“And your knee,” I added.
He slid a hand down his leg and knocked on the good one. “I have two. Remember?” We both chuckled, and then he stretched an arm around me from the side, pulling me into his bare chest. My lips were kissing his turquoise cross, and I could smell his woodsy aroma.
Once he let go, I had a hard time looking at him. After a few seconds he said, “I hope your brother makes it home safely, Suzannah.”
The sound of my name in his throaty, Pennsylvania accent caused the first throb of sadness I’d felt since leaving home. It washed over meunexpectedly. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep the tears away. I did not want him to leave.
“Harold, please go to the blue tent in the back for your diabetes medicine. Those of you hanging from the scaffolds, please come down,” a man announced from the stage. He said something else, but between the whir of the helicopter and the chatter around us, his words were impossible to discern.
Handsome Johnny turned to Leon. “I think I can get us pretty close to the front.”
The boys gave us one last look. I lifted my hand to wave goodbye. Watching them step over the flattened fence, soon to disappear into the monumental crowd, I memorized the back of Leon’s dishwater-blond waves, hoping against hope I’d be lucky enough to spot them again.
That Livy Foster could make me go from loving her one minute to wanting to strangle her the next. Out of nowhere my mind drifted back three years. To the last weekend we had spent together. Two weeks before she betrayed me. For the second time.
Three Years Earlier
Home
Memphis, Tennessee
Thursday, August 4, 1966
Ron’s first letter home lay face down on my chest. I’d devoured it ten times already, scrutinizing every word. It didn’t seem like he was still mad at me for causing his enlistment, but he didn’t sound mad at Dad either. Sarcastic maybe, but not mad. And that would have been impossible.
August 1, 1966
Fort Bragg, NC
Dear Family,
Well, Basic Training is over. Guess what, Dad? I’m a marksman now. I know how to shoot an M16. Not something I’m proud of but I know it makes you happy. Turns out I’m a pretty fast runner, too. My sergeant asked me if I was a sprinter or a running back. I told him I was a defensive end benchwarmer but thanked him for asking.
I got my induction cut. Y’all wouldn’t recognize me. I look like Uncle Fester. (He’s on The Addams Family, Dad.) No wonder they say a crewcut feels like a Brillo pad. It’s a good thing you can’t see me, SuSu. You’d be laughing your butt off.
I’m taking my four days leave in Myrtle Beach with three buddies in my unit. They’ve become my brothers. Most of them didn’t attend college. (None of their families could afford it.) Only one of my brothers, Freddy C, got to go to college before Basic. He got drafted as soon as he graduated. He’s the one good thing about the army. We’ve become as thick as the blood running through our veins in only two months.
After the leave we’ll all report back for our flight to Vietnam. The sergeant says we better rest while we can. We won’t have another break for a year, unless we get R & R sooner, which he said will never happen. I’ll write again when we make it over there.
Peace,
Ron
P.S. SuSu, please don’t scratch Cuda’s hubcaps when you pull away from the curb.
P.P.S. Have so much fun at the Beatles concert. I would kill to be there with you. No pun intended.
Satisfied that he was not mad at me—at least not at the time he wrote the letter—I rolled off my bed, then grabbed both my suitcase and Ron’s guitar. I turned out the bedroom light with my chin.
In no time I made it to the bottom of the stairs, a bit out of breath from the heavy load. The luscious smell of fresh-baked banana bread wafted from the kitchen. Poking my head inside the living room, I found Mama in her favorite chair, reading. Like every day, she wasdressed as if she would be meeting Queen Elizabeth. Her husband expected it. His wife was a representation of him.
“I finished my book,” I said, chewing my bottom lip in hopeful anticipation. “Can you please take me to Livy’s now? She’s waiting on me.” Livy was my very best friend, and her home, my refuge. There were many reasons for that, but chief among them was the strict commandment in our household—no dancing allowed. That rule didn’t exist in Livy’s family. Dancing wasn’t against their religion.
Mama turned off the lamp, gathered her purse. “I’m proud of you, honey. Is that your fifteenth or sixteenth book?”
“Eighteenth.”
Elation spread across Mama’s face as she clapped her hands together. “You’re going to win that summer reading challenge. I just know it!”
