Mrs. Lieutenant: A Sharon Gold Novel

by Phyllis Zimbler Miller

  The woman shifts her coffee cup from her right hand to her left, as if in preparation for shaking hands. Yet she doesn't extend her right hand. "I'm Wendy Johnson."

  About to stick out her own hand, Sharon glances at Kim. What if Kim makes a scene about not shaking a black person's hand? Better not to create the situation.

  "Your husband is in the new AOB class with our husbands," Sharon says.

  "Where are you all from?" Wendy asks.

  Kim swings her head around. Is it the use of the Southern phrase "you all" that has caught her attention?

  "I'm from Chicago," Sharon says, pointing to the "Illinois" on her nametag.

  Now it is Kim's turn. Nothing. Then, speaking to her hands clasped in her lap, Kim says, "I'm from a small town in North Carolina."

  "North Carolina?" Wendy says. "I'm from South Carolina."

  At the end of the living room furthest from the front door Mrs. McDermott raises a hand. "Ladies, may I have your attention?" she says. The room silences.

  "Welcome, ladies. We're so happy to have a new Armor Officers Basic class here at Ft. Knox." Her smile travels the room.

  "I promise you that you will look back upon your stay at Ft. Knox with fondness. The post has a great deal to offer, including the Officers Club, several swimming pools opening in a few weeks, a large PX and a well-stocked commissary.

  "While here you will also have the opportunity to learn what is expected of you as the wife of an officer in the U.S. Army today. There are some rules and regulations that, once learned, make life easier for all of us. I recommend that you all buy the booklet at the PX entitled ‘Mrs. Lieutenant’ by Mary Preston Gross and study it carefully. It is an invaluable guide for an officer's wife."

  Sharon glances around the room. Some of the older women must have heard this speech a thousand times. How many times will she have to hear it in the next two years?

  "... and to help you prepare for your time as an officer's wife – whether it be only for a few years or as a career – we have planned several activities during your stay here.”

  Mrs. McDermott pauses as if to ensure that everyone is fully listening to her words.

  "The final function for the wives will be an AOB graduation luncheon. It's going to have a Fourth of July theme and, as part of your training, you will be in charge of it. There will be four committees – refreshments, decorations, invitations, and entertainment. We need volunteers first to chair the committees, then each chair will choose her own committee."

  Three AOB wives volunteer to chair the refreshments, decorations and invitations committees.

  "Now for the entertainment committee," Mrs. McDermott says. "In past classes we have had a fashion show or an etiquette lesson or something similar. Who would like to be chair?"

  Sharon's hand shoots up. Forget a boring fashion show or etiquette lesson! She wants to do something original, something creative, something that will show these people.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Gold."

  Now Mrs. McDermott smiles at everyone in the room. "This is the conclusion of the program for today. Please help yourselves to more refreshments. You are welcome to stay for a half hour longer. We look forward to seeing you all again at the next function."

  Sharon turns to Kim. "We should be on a committee together. After all, we're sharing a car."

  Kim nods.

  Sharon hopes it isn't an urge to irritate Kim that makes her lean over and say to Wendy Johnson, "And you'll join us too." She doesn't even ask it as a question.

  "Oh, I ...," Wendy says, "I'm not sure I ..."

  "Of course you will," Sharon says.

  Mrs. McDermott hasn't mentioned the number of women on each committee. Sharon thinks one more would be good. A few feet away a tall young woman with olive skin and dark hair stands alone.

  Sharon approaches the woman, checking her nametag.

  "I'm Sharon Gold. I see you're one of the wives of the AOB class."

  The woman smiles and offers her hand. "Donna Lautenberg."

  "Would you like to join the entertainment committee? We could use another person."

  Donna laughs. "I'd like that."

  "Then come meet the others so we can set a time to get together."

  As Sharon introduces everyone, she realizes that Donna might be of Italian or Spanish origin. How ironic! A committee just like all those old World War II movies where the squad of men consists of one Jew, one Italian, one black, one WASP. No, wait, no black because blacks weren’t allowed to fight in integrated units until the Korean War. Still, the entertainment committee smacks of being carefully chosen. Will anyone believe this wasn't planned?

  **

  "What did you think?" Sharon asks Kim as they drive away from the commander's home.

  "It was nice seeing all those women dressed up."

  Sharon glances at Kim, aware that it’s also nice to have someone with whom to go places. Not to have to sit alone as both Wendy and Donna had to do when they got to the coffee. Perhaps Robert has done Sharon a big favor.

  The road curves, and as they come around the bend the PX stands on their right. Kim turns the car into the PX parking lot. "Let's stop right now and buy that book they told us to get,” Kim says. “Maybe we can find out exactly what to wear to what."

  Sharon follows Kim out of the car and up the steps.

  This time, thank heavens, no young black soldier holds the door open for them. Having Wendy Johnson join their entertainment committee has probably been enough shock for Kim for one day.

  "Where can we find the booklet ‘Mrs. Lieutenant’?" Sharon asks a clerk.

  "Right over there," the clerk says, gesturing to a bookrack along one wall.

  A tall woman stands facing the indicated bookrack. As Sharon and Kim approach, she turns around. It’s Donna.

  "Looks like you're buying the same thing we are," Sharon says.

  Donna laughs and holds up “Mrs. Lieutenant” as Sharon and Kim each take a copy. Then Donna says, "I grew up an army brat, the daughter of an enlisted man. I've spent practically all my life on army posts. This is the first time I've been part of an officer's family. It's very different."

  "Where's your own family originally from?" Sharon asks.

  "Puerto Rico. The army was a chance to get off the island, a chance for a better life, and my parents took it."

  “You have no accent,” Sharon says as Kim asks, "What's Puerto Rico got to do with the United States? Why was your father in the American army?"

  Donna looks at Kim. "Puerto Rico is a commonwealth of the United States. All men in Puerto Rico over the age of 18 are subject to the draft the same as in the U.S. My father was too young to be drafted in World War II. He joined the army as soon as he turned 18."

  Do Southerners classify Puerto Ricans the same as blacks? Sharon doesn’t want to find out just now. "Don't we have to go?" Sharon asks Kim.

  "I do too," Donna says. "I'll see you both at the meeting tomorrow."

  "Her English is so good," Kim whispers as Donna walks away.

  "Maybe they didn't even speak Spanish at home when she was growing up," Sharon says. "Becoming 'real' Americans may have been the most important thing."

  Oh for heaven sakes! How stupid can Sharon be! She said the word "real" with quotes in her mind, but Kim's not a mind reader. Has Sharon just reinforced another of Kim's stereotypes?

  **

  "He won't stay long," Robert says to Sharon that evening as he gets up from the couch to answer the doorbell.

  Robert has already explained why he invited Len Tottenham. A Michigan farm boy, Len had been a college suitemate of Robert’s before Len dropped out of school and enlisted. "I thought you didn't like him," Sharon said when Robert first told her that Len was coming over. In response Robert said, "This gives him a chance to get away from the barracks, and we can afford to be gracious."

  In preparation for his visit Sharon had gotten out her crewelwork canvas – stretched over an embroidery frame – with its unfinished section of
French knot flowers. "I'll work on my needlework while you entertain him."

  "Hi, buddy," Robert says to a gangly man in rumpled fatigues with an enlisted rank – which one Sharon can't tell – sewn on both sleeves. "Come on in."

  Len's shaved hair barely hints at its blondness above dark eyes and a prominent nose. He shakes Robert's extended hand and nods in Sharon's direction.

  "Would you like something to drink?" Robert asks, motioning to the armchair.

  "Beer, if ya have any."

  Robert shakes his head. "How about some Coke?"

  "It'll have to do."

  He could have said thank you, that Coke would be just fine.

  Sharon and Len sit without speaking until Robert returns with the Coke.

  "Hey, Rob, couple of Jew boys in my unit."

  She pricks her finger with the needle. Blood droplets sprinkle the white canvas.

  "Now, Len, I taught you better than that," Robert says.

  "Yeah, yeah."

  Sharon has heard some of the things Len said about Jews when he and Robert first were suitemates. Then Robert "educated" him. In her book Len's attitude certainly would not have won him an invitation to their apartment.

  "So what's going on?" Robert asks. "Thinking of making the army a career?"

  Len shrugs. "What else I got to do, especially after getting my insides all busted up over in Nam."

  Robert has already warned her not to mention Vietnam. As if she doesn't know not to.

  Now Robert says, "That 20 year or 30 year pension sounds pretty good. There are a lot worse things."

  Len's eyes darken and his mouth pulls down. Is he thinking about men he saw die in Vietnam?

  Then his face relaxes. "Yeah."

  "Have you heard from any of the other MSU guys?" Robert asks.

  "Ol' Pete. Got himself some great big deer on a hunting trip..."

  Sharon tunes Len out and leans over the crewelwork, wrapping the burnt orange thread into petite French knots. When she finishes this still life she'll have it framed in dark wood. Some day the picture will hang on the wall of a dining room furnished with a polished cherry wood table large enough for 12 and matching chairs upholstered in dark green brocade.

  A half hour later Robert stands at the door shaking Len's hand. "Thanks for coming by," Robert says.

  Sharon rises to be polite. The embroidery frame catches on her short skirt, pulling it up to her waist.

  She grabs at her skirt as Len's eyes sweep up her thighs to her exposed undies-clad crotch.

  "See ya around," he says, his eyes on her body.

  She hopes not.

  SHARON – V – May 18

  448 colleges and universities reportedly closed or under strike in response to Kent State shootings ... May 10, 1970

  “In military circles it is wrong to be ‘fashionably late.’” Mrs. Lieutenant booklet

  Sharon sets the plate of chocolate chip cookies baked this morning down on the Formica-topped coffee table. The oven has heated up the small apartment, and the air conditioner struggles unsuccessfully to cool the temperature. Yet she doesn't want to serve store-bought cookies – "home-baked is more hospitable" her mother always says.

  Sharon is excited about her idea for the graduation luncheon entertainment. The proverbial light bulb exploded minutes after she returned to the apartment yesterday afternoon. Will the others like her idea?

  The doorbell rings. Sharon re-tucks the hem of her white sleeveless blouse into the waistband of her blue cotton skirt and opens the door to Kim. Despite the heat and the walk around the block from her apartment, Kim looks cool in a sleeveless flower-print shift.

  "Smells like cookies," Kim says.

  Sharon smiles and motions Kim to the sofa. "How about some pop? You must be thirsty."

  "That would be great."

  Before Sharon can get the pop bottles out of the refrigerator, the doorbell rings again. Both Donna and Wendy stand outside.

  "Did you come together?" Sharon asks.

  "Just landed on your doorstep at the same time," Donna says.

  Wendy, who wears pale green pants and a short-sleeved white blouse, takes a seat on the single armchair and pushes her short black hair out of her face. Donna, wearing a plaid short-sleeved dress, sits down next to Kim on the couch.

  "This is a nice apartment complex," Wendy says. "We tried to rent a unit here."

  "What happened?" Donna asks.

  "The clerk at the housing office thought an apartment was still available. When we drove over here the manager told us it was already rented."

  Sharon stands still with the pop bottles in her hands. Wendy has said this with no accusation in her voice.

  Sharon flashes to the post housing office. The friendly housing clerk explains how she hadn't told Robert and Sharon about this unit earlier in the day because she thought it had been taken.

  Sharon leans over and places the bottles on the coffee table. Had the clerk sent Wendy and her husband to see this apartment not knowing that the shotgun-toting redneck manager wouldn't rent to them? Because that's what must have happened.

  Sharon’s stomach does a flip flop as she realizes that, because of racial discrimination, she and Robert got this apartment. Then she reminds herself that there was no way she and Robert could have known this at the time so she doesn’t need to feel guilty.

  "Please, everyone, help yourself to soda pop and cookies," she says. “And thanks for coming. I hope this is going to be fun."

  Donna laughs, her black hair bouncing against her shoulders. "At least it will be something to do. There's not a lot going on around here."

  "Where are you all from?" Wendy asks Donna.

  Donna laughs again. "From an equally boring place. I was at Ft. Riley living with my parents – I'm an army brat – when I met my husband. Believe me, Kansas is not any more exciting than Kentucky."

  "I know about Ft. Riley – my husband went to ROTC summer camp there," Sharon says. "You must have lived all over the world if your father was in the army."

  Donna nods. "We lived in Germany, in Korea. When I was little we lived in Hawaii. And I've been to Puerto Rico to visit several times."

  "I'd never been out of North Carolina before we came here,” Kim says. “I can't believe all the places you've lived in."

  Wendy rustles in her armchair. "I wasn't ever out of South Carolina before my parents sent me to college in Texas."

  Kim stares at the glass in her hand. Then she looks straight at Wendy. "Whereabouts in South Carolina are you from?"

  "Orangeburg. You probably never heard of it."

  Kim shakes her head.

  "It's a nice enough place. My papa's a doctor there."

  Sharon, surprised herself, watches Kim's face.

  Wendy doesn’t wait for a response before adding, "He built his practice all by himself. First only black people were his patients; now whites go to him too."

  Sharon glances quickly at Kim, then says, "Let me tell you my idea for the entertainment.

  It's not what the other women have in mind so I hope you'll like it."

  "Out with it!" Donna says.

  "I’ll write a little play for us to perform. The play will be about the army – some of the funny things about AOB." She looks around at the others as she adds, "In keeping with the July 4th theme of the luncheon, the play will take place in 1776 when, I think, George Washington was at Valley Forge."

  Donna nods. "Sounds like it might be cute. At least it will be different."

  "It could be fun," Kim says. "I've never been in a play."

  Sharon turns to Wendy. She smiles yes.

  "Then let me show you what I've got so far," Sharon says.

  "You already started?" Kim asks. "What if we hadn't agreed?"

  "Then I would have wasted my time."

  **

  Sharon makes salmon patties for dinner. First she picks the little white bones out of the canned salmon and removes the grayish white outer skin clinging to the larger pieces. Next
she mixes the salmon with an egg and bread crumbs before hand rolling the patties. Finally she fries the flattened patties in oil. She also heats canned peas and cuts up a salad of lettuce, carrots, celery and tomatoes.

  She uses the “Betty Crocker's New Picture Cook Book” only for baking recipes. Otherwise she sticks to the few things she already knows how to cook. Robert and his two younger brothers grew up on meat meals three times a day. Since marrying Sharon, Robert has been willing to cut down on what he'll accept as a meal. And out here in the boondocks he hasn't had much choice.

  Robert opens the door to the apartment. She walks the two steps from the kitchenette to meet him.

  "Hi, honey," he says, grabbing her around the waist. "How about a little something before dinner?"

  "Let's have dinner first. I want to tell you about ..."

  "Later," he says, his mouth clamping on hers while he pulls down her undies. It's a good thing she uses birth control pills, because there certainly isn't time for her to put in a diaphragm.

  She smiles as Robert pushes her towards the bedroom. At least she turned the flame off under the salmon patties when she heard his key in the lock. She won't burn the dinner this time.

  When they’re done Robert’s enthusiasm for lovemaking shows as a red flush all over his chest. She eyes the flush, then says, "The women were here today for the first entertainment committee meeting."

  "How'd it go?"

  Sharon ducks her head under the bed to look for her undies and bra. "I was worried about Kim and Wendy getting along, but it seemed to go fine."

  "What were you worried about?"

  "Wendy's black and Kim's a white Southerner. I was afraid Kim would say something, something derogatory about blacks."

  "This is 1970. All that Southern white supremacy crap is over now. It's against the law."

  Sharon shakes her head while hooking her bra. She doubts that this enlightened view of equality has taken hold among the Southern white population. Kim's reaction to the black soldier holding open the PX door is probably just the tip of the iceberg of Kim's Southern-inspired prejudices.

  "Something kind of weird happened today," Robert says as he puts one foot through the leg hole of his jockey shorts. "We all got our pay vouchers for our uniform allowance."