“Here, some fresh lipstick too. This coral color will look good on you, Fi; it’s too light for my skin tone,” Dottie said as she handed the lipstick to me. “Now, while Viv’s fixing you up, do you want to tell us what’s going on? Are you okay? Why did you rush off like that?”
“I’m sorry, girls. It’s being with all these soldiers and seeing their loved ones waving good-bye. I’m not going to lie: it got to me,” I said. “I also felt like I was going crazy because for a minute I actually thought one of the soldiers on the deck above us was Danny. It hasn’t even been a year since he’s been . . . he’s been gone and . . . my God . . . It all just hit me . . . We’re not at training in DC anymore; we are on the boat to England . . . to the war. I’ve been trying—I mean, I think I’ve been pretty strong about all of this, but just now? It was too much.”
“Sweetheart, have a seat. We need to talk,” Viv said as she slid down the wall underneath the porthole, pulled a pack of Chesterfields out of her pocket, and lit one cigarette.
“Are you seriously going to smoke in here, Viv?” Dottie asked, waving a hand in front of her face and grimacing. “Isn’t that against the rules? No smoking while in uniform?”
“Who’s going to rat on me?” Viv said with a smirk and a wink. Dottie let out a sigh and sat down against the opposite wall, where I joined her.
“Want a smoke?” Viv asked. “It’ll calm your nerves.”
I shook my head. Dottie patted my knee and said, “Fiona, honey, honestly? You’ve been so strong, it’s been . . . well, it’s been a little odd, frankly. You’ve been too calm.”
Viv nodded and took a drag of her cigarette. “Dottie’s right, Fi,” she said. “You lost your fiancé in October, and for the past few months you’ve barely talked about it, even when we’ve asked. You’ve just been forging ahead. I’m kind of surprised you haven’t fallen apart more, way before getting on this boat.”
“He’s missing, not lost,” I said. “And I’m going to finally be honest with both of you because you’re my best friends in the world and I couldn’t have done this—couldn’t have gone through applying or training, couldn’t have gotten on this boat—without you.
“Danny is missing. He very well may be . . . he may be dead, but what keeps me awake at night is that I don’t know anything for sure. The truth is, I’m hoping to find answers, or maybe even to find him. I know I sound crazy for even saying it . . . but I’m not sure I can live the rest of my life with ‘missing in action.’ So now you know. There’s a lot of good reasons for us being here, but my main reason? It’s to try to find out about Danny.”
“Viv, you owe me five dollars,” Dottie said, nudging her with her foot.
“What?” I said incredulously, hoping for a more thoughtful response to my confession. “Wait . . . you two made a bet about this?”
“We did and I do owe you, Dottie,” said Viv with a laugh. “Fiona. Please. We’ve all been friends since the first day of college. Believe it or not, we know you pretty well by now. Dottie was sure that was why you were doing this.”
“I thought I was losing my damn mind when I saw Danny on that deck. I’m a bit of a wreck now that we’re actually on our way.”
“Well, of course you’re nervous and still grieving.” Viviana looked me in the eyes. “Honey, you don’t have to be so strong all the time. You’re allowed to fall apart once in a while . . . but try not to do it in front of the soldiers, okay?”
“Never in front of the soldiers,” I said. “My God, some of them are babies.”
“I heard a bunch of them saying they graduated last month,” Dottie added, chewing on a strand of her hair. “From high school. And I second what Viv said: we’re here for you. You don’t have to hide it the way you’ve been trying to these past few months. We’ll get through this together. We’re all nervous.”
“I’m not that nervous,” Viv said with a shrug as she tapped her cigarette, ashes sprinkling the bathroom floor.
“Shush, Viv, you know that even you are,” Dottie said. “I am, for a lot of reasons, one being that I’m not nearly as outgoing as you and Viv. I think I barely passed that requirement in the personal interview. If I hadn’t pulled out my guitar at the end, I’m sure they would have rejected me.”
Dottie was right about that. She was not a fit for the “outgoing, friendly” persona the Red Cross was looking for. At some point she was going to have to talk to the soldiers and play her guitar, not just smile pretty and blush.
“Anyway, I understand you wanting answers about Danny,” Dottie continued. “And the three of us are here together, for all the other reasons we’ve talked about.”
“She’s right,” Viv said. “We all need this. It’s been so frustrating seeing Danny, Dottie’s brother, all our friends—men our age—get shipped off to war and we can’t do anything to help them but assemble care packages and serve stupid frankfurters at the USO.”
“Like you said yourself, Fiona, if Danny possibly gave his life to the war, you can—”
“I can give it one year. I know,” I said with a sigh. I could give it a year. And I knew I could barely stand the thought of living one more day with my parents and sisters, feeling sorry for myself. And working at city hall with the rest of the staff constantly giving me looks of pity.
“And if we had waited too long, the war might be over,” Dottie said. “And even if not, I’m not sure the Red Cross was going to come through Boston interviewing for Clubmobile positions again. We had to take the chance when we had it.”
“We did,” said Viv. “Ready or not, we’re on our way to England. We just went through six weeks of training for these jobs. I had to learn to play badminton, for the love of God. There’s no turning back now.”
“I know, Viv. I’m sorry I lost it for a moment,” I said, starting to calm down because, really, she was right. “What am I going to do, jump overboard? And God forbid you not get to use your newly acquired badminton skills.”
“And remember,” Dottie added, adjusting her cap, “it’s kind of a big deal to be chosen for this. One of the girls just told me they only choose one out of every six applicants. One out of six. We went through that gauntlet of interviews and exams—it’s a prestigious assignment.”
“And parts of it might be fun, you know,” said Viv. “Travel, adventure, our first trip to Europe—our first trip anywhere—and the three of us get to go together? When was the last time you really let yourself have fun, Fiona?”
“I know, I know. Thank you for reminding me,” I said, giving them both a smile. “This is a fresh start. One that I desperately need.”
“You got that right.” Viv winked at me as she stood up and threw her cigarette in the toilet. Dottie jumped up, grabbed my hands, and pulled me off the floor.
The three of us stood squeezed in front of the mirror and did a quick check of ourselves. We were a study in contrasts. Dottie was petite with olive skin, rosy cheeks, and thick black hair like the rest of her Portuguese family. Her glasses only served to highlight her large dark eyes. Viv, on the other hand, was tall with dark-reddish-brown curls, high cheekbones, and full lips. I was the palest of the three by far, with green-gray eyes and those freckles across my nose.
“You should adjust your cap so you can see the highlights in the front of your hair, Fiona,” Dottie said. My hair was light brown, but I had an odd chunk of blonde streaks in the front.
“Maybe I should adjust it right down in front of my puffy eyes so no one can tell I was crying,” I said, frowning at my reflection.
We all jumped when someone started banging on the door loudly and we heard a voice say, “Hellooooo? Hello, Boston? Y’all in there? It’s Blanche.”
“As if we couldn’t tell by that accent,” I said, opening the door to see Blanche Dumond, a spitfire of a girl from New Orleans. She was curvy, blonde, and fast-talking. We had met her at training in DC.
“I thought I saw you heading this way,” Blanche said, raising her eyebrows at me. “You okay, honey? You aren’t looking so good.”
“She’s fine,” lied Viv as we filed out of the bathroom. Blanche had become known as somewhat of a gossip among all of us newly initiated Red Cross girls.
“Uh-huh,” said Blanche, unconvinced. “Anyway, a bunch of us are heading up to the officers’ deck—they call it the Bird Cage. There’s a bar and a club room and a piano. You want to join us? You need that red ID card they gave all of us to get in—only officers above captain and Red Cross girls allowed.”
“Of course,” Viv said. “I think we could all use a drink before the war. Hey, Dottie, you could play piano! Or you should go grab your guitar from our cabin.”
“Um . . . no, that’s okay, maybe next time,” Dottie said, already turning pink at the thought of performing in front of anyone outside the elementary school where she taught.
“Well, let’s go!” said Blanche, heading toward the stairs.
Viv and Dottie followed while I stood outside the bathroom.
“I’ll be right there,” I said, and they both stopped and looked at me, concern in their eyes.
“You promise, Fi?” Dottie asked.