During one of her visits to Los Angeles, Francine went to visit her sister’s grave. Trying to drive into the gates however, she came upon a bunch of protestors encircling the gates. She looked into their eyes and felt their pain, fighting for something they believed in. They were carrying signs that read: “No More Deaths!” and “Make Love, Not War!”
Later that very same day, Francine went to answer her front door and was startled to see a messenger dressed in a military uniform.
“Mrs. Francine Davis?”
“Yes?”
“United States Navy ma’am; I have a letter for you, please sign here,” the Marine asked, handing her a clipboard.
Francine sat alone reading the letter while Sara, now one, played quietly in the background.
She thought she prayed hard enough, she thought she hoped hard enough…but a letter from the United States of America notifying that her ex-husband had been killed conducting Sunday services had been just as heart-wrenching as hearing when her sister died. Maybe even one of the hardest things she ever had to live though.
*****
A platoon was in the brush. Half the men are asleep, while the other half stands guard. The night was silent and in the darkness, a lone VC soldier crept up on an American soldier who was napping. The night was silent and in the pitch black of night, Pvt. Derek Magnet, F CO, 2nd BN of the 27th Marine Regiment, rested on his duffel bag, unaware that the Vietnamese soldier was in his area and grabbed Derrie from behind and thrust a knife to his throat. Derrie had no time to react but instantly thought of Francine.
California, 1973
The new Magnet residence was very posh. Mr. & Mrs. Angelo Magetti aka Mr. & Mrs. Jerry Magnet moved up the hills of Encino and bought a house over-looking the San Fernando Valley and some parts of Hollywood, and on a good clear day, Santa Monica and the ocean beyond. Life was good, no, life was tranquil and absolute and Nancy never knew so much happiness. Every day she was reminded that the man she loved--loved her--and Angelo never missed a beat telling her how much and showed her physically, every night.
Nancy was sewing in the new sewing room that Angelo had built for her with spools of thread and fabric sprawled all over her newly built six foot cutting table when Nancy heard a faint knock on her front door.
“Can you get that?” She yelled out the doorway and into the hallway; nothing, no answer…another knock at the door. “Hello?” She asked out again, no answer. “Oh, with all the effort to call you, I could have answered the door myself,” she said under her breath.
She threw down her cutting shears and walked around her table and towards the doorway when she opened the door; outside was a somewhat familiar face: Francine with long, auburn wavy hair, a silk scarf capping her head and running along down the depth of her back, a frilly loose colorful blouse draping off one exposed shoulder with wide bell bottoms that covered her feet. She was dressed for the point of time: the Crusade against the War in Vietnam.
“Mom! Surprise!” She shouted, waiving her hands up in the air.
Nancy was dumb-founded and definitely unprepared. She looked down past her and then saw her granddaughter for the very first time. Sara, now age two, stood behind Francine’s leg thinking that her mother’s corduroys could hide her tiny frame. Nancy bent down to her level. “Oh my…” she said, choking back tears, “Sara pumpkin, you’re getting so big.”
“Aren’t you gonna ask us to come in?” Francine asked her mother who just stood there with her jaw still on the floor.
“Yes!” Nancy exclaimed, taking in a breath to calm herself down. “Yes, yes, of course, please come in.”
Nancy escorted Francine to where she was sewing and then suddenly, and on cue, Donna Magnet appears out of nowhere.
Tall and thin, with dark auburn hair and brown eyes, she had the same shape of mouth and eyes as Francine, same color hair, but clearly, not as attractive.
Francine and Donna just stare; in awe of one another’s existence, gawking at one another’s likeness.
Nancy shot looks at the both of them before saying, “Oh Fran honey, I don’t think you’ve ever met—”
“Donna,” Francine finished for her.
Francine simply stared at her mirror image and she back at Francine. Neither of them dared move, nor even said hello. They both knew instantly who the other person was and simultaneously, a gratifying smile embraced Francine’s face because it all made perfect sense.
“Francine Steele,” Donna let go finally.
Nancy didn’t connect the resemblance until that very moment. Donna had been living with them for awhile now and she never really made the correlation.
Francine nodded her head. “Where’s—”
Nancy cut her daughter off, “Oh Fran honey, I would have called you, but you didn’t leave me a number. I’ve been trying to find you, but all my letters kept coming back Return to Sender. We haven’t heard from you for over two years…I would have called you.”
Francine turned away from Donna now and stared at her mother in a panic. “What?”
“I would have called you…” Nancy said again, only this time touching her daughter’s shoulder.
“Mom, it’s perfectly OK,” Francine quipped, patting her mother’s hand and then walking away to survey the cotton fabric sprawled all over her sewing table. “I’m sorry I never wrote to you or leave you a phone number…After the divorce; I just needed to live my life, me and Sara. I’ve been attending peace marches and volunteering up north, I just got caught up in the battle to end this damn war. I’m on a journey…a crusade for harmony.”
“Oh Fran honey,” Nancy gushed, wrapping her two hands to her face, “I would have called you.”
Donna sat down on an empty chair beside the sewing machine. Francine continued to gape at her and made her feel uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry mom for just barging in like this—”
“Oh, you don’t have to apologize Francine, you’re family,” Donna said cryptically.
Seconds later, Christopher Magnet, age four, wormed his way up behind Nancy and tugged at her shirt.
“Granny, more juice peez,” he said shoving a Tupperware cup into Nancy’s open hand.
“Oh Chris, Granny will be there in a moment. Why don’t you show Sara your toys in your room?”
Francine does a double-take when the little boy hobbled over to lead Sara out by her arm. Looking away from her daughter, she asked her mother gingerly, “Mom, where’s Angelo?”
“He’s working late today,” Nancy responded, taking a look at Donna who was fiddling with a bobbin.
Francine followed her mother’s eyes and then turned to Donna herself and inquired, “Donna? Where’s Derrie?”
Donna suddenly looked away from her curiosity and met eyes with Nancy.
Nancy stepped into Francine, “Fran honey, why don’t you sit down, or better yet, would you like a cold drink—perhaps some Seven-Up?”
Francine felt put on the spot from all the side-stepping and stepped away from her mother. “Mom, where’s Derrie?”
Defeated, Nancy finally sat down abruptly and accidently spilt over a tub of thread spools onto the floor.
“Mom,” Francine laughed for some reason; the whole thing starting to get suspicious. “What’s the matter? You seem so…nervous.” Francine then glanced over at Donna, only Donna had covered her mouth over by her hand with tears in her eyes.
“Fran honey, my God!” Nancy frantically exclaimed, “I tried to find you, but the letters kept coming back…Return to Sender, Address Unknown. I tried to call you, but your line had been disconnected.”
Francine was definitely upset now. “Mom, what the hell’s going on here? What happened?”
Donna cleared her throat and wiped away her tears. “Francine, you don’t have to put on a brave face just for my sake.”
Francine was not only bothered now she was beginning to get worried. “Mom? Where’s Derrie? Is he playing football? Is he on the road? Did he go to training camp?” She asked
, watching Donnas’ eyes fill up with water again.
Nancy went for her daughter again with open arms but Francine swatted her soothing away. “Oh Fran honey…”
“No, mom…stop it—will somebody just tell me what the hell is going on?”
“I feel so bad right now, I feel so selfish,” Donna whimpered at this moment, “I didn’t want to tell you at first, but now I feel like you should know.”
Francine shook her head, she was about to jump out of her skin! “OK, now you’re both scaring me, mom? Why is she crying? Where did Derrie go? Did he abandon her?”
Nancy swallowed hard when Donna continued to talk for the both of them.
“Derrie was always—constantly—talking about you. About the things you did together, places you went. I got so sick of it sometimes! He volunteered—”
“What!?”
“He went to Vietnam about a year ago, he said he hated to see all his buddies…every one of them…drafted…killed, and drafted,” Donna explained, wiping away her tears. “He went and registered…left football…left me and Christopher.”
Francine still could not, and maybe would not open up her ears to hear the God awful truth. “What? Who’s drafted? I don’t understand…what? Derrie left football? Derrie left football or got drafted in football? Which one is it?”
Donna got up and slapped Francine across her face.
What the hell?!
Francine suddenly touched the side of her face as Nancy immediately came to her rescue and wrapped her arms around Francine’s shoulders for comfort.
“Listen, will you!” Donna exclaimed dramatically. “I’m trying to tell you what happened, but you only want to hear what you obviously came here for! But Derrie’s not here, he’ll never be here!”
“Oh Fran honey,” Nancy spoke up next, twirling her daughter around to face her. “I’m so sorry; we tried to find you, tried to tell you.”
“He’s missing in action,” Donna divulged after that.
“Missing…in action?” Francine repeated.
“Presumed dead.”
WHAT?!
Francine was beside herself and fell to the ground immediately resting on her knees.
“I’m so sorry Francine,” Nancy uttered lastly, reaching out for her daughter a second time and trying to pull her up.
The room was now spinning as Francine became hysterical. “Oh…mom,” and reached out finally for Nancy’s embrace.
Nancy yanked her daughter into her chest and held their bodies close. “Oh baby, I know…I know.”
“Oh mom,” she cried within her mother’s confine, “Oh mom, not Derrie too, oh God, not Derrie too!”
Donna eerily walked out of the room and over to her purse hanging on a nearby doorknob and opened it up to pull out a crumpled folded envelope from within her wallet. She then slowly walked back into the sewing room and over to the sewing table and gently placed the envelope down. “I’m sorry Francine, but this was meant for you.”
Francine let go of her mother and leered at Donna before looking over at the letter on the table; which was already opened. A strange moment goes by; all of them silent, still, not breathing when Francine, calm and collected now, slowly released her mother and headed off to the foyer alone.
Wiping away her tears first, she backed herself against the wall, away from the view of her mother and Donna and pulled out the piece of paper that was inside the envelope. It read: “Dear Fran, I’ve been denying myself of two things…the love I have for you, and the love I have for this great country of ours. I feel that it’s my duty Fran that America shouldn’t have to ask, that’s why I’ve enlisted,” she continued to read, “It’s the least I can do. I love you Francine, ever since the day you became my wife in high school, and I fell in love with you. I keep reliving those moments we had in the limo and I want more. I need you in my life Francine, I can’t exist without you. Will you marry me?”
Within looking up and beyond out to nowhere, Francine’s arm suddenly descended with the letter inside her hand. Numb now and on the verge of lunacy, she dropped the letter and then gazed down at it as it slowly…
glided…to…the…
floor.
Viet Cong Prisoner of War Camp
Pvt. Derek Magnet, F CO, 2nd BN of the 27th Marine Regiment has been captured by the Viet Cong and has been placed inside a makeshift cell made out of sturdy bamboo rods. The rods have been repositioned into the ground to stick straight up at least ten feet high, with sharp jagged edges extending at the ends to ensure no prisoner was capable of escaping.
Derrie has been in this jail cell for more than three days now and physically he begins to realize that his squad might not be searching for him. He begins to mentally record his experience…
4th Day Captured
At night, I stay up. I can’t sleep, I’m exhausted, hungry, but still I have the will to survive. Pvt. Hawkins, USAF sits next to me and he’s shivering. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s cold or he’s just scared. I’m scared too, but I’m more determined to survive, I have to be when my squad comes looking. I don’t know what’s in store for me. Not sure of anything anymore. Is anybody looking for us?
10th Day Captured
Pvt. Hawkins is definitely scared, I heard his sniffling last night, we all bundle up close for warmth. I’m still hungry and thirsty now that the VC has decided not to feed us. They think by starving us, it will beat us down. But I won’t be defeated.
15th Day Captured
They fed us today. Rice and some kind of green root, but the rations were slim to nothing. I didn’t get to eat very much, but I’m grateful. The gooks are cruel, but so is this war. The VC looks friendly though. Sometimes I watch the VC soldiers argue amongst themselves and it’s almost comical. I’m not sure if they’re joking around, making fun of one another or said a funny joke. But as soon as one of them says something, they all laugh. Or maybe, the one that is making everyone laugh is in charge.
20th Day Captured
I think it’s the 20th day, I think. I think I might have missed it by one or two days, but I think its day twenty. I miss my home. I miss America, I miss everything. I want to go home. Are they coming for us?
25th Day Captured
Pvt. Hawkins cries every night now. He’s younger than me, maybe around eighteen, he looks like a baby, and his beard hasn’t even grown in yet. I feel sorry for him and his sorrow is beating me down. I hate to hear him weeping at night, but I have to stay strong. I have to stay healthy, the guys are coming…my squad is coming for us.
38 Days Captured
I’ve gotta stay strong now. I’ve gotta stay healthy. I think it’s the 25th day now. I think. God, I miss my dad. I want to give him a big ole hug. I miss Francine, I want to touch her again, God I love her so much! I miss her so much and just thinking about her makes my heart swell up and now I’ve just made my own nose run. My eyes are swelling with tears just thinking about her. I miss her…Oh God.
50 Days Captured
I don’t know what day it is, I don’t know what time it is and I think I’m losing my mind. No, I’m definitely losing it. I’m starving now – so hungry, I’d eat anything. I’ve gotta get outta here! Pvt. Hawkins has already lost it – he’s adopted a coach roach as a pet. He’s been playing with it and watching it hobble away, and when it’s just about at the gates, he corrals it back in and hold its within his clenched fist to make sure it doesn’t get away next time.
Magnet & Steele Page 17
