“It’s the last of what we have. I had it in the freezer. I’ll drive off base next week to see if other grocery stores have a better supply.”
Moments after everyone settles down at the table and helps themselves to each dish, Dad takes a swig of wine and gently places the glass down, keeping his gaze set on the red liquid sloshing around. “Elizabeth, the only time you make meatloaf is when you want to cheer us up, or if you have something you need to tell us that will probably cause a storm of anger. I’m eager to hear which of these situations is your motivation this evening,” Dad says.
Everett chokes on the mouthful of wine he has in his mouth and clears his throat. “You see, Elizabeth, here, doesn’t care for meatloaf all that much, but she knows we enjoy the meal. So, when she makes this dish, it’s easy to tell there’s something hiding behind the mouthwatering taste she’s distracting us with,” James adds.
It is truly difficult living in a house full of men who have far too much training in intelligence. I can never hide much of anything from them, which is why I’m nearly positive Dad had a blind eye to my rendezvous with Everett throughout the summer. Surely, he knew something was going on, but decided not to let on until that day at the air show.
“We’ve all had a tough week, and I thought it might be nice to enjoy your favorite meal tonight,” I say, sounding sheepish compared to the way I intended to sound.
“I know what this is about,” Lewis says. “You finally decided which job you’re going to take, didn’t you?” Lewis and I have had many conversations on the topic over the last couple months. Neither position would take me on until after the new year, so time has been ticking by slowly as I have weighed each option over and over, not able to decide until this week.
“As a matter of fact, yes, I have made a decision, and that is what I want to share with you all tonight.” From the corner of my eye, I watch Everett polish off the wine from his glass.
“Clearly, you’ve shared the news with Everett already,” Dad says before clearing his throat and dabbing his napkin across his lips. “Well, let’s hear it then.”
I’ve been clutching my napkin between my fist for the last minute of this conversation and I notice the whites of my knuckles glowing from beneath the table. I release the napkin and fold my hands together, preparing myself for the wrath I expect.
“Well, I decided, without influence, to apply for the Army Nurse Corps today.” I’m not sure whose fork hits the fine china first, but a succession of loud clinks pierces my ears.
“You all realize you will probably deploy soon, correct?” Dad asks with despair in his eyes.
“Yes, Elizabeth, and the last thing we need is to worry about you being deployed. Why would you do this after everything we talked about?” Lewis asks.
“For the record, before anyone else says another word, Everett just found out moments before you got home. He was not aware of my decision when I made it. None of you agree with what I feel is important for my life. I did what I needed to do.”
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” Dad asks. The wooden legs from his chair scrape against the floor just before he walks directly out the front door.
James has resumed eating the meatloaf, keeping his eyes fixed on the plate of food. Everett reaches beneath the table for my hand and collapses his fingers between mine. “You should go talk to him,” he suggests.
I place my napkin down on my chair as I stand up and follow Dad’s path out the front door. He has a cigarette pinched between his lips and he’s staring up at the stars. “Last week wasn’t enough for you?” he asks.
“On the contrary, last week proved to me that I’m cut from the same cloth as you, James, and Lewis. I helped so many men over the last week, and though it was extremely challenging to maintain my composure while watching so much death and destruction, I felt like I was there in that place because it was my calling. If we’re going to war, our men are going to need the same care overseas as they did here.”
“I understand what it feels like to follow this ‘calling’ you are referring too. However, this war will not end anytime soon, Elizabeth, and what you witnessed here this past week could be much worse overseas. You do not know where you might end up. So many countries are a part of this, and we are allies to half of them. I lived through the first World War, Elizabeth. It was a time no one should have to live through twice, but here we are, moving forward just over twenty years later.”
“I’m not part of the cause, Dad. I want to be a piece of the solution. My intentions are not to join in a battle. I want to help those who are fighting on behalf of our country and the allies. It’s my right to feel this way.”
“Your mother didn’t want this for you. She was adamant about you staying out of the military.”
“Mom stood up for what was moral, and she fought for changes and women’s empowerment. Women’s rights are what she supported, Dad, and this is my right.”
“I’m at a loss for words, Elizabeth. I can’t tell you I’m disappointed in you because frankly, I’m quite proud, but you are my daughter, and I am terrified for your well-being.” Dad finally turns to look at me, pulling the cigarette from his lips. “There’s not much else I can say.”
“I understand,” I respond, pressing up on my toes to kiss his cheek. “Supper is getting cold.”
I was expecting to hear some shouting, more glare radiating from his eyes, but there is only sadness written across his face. It’s the way I have felt any time he has had to deploy or take part in a dangerous mission. I have felt that way about Lewis and James several times too. On top of that, I dealt with losing Mom. No one else has focused on the anguish I have lived with over the years, and if they have, they were good at hiding it. “Is Dad calling General Marshall tomorrow to pull your application?” James asks, holding his glass of wine in hand.
“No, Dad is learning how to accept that I’m a grown woman and he will move on just like we’ve all had to.”
Everett is pale, his knee is bouncing, and he hasn’t touched his food since I left. “Your food is going to get cold. Please eat.”
Everett looks up at me, then casts his glance toward the front door. “Elizabeth, I need to show your father some respect still. I’m in his house.”
I take my seat and whip my napkin across my lap and fold my hands down on top of the table. “Fine. We can all eat cold food, except for James.”
James gives me a look like I’ve insulted him. It wasn’t my intention, but it’s hard to be kind when there is such a lack of support within this family. Dad re-enters the house, bringing in a waft of smoke behind him. He doesn’t smoke often, only when he is feeling anxious. He has been smoking like a chimney over the past week, but it’s understandable.
“Please, eat your supper before it gets cold. Elizabeth was kind enough to prepare it for us all,” Dad says. I’m a bit surprised to hear his calm tone and change of attitude, but I don’t question it. Maybe I said the words he needed to hear.
