Between Friends (5 page)

I had a rotten day today. I wasn’t sure coming back to Pine Ridge was the right thing to do, but I felt so lost after what happened to Robert Kennedy. Being around my friends sounded like a wonderful idea; now I’m not so sure.

Lesley is in California and my other friends are all married or engaged. I saw Cindy briefly, but we didn’t have anything to talk about. Most days I wander down to the gas station and visit with your dad and Jimmy.

Missing Lesley is bad enough, but then my dad tried to arrange a date with that friend of his again. I was rude to them both. It angered me so much that my father would do such a thing when he knows how I feel about you.

That’s not the worst of it. Mom suggested I shop for new clothes for school and it sounded like fun. I decided to drive into Seattle, to the Jay Jacobs store, which has always been a favorite of mine. At the Seattle Center I ran into a group of war protesters. I know it was foolish of me, but I couldn’t allow them to say the things they were saying. They called our troops “baby killers” and I couldn’t let that go and got into a shouting match with them. They have it all wrong, but before I could explain myself, one of the demonstrators threw a tomato at me. Oh, Nick, it was just awful.

I’m fine. All the tomato did was stain my dress. But it showed me how heated people’s feelings are about this war. I tried so hard to get them to understand how important it is for everyone at home to support our troops. The war is wrong, but our men are only doing what our government has ordered. It was stupid to try to reason with a crowd—I had a lot of insults thrown at me, as well as the tomato. As you might guess, my father was terribly upset by the entire incident. Now he doesn’t want me driving into Seattle unless Mom accompanies me.

I probably shouldn’t have told you this. Don’t be like Dad and get upset, okay?

I love you so much, and am counting the days until you’re home. If you don’t marry me the instant you step off that plane, I’ll never forgive you.

Remember how much I love you.

Jillian

Lesley’s Diary

August 3, 1968

I’m so furious with Buck I can hardly think straight. The minute he got his paycheck he disappeared with his drinking buddies and didn’t return until the wee hours of the morning. He crawled into bed, smelling of beer, and immediately wanted to make love. I told him we couldn’t because it was my fertile time of the month. He knows I don’t want another baby so soon after Lindy. He kept insisting we do it, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. He tried sweet-talking me into it, but I repeatedly said no. Eventually he got mad and said he might as well find himself a real woman. That was when I suggested he search in the cocktail lounge in Waikiki.

He didn’t understand I was telling him I’d seen him necking with that woman in Hawaii. Instead, he insisted he didn’t want any woman but his wife. Like a fool, I agreed to let him make love to me as long as he withdrew before he ejaculated and he promised he would, but then he didn’t. If I turn up pregnant again, I don’t know what I’ll do. With the future as uncertain as it is, with assassinations, race riots and the war in Vietnam, I don’t want to bring any more children into the world.

In the morning, his head hurting from a hangover, Buck told me over and over how sorry he was and promised it wouldn’t happen again. As far as I’m concerned, there won’t be an opportunity for another “accident.”

***

Outside Khe Sanh in South Vietnam

August 19, 1968

Dearest Jillian,

Your letters were waiting for me when I got back to base. Right away I read each one twice. Jillian, I agree with your father—stay away from those protesters. You put yourself in a dangerous situation and for no reason. You aren’t going to convince them to change their minds, so play it safe. I need to know you’re safe, sweetheart! So promise me you won’t do anything that foolish again. I appreciate that you want to support us, though. I agree with you—this war is wrong. We shouldn’t even be here. If the demonstrators manage to bring us home, then more power to them.

I can’t tell you how much getting mail means to me, especially after a day like today. I won’t describe what happened. Not all of it, anyway, but I watched a brave man die this afternoon. A good man and, honey, it really shook me up. It shook us all up. It could’ve been any one of us. I’ve seen death before, but I haven’t felt it the way I did this afternoon. It was like a giant hand reached out and grabbed Bob, completely at random. Why Bob and not me? None of it makes any sense.

Then later, after we got back, one of my buddies read a letter from his girl. I knew something was wrong when he threw it down and walked outside. His fiancée broke off the engagement and he was crying. Not so anyone could see, but when I found him he had tears running down his face. It wiped him out emotionally. This war is hell enough without hearing shit like that.

No one slept much last night. I kept thinking about you and me and how much I love you. I know I shouldn’t think this way, but I was glad it wasn’t me that got killed. I love you too damn much to leave you. Right now, I want to hold you so much my arms ache. I’m sorry Bob is dead, sorry Larry’s girl dumped him. I want to get out of this hellhole. When I close my eyes all I see is war. All I hear is the rapid fire of guns and the cries of men like me just hoping to get out of here alive. All I dream about is getting home to you.

Remember how much I love you.

Nick

Jillian’s Diary

September 14, 1968

I’m so glad to be back at school. Dad and I can barely look at each other. It’s impossible to carry on a civil conversation with him. At one time I idolized my father, but I don’t any more. Nick keeps telling me that I’m going to make a great attorney. I refuse to even consider a career in law. If being an attorney means I’ll start thinking and acting like my father, then I don’t want any part of it. Mom, who attempts to play the role of peacemaker, says it’s because Dad and I are so much alike.

I sincerely hope she’s wrong. My father actually told me to my face that he didn’t raise his daughter to be a Democrat. He spits out the word as if it’s going to dirty his mouth.

Politics is only one of the things we fight about. He knows I love Nick and that we’re planning to get married once he’s home from Vietnam. But my father still refuses to accept him and insists on introducing me to other men. Men he considers more “suitable” than Nick. Rich boys who’d race to Canada at the hint of a draft notice.

He doesn’t like my music. He thinks The Doors and Jefferson Airplane are tools of the devil. My wardrobe upsets him, too. What’s so revolutionary about bellbottoms and sandals? Anyway, I don’t care what he thinks. I’m just grateful to be out from under his domination.

Nick thought coming home for the summer would be good for me, but he was wrong. I doubt I’ll return for Christmas, feeling the way I do about my father.

This wasn’t a good summer for Lesley, either. Selfishly Buck insisted on uprooting her and the kids and making them move to California to be with him. That meant we hardly had a minute together at all. Lesley’s life is so different from mine. I was afraid that after her marriage we’d drift apart, but she’s still the only person in the world who truly understands my feelings. She’s the only one who accepts my love for Nick.

In her last letter, Lesley said she’s scared she might be pregnant again. I hope not, for her sake. Buck’s the kind of man who likes his women barefoot and pregnant. With two babies already, the last thing she needs is a third child. I don’t know why she refuses to take the pill. The Catholic Church’s stand on that issue is right out of the Dark Ages.

I’ve got to stop watching the television news about Vietnam. Last night there was all this talk about the aftermath of the Tet Offensive and how the death toll keeps rising. My dreams were filled with war and worries about Nick. I woke up in a cold sweat with my heart pounding so hard I could barely catch my breath. It took a long time before I was able to calm down and remember it was just a dream and that Nick’s perfectly fine. If anything happened to him my heart would know it, I’m sure of that.

***

Outside Khe Sanh in South Vietnam

September 15, 1968

Dear Jimmy,

I promised I’d write as often as I could, but it’s been a while. I’ve discovered that jotting down a few lines to send home helps ease the tension. We all look for ways to keep our minds off the war. That’s one reason getting mail from home means so much. I carry the letters from you, Dad and Jillian with me. I’ve read them all so many times they’re falling apart. The ones from Jillian I’ve committed to memory. Her letters, and yours and Dad’s, too, are the only way I have of staying sane here. I haven’t been as faithful as I wanted to be in writing you, but I know you understand.

By the way, I got word of your recent “troubles.” What the hell are you doing hanging around with Dirk Andrews? You didn’t learn your lesson about him the last time? We both know Dirk’s bad news. He’s already been arrested twice. I didn’t realize you had a hankering for jail food. Thank God Dad was able to get you out of this scrape, but don’t count on being that fortunate again. Before you decide to step out of the house or do
anything,
stop and consider the consequences of your actions. Dad only said one thing to me before I left for Nam. “Be a man.” Then he hugged me and asked me to come home. I’m asking you to be a man now, Jimmy, and ditch Dirk before you end up doing jail time for being stupid.

I don’t mean to come down too hard on you. You’re my kid brother and I’ve always looked out for you. It’s harder now with me being so far from home, so I’m relying on you to keep your own nose clean. In other words, stay away from Dirk, and stay out of trouble. I’ve got to end this if it’s going to make today’s mail.

I don’t say this often, Jimmy, but I love you.

Your brother,

Nick

***

October 1, 1968

Dear Susan,

It was so good to hear from you. I knew you’d like the Navy, and if everything goes according to plan, you’ll soon be in nursing school. I envy you the opportunity.

Buck, the kids and I are doing great. We’re anxious to move back to Washington. Dad said there’s a job waiting for Buck at the lumber mill once he’s discharged, but you know Dad, he’s always full of talk. However, Buck worked at the mill before he enlisted, so we’re hoping he can get back on.

Lindy is growing by leaps and bounds. Davey, too. I don’t know how Mom did it with six of us constantly underfoot. Mom wrote and said Mike has a job at the Albertson’s store this summer and Joe’s hoping they’ll hire him next year when he’s old enough to work. He took over Mike’s paper route and has his own money for school clothes. That helps Mom. Bruce and Lily spend most of their time at Lion’s Park swimming, just the way we did when we were their age.

Your sister,

Lesley

***

JILLIAN LAWTON

BARNARD COLLEGE
PLIMPTON HALL
NEW YORK, NY 10025

October 6, 1968

Dear Mr. Murphy,

I hope you don’t mind that I’m writing you, but I haven’t received a letter from Nick in almost a week. Have you heard from him? It isn’t like him not to write. Ever since he was stationed in Vietnam, he’s made a point of writing me at least every other day, just so I won’t worry.

At first I thought there might be some confusion with the mail because I recently returned to school, but my mother assures me nothing’s been delivered to the house, either.

I’ll await your reply.

Sincerely,

Jillian Lawton

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