Home Front Girls

by Suzanne Hayes

  “What do you want me to say?” asked Robert, smoothing back his hair. His hair that was growing in again, but there’s gray there, Rita. And he was squinting at Levi. There were tears for that lost friendship, too. So many tears.

  “Nothing,” said Levi. “There’s nothing to say. I’m sorry, Robert. I’m sorry I tried to take something from you that we all know was always yours.”

  The wind blew through the trees. I heard my heart beating in my ears. This was it. He was leaving. He looked at me, into me and then past me like he’d seen a ghost.

  “You leavin’, Levi?” asked Robbie. “I don’t want you to leave.” He ran to Levi, who scooped him up. My thoughts and eyes went to Robert, who I know longed to do the same thing, but couldn’t.

  “Hey, little man. You got your dad back now. You don’t need me around anymore.”

  He tried to set Robbie down, but that child’s legs went to jelly.

  “How about this, how about I go out to California and make a pretty penny. Then you and your mother, your father and baby Corrine can come out and visit me. Whaddaya say?”

  The invitation seemed to do the trick. Robbie squirmed away and took off chasing Corrine, yelling, “She’s no baby! She’s a big old sore thumb!”

  “I guess that’s that,” said Levi.

  “Seems so,” said Robert.

  Levi rubbed some dirt off his pants and walked away. Down the path that I’d seen him run up a thousand times, and I knew I’d never see him there again.

  “Damn, girl. Just go to him if you want to...” said Robert, noticing my stare. “I can’t stop you, and right now I don’t know if I want to.”

  I ran down the road after Levi. It was an easy thing to do because for the first time I knew what had to be done. There were no more questions in my heart.

  “Levi!” I shouted. “Wait up!”

  He turned to face me. The trees along our road arched over him, framing his masculine perfection. It’s a vision I’ll never forget. His nose was bleeding and he was wiping it away with a handkerchief. One I’d made for him.

  “You coming with me?” he asked, his eyes shining.

  For a moment I was sorry I’d run after him. It seems that all I do is hurt that man.

  “No, Levi. I just wanted to tell you a proper goodbye. And a proper ‘I’m sorry’—and a proper ‘thank you.’”

  “My ma always told me that true friends don’t have to say those things. Are we still friends, Glory?”

  “Always and forever,” I said.

  He began to walk away again and then turned around.

  “Just so you know,” he said, “I always knew it would be him. I knew it that night long ago at the Sadie Hawkins dance, and I knew it before we even kissed each other while he was gone. I knew this couldn’t happen to us. Seems to me there are people in the world that you love...but that love isn’t meant for the real world. It just can’t work out. It was like a fairy tale, wasn’t it, Glory?”

  The tears were hot, the tears on my face. They stung and pulled at my swelling eye. “No, Levi. It was a lie I wanted to tell myself. A lie I made myself believe and it was so, so selfish of me.”

  We just stood there, looking at each other.

  “Do you mind if I think of it as a fairy tale?”

  I didn’t know what to say, Rita, so I borrowed a line from when we were kids.

  “I’m not the boss of you,” I said.

  “Damn, girl,” said Levi, shaking his head and laughing. “I’d kiss you on the cheek, Glory, if I didn’t think that would be dangerous. Better I leave now, okay? I’ll write. I promise.”

  The “promise” lingered in the air between our bodies.

  Then, in one of those fine moments that make up the tragic quilt of life, he was gone.

  I walked back up the road and sat next to my husband on the ground.

  “Can you ever forgive me?” I asked as we watched the children wander around the morning garden.

  He didn’t answer. My breath started to come out all shallow.

  “Did he ask you to go with him?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “And you came back to me?”

  “Of course I did,” I said.

  It seemed as if Robert didn’t know how to react. I wanted to reach out to him, Rita...but I knew it was too soon.

  “And you want me to forgive you?” he asked, not able to look me in the eye.

  I took a deep breath. “Yes. I want you to forgive me. I want you to forgive both of us.”

  We sat there for a long time listening to the children play. Letting the sun warm us.

  Finally, he broke the silence. “I don’t know. That’s all I have, Glory. Is that good enough for now?”

  “Yes. Anything that lets me stay here with you is good enough, Robert.”

  And it is. It IS good enough for now. Isn’t it?

  Love,

  Glory

  October 21, 1944

  ROCKPORT, MASSACHUSETTS

  Dear Rita,

  Life is strange here. Robert hasn’t said a word about Levi, or my confession. And I haven’t brought it up, either. But it hangs between us. It tugs down at the end of our smiles.

  We went into town for the first time as a family to get some shopping done. Robert is so strong. I can get the wheelchair in and out of the trunk of the car, but as soon as he can he takes over for me and wheels that thing around like nobody’s business. He’s so handsome. I think he’s even better-looking now than before. I told him so. I think he believed me.

  We couldn’t get much done, as the local hero (Robert) garnered so much attention from everyone. I’m surprised there wasn’t an impromptu parade. I’d have welcomed one, to be honest. I felt some cold eyes on me. Robert felt them, too, but that’s when he grabbed my hand and kissed it.

  That night he snuck out of bed again. But he wasn’t gone long...

  And when he came back inside I turned to him and kissed him like a wife should kiss her husband. I didn’t know what else to do. And it felt right.

  Anyway, that’s what’s going on here.

  Love,

  Glory

  P.S. You know what Robert wanted me to make him for lunch yesterday? A sandwich on white bread with peanut butter and...get this...jelly! Have you ever heard of such a combination? I tried it, though. It’s good. Reminds me of the sweet-and-sour chicken at the Chinese food pagoda.

  October 31, 1944 (Full moon tonight...spooky!)

  IOWA CITY, IOWA

  Dear Glory,

  I haven’t written in a few weeks because I’m giving you and your family a rest from outside meddling. Still, I find myself thinking about your situation every day. I’m not sure I would have told Robert, but, as my mother always said, “The truth comes out, whether you like it or not.” It was rising to the surface, anyway, right? You just stuck your hand in the water and yanked it up, saving it some time.

  Healing takes patience, which is something I’m trying to come to terms with.

  Tonight, I’ve been sitting on the front porch passing out oatmeal cookies to the neighborhood children (recipe to follow). Before the war, the local schools hosted apple dunking contests and the neighbors gave candy treats to the children on Halloween. Now, the little ghosts and goblins traipse from door to door, asking for bits of aluminum and tin, shouting, “Scraps to beat the Japs!” instead of “Trick or Treat!”

  But the children are snug in their beds at this hour, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see a tumbleweed blowing down this deserted street. It’s chilly, but I’m wrapped in a heavy quilt. The porch light aids the moon in providing light. I don’t want to go inside. If I didn’t worry about the baby waking in the middle of the night, I’d sleep out here with the rabbits and squirrels.

  Little Sal is keeping the lonelines
s at bay, to a certain extent. On the days I don’t work for Dr. Aloysius Martin, I lose myself in my grandson’s eyes, which have finally found their color, a deep gray. It’s been a while since I’ve taken care of such a young child, so when he settles in for his afternoon nap, I sneak one in as well. Some days I awake with a start, forgetting the year or where I am. My eyes search the room for proof that Sal existed. If I don’t spot any, I convince myself I’m still in Chicago, still the kind of woman who sneaks into back alleys with gangsters. I lay there trembling, wondering if I really did find my way to the tailor shop, or if that was all a dream and I made the wrong choice and ended up with nothing.

  Maybe it’s easier to imagine the past two decades never happened than deal with the events of the past year.

  Writing to you helps immeasurably. Roylene also helped, though she seems farther and farther away each day I don’t receive a letter from her. I weave romantic tales for Little Sal, stories he won’t remember, though I hope hearing about his parents will keep them present somehow. I tell him epic tales of Grandpa Sal’s heroism, which strangely has a distancing effect for me. Was he really mine?

  Tomorrow is All Souls Day. I don’t think I’ll go to mass. I need to spend the time remembering Sal’s soul is with me. It’s getting harder and harder to remember that lately.

  I also think I’m going to head to the American Legion to see if I can be of more assistance. Funny how Victory seems within our grasp, yet there appears to be more work to do than ever. Mrs. Kleinschmidt is so enthralled by the single-mindedness of her purpose she’s shaking like a Model T.

  And... I very much like the idea of a visit, Glory. It gives me something wonderful to wait for. Now that’s a change, isn’t it?

  Love,

  Rita

  Oatmeal Drop Cookies

  1 cup flour

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  ½ teaspoon salt

  1½ cups rolled oats

  ½ cup seedless raisins

  ¼ cup brown sugar (firmly packed)

  1 egg, beaten

  ¼ cup dark molasses (I like to use blackstrap, but some can’t handle the strong taste)

  ¼ cup orange marmalade

  ½ cup shortening, melted

  Mix and sift flour, baking powder and salt; stir in rolled oats and raisins. Stir brown sugar into egg; beat well. Beat molasses, marmalade and shortening into egg mixture. Gradually stir in oatmeal mixture. Drop from teaspoon on lightly greased baking sheet. Bake in moderately hot oven (375°F) for 12–15 minutes.

  October 31, 1944

  V-mail from Marguerite Vincenzo to Seaman Tobias Vincenzo

  Toby,

  Remember my stories about the man who lived on the moon and ate Swiss cheese all night? He’ll take care of you. Draw your soul into a tight ball and toss it to him. He’ll keep it safe.

  And that way, I’ll be able to see it smiling down on me on nights like this.

  Don’t die. Refuse to. Come back to Iowa and let me fix what the war has broken. Sleep in your bed with your baby snuggled against your chest. Eat the meals I prepare. Sit on the front porch and watch the new world unfold. You have a place in it. I’m counting on that.

  Happy birthday, baby.

  I love you.

  Ma

  [Letter never sent.]

  November 6, 1944

  CEDAR FALLS, IOWA (WAVE TRAINING CAMP)

  Dear Mrs. Vincenzo,

  I’m going to Hawaii! Well, I’m going to California and then to Hawaii. It’s mostly the yeomen (clerical gals) who get to travel, but when the lieutenant found out I had kitchen experience, she decided to send me to work in the Officers’ Club. Doesn’t that just float your boat! Ha! Another girl, Maxine, grew up in her granddad’s diner. She’s going, too. We get along all right, so I have high hopes.

  Maxine says pineapples grow everywhere on the islands. If that’s the case, I’ll have to learn to cook with them real fast. I’ve never had one, have you? I bet they’re sweet. It’ll be nice to eat something sweet all the time. I thought about sending one to Little Sal if they’ll let me, but I don’t think I’ll do that. I don’t want his teeth to rot before giving them a fair chance.

  Basic training hasn’t been too tough. Lots of marching, cleaning and even marksmanship! You know, when I joined up the officers said I could free up a stateside navy boy so he could go help Toby fight in the Pacific. I am doing that, but I feel I’m doing much more. The officers keep telling us we’re “vital” to the war effort, in so many ways. I like that word—vital. It makes me feel better about leaving you and Little Sal. I had some dark days after you dropped me at the camp. I’ll tell you about it sometime, but let’s say I was just about ready to go AWOL again. I made it to the fence and turned around.

  I don’t know what brought me back. I did think about what Charlie said when you sent me off. I also think about how puffed up with pride you get when people ask you about Toby. I want Little Sal to think about me that way someday, when he gets older and can understand things.

  So thank you, Mrs. Vincenzo, for everything you’ve done for me. I won’t ever let it slip my mind. Please give my sweet boy a kiss from his mama, and know that this letter is a hug for you.

  Love,

  Roylene Vincenzo (I like to write it) Officer’s Cook, SC, U.S. Navy

  P.S. I’ve enclosed a letter for Roy. I know we left things real bad, but he’s still my pop and I’m going far away. You can just slip it under the alley-side door of the tavern, so you don’t have to see him. Thank you in advance.

  November 6, 1944

  CEDAR FALLS, IOWA (WAVE TRAINING CAMP)

  Dear Pop,

  I had to go. You know that, don’t you? I’m not Mama. I’m not running from you, though I have good reason. You got to admit it.

  If you let yourself, you can be proud of me. I’m doing a good job, everyone says so. I’m a hard worker. You taught me that way of living. And that’s something I have to admit.

  The navy is sending me to Hawaii. I can hardly believe it. I wonder if it’s going to match the place I already built in my head. I hope so.

  Well, I want to say I’m leaving with no hard feelings. I’m going to walk on the plane thinking you feel the same. Even if you don’t. I’ve got my own mind now.

  But if you do feel the same, why don’t you walk over to Mrs. Vincenzo’s house and visit with your grandbaby? She might not be happy to see you at first, which you got to understand, but if you put in a little effort, she’ll match it.

  Well, take care of yourself, Pop. I’ll see you after the war.

  Your daughter,

  Roylene

  November 19, 1944

  ROCKPORT, MASSACHUSETTS

  Dear Rita,

  Did you know that it was a woman who started the tradition of Thanksgiving as a set day and a national holiday? I didn’t. I learn so much, every day. It’s amazing what happens when you open yourself up to the world. It has so much to give. My cup runneth...as they say.

  After I got your last letter I went back through my box (I keep all of your letters in this pretty tin candy box that my father gave me ages ago. It has vines and flowers all over it and it reminded me of you) and I looked back to last year’s All Souls letter. So much has changed since then. So many hopes and dreams shattered and built back up. We’re both changed now, you and I. For better or worse. But I couldn’t love you more. Or ache for your letters more, either!

  How I feel so lonesome in this house with Robert home, I will never understand. I feel like a tree in the backyard, all bare now with no leaves. Waiting, waiting for the snow to bury me so I can sleep for a little while.

  What an inappropriate time for all of these somber feelings. The war is going well, and the holidays are...well...here already. My goodness. Time flies and stays still in the same breath.

  I’m sad that you are missi
ng Roylene, but I’m certain you are so, so proud of her. She’ll be back, Rita. And you will have this time to bond with Little Sal. How lucky she is to have her baby being held in such safe arms.

  What are your plans for Thanksgiving? I’m preparing for a proper meal this year. And I’ll have a full table. I have so much to be thankful for. Robbie’s improving health. Robert home alive. And my friendship with you.

  I wish you could be here. Or I could be there. I want to cook next to you and be able to reach out my hands if you need one to hold. When you think of Sal, please try not to miss him too much. He’s alive in the eyes of your grandson.

  I worry about you all alone. Will Charlie come? Mrs. K.? Have you had word from Toby? Or Roylene? I’d rather be there in your world than here in mine.

  You know, now that I think of it, that’s exactly how I feel. Like a tree. Rooted in some ground I can’t quite figure out. And all these things go on around me all the time. I provide shade and comfort and oxygen. People admire me or simply take no notice. I’m neither here nor there.

  But my branches? They reach for the sun. Oh, Rita, how my arms ache as if they were reaching and reaching.

  I’m always searching Robert’s eyes for some sort of redemption. And I want to simply tell him that I’m more in love with him than I ever was. That I don’t think about Levi anymore. I mean, besides a fond memory of when we were all kids. But I’m afraid he won’t believe me. But I know you do. God, how I love my Robert. It’s as if I forgot who he was, or something. I can’t believe I ever thought I had a choice. He’s my love. My one and only love.

  I was giving Robbie a bath the other evening. We were listening to music on the radio. I was singing and humming along. I suppose my mind must have wandered off because he asked me the most astounding thing. He asked, “Mama, why do I miss you and you are right here with me?”