When Kitty and Hank came into the house, it was oddly quiet. There was the smell of pot roast in the air, and Kitty knew her mother had made a real apple pie. But it was too quiet. “Ma?” Tommy’s sick again, she thought.
“Up here,” Margaret called. And then, “Stay there, I’m coming down.”
Kitty and Hank waited at the bottom of the steps. Margaret walked close to the wall and moved slowly, nearly apologetically. She was wearing her apron and twisting her hands in it. She had been crying.
Kitty put her hand to her chest. She couldn’t breathe. “Tommy?” she whispered, and her mother shook her head.
“’Tis Michael,” she said. “The telegram came this afternoon. Killed in action.”
Hank took Kitty in his arms. For one moment, she leaned in to him, her eyes closed tightly. Then she ran upstairs.
Louise was in the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed, her family gathered around her. She was not crying, nor did it appear she had been. “Kitty,” she said. “You’re home. Did Ma tell you?”
Kitty nodded.
“He was trying to protect another guy,” Louise said. “Isn’t that just like Michael?”
Again, Kitty nodded. Her sister’s preternatural calm unnerved her.
“Louise?” she said.
She smiled. “I’ll get by. I’m all right. Say, did you know we’re having pot roast for dinner?”
Kitty walked slowly over to sit beside her sister and put her arms around her. Louise took in one loud, gasping breath, and then it came. Kitty rocked her sobbing sister, weeping herself, and the rest of the family quietly left the room. Except for Tish. Tish moved to sit at Louise’s feet and pressed her face into her sister’s knees.
“You know what’s funny?” Louise said. “I was worried about his splinter.”
THAT NIGHT, KITTY WENT INTO the boys’ room to see Tommy. He wouldn’t come down and sit with the family; he said he wanted to be alone.
Kitty found him lying on his bed, facing the wall. Asleep? No. She tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around. Not asleep and not crying, either. “Hi, Kitty,” he said.
“Hi, honey. What are you doing in here?”
“Just thinking.”
“Oh.” She sat on the bed beside him and took his hand. “What are you thinking about? Will you tell me?” He nodded but didn’t speak.
“Tommy?”
He looked into Kitty’s face, considering. Then he said, “I knew Michael was going to die.”
Kitty swallowed. It came to her that she should tell him he shouldn’t say such things. But she believed him, and so she said, “You did?”
He nodded. “And I told God that if He would just let Michael live, I’d make a sacrifice for Him. And that’s why I didn’t eat. But it didn’t work.”
“Oh, Tommy. I hope you don’t think…You don’t think Michael died because of anything you did, do you? Or didn’t do?”
“I just had this idea. But it didn’t work.”
Kitty nodded. Then, though she knew it was awful, she said, “Is Julian going to be okay?”
Tommy nodded gravely, and Kitty reached out to hold him. For a while she rocked him, he let her; and then she asked him to come downstairs with her, and he did. He didn’t need to tell her not to say anything. He made himself a sandwich before he joined the family in the parlor.
“Dagwood Bumstead!” Frank said, admiring the huge creation.
And Margaret said, “Leave him alone and let him eat. He’s overdue, God knows.”
KITTY WAS LAST IN THE BATHROOM, and when she tried to throw her Q-tips away, they fell from the top of the overfilled trash can. She sighed; was there anyone in the house who would ever empty the bathroom garbage besides herself? She yanked the basket toward her, and more trash fell out. Now she’d have to pick up the soiled Kleenex and the—
A letter. Kitty unfolded the crinkled paper and read:
Darling Michael,
Tonight I had a vision. Bet you didn’t know I was so talented. But I did, I had a real vision and here’s what it was:
I saw me at the train station, holding the baby, waiting for you to arrive. I was wearing blue, and so was baby Michael, and you know he was just looking off so expectantly like he’d recognize you instantly. And the train came, and Michael, you were the first one off. And I walked up to you, and I was crying of course, and you kissed me and you kissed your son, and then you took him from me and we walked off together and we were all smiling, all three of us.
Oh, Michael, I long so for the day when that vision comes true. And you know when we do walk away, I will be so glad for you to hear not the sounds of gunfire but the sounds of church bells, and of people working in peace. I can’t imagine that on that day I won’t be thanking God for your safe return, I can’t imagine I won’t be thanking Him for the rest of my life. Oh, darling, I love you so, and I will completely, until my dying day.
Enough of that! I’m making myself tear up! Let me tell you a story about our beautiful son. This morning, as I gave him his bath
Well, for Pete’s sake, hold on, darling, Ma is calling me. The phone just rang, and I have a terrible feeling it was Fala’s owner. She’ll want to confer with me about how to handle Binks. To be continued!
Kitty thought maybe she’d save this letter. But it wasn’t what Louise wanted. She put the letter back in the trash. Soon, Louise would be getting her last letter from Michael. The “in the event of” letter. Kitty felt sure that neither she nor Tish nor anyone else in the family would ever see a word of that letter. Nor should they.
ON JANUARY 1, KITTY AWAKENED EARLY. She’d been out late with Hank for New Year’s Eve and had a throbbing headache, but she was going to honor her New Year’s resolution right away. She had promised herself two things: one, to decide at last on a firm date to marry Hank, all her fears be damned; two, to get Louise out of the doldrums. She knew her sister would mourn Michael in some way forever, as would she, but Louise needed to go out, she needed to eat, she needed to smile again. She refused to go anywhere with her sisters or her parents. The only time she’d been out of the house was when Hank had talked her into going to the drugstore for an ice cream soda. He was like a brother already, she’d said. She could be with him. He helped, because he let her be herself.
Kitty looked down into Louise’s sleeping face—such dark circles under her eyes! Kitty tapped her sister on the shoulder and whispered, “It’s 1945! Happy New Year!”
“No,” Louise said and turned over.
Downstairs, Kitty could hear Michael Junior babbling and Margaret speaking softly to him. “’Tis my nose you’re wanting, is it? How about some banana first, young man!”
“The baby’s up,” Kitty said softly, and now Louise turned over.
“I’ll go.” She sat up at the side of the bed, her head hanging low.
Kitty touched her arm. “Ma’s got him, Louise. She said she’d watch him all day so you and I could go downtown and see the decorations before they come down.”
“I don’t want to.” Louise lay back down.
Kitty ripped the covers off her, and Tish shouted, “Cut it out! I’m trying to sleep!” She pulled the covers over her head.
“You come with me,” Kitty whispered angrily to Louise. “This is enough! Now, I have something very important to tell you. You come with me right now.”
Surprisingly, Louise sat up again and put on her slippers. “Where are we going?”
Kitty had no idea. She hadn’t thought Louise would actually come with her. But reflexively, she said, “To the bathroom.”
“Is it empty?” Louise asked.
“Yes. Come with me.” Kitty followed her sister down the hall, her fingers crossed.
The door was closed, but the bathroom was empty. Kitty turned the lock and sat Louise on the toilet.
“What do you have to tell me?” Louise whispered. “Are you pregnant?”
“No!” Kitty said.
“Okay, then. I’m going back to bed.”
Kitty pushed her sister back down. “Louise, you have to stop this. You have a son to take care of. You’ve got to get up and start doing things. You’re the one who always says that the way to get through any crisis is to do something. Something definite and gay!”
“I know,” Louise said. “I know, I know, I know! I owe it to Michael Junior to be happy. I owe it to Michael’s memory to be happy. I owe it to the boys over there. I owe it to the family. But I’m not happy. I’m not! And I’m not going to pretend I am. My life is over.”
Kitty knelt before her. “Oh, Louise. Your life isn’t over. Gosh, you’re only twenty-two years old!”
“It is over,” Louise said. “Everything I dreamed of died with Michael. And don’t tell me about all the brave widows starting over again. I’m not them. And they didn’t lose Michael.”
“Louise, listen to me. Everybody’s tiptoeing around you, but I’m just going to tell you straight out that you’re acting like a spoiled brat. Nobody can have a good time in the house because you’re walking around with your tragic face. Nobody can laugh. Nobody can even smile. We don’t any of us expect you to feel better overnight. But you’ve made no effort at all to get better! You don’t think of anyone but yourself!”
“Kitty. Why can’t you understand this? I lost Michael.”
“You can find another Michael!”
Louise slapped her sister’s face. Kitty stood and pressed her hand to her mouth. It came to her to slap her sister right back, but instead she did nothing. Said nothing.
Louise began to cry then, in a weary, absent sort of way. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry! It’s just that it hurts so much and it never stops. I never should have told him I was pregnant. It put too much on him. It’s my fault he died.”
“It’s not your fault! It’s Hitler’s fault!”
“It’s mine, too. And the only thing that brings me any peace is to think about…I want so much to be with him.”
Kitty knelt beside Louise and spoke softly. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged.
“Louise. Do you mean you want to die, too?”
She nodded.
Kitty swallowed. “Well, that’s…Oh. but Louise, that’s serious. I think you’d better tell—”
“Don’t tell!” Louise said. “Please don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“But how can I not?”
“It’s just that I don’t see how I’ll ever get close to living the only kind of life I ever wanted to live. I wanted Michael and our family and a home to care for. That’s all. And now…I don’t know. I want nothing.”
“It’s not true,” Kitty said. “You might not be able to see it yet, but you’ll overcome this, Louise; you’ll even meet another man someday—and don’t hit me again! But you will, honey. If you think about it honestly, can’t you imagine meeting another guy? Not tomorrow, but someday? Someone you might want to marry and have a family with?”
“No. I won’t.”
“If he were a lot like Michael?”
“That would be worse. That’s the thing. It really does feel hopeless to me, and I just get to thinking sometimes that I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to go on. Even with little Michael. Someone else would do a better job with him. He’s so young, he’d get used to someone else.”
Kitty set her jaw. “If you don’t want me to tell anyone about the things you’re saying, then you do something for me. You get dressed and you come out with me. You spend the whole day out with me. Okay? That’s the only way I won’t tell Ma and Pop exactly what you told me. I mean it!”
Louise sighed.
“We’ll go see all the decorations. They’re really pretty this year.”
“Yes.”
“This will make you feel better, you’ll see. Sometimes when you feel really bad, it doesn’t take as much to help you as you’d think it would. I mean, the sun is out, it’s nice outside, Michael’s down there eating his bananas and making Ma laugh. And the decorations are so pretty this year.”
“You said.” Louise stood and looked at herself in the mirror. “Yikes. I look like the wrath of God.”
Kitty waved her hand. “Don’t you worry about that. I can fix that in five minutes.”
“Let Tish do it,” Louise said, and Kitty felt too happy to be insulted.
LATE THAT NIGHT, KITTY SAT with her father at the kitchen table, sharing a piece of chocolate cake with him. There was a certain ritual when you shared things with Frank: two bites for him, one for the person “sharing.” She didn’t mind; she didn’t want the cake so much as her father’s company and advice. She hadn’t told Frank what Louise had said about not wanting to live, but she had expressed concern about her. When the sisters had gone out that day, Louise had tried to appreciate the decorations, had tried to enjoy the time she had with Kitty, but she was dead behind the eyes, and in the end they had come home early, and Louise had gone to bed right after dinner.
“’Tis a terrible thing that’s happened to her,” Frank said. “’Twill take a long while for her to get over it. Truth be told, I don’t know how she’ll ever find a fellow good as Michael.” He shook his head. “I never thought I’d say so, but I’m glad she did what she did, so that she has his child. Oh, I know how much harder it will be for her to find a husband, when he will have to take on another man’s child; he will have to be a man of exceptionally good character. But she’ll find him. In the meantime, we must all help her.”
“I don’t know how to help her,” Kitty said. “Seems like nothing works.”
“Give her time,” Frank said. “And remember, Kitty, each of us in this family has one unique thing to offer Louise that no one else can give her. Close as she is to you, it wouldn’t surprise me if what you give her isn’t the thing that turns her around.”
Kitty said nothing. She ate more cake. She’d had the same thought—she was the one who could best help Louise. She felt proud that her father thought so, too. It would come to her, the thing she could offer that would bring her sister back.
VALENTINE’S DAY, 1946
KITTY FINISHED FASTENING THE LAST of the many buttons on the back of Louise’s wedding dress. Then she spun her sister around so that she could see herself in the mirror. “Look at you!”
“Look at you!” Louise said.
Kitty had to admit that she’d never looked lovelier. She wore a lavender bridesmaid’s dress and a beautiful matching picture hat. Her shoes were covered in lavender lace. She was the only bridesmaid; Louise had wanted to keep the wedding small.
“I’m going to give you a minute alone,” Kitty said. “You come out when you’re ready.”
“Gosh, I’m nervous!” Louise shook her hands.
“I know, Coots. But that’s good luck. A bride is supposed to be nervous on her wedding day. Take your time.”
In the church’s vestibule, Kitty looked anxiously about. She needed to find the best man; the wedding was scheduled to begin in five minutes. Outside in the cold, on the church steps, Frank stood still as a statue, his back to her, his hands in his pockets. His head hung down; you could read some sadness there. But he’d be smiling like the jolly Irishman he was when he turned around, and Kitty had no doubt that at the reception he’d be the life of the party.
Hank came quickly into the vestibule and stood by Kitty. He looked Cary Grant handsome in his tuxedo; it made Kitty’s throat hurt.
“Hey, you,” she said. “Are you nervous?”
“Nah. You?”
“A little. My shoes have awfully high heels. I hope I don’t fall!”
“Well, you never fall hard, do you?” He spotted Julian and called out, “Ah! My best man.”
Julian was beaming, and his limp was barely noticeable. Kitty had been worried when he told Tish he’d be going down the aisle without his cane—he didn’t want their daughter to be embarrassed. “Julian, she’s two weeks old,” Tish had said. But Julian was doing fine without his cane, at least so far. He kissed Kitty’s cheek. “Hello, you gorgeou
s thing. You ready?”
She was not, really. Inside, something turned over. “Sure am!”
“Can I lean on you?” Julian asked.
“Of course.”
“Don’t tell.”
“I never will.”
Now the organ began playing, and Frank came into the vestibule. For one moment, he rested his eyes on Kitty, and there was in his gaze such deep affection that Kitty had to look away lest she cry. Then Frank turned his attention to the bride, to whom he offered his arm, held out straight and steady and sure.
SEPTEMBER 2006
KITTY STARED INTO THE MIRROR and adjusted her bangs one more time. She freshened her lipstick and powdered her nose. She hoped she wasn’t wildly off the mark with her lipstick; her vision had deteriorated further still.
In the living room, she called Louise to give her one more chance to come along. The last reunion of their high school, classes of 1940–1945. Again, Louise said no. Then, laughing, she said, “Why do you want to go and hang around with all those old goats? Come over here, we’re going to have a cookout, everybody’s coming. The kids, the grandkids, the great-grandkids…”
“Maybe I’ll come later,” Kitty said.
“Want me to send Hank to pick you up?”
“I’ll take a cab.”
“Don’t be silly; I’ll send Hank. I’ll have him pick you up at the high school. What time?”
Kitty looked out the window. Across the street, a young couple pushed a baby in a stroller. They had a little yellow puppy, too; it bit at the leash. A golden? A Lab? So many new young families had moved in; the neighborhood had almost completely turned over. “I just want to say hello,” Kitty said. “I don’t imagine I’ll be there more than an hour or two. So few are coming this time; I believe they’re expecting only twenty or so. But I’ll say hello, and maybe I’ll dance. I still love to dance, you know.”
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