Chapter 17
OZZIE
The year started off wet and cold. For the entire week, Ozzie had been assigned the deuce-and-a-half truck with the broken heater. It didn’t matter how he layered his clothing, Ozzie never felt warm, and by Friday afternoon he was coming down with a cold.
On his last deliveries for the week, Satchel sat in the passenger seat with a blanket over his lap and a harmonica pressed to his lips.
Ozzie felt a comfort come over him when he heard Satchel play.
Ozzie’s mother had sung whenever the mood hit, so Satchel’s whiny harmonica reminded Ozzie of home, and a longing curled in his belly for that lima bean soup that always seemed to be simmering on the stove during the winter.
Six months had passed since he’d left home, and he missed his tiny one-way street with kids playing hopscotch and dribbling the basketball at all hours.
He wanted his mother’s fried chicken and potato salad and the banter of neighbors crowded together in the living room and kitchen, listening to Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong on the nights she threw rent parties.
From Rita, he had received a one-page letter at Thanksgiving and a glossy Christmas card with an “xoxo.” Even though he had tried not to think about her, he missed Rita too.
The honeysuckle smell of her and the way she tilted her head when she giggled at his jokes.
Ozzie’s truck rolled past a line of pale-faced women with their lips painted and hair curled, waiting just outside the gates. They stomped their feet and paced to keep warm as they waited on their American sweethearts to bring them money and sneak rations so they could feed their families.
When Ozzie stopped behind another service vehicle waiting for clearance, he was surprised to spot Jelka among the women, smoking a cigarette. Ozzie and Jelka had been keeping company for four months, and not once had she ever come to the base looking for him on payday like the others.
Their eyes met. Ozzie killed the engine. “I’ll be right back,” he told Satchel. He walked toward Jelka, feeling unclean. He had avoided seeing her in his work uniform, which was covered in dirt and soot.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hallo.” She dropped her cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out with her foot. Then she kissed him on the cheek.
“What are you doing standing out here in the cold?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“I’m still on the clock,” he said, looking around to see who might be watching.
Ozzie couldn’t risk returning late. Being late was a serious offense, and he didn’t want his CO to see him dallying at the gate and revoke his weekend privileges.
“Can it wait until tonight? I can come by the club this evening, once I’m off. ”
“Sure. It will wait.” She stood and touched her hand to his face, and he could see worry swimming in her big dark eyes before she turned and walked away.
“What was that about?” Satchel asked once Ozzie climbed back into the truck.
“No idea. You know women.”
“It’s payday.”
“She didn’t ask for anything. She rarely does. She just said she needed to talk.”
“Better take some extra cash with you tonight. If she’s anything like my girl, she’ll have a story about needing money for medicine for her sick mother, or to repair a well for clean water. It’s always something,” Satchel said, and then blew out a tune on his harmonica.
When Ozzie, Satchel, and Morgan walked through the doors of the Federal Eagle Club, Ozzie scanned the room but didn’t see Jelka anywhere.
Chicago blues played, and four Negro women in uniform sat at a center table, giggling with one another.
It was a rare sight to see Negro servicewomen in the bar, and Satchel and Morgan pulled chairs up to their table.
Ozzie watched as they shot the breeze; he kept an eye out for Jelka while nursing a beer.
He had decided that he would drink only one, maybe two beers tonight.
He had Saturday-morning duty, and it was hard to take inventory hungover.
Jelka emerged from the kitchen with her hair twirled and pinned at the nape of her neck. She motioned him over with a nod. Ozzie downed his beer, then left the mug on the bar.
“Follow me,” Jelka said, pulling on his arm.
An uneasy feeling came over him. If Jelka needed money, Ozzie wished she would just ask instead of keeping him in such suspense.
She led him to a back room off the side of the kitchen; it held cleaning supplies, rolls of toilet paper, hand towels, and two slop buckets that she turned over, making seats for them.
Before Ozzie could speak, she dropped her head in her hands.
“What is it?” he asked. Ozzie had grown used to her easy crying. “Talk to me. Is your mother ill?”
Jelka gazed at him with her face twisted in such anguish that in the moment, Ozzie realized he would do whatever she asked to take away her pain.
“Hey.” He ran a finger along her cheek, blotting away her tears. “Tell me what’s the matter so I can fix it.”
The black lines under her eyes had begun to smudge. “I am pregnant.”
Ozzie opened his mouth, but no words came out. After several long seconds, he managed to stutter. “I… I thought you… you were taking care of that?”
“Are you blaming me?” Her big eyes bore into him.
“No.” Yes. “How could this have happened?” he muttered under his breath.
“Well, it takes two,” she called back.
A baby. Ozzie put his hands on top of his head, and it was hard for him to breathe. A baby with a white woman on the other side of the world. His mother would whoop his ass.
“What am I supposed to do?” She raked her fingernails in her scalp, pulling loose ends from her hair twist.
What was he supposed to do?
Jelka stood and reached for him just as Ozzie started coughing. He hacked and choked and coughed until she stepped back. “Are you all right?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t fine. He needed some air. He was an American here on assignment. Eventually, he’d have to return home, and how could he do that with a child on the way. Ozzie’s head fogged, and he could barely make out Jelka’s voice.
“I thought we had been careful,” she said.
“I did too.”
Ozzie had made sure to use condoms, and when they didn’t have one, Jelka had told him that she knew her body and it was all right. Had she done this on purpose?
“Well, you do not have to worry about me. You can go on with your life, like all the American men do.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I have seen it in my village. The men get us pregnant and then leave us to deal with it.” Jelka wrapped her arms around her belly. “I am ruined. The government will take my meager rations and make my life hell. I was already stopped by the police and sent downtown for a VD check last weekend.”
“A venereal disease check? Why? What business is that of the law?”
She lowered her eyes. “The police officer saw me with you. Said we needed to be sure. They do it to us all the time. They get off on it.”
Anger and embarrassment flooded him. “I’m sorry you went through that because of me.”
Jelka just shrugged.
Ozzie’s head swam, and even though he didn’t have answers, he knew for certain that he would not abandon his child. He had watched his mother struggle without much help from his father, and he vowed to himself that he would never do that to his baby.
Ozzie pulled Jelka to her feet and squeezed her hands. “Give me some time. We’ll figure this out.”
All of a sudden, Ozzie felt exhausted. He knew a beer or two would not be enough to help digest this news.
Jelka moved to kiss his lips, but Ozzie turned, and she only got his cheek. She looked at him and then walked away. Ozzie shoved his hands in his pockets and went back to the table where his friends sat eating bratwurst.
The Negro women were gone. Ozzie’s collar felt like it was restricting the airflow to his lungs, so he undid two buttons.
“Everything all right, lover boy?” Morgan teased.
“Have you seen our waitress?” Ozzie fidgeted. “We’re going to need to order a bottle.”