It’s as if she’s speaking directly to me, calling me to join her in this fight we will not concede. The fine print on the bottom of the notice states to visit the local Red Cross station to apply.
The Red Cross moved into a vacant space down the street, and there has been a line of people in front of the location since last Monday. Dad will not agree with my decision, but I can’t justify not doing more. I have the training and the registered nurse license needed, and I will be twenty-one in just two weeks. I’m unmarried and a citizen of this country. This is my obligation and my right.
Images of Everett and I running along the shore at the beach flash through my mind. The happy days, the star-filled nights, the sensation of his arms around me, the way he looks in my eyes have felt like nothing I ever imagined feeling. I will always treasure and hold on to those memories, and I pray there will be more because he is my one, but I can’t let love alter what I must do.
The walk down the sidewalk feels longer than the true distance as I keep my sights set toward the mountain tops on the horizon. My pulse races, but not with fear. The decision for my future is unsettling, but clear. I no longer have only two options to choose from. I set the third path to the side until now. Although the troublesome feeling of going against the wishes of my loved ones is a struggle and is weighing heavily on me, it’s what is best. I have a skill the country desperately needs, and it’s difficult to avoid the pleas for help on every street corner.
The magnetic pull toward my future is unbreakable until I approach the door covered with informative Red Cross posters. I pause and place the back of my hand against my mouth, taking a moment to think this through once more.
I’m capable.
I meet the requirements and don’t have a future that’s etched in stone.
With a deep breath held within my lungs, I reach for the door and step inside. One other woman is here at this hour and she’s holding a packet of papers, heading for the door.
“May I help you?” a middle-aged woman dressed in a white uniform with a navy-blue cape and a red cross patch sewn above her left breast asks. Her hair is dark and pinned up in perfect curls, covered by a crisp white cap with a matching embroidered red cross to the one on her chest. Her makeup is pristine, and she looks like the women on the Red Cross posters in town.
“Good morning, yes, I would like to enlist in the Army Nurse Corps.”
The nurse smiles, her vivid, cardinal-red lipstick is a stark contrast against her brilliantly white teeth. “Wonderful, I assume you are familiar with the requirements to apply?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” I reach into my pocketbook, retrieving the paperwork. “I’m two weeks shy of turning twenty-one, but I would like to get the process started.”
“Certainly,” the nurse says, taking the papers from my hand. “I have some paperwork you will need to fill out while I enter your information into the database. Do you have questions I can answer before you proceed with this process?”
I smile to match hers. “No, Ma’am, I’ve grown up here on base. My father is a commander in the Navy, my brothers are both enlisted, and I feel the calling is in my blood, as well.” I might have joined the Navy Nurse Corps if the age requirement wasn’t twenty-eight, but everything falls into place where needed, right?
“It’s helpful to be familiar with military protocol. We are requiring basic training and some course work for new recruits. Some training might be physically vigorous, so I feel it’s necessary to warn you for what is ahead.”
I wasn’t sure what they might involve in training, but I’m not surprised to hear her statements. “Of course, I would expect nothing less.” It will be in my best interest to exercise more than I have been.
“Once you are through with your paperwork, I will submit your application to the Army Nurse Corps, and you will probably hear from an officer shortly. Once I submit the paperwork, please understand that the signature on the form you are signing is a commitment and agreement to follow through with your intention to serve.”
“Yes, Ma’am, I understand.” I place the pen down on the paper and begin filling out the questionnaire.
“This lifestyle can be quite exotic too. You will be able to travel and see parts of the world you never imagined. The Army is truly an opportunity of a lifetime and I’m sure you will be happy with your decision.”
I take in her words as I continue to write out my information. To see the world is a dream, but I’m not foolish enough to think that this type of travel will be luxurious. We are amid a war, and there is nothing glorious about this. I am here to put my skills to use and help in any way possible.
Within a few minutes, I complete the paperwork and hand over my lifelong commitment. “Thank you for your time,” I offer.
“Thank you for your desire to serve our country,” she replies.
Once I step back onto the curb, I feel a sense of fulfillment and relief that I made my decision and there is no turning back. The day looks a little brighter, and the sun feels a little warmer. “Is this whatpurposefeels like?” I whisper to the wind, asking Mom as if she were walking beside me.
On my walk back to the hospital where I will continue volunteering for the time being, thoughts of Everett slip back into my mind—thoughts I tried to block out as I filled out the forms at the Red Cross. Will he still stand by me and respect my decision when I tell him what I’ve done? Will he feel hurt that I didn’t ask his opinion before I signed the papers? More importantly, will we be together in fifty years, sitting on rocking chairs, holding hands on our porch?
Or will I remember this day as one where I endedus?
I pass the small diner I often visit for lunch or a Sunday morning brunch occasionally. The place is still fairly empty. Many people are too scared to leave their homes unless necessary. We are all justified to feel that way.
“Lizzie!” I turn toward the sound of my name, finding Audrey and her mother walking out of the diner. I didn’t notice her while walking by, so I’m caught off guard to find them staring at me with curious eyes. I can assume they might be curious why I’m down here alone at this time of day.
With an attempt to act casual, I run up to my best friend and wrap my arms around her neck. “I didn’t know you were going out for breakfast this morning.”
Audrey has been working long hours in one of the field hospitals near the Marine base where she was placed to spend her time rather than in the Naval hospital where she took a nursing position. I step over to her mother next and embrace her tightly. She can’t hide the sadness within her eyes, no matter how much makeup she applies. She has looked the same since I first found Audrey this past Tuesday. It was a long couple of days left wondering if she was all right, but luckily, she and her family are fine too. “Mrs. Evans, how are you doing today?” I ask.
“Oh, you know, same as everyone else walking around with a look of hopelessness in their eyes, I suppose.” She isn’t shy about what she’s feeling, and I believe it’s best to speak one’s mind. A person bottling up their emotions will erupt at some point. There is no simple way to digest the shift in our lives.
