{Names of real characters have been changed. Names of fictitious characters are real.}
On the 21st of September I celebrated having been a civilian for three months, studying, alone. The past three months had been the busiest, most challenging, decision packed months of my life. In the three months Laura and I had spent three R & Rs together and carried on countless telephone conversations. She had adopted me as her little brother and I had committed myself to being the best brother a sister could want.
In the three months my financial status had changed from a few hundred dollars in a checking account to ownership of the little house and two bank accounts that Laura and I shared. We were by no means rich, the term did not occur to me. But the trust Laura had placed in me was precious.
I had acquired a girl friend. Lacy could be a nag and overly possessive at times but she was unassuming. She understood my need to have time to study and to work. She did, however, make her demands known. On Wednesday and Friday nights, I belonged to her. This concerned me because I had not told Lacy that Laura would be home on Wednesday night and that she was scheduled for surgery on Friday.
Sylvia, the lady next door, had become a friend. We often ate our meals together, always in our kitchen; I had not been inside her house. She soon caught on to my commitment with Lacy on Wednesday and Friday nights and never interfered. Sylvia, a librarian, gave me study tips and encouragement. We flirted shamelessly.
Jimmy Chews had also become my friend and business partner. He had painted our house and Sylvia’s house next door. He was in the process of building a room on both houses but we interrupted those projects so he could paint the brothel where Laura worked while she was taking time off to have the surgery and to recover from it.
It was important to us that the brothel be painted during the time she planned to be away because we didn’t want Jimmy to discover that Laura worked there. For this reason we needed to hire another painter to help Jimmy finish the big house in the two weeks. Laura, being cautious, sent me to see Mr. Waite, the attorney. “Tell him this is all new to us. See what he advises us to do.”
Although dubious about me forming a business relationship with Jimmy, Mr. Waite was fond of Laura and heard me out. While he was not keen on our taking Jimmy under our wing, he did point out some things we could take advantage of. He suggested we obtain various types of insurance. He also suggested that we enter into a partnership agreement. Jimmy would do the painting; I would secure the work and keep the books.
Liability and workmen’s compensation insurance would be expensive but as Mr. Waite pointed out, painting could be a dangerous occupation. Since we were going to hire another painter it would be prudent to be protected in case an accident happened. Mr. Waite, a principled man, spoke to Jimmy Chews separately to explain how we would set up the partnership.
In only three months I had assumed a mountain of responsibility but I had gained three new friends and a loving sister. “She loves you but I guess you know that,” Kelley had said when I took her back to the brothel one night.
Laura had not taken notice of the time I had been a civilian but my family had. A letter arrived. In his customary way, my dad recorded his thoughts on three by five inch lined cards when something that he wanted to say popped into his head. My mother, not wanting the envelope to be too thick, used the back of the cards to let me know what was happening around the house and to express her concerns about my not buckling down and taking responsibility in life.
The dual use of the cards had been their practice while I was in the service. Often the cards arrived out of order and took time to sort out. When I asked my mother why she didn’t number my dad’s cards before she turned them over to write her messages to me she frowned, “and spy on what your dad is writing to you?”
Once while I was in Korea my dad congratulated me on finding a fine and decent girl to spend my life with. His praise of the girl’s spirited, yet refined demeanor filled one of his cards and continued to the next which was not in the envelope I received. It took several minutes to decide that my mother had mixed one of the cards intended for my brother into my envelope. Occasionally a short note from my sister, written on her fancy perfume scented stationery, would be inserted between the cards.
I had told my family very little about my activities in Arizona. Perhaps if I told them that I had enrolled in school, had a part time job and a girlfriend and was living in the small house that my adopted sister, a prostitute, had placed in my name, they would have stayed off of my back about me shunning responsibility. Nor had I given them my telephone number because I did not want them to hear the message on the answering machine: “Jimmy’s Painting Service, leave your name and number, we’ll be in touch.”
Laura, though she had not been there to celebrate with me, certainly was loving. She snuggled next to me early Wednesday morning.
“Why didn’t you call me? I would have picked you up,” I said as I turned to her and placed my hand on her warm tummy. Instead of sleeping alone in her big bed she had come to bed in my room.
“It’s almost 3 A M; I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You make me so mad sometimes,” I said, mimicking what Laura had said to me so many times.
“Don’t be mad at me, you feel good,” she said, covering my hand with hers.
“You feel good too,” I said, smelling her hair. It was still damp from the shower.
“Randy?”
I moved my hand on her belly to indicate that I was listening.
“I’m frightened.”
“Do you want to cancel?” She knew that if she said yes I would try to talk her into going through with the surgery. The doctor had warned us that the skin graft would not be perfect and we would need to take precautions but I felt the end result would be worth the risk. I knew how proud Laura had been of her once perfect ass and how self conscious she had become since the ass-hole had put out a cigarette on her right cheek.
“No,” she said, expelling air from her lungs as if she was conceding that having the surgery was for the best. “I’m going to be so good to you tomorrow night,” she said, patting my hand.
“Tomorrow’s Wednesday, that’s Lacy’s night. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“Oh,” she seemed surprised, “I must have forgotten.”
“Do you want me to cancel? I haven’t told her you’re going to the hospital. I’ll tell her, I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“No, you mustn’t do that. I’ll have you Thursday night. I want to be good to you before I’m out of circulation.”
“It’s only a few weeks. It will do you good to take some time off. We’ll be together and when your ass is pretty again we can do some things.”
“Mmmm, I hope it’s pretty again. I want to do those things with you. I can’t wait to show you my pretty ass and have you admire it.”
I felt Laura’s body relax and I heard her breathe deeply. I must have slept too. Suddenly she jumped and woke me. I heard her sigh and sob.
“Randy, are you awake?”
“Yes,” I moved my hand over her tummy.
“Will it be okay?”
“Yes,” I answered too quickly, wanting to sound confident. What if it was not okay? What if I had forced her to do something that did not turn out as we wanted it to? I rubbed her tummy to reassure her that I was there, that everything would be okay.
What bothered me was Laura’s lack of confidence when we were together. She relied upon me to console her and comfort her. She wanted my opinion on what we would have to eat, what we would do and even how she should wear her hair. When she was away she was self assured, giving me orders as how to handle things. She conducted business during our telephone conversations, making decisions like an older sister. When we were apart she was strong but when we were together she looked to me to decide everything. I feared that I was not good for her.
