Home Front Girls

by Suzanne Hayes

  Love,

  Glory

  P.S. Guess who gave me that recipe? Remember the woman who lost her boy and yelled at me in the coffee shop? Yes. She gave it to me! She just walked up to me while I was at the drugstore picking up Robbie’s medicine.

  “I’ve heard your Robert’s coming home to us,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said (ready to duck, I tell you...).

  “This is for you, it’s a comfort.”

  And she walked away. You could have knocked me over with a willow wisp.

  I’m just a bubble of hope these days, I swear. Any word from Toby?

  September 17, 1944

  IOWA CITY, IOWA

  Dear Glory,

  It’s an angry moon this night and last. I like to think Toby sent it my way as a warning.

  My mother always claimed a moon like this one—washed with crimson and violet—brings to the surface all the things we wish to hide.

  Maybe that’s why Roy showed up on my front porch this afternoon.

  We’d gone to late mass, Roylene and me and the baby, and came home to a lazy, warm afternoon. I’d invited Charlie and Irene over for lunch and a Monopoly tournament (we’ve been building up to it the past couple of Sundays) and the four of us sat around my dining room table, spooning chili con carne into our mouths and vying for Boardwalk and Park Place.

  The insistent pounding on the door shrunk my heart to a stone. My body followed suit. I was immovable, barely breathing. Charlie got up, and I heard him turn the knob and something in his greeting told me it wasn’t the worst. Turned out to be pretty close, though.

  Charlie’s body filled the door frame, forcing much shorter Roy to duck under his armpit. He shouted for both Roylene and me, calling out names that aren’t fit to write much less say.

  The second I could clear my head I stepped forward, but Roylene put an arm out to stop me. “This is my fight,” she said, and tapped Charlie on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll talk to him.”

  Charlie let her pass but didn’t budge from the door frame. She met Roy on the porch. Irene crept up to the front window alongside me. We wanted Roy to know he had eyes on him.

  He glared at his daughter, sneering and vicious. I watched him open and close his fists, but they stayed at his side. Instead, he beat her with words. Slapped her with every insult a man uses to bring a woman down until she can’t rise again.

  In one fluid motion, Charlie stepped forward and landed a right uppercut on the south side of Roy’s jaw. Roylene screamed and I pushed myself onto the porch, taking the girl in my arms.

  “You get on now,” Roy yelled at her, blood dripping from his mouth into his cupped hand. “I mean it—get! Bull on all this nonsense. Pick up that kid of yours and move on home. You don’t run out on your responsibilities. Not while I’m livin’.”

  “Roylene is welcome to stay in my home as long as she likes,” I said, managing to keep my voice steady.

  “Liar,” Roy snarled. “If you hadn’t kicked her out she wouldn’t have made an ass of herself trying to join the WAVES. A married woman with a baby.” He said the word married like it was a dirty joke.

  Roylene’s spine straightened. “You got it all wrong. I didn’t try, Pop. They took me. I’m goin’.”

  “Why would they? All you’re good for is giving the Japs a laugh.”

  My feet felt a little unsteady beneath me and I took a step back. I placed a hand on the small jutting bone atop Roylene’s shoulder. “You’re joining the WAVES?”

  Roy snickered, a horribly wet, phlegmy sound. “Ah! You didn’t know, did ya?” He turned to Roylene. “What kind of game are you playin’? You’re gonna stick her with the kid, ain’t ya?”

  I couldn’t speak. Even if I could, I didn’t know what to say. The more it dawned on Roy that I hadn’t a clue, the bolder he got, spitting on the ground at Charlie’s feet and then grabbing at Roylene.

  She shook him off and took my hand. Her face was full of so much—shame at keeping the secret, embarrassment with her father, pride in herself. “I was going to tell you when the time was right,” she said softly. “I just told Roy last week, but it’s not like he’s making it out to be.”

  “She’s runnin’ just like her mama,” Roy hissed.

  Her grip on my hand tightened. “It ain’t the same. Not one bit. I’m coming back, and when I do I’ll be a better mama, and a better wife, and a better person.” She met my gaze, her eyes clear and determined. “I hope more than anything you can understand. You can, right?”

  What could I do, Glory? Of course I was frantic at the thought of her leaving, but she was standing in front of me, this half-starved, determined girl with her father’s bloody handprint on her arm. What could I do?

  I held her. I told her she’d be a valuable addition to the United States Navy and I was proud as could be. I said I’d welcome the opportunity to mother my grandson for a while. I said I’d miss her.

  And, oh, I will. I most certainly will.

  Roy finally left after Charlie backed him into the sunflower patch for a man-to-man talk. I don’t know what he told him. I don’t think I want to know.

  When Roylene sat with me tonight for the late-news hour, she laid her head on my lap. I didn’t say a word, just stroked her baby-soft hair. She fell dead asleep on the couch, and I came out to where I’m sitting now, on the back patio, to watch the moon and write to you.

  The air still holds the day’s heat and my dress is sticking to—

  Later...

  Charlie stepped into the backyard a few minutes ago, surprising the bejesus out of me. He’d been sitting at the dining room table looking over Roylene’s enlistment papers, but I think that’s an excuse not to leave me alone. I caught him glancing at Irene when I said I’d be fine, thank you very much, so I suspect they think I’m going to take a dive into the deep end again.

  Sorry if the words above are smeared, but I stuck my hand over the letter the second I saw him. For some reason I didn’t want Charlie to spot his name. Like I was talking about him behind his back. Silly, right?

  He must have sensed my nerves because he didn’t sit down. “She’s really leaving, huh?” He winced as he finished the question, like he felt sorry he asked it.

  I tried to keep my voice lighthearted. “No changing your mind when it comes to Uncle Sam!”

  Charlie looked me in the eye, but he didn’t smile. “I’ll drive you gals to Cedar Falls when the time comes,” he said, and squeezed my shoulder. “And you’re going to need some help once she’s gone. I may not look it, but I can cook a meal and mind a baby.”

  I didn’t turn him down. I probably will need the help. “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “I’ll leave you to your writing,” he said before heading out. “That’s going to help, too.”

  He’s right about that.

  But I am glad Charlie’s coming with us to the WAVES camp. It’ll be nice to have someone else along in case my heart gives out halfway through the trip.

  Love,

  Rita

  P.S. Since I haven’t heard otherwise, I’ll assume Robert is not home yet. It must be driving you crazy, the waiting. Chin up, Glory. I’ll be thinking about you and your family in the coming weeks.

  September 24, 1944

  ROCKPORT, MASSACHUSETTS

  Dearest Rita,

  He’s home. My Robert is home. His homecoming was so strange. No matter how hard I tried to make it not awkward, there was just no getting around the surreal quality of the whole event. Waiting at the station with the children (I’d told Levi to stay away). And then there Robert was being helped into his waiting wheelchair by two other officers. He wheeled toward us with no hesitation and stopped about four feet away. He held out his arms to the children and they ran to him. He scooped them up and nuzzled both of them close. Then, he looked up at me and do you know what he s
aid?

  “I thought you might have brought Levi,” and in his eyes, I saw he was grateful I didn’t. I wondered what he could read in mine. Could he tell what I’d done just by looking at me?

  I dropped my handbag. I went to pick it up but he rolled himself forward fast, maneuvering the chair and giving the children a ride. We almost knocked heads trying to grab that darn bag. But I grasped it first and stood up straight.

  “You’re a quick one, aren’t you,” I said, and then wanted to gobble the words back into my throat.

  “Give us a kiss, Glory,” he said, and turned his head tapping his cheek. “It’s been a while since a pretty lady kissed this soldier.”

  And I should have turned his face with my gloved hand. I should have cupped his chin and kissed him full on the lips, because that’s what I wanted to do. But I didn’t. I kissed his cheek like a sister would have. A cold sister. And then we made our way home. Marie helped by driving us, and the wheelchair was easy to maneuver. I thought it would be clumsier. Turns out the only clumsy part of the whole equation was me.

  When we got home Robert marveled at all the new accommodations for the chair. And at how Levi lowered some of the cabinetry in the kitchen and bathrooms so he can reach things without having to ask for help. Levi met us there and the two embraced like brothers. I felt ill and sweaty.

  “Why don’t you go to bed for a bit, Glory?” suggested Robert. “It’s been a hell of a war.”

  It’s been a hell of a war, he said. I’ll never forget it.

  Of course, what kind of a woman would go to bed? I went directly to the kitchen. I left the two of them with the children outside and didn’t pop my head out again until I had a four-course meal for all of them. It’s all I could do. It’s the best I could do.

  That’s how it’s gone. It’s only been a few days. And we all walk around with our own thick clouds hanging in the air. Father would have called them “elephants in the room.”

  And then, when I got your last letter, I acted like a childish fool. Robert was newly home and I was taking a moment to myself on a fine, blue sky September afternoon. I strolled down to the mailboxes and on finding your letter ripped it open. I’ve missed you and I wasn’t going to wait to sit in the house with a proper letter opener. Then, when I started to read the tale it wove... I folded it up again and fairly ran back to the house! I swept past Levi and Robert, who were talking on the front porch and supervising the children as they painted. (There’s another picture from Robbie. It’s of a Christmas tree. He’s a little impatient for the holiday season, that boy.)

  Anyway, I must have been flushed because Robert reached out and caught my skirt pocket. “What’s the rush, honey? What you got there?”

  Levi answered him before I could. “It must be a letter from Rita. If those two ever meet, we’d never get another second with Miss Glory.” Then they laughed a little.

  I flushed, deeply. There are some things...some things that should not be known. How much of myself have I given to these men? Anyway. I held my head high and said, “Yes, Robert, Levi is correct. It’s a letter from my dear friend and it holds some very important news. May I be excused?” My sarcasm must have bitten because both of them looked down and then Robert cleared his throat and let go of my pocket.

  It was odd, standing there. Wanting to say I was sorry and wanting to be gone all at the same time. So I left and grabbed a glass of iced tea on my way up to your sunflower room. I sat on the bed and read your tale. Oh, Rita. How awful and wonderful, too!

  I’m so glad you are safe and that Charlie was there. What a terrible man he is, that Roy. And how marvelous you were, truly, to give her that peace of mind...that moment of pride when you looked at her and hid your own sorrow in order to help her self-confidence. Once again you prove yourself to be of the finest stock of human there is. I swear it.

  And the way you wrote it all down. It was like I was there with you. Right there under that warning moon. Please tell Roylene I’m proud of her, too. What a wonderful, selfless thing to do.

  My heart, though, aches for you. Yet another loss. And you love her—you opened your home to her and now she’s like another child to you. I suppose life is all about one loss after another. Anna used to say that the Buddhists meditate about reactions. That we cannot control WHAT happens to us, only how we react to it. Well, my darling Rita, you have been a supreme being in that department. I on the other hand have failed miserably.

  I suppose Robert’s homecoming is going to take a lot of time and healing. A lot of careful steps.

  When I was little and my father took me out on the large rocks that jut out into the sea, he’d say, “Gloria, take off your shoes and socks. You must feel each foothold and make sure it is sound before you place the next in front of you. There are some paths you cannot trust with your eyes, test them always to make sure.”

  And then he’d add, “Don’t be afraid of walking on the barnacles. They hurt, it’s true, but at least you know you have stable footing. Barnacles aren’t slippery.”

  So here I am...walking one foot in front of the other...on my own private patch of barnacles.

  I miss you.

  You still haven’t answered my plea for planning a meeting, Rita. I’d love to plan one. Even if it never came to be, at least we could look forward to it.

  Love,

  Glory

  October 3, 1944

  IOWA CITY, IOWA

  Dear Glory,

  Oh, hon. This is unexpected. I didn’t think you’d be the one jostling for position in your own home. I don’t mean that as a slight—it’s just that this particular scenario never entered my mind. I thought for sure those two would give each other a wide berth.

  I’ve been sitting cross-legged in front of my garden for the past half hour, trying to put myself in Robert’s place. The only conclusion I can come to is this—Levi is the easy one to deal with. You, on the other hand...

  You’re not the woman he left, Glory. I guess none of us are the same people we were before this war started, but even if Hitler had never stepped foot in Poland, over the years you’d show Robert aspects of your personality he’d never thought were there. We’re all so multifaceted, and it’s impossible to see all the sides at once.

  I suppose some people would say he left a girl and came back to a woman, but I think that’s oversimplifying things. You were a woman a year and a half ago, just a different kind of woman.

  Robert needs to figure out this new Glory. I’ve got to say, being sassy and petulant isn’t going to help; however, he’s going to have to learn to accept all your emotions, as you’re freer now, and they rise to the surface more easily.

  And you’re going to need to accept Robert’s quirks. He may move quickly in that chair, but acclimating to this new lifestyle will take time.

  I’m not an expert, but I believe marriage is about loving someone enough to accept whatever comes, be it pleasant or unpleasant without a thought of giving up. Sal taught me that.

  Oh, Glory, I wish I could tell you these things with my arm around your shoulders and my head leaning against yours. The sun is brilliant this afternoon. And unlike the cement patio, the earth miraculously still holds the warmth of summer—I can feel it through the denim of my overalls. I’ve got my back against the wheelbarrow, and my paper is supported by some magazines Roylene left behind. On the back of one some Hollywood type is telling me to wear Victory Red lipstick to keep our troops safe. If only it was that simple.

  And yes, you read that right. Roylene is gone.

  Charlie and I brought her to Cedar Falls last Thursday. We acted like two worried parents dropping their youngest off at sleepaway camp. Charlie kept asking her if she needed anything, and I think if she’d requested a samurai sword he would have hopped on a plane and fought General Tojo for one.

  Roylene was quiet and contemplative when we arrived—I’m sure she was think
ing about Little Sal (we thought it best he stay in Iowa City with Irene, after much teary back and forth). She jammed her fingers in her mouth, a habit I thought she’d long since given up.

  The camp was an impressive sight to behold. It’s located on the stately grounds of the Iowa State Teachers College, and I couldn’t help but think, if this were another life, we’d be dropping Roylene off in the students’ dormitory. But this is the life she’s been given, I told myself, and I can only help her live it. I slipped my arm around her shoulders as we took in her new home. Lines of girls dressed smartly in navy blue, sharply tailored suits marched by where we stood. Roylene’s eyes were glued to a gal holding the flag in front—she stood nearly six feet tall and held her figure as fine and elegant as the Statue of Liberty.

  “We best get you checked in,” Charlie said, and picked up her small suitcase.

  “I can’t,” Roylene whispered, and abruptly turned on her heel and started walking, away from us and away from the camp.

  I turned to follow, but Charlie stopped me cold. “Give her some thinking time,” he said, and we wandered the campus for ten minutes or so, until I was just about ready to jump out of my skin.

  We found her sitting on the hood of Charlie’s car, shoes kicked off, her eyes puffy and red. “What am I doin’?” she moaned when we approached.

  I wasn’t sure I had a good enough answer for her. While I stood there with my mouth hanging open in the breeze, Charlie scooted up next to her and calmly said, “Why’d you go and sign up?”

  “I come from nothin’,” Roylene said. “Worse than that, when you really look at it.” She stopped, took a breath. “Did you ever catch a glimpse of what you could be, if you really tried at life? The woman at the enlistment office gave me a peek. This war is terrible, she said, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t give us some opportunities. I could find a place for myself serving my country. Little Sal could always have something to be proud of, instead of feeling like he had to make up for where I came from. I just don’t know if I can leave him. Does that make any sense at all?”