SHARON -- I -- May 4, 1970 (MRS. LIEUTENANT: A WOMEN'S FRIENDSHIP NOVEL))

All around the department store dining room the lunch crowd enjoyed the food.  Sharon grasped her water glass.  Presumably her mother meant the two roommates at MSU that Sharon had been assigned her first term – the WASP from the upper-class Detroit suburb of Grosse Pointe and the Catholic from the Hamtramck working-class section of Detroit, both prejudiced against Jews – and then, second term, the hostile roommate off a farm in central Michigan who had never met a Jew before.  Or perhaps her mother meant meeting Robert.  Sharon didn't ask for clarification.

At the dinner table last night her father studied his refilled plate while her mother repeated her position.  As a successful real estate attorney, he identified those occasions in which keeping quiet could enhance a negotiation.

Sharon took the platter out of her mother's hands and passed it on to her brother Howard without taking seconds.  "Relax, Mom.  I keep telling you, I can always stay with Grandma and Grandpa in Louisville.  At least then I'll only be an hour away from Robert."

Her mother had the last word: “Two days with your grandparents will be too much.”

She looks at Robert now, his eyes on the road ahead.  "I think they accept my coming with you."

"If they do, why did they get your brother to show up and try to talk you out of going?"

Sharon studies her husband's face.  His tone isn't belligerent, but she can't read his expression.

In fact she suspects Howard did receive an official summons from his studies at the University of Illinois to say good-bye to his only sibling.  His assigned mission probably included trying to dissuade her from her "ridiculous" plan to go with her husband.  If so, her parents wasted their train money and Howard's time.

Howard, her younger brother by two years and several inches taller than her 5'5" height.  There is a clear family resemblance with their light brown hair, narrow faces with strong noses, and dark eyes, not to mention their good complexions thanks to a rigorous dermatologist who burned off their blemished skin with dry ice treatments.  And their opposition to the Vietnam War is equally strong.

Finally she says, "It was nice to have a chance to say good-bye.  I don't know when we'll see him again."

Robert snorts, flipping one hand momentarily off the wheel.  "It would have been better if he had left his 'make love not war' paraphernalia at school.  He overdid it."

Sharon leans toward Robert, about to say something.  Instead she stares straight ahead.

Robert glances over at her, then returns his eyes to the road.  "How will you feel if he's drafted and goes to Canada?  You may not be able to see him for years."

Not see Howard for years?  Robert insists that Howard has the luxury to be anti-war due to his college deferment along with his high lottery draft number based on his birth date – 239 – drawn five months ago in the December 1st draft lottery.  Robert’s lottery number was 16, making his college commitment to ROTC – Reserve Officers Training Corps – appear to be a prescient choice.  Even an anti-war protestor like herself realizes it’s better to be entering the army as an officer rather than at the lowest enlisted rank.

"Do you really think Howard would go to Canada?" she says.

"You'll have to ask him yourself."

Sharon can't predict what her younger brother would do.  Even if Howard says he'll never flee to Canada, he still might.

Roberts hums along with the song on the radio – Kenny Rogers singing "Ruby, Don't Take Your Love to Town."  Sharon wants to ask Robert to switch the channel, not to listen to the song of a paralyzed Vietnam vet whose woman has to go "to town" to get physical love.  War is wrong, so wrong!  Robert can get killed!