I.
Early spring was starting to blossom in Westport. "Little" Ricky had turned 18 a few months prior, and with his birthday came fears that he would be drafted to Vietnam when he graduated in June.
It was a worry of every young man and his family as the war heightened with no end in sight.
It was early afternoon, warm and sunny in May, and Lucy walked into the dining room with a vase of tulips for the table. She looked over into the living room at Ricky, who sat quietly on the couch, watching the news. He did this multiple times every day since retiring from his full-time performances at Club Babalu. Now, he managed it and hired other talent to perform…and he watched the news.
Lucy pondered that the only other time he'd been so engrossed with current events was when the Cuban government had been overthrown. When that happened, Ricky knew he'd never see Cuba again. He had been saddened by that, but Lucy saw him worse now. He didn't say it, ever, but she knew he was grappling with the thought of losing his only child to a place from which many young men were returning in coffins…or not at all.
For her part, Lucy tried not to think about it. She hated watching it all unfold and she was in a state of dread to see if her son's birth date was pulled in the national lottery, which determined who would be drafted next.
Lucy arranged the tulips on the table before taking a seat beside her husband. "Ricky, why don't you sit outside for a while? It's a beautiful day. And Ricky will be home soon."
Ricky looked at her warmly. "Alright, honey, I will. Are you comin'?" He stood up and switched off the TV amidst news footage of young men jumping off helicopters in Vietnam.
Lucy nodded. Ricky took her hand and they walked out to the patio.
II.
"Rick, we did the right thing…right?" Bruce Ramsey walked into the house with Rick. No one was around, but the back door was open. They must be outside.
"I don't know if it's the right thing, but I don't see that we had much choice." Rick dropped his school bag on the floor near the staircase and put his hands in his pockets.
Bruce sighed. "I guess I better get home." He looked at Rick. "You drummin' with the guys tonight?"
Ricky shook his head. "No, I don't think so. My folks are gonna take this rough."
Bruce nodded and headed back out the door. "I'll call ya later…if I can."
Rick nodded and watched the door close behind him. He heard his parents' voices out in the yard, took a breath and headed outside.
III.
Rick stepped out onto the patio. Ricky and Lucy were sitting together on a swing bench, his arm around her.
"Hi." Rick kissed his mother's cheek. His parents smiled and Lucy stood up. "Are you hungry, dear? I'll fix you something…"
Rick touched her arm. "No, mom, I'm ok. Um…I need to talk to you guys about something."
Ricky and Lucy exchanged concerned looks as Lucy sat down again. Ricky motioned to a chair beside them. "What is it, son?"
Rick sat down and rested his elbows on his knees, looking at the ground as he started. "You know Mike Patterson from school. He has an uncle who works for the army recruitment office…"
Lucy and Ricky stared at him silently, but Rick couldn't look at them or he'd lose his nerve. "Well, Bruce and I went to see him last week. He said because we're Mike's friends, he could help us with something and today we found out it's set."
Ricky leaned forward. "Well?" Sometimes, Rick didn't get to the point when he had bad news, an infuriating trait he shared with his mother.
Rick raised his head and looked at his father painfully. "Well, we enlisted in the army reserve. I don't think we'll be sent to the same place, but I'll get my orders to report to basic training soon…and I won't have to leave until after June 5, so I can walk at graduation."
Ricky was silent, in shock, but Lucy immediately burst into tears. "But why?"
Rick ran a hand nervously through his hair. "Mom, it's only a matter of time before I'm drafted, you know that. And when that happens, I'll definitely be sent over there. This way, I go through training, and I stay in the US! I may never have to go..unless they call up for reserve troops. But that probably won't happen! NOBODY is able to get into the reserve right now, so when we saw the opportunity, we grabbed it!"
Lucy sobbed, unable to process his reasoning in that moment. "No, not you, it's too dangerous…not my baby…"
His mother's crying was getting to him at his core and Rick stood indignantly, trying not to express his pain at seeing her this way. "Oh, mother, I'm not a baby anymore. I'm old enough to be sent to war, so I'm old enough to make decisions for myself!"
Rick's tone jolted Ricky out of his shock. He stood up slowly. "Que no tomar ese tono con su madre. No eres demasiado viejo para mi que le impida su falta de respeto!"
Rick softened and looked down at his mother, still crying softly. "You're right, Dad, I'm sorry." He knelt down, resting his hands on Lucy's lap. "I'm sorry, mom. I didn't do this to hurt you. It'll be hard for a while, but it's the only way I have a chance to stay safe…and alive. The only honest way, anyway…"
Ricky sat down again. "Lucy…he's right…" He glared at Rick. "I'm angry that he didn't come to us sooner…but he's right."
Rick stood up slowly. "I guess I'll go in for a while. I have some homework to do." Ricky remained silent as Rick walked back to the house. He held Lucy as she continued to cry softly, whispering to her that everything would be alright; that her baby would be alright.
IV.
On June 7, Rick headed out to the recruitment office. A few days after giving his parents the news, he received his orders to report to Tweed Airport on June 8. He and Bruce would leave on the same day, but he was destined for Missouri while Bruce would travel to Kentucky.
At the office, Rick was given a uniform for travel and an army issue duffel bag, the only luggage he was allowed. They sat him in a barber chair and he watched in the mirror as an army barber took a pair of clippers to his thick raven hair.
He left the office, going home for one last night before his 9am flight. He would be in Missouri for three months.
The last few weeks had been tense at home. Lucy was nervous and sad, but she took every opportunity to kiss Rick and stroke his hair and keep him fed.
More painful was the fact that Ricky had been distant and angry, barely speaking to Rick. Logically, he agreed with Rick's decision, but he was also nervous and afraid; trying to maintain strength for Lucy, but unable to find an outlet for his fear.
The family shared one happy day when Rick graduated, with Ricky and Lucy giving him a small party which, without explicit mention, also served as a farewell gathering.
Now, Rick walked up to his home, the duffel bag and uniform under his arm. When he entered, he identified the aroma of chicken baking with rice, a favorite meal of both he and his father.
Rick went to the kitchen to see Lucy cooking. She stopped cold when she saw his shaved hair. Rick touched his head. "Yeah…short, huh?"
Lucy approached him and touched his hair. She felt as though twenty daggers were piercing her heart. Rick looked away from her. "Mom…I don't want dad to hate me. It isn't the last thing I want him to feel when I leave…." Rick's voice cracked and he cleared his throat.
Lucy placed her hand on his cheek. "Ricky, darling, your father could never hate you. He loves you so much. But he's afraid for you. We both are. Go talk to him. He's on the patio with his guitar."
Rick kissed his mother and headed outside, the duffel back still under his arm. He saw his father and paused a moment. The strain of the last few weeks was evident in his face and his dark hair was peppered with gray strands.
Rick approached and sat across from Ricky, who widened his eyes when he saw the extreme haircut. He took the duffel bag from Rick silently and looked it over.
Rick chuckled. "No room for my drums. Will you take care of them 'til I get back?" Ricky looked at his son and fought off tears. "Yes, son…"
"Dad…before I go tomorrow…are you still angry with me? I need to know you don't hate me for this…" Rick looked at the ground.
Ricky grabbed Rick's wrist. "Of course I dun't hate you!" He stood and walked over to a bush, sprinkled with closed buds. "Enrique, tu es mi orgullo y alegria. Que me mataria si te ocurriera algo."
Rick was startled at Ricky's use of his proper name, an occurrence he never remembered happening before. But his father's words relieved him. He picked up a small bongo drum from the patio floor and smiled as he played it softly.
Ricky turned around and grinned. He grabbed his guitar and strummed it to Rick's rhythm. They played together.
From the kitchen window, Lucy watched them together tearfully. She quietly put dinner on the table.
V.
Very early the next morning, Rick enjoyed the large breakfast that Lucy prepared. Everyone rose from the table at the sound of a car horn outside. Rick grabbed his bag and he and his parents walked outside. An army vehicle was there to take Rick to the airport.
A man in army fatigues stepped out of the vehicle and grabbed Rick's bag. Rick faced him. "Can I have a minute?" The man glanced at Ricky and Lucy. "Not long."
Rick turned to his mother, whose face was already streaked with tears. She embraced him tightly. "Now, you be careful and make sure you eat properly and…" Lucy's voice cracked.
"Don't worry, I'll be ok. I'll write to you all the time, I promise." He kissed her cheek and let her go slowly. "I love you, mommy," he whispered. Lucy's heart swelled to hear him call her "mommy."
"I love you, too, my Little Ricky."
Rick turned to his father as the army man waited somewhat impatiently. Ricky hugged him. "Mi hijo, I'm proud of you and I love you. Come home safe to us."
"I love you, dad. I will."
Ricky and Lucy watched as Rick climbed into the vehicle. He waved as it pulled away.
Lucy crumbled into Ricky's arms, crying. Ricky kissed her gently. "Lucy, darlin', he's gonna be fine. C'mon, honey, let's go inside."
VI.
The open, arid fields of the Missouri army base were sweltering under the summer sun. A month and a half had passed since Rick arrived, and training was grueling.
The days started before sunrise with drills in the field. Then, breakfast. As with most meals at the base, Rick had learned to choke it down because he needed his strength. But it was mass-produced and comprised of cheap, boxed ingredients. He was convinced that the only steps taken were to add water and heat.
The remainder of the day was filled with things like practicing at the shooting range, crawling under barbed wire, survival in the woods and more running in the sun with heavy equipment.
The evenings after dinner were usually clear for rest and free time. Rick wrote to his parents often, but played down the harshness of training and the mean-spirited drill sergeants to prevent them from further worry. He preferred to talk about the new friends he'd made and the cooler nights filled with stars.
He talked about how one day, he'd found a guitar in a closet normally reserved for weaponry. He had sneaked it back to his bunker, and the boys he roomed with would listen to him play and sing.
His mother and father usually wrote to him separately. Lucy would write about things happening at home and in the neighborhood, and of course she would tell him how much she missed him and loved him and worried about him. Ricky wrote about things happening at the club. He talked about how glad he was that Rick was able to play and sing there. And he always made sure to tell him how proud he was.
One day, Rick received a package from home. It was sitting on his bunk when the day's drills were through. As the boys collapsed on their beds, Rick sat and opened it slowly.
Inside, he found a small bag of his mother's chocolate chip cookies, which brought him a broad smile. He found some pictures of his parents and his home. He ran his fingers over some sheet music, written for a guitar in Ricky's hand. Clipped to the music was a note, also written by Ricky:
Mi Enrique,
Tu madre y yo hicimos este paquete porque nos extranamos mucho. Escribi una cancion para que tu juegue. Y quiero que sepas que te quiero mucho y me hace sentir muy orgulloso. Tu es la parte mas maravillosa de tu madre y yo.
-Tu papa
Rick smiled at the note. All his life, his father spoke to him in Spanish as often as possible, and he taught him to read and write in Spanish, as well. It was very important to Ricky that his son knew his Cuban half. And he had taught him how to play the drums and the guitar, and read and write music with the same vigor.
Rick shoved a cookie in his mouth, savoring the taste of something homemade. He pulled the guitar from behind his bunk and played softly, reading the notes his father had written. The boys all grew silent, listening and drifting to sleep to the melody. Rick could almost see his father laboring over it. The song was sad sounding, full of longing. Rick could tell that it conveyed the mood at home. He played it with the same feeling of sad longing to BE home.
VII.
It was September 13, according to the calendar. But Connecticut still felt like August, with bright sun and humid heat. Lucy was tending to some of the last tulips in her garden. Ricky was in the house, watching the news, as was customary for the time of day. They hadn't had a letter from Rick in almost two weeks, and they waited with anticipation to hear about when he would be home.
The last three months had been hard, but Lucy's and Ricky's comfort was in each other. She felt safe in his arms, believing him when he assured her that all would be ok. And at a time when he felt all was out of his control, he felt some peace that she was the one thing he could protect.
Lucy paused when she thought she heard the gate to the yard disturbed softly, but she dismissed it as being the Ramseys' cat crawling under it, as he was known to do. She continued gathering tulips in her basket until she became aware of a shadow being cast from behind her.
She smiled to herself, assuming it was her husband. "Honey, dinner is almost ready. I just wanted the last of these tulips…"
"I guess I should get cleaned up, then."
Lucy was startled, missing the familiar accent she was expecting to hear in response. She turned around slowly and looked up at the tall, handsome, dark haired man, dressed in fatigue pants and green t-shirt. He had a bag in one hand, a guitar slung across his back. He was slender with well-defined, strong arms and shoulders. He had matured beyond his 18 years.
Lucy was stunned into silence, kneeling on the grass, and hand over her mouth. Rick knelt down in front of her. "Surprise," he said quietly with a smile. She suddenly threw her arms around his neck in tears. "My baby…my baby…"
Rick hugged her and smiled. "I'm ok, mom…I'm ok!" She let him go and held his face in her hands. "Your father is going to be so happy to see you, my darling." She whispered, pointing into the house.
They stood up together, and Rick held Lucy's hand as they walked into the living room. The TV was on, but Ricky had fallen asleep, his legs crossed on the sofa.
Lucy stood tearfully nearby as Rick sat at the edge of the sofa. He shook Ricky's arm gently. "Dinner's almost ready, dad."
Ricky rubbed his eyes. "Oh, Lucy. I am missin' Ricky…I thought I heard him." Rick smiled as Lucy walked closer. "You did, honey…"
Ricky opened his eyes at once and sat straight up. For a flash of a second, he felt he was looking in a mirror. "Ricky! Ricky, mi hijo, my son!" They embraced as Lucy sat beside them. She stroked Rick's hair. "Ricky, darling, all your clothes are clean and in your closet. Why don't you take a hot shower, change your clothes and get ready for dinner?"
"Thanks, mom, that's great!" Rick smiled happily and bounded up the stairs.
Alone for the moment, Ricky pulled Lucy into his arms. He kissed her and stroked her hair as she nestled against his shoulder. "Our baby is home, Lucy, honey. Our son is home…"