is her—this is my girl, Naomi. She’s coming on the five o’clock bus, and I won’t be here to meet her. Please, you have to help.”
“I’ll do it.”
It wasn’t the money—although twenty dollars was a fortune. I only made fifty cents an hour selling tickets at the bus station, and my mother made a little more at the factory, making widgets, that’s what she liked to call the parts they made for the war planes.
It was the photo. The girl in the photo was the most beautiful I’d ever seen. It was clearly her senior portrait, one of those posed pictures, but she didn’t get all dolled up like I’d seen so many do. She was completely natural, her hair like a long, dark curtain, looking as soft as silk against her velvet cheek, her big, dark eyes bright and full of promise. She was thinking about something or someone she loved, I was sure of it, and I burned with jealousy when I glanced at the soldier and realized it was probably him.
I didn’t realize until later, much later, how much Naomi resembled my mother.
“Which bus?” I asked, seeing relief and gratitude flood the soldier’s face. So I would be late getting the rations, late getting home. I knew my mother would understand, when I told her the circumstances—and showed her the twenty dollar bill.
“Thank you!”
I nodded, barely hearing the soldier’s words as he took the picture down from the glass. I wanted to ask for it, to keep it, and I thought of a way it might be possible as he went on talking. “We got new orders, we’re shipping out in an hour—less than an hour now.” He glanced at his watch and I opened the side door to the booth, stepping out into the bus terminal. The soldier held out his hand and I shook it. “Name’s Jerry.”
“Patrick,” I replied in kind. “Which bus is she coming on?”
He opened his wallet again, taking out a slip of white paper and shoving it into my hand. “I wrote it all down here. I can’t tell you how grateful I am. What rotten luck, eh? We barely had a honeymoon before I was shipped out, and here I am, being shipped out again on my first furlough in six months, and I won’t even get to see her!”
The soldier—Jerry—was holding the picture again, and I took it this time, wanting to touch it. The woman in the photo smiled at me, just for me, her eyes saying the most delicious things.
“Here’s the twenty I promised you.” He pressed that into my hand, too, but I didn’t pay much attention. I was still staring at the photo. “You tell her…tell her what happened. Tell her I got shipped out. She’ll have to get her ticket changed so she can turn right around and go home to her mother. I—” Something clicked in Jerry’s throat and I glanced up, seeing that look on his face again, like he was going to cry.
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” I said, holding fast to the photo as he reached for it. “I’ll help her. I promise.” He looked both confused at my refusal to let go of the picture and relieved at my willingness to help. “Listen, can I hang onto this? I’d hate to go up to the wrong girl and tell her that her guy’s been shipped back off to war…”
Jerry frowned, blinked, then slowly let go. “Sure. Sure, okay. But will you give it back to her, so she can mail it to me? It’s the only one I have.”
That made me wince with guilt, but I didn’t change my mind. “Of course.” I slipped the twenty, the picture, and the slip of paper into my pocket next to the ration book. “I’m really sorry this happened to you.” That was true but I felt like I shouldn’t have said it. I actually saw tears brimming in his eyes and this time, I did look away, glancing up at the clock. “What time are you shipping out?”
“That reminds me.” I pretended not to notice him wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand as he reached into his coat pocket with the other. “Will you give her this?” He handed me an envelope. It had her name on it – Naomi . I thought
“I’ll do it.”
It wasn’t the money—although twenty dollars was a fortune. I only made fifty cents an hour selling tickets at the bus station, and my mother made a little more at the factory, making widgets, that’s what she liked to call the parts they made for the war planes.
It was the photo. The girl in the photo was the most beautiful I’d ever seen. It was clearly her senior portrait, one of those posed pictures, but she didn’t get all dolled up like I’d seen so many do. She was completely natural, her hair like a long, dark curtain, looking as soft as silk against her velvet cheek, her big, dark eyes bright and full of promise. She was thinking about something or someone she loved, I was sure of it, and I burned with jealousy when I glanced at the soldier and realized it was probably him.
I didn’t realize until later, much later, how much Naomi resembled my mother.
“Which bus?” I asked, seeing relief and gratitude flood the soldier’s face. So I would be late getting the rations, late getting home. I knew my mother would understand, when I told her the circumstances—and showed her the twenty dollar bill.
“Thank you!”
I nodded, barely hearing the soldier’s words as he took the picture down from the glass. I wanted to ask for it, to keep it, and I thought of a way it might be possible as he went on talking. “We got new orders, we’re shipping out in an hour—less than an hour now.” He glanced at his watch and I opened the side door to the booth, stepping out into the bus terminal. The soldier held out his hand and I shook it. “Name’s Jerry.”
“Patrick,” I replied in kind. “Which bus is she coming on?”
He opened his wallet again, taking out a slip of white paper and shoving it into my hand. “I wrote it all down here. I can’t tell you how grateful I am. What rotten luck, eh? We barely had a honeymoon before I was shipped out, and here I am, being shipped out again on my first furlough in six months, and I won’t even get to see her!”
The soldier—Jerry—was holding the picture again, and I took it this time, wanting to touch it. The woman in the photo smiled at me, just for me, her eyes saying the most delicious things.
“Here’s the twenty I promised you.” He pressed that into my hand, too, but I didn’t pay much attention. I was still staring at the photo. “You tell her…tell her what happened. Tell her I got shipped out. She’ll have to get her ticket changed so she can turn right around and go home to her mother. I—” Something clicked in Jerry’s throat and I glanced up, seeing that look on his face again, like he was going to cry.
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” I said, holding fast to the photo as he reached for it. “I’ll help her. I promise.” He looked both confused at my refusal to let go of the picture and relieved at my willingness to help. “Listen, can I hang onto this? I’d hate to go up to the wrong girl and tell her that her guy’s been shipped back off to war…”
Jerry frowned, blinked, then slowly let go. “Sure. Sure, okay. But will you give it back to her, so she can mail it to me? It’s the only one I have.”
That made me wince with guilt, but I didn’t change my mind. “Of course.” I slipped the twenty, the picture, and the slip of paper into my pocket next to the ration book. “I’m really sorry this happened to you.” That was true but I felt like I shouldn’t have said it. I actually saw tears brimming in his eyes and this time, I did look away, glancing up at the clock. “What time are you shipping out?”
“That reminds me.” I pretended not to notice him wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand as he reached into his coat pocket with the other. “Will you give her this?” He handed me an envelope. It had her name on it – Naomi . I thought
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