Page 23 of All We Thought We Knew
“You’re going to make us late for graduation,” I added, knowing he despised being late for anything.Mr. Punctual,I often called him. “You were born wearing a wristwatch,” I’d tease, to which he’d reply, “I came out of the womb first and have been waiting on you ever since.” I had to admit it was true. I usually left the house with wet hair and shoes in hand most school mornings.
I heard the door to his downstairs bedroom creak open. Hisface appeared below me, the blue eyes he’d inherited from our father wide with feigned innocence. “Aw, now, Sis, what would I want with your hair rollers?” He ran a hand across his short-cropped straw-colored hair. “Coach Cooper would make me run fifty laps if he caught me wearing rollers.”
A chuckle came from the room behind him.
Nash McCallum had spent the night on the trundle bed in Mark’s room again. I never knew the particulars of why Mark’s best friend often ended up on the small spare bed, but it usually had to do with the fact that Mr. McCallum was known around town for two things: being drunk and being a mean drunk. Nash’s mom often had bruises on her arms when Mama and I saw her at the Piggly Wiggly. Although Nash sported a black eye at school from time to time when he was younger, that changed once he grew taller than his old man and could stand up for himself.
“This isn’t funny, Mark.” I stomped down the stairs in my bare feet, my bathrobe cinched tight, and stopped on the last step so I could glare at him eye to eye. He stood at least five inches taller than me. Football had added muscle to his body, and I sometimes felt as though he was my older brother instead of my twin. “If I have to go in there and look for them, you’ll be sorry.” I glanced into the room and found Nash sitting on the bed, fighting a grin. When our eyes met, he had the decency to look away.
“All right, Sis. Don’t freak out.” He pulled his arm from behind his back, revealing my bag of rollers.
I snatched them from him. “I don’t want to hear any complaints if we’re late because of this.”
He laughed. “You’ve made us late nearly every day of our senior year. Why would today be any different?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Ha, ha,” I said without humor. “It isn’t my fault we live so far away from town. Principal Creed should allow us extra time to get to school.”
Mama came from the kitchen. She’d dabbed on a bit of lipstickand looked pretty in a new yellow dress she’d ordered from the JCPenney catalog. Unlike me, she’d gone to Wilma’s beauty shop in town yesterday and sported a fresh permanent in her fading brown hair.
“What is going on?” Her gaze ping-ponged between Mark and me. “You need to leave in ten minutes if you’re going to make it to rehearsal on time.”
“Mark took my hair rollers,” I whined, holding up the evidence. “You know I can’t go to town with my hair looking like this.” To emphasize my point, I tugged the ends of a handful of wavy locks. On its best day, my hair curled nicely with little effort. Today, however, was not that day. Unseasonably warm spring weather brought humidity with it, turning my natural waves into a roaring ocean of chestnut frizz.
“Martha Ann, get upstairs and finish getting ready,” Mama said without a hint of sympathy. “You should have been dressed an hour ago.” She turned to Mark. “And you don’t need to play tricks on your sister, especially on an important day like today.”
Genuine contrition registered on his face. “I’m sorry, Sis.”
“You’re forgiven,” I said, “but it’s still your fault if we’re late.”
Mama’s scowl told me she didn’t agree, but she didn’t press the issue. “The food is ready to set out as soon as we get home from the ceremony. I expect we’ll have forty or so people.” She looked past Mark into his bedroom where Nash continued to sit and listen to our family affairs. “Nash, I hope your folks are coming to our little reception. I sent them an invitation.”
I glanced at Nash.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll remind Ma.” There was no mention of his father.
I felt sorry for Nash as I climbed the stairs. Dad and I hadn’t been getting along lately, mainly because of his wrong ideas about our country’s involvement in Vietnam, but I knew I never had to fear him. Mr. McCallum would likely arrive at the graduationceremony sozzled on bourbon if he came at all. Mrs. McCallum would be there though. I liked her, even if I did think she should have left that no-good husband of hers ages ago. Nash’s sister, Suzanne, was three years older than him, but she left town as soon as she graduated high school. When Mark mentioned she’d moved to Florida, I asked if Nash might live with her once school ended. He got a funny look on his face.
“Nash is enlisting in the Marines after graduation.”
I’d stared at my brother, mouth agape. “The Marines? Is he nuts? President Johnson is sending more and more troops to Vietnam every day, despite the fact that the United States hasn’t declared war. It’s outrageous and immoral. How could Nash even think about joining the military now?”
“He doesn’t want to stay in Tullahoma with his old man.”
“So invading a foreign country and getting himself killed is a better option? What about college? Nash isn’t a great student, but I know he’s smarter than he lets on. He could do anything he wanted if he put his mind to it. You should talk him into joining us at Vanderbilt. I’m sure he could get in.”
A troubled expression crossed Mark’s face. “Not everything is as simple as you’d like it to be, Mattie.” He’d walked away, leaving me to wonder what he meant.
Miracle of miracles, we made it to graduation rehearsal on time. Rusty Shaw, the star of our Wildcats basketball team, complimented my hairdo, making all the effort to tease and flip my curls into shape worth it. Rusty was headed to the University of California on a basketball scholarship in the fall, and although we’d only dated casually, I was going to miss him.
Graduation went as expected.
One hundred and twenty of us lined up in our black caps and gowns to receive hard-earned diplomas, accepting handshakes of congratulations from Principal Creed and a warm hug of encouragement from Mrs. King, our senior class sponsor. After a roundof inspiring speeches and a song from the school choir, Pastor Arnold, who served as an assistant coach and chaplain for the football team, prayed over us, asking God to protect and lead as we ventured into the world. He prayed a special blessing of safety over the boys going to Vietnam and asked the audience members to remember them in their prayers in the coming days.
While Principal Creed closed the ceremony, I snuck a peek two rows ahead of me to where Nash sat. Apparently Mark hadn’t been able to talk sense into his friend. Last I heard, Nash was still set on his foolish plan of going to war. Rumors that President Johnson was preparing for American troops to remain in Vietnam indefinitely, despite his campaign promises to do the exact opposite, gave evidence to anyone with a brain that the war overseas would not end anytime soon. An article in the newspaper reported that some young men at UC Berkeley burned their draft notices in front of the draft office building and refused to join the military. I applauded them and thought them very brave.
After the ceremony, I came home with Mama and Dad so Paula Allyn could ride with Mark. “I think she’s the one, Sis,” he’d said one evening as we sat on the porch swing, listening to night creatures sing their songs. Surprisingly, I felt no jealousy. Paula was a sweet girl, as unpretentious as they came. Even though it was strange to think of us all growing up and moving away from the farm, Paula would make a wonderful life-partner for my brother. Heaven knew he needed a good-natured wife after putting up with a strong-willed and contentious twin sister all these years.
I helped Mama lay out the food as soon as we got back to the farm. Pimento cheese sandwiches. Potato salad. There was even Jell-O in the shape of a graduation cap, made from a copper mold Mama’d been thrilled to find at Kuhn’s five-and-ten store. A large, white-frosted cake she’d labored over for two days, withCongratulations Mark & Mattiewritten in blue frosting, sat in the center of the table, while a cut-glass bowl with pink punch andsmall, matching cups occupied the far end. Blue and white balloons hung from paper streamers here and there, and the radio in the corner was tuned to the old-fashioned Big Band music Dad enjoyed.
