mother’s birthday. Too poor to buy a present, hadn’t even sent a card. Guilt roiled his conscience. Dana had sent a gift and offered to add his name, but Border said, Thanks, I’ll come up with something.
He loosened up with a few folk songs. She’d never liked rock. Then some Mozart. That stopped him for a moment, thinking, How many sixteen-year-old guys can blow a rondo?
He called the lab. Her assistant was snooty; Border was firm. Just get her, okay?
“Happy B-day, Mom. Now sit still. Give me five minutes.” He played for that long.
“What a perfect present,” she said.
Her voice was rigid. Controlling tears, he guessed. Weird, Mom—you go naked on stage, but darned if you’ll cry at the lab. “Give my best to Lee.”
“I will. Thank you for that, too. Love you, darling. Miss you.”
“See ya, Mom.”
Duty done. What a sweet boy.
Bad News —
Dot Tully’s great-nephew was killed in the Gulf during the first day of the ground war. For five weeks there had been planes and bombs; now the soldiers and tanks and guns were involved. Border had watched the start of the ground war on television, watched the tape of tanks rolling across the desert, watched the allied armies chase down and overtake exhausted Iraqi soldiers. Like everyone, he knew as he watched that the war was as good as over. Over and won.
He watched everything, cheering them on, unaware of course that someone related to someone he knew was getting killed.
Dot’s great-nephew was twenty years old. Border learned that when he showed up at the church the next night. He had two papers to write, but he’d promised to stamp several hundred balloons. They had two rubber stamps he could use: COME HOME SOON and SUPPORT OUR SOLDIERS.
He walked into the church basement and right away saw that something was wrong. No one was working. All eyes were on Dot. Her face was pale, her voice was tight. “He was twenty years old. Just twenty. He was the one who gave Susan, my niece, so much trouble when she nursed him.”
All the women nodded, as if they’d actually known.
Dot’s great-nephew had never even visited Red Cedar, but people in the church basement decided to have a memorial service for him anyway. Right away, someone said. Before it’s all over, before people forget.
“Will you go?” Liz asked Border later, when they were in the kitchen washing up coffee cups.
“Sure. I like Mrs. Tully.”
“Will it be your first time in church?”
“Yes.”
Liz gave him the once-over. Border looked down. Torn jeans, stained shirt, broken shoelaces, mismatched socks.
“Different clothes, huh?”
She plunged her hands into hot water. “I didn’t say a thing.”
New Clothes —
“Four hundred bucks?”
“The suit I really liked was five.”
“You’re still growing. I don’t spend that much on my suits.”
“It shows, Dad.”
“Stay out of this, Dana.”
“I think he looks great.”
“Look at yourself, Border. Who do you think you are? Someone applying for business school?”
“I think I look good.”
“He needs a haircut,” said Dana, and she rubbed his head with her fist.
“The clerk said I was a perfect size forty.”
“You’re a perfect something. Four hundred bucks.”
“You may as well know, Dad, that the shirt and socks and tie and belt were extra. But I didn’t get shoes. My sneakers will do, I think. They’re black, after all.”
“How much extra?”
“Eighty-five.”
“When you asked for the Visa to go shopping, I thought you meant to buy boots.”
Border snapped his fingers. “Forgot those.”
God and War —
A packed house. Border sat squeezed in the pew between Dana and Liz. He stared at the hair and hats ahead, knew people behind were looking at him. Glad he’d gotten a trim.
Hymns and prayers, sobs from the front where Dot Tully sat. It went on for an hour. The minister hadn’t known the soldier so after a few words about the deceased’s life, he began to preach about war.
With four
He loosened up with a few folk songs. She’d never liked rock. Then some Mozart. That stopped him for a moment, thinking, How many sixteen-year-old guys can blow a rondo?
He called the lab. Her assistant was snooty; Border was firm. Just get her, okay?
“Happy B-day, Mom. Now sit still. Give me five minutes.” He played for that long.
“What a perfect present,” she said.
Her voice was rigid. Controlling tears, he guessed. Weird, Mom—you go naked on stage, but darned if you’ll cry at the lab. “Give my best to Lee.”
“I will. Thank you for that, too. Love you, darling. Miss you.”
“See ya, Mom.”
Duty done. What a sweet boy.
Bad News —
Dot Tully’s great-nephew was killed in the Gulf during the first day of the ground war. For five weeks there had been planes and bombs; now the soldiers and tanks and guns were involved. Border had watched the start of the ground war on television, watched the tape of tanks rolling across the desert, watched the allied armies chase down and overtake exhausted Iraqi soldiers. Like everyone, he knew as he watched that the war was as good as over. Over and won.
He watched everything, cheering them on, unaware of course that someone related to someone he knew was getting killed.
Dot’s great-nephew was twenty years old. Border learned that when he showed up at the church the next night. He had two papers to write, but he’d promised to stamp several hundred balloons. They had two rubber stamps he could use: COME HOME SOON and SUPPORT OUR SOLDIERS.
He walked into the church basement and right away saw that something was wrong. No one was working. All eyes were on Dot. Her face was pale, her voice was tight. “He was twenty years old. Just twenty. He was the one who gave Susan, my niece, so much trouble when she nursed him.”
All the women nodded, as if they’d actually known.
Dot’s great-nephew had never even visited Red Cedar, but people in the church basement decided to have a memorial service for him anyway. Right away, someone said. Before it’s all over, before people forget.
“Will you go?” Liz asked Border later, when they were in the kitchen washing up coffee cups.
“Sure. I like Mrs. Tully.”
“Will it be your first time in church?”
“Yes.”
Liz gave him the once-over. Border looked down. Torn jeans, stained shirt, broken shoelaces, mismatched socks.
“Different clothes, huh?”
She plunged her hands into hot water. “I didn’t say a thing.”
New Clothes —
“Four hundred bucks?”
“The suit I really liked was five.”
“You’re still growing. I don’t spend that much on my suits.”
“It shows, Dad.”
“Stay out of this, Dana.”
“I think he looks great.”
“Look at yourself, Border. Who do you think you are? Someone applying for business school?”
“I think I look good.”
“He needs a haircut,” said Dana, and she rubbed his head with her fist.
“The clerk said I was a perfect size forty.”
“You’re a perfect something. Four hundred bucks.”
“You may as well know, Dad, that the shirt and socks and tie and belt were extra. But I didn’t get shoes. My sneakers will do, I think. They’re black, after all.”
“How much extra?”
“Eighty-five.”
“When you asked for the Visa to go shopping, I thought you meant to buy boots.”
Border snapped his fingers. “Forgot those.”
God and War —
A packed house. Border sat squeezed in the pew between Dana and Liz. He stared at the hair and hats ahead, knew people behind were looking at him. Glad he’d gotten a trim.
Hymns and prayers, sobs from the front where Dot Tully sat. It went on for an hour. The minister hadn’t known the soldier so after a few words about the deceased’s life, he began to preach about war.
With four
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