I stared at my chrome mirror and scrutinized the reflection. I saw a five-foot-two girl who wasn’t too thin or thick. Her medium length golden-blonde hair had perfect curls pulled back by a gold clip. She wore a light pink colored viscose dress that fell a little past the knee. A small necklace rested on her neck with a tenuous chain and a rare gemstone as the pendant. The pantyhose she sported were imperfect, having a perennial run, starting at the thigh. I stepped away from the mirror and slipped into my Mary Jane’s as I heard a soft knock on her bedroom door.
“Carol, may I come in?” my father inquired. I opened the door to see my handsome father. He sported blond hair, a patrimony I received from him. It was slicked back with gel. His demeanor was very macho, most people being intimidated by him. “Are you ready to leave young lady?” he questioned.
“Yes Daddy,” I answered as I kissed his check. I strolled down the wooden stairs and opened the door. The bright city greeted me, with cars scurrying down the road and pedestrians roaming the streets, some in a rush, others traipsing about. I took a deep breath savoring the brisk autumn air. It was a refreshing respite from the events that were imminent. Birds singing in the park invigorated me. My father and I walked three blocks and eventually reached the train station. In the distance I saw my mother and brother sitting on a bench. My brother Paul and I were so close even though he was five years older than me. Most people would think that we would be disparate but we were like two peas in a pod. We did many things together from discussing novels and movies to playing softball at the park.
My brother wore his army uniform complete with a hat. In front of his feet was a huge trunk with US Army painted on it. My mother and brother saw us approaching and stood up.
“Hey Carol!” Paul exclaimed.
“Paul, I’m going to miss you so much,” I sighed as a salty tear worked its way down my cheek.
“Carol I will be gone for a long time—so I got you somethin’ special,” he notified in a placating tone. He unzipped his left breast pocket and gingerly pulled out a gold locket that glistened when it hit the sunlight. It was in the shape of a heart and had a “C” engraved on it. “I bought you this locket to remind you of me while I’m away. Open it,” he requested. I opened it and saw that it contained a picture of him on the left side.
“Thank you Paul. I love you and please come home safely,” I replied as a put the locket on. Tears began to form in my eyes as I jumped into Paul’s arms for a hug. My parents said their goodbyes and my brother boarded onto the train. I wasn’t supposed to see him for eight months. I ran home as the tears fell hotly down my face. I was so angry that he had to leave me. I knew the war was raging against Hitler and that I should be extolling my brother for having the courage to leave, but I couldn’t comprehend why he had to go. Grasping the fact that he was leaving was like trying to figure out an indecipherable message.
I wiped my river of tears with a decrepit handkerchief and grabbed my Manton-Smith blue bicycle that was cooped up in the foyer. I needed to go see my best crony, Barbara. She and I did everything together, from slumber parties to going to the World’s Fair to helping each other find to clothes to avoid looking like old fuddy-duddies . I raced my bike out the door and drove it three blocks to Barbara’s apartment. I pounded on the door until she opened it.
“Barbara he’s gone,” I sobbed.
“It’s going be fine Carol,” she responded, anointed from my wet bawling. Barbara hugged me and we decided to go to the movies to cheer me up. She lent me a quarter and we saw Dumbo, which made me feel immensely better.
One week later, terror struck at my school. We were in the midst of our math lesson when Mr. Smith was instructed by our principal to turn on the radio to listen to the news.
“Breaking news! Pearl Harbor has been attacked. We don’t know how many people have died and we don’t know what to expect next. Everyone stay safe and stay tuned in,” the radio cracked. Fear swept through my whole body. I had no idea where my brother was stationed. We hadn’t received any post cards or letters.
“Everyone stay calm!” Mr. Smith shouted. We were all led into our junior high’s basement for safety reasons. The radio had told us to expect another bombing. We waited for hours before we were sent home just to be sure that we could exit safely. When I arrived home I was flabbergasted about the events that had occurred. Japan had attacked Pearl Harbor (the naval base) in Hawaii. We later found out that my brother was not stationed in Hawaii. I was still petrified and nervous about future events. I had a premonition that something terrible was going to happen to my family.
The next morning awoke to the aroma of bacon and fresh-griddled flapjacks. Wanting to get more sleep, I reluctantly yanked off my covers and made the bed. I slowly dressed in a skirt and blouse and trudged downstairs like a zombie. My father sat at the wooden kitchen table wearing a suit, pulleys and his reading glasses. My mother stood at the teal stove flipping pancakes.
“Good morning Sweetie! How was your rest?” My mother greeted as she poured maple syrup on a plate.
“It was good Ma,” I replied, ”morning Daddy.”
“Good morning Carol,” My dad responded with trepidation in his voice. My mother brought over three plates of pancakes and bacon so hot that steam sizzled off it.
“Carol eat up! You were dawdling upstairs! If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss the bus and your teacher will chew you off for being late,” my mother berated. I started to shovel food in my mouth and then began to clear the table.
“ Carol, can you stick around ? I need to have an important colloquy with you,” my dad said, “After Pearl Harbor bein’ attacked I have decided to deploy and I leave tomorrow,” my dad announced.
“Well this is just swell. First Paul and now you! I can’t do this! You can’t leave!” I cried raucously.
“I’m sorry baby but I have to keep you and your Mom safe and defend my country. You’ll be fine,” he reassured me. He gave me a hug.
I ran outside in the nick of time and caught the bus. I slid into the seat where Barbara was sitting.
Barbara squeaked, “My dad is deployin’ tomorrow. He told us in some gobbledygook and I can’t believe it.”
“It’s all going to be fine. This will make us even closer,” I soothed. I was able to keep her calm because we both were contemporaneously having the same situation
After my dad left for Europe, we no longer had his lawyers’ salary. My mom had to start working and she obtained a job working in a factory. She left for work at 2 am and returned at 8 am. She was always complaining about her sore arms and the dark circles developing underneath her eyes. Her light brown eyes aged decades in that period of time. Before the war she was beatific but now she seemed tormented. My mom spent hours staring at photographs of my father and brother and polishing the trinkets in my brother’s room to keep it pristine. It was eerie to see her doing this. Her job helped a little bit financially and we had enough to survive. We didn’t have enough lettuce* to purchase new clothes or for entertainment though.
Eventually, my mother was able to find better work and finally we were a little more stable. The new job was as a secretary in a dental office. It only earned a pittance but it was much better than the minimum wage of 40 cents an hour that she earned at the factory. My mother was still very depressed and looked exhausted all the time. She really missed my Dad and it was detriment to her personality.
One day the telephone let out a loud ring. The receiver vibrated until I ran over to pick up the phone.
“Hello?” I asked cheerfully, the receiver now fully pressed up against my ear.
“May I please speak to Mrs. Williams?” the deep voice muttered.
“Certainly. Please allow me a moment.” I placed my hand over the phone and called for my mother. She had just arrived home from her job. She wore a simple knee length dress made out of baby blue rayon. Around her neck my mother wore a silver locket with a picture of my brother and my father.
Although my eyes were glued to Love of the Last Tycoon, the (latest) F. Scott Fitzgerald book I immediately looked up when I heard my mother drop to the floor with the phone. Salty tears spread down her cheeks very quickly. She began banging her palms on the ground and hurled the telephone at the wall. The plaster shattered into thousands of pieces upon impact.
“Ma, what happened?” I inquired.
“The war happened!” She screeched.
“What?” I said in confusion. My mother began to wail again.
“Your brother is dead. He died in combat. My sweet little boy is gone!” She wailed.
The world suddenly stopped spinning. It felt as though time had stopped. My big brother was gone. My brother who taught me how to ride a bike, my brother who always protected me from bullies, my brother who always helped me with my schoolwork, my brother who I spent hours talking to about movies and books. My only brother was dead and I would never spend another minute with him again.
His body was laid in a wooden casket in his military suit. An American flag draped across him as if it were a blanket keeping him warm on a cold, cold night. A bouquet of white roses and lilies sat at the edge of the casket. I walked up to where was body rested and kissed his hand. My big brother had left me for good and he was never coming home.
Days and nights passed where I felt like the world had just ended and I. My father came home after my bother’s death. Being together as a family helped us all move through our grief and lamenting. Our friends felt contrition for us so they stopped by to pay their respects. They also came over to pay homage to my father for going to war. The war ending also helped. Life was beginning to turn back to normal my mother could stop working and my father could go back to work. I was soon able to realize and recognize that my mother was a true hero for staying strong and supporting our family.