Get hold of yourself. Elizabeth repeated the same words to herself over and over again. If this isn’t a date, then I shouldn’t care what I wear . . . but what am I going to wear? Her face flushed as she realized her schoolgirl crush she had harbored for years might soon become reality.

  )

  Westwood Village was hectic on weekends, but that was part of the excitement. Even driving around for thirty minutes looking for a place to park was more fun than stressful.

  Sam pulled over and double-parked, while cars honked in a long line behind them. Under his breath he muttered, “Calm down,” and quickly turned to Paul and Elizabeth in the back seat. “Time to bail, guys. Put our names in for a table. Linda and I will keep circling until we find a place to park.” Paul and Elizabeth jumped out, slamming the door behind them as irritated drivers still blasted their horns in an effort to move forward a few more car lengths.

  “Wow . . . quite the crowd!” Elizabeth was breathless as she took in the countless faces rushing by, a blend of young and old, ready to enjoy the weekend.

  “Yeah, some people get upset. Doesn’t bother me. I like the hubbub. Hope you don’t mind waiting for a table . . . it could be awhile.”

  Paul took Elizabeth’s hand and guided her through the crowd, finally making it to the front door behind a throng of people waiting to be seated. She liked how Paul took control, his strong hand wrapped protectively around her delicate fingers. She didn’t know what was happening and, at this moment, didn’t care. “Paul, party of four.” He nodded to the hostess and she scribbled his name at the bottom of the list behind twenty others who were waiting patiently outside.