do pray for you every day. Don’t take any chances and be careful who you trust.
Keep down,
Your Pop
P.S. We’re going to have a big bash when you come back.
Tony shook his head. “How the ...” he muttered. “What experiences, Pa? What did you do? Geez, this ... it’s before Dai Do, before Loon. Before I got hit.” He bit his lip, bit his inner cheek. “How could this have come from here?” He did not, could not, verbalize how he felt. The letter represented something, something that seemed far more real than what he had found.
Twenty-two days after Tony’s homecoming, Jimmy Pellegrino returned to nearly the identical scene, the same welcome home banner, the champagne, the pots and pans and whistles. Tony’s father had suggested they wait one day but his aunt Isabella, Jimmy’s mother, had said, “If you do for one, you do for all,” and Jimmy returned to the same tremendous, overwhelming enthusiasm. Like Tony he froze, withdrew to his room locking the door, letting only Tony enter, not talking to Don Eisner or Jack Roedain, who had come ostensibly to see him but actually to see Annalisa, not even talking to Annalisa.
“What the fucks goin on here?” Jimmy asked Tony.
“I don’t know, Jimmy. Same thing happened to me when I got home.”
“They’re so fuckin noisy.”
“I didn’t even come in the house,” Tony said. “My Uncle Joe drove me around till everybody left.”
“I don’t like this.” Jimmy kicked his bed. He shot his hand quickly, unconsciously through his hair. “I don’t like this,” he repeated.
“Hey Jimmy,” someone yelled through the door. “Come on downstairs. Hey, did you kill some gooks for me?”
“Hey,” Tony shouted back through the door, “we’ll be down when we’re down. Go downstairs.”
“I’m goin,” Jimmy said quietly. “Cover me.”
Tony shrugged, gave him a power-fist salute. “Go for it.” Jimmy opened the window, jumped out. Tony watched him hit, roll, rise and run. Then Tony opened the door and went down.
“Where’s Jimmy? Where’s Jimmy?” It seemed as though everyone asked it at once.
“He went for a walk,” Tony said.
It rained the next afternoon. Tony and Jimmy got stoned on grass Tony had purchased in Creek’s Bend. They sat on the roof of the tool shed in Tony’s backyard and looked down the back street into old Creek’s Bend. The cousins talked, let the warm July rain soak into them. They watched people and cars come and go. They laughed with each other wondering what people thought about them, sitting in the rain atop the tool shed.
“All my Mom could say,” Jimmy said, “was, ‘Jimmy, was it bad there?’”
“I got the same thing,” Tony said.
“I thought she’d shit a brick when I told her I was definitely goin back. ‘Was it bad over there? Please don’t go back.’”
“Aw, that’s what they’re supposed to say,” Tony said. “Jo went crazy when I showed her my Heart. Pop hadn’t even told her. He knew I was still in the bush after I got hit so it couldn’t a been too bad. Man, what a scene.”
They smoked another joint, split a warm beer. Tony told his cousin about Shep’s, leaving out the part about Annalisa. He told him he thought his father and his Aunt Helen were having an affair. “If I had to live with that fuckin hysteria, I’d find somebody else, too.” Then he told Jimmy he thought, maybe, if things didn’t work out at his new duty station in Philly, he’d try and get back to Nam and into whatever unit Jimmy was assigned to.
Then Tony said, “Shit.” And he laughed loudly. The rain had put the joint out. He tried to relight it and they both laughed. “Ya know, while I was over there, I forgot that it rains back here.”
“This isn’t rain. You remember the typhoon....” They broke up.
“I wonder what the guys are doin?” Tony coughed out the words. “I wonder about Doc So—”
“He’s the guy stitched your leg.... Ha.” Jimmy rolled to his side laughing.
Keep down,
Your Pop
P.S. We’re going to have a big bash when you come back.
Tony shook his head. “How the ...” he muttered. “What experiences, Pa? What did you do? Geez, this ... it’s before Dai Do, before Loon. Before I got hit.” He bit his lip, bit his inner cheek. “How could this have come from here?” He did not, could not, verbalize how he felt. The letter represented something, something that seemed far more real than what he had found.
Twenty-two days after Tony’s homecoming, Jimmy Pellegrino returned to nearly the identical scene, the same welcome home banner, the champagne, the pots and pans and whistles. Tony’s father had suggested they wait one day but his aunt Isabella, Jimmy’s mother, had said, “If you do for one, you do for all,” and Jimmy returned to the same tremendous, overwhelming enthusiasm. Like Tony he froze, withdrew to his room locking the door, letting only Tony enter, not talking to Don Eisner or Jack Roedain, who had come ostensibly to see him but actually to see Annalisa, not even talking to Annalisa.
“What the fucks goin on here?” Jimmy asked Tony.
“I don’t know, Jimmy. Same thing happened to me when I got home.”
“They’re so fuckin noisy.”
“I didn’t even come in the house,” Tony said. “My Uncle Joe drove me around till everybody left.”
“I don’t like this.” Jimmy kicked his bed. He shot his hand quickly, unconsciously through his hair. “I don’t like this,” he repeated.
“Hey Jimmy,” someone yelled through the door. “Come on downstairs. Hey, did you kill some gooks for me?”
“Hey,” Tony shouted back through the door, “we’ll be down when we’re down. Go downstairs.”
“I’m goin,” Jimmy said quietly. “Cover me.”
Tony shrugged, gave him a power-fist salute. “Go for it.” Jimmy opened the window, jumped out. Tony watched him hit, roll, rise and run. Then Tony opened the door and went down.
“Where’s Jimmy? Where’s Jimmy?” It seemed as though everyone asked it at once.
“He went for a walk,” Tony said.
It rained the next afternoon. Tony and Jimmy got stoned on grass Tony had purchased in Creek’s Bend. They sat on the roof of the tool shed in Tony’s backyard and looked down the back street into old Creek’s Bend. The cousins talked, let the warm July rain soak into them. They watched people and cars come and go. They laughed with each other wondering what people thought about them, sitting in the rain atop the tool shed.
“All my Mom could say,” Jimmy said, “was, ‘Jimmy, was it bad there?’”
“I got the same thing,” Tony said.
“I thought she’d shit a brick when I told her I was definitely goin back. ‘Was it bad over there? Please don’t go back.’”
“Aw, that’s what they’re supposed to say,” Tony said. “Jo went crazy when I showed her my Heart. Pop hadn’t even told her. He knew I was still in the bush after I got hit so it couldn’t a been too bad. Man, what a scene.”
They smoked another joint, split a warm beer. Tony told his cousin about Shep’s, leaving out the part about Annalisa. He told him he thought his father and his Aunt Helen were having an affair. “If I had to live with that fuckin hysteria, I’d find somebody else, too.” Then he told Jimmy he thought, maybe, if things didn’t work out at his new duty station in Philly, he’d try and get back to Nam and into whatever unit Jimmy was assigned to.
Then Tony said, “Shit.” And he laughed loudly. The rain had put the joint out. He tried to relight it and they both laughed. “Ya know, while I was over there, I forgot that it rains back here.”
“This isn’t rain. You remember the typhoon....” They broke up.
“I wonder what the guys are doin?” Tony coughed out the words. “I wonder about Doc So—”
“He’s the guy stitched your leg.... Ha.” Jimmy rolled to his side laughing.
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