The hours of conversation felt like they used to between Audrey and me. I missed the days where we lost track of time while catching up on life, and though we still have our opposing views; I feel like we understand each other better now and I needed that comfort to take with me for whatever comes next—even if it’s just supper with Dad, James, and Lewis tonight. Everett has to attend a meeting with his colonel, and he expects it to go past supper time. I assume he’s finding out the relocation information that I overheard this morning.
He said he would try to call me later and let me know what happened. At least I can assume it won’t be any more shocking than what we’re already thinking. Scalloped potatoes, boiled chicken, and green beans—it’s been the same several times in the last two weeks. The stores are not replenishing food items and staples in a timely manner or with a good quantity when they do. There’s a shortage across the country from what I’ve heard. A lot of panic will clear the shelves fast. The older generations fearful about another great depression and the younger generations haven’t experienced war time yet. Though I’m part of the younger generation, I know all too much of what life was like during the first world war and there was a legitimate reason to stock up on supplies and canned goods. Predicting what will happen the next day is impossible.
“Chicken,” Lewis says as he walks through the front door. He removes his cap and hangs it on the coat rack. “I’m sorry, kid. I know you hate chicken.”
“It’s fine. I’m also making gravy,” I tell him.
“You’re too good to us, Elizabeth. I don’t know what we’re going to do without you here.”
“Well, at this rate, who knows when I’ll be going anywhere. Maybe they passed on my application.”
“If that’s the case, you’ll have time to find out who James’s new girlfriend is because I’ve been trying to figure it out for the last week and he won’t even give me a hint. He’s not coming home for supper tonight. That’s all I know.”
“I can only imagine what he has up his sleeve,” I reply. James does not have an outstanding track record with women and never brings them home for that exact reason. He finds the lame dames, as Lewis and I call them—the ones who bat their extra-long fake eyelashes and have their bosoms hanging out of whatever outfit they squeeze into. These girls want a sailor, and they are not shy about going after one. The hot tickets end up being a young eighteen-year-old daughter of a sailor or soldier.
“There’s a chance she could differ from his usual selection. Heck, maybe that’s the reason he’s keeping her a secret from us.”
“It’s not like we embarrass him,” I respond, “not all that much, anyway.” I can’t help but snicker. Maybe we pick on James more than he picks on either of us, but there isn’t much else siblings are good for.
We place the jokes on pause when Dad walks through the door. Until we know what kind of mood he’s in or what type of day he had, we tread with caution.
“What’s that in your hand?” Lewis asks.
I didn’t notice the envelope in his hand when he walked in through the door, but it doesn’t look like work he’d bring home—not something sealed up the way it is.
“What’s in my hand?” Dad repeats, then removes his cover to hang up next to the other on the coat rack. “This is what Elizabeth has been awaiting.” Dad walks up to the kitchen table and drops the envelope on top of the hot plate where I plan to put the chicken. The contents create a loud slap which breaks me free from my stare at the enclosed documents. “Go ahead. The envelope contains your orders.” Dad’s tone sounds like a lesson in the making, and my stomach reels with nerves as I take the couple of steps over to the table. I retrieve the official envelope and slide my finger beneath the seal. My heart is pounding with anticipation, eagerness, and a dose of fear. It hasn’t felt quite real until this moment.
“Do you already know what’s inside this envelope?” I ask Dad.
“It doesn’t matter,” he responds.
I pull the papers out and scan down the top sheet. “I will report to Fort Devens in Massachusetts for active duty and training with the 2nd Evacuation Hospital on January 21,” I speak aloud as I read the information, trying to digest the words, and meaning. January 21. I step into the kitchen and lean toward the new Coca-Cola calendar I gave Dad for Hanukkah a few weeks ago. “The date is just a week and a half away—a week from Wednesday.”
Dad takes the papers from my hand and scans them as if needing confirmation. He nods his head as I watch his eyes moving from left to right over and over until I flip to the second page I hadn’t gotten to yet. I shouldn’t be in a state of shock. At least, I shouldn’t be acting as if I’m in a state of shock. I knew this was coming. I volunteered.
I’m most likely leaving before Everett has to go.
The cloud of dreamy images of Everett and I living together for a bit evaporates into a mist.
This is what I wanted.
This is what I want.
But my stomach hurts and my chest feels tight.
“You will fly to Boston on January 19th, and from there, take a charter bus to Fort Devens,” Dad adds to what I read, reiterating the time I will have to leave. “Well, at least we can celebrate your birthday before you go.”
Lewis steps up behind me and wrenches his bear claws around my shoulders. “The baby of the family is turning twenty-one. How is it possible?” I haven’t given my birthday much thought. It doesn’t feel very significant with everything going on, but now I suppose whatever celebration I have, it will be a going away party too. “You can finally purchase beer and wine. How about that?”
Dad clears his throat as if Lewis has gone too far with his celebratory ideas. “Let’s not start any bad habits a week before you leave for training.”
“Dad, it’s her twenty-first birthday. We aren’t letting the kid leave without a proper celebration,” Lewis argues.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“This training looks like it might be intense, Elizabeth. You should start exercising over the next few days to prepare yourself more.”
“I have been jogging almost daily for the last few weeks,” I tell him. “I am well aware of what I signed up for, despite what you might think.”
“Well, you are bone pale for someone who knows for certain what they volunteered for,” Dad continues. The paperwork falls from his hand, fanning out against the table before he retreats to his bedroom without another word.
“He will get over it, Elizabeth, because he would be a hypocrite if he didn’t.” Dad’s biggest pet peeve is being a hypocrite. Lewis has a good point.
“I’m a woman and his daughter. In his mind, I don’t think he sees me the same as one of you.”
“Give it time. The world is changing at full speed right now. He will have to come to terms with reality sooner rather than later. For the record, though, I’m proud of you. I’m going to miss you like crazy, but I always had this little suspicion in the back of my head, you would be the first in our family to make a giant leap into the turn of the century.”
“Mom was a nurse too,” I remind him.
“Sure, for the Red Cross, which is more than noble, but you’ve taken things a step further. You are the first woman in our family to enlist in the military, Elizabeth. This is a big deal.”
I wonder if what I’m feeling is natural. Adrenaline carried me through the door to the Red Cross. Pride escorted me home with the explanation I was honored to stand up for. Now, panic is ensuing from thoughts about a tomorrow, the day after that, and so on. I can no longer live one day at a time. Now I must face what lies ahead: all the warnings I have been digesting for the last few weeks.