The German Wife(64)

I was seated opposite Calvin in the diner down the block, a milkshake untouched in front of me. He’d devoured his, and now he was listening intently as I rambled about my brother.

“My father had these black periods his whole life—good days and bad days—but especially once the drought got bad. I mean, things were bad—don’t get me wrong. But sometimes it seemed like things were worse for Dad than for anyone else.” I struggled for words as I rubbed my forehead. “There’s a darkness that runs in the men in my family. Henry isn’t lazy or overreacting. I know that things really do feel hopeless to him, but he’s not even trying to find work now. Not really. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do.”

“Henry’s pride is hurt because I’m supporting him, and now that’s part of the problem. But what am I supposed to do? Quit my jobs, let us live in a homeless camp again?”

“Good grief, Lizzie. Of course you shouldn’t do that.”

“I think it was the same for our father and I bet Henry knows that. Dad was so reliant on Mother, and then when she died—he didn’t even try, not for a single day. He—” I broke off, reluctant to even say the words aloud. Calvin winced, then leaned forward.

“Did your father take his life?”

I nodded, feeling myself becoming emotional. I had survived so much, but I had no idea how I’d go on if I lost Henry.

“Sometimes a mind can play tricks on a person,” Calvin said, his eyes kind. “There is no shame in that for you or for Henry. For your brother, the best thing is probably the structure of a job. A reason to get out of bed each day and a paycheck, so he can feel proud again.”

“I know,” I said heavily. “I don’t mean to say he hasn’t tried. In the beginning, he really did try everything.”

“Maybe I could make some inquiries for you.”

“Would you?” I said in surprise. “You barely know me. You’ve never even met Henry.”

“I can’t make any promises.” He shrugged. “But I can talk to some people. Let me see what I can do.”

The next week when he was back in town, Calvin again suggested we go for a milkshake after I finished my shift. As we walked from the hotel toward the diner, he cut straight to the chase.

“I know this might not be what you had in mind, Lizzie, but has Henry considered enlisting?”

I stiffened.

“It’s hard to enlist these days.”

“It is. The military has turned away more men than they’ve taken over these past five or six years.” The Depression had even hit the government hard and military budgets weren’t what they once were. “I hoped I could find him some labor work on base, but there’s just nothing there to find. Not for a civilian. But if Henry were willing to enlist, I could put in a good word for him. I spoke with an Army enrollment officer and he said that would mean something.”

“Why would you do this for us?”

“I like you.” Calvin shrugged. “It’s lonely here sometimes. You keep me company. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

“I guess we are,” I said, but then I hesitated. “But he’d have to go live on base, wouldn’t he?”

“Of course. And there’s no guarantee he’d be stationed here.”

“I just don’t think...” I trailed off, unsure of how to express my thoughts without insulting my brother. Henry couldn’t handle a jackrabbit drive. How would he handle a military career? I couldn’t even imagine him in a uniform.

“It would mean three hot meals a day, a roof over his head, and more importantly—structure and a reason to get out of bed. I know this much for sure—every man needs a purpose.”

When I opened the door that night, I was immediately hit by a wave of body odor. The apartment was still and silent, and the lights were off. On previous nights I’d turned the kitchen light on so as not to disturb Henry, but I offered him no such kindness that night. I turned the main light on, the one right above his bed. The blankets rustled, and then in a furious movement, he pulled them over his head.

“Don’t start, sis,” Henry mumbled, voice thick with sleep. I crossed the room in a few brisk steps, then threw the blankets back. Henry covered his face with his arms and made more sounds of irritation and complaint. He hadn’t shaved or showered, and he was still wearing his trousers from the previous day.

“You should enlist,” I blurted. Henry stilled, then gradually opened his eyes, squinting against the light of the bulb.

“I went to an enrollment tent when we first got here. I waited in line all day, didn’t even get the chance to sit down for an interview. They were turning almost everyone away.”

“But if they would accept you, you would want to enlist?” I asked, surprised.

Henry dragged himself into a sitting position, still rubbing his eyes.

“Dad once told me that there are some men who are cut out for that life, and some men who aren’t. I don’t know that I’m the right kind of man,” Henry muttered, idly scratching the scruffy whiskers on his cheek.

I stared at my brother, absorbing the shadows under his eyes and the bleakness of his gaze. I knew exactly what Henry meant—he was soft and sensitive in the very best kind of way. Wouldn’t those traits be liabilities for a man in the military?