Bandstand Novelization

Confessions of a Gold Star Wife

He seems to tighten his grip on  the album tucked under his arm. An album that no doubt holds photos of Michael. "Hiya. Boy, you look very nice." I pry my gaze away from the book and look him in the eyes.

It's been awhile since I've heard anyone call me anything remotely close to pretty. "Thank you. Come in." I push the door open wide. Like a proper gentleman he removes his hat as he enters. I point him towards the dining room and then close the door behind us.

Mom peeks her head out from the kitchen as Donny tosses his jacket on the back of the chair he's claimed as his own. "Ma, this Donny Novinski."

Donny reaches out a hand, which my mother valiantly takes with a smile. "June Adams. It is a pleasure to meet you." They both step back and there's an awkward moment of silence before Donny's eyes wander.

He finds the old piano in the corner. The one I've hardly been able to look at since the day I received the telegram at the front door. "Which one of you plays?"

Mother's eyes slip over to me. She answers, "Oh, I used to. Back in high school."

"Would you want to try it out?" I ask. I haven't been able to bring myself to sit at it... it's the last memory I have of Michael and I together, but music heals, and to hear someone sit there and play, it would undoubtedly help to heal my own spirit.

He shakes his head, "Oh, maybe later." I feel my own shoulders slump and I see his eyes sadden a bit, sensing something.

Mother senses the shift in tone as well, "Oh I sure hope you do! Please, please, please, please, have a seat at the table. I have to get busy in the kitchen, but I have some deviled eggs you could have as an appetizer. I'll have those out in a jiffy."

As she disappears into the kitchen Donny and I share a smile. "Mom's nice." He states plainly.

"She works hard at it." I answer.

Donny pulls out the chair in front of him and offers it to me. "And what about your dad?" 

Thankfully my back is to him as I take a seat so he can't see my reaction. "Oh." I let the lie come as it always does, easily. "He's traveling for work - salesman." I hide my fidgety fingers under the tablecloth as Donny rounds the table to the chair next to mine. 

"What's he sell?"

"Frigidaires." I said it too quickly. Softening up I smile and add to my fib, "All sorts of things."

Donny smiles and leans forward as if he's about to tell a joke. "Must be hard to lug around." He chuckles and then leans way back. "Michael talked about you working at Halle Brothers Department Store."

 I smile, my stomach twisting at the mention of his name. 

"At the cosmetics counter." I've worked there now for years, since before the war. Nothing's changed, and yet everything has.

"And you sing." He looks at me with genuine curiosity.

My eyes slip to the piano, something I hope he doesn't catch. "Oh, I confine my singing to solos in church these days."

"I'd like to hear you." Again he has a shining smile and genuine interest.

I almost ask him to join me at the piano for a spell, but think better of it. "Unless you find yourself at Our Lady of Mercy this Sunday, that's pretty unlikely." He opens his mouth to counter, but ma comes in bringing an overwhelming scent with her. 

In her hands sits a tray of deviled eggs, swamped in spice. My mouth drops opens.

 "Wow, Mom..." I can hardly stifle my laughter.

Ma stares at it for a moment, calculating her answer. "The top of the paprika shaker fell off. Like they say, you can't put the genie back in the bottle. I am so sorry." She is laughing too as she sets them on the table. Disappearing back into the kitchen I turn to Donny who's staring at the tray in disbelief.

"I...I am so embarrassed!" I say, surely my cheeks are turning red. "Your mom is probably a gourmet cook!" His smile falters a bit.

"No, my mom passed when I was thirteen."

I reach out and grab his wrist gently. "I'm sorry." 

I swear I see the glint of a tear for a moment but when he looks up he's forcing a smile. "No, I haven't had a good, home-cooked meal in... I don't know how long." He picks up an egg, blowing on it the excess paprika goes up in a puff. "I'm very grateful for this." He takes a bite and is able to get it down.

"Donny..." I start. "You don't have to eat those." 

"I survived the Pacific." He eyes what's left in front of him. "I can survive a little spiced egg." He eats the rest in one bite only coughing once as it makes its way down.

 I sit back and admire this crazy man in front of me, Michael would never have eaten one out of politeness. Donny hits his chest with a fist twice before he sits back too, smiling once again. "So I have these photos..." He looks down where his hand rests on the book cover. "Maybe we should wait 'till after dinner."

"No, let's look now. It's fine." My head is urging me to wait until after dinner. I know I'll get emotional, that no matter what, the rest of my evening will be full of grieving and tears.

Donny takes a deep breath but angles the book so we can both look. Opening to the first page I see Michael's face. I can feel my heart reeling as Donny points to each picture and explains.

"This was in bootcamp, when he met. That picture's in Fiji. It's right after we landed. I had a tan about ten minutes off the boat 'cause I'm half Italian, but he was full Polish so he was a boiled lobster." 

"It happened every summer." I say, looking up we both laugh. Looking down again there's a picture of him standing in his uniform, smiling that toothy grin I fell in love with years ago. I feel the tears burning my eyes.

"This was at patrol-" Donn stops when I try to discreetly dry my eyes.

Swallowing I try to get him to continue. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." 

His left hand rests on my back while he tries to find my eyes with his. "Why don't I just let you go through these later?" 

Sniffling I sit up, his hand leaves my shoulder. "That's uh, probably a good idea." I say.

He nods and then goes to close it. "I, um," He stops. "I see you wrote Michael on these. Is that what you called him?" I know what's coming but I want to hear it from him.

Donny's smile is starting to return. "We had a nickname for him."

"Rubber?" I ask, glancing up at him.

"That's the one." He says shrugging.

"He had it since high school!" I hold my head up, "And I got really good at the jokes."

Donny bursts out a laugh. "Well I guess that's what you get with a last name like Trojan."

I stifle my laugh as I think back to all those days in our school hallways. "Exactly."

We both laugh again as Ma peeks in. Nosy as she is I'm sure she wants in on the jokes.

"Alrighty then, dinner is almost ready!" Her eyes find the tray of paprika from the doorway. "Julia - oh, you didn't even touch the eggs!"

"We'll have them with dinner, Ma." It's easier than explaining how uneditable they are.

My eyes glance over the picture album once more. I only have one question, a question I shouldn't ask. "Were you there?" I ask after a deep breath. 

"Where?"

"Bougainville Island." I say making eye contact with him. "When he died."

I see him tense up. His jaw locks, but he answers. "...Yeah." I can sense that he's sacred with anything I might follow up with, but I also sense that he'll answer anything I ask of him truthfully.

Donny's kind, a gentleman who's been to hell and back. He knew Michael, was close to him. Who am I to push him to a limit? I dry my eyes once more, sit up straight, and smile.

"I hate deviled eggs. Be sure to tell my mom you like the roast, even if you don't. It's her specialty." The tension goes out of the room as quickly as it came into it, and something much sweeter replaces it.