Mrs. Lieutenant: A Sharon Gold Novel

by Phyllis Zimbler Miller

  On one page she reads: "Your husband's job should never be discussed. Don't relay tales of business personalities to your friends. If your husband is fortunate enough to have a wife with whom he can air his problems, be sure that you don't betray his trust by discussing his affairs with others."

  Should she have withdrawn from the play without saying why? Did she need to tell the others about Nelson's fears?

  It's easier to tell the truth than say nothing. This way it's Nelson who forced her to stop, not she herself. She hasn't abandoned her friends. They understand that loyalty to her husband has to come first.

  “Mrs. Lieutenant” is so strange! Two paragraphs after this serious instruction comes the following: "Restrict your telephone calls to five minutes. Make your appointments over the phone and do your real chatting in person. Having long conversations on the telephone is a bad and hard to break habit, but your accomplishments will certainly be greater if you can overcome it."

  Wendy turns to the last page: "Be gracious to and understanding of your friends as they too learn and mature. People more often need help than criticism.”

  Wendy relates to this advice – it’s something her parents have taught her.

  "To a truly gracious person, there will be many times when she feels the proper thing to do will be the incorrect one. Rely upon her judgment and be gracious yourself by accepting her ways when her manner of doing things is different from yours."

  And then the final paragraph: "Sometimes it is better to do the wrong thing graciously than the proper thing rudely."

  Maybe she did the wrong thing graciously instead of the proper thing rudely. If Nelson is upset by what she said, she could show him this page.

  She stares at the booklet. If Nelson goes RA she'll have to live by these rules for the next 20 or 30 years. Will it be any harder than living by white folks' rules?

  KIM – VIII – July 1

  Senate subcommittee discloses U.S. has paid Thailand $50

  million annually since 1966 to send troops to South Vietnam ... June 7, 1970

  “If a soldier salutes you after recognizing your military car tag, smile and thank him for the courtesy.” Mrs. Lieutenant booklet

  Kim sets the table for dinner after she drops Sharon off. The Beatles singing "Day Tripper" keep her company. Since the picnic two days ago Jim has been speaking to her, and she’s trying very hard not to do anything that could upset him again.

  Earlier she and Sharon drove through the troop area to borrow an MP helmet from Robert’s school friend Ken Tottenham. Sharon promised that she would run into the building for only a minute. Then they stopped at the hospital clinic to borrow a white doctor’s coat thanks to Sharon’s friend Dr. Fred Weinstein. Even here Kim stayed in the car.

  Yet she hadn’t stayed in the car at their next two stops. As they approached Ft. Knox Sharon had said, "Getting the props should take no time at all. Then we'll have the rest of the afternoon. Why don't we drive over to Donna's apartment and wish her good luck on her pregnancy – show we're really happy for her? Then on the way back we can stop at Wendy's trailer and show her we don't have any hard feelings about her dropping out of the play."

  Kim shook her head. "Jim may not approve of my paying a social visit to Wendy."

  "You're probably uncomfortable doing this for the first time,” Sharon said. “If I were feeling lonely, I'd sure want someone to show support for me."

  And Sharon had been right. Donna and Wendy had both been pleased to see them.

  Donna chatted about plans for the baby. "My mama's making maternity clothes. Then she'll start on clothes for the baby."

  "How will she know what kind of clothes to make?" Kim asked.

  "She'll make newborn clothes that can be worn by a girl or boy. Then once the baby's born she'll make more clothes."

  Kim clenched her hands together. Donna had a mother who could sew maternity and baby clothes, who would be excited to hold her infant grandchild, who had always been present in her daughter's life! Something an orphan could never have.

  Kim felt relief when Sharon said to Donna, "We have to go. We're stopping by Wendy's on the way home."

  When Wendy saw them on her doorstep her face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Come in, come in," she said.

  With less than a week before the men had to decide, the conversation naturally turned to the question of voluntary indefinite. "I told my parents about going vol indef," Sharon said. "Europe sounds so far away to them."

  Kim's parents – the two people in her broken picture frame.

  Her parents didn't own a camera, of course. One day a traveling salesman knocked on their farmhouse door. Her parents said there was nothing they needed. Only later did she realize there was probably nothing they could afford. The man offered to take a family photograph in exchange for a meal. "We don't need no photograph," her mother said, "but you’re more 'n welcome to stay for supper."

  When the man left, she and Diane tagged along behind him to the yard gate. Her parents stood together in front of the house. At the gate the man turned around and snapped a photo. Her parents had been surprised, didn't pose or smile into the camera. When the photograph unexpectedly arrived in the mail they laughed at their expressions.

  Her mother said she hoped she didn't look that bad. Her father said it was foolishness. Kim stared at the photo. In her parents' faces she could see pieces of herself and her sister. She had her father's eyes, her sister had her mother's. And there was something else in the faces, something that as an adult Kim has considered over and over – hopelessness, resignation. As if, as the photo was snapped, her parents foresaw their brief future.

  "Can I have this picture? Can I?" she had asked. Her mother walked over to the cabinet where she kept the family papers. From a small drawer she pulled out a metal picture frame displaying the Lord's Prayer. "Got this in Bible class," her mother said. "This here photo should fit in it." And she placed the photo on top of the prayer, saying, "The prayer's still here too in case you ever have need of it."

  Her sister cried. She wanted a picture too. Her mother said, "There'll be time for more pictures." There hadn't been time.

  The doorbell rings. Kim opens it to Susanna and her children.

  "We had to come this way to run an errand. Thought we'd say hello."

  Kim hasn't seen the Norrises since the church picnic. The red welt on Patty's cheek that day still haunts Kim. For the little girl's sake she'll be civil to Susanna now.

  Kim offers Cokes all around and Susanna accepts a Coke for herself and one for Patty – "Billy Jr.'s too young."

  "Are you settlin' into army life?" Susanna asks.

  Patty jumps up from the couch to take her Coke bottle from her mother. The movement knocks her mother's bottle out of her mother’s hand, spilling part of the Coke.

  "Patty, look what you've done!" Susanna smacks the child across her back.

  Pain stabs Kim's eye. Patty's expression doesn't change.

  "It was an accident,” Kim says. “I'll just get a rag to wipe up."

  "I swear," Susanna says, "this child only responds when I yell at her or hit her. I end up having to hit her all the time."

  Does Kim's face betray her horror? She can remember all the smacks she got from foster parents when she wasn't quick enough or when she spilled something or when they were just feeling downright ornery. She once tried to protect her sister from a punishment that by rights should have been Kim’s. All Kim got for her attempt at heroism was both of them sent to bed without dinner. Her sister cried that night that "it would be better to be smacked. The pain goes away pretty quick. Hunger doesn't."

  Kim motions Patty to follow her. Susanna doesn't say anything as she's busy getting Billy Jr.'s bottle out of the diaper bag. The little girl has tears in her eyes as she follows Kim into the kitchen.

  "I'll get you a cookie," Kim says. She picks up the metal cookie canister and tries to pry the lid off. The canister slips from her hands and crashes to the linoleum floor, the n
oise so unexpected she jumps. Patty doesn't move.

  Kim looks at Patty. She considers the times Patty responds and the times she doesn't.

  "Patty," she says in her normal voice, "do you want a cookie?"

  The little girl doesn't answer.

  "Patty," she says in a very loud voice, "do you want a cookie?"

  "ooie," Patty says.

  "Susanna," Kim says, pulling Patty out of the kitchen. "This child is deaf."

  "That can't be."

  Kim describes the canister and her experiment. Susanna only shakes her head.

  Kim walks to the front door. "Patty, come here."

  The child doesn't move.

  "See, she's just willful," Susanna says.

  Kim leads Patty to the door, facing her away from it. She points at the far wall so that Patty will keep her eyes there.

  Then, behind Patty, Kim opens the door and slams it shut.

  Patty does not react.

  "She should have jumped," Kim says. "She didn't even turn around to see what happened."

  For a moment Susanna doesn’t respond. Then she sets Billy Jr. on the floor and kneels down in front of Patty and hugs her. "You're deaf. My child is deaf."

  Tears wet Susanna's cheeks. "All those times I hit her to get her to listen. She couldn't hear me. Oh, God, forgive me."

  Now tears well up in Kim's eyes. She runs into the kitchen for tissues, then bends down over Susanna and Patty. "The important thing is to get her help now."

  "ooie?" Patty asks.

  Kim nods at Patty to show she understands. Then turns back to Susanna. "And the way her speech sounds, her hearing problem has affected her speech ability. She needs help for both."

  Susanna wipes her eyes with her hands and picks up Billy Jr. "I'm goin' to drive over to the clinic right now and see what can be done." She grabs the diaper bag and her purse and motions Patty to follow her.

  At the door she turns back to Kim. “Thank you. Thank you very much.” And they are out the door.

  What a wonderful feeling! Kim may not have been able to help her sister and herself when they were young, but she has helped this little child.

  The promised cookie! She runs out the door with the canister, handing Patty a cookie through the open car window.

  Patty waves good-bye, the cookie crumbling down her dress.

  Poor Patty. She may always be different.

  Being different. That's what Kim hates most. Every year in elementary school when they made presents for Mother's Day and Father's Day – painted rocks for paperweights and decorated orange juice cans for pencil holders – Kim pretended to be making these gifts for her parents. She couldn't bear telling the other kids that she was an orphan, different, even if they knew. Each year she wrapped her handiwork in color tissue paper – and dumped the gifts in a trash bin.

  She could have given the gifts to her sister – Diane would have been thrilled at any gift, no matter how ugly and misshapen – but Kim couldn't stand seeing the gifts around. They would be constant reminders of the horrible truth about Kim and Diane – orphans, orphans, forever orphans.

  Kim checks her watch. Jim will be home soon. Tomorrow morning she'll bake a pie. She's good at pies – always made at least one for every church social. All the ladies at church complimented her.

  At church they always pray for the widows and orphans. Kim has already been one of these at an early age; she doesn't want to be the other.

  **

  An hour later their car stops outside the apartment.

  The door bangs open as she reaches for the doorknob. One look at Jim's face tells her that he knows about the trip to the troop area. How? They were at the MP's office for less than two minutes. Just enough time for Sharon to take the helmet and say thank you.

  "You were with Sharon today, weren't you?" he says, his hands clenched at his sides.

  She nods.

  "Robert said Sharon was going to pick up an MP's helmet in the troop area. You went with, didn't you?"

  Should she lie? Robert may not have known she was going. Jim's probably guessing.

  "Didn't you?" he repeats.

  Her shoulders sag. She's tired of being afraid. Afraid of not being loved. Afraid of being abandoned. Like Patty.

  Unlike Patty, she's old enough to stand up for herself.

  She raises her head. "I went with Sharon. She ran into the MP office for less than one minute while I stayed in the car. No one came near the car, no one spoke to me, and I did not call or wave out the window at a passing soldier."

  He strides towards their bedroom. The gun! He's getting the gun!

  The toilet flushes, the water gurgling.

  Jim comes back, his hands empty.

  "Let's have dinner now. We're going to the club to meet some of the others."

  They eat in silence again.

  **

  The music blares as they enter the Country Club. Jim walks towards the bar where Robert stands. Kim accepts the chair Sharon offers. Wendy and Donna sit at the next table.

  "Isn't this nice the men wanted to get together tonight?" Sharon says.

  "Is there a reason?"

  "They're celebrating a reprieve."

  Kim looks around the room. "A reprieve? From what?"

  "Somebody – they don't know who – cheated on a test they took today. Robert says it was probably one of the helicopter pilots; they're always pulling stunts like that. The instructor threatened to give them all weekend duty, then relented."

  There's shouting at the bar. It's Jim's voice.

  "I know who cheated, even if he won't admit it." Jim swings around from the bar and faces the tables, pointing at Nelson. "It's the nigger."

  Kim sees Jerry spring up from his seat and stand alongside Robert next to Jim.

  Robert says, "We all know who probably did it – one of the guys who always goofs off. Nelson takes everything seriously; he's one of the best guys in our class."

  "And your language is inappropriate, Jim," Jerry says.

  Jim strides up to Nelson with Robert and Jerry right behind him. Nelson stands with his hands clenched at his side.

  "I'm telling you the nigger did it. Wanted to show he knows more than anyone."

  Kim wants to go to Jim, tell him to stop this right now! Her feet don't move.

  "Come on, nigger. Don't you want to fight me?"

  "Let's go outside and cool down," Jerry says, twisting Jim’s arm behind his back.

  Robert grabs Jim’s other arm, then says "Wait a minute" to Jerry. Robert reaches into Jim's pocket and takes out the car keys, tossing them to Sharon. He says, "Go home with Kim now. I'll bring Jim home after he's cooled off."

  Sharon stands, snatching her purse off the table.

  Kim is about to follow Sharon when instead Kim says, "I have to do something first."

  Now Kim's feet move. She walks up to Wendy standing with Donna's arm around her. "I wish I could take it all back," Kim says.

  Tears stream down Wendy's face. Kim feels tears on her own face.

  "I'm sorry," Kim says, then follows Sharon out of the room.

  **

  In bed Kim hugs the blanket pulled up to her neck. She and Sharon did not speak on the drive home. Now she waits for Jim.

  His voice reaches her in the dark as he enters the bedroom.

  "I'm not going vol indef so they'll be sending me to Vietnam after a couple of months of troop duty. I'm not waiting. I’m going to volunteer for combat duty."

  "You're ... you're going to Vietnam? Why? Why?" The pain in her head jabs, the colors zig zag across her vision.

  "We Southerners have a military tradition to uphold,” he says. “Can't let these kikes and niggers and Yankees do our jobs for us. Have to show them that the South should have won the war. We're not pussies."

  Kim uses the pillow to stifle her sobs.

  **

  The next morning Kim begs off going to the pool when Sharon comes by, using menstrual cramps as an excuse. Kim says nothing about the n
ight before at the Officers Club nor does Sharon.

  Although Kim feels terrible about Wendy and Nelson, about what Jim said, the tears today are for herself. Her husband going to Vietnam. How will she survive?

  Even with the tears she tries to be productive today. Starts one letter after another to her sister, then rips up each attempt. Some too honest, some too dishonest.

  She takes out the afghan she's crocheting for Diane. If she can't write to her, at least she can do something for her. The hook becomes tangled in the yellow yarn every other stitch.

  Now she has dinner ready. Jim's favorite. Fried chicken and homemade biscuits. But a favorite dinner can’t change Jim's mind – he believes he’s always right. Jim grew up in a home that revolved around him. Jim got straight A's! Jim scored the winning touchdown! Kim pictures the conversations around the family dinner table. His younger sister's accomplishments relegated to the expected, Jim's elevated to the extraordinary.

  Kim twists the crochet yarn in her hands. She knows that, even if she doesn’t believe everything he does is right, he would still expect her to go along with his Vietnam decision. She's been brought up to believe that husbands know best no matter how wrong those husbands might actually be. Certainly she, uneducated and without any family of her own, can't hope to go against his decision.

  She imagines her papa appearing at the apartment door, gun in hand, demanding that Jim not go to Vietnam. "I didn't let my little girl marry you so she could become a widow." And if only her mama could send Jim home-cooked Southern treats, enticing him to come on home.

  Being an orphan doesn't just mean being an "orphan" – a name to cry yourself to sleep with every night in a foster home, but being a person without family for all time.

  The sound of the car engine being turned off announces Jim's arrival. She stands up, brushes her tears with the backs of her hands, then walks to the door.

  Jim bangs it open. "Where the hell were you today?"

  Her mouth opens. Nothing comes out. Where has she been? Home crying. "I was ... I was home all day. I have bad cramps."