Dream When You're Feeling Blue (28 page)

O
N AN UNSEASONABLY WARM NOVEMBER DAY,
Hank and Kitty were having a late lunch of hamburgers at the dime-store lunch counter. They’d been shopping for clothes for Hank, casual clothes for his days off from work. He had gotten a job teaching flying—his time in the service had taught him valuable things that could be passed on to men who were still being trained to be sent overseas.

They were talking about the kind of life they’d lead after they were married. Hank had given Kitty a ring three days after he’d gotten home, one he said he’d bought the day after he met her. She still didn’t quite believe him, but he insisted that it was true. “I knew instantly,” he said. “And I wrote a buddy in California who’s a jeweler and told him how much I had to spend. And he sent the ring to me, and I carried it in my pocket until I could give it to you.”

It was a small, round diamond that Kitty wore, nothing so grand and glorious as she used to imagine she’d have. But it meant the world to her. She looked at it a thousand times a day, and every time she saw it, she felt a pleasant rush of love and anticipation for the happy life she dreamed she’d have with Hank. But now they were back to the same tired argument they’d been having for weeks. Hank wanted her to quit her job and find office work until they were married, then quit altogether. It was so different, the way Hank talked to her, so different from the way he had written her, when it seemed as though he wanted her to make up her own mind, and respected her for having the ability to do so. It was true that her first thought had been that she couldn’t wait to quit. But now she had changed her mind. Ever since the talk she’d had with Frank when she was thinking about quitting the factory early on, she had understood the need for personal sacrifice, for the great satisfaction of putting someone before you. It mattered to her that Michael and Julian and millions of other boys were still fighting, and that what she did directly helped the effort. In addition, she cared more than she had realized about Hattie, about their daily conferences in the employee lunchroom, their friendship. And the thought of making so much less money was discouraging. Kitty still remembered the Depression and the gaunt, jobless men who used to go door-to-door selling apples and rags. Hank said she wouldn’t need to make money, he would make money for both of them, as was right. And her moving in with him would lighten her family’s financial burden: they wouldn’t need her money so much. If they did need help, he would take care of it.

At first when he talked about her family not needing her help, Kitty had nodded, agreeing, thinking,
One less mouth to feed.
But then she thought of her place at the table, empty. She thought of her bed, where Tish and Louise would sleep without her, and she felt a terrible piercing pain. What would life be without her sisters to talk to, to laugh with, every night? So often she’d fantasized married life with the man she loved, but now what it really meant felt starkly and unpleasantly revealed. It was as though a stage set she’d believed was a real and lovely place had been shown for what it was: an illusion. In thinking always about what she would gain by being married, she had never thought about what she would lose. Her family sitting in the parlor eating popped corn and laughing at Jack Benny. The unplanned moments of humor and sweetness in a family, the security you felt at so clearly belonging somewhere. The history of all the members, so well known, the comfortable predictability of all the different personalities. It bothered Kitty to think of herself as a coward, a weak person who clung to her mother’s skirts—or her sisters’. But maybe she was exactly that.

Oh, and there was more to it. There was the siren song of everything that life might
also
be. Not so much another man but another way of being. What if she advanced in her work life to make great sums of money—if not at the factory, then somewhere else? What if she took a chance on being something altogether different? Suppose she could become a stewardess and fly all over the world? When she had asked Hank about traveling, he’d laughed and said the farthest he wanted to travel was downtown. In fairness, he had been home for only two days when she’d asked him that. It hadn’t been the time to talk to him about travel. Later, when the war was over, that would be the time to talk about it.

But he wanted children right away, too! Kitty just wasn’t sure she was ready quite yet. She knew she wanted them someday, baby Michael had put her doubts to rest on that subject; she now knew that she wanted them very much. But later. For the time being, she didn’t talk about how much she loved helping care for Michael, lest Hank put more pressure on her. She didn’t smile at the way Hank held little Michael and sang to him. On one occasion, Hank had been the only one able to settle Michael down after he’d had a fussy day. “Oh, I just like babies,” Hank had said. “I guess they like me back.” He’d laughed as Michael cooed at him, making sounds so very much like conversation. The rest of the family had laughed, too, delighted, but Kitty had looked carefully away.

Kitty turned on her stool and told Hank, “I will quit my job eventually. Just not yet. You have to let me decide things, too. You can’t tell me to do it now just because that’s what you think is best. Don’t I get a vote?”

Hank was quiet. Kitty could all but predict what he was going to say: Guys on the battlefield liked their women working in a defense plant. Once they got home, though, they wanted them back in skirts and away from other men. It was only natural. It was only right.

Hank said, “Waitress? More coffee?” and his voice had a tight, strained quality she’d never heard. Well. He was saying that same thing a different way. She looked over at the woman next to her, who looked away.
Don’t get me involved, sister. This is your fight.

Kitty sighed. “Let’s go for a walk, Hank. Want to go for a walk?”

“Sure.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. His eyes softened, and Kitty’s stomach leaped up. Oh, she adored him, she did. She took his arm as they began walking, thinking of Marcele Cox, who’d written in
Ladies’ Home Journal,
“Many a woman will end her period of war work convinced that home, after all, is the place where she can make her best conquests and secure her most beautiful rewards.” But Marcele had also written, “A husband is the person on the right side during the wedding ceremony, and on the right side forever after,” and this had given Kitty considerable pause. It was all so confusing! She tightened her grip on Hank’s arm, thinking the truest thing Marcele had written was this: “Marriage is love turned so the seams show.” They’d show each other their truest, most honest selves, she and Hank, and they’d figure out a solution for everything.

By the time Kitty and Hank got off the streetcar, headed for dinner with Kitty’s family, they had agreed that she would work at the factory for as long as she wanted. Period. The deal Kitty made privately with herself was that when she got pregnant, she would stop working. Oh, she could hardly imagine it. A child, made by Hank and her, living inside her. She’d been through pregnancy with Louise, but that was different. This would be her body changing and delivering into the world a real live baby, her and Hank’s child. It was so scary! But it was wonderful to think about, too. A million lovely things to imagine about having a baby, being a mother. Once she was pregnant, then she’d tell him how all along she’d been thinking about how cute babies looked sitting in bathtubs, their tummies round and their faces alternating between wrinkled-brow befuddlement and wide smiles that nearly broke your heart. She would tell him how she used to stand over baby Michael, just watching him sleep, aching with love. How she leaned so carefully over the crib rail to gently touch his hand.

When Kitty and Hank came into the house, it was oddly quiet. There was the smell of pot roast in the air, and Kitty knew her mother had made a real apple pie. But it was too quiet. “Ma?”
Tommy’s sick again,
she thought.

“Up here,” Margaret called. And then, “Stay there, I’m coming down.”

Kitty and Hank waited at the bottom of the steps. Margaret walked close to the wall and moved slowly, nearly apologetically. She was wearing her apron and twisting her hands in it. She had been crying.

Kitty put her hand to her chest. She couldn’t breathe. “Tommy?” she whispered, and her mother shook her head.

“’Tis Michael,” she said. “The telegram came this afternoon. Killed in action.”

Hank took Kitty in his arms. For one moment, she leaned in to him, her eyes closed tightly. Then she ran upstairs.

Louise was in the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed, her family gathered around her. She was not crying, nor did it appear she had been. “Kitty,” she said. “You’re home. Did Ma tell you?”

Kitty nodded.

“He was trying to protect another guy,” Louise said. “Isn’t that just like Michael?”

Again, Kitty nodded. Her sister’s preternatural calm unnerved her.

“Louise?” she said.

She smiled. “I’ll get by. I’m all right. Say, did you know we’re having pot roast for dinner?”

Kitty walked slowly over to sit beside her sister and put her arms around her. Louise took in one loud, gasping breath, and then it came. Kitty rocked her sobbing sister, weeping herself, and the rest of the family quietly left the room. Except for Tish. Tish moved to sit at Louise’s feet and pressed her face into her sister’s knees.

“You know what’s funny?” Louise said. “I was worried about his splinter.”

THAT NIGHT, KITTY WENT INTO
the boys’ room to see Tommy. He wouldn’t come down and sit with the family; he said he wanted to be alone.

Kitty found him lying on his bed, facing the wall. Asleep? No. She tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around. Not asleep and not crying, either. “Hi, Kitty,” he said.

“Hi, honey. What are you doing in here?”

“Just thinking.”

“Oh.” She sat on the bed beside him and took his hand. “What are you thinking about? Will you tell me?” He nodded but didn’t speak.

“Tommy?”

He looked into Kitty’s face, considering. Then he said, “I knew Michael was going to die.”

Kitty swallowed. It came to her that she should tell him he shouldn’t say such things. But she believed him, and so she said, “You did?”

He nodded. “And I told God that if He would just let Michael live, I’d make a sacrifice for Him. And that’s why I didn’t eat. But it didn’t work.”

“Oh, Tommy. I hope you don’t think…You don’t think Michael died because of anything you did, do you? Or didn’t do?”

“I just had this idea. But it didn’t work.”

Kitty nodded. Then, though she knew it was awful, she said, “Is Julian going to be okay?”

Tommy nodded gravely, and Kitty reached out to hold him. For a while she rocked him, he let her; and then she asked him to come downstairs with her, and he did. He didn’t need to tell her not to say anything. He made himself a sandwich before he joined the family in the parlor.

“Dagwood Bumstead!” Frank said, admiring the huge creation.

And Margaret said, “Leave him alone and let him eat. He’s overdue, God knows.”

KITTY WAS LAST IN THE BATHROOM,
and when she tried to throw her Q-tips away, they fell from the top of the overfilled trash can. She sighed; was there anyone in the house who would ever empty the bathroom garbage besides herself? She yanked the basket toward her, and more trash fell out. Now she’d have to pick up the soiled Kleenex and the—

A letter. Kitty unfolded the crinkled paper and read:

Darling Michael,

Tonight I had a vision. Bet you didn’t know I was so talented. But I did, I had a real vision and here’s what it was:

I saw me at the train station, holding the baby, waiting for you to arrive. I was wearing blue, and so was baby Michael, and you know he was just looking off so expectantly like he’d recognize you instantly. And the train came, and Michael, you were the first one off. And I walked up to you, and I was crying of course, and you kissed me and you kissed your son, and then you took him from me and we walked off together and we were all smiling, all three of us.

Oh, Michael, I long so for the day when that vision comes true. And you know when we do walk away, I will be so glad for you to hear not the sounds of gunfire but the sounds of church bells, and of people working in peace. I can’t imagine that on that day I won’t be thanking God for your safe return, I can’t imagine I won’t be thanking Him for the rest of my life. Oh, darling, I love you so, and I will completely, until my dying day.

Enough of that! I’m making myself tear up! Let me tell you a story about our beautiful son. This morning, as I gave him his bath

Well, for Pete’s sake, hold on, darling, Ma is calling me. The phone just rang, and I have a terrible feeling it was Fala’s owner. She’ll want to confer with me about how to handle Binks. To be continued!

Kitty thought maybe she’d save this letter. But it wasn’t what Louise wanted. She put the letter back in the trash. Soon, Louise would be getting her last letter from Michael. The “in the event of” letter. Kitty felt sure that neither she nor Tish nor anyone else in the family would ever see a word of that letter. Nor should they.

O
N JANUARY 1, KITTY AWAKENED EARLY.
She’d been out late with Hank for New Year’s Eve and had a throbbing headache, but she was going to honor her New Year’s resolution right away. She had promised herself two things: one, to decide at last on a firm date to marry Hank, all her fears be damned; two, to get Louise out of the doldrums. She knew her sister would mourn Michael in some way forever, as would she, but Louise needed to go out, she needed to eat, she needed to smile again. She refused to go anywhere with her sisters or her parents. The only time she’d been out of the house was when Hank had talked her into going to the drugstore for an ice cream soda. He was like a brother already, she’d said. She could be with him. He helped, because he let her be herself.

Kitty looked down into Louise’s sleeping face—such dark circles under her eyes! Kitty tapped her sister on the shoulder and whispered, “It’s 1945! Happy New Year!”

“No,” Louise said and turned over.

Downstairs, Kitty could hear Michael Junior babbling and Margaret speaking softly to him. “’Tis my nose you’re wanting, is it? How about some banana first, young man!”

“The baby’s up,” Kitty said softly, and now Louise turned over.

“I’ll go.” She sat up at the side of the bed, her head hanging low.

Kitty touched her arm. “Ma’s got him, Louise. She said she’d watch him all day so you and I could go downtown and see the decorations before they come down.”

“I don’t want to.” Louise lay back down.

Kitty ripped the covers off her, and Tish shouted, “Cut it out! I’m trying to sleep!” She pulled the covers over her head.

“You come with me,” Kitty whispered angrily to Louise. “This is enough! Now, I have something very important to tell you. You come with me right now.”

Surprisingly, Louise sat up again and put on her slippers. “Where are we going?”

Kitty had no idea. She hadn’t thought Louise would actually come with her. But reflexively, she said, “To the bathroom.”

“Is it empty?” Louise asked.

“Yes. Come with me.” Kitty followed her sister down the hall, her fingers crossed.

The door was closed, but the bathroom was empty. Kitty turned the lock and sat Louise on the toilet.

“What do you have to tell me?” Louise whispered. “Are you pregnant?”

“No!” Kitty said.

“Okay, then. I’m going back to bed.”

Kitty pushed her sister back down. “Louise, you have to stop this. You have a son to take care of. You’ve got to get up and start doing things. You’re the one who always says that the way to get through any crisis is to do something. Something definite and gay!”

“I know,” Louise said. “I know, I know, I know! I owe it to Michael Junior to be happy. I owe it to Michael’s memory to be happy. I owe it to the boys over there. I owe it to the family. But I’m not happy. I’m not! And I’m not going to pretend I am. My life is over.”

Kitty knelt before her. “Oh, Louise. Your life isn’t over. Gosh, you’re only twenty-two years old!”

“It is over,” Louise said. “Everything I dreamed of died with Michael. And don’t tell me about all the brave widows starting over again. I’m not them. And they didn’t lose Michael.”

“Louise, listen to me. Everybody’s tiptoeing around you, but I’m just going to tell you straight out that you’re acting like a spoiled brat. Nobody can have a good time in the house because you’re walking around with your tragic face. Nobody can laugh. Nobody can even smile. We don’t any of us expect you to feel better overnight. But you’ve made no effort at all to get better! You don’t think of anyone but yourself!”

“Kitty. Why can’t you understand this? I lost
Michael.”

“You can find another Michael!”

Louise slapped her sister’s face. Kitty stood and pressed her hand to her mouth. It came to her to slap her sister right back, but instead she did nothing. Said nothing.

Louise began to cry then, in a weary, absent sort of way. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry! It’s just that it hurts so
much
and it never
stops.
I never should have told him I was pregnant. It put too much on him. It’s my fault he died.”

“It’s not your fault! It’s Hitler’s fault!”

“It’s mine, too. And the only thing that brings me any peace is to think about…I want so much to be with him.”

Kitty knelt beside Louise and spoke softly. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged.

“Louise. Do you mean you want to die, too?”

She nodded.

Kitty swallowed. “Well, that’s…Oh. but Louise, that’s serious. I think you’d better tell—”

“Don’t tell!” Louise said. “Please don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“But how can I not?”

“It’s just that I don’t see how I’ll ever get close to living the only kind of life I ever wanted to live. I wanted Michael and our family and a home to care for. That’s all. And now…I don’t know. I want nothing.”

“It’s not true,” Kitty said. “You might not be able to see it yet, but you’ll overcome this, Louise; you’ll even meet another man someday—and don’t hit me again! But you will, honey. If you think about it honestly, can’t you imagine meeting another guy? Not tomorrow, but someday? Someone you might want to marry and have a family with?”

“No. I won’t.”

“If he were a lot like Michael?”

“That would be worse. That’s the thing. It really does feel hopeless to me, and I just get to thinking sometimes that I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to go on. Even with little Michael. Someone else would do a better job with him. He’s so young, he’d get used to someone else.”

Kitty set her jaw. “If you don’t want me to tell anyone about the things you’re saying, then you do something for me. You get dressed and you come out with me. You spend the whole day out with me. Okay? That’s the only way I won’t tell Ma and Pop exactly what you told me. I mean it!”

Louise sighed.

“We’ll go see all the decorations. They’re really pretty this year.”

“Yes.”

“This will make you feel better, you’ll see. Sometimes when you feel really bad, it doesn’t take as much to help you as you’d think it would. I mean, the sun is out, it’s nice outside, Michael’s down there eating his bananas and making Ma laugh. And the decorations are so pretty this year.”

“You said.” Louise stood and looked at herself in the mirror. “Yikes. I look like the wrath of God.”

Kitty waved her hand. “Don’t you worry about that. I can fix that in five minutes.”

“Let Tish do it,” Louise said, and Kitty felt too happy to be insulted.

LATE THAT NIGHT, KITTY SAT
with her father at the kitchen table, sharing a piece of chocolate cake with him. There was a certain ritual when you shared things with Frank: two bites for him, one for the person “sharing.” She didn’t mind; she didn’t want the cake so much as her father’s company and advice. She hadn’t told Frank what Louise had said about not wanting to live, but she had expressed concern about her. When the sisters had gone out that day, Louise had tried to appreciate the decorations, had tried to enjoy the time she had with Kitty, but she was dead behind the eyes, and in the end they had come home early, and Louise had gone to bed right after dinner.

“’Tis a terrible thing that’s happened to her,” Frank said. “’Twill take a long while for her to get over it. Truth be told, I don’t know how she’ll ever find a fellow good as Michael.” He shook his head. “I never thought I’d say so, but I’m glad she did what she did, so that she has his child. Oh, I know how much harder it will be for her to find a husband, when he will have to take on another man’s child; he will have to be a man of exceptionally good character. But she’ll find him. In the meantime, we must all help her.”

“I don’t know how to help her,” Kitty said. “Seems like nothing works.”

“Give her time,” Frank said. “And remember, Kitty, each of us in this family has one unique thing to offer Louise that no one else can give her. Close as she is to you, it wouldn’t surprise me if what you give her isn’t the thing that turns her around.”

Kitty said nothing. She ate more cake. She’d had the same thought—she was the one who could best help Louise. She felt proud that her father thought so, too. It would come to her, the thing she could offer that would bring her sister back.