Chapter Seven Mattie

SEVEN : MATTIE

DELANEY HORSE FARM

MAY 1965

"Mark James Taylor, where are my hair rollers? I know you hid them."

I stood at the top of the stairs, my loud voice echoing throughout the house, something Mama didn't approve of. But my brother's joke wasn't funny. My shoulder-length hair wouldn't flip on the ends without rollers, and I couldn't get up in front of the whole town with un-flipped hair.

"You're going to make us late for graduation," I added, knowing he despised being late for anything. Mr. Punctual, I often called him. "You were born wearing a wristwatch," I'd tease, to which he'd reply, "I came out of the womb first and have been waiting on you ever since." I had to admit it was true. I usually left the house with wet hair and shoes in hand most school mornings.

I heard the door to his downstairs bedroom creak open. His face appeared below me, the blue eyes he'd inherited from our father wide with feigned innocence. "Aw, now, Sis, what would I want with your hair rollers?" He ran a hand across his short-cropped straw-colored hair. "Coach Cooper would make me run fifty laps if he caught me wearing rollers."

A chuckle came from the room behind him.

Nash McCallum had spent the night on the trundle bed in Mark's room again. I never knew the particulars of why Mark's best friend often ended up on the small spare bed, but it usually had to do with the fact that Mr. McCallum was known around town for two things: being drunk and being a mean drunk. Nash's mom often had bruises on her arms when Mama and I saw her at the Piggly Wiggly. Although Nash sported a black eye at school from time to time when he was younger, that changed once he grew taller than his old man and could stand up for himself.

"This isn't funny, Mark." I stomped down the stairs in my bare feet, my bathrobe cinched tight, and stopped on the last step so I could glare at him eye to eye. He stood at least five inches taller than me. Football had added muscle to his body, and I sometimes felt as though he was my older brother instead of my twin. "If I have to go in there and look for them, you'll be sorry." I glanced into the room and found Nash sitting on the bed, fighting a grin. When our eyes met, he had the decency to look away.

"All right, Sis. Don't freak out." He pulled his arm from behind his back, revealing my bag of rollers.

I snatched them from him. "I don't want to hear any complaints if we're late because of this."

He laughed. "You've made us late nearly every day of our senior year. Why would today be any different?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Ha, ha," I said without humor. "It isn't my fault we live so far away from town. Principal Creed should allow us extra time to get to school."

Mama came from the kitchen. She'd dabbed on a bit of lipstick and looked pretty in a new yellow dress she'd ordered from the JCPenney catalog. Unlike me, she'd gone to Wilma's beauty shop in town yesterday and sported a fresh permanent in her fading brown hair.

"What is going on?" Her gaze ping-ponged between Mark and me. "You need to leave in ten minutes if you're going to make it to rehearsal on time."

"Mark took my hair rollers," I whined, holding up the evidence. "You know I can't go to town with my hair looking like this." To emphasize my point, I tugged the ends of a handful of wavy locks. On its best day, my hair curled nicely with little effort. Today, however, was not that day. Unseasonably warm spring weather brought humidity with it, turning my natural waves into a roaring ocean of chestnut frizz.

"Martha Ann, get upstairs and finish getting ready," Mama said without a hint of sympathy. "You should have been dressed an hour ago." She turned to Mark. "And you don't need to play tricks on your sister, especially on an important day like today."

Genuine contrition registered on his face. "I'm sorry, Sis."

"You're forgiven," I said, "but it's still your fault if we're late."

Mama's scowl told me she didn't agree, but she didn't press the issue. "The food is ready to set out as soon as we get home from the ceremony. I expect we'll have forty or so people." She looked past Mark into his bedroom where Nash continued to sit and listen to our family affairs. "Nash, I hope your folks are coming to our little reception. I sent them an invitation."

I glanced at Nash.

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll remind Ma." There was no mention of his father.

I felt sorry for Nash as I climbed the stairs. Dad and I hadn't been getting along lately, mainly because of his wrong ideas about our country's involvement in Vietnam, but I knew I never had to fear him. Mr. McCallum would likely arrive at the graduation ceremony sozzled on bourbon if he came at all. Mrs. McCallum would be there though. I liked her, even if I did think she should have left that no-good husband of hers ages ago. Nash's sister, Suzanne, was three years older than him, but she left town as soon as she graduated high school. When Mark mentioned she'd moved to Florida, I asked if Nash might live with her once school ended. He got a funny look on his face.

"Nash is enlisting in the Marines after graduation."

I'd stared at my brother, mouth agape. "The Marines? Is he nuts? President Johnson is sending more and more troops to Vietnam every day, despite the fact that the United States hasn't declared war. It's outrageous and immoral. How could Nash even think about joining the military now?"

"He doesn't want to stay in Tullahoma with his old man."

"So invading a foreign country and getting himself killed is a better option? What about college? Nash isn't a great student, but I know he's smarter than he lets on. He could do anything he wanted if he put his mind to it. You should talk him into joining us at Vanderbilt. I'm sure he could get in."

A troubled expression crossed Mark's face. "Not everything is as simple as you'd like it to be, Mattie." He'd walked away, leaving me to wonder what he meant.

Miracle of miracles, we made it to graduation rehearsal on time. Rusty Shaw, the star of our Wildcats basketball team, complimented my hairdo, making all the effort to tease and flip my curls into shape worth it. Rusty was headed to the University of California on a basketball scholarship in the fall, and although we'd only dated casually, I was going to miss him.

Graduation went as expected.

One hundred and twenty of us lined up in our black caps and gowns to receive hard-earned diplomas, accepting handshakes of congratulations from Principal Creed and a warm hug of encouragement from Mrs. King, our senior class sponsor. After a round of inspiring speeches and a song from the school choir, Pastor Arnold, who served as an assistant coach and chaplain for the football team, prayed over us, asking God to protect and lead as we ventured into the world. He prayed a special blessing of safety over the boys going to Vietnam and asked the audience members to remember them in their prayers in the coming days.

While Principal Creed closed the ceremony, I snuck a peek two rows ahead of me to where Nash sat. Apparently Mark hadn't been able to talk sense into his friend. Last I heard, Nash was still set on his foolish plan of going to war. Rumors that President Johnson was preparing for American troops to remain in Vietnam indefinitely, despite his campaign promises to do the exact opposite, gave evidence to anyone with a brain that the war overseas would not end anytime soon. An article in the newspaper reported that some young men at UC Berkeley burned their draft notices in front of the draft office building and refused to join the military. I applauded them and thought them very brave.

After the ceremony, I came home with Mama and Dad so Paula Allyn could ride with Mark. "I think she's the one, Sis," he'd said one evening as we sat on the porch swing, listening to night creatures sing their songs. Surprisingly, I felt no jealousy. Paula was a sweet girl, as unpretentious as they came. Even though it was strange to think of us all growing up and moving away from the farm, Paula would make a wonderful life-partner for my brother. Heaven knew he needed a good-natured wife after putting up with a strong-willed and contentious twin sister all these years.

I helped Mama lay out the food as soon as we got back to the farm. Pimento cheese sandwiches. Potato salad. There was even Jell-O in the shape of a graduation cap, made from a copper mold Mama'd been thrilled to find at Kuhn's five-and-ten store. A large, white-frosted cake she'd labored over for two days, with Congratulations Mark & Mattie written in blue frosting, sat in the center of the table, while a cut-glass bowl with pink punch and small, matching cups occupied the far end. Blue and white balloons hung from paper streamers here and there, and the radio in the corner was tuned to the old-fashioned Big Band music Dad enjoyed.

People began to arrive. Church friends who'd watched me and my brother grow up. Neighbors. Even clients of the farm who'd purchased horses from us over the years and gradually became like family. All brought gifts for my brother and me. An alarm clock from the Johns. Floral bedsheets for my dorm room from the Pickerings. A new Bible for each of us from Pastor Arnold. There were even envelopes with cash inside. I greeted each guest, genuinely appreciative of their thoughtfulness. Mark, too, accepted handshakes and good wishes.

I'd just thanked our elderly neighbor Mrs. Gaddis for the curtains she'd sewn for me when Rusty arrived in a 1965 fire-engine-red Ford Mustang, a graduation gift from his folks. Some of my friends were with him, turning the gathering into a real party. The brand-new awareness that the world was ours now that we weren't tethered to a brick-and-mortar school building offered a sense of freedom I'd never experienced.

We ate, laughed, danced, and ate some more, celebrating until the sun started its descent behind the hills. By the time stars began to appear in the sky, most of the guests were gone, with only Nash, his mother, and Pastor and Mrs. Arnold remaining.

I floated on cloud nine as I carried empty serving dishes to the kitchen while the adults chatted on the porch. Rusty and I had snuck off to the barn earlier, and he'd kissed me in a way that told me he was going to miss me too. But with him leaving for California in August, and me headed to Vanderbilt, neither of us wanted to commit to a long-distance relationship. We'd agreed to enjoy the summer together and leave it at that for now.

"I'd be happy to drive you boys to Nashville tomorrow."

Pastor Arnold's voice reached me as I made my way back into the dining room. He must have been speaking to my brother, although I couldn't see either of them in the living room.

My ears perked up.

I'd hoped to go to the city and do some shopping now that school was over. Neither Goldstein's nor Strong's Ladies Apparel had anything worthy of my new status as an incoming freshman at a prestigious school like Vanderbilt. Mark hadn't mentioned taking a trip to Nashville, but if he and Nash were indeed going, I was determined to finagle a way to be included.

"That would be great, Coach. I think both of us would feel better if you were there. It's a big step."

I silently inched to the doorway, making sure to keep out of sight.

"It is, but it's also honorable. I'm proud of both of you."

I heard Nash mutter, "Thank you," before Mark said, "The recruitment office opens at nine. We figure it'll take a little over an hour to get to the city. We'll have all our paperwork ready."

Recruitment office? Recruitment for what? Mark and I were already enrolled at Vanderbilt, but maybe he'd finally convinced Nash to join us. Perhaps they were both planning to try out for the football team, even though Mark hadn't shown any enthusiasm about playing college ball lately.

The screen door slammed.

I heard Mama tell Mrs. McCallum about the upcoming church bazaar as they entered the house. Mama oversaw the fundraiser, and she was always looking for donations.

"Pastor Arnold volunteered to drive Nash and me to the city tomorrow," Mark said.

"I appreciate that, Pastor." This from Dad. "The vet is coming to look at one of the mares first thing in the morning. Otherwise, I'd take them myself."

Even though Dad never attended church services with us, he welcomed the preacher into our home whenever Mama suggested they invite him. I recalled the time I asked Mama why Dad didn't join us in town on Sunday mornings. Granny had recently passed on to her glory, and her funeral was the first and only time I'd ever seen my father inside the church building.

"Doesn't he believe in God?" I asked.

Mama'd caressed my cheek. "Of course he does, sweetheart. Your daddy loves Jesus. He just doesn't feel comfortable around people."

That simple explanation, I'd realized, described my father's entire existence. He had no friends and only went to town if something was needed for the horses. Even at home he was quiet, preferring to listen to our chatter rather than join in. Mama didn't seem to mind, so I'd never let it bother me. That is, not until recently.

Over the last months, he and Mark had grown closer. I'd often see them together while they worked on the tractor or walked the pastures. Many nights after dinner, when Mark and I normally sat on the porch swing and talked, he and Dad went off to the barn, leaving me alone and peeved. I should have been happy my brother was finally bonding with our father, but I felt left out. Neglected. Mark was my twin, after all.

Mrs. McCallum's voice drew me back to the present. "It's still hard to believe my son is going off to war."

I waited for someone—Dad, Pastor Arnold, Mark—to speak up and tell Nash he was a fool. That going to Vietnam was the last thing he should do. Not only was it dangerous, but it was also unconscionable. The United States shouldn't be involved in the politics of North and South Vietnam. We were sticking our nose into a civil war we knew nothing about. We certainly shouldn't be dropping bombs and putting our troops in harm's way. Even my US History teacher, Mr. Mott, grimly predicted the war in Vietnam could last for years if we continued traveling the path our country was currently on.

In the silence that followed Mrs. McCallum's statement, I suddenly understood the trip to the city was for Nash. Mark must've volunteered to go with his friend to the Marine recruitment office for moral support. With the serious nature of the trip, I decided not to ask to go along. Shopping seemed rather trivial when compared to one of our schoolmates joining the military.

"God will be with them," Pastor Arnold said. "He'll watch over both of these fine young men as they fulfill their duty. We'll all be praying they're kept safe."

I'd just reached for the bowl of what was left of the punch but paused at his words.

Who was he talking about? Mark had received a scholarship and would attend Vanderbilt with me in the fall. The most danger he'd find there was a frat party gone wild or a pretty girl who wanted to steal him away from Paula.

I tiptoed to the doorway where I could see them standing in a small circle in the center of the living room. Mark's back was to me, so he didn't know I was there when he said, "It's my honor to serve my country, sir. I can't go off to school, knowing my buddy was over there fighting while I played it safe."

I gasped at his words. "No!"

Everyone except Mark turned to me.

Compassion filled Mama's face, while Dad appeared wary of what might come out of my mouth next. The Arnolds and Mrs. McCallum each wore empathetic expressions before they whispered their goodbyes and quietly exited the house. Nash said something to Mark I couldn't make out, then headed down the hall to Mark's room without looking my way.

When my brother finally turned to face me, guilt filled his eyes.

"Sis," he said. His broad shoulders sagged as he slowly moved until he stood in front of me. I searched his face, frantic to see reassurance that I'd misunderstood what I'd just heard. "I need to tell you something. Nash and I are joining the Marines tomorrow."

I stared at him, my breath heavy with confusion. "What are you talking about? You and I are going to Vanderbilt in the fall. You'll play football. It's already been decided." Anger rose in me. "Did Nash talk you into this?"

"No one talked me into it, Mattie. I've been thinking about it for a while now. I discussed the whole thing with Dad, and—"

"I knew it," I shouted. My angry gaze landed on Dad. "You convinced him to do this. How could you encourage my brother to risk his life?"

"Mattie, stop." Mark grasped my shoulders, silencing me. "The decision to join the Marines is mine and mine alone. It doesn't have anything to do with anyone else. Coach Cooper and Pastor Arnold both think—"

"Everyone knows about this?" We'd been one another's confidant for as long as we'd been alive. We never did anything without first talking it over with the other. "How could you decide this without telling me? Without asking me what I thought?"

"Because I knew what you'd say. I know how you feel about the war. But—"

"But what?" My voice reverberated off the walls.

"Mattie, please understand," Mama said. She crossed the room and tried to take my hand, but I jerked away. "Your brother has to do what his heart tells him."

I gaped at her. "You want him to go to Vietnam? What kind of mother are you? How could you want your son to go to the opposite side of the world where he could die in a war we shouldn't be involved in? I expected as much from Dad, but not from you."

"Martha Ann." Dad's stern voice filled the room, drawing everyone's attention. For someone who rarely had much to say, he could be quite commanding when he wanted. "You will not speak to your mother with such disrespect. This is your brother's decision, and we will support him." He paused. "All of us."

Hot tears filled my eyes. It was clear everyone was against me. Mama. Dad. Nash. Even my twin brother.

I'd never felt so alone.