bring him out of his funk. James was distant. Then, once they passed the outer gates, she wiggled out of her coat, cuddled up next to him, and kissed him. As he drove, she nuzzled his neck. Finally James responded, slipping his hand under her skirt and between her legs. Linda smiled. It appeared the old James was back. When she unlocked the apartment door, he surveyed the crepe paper streamers, balloons, and the “Welcome Home” banner.
“I’m a real jerk for being so upset with you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m sorry.”
Then he drew her toward the bedroom, pausing only long enough to laugh at the provocative signs Linda had plastered on the walls. He lay on the bed and pulled Linda to him. The anxiety melted away, and Linda relaxed for the first time in days as they made love.
Having James home made everything seem normal again. In the days that followed, each morning he drove to the base, where he helped refit the Ohio for the gold crew’s upcoming patrol. In the early afternoon, he was back at the apartment, announcing his arrival with a toot, toot of the Grand Prix’shorn that reminded Linda of the way Ward Clever might have signaled “I’m home” to June on the old “Leave It to Beaver” television series.
In many ways, their tiny apartment was beginning to feel more like a home. There were Linda’s mementos including pictures of her family, and James had a growing collection of plaques and certificates from the navy, earned for each hurdle he passed on his way to qualifying on the sub: one for passing a fire school he attended, others for completing submarine school and basic training. Linda framed them all and hung them on a wall in the living room.
“Why are you doing that?” he asked when he first saw them.
“Because I’m proud of you,” she said. “I want everyone to know how smart my husband is.”
Though James said nothing more, Linda could tell he was pleased. I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure this works out, she thought.
As before, afternoons were their time together. They went to the movies or took long walks along the water. Just as he had before that first patrol, he insisted she wait for him each day before running errands, even going to the Laundromat or picking up their mail at the post office. “You don’t know what kind of perverts are out there,” he told her. Sometimes Linda thought it was odd. She was the one who had a reason to fear strangers—she’d been raped as a teenager—yet it was James who expected bad guys around every corner.
At home, James’s appetite for sex was as insatiable as ever. Off and on during the day and at least once at night, he called her into the bedroom to “do it.” As before, he held precisely to his routine, shunning any suggestion to try something different. The one night she came to bed wearing her burgundy lace teddy, he immediately ordered her back to the bathroom to change. “I like you better in just your bra and panties,” he contended. When she reappeared in plain white cotton bikini briefs and a bra, he was happy. None of it made sense to Linda. Of course, it may have if she knewmore about her husband’s past, especially his early obsession with bra and panty models in the Sears catalog.
Many afternoons were spent on the tennis court, where James renewed his effort to teach Linda the game. Although the courts on base were vastly better maintained than the dilapidated one behind the high school, James insisted they play the latter. When Linda asked why, he said he preferred not bumping into the other crew members on his off hours. “I spend enough time with them,” he contended. They also stopped working out at the base gym, after James insisted he’d noticed other sailors—“fucking bastards”—eyeing Linda when she ran the track or worked out with weights.
On Sundays he refused to go to the base chapel, demanding they join Holy Trinity parish in nearby East Bremerton
“I’m a real jerk for being so upset with you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m sorry.”
Then he drew her toward the bedroom, pausing only long enough to laugh at the provocative signs Linda had plastered on the walls. He lay on the bed and pulled Linda to him. The anxiety melted away, and Linda relaxed for the first time in days as they made love.
Having James home made everything seem normal again. In the days that followed, each morning he drove to the base, where he helped refit the Ohio for the gold crew’s upcoming patrol. In the early afternoon, he was back at the apartment, announcing his arrival with a toot, toot of the Grand Prix’shorn that reminded Linda of the way Ward Clever might have signaled “I’m home” to June on the old “Leave It to Beaver” television series.
In many ways, their tiny apartment was beginning to feel more like a home. There were Linda’s mementos including pictures of her family, and James had a growing collection of plaques and certificates from the navy, earned for each hurdle he passed on his way to qualifying on the sub: one for passing a fire school he attended, others for completing submarine school and basic training. Linda framed them all and hung them on a wall in the living room.
“Why are you doing that?” he asked when he first saw them.
“Because I’m proud of you,” she said. “I want everyone to know how smart my husband is.”
Though James said nothing more, Linda could tell he was pleased. I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure this works out, she thought.
As before, afternoons were their time together. They went to the movies or took long walks along the water. Just as he had before that first patrol, he insisted she wait for him each day before running errands, even going to the Laundromat or picking up their mail at the post office. “You don’t know what kind of perverts are out there,” he told her. Sometimes Linda thought it was odd. She was the one who had a reason to fear strangers—she’d been raped as a teenager—yet it was James who expected bad guys around every corner.
At home, James’s appetite for sex was as insatiable as ever. Off and on during the day and at least once at night, he called her into the bedroom to “do it.” As before, he held precisely to his routine, shunning any suggestion to try something different. The one night she came to bed wearing her burgundy lace teddy, he immediately ordered her back to the bathroom to change. “I like you better in just your bra and panties,” he contended. When she reappeared in plain white cotton bikini briefs and a bra, he was happy. None of it made sense to Linda. Of course, it may have if she knewmore about her husband’s past, especially his early obsession with bra and panty models in the Sears catalog.
Many afternoons were spent on the tennis court, where James renewed his effort to teach Linda the game. Although the courts on base were vastly better maintained than the dilapidated one behind the high school, James insisted they play the latter. When Linda asked why, he said he preferred not bumping into the other crew members on his off hours. “I spend enough time with them,” he contended. They also stopped working out at the base gym, after James insisted he’d noticed other sailors—“fucking bastards”—eyeing Linda when she ran the track or worked out with weights.
On Sundays he refused to go to the base chapel, demanding they join Holy Trinity parish in nearby East Bremerton
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