“What was that?”
“What was what?” I ask.
“You know exactly what I mean,” she says with a crooked brow.
“We’d already met. Was I supposed to walk past and not acknowledge him? That’s not very lady-like-”
“Not very lady-like is your past behavior. I was hoping to have a fresh start here for the summer-”
“I don’t need a fresh start. I have my head on just fine,” I interrupt.
She sighs and I know she wants to shred me up, throw in my face how I ruined my pageant career, how because of me her dreams can’t ever be fulfilled.
“Faye?” My dad’s voice comes in from the entryway of the house. Neither my mom or me answer, and moments later he’s walking into the kitchen. “Oh, hello ladies. Where’s my other beautiful girl?” he asks, kissing Gaye’s cheek.
“She’s in her room napping,” she replies.
“Faye, I set up a job interview for you, at the police station,” he tells me.
“Really?” I ask.
“I ran into the Commissioner and he mentioned needing some part time help, told him you had your typing certificate.”
“When?” I ask, excited for a chance to get out of the house.
“As soon as you’re ready, we’re meeting the Chief at the diner” Dad says.
“Okay, let’s go-”
“No, no, Faye, you cannot wear that,” Gaye tells me, referring to my mustard colored mini skirt jumper.
“I didn’t pack anything nice,” I tell my dad.
“Surely you have something better than that,” she says.
I begin for the front steps. “And brush your hair out!” Gaye says behind me.
Fortunately, I rolled my hair in curlers last night, so when I pull the ponytail out and brush my long blonde hair, it curls at the ends and looks sleek and put together. Rummaging through my clothes in the closet, I find a pair of cream flared pants, a white cowl neck dress shirt with fat wood buttons and my brown leather and wood clogs. Tying a sash with oranges, purples and reds at my waist, I check the mirror and know it won’t get better than this. My dad’s at the bottom of the steps as I descend and he gives me a nod that he approves of my choice, not that he really cares, but he knows this interview means a lot to me.
I get in the Buick, as he’s left the windows down and car still running. He gets in and begins backing down the driveway.
“Hope you don’t mind us meeting at the diner; I need to get out of the office,” he says.
I nod and look out the window. My dad called before we moved in and asked the local law office if they had room for him to hole up in for a few months. He used to be a lawyer and can basically talk his way in and out of just about anything.
“Now don’t be nervous,” my dad says as we pull up. “Look at me telling you not to be nervous for a one-on-one interview, when you used to stand up in front of hundreds of people and sing.”
I give him a smile. “Thanks daddy, for getting me the interview and for the ride,” I say.
“I know it’s important for you to work. I want to do anything I can to make sure you’re happy and living how you want.”
I know he’s being honest with me, but I also think he knows it might also be better for my mom when I don’t live with her anymore.
The diner’s busy and full of unfamiliar faces when we walk in. But my dad raises an arm to acknowledge someone and I follow. There’s a man there in a tan and brown police uniform. He’s younger than my dad, maybe even closer to my age and I’m not sure if that makes me more or less nervous.
“Faye Hamilton,” I say, standing at the end of the table and extending a hand.
“Chief Milton,” he says, standing and shaking my hand. “Thank you for meeting so quickly, but I’m in desperate need for a summer girl,” he says.
We all sit, my dad and me across from Milton, and seconds later a waitress comes over to take our order. I look up to see she has the largest beehive hairdo I’ve ever seen, along with dark eye make-up that looks like Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra.
“Sweet tea please,” I request.
“What’s that?” she asks, snapping her bubble gum.
“It’s like ice tea but with a bunch of sugar in it,” I say and watch as she looks at me confused.
“Around here you gotta put the sugar in yourself,” she retorts.
“Ice tea is fine,” I amend.
My dad and Milton both order coffee and I feel foolish, for not remembering this isn’t Mississippi.
“So, Faye, do you have any office experience?” he asks, resting his elbows on the table and leaning closer.
“No, sir, but I’ve helped here and there with my father’s assorted paperwork, filing and organizing, typing business letters.”
“Good, no, that’s good. What I have is easy, not too complicated, I don’t even have a system yet, so you can think of something, if you’d like to take the position.”
“Yes. Yes, thank you,” I tell him.
“Alright, how about you come down to the station tomorrow morning and we can figure out pay and a schedule for you,” he says.
I thank him again, relieved and excited to finally be starting on the road to adulthood. For the rest of the time we’re there, I sit and listen to the men talking and enjoy myself as I observe the people inside the diner and walking around outside in the sunshine. The bell over the door tinkles and I look over to see a group of men, followed by Sven as they take a booth at the back of the diner. I watch them as they get settled and I feel the warmth in my veins as Sven smiles and laughs at something his friend said. My eyes can’t look away from him. He’s really quite beautiful under the long hair and beard. His smile is perfect, with straight white teeth, and when he smiles his eyes twinkle, and I find myself sighing. It’s then he notices me, all the way across the diner and he nods at me in acknowledgement.
Something’s shifted in the diner since they’ve come in, an energy, and I notice a few people walk over to their table and shake his hand, exchanging a few words. Whatever they say to him, I can see he’s embarrassed, or doesn’t agree with the things he’s being told. He shakes his head, and his smile falters a little, but he thanks them nonetheless.
“You’re using Ivan’s boys for your renovations I hear,” Milton says and my attention turns back to my table.
“I am. I was pleased with the job they did on moving day.”
“They do good work,” he confirms.
“What does everyone keep saying to him?” I ask.
Milton looks over his shoulder and notices another older gentleman shaking Sven’s hand.
“Sven Frederickson, he just got home from Vietnam, earned some medals. All those guys went to Vietnam, some didn’t come back. But Sven volunteered, gave up his football scholarship to college to go. The rest of the guys wouldn’t let him go on his own, so they all joined too.”
So many emotions flood me; pride, interest, just wanting to know about him. He became so much more complex to me in that moment.
“Wow,” I breathe out. “Are they all family or something?” I ask.
“Not blood relations, they grew up together. Their dads run the local motorcycle club, Warrior of the Gods.”
I hear my dad clear his throat. “This something I need to worry about, them doing work for me?”
“No, nothing like that. They don’t get into much trouble around here. More like a social club,” Milton assures with a nod.
Cleopatra Eyes heads to Sven’s table and she smiles widely at them and I’m pretty sure she’s undone the top button of her pale blue waitress uniform to show off some cleavage. They clearly all know each other, and I feel a stab of jealousy at watching them. I could never fit in with a cool group like them, but for the rest of lunch, I imagine it. I imagine my hair not styled, no make-up on, no bra, not caring about being perfect. Sven would see me like that and…well, I don’t know. I like the way he looks at me now, but he might like me better if I fit in more with the ty
pe of person he is. Next thing I know, my dad’s standing and shaking hands with Chief Milton and I do the same.
“See you tomorrow,” he tells me.
“See you then.” I smile and follow my dad outside.
I begin for his car, but Dad stops me with a hand on my forearm and I look back with concern.
“What is it?” I ask, watching as he pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and opens it, pulling out some cash and handing it to me.
“Go get yourself a few outfits for work,” he tells me.
“Daddy,” I sigh.
“No, come on,” he says, waving the money between us, until he’s practically shoving it in my palm.
“I’ll pay you back,” I tell him.
“Sure thing jellybean,” he says loudly as he turns to walk off.
I stand there and watch him until he gets in the Buick and drives off down the street and I put the money in my brown leather purse. I walk toward Cooper Smith’s, a sort of one-stop shop that has home goods on the basement level, everyday items on the main floor, and clothing on the second floor. Entering, I walk up the green carpeted stairs and navigate around the decently sized store to the young ladies’ section.
A middle-aged woman approaches me as I look through the knee length skirts and asks me if I need any help. I tell her I’m fine and she meanders around a little before heading downstairs. I pick some clothes out to try on, and stumble upon a pair of black stretchy hip huggers that happen to be my size. Something I’d never wear, but seeing it conjures feelings related to Sven. I grab the hanger and sandwich it between my other options. I then come across a halter top, also black. I think it’s called a tube top or something. But I take it as a sign to go with my black pants.
With an arm-full of clothes, I head into a changing room located in the middle of the sales floor, covered with a curtain for privacy with mirrors located just across from the room. Outfit after outfit I try on, mixing and matching to come up with six items I can work with for a few days a week of work.
I still have the black clothes to put on. As I slide them on, they’re tighter than anything I’ve ever worn. I feel sexy and for the first time in my life, womanly. Before walking out to see what I look like, I peek my head out first and scan the area to assure myself I’m alone. Walking out of the dressing room, the clothes are a bit hindering, but skin-like and I like the feeling and I step up to the mirror to look at myself. My jaw pops open. The shirt fits me perfectly, and I never knew my breasts looked so big until now. I take in my curvy figure, curves I knew I had but never saw in this way. I look like a woman and for once, feel like one. A sexy woman who would wear this to get the attention of a hot guy on a motorcycle. My stomach’s flat in the hip huggers, and I raise up on my toes to see how good my calves would look if I were in heels. I imagine showing up to the diner one night dressed like this, Sven seeing me and some instant realization would happen between us. He’d see I could be bad and that the movie theater incident wasn’t just a fluke. The thought has my heart beating faster and between my legs growing hot. I spin to look over my shoulder and gasp, seeing Sven standing there. His eyes are looking at my body, his lips parted, eyes unblinking.
“You scared me,” I sigh and it’s then he finally realizes I’ve noticed him.
“Sorry,” he says blinking, like he was in some sort of daze as he watched me. I wonder if he was thinking what I was, that he was imagining doing dirty things to me in this outfit.
“What are you doing here?” I ask with a tight throat and my voice comes out breathy and strained.
“I wanted to make sure I didn’t cause any problem with you and your mom this morning,” he says.
Well that’s sweet.
“It’s nothing new,” I shrug, “but thank you for being concerned.”
“You shouldn’t let her treat you like that,” he tells me. “You shouldn’t let anyone treat you like that.”
“Maybe I’ve done something to deserve her treatment,” I tell him.
He shakes his head a little, his eyes darting down to my lips.
“No,” he says softly. “I can’t imagine anyone doing anything for their mom to be like that to them,” he says.
“Well, I have,” I confirm, and even though I’ve revealed nothing, it feels so good to admit.
He gives me a small smile. “If you say so.”
He looks at me a moment longer. Something in his eyes that makes me feel like there’s something shifting between us, sparking the energy I’ve felt with him before and causing a flame. It’s then I recall what I’m wearing. No wonder he’s looking at me like that- he can practically see me naked.
“I’ll see you around,” he says, turning to leave.
“Is that really what you came here for?” I question. My breath catches, my hands clench into fists with anticipation. When his feet stop, he turns his head to show me his profile and I hold my breath. In a moment, he’s turned completely around and walking with huge steps towards me, and once he reaches me, his hands cup my head and he kisses me. It’s shocking, but so right, and just as my brain and body recognize what he’s doing, he pulls back. Our exhales come out in bursts, while my eyes bounce between his, his are steady, looking at me.
“You should stay away from me.”
And with that, he’s disappearing down the steps.
4
SVEN
Even though I’ve been home for over a year, it still takes me a moment when I come into consciousness to realize where I am every morning. I’d love to say that my experience in the war hasn’t changed me, but it has, and for the better I think. I don’t waste my time with bullshit or on trivial things. My friends died over there, young men who didn’t have an opportunity at really living before we went off. There’s a burden on my shoulders, since most of my friends and men I grew up with signed up as soon as they heard I was going. Even though they were over eighteen and old enough to know what they were getting into, the idea of something like war and actually living it are two different things. Nothing prepared us for the weather, the warfare, the ruthlessness, the hate and anger. Seeing men ripped apart by machine guns, body parts and blood projecting at you, the sounds, the smells, every day was a nightmare.
I’ve come to enjoy the little things. The sun on my shoulders, the smell of clean air, the sounds of the birds, riding my bike on the open road, all the things I wondered if I’d ever get to experience again. When I was in Vietnam, my thoughts would go back to what if I was still playing football at school. I was being scouted by the NFL, a dream I’d had since I was a young boy. But when drafting by the government started, there was no doubt in my mind that serving was what I needed to do.
I’m not religious, but I think there’s a reason for everything. I’d become jaded, disassociated from my life ever since I could remember. My mom does what she wants and so does my dad, it’s always just been me. I signed myself up for football at age ten, got myself to and from practice, took on a paper route to earn money for pads and a uniform. I’ve never relied on anyone, or expected anything. In the military, I felt like I was part of a family. That people worried for my well-being and had my back.
My best friend Joseph was by my side there and always. He’s the closest thing to a brother that I have, and I feel like he’s almost a reflection of me in a way. I don’t know how my life would be without him by my side. His family is good to me and I often go there for dinner, or stay the night at his parents’ house just to not be alone. Because that’s the thing, it’s very lonely when you’re self-sufficient, and as a kid I still yearned for that connection with people. I’d almost given up, or at least tucked that feeling deep down so I wouldn’t be consumed by that basic instinct for love.
The war seems like another life. There was me before war, which I barely remember, then there was the me during war where I was someone I never want to be again, and me now. I say I never want to be that person again because there were characteristics in me, in all of us, that come out when yo
ur put in a situation of survival. I’m not just talking about the dark side, the ruthless animalistic drive to survive. I mean even being brave. Being brave is something that comes out only in the most intense experiences, testing you as a person, sometimes sacrificing yourself for someone else. That’s where the feelings I’d pushed so far down came to the surface. The comradery of war, created a need for family I’d neglected for decades. Putting myself on the line for a stranger, when I know we could both die, or they would never know I saved them. There’s a selflessness. Wanting to be close to most people before the war, yet guarding that need, has me now wanting to make connections with people that wasn’t there before.
Since being back in Plantain, I’ve picked up odd jobs, unsure if I can still get back into college. I’m waiting to hear if my scholarship still stands. I’m too old for college football, but I wrote a letter to the university to remind them I’d left to serve and only half my scholarship was fulfilled with the school. Maybe there’s no statute of limitations or something, and I’m hoping they consider my offer at least. Not only did I lead them to a division win in football twice, I was a straight A student.
In the meantime, like I said, I’ve been taking any work that comes my way. Not for money, but something to do, something to make me feel like I’m not wasting my days. A handful of the guys I grew up with have either not come home yet from Vietnam, or won’t ever be coming home. When I see their parents on Main Street, or pass their homes, a sense of guilt hangs over me so strongly. Why was I spared and not them? They had girlfriends they loved, and parents who gave a shit about them, while I have none of that. Even when people come and thank me for my service, or congratulate me on my medals, I can’t accept the praise without feeling bad.
Every day’s been a struggle. Every. Day. Until May 9th at one forty-two p.m. That was the moment I heard her singing. The most beautiful voice came flowing through that dilapidated house, along with the most contagious giggles. I found myself going to it, seeking it out. needing to experience first-hand whatever was causing that happiness. When I reached the top of the steps, there was no hesitation or acknowledgement that I was intruding or should stay out of sight. Instead, I walked to the doorway and saw angels.
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