The Singing Trees by Boo Walker
Chapter 16
A GOODBYE TO REMEMBER
The bouts of sadness and loneliness over the next few weeks as she prepared for her move to Portland sent her into a tailspin at times, but she slammed shut the many doors, shielding her gut-wrenching feelings about losing Thomas and Emma from stabbing her.
Staying focused, she painted the image she’d seen of Mary Ann Vecchio kneeling over Jeffrey Miller at Kent State, among others from that awful day. She painted what she’d seen of the Hard Hat Riot and the shootings at Jackson State. Trying to understand both sides of each conflict, she painted the police officers and construction workers too. As hard as she tried, though, she couldn’t get into their heads. How could she possibly understand what they, or anyone else, for that matter, was thinking or feeling? Did she really think she could paint from television images?
Nonna would point at the coverage of these terrible events on the television and say, “This is why you should stay here.”
Annalisa cataloged each image, desperate to paint them, as she replied, “This is exactly why I have to leave, so I can paint things that matter.”
A day after that, Annalisa had slapped her uncle Tony for telling her she better get in the kitchen where she belonged.
How could Annalisa ignore such comments or these horrendous events by staying in the bubble that was the Mills? She didn’t claim to understand politics or have all the facts, but at least she could paint them and attempt to feel what it was like to live in their skin.
On the Friday after the Jackson State shootings, while the family was together, Annalisa asked Nino if he would help her hunt for jobs and apartments in Portland.
“So you finally want to hang out again?” he asked, shoving a forkful of orecchiette into his mouth.
“Hey, you’re the one who kept pushing me to date someone,” she said. “I’m back, though.” As much as she did look forward to reconnecting with Nino, whom she’d ignored for the last few months, it would have been nice to make that drive down to Portland with Thomas, to start their life together. As forcefully as Nino had shoved his pasta into his mouth, Annalisa suppressed the thought. There was no good in wondering what could have been.
“I’m sorry,” she said to Nino. “It’s been a wild few months.”
The next day, he took her down to Portland to hunt for apartments and jobs, and it felt almost surreal that she was finally making this happen. What a long and winding road it has been, she thought. None of the places she could afford with the money she’d saved excited her. The best of the six they’d looked at was owned by a very questionable character who’d made Annalisa feel sick inside. The other apartments were dirty and rat-infested or located a long way from the action. Considering she didn’t own a car, she wanted to be near Congress Street, where she could find constant inspiration.
As far as jobs were concerned, she had no luck finding anything available other than restaurant work. If it came down to it, she would settle for being a server, but she hoped to find something that paid better—or offered some sort of upward trajectory. That way she could afford her art supplies and Sharon Maxwell’s art classes, while starting to save at the same time.
Annalisa thought working at a gallery would be the most perfect opportunity, as she could meet other artists and maybe talk a gallery owner into selling her work, but there weren’t as many galleries in Portland as she’d built up in her head while in the Mills.
She tried Jackie Burton first, because that was whose walls Annalisa wanted her art to adorn. The curator was thrilled to see that she was following through with moving, but she couldn’t offer her a job. Neither could the other galleries Annalisa visited. She didn’t even bother showing them her portfolio because she certainly had not found her voice yet. If anything, her relationship with Thomas had sidetracked her.
After a long and unsuccessful day, Nino drove her back home. Feeling discouraged, she wondered if she could make it in Portland. What if she had to repeat this same drive in a few months, a retreat back to the Mills with her tail between her legs? As the challenges of moving to the city presented themselves, she let doubt fill her soul. It was so easy to have dreams, but to actually make them happen wasn’t always possible. Though she hated to admit it, some of the dream had lost its luster without Thomas. If he’d been there with her, the challenges would have been more fun to navigate. Stay strong, she told herself. Her wound would heal, and he’d fade away, just as she must be drifting from his heart.
By the next morning, she’d pushed her thoughts of Thomas back down into one of the manholes of her mind, and she’d burned all her doubt and was back on track in front of the easel. Nothing ever came easy. If she gave up now, what was the point of any of it?
Two days before her graduation, Annalisa was lost in her world of painting on the front porch, Elvis singing to her through the windows, when she heard the familiar purr of Thomas’s Beetle. The sound made her heart stumble like a horse who had clipped a hurdle with her hoof.
She expected Thomas to put up a fight and had been surprised she hadn’t seen him since their breakup weeks before. At times, she’d even been sad that he hadn’t fought for her. When she’d reminded herself of the determination in Sharon Maxwell’s silver eyes, though, she found renewed faith in her decision to move on and was grateful that he was letting her go as she’d asked.
Until now. What was he doing here?
She went to the top of the steps and watched him climb out of the car, suddenly feeling like a rope in a deadly contest of tug of war: love on one side, their separate dreams and opportunities on the other.
A taxi appeared and parked behind Thomas’s car, making Annalisa’s brow furrow in confusion. Thomas waved to her and then went to say something to the driver. When he finally came her way, she was perplexed.
“What’s going on?” she asked, looking past him to the taxi. Late May had brought warmer weather, and she was in short sleeves for the first time that year.
He didn’t respond until he was standing right below her, looking at her. “Hi.”
All the emptiness she’d felt lately went away as a smile rose on her face. “Hi.” It was like he’d just plugged into her and charged her soul.
He bit his lip, then: “I wanted to see if you’d take care of my car. I’m going away for a while.”
“What? Where are you . . . ?” Even though she’d ended it, she couldn’t imagine him leaving.
He pinched his chin, not breaking eye contact. Whatever it was, it was hard for him to tell her. “I’m shipping off to basic training in the morning.”
She felt her chest caving in as she shook her head. “What are you talking about?”
He shuffled his feet, his arms dangling at his sides. “I got drafted, Anna.”
She couldn’t believe it and waited for a smile to show that he was telling a terrible joke. No smile came.
“What happened to the deferment?” she asked, descending the steps to meet him. He was drafted? He was going to Vietnam? He looked like he hadn’t eaten in days, as if he had been stranded at sea and needed vitamins.
“My grades slipped a little lately,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “Listen, I didn’t come here for any sympathy, just to see your face and to ask if you’d take care of my car. It’s not going to do me any good for the next two years.”
A pit grew in her stomach. She was right back in the diner when they’d drawn his number, sharing a booth with Emma and him. “Is that how long it is?”
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She felt incredibly selfish to have abandoned him when he’d needed her most. “I would have been there for you.”
“I know you would have,” he said, excusing her with the brush of his hand. “But I didn’t want to make you worry. Besides, I thought I could appeal or that my dad could get me out of it. He knows one of the guys on the board. Turns out even a case of Johnnie Walker Blue Label can’t get you out of a two-year stint once you’ve gotten your notice.”
She crossed her arms, wishing she could hug him but feeling like she didn’t have the right. “What happened to your grades?”
He shook off her question.
Ah, she got it. The answer showed in his eyes. He’d let them slide because of the whole thing with Emma—and, of course, between Annalisa and him. Fresh waves of guilt hit her hard.
“It’s been a long month, and I missed a few tests.”
Seeing him this way wrecked her heart, and she was sure that all of this was her damn fault. Had she not let the two of them happen in the first place, he wouldn’t be standing here with his sights on Vietnam.
“You’ve done everything?” she asked, feeling his fate like it was her own.
“I’m shipping off to Fort Dix in the morning. It’s done.” He had a certain resolve about him, as if he’d accepted his path with the same grace he seemed to do everything.
“Will you definitely go to Vietnam?” She’d seen the countless body bags being carried off planes, and her heart burned at the idea of his body being among them.
He shrugged. “No way to know. It took Mitch nine months to get there. After boot camp, I’ll have advanced training and then who knows. Maybe the war will be over by then. Or I could get lucky and get shipped to a base in Germany or somewhere safer.”
“Oh God, Thomas,” she said, her eyes letting loose agonizing tears. She opened her arms to him, and they embraced. She’d hoped their connection had waned some, but touching him, feeling his protective arms wrap around her, was like returning home after years gone.
The English Leather he wore drew her in, reminding her how intimate they’d once been, and now here he was saying a much more severe goodbye than the one they’d shared not so long ago. She cried into his chest, thinking that the love of her entire life might not come home. What-ifs blasted through her mind. What if she hadn’t broken up with him? What if she’d never said yes to their first date? What if she hadn’t invited Emma over?
Eventually letting go, she wiped her eyes. “What about Canada?”
A quick shake of the head. “I’m not running. It’s all right. I’m good with it now.”
She looked up at the sky, where a cloud slowly passed by. Her mind went to darker places, to the news reports she’d been watching and reading about for years, all the men who never came home. Or the ones who had, but without all their limbs. Or others who’d made it home intact physically but so broken emotionally that they hadn’t been able to reintegrate into normal life.
The truth was if he came home, he would come back a different man. They all did.
It was Vietnam.
“Anna, I’m serious. It won’t be much different than my war at home. Maybe a few more guns. I’m ready. Mitch is still there; maybe I’ll get to see him. I wanted to say goodbye and . . .” She watched a tear slip down his cheek. “. . . and ask if you’d write me,” he finished. “I respect that you don’t want a relationship, but I’m hoping we can be friends. If you don’t—”
The floodgates opened, and she wept for him again. “Yes, I’ll write you. Of course I will.”
He pulled her back in for another hug.
When they broke away this time, she asked, “How’s Emma taking the news?” She mopped her face, realizing that she herself wasn’t the only one losing him.
“As you can imagine, she’s pretty torn up. I hate leaving her, but I have no choice . . .” He started to say more but stopped. Did anyone love their sister like he did?
Feeling like all bets were off, Annalisa reached for his hand, not wanting to let go, not wanting to lose him. “I can only imagine what she’s going through. Life’s just not fair, is it? Such a childish thing to say, but it isn’t. Just when you think it can’t get any worse.”
He looked at their interlocked hands. “Tell me about it.” Did he feel that same connection? Or was he already off at war, with no more time for love?
“I’ll check in on her from Portland,” Annalisa promised. “I know she’s gonna need someone. Please tell her I’m here for her . . . if she ever wants to see me again.”
He offered a smile. “That’s very kind of you. I’ll definitely tell her. So would ya take care of my car, Anna? You’ll need it down there, so you can come back up and visit Nonna.”
“I’m not taking your car, stupid,” she said, laughing through her tears.
He looked back at the taxi driver. “I’ve already paid him to follow me all the way here. I’m leaving the car, Anna. Let me do this for you. As a friend.”
As much as she didn’t want to—as much as she knew that driving his car would crush her—she thought that maybe he needed her to take it. Perhaps it would serve to keep their connection and give him a reason to stay alive and figure out his way back home.
“I’d be honored.”
He let go of her hand so that he could dig the keys out of his pocket. Was that the last time they’d ever touch? Oh God, please take care of him, she prayed.
Annalisa took the keys and thanked him. She wanted more of him. She wanted to grab his hand again and take him away, to Canada or anywhere. Please God, don’t take him from me.
“Bye, Anna,” he said, attempting to be strong.
“Goodbye, Thomas,” she whispered, crying again.
He rubbed his eyes. “I love you,” he said, and without forcing her to respond, he turned and walked toward the taxi with his head held high.
“I love you too,” she whispered back, not loud enough for him to hear.