"Is it okay to make love? We won't hurt the baby, will we?"
**
The next morning, Saturday, Donna first searches under the bed, then finds her purse under the kitchen table. She isn't thinking clearly.
Last night Jerry's response to her news was such a relief. His lovemaking so gentle, so sweet that he must be pleased about the baby. This morning, the passion of lovemaking over, she worried he would accuse her, demand an abortion.
He didn't. He got out of bed, bent down to kiss her, and said, "Take good care of my baby today."
Yet something troubles her. She shakes her head. It isn't telling her parents. They'll be thrilled. And it will be great news to write her brother. Something hopeful, something ... to make it home for.
What then? Telling the other women? After she proclaimed how she and Jerry were waiting? People are entitled to change their minds. Anyway, does she have to tell them now? Maybe she won't begin showing until after they leave Ft. Knox. She can just be pregnant at the next post, where only Sharon will be. Wendy and Kim will be at other posts.
Her glance falls on the Oriental bowl. Miguel. She's pretty sure Sharon hasn't told Kim and Wendy. They haven't looked at her strangely, anxiously, as if silently showing their sympathy – or horror. If she tells the other women about the baby maybe she'll have to tell them about Miguel, too. About the emptiness that never left her even when the tears stopped, when his sisters packed up their own babies – the babies she would never have with Miguel! – and went back to their own apartments, their own lives.
She'll write the sisters. They'll be happy for her, as they were when she remarried. They will also be sad for themselves, for their only brother Miguel, whose children would never play with their children, who would never again return to the streets of San Juan.
Enough! She doesn't want to see Miguel in his white wedding suit beckoning to her every time she thinks of the baby. This is Jerry's child she's carrying. Miguel was her past; Jerry and the baby are her future.
Jerry comes into the apartment – he’s been out getting gas for the car. "I feel like a drive," Jerry says.
"Where to?"
"Let's see where the road takes us."
The air breezing into the open car windows blows hot, although not as sticky as the standing air. The road offers a menu of smells as they pass from the countryside into more built-up areas around Louisville. At a stoplight the escaping steam from a laundrymat mingles with whiffs of frying hamburgers from a roadside shack.
Then they are in downtown Louisville and Jerry turns the car into a parking lot next to a building whose sign announces HOLLY’S BABY STORE. "Surprise!" he says. "We can do a little sightseeing."
"You're wonderful!" she says, kissing him before unbuckling her seat belt.
The store brims with cribs, highchairs, and strollers. Other expecting couples and couples with babies walk up and down the aisles admiring or disregarding the available merchandise.
"It doesn't make sense to get anything now and have it shipped," Jerry says. "We can just have a good time looking."
She squeezes his hand as they wander among the baby equipment. "There's so much to get," Jerry says. "Babies need a lot of things."
She's too happy to answer, just keeps holding his hand as they walk, eyeing all the combinations of changing tables and dressers and rocking chairs. "I like white painted furniture. It's good for both boys and girls," she says.
After 30 minutes she has seen enough. "Can we go have something to eat?" she says.
Two blocks away they find a diner. As she enters, greeted by fat-frying smells, an older black man comes towards her with a take-out order. Jerry holds the door open for him, then follows her inside.
The counter man leans towards them. "Hey, fella, ya always hold doors open far niggers? Mebbe it's 'coz ya girl is a Spic."
Jerry jumps the counter and pulls the man's arm tight behind his back. "Say you're sorry to the lady. Or you won't be cooking for a long time."
The man remains silent. Jerry yanks the man's arm higher and the man squeaks out "Sorry, mam."
Jerry jumps back over the counter and leads her back through the door. "Come on, honey," he says. "We don't want to eat with white trash."
Jerry drives in silence for 20 minutes. Then he speaks. "You know we discussed going vol indef?"
Donna says nothing.
"Would you mind living in Europe when the baby comes? We'd be pretty far from your parents."
She would like to be close to her parents after the baby's born. And her father won't be eligible for a transfer from Ft. Riley until the end of their year in Europe, so she can't even hope that he'll be stationed in Europe at the same time.
As a young child stationed with her family in Germany, she hadn't lived in army housing on the kaserne. At that time her father's rank wasn't high enough to entitle him to army housing, so they had lived "on the economy." Yet her family shopped only in the army commissary – grocery store – and the PX, which carried gift items from all the countries in Europe. "Look at these lovely teak salad bowls from Denmark and the miniature wooden shoes from Holland," her mother would say as they chose gifts representing countries they hadn’t visited.
The Germans seemed so different, their language incomprehensible, that her parents didn't attempt to travel anywhere else in Europe. They weren't even willing to go to Spain – "Perhaps our Puerto Rican Spanish won't be understood." Now with Jerry she could experience another culture. Maybe even study German.
The baby complicates this decision. "What do you think?" she asks.
"I'd like to go to Europe. See the museums and churches, the famous sights like the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben. And the opportunities in MI are pretty good in Europe. Here in the U.S. I'd probably just do document research and analysis. In Europe you can interview real people, people who sometimes risk their lives to bring out information from behind the Iron Curtain. I'd be doing something meaningful."
And it would postpone Vietnam, at least for a year, Donna thinks as she takes his hands. He’ll get to hold the baby – have his picture taken with his child even if ...
"Let's do it. My parents will just have to come to Europe to see their first grandchild."
Jerry smiles. "I know you'll be happy."
Only one thing will make her happy – and no one can guarantee that.
KIM – VI – June 21
AFL-CIO Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America denounces U.S. war policy and calls for disengagement from Southeast Asia ... May 27, 1970
“The following day it is a nice gesture to write a brief note thanking your hostess for including you at the party and extending a few complimentary remarks about its success.” Mrs. Lieutenant booklet
For a regular churchgoer, Jim hasn't shown any interest in attending church here at Ft. Knox. "Bunch of Northerners probably," he said when Kim suggested going their first Sunday at Ft. Knox. Yet there wasn't much he could say when Bill and Susanna Norris asked them to a church picnic.
"How's it going?" Bill asks now as Kim and Jim walk across the grass behind the church building. Bill crouches on both legs, his rear end inches from the ground, watching Billy Jr. run around in circles. He stands to shake hands with Jim.
"Learned that little trick in Nam," Bill says. "The Vietnamese can sit for hours like that. Came in handy during monsoon season, not sitting on the wet ground."
Kim shudders as Susanna calls hello from the picnic table, where she’s finishing braiding Patty's pigtails.
"Now off you go to play," Susanna says.
Patty remains where she is. Kim smiles at the child.
"Patty!" Susanna yells. "I told you to get goin'!"
Patty smiles at Kim, then walks towards the swing set, where two other children have claimed the two swings. Kim watches as Patty stands to one side, her eyes following the other children as they swing back and forth.
Kim sits next to Susanna on the picnic table bench. After swatting a fly off the table, Kim s
ets down her bag.
"What did you brin' for lunch?" Susanna asks.
"Cold fried chicken."
"I brought ham hocks. Want to share?"
Kim drops her eyes to her hands, then looks up. "Jim doesn't eat pork."
"He doesn't eat pork! What kind of Southerner is he?"
"He ... he has a food allergy to it."
Susanna lays her hand on Kim's arm. "How terrible! What do you cook?"
"I ..."
"Honey, come over here!" Bill calls to Susanna. "See what Billy Jr. is doing."
Kim fishes her food out of the bag and arranges it on the table. She's not sure why she fibbed, especially at a church picnic. She didn't want to explain Jim’s peculiarities to Susanna.
Off to one side Kim sees a man who must be the minister shaking hands with some of the picnic people. It would be polite to go over and greet him – even though she'll be embarrassed if he asks why she hasn't been at church.
She glances towards the swing set. The other two children have left. Patty just sits on one idle swing. Doesn't she know how to pump her legs?
"Want me to push you?" Kim says as she walks over to the child.
Patty smiles.
Kim shoves the swing, sending the child high up into the air.
Patty shrieks! A shriek of terror, not enjoyment! Kim grabs the metal chains and stops the swing.
Susanna runs over. She hauls Patty off the swing and whacks her across the face. Pain jabs above Kim's eyes as Patty’s smacked skin springs up into a red welt.
"What do you think you're doin', Missy? Screamin' like that? You could have scared someone real bad."
Kim looks over at the men; they’re occupied watching Billy Jr. toddle around.
Susanna shakes Patty. "Answer me!"
Kim catches Susanna's hand as it again swings towards Patty's face. "It was ... it was my fault. I swung her too hard and frightened her. I'm sorry to have upset her – and you. Please don't punish her."
Susanna snaps her hand out of Kim's hold. "Then I'm sorry too. I want my children to behave. I don't want any kids of mine yellin' like little niggas."
An aura of rainbow colors blinds Kim. Why does Susanna have to say such a thing? Wendy is one of the gentlest people Kim has ever met. Kim's sure if Wendy had children they would be well behaved.
"Now be quiet and do what you're told," Susanna says to Patty. "I'm goin' to go fetch Billy Jr. and then we'll all eat."
Kim smiles at Patty, then follows Susanna. Ten feet away Kim turns back to wave to Patty, the slap mark bright on the child's face.
The Christian expression "turn the other cheek" occurs to Kim. What about "Christian charity"?
**
"Food for us," Sharon says as she arrives at Kim's apartment the next evening and hands Kim the Coke and potato chips. "And speaking of food, I packed so much for Robert! He could go on a three-day trip instead of this one night training exercise."
"I did the same for Jim."
Sharon points to Jim's military figures marching across the floor. "How's the game coming?"
Kim can feel her face flush. Just because Jim is hooked on these games doesn't mean he's gung ho army, does it?
Not waiting for an answer, Sharon goes on to her next question. "When do you think the fireworks will start?"
Fireworks! Doesn't Sharon realize it can be dangerous?
Sharon plops down on the couch. "Robert said it would be loud and not to worry. Tank firing sounds worse than it actually is."
Surely Sharon has to know what happens if a tank takes a direct hit – the explosion, the burning ... the deaths. Maybe Sharon is purposely pretending it’s no big thing.
"Do you want the Coke now?" Kim says.
Sharon nods and opens the bag of potato chips. "What have you and Jim decided about going voluntary indefinite?"
Kim pours the Coke into two glasses. "Jim hasn't told me what he wants."
"We're leaning towards doing it," Sharon says. "Nixon will have to end the war to be reelected. There's too much anti-war feeling not to."
"What does that mean?"
"The primaries are in spring of 1972. By fall of 1971 Nixon will have to announce he's ending the war. That's why we figure going vol indef – buying a year to 18 months in Europe – will improve Robert's chances of not going to Vietnam."
Isn't Sharon embarrassed to say Robert doesn't want to go to Vietnam? Even if Jim didn't want to go, he would never say it to anyone – that's unpatriotic. And he certainly wouldn't want her to tell anyone if he said it to her. If he had. Which he hadn't
"If Jim goes to Vietnam I want him to make out a will," Kim says.
"Why?" Sharon asks. "Everything you have together would be yours, wouldn't it?"
Kim shakes her head. "Without a will Jim's parents might take everything, leave me nothing."
"Why would they do that?"
"He's been theirs for a lot longer than he's been mine. They might say I don't deserve anything."
Kim can see from Sharon’s puzzled expression that she doesn’t understand. Since Kim can’t explain any better, she holds up a crocheted square of light green wool. "I'm making a quilt for my sister for Christmas. What do you give your family for Christmas?"
Sharon brushes hair off her face. "We don't celebrate Christmas."
"Everyone celebrates Christmas."
"Christmas is a Christian holiday; Jews don't celebrate it. We have our own holidays."
"Jews don't celebrate Christmas?" Kim says.
"It's not a Jewish holiday."
"It's an American holiday," Kim says. She drops the crocheted square onto the table.
"It's not an American holiday like the Fourth of July or Thanksgiving,” Sharon says. “It just seems like an American holiday because everything is closed on Christmas Day and all the stores are decorated and there are Christmas carols everywhere. It’s really a religious Christian holiday."
Kim pictures herself on Christmas Day in the church choir, singing about the birth of the little baby Jesus in the manger.
"Jesus Christ was Jewish," Sharon says.
"He was not!"
Kim learned in Sunday School class that Jesus lived in the land of the Jews. If he were Jewish surely she would have learned that too.
"His name was Yehoshuah in Hebrew, or Joshua in English." Sharon says.
"I would have known if he had a different name."
"Jesus is the Greek translation of Yehoshuah. Jesus, Yehoshuah, Joshua are all the same name, only in different languages."
The BOOM makes them jump, the first thunder followed by another and another.
Sharon says, "Are those the tanks firing?"
Kim’s head throbs. The pool of blood grows larger and larger. The clerk slumps against the counter.
"Put on the radio,” Sharon says. “Let's try to drown those sounds out."
Kim yanks at the radio knob. "People Got to Be Free" by the Rascals blares out of the box.
"What an appropriate song," Sharon says.
"What do you mean?"
"Our husbands are training to go off to war to free the Vietnamese from Communism."
If only Jim didn't have to be one of the Crusaders!
**
The night training exercise is successfully over. Thank heavens! Sharon and Kim are relaxing at the Officers County Club pool the next day. Sharon reads that book again.
"I told Jim about your book,” Kim says to Sharon. “He says I don't have to believe it."
“You don't have to believe the Germans killed six million Jews?" Sharon asks.
Kim stares down at the blanket they share. "He said I didn't have to believe any of those things."
Sharon opens her mouth, shuts it, stands up. "I'm going in the water," she says.
Why is Sharon so angry? Jim said Kim didn't have to believe the book and he's educated. Why would he lie?
Sharon stands at the edge of the pool, her arms positioned for a racing dive. Then she turns back to Kim.
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"You're just repeating what Jim told you – I shouldn't be angry at you." Sharon drops back onto the blanket and shades her eyes with a hand. "Let me tell you a story that illustrates what I think about the South.
"At the beginning of World War II Robert's father, an enlisted man, trained at an army post in Alabama. Robert's mother, a schoolteacher in New York, came down for summer vacation to be close to her husband. At the end of the summer she went into a general store for wrapping paper to protect a glass coffee pot."
Kim draws her knees up and clasps her arms around them, squishing herself into a protective shell. Something is about to happen in a store!
"The store owner came on to her, backing her into a corner. She cried out, 'Why are you doing this?' He replied, 'Cause ya teach niggas up there, don't ya, so I figure ya're easy.'"
Heat flushes through Kim's body.
"Robert's mother ran from the store."
"That was a long time ago," Kim says, trying to think of that Alabama incident and not the one up the road from her apartment here in Kentucky.
“Are things any different now?” Sharon asks, then without waiting for an answer she strides to the edge of the pool and this time does dive in.
At least no one got killed in the Alabama store Kim thinks. Although that started out the same – a man coming on to a married woman.
Sex – the root of so much. Growing up Kim didn't know anything about sex. Certainly the foster parents never said anything to her and school health class didn’t discuss the topic.
One day at age 16 she cleaned the living room of a foster home, taking out and dusting each book in the bookcase. A thin book hid behind larger books. The book's title – something like "The Facts of Life" – meant nothing to her. She opened the cover. The things explained inside shocked her, and her innocence vanished. She knew about sex.
If Jim went to Vietnam would he sleep with any of the women there? An AOB warrant officer classmate had announced to the table one night at the Officers Club: "A guy feels horny after killing!" Would Jim feel it his right to find release wherever he could?
Sharon had told Kim about finding letters from Robert's father fighting in Europe during World War II. "He wrote his wife about his sexual tension as well as his decision not to sleep with any other women." Then Sharon laughed. "Robert was born nine months and three days after his father returned from Europe."
Mrs. Lieutenant: A Sharon Gold Novel Page 20