by Diane Moody
Danny skipped the first week of classes. He’d called his boss at The Grill and said he was sick. He was, of course. Sick at heart and kicking himself for being so blinded by love. He’d taken refuge in his dorm room, thankful Craig was missing in action again. He’d thought about going home but wasn’t up to the scrutiny.
Occasionally he’d take long walks in the middle of the night, trying to sort it all out. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have let himself be so vulnerable? Had she played him? Or was he just too naïve when it came to romance?
Eventually he talked himself out of his self-imposed pity party and went back to class. He had a mountain of school work to catch up on, including a Greek mythology paper and an upcoming test in Western Civilization. He forced himself to focus on his studies and nothing else. He also made a job switch to something more invisible. He gladly took a maintenance job, cleaning classroom buildings and the library after hours.
The one thing he dreaded was running into Beverly on campus. The first time it happened was the Sunday afternoon following Saturday’s homecoming. Danny had camped out in Deering Library to work on a term paper for his Econ class. After sitting for two hours, he stood up to stretch and decided to get a drink at the water fountain. As he leaned over for a sip, he heard a familiar giggle. He wiped his chin just as Beverly and her fiancé rounded the corner.
“Danny,” she said, startled.
He took a step back. “Beverly.”
She smiled shyly at him. “It’s nice to see you.”
Wish I could say the same. He said nothing.
She seemed flustered that he didn’t respond. “I’d like you to meet Ronnie Wentworth. Ronnie, this is Danny McClain.”
Ronnie stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you.”
Danny shook it. “I’m sure it is. Nice game yesterday.” The halfback blanched and started to say something, but Danny didn’t give him the chance. “Beverly. Ronnie.” He turned to leave.
As he made his way back to his stack of books on the other side of the room, a slow smile tugged at his lips. Yeah, nice game, Wentworth. The Buckeyes stomped you guys 20-6. That puts us at one for five for the season.
Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.
Northwestern went on to lose nine of its ten games on the season, the worst Wildcat record in twenty years—a fact that delighted Danny immensely. The last game of the season, a home game played at Dyche Stadium, was the worst yet as the midshipmen of Great Lakes shut out the Wildcats 48-0. It was Northwestern’s worst defeat since 1899.
In all fairness, the entire student body had been gutted with so many students, faculty members, and coaches enlisting to help fight the war. In fact, everything at Northwestern had changed. Everyone on campus had joined in to help the cause, from blood drives for the Red Cross to war bond sales and relief contributions. Social activities and dances were scaled back in line with war time restrictions.
For the first time, physical education became compulsory for all male students. More than 2,800 students took part in the program which was designed to help build endurance through body conditioning and competitive sports in compliance with Army and Navy requirements. During half-time activities at the Northwestern-Illinois game, the entire football field was covered with these students in a mass demonstration of their new physical capabilities.
The military had its strongest presence ever on the Evanston campus. Navy sailors moved into Foster House and the Naval Air cadets moved into Haven House. While Danny could appreciate the campus opening its arms to these young men, it didn’t make it any easier to put up with their constant taunts and teasing. If anything, the verbal harassment got worse as fall progressed.
“Hey, coward. Think Uncle Sam doesn’t see you hiding behind those text books?”
“What’s the matter, chump? Mommy won’t let you go to war?”
“Too scared to enlist? Afraid of those scary little Japs?”
By the time Thanksgiving break rolled around, Danny couldn’t wait to get off campus and spend a few days at home. On the way home, he’d opened the leather journal Beverly had given him. He’d actually tossed it in his trash can right after she broke up with him. Then a day later, he dug it out of the trash in his room. He ripped out all the pages he’d written previously—most of them about her—and started writing in it again. It seemed like a symbolic way of starting over and facing life again. His own personal therapy. Most of the time his thoughts rambled, jumping from one topic to another, but it didn’t matter. It just helped getting the knotted up thoughts in his head down on paper.
He was still writing when the El reached the 59th Station. He stashed his journal and grabbed his gear. After exiting the station, he took the streetcar and jumped off close to home.
Sophie greeted him at the door, smothering him with slobbering kisses and a tail that wagged incessantly. The familiar aromas wafting from the kitchen were just as he’d expected, drawing him into the heart of home. The hugs and laughter shared with his family felt like a soothing balm to his troubled soul. On Thursday, when Joey winked across the table at him after snatching a biscuit during Mom’s Thanksgiving prayer, Danny felt restored.
Well, almost.
“Danny, pass the dressing to your father, please,” Mom said as she buttered a biscuit. “Has Joey told you about his new girlfriend?”
Danny held his turkey-loaded fork mid-air as he looked across the table at his brother. “Girlfriend? You have a girlfriend?”
“Well, you don’t have to say it like that. Even war-scarred sailors have a chance at love now and then.”
“No, Joey. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that this is the first I’ve heard about this. How come you never told me?”
“We haven’t seen much of you around here, son,” his father added after taking a sip of tea.
“That’s a fact,” Joey said. “It’s like all of a sudden you were allergic to home. We couldn’t lure you back for nothing.”
Danny concentrated on the food on his plate. “Just a rough semester. That’s all. So who’s the lucky girl? Anyone I know?”
Joey swallowed a bite of mashed potatoes. “I doubt you know her, but you’ll get a kick out of this. Remember Mrs. Zankowski from high school?”
“You’re dating Mrs. Zankowski?” he teased. “Does Mr. Zankowski know about this?”
“No, goofball. Her niece, Millie Davis. She got a job working for Armour, and she’s staying at her aunt’s house.”
“Lara brought her down to meet Joey,” Mom continued, beaming. “The minute they laid eyes on each other, I knew it was something special. Never saw anything quite like it.”
“Was it that obvious?” Joey asked.
Dad pointed a carrot stick at him. “I’m hardly the romantic type, but even I could tell she was head over heels for you, son.”
If he hadn’t heard it with his own ears, Danny never would’ve believed such words could come from his dad’s mouth. He’d been quite sure his father wouldn’t know romance if it hit him up side the head.
Danny cleared his throat. “Clearly, I’ve missed out. So what’s she like?”
“You’ll love her, Danny. She’s fantastic. Not to mention the fact she’s easy on the eyes.”
“Yeah? Davis . . . doesn’t sound very Polish to me.”
“Lara’s sister Melanie married a dentist named Clayton Davis,” Mother said, passing Danny the cranberries. “Millie is their daughter.”
“I see. Well, when do I get to meet this angel?”
“Patience, little brother. She went home to Boston for the weekend. She’ll be back early Sunday evening if you want to stick around.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Your brother’s doing a real fine job at the theater, Danny,” Dad said. “Seems to like the work. And they like him too, I can tell you that much. I think half the folks come just so they can talk to a war hero.”
“Ah, they’re just being nice, Dad. Hey, Danny. We just got in the reels for The Fly
ing Tigers. John Wayne is in it—that actor you like. The theater’s closed today. Wanna go get a sneak peek? Just the two of us?”
“Sure thing. Let me help Mom clean up then we can—”
“Nonsense,” Dad said. “I’ll help with the dishes. You boys go on and have a good time.”
He looks like Dad. He sounds like Dad. But the man is helping with the dishes? Danny shook his head. “Well, okay. Just promise you’ll save us some of that pumpkin pie.”
“I made two pies. I doubt we’ll run out,” Mom said, gathering their empty plates. “Go on. Have a good time, boys.”
Two and a half hours later, they sat in the middle of the empty theater as the final credits rolled.
“Not too bad,” Joey said. “Of course, I heard the movie was already in production before Pearl. Did you notice the date on the calendar behind John Wayne’s character when he was firing Woody? December seventh. Kind of blows the whole story. But still, I enjoyed it.”
Danny let the music fade as the credits rolled to a stop. “Yeah, it was good. I liked the aerial cat fights. Made you feel like you were really up there with them. What’s it like seeing something like that after being in the service?”
Joey scratched the crinkled scars on his left hand. “Good question. We’d run war games and all, but we were pretty much blown out of the water before the U.S. got into the war.”
“True.” They sat in silence for a moment. “I think if I ever joined up, I’d want to be a pilot.”
“Can’t blame you. Better up there than sitting ducks like we were on the Oklahoma.”
“I didn’t mean it that way, Joey.”
“No, I understand. I wanted to fly, but I didn’t have the grades for it. You’d have no problem, academic genius that you are.”
“I don’t know about that. My grades have really taken a nose dive this semester.”
“I doubt that.”
“It’s true. Don’t say anything to Mom and Dad, okay?”
“I won’t. But how’d that happen? Grades have always come easy for you.”
“They used to.”
“Wait—does this have something to do with that girl who dumped you for the football player?”
Danny scowled. “Thanks a lot. Would you like to throw a match on the gasoline you just poured over me?”
“Not hardly. I still get a little nervous around fire.”
“Oh my gosh,” Danny said as he dropped his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Joey. That was thoughtless of me to say.”
Joey laughed. “No kidding! Look, Danny. I didn’t mean to make light of what happened to you. Women can trample a guy’s pride like nothing else can. But don’t let her ruin your life. I’m sure she was a real peach and all, but no matter who she is, she’s not worth cashing in all you’ve worked for. You’ve got to let her go.”
“Says the brother with the perfect girlfriend.”
“Well, that’s true.” Joey smiled. “But what I was trying to say is don’t let a broken heart define you for the rest of your life.”
They sat in silence again, then Danny sat up a little straighter. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“If you had to do it all over, would you? I mean, if you knew then that you would’ve been burned so badly because you were serving your country at Pearl Harbor, would you have still gone off and joined the Navy?”
“I had a lot of time to think about stuff like that when I was in the burn ward. I asked myself that and a million other questions. But I can honestly say—absolutely, positively yes. I wouldn’t trade anything for my years in service. I left home a kid and came back a man. Yeah, I’ve got the battle scars to show for it, but I loved everything about it. Well, except for . . . except for losing all my friends. That was the hardest. Those guys were like family to me, Danny. We lived together, worked together, played together. I would’ve given my life for any one of them. And they’d have said the same.”
Danny ran his fingernail in a groove of the upholstered armrest, back and forth, back and forth, as his mind jumped around.
“And I’ll tell you this much. If they hadn’t sent me home, I’d still be there fighting today. I’d give anything to help win this war.”
“You’re serious?”
“That’s what keeps me awake at night. Not the what-ifs or the ugly scars I see in the mirror. I’d give anything to be back on a battleship doing whatever it takes to beat our enemies. I envy every man in uniform right now. Would I go back? In a heartbeat.”
32
As Danny rode the El back to Evanston late Sunday night, he felt unusually restless. He’d enjoyed being home for Thanksgiving break. He’d especially enjoyed meeting Joey’s girl, Millie. Mom and Dad were right. She was crazy about Joey. Just observing the way she watched over him and looked at him with such a transparent affection was a visible reminder that there are still a few decent, good women out there. Millie had a great sense of humor, teasing Joey playfully as he bantered back and forth with her. Danny wouldn’t be surprised at all if Joey popped the question before Christmas.
Then he started thinking about the conversation he’d had with his brother that night at the theater. In fact, he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. He stared out the window into the darkness, wishing he could stop the restless, uneasy feeling that continued to gnaw at him. He tried writing in his journal, but shoved it back in his duffle, just anxious to get back to his dorm.
It was after nine when he made his way down the hall toward his room. That’s when he saw someone walk out of his room with a suitcase.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”
The man set the suitcase down beside two others and turned to face him. “Are you Mr. McClain?”
Danny dropped his duffle. “Yes, I am and this is my room. Who are you?”
He was probably fifty years old, maybe fifty-five, with salt and pepper hair, a tanned complexion, and pale blue eyes. Then it hit him. Just like Craig’s eyes.
“I’m Reginald Gilmore, Craig’s father.” He dug his hands in his coat pocket and blew out a loud breath. “I’m afraid Craig won’t be coming back to school.”
Danny wasn’t too surprised. He’d figured this would happen at some point. Craig had played at being a student, but never took it seriously. He’d actually been surprised that his roommate returned for the fall semester. Of course, he never saw that much of him. A whole string of college coeds kept Craig busy most of the time.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is he here?” Danny tried to look into their room.
“No. No, he’s not here. He, uh . . . he was killed in an automobile accident Wednesday night.”
“What?!” Danny felt the air rush from his chest. “No! He can’t . . .”
Mr. Gilmore’s eyes glistened. He coughed then looked back up at him. “Yes, well, we’re all still in shock, of course. Craig was our only child. He . . . he was on his way home for the holidays and apparently his car swerved off the road. There was ice on the road and they said a truck rammed him from behind and Craig’s car flew down a ravine. They said he most likely died on impact.”
Danny kept shaking his head, unable to speak.
“I know my son was a bit of a character most of the time, but deep down—well, deep down, he was a good boy. I . . .” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes. “I’m not sure how we’ll go on without him.”
Danny clenched his jaw and rubbed his hands together. “Mr. Gilmore, I’m so sorry. I just can’t believe it. Craig was—I mean, he was . . .”
Mr. Gilmore put his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “It’s hard on all of us.”
Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No, I’m just about finished gathering his things. The RA downstairs let me in. I’m sorry if I startled you.”
“No, I’m sorry I sounded suspicious when I first saw you. Here, let me help you carry these downstairs.”
“Thank you, Mr. M
cClain.”
A few minutes later, after helping Craig’s father load the car, Danny shook his hand and said goodbye. He shook off a chill as the biting wind off Lake Michigan danced around him. He wasn’t about to go back upstairs. He was used to having the room to himself, but not like this.
Danny started walking across campus. How many times had he done the very same thing this last semester? How many miles had he walked around Evanston and along the beach late at night while trying to make sense of everything? He could taste the bile in his mouth, and for a moment he thought he might throw up. But what good would it do?
When he finally started heading back to his dorm near dawn, he was numb from the blustering wind. Somewhere behind him, drunken voices pierced the quiet solitude. Probably some frat boys about to call it a night.
“Well looky what we have here. It’s one of those sissy deferment boys!”
Not again.
“That’s sissy deferment boy SIR to you!”
They laughed as they caught up, flanking each side of him as the sailor on his right draped an arm over Danny’s shoulder. “How’s it going, sissy boy?”
They could barely walk and reeked of alcohol. He decided to ignore them, hoping they’d get bored and move on, or just pass out and be done with it.
“Cat got your tongue, boy? I believe Midshipman Clancy here asked you a question.”
“Ah, sissy boy can’t answer. He’s got a pacifier in his mouth.”
The sailor beside him got right in his face. “Is that right, sissy boy? You got a widdle pacifier in yo mouth, sweetie pie?”
Danny elbowed him away and picked up his pace. “Guys, let it go.”
The one on his left, a short guy with red hair, grabbed his arm and whipped him around. “Oh, I don’t think so, prissy pants! Just because you’re too much of a weanie to serve your country—”
“I said, let it go,” Danny growled, jerking his arm free.
“Let what go? Oh—you mean this?” The redhead unzipped his fly and urinated on Danny’s shoes.