Mrs. Lieutenant: A Sharon Gold Novel (10 page)

Sharon is excited about her idea for the
graduation luncheon entertainment. The proverbial light bulb
exploded minutes after she returned to the apartment yesterday
afternoon. Will the others like her idea?

The doorbell rings. Sharon re-tucks the hem
of her white sleeveless blouse into the waistband of her blue
cotton skirt and opens the door to Kim. Despite the heat and the
walk around the block from her apartment, Kim looks cool in a
sleeveless flower-print shift.

"Smells like cookies," Kim says.

Sharon smiles and motions Kim to the sofa.
"How about some pop? You must be thirsty."

"That would be great."

Before Sharon can get the pop bottles out of
the refrigerator, the doorbell rings again. Both Donna and Wendy
stand outside.

"Did you come together?" Sharon asks.

"Just landed on your doorstep at the same
time," Donna says.

Wendy, who wears pale green pants and a
short-sleeved white blouse, takes a seat on the single armchair and
pushes her short black hair out of her face. Donna, wearing a plaid
short-sleeved dress, sits down next to Kim on the couch.

"This is a nice apartment complex," Wendy
says. "We tried to rent a unit here."

"What happened?" Donna asks.

"The clerk at the housing office thought an
apartment was still available. When we drove over here the manager
told us it was already rented."

Sharon stands still with the pop bottles in
her hands. Wendy has said this with no accusation in her voice.

Sharon flashes to the post housing office.
The friendly housing clerk explains how she hadn't told Robert and
Sharon about this unit earlier in the day because she thought it
had been taken.

Sharon leans over and places the bottles on
the coffee table. Had the clerk sent Wendy and her husband to see
this apartment not knowing that the shotgun-toting redneck manager
wouldn't rent to them? Because that's what must have happened.

Sharon’s stomach does a flip flop as she
realizes that, because of racial discrimination, she and Robert got
this apartment. Then she reminds herself that there was no way she
and Robert could have known this at the time so she doesn’t need to
feel guilty.

"Please, everyone, help yourself to soda pop
and cookies," she says. “And thanks for coming. I hope this is
going to be fun."

Donna laughs, her black hair bouncing against
her shoulders. "At least it will be something to do. There's not a
lot going on around here."

"Where are you all from?" Wendy asks
Donna.

Donna laughs again. "From an equally boring
place. I was at Ft. Riley living with my parents – I'm an army brat
– when I met my husband. Believe me, Kansas is not any more
exciting than Kentucky."

"I know about Ft. Riley – my husband went to
ROTC summer camp there," Sharon says. "You must have lived all over
the world if your father was in the army."

Donna nods. "We lived in Germany, in Korea.
When I was little we lived in Hawaii. And I've been to Puerto Rico
to visit several times."

"I'd never been out of North Carolina before
we came here,” Kim says. “I can't believe all the places you've
lived in."

Wendy rustles in her armchair. "I wasn't ever
out of South Carolina before my parents sent me to college in
Texas."

Kim stares at the glass in her hand. Then she
looks straight at Wendy. "Whereabouts in South Carolina are you
from?"

"Orangeburg. You probably never heard of
it."

Kim shakes her head.

"It's a nice enough place. My papa's a doctor
there."

Sharon, surprised herself, watches Kim's
face.

Wendy doesn’t wait for a response before
adding, "He built his practice all by himself. First only black
people were his patients; now whites go to him too."

Sharon glances quickly at Kim, then says,
"Let me tell you my idea for the entertainment.

It's not what the other women have in mind so
I hope you'll like it."

"Out with it!" Donna says.

"I’ll write a little play for us to perform.
The play will be about the army – some of the funny things about
AOB." She looks around at the others as she adds, "In keeping with
the July 4th theme of the luncheon, the play will take place in
1776 when, I think, George Washington was at Valley Forge."

Donna nods. "Sounds like it might be cute. At
least it will be different."

"It could be fun," Kim says. "I've never been
in a play."

Sharon turns to Wendy. She smiles yes.

"Then let me show you what I've got so far,"
Sharon says.

"You already started?" Kim asks. "What if we
hadn't agreed?"

"Then I would have wasted my time."

**

Sharon makes salmon patties for dinner. First
she picks the little white bones out of the canned salmon and
removes the grayish white outer skin clinging to the larger pieces.
Next she mixes the salmon with an egg and bread crumbs before hand
rolling the patties. Finally she fries the flattened patties in
oil. She also heats canned peas and cuts up a salad of lettuce,
carrots, celery and tomatoes.

She uses the “Betty Crocker's New Picture
Cook Book” only for baking recipes. Otherwise she sticks to the few
things she already knows how to cook. Robert and his two younger
brothers grew up on meat meals three times a day. Since marrying
Sharon, Robert has been willing to cut down on what he'll accept as
a meal. And out here in the boondocks he hasn't had much
choice.

Robert opens the door to the apartment. She
walks the two steps from the kitchenette to meet him.

"Hi, honey," he says, grabbing her around the
waist. "How about a little something before dinner?"

"Let's have dinner first. I want to tell you
about ..."

"Later," he says, his mouth clamping on hers
while he pulls down her undies. It's a good thing she uses birth
control pills, because there certainly isn't time for her to put in
a diaphragm.

She smiles as Robert pushes her towards the
bedroom. At least she turned the flame off under the salmon patties
when she heard his key in the lock. She won't burn the dinner this
time.

When they’re done Robert’s enthusiasm for
lovemaking shows as a red flush all over his chest. She eyes the
flush, then says, "The women were here today for the first
entertainment committee meeting."

"How'd it go?"

Sharon ducks her head under the bed to look
for her undies and bra. "I was worried about Kim and Wendy getting
along, but it seemed to go fine."

"What were you worried about?"

"Wendy's black and Kim's a white Southerner.
I was afraid Kim would say something, something derogatory about
blacks."

"This is 1970. All that Southern white
supremacy crap is over now. It's against the law."

Sharon shakes her head while hooking her bra.
She doubts that this enlightened view of equality has taken hold
among the Southern white population. Kim's reaction to the black
soldier holding open the PX door is probably just the tip of the
iceberg of Kim's Southern-inspired prejudices.

"Something kind of weird happened today,"
Robert says as he puts one foot through the leg hole of his jockey
shorts. "We all got our pay vouchers for our uniform
allowance."

"What's a uniform allowance?"

"Enlisted men are given their uniforms.
Officers have to buy their own. When we first come on active duty
we're given an amount of money to be used for buying the uniforms.
I can’t only have that one Class A uniform and fatigues from ROTC.
I have to get more fatigues, another Class A uniform, suntans, and
a dress blue uniform for formal affairs.”

Robert pulls on casual pants and a shirt.

"Only thing is, my pay voucher wasn't there.
Len Tottenham was the clerk handing out the checks and he couldn't
figure out why mine was missing. He said he'd look into it right
away."

"You think he did it on purpose? He’s
probably angry that you’re an officer and he’s an enlisted
man."

"Len isn’t like that. It's an accounting
error, I'm sure. But I do need the money for more uniforms."

Robert follows her to the front of the
apartment and sits down at the table. "I almost forgot to tell you.
Some of us decided to get together tomorrow night at the Officers
Club after dinner. There's a band from Louisville playing. Should
be fun. I said we'd go."

**

Sharon pulls the Fiat into a parking space
alongside the brick building and smiles at Kim. "Here we are,"
Sharon says. "The Officers Club."

"I'm glad you suggested we come today," Kim
says. "It's a good idea to see it before tonight."

In the foyer there's an announcement board
listing the activities of the day along with the menu at the snack
bar.

"Let's eat at the snack bar," Sharon says.
Robert had informed her last night that he and Jim wouldn’t be home
for lunch the next day.

At the back of the building they find a
good-sized room with several tables and a snack bar counter. At the
tables there are a few other women, all around their age, as well
as several men in an assortment of uniforms from olive green
fatigues to khaki suntans to olive green Class A uniforms.

They order hamburgers and fries at the
counter, then sit at a table to await their order.

Kim whispers, "It's kind of funny to be here,
don't you think?"

"What do you mean?" Sharon asks.

"Alone by ourselves, without our
husbands."

Doesn't Kim go anywhere without her husband?
Are women still chaperoned in the South?

Sharon purposely switches the subject.
“Memorial Day weekend the pools will open. We can go to the one at
the Officers’ Country Club; it’s only for adults – no children
allowed.”

“I have to be careful not to tan. I’ll have
to bring suntan lotion,” Kim says.

"Why don’t you want a tan?" Sharon asks.

Kim wrinkles her mouth. "That's unladylike.
Dark skins are for the ... I mean ..." She pauses for so long
Sharon thinks Kim has forgotten the question. Finally Kim says, "I
don't look good with a tan."

The employee behind the snack bar counter
motions for them to come get their food. As they sit down again,
Kim says, "We can't even go to our swimming hole anymore in my
hometown."

"Why not?"

Kim’s eyes fix on her plate. "Because the
blacks go there now."

"Why can't you go?" Sharon asks.

"Because we can't."

A deep voice says, "Hello, Sharon. It's been
a long time."

Sharon looks up into the face of an extremely
good-looking young man wearing suntans. Mark Williamson!

"May I have this dance?" he says.

This time her stomach flip flops for a
totally different reason. She and Mark Williamson have a history,
one with a prologue in seventh grade. He attended the six weeks of
dancing class she took then in preparation for the myriad Bar
Mitzvah parties to which she would be invited. Never mind that with
her teeth swathed in braces and pimples rearing their ugly
blackheads – not to mention her perfectly straight hair that
wouldn't rat no matter how many perms her mother gave her – Sharon
didn't have much hope of being asked to dance by the Jewish boys
who clustered in protective flocks at one end of the hotel
ballrooms.

Mark wasn't Jewish – the class had been
sponsored by a community recreation center – and she hadn’t taken
much notice of him. He first blipped on her radar when he fought
with his older brother Roger over her hand for the last dance of
the final class. Mark shoved Roger out of the way, even though
Roger asked first, and she and Mark danced a slow waltz with Mark's
right arm pressed tightly against her back. Then the class had been
over and she hadn't seen him again until they attended the same
high school. And that’s when their history truly began.

She stands up. He towers above her. "What are
you doing here?" she asks.

"I could ask you the same." He smiles.

Sharon glances at Kim; she's frowning. "My
husband" – there, she has established this immediately – "is
attending the Armor Officers Basic course here."

Mark laughs. "A green lieutenant! He hasn't
been to Nam yet!"

How can he speak so openly about Vietnam?

She says, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm between assignments. Back from a tour of
Nam – helicopter pilot – and I'm deciding whether to accept a
commission. We're being offered the privilege of becoming officers
and gentlemen, then they'll send us back to Nam."

He laughs again, and she can't tell whether
he wants to go back or dreads it.

Another good-looking man stands behind Mark.
"Williamson, are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

Sharon turns to the other man. "I'm not a
friend. Just someone from the same hometown."

Both men laugh. "See you around," Mark
says.

"Who's that?" Kim asks the moment the men
leave the snack bar.

"Someone I was in dancing class with when we
were in seventh grade. Later we went to the same high school."

"He's certainly good-looking."

Yes, he is.

**

That evening Sharon and Robert park the Fiat
at the Officers Club. She told Robert about going to the club for
lunch, although she didn't mention running into Mark Williamson –
the way Mark tossed off the words "helicopter pilot" and "Nam" –
the goal to which Robert originally aspired until his hayfever got
him involuntarily dropped from the ROTC flight program.

She didn't know what to wear tonight, even
after consulting “Mrs. Lieutenant.” In the end she put on a cotton
dress with a jewel neckline and short sleeves, nothing too fancy,
and took a sweater in case the club's air conditioning actually
worked. She worried over jewelry; didn't want to wear too much and
give people a chance to say Jews are flashy. Finally she chose tiny
pearl studs for her pierced ears and a pearl necklace.