My daddy went to prison for being a conscientious objector to the war.
"Jesus said I should love my neighbor and my enemy, how could I go to war and kill either one of them?" He had explained to me.
I always admired him for it. And I was dumbfounded that the whole church seemed to miss this point in the Bible as they were all off finding ways to support the war. When Grandma passed away, the pastor told my sister and I that it was God's will, that he wanted another angel in heaven. My sister got angry at this.
"Why would God hurt the rest of us like this?" She questioned.
Daddy showed us a few scriptures like James 1:13 that said "when under trial, let no one say 'I am being tried by God.' For with evil things god cannot be tried, nor does he himself try anyone."
My sister decided to stay mad at God. I decided to believe in the God the Bible actually described and I stopped going to Church.
I think my sister did it on purpose, marrying a military man. I don't know who exactly she was rebelling against, but she certainly got lucky. Jack loved her 110%, which is 10% more than she deserved if you asked me, and he was an absolute decent guy. She kind of did a bad job at rebelling actually.
Anyways, that all explains how the military became such a prominent feature in the life of a politically neutral girl like me. The thought strikes me on odd days at random times. 'It is odd that the military is almost a daily fixture in your life, isn't it?' And I always answer the thought with the same level of genuine surprise. 'It certainly is!'
My sister likes to tell me to have more conversations with actual people and less with myself. I tell her that I can't help being the only good listener I know. Billy is a close second though.
I sat on the floor next to Billy, coloring books and crayons all over the coffee table. I had gone to stay with my sister near the base I was now working at. I told myself it was only temporary, that surely I wouldn't really have to do this. I just had to agree at first because that was the only choice they gave me. That was three weeks ago. I still had no idea what to do.
"Look at my puppy," Billy said, holding up his coloring book to show me a green and blue dog.
"Very nice. What's his name?" I asked, pretending to pet him.
Billy looked thoughtful.
"Should I name him after one of Daddy's soldier friends? That way when he comes home he won't miss them so much."
"Hey, that's really good thinking," I remarked, impressed. " You're so smart and nice to your Daddy. Do you know the names of any of his friends?"
"I know! I'll get the letters he sent me, he mentions his friends in those," Billy said before excitedly running off.
A terrible cacophony came from the mustard colored phone in the kitchen and my sister raced to grab it. I never knew if she was hoping it was Jack or if she just wanted the noise to stop as soon as possible.
"Hello? Hey baby!"
Jack it was.
Billy bounded in with an arm full of letters and dropped them on the coffee table in front of me.
"Wow, your Daddy wrote you all these letters?" I asked him and he nodded proudly. "He sure does love you. Let's see what we got."
I opened a letter and skimmed for names, my attention split between it and my sister on the phone.
"What?" My sisters voice was not as happy as it sounded a second ago.
Mills.
"What do you mean another mission?"
Cole.
"The war is over, you're supposed to come home!"
Slivko.
"I don't care if it's not dangerous, I wanted you to come home."
Reles.
"Here you go, buddy," I said, writing these names on the back page of his coloring book. "You can pick one."
"Well can you at least do something about Maybelle?"
My head snapped up at the mention of my name. Do what about me?
"The boys down here aren't the gentlemanly type, I'm worried about her. Besides, she always comes home smelling like barbecue and dirty dishwater. And if she stays any longer Billy will love her more than me,"She explained to him.
I rolled my eyes. the guys do make some colorful remarks to me in the lunch line sometimes, the brave ones at least. Momma says I got a mean face that could turn a growling dog into a whimpering one. Not all the time of course, I got a baby face that makes people think I'm about a decade younger than I actually am. I had to agree with her that the work is hard and disgusting though.
"You do? You can?! Wonderful! She'll be thrilled! No, I'm still upset with you."
I stared at her back intently, waiting for any explanation on what I'll be thrilled about.
"Hey the Carol Burnette show is on," Billy said excitedly.
The tv now drowned out my sisters conversation so I went back to coloring, making sure no crayons were lost in the shag carpet.
"I don't think Daddy's coming home," Billy said out of the blue.
"He'll just be late is all," I told him.
Billy seemed to think about this.
"We'll see," he repeated something his mother always said to him which in this instance sounded ominous.
I looked at him from the corner of my eye as the audience on tv laughed.