Mrs. Lieutenant: A Sharon Gold Novel (34 page)

"Vietnam!" Robert says. "You can't be
serious."

Thank you, Robert. We thought that's what
you'd say. Yet Robert's shock had to be sincere; they couldn't risk
coaching him.

"This is a chance to do something for my
country," Jim says.

Sharon hesitates; her words can’t seem
rehearsed in any way. "Do you have to make the decision now?” she
says. “Or can you wait until you're at your first assignment and
see what you think then?"

Robert nods. "That makes more sense," he
says. "At least you'll get a feel for the real army, not just the
student army."

"What makes you think I’ll change my
mind?"

"Look, pal, it's your funeral," Robert
says.

Sharon glances at Kim. Her expression doesn't
change.

"I don't see why you can't wait," Robert
continues. "It won't make any difference at your first
assignment."

"Kim, what do you think?" Sharon asks.

Kim's voice can hardly be heard. "Whatever
Jim wants. He's the head of the family and he makes the decisions.
I just want to be with him."

Not too much, just right.

Sharon doesn't look at Jim. She says, "It
sounds like the two of you have a strong foundation together. If
you wait to make your decision until your first permanent duty
station, then you'll be better informed."

Jim throws his cards down. "I don’t need
anyone’s advice!"

**

Sharon trembles after Jim and Kim leave the
apartment. How can Jim be so pigheaded?

Robert kisses her. "Has Jim's decision
bothered you that much?"

Sharon wants to share with him, she really
does. Yet she's worried that Robert might let something slip to
Jim. Instead she says, "I was up for a pleasant evening. How about
going to the Officers Club for coffee or something?"

Robert checks his watch. "We can go over for
a little while."

Nancy Sinatra sings "These Boots Are Made For
Walkin'" as Robert drives towards the post. Sharon fingers her
purse strap. If Jim wants to volunteer for Vietnam, Kim will have
to accept his decision. She'll have to wait for his return. And
pray.

Sharon herself doesn't know anyone who's been
to Vietnam. Her sorority sister Debra told her that two Jewish men
from her small Illinois town served in Vietnam. One was newly
married. The entire year his wife would come with his parents to
Friday night services at the synagogue to pray for him. And as a
radio operator he could sometimes connect with ham operators around
the world who would arrange for him to talk to his wife. At least
for those moments she knew he was alive.

The other Vietnam soldier was his cousin, a
twin. "While one twin served as a medic in Vietnam, his brother
served a hellish time in Bolivia in the Peace Corps, never sure
when he went to bed at night if he would wake up in the morning,"
Debra said. "At least the brother in Vietnam knew who the enemy
was. His brother in Bolivia didn't; he slept with his gun the whole
time. And he didn't tell his mother until he was safely home."

Then Debra went on to say, "The twin in
Vietnam did a heroic act. He had finished his tour. He was safe.
Just before he left his firebase an urgent call came for a medvac.
There was no medic available. He volunteered to go out one more
time. And came back alive."

Would Jim come back alive?

As they approach the entrance to Ft. Knox,
the MP motions for Robert to stop the car. This surprises Sharon.
Since Robert attached the student sticker on his car, neither she
nor he has been stopped at the entrance.

The MP approaches Robert's side of the car.
"Step out of the car and open your trunk."

Robert obeys.

She sits in the car, her palms twitching, the
minutes forever. Then Robert returns to his side of the car and
slides in.

The MP leans in at the window and salutes
him. "Sorry, sir."

Robert starts the car.

"What happened?"

"Earlier tonight a whole load of rifles was
stolen from a warehouse on the post. The MPs are stopping cars and
checking for the rifles."

Sharon laughs. "How would rifles fit in the
Fiat's tiny trunk? And why did he apologize to you?"

"Because," Robert says as he drives towards
the Officers Club, "they are stopping only enlisted men, not
officers."

"Only enlisted men would steal the
rifles?"

"Officers are gentlemen."

Sharon stares at Robert.

"Because of my student sticker the MP didn't
realize I was an officer – just like at the picnic. If he had, he
wouldn't have stopped me. That's why he was apologizing."

How outrageous! More evidence of the army's
rigid division of officers and enlisted men into a class system.
It's the same as those college campuses where not being in a
sorority or fraternity means you are forever and ever on the
outside. Untermenschen
.
And treated as such.

"Robert," she says, then stops. Tonight she
wants to pretend all is right with the world.

“
Do not attempt to give a tea unless you have a
lovely cloth for the table and a tea service.”
Mrs
.
Lieutenant
booklet

Kim brushes her hair in the bathroom after
returning from Sharon and Robert’s apartment. The curls flatten as
she snags the brush through them, then spring up as she releases
the bristles.

While Robert and Jerry go to Ft. Holabird
next for MI training, Nelson's assignment is Ft. Hood in Texas and
Jim's is Ft. Jackson in South Carolina. Once back in the South, if
Jim hasn't already committed to Vietnam, her friends,
yes, her
friends
, think he might change his mind. Besides, they said, in
time he would get over his jealousy.

Kim trembles. Even if by some miracle Jim
doesn't volunteer for Vietnam now, he is likely to be assigned a
Vietnam tour during his two-year commitment.

At the Officers Club one night Kim overheard
a pilot talking to one of his buddies. "I met this lieutenant on an
in-country R and R on an island off Nam. One night his platoon
takes fire from a friendly village. The next morning he goes into
the village and complains to the head guy. The head guy said it's
not happening. The second night the lieutenant loses a couple of
men and two others have to be medvaced out. He goes back to the
village and the head guy says no again. The third night two more
men are wounded by fire coming from the village. The next day he
goes into the village and kills everyone – men, women and
children."

She wasn't thinking of that story when she
took the pills. Nor had she been thinking of the story about
American POWs she'd heard once at church choir practice before
she'd met Jim. "Hell, the Vietcong don't even follow the Geneva
convention," the man said. "They torture 'em, then kill 'em."

Maybe all these stories are in her head,
demanding to be noticed. And acted upon?

"Kim!" Jim calls from the bedroom. "Are you
coming to bed?"

He's in the mood – she's expected to be
responsive.

She lays her brush down. Maybe he should
think about being without her at some firebase in Vietnam. Without
her responsiveness. He can rub up next to his rifle.

**

It is the next morning. A Saturday. Jim is
home.

"We need some things at the commissary. Want
to come with?" she asks him as they finish breakfast.

"Can't you go by yourself? No one's going to
shoot a clerk in front of you there."

Kim gasps. She hasn't said anything to Jim
about the shooting since the night at the store. Why would he bring
it up now?

"I ... I ..."

Jim walks by her towards the bedroom. "I'll
take you."

Kim picks her purse off the couch.

He comes back into the living room. In his
left hand he has the gun. With his right hand he places bullets in
the chamber.

Pain stabs above her left eye. "Why ... why
are you taking that with?"

"I'm going to go over to the range and
practice while you're at the commissary. That way the trip won't be
a total waste of time."

In the car the humid air plasters her curls
to her forehead and her dress to her back and thighs. The Turtles
sing "Happy Together" on the radio.

Did she ever go anywhere special with her
parents? She doesn't remember any trips farther than their nearest
neighbors or the church. She closes her eyes. If she concentrates
hard enough she might recall a trip to a swimming hole or some
other fun place. She opens her eyes. How childish – there was never
such a trip. Her parents clawed a living from their farm. They
didn't have time for foolishness.

At the entrance to the post the MP motions
for Jim to stop the car. "What the hell does he want?" Jim says.
"Can't he see my sticker?"

The MP says to Jim, "Please step out of the
car and open your trunk."

Jim gets out of the car. The stabs in Kim's
head escalate, an aura of colors skips across her vision.

A second MP, a young black man, peers through
her open window. "Sorry, mam, for bothering you," he says. "I just
have to check the interior."

"Hey, you, get away from my wife!" Jim
screams from the other side of the car. He jerks his car door open
and yanks the gun from under the seat.

Oh no. Oh no.

Jim balances the gun on the car roof and
screams again, "Get away from my wife!"

"Put the gun down, sir." The MP steps away
from Kim's window, one hand pointing at Jim, the other reaching for
the flap on his holster.

The pain blinds her. She doesn't need to see
to know what's going to happen. Her parents' car skids towards the
telephone pole.

"Jim," she says.

"Get away from my wife."

"Jim, please Jim."

"Put the gun down."

From behind Jim the first MP yells, "Put the
gun down now!"

Jim turns towards the first MP, then back to
the MP near Kim. His gun still in his hand.

A single shot.

Her screams detonate, ricocheting inside the
car as if they themselves are bullets. She waits for the young
soldier to fall, his pool of blood billowing towards her.

Jim slumps to the ground.

**

A nurse gives Kim a sedative and draws the
curtain around the clinic bed.

It's like the killing at the store. A
mistake. A terrible mistake. And both because of her!

On the curtain, like a home movie screen,
first Marvin, then Jim, slump over, their pools of blood
ballooning.

Through the open window the smell of
honeysuckle pervades the air. Red splotches dot her dress. The
Kruger boy shouts over the honeysuckle hedge: "Kim made blood! Kim
made blood!"

She has made all this blood – Marvin's and
Jim's. And, unlike her menstrual period, this isn't natural. They
have both died.

A spider crawls up the curtain.

The itsy bitsy spider went up the
waterspout.

Down...

She's washed out, her life over. She'll go
back to her hometown and stay with her sister, get a job, and never
marry again.

She brings death to everyone she loves.

“
To be asked to pour at a tea is a great
compliment.”
Mrs. Lieutenant
booklet

Donna sits on the front steps of the
apartment building. No mail today because it’s a national
holiday.

She believes no news is good news, still she
worries. Worries the way she didn't worry about her husband, in the
days when she was naive, when she believed men came back to their
wives and families as if they had only been off on a men-only
camping trip.

Of course there were men who came back to
their families – in pieces. Would she have wanted Miguel to come
home in a wheelchair, never to have walked or danced again? It
could have been a slow death for both of them. Or would they have
overcome his handicap and lived happily ever after?

Now she knows no one lives happily ever
after.

She goes inside the apartment for a Coke.
Perhaps they’ll go to the post tonight for the July 4
^th
fireworks. It seems appropriate to celebrate the founding of the
nation if your husband, brother and father are serving in the armed
forces that protect that country.

She reaches to open the refrigerator and
shooting pain flashes through her. She staggers to the bathroom
toilet. Her abdominal muscles cramp, blood spurts down her
legs.

Is this a spontaneous abortion? Is she losing
the baby?

The hospital. Save the baby. Jerry's at the
PX with the car! Wendy lives nearby.

Donna calls Wendy.

She’ll come right over with Nelson.

Donna puts on two sanitary napkins, writes a
note for Jerry, and grabs her purse.

Please, please, let the baby be okay.

**

Nelson helps Donna into a folding chair in
the clinic's waiting room. "We'll go speak to the receptionist,"
Wendy says.

The door to the clinic pushes open with a
swing that cracks the door against the wall. Sharon storms into the
room, followed by Robert. How could they know so soon?

Sharon rushes over to Donna. "Where is she?
Is she okay?"

"Who?"

"Kim."

"Kim?"

Sharon stares at Donna. "What are you doing
here? Aren't you here because of Kim?"

Wendy comes alongside them. "What's going
on?" she asks.

"You tell me," Sharon says.

"I'm bleeding," Donna says. "I may be losing
the baby. Jerry's not home so I called Wendy to bring me here."