El Camino Chapter Two

The spring semester of my senior year was going to start on January 3rd, 1968. I had told Mrs. Eastly that I wasn’t planning on finishing up my senior year since I would be in basic training before graduation. I had never seen her so angry with me.

“Of all the idiotic things a person could say to another.” She was in my kitchen towering over a series of baking dishes. Her reaction surprised and terrified me.

“I just figured it wouldn’t matter in the end.” I looked down at my hands. This old woman could make the devil shake in his boots.

“It wouldn’t matter in the end? The end of what, Daniel Robert Scott Junior?” Mrs. Eastly was yelling now, I didn’t think she was capable of yelling.

“I’m just going to get sent off to Vietnam anyway! I don’t need a diploma if I’m…” My heart was beating out of my chest. I couldn’t believe what I was about to say. “If I’m dead.” The words felt strange. I don’t want to die.

The color drained from Mrs. Eastly’s face. I was expecting her to yell more, maybe hit me, but she had this far off stare expression. She didn’t move.

“Mrs. Eastly?” As I stood up from the dining room table Mrs Eastly crumpled to the ground. “MRS. EASTLY!” I caught her in my arms and felt her labored breathing. I laid her on the kitchen floor and scrambled to get to the telephone in the living room. I was breathless telling the operator I needed help.

I sat on the bench in the hospital waiting room. My head in my hands. It was cold in the waiting room. It must have been. I could not stop shaking. I looked up every time a doctor or nurse walked past me, hoping they had news about Mrs. Eastly. When we first got to the hospital, the nurses told me I couldn’t go to the back with Mrs. Eastly since I wasn’t kin. Mrs. Eastly treated me like one of her own sons; she was the closest thing to kin I had.

“Young man?” It was one of the doctors.

“Yes sir?” I stood up and shook his hand.

“Are you the young man that rode with Mrs. Eastly in the ambulance?”

“Yes sir. My name is Daniel Scott but I go by DJ.”

“DJ, my name is Doctor Sanders. I was the one that worked on Mrs. Eastly. What is your relation to the patient?” This was a difficult question to answer. After a moment of contemplation I finally stuttered, “I’m Mrs. Eastly’s adoptive son.” The doctor looked me up and down. Finally he nodded.

“Mrs. Eastly suffered a heart attack. She flatlined for a few minutes but we were able to get her back. She is doing well enough to start asking about you. Would you like to go see her now?”

“Yes I would.” My eagerness soon turned to nervousness and shame. It was my fault Mrs. Eastly ended up in the hospital. I followed the doctor closely down the corridors until we made it to Mrs. Eastly’s room. The doctor opened the door and walked in with me close behind. I beheld Mrs. Eastly sitting in her bed looking out of the window.

“Mrs. Eastly? Mrs. Eastly, it’s Doctor Sanders from earlier, how are you feeling?” Mrs. Eastly turned her head, and I could see the oxygen tubes in her nose more clearly. She looked tired; her hooded green eyes looked heavy. Her kept hair was now undone and fell on her shoulders in a great white heap. Her gaze moved from the doctor to me.

“DJ come here.” I swiftly passed the doctor and up to her bedside.

“Yes ma’am?” I was nervous looking Mrs. Eastly in the eye. She grabbed my hand and held on to it. It was cold and looked like a child’s hand in mine. The doctor interrupted.

“Mrs. Eastly, I was just telling DJ about your heart attack. I would like to go over some care instructions for your discharge. Obviously no heavy lifting, minimal movement, there will have to be a change to your diet. No more greasy or fatty food.” Listening to the doctor rattle off his instructions felt like he was ordering off a menu at a drive through.

“Young man, can you give me a moment with the boy?” Mrs. Eastly raised her hand stopping Doctor Sanders mid-sentence. Doctor Sanders looked flustered by being interrupted and being called a ‘young man’ by a woman twice his age. He began to speak again but Mrs. Eastly waved her hand again dismissing Doctor Sanders.

“I will come back later.” Doctor Sanders turned toward the door and left. During this time I hadn’t noticed that Mrs. Eastly was still holding my hand. Once the doctor was gone Mrs. Eastly squeezed my hand bringing my attention back to her green eyes.

“DJ, did the doctor tell you I died?” This was very abrupt.

“Yes ma’am.” I didn’t know what she was getting at.

“I died and I went to heaven. I spoke with the Lord, and saw my husbands and my sons.” Her eyes were beginning to water. “They told me everything was going to be ok, and I’ll be going back to paradise sometime this year.” She sounded like a crazy person.

“Mrs. Eastly, I’m sure the medication is messing with your head.” She was scaring me.

“Hush now boy, listen, everything is going to be alright. You are on the right path, but you must finish school.” I was taken aback.

“Mrs Eastly, I…I..I don’t…” I struggled to get the words out.

“DJ, trust me, the timing in all of this is correct. The good Lord has a plan for you. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”

“I will finish the spring semester Mrs. Eastly. I’ll graduate.” I said, as if my promise would make her well again.

“Thank you DJ.” Mrs. Eastly sighed and slipped back to sleep. I stood next to her bed for a minute, still holding her hand. She looked peaceful as she slept. I left her side and went to go find the doctor.

I found Dr. Sanders with a couple of nurses that quickly dispersed when I approached them.

“Dr. Sanders?” I asked.

“Hmm, DJ, how’s Mrs. Eastly?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. She’s talking about heaven and meeting her dead family.”

“That is most likely due to the pain medication we gave her. She will be sore for a few weeks and will need supervision.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “You will have to watch over her as she mends.” This thought made me chuckle. Mrs. Eastly wasn’t going to be an easy ward.

“When will she be able to leave?” I asked.

“She should be ready for discharge in a day or two. Mrs. Eastly is a strong willed woman despite her age.” Again this made me chuckle. I thanked the doctor for his update and walked back to Mrs. Eastly’s room.

She was still asleep when I made my way back to her. I peaked at her chart that hung at the end of her bed. Her first name was Luteola. She was born on July 11, 1896. The life she lived made her heart attack look like a cake walk. I sat next to her wishing I had a comic book to read or the newspaper. It was the twenty-ninth of December, my birthday. I was officially eighteen years old; an adult in the United States of America.

“Ok Mrs. Eastly, the doctor said that you are on bed rest for the next four weeks and not to worry yourself about taking care of me.” I said as I pushed Mrs. Eastly in her wheelchair through my front door.

“DJ, you know as well as I those instructions will simply not do. How will I go to church? How will I keep this house clean? Who will do the shopping? You will be going back to school in a few days and then what? Will you be pushing around the halls to ensure I don’t do anything for myself?” Mrs. Eastly was irritated with her role being switched from caretaker to being taken care of.

“Yes Mrs. Eastly.” I smiled to myself. She huffed and puffed all the way back to my house with all of her concerns.

When she was discharged the doctors and nurses all seemed to take a collective exhale. Doctor Sanders asked how Mrs. Eastly was going to be taken care of, and Mrs. Eastly scoffed at him.

“Young man, I have survived two world wars with minimal resources while taking care of those with less than myself simultaneously. There is no need to make a fuss about me.”

“I will take her home with me, Doctor Sanders.” Doctor Sanders looked at me impressed. Mrs. Eastly scoffed again. Mrs. Eastly didn’t put up much of a fight after I told her she would be staying at my house full time indefinitely. This made accepting her fate easier. I understand better than anyone the fear of being in an empty house all day.

In preparation for Mrs. Eastly’s homecoming I cleaned out my father’s room. My father kept his room pristine and organized with pictures of himself during his service decorating the walls. Me and my father shared the same square jaw, straight nose and thin lips. My mother gave me her blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. I moved away from the pictures and continued scanning the room. I eventually found his stash of empty whiskey bottles under the bed. It was an immense trove of an alcoholic’s regret. I lost count after twenty-six bottles. I took his pictures down, emptied his dresser drawers, washed the bed sheets, opened the windows, and took out the trash. Slowly I made my way to the closet. There were more whiskey bottles in there. Along with the whiskey bottles, my father’s perfectly pressed suits and military uniforms hung. Everything was obsessively organized. I wondered if I was going to look like my father when I put on the uniform. I shuddered at the thought. I am not my father, I am not my father. I kept reminding myself.

It felt good knowing Mrs. Eastly would be calling that her room for as long as she needed.

“Is there anything from your house you’re going to need Mrs. Eastly?” I pushed her wheelchair into the living room. I knelt in front of her and smiled. Her hair still fell about her shoulders, but she didn’t look tired anymore.

“There is nothing in my house I can’t get myself.” Mrs. Eastly huffed. “Quit smiling like a fool. It’s close to dinner time so I will start cooking.” I put my hand on her hand and stopped her.

“Mrs. Eastly, and we know that God causes all things to work together….um to work together….um um.” I forgot the rest of Romans 8:28.

“And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” Luckily for me Mrs. Eastly did not. She cast her eyes down like a shamed child.

“I am going to take care of you whether you like it or not. You deserve to have someone look after you the way you have looked after everyone else.” I could see tears welling up in Mrs. Eastly’s eyes. “I will forever be grateful to you and everything you have done for me, I want to use this opportunity to pay it back. And before you tell me something along the lines of, Jesus didn’t heal the blind for a thank-you, firstly, you are not Jesus and secondly you deserve the biggest thank-you. This will only be for a few weeks anyway.” Mrs. Eastly looked up at me with her old eyes and smiled. She didn’t fuss after that.

Mrs. Eastly and I rang in the new year together by going to church. Mrs. Eastly’s absence had been noticed and word spread of her new living arrangements. When we walked into the church we could hear the whispers of the congregation. After the service we were bombarded by patrons wishing Mrs. Eastly well and offered their services should the need arise.

“Well, well, well Sister Luteola, the good Lord above really does play favorites doesn’t he? It’s nice to have you back in the audience.” I could recognize Preacher Jones’s sickly smooth voice anywhere. I turned and saw Preacher Jones in his crisp white robe, shiny black leather shoes, and his overgrown mutton chops. He greeted us with a toothy smile that resembled a crocodile’s mouth. I never enjoyed his sermons.

“You would know about playing favorites wouldn’t you Preacher?” Mrs. Eastly snapped back. Preacher Jones let out a loud laugh.

“Like I said, it is nice that you can join us again. Oh, DJ I heard you are following in your father’s footsteps and joining the Corp. Hopefully having Sister Luteola around so much has rubbed off on you more than your old man did.” I wanted to punch that man in his smiling face, but Mrs. Eastly stopped me. Finally Preacher Jones walked away to socialize with the rest of the congregation.

“I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” I looked at Mrs. Eastly and smiled.

“That’s quite the comeback Mrs. Eastly.”

“I want to go home now, DJ.”

“Yes ma’am.”

It was January 2, 1968. The next day I would be going back to school at the behest of Mrs. Eastly. I didn’t know who was more relieved, me or Mrs. Eastly. While at church I was able to acquire the help of the sheriff and his wife to watch Mrs. Eastly while I was at school. Mrs. Eastly was so happy I was going back to school. Despite being told to limit her mobility Mrs. Eastly piddled around in the kitchen to ensure that I had lunch to take. I didn’t get in her way. I sat in the living room listening to the radio low enough so that Mrs. Eastly couldn’t hear. The news about the war in Vietnam depicted horror stories and tragedy.

We are reporting mass casualties on both sides. The South Vietnamese Army and American forces have held fast to many small villages despite North Vietnamese intervention… Reports of Vietcong posing as villagers have caused confusion within the American ranks, and have led to Americans being ambushed, killed, and some have been confirmed as taken as prisoners.

“DJ? DJ where are you?” I switched off the radio.

“I’m in the living room!” I could hear Mrs. Eastly shuffling toward the living room.

“You’re not listening to that devil box are you?”

“No ma’am.” I lied.

“Mmmhmm come on I have something I want to show you.” I followed Mrs. Eastly to the kitchen. I was stunned when I saw there was a cake on the table with a single candle. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear DJ. Happy birthday to you.” I looked at the cake with my jaw on the floor. “Don’t be so surprised boy. You thought I was really going to let a little heart attack make me forget your birthday?” Mrs. Eastly was so proud of herself. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. Tears began rolling down my cheeks. I looked over at Mrs. Eastly and caught her smiling in the glow of the candle. I fell to my knees, grasped the hem of her dress and sobbed. I could feel Mrs. Eastly patting my head as if trying to console an injured child. After a few minutes I regained my nerve and looked up at Mrs. Eastly. She looked back down at me and nodded. “Your candle is melting all over this cake I slaved over.” I smiled.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Don’t forget to make a wish. And make it a good one.” I closed my eyes. I wish I wasn’t going to Vietnam. That was the best birthday I ever had.

Thinking back about my senior year, I have regrets. For one, I had the opportunity to graduate my junior year. The reasons I hadn’t was because my father was still alive and I wasn’t old enough to enlist. I figured school would be a safe place while my father drank himself into a coma. I didn’t have many classes. Besides extra curricular classes, I had been placed into three college courses. My favorite college course was Humanities. One day during an off period I was beckoned into the Humanities classroom.

“Hey Professor Beckin, how’s it going?” Professor Beckin was an older man. He reminded me of a sober version of my father. Both were in the military, both tall and robust. If my father had been sober throughout my life I feel like he would have the same temperament as Professor Beckin.

“I just wanted to talk to you. See how you’re doing.” He studied me behind thick rimmed glasses.

“I’m doing fine, Professor Beckin.” It wasn’t rare to have one on one conversations with Professor Beckin. With Vietnam going on, Humanities often became a debate class between those that were for the war and those who weren’t. Then I would stay behind after class and talk more about the subject.

“That's a really good thing DJ. I just wanted to ask you about your plans after graduation.”

“I’m joining the Corp sir.” He flinched. “To be honest I wasn’t planning on coming back to finish the year, but Mrs. Eastly changed my mind.”

“Oh yes I heard that Mrs. Eastly was in your care now. How is she doing?” Beckon perked up.

“Mrs. Eastly doesn’t make the easiest patient. She is recovering really well though. The sheriff’s wife is with her right now, no doubt getting strict instruction on being a better Christian woman.” We both chuckled at this.

“That’s really good to hear DJ.” There was a heavy silence. “Are you really going to enlist after graduation?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Why DJ? You have the best grades of your class, you got the highest SAT score in the state. You could go to any college in the country, and you wouldn’t have to join the military.” I took a deep breath.

“It’s just the thing to do.” That was really the best answer I could give him. He was flabbergasted.

“DJ, I went to war. I went to war with men and boys the same age as you with more patriotism in their little finger than you have in your whole body. They all enlisted because ‘it was the thing to do.’ Let me tell you something DJ, WAR is not a fad. It’s not a fashion statement. War is an ideology pushed onto those with nothing going on for them, or those that think they’re making a difference. The only difference is, the difference between life and death. There are people on both sides of this war that are dying right now as we speak.” We were both quiet. I didn’t know what to say.

“It’s the right thing to do.” I finally said. Beckin looked defeated. “I don’t want to be labeled a communist or a hippie. My father was a marine and his father was a marine, and now I will be a marine too.”

“Just think about it, DJ. Think about Mrs. Eastly and everything she has sacrificed to take care of you these last few months.” I think about Mrs. Eastly everyday.

“Just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.”

“Mathew 20:28. Looks like Mrs. Eastly is a good influence on you. Just think about it, DJ. Please? You are too smart, to be wasted on the front lines.” The first bell rang. “Do you have another free period?”

“No, I have gym class now.” I began to move out of the classroom.

“Alright, well I’ll be seeing you around.” Professor Beckin continued to watch me as I left the room.

I would end up having more conversations like that one all the way up till I got on the bus to basic. Little did I know that on the day of graduation I would be whisked off right after the ceremony. I said very quick goodbyes. I will never forget seeing Mrs. Eastly looking up at me as I got on the bus. She was so sad. I cried telling her that I was going to come back and take care of her for the rest of her life. I wanted to come back to her FOR her. Mrs. Eastly was the best mom I had ever had.