Lonely Days

Sherrie, Alone Again 

Lonely days, lonely nights, where would I be without my baby?  Lost, I was lost.  I was miserable, and I was unhappy.  I felt like I was in a fog; everything was muffled and distant.  That first week after David left, I was just a zombie; I didn't care about anything or anybody.  I just went through the motions.  When I got home from work, I would go to my room, turn on the radio and go to bed with tissues at my side. I didn't want anyone to ask me how I was, or especially tell me that everything would be alright.  Almost any conversation made me feel worse.

I watched the news at night, glued to the reports of the "conflict" in Vietnam.  I think I was hoping that I would see David, stupid me.  I didn't even know where he was yet and wouldn't until I got my first letter from him.  The news was always bad on TV.  Generally, the reports' backdrop would be troops fighting, on the move, or worse, showing casualties.  There was always a body count and the number of wounded given. Most of the guys over there were 18, 19, 20 years old, babies, really.

To make things worse, my brother was still on leave and hanging around.  He would give his commentary on the news reports every night.  If someone came over, he would spend his time telling them about death, dying, and gore.  I didn't want to hear that.  Back to my room, I would go.

I thought the week would never end.  On Saturday, I was surprised at work by David's brother and some other guy friends.  It scared me because I wasn't expecting them to come walking in the store.  I thought maybe something was wrong, and they were there to tell me about it.  They told me that David had told them to watch over me and entertain me while he was gone.  They came to pick me up, and we were going to a party in Woodbridge.  I was grateful for the distraction.  I had to go home and change, and then we would be on our way.  This was going to be a ritual; almost every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, they would pick me up.  It helped distract me.  It was the beginning of November now, so our outdoor time was rare.  We mostly would go to their friend's house, Paul and Charlene, who were married, with two babies.  The whole group seemed to congregate there, drinking and some smoking, just laid back conversations.

I finally got my first letter and some pictures from David after about a week and a half.  That's when I saw him carrying the machine gun, along with his friend.  He looked good, except he was very sunburned.  He told me it wasn't that bad there.  He never mentioned any of the fights they were in or talked about casualties or death.  He was sugar coating it so that I wouldn't worry.  It didn't help.

He asked me if I could send him my tape recorder, and he would send me back tapes, plus letters and pictures.  Of course, I sent it, and I just about wore those tapes out playing them over and over.  I wrote to him almost every night, I sent him care packages of cookies and snacks.  My mom even made some things to send him.  I was handling it as best as I could.  After a few weeks, he sent more pictures, and now his sunburn had turned to a dark tan.  He looked terrific.  I showed them to some of the girls at the bus stop, and they asked me what nationality he was because he was so dark. It kind of pissed me off, "He's American, you fool.".  I never showed her any more pictures.  When she asked to see them, I told her no, because I didn't feel like hearing her say anything stupid about him.

I felt slightly better; I was being distracted somewhat by going out and not staying home.  I was tolerating school but only because of the kids in my work-study class—what a bunch of rowdy kids we were.  At least I was getting some good laughs.  The teacher absolutely had little control over us, she tried, but generally, she was unsuccessful.

Sometimes, my friend Judy would go out with the guys and me.  David's brother liked her, and they got along well.  The thing about Judy was that she was always funny and always laughing.
Judy stayed with me for a couple of weeks, and we had a pretty good time.  We were making tissue flowers for a homecoming float.  My entire room was covered with flowers.  And the pile was deep.  It was hard moving around in the room, trying not to step on them and crush them.  We started loading them up into trash bags, and we would take a bag each to school every day.  It kept us out of trouble and busy.

In December, I started working two jobs; when I got off work at 6:00, I would walk down the mall to Thom McAnn shoe store and work there until the end of the business day.  Judy worked there too.  And there were a couple of young guys there, one guy named Harry, that liked Judy.  They always wanted us to go to Georgetown with them.  We kept turning them down, and they kept asking.  We finally said we would go on a Friday night with them, but not as dates, and they had to buy our drinks.  Judy and I were both only 17, so she scarfed up a couple of really cheesy looking fake IDs from somewhere, and we went to this really wild, bright, loud club, I don't remember the name.  When I gave the guy my ID, he looked at me like, are you kidding me?  He made me nervous; he asked me my name and birthday and then let me in.  It was great, we drank, and drank and danced, and had a good time.  We went home after the club closed, and we both had to go to work the next day with a hangover.  When Judy had to go back home, I really missed her.  She was a lifesaver for me.

One night, when it was about 20 degrees and snow was on the ground.  Our Virginia friends came up and wanted to go see the National Christmas Tree in DC.  It was freezing, and we had to park very far away and walk over to the National Mall.  Our toes were almost frozen, but lucky for us, there was a huge, roaring fire going at a display with reindeer.   The fire tender was a very genial hippy guy and fun to talk to.  Looking back on it, I'm pretty sure he was high, but he was happy, and he kept the fire huge for people like us so we could warm up.  That was a nice night; that was the first time I had ever been down there and walked around.  Good memory.

It was almost Christmas now, and it was a little sad for me.  David sent me a silk robe for Christmas. I can't remember what I sent him, probably things he needed.  I was getting 4 or 5 letters from him a week.  His friend, who was the other machine gunner, had been killed a few weeks earlier.  He was a big, 6'4" surfer boy from California, blond hair, very handsome.  He was also engaged, and David had written a letter to his fiance and sent her pictures of him.  I could tell that he was distraught and depressed, and it didn't help my mood.  I hated Vietnam.

On Christmas night, I got a phone call from David's brother and some of the other guys wishing me a Merry Christmas.  I was on the phone in my kitchen for some reason, which was weird.  It sounded like they were having a party.  Jimmy got back on the phone.  He told me that they had a friend who had seen pictures of me and wanted me to go out with him.  I asked him if he was crazy because he knew I wouldn't do that.  He was really insistent and pushy about it, and he was making me very mad.  Then he said, hold on, he wants to talk to you, and I was saying, "no,," repeatedly, and then this guy started talking.  He was coming on to me very strongly, I wouldn't talk to him, I just sat in silence, he asked me why I wasn't talking, and I told him that I had a boyfriend and I wasn't interested in him.  I was MAD!  I told him I was hanging up.  On the other end of the line, someone was yelling; I no longer had the phone by my ear.  I could hear him saying, "wait, wait, don't hang up!"  I put the phone back to my ear, and in a different voice, he said, "Sherrie, it's David."  IT WAS DAVID!  I couldn't talk. I started crying, boohooing and dropped the phone.  My mom came and asked me what was wrong, and I couldn't answer; I thought he was home because he had been wounded.  My mom talked to him, and she was actually nice. He told her he was home on emergency family leave for 2 weeks that his dad was sick.  She told me he was okay and told me to go pick up the phone in my room.  I was still crying, and he was doing some fast explaining.  He was testing me to see what I would do if another guy asked me out.  Well, I passed that test, but he gave me a heart-stopping moment.

He was going to be home for two weeks.  I could hardly wait to see him in the flesh the next day.  It was going to be intense.