Page 35 of All We Thought We Knew
Mama found me in a foul mood. She looked pretty, with her hair teased in the current fashion older women were wearing. She’d dabbed on lipstick and wore a dress that flattered her middle-aged figure. Who would know by looking at her that her son was leaving for war the next day?
“Mattie, what are you doing up here? Your brother was worried. They’re starting a game of charades. You’re always so good at it.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I don’t understand how you and the others can act like everything is all right.” I sat up, frustration swirling. “Mark is going away tomorrow, Mama. We may never see him again. Am I the only one who comprehends what could happen to him when he gets off that airplane in Vietnam?”
I was certain my angry voice carried to the living room below, but I didn’t care who heard me. Every single person down there was either completely ignorant of what was happening in the war, or they simply didn’t care.
Mama sat next to me and gave me a patient look. “Of course we know the dangers of Mark going to war, but some things are out of our control.”
“Mark would have listened if you’d told him not to join the Marines,” I insisted. “He would never go against your wishes.”
She sighed. “Someday you’ll find out for yourself that parents can’t always protect their children. I remember when you were a tiny girl, not even three years old, and you were determined to ride a horse all by yourself. You didn’t want Dad or me to ride with you. I promised to teach you to ride solo as soon as you were bigger, butthat wasn’t good enough for you. One day while I was busy in the house, your father hollered from the yard. I’d never heard that kind of fear in his voice. I rushed outside in time to see a horse galloping down the road, with you hanging on to its mane for dear life. We figured out later that you’d opened the gate and climbed up onto the fence. How you managed to mount the horse is still a mystery.” She reached to grasp my hand. “You could have been killed.”
“I fell off,” I said, fuzzy memories of that long-ago day pushing forward in my mind.
“Thankfully you only had a sprained arm. After you stopped crying, you wanted right back on that horse. Nothing I said could convince you otherwise.”
“That isn’t the same thing as sending Mark off to war.”
“In a way it is.” She squeezed my fingers. “I learned that no matter how much I want to, I can’t protect you and your brother every moment of your lives. There will be times when you make decisions I wish you wouldn’t. Do things that could put you in harm’s way. If it were up to me, I’d keep the two of you right here on the farm with me and Dad forever, but I know I can’t. That’s where trust comes in. I’ve had to learn to trust that you’re in God’s hands, and that you’ll make good choices according to the things we’ve taught you. I’ll pray for Mark every single day, just as I’ll be praying for you while you’re in Nashville. But I have to let you both go.”
“I’m just going to school, Mama. War is different. Every day there are stories in the paper about bombs and Vietcong and American soldiers dying.”
“You forget that your father and I weren’t much older than you when the war with Germany and Japan took place. We remember how it felt to read about the terrible things that were happening all around the world. We felt powerless then, and in some ways, we feel the same now.”
“But Dad—”
She held up her hand. “This is Mark’s last night at home for a while, Mattie. We want it to be a happy one. Put aside your arguments and come join your friends.”
With little enthusiasm, I trudged downstairs. When I entered the living room, I found Rusty Shaw standing in the middle of the room, gesturing to the ceiling with his fist closed, while tippy-toeing in a circle like a clumsy ballerina. If my mood hadn’t been so sour, I might have joined in the laughter with the others as they shouted guesses to his ridiculous clues.
I noticed Paula Allyn sat near the window, away from the group. Her attention was not on Rusty and his antics but was fastened on my brother where he perched on the edge of the sofa next to Nash. Each of them sported a military haircut—flat on top and shaved on the sides—which Mark proudly described as “high and tight, Marine style.” I had to admit their heads did remind me of the lid on a jar, hence the nicknamejarhead. Although neither wore a uniform, two months at boot camp had produced a confidence and bearing in them that hadn’t been there before.
Paula looked up when I approached. Telltale redness around her eyes bore evidence that Mark’s girlfriend had cried recently.
“You’re not playing charades?” I asked, although the answer was obvious.
“I’m not really in the mood for games.”
Her quiet answer told me she, too, felt the heaviness of Mark’s leaving. I sat on the footstool beside the chair. “I know what you mean.”
We watched the game for a while. Mark correctly guessed Rusty’s charade—the movieMary Poppins—which meant it was now his turn. With a wink at me and Paula, he took center stage and began even sillier antics than Rusty had performed. Everyone laughed and shouted their guesses, but Paula and I remained grim-faced in our misery.
“I thought he would ask me to marry him before he left.”
Her whispered confession didn’t surprise me. She and Mark had been sweethearts since junior high. I’d wondered myself if my brother would propose when he returned home from Parris Island last week. Although he hadn’t shared his secrets with me lately, I knew he loved Paula.
“Maybe he will.”
She shook her head. “He said he doesn’t want me to feel obligated to wait for him, in case I meet someone while I’m at Auburn.” Tears shimmered in her green eyes. “I told him I lovedhimand that I don’t have any interest in dating anyone else, but he thinks it’s best if we wait until his tour is over before we decide anything.”
Poor girl.
I sent my brother a glare, although he wasn’t looking at me. He was pretending to have a huge belly and kept putting something invisible on his head. I knew he was acting out his favorite song—“I’m Henry VIII, I Am” by Herman’s Hermits, a band from England that was part of what people called the British Invasion, all started by the Beatles. The inane lyrics cracked Mark up every time it came on the radio, and he’d bust out singing at the top of his lungs. To his great dismay, he’d missed the group’s performance of the song on The Ed Sullivan Show while he was in boot camp back in June.
“I’m scared, Mattie.” Paula’s fearful whisper drew my attention once again. “I’m scared war will change him, and he won’t love me when he gets home.”
Although Paula, Mark, and I had always been in the same classes all through school, she and I hung out with different friends. She’d been a cheerleader, Miss Tullahoma High, and was voted “Friendliest” girl. I, on the other hand, was secretary for the senior class student council and held a spot on the debate team, a place where I’d honed my arguments against the war over the past year. Ms. Medlin, our sponsor, didn’t always agree with me, but she respected my opinions.
