Dan Wakefield - Under the Apple Tree - A Novel

“I understand, all right! It’s a two-bit grandstand play is what it is, so you can keep on being a star even though you’re ineligible!”

“Hey!” Artie shouted, but no one paid any attention to him.

Roy smiled at Beverly, sadly, like you’d look at a person who meant well but didn’t have enough upstairs to understand you, and he turned his back and walked away from her like she didn’t exist, and Artie looked around and she didn’t. Beverly Lattimore was gone, as surely as if she had only been a drawing of chalk on a blackboard and Roy had simply erased her.

That night after supper, instead of going out with the guys or getting a date, Roy stayed home to sit around with the rest of the family in the living room and listen to Fibber McGee and Molly on the radio. They all stared at the big wooden arch-shaped radio like it was a stage and you could actually see Fibber and Molly, which you did but really in your mind, like you pictured the Lone Ranger or Ma Perkins or all the other people you had never actually seen in person but knew what they looked like from what they said and did in their stories on the radio.

When Fibber was over and the Longines Wittnauer Hour came on playing music, Mom said with just a little bit of sarcasm in her voice, “Well, Roy, going into the Army seems to suit you. All the sudden you don’t have so many ants in your pants.”

“Who said I was going in the Army?” asked Roy, real casual.

“You mean you didn’t really enlist?” asked Dad. “It was all hot air?”

“I didn’t enlist in the Army ,” said Roy.

“Well, I wish you’d have said so,” Mom said, sighing. “I always felt the Navy was safer. I’d rather think of you being on a nice clean ship with regular meals instead of crawling around in some muddy trench.”

“Being on a ship with enemy subs all around is just as dangerous,” Roy said, “but anyway, I didn’t enlist in the Navy.”

Dad tossed the paper off his lap.

“Well, what the Sam Hill did you go and join, the French Foreign Legion?”

“No, Dad,” Roy said very calmly and proudly, “the United States Marines.”

Artie jumped and yelled joyfully.

“Hurray—‘the Fighting Devil Dogs’!”

His mother dropped her darning and said, “Goddamn,” which was even more shocking than Roy joining the Marines.

“Now, Dot,” his father said, “it’ll be all right.”

“He’s always had to hog the limelight,” his mother said, meaning Roy but not looking at him or anyone else, just staring at the wall, “and now it’ll end up getting him killed.”

“Jesus, Mom,” Roy said, “you sound almost like Beverly Lattimore.”

“Don’t add insult to injury,” his mother said. “Everyone knows the Marines are the first to go in and be killed.”

“You’ve got it all upside down, Mom,” Roy said. “The Marines are better trained than any other fighting men, so they have a better chance to survive.”

“Hogwash,” his mother said.

“Now, Dot,” his father said, picking up her darning for her, “it’s true the Marines are trained to be a crack outfit. They don’t just throw green kids into the front with broomsticks.”

Artie started marching around the living room singing the Marine Hymn:

From the Halls of Montezu-u-ma,

To the shores of Tripoli …

Roy went over and put his hand on his mother’s shoulder.

“Come on, Mom. As long as I was going to do it, I wanted to be with the best.”

“You wanted to wear that fancy uniform with the red stripe down the pants, that’s what you wanted.”

“For God’s sake, Mom.”

Roy was starting to crack and be like his old self.

The lines in his face were tightening, but his father put a hand on his arm.

“Your mother has a right to be upset, Roy. It’s only natural.”

Roy eased up, nodding, and Artie continued his march around the room, singing with patriotic fervor and pride:

First to fight our country’s battles,

And to keep our honor clean,

We are proud to wear the ti-i-tle

Of United States Marine!

Even though Roy was a changed man, you still could have knocked Artie over with a feather when his older brother made him the offer.

“How’d you like to take in a movie?” Roy asked Artie, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Actually, the only time Roy took Artie to the movies was on his birthday or when his parents started nuzzling each other and gave Roy the money to take himself and Artie to the Strand so they could be alone in the house, though they didn’t say that was the reason.

“What movie’s on?” Artie asked, suspicious.

“A Bob Hope, I think. Or maybe it’s the new Roy Rogers.”

“So how come you wanna go if you don’t even know?”

“Look, you don’t want to go to the movies, have us a little popcorn, maybe go by Damon’s for a sundae afterward, it’s no skin off my teeth. Forget it.”

Roy started walking away and Artie reached and tugged at his sleeve.

“I didn’t say that. I just wondered how come.”

“Never knew you had to have a ‘how come’ to go to the movies.”

“Okay, that’d be great. Just you and me, huh, after supper?”

“After supper, sure. Listen, you wouldn’t mind if Shirley Colby came along?”

“Shirley Colby! What’s she got to do with it?”

“I thought you liked Shirley Colby. Thought you said she was probably the prettiest cheerleader in U.S. of A., never mind Birney High.”

“Yeah, but you told me she was just an Iceberg.”

“I said that?”

“Lots of times.”

Roy shook his head, smiling not at Artie but at himself, or rather the way he used to be before the War changed him.

“I guess I was still such a kid then I thought the main thing in life was making out.”

“What is it then?” Artie asked. “The main thing in life?”

He was getting confused.

Roy slung a brotherly arm around him.

“There’s better things. Higher things. You’ll learn, someday.”

Artie felt uncomfortable, and slid out from under his brother’s arm.

“I thought Shirley Colby wouldn’t go out with you,” he said.

“She wouldn’t. Won’t. She doesn’t believe I’ve really changed. But she did say she’d go out with us . You and me, pardner.”

Roy did a fast shuffle, took a boxing stance, and landed a soft left at Artie’s shoulder.

“Okay,” said Artie, “I get it now.”

It was like he’d be the chaperone, so Shirley would think she was safe.

“There’s nothing to ‘get,’ ole buddy,” said Roy, still dancing around him, throwing little taps of punches. “We’re all just going to have us a good time.”

“Ha,” said Artie.

Roy dropped his boxing stance, and looked sternly at Artie.

“Shirley’s a decent girl and I respect her,” he said, “so don’t go getting wise about it.”

Artie walked away, embarrassed and confused. He had just begun to find out he’d soon be old enough to try to make out with girls, and doing it was the most exciting, terrific thing in the world, along with playing varsity football and basketball. Now before he was even old enough to try making out, Roy was making it sound like that was just kid stuff. Artie felt like a jerk.

The only time Roy acted nervous after joining up was waiting outside the movie for Shirley to’ show up. He lit a cigarette, and then after just a couple of puffs he dropped it to the sidewalk and mashed it out with his foot, like he was trying to scrunch out some kind of killer bug.

“How come we didn’t pick her up at her house?” Artie asked.

“I told you, it’s not a real ‘date,’ numskull.”

Roy jerked Artie’s stocking cap off and rubbed his knuckles over Artie’s skull real hard so it hurt, but Artie gritted his teeth and didn’t yell. Then Roy stuck the cap back on him.