Livy grabbed the menu out of the holder, then put it back as quickly as she had picked it up. “I don’t know why I look at this. I get the same thing every time.”
“Grilled cheese?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
“That’s it.”
“With a cup of tomato soup,” we said in unison. Then laughed. It chipped at the ice block inside my heart. I had to admit it was kind of nice hanging out with Livy again. She was a fun person. Everybody wanted to be her friend.
After the waitress took our order, Livy removed a Yardley frosted lipstick from her purse and spread it over her full, naturally pink lips. She pointed it toward me. “Wanna try it? It’s Pink a Pale.”
“Sure.” I took the lipstick, spread it across my not-so-full lips.
“Looks good on you,” she said.
“Thanks.” Mashing my lips together, I handed it back.
A stretch of awkwardness followed before she leaned forward. “How’s Ron?” The tentative way in which she asked seemed as though she wondered if he was dead.
Imagining that scenario made my stomach clench. I zipped my cross to and fro on the chain. “Still in ’Nam. Halfway through his final tour.”
“How many did he do?”
“Three.”
“Threetours? Why so many?” Livy asked, with genuine concern.
“Dad made him. He said it was the only way he’d ever grow up.”
“Okaaay.” She drew out the word, showing her disapproval. “But that’s cruel.”
“At least he gets the GI Bill. And a pension.”
Livy rolled her eyes. “Screw the GI Bill.Andthe pension. That’s way too long to be in ’Nam. Don’t you agree?”
Of course I agreed. But somehow knowing he would receive added money for his service eased my guilt. “I’m counting down the minutes till he gets home.”
Like all my girlfriends, Livy thought Ron was cool. He may have been shy, but he was known as one of the cutest boys at Central High. After school he’d give me and Livy rides home, and they’d smoke cigarettes together. She’d said he was the brother she never had.
Remembering the better days gave me comfort. My muscles started to relax. “The only good thing that’s happened is he got to take his last R & R in Hawaii. The army usually reserves Honolulu for married guys, but Mama insisted Dad pull strings so she could go see him.”
“When was that?”
“Over New Year’s.” I lowered my eyes. “I wish they’d have let me go.”
“Is your dad still a psycho?” Livy’s hands shot up to her cheeks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
I threw my palms up in a show of solidarity. “I don’t care. The answer is yes. And he’s gotten worse since Mama got back from Hawaii. I think he’s finally wrestling with the truth that his own son hates him.”
“Your dad was somean.”
“Tell me about it. What father makes his only son enlist before college?” Leaning back in the booth, I squeezed my eyes shut. The very thought of it made me nauseous. I was the one to blame.
“Your dad really believes in this war, huh?”
“Of course he does. He’s a colonel!”
The look of despair in Ron’s eyes had nearly killed me the day Dad marched him down to the army recruiting office. It was a Saturday in April, Ron’s senior year in high school. He was not quite eighteen, and the mere thought of war filled him with terror.
“I’m not a soldier, Dad,” Ron said, an hour before they left. “Not all boys are meant to fight wars.” Ron and I had been sitting on his bed listening to his transistor radio when Dad sauntered into the room. Ron’s guitar was in his hands. It lived in his hands.
