Marilyn simply rolled her eyes at that, and allowed me to make a list. At the minimum, we would send cards to my family.
The results were interesting. There was some cash, which we split in half and pocketed, and some checks, which we put aside to deposit in the bank. I was using the credit union on base, and I resolved to take Marilyn over and get her listed on the account. Only my Army paycheck went into that account; she didn't have access to, or even knowledge of, my brokerage accounts.
We had a large pile of other gifts, too. We got two toasters and three blenders, both of which I already owned, and a pair of fondue sets. I told Marilyn I would put a note on both the battery and battalion bulletin boards, and unload them that way. Suzie gave us a very nice set of serving bowls, and my aunts and their families gave us some nice flatware and some extra Corelleware. Finally, after we went through everything, we couldn't find anything from my parents. We looked all over the apartment, to see if we had left it in the spare bedroom, or if Matthew had put it down somewhere we couldn't find it. There wasn't anything to be seen. Mystified, Marilyn called her parents, and they checked with Matthew, to make sure we hadn't left it in the van, or upstairs in her old bedroom.
Finally, I just shrugged. "Maybe my folks forgot it at home. They'll probably mail it this week. I'll check with Suzie tomorrow."
That was a very strange phone call. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered, so I called Suzie on an outside line from the base the next day. Suzie told me that they hadn't packed any presents other than hers, and that she hadn't seen anything around, and that she would check with our parents when they got home from work. I called her later that night, getting hung up on by Ham in the process, and then calling back ten minutes later and getting Suzie. I could hear my brother on the line, so I told him to get off the phone, and then Suzie started yelling at him, and there was a click as he hung up.
Suzie's voice dropped to a whisper. "It's really weird, Carl.", she told me. "Nobody will tell me anything about the present."
'What do you mean?" I lowered my voice, too. Marilyn was watching television in the living room, and I was on the phone in the bedroom.
"Well, I asked Dad, and he simply told me to talk to Mom. He was acting really strange, too. So I went and asked Mom, and she got real hyper about it, and started yelling about you two and how you had lost the present, but she wouldn't tell me what it was or anything, and I swear, there was nothing in the car!", she answered.
I began to feel sick to my stomach. "She wouldn't even tell you what we had lost?"
"No, and she wouldn't answer any other questions either. I was sent to my room for asking."
"Suzie, I don't think they gave us anything.", I whispered.
"I don't either, and now Dad's embarrassed and Mom's angry you found out.", she admitted.
I was silent for a minute, long enough that I could hear Suzie going, "Carl? Carl?", on the other end. Was my mother that unhappy with me? Or was Hamilton working on her somehow? Or had he destroyed the present?
"I'm here, I'm here. I was just thinking. Suzie, here's a job for you. Go to the store and buy something, maybe a really nice and big CrockPot. Then take it over to Louise's and wrap it and mail it to us. We'll tell Marilyn that they found it at home, and must have forgotten to pack it."
"This is so bizarre, Carl!", she told me. "I can't believe they did this intentionally!"
"It is what it is, honey. You just take care of that and then send me a bill to my office. I'll send you a check." I waited for her to grab a pen and paper, and then gave her my office address.
We hung up and I went back into the living room and told Marilyn my Mom found the present in the living room behind the couch, where it had been kicked, and they were mailing it out. It was years before I ever told her the truth.
The next day, I called my father at his office. "Dad, you got a minute?", I asked.
"Uh, yes. Welcome back. How was the cruise?"
"Just fine, thank you. Listen, I have to ask you, what's going on with the wedding present. Suzie says Mom wouldn't say what it was, but that we've lost it. What's going on?"
"Uhh..." Dad hemmed and hawed for a moment. I could almost hear the gears turning as he tried to think of something.
I pushed a little more. It certainly wasn't the value of the present that I cared about, but I needed to know what was happening. "Did Hamilton destroy it? Suzie says nothing was packed in the car but her present, and we got that. Did Mom forget it? Or wasn't there a present at all?"
"Carl, maybe you should be asking your mother this question.", he replied, ducking the answer.
"No way, I'm asking you. Was there even a present? Or does your answer already mean there wasn't one."
"I don't know, Carl. Your mother said she would handle it, but I don't remember packing anything.", he answered, lamely.
"Okay, well, that answers that question, I suppose. Just curious, Dad, is it me she hates, or Marilyn?"
"Carl, it's not like that!", he protested.
"Yeah, whatever you say, Dad, whatever you say. Good-bye, Dad. Give Mom my love. I'll leave you all alone."
I could hear him protesting as I hung up the phone. There was a time when I would have cried about it, but I just didn't care anymore. I had had it with the drama. I'd let Suzie know what had happened and mail her my old house key.
Within a few days of my being back, Marilyn got a letter at the apartment from the Fort Bragg Officers Wives Group, asking her to join. Marilyn's not a big joiner on that sort of thing, but I pushed her to go to a meeting and meet the others. I knew that she would enjoy it, and I also knew that it would be helpful to her. She was far from home, without any friends, and in a place she didn't know or understand. I also knew, in a mercenary sort of way, that a wife can make or break you. Marilyn would never hurt me intentionally, but what she didn't understand could hurt me unintentionally. I was right, too; she came back babbling happily about some of the other wives she met, and talking about their next meeting. Also, a few of the wives would come and visit and give her an introduction to the Army and the post.
Marilyn adjusted to life in the cycle about as well as I expected her to. She didn't like it, but Marilyn had never given me grief about my working hours before, and I didn't expect her to now. The support cycle was the easiest, and we were still finishing up that. Training cycle was next, and while she didn't see as much of me, I was always home at night, and usually had my weekends free. The six weeks of ready cycle were very unhappy for her. The days were very long, and often there were overnight readiness exercises and drills.
There were, however, a few things I could do to ease her through this. First, we bought a used car, a little red Toyota Tercel with a stick shift and a couple of hamsters under the hood that she loved. That let her get out and around. I also drove her up to Fayetteville State. If she wanted to be a teacher, she needed a master's degree. Fayetteville State is pretty much a black college, but whites could go there, too, and it was part of the University of North Carolina system. There were a number of colleges in the area, but most were either community colleges or religious colleges or undergrad colleges only. If she didn't want to go to a black college, she would need to drive up to Raleigh or Durham, at least an hour away.
Marilyn was nervous about this, simply because Utica and Plattsburgh are pretty much totally Caucasian. Oh, there're some blacks around, but Marilyn had lived a very sheltered life. I don't think she had ever actually talked to a black person until she got to college, and Harlan and Anna Lee were a real shock to her family at the wedding. Still, we picked up a copy of the catalog and some admissions paperwork.