Chapter 14: Decisions

WE GOT ONLY A PIECE of the story at a time. Patricia had been called out of class after lunch and her father Tor had picked her up. Tony’s parents were at her house along with a car and two army officers. She’d sat and listened in stunned silence as they told her Tony had been caught in action during what was supposed to have been a New Year’s ceasefire. He was killed a few hours after midnight on January 2.

The officer and the chaplain who brought the news said Tony had died bravely in service of his country. What bullshit. He died a wasted life for the profitable military industrial complex of rich people funding the war. He died because a fucking racist on our county’s draft board wanted to get rid of him.

Tony’s body would be shipped home for burial. Shipped. In a fucking coffin. Because they were married, the army left all the arrangements for Tony’s funeral to Patricia. They gave her a fucking check for $10,000, as if that would help, and said Tony’s back pay and other compensation would be forwarded to her.

Thank God for my mother! She took Patricia under her wing and guided her through the funeral arrangements for when the body arrived. They asked if she wanted Tony buried in the Camp Butler National Cemetery. Patricia said that Tony loved her and loved Tenbrook. She wanted him buried in our cemetery. Mom took over the arrangements and met with the regional representative to see that Tony was shipped home to Tenbrook. They told us he would arrive on Thursday the eleventh. The funeral home in town would receive the body and make sure it was prepared for burial on Friday.

I think I failed my stupid economics test the next day. By that time, word had spread around the town that Tony had been killed in action in Vietnam. Patricia stayed home from school. Word was out among those who didn’t already know that she and Tony had been married for six months.

Maybe the most helpful visitor Patricia had in those few days was Mary Lamonte. She’d been married about the same length of time when her husband was killed in World War II. And she looked after her son, Billy, who’d been wounded in Vietnam just a few years ago.

Stoney was helpful, too. He’d served there and was Billy’s captain—now our town constable. He organized an honor guard for Tony’s casket and funeral. And he used his channels and connections to find out more information.

Friday night, Christine’s period arrived like clockwork and I spent the evening holding her in front of the television and making sure she had whatever she needed. I have no idea what was on television. Every time I forced myself into awareness, tears dripped out of my eyes.

I wasn’t up for anything on Saturday or Sunday. I hung out in the studio and developed the pictures I’d shot on Thursday when we got the news. The pictures were so pathetic, I couldn’t enlarge them. Anna came into the studio and took the proof sheet and negatives from me. She gave me a little kiss and filed them away. At one time or another all the girls came in except Patricia. They each wanted to know if I’d hold them for a little while, which I did. It seemed like that was the only thing I could do for my friends.

Otherwise, we just hung out and pretended to study.

Monday, I skipped school and took Christine to a pharmacy in Dubuque where she could get prescription for birth control pills filled. Not for birth control, of course. For easing menstrual cramping.

“It will only be a month now,” she said. “We’ll have sex every day. You’ll put your cock in my pussy and fill it with come.”

We found a place on the way home where we could park and make out on the mattress in back, even though we didn’t make love. I still made sure she got a good orgasm. And she gave me a blowjob that nearly blew my mind. For a little while, we forgot all our sadness and our friends. We were just the two of us, isolated and insulated from the rest of the world as long as we were in each other’s arms.

It turned out they’d held a little memorial service for Tony in the gym for those who wanted to say a prayer. I wasn’t upset that I missed it except that I should have gotten a photograph. The actual funeral was after school on Friday. I’d sat in the funeral home with Patricia the previous afternoon as Tony arrived with the honor guard in a hearse and people came by to pay their respects. I say I sat with her, but so did all our friends.

It was cold as hell out Friday afternoon. Patricia rode in a funeral car with her parents and Tony’s parents and sister. Billy carried a flag to the cemetery, even though it was snowing out. I had the seats in the van and the studio crew all rode with me. The pall bearers were all military men, but the rest of us, including a couple of Tony’s motorcycle buddies and their girlfriends, gathered around Patricia and her family and Tony’s family. My dear little sister, Kat, stood next to Patricia and held her hand. Tony’s sister was on the other side.

Mom continued the words she’d preached at the funeral and said the true blessing left by Tony Kowalski was in the lives of the people gathered. Lives he had touched and people he had called his friends and family. There was no longer anything we could do for Tony. All we could do now was live a life filled with love and joy. No matter what the army said about his honor and bravery, the legacy he left behind was of love and joy.

I was surprised when the honor guard that had accompanied him fired a volley of shots in the air as the casket was lowered into the ground. The flag draped on the casket was folded and handed to Patricia by the senior officer.

“On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Army, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.”

Patricia took the flag and her tears dropped on it.

I don’t know how Stoney arranged all the honors, but as the casket was lowered into the ground, a bugle somewhere in the cemetery played Taps.

Nothing is ever over when it’s over. Members of our church and of the Catholic Church and even a few people from the two Lutheran churches brought food to our church and the entire funeral party was invited to the basement for dinner. People stood or sat to chat while we were all together. Gradually, laughter broke out in the room as people remembered something funny that Tony said or did.

It was all a way to regain our equilibrium and hold our dear ones in our arms to reassure them that we were there and were ready to support them.

“Nate, don’t ever let them take you,” Patricia whispered to me. “We should have done what you said and gone to Canada. Or anyplace. Tony gave me this. Take it and wear it and never ever let them take you.” She pressed a necklace into my hands that I’d often seen her wearing. A peace symbol. I hugged her.

“I will wear it and I will never let them take me,” I said.

She put it over my head and it hung down on its braided cord in front of my shirt.

And that’s what brought me to my room around midnight when I was still holding my draft card in one hand and a box of matches in the other. I needed to find some effective way to protest the whole thing. If I wore the peace symbol, that would only be a start. I needed to do something! What could I do?

Take your place on The Great Mandala
As it moves through your brief moment of time.
Win or lose now you must choose now
And if you lose, you’ve only wasted your life.

I wondered how many protest songs I could quote the lyrics of. God forbid I try to sing them. But Peter, Paul, and Mary’s haunting tune continually echoed in my head.

I got up and went downstairs into Mom’s office and picked up the phone. Elizabeth said she had a private line and to call her any time. We’d talked a couple of times in the past two weeks and she was sympathetic. I hoped she was serious about being woken up in the middle of the night. It rang twice before it was rattled off the cradle.

“‘Lo?”

“Elizabeth, it’s Nate. Your photographer boyfriend.”

“Nate, you don’t have to introduce yourself when you call. I know who you are and I love to hear your voice anytime. Baby, it’s after midnight. Are you okay?”

“No. I haven’t been to bed. I’m just ... We buried Tony this afternoon.”

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Nate. It must have been terrible.”

“It was a beautiful service. Touching. Too much military and not enough apology. Food. Tears. My poor friend, Patricia. Tony’s been her anchor ever since they’ve known each other. I don’t even know what to say to her,” I said.

“Take her picture.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious. I’ve seen her picture and she loves to pose for you. It would be something familiar for her to hang onto.”

“But all the photos we took were for Tony.”

“Exactly. Take another set of her for Tony. Remind her about how much he loved to see her pictures.”

“You’re good. You’ve never even met the people I talk to you about.”

“You sent me a set of prints of the girls who model for you. I’m sure you have better pictures of them that I’ll get to see one day. How about me? Have you shown my picture to them?”

“Only to Chris, Ronda, and Anna. I don’t really have permission to show your pictures, you know.”

“Nate, I give you permission to show any picture you’ve taken of me to your other girlfriends. And when they ask, just be sure to tell them the girl in the photo is the model Starr, not your girlfriend Elizabeth.”

“You know I’m going to have a terrible time keeping them separate.”

“Yeah, me, too. I want to see you, Nate. How soon can you come to Chicago again?”

I stopped to think about that. It had been two and a half weeks of pain and sorrow since I was in Chicago.

“How about now?”

“Now? It’s one o’clock in the morning! How can you come now?”

“I have my own wheels,” I said.

“Oh, yes. The van with the bed in the back.”

“Right now, it’s got the seats in. I needed them to transport everyone to the funeral.”

“Take them out and put the mattress and blankets back in. It’s cold here and we’ll need someplace warm to make love.”

“I can do that,” I said, yawning.

“NO! Wait. You’re dead tired. Go to bed and get at least four hours of sleep before you get in the car to come to me. I’ll plan to see you about noon.”

“Where shall I meet you?”

“Let’s meet at the Camera Warehouse. Then we can go out and play together. And by play, I mean make love. Got it?”

“I’ll see you at the Camera Warehouse no later than noon,” I said. “I’d better get started on that four hours of sleep.”

“Goodnight, lover. Dream of me in your arms.”

I got six hours and woke up feeling pretty good as far as being awake was concerned. I started a fresh pot of coffee brewing when I reached the kitchen and Dad came to find out what had me moving so early on a Saturday.

“I need to go to Chicago for a photo shoot,” I said.

“I didn’t know you had anything scheduled for today.”

“It was a last-minute thing. I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

“What about your responsibilities here?” Mom asked as she came into the kitchen.

“I’ll do laundry when I get home. I won’t let it go. But I need to get out of here right away this morning,” I said.

“And?” she asked.

I sighed. I’d known this day was coming for a long time. I knew exactly what she was asking.

“Unless I stumble into a church in Chicago in the morning, I guess my perfect attendance record is history,” I said.

“There aren’t any more pins for it anyway,” Mom said. “But is what you’re going for worth it?”

“Yes, Mom. Yes, it is.”

“Let’s get some breakfast going. It’s either eat now or you’ll need to stop by the time you get to Fulton.”

I had everything I needed from the studio, including storing the seats and getting my camera equipment and the air mattress in the bus by eight-thirty. I hadn’t said anything to anyone else. I just hit the road.

I pushed the little 50 horsepower engine right up to sixty miles per hour and held it there all the way across Illinois, except when I was going uphill. In a way, I hoped Elizabeth would pose for a couple of pictures for me. I needed to justify my fast trip to Chicago. I’d need to get gas as soon as I got near town so I’d have a full tank the next day. Gas stations were funny about being open on Sunday. At least I got nearly thirty miles per gallon from the little nine-gallon tank.

I rolled up to the Camera Warehouse right at noon and found a parking space in the garage next door. I grabbed my camera case and headed into the store.

I was met by a joyful bundle of sexy girl who wrapped her arms around me and just hugged, barely letting me set my camera case down so I could return the gesture.

“I’m so glad you could come into town! After such a short time together, I feel like I shouldn’t miss you as much as I have,” Elizabeth said. “I’m just glad you could come to be with me.”

“I’m glad to have you in my arms,” I said. “Do you just want to go someplace and catch up?” I guess I had in mind going as far as the van and making use of the mattress in back.

“You have a client,” Elizabeth said. “I took her upstairs and just ran down to see if you were here yet. Come on.”

She led me to the back stairs and I tried not to just maul her on the way up to the studio, but I had to focus on being a professional. We got upstairs and I saw my client for the first time. She was standing on crutches and wore a football helmet.

“Hi! I’m Nate,” I said, walking right up to her.

“I’m Emily Bronson,” she answered, freeing a hand from her crutch to offer me a handshake. It was pretty firm, but I could feel a little shaking in it. I wondered if it was part of her problem or if she was just nervous.

“I’m looking forward to taking your photos today. Why don’t we sit down to chat before we get started? Let me grab a chair for you.” I grabbed the comfy arm chair and set it behind her. She backed up and kind of collapsed into it. “What kind of photos are you interested in today?”

“I want a photo for my high school yearbook that doesn’t make me look like a creep. You might have noticed, I have PI.”

“I don’t know what PI is,” I said, puzzled.

“Photographic Impairment,” she giggled. Okay. She had a sense of humor.

“I really understand,” I said. “I’m a PK. That’s a preacher’s kid. It’s probably a lot like your impairment.”

“Not from what I hear. Lizzie said you have a bunch of girlfriends.”

“Well, a few. Tell me, is the helmet always necessary? I’ve taken some pretty good pictures of football players in their helmets. I just need to make sure to set the lights correctly.”

She giggled again and I heard Elizabeth splutter. She came over and lifted the helmet off Emily’s head. Emily shook out fairly long brown tresses.

“We found this in your junk room while we were waiting for you,” Emily laughed. “Lizzie said it wouldn’t even faze you and I didn’t believe her.”

Emily spoke slowly and deliberately, but clearly and to hear her, you wouldn’t recognize a disability.

“And were the crutches back there, too?” I asked, chuckling.

“No. I really need those. I have Cerebral Palsy, also known as CP. Mostly it affects my walking, but I sometimes have twitches that are called spastic palsy,” Emily said.

“I’ve heard of that, but I don’t know much about it. You’ll need to be straight-forward with me about what you can and can’t do. I don’t want to tell you to get in a position you can’t get into, or to do something you can’t do,” I said.

“If you’re talking about sex, I don’t get on my hands and knees very well,” Emily said. She was straight deadpan and I honestly couldn’t tell if she was serious or not.

“I hope that Lizzie told you that I don’t have sex in the studio and I don’t date models.”

“Yeah. She sure got around that, didn’t she?” Emily said.

“Don’t be a brat,” Elizabeth said. “And Emily is the only person allowed to call me Lizzie. You can use Beth if you like. No one really calls me Elizabeth unless they’re mad at me.”

I smiled at her and she made a kissy face.

“Well, Emily, can you sit on a stool or is that too precarious?” I asked.

“If it’s not too high. If my feet can’t touch the floor, I’ll probably need that football helmet.”

“Well, let me set up the drop for your school portrait. Are you a senior?”

“Yes. And I’m eighteen and I signed the model release Beth gave me,” Emily said.

“That’s great. Beth, could you help Emily by making sure her hair is brushed out after being squashed under the helmet? Any other makeup needed?” I asked.

“We’ll go over it,” Elizabeth said.

I pulled the red backdrop down and out onto the floor. There was a low stool behind the privacy screen that models could use as they were dressing. I wasn’t sure if anyone had actually used it. I put it in front of the backdrop and started arranging the lights. Everything was in exactly the same position I left it in almost three weeks ago.

When I had everything set and the camera loaded, I turned to Emily and Beth.

“Okay, I’m ready for the star of this show,” I said. “Can you make it okay on this stool, Emily?”

“I could if I could get out of this armchair. Could you give me a lift?”

“Gosh. I made you sit there and didn’t even think about getting you out. That’s the kind of thing you need to tell me,” I said.

At first, I offered her my hand, but she didn’t have enough strength in her legs to press up from the deep chair. I put an arm around her and lifted her to a standing position so she could get her crutches under her. I steadied her until she was balanced and she walked over to the stool. I was there to support her as she sat and she thanked me.

I quickly snapped a picture and then went to her. I generally fussed around her so she’d know I was paying attention. I smoothed an imaginary strand of hair, lifted her chin a little and tilted her head to one side.

“You’ve got a good sense of humor,” I said. “I’ll bet you smile a lot.”

“I have a chipped tooth.”

“Really? Where?”

“Right here,” she said, pointing to the right side of her mouth.

“Oh. As it happens, we already took care of that, so you can smile as brightly as you want.”

“How?”

“You’re facing off to my left. I can’t see that corner of your mouth.”

“Kewl!”

I took the portraits, having her try different expressions, but being cautious not to show her chipped tooth in any of them.

“That’s a wrap,” I said when I’d finished the roll.

“But what about...?” Emily started. Elizabeth held up a finger and pulled me aside.

“Emily wants an Attic Allure photo,” she whispered. “Are you not able to make her look sexy because she has crutches?”

“That’s not it. I thought ... Are you sure that’s what she wants?”

“I told her all about my session and she wants the full treatment. Except fucking you in the darkroom. She’s very excited about having a glamour picture that shows her the way she imagines herself to be,” Beth said. “Just remember, if you touch her breasts, she might want to kiss you. It would be a first.”

“Why? Why does she want this?”

“Because she’s seen your photos. She’s placed herself in every one. She’s a sweet and loving girl who has simply never had an opportunity to show it.”

“Okay. Let me figure out a couple of scenes for her.”