Porch Lights (33 page)

“Awesome idea! I’m gonna do that
right
after supper!” Charlie said.

“
After
we do the dishes!” I said, leaning back and taking a look at him. It did seem like he was growing up right in front of my eyes. “So, kiddo, what sparked your interest in the history of the island all of a sudden?”

“There’s a new small park at Breach Inlet dedicated to Thomson from the Revolution,” Mom said. “We stopped for a quick visit before we went fishing from the bridge.”

“Yeah, Mom, you can’t believe what went on right here on this island! There was this English guy—”

“I still can’t believe you went fishing, Mom. It’s way out of character for you.”

“As long as I have your father to bait the hook and remove the catch, fishing is something I actually enjoy. Sort of.”

“Exactly my point! Gotta be hard to really fall in love with the sport.”

“So, Mom? This guy, Peter Parker—”

“It wasn’t that unpleasant; it was just too hot today, I think.”

“
Mom!
I’m trying to tell you about this guy Parker—”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Sometimes you have to wait your turn. But tell me. I want to know all about Peter Parker.”

For the next ten minutes, Charlie regaled us with his interpretation of the Battle of Breach Inlet, Parker’s bare backside, and the value and strength of passion. He was becoming quite the animated storyteller, and it was pretty obvious he was fueled by my mother’s renowned lust for history.

“They
won
because of their
passion
, Mom. It’s
important
to have a passion in life.” He looked at all of us from face to face. “Isn’t it?”

For a moment, that brief moment between processing the question and offering some reply, I saw my parents ask themselves if there was anything about which they were still passionate. I also saw them give each other a bashful half smile.

“It certainly is, Charlie,” Dad said.

“Passion keeps you alive, Charlie, and it also lets you
know
that you’re alive! If you don’t have strong feelings for something, you simply aren’t living!” Mom said, trying to win the Emmy for Best Actress in a Drama. “Don’t you agree, Jackie?”

I thought about it for a minute and how loving Jimmy so passionately had broken me apart and how loving my country and freedom had led me to a place where I wasn’t so sure my passion for it served anyone well.

“Yes, but passion can be dangerous too,” I said.

I was thinking of the Taliban and how women were less valuable in that society than a skinny cow or a goat. And even with all the efforts the world has made to improve the status of women in cultures like Afghanistan, girls and women were given away in compensation for crimes of passion to the families against whom the crimes of passion had allegedly been committed without the benefit of any kind of tribunal of justice. The women were enslaved and beaten and sometimes died for lack of nourishment. In the best cases they were sometimes released. And if they weren’t released and didn’t die, they were made to bear children against their will and were made miserable for the rest of their lives by constant beatings, berating, and deprivation. And the rest of the world seemed to be turning a blind eye to it all, because even when we got involved, and even when we put our lives on the line, nothing seemed to change very much.

“What are you thinking about, Jackie?”

“Oh, I guess that passionate love is very exciting, but political passions . . . well, they can lead to a lot of senseless suffering. You know . . .”

My parents looked from my face to each other’s and back to Charlie’s, avoiding what I implied. In my mother’s house, nobody liked to talk about this war. The American Revolution and the Civil War were popular topics, but the one their only daughter was fighting was taboo.

“Well, I think what Charlie learned today is that without the passion of all the American soldiers on this very island we’d be singing ‘God Save the Queen,’ ” Mom said. “Isn’t that right, Charlie?”

“Yeah, Mom. You’re missing the point, maybe? This is a lesson in how to win when the odds are like totally way against you.”

“Hmmm,” I said. “Okay, soldier, let’s get these dishes cleaned up. Mom, thanks for another great meal.”

“Wait! I’ve got peach pie! Doesn’t anybody want pie?”

Of course we did. Eventually the dishes were done and we dispersed like tiny beads of mercury, each to his own favorite perch.

After Charlie downloaded
The Short History of Charleston
, which he wanted to read, he decided to turn in. I guessed that the heat of the day had got the best of him. I said good night to my boy, reminded him he had to repay Steve, and he promised he would.

“I’ve got so much money I don’t know
what
I’m gonna do with it,” he said.

I had to smile at that. “We can open a savings account. How about that? Or you could buy your ever-loving momma a Porsche?”

“I don’t have
that
much money!”

“Oh, okay.” I leaned over him and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be right here if you need me, okay?”

I went to join my parents. I kept asking myself, If they can get along this well, why aren’t they together? It was so heartening to have our tiny family under one roof. And to think that all I’d had to do was mention that another man was flirting with Mom to get Dad to spring into action. I should’ve rattled his cage years ago.

Dad was in the living room, standing in front of the television, watching the Weather Channel.

“Where’s Mom?”

“On the porch. I just wanted to check the weather. This time of year you can’t be too vigilant.”

“So what’s happening?”

“Another storm, and I don’t like the looks of it.”

“Why’s that?”

“The eye’s already over a hundred miles wide. And it’s slow-moving.”

“I don’t know what that means, but the tone of your voice says it ain’t good.”

“No, it ain’t. Let’s just keep watching it. They’re saying that if the winds gain strength to a category three, they’re going to delay school openings in Charleston, Berkeley, and Dorchester Counties.”

“When does school open?”

“Next ten days or so. I don’t know why they’re saying that now. Seems premature. But maybe the authorities know something we don’t. Maybe there’s a string of storms coming behind it. Come on.” He clicked the remote, and the television screen went dark. “Your momma’s out there all by her lonesome.”

“Gosh. I don’t remember that kind of precaution before.”

“Me either. Probably because of Katrina and all . . .”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Mom was on the porch, rocking and sipping on a nightcap of some strain of “O Be Joyful.”

“Come sit!” she said.

“I think I am going to go and get myself a little splash of something. Freshen your drink, Annie? And can I get you something, Jackie?”

“I’m fine,” I said.

“I’m fine too, Buster. Thanks.”

Daddy slipped back inside the house, and as soon as Mom figured he was beyond hearing us she said, “Hasn’t he been great?”

“Yeah, he sure has.”

“I almost don’t mind him being here, but I wish he’d wait until we were away from the table before he says something stinky about the meal.”

“I’m convinced he doesn’t mean half of what he says, Mom. But! To his credit, as soon as he’s made to see that he’s being rude, he backs off and apologizes. Look on the bright side. Maybe he’s retrainable.”

“Wouldn’t that be something? Old dog? New trick? Anyway, he’s being awfully sweet.”

“Yeah, he is. I think he got around us and realized he’s lonely up there in Murrells Inlet in his creepy old bachelor pad.”

“Really?”

“Yes, ma’am. And I think being around Charlie has been wonderful for both of them.”

“I agree with you on that one for sure.”

“Right? I need to talk to you about us leaving too.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, wonderful as all of this has been, Mom, and it has been so great, with these storms coming and all, I’m just thinking that we’d better get out of here. It’s a long drive, and I don’t want to get caught in some evacuation traffic snarl for hours. Remember that hurricane about ten years ago when people sat on I-26 for like twenty hours?”

“Who could forget that? But there’s no rush, is there?”

“Well, there’s a pretty terrible storm headed this way. Dad sure seemed concerned about it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think that tomorrow I’ll start packing our SUV and keep up with the news and then we can decide. But one way or the other, it’s probably time, like we say down here in the Lowcountry, to think about fixing to go on and get ready to do something about getting a move on.”

“That’s such a funny saying, but it’s true. We say that all the time. Or some variation.”

“I have to get Charlie ready for school, and there’s a lot to do. A million forms to fill out. And I don’t know if I told you this, but I have a job at the Brooklyn VA waiting for me. I hope so, anyway.”

Mom was silent for a few moments, and then she said, “Deb told me about your new job.” As if to say
I heard it from her, not you, thanks a lot.

“Look, Mom, I know you want me to stay. In many ways I’d like to stay too. But now is not the time. For some reason, I just feel very strongly that Charlie and I need to go back and get back on that horse again. Otherwise it sends him a message that we weren’t strong enough to really make it on our own. To face our reality. You understand that, don’t you?”

“And this storm is giving you the impetus to get up and begin the trek early?”

“Yeah. Dad said the eye was over a hundred miles wide. That’s huge, I guess. And it’s slow-moving. That’s not good. It makes me nervous.”

“Nervous? You’re nervous about something? Since when?”

“Seriously? This year taught me how to worry and wring my hands like no other.”

“Humph. Here’s the problem. When you start running from trouble? It confers with the devil on how to find you twice as fast. Listen to your Nervous Nellie mother.”

“Well, I hope you’re wrong about that. I really do.”

Dad rejoined us and took his place in a rocker across from us that he had turned around to face us.

“Well, Buster, it looks like our girl is leaving us.”

“Is that so, Jackie?”

“Only for a short period. I’ll be back at Thanksgiving. If you’d like us to come, that is.”

Of course both of my parents said
oh yes, please come
and
maybe you should think about flying next time
and
we can help you with tickets
, and on and on they went. Dad even said that if I wanted to drive for whatever reason I had, he would fly up to New York and help me drive home. And that if we got lonely, they could come for a visit. I didn’t know if they meant that they would visit together or separately, but it didn’t matter. It was their sentiment that so touched me. I thought I was lucky then to have two parents who understood so well what I needed to do for Charlie and for me.

They seemed to be fully supportive until Dad said, “You know, Jackie, there’s something I want to talk to you about. It might mean something and it might not, but I think it’s worth bringing to your attention.”

“What? Of course! Tell me.”

“I’ve had a few occasions to talk to Charlie about going back to New York, and you know he’s not too thrilled.”

“He’s a kid,” I said. “And every day here is like Christmas for him.”

“Yes, I know, and your mother and I agree with what you say and your plan and all that. That’s not the issue. Charlie thinks that your house in New York is too sad, that everywhere he looks there’s a reminder of his dad. He’s afraid that you’re going to sink into a depression if you go back.”

“Which means
he
will, not you,” Mom said.

“Oh, great. So what do you think? Of course there are pictures of Jimmy all over the place. Why wouldn’t there be?”

“We understand, and we don’t disagree with you,” Dad said. “But for him it might be too much. I’m no expert on this. That’s for sure.”

“He says the house even smells like Jimmy,” Mom said. “Maybe a fresh coat of paint and new slipcovers for the sofa might help? I don’t know, Jackie.”

“Who
does
know?” I remarked and sighed for all I was worth. “I’m glad you told me this. At least it gives me a clue to what might set him off again. God, our life is so upside down.”

A month ago I would’ve flown into a rage at what they were saying, and now I was taking it more in stride.

“Not really, baby. You still have your momma and daddy. All you have to do is squeak, and we’ll be there.”

“I appreciate that more than you can imagine.”

“But she’s right, Annie. Jackie and Charlie are looking at some big changes,” Dad said. He was quiet for a few minutes. “So tell me, Jackie, how do you feel about not going back to active duty?”

My military career was the hot button we had so carefully avoided pushing for years. But now that it appeared to be safely and finally behind me, my father apparently felt it was all right to ask about it.

“That’s such a complicated question, Dad, because it’s not like I have much of a choice.” I thought about it for a minute and then said, “You know, my unit was all about humanitarian aid. The women I met wanted to know what they could do to improve their lives, become a little more independent financially, provide a healthier life for their children—the normal things women want. We helped them but in small ways. I sometimes wonder if we really made a measurable difference to them.”

“Well, of course you did, but I don’t know how you’d measure such a thing anyway,” Mom said.

Were we actually having the discussion I had hoped for all these years? It appeared we were.

“I guess by how much business they did? I mean, we helped them figure out how to set up a cooperative with women in other villages, to sell things they made, you know, like knitted hats and scarves or little boxes decorated with bits of turquoise and coral. For that you would just add up the sales and track them year to year.”

“You sound frustrated,” Dad said.