For What It's Worth, page 10
She was determined to see him tonight. Their physicals were in the morning.
"Your notes here?" Malory said, glancing at the shorthand Becca had jotted down in the reporter's notebook by the projector.
"Yeah," she said. "I…I stopped at frame 531-A, I…I think."
"I'll take care of it," Malory said with a nod. She looked at her sad friend through the shadows and could see tears in her eyes. Malory felt so badly for her. She couldn't believe she was losing so many men so close to her to fight in the war all at the same time. She shook her head.
"Good luck and tell Eli…all of them…I'll pray for them," Malory said, with another little smile.
Becca stepped back and nodded. She mouthed, "thank you."
She turned and exited the darkroom, wiping her eyes as they adjusted to the bright artificial light before any tears could fall. She collected her things and, with a nod to her boss, walked out of the building and into the bright sun of the late afternoon.
It was going to be a beautiful evening, just like the one last week when she and Jesse…
And her eyes filled with tears again. As she walked the 10 or so blocks to Tony’s, she took deep breaths along the way.
"Oh, pray for us, Malory," she said out loud to no one as tears made their way onto her cheeks, her arms braced around her tight. "We're all going to need it."
13
THE SOUND OF SILENCE
Jesse closed the ledger book, absently running his hand over the leather binding and looking out his office window.
The sun was beating in through the glass, making his cramped, small office stuffy on this late afternoon in May, but he felt a chill run down his spine despite the heat. He stared out onto the shabby structures surrounding the Pipefitters Union building, wondering fleetingly if it would be the last time he'd look out a window at the end of a workday.
He shook his head. He really should know better. Of course, it was the last time.
He'd spent this last day at work finishing training the person who would take his job when he left and taking care of a couple special accounting changes that needed to be made. Abraham had stopped by his office to timidly wish him well; his own son having been drafted right out of high school just three months earlier. His boss had checked in on him a couple times, but mostly everyone kept their heads down or gave him a sad nod.
And that was fine because he didn't want their pity. If they only knew what he knew -- that this was the way it was always going to go. This was where the path of his short life was always going to lead. It really was only a matter of time.
Jesse sighed in the quiet room. That feeling of hopelessness that had been such a part of his life for so long had ebbed away in the last few years as he'd started to build a new life for himself, one that, for a brief, shining moment, felt like it was within his reach. But that hopeless feeling was back now, with a vengeance.
God, he always knew it was too good to be true.
Over the last few days, he'd been able to, for the most part, put those feelings of contentment away where they belonged -- tucked far back in his mind. They were back there with a few other treasured memories he pulled out to get him through the worst days of the past. He hoped they would be enough to get him through the worst days of the future -- however long the future might be as he headed off to war.
He could easily forget the "things" -- it was the people he had to stop thinking about who made it hard. In the past, it had been a little simpler to leave people. Their…behavior towards him had made leaving them behind easier to accept. He'd play a trick on his mind. He'd picture their faces and picture himself walking away until their features were hazy, and the wall he built inside between him and them was strong. He'd tried the same tactic over the last few days, though not with Eli and Joe. They'd be "with him," so to speak. They'd all be in the same place, even if they never saw one another in the next year or so. And it wasn't so bad with Liz. She was a friend, but she was Eli's fiancé.
It was harder with Penny.
Penny meant the world to him, but she'd never forgive him for leaving, especially when she thought he could run away. He hadn't heard from her since Monday night, and he honestly never expected to see her again. Over the last couple of days, he'd started to accept that. She was just one more memory to save in the recesses of his mind, to pull out when he needed to escape his reality in Vietnam. At this point, he had his feelings for everyone pretty well contained -- his feelings for everyone except her.
He'd picture Becca's face and couldn't picture himself walking away. He pictured her face and could see only the anger and horror he saw when he finally looked at her Monday night. Her perfect mouth seemed to be shaped in a permanent "O" -- the shock never quite leaving her features when he and Joe had shared their news with everyone else.
To him, she looked just like she had the night he came to get her from that house party -- vulnerable and scared. He wanted to reach out and hold her right then, but what good would that have done? None. So, he decided then and there to start the process of shutting down. He decided then and there to put back up the walls around his heart he'd lived with for most of his life -- telling himself he didn't want or need anyone to care about him.
So, he added her to the vault of memories and decided he'd said his goodbye to her on Friday night, no matter how drunk he had been. He knew it was wrong on some level, but he had no intention of seeing her again before leaving after Monday night. She'd be mad at him, he knew that, but she would be OK.
He remembered being braced for days of tears and drama after Keith hurt her, but it never happened. She was sad, sure, but she got up every morning, went about her business, and got through it like a champion. She didn't let it stop her or affect her life.
He had no doubt she'd do the same now. She'd get over whatever spark had been between them. They hadn't known each other that long. Their burgeoning relationship hadn't been that serious, even though their attraction to one another was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Still, he didn't doubt she'd be able to let it go when he left. She'd move on.
He wouldn't, but she would.
She was the most amazing woman he'd ever laid eyes on, and the fact that she'd felt something for him, too, was just the world's cruel way of toying with him. She was strong, determined, beautiful, passionate, steady -- everything he'd never dreamed one woman could be. Everything he never dreamed one woman he would somehow cross paths with would be.
But that was all it was -- a momentary crossing of paths. It wasn't ever meant to be more than that. Becca was a dream -- and, oh God, did he ever dream about her -- but she wasn't going to be his future. War was his future, and he had accepted that.
He just couldn't look into her eyes anymore. If he didn't see her again, he knew he'd be fine, eventually.
Luckily, circumstances had kept him from seeing her. She, Eli, and Liz were gone all weekend, giving Joe and Jesse a chance to pack without raising suspicions. Then, when they had to face the inevitable a couple days later, Eli unwittingly had helped keep them from each other again on Monday night. Pretty quickly after Penny stormed out, he suggested that the three men take a walk, and Jesse was grateful for it.
He didn't want to look at the sadness and pity in her eyes, yearning to tell her everything would be OK, giving her false hope. Because in his mind, that was absolutely the cruelest emotional manipulation one person could knowingly do to someone else -- give them false hope.
So, he, Eli, and Joe walked around the Village for a while before ending up at an all-night diner for coffee. When they sat down, Eli did his best to answer what questions he could about entering the Army and Vietnam…
"I've been told most of the fighting is there," Eli continued, mapping out for them what little he knew about what was happening. "In Country," as most people called the jungle of Vietnam. Jesse leaned back in their booth and took a sip of his coffee next to him. Joe leaned forward on the table, keeping his voice low even though barely anyone was at the diner at 2 a.m.
"There's no way to know exactly where we're going to be, is there?" Joe asked quietly. Eli shook his head, and Joe shrugged.
"I guess we'll find out tomorrow," he said. "Not that I would have a clue if they told me, I guess."
Eli hesitated before answering.
"No," he said. "You won't know until after basic, and even then…"
The three looked at each other, then down into their coffee. The reality of their situation began to sink in even further.
"After tomorrow, I guess it won't really matter anyway," Joe said.
Eli cleared his throat.
"You might not leave right away," he warned. "Some guys have been, but most have a day or two, some up to a week. It's all over the place."
Jesse's head shot up. A week?! No, it had to happen now. He was prepared…now. Another week and…and who knows what would happen.
"That'll give you a little time, Joe," Eli said pointedly to his friend.
Joe looked at him, confused.
"Time for what?"
Eli sat up a little straighter and leaned in.
"Time to apply for a deferment," Eli said, voice quiet again. "You're the only son of a man who…who died serving his country. You know there's a good chance you'd be granted a deferment, right? As the sole provider for your mother…"
Jesse and Joe looked at each other. Jesse had already made that argument to Joe over the weekend when the news was fresh and new, and Joe had already shot it down.
"What?" Eli said, looking between the two.
"He knows," Jesse said when Joe was quiet. "I already tried."
"Why wouldn't you?" Eli said, looking at Joe. "Your Mom's already lost her husband."
Joe studied Eli for a minute.
"Why did you enlist when you could have stayed in med school?" he countered. Eli looked away, then down at his mug once again. "My…Dad…my father would roll over in his grave if he knew I didn't serve when I was called upon, you know? I can't do that to…to him, to his memory. I can't do that to our country."
Eli just nodded his head.
"Yeah," he whispered.
"My Mom understands it," Joe continued, then cast a meaningful glance at Jesse. "And she's…she'll be fine."
Jesse nodded back to him.
They were all silent a moment before Eli cocked his head and nodded at Jesse.
"What about your folks?" Eli said, for the first time, genuinely curious about Jesse's parents. He'd never asked about them before, and Jesse had never offered.
Jesse's heart raced at the direct question, but he kept his cool and shrugged.
"They're dead," he said quickly. "So, they don't have much to say."
Joe shot him a look while Eli winced and mumbled an apology. Then he stood up.
"I'm gonna hit the john," he said, turning and heading to the bathroom.
Jesse tried to ignore Joe's questioning eyes.
"Why'd you say that?" Joe asked.
"Because…they are," Jesse said, motioning to the waitress behind the counter for their check.
"No, they're not," Joe said quietly.
Jesse looked at him sharply, and Joe sighed.
"They are to me, you dig?" Jesse hissed quietly. "Drop it, Joe…"
A loud train whistle interrupted his thoughts, and Jesse looked at his watch. It was time to go, so he stood up and ran his eyes over his little office. He picked up his bag, which carried his sparse personal items, and threw the keys on his desk. He flipped the lock on the doorknob and closed the room behind him. He descended the concrete steps to the sidewalk and slowly moved to the nearest subway station, only two blocks away.
He boarded the train bound for the Village. He glanced around the filthy confines of the New York City public transit system; its walls covered in all manner of graffiti. In large print, someone had scrawled "Hell is Real!" in big, bold red letters. Jesse sighed wearily.
"No shit," he mumbled to himself, then closed his eyes and laid his head against the glass as the train car rocked him side to side on his way home.
"You're all set, Mrs. Ambrosio," Jesse said after arriving back at his apartment just after 6 p.m. He found Joe and his good-hearted, old-world Italian Mom, Grace, at the front of the building. Joe had already loaded the last of the belongings they were keeping at her home into her car. Ironically, Joe hadn't even unpacked half the boxes he'd brought when he moved in with Jesse just a couple weeks earlier.
"I appreciate it, Jesse," Grace nodded, running her hand down Jesse's stubble cheek. He hadn't shaved since Friday. She gave him a little smack. "You're a good friend to my boy -- and his old mama."
"Ma!" Joe said, hugging his mother. "You're an Italian queen!"
"Ha," she mocked, looking lovingly at her only son. "Maybe 30 years ago, honey."
Jesse chuckled.
"Thanks for taking some of my stuff," he said. Grace shrugged.
"I got a big house and no people in it," she'd said, with that harsh Queens accent mixed with a hint of Italian. "Fill it up."
It wasn't entirely true. She had a parade of grandkids in and out every day, but the gesture was a nice one.
"I'll be in the car in a minute, Ma," Joe said. "I'm just gonna grab the last box."
Grace nodded, and with a wistful look at her son and his friend, she began walking back to her vehicle.
"So," Joe said as they walked up the steps to their apartment. "She's really all set?"
"Yeah," Jesse nodded. "The union is going to send 80-percent of your paycheck to her every month. They'll take care of her."
Joe patted him on the back as he made the turn on the landing and opened their door. Jesse glanced at the other apartment, and all was quiet. He knew Becca was at the Schmidts family dinner. He let out a sigh of relief. He planned to be at a bar about the time they got home and not come back until it was late enough everyone would be asleep.
They walked into their apartment, and Joe closed a box that still lay open on the kitchen counter.
"A couple of my brothers-in-law will stop by and pick the rest up before the super lists it," Joe said, shaking his head and looking around. "It's a great place. Hard to give up."
Jesse nodded once.
"Can't be helped," he said, convinced that even if he tried to find a way to keep the apartment, he would never see it again anyway. It was best that it belonged to someone else.
Joe stepped over to him.
"Listen, ah, thanks for everything," he said, his voice catching. "Thanks for making sure my Mom was taken care of."
Jesse shook his head, fighting off the sadness that enveloped him.
"Don't sweat it, man," he said, trying to sound unaffected, stoic. "I'll see you in the morning."
Joe shook his head before his watery eyes got the best of him, then he pulled a surprised Jesse in for a hug. Jesse briefly hugged him back.
When their embrace broke, Joe glanced at the telephone on the counter and looked Jesse right in the eye.
"Call your Mom, Jesse," he said sternly.
"Joe…no…" Jesse started.
"It might be the last time you talk to her," he said. "Maybe…maybe it'll be…different if she knows, if she knows you've been drafted."
No, it wouldn't, Jesse almost said. But Joe, everything- was-black-or-white Joe, would never understand that.
"Just do it, man," Joe said, scooting the phone closer to Jesse.
"See you tomorrow, Joe," Jesse said quietly, not even looking in the direction of the phone.
Joe sighed and picked up the box on the counter. Jesse followed him to the door.
"Bye, man," Jesse said, his voice shaking just a touch.
"Goodbye," Joe said quietly, and with one more glance in the apartment, he turned and started toward the steps.
Jesse closed the door behind him and leaned up against it. The silence in the room magnifying the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.
He took a deep breath, breaking out in a cold sweat as he stared at the telephone.
14
A WHITER SHADE OF PALE
As soon as he heard the first ring at the far end of the line, he nearly hung up the phone.
This wasn't a good idea.
He knew it wasn't a good idea.
He hadn't spoken to her in almost six years when she'd decided to leave the confines of her sad little existence and somehow managed to find her way to New York to track down her only child. Despite all odds, he'd graduated high school, and when she showed up at his door, he'd been completely dumbfounded. A very small part of him wondered if she had somehow found out he was graduating and came for the ceremony.
That theory was quickly debunked. It wasn't the reason that she was there at all.
She'd lost her source of income. His grandmother -- an emotional train-wreck of a woman -- had finally died, leaving his mother, Ivonne, to fend for herself. Ivonne was the product of a fling in France between a poor Canadian farmer-turned-soldier and the daughter of a poor French farmer at the end of World War I. The soldier brought home a war bride and went right back to being a poor farmer. Jesse's grandmother had never recovered and eventually established a love/hate relationship with her daughter.
But she let her come home and live rent-free in the farmhouse just northwest of Montreal, and with her mother gone, the money-well had run dry.
After not speaking to him for almost five years, she demanded Jesse come home and tend the family farm to support her. He refused. She threw an absolute fit, then left. The whole exchange lasted less than a half-hour.
That was the last day he even had the fleeting thought that she really gave a damn about him.
And still…
"Hello?"
Jesse swallowed hard.
"It's…it's Jesse," he choked out.
