Chapter Four
“Only the Lonely”
September 16th, 1960
Williams Air Force Base, AZ
Vice is its own reward.
Quentin Crisp, The Naked Civil Servant
Julie barely woke at the touch. Her head pounded and her eyes were closed with the remnants of a hangover, but she could feel his breath by her ear.
“I’ll be home by two,” Rod said.
“’Bye,” she mumbled.
He kissed her cheek and padded lightly from the room.
She pulled up the blanket and rolled over. She looked blearily across the bed; the alarm clock’s luminous hands read 3:45 AM. Good. She had another three hours until Nanette woke.
And then the fun would start.
Hopefully the headache would go away. Her mother was due in later this afternoon, but at least her father wasn’t coming—he’d have gone through the roof if he discovered he’d have to sleep on their tiny, concrete living room floor. Their couch was much too small for him, and with the nearest motel over 20 miles away in Mesa, Daddy would have turned around and headed straight back for Washington, DC.
As she closed her eyes, she thought that it hadn’t taken Rod long to dissociate from family life after leaving Stanford. On early days he woke at 3:30 AM and guzzled coffee so he could roll into the training squadron for classes that started at 4 AM. He was home by 2 PM, but with studying for pop quizzes and tests, and memorizing checklists for upcoming flights, he was always exhausted—which meant that pilot training was like graduate school hyped up on caffeine.
What made it worse was that he was expected to participate in mandatory sports ranging from touch football to basketball to softball; attend myriad mandatory social events; and be at Happy Hour every Friday afternoon at the Officers’ Club bar. All the officers stayed and no one left the club before Beast, their squadron commander, which meant Rod also lost his Friday nights; returning back home from the club at 2 AM resulted in him losing Saturday mornings as well.
Then there were the Dining Ins, those formal dinners that resulted in more evenings away from home; the formations on the flight line when general officers would fly onto the base; the parades … each item gnawed away at the time when he should be a husband and father.
As she drifted back to sleep, she thought at least she could attend the receptions at the various commanders’ houses with him.…
*
Julie crossed her legs as she sat on the wooden bench in front of the metal carousel, watching Nanette and a dozen other toddlers, along with the rest of the young pilot wives in the neighborhood. She wore a pair of Jackie Kennedy sunglasses she’d bought from Sears, a wide-collar blue blouse, white shorts, and tan, leather thongs—the newest style she could find in open-toe sandals at Montgomery Wards.
Dressed in a sailor hat, diaper, and slathered with Sea & Ski suntan lotion, Nanette walked unsteadily around the carousel while holding on to the side. The other toddlers alternated between trying to climb onto the circular equipment to playing in the hot sand.
Julie shifted her weight on the towel she’d placed on the bench to keep peeling paint off her shorts as well as to insulate herself against the incredibly hot seat; it was still a few hours before noon, but the Arizona sun was harsh, even in September.
She poured herself another drink from her thermos, remnants of last night’s pitcher of screwdrivers. Rod had had to fly, so she’d ended up drinking alone; she figured it would be a waste to throw the mixture away, and besides, it helped the day go by a little faster and a hell of a lot pleasanter, especially with her mother arriving later this afternoon.
A low buzz of excitement rocketed around the playground as the squadron commander’s wife pulled up in her red Ford Galaxie. LizAnn’s sleek, red muscle car gleamed from a fresh coat of polish, contrasting with the rundown, secondhand cars the lower-ranking student pilots owned.
Although there was a deep chasm in rank and salary between the second lieutenant students and their lieutenant colonel commander, LizAnn was down-to-earth, bubbly, and took the student pilots’ wives under her wing. She treated the younger women more as sisters and girlfriends, as opposed to the strict, military courtesies that Beast demanded from their husbands.
And in contrast to the drab, spartan construction of the students’ homes, LizAnn ran a vivacious support structure, and the student pilots’ wives quickly bonded. As such, the wives congregated at the dirt playground, and under LizAnn’s tutelage, established a rotating system of babysitting so they could participate in activities ranging from teas and brunches, to fieldtrips and hikes.
LizAnn stepped out of the car and waved. “Hi, y’all!”
“Howdy, darlin’!” the wives whooped and started to gather round their leader.
Julie gulped her drink and stood. She felt momentarily dizzy.
She held out a hand to steady herself; she must have had a lot more than she’d thought. Now that LizAnn was here, it looked like today’s activities were about to take off, which meant she’d better lay off the rest of the screwdrivers. At least until lunch. More and more that seemed the only way she could put up with this hellhole.
*
Later that afternoon, Julie sat on the porch of their brown stucco home, waiting for her mother to arrive. Although the sun had moved just far enough so that half the porch was in the shade, the temperature still flirted with 90 degrees. At least the wait was bearable with the lack of humidity in the bone-dry, barren desert. And now that the buzz from her screwdrivers had faded, she’d mixed a concoction of cheap red wine, lemons, oranges, limes, and strawberries to cool in the refrigerator for sangrias.
The neighborhood was unusually quiet. The wives’ gathering at the playground had dispersed into various homes to work on crafts, knitting lessons, and planning for the upcoming Octoberfest, while a few of the women had driven out to the museum in Phoenix. It seemed somewhat strange not to have any older children running around, but since the student pilots and their wives’ ages were all within a few years of each other, the junior officer housing area was extremely homogeneous—newlyweds and a lot of babies and toddlers; all the older kids kept to the senior officer’s housing area.
Nanette played in the corner, content to crash toy airplanes into each other, as she grabbed handfuls of Cheerios from a blue plastic bowl. She was always quiet after her afternoon nap, and it gave Julie time to catch up on reading Life, Look, and the Saturday Evening Post while Rod studied inside at the kitchen table. It was one of the few days that he didn’t have intramurals or any of the other, myriad duties expected of student pilots, so by studying early, he’d be able to spend time with mother along with she and Nanette.
The telephone rang two short rings and one long ring; it was their house code for the ten-home party line. Rod’s muffled voice came from inside. “I’ve got it.”
A moment passed and the screen door opened; Rod stuck out his head. “That was the main gate. The Air Police are directing your mother’s taxi to the housing area. She should be here in about five minutes.”
Julie took a long, final drag on her cigarette and flicked the butt into the dirt. “Thanks.” She stood and walked over to Nanette, sweeping her up; she held her upside down as Nanette shrieked with laughter.
Julie let her down in the yard and grabbed onto her tiny hand. “Let’s go meet Grandma.” They started walking toward the driveway, taking a circuitous route across the small patch of brown grass that lay on either side of the sidewalk. The student pilots tried to keep up the yard, but it seemed that no matter how much water they sprayed on the lawn, it turned brown almost as soon as they turned off the sprinkler.
The screen door slammed and Rod joined them in the yard. He wore his green flight suit, unzipped to his chest; his t-shirt was stained with perspiration from being on the flight line earlier in the day.
Julie spotted the yellow taxi a few hundred yards up the road as it slowed and turned into the entrance of the housing area; it crawled toward them, as though the driver was not quite sure where he was going.
“Remember the first time we saw this place?” Rod said. “I didn’t think you’d ever get out of the car.”
“Mother may not.” Julie imagined the shock her mother must be having at seeing the dreary, brown houses and dusty playground for the very first time.
“At least the temperature is 20 degrees cooler than it was in the summer.”
“It’s still warmer than Virginia. I just hope mother isn’t having an anxiety attack.” She picked up Nanette and started to wave. “Say, ‘hi, Grandma’!”
The taxi pulled up and a white shirted man wearing black pants, a black tie, and a cap jumped out of the car. He opened the back door and Julie’s mother stepped onto the concrete driveway.
Wearing a pink pillbox hat, with matching jacket, skirt, white gloves, and high heels, Francine Phillips looked as though she had just walked off the pages of one of Julie’s magazines. She drew in a breath as she looked around the neighborhood, her eyes wide as she took everything in. No one spoke.
Julie felt her stomach grow sour. “Hello, Mother. How was your flight?” She’d practically ignored her granddaughter.
Francine pulled back. “Julie! Why yes, dear, it’s so nice to see you. The flight was fine, but long.” A smile swept across her face as she seemed to notice Nanette for the first time. “And who is this little one? My, my, you’ve grown so much.” She leaned toward Nanette and held out her hands.
Nanette clutched Julie’s arms and wouldn’t let go. Her lip quivered and tears welled up in her eyes.
“She wasn’t quite a year old when you last saw her in California,” Julie said. “Here.” She picked Nanette up and held her out. “Go to Grandma, sweetheart. Grandma wants to hold you.”
Nanette started wailing and buried her head in Julie’s shoulder, terrified.
Julie tried to soothe her when she noticed the taxi driver standing by the car door with his hands behind his back; Francine’s luggage was piled on the porch. She looked at Rod and nodded toward the driver.
“Oh, yeah.” Rod took out his wallet and stepped forward.
Francine put out a hand. “Here, I’ve got it, Rod.” She pulled a handful of bills from her purse and gave them to Rod. She turned back to Julie. “Let’s get out of this horrid sun.” She took Julie by the arm and led her and Nanette to the house.
Once inside, Julie put Nanette on the floor as Rod carried the luggage to the family room. Francine slowly took off her white gloves and without a word looked around the tiny living space.
Julie had draped the cinderblock walls with scarfs and pictures in an attempt to spruce up the featureless room, but the combination of poor lighting and bare concrete made the family room seem cramped and uninviting.
“This is much different than Stanford married housing,” Francine said.
“The military doesn’t believe in extravagance,” Rod said. “Especially since we’ll be here less than a year. The senior officer homes are much bigger. And nicer.”
“I’m sure they are.” Francine said, sounding unconvinced.
Julie raised her brows at Rod. “There’s sangria in the refrigerator. Why don’t you pour some, it will cool things down.” In more ways than one.
Rod grunted and left the room.
Francine turned to Julie. “And how do you like it here, dear? How are you faring? This all looks a little … primitive.”
Julie felt her breath quicken; she didn’t answer. She patted the top of Nanette’s head.
Nanette loosened her grip on Julie’s leg, and with big eyes intently watched Francine, as if trying to decide if she could trust the strange, older woman. Sounds of ice trays being emptied, glasses clanging together, and water running came from the kitchen.
Francine said, “It looks as though you’re living in a housing project.”
“It’s fine,” Julie said. “Like Rod said, we’ll be here less than a year, and with any luck we’ll be assigned to southern California, perhaps near L.A.”
“I see.” She bent over and frowned at something on the floor. “What do you do with your time? Are there any cultural activities?” She straightened while continuing to look around the room.
Julie felt her face grow warm; she wasn’t about to let her mother know how much she hated this place. “Some, but I keep busy chasing Nanette around. The squadron commander’s wife organizes things for us, and we take turns watching the kids. We hardly see our husbands, even at night, because of everything from night flights to mandatory formations, so the wives are left to our own activities”
“Such as …?”
Julie bent over and encouraged Nanette to walk to her mom. Nanette took a few tentative steps and stopped to stare up at her grandmother; Francine squatted and smiled.
“Well,” Julie said, “we’ve toured some historic sites in Chandler and Mesa, as well as the new museum in Phoenix.”
Francine looked sharply up. “That’s hardly very cultural, dear, visiting dusty, Western galleries—especially compared to what DC has to offer.”
“I know, but like I said, we’ll be moving next June.” And back to civilization.
Nanette tottered to Francine, and then with a happy squeal, suddenly lunged out.
Francine laughed; she pulled Nannette in, and hugging her, stood. She cooed while gently kissing the top of Nanette’s head. “That still means living in this god-forsaken place for at least another six or seven months. It’s a good thing Edward didn’t come on this trip; otherwise, he’d have you and Nanette out on the next plane.”
She hesitated for a long moment. “Why don’t you bring Nanette back east? We’d love to have you, and it would allow Rod to finish this pilot training without the pressure of having to juggle family responsibilities. Time will pass quickly.”
Julie tried to keep her voice from shaking. “I said I’m doing fine here, mother, and so is Nanette. We’re a family now, and I just can’t run home at the first sign of adversity.”
“This isn’t an adversity, dear. This is a hellhole.”
Julie clamped her mouth shut as Rod walked in the room carrying a tray of full glasses and the pitcher of sangria; he placed it on the table.
He looked from Julie to Francine as the room fell quiet. “Hey, don’t stop on my account. I hope I didn’t disturb you with all the noise.”
“No, no, we didn’t even hear you,” Francine said.
Julie grabbed one of the drinks and quickly shot down the sangria.
She wiped her mouth and held the empty glass out to him.
He gave her a strange look; he took his time refilling it. “So … what were you two talking about?” He slowly handed her the drink.
Julie drained half the glass; she felt the alcohol warm her insides as it hit her stomach. “Just catching up. I was telling mother how thankful I am to be an Air Force wife.”
Rod’s eyes narrowed. He flicked his gaze from Julie to Francine. No one spoke. He shrugged and handed Francine a glass.
Julie lifted her drink. “I propose a toast.”
“All right,” Francine said. “To what occasion?”
Julie clinked glasses with her mother and Rod. “To the next step on my husband’s path to general, where we’ll both reach the top of the social pyramid.”
Francine ignored her and squatted to smile at Nanette.
Rod stared.
Julie gulped the rest of her drink. Once again, Julie held out the empty glass—this time with an unsteady hand. “Hit me again, Lightning Rod.”