“I’ll go get her,” Lulu said and ran off, screaming, “Bet—sy! Get out here!”
Mila looked from Jolene to Michael, and back to Jolene.
Then Betsy came into the living room, trailing behind Lulu, looking sleepy, rubbing her eyes. She was wearing a huge tee shirt and white ankle socks. “Why did you wake me up?”
Jolene picked Lulu up, carried her to the sofa, and sat down. “Have a seat, Betsy. We need to talk to you guys. It’s important. ”
Michael sat down on the sofa beside Jolene.
Betsy stopped suddenly. “Are you getting divorced?”
“Elizabeth Andrea,” Mila said. “Why would you say such a—”
Michael sighed. “Just sit down, Betsy. ”
Betsy knelt on the ivory-colored shag rug in front of them, crossing her arms, jutting her chin out. “What?”
They were all looking at Jolene. She almost lost her nerve; she looked at Michael, who shrugged.
She was alone in this. What a surprise. With a sigh, Jolene looked at Betsy and then down at Lulu. “You remember the story I told you about when I joined the army?” she said. “I was eighteen and had no direction. My parents had just died. I was so alone. You can’t imagine how alone. Anyway, you all were a dream I had, but of course, you were in my future then. ”
Betsy sighed impatiently. “Duh. Can I go back to sleep now?”
“I’m not doing this well,” Jolene said.
“Just tell them,” Michael said.
Lulu started bouncing on Jolene’s lap. “Tell us what?”
Jolene took a deep breath. “I’m going to Iraq to help—”
“What?” Betsy said, clambering to her feet.
“Huh?” Lulu said.
“Oh, Jolene,” Mila whispered, bringing a hand to her mouth. She sank into the celery-colored, overstuffed chair by the window.
“No way,” Betsy said. “Oh my God, no one has a mom in the war. Will people know?”
“That’s your concern?” Michael asked.
Jolene was losing control of this.
“But you’re a mom,” Betsy cried out. “I need you here. What if you get killed?”
Lulu’s eyes filled up with tears. “What?”
“That won’t happen,” Jolene said, trying to keep her voice even. “I’m a woman. They don’t let women in combat situations. I’ll be flying VIPs around, moving supplies. I’ll be safe. ”
“You don’t know that. You can’t know that,” Betsy said. “Tell them you won’t go. Please, Mommy…”
At that, the small Mommy, Jolene felt a tearing in her heart. She wanted to hold Betsy close, reassure her, but what comfort could she offer? This was a time for strength. “I have to go. It’s my job,” Jolene said at last.
“If you go I won’t forgive you,” Betsy said. “I swear I won’t. ”
“You don’t mean that,” Jolene said.
“You love the army more than us,” Betsy said.