Authors: Karen Schreck
He drops weight fast when he doesn’t eat.
David’s attached another drawing to today’s email as well.
In this drawing, David is straddling a tiny mosque, his arms outstretched. He’s trying to catch the pieces of a veiled woman, blown sky-high.
His email is short and to the point.
Dear Penna,
A picture’s worth a thousand words. Right?
I thought I’d come here and learn something about life? How to be a better person? How to be a hero? How to
something
? There are no how-to manuals here.
You all think the war is over back home, don’t you? Well, for some of us, it’s just begun.
If it weren’t for the little girl in the red dress, I’d go crazy. She reminds me there’s good in the world, good I can do.
David
I feel like the room is pressing in, tight and close. I feel panicky. I have to do something.
I email Caitlin, Jules, and Ravi. I tell them about the children in Iraq, the orphanages there. I ask them if they’ll help collect donations.
Without hesitation, they all agree.
•••
When Linda picks me up for work, she grimaces at the ring around my neck. Then she looks pointedly the other way.
I think she knows who gave it to me.
I think she’s picking her battles.
As soon as I walk in the door of Red Earth, Tom beckons me over to a booth.
“I’m worried,” he says.
I’m worried too. I feel edgy with worry.
If
it
weren’t for the little girl, he’d go crazy…
These are the words running through my head now. If it weren’t for Caitlin, Jules, and Ravi, promising to help me, I don’t know what I’d do. And now here’s Tom, worried, which means something’s up with Justine, which means I’d better sit down. Right here. Right now.
I sink down in the booth. “Worried about what?”
Tom sits down across from me. “She was really out of it when I left. It was like she was living in the past. I mean, really in the past. Seeing it. Hearing it. Feeling it. I’ve seen hallucinations like that before, but that was back in Nam, when guys were dropping some crazy stuff.” With a jerk of his head, he indicates Linda, who’s busy packing the salad bar with ice. “I think we should give them a chance before it’s too late.”
“Now?” The word squeaks out of me.
“Soon.”
“Tonight?” Another squeak.
“No way Justine could do it tonight. I’m hoping tomorrow night.”
What can I do but nod? It’s what I want too, right?
I throw myself into my job, trying to think of nothing else. I talk to Caitlin every chance I get too, or rather I listen as she talks about a guy she’s been wanting to ask her out, who just did. She’s going on a date with him tonight, or else she’d love to do something with me. Jules is free, though. Maybe Jules and I can get together and make flyers for a clothes and toy drive. Caitlin thinks this is a great idea. If we do it, she’ll help us distribute them tomorrow.
I think this is a great idea too, but when I text Jules, she says she’s feeling wiped out. Sick. “Let’s talk on the phone, though,” she says.
In a way I’m relieved. Maybe I’ll just go home and get some sleep. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.
Linda tells me that I can take the VW. Isaac will drive her home. Her face is pale with worry, saying this. Like I might just let loose on her for all kinds of reasons—old and new.
I feel the weight of the ring around my neck, and I remember what’s important.
I manage to smile at Linda. I tell her it’s okay.
If she asks about Justine, I’ll find a way to tell her that will be okay too.
•••
That night I talk to Jules on the phone for a long time. She tells me more about Zach, filling me in on his looks, his hopes, his strengths and weaknesses. I think she might be feeling run-down because she’s missing him so much. I know the feeling. I let her talk and talk. I know that someday she’ll probably do the same for me.
We talk a bit about what we’ll do for the orphanage too. Jules goes to a big church. She knows she’ll get a lot of help from them. “There’s money there,” she says. “And even the people who don’t have money like to pitch in for things like this. Especially if we’re talking hand-me-downs.”
“Which we are,” I say. “Except for medicine and stuff like that. Let’s hit the wealthy folks up for formula and diapers.”
We agree this is a good plan.
When we hang up, I try Ravi, but of course he’s working, so he doesn’t answer.
And Caitlin’s on her big date.
So I pull out all of David’s old letters from last year, and I read them all, from beginning to end.
He sounds so young, I realize. He sounds like a different guy.
And the person on the other end, receiving them? She was young too. She was a different girl.
Linda shakes me awake the next morning. She’s upset, an anxious furrow between her eyes.
“Tom called. He’s busy for some mysterious reason. Can’t work the lunch shift like he said he would. There’s a special party, some kid’s baptism or something. Isaac really needs our help.”
We throw ourselves together and fly out the door into the VW.
Red Earth is crowded with people in church clothes. They gravitate toward the center of their universe, at least for today. A glowing baby in a long, white silky gown, cradled in the arms of her equally glowing mother.
The lunch-shift server, a twenty-something, sandy-haired hunk named Josh, who’s in the business track at Killdeer Community College, welcomes us with relief. “Isaac is up to his elbows in parsley,” Josh says. “He keeps asking me to help him garnish. I don’t have time to garnish.”
So while Linda manages the bar and oversees the floor, I help Isaac garnish. And dice, splice, chop, grate. And wash knives, whisks, spatulas, and tongs. And load the dishwasher. And fetch tall glasses of ice water for both of us.
We work efficiently. We treat each other respectfully. We are a team.
I have to admit that I can see why Linda would fall for a guy like this. He’s pretty much a champ in the kitchen, and he’s not arrogant about that fact at all.
Plus, he’s got those dreads.
The baptism party is happy. The diners are happy. Isaac’s happy, and so are Linda and Josh.
And me. I have to admit it.
“Satisfaction at a job well done.” That’s what Linda says we’re feeling.
If so, I want David to feel this way, over there. I want to help him feel this way.
I’ll put up that sign at work tonight. I’ll make one for Jules’s church too.
YOU CAN HELP!
One of our own Killdeer soldiers is calling for donations:
Gently used kids’ clothes, shoes, toys, and baby supplies
needed for the Iraqi orphanage near where he now serves.
Pediatric medicine, baby formula, and cloth or
disposable diapers deeply appreciated.
•••
Linda and I take a break. We go home. She cleans up for the dinner shift. I grab poster board and markers and make not two signs, but seven. In addition to the one I’ll put up at Red Earth, I’ll put a sign in the library. One in the community center. One in the other big church in town. I’ll give one to Jules and one to Caitlin and one to Ravi.
Just as we’re about to leave, Caitlin texts Linda and me both. She’s freaking out because Tom still hasn’t showed.
Justine
, I think. Tom’s getting her ready. He’ll bring her tonight.
I roll up the sign for Red Earth and secure it with a rubber band. And once again Linda and I fly out the door and into the VW.
“He’s never late,” Linda says, turning a corner so fast that the tires squeal. “This is just not like him. He’d better have shown up by the time we get there, or I don’t know what I’m going to do. Oh, Penna.” Now her real concern shows. “I hope nothing’s wrong with him. He’s just so reliable. You know?”
I nod.
When we arrive, Caitlin is placating Happy Hour folks with free Cokes. Linda gets to work behind the bar. I slap my poster up on the wall by the old, broken jukebox, and then I get to work taking appetizer orders. All the while, my heart thuds.
Maybe
Tom’s getting Justine ready. Or maybe, just maybe, something bad has happened to her. I’ve got to find a way to get in touch with Tom. But Red Earth just keeps getting more crowded, and Caitlin is looking at me in sheer desperation, and I need to keep taking those orders.
I’m at the coffeemaker, filling two cups with coffee, when I hear Linda swear. I turn and look at her. She’s holding two overflowing steins of beer, very much the St. Pauli Girl gone all wrong, what with the spilled suds foaming on her hands and the bar. She looks up and sees me seeing.
“Look at this place.” Linda’s voice is too loud. Now a few customers are noticing. She slams the sudsy steins down on the bar and sweeps her arms wide, gesturing at the crowd, the growing line at the door. “And I don’t know a Manhattan from a margarita.”
I go over to her, speak quietly, trying to calm her down. “You called his house again, right? If Tom’s not there, he’s probably on his way.”
With
her
, I think.
Please, with her, because if he’s not with her, then something is really wrong.
I swallow the knot in my throat.
Linda doesn’t seem to hear me. She is frantically fumbling among the liquor bottles. So I go over to take an order from a couple in the corner. They’ve been waiting for a while, it looks like, from the way they’ve set their closed menus close to the edge of the table. Looks like Caitlin hasn’t watered them yet either.
It’s only when I’ve set their glasses of water down that I realize the couple is Bonnie and Beau.
“Surprise!” Bonnie smiles up at me.
“I heard I missed you the other day.” Beau stands and gives me a quick hug.
I’m so glad to see them. There’s so much I want to ask them. I glance around Red Earth—the growing chaos. Obviously now is not the time for the things I want to say. Things like
Is
he
really
okay? His drawings are scaring me. I think he’s lost weight. What do you think is really going on?
“David said he talked to you about his idea for the orphanage. Don’t you think it’s a great idea?” Bonnie’s round face is flushed to the roots of her blond hair. Breathless, she waves the conversation on to Beau.
“We needed a project. It’s a real stress reliever, I’ve got to admit,” he says.
I point at the sign by the jukebox, and they both exclaim their approval.
They rattle on then about their house and how it’s already turned into a maze of boxes and bags, all filled with everything an orphanage could need. They’d love my help in organizing it all.
“You think our place was a mess before?” Bonnie says.
“You should see it now,” Beau says.
“I could come over tomorrow,” I say. “Maybe around—”
There’s a crash and then Linda screams.
I tear across the room, dodging tables, crunching through glass to where Linda lies on her side on the floor in front of the bar, a cocktail tray spinning like a gyroscope above her head.
I crouch down, Owen’s ring dangling at my throat. But Linda won’t care about it now. She won’t even notice it. Her eyes are closed. Her face is white. Her breathing is fast and shallow.
Caitlin drops down beside me, then yelps and leaps up again, plucking a piece of glass from her knee.
“Call nine-one-one,” I say hoarsely.
“It’s my fault.”
I know this frail voice. It’s Justine’s. I look up and see her wavering above me in her white dress.
“No,” Tom says quickly, moving close to Justine. “
I
never should have brought you here.” He looks at me. “We were at urgent care most of today. Some new issues. But she wanted so much to come here tonight, and the doctor said she could try.” He shakes his head. “It’s my fault—not calling, not explaining. I just wasn’t thinking right.”
But I know it was my idea to begin with. I’m the one who made things even worse than they were before.
Linda moans. I feel like I might freak out, which will make things worse yet.
Breathe
in. Breathe out.
I turn back to Linda. I put my hand to her forehead. Her skin is clammy. From the corner of my eye, I see the vague blur of Caitlin’s arm. She’s gesturing so frantically that I have to look. There’s an ice tub, tipped upside down on the floor. Some of what I thought was glass is ice.
“I thought I’d set it right on the bar.” Caitlin twists a purple lock of her hair around and around her finger. “Misjudged that one by a mile. It spilled all over the place. Linda happened to walk by just at that moment, and wham. All that ice—she slipped.”