Curtis (11 page)

By the time you get this, I’ll probably be back in school. I’m looking forward to it because it gives me something to do. If you were home, I don’t know that I would care much about school anymore. I just miss you so much.

Please be safe and remember that I love you always. I’ll be looking forward to your next letter.

Love,

Lorrie

chapter FIFTEEN

SATURDAY, JULY 24, 1965

Curtis called today. My heart is still pounding so hard it’s hard to write anything at all.

“Lorrie! Telephone!”

At the sound of Mrs. Walker’s voice, Lorrie looked up from the book she was reading. As she processed her mother-in-law’s words, she got to her feet and headed for the kitchen.

“Who is it?” she asked, confused.

“Here,” Mrs. Walker said, not bothering to answer her as she held out the phone. It didn’t even register that she was smiling from ear to ear.

Fully expecting it to be Kathy asking if she could come over, Lorrie put the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, honey.”

The instant she heard his voice, her throat closed up, tears sprang to her eyes, and her heart started a full sprint in her chest. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get a single word out to respond.

“Lorrie? Baby?”

A sob tore from her chest as she fell apart. Hearing his voice…

“It’s okay, darlin’. Please don’t cry.”

Lorrie shook her head, knowing he couldn’t see her. It wasn’t okay. She hadn’t heard Curtis’s voice in two hundred thirty-five days. She knew because she’d been counting. And now that she had, she wasn’t sure she could hold herself together.

“Talk to him, Lorrie,” Mrs. Walker urged sympathetically. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”

Lorrie nodded, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat.

“I only get a few minutes, baby,” Curtis said into her ear.

“I love you,” she blurted. “God, I miss you so much.” She was a blubbering mess, but she couldn’t help it.

Curtis chuckled. “I know you do. I love you and miss you, too.”

“Are you doing okay?” she asked, trying to think of all the things she wanted to ask him.

“I am,” he said reassuringly. “Better now that I got to hear your voice.”

Lorrie sobbed again, her throat tight from all the backed up tears.

“I know it’s not until Monday, but I wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday, baby.”

More tears poured down her face, so many that she stopped trying to dry them. She couldn’t stop them. “Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely. “Is this the surprise your mother promised me?”

Another chuckle echoed through the phone. “Probably so.”

“I love you so much,” she said again.

“I love you, too, darlin’. I gotta run, though. I’m outta time. I’m so glad I got to hear your voice.”

She wasn’t ready to let him go yet. She hadn’t gotten to hear his voice long enough. “Don’t go,” she pleaded. “Please.”

“Baby, I have to. I only get a few minutes. I love you, though, and I’m thinkin’ about you always.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

“Bye, baby.”

A horrific sob tore through her, and she whispered good-bye before sliding down the wall to the floor, the phone receiver falling from her hand and left dangling from the cord.

The next thing she knew, Mrs. Walker was sitting beside her, her arm around Lorrie’s shoulders. “Shh, honey. Don’t cry. I know it’s hard.”

Hard didn’t even begin to describe it. Having finally heard his voice after all this time… It was as though she’d been sliced open and forced to relive the pain from the day he’d left all over again.

And God only knew how long it would be before she got to hear his voice again.

chapter SIXTEEN

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 2, 1965

Mrs. Walker bought a new television. This one is even bigger than the last one. She said I could put the other one in our house if I want to. Since I’m not living there right now, I told her we could keep it here. She’s so nice to me. And she makes sure that I don’t have too much idle time. She says it’s not healthy to sit around and wait. I’ve been trying not to, but it’s not easy. I finally convinced Carol to teach me how to cook. Although it’s not her usual job, I heard her talking about how much she enjoys it. It’s a slow process, but I’m getting the hang of it.

Every day, I keep hoping that Curtis will show up and surprise me with a visit home or, at the least, another phone call. I need to hear his voice again.

I have spent a lot of time at the library. Reading is helping a lot. And Kathy and Celeste have come over a few times to watch television with me, although they don’t let me pick what we’re gonna watch. Now that we have a bigger television, I’m sure they’ll be over here even more. I wonder if Curtis will be happy that we’ll have a television when he gets home. When he first gets home, I don’t think it’ll matter. I secretly look forward to making love to him for the first time. I know he thinks I’m not ready, but I am. Or I want to believe I am, anyway. I just want to feel his arms around me, holding me tight. My body gets excited when I think about it. Not that I want anyone to know that.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1965

Today is Curtis’s twentieth birthday, and I hate that I don’t get to spend it with him. I made him a cake, hoping it would make me feel better. It did while I was baking, but not so much after. Only because he isn’t here to have any. I had hoped he would call today, but he didn’t. Mrs. Walker assured me that he’s busy doing what he needs to do so that he can come home to me. That didn’t make me feel any better.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 2, 1965

It’s been a whole year since I’ve seen Curtis. To be honest, I don’t know how I made it all this time. Even though Mrs. Walker surprised me and I got to talk to him on the phone (hearing his voice was both the best and worst thing that has happened to me all year), it still hurts that I can’t see him.

At times, I think he’s avoiding me. That he doesn’t want to talk to me. Maybe because it hurts too much knowing that we can’t be together. I feel the same way, but my heart still longs for him.

I can’t wait to get another letter from him.

Letter from Curtis:

December 14, 1965

Lorrie,

God, baby, I miss you so much. I can’t stop thinking about you. I lie here on my bunk at night and think about holding you, touching you, kissing you, making love to you until the sun comes up. Sometimes, I think about you so much that my heart hurts.

Ever since I heard your voice, I haven’t been the same. It’s so hard knowing that you are there, that me being away is so hard on you. I even cry sometimes, which makes me feel weak. Still, I can’t help it. I’m going crazy because I think about you all the time. I wish that I could come home, but at least I’m busy here. I’m undergoing some additional training right now. Turns out that being a mechanic is a pretty big deal. Good thing I know a lot about engines, huh? If everything goes well, I might be sent somewhere else, which is something to look forward to. We don’t know yet if we’re being sent to Vietnam. It’s a possibility, but then again, anything is a possibility. I like it here, but I really think I need something more to do.

I’m attaching a picture. It’s one they took of me by one of the vehicles we’re working on. I thought maybe you’d like to have it.

If you can, please send me a picture of you.

I love you.

Curtis

chapter SEVENTEEN

~ 1966 ~

Letter from Lorrie:

January 24, 1966

Dear Curtis,

I think I actually squealed when I got your letter and I saw the picture. It was the first time I’ve seen you in more than a year, and I broke down and cried again. But these were good tears, because I now have something that I can look at every day. Your mom got me a picture frame, and now I have it sitting on my nightstand, where I can look at you every night before I go to sleep. I got your mom to take a picture of me, and I’m putting it in the envelope.

Your mom got a letter from Gerald. He’s doing well, she says. Since he was wounded, they gave him the opportunity to come home, but he refused. Says there is so much he needs to do, that he isn’t willing to sacrifice what he’s already given up just yet. He’s still not coming home, and I think that makes her sad. I can’t imagine what she’s going through having two of her sons away from home. I know if I were her, I’d be sad, too.

Oh, and I forgot to tell you, I got to ride a horse for the first time. Joseph taught me. It’s now one of my favorite things to do. Once the weather warms up, I’m hoping to start riding more. If your mom will let me. According to your sister (Daphne), your mom is a little overprotective, so it might take a little coaxing on my part.

Miss you and love you always!

Love,

Lorrie

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 1966

It’s Valentine’s Day, a day that I wasn’t really looking forward to. Not that I’m celebrating, because Curtis isn’t here, which makes it so hard. I feel like I’ve spent too many years without him, and it’s only been one. Just when I thought my life couldn’t get better (when we got married), he left. According to his letters, he’s doing good. He says he misses me, too.

I worry about him a lot. Worry that he’s going to get hurt or… I try not to think about the worst parts, but I can’t help it. What if he never came back? Where would my life be then? He’s the reason I breathe, and I wouldn’t know what to do without him.

I’ve read his letters over and over, especially the parts where he says he can’t wait to come home. Sometimes he even tells me that he cries. That breaks my heart the most. I hope he knows I will always be here waiting for him. Always.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 14, 1966

Tonight was my senior prom. I didn’t go, although David offered to take me if I really wanted to go. It was sweet of him, but I know Curtis probably put him up to it. The last thing I want to do right now is dance or celebrate. I’ll reserve all of that for when Curtis finally does come home. It was kinda fun to see Joseph and his date get dressed up, though. They looked happy.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 25, 1966

I graduated from high school today, along with Joseph. Mrs. Walker and all the kids came, as well as Kathy and Celeste. Mrs. Walker gave me a card that Curtis had sent for the occasion (which was the highlight of the day). Momma and Daddy said they couldn’t make it. I hadn’t expected them to, but it still hurt my feelings that they didn’t make the effort. Now I don’t know what I’m going to do with the free time I have. Mrs. Walker is letting me make a lot of the meals now that I’ve gotten a handle on the whole cooking thing, which I really enjoy doing. I’m also working on the ranch, and I’m hoping she will allow me to do that more. I think she worries about me getting hurt, but I’m careful. I just need to find the courage to talk to her about it, because I really need this. I need something to do to keep my mind off Curtis.

SUNDAY, JUNE 26, 1966

Oh, my goodness. You won’t believe this! Helen Jenkins got married today. The boy she married isn’t from here, and she won’t be staying in Granite Creek (probably because she thinks she’s too good for it). I wasn’t invited, but I didn’t expect to be. Helen has been making fun of me. Always telling me I’m wasting my life waiting on Curtis. She doesn’t understand that I live and breathe for that man. I’ll wait an eternity for him if I have to.

Letter from Curtis:

July 26, 1966

Lorrie,

Hey, baby. Today is your eighteenth birthday. As I sit here and stare at your picture, I wish that I was there with you. It’s weird to think that another birthday has come and gone.

I haven’t been doing a whole lot lately other than staying here on base. I’ve gotten out with the guys a few times for drinks, but it’s not the same since I can’t be with you. They spend a lot of time trying to hook up with girls, but I have absolutely no interest. You are my girl, the only girl in the world for me. In fact, I’m thinking about getting a tattoo with your name on it. Those are a big deal here. Everyone wants one. What do you think about that? Would you want me to get your name tattooed on my body?

When I’m working, it feels like time flies, but when I’m here in my bunk, all I can do is think that time is crawling by so slowly. Instead of waiting for school to start, you’ll be… It just dawned on me that I don’t know what you want to do now that you’ve graduated. You’re so smart; I know you could do anything you want. And Lorrie, I want you to know that I will support anything you want to do. Whether you want to go to college, or if you want to work on the ranch, or if you want to stay home and take care of the house (and ultimately all the kids we plan to have). It’s up to you, baby. Anything you want.

I love you.

Curtis

Letter from Lorrie:

September 2, 1966

Dear Curtis,

Your letter made me both happy and sad, I won’t lie. I could almost picture sitting on the couch with you and having that conversation about what I want to do now that I’m finished with school. But I also sensed that your letter was short for a reason. I’ve been hoping I was wrong, but I’m starting to think that you are purposely avoiding me. That breaks my heart.

And no, I didn’t have to go back to school this year. It was a little strange to see your brothers and sisters heading out while I was still sitting in the house. I don’t know what to think about that yet. In fact, I don’t think much about it at all. School gave me something to do, but that’s it. I really like working on the ranch. I also help Carol when I can. I can honestly tell you that I would never want a housekeeper or a cook of my own. I like taking care of my own things. The only thing that would make me truly happy would be to take care of you and our family. Maybe I’m not supposed to feel that way anymore. I don’t know. I’ve been reading books that say women are allowed to embrace the world. For me, I am.

When we have kids, I would definitely want to stay home with them, if I can. It’s not that I don’t want to work. Helping out on the ranch has been thrilling. I never thought I’d enjoy it after Daddy always complained how bad it was. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m working for my family. (I am, after all, a Walker now.) Whatever it is, I’m just trying to make it one day at a time.

Speaking of kids … I’m ready, Curtis. I’m ready to make love to you, to spend the night in your bed, feeling your body hovering above mine. It’s all I can think about these days. Maybe this wasn’t the right way to tell you, but I had to get it out there. You need to know how I really feel. And no, this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I’m another year older. It’s just how it is. You are no longer allowed to tell me I’m not ready. That’s no longer your decision to make.

Love and miss you always and forever.

Love,

Lorrie

P.S. It took a long time for me to write that last paragraph. Like, two whole days.

P.P.S. I think a tattoo would be very sexy on you.