Dan Wakefield - Under the Apple Tree - A Novel

Artie blinked, and sat up. It was dark, and he was the only one left in the theater. Evidently Billy Shavers didn’t even know yet the Usher was supposed to make sure that everyone was gone when the last show was over.

Or was it really over?

The screen was blank, but there were sounds coming from somewhere, much like the moans and gibberish he had heard in his dream. He pinched himself to make sure he really was awake.

He was.

The sounds seemed to be coming from up above where the movie projector was. Maybe Old Man Risley was playing some movie for himself with only the sound and not the picture.

Artie sat still and listened.

“Ohhhhhh,” went the low voice.

“Noooo,” said the high one.

“Huh?”

“ Here .”

“Where?”

“Ohhhhhhhhh.”

“Go— on .”

“Eeeeeeeeeee!”

“Wait!”

“Shir-leeeeeeeeee!”

Artie stuck his fingers in his ears. He got up, stumbling, and plunged through the door to the empty lobby. He blinked, looked around, seeing only the folding chair where tubby Shavers had been, and the wadded-up wrapper from the Mars Bar lying on the floor. Artie reeled out, and leaned against the building. He was breathing hard, his heart pounding. He couldn’t think, didn’t want to try. He just stood there, like a watchman or guard, holding the building up, his hands shoved deep and clenched in his pockets. The street was empty. Finally Shirley came out, alone.

“Where’s Foltz?” Artie said.

“What are you doing here?”

“Is he still in there?”

“Clarence? He’s closing up.”

“How come, if he’s not the Usher anymore?”

“He runs the projector now. Why? What are you doing here?”

“I heard you. And him.”

“What do you mean? Where?”

“In there.”

Shirley looked puzzled for a second, and then her face seemed to collapse. She covered it with her hands.

Artie just stood there.

Foltz came out.

He looked at Shirley and then at Artie, and sprang at him, grabbing his collar, yanking it.

“You goddamn little sneak!”

“Don’t!” Shirley hissed.

She grabbed Foltz and pulled him away from Artie.

“Goddamn you,” Artie said quietly. “Goddamn you both.”

Shirley took a step toward him, like she was walking on ice that might break underneath her.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she said. “Tonight was the last time—I mean, that I’ll ever see Clarence.”

“You won’t see Roy then, either,” Artie said.

Shirley flinched, like he’d slapped her, and then she took a deep breath, and nodded.

“You’re going to tell him. What happened tonight.”

Artie shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Never.”

“What do you mean then? That I won’t see Roy. Artie? Artie!”

She fell to the sidewalk in front of Artie, grabbing him around the waist, squeezing so hard he thought she might crush his bones.

“Stop!” Artie yelled. “Listen!”

“Oh, Jesus God,” said Foltz.

Shirley was sobbing and choking as she spilled out words.

“Don’t tell me he’s dead don’t tell me they killed him don’t tell me don’t let it be true oh God oh please—”

Artie grabbed her arms and yanked them to keep her from crushing him.

“He’s alive, he’s only wounded in the leg, he’s coming home.”

“Oh my God oh my God oh thank God oh Jesus Christ in Heaven thank you—”

Shirley pitched forward, curling into a ball on the sidewalk.

Artie knelt down beside her and Foltz came and knelt on the other side and laid his hand gently on her head.

“It’s all right,” said Foltz. “I’m going. I’ll go. Tonight. Now. Forever.”

Shirley was trembling so hard her teeth were knocking together and Foltz quickly leaned down and kissed her, quickly, and then he stood up and looked at Artie.

“Forget I was ever here,” he said. “I never will be again. I swear.”

Artie nodded.

“Is that a deal?” Foltz asked.

“Yes,” Artie said.

Foltz made a crooked smile, but it wasn’t sarcastic, it was even kind of brave, and he straightened his shoulders.

“Semper Fidelis,” he said, and then he turned and was gone.

Artie pulled Shirley up and hooked one of her arms over his shoulder and walked her home like someone wounded.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, thank you for bringing Roy home today from the War, and let him not be too banged up in the leg or shell-shocked in the head. I pray that him and Shirley will have a swell time and be madly in love, and Roy will never find out about Foltz. Also, I pray that Foltz, wherever he is, will find a nice girl to love him so he can settle down and stop running all over the place. Thank Thee for all this stuff, Amen.”

Artie opened his eyes and got up from his knees. He went to his bedroom window and made the Sign of the Cross, like the old Christian heroes did, just for good measure, vowing he would never slack off from worshiping God. There were bright streaks of orange in the sky, like banners, and Artie took it as a sign that this was going to be a great day and everything would go right. He had butterflies in his stomach, like you got from being nervous before a big ball game. Even though it was his brother and not himself coming home from the War, Artie felt this was the biggest day yet in his own life.

Artie had been at school when Roy called from the Naval Hospital in San Diego to say the skin grafts had been successful and he’d be coming home in one piece, with just a cane to help him walk. He said he had been the luckiest guy in the world because the shell fragments that hit him had missed “the femoral artery” so even though he bled a lot and had to have transfusions, he’s come up smelling like roses. If everything healed right he’d eventually be almost as good as new, with just a big scar for “a souvenir.” The best thing of all was he wouldn’t be sent back to fight in the South Pacific; he’d be stationed at the Marine Base at Parris Island, South Carolina, to help train new recruits for combat.

The Garbers and Shirley got to stand in the place of honor on the train station platform to welcome Roy home, along with the High School Band, the VFW Fife & Drum Corps, and Alben Smalley, a dapper guy with a mustache who owned the Birney Lumber & Supply and was also the Mayor. School was let out and most of the stores on Main Street were closed so everyone could turn out.

The Band and Fife and Drum Corp were warming things up with “The Army Air Corps Song,” and saving “The Marine Hymn” for Roy’s arrival. Everyone was getting in the spirit of things, singing about the wild blue yonder. Shirley was all dolled up in a pink dress and a pair of white heels and matching hat like women wear to church, which showed she was really grown-up now and not like the high school cheerleaders who were hopping and prancing in front of the crowd in time to the music, their beautiful bare legs twinkling in the soft April sun.

Artie was singing with a helluva roar as he spouted his flames in the “Army Air Corp” song. He peeked back over his shoulder while he sang, wondering if Carolyn Spingarn was watching him be the brother of a hero. He couldn’t see her right off but he knew she was there; everyone was there, even Mr. and Mrs. Colby were somewhere, probably way at the back, being above it all. Mom had invited them to stand right up on the platform along with Shirley, but Mrs. Colby said she didn’t think it was “fitting” and went on some more about how Shirley and Roy weren’t officially engaged like in Emily Post. She didn’t even think it was right for Shirley to stand with the Garbers but Shirley put her foot down on that one.