Mrs. Lieutenant: A Sharon Gold Novel

by Phyllis Zimbler Miller

  And he does look terrific if you like men in uniforms.

  He kisses her good-bye at the front door. She stands on the balcony and watches him down the stairs to the car. He waves and mouths "I love you." Then he's gone.

  She is without wheels and all alone.

  She picks up the journal. There’s a knock on the door.

  Anne announces: "I want you to meet Elizabeth, one of our other neighbors."

  Humidity droplets slide down Sharon's bare arms and legs in the few short steps to a downstairs apartment in the building on the right. The landlord waves as Anne knocks on Elizabeth's door.

  Elizabeth is a small woman with blond hair pulled into a tight French twist and expertly applied makeup. She wears a flower-print dress, nylons, and heels, not the shorts, top, and sandals both Sharon and Anne have on.

  A large wall-hung wedding portrait in a gilt frame overpowers the small living room. Elizabeth in a Scarlett O'Hara gown and her husband in his army uniform stand together under crossed swords.

  Elizabeth follows Sharon's eyes. "Mama said I had to bring it. Wouldn't be a proper home without it. I also brought my silver. An officer's lady has to be ready to assume her duties."

  Anne laughs. "Can you tell she's a Southerner? Even if she didn’t have an accent. These Southerners are in love with the 'noble duty' of the army – that's why so many officers are Southern – even if it means going to Vietnam."

  There, someone has said the word – Vietnam.

  Elizabeth smiles. "How can a man get ahead in the army if he hasn't had at least one combat command? If my husband decides to go regular army – make the army a career, he has to get ahead."

  Sharon mentally runs through any number of responses to this statement. No words leave her mouth. She has promised Robert.

  Now, as she waits for Robert to return home, Sharon again thinks how Southerners are truly crazy. Robert told her Southerners make up a disproportionately large percentage of the army officer corps. This love of the military, can it really come from losing the Civil War and thus wanting to prove their manhood?

  Below her a young woman dusts off a huge Chrysler. "Why are you dusting the car?" Sharon calls down to her.

  "My husband just washed it yesterday," the woman says, "and I promised to dust it off if I drove it anywhere."

  Unbelievable! Along with the soap operas that Anne and Elizabeth watch faithfully each day – "Whose program is it now?" they had said to an amazed Sharon – this seems to be the main activity for army wives: waiting for their husbands to come home and keeping their apartments, clothes and cars "spit-shined."

  The Fiat appears in the open area between the three buildings. Sharon races down the stairs. Robert gets out, looks around as if checking who else has arrived home, and locks the car door. He kisses her hello.

  "How was it? What did you do?"

  "Cool it," he says out of the side of his mouth. "Wait until we get upstairs."

  They walk up the outside stairs of the building, then down the outer balcony to their apartment door. Sharon unlocks the door and lets Robert enter first, then she follows him back to the bedroom, where he immediately sheds his uniform.

  "It went okay. There's about 30 of us in the class. We filled out forms and listened to lectures. Not much action yet."

  She doesn't want Robert to see any "action." She wants him to spend a quiet two years in the army behind a desk somewhere – if possible in Washington or some other big city – where she can pretend to herself he's not part of the war machine.

  "What were the lectures about?"

  "Mostly administrative details, TDY pay, uniform allotment."

  "What's TDY?"

  "Temporary duty. That's what this assignment is for me. Same as going to Ft. Holabird for MI – military intelligence – training will be temporary. The assignment after that will be a permanent one."

  "And we'll get housing provided then, right?"

  He turns away from her, places his insignia on the dresser. "If it's an accompanied tour."

  "What's that mean?"

  His back is still towards her. "Unaccompanied tours are to combat areas – Vietnam."Sharon sits down on the edge of the bed. "Did they say anything about the chances of your going to Vietnam?"

  Robert shakes his head.

  She leaves the bedroom to serve dinner and Robert follows her, turning on the television in the living room. "Please don't watch the news," she says.

  "I just want to see what's happening in Israel. I'll turn it off right after that."

  Sharon walks back into the bedroom. She turns on the radio to listen to music and drown out the television. She doesn't want to risk seeing or hearing the news of Vietnam come on before the news of Israel.

  At least the War of Attrition in Israel is one war of which Sharon can approve. It's a fight for survival waged by the country's own inhabitants. And no American troops have been sent there to fight.

  A few minutes later Robert comes back to the bedroom. "I'm done watching the news now. And, listen, I invited a guy and his wife over tonight – Jim and Kim Benton. They live in the next complex."

  Sharon stands up. "That's great. I want to meet some people. What time are they coming?"

  "About 7:30. I said it would be nothing fancy, just coffee, or I'm not sure he would have agreed to come. Jim seemed surprised we would invite strangers over."

  "Where do they come from?"

  "Somewhere in the South."

  **

  Sharon has prepared for the Bentons' upcoming visit, straightening the sofa cushions and checking on the supply of cold pop. Still the knock on the door startles her. She hasn't realized she is so nervous about this visit – what will they think of her and Robert? Do they dislike Jews?

  Robert answers the knock as Sharon stands behind him. Both Kim and Jim are tall, slender blonds with light eyes. They look almost like brother and sister.

  "Come on in," Robert says, motioning them to sit down.

  "Would you like some coffee?" Sharon says.

  "Not right now," Jim says as he and Kim sit down on the sofa. "It's a little too hot."

  "How about some pop? I've got some Dr. Pepper and some Coke."

  "Thanks, that'll be really great," Jim says. "We'll both take a Coke."

  "I'll have one too," Robert says, jumping up to help her.

  "Where do you come from?" Sharon asks as she and Robert bring four Cokes from the kitchenette.

  "Small town in North Carolina," Jim says.

  Kim smiles, her face relaxing for the first time since she's entered the apartment. "We met at church."

  "I came home on vacation from college and went to church with my parents,” Jim says. “We had a visit from another church, and Kim was singing in the visiting choir. At the church social afterwards I asked her out right away."

  "You didn't waste any time, did you?" Robert says.

  Kim glances at her hands, then smiles. "We dated steadily from then on. As soon as I finished high school, we got married."

  Jim puts his arm around Kim. "I wanted her at college with me. I didn't want to wait until I finished."

  Sharon smiles back. "Robert and I met at a ..." – Robert's eyes signal her – "... college event. We disagreed with each other."

  "And that's what attracted me to her," Robert says.

  Sharon turns to Kim. "Robert and I went to a grocery store on Dixie Highway. I couldn't believe how few kinds of meat there were. I was trying to find lamb or even beef. I couldn't even find any brisket."

  "What's brisket?"

  "You've never heard of brisket?"

  Kim shakes her head.

  "It's a beef cut, sort of like shoulder roast, that you cook for a long time with potatoes."

  "It's a popular Jewish dish," Robert adds.

  "You're Jewish?" Jim asks.

  As Robert nods his head, Sharon watches Kim look around the small living room, then her eyes return to her hands. "We've never been to the home of any Jews before," Kim
says. "We didn't really know any back home."

  Sharon’s hands prickle. Are they staring at her and Robert to check for horns, the erroneous and pervasive myth dating back to Michelangelo? When Michelangelo carved his famous statue of Moses, he relied on the Vulgate Latin Bible mistranslation of the Hebrew word that could mean "ray of light" or "horn." Michelangelo erred by portraying Moses with horns protruding from his forehead rather than his face aglow with rays of light – the actual Hebrew Bible description. Michelangelo’s mistaken portrayal of Moses with horns started the myth about Jews, causing ignorant people even today to sometimes ask Jews "Do you have horns?"

  "There aren't any Jews in your town?" Robert asks.

  "There may be, we just don't know any," Jim says. "I'm sure if we did, we'd like them."

  Sharon sits immobilized, experiencing deja vu from her freshman lit course. A similar sentiment was said to her by a student of Lebanese descent from Detroit: "Now that I know you're Jewish I like Jews."

  Robert cuts into the silence. "Listen, Sharon and Kim, I had an idea today when I realized how close we live to each other. I already discussed it with Jim. Suppose we carpooled? That way, Jim and I would drive together each day and you two would have a car. What do you think?"

  Oh no! Sharon would be sharing a car for the nine weeks of AOB class with a stranger – a Christian Southerner! Kim seems nice, but will they have anything in common?

  The alternatives – being without a car all day or driving back and forth twice a day to drop off and pick up Robert from the post – are also unappealing. Maybe she can try out the carpooling arrangement. If it doesn't work, she'll think of something to get out of it. "Sounds okay to me," she says.

  Kim turns to her husband. "I already told Robert I thought it was a good idea," Jim tells her. "There's safety in numbers." Kim nods her head. "Just don't go to the ice cream parlor. It's in the troop area."

  What ice cream parlor? And why can't they go there?

  Before Sharon can ask, Robert says, "Let's start tomorrow. Jim can drive the two of us in the morning. After lunch Sharon can pick Kim up and the two of you can go to the PX together."

  Sharon nods her agreement; she isn't going to disagree with him publicly. Has being on active duty for one day gone to Robert's head? He's already giving orders, dictating where she should go.

  Jim says, "Remember Kim and Sharon will have to make plans the day before since we don't have a phone."

  No phone? Robert gives Sharon a look that clearly says: Don't ask.

  Robert claps his hands together. "And now that we've got that settled, do you guys play bridge?"

  Kim and Jim shake their heads.

  "We'll teach you."

  **

  The next day Sharon drives the couple of blocks to Kim and Jim's apartment, which is actually just behind her own complex and could be reached on foot across an open field. Large trees circle the small parking lot facing a single two-story apartment building.

  Kim opens the door of her first-floor apartment. "Come on in," she says.

  Sharon smiles at her, then shrieks. The white furry creature in Kim's hand jumps down and runs towards the back of the apartment.

  Kim laughs, her short blond curls swirling around her face. "I didn't mean to scare you. That's just my pet white rat – Squeaky."

  "A rat?" Sharon's eyes dart to the floor, checking for stray vermin.

  "He's harmless. He was bred for laboratory tests and I rescued him. He keeps me company."

  Kim motions for Sharon to sit down while she searches for Squeaky. When Kim brings him back, cradled in her hand again, Sharon asks, "Do you think you could put him in his cage – he does have a cage, doesn't he? – for now? I'm sort of afraid of animals."

  Kim laughs again. "That means you don't want to pet him?"

  "No, thanks."

  While Kim puts Squeaky in the bedroom, Sharon looks around the front part of the apartment. This furnished apartment is basically no different than hers, and there aren't any personal signs of the individuals living here, just as there aren't in her apartment, except for some miniature figures set up on the floor near the coffee table. Metal soldiers in blue uniforms and other metal soldiers in grey uniforms face each other, cannons and horses lined up on both sides. Is it a reenactment of a Civil War battle?

  Kim returns without Squeaky. "Would you like some Coca-Cola? It could be 7-up or Coke."

  "I'd like a Coke. It certainly is hot out."

  Kim brings out two Cokes and hands Sharon one.

  Now what? Sharon thinks. What can they talk about?

  Family. People always like to talk about their family.

  "Did your parents object to your coming here with Jim?" Sharon asks.

  A blush rises up Kim's neck."I don't have any parents. I'm an orphan."

  Yikes! Sharon has put her foot in her mouth already. When will she learn not to ask personal questions? "I'm sorry," she says.

  "It was a long time ago. My sister and I were raised in foster homes, and the church was kind of our family. That's why I sang in the choir."

  Oh, yes, Kim met Jim when she was singing in the choir. "You must have a beautiful voice."

  Kim smiles. "It's passable. I was never a soloist."

  Unsure of what else to talk about, Sharon asks, "Are you ready to go to the PX now? Do you have your ID?"

  Kim nods, then says, "Something happened a couple of days ago. I'm not very comfortable going places here."

  "What happened?"

  Kim looks out the window, then back at Sharon. "I ... I went to that little store up the road to get some things. And ... and a soldier shot the clerk dead right in front of me."

  A shiver runs up Sharon’s spine. "How did it happen?"

  Kim averts her face. "It just did."

  Sharon hesitates to take Kim's hands to show sympathy – it may be too forward. Instead she says, "That's terrible! Yet it's obviously a freak thing – it's not going to happen again. We'll be okay at the PX."

  Then she lightly touches Kim's hands.

  Kim looks up, her eyes bright, and lets out her breath. "I'll go with you."

  Now Kim walks towards the bedroom and comes back with her purse. "Are we dressed okay?"

  Sharon nods. They both wear skirts and blouses, although Sharon's skirt ends considerably higher above her knees than Kim's. Certainly this is a long way from the required "to-the-knee or below" skirts of junior high, where the principal made Sharon kneel down in the library to prove her skirt touched the floor. Sharon wonders whether Kim's skirt length is modesty-inspired or just out-of-fashion.

  They get into the Fiat. "Do you mind the top down?” Sharon says. “It's somewhat cooler."

  Kim shakes her head, and Sharon backs the car out of the space.

  "Your apartment is nice," Sharon says. "Did you have a hard time finding it?"

  "It was the first one we saw."

  "You don't know how lucky you are," Sharon says, then proceeds to describe the experiences she and Robert had.

  "We really are lucky," Kim says when Sharon finishes.

  They approach the entrance to Ft. Knox. Now that Robert has put the student status tag on the Fiat’s bumper they are waved right through.

  "What kind of game was that in your living room?" Sharon asks.

  “It's a military strategy game,” Kim says. “Jim likes to play these games, taking the part of both armies."

  Does Jim approve of war, including the one in Vietnam? Is he anxious to fight over there to test out his military strategies? And is this part of the Southern military culture?

  Sharon doesn't know Kim well enough to ask these questions – and she certainly doesn't want to put her foot in her mouth again. She also refrains from asking Kim why she and Jim have no phone and what Jim meant about the ice cream parlor. Right now her relationship with Kim is too fragile.

  Sharon locates the PX, another one of the wooden frame buildings. At the top of the entrance steps a young black enlisted man in starch
ed fatigues and shiny combat boots walks out of the door, sees them, and holds the door open. Sharon smiles at him as they pass.

  They enter the PX and Kim turns to Sharon. "Did you see that? He was looking at us!"

  "He was what?"

  "Looking at us!" Kim hisses.

  "He was just holding the door for us, being polite."

  Kim's eyes flash her anger.

  "Was the man black who shot the clerk?" Sharon asks.

  "He was white. This has nothing to do with that." Kim strides off.

  Sharon catches up with Kim in the towel department. Yves Saint Laurent towels in black and brown stripes and in blue and black stripes occupy a table. "These are terrific prices," Sharon says to Kim by way of making up. "The person who ordered these probably doesn't even know that Yves Saint Laurent is a famous designer."

  Kim turns to her. "Have you ever been to the South?"

  "No. Have you ever been to the North?"

  "No." Kim fingers a towel. "We think of this as the North, Kentucky that is."

  The North! That can't be! This is the South! Sharon opens her mouth to say something when she looks at Kim's serious face. Some things are better left unsaid.

  Sharon picks up several towels with matching hand towels and washcloths in both color patterns. It still bothers Sharon that her mother didn’t buy her towels and bed linen for a wedding trousseau. “You’ll be moving around so much in the army. Wait until you’re settled.” Sharon still wonders whether this is disguised punishment for marrying a man just before he enters the army.

  "I hope Robert likes these," she says to Kim. "We don't have many towels."

  As Sharon walks to the checkout counter she tries to remember whether Kentucky was part of the Confederacy or did it stay with the Union? If only she remembered her high school American history course better. Because she would love to know whether at this moment she stands in the South or the North.

  **

  Robert arrives home that evening holding an envelope. "Believe it or not," he says, handing her the envelope, "there's an orientation coffee to welcome the wives of the AOB class. Typical army. After not even telling us you could come, there's actually an official function for the wives."