I was fairly certain Paul would sooner I starve than go to Mary Lou Jenkins for a loan, but I managed to squeak out a “Gee.”
“Which reminds me,” she said, “I also organize the phone tree.”
“I was under the impression most people don’t have their own phone?”
Again I got that emphatic nod. “That’s absolutely true. It’s almost impossible to get one installed.”
I held up the card and said, “You managed it,” then immediately regretted saying so because I realized it came off sounding slightly confrontational.
“Comes with the job,” she said brightly. “Anyway, the wives who have phones get called first, and then we go door-to-door. I’ve got the whole thing arranged according to who lives where.”
“Is there someone I’m responsible for?” I asked.
“We’ll wait until you’re settled to plug you in. Right now I’ll just call you at the Excelsior if anything comes up. Did you get my message yesterday?”
I cocked my head to one side. “I don’t think so,” I said, slowly.
“I left a message with the front desk. There was a protest yesterday afternoon, and the command issued a restriction of movement order, requesting all active-duty personnel and dependents remain indoors.”
“We saw it. The protest, I mean. On the way back from the beach. But I didn’t get a message,” I said apologetically, and because I wasn’t sure if this was somehow my fault, Iactuallyapologized.
She waved me off. “It looks like it all worked out. We just like to give everyone a heads-up.”
I thought of the young people I’d seen down by the harbor and how they had not come off as very threatening. “Do we know that the protesters meant us any harm?”
“Oh, who knows,” she said, like she could barely be bothered to entertain the question, let alone come up with an answer. “It’s just better for everyone if we don’t tangle with them.”
While we finished our coffees, Mary Lou prattled on about the Officers’ Wives Club she’d left behind back in San Diego, and how the island was too small, unfortunately, to support a full-blown club. “It’s more practical, in this environment, to do something that all women can join, regardless of rank.” She said this last part apologetically, like I was going to be disappointed to learn that I might have to drink punch out of the same bowl as a missile technician’s wife.
“That’s great,” I said firmly, so she knew that I wasn’t someone who gave a rat’s ass about that sort of thing.
“We’re calling the group Community of American Women in Sardinia, or CAWS, for short. Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?”
I agreed that it did.
“Everything’s been very unofficial to this point—supporting the command where we can, fundraising for the Navy Relief Society. But we’re trying to get our meetings on a regular schedule. And to finalize our agenda for the coming year. Are you good with numbers? Because we’re looking for a treasurer.”
I wanted to make friends, but I wasn’t much of a joiner. In college, I had belonged to zero clubs, and I’d have sooner volunteered to shear off my hair than run one. What if I hated CAWS? It’d be too late to bow out without disappointing Mary Lou. “I can barely balance my checkbook,” I lied.
Mary Lou looked surprised, but she rallied quickly. “No matter, we’ll find something for you to do. In the meantime, the commodore’s wife and I are hosting a luncheon this Friday. It’s serving as a sort of bon voyage party for the wife of one of our more senior officers. You’ll come?”
I agreed I would.
“It’s a drive. We’re sending cars to meet the ferry, but since you’re on this side, I’ll just pick you up at the hotel. Does eleven thirty work?”
I told her eleven thirty was perfect, and just like that, my audience with Mary Lou was over. She signaled to the waiter for the check and removed a wallet from her purse, but when I reached for my own bag, which I’d shoved under the table, she told me not to bother. “This is courtesy of the command.”
“That’s so generous,” I said, although what I was thinking was that if she’d known the command was picking up the tab, she should have told me to order food.
32.
MY DAYS BEGAN TO TAKEShape. Each morning, after Paul left for the tender, I lay around for at least a half hour, contemplating my existence. Eventually, I bathed, but since I never had anywhere to be, I usually took a book into the bath with me and read until the water grew cold and my flesh was covered in goose pimples. Then I dressed and wandered over to the piazza, where the waiter at Café Gargiulo began delivering my cappuccino and cornetto without being asked. It was a lovely routine, if not a little dull, so I found that by Friday, I was actually looking forward to my first CAWS function.
Mary Lou picked me up at exactly half past eleven. She drove a mint-green Chevy Caprice, which was such a roomy sedan that, to this day, I have no idea how she navigated it through La Maddalena’s narrow streets.
We drove out of town on the Via Ammiraglio Carlo Mirabello, and she pointed out the Mariscuola La Maddalena, which was the school run by the Italian navy that Tom had told us about on our first day in town. “They show movies in the auditorium on weekends,” said Mary Lou. “But of course they’re in Italian, which doesn’t do most of us much good.”
“Do you speak at all?” I asked.
