"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."
I clicked down the phone, smiling to myself. That was the most fun I'd had without Nina in quite some time.
The day was a glorious example of spring in Spokane; perhaps the nicest time of the year in our city. Unlike Western Washington, we don't get near the rainfall and cloud cover in the eastern portion of the state. At ten minutes to four, when I headed over to the Blackmore house, the sun was shining brightly, the sky was a deep blue, the trees were blooming with fresh leaves and fruit blossoms, and the temperature was a pleasant seventy-two degrees.
I was actually sweating a little in my suit and tie, both from the warmth upon my thick clothing and from the nervousness of having dinner with Nina's parents. I wheeled to the curb, took a few deep breaths to gather my courage, and then headed to the door.
Nina answered it and she quickly made me forget about her parents. She was wearing a pretty black and white dress complete with nylons and high heels. Her face was made up and her hair was styled attractively. I felt my eyes widen as I took in the sight of her, as I saw her blush at my perusal.
"I've never worn anything like this before." She said, embarrassed. "Mom helped me pick it out."
"It's beautiful." I told her, leaning forward and giving her a peck on the lips. "Your mother has good taste."
"Thank you." Mary Blackmore said dryly from just inside the doorway. It was my turn to blush.
"You look very nice too Bill." Nina squeaked, standing aside to allow me entry.
I stepped inside to find her mother, wearing a pantsuit and a cooking apron, appraising me. We looked at each other for a moment.
"How do you do Mary?" I asked politely. "Thank you for inviting me over."
She nodded, her face forming the slightest hint of a smile. "I told you that you're welcome in our house Bill." She said. "And Nina's right. You DO look very nice. Are you hungry?"
"Famished." I assured her, telling the absolute truth.
"Well good." She said, turning and heading for the kitchen. "Because I've made enough for an army."
While her mother went to finish dinner Nina led me into the living room where Jack was sitting in his recliner, watching television. The Mariners were battling the Blue Jays and apparently getting the shit kicked out of them. Jack seemed in a foul mood because of this.
"Hi Jack." I said nervously, seeing the scowl on his face.
"Goddam bunch of pansies!" He yelled at the TV as a Mariner hit into a double play. Beside him a glass of lemonade sat untouched so long the ice was melted.
"Jack, your language." Came drifting out of the kitchen.
He shot an irritated look in that direction for a moment and then turned to me. "There's no hope." He told me.
"No?" I asked carefully.
"None." He assured me. "Well don't just stand there. Have a seat. Watch this pathetic excuse for a game with me until dinner. Maybe you'll learn something."
"Okay." I said, heading to the couch. Nina came with me. When she sat down she did it inexpertly, since she was not used to wearing a dress. It hiked all the way up to mid-thigh before she shifted and pulled it back down. It took every ounce of my willpower to keep from gazing at this directly, instead of with my peripheral vision. Somehow I managed.
Jack saw my struggle, I know he did. I think I gained a point or two with him.
He continued to explain the finer points of baseball to me as we sat there, while Nina looked bored. His conversation was peppered with the occasional "goddam", which was always answered by an admonishment from Mary in the kitchen, no matter how softly he muttered it. Each admonishment was met with an irritated stare back towards the kitchen.