Water Tower

Let it be known that no on likes me, and why should they? I walk down the sidewalk of my hometown and no one dares look me in the eye or even glance my way for but a second. It’s not supposed to be like that where I’m from, the Midwestern town that is the picture of hometown splendor. The following year the war was won; the Germans and Hitler had been beaten. There is still confetti from the homecoming parade, red, white, and blue strips of paper blowing away from me in the breeze. I hold my sweater tight around my chest. It’s my mother’s as I was unable to find my own; I’m on a trip to get medicine for her now. She won’t mind about the sweater since my brother is home from the war, barely able to walk, but he’s alive. My father would have been proud; I only suppose since he’s never been around, only when he needs something from my mother does he enter our front door.

The streets seem so quiet, but there are people around. At one time I would have been asked about how my brother was doing. How was he fairing over seas, and now that he was home, how was he adjusting?

How’s that brother of yours Claire?

Are you happy to have him home?

I bet you’re proud of your bother Claire.

They would ask, but no one asked anything of me anymore. I’m not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse really as my brother was always the star of the family. First he was a football star then he was a scholar, graduating as the salutatorian of his class, and then he topped it all off by becoming a war hero. How on earth was I to compete with that? I have now though, only it’s the wrong sort of winnings if, in fact, that’s what they could be called.

My brother had a friend, well, actually he seemed to have many friends, but only one who went off to war with him. They were in the same unit, soldiers who had stormed the beaches of France together. John was my brother, and Frank DeSoto was his friend, and the only other soldier who returned home alive.

I never really had trouble finding a date, a boy who wanted to spend time with me. I had a small stature like my mother, but unlike her, I had dark hair like my father and brown eyes that matched my brothers. No, I never had a problem getting a date; I could have any boy I wanted, and Frank was no exception. It started when I was finishing high school and they were about to go off to war. Frank offered me a ride home from school, and I felt inclined to accept since I had known him nearly my whole life. There was no harm in a simple ride from my brother’s best friend and besides, it was winter. I sat down in the front seat of a brand new 1941 Cadillac, a gift from his rich father. I had never been in such an expensive car before, so I put my hands to the dashboard, bringing them down over the door and to the beige leather of the seats. The biggest difference between my brother and Frank was that Frank had money, lots of it, and was going to a great school when America declared war. It was the middle of January not too long after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.

Frank looked at me, getting the exact response that he had wanted to see from me. I wasn’t rich and he was, so of course I was going to be all mesmerized by the things he had, expensive cars and clothes, all sorts of toys really. John was never into materialistic things, but he had a way of earning people’s respect, making it so he never needed or wanted for anything; he always got what he wanted. It was odd to admit, but he was my parent’s favorite, especially my mother’s favorite. I thought that to be backwards since I was the daughter and he was the son. Don’t mothers always love their daughters more? Furthermore, I was sure my mother would compare him to our father, but how could she when John was nothing like him; he was perfect.

“You like it?” Frank asked as he pulled away from the curb, being extra careful not to slip and slide on the wet pavement on the drive to my house, which was really only a block away where the cheaper houses were.

“Yeah, I like it a lot,” I answered.

There was something about Frank that I really liked or had thought I had liked. I really didn’t know anything about him except who his rich parent’s were, the DeSoto’s, which were a long line of family bankers. I knew that he and my brother had been friends since grade school, and I knew how well he could tell crude jokes, especially when my brother was around. He had gone away to a school on the east coast, so naturally I assumed that coming back home to settle wasn’t really in his idea of a future. I expected Frank to travel and live off his families’ money then work some high powered job in a big city like New York or Chicago.

“I’m going to war Claire,” he said before I got out of the car. “I think it’s the right thing to do, and since my father was a soldier once, he thought it was only appropriate that I go.”

I understood, feeling that it was his duty. If my brother had to go then so should he, so I watched them both go, wondering if I might ever see either of them again. As I opened the car door that day Frank told me that he was going to marry me when he got back home, jokingly I figured. After all, this thought to me was ridiculous as I was clearly out of his league nor was there any reason for me to just wait around for some guy. I had plans of going off to see the world, going to college so as to get away from my Midwest prison. Beside, John had graduated second in his class, so me not doing something spectacular with my life was out of the question, and it didn’t matter that it wasn’t typical for a woman to go off to college after high school.

“Sure Frank,” I replied with a flirty smile then carefully made my way up the unshoveled walk to my front door. I would change into pants and wrap up like an Eskimo just to go back outside and do the job that was once my brothers.

It was about two years into the war when I learned that John had been shot in the leg, but he had refused to take leave and come home, believing that he was needed over there, fighting for our freedom. I understood his way of thinking, but my mother didn’t, so she became sad all the time, moping about the house, fearing that another bullet would find my brother and surely kill him. She didn’t believe in second luck or first luck for that matter. After graduating I didn’t go off to college, but stayed with my mother while John was away. Though I knew I wasn’t my mother’s favorite, I felt a sense of duty to take care of her. I sacrificed myself even if all she wanted was to talk to John, which they rarely ever did before he left for war. She had this notion that she and my brother had such a great relationship. True, my brother loved our mother, but John had his own plans of living his life, and it wasn’t in his future to take care of our mother because as everyone seemed to see it, that was my job.

***

John came home on a Saturday and on Sunday my mother cooked a feast. My grand parents were there, slapping him on the back and thanking him for doing his part. I was in the back of the conversations most of the day, but I understood that John had done a great thing that the war was brutal. He was someone I could be proud of.

It was nearing the end of the summer when the town had a homecoming parade for Frank and my brother as well as a memorial service for the fallen soldiers from our small town. The confetti was all over the place, coming from every child that had got their hands on a small bag that had been prepared by the post-war committee. I watched as the parade went on, waving my American flag with pride, holding it up as I saw my brother.

Afterwards, there was a picnic party in the park for the soldiers to meet and greet, and being that there were only two soldiers left, most of the attention was focused on them. I ate a hot dog and drank a cold coke, watching everyone play games that I had long grown out of. I felt so prideful and stuck at the same time, and as I watched my brother conversing with people, looking so dashing in his khaki dress pants and blue button up shirt, I couldn’t help but think that it was my turn now.

***

Frank asked me out on a date two days after coming home, and upon telling my mother this. she gave me a look of happiness that I had only seen when she talked about John. She actually was happier about my date with Frank than she was for me to go off to school and better my life. There was never a time that she had ever mentioned this to me, but her actions always spoke louder than any words. Suddenly she wanted to be involved in what I did, and I found this exciting and frightening at the same time. When was I going to loose her attention, at any moment I only supposed?

It was warm yet when Frank had picked me up, and I was wearing a dark blue dress with a sweater to match. My hair was up in a ponytail, a curl at the end. There was a feeling of indifference when I sat down in the front seat of his Cadillac, the same car I had sat in before the war. I wasn’t so sure I was excited, and couldn’t put into words why I felt so…unhappy. Frank hadn’t said much to me, but he was sweet, the perfect gentleman, joking because that was who he was. He took me to a movie and dinner afterwards at the local café. We even kissed and I loved his kiss, but I had this feeling like something was coming like there was this big announcement that was about me, but didn’t include me.

“Claire,” he said as we were driving. There was a water tower on a plot of land that was owned by his father, a place that he had always wanted to take me. “I told you that I was going to come back and marry you…right?”

“You mentioned something of the sort, yes.” I answered, pinching my fingers together, feeling this lump in my throat. I was so confused really; he was a great guy, I should be excited to get all this attention and I did like him.

It was already night, but he had left on his headlights as we climbed up the ladder of the tower. I went after him as the other way was just not appropriate. He pulled me up to stand beside him, telling me that he was just so happy to be with me that he thought he was in love with me. I have pictured your face so many times during the war, he told me, touching my face with his fingertips. I wasn’t sure where this was coming from, but he told me that he didn’t want to make a move on anything until he knew that he was coming home alive. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I loved hearing those words come from his mouth as they were flattering to me.

The weather was mild, warm really with a very light breeze. Frank wasn’t even drinking, but for some reason there was this excitement about him that was far more intoxicating that any alcohol could be. Was he really that happy to be in my presence?

“I want to settle down Claire and raise a family.”

I could understand that, but what did that mean for me? I didn’t respond to him, so he continued.

“You know war changes a person and you just put things into perspective. So, I was thinking that maybe we could date for a while and then we could get married. I could get a job with my father to start out and then in a few years move up to the top position.” He moved his hand down to rub my neck. His strong fingers massaged my tense neck, moving my head back and forth. “So Claire, what do you think?”

I remained silent still, so he took his hand away from my neck. Why me and why now? I might have felt differently if this had been years down the road. He must have felt my apprehension as he said a few things, that at any other time, would have been hilarious, something about a horse walking into a bar and then some joke about a Genie. I didn’t really laugh only smiled to appease him, so he tried again, leaning over the edge of the water tower, the railing was only an inch thick metal rod. I went for him immediately, pulling on him, telling him that he was being ridiculous.

“So that’s what will get your attention?” he asked. “Say yes Claire or I’ll climb over this railing.”

“What?” I asked and no sooner was that question out of my mouth when he began climbing over the railing, and again I went for him. I begged him to just come back, but he was determined to go over the edge unless I said yes to all that he had talked about, but I couldn’t. I really did want him to stay on the safe side with me, but I had stayed for everyone else long enough. What was the point, to stay for a man who might eventually leave you, living all your life for a child who you believe could do no wrong?

He laughed at my attempts to pull him back, telling me that he had walked along the outside of the platform around the water tower tons of times, and could probably do it with his eyes closed. “I’ll get back Claire if you just say that you’ll marry me.”

What the hell held my tongue, making it impossible for me to just tell him whatever he had wanted to hear, but what could guarantee me that he wouldn’t be back up at that water tower any other night? My hand was on his arm, squeezing his muscle, and he was strong too, so when he lost his footing I became frantic, screaming. I had never felt so desperate before especially as he slipped from my grip. My fingers hurt where I had tried to grab on to his shirt. This was not the younger days anymore; he could not do the things that he had once been able to do nor could I. He fell to the ground with a thud, breaking his neck instantly on the hard dirt ground below. He was visible in the headlight of his car, and I froze, standing still, looking down at his tangled body. This was not happening, I thought. Frank was dead. This was not happening. His eyes were open, looking at me. I could see this even from where I was or at least, had imagined it. This was not happening.

****

It was morning by the time anyone came by, finding Frank’s dead body first then me. The headlights were still on, and I was still up on the water tower. I’m not sure how the neighbor down the road knew I was up there, but I was, huddled in a ball with my knees up to my chest. I knew that I should have gone for help, but I was scared, unbelieving that this was really happening to me. What the hell was he thinking, climbing over the edge like that? This was bigger than me, bigger than anything that I knew how to deal with. The sad truth hit me, knowing things would have been different if this had happened to anyone else.

Frank was a rich son and a war hero, and I was just a girl, so when the police questioned me about how Frank died I wasn’t surprised to find that they treated me as if I had killed him. I didn’t murder him; I didn’t push him. John said that he believed me when he came to pick me up from the police station, but there was something in his looked that spoke of believing otherwise. My mother couldn’t have looked at me but once the following weeks after Frank had died, and I knew that she had begun to believe what everyone else did that it was my fault. It was an accident though, wasn’t it? I didn’t push him just didn’t tell him what he had wanted to hear, that’s all.

“Of course you didn’t kill him,” John said one afternoon. “Frank’s always been that way, doing stuff to get attention or something that might get him killed.”

There was something else John had wanted to say, I knew it, but he kept quiet even agreed that I not go to the funeral. Oh Claire you know you should have just said yes. Oh Claire, Frank’s a good guy you know it wouldn’t have hurt you to just say yes. Oh Claire there’s never going to be anyone better than him…you blew it sis. No, he never said those things out loud, but thought them, I could sense it. Perhaps John didn’t believe that Frank had even been that interested in me. I’m not really sure, but it was positive that no one wanted to forgive me. If I was just a girl before, I was worse than that following the trip to the water tower.

I walk down the streets of my hometown, seeing the paper from the parade that once praised my brother and his friend. They flutter by in the fall wind, and I wonder how long it will take for all the paper to finally be cleaned from Main Street? I’m walking to get medicine for my mother who I care for. My brother is gone now, living his life. When will it all go away, the patriotic pieces of paper that were thrown to our war heroes, the two heroes that were left?