Becca Page 8

IV

  The testing was grueling. It took nearly four hours and when it was finished, Bert and the other men sat around until the recruiters came and told them their results.

  “You did well,” Sergeant James said. “You qualified for just about any job you want. Why don’t you come to my office and we’ll fill out forms for your physical.”

  “My physical? What do I need one for?”

  “To enlist.”

  “I didn’t say I was going to enlist, did I? Anyway, I already took the physical.”

  “You took the draft physical. The enlistment physical is different.”

  “I’m not ready to do that, Sergeant James.”

  “Why the heck aren’t you? What’s holding you back?”

  “Then let me think about it, okay?”

  “Suit yourself,” Sergeant James let his frustration show in his tone of voice.

  V

  “Why don’t you call her?” his mother asked as seven o’clock approached.

  “I don’t have her phone number. Besides, she’ll be here.”

  “I like that aftershave you have on.”

  “It’s Old Spice, Mom.”

  “You look nice.”

  “You act like I’m a little kid going out on his first date.”

  “You’re not a little kid, honey, but you are going out on your first date.”

  He felt his face blush. She was right. He had gone through high school without a date or a girlfriend. Nineteen, this was his first date. He saw the happiness in his mother’s eyes and felt a flush of guilt. She had never had this opportunity with him before—to fuss over him before a date. Now she was not sure if she would do this again.

  “Mom, trust me, this is nothing special.”

  She just smiled and nodded knowingly. “I know. She’s just a friend.”

  “You’re making me nervous.” Bert went into the bathroom to check himself in the mirror. Why was he doing this? It was Becca for crying out loud. She did not care what he wore. She had gone for coffee with him when he had smelled like gasoline and hadn’t complained. Still he made sure his unruly hair was at least somewhat in order, and he ran a toothbrush over his teeth for good measure. That’s it, he told himself, nothing more. You are acting like the little boy your mother thinks you are. He checked his fingernails for residuals of the gas station and then checked his wallet. He had forty dollars.

  He was ready.

  As he walked back out to the living room, his mother stood at the window.

  “She just pulled up.”

  Bert looked out of the same window. Becca sat in the car and at first, he thought she was waiting for him to come out, but he saw that she was checking herself in the mirror, applying lipstick and then quickly brushing her long hair. Then she gathered her purse and got out of the car.

  “Oh, dear, Bert, she’s a pretty girl,” his mother said with a smile.

  Becca wore a short polka dotted dress and low heels. A powder-blue band held her strawberry blonde hair back from her forehead. Reaching daintily into her mouth, she pulled out some gum and tossed it aside. She looked at the front door of the house and climbed the steps.

  Bert and his mother stood back from the window so that Becca could not see that they had been watching her. There was a pause and they knew she was pressing on the doorbell button, but it did not work, so it took a few seconds more before she wrapped lightly on the door.

  Bert’s mother opened it tastefully slow, even though in her anxiousness she wanted to snatch it open.

  Becca’s face lit up with a smile. “Hi, I’m Rebecca,” she said as Bert’s mother opened the screen door.

  “I’m Carol Martin.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Becca offered her hand and Carol shook it. Becca stepped inside as Carol appraised her.

  “Bertram has told me a lot about you,” Carol said.

  “All lies,” Becca said, looking at Bert. “I’m not as bad as he says. Really.”

  Carol chuckled. “Can you stay a bit?”

  Bert started to speak when Becca said, “Sure. We have nothing planned. We’re just hanging out.”

  “Come on in and sit down. Bert, get her some lemon aide. Do you like lemon aide?”

  “I love it.” She smiled sweetly at Bert and took a seat on the couch.

  Carol took a seat on a chair and studied Becca a moment. Becca took a few moments to look around the room, and then settled on staring at the doorway in anticipation of Bert’s return from the kitchen because she felt nervous under the scrutinizing eyes of his mother.

  “So, Rebecca, Bertram says you’re in school?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m going to go to Point Park. And please call me Becca.”

  “And please call me Carol for goodness sake. What are you studying?”

  “I don’t have a major. I getting my first two years out of the way and then decide.”

  “Bert was a straight A student in high school.”

  “Oh, really? He never told me that.”

  “Yes. He…he did very well. I want him to go to college but it’s so expensive.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Bert returned with a tray of lemon aide. He served the ladies, then took a seat on the couch next to Becca, and immediately blushed when he saw how his mother regarded them. He sipped his lemon aide and then set the glass down on the coffee table.

  “Bert, why didn’t you mention your grades in high school?” Carol asked.

  “I just never got around to it.”

  Becca said, “I think he’s very smart. We have wonderful conversations.”

  “Really?”

  “He’s quite the conversationalist.”

  “Is that so? He hardly says a word around the house.”

  “He probably uses them all up with me,” Becca said, smiling sweetly.

  Carol’s heart went out to this dear, beautiful, girl who had green eyes, reddish-blonde hair and freckles. What a wonderful couple they made. She saw that her son was nervous and decided to help him out.

  “Well, I know you two want to go, so you don’t have to finish your lemon aide.”

  Becca took another drink. “It’s really good. Fresh?”

  “Yes.”

  Becca looked at Bert. “You really are quiet at home, aren’t you?” He smiled and shrugged. “Honestly, Carol,” Becca said, “he doesn’t shut up around me.”

  Carol laughed. “Well that’s a different Bertram than I know.”

  Becca stood up and went to the mantelpiece, and studied the photographs a moment. She turned back to face Carol. “Matthew, Mark, and Luke?”

  “Why yes!” Carol stood up, glancing quickly at her son and smiling. “Those are my sons with my husband, James. He was killed in Korea. That’s him in that picture there.”

  “Oh my God, Carol, I’m so sorry.” She took Carol’s hand in hers and patted it. “That is just so sad.”

  Carol allowed the condolences and pushed some hair out of Becca’s eyes. “Why…thank you, Becca.”

  Becca studied the pictures of the smiling men. “You’re very fortunate to have so many handsome men in your life.”

  “Yes. I am. Matthew lives in Florida, and he’s married with two children, Mark lives in Buffalo and is engaged, and Luke lives up in Erie—he works on one of those ore boats. His wife is a teacher. Oh, but I’m rambling.”

  “I don’t mind,” Becca said. “Oh, I don’t mean that I think you’re rambling—I love hearing about your sons.”

  “You are a very kind young lady,” Carol smiled.

  Becca glanced over her shoulder at Bert, who knew she was comparing him to the photos.

  “They are Bertram’s half-brothers,” Carol said, noticing Becca’s gaze. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

  “Your mother is really sweet, Josh,” Becca said. “And she’s a pretty lady.”

  “Really?”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “She’s my mom.”

  Becca chuckled and saw Carol returni
ng with a framed picture.

  “This is Bertram’s father,” Carol said.

  Becca studied the picture of the dark-skinned man with a wonderful smile. “Carol,” she said, “you sure know how to pick them.”

  Carol smiled and looked lovingly at the picture. “Yes, he was very handsome.”

  “Oh my God,” Becca said, “don’t tell me you lost two husbands?”

  Carol said softly, “Just one husband.”

  Becca blushed deeply. She glanced at Josh, who sat on the couch watching them. Her heart went out to him. “Oh, I see… It’s so sad that you lost two men in your life. But you have handsome sons from them.”

  Carol paused before speaking. She loved this girl. A real charmer. “Yes,” she said, “I’m very fortunate.”

  “Mom,” Bert said, “you don’t mind if we go now?”

  “Not at all.” Carol kissed her son. “Have fun, Bert.”

  “I will.”

  “Nice meeting you, Carol,” Becca said, shaking her hand.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Carol said. “It was my pleasure, honey.”

  As Bert stepped past his mother, she leaned into him and whispered in his ear, “I really like her.”

  Bert smiled and walked out with Becca.

  “I’m so sorry about your father, Bert.”

  “I don’t remember him. I was an infant when he died.”

  “You look like him.”

  “You think so?”

  “Absolutely. He was a very handsome man.”

  They got into the Mustang and waved at Carol who stood on the porch and waved back. Becca started car, pulled away from the curb and drove a few moments before speaking. “You look like your mom, too. You have her mouth and her nose and her eyes,” Becca said and tapped his nose with her index finger.

  “So,” Bert said after a minute or two, “where are we going?”

  “Do you dance?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How could you not know if you dance or not?”

  “I’ve never been to a dance.”

  “Oh, my God, Josh. What have you done?”

  “Not much of anything, really.”

  “Oh that’s right, I forgot. Well, we’re going to a dance tonight.”

  “I thought we were just going to hang out and do nothing. You’re dressed like we’re on a date or something.”

  “Well, Josh, I didn’t wear this dress to do nothing. Let me educate you on women: when we go out, even if we say we’re going to do nothing we have to dress like we’re going to do something. Okay? So don’t think I’ve dressed up for you, buckaroo. And anyway, look at you, you’re all dressed up and everything—do you dress like this to do nothing?”

  “My mother insisted.”

  “I bet she did. You look very nice, by the way. And how do I look?”

  “Charming.”

  “Oh my God, what kind of answer is that? I have a mind to bring this evening to a quick end.”

  “Please? I’m bored to death.”

  Becca offered him an exaggerated look of scorn but said nothing.

  Bert watched Becca unconsciously rub her right thigh and saw what looked like a bruise. “Not that I’m staring at your legs or anything, but how did you hurt your leg?”

  “Yeah, right, you’ve never stared at my legs.”

  “Seriously. What did you do to your leg?”

  “Nothing. It’s been hurting for a while now, and that bruise came up a couple of days ago. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment Monday.”

  They drove on in silence for a moment and found themselves crossing the Allegheny River going toward Harmarville again.

  “Looks like we’re heading to the Eat ‘n’ Park,” Bert said.

  “You don’t mind? It’s too early to hit the dance floor.”

  “I didn’t know dancing was dependent on what time it was.”

  “I don’t like being unfashionably early. You know? It’s nice to have people look at you when you walk in, rather than being the people doing the looking when others walk in. Understand?”

  “No. But I’ll take your word for it.”

  In the restaurant, they gave their orders to the waitress. Becca started rubbing her leg. “Sorry,” she said, “this thing is hurting again.”

  “That thing is your leg.”

  “No, this thing I feel in my leg.”

  “You feel something in your leg?”

  “Yes.” She stopped rubbing her leg and put her hands on the table as their order arrived.

  “What do you feel in your leg?”

  “Nothing, forget it.”

  “You’re not supposed to feel anything in your leg. What does it feel like?”

  “A lump or something. Look, forget it, Josh. Let’s not talk about my leg.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments.

  “Do you know,” Becca said to break the silence, “that I look forward to talking to you?”

  He nodded. “I feel the same way.”

  There was another silence.

  “Okay,” Bert said, “so if we like to talk to each other, why aren’t we talking?”

  “Yeah, crazy, isn’t it? It’s like we’re strangers now. I feel almost nervous.”

  “Almost nervous? What does that feel like?”

  “Like I feel now, Josh.”

  “I’ve never felt almost nervous. I’ve managed to only feel all the way nervous.”

  She chuckled. “You kill me.”

  “Okay,” Bert said, “unconfuse me.”

  “What? Unconfuse you? What’s that mean?”

  “You told me you did and did not have a boyfriend. I said I was confused. I still am. How do you have and not have a boyfriend?”

  She sat back. “Greg’s my boyfriend because his father and mine want him to be my boyfriend, and he wants to be my boyfriend.”

  “That’s not helping.”

  “You said it yourself, Greg and I aren’t salt and pepper.”

  “You guys don’t look like a couple.”

  “We’re not. I mean, we are, but not like a regular couple.”

  “The difference being?”

  She leaned forward. “I can trust you, right, Josh?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s not into me.”

  “He’s not into you. Uh-huh. Still no help, Becca.”

  “He’s not into any girl.”

  “You mean as in he doesn’t like girls.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “As in he would rather hang around with the boys.”

  “Yes.” She smiled.

  “As in he’s into boys.”

  “Bingo. To keep his father from going berserk, we have to stay together. The thing is, Josh, I really like him. He’s sweet, gentle and, well, he’s very nice to me. How do you think I felt when I finally figured it out? Anyway, he wants us to keep up the image until he transfers colleges. He wants to go to school out west. UCLA. So, I said to him we could stay together as long as I could see someone else.”

  Bert paused as he raised his Coke to drink. He stared at her over the rim of his glass. She was simply sitting there, looking down at her coffee, her finger looped through the handle and turning the cup back and forth on the saucer. “He agreed?” When she nodded, he set his glass down. “Okay, so that explains why he is and is not your boyfriend. But why would you want to see somebody else if he’s so nice to you? I mean, why bother?”

  “Because I want to have a real relationship.”

  “It’s going to be tough.”

  “What is?”

  “Finding somebody.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, you’re so damn ugly.”

  “Right. And you’re a goddamned hunk yourself.”

  “I was joking.”

  “I wasn’t.” She tilted her head to one side, still toying with her cup and not looking at him. “Greg is a little intimidating because he’s a big guy, so nobody’s ever really tried to make a play.”


  “Well, they can now.”

  “Yeah, they can.”

  “But how will they know you’re available?”

  “I’ll be the one to make a move.” She smiled.

  “Watch out world, Becca’s on the loose.”

  She giggled. “I’m not after the world, Josh. I’m particular. Like you. I also have a check list.”

  “I bet it’s pages long.”

  “Naw, I’ve got just two things on mine: I have to like him and he has to like me.”

  “Well, then you’ll have an easier time than I will.”

  She sighed. “You can be so dense.” She stared at him a moment before continuing. “I’m only going to make my move when I think I found the guy I want to move with me.” She shook her head and laughed. “Oh, listen to me. That sounded so corny.”

  “Naw. I know what you meant. Not just anybody will do.”

  “Yes. The only problem is I’m afraid the guy I want to make a move on might not feel the same way.”

  “But if you like him, and he likes you as per your qualifications, that shouldn’t be an issue.”

  “It will be if he doesn’t know he likes me. I’m afraid I’ll turn on the charm and he won’t notice it.”

  “How could that be possible? I think you’d charm the pants of the Pope.”

  She smiled. “I’m not interested in him.” She stared at his face, concentrating on his eyes, his mouth, and then his eyes again. “You are something else, you know that?”

  “Okay.” Bert smiled and watched her looking at his face, saw her eyes travel from one feature to another; to his hair, his ears, his mouth and then at his eyes. She had pretty eyes. Long eyelashes, and a cute nose; her lips were full and shiny. “What,” he said, “do I have a zit or something?”

  She shook her head slowly. “No.”

  “Oh, good, it would devastate me. I’ve made it through my teen years without even one. I would hate to have them start popping up now. So when you do find this guy to move on with what’s Greg going to say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “He doesn’t care?”

  “He does, but he knows better than to say anything.” She looked down at her cup again. “It’s not so much Greg I’m concerned with really, it’s my father.”

  “The tyrant.”

  “I hate him.”

  “No you don’t.”

  She looked at him sharply, her face a mask of anger. “Don’t tell me who I can or cannot hate, Josh. He’s my father, and I can hate him. And I do.”