The Last Embrace

“But what about college?” his mother persisted. “You were just talking about a football scholarship.” Charlie bit his lip, trying to reconcile his dreams.

“It’s out of the question, Charlie,” Mr. Connally added firmly.

“But this is my decision.”

“What if you just registered for now?” Liam spoke up unexpectedly, before his parents could respond. All heads turned in his direction. Usually it was Jack that made peace. “I mean, that way as soon as you graduate you can go.”

“I don’t want to wait to enlist,” Charlie replied sharply.

“And we don’t want you to go at all,” his father shot back. His suggestion rejected by both sides, Liam slunk from the room.

Mrs. Connally turned toward me, Jack and Robbie. “Kids, would you excuse us, please?”

As we left the kitchen, I saw Robbie eyeing his hideaway, wanting to escape. The family quarrels were perhaps hardest on him. I put my arm around him. “Come on.” At the front door, I looked back at the stair closet, wondering if it would be useful as a bomb shelter. Uneasily, I shooed the thought away and followed Jack out onto the porch. Clouds had formed, turning the air cold and blustery. I scanned the street. Where had Liam gone? I wanted to find him and tell him I thought his suggestion had been a fine one, but he was nowhere to be seen. Pigeons huddled on the rooftops across the street. Jack pulled a pack of Juicy Fruit from his pocket and offered both of us a stick. I unwrapped it and popped it in my mouth, the syrupy sweetness a contrast to the somber mood. “Why is your mom so against the war?”

He shrugged. “She doesn’t believe it solves anything.”

Anger rose within me. It was so easy to sit here thousands of miles away and say that. “Is your dad a pacifist, too?”

“Injured,” Jack replied. “The army won’t take him.” I was puzzled. Mr. Connally looked just fine to me. “He had such a hard time during the Depression,” Jack added. I didn’t understand what that had to do with being able to fight.

Before I could ask further about their father, the door to the house opened and Charlie walked out, slamming it behind him.

“Charlie, I...” I began, searching for the words. I wanted America to go to war. But not him. “Please wait.” But he walked straight past and stormed off, not seeing me, leaving me feeling small and cold.

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