by Janet Beard
“I don’t know!” Joe unclasped his twisted cap and let his hands fall to his sides. He looked Mr. Milton right in the eye.
“I don’t like your tone, boy.”
“I’m sorry, sir. But I don’t recollect what Miss Walker—”
Mr. Milton stood as he spoke, then shouted in a trembling voice, “Think harder!”
“Stop!” said June, and without meaning to, she realized that she was also standing now. “I’ll tell you what I said, Mr. Milton. I said, ‘I understand what this bomb means,’ all right? Leave him alone.”
Mr. Milton sat back down. “Well, well, Miss Walker. You’ve changed your tune.”
“I didn’t want to say before because I was scared. Look, I hardly knew what I meant when I said it. I guessed we were making a bomb, that’s all.”
“You guessed?” He was sarcastic, disbelieving.
“Yes. I guessed it was a bomb. I asked Dr. Cantor, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. Still, I could tell I was right by the way he reacted.” She was shocked by the sound of her own voice, strong and smooth. Lying was coming so easy.
“What do you mean you could tell?”
“You know, a woman can tell things about her man. I knew his looks. It was foolish, I know. I never talked about it with anyone else.”
“But what were you referring to, when you said ‘what this bomb means’?”
“Just that working here, on this bomb, was all that was holding us together. Me and him, I mean. I thought we were about to split up.”
Mr. Milton shook his head, as though deeply disappointed. Without looking up at him, he motioned Joe away. “All right, Joe, you can leave.”
“Thank you, sir.” Joe put on his cap and started for the door.
“Oh, your friend Ralph . . .”
Joe stopped and swung back around. “Yes, sir?”
“He’s dead. Stabbed in a knife fight two weeks ago. Apparently, he was cheating at cards. You should watch who you hang around with.”
Joe’s mouth had fallen open; June could see that his hand trembled. “Yes, sir,” he said softly, and went out the door.
***
JOE DIDN’T KNOW how he wound up at the rec hall. He’d walked out of the administration building and kept walking—one foot after the other with no thought to where he was going, no thought to going back to work, where he was due for his shift, no thoughts at all, really. Just walking.
He couldn’t think. No, that wasn’t right. He knew he shouldn’t think, because if he did, it would become too much, too painful. That bastard’s words would begin to have meaning, a meaning that of course he already understood—had in fact already assumed and dreaded—but if he thought about the words and the meaning, then he would have to think about Ralph, which he shouldn’t do. He would have to think about the way that man looked at him, the way he spoke to him, the way Ralph hated men like that. But no, he shouldn’t think about Ralph right now. He shouldn’t think.
He walked through the town, not making a conscious decision to head back to the colored area, but going that way anyhow, pulled back toward home like a lost animal. It was far, but he must have been walking fast. Or maybe not; he had no real sense of time going by, no real sense of anything except for the need to keep walking, the need to keep not thinking. Things were pretty quiet at the rec hall when he got there. Some men played poker in the corner. Others stood around a radio, listening to a replay of some boxing match. It was almost unbearably hot. He watched the men playing poker. One with a long face and red cap asked if he wanted to join in. Joe shook his head.
It was impossible to know how long he’d been standing there when the radio began beeping, the boxing match interrupted. The men listening to it groaned and cursed.
“Breaking news, breaking news,” said a newsreader’s urgent voice. “The war in Japan has ended—”
The newsreader went on, but it was impossible to hear what he said. Everyone in the room had begun cheering and stomping. He was perfectly still and quiet against the wall, watching them all slap each other on the back and toss their cards in the air. Suddenly Joe hated these men. He hated them more than he had ever hated anything in his life. He hated them more than the bastard from the administrative building even, because they were here, and they were loud, and they were so goddamn happy. An engine turned inside his chest, he felt the physical force of rage propelling him forward, and just like that, his fist connected with the red-capped poker player’s chin, knocking him right down to the ground.
The yelling stopped. The other men were too stunned to react, and suddenly Joe wasn’t angry at all, but deeply sorry and deeply ashamed. The president was on the radio: “I have received this afternoon a message from the Japanese government in reply to a message forwarded to that government by the secretary of state on August 11 . . .”
Joe felt the unfamiliar sensation of tears filling his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
The man in the red cap suddenly lunged up off the ground, growling. Joe wanted to be hit. He felt the man’s fist in his stomach, the air knocked out of him, a sick, dizzy feeling in his head. The man stood back, waiting, it seemed, for Joe to make the next move. As soon as he had his breath back, Joe repeated, “I’m sorry.”
He turned and walked to the door, aware the man and his friends might come for him again from behind. But no one moved. Joe escaped the rec room and breathed deeply of the wet August air. He walked toward home, toward his family.
***
THE QUESTIONS WENT on all afternoon, but June slowly seemed to wear Mr. Milton down and convince him of her story. She had guessed it was a bomb, Sam had never told her anything. After four hours, he left her in the room alone. She laid her head on the table. She hardly cared what happened to her anymore; she just wanted out of this room to take a shower, put on a fresh dress, eat some supper.
Another half hour passed. The man who had picked her up at work came back in. “You are being dismissed from your job immediately. Consider yourself lucky, Miss Walker. You won’t face any criminal charges. However, you have to leave the Manhattan Engineer District. I will escort you to the bus stop, and your belongings will be sent to you. You will not be permitted into Oak Ridge again.”
She wasn’t exactly surprised by the news, yet still it was shocking. His words felt like physical slaps against her skin. “Where will I go?”
“That’s up to you, ma’am. There are hotels in Knoxville.”
She would have to take the bus to Knoxville, then try to get in contact with her family.
“Follow me, please,” the man said. And that was that.
They were in the entryway to the building, when June first noticed a distant roar like steady thunder. As they neared the doors, she realized it was a human sound, a crowd screaming. They walked out into the late-afternoon light, and she saw people filling the street in front of the administration building—women, soldiers, children—all cheering, singing, laughing. A man ran up to them, waving a newspaper. “Have you heard?” he yelled just for the pure pleasure of it, then ran back to the street. The giant headline read: “WAR OVER.”
June felt her eyes become hot. She stole a glance at her stern escort. A broad grin had spread across his face. He was smiling and she was crying—yet she knew they were feeling the same thing.
The moment was over quickly. He noticed June looking at him and regained his composure.
“Come on,” he said, taking her firmly by the arm. She wiped her eyes with her free hand.
It was difficult to get through the crowd, but he led her with single-minded purpose. Girls were screaming and crying together, hugging, kissing one another’s cheeks. A soldier threw his hat into the air and let out an ear-piercing shout. The newspapers were once again everywhere, waving in the air. All the while, her escort pulled June along.
A bus was preparing to leave for Knoxville, but no one was on it; everyone was in the street celebrating. The man led her all the way on and watched her sit. “Your badge,” he said.<
br />
She took it off her blouse and handed it over. He gave her a nod and hopped off the bus. The driver turned back to her. “Why ain’t you joining in the party?”
She shrugged. “Got to get to Knoxville.”
“I don’t blame you. This town is a mess.”
She had enough money for a room in the Andrew Johnson Hotel for the night. The phone lines were all busy; she tried again and again to get through to Mary or Sam, but it was no use. Knoxville was just as mad as Oak Ridge had been. People were out on the streets late into the night, carousing. She couldn’t blame them. She ate supper at a diner, then sat by the window in her room, watching the revelers outside. She kept the newspaper she had bought spread on her lap, as though to remind herself it was real. The headline took up half a page, though it was only a single word: “PEACE.”
***
TELLING MORIAH WAS easy compared to telling Shirley. Joe didn’t have to say a word when he got home; Moriah took one look at him and knew. The children were playing outside, like most everyone in town. The night was noisy with honking cars, blasting radios, shouts and calls, like the biggest Fourth of July party you could imagine.
Moriah led him through the doorway, shut it behind them, and held him tight. He clung to her. After a moment she took off his shirt and wet a cloth to wash him with. He felt like a child, and it felt comforting, peaceful.
When he was in a clean shirt, drinking the water she’d given him, Joe finally spoke. “The Army man said Ralph been stabbed.”
Moriah squeezed his hand. “That boy was like an angel. Too good for this world.”
“I got to find Shirley.”
Moriah nodded.
“Can you tell the girls? Later, when they come inside?”
“I’ll break it to them gentle.”
“Good.” He put on his hat and went to the door.
It took an hour to find Shirley—back at the rec hall, where a huge crowd had gathered. She was laughing in a circle with her girlfriends, but when she saw Joe across the room, her face became serious. She walked to him.
“Mind to step outside for a minute?” he asked.
She nodded and followed him. It was hard to find anyplace with privacy. He led her around the side of the building, a few feet from a group of men who were smoking by the wall. When Joe stopped walking, Shirley looked at him, expectant.
“I’m so sorry to tell you this. Ralph is dead.”
She nodded. She looked calm, almost unaffected. He wondered if he should take her hand, but felt too awkward.
“I’ve been looking for him for days. I finally got someone from the Army to talk to me.”
Shirley said nothing.
“The Army man told me he been stabbed. Over a game of cards.”
“They lie!” she exclaimed, the sudden fierceness of her voice startling Joe.
“I kept telling him not to go to that white folks’ union . . .”
“I told him to go.” She was staring out at the twilight, not seeing Joe. He never said the right thing with Shirley.
“We were going to get married,” she said, softer. “After the war. Get married and go back to Atlanta . . .”
Joe took her hand. Despite the August heat, it felt cool. She didn’t react. They stood like that, her staring off, him feebly holding her hand, until he gently put it down.
“You need me to walk you back inside?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“I know he loved you.”
She didn’t seem to hear.
Joe walked away from the rec hall, feeling useless. Back at the hutment, the girls were in bed, but Ben was awake, toddling around on the ground.
“He’s seen all the excitement outside,” said Moriah. “Little boy can’t sleep.”
Joe picked up his son and swung him in the air. Ben chortled with delight and clamored for him to do it again. Joe picked him up and swung him higher, again and again, until they were both worn out.
(Courtesy of the Department of Energy)
Chapter 22
THE NEXT DAY JUNE FINALLY SPOKE TO MARY, WHO PROMISED TO send Bill to drive her home if she could hold on for one more night in Knoxville. He would even be able to bring her clothes. She was thankful, though nervous wondering what Bill would think of her. She found she wasn’t that upset about having to leave Oak Ridge; in fact, the thought of spending the night in her parents’ house was wonderful. But she was terrified of what they, Mary, and everyone else would think of her.
She wandered around Knoxville all day. The city had a festive atmosphere; everyone was smiling at one another on the street, as though they were all at the same party. She sat by the river for a long time, watching boats go by. She would miss certain things for sure—the spaghetti in the cafeteria, the roller rink, the movies.
She tried not to think about Sam. When she heard his voice, calling her name in the lobby of the Andrew Johnson, she had to look up and see him standing across from her to believe her ears.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve quit my job,” he said. “Come on, come out with me. Let me get you dinner.”
She led him back to the diner where she’d eaten the night before, but he insisted on something nicer. “Someplace with tablecloths,” he said.
He seemed in good spirits. She had so many questions for him but waited until they were sitting down.
He leaned forward. “Are you all right, June?” His voice was tender with concern.
“Yes.”
“But you lost your job?”
“Yes. Someone heard me that night. When I said ‘bomb.’ Don’t worry, though, I told them you never told me anything.”
He nodded. “I figured you must’ve. They gave me a pretty harsh talking-to, but that was all. I decided to quit on my own.”
“Why?”
“You know I’ve been unhappy. I’m going back to New York.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t known if she would ever see him again, but it still hurt to hear that he was leaving her.
“It’s just temporary. My mother is sick, and I need to see her. But eventually I’ll get a job at a university again. That’s where I belong. June, you know, I don’t think I would have survived my time here without you. I mean that.”
She couldn’t quite look him in the eye. “I know.”
“I do love you, you know—”
“Please, stop.” She looked up. “Let’s just have a nice dinner. There’s no need to say any of those things.”
They ate steak and chatted about mostly mundane topics—the peace treaty, the future of Japan, the weather, his train trip in the morning. Later she would reflect that after all that time they had been forbidden to talk about certain things, when they were finally free to speak however they wanted, it was as though they had nothing to say.
They walked back to the hotel together. On the street outside the entrance, he kissed her on the mouth. “Do you want to come to my room?” he whispered in her ear.
She shook her head. “No. Let’s say good-bye here.”
She could see this surprised him. He looked stricken, truly sad. “Good-bye, June.”
“Good-bye, Sam.” She turned before anything more could be said and went up the stairs before him.
***
JUNE HAD BEEN wearing the same wrinkled dress for three days when Bill finally came to drive her home. She fidgeted next to him in the car and stared out the window. He tried to make conversation. “It’s cooled off a bit, thank goodness. They say we might get some rain this afternoon.”
“I hope you don’t have to drive back in it.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
“Thanks for giving me a ride.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
June felt too ashamed to look at him.
“Are you all right, June?”
“Oh, I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. I just feel bad. You must think I’m awful.”
He shot her a
glance. She tried to stare straight ahead at the road as if she didn’t notice.
“Look, June, I’m sorry you got into this mess. And I’ve got to tell you, I wouldn’t mind giving that Dr. Cantor a piece of my mind. But you’re just a kid. I know you didn’t mean anyone any harm.”
“I didn’t, Sergeant—”
“Call me Bill, please! I’m your brother.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. It was silly, so silly. I was just curious, really.”
“Well, anyway, the war’s over now, so what does it matter?”
She felt relief spread across her face in a wide grin. Bill smiled back at her.
Rose was sweeping the porch when they drove up to the house. June hadn’t had any way to get word to them about her dismissal, so when Rose saw the car, she dropped her broom and ran to them in a panic. June got out as quickly as she could to reassure her. “It’s all right, Mama, everything’s all right. Bill’s just given me a ride home. I’ve quit my job.”
She looked back at him, and he nodded to let her know he wouldn’t give away her lie.
Rose looked calmed though confused. “What you want?” came Jericho’s voice from the doorway, directed at Bill. The old man hobbled toward him with his usual angry expression.
“I’m just dropping off your granddaughter, sir,” said Bill in his friendly voice. “I don’t mean you any harm.”
Jericho showed no sign of comprehension, walking past them toward the barn. The old man didn’t even know that a town called Oak Ridge existed.
(Courtesy of the Department of Energy)
Chapter 23
THE FIRST FEW DAYS HOME DRIFTED BY IN A PLEASANT HAZE. JUNE helped out with chores just as she used to, went for walks in the afternoon, and listened to the radio in the evenings.
But she knew it couldn’t last. Cici had been right, after all; with the war over, she needed a husband or a job. So she began scouring the newspapers for secretarial work. When she saw an ad for a secretary in the biology department at the University of Tennessee, she figured she’d be a perfect fit.
Mama helped her sew a new blouse for the interview, where June felt calm compared to when she had to take the lie detector and typing test at Oak Ridge. She managed to find the right office and waited patiently for Dr. Houston. She wished she’d brought something to read and tried hard not to stare at the secretary, who was typing away. Would she be replacing her?
