Page 78 of The Singing Trees
The intimacy of the room made her wonder what was to come. This was the first time they’d ever had their privacy as a couple. She thought he might have ripped her clothes off, but he stretched out on the bed and watched her with a smile as she unpacked, peppering her with questions about life back home.
As she talked, she knew he was listening, or trying to, but she could tell he was somewhere else, too—almost reminding Annalisa of Emma’s behavior. That was okay. She knew it had nothing to do with her being there. By the end of the day, she hoped to quiet his demons. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what he’d seen in the five months he’d been in Vietnam, and more than a little slack was warranted.
When she told him about losing her job at Pride’s and what Mr.Miller had done to her, he popped up and cut angry eyes at her. “You fucking kidding me?”
“It’s not a big deal,” she said, feeling like she’d poked the bear. What a potty mouth he’d developed since he’d been away.
“They fired you?” he asked, setting his feet on the carpet. “I assumed you quit.”
She hung a new sundress in the closet. “I didn’t want you to worry, so I left that part out.”
Thomas shook his head, and she could see that he was doing everything he could to hold back. Ted Miller was lucky he was thousands of miles away.
Annalisa plopped down next to him and put a hand on his arm. “Ted Miller is long gone, and I like my life better now.” She filled him in on what she hadn’t told him in the letters, the night she’d seen Nonna and Walt kiss. “That was the night I realized that I wanted to go to Hawaii, that I had to see you.” She looked up into his eyes, so eager to tell him what she’d discovered. “Life’s just too short, isn’t it? Forget all the things that could go wrong. I’d rather get them all wrong with you than all right without you.”
Mr.Sunshine suddenly came alive. If he’d been checked out earlier, her words brought him right back to the present, and she could see that he’d been waiting to hear her say these things for a long time. “This is what I’ve been saying all along.”
She ran her fingers along the stubble on his face. “I know you have, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come around.”
He lovingly put his hand on her back. “I would have waited a lifetime. You know that.”
“I do.” She kissed him and then told him about the painting she’d made of Walt and Nonna, because she wanted to finish her point. “Sharon was really impressed. Not like, ‘Oh, good job, little student.’ She saw what I already knew, that I’ve finally figured out my voice. It’s like I’m opening my eyes for the first time, and I see...I see love everywhere, and I’m finally not afraid to connect. And I feel love.” Sheput her hand on his heart, feeling it thumping back at her. “I finally feel connected.”
He placed his hand on top of hers, already looking younger than when she’d first seen him. “I feel it too. I love you, Anna. That will never change.”
Knowing it was her turn to show him how she felt, she pushed him down onto the bed and leaned over him, kissing him a thousand times and pressing her body into him. “I love you, too, and I’ll never stop.”
She expected his hands to run wild, even wanted them to, but he seemed content with kissing. Considering he’d never been content with just kissing, she calmed her own libido and asked, “You okay?”
He sighed. “Sorry, Anna. I’m worn down.”
Undeterred, she rolled over to his side and put her hand on his chest. “Don’t worry about it. We have an entire wonderful week together, sitting under the sun, drinking mai tais, dancing, letting itallgo.”
“I need that.”
She focused on his chest rising and falling. “Is it that bad over there?”
He made a face like she’d asked him if it snowed in Maine. “It’s no cakewalk, especially...” He shrugged. “I like the guys in my platoon. That’s what matters.”
“Hey, I can take it. Tell me...” But could she take it? She didn’t want to think about losing him anymore, and she could only imagine what kind of nightmarish stories he could tell.
His chest rose high as he drank in a big breath. “I think the best thing to do this week is not talk about RVN.”
She glided her fingers across his cheek. “I’m here for you, either way.” Her heart hurt for him, and the war sank into her chest, the unimaginable things he’d seen seeping into her. “You’re halfway done, Thomas. We’re there. Keep doing what you’re doing, and it’ll be over—and we can start the rest of our lives.”
Over the course of that first day, she fought hard to be Thomas’s cheerleader, digging him out of the gloom. Even when the topic of Emma came up, Annalisa assured him that his sister would come around and turn out okay. Then she’d steered the conversation toward calmer waters. He told her about some of the silliness and pranks he’d been a part of in Vietnam (boys will be boys...), and they laughed about the day they’d met and how hard he’d pursued her.
By that night, he was smiling again. With wet bathing suits under their clothes, they sat at the bar, drinking rum punches and laughing at one drunk soldier who attempted to dance to a Stones song on the radio. The bartender was back and forth between the blender and the beer keg, moving as fast as he could to help his patrons numb the pain.
Annalisa felt so far away from what those men had experienced. Some of them were drafted and some of them had enlisted, and now they were in it together, fighting a war that Annalisa was sure no one would ever win. They looked like pawns to her, Nixon’s play toys. Sure, she didn’t understand it, and she knew there were politics at play that she’d never be privy to, but this war had to end.
Thomas told her a few bits and pieces about his experience. She felt like he was dulling it down some, but even so, it was heartbreaking to hear him speak of VC soldiers waiting in ambush and losing guys he’d come to love in an instant from a sniper bullet. She let him talk as long as he needed to, no matter how hard it was for her. She found it so hard to imagine the boy she’d first met at the museum dropping grenades into a tunnel full of NVA.
As they continued to talk, he seemed to drift away, as he’d done several times that day. He kept looking to his right, toward the beach, as if someone was watching them, and she wondered if this was how every soldier felt back in the real world.
Clearly ready to leave RVN behind, he said, “So tell me more about your paintings. What have you done since the one with Walt and Nonna?” She could also see that he was trying to engage, despite his distractions, and that meant the world to her.
“Well,” she said, excited to share, “I was walking back from Sharon’s, after I showed her the piece, and I saw this young boy stumble and hit the sidewalk, busting up his knees. His father was right behind him, racing to lift him up. It was like lightning striking down on me. I couldn’t wait to get home and paint, and when I did, it was...it was like I was finally capable of feeling them. The subtlest change in the world to the eye, but I was in their skin as I filled in the details. Oh, Thomas, it might sound silly, but—”
