Page 37 of Pages of My Heart

Thomas

Thomas hides in the bathroom like a coward, the tightness in his chest clawing up his throat and wrapping tightly around his windpipe. Charlie has repeatedly told him to stop being so ominous, but he cannot shake the feeling of dread that has seeped into his every pore.

It’s a draft day.

They’ve been through several already, huddled around the radio in their sitting room, listening to see if one of their numbers is called.

But this time it feels different. Something is wrong.

Anxiety has been bouncing chaotically around Thomas’s head for days.

The odds are against them. And as he has pointed out repeatedly—to Charlie’s growing annoyance—the chance of neither of them getting drafted after this long is near impossible. Now it’s just a matter of who and when.

The truth is, Thomas doesn’t want to be left behind.

He simply cannot fathom the pain of Charlie leaving him.

He thinks he could handle being the one to get called up, because at least then he would be occupied and have a reason to fight.

But to remain at home, wondering, waiting for that fucking telegram—a telegram that he wouldn’t even receive because he’s not Charlie’s real husband nor his next of kin!

While Thomas is acutely aware of his fear of being abandoned, the awareness does nothing to help ease it.

The effect of losing his mother to the darkness of insanity has left invisible scars that cannot be denied.

Bridget did her best, but she was not his mother and did not treat him like a son.

And then there is his sad excuse for a father—a drunkard unable to hold down a job who brings only shame upon their family.

Thomas despises Patty’s weakness, his inability to do his duty as a man and care for his family.

Thomas may never experience the joy of being a father, but he knows with certainty he would cherish the responsibility if granted it.

With only five minutes left before the lottery is drawn, Thomas musters what small courage he has left and exits the bathroom.

Charlie is waiting in the sitting room, the radio already on.

Many men have already volunteered to do their duty, and the two of them have discussed it, too.

Ultimately, they concluded it would be too dangerous.

Should their homosexuality be discovered, they would, at best, be court-martialed and dishonorably discharged, destroying any chance of their spending a long life together.

At worst—well, it wasn’t even worth considering.

As he enters the sitting room, Charlie takes one look at him and rolls his eyes. “Sweetheart, come here. I’m sure it’ll be all right. And if it ain’t, we’ll deal with it and get through it, just like we have everything else.”

He perches on the edge of Charlie’s armchair and lets Charlie take his hand. Charlie’s cavalier attitude fills him with frustration. “I feel nauseous.”

Charlie visibly softens. “Well, that’s cause you’ve worked yourself into a tizzy. You’ve been worryin’ about it for days.” Charlie pulls him down for a chaste kiss. Feeling childlike and vulnerable, Thomas has to fight the urge to settle in Charlie’s lap.

The radio announcer begins the program, relaying the procedure and explaining the process they know only too well.

“The capsules are being stirred,” says the announcer.

Thomas grips Charlie’s hand tight and holds his breath.

The first number is announced, and Thomas’s eyes water with relief.

Maybe Charlie is right and his fears are unfounded.

Then the second number is read out—and the world stops. They do not look at each other. They do not speak. Thomas can feel himself unraveling. The fear, the anger, all converging into an avalanche of emotions he doesn’t know where to direct. But he knows he cannot endure them. He can’t. He won’t.

“No, no, no, no!” He hears someone shouting hysterically, and some part of him knows it’s his own voice, but he feels so disconnected from his body it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing makes sense. He shakes his head back and forth, over and over. “No, no, no, no . . .”

“Tommy, stop!” Charlie grabs his arm but he pulls roughly away, walking hurriedly into the kitchen and around the table. Charlie follows.

“Sweetheart, stop. Please!” Charlie begs. “You need to sit down. Come on, let’s talk about it. I’ll be okay. Look, maybe I won’t even pass the medical, or—”

Thomas can barely hear him for the ringing in his ears, but then the solution to his pain hits him like a bolt of lightning. “I’ll enlist. I’m going with you.”

Charlie is on him in an instant, holding his face firm between his hands, blue eyes turning dark like the sky just before a storm. “No, you’re fuckin’ not.”

“Why not? If you’re going, then I’m going too! I’m not staying here while you go off and serve our country. I’m not a fucking coward!” Thomas tries to struggle free, but Charlie won’t allow it.

“I didn’t say you were a coward. And what would be the fuckin’ point? So we can both get killed? You think we’ll be together? You think we can tell them we’re lovers and they’ll let us bunk together in the barracks?”

The bitter sarcasm in Charlie’s voice is like a knife to his gut and Thomas is having none of it. He yanks himself from Charlie’s grasp and rushes to the bathroom, locking himself inside before Charlie can stop him.

“Tommy, open this damn door,” Charlie yells, rattling the doorknob. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too! But we gotta face this.”

Sitting down on the edge of the bathtub, Thomas rests his head in his hands. “You can’t tell me what to do,” he says, his voice coming out muffled and strained. “If I want to enlist, I can. I’m not staying here waiting to find out if you’ve been killed in some fucking war!”

Charlie bangs on the door, then tries the doorknob again. “Thomas, I’m losing my temper out here. Open the fuckin’ door right now!”

Thomas says nothing. He lifts his head and stares at the wall, allowing the tears to roll down his face unchecked.

“Tommy, are you gonna open this door or not?”

Thomas doesn’t know how to get through this. Charlie is his entire world.

“Tommy!”

He ignores Charlie’s booming anger in favor of his silent tears. He knows it’s wrong of him to behave this way, and yet he is powerless against the current of fear that’s pulling him under. He’s drowning.

“Fine! I’m gonna take a walk before I do something stupid, like break down this goddamn door. When I get back, we’re gonna talk about this.”

Thomas listens for the sound of Charlie’s footsteps, but hears nothing. He hears a sigh, then a gentle bump against the door, as if Charlie’s rested his forehead against it. Then softly, “Sweetheart, I love you.”

Thomas chokes back a sob but still he does not respond. Eventually, he hears Charlie walk away, then the front door opening and closing. Then silence.

“I love you too,” he whispers.

Charlie

With his head down, he walks to Evie and Richard’s house to tell his sister the news.

Of course, she already knows. She pulls him into the house with a hug and then holds his hand while they sit together in the kitchen.

They talk about inconsequential things and sip on lukewarm coffee.

Richard isn’t home, and Charlie’s glad. He likes the man less and less the more time passes.

Evie deserves a better husband, and he worries for her.

Soon he’ll have to worry for her from thousands of miles away.

Time passes in a blur, but when he eventually stands to leave, Evie stops him with a tentative hand on his forearm.

“I don’t know if this is the right time to tell you, but since we might not have long before you .

. . well, you know . . .” She trails off, swallowing hard before trying for a small smile. “I’m having a baby.”

Charlie is shocked into stillness, his heart doing something complicated he can’t quite untangle.

“Shoot, I’m sorry. Today wasn’t . . . I shouldn’t have—”

The look of guilt clouding over Evie’s face jolts him out of his stupor. The last thing he wants is for Evie to suppress her happiness on his account.

“Congratulations, sis,” he says, cutting her off and pulling her into his arms. Charlie strokes her long black hair, all his fears suddenly bubbling over like a boiling pot forgotten on the stove.

He wants to make it home to meet his nephew.

Or niece. It doesn’t matter which. His mind drifts back to Thomas, who will be over the moon with the news.

Pulling back, he kisses Evie on the forehead and makes the effort to smile.

“Tommy will be excited to hear the news. It okay if I tell him?”

“Of course. I was going to tell you both together but . . .” Evie shrugs helplessly.

“Nah, I’m glad you told me. Needed to hear somethin’ good today. How many weeks?”

“The doctor thinks about ten. The baby is due in August.”

“You know . . . I won’t be here when it’s born.” Charlie is utterly gutted.

Evie takes his hand and squeezes. “But he or she will be here to greet you when you get back. We all will.”

Charlie nods, a lump growing fast in his throat. “Yeah, yeah, of course. I, uh . . .” He gestures toward the door with his thumb. “I should go. Tommy will be wonderin’ where I got to. I’ve been gone for hours.”

“Of course, sure.” Evie smiles again, but it’s a brittle thing. “I know how much he means to you.”