The Singing Trees by Boo Walker

Chapter 9

DODGING BULLETS

After the night at the drive-in, her paintings took on a lightness that she used to avoid, almost lovey-dovey with butterflies and pastel colors and big silly hearts, all the result of the flighty feeling dancing in her stomach. Annalisa didn’t think Jackie would think much of this phase as her voice, but for the moment she didn’t care. The lighter colors and mood were a welcome change from the somber paintings she’d done since her parents’ deaths.

They saw each other four more times in the following two weeks, twice including his sister. Though her fear—of potential heartache, of not heeding Nonna’s warnings, of letting him get in the way of her art—seemed to follow her growing attraction to him like a black sedan in the rearview mirror, she committed to giving in to their relationship. She kept thinking about how happy Nonna’s life had been with Nonno. Not all couples ended up like Annalisa’s parents.

Surely there were great artists out there who had made their best works while bathing in these same feelings of love. She’d been painting nude women lately, mostly conjuring them up from her imagination after emulating a few Goyas she’d discovered. It was obvious she was wrestling with her own sexuality, knowing that with each time they were together, she and Thomas were moving closer to going all the way.

Not long after parking in a secluded spot on Sebago Lake on the Sunday before Thanksgiving, she let Thomas take off her shirt and continue where they’d left off at the beach a week before. A cold wind blew through the cracked windows, but the heat between them kept her warm as he encroached on her side of the car. Sly and the Family Stone played on the radio. She was not passive and matched his cravings as she pulled him into her, letting out moans that she couldn’t control. It felt like it was only a matter of time before she’d take the next step with him.

When he slipped two fingers into her waistband, though, she felt her entire body turn to steel.

She grabbed his hand. “Stop. I . . . no.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She couldn’t have said exactly what caused this sudden rigidity. Was it her grandmother’s warnings? Could it really have been a result of witnessing her parents’ marriage fall apart? Or did it have more to do with their deaths? Was this a symptom of grief?

Thomas’s hand felt like an impostor down there, and she was uncomfortably vulnerable. She was well aware that the unwieldy traffic lights in her head—the red and green randomly changing at any given moment—were as confusing to him as they were to her.

Collecting her thoughts, she said, “I’m not ready, okay?”

“No rush here; don’t worry.” He showed no frustration as he respectfully kissed her on the cheek and reached for her hand, assuring her he would stand by her no matter what.

She didn’t want him to think she didn’t like him. That wasn’t the case at all. Trying to turn her mood around, she pulled two beers from the bag behind them. “Let’s go explore.”

They put on their clothes, pulling on jackets and gloves to fight the cold, and walked hand in hand along the trail wrapping around the lake. The sun dropped down behind the mostly leafless trees and painted the water the color of tangerines.

He talked about his family, saying that his parents had asked to meet her soon. “They want me to bring you to the country club,” he said, “but I keep putting it off. I hope you don’t feel like I am trying to keep you a secret. It’s the other way around. I’m trying to keep them a secret.”

“I know that. Don’t worry.” She almost said, “Don’t feel like you need to force it,” but let the thought go. She did want to meet them—eventually, but the idea rattled her nerves. The last thing she needed was more people like her father in her life.

“So, Emma,” she started, feeling comfortable probing deeper into his family’s life. “What’s going on with her? You said she’s been down for a long time.”

He picked up a stick and tossed it into the water. As the splash shot out a ring of ripples, he said, “She almost killed herself.”

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, Thomas.” Annalisa hadn’t actually tried to hurt herself, but she’d certainly thought about it after her parents had died.

He faced her. “Mitch saved her.”

She’d originally met Mitch at the game, and he was the one who had found Nino in the crowd to report Thomas was taking her home. He was in advanced infantry training at Fort Polk in Louisiana, so she had yet to see him again.

Thomas kicked a pine cone, and it rolled farther down the trail, settling at the base of a tall fir. “At least we think she was about to. The three of us were at my family’s cabin up north. I’d talked her into coming, just to get her out of the house. We woke up after that first night, and she was gone. Mitch and I split up and searched everywhere. He found her standing on the edge of a cliff—like a deadly one-hundred-foot drop—and she looked like she was going to jump. He brought her back.”

Annalisa slipped her arm around Thomas’s waist. “That’s so sad. I hate that she’d ever feel that way.” Emma’s and Thomas’s pain filled her heart. “Did you tell your parents? She might need some help.”

He sighed as he gazed over the tangerine water at a flock of wood ducks landing near a fallen tree. A violet hue shaded the edges of orange sky. “That’s not the way my family works. No daughter of Bill and Elizabeth Barnes needs to seek help. We’re the perfect family.” A humorless smile lifted his lips. “Absolutely perfect.”

On December 1, Annalisa sat shoulder to shoulder with Emma and Thomas in a booth that offered a view of the small television resting on top of the Coke machine at the restaurant next to her work. The River Place was a small joint, mostly takeout. Three girls in matching red T-shirts stood behind the counter, taking orders. Behind them a giant menu offered all types of fried seafood in various combinations.

The other diners who had filled the six tables were glued to the CBS broadcast of the first draft lottery since 1942. On the far right of the screen, a large whiteboard displayed rows of numbers that would soon be populated with birth dates drawn from the bucket of blue capsules waiting in the center of the stage. The men in suits looked somber as they waited to begin.

Annalisa pushed her basket of fried clams and french fries away. The savory smell was tempting, but she was too unsettled to eat. It wasn’t just Thomas’s birth date being drawn tonight. Three of her cousins were eligible as well. Thomas promised her he was safe because of his 2-S student deferment, but his assurance wasn’t enough to ease her mind. The idea of losing him to the war was terrifying.

She’d heard talk of some deferments going away because of both the Selective Service’s attempt at making the draft more equitable and also the dropping number of enlistees due to the explosive antiwar sentiment. Though Thomas didn’t agree with Annalisa’s worry, the government could pull his deferment at any minute.

When Alexander Pirnie, a congressman from New York, drew out the first capsule, Annalisa wrapped her arm around Emma. Thomas wasn’t the only one whose life was on the line—and that was what it was. She had been hearing horror stories for years, long before she was even old enough to understand them, about men dying or being wounded in the war.

To her left, by her soda, was a piece of paper with all her cousins’ birth dates on them. Unlike Thomas, though, her cousins had no way to get a deferment. A low number for them was pretty much a death sentence. Thankfully, Nino was still too young.

Mr. Pirnie handed the blue capsule to another man in a black suit, probably someone from the Selective Service. The man cracked open the capsule and spoke into the microphone, “September 14.”

Emma glanced over, and Annalisa squeezed her shoulder tighter. Not unlike Annalisa, she wasn’t eating. Annalisa suspected her excuse that she’d snacked before they’d left the house to be a lie. You can’t fool someone who’d walked in the same shoes.

The cashiers and the patrons in line and every diner in the booths went quiet, a silence that screamed of all that they’d been going through since the war had begun. Everyone in that restaurant—heck, everyone in Maine and even the entire country—was trying to go on about their lives like things were normal, but they weren’t. Nothing was normal. This war was a shadow no one could ignore.

Annalisa glanced at the piece of paper. Everyone she loved was safe for now, but then she thought of all the men who’d been born on September 14, who had just been clipped at the knees, all the men who would be sent off to fight a war that more than half the country didn’t believe in. She could feel all of them, their hearts either frozen or roaring.

“I don’t know if I can watch this,” Thomas admitted, stirring a fry in ketchup. He looked like he had a stomach bug. “Three hundred and sixty-four more capsules . . . Jesus. Maybe we should get out of here.”

Annalisa shook her head. “No, this is important. We can’t walk away and pretend it’s not happening. What do you think, Emma?”

As Annalisa had noticed previously, Emma had an uncanny ability to completely check out from a situation and was startled when she realized they were staring at her. “What?”

Annalisa caught her up. “I think we need to stay; don’t you?”

Emma clasped her hands under the table and rocked back and forth. “You’re probably right.”

It was a long, agonizing event, this draft, and Annalisa listened to each date as if they were playing Russian roulette, the muzzle of a gun pressed to each young man’s temple. The three of them quieted, caught up in the action on the screen, only the occasional glance at customers coming and going.

Thomas was born on November 6. When they selected a date close to his, Annalisa felt like someone had struck her in the back. Tears welled up in her eyes, showing her just how much she cared for him. Emma looked equally worried.

Thomas turned to both of them. “Close one, huh? Don’t worry, guys. They’ve never taken anyone out of Weston.”

Though he may well have been right, as Weston was one of the best schools in New England, it didn’t make Annalisa feel much better. She closed her eyes and said a prayer, promising God she’d never miss church again if He would keep Thomas and her cousins out of this war.

During a commercial, after sixty capsules had been drawn, Thomas excused himself to the restroom. Annalisa was still uneasy, but at least he and her cousins weren’t in that first group. From what the talking head had said, maybe only half the numbers would be called in the following year.

Emma stayed close to Annalisa, their shoulders touching. She said, “You seem like you’ve come a long way toward liking my brother after not being into him at the game.”

“Yeah, well . . . I wasn’t. I mean, I’m . . .” Annalisa took the opportunity to be honest. “My home life was pretty tough before my parents died, so I don’t have much belief in happily ever afters. Would you believe he’s the first guy I’ve ever kissed?”

Emma’s eyebrows pinched together. “Really? But you’re so pretty. Don’t guys ask you out all the time?”

“That’s very nice of you, but I make it pretty clear I’m not interested.” She raised her hand as if she were giving an oath. “I’m not the dating type and never thought I’d have a boyfriend.”

Emma scratched the table. “Me either. But he’s persistent, isn’t he?”

“The most persistent,” Annalisa said. “And you know what? Unless you know something I don’t, he seems like a good guy.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Emma said, “Every girl in Davenport is jealous of you right now; that’s for sure. As far as a brother, he’s the best.” Out of the blue, she looked sheepishly toward the restroom door and said, “Can I ask you something? Don’t tell Thomas I said anything, okay?”

Annalisa touched Emma’s arm. “Of course.”

“How are you so confident and happy? You and my brother seem like nothing ever gets you down. I’m . . .” She stopped and shook her head.

Annalisa took her hand this time. “I am flattered that you think that, but . . .” She pointed to her own head. “There’s a lot going on in here. I’m still very much torn up over how my father treated my mother, and how she let him walk all over her. As far as the crash, I think about it all the time. Every day.”

Emma’s eyes, like little moons, begged for a better answer. “How do you do it then? It’s like you just bounced back from all that.”

“I guess I’m good at hiding it.” She wanted to offer Emma some advice but wasn’t sure what to say. Then it hit her, and she chose to be completely transparent. “No, that’s not exactly true. If it weren’t for my painting, I’m not sure I would be here. To be honest, your brother’s had something to do with it too.”

She could see Emma’s wheels spinning and asked, “What’s going on with you?” She saw a younger Annalisa in Emma, the one who’d put her hand on the casket of her mother’s grave and wished that she’d been in the car with them when it crashed.

“I don’t know,” Emma admitted. “I’m having a hard time. I feel so trapped at home, but I have nowhere to go.”

Having been in this spot, Annalisa thought maybe she could help. “What are you passionate about?”

“I don’t have any passions.” Her voice was monotone.

Annalisa wasn’t sure that was true. “You like music, right?”

“I like listening. I don’t play.”

Annalisa saw Thomas come out of the restroom. “Your brother’s coming back. Why don’t you come over sometime? We could paint, if that interests you, or listen to music, or whatever.”

“Really?” Emma looked like Annalisa had just handed her a bag of cash.

“Yeah, totally.” She patted Emma’s arm. “How else am I going to get the dirt on your brother? We’ll get him to drop you off.”

As the two girls attempted to hide their smiles, Thomas appeared at the end of the table. “What are you girls talking about?”

As Emma got up to let him in, Annalisa said, “Girl stuff. I think Emma might come over sometime.”

“What?” He turned to his sister and with a big smile said, “She’s my girlfriend. You can’t hang out with her without me.”

“Says who?” Emma replied, showing a flash of the confidence that she needed so badly.

They turned to the television as the commercials ended and the next capsule was drawn. Annalisa glanced at the American flag drooping in the background behind the men and women conducting the draft. She wondered if America would ever be the same again. Would it ever return to the days she’d heard about from her family, the easy fifties after the Great War, when everyone was happy to be alive?

Another man drew the capsules now. He handed one over to the guy from the Selective Service calling out the dates. He peeled open the small sheet of paper and read it like he might read the fortune from a cookie.

“November 6.”

Annalisa lost her breath. She turned to Thomas, looking for his reaction as she studied his frozen profile. He was number 76, a number that nearly guaranteed that he’d be called.

Before she could say anything, he took both Emma’s and Annalisa’s hands. “I told you guys. It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry. I’m not going to be the first student at Weston to be drafted.”

Emma’s eyes swelled with tears as she said, “I hate this fucking war.”

“Me too,” Annalisa and Thomas agreed at the same time, awkwardly chuckling at her bad language.

Annalisa asked, “What if they stop deferments? They wouldn’t take away those who already have them, right? They’d just stop offering new ones?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Thomas agreed, sounding almost certain. “If you want something to worry about, Anna, think about meeting our parents.” He tapped Emma’s arm. “Right, Sis?”

Emma whispered, “Yeah,” as she reached for her Coke. Annalisa could see how badly the idea of losing her brother to the draft had bothered Emma, which was understandable. He’d stayed at home as opposed to enjoying dorm life just to protect her. It was quite possible that Emma loved her brother more than Annalisa ever could.

Looking past Emma, Thomas and Annalisa locked eyes. Worry colored his face, and it had nothing to do with the draft. It had to do with the love he felt for his sister. Eventually, he would have to leave her, and she’d have to learn how to fend for herself.

Breaking the silence, he said, “Actually, my mom asked about meeting you again yesterday, so I promised her next week. Is that okay with you?”

Annalisa slid her hand to Emma’s. “You’ll be there, right? From what Thomas has said, I’ll need some support.”

Emma looked at her. “I’ll do the best I can.”

Tenderness seeped into Annalisa as they put their eyes back on the television. Seven numbers later, her cousin Michael’s birth date was drawn.