by Dean Hughes
“Sure,” his dad said. He looked concerned, as though he expected something to be wrong.
“I just got back from talking to a military recruiter. The way I see it, war is coming, whether we like it or not, and it might be better to go in now and get a jump on the guys who’ll join up later on.” He had wanted to sound logical and careful, but he had blurted the whole thing out as though the idea were nothing more than an impulse.
His dad’s eyes widened, and for several seconds he stared at Wally. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’ve got better things to do with your life than pack a rifle around.”
“That’s just it, Dad. I’m not going to. I’m going into the air corps. I’ll be working on airplanes, maybe even flying them. I know I’m not really applying myself in college, but this will give me a chance to find out what I want to do.”
“Wally, don’t shovel that stuff at me. What you want is to get away from home. Nothing good would come of that.”
“Dad, I don’t need permission. I’m old enough to sign.”
“Don’t talk to me about being ‘old enough to sign.’ The last I checked, I’m still your father.”
Wally was standing in front of his father’s desk, feeling like a kid in front of the principal. “Dad,” he said, “I’m going. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.”
“And that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You want to be free—and not have to answer to your family.”
“No. I’ve looked into this. It’s a good opportunity.”
“Wally, I offered you a chance to become a partner in my business. So don’t talk to me about opportunities. You already let your biggest one pass you by.”
Wally was finding some strength. He took a breath. “Dad, I know what you think of me. And I’m going to prove you wrong. I’ve settled on something I want to do. Now let’s see whether I can do it.”
Dad looked at Wally for a long time. And then, to Wally’s surprise, he said, “All right. Good. You join the air corps. It’s time you start taking responsibility for your own actions.”
“Dad, I promise you right here, right now, I’m going to do some big things with my life. This is just the first step.”
“Wally, you told me once that your plan was to be the family quitter. Once you join the service, quitting is not one of the options. Let’s see how you do when you can’t quit.”
“Fine. I’ll come back here in my officer’s uniform someday, and I’ll show you what I’ve done.”
Wally walked out. He felt strong and excited. And all weekend he talked with confidence, rehearsed the things Sergeant Martella had said, not only to others but to himself. He pushed aside all doubts, but the truth was, he felt a sort of breathless fear that he had jumped off a cliff and was falling headlong into the unknown.
Wally let no one else bother him, but he did feel bad about the way his mother was taking the news. As they walked to Church on Sunday evening, he tried to explain, once again, all the solid reasons for his decision, but she kept saying, “Wally, you don’t know what the world is like. I hate to think of the kinds of temptations you’ll have to deal with.”
Sacrament meeting was held at seven in the evening during the summer months, but the heat was terrible tonight, no matter what time it was. As the Thomases sat down in their familiar spot on the left, toward the front, other ward members already had their fans going—the ones provided by a local funeral home—and the whole place seemed to be in motion. But even with the windows open, there was hardly a breath of air, and the speaker was old Brother Dixon from the high council. He not only lived in the past but always gave more or less the same talk.
Brother Dixon always started his talks by saying, “I want to speak to the youth tonight,” and then he began his “when I was your age” stories. Sooner or later, he would get around to the Word of Wisdom. As a young man he had chewed tobacco, and he had fought the addiction for many years. His willpower had triumphed in the end, but he wished now that he had kept himself clean from the sins of the world.
Toward the end of the talk, Wally glanced to see his mother wiping her eyes with one of the little lace handkerchiefs she always carried in her purse. She had worn her white summer hat—straw, with a little yellow bow and some tiny dried flowers on the brim—but it was perched in her lap. She sat straight, with her feet together, grasping the brim of the hat with one hand and holding the hanky in the other. During the closing hymn, she dabbed, over and over, at the corners of her eyes. Wally put his arm around her shoulders, and for the first time all weekend, he allowed himself to question whether he was doing the right thing.
When the meeting was over, Wally escaped the building more quickly than the others, and so he walked home alone. He was feeling subdued, and he didn’t want to talk anymore. He went to his room and changed, but he was still buttoning his shirt when the phone rang. Bobbi yelled up the stairs that the call was for Wally, so he walked downstairs and picked up the receiver. He wasn’t surprised that it was Mel calling, and he was even less surprised that Mel had “talked things over” with his dad and had decided “not to join the service right now.”
“Don’t make up your mind yet,” Wally said. “I’ll come over, and we’ll think it through before you make a final decision.”
“No, Wally. You’ll try to talk me into it.”
“Come on, Mel. You promised me.”
“Not exactly. I just said . . . well, anyway, I’m not signing up.”
“Okay.” Wally gave up. “That’s fine. I just thought it would be nice to go together.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Bobbi and Mom had heard the conversation. As Wally hung up the phone, Mom said, “Wally, if Mel isn’t going, don’t you think you should think about . . .” But Wally didn’t listen to the last of Mom’s plea. He kept going and walked out the front door. The truth was, his resolve was weakening, but he had made his declaration of freedom, and to back off would mean swallowing his pride—not just with his dad but with Lorraine. He decided to drive to her house and tell her what had happened. Somewhere in his brain was lodged a tiny hope that she would ask him to stay, but Wally didn’t want to admit that to himself.
Sister Gardner came to the door when Wally knocked, and she seemed surprised to see him, but she invited him inside. And then Lorraine showed up in the front hallway, looking skeptical, maybe even annoyed. “Could we talk for a minute?” Wally asked.
“No, Wally. We’ve talked enough.”
“Just let me tell you something. And then I’ll go.”
“Okay. Tell me.”
Wally felt sick. He saw the firmness in her face. “Just come out on the porch for a minute. It’s hot in here.”
She walked past him and pushed against the screen door, which stuck for a moment and then sprang open. She held the door until Wally was outside, and then she let it swing shut. She was wearing a pretty dress—light blue, with white polka dots. It fit loosely, but Wally could see her lines. Her face, her smile were pretty, but those perfect lines—and the way her skirt swung around her slender legs—had always been too much for him.
She was standing stiff now, her lips pressed into a straight, thin line. “Let’s sit down for a minute,” Wally said.
He walked to the swing seat on her front porch and sat down. The house was fairly new, a square, squat place, in dark brick and white trim. The concrete front porch was covered but not screened like the older houses. Still, it faced the west, and it was a nice place to sit and watch the sun go down.
Lorraine continued to stand. “Go ahead. Say what you have to say.”
“I just came to tell you that I’m signing up for the Army Air Corps tomorrow. I talked to the recruiter, and it’s all set. My dad isn’t standing in the way. I wasn’t very nice the other day—and I just wanted to say good-bye and wish you the best.”
“How soon do you leave?”
“I don’t know for sure.”
She nodded. “Well, I hope it wor
ks out well for you.”
Wally had been dismissed. He stood up. “It’s nice to know that you’re all broken up about it,” he said.
“Is that what you wanted?”
Wally hadn’t planned to tell the truth, but he found himself saying, “I guess I did. That’s how stupid I am. But I should have known better. Good-bye, Lorraine.” He got up and walked to the steps and then down to the sidewalk.
“Good-bye, Wally,” she said, and her voice was muted now, all the edge gone.
Wally turned and looked at her. She was standing on the porch in that pretty dress, her hair curled around her face. The setting sun was glowing, gold, and the color of her skin and hair were brightened, heightened. He could hardly bear the pain that hit him. He looked at her for only a few seconds, and then he said, “I love you, Lorraine. I always will.”
He turned quickly, but she said, “Wally,” and he stopped. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I love you too, but it never would have worked.” Tears were glistening in her eyes. She turned and grabbed the screen door, which caught again and then
rattled as it finally pulled loose. She hurried inside. Wally watched as she disappeared, her blue dress hazy through the screen. As he turned away, the image was still there in his head: her standing on the porch, illuminated by the sunset, whispering “I love you too.” He had the feeling that picture would hurt him just as much in twenty or fifty years as it did right now.
Wally drove home, and all the way he steeled himself to deal with the last onslaught from his family. But it didn’t come. No one tried to change his mind. He went to bed early and slept fitfully, and the next day he drove downtown, where he signed the papers.
Wally learned on Monday that he would have to wait until September before leaving for California for basic training. The rest of the summer looked endless. With no job, he had nothing to do. He thought he would use the time to fool around, but as it turned out, he found nothing that entertained him. He went to movies with Mel and took out a couple of girls he had known in high school, but he was antsy, eager to get going.
Mom had finally accepted that he really was going, and she had some nice “chats” with him about living the gospel. Wally tried to reassure her. But Dad said very little. He was actually more friendly than he had been for a long time, and Wally felt some sense that he regretted the conversation that had led to all this—but he never once said so. What Wally felt most was a painful awkwardness between the two of them.
On Wally’s last night at home, Mom cooked a farewell dinner. The next morning he would report to Fort Douglas, near the U, where he would take his final physical examination and process his paperwork. Mom prepared a big meal—like a Sunday dinner—of roast beef and mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and a cold watermelon for dessert.
Everyone laughed and joked, and Wally put on one of his shows, teasing LaRue and Beverly and making claims about visiting exotic islands—with pretty dancing girls.
“Yeah, you’ll probably end up in Texas or Alabama, or somewhere like that,” Gene said.
“That’s all right,” Wally told him. “You know those southern belles. They know how to treat a guy.”
“You look for a Mormon southern belle, you little snip,” Mom told him.
Dad was quiet all this time, but finally, after dessert, he said, “Wally, have you thought about receiving a father’s blessing before you go?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. But sure. That’d be good.”
So everyone walked into the living room, and Wally sat on the piano bench, which Alex set in the middle of the room. Dad took a moment before he placed his hands on Wally’s head. They were big, heavy hands, and Wally liked the feel of them. He shut his eyes and listened to Dad’s voice fill the room.
“Walter Daniel Thomas,” he pronounced, “with the power of the Holy Melchizedek Priesthood, and in the name of Jesus Christ, I lay my hands upon your head to give you a father’s blessing.”
The words came easily after that, the phrases familiar to Wally. But gradually he heard his father’s voice begin to strain. “I bless you with the Lord’s protection, to keep you safe in war or peace, to grant you strength and resistance to disease. I promise you that if you will turn to the Lord, he will deepen your faith. Take with you the love of this family, Walter; hold it in your heart.”
Dad stopped, then, and took some time, maybe to get his emotions under control. “Walter, know this is your home and always will be. You are part of all of us, sealed up unto eternity. I bless you, Son, that you will come home to us safe and well, and full of the Spirit of the Lord.”
When he was finished, he lifted his hands, slowly, and the room was silent. When Wally stood up and turned around, he saw tears on his dad’s face. Wally nodded, unable to say anything. But then everyone came to him, and one after the other, they took him in their arms. Gene did it quickly and then hurried away. LaRue and Beverly clung to him, both crying and squeezing him around the middle. Bobbi sobbed, wetting his hair.
Alex gave Wally a quick hug and some hard pats on the back, and then Mom held on to Wally and whispered a kind of blessing of her own. When Wally finally stepped away, he saw that Dad was unsure what to do, so Wally stepped toward him, but in the same instant he lost his nerve and merely reached his hand out. “Thanks,” he said. Their eyes met only briefly, but an understanding seemed to pass between them. Wally was too moved to say anything, and so he merely mumbled that he needed to pack, and he went upstairs.
Wally found Gene lying on his bed, his face in the pillow. He sat up when Wally came in. “It’s no big deal,” Wally said.
“It feels like the end of our family,” Gene said, and he broke down.
“No. No, it isn’t. I’ll be back. Lots of times. Alex came back, didn’t he?”
“He didn’t leave—not exactly.”
And Wally knew what that meant. “Gene, I’m not mad at anyone—not Dad, not Alex. I just need to do this.”
“Will you get leave sometimes—so you can come home?”
“I’m not sure. I think it depends on where I go.”
“I wish you could be home for Thanksgiving or Christmas—or something like that.”
“Yeah. Me too. Maybe I can.” But then Wally forced a little laugh. “Hey, tell the truth. You’re happy to get the room to yourself,” Wally said.
But Gene couldn’t laugh. He got up and walked from the room. He almost bumped into Alex, who was now at the door. “Say, listen,” Alex said. “I’ve got to head out. But there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” He walked into the room. Wally sat down on his bed. “This business I’m running for Dad is taking off. We already have more work than we can handle. There will be plenty of room for you to be involved, if you’re interested someday.”
“Right now,” Wally said, “I’m seeing a lot of opportunities in the air corps. I might apply for officer’s training and then stay in for a career.”
“Well, see how you like it. But Wally, I’m going to make a lot of money, and it’s crazy, because money doesn’t mean that much to me. I feel like you ought to get in on it.”
Wally had told himself that he wanted to make his own way, but tonight everything seemed different. “Maybe, Alex. We’ll see.”
“You’re going to be learning about airplanes, and we’re producing a lot of airplane parts. You’ll have a good background. And it will give you . . . you know . . . a reason to feel good about coming back, after you’ve had some other experiences.”
“Okay. We’ll see,” Wally said again.
He stood up and shook Alex’s hand again. Then he went back to his packing. But Bobbi soon stuck her head in the door. “Got everything about ready to go?” she asked.
“No,” Wally said. “I don’t even know what I’m doing. I can’t think straight.”
Bobbi sat down on Gene’s bed. Wally’s leather suitcase, which Mom and Dad had given him as a going-away present, was open on his bed. He had stuffed in socks and underwear and some of
his favorite sports shirts.
“Are you taking any white shirts? And ties?”
This, of course, had to do with going to church. “I could. Or I could wear my dress uniform to anything I have to dress up for. That’s what that sergeant told me.”
“It might be good to have one white shirt, just in case.”
“Yeah. I guess.” But he didn’t move.
“Are you going over to say good-bye to Lorraine?”
“No.”
“I know you broke up. But you’ve been friends for a long time. You could just say good-bye, couldn’t you?”
“No. We did that.” And yet the idea had been on his mind all day. “Mel talked to her,” Wally said. “He told her I was going, and she just said, ‘Tell him good-bye.’ She didn’t say anything about stopping by.”
“I’ll still bet she’d like to see you.”
“I doubt that very much.” The curtness in his voice seemed to stop Bobbi, but Wally was sorry to have sounded that way. “What are you going to do about your professor?” he asked.
“I haven’t told Mom and Dad yet, but I wrote and told him I can’t marry him. He called me long distance the other night, and he asked me to reconsider.”
“How did you feel about that?”
“I don’t know. When I heard his voice, I almost agreed to catch the next bus, but I knew I couldn’t do that. He wants to stay in touch, but I think it’s better if we don’t.”
“So that’s it? It’s all over?”
“That’s what I keep telling myself.” She laughed. “But I can’t seem to get my heart in tune with my head. Every time I say it’s over, it . . . isn’t. I still feel really close to him.”
“So what do you do about that?”
“I don’t know. I envy you. I wish I could go away.”
“You’ll get married before long. Some other guy will be crazy about you one of these days.”
“Not likely. I don’t seem to be inspiring that kind of devotion in any other little hearts.”
“You will. If I weren’t your brother, I’d fall for you for sure.”
This was not the sort of thing Wally normally said, and they both knew it. Bobbi laughed. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m going to miss you around here, Wally. Sometimes you’re the only one who can make me laugh.”