When Jack was released he was still in pain, particularly when we moved his chest or took a deep breath, but he was much better. He was instructed to get up every day and walk or perform some other form of exercise. He was instructed to change his diet, to avoid alcohol, and to avoid everything else that was the least amount of fun. He would be off work for at least another month before he would be allowed back on light duty for another two months. If all went well he would be able to resume his route about the time that Nina and I left for college.
Two days after Jack went home, I went to work as usual. The first thing that happened was Mindy greeting me at the locker room door as I emerged dressed in my scrubs and sterile cap.
"Hi Mindy." I said, somewhat surprised to see her there. "What's up?"
"Hi Bill." She greeted, smiling. "I got a question for you."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Since you're my favorite employee," She said. "I thought I'd ask you first.
My husband and I bought tickets for "Fiddler On The Roof" on Saturday night down at the theater. But the asshole went and got himself a promotion at work and has to go to Seattle for a training session over the weekend."
"Really?" I asked, immediately interested.
"Yeah." She said sourly. "Anyway, I'm trying to get rid of the tickets now.
I paid twenty apiece for them but if you're interested I'd be willing to let them go for ten apiece." She smiled a little. "Of course they won't let you have the complimentary glass of wine, but hey? So what do you say?"
"I say, will you take a check?" I asked.
Nina was delighted to go to the theater with me. She'd never been to such a thing before, had never even seen the movie version of Fiddler On The Roof. She was a little nervous about having to dress nice for the occasion, rarely did we go someplace where a dress code was in place, but she was excited about it whenever I talked to her.
She called me up Saturday afternoon about one o'clock.
"Mom and Dad want to know if you'd like to come over for dinner with us before we go?" She asked me.
"You're kidding." I said, feeling a little nervous myself at the prospect. Though the Blackmores had warmed to me during Jack's stay in the hospital I still had not been inside their house since the day of his heart attack. To me it didn't seem we were quite ready for that step despite the invitations from them.
"Not at all." Nina replied. "She's making her roast chicken."
I had enjoyed Mary's roast chicken once before, in the days before our break-up, back when they'd still thought I was a suitable companion for their daughter. It was truly a work of art.
"Well," I said doubtfully. "What do you think?"
"I think you should come." She said softly. "They're trying Bill, they're trying to accept you. I think you might do some damage to that if you refuse."
I sighed. "What time then?"
"Four-thirty."
"Tell your Mom and Dad I'd be honored to accept their invitation."
I had just hung up the phone and was heading for the bathroom when it rang again.
"You got that?" I heard Dad yell from the other room where he was watching a nature program on PBS.
"Yeah." I called back. "It's probably Nina again."
He grunted something in reply and I picked up the phone. "Hello?"
It was not Nina. "Bill Stevens please?" A gruff voice demanded more than asked. I was immediately on guard just hearing it.
"This is Bill." I said slowly. "And who is this?"
"Mr. Stevens." Said the voice. "Sergeant Matt Cable, U.S. Marines. How are you today?"
U.S. Marines? What the hell? A part of me wondered if this had anything to do with the Beirut bombing that I'd tried to stop. Was Sergeant Cable from intelligence? If so, he wouldn't have called on the phone, would he? "I'm just fine, uh, Sergeant. What can I help you with?"
"Well Mr. Stevens." Cable told me forcefully. "The question here is what I can help YOU with."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Are you planning to go to college?" He asked next.
"Yes." I said. "Uh Sergeant, perhaps you could…"
"Good." He went on, not even hearing me. "And have you thought about how you're going to pay for college?"
Suddenly I got it. He was a recruiter! He was trying to get me to join the Marines. How the hell did he get my phone number? I didn't remember any recruiters calling me at home in my previous life. But even as I thought this a vague edge of a memory surfaced, more a sense of deja vu. Maybe they HAD called me and I'd just dismissed it.
"Uh, yes Sergeant, I have college expenses all taken care of. Thank you very much for asking. Now I'm kind of busy and…"
"Ahh." Cable went on again. "But did you realize just how expensive college really is? The average cost today for a four-year degree is approximately thirty thousand dollars. Do you have that kind of money?"
"I will." I said shortly. "Listen, I appreciate your calling and all, but I'm really not interested in joining the Marines. How did you get my number anyway?"
"The high schools in the area provide us with a list of graduating seniors." He said absently. "But really Mr. Stevens, I think you should give some thought to the Corps. It will give you four years of discipline and maturity. You'll get to serve your country in the most honorable way imaginable, and you'll make over forty thousand dollars for college while you're doing it. You can also learn valuable job skills…"
"Like charging machine gun nests?" I asked.
"What?" He said, confused. He was obviously not accustomed to having his sales pitch interrupted.
"Valuable skills you said. Is charging machinegun nests and jumping out of landing craft onto a hostile beach a valuable skill? What if I get killed? Can't really go to college then, can I?"
He paused for the longest time. Finally he said… "You misunderstand Mr. Stevens. Not everybody in the Corps does that. There are many support positions that require skilled individuals. We will train you in those skills. For instance, computer science, an up and coming field. We can train you in it. By the time you get out you'll possess a valuable civilian skill and you'll have money to go to college with to expand upon it. Not only that, you'll have had the satisfaction of serving your country."
"Uh huh." I replied. "And suppose I take the ASVAB and it tells you that I'd make a lousy computer tech? Suppose it tells you that I'm not good for much of anything besides shooting a gun and charging out of landing craft? The ASVAB is taken AFTER I've signed my name, right? So if it tells you I should be a grunt and I've asked for computer science, where am I going to end up?"
This threw him completely off guard. "Uh… well," He stammered. "The fact of the matter is…"
"The fact of the matter is that you just want me to sign my name on the line and you don't care what happens to me after that. You don't care because you got whatever points they've given you for signing up another stupid kid so your cohorts can train me to love the idea of dying for my country in some conflict over oil supplies or something equally worthless. Do you believe in honoring your father Sergeant Cable?"
"Well, of course." He answered, reeling from what I'd just said. He didn't have enough sense to gleam the fact that I wasn't interested and end the conversation.
"Well my father didn't charge machine gun nests or fight VC. He braved hostile police and National Guard soldiers so he could smoke dope and burn his draft card. If I was to join the Marines after he went through all of that, it would be an awful betrayal, don't you think?"
He didn't answer that one, there was only silence on the line.
"So if it's all the same to you," I finished. "I'll just go to college with the money I have, study well, and leave the machine gun nest charging to those too stupid to see through your used car salesman speech. And hopefully we'll have ourselves a nice war sometime and they'll reinstate the draft so I can go to protests and smoke dope and burn MY draft card and honor my father in a manner that he so deserves. Good day sir, and please lose this phone number."