by Joan Shott
Matthew walked through the door and slipped onto the stool next to me. “You all right? I missed you so much,” he said.
I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him as hard as I could. We kissed and held each other, and I felt eyes on the back of my head again. My life had become the next best thing to the afternoon soap operas. “I missed you, too,” I said. “I want to go back to Seattle. Do you have your car?”
“My father had a driver drop it off yesterday. He hoped you’d be coming home with me.”
He paid my tab, and I waved goodbye to Mae when she peeked out the kitchen door. She gave me exactly what I needed; the thumbs-up sign.
As we drove, I studied the coastline of the peninsula across the sound. Only the highest, razor-sharp peaks of the Olympics broke through the rain clouds moving in from the west. “I’m afraid of him,” I said.
“What did he do?”
“He knows about us.”
“I figured that,” he said, stepping on the gas a little more and passing the car in front of us.
“Why?” I asked.
“He never said a word to me. Just gave me this look like he wanted to kill me.”
“What happened, Matthew? I thought you were sure they’d hand over your brother?”
“They expected my father and me to make treasonous statements about the United States in return for his freedom. We were supposed to say we thought our government is in the wrong; that they should pull out of Vietnam now. You know, we’re murderers and aggressors.”
He passed another car and I grabbed the dashboard. “Treasonous? Isn’t that what you said about the war to people who came to the SDS?”
“I believe we should get out the war, but I won’t let the North Vietnamese make me say it for their benefit. And my father would fall on his sword before he spoke one word against his country. I don’t think they ever had any intention of letting my brother go, but at least we’re pretty sure he’s alive. Handing over good old Lieutenant Hayes was as effective as a knife in the back, I guess.”
“You’re disappointed and Bobby’s angry.” I knew the words didn’t come close to describing how either of them felt.
He looked over at me, put his hand on mine. “I can take care of myself, and I can take care of you.”
“How? With violence? Just because you’re not in Vietnam anymore doesn’t mean you’re not starting another war right here.”
“I don’t want to hurt him,” he said, as he pulled onto the interstate and the car roared ahead into the southbound traffic. The Mercedes tailed one car after another until they pulled to the right and Matthew could pass.
“He told me he has nothing to lose if I leave him. He’s not going to give up. It’s hopeless.” I slid down in the seat and stared at the bleak scenery rushing past.
“You’ve got to believe there’s hope,” Matthew said.
“For what?”
He slowed the car to a steady seventy-five. “That he can find something in his life to make it worth living. Like I did. Like you did.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Whispers of pink fluttered across Lilly’s cheeks when I caught her smiling at silly jokes on the television. She walked to the corner grocery store on her crutches, and she hinted to Matthew about a gift of a bicycle for Christmas so she could ride across campus and visit me on the occasional dry day, come spring. But as we drove back to the duplex from her doctor’s appointment, instead of talking about her improving health, she stared at me.
“What is it? Am I driving too fast?” I asked.
“When are you going to tell him?”
“Tell who, what?” I imagined she was anxious to know if I’d made a decision about Bobby.
“Tell Matthew you’re pregnant.”
When it came to Lilly, she could see the truth in me as if she had a peephole into my soul. I couldn’t lie to her, even if I wanted to. “How did you know?”
“I’ve been a mother — three times. Do you think I don’t know what’s going on with all the nausea? You don’t have the flu and first you pick at your food, and then you eat as if there’s no tomorrow. Were you going to wait until you can’t hide it anymore before you told me?” She reached across the seat of the car and laid her delicate, freckled hand on my lap. “And the clinic called while you were out.”
I thought I saw her smile, but when I looked over at her she was, at least pretending to be solemn. “They told you? They were supposed to be…”
“They didn’t tell me anything, but I put one and one together and came up with three.”
I pulled up in front of the duplex and turned off the engine. “I’ve messed everything up. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Lilly, I’m worried.”
“Dear, life is full of surprises. Tell me what’s worrying you.”
“I’m not married, not to Matthew. I’m married to someone else. What’s my father going to say? What about school? What if Matthew doesn’t want a child?”
“Slow down, Diane. There’s an answer to all your questions, but you need to find them by asking the man who loves you. You have to work this out together. As for your father, tell him before he finds out some other way. He’s a very perceptive man.”
“Perceptive? I guess you’re both perceptive. Too perceptive.”
Nancy and Louise were in the kitchen when we came in the back door.
“Louise was smoking in the house,” Nancy said. “Just because Amy and her allergies are gone for the holidays isn’t a good excuse. Lilly shouldn’t be around it, or Diane either.” Her eyes darted from me to Lilly and back, wondering if I had told her, I was sure.
“Okay, okay.” Louise opened the window a crack to let some fresh air into the room. “How’d it go at the doctor’s, Lilly?”
“I’m doing better. The doctor would like to see me gain a little more weight. Can you believe having that as a prescription? I’ve never really gained weight. Not since I had my sons.” She leaned on her crutches and rolled her eyes towards me.
Nancy closed the refrigerator door, slumped into a chair, and rested her chin in her hand. “On that subject, the cupboard is bare.”
“Come on, you two,” Lilly said. “I’ll take you out to dinner. Diane has plans with Matthew, and we could give them a little privacy.”
Nancy jumped up and hugged Lilly. “What to wear, what to wear. Come on, Louise. Let’s go through my closet and find you a dress.”
Louise smirked. “Dress? What’s that?”
I glared at Lilly, “Okay, okay. I’ll tell him.”
*****
At eight o’clock, Matthew showed up with Chinese food. “I came prepared. You know me, not much of a cook, but I do takeout and the dishes,” he said. He dropped a large sack on the counter. A dark stain of grease rimmed the bottom of the paper bag.
“There’s enough here to feed an army,” I said, turning away to avoid the smell of the overly sweet sauce. “It’s just us. Your mother took Nancy and Louise out to dinner.”
“What’s the occasion?” he asked, as he pulled plates from the cupboard.
“Nancy and Louise are leaving tomorrow for Christmas vacation, and Lilly wanted to give you and me some time alone.”
“My mother wanted to give us some space? Are you for real?”
“That’s not it, exactly.” I pushed the plate he’d fixed for me off to the side, unable to look at the slippery sight of the glazed cashews.
“What, aren’t you hungry?”
“I’m nauseous.”
“It’s the stress. We should go to Aspen to ski.”
“I don’t know how to ski,” I said.
“I’ll teach you. It’s like learning to dance…”
“It’s not a good time.” My hand flew to my mouth as I gagged. I had to tell him what was going on before I ended up running into the bathroom again.
“I’ll take you to the doctor tomorrow,” he said, sliding his hand across the table and wrapping my icy fingers in warmth.
“I’ve al
ready seen a doctor.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m pregnant.”
The words tumbled out of me like a diver unable to stop midair on the way into the cold sea. I could have sworn he swayed as if he’d had the air knocked out of him, but I was the one who fought for breath. I was underwater, and as I swam towards the surface I became him and he was me, entangled in the cold, murky depths under the almost imperceptible weight of a new life. My heart beat in my chest like a trapped bird. But then he pushed up out of his chair, pulled me to him, and put his arms around me. I could breathe again.
“How long have you known about this?” he asked.
“A couple of weeks. It took everything I had to get through Bobby’s homecoming, and I then I was waiting for the right time, as if there is such a time.”
“So, we’ll get married, right?” he held my face between his hands.
I tried to smile as my fingers smoothed a strand of his hair, now almost to his shoulders again. “I’m already married, remember? And pregnant does not equal marriage.” Lilly had me adding those numbers in my head.
“You’ll get a divorce.” He started to pace back and forth in the cramped kitchen, bumping into the counter and the stove as if they didn’t exist.
“I can’t think that far ahead. I just want to get through the next day and then the next.” Like an alcoholic, one day at a time, courage to change the things I can.
“He has to let you go.”
“You don’t know Bobby,” I said, as if I knew what he was like, as if I’d ever known him well enough to predict what he would do or think. As if anyone knew him anymore. I walked over to the open window by the sink and closed it, holding my stomach, trying to stop it from turning inside out.
“He doesn’t have a choice. We love each other, and we’re going to have a baby.”
“I wish it were that simple,” I said.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Hidden away in my little bedroom, Matthew and I talked about my classes and his job and how we would handle taking care of a baby until we heard Lilly and my roommates come home. They closed up the house for the night, the back door lock sliding into place, the clatter of the pull chain light in the hall, someone running the shower in the bathroom.
“Are you staying for the night?” I whispered. “Amy won’t be back until after the holidays.”
“No, I’m going home. My mother here and all ― come with me.”
“I can’t. I have to go to the library tomorrow when they open. I can’t get behind on studying.”
“You sure you feel all right?”
“I could use some fresh air.”
“A walk around the block? Might help you sleep and give me ten more minutes with you.” He kissed me and ran his hand through my tangled hair.
I rustled through the closet for my winter coat, pulled on a pair of gloves, and we walked out the back door. I sniffed the air. “I did smell cigarettes. Louise must have been smoking out here when she got home.”
“Doesn’t matter anymore. You’re moving in with me. We don’t have to be married to live together.”
“We’ll talk about it,” I said. We walked down the sidewalk under blue shadows cast by the streetlights. My feet skated on patches of silvery frost.
“If I could convince you to drink coffee, I can convince you to live with me.” He squeezed my hand.
“I have to I tell my father.”
“He’ll get used to the idea,” Matthew said.
“I wouldn’t count on that old man getting used to any of this,” a man’s voice shouldered us from behind.
My breath froze in my lungs.
He was leaning against the hood of a car near the end of our driveway, one heel hitched to its chrome fender. I had to look twice. The left sleeve of his bomber jacket hung loose at his side. His hair was dirty, and he hadn’t shaved in days.
“What do you want, Hayes?” Matthew asked him, as he pulled me close.
“Just taking in the night air. I hoped I’d see you out here, Diane. Didn’t think I’d see you, though, Bluestone. Guess I’m just lucky. You get lucky tonight?”
“Are you drunk?” Matthew asked.
“Stone — cold — sober,” he said. “How ‘bout you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Maybe you’re the one who’s drunk, Bluestone, on the thought of becoming a father. Should I congratulate you on getting my wife pregnant? That is, if it’s yours.” He pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit it, manipulating the whole movement with his one hand.
The odor of smoke that had sickened me gelled into an image of him listening to everything we’d said. “You were outside the window the whole time we were talking. How could you do that?” I asked.
Bobby turned his eyes away from me as if I weren’t there.
“She’s divorcing you,” Matthew said.
“Oh, you think so? Something tells me she’ll stay mine. Maybe I’ll get me a kid in the deal. And I didn’t even have to take my pants off, not that it hasn’t crossed my mind.”
“Get out of here or…” Matthew pushed me behind him and moved towards Bobby.
“Or what? You’ll beat the shit out of a wounded war hero trying to defend the honor of his wife. What is it Bluestone? You were an officer. Honor. That’s what it’s all about. Right?”
“What would you know about honor? If you had any, you’d do the right thing.”
Bobby pointed his finger at Matthew. “Exactly what I intend to do, my hippie, flag-burning, pot-smoking, communist friend.”
“So you’ll give her a divorce?”
“Hell no. I’ll give you what you want. It’s just between you and me, protest boy.” Bobby turned his eyes towards me. “Let her go. Walk away from her, and I’ll give you what you want.”
“Diane’s not mine to give. So I guess you really are unlucky.”
“I don’t think so. I made it home. Your brother’s the unlucky one.”
“What does any of this have to do with my brother?”
“You wanted to bring him home so bad you went all the way over to that fucking snake pit. Got yourself a little surprise when you found out you were bringing me back instead, didn’t you?”
“What about it?” Matthew asked.
“I know where you can find him. I know how to get him out. You need my help, and I need yours. Think about it, but don’t take too long. I don’t want my wife to be embarrassed when people start asking about that baby when it’s born less than nine months after I came home.”
“Both of you stop it,” I said, stepping between them. “I decide what I’m going to do. You think I’m up for auction to the highest bidder?”
“I’m just giving your boyfriend a chance to get what he wants more than anything in the world. Maybe even more than you. He wants to rescue his brother because he knows he’s the reason the guy’s a POW. Like I said, don’t take too long to make up your mind. Your brother wasn’t looking so hot last time I saw him.”
“You son of a bitch, I ought to kill you.” Matthew’s face was dark with anger; he shoved his clenched fists into his jacket pockets.
“You, you’re nothing but a coward hiding behind daddy’s brass.” Bobby threw the cigarette he’d finished on the street, smashed it under his heel, and turned away.
Matthew ran after Bobby and grabbed him by the shoulder, and Bobby turned and hit him in the face. It happened so fast I thought I’d imagined it until I heard the sound of someone inhaling pain. Matthew staggered backwards then straightened up and walked slowly towards Bobby again.
“Come on, coward.” Bobby said, gesturing with his hand. “You afraid to hit a one-armed man?”
I caught the empty sleeve of Bobby’s jacket in my fist and pulled him back, but I couldn’t hold on, and it slipped away. Matthew knocked him to the ground and jammed his knee into Bobby’s chest and hit him in the face again and again. I pulled on Matthew’s shoulder. Blood splattered on my coat, my hands.
The smell of it rose on my breath and tasted like metal in my mouth.
“Stop it. You’ll kill him.” My voice echoed in the still night, kill, kill, kill, wobbling down the avenue like a broken wheel.
He stood up and kicked Bobby in the side. “Stay away from her,” he said.
Bobby climbed up on his hands and knees and pulled himself up using the car’s bumper for leverage.
“You can’t get back what’s gone, Bobby,” I said.
“What’s the matter, Birdie?” Bobby said. He wiped the blood from his mouth. “Did you forget what we had? How I made you feel?”
Birdie. I hadn’t heard him use that name since the day he’d left for the war. That was the Bobby I wanted to remember, not this stranger standing in the shadows of a winter-lonely street, ready to fight to the death over something that was already dead.
Matthew stepped back and shook his head. His lip was split open and blood ran from his nose. “You’re messed up, man, but if you don’t stay away from Diane, I’ll kill you, one arm or not.”
“Not if I get the first shot,” Bobby said. He turned his back on us and limped down the street, pulling another cigarette out of his pocket and stopping to light it before turning back to look at us. “Hey, Bluestone.” Bobby pointed his finger, a mock gun, in our direction. “Boom, boom.”
Matthew wrapped his arms around me and pulled me inside his open coat. “Don’t even think about what he said.”
“But maybe we could find out what he knows, and…”
“He’s bluffing. And even if he’s not, I won’t play along. You have to live your life with honor no matter what it costs. Don’t mention what he said to me ever again. And get your things. You’re staying with me tonight.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The next evening, Matthew and I pulled into my father’s driveway just past seven. My father, without fail, ate his dinner at six sharp and would be in front of the television set soon after. When we walked up to the front door, the Motorola’s gray light shined through the once-white curtains I’d put up when I was in junior high school. I opened the door and groaned when I caught the upbeat theme song of one of his favorite shows, Petticoat Junction. I’d watched enough of the show to know he had seen me as one of those sisters from the farm in the fictional Midwest town, where girls never had sex before marriage and boys were farm-strong and uncomplicated.