l'intrigue

There are military bases and posts located in beautiful cities, bases on the coastlines of North America and in exotic foreign ports and cities. There are bases where military families enjoy pleasant weather, shopping malls, cultural events, diverse activities that most non-military families take pleasure in. There are also bases and posts built in locations that most military families dread being assigned to, places where the weather is appalling year round, where there are no malls, no cultural events, no non-military activities. One of these bases is K.I. Sawyer Air Force Base located on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan some twenty miles south of Marquette.

Someone in the pentagon, perhaps someone on drugs, suggested building the base there where “lake effect snow” deposited eighteen feet of snow on runways, where gale winds prohibited planes from lifting into the sky where they were designed to be. Maybe it seemed like a good idea at the time. The coal mining industry had played out and the poverty level in the area had risen to one of the highest in the country. The revenue from the personnel living on the military base would be the Upper Peninsula’s saviors. But there was no salvation for the military families stationed there.

K.I. Sawyer Air Force Base, aka K. I. Siberia, covered 8.5 acres and housed approximately 1,400 people. Over half of the 360 families residing there had children under the age of eighteen and nearly twenty percent of them were females with no husbands living with them. During the Vietnam years many of them were POW and MIA wives.

The frigid temperatures, the snow-covered roads, and the isolation of its location combined to make virtual prisoners of the people living within the tall fences that surrounded the base. All of their friends lived on base. All of the children attended the same school. They had very little contact with the world outside K.I. They had far too much contact with each other . . . which led to boredom, which led to petty disagreements, to brawls in the officers’ and airmen’s clubs. Depression was commonplace; there were a couple of suicides every few years. But there were also those who devised a creative solution to their isolation from the world outside K.I. They held key parties in their homes. They threw parties in their basements where guests viewed porn films before swapping partners. Two couples living on Invader Street had private parties of their own.

Tina and Roy moved into base housing in 1970 one week after Doug and Kathryn had moved into the four bedroom two-plex beside them. Both men were majors, both were navigators in the 410th Bomb Wing, and both women spent their days cooking, cleaning, and taking care of their four children. There was symmetry. There was balance in that each unit housed the same number of children and adults and all of them nearly the same ages.

Tina was raven-haired, tall and muscular; Kathryn was petite, blonde, and small boned. Fair-skinned, Roy was prematurely losing his sandy hair while olive-skinned Doug’s thick wiry hair protruded from his peaked Air Force cap. Those were the only differences between the couples, that and the fact that the O’Mara’s had grown up in Boston and the De Palma’s were from Chicago.

Summertime lasted only a couple of weeks in the Upper Peninsula and nearly everyone on base spent as many hours outdoors as they could reveling in the long days of generous sunshine. The eight children who lived in units A and B at 460 Invader Street were Daisy, Michael, Ricky, and Dottie O’Mara and Shana, Lucinda, Peter, and Tony De Palma. The children played together in the sprinkler, conducted mock war games, strolled baby dolls down the narrow sidewalks that had been snow-covered for most of the year. Kathryn and Tina took turns making lunch and snacks, and they babysat for one another when one of them went to the commissary for more lunchmeat and potato chips.

In the late afternoons Tina sat in a webbed lawn chair on their small rectangular lawn and sipped gin and tonics from a plastic cup. Kathryn often joined her with a matching cup filled with a generous amount of Wild Turkey and a splash of water. Both wives owned a great deal of Amway products and hosted parties to build their Amway pyramids. As they watched the children chase each other with plastic machine guns, they devised a plan to host joint Amway parties splitting the orders equally.

When Doug and Roy were home, and not on a mission or on alert, they joined the wives in matching lawn chairs. The men drank beer. Lots of beer and it was their love of beer and hamburgers on the grill that sealed their friendship.

Roy owned a Hibachi he’d somehow managed to ship unbroken to the States from his former base in Okinawa. The big green ceramic pot cooked meat to perfection and Roy had mastered the culinary art of barbeque. Kathryn had given Doug a black domed Webber grill for Father’s Day but Doug hadn’t put it together and it remained in its cardboard box beside the back door. Roy enjoyed showing off at his deluxe grill and he and Tina welcomed their neighbors to share their evening meals.

So that’s how things began. Roy in a chef’s apron, Doug handing out beers, Kathryn serving potato salad, Tina dishing up baked beans, and eight children ranging in ages from four to twelve placing plastic knives and forks on the redwood picnic table sitting on the center of the dividing line of their respective properties.

After three weeks of joint dining, the two couples had shared a great deal about each other’s histories. “I feel like I know you both better than I know my own brother and sister,” Tina said to Doug and Kathryn.

“Me too,” Kathryn said. “And isn’t it amazing how much we have in common. Four kids each, Amway distributorships, and we even bought the same lamps on our separate trips to the furniture store in Houghton.”

Roy was drunk. Really drunk. He laughed. “Hell, I might’ve picked you for a wife Kathryn y’all having so much in common and all.”

Doug was drunk too, but not so drunk that he hadn’t been enjoying ogling Tina’s breasts jutting out of her low-cut tank top. He let out a low guttural laugh. “We’re so alike, houses, wives, kids, one night I might walk into the wrong door, think I’m home and fuck Tina.”

Tina smiled at him. “Wonder if I’d know the difference,” she said all breathless with her toes curling in her Birkenstocks.

Kathryn who’d had six bourbons, the last two without water, laughed and shook her head. “I think you would. I’ll bet Roy doesn’t wear boxers or burp in your ear when he’s on top.”

“What’s wrong with boxers?” Doug said pulling down his Bermuda shorts to reveal white boxers with a navy blue band around the waist. “It’s what’s in them that counts anyhow.”

Roy jumped from his chair and began to unfasten his belt. “I’ll show what’s in mine if you show yours,” he said.

As it turned out all four of them were willing to show and the night ended with the husbands’ underwear tossed beside the beds next door. When they passed each other on the sidewalk the next morning headed to their respective homes to shave and change for work, they slapped palms. “Morning,” Doug called.

“Gooood morning, you mean,” answered Roy.

Tina and Kathryn were less sure of how to greet each other. When they both came out of their houses to pick up the debris left in their backyards, Tina blushed. She stood beside the Hibachi watching as Kathryn silently picked up an empty beer bottle, a plastic fork, a yellow paper napkin. “Welllll,” she drawled. “I guess I don’t have to tell you I was really drunk last night. Can hardly remember a thing.”

Kathryn tossed the bottle, fork, and napkin into the trash can beside the door. “Me too,” she said. “It was, it was . . .” She didn’t know how to end the sentence.

Tina burst out laughing. “It sure was,” she said.

Kathryn let out a whoosh of air and shook her head. “If the kids find out.”

“Our plan worked. Roy was back home before they woke up at my house. Yours too?”

“Yes. The only one who gets up early is Shana, and if the worst happened, I’d already decided to tell her we were having a spend the night party like she and Daisy had.”

The O’Mara’s and De Palmas spend the night parties continued through the week. They continued through the summer and early fall, and when the snow drifts deepened in the backyards, Doug and Roy navigated in the dark past each other on their shoveled walks.

Then came November and with the month came the unexpected for the O’Mara’s. Roy was handed PCS orders to Offutt Air Force Base in Bellevue, Nebraska. Tina didn’t want to go with Roy. She had fallen in love with Doug. Kathryn didn’t want Roy to go because she had fallen in love with him. It was a dilemma neither couple had anticipated.

The O’Mara’s and the De Palmas were hosting a joint Amway party in the De Palma’s living room on the night after Roy had received his orders. They’d invited four couples from the neighborhood . . . the Mayers, Carters, Ritters, and Leggetts. Roy set up the flip chart while Doug arranged the dining chairs in a semi-circle. In the kitchen Kathryn fanned Ritz crackers around cheddar cheese slices on a wooden board shaped like an oar. Standing close beside her Tina dumped a bag of Fritos in the chip and dip bowl. Both women had been crying and both worked silently. “We need to talk,” Tina finally said as she crushed the empty bag in her hands.

“I know,” Kathryn said just as the doorbell rang. She glanced at the white plastic clock over the sink. “No time now. Guests are here.”

It was the worst Amway party either couple had ever thrown. Roy’s spiel about the guests’ prospects to become millionaires was dry and reportorial. Doug knocked over the easel that held the flip charts and had to wedge a book beneath the broken leg of the tripod. When Julia Mayer spilled a glass of wine, Kathryn half-heartedly mopped the couch cushion with her napkin missing the opportunity to exhibit the miracle of the Amway stain product. At the dramatic moment both couples had always enjoyed after Roy would say, “And what is this product?” the four of them who usually shouted “Soap!!!” nearly whispered the word. No one signed up, no one bought a box of Amway powder, and when the last guest left, Kathryn closed the door and leaned against it. “Last one together is over,” she said looking into Roy’s eyes. “Our last party.”

Tina sat on the damp spot on the couch and rested her head in her hands. “I’m so tired. Roy, you’ll have to pick the kids up at the base nursery. I don’t think I have the strength to turn the car key.”

Doug sat beside her, rubbed her back making circles with his palm. “You’re sad is what you are. We all are. I can’t imagine someone else living in your house.”

Kathryn slumped in the brown plaid Lazy Boy. “We’ll probably get someone we don’t like. Some snobby wife who’s all about the Officers Wives Club.”

Tina tried for a smile and failed. “She’ll probably play bridge and Mah Jongg and force you to learn them both.”

“I’ll hate her,” Kathryn said. “Even if she’s nice I’ll hate her because she won’t be you.”

“How bout a beer?” Doug asked walking toward the kitchen. Roy followed him and the two stood leaning back against the countertop strewn with the remains of the party food. Roy, whose father had landed on Normandy Beach and miraculously survived, thought about the day his father had been laid off from the box factory where he’d worked for over twelve years. When he’d told Roy’s mother the news, her wails had rung out through the small ranch house on South Myrtle. But Roy’s father had only smiled. “Lorna,” he’d said. “When one door slams shut, I open a window.” He’d emphasized the I and Roy, who’d been fourteen at the time, visualized his father marching through the house from room to room yanking down the blinds, throwing up window after window.

His father had made good on his boast. Within the week he’d found another job that paid twenty-five cents more an hour than he’d been making. Roy slammed his fist on the counter. “Damnit to hell and back. We’ve got to do something, Doug. We don’t have to accept this shit.”

“You’re in the Air Force. You have orders. What can you do? Go AWOL?”

Roy smiled. “I’ve got an idea. Come on, let’s get our women in on this.”

They sat at the scarred dining table Doug and Roy at the head and foot, Tina and Kathryn in side chairs. Roy cleared his throat and held his hands out to each side. After a moment’s hesitation the four joined hands.

“Are we going to pray?” Kathryn asked. Both couples were lapsed Catholics unfamiliar with group prayers.

“No, we’re going to make a pact,” Roy said squeezing Kathryn’s fingers in his. “Everyone has to agree to my plan or it’s off. Everyone has to be very sure they’re on board before agreeing to it. Now let’s all say Deal.”

“Deal.” They spoke the word loudly, confidently exactly like they said soap at successful Amway parties.

“But what is the plan?” Tina asked as she dropped her hands into her lap.

“Let’s swap for life,” Roy said. “I love Kathryn; she loves me. You and Doug feel the same about each other. We divorce, marry, and live happily ever after.”

Tina blinked. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Yeah, have you forgotten the eight kids that have to be picked up in a few hours before the nursery closes?” Kathryn said.

Doug lifted his can of Budweiser and took a long swallow before turning to Roy. “You got a plan for them too?”

“I do. Like Noah’s Ark. Two by two.”

“I don’t get it,” Tina said. “What’s a bunch of animals in the Bible got to do with this?”

Roy grinned. “Two of every sort shalt thou bring and they shall be male and female. That’s how Noah did it. Two elephants, two crickets, two swans, but opposite sexes, right? So they could procreate when the waters receded and all life could continue. We’ve already got the right combination. Two boys, two girls each, we split one of each. One of my boys goes with us,” his eyes shifted to Kathryn, “one of your boys stays with them, one daughter for one daughter.”

Tina voiced her reservation. “But how can I choose one of my sons, one of my daughters to keep and the other two to let go?” She shook her head from side to side. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t choose.”

Roy rose and knelt beside her chair. “I love all four of our kids as much as you. But think about it. Would you rather lose all four or just two? If we don’t split them, two of us won’t have any of our own children.” With his thumb he traced the tears on her cheeks. “It comes down to this. Would you rather all eight of them grow up without their natural fathers or only four?”

Tina wiped her nose on the sleeve of her Hawaiian print hostess gown. “I don’t know. The kids . . . ” She turned to Doug’s empty chair. “Where’s Doug?”

“Coming,” Doug said returning to the room with a blue pottery bowl and a lettuce green crystal bowl tucked under his arm. He set them on the table. “A lottery is the answer.”

“What?” Kathryn said. “Are you crazy?”

“No, I’m actually the only one of us who knows how to resolve this.” He reached for the Amway order pad and began to tear off sheets. “You don’t want the kids to think we chose who would go and who would stay. I see Tina’s point. We can’t choose.” He pulled a pen from his shirt pocket. “And we don’t have to.”

Roy bobbed his head in agreement. “Doug’s right. We love all of our children. I’d have a helluva time selecting who to take with me. I say the lottery is the way to go.”

Holding their breaths they watched Doug lift his pen. He said a name aloud as he wrote on the back of each order slip. “Daisy. Michael. Ricky. Dottie.” He dropped them into the green bowl. “Tony. Lucinda. Peter.” His voice wavered as he said the last one. “Shana.” She was the youngest of the eight who was four and a half. He placed them in the blue pottery bowl.

After all the slips were folded and placed in the bowls, Doug shuffled them with his fingers, then Roy moved the slips around, offered the bowls to Kathryn who shook her head no. Tina waved the bowls away and Roy placed them back in the center of the table.

“I need a drink,” Tina said.

“Me too.” Kathryn rose and followed Tina into the kitchen where they fell into each other’s arms. “Can we do this?” Kathryn whispered.

“I don’t know. Can you?”

Two glasses of gin, two Wild Turkeys and seven beers later, the four sat silently at the table staring at the bowls. They seemed alive now, Tina thought. She could hear the chatter of their voices jumbled together in incoherent babble. She placed her palms over her ears.

Elbows on the table Kathryn cupped her chin in her hands. “Remember where that bowl came from, Doug?” She pointed to the blue pottery bowl.

Doug stretched back in his chair, laced his hands behind his ears. “No. Does it matter?”

Kathryn squinted at the swirls of light yellow barely visible in vast cobalt blue. “I threw it in pottery class. Shaped it on the wheel, put it in the kiln, glazed it. It was the only bowl I made that wasn’t lopsided.” She ran her hands around the sides of the bowl cupping it in a loving gesture. “I was so proud. We’ve never used it. I’m surprised you found it up on the top shelf.”

Doug shrugged. “It just kind of leaped out at me and I grabbed it.”

“Well, I think it’s somehow meaningful. Kismet, karma.” She brushed her hair back from her eyes. “Whatever you want to call it.”

Roy slapped both palms on the table. “Base nursery closes in less than an hour. Let’s vote. I say it’s a good plan.”

Doug rose from his chair. “I’m in.”

Kathryn frowned. “You make it sound like you’re anteing up for poker.” She stroked the bowl. “Okay. I think it’s the best shot we all have at happiness.”

All eyes turned to Tina who sat with her head bowed, her eyes closed. “Honey?” Roy said, touching her shoulder.