Chapter 3

When we brought Ron home from the bus depot that day I dragged him straight up to my room and locked the door. We didn't come out until the next morning — Christmas morning! WOW! What a Christmas Eve that was. Ron had been saving up for me for two months. I think he came more times that night than on our first honeymoon night. I know I was insatiable.

Christmas in his family was always very quiet, with beautiful hymns, Bible readings, and inexpensive presents that were unwrapped one at a time, very carefully so the paper could be saved for reuse the next year. But there has never been another Christmas in my life that glowed so much as that one did.

After lunch Ron and I went back up to my room and ... slept. That's right, slept. We slept right through Christmas dinner, and finally came down somewhat guiltily to snack on leftovers. His mom assured us she understood, and bustled around warming up turkey, potatoes and gravy, and Harvard beets.

It wasn't until the next day that Ron gave me the really big news.

"You're not going to believe what Rich and Sandy are planning to do when we go back. She is going to go back with us, and rent an apartment near the base."

"You mean he'll be able to live off base with her?"

"No, not really, but if he's lucky he can get a thirty hour pass on weekends, so he'll be able to spend one day — and one night — with her."

"Wow! You mean we could have been doing that all this time?"

"No, not during the basic training we just went through. They only allow that when we get to Advanced Basic."

"So, we can do it now?"

"If you want to, Jan, but you'll be alone most of the time."

"I don't care, if I can spend one day a week with you."

Ron grinned. "I was kinda hoping you would say that, but are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, but how do I get there?"

"I asked the guys if you could ride back with us. It'll be really crowded with six of us in their old '54 Rambler, but they are OK with it if you are."

At that point I would have happily ridden in the trunk if I had to! I even mentioned that, but Ron pointed out the trunk was already stuffed with duffle bags coming out, and with me along we'd have even more luggage going back. Which meant I was going to have to be very choosy about what I would need for the next two months.

Since the guys had made it from Texas to California in just over a day, they figured they could make it back in the same amount of time. Ron and I took the bus down to Claremont on the 31st, and the gang picked us up there at 4:30. Getting us all into the car took some real work. We ended up with Jim and Bill in the front, along with a suitcase on the floor in front of the passenger seat. In the back, Sandy sat on Rich's lap and I sat on Ron's.

We realized if we left it that way Jim and Bill would have to do all the driving, but neither Sandy nor I felt comfortable about sitting on any of the other guys' laps. We finally decided that Sandy would sit on my lap when either of our husbands was driving, which still left three abreast in the back. Before the trip was over we all agreed that we now knew what sardines must feel like.

It wasn't until we were on our way that someone pointed out that Texas time was two hours ahead of California. That meant the guys got two free hours on their first trip, but we were going to lose that time. They had left at 7 PM and arrived at midnight. We left at 5 PM, but if we took the same amount of time we wouldn't get to San Antonio until 2 AM.

That wouldn't do. The guys had to be in their barracks without fail by midnight. That meant we could make stops for gas and bathroom breaks, maybe a couple of brief stops for meals, and nothing else.

We were just coming into Tucson when we heard the countdown to midnight on the radio. We all said "Happy New Year" to each other, and I kissed Ron, but that was the extent of our celebration. We were already cramped and stiff and tired, and the misery had only begun.

Discomfort aside, I did make four new friends during that long, long, night and day. I had wondered how three guys from Pomona could have ended up in basic training at the same base in Texas at the same time, but it was perfectly logical once they explained it. They were all Seventh Day Adventists, and they said there was a large community of SDAs (as they called themselves) in the Pomona area. They explained that most SDAs were willing to be drafted, but refused to bear arms in the military. Because of that, they were all classified as 1-AO, and 1-AO basic training was always at Fort Sam Houston.

Someone went on, laughing, to tell me the army puts a cardboard tag at the foot of every bunk that says either 'S' or 'C'.

"The 'S' is for SDA, you see," Ron explained, "and the 'C' is for Christian."

"Not, that we're not Christians, too," Rich added quickly, "maybe even better Christians than some, like Ron here, who seem to have strange ideas about the divinity of Jesus."

With that he poked Ron, who grinned. Obviously there had been some theological discussions among them.

"The point is," Jim threw in, looking back from the front seat, "that the drill sergeant and lieutenant need some way to tell us apart, because we refuse to drill on the Sabbath, and they refuse to drill on the first day of the week. Though," he added, winking at Ron and me, "I've never understood that last part."

"Yeah, and the really interesting point is," Bill added, keeping his eyes on the road, "that there are as many 'S' tags as 'C' tags. Kinda makes you think that half of the real Christians in the world are SDAs."

We all had a good laugh over that, but it did make me think.

It was only ten in the morning, California time, and Ron was driving, when he announced that we were approaching El Paso.

"You mean El Paso, Texas," I asked, incredulous. "Wow, we're way ahead of schedule!"

That brought a big laugh, and Sandy, who was sitting on my lap, had to explain.

"Sorry, honey, but El Paso isn't much more than half way. Texas is a really BIG state."

"But we've been on the road for what, seventeen hours," I wailed, calculating quickly, "and if it's really noon now in Texas, we only have twelve hours left."

Ron nodded grimly and pressed harder on the gas pedal.

I wasn't where I could see the speedometer so I don't know how the guys did it, but it was just after 11:30 when we pulled up at the Fort Sam gate. I do know that lunch and dinner had been candy bars grabbed when we had to stop for gas.

The guard wouldn't let any civilians past the gate that late at night. Sandy and I had to say good-bye quickly to Rich and Ron so they could check in and then hoof it to the barracks, duffel bags slung over their backs.

Suddenly I was nearly alone, late at night, in a strange city and a strange car, with a woman I had only known for one day. I didn't even have a place to sleep. I burst into tears, and Sandy and I clung to each other.

"Don't worry," she finally told me, "we're going to the SDA servicemen's center. They'll take care of us."

"But I'm not even SDA," I sobbed.

"It doesn't matter. You'll see."

She was right. The woman who met us when we knocked at the door was just wonderful. She pointed us to the showers (God, did we need that!) and by the time we felt cleaner she had two beds made up for us. I slept for twelve hours, and when I woke up Sandy was gone, but an elderly man saw that I got something to eat, listened to my story, and called a middle-aged woman to come help me find a place to stay. She spent the whole afternoon with me, and found a little apartment only four blocks from the base.

As long as I live I will never, ever, forget what those people did for me, or stop praising them as some of the kindest people in the world.

I moved in to my tiny new home that very night. Fortunately, it was furnished, but I spent the next several days finding my way around the local bus system, and learning where I could get groceries, linens, and all the other things I needed to set up housekeeping. Ron and I didn't have a lot of money, and it took all I had for the first and last month's rent, but Ron's dad had slipped five 20-dollar bills in my purse when we left. Bless him for that!

That first week went by quickly, and Saturday came before I knew it. Ron was able to get a pass for Saturday night and Sunday, and we screwed like bunnies the whole time. Then, suddenly, it was Sunday night, and he had to leave me.

God, was I lonely that next week, and it was bitter cold; too cold to be outside except for very short stretches. It was certainly too cold to wait for a bus, at least not with the clothes I had. I had never dreamed that it could get that cold in San Antonio, and people ever since have laughed at me when I have tried to tell them how cold it was. But it's true. I think they said on the radio one day that week that the temperature never got above 25 degrees.

I made it down to a corner store where I bought a tablet and some pencils, then spent most of my time shivering in front of the radiator and writing. I wrote poetry, I wrote descriptions of the bits of San Antonio I had seen, I wrote love letters to Ron, and I wrote about my life. Much of the story you've been reading above was written that week.

Being cooped up in a tiny efficiency apartment made the time go extremely slowly, despite my attempts to write and write and write. Somehow, though, I managed to stay out of the hell of depression, and I greeted Ron with open arms when he arrived, nearly frozen, Saturday night.

Sunday morning Ron and I were still snuggling in bed after making love for the fourth or fifth time that night when he somewhat hesitantly brought it up.

"Honey, I've told you that Bill and I have gotten to be real friends, and I'm sure you remember him from the trip down here."

"Of course, sweetie, he seemed real nice."

"Well, I know you and I don't have much time alone right now, but I'd really like to do something nice for him. Like maybe invite him to dinner."

Ron paused at that, and seemed to be waiting, afraid I would pounce on him. But I found myself remembering the SDA servicemen's center, and wishing I could do a little something to repay their kindness.

"Of course, Ron, I think that's a wonderful idea."

"You do? As you know, they're off on Saturday, and Bill wouldn't have to be back until late Saturday night. I get off at six on Saturday, so it would have to be a Saturday night dinner. Would that be OK?"

"Sure, let's make it next week. We can't afford anything very fancy, but I'll have a real home cooked meal waiting when you get here."

"All right, Jan! Has anybody told you that you are amazing?"

About then we decided on another round of sex before we got up.

The weather was much warmer the next week, so I able to get out. I even found a Goodwill store, but naturally all their warm jackets and sweaters were gone. I was, however, able to get an extra table setting for our guest, and two serving dishes so I wouldn't have to put the cooking pans on the table.

Planning for the Friday night dinner gave me a purpose and shape to the week. When Ron and Bill arrived I had the food cooked and everything shined and spotless in the apartment, and my spirits were shining too. I felt so proud that Ron and I could entertain a guest. The meal and evening went just perfectly. Ron and Bill shared stories of how stupid army life could be, and we all laughed uproariously. Bill finally left about half past nine, and we both urged him to come back soon.

The minute he was out of the door Ron and I were in each other's arms, and I doubt if we were ever more than three feet away from each other for the next twenty-four hours. We showered together, and we even went to the bathroom together, chatting happily while we took care of business there.

What a letdown it was when he had to leave at eleven the next night. I cried myself to sleep, but at least I slept that night. The rest of the week I was pretty much a zombie. I sat and stared at my tablet during the day, but couldn't seem to write anything. I lay and stared at the ceiling during the night, but couldn't find sleep. I stopped bathing; I stopped changing clothes; I stopped cooking and cleaning.

Sometime Saturday afternoon I told myself I needed to get myself together. Ron would be here, and I didn't want him to see me like this. I started wandering around and picking things up, but I couldn't seem to focus. I put dirty dishes in the sink, but saw a bra hanging on the back of a chair, so picked it up and tried to think where I could hide it. Then I saw the bed wasn't made, but rather than do that, considered whether maybe I should take a shower. I was still thinking about that when I heard a tap on the door. PANIC!

I opened the door a crack and peeped out. It was Bill! I screamed and slammed the door. Then I realized that was terrible, and opened it again a crack. He was still standing there.

"I can't let you in, Bill. Things are a total mess."

"That's OK, I just wanted to check up on you and be sure you were all right."

"I'm not," I gulped, "but I have to get myself together for Ron. Please go away!"

"Look, Jan, I really owe you for that dinner last week, and I'd love to do something to help. How much do you need to get done?"

"Everything! The house is a mess, the kitchen is a mess, and I'm a mess."

"OK, how about this. You go get yourself clean and pretty for Ron, and I'll clean up the kitchen."

"No, I can't let you see. I'm too ashamed of myself."

"Jan, listen to me. If you don't let me help you, you won't be ready when Ron gets here, and then you'll have to face him. Which do you care about more, what he thinks, or what I think?"

"Him, of course."

"So let's just ignore how you feel about me, and get the job done, OK?"

I just stood there and stared at the door, still open only a crack.

"Please let me in, Jan, we don't have a lot of time before he gets here."

I finally said "OK" and bolted for the bathroom. I couldn't stand to let him actually look at me. He could let himself in.

Now I was motivated. I bathed, put on clean clothes, and did my face. I was making the bed when he came out of the kitchenette.

"Well, I'm sure things aren't as nice as you would be able to get them, but at least the dishes are clean and dry, and the stove and counter should pass casual muster. I'm going to sneak out before Ron gets here."

"What? But ... aren't you staying? I assumed Ron invited you over."

"Well, yes and no. He did ask me to drop by if I had a chance, just to see if you were fine, but I have other plans for dinner."

"Oh," I said blushing, "you mean he was worried about me; that I might be feeling ... low."

"Yes, Jan, he admitted that you can be ... moody at times ... Oh, rats! now I've totally embarrassed you again."

"It's OK, Bill, really." I grinned a bit guiltily, "He had reason to worry, as you found out. And you've been wonderful to help. I'll be sure to tell Ron."

"I have a better idea. Let's just make it our own little secret. Then he can be ever so proud of you."

"Oh, Bill, you're a wonderful friend. Thank you!"

I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a peck on the cheek. He pulled me to him for a brief hug, and then he was gone.

Ron arrived a few minutes later and I had to admit I didn't have anything planned for dinner. In fact, I admitted, I didn't have hardly anything in the kitchen to make dinner with. He was very understanding. He just smiled, and told me the apartment looked nice, and so did I. We didn't have money to eat out, so we ended up going grocery shopping together. Wow! Just like old times in college.

I wasn't as bubbly that next day as I was the weekend before, but that was probably a good thing. When I get really high I can crash very suddenly, and after Ron left I told myself sternly I wasn't going to crash this time the way I did the week before. I managed to keep myself going by writing. I wrote long letters to my parents and my sister; to Ron's parents and to Pete. Pete's letters were hard, because I wasn't sure whether his mother might see them, but I tried to hint at our feelings without coming out and saying anything. He and I had sort of developed a code language we could use when others were around. I wrote to friends from high school and college, and three letters to my college roommate.

I kept writing until Thursday when a letter from Ron showed up in our mailbox. I was so excited! I knew he didn't really have time to write. But all the air went out of me when I read his short note:

Jan, darling,

I'm crying as I write this, and I know you'll be crying as you read it. They just told us no one will be able to take any time off this weekend.

I'll miss you terribly, but I ache to think of how lonely you will be. Be strong, my love, and be there for me the next weekend.

I love you very, very, very much.

Ron

I know, you'll think it was callous that he wrote rather than talking to me, but we knew I would only be in the apartment for a few weeks, and telephone service was expensive, so we didn't have a phone. What else could he do?

I really have no recollection of what happened the week after I got that letter. The next thing I remember is hearing a pounding knock on my door. I tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't stop, so I finally rolled over in bed and yelled, "Go away!"

"No, Jan, I'm not going to go away. Come open the door." It was Bill's voice.

"I can't. I'm sick. I can't get up."

"Jan, you get over here right now and open this door, or I'm going to force my way in."

I heard him push against the door, but I knew he couldn't open it. It was locked and bolted. I didn't say anything, and soon I heard a scratching sound. I pulled my knees up to my chin and continued to lie there, staring at the door. Bill kept pushing and pulling on it, and digging at it with something, until finally, to my horror, it opened.

"NOO!" I screeched. Then I was sobbing.

Despite my clenched eyes I could tell that he had found the light switch and turned it on. I moaned and rolled away from him in the bed. Almost immediately I felt him shaking me.

"Jan, stop it! Come on, Jan, you can do it. Roll over and look at me."

"Noo," I wailed. "Why are you here? Go away."

"Forget it. I'm not going away. You and I both know that you've got to get hold of yourself before Ron gets here."

"WHAT? Ron's coming? Now?"

"No, not now, but he will be here, and you need to be ready when he is."

"What day is it? He's coming on Saturday, isn't he? Is it Saturday?"

"No, it's Friday night, but you need to start cleaning this place up."

"I can't do it! I just can't!"

"Yes you can, Jan. I'll help you. We can do it together."

"You don't understand. I haven't slept for days. I haven't eaten anything in I don't know how long. I don't have the strength to get up."

"What you mean is that you don't have the WILL to get up. You could find the strength if you had to."

"Whatever, I don't; I can't."

"You do, you can, you will. I'll make you do it."

"Go away. You're bothering me, and you can't make me do anything."

"What if I do this?" He actually tickled my arm.

"Stop that!"

"I won't. Not until you get up."

He was running his fingers up and down the tender underside of my arm, from my elbow up toward my armpit, just barely grazing my skin.

"Bill, don't!"

"Get up, and I'll stop." Now he poked me in the ribs.

"BILL!"