To everything there is a season,
       and a time to every purpose under the heaven…Ecclesiastes 3:1

August 1968

Once upon a time, the world made sense.

At least that’s the way Dominic Maloney remembered things. Fathers worked and your mum was always there to welcome you home after school. Do your homework before you go out to play; change your clothes; clean your plate; stop picking on your sister. At school you always tried to see who could pull one over on the nuns and you wore your good shoes and a crisply starched shirt for Sunday mass. When you graduated from high school you either went on to uni or took a job to help out at home. On Friday and Saturday evenings you got pissed with your mates and did your best to get laid, or you lied about it afterwards and told them all that you did anyway. It wasn’t glamorous or exciting, but life had a certain rhythm and you knew what was expected of you, even if you didn’t have a clue about what you wanted to do with your life. After all, you had plenty of time to figure it all out.

Then came Vietnam.

When the notification came announcing that Dominic would be among the first of his mates selected for National Service, his mother and sister cried while his father withdrew inside himself with despair. Ken Maloney had served proudly during World War II, but would never have wished the experience of war upon one of his children. The knowledge over what awaited his eldest son caused him to age almost ten years overnight.

Dom however, was philosophical; almost convincing himself that he wasn’t afraid to go, explaining to anyone who asked that he welcomed the opportunity to see some of the world. He’d never been anywhere beyond Brisbane, never did anything adventurous or heroic and would probably otherwise spend the rest of his days in the same old town in which he was born and raised. All he knew about life and living was encapsulated within the circle of his family, his mates and the church. Any chance to get away, no matter where the destination, was almost a welcomed intervention.

But underneath his veneer of casual acceptance, Dominic Maloney had been terrified. What young man in his position wouldn’t have been? He didn’t know the first thing about war or being a soldier other than the fact that the main purpose was killing others. Vietnam was a battle that few really understood but one thing was very clear: one ran a very good chance of getting killed. He couldn’t discuss his fears with anyone; a man kept his own counsel and carried on despite the weight upon his heart and conscience. Drinking with his mates in the long evenings leading up to his departure had helped numb most of his deepest fears, but it did little to solve one very real dilemma. At nineteen, Dominic was still a virgin.

He hadn’t been as familiar with the sheilas as his best mate Kevin had been. It wasn’t that Dominic wasn’t considered attractive or interesting by the opposite sex; he’d always known the girls favored him. From his sister Brigid’s girlfriends, who’d come to the house to do homework only to find excuses to pester him when they were younger, to the way the girls who normally sat in the back of church during mass fought for the coveted spot up front during holy day services when he accompanied the choir on his guitar. He found it a bit embarrassing, although Kevin had always complained that Dom should take advantage of all this female attention. Being just a little less sincere and charming in his own right, he never quite understood how his friend could just stand there and do nothing when he could have had the best ones just for the asking.

But that had never been Dom’s way. The girls had thought him sweet and easy going, always polite and never crude in their presence. He must have the heart of a poet, they reasoned, good natured and handsome, soft spoken. And it was a classmate of Bridgid’s by the name of Rosemary Fitzgerald who decided that if Mick Jagger was out of her reach then Dominic Maloney was the next best thing.

“Looks like your sister’s mates are good for somethin’ after all,” Kevin said with a nudge as he caught up with his friend one morning. They’d been working at the same garage since graduating high school, each opting out of attending uni although for very different reasons. Dom took it upon himself to help his family out financially while Kevin never cared much for academics, only fast cars, getting drunk and getting laid. “Had a bit of a tumble with her friend Rosemary yesterday. I keep tellin’ ya, gotta use it or lose it before it shrivels up and falls off from neglect.”

Dominic had tried not to react but couldn’t help but feel a bit of disappointment. He’d met Rosemary the evening of the Valentine’s Day dance at Santos Spiritu a few weeks earlier when he showed up as promised to bring Brigid home afterwards. He’d been anxious to catch up with his mates for their usual night of drinking followed by an impromptu jam session and had no intentions of sticking around, but caught himself exchanging pleasantries with one of the sisters as he entered the gymnasium. Brigid came running over as soon as she spotted him from the other side of the room, rolling her eyes gratefully at the chance for escape.

“Thank God! Let’s go!” She spun her brother around and they were almost out the door when one of her friends came scampering after them.

“Bridge, you don’t want to go yet?”

Brigid turned around and gave the girl a look that suggested she was daft. “Are you kidding? This is murder.”

The girl was undeterred. She smiled and focused her attention on Dom. “Hi, how’s it going?”

Dominic took a quick glance around and smiled back. “Not bad.” Actually, he remembered the many times he had been forced to endure similar functions from his own high school days and they were usually anything but entertaining. It certainly appeared as if nothing had changed.

“I’ve seen you at mass a few times, playing guitar.”

There it was. He’d vaguely recalled seeing her sitting up front during mass with the other girls, but he couldn’t be certain. He suddenly felt very warm and pulled out a cigarette, the one sure way he knew to keep his hands busy and look perfectly normal whenever he found himself at a loss for words around a sheila.

“My name’s Rosemary. They’re about to play the last song.” She looked at him expectantly.

Dominic felt a panic coming on and shook his head. “Don’t look at me, I’m not a dancer.”

Before he could protest any further Rosemary reached out and grabbed his hand and pulled him off into the center of the gymnasium. He glanced back helplessly at Brigid but the band began to play and Rosemary had taken his other hand.

“Come on, it’s easy.”

He hated to admit it, but it was kind of fun. True, he was a terrible dancer, but Rosemary looked him in the eye and smiled as she took the lead. He tried to move his body in a way that suggested dancing, although Rosemary didn’t seem to mind. She appeared to be rather enjoying herself and just as he began to get the hang of the rhythm Brigid broke in.

“Come on, let’s go!” Grabbing him by the hand Dominic had no choice but to follow. It was just as well. His mates would be wondering where he was before too long and he might miss out on all the drinking.

“I hate these stupid parties.” Brigid was walking so fast that Dom had to scramble to keep up with her as they made their way across the darkened church parking lot. “You spend all your time on your hair and dress and for what? A bunch of pimply faced boys with sweaty hands and your friends turn all giddy over your brother.”

“Was it really so terrible?” His sister had been getting more and more moody of late, but he was going to try and tease her out of her blue funk. “I thought that bloke dancing with you was downright bonzer.”

“Great, then you can dance with him next time.”

After dropping Brigid off at home and meeting up with his friends, he thought no more about Rosemary until a couple of days later. She showed up at the diner with Brigid and after that evening she’d often show up at the garage to visit with him for a bit before heading back to school before she was missed. When word got out that his number had come up for National Service, she urged him to claim that he had any variety of physical maladies that might prevent him from being accepted, but Dominic only chuckled. It wasn’t as if he had any choice in the matter.

Dominic thought back to his conversations with Rosemary as Kevin regaled him with details. He’d known for some time that she’d been hot for him, but he never acted on it. Until recently, he didn’t feel as if he was on some sort of timetable to accomplish the deed, but things had changed. It wasn’t enough that he was being required to go off and fight in a war that he didn’t really understand; but to leave still a virgin … and again, there was the very real, unspeakable fear; if he didn’t take advantage of a situation that was about to land in his lap, he could very well die a virgin as well, which would be even worse.

He made up his mind. When his parents gave him a going away party the night before he shipped out, Rosemary accepted his personal invitation. When the evening began to lull he borrowed the keys to Kevin’s car and asked her if she’d like to go for a drive. Her eyes brightened at his offer and when he came back home a little more than an hour later, his mates all looked at him expectantly, eager to hear every lurid detail. He simply nodded his head and refused to say anything more. There was no point. The deed was done.

He never saw Rosemary again.

w

He was one of the lucky ones. His tour of duty was completed and he was coming home.

He’d been on the bus for a little over two hours but it felt like an eternity. The air inside was stale and smelled like boiled cabbage. Across the aisle a heavyset older woman had fallen asleep and the sound of her snoring rivaled the roar of the bus’ transmission each time the driver shifted gears. He was unable to change seats as all the others were taken so he stared out the window and tried to concentrate on something else. The weather outside was unseasonably cool and a light rain had begun to fall, coating the world outside with a cold gray parlor. He found it somewhat ironic that he would come home to weather that reminded him of the monsoon season in Vietnam.

Closing his eyes he tried to block the images that played across his mind. He was barely twenty-two, but he felt as if he were much older. He’d seen far too many things over the past two years, things that had a way of aging a man far before his time. He knew he had been fortunate to come home in one piece, or even come home at all. But the fetid scent of cabbage gave way to the memory of the stench of gunfire undiluted by the falling rain. The sound of screaming somewhere off towards his left, the staccato burst of rounds being fired, his heart pounding wildly in anticipation of what was to come next …

The bus jolted to a stop and Dom was started awake by the sound of brakes screeching in a perfectly pitched note of high C. He must have dozed off. Shaking his head to throw off the images from his dream he glanced again out the window and realized that they’d pulled into the bus depot just behind Jim Patterson’s petrol station; he was home.

Apparently, so were several other passengers. They all rose at once; the overweight snorer wobbled out of her seat, teetering back and forth as she reached up to grab a large grease stained brown bag from the overhead rack, Dom realized just then that this was the source of the boiled cabbage smell and he shuddered at the thought of what might be inside. He waited politely as she took what seemed like longer than necessary to put on her sweater and scarf, watching with a sort of odd fascination as she shuffled down towards the front of the bus mumbling to herself.

When she’d finally cleared the center aisle, he grabbed his carry sack and jacket, glancing expectantly out the windows as he worked his way forward, anxious to see if he could spot any of his family waiting to greet him. The rain had stopped but great puddles dotted the parking lot, reflecting the red glint of the bus’ red tail lights. He tried to look for his parent’s car as he waited for the porters to unload everyone’s baggage, standing back from the crush of travelers who jutted forward to have first grab.

That blue one’s mine…here, careful with that…where’s my overnighter? The voices all sounded tired and anxious but the blokes unloading the compartment treated each bundle and piece of baggage with equal careless disinterest. Just as he recognized his battered duffle he heard a familiar voice calling out his name.

“Dom! Oh my God, Dom!”

Turning around he smiled in relief when he caught sight of his sister.

“Look at you! I’d hardly recognize you! You’ve gained weight.” Brigid threw her arms around his neck and gave him a crushing hug. When Dominic left he had been almost rangy in his thinness but he had filled out in the two years since he’d been away. His shoulders were broader and he looked, well, like a grown man.

Dominic hugged her hard and then held her at arm’s length. “Look at me, look at you. You cut your hair.”

Brigid’s hair had been her one vanity as a child, thick and long and she’d often swear that she’d never wear it any other way. But here she was with a smart style that just grazed her shoulders. “You’ve grown up.”

“Of course I have. And I’ve been working with Frances at the Herald. You remember Frances, we went to school together? Her mother was divorced and remarried …”

Dom vaguely recalled an attractive blond who was slow to smile. “So, you’re both making the rounds as intrepid girl reporters, I take it? I always knew you’d end up doing something exciting.”

“Oh, if you only knew. I’ll have to let you see my scrapbook. Mum’s been keeping track of every article and byline.”

“How is mum?”

An awkward silence passed between them and Dominic felt his heart drop as Brigid’s expression became serious.

“Try not to be shocked when you see her. Come on, let’s get your bags and get out of here.”

The ominous tone of her warning disturbed him, but he didn’t press for details as he grabbed his duffle and trotted after her. He was surprised when he saw her pull out her keys and unlock the door of a dark blue newer model Chrysler. Seeing the surprise in his eyes she shrugged her shoulder and smiled.

“I borrowed it from a friend.”

When she didn’t elaborate, he felt he had a pretty good idea that the friend was most likely male.

“Pretty trusting boyfriend to let you use his car. It’s a beaut.”

He tossed his duffle in the back and slid into the front seat beside her. “Are things serious between you two?”

Brigid laughed and started the ignition. The car’s engine purred like a kitten. “Hardly. He’s the assistant editor at the paper and we had a bet. I won.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Hardly. His name is Richard Pennington and he’s arrogant, smug, a complete know-it-all and thinks he’s the best thing to hit the office since electric typewriters.”

Dominic knew better. “And you like him?”

She couldn’t fool her older brother. “A little.” She gave him a sideways glance and grinned.

As they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, Dominic reflected on how self assured his sister seemed. She’d always been the more intelligent one, throwing herself into her studies and pulling the highest grades. He remembered when she had written him about her decision to become a nun and how relieved he had been when she had changed her mind.

“Bridge, what you were saying about mum …”

“She’s okay. It’s just that, well, she’s had a rough go of things since you left.”

“Brendan carrying his weight?” Brendan was their younger brother who would turn seventeen in a few months. Dom hoped he was stepping up and taking car of things as was expected from the next oldest son.

“Bren’s fine. He’s pulling good grades and he helps keep the little ones in line. It’s just that that, well, mum had another … miscarriage last month …”

She spoke the last words quickly; not really comfortable discussing such a personal matter with her brother, but there was little point in sugar coating the subject. She and Dom had silently carried the knowledge of their mother’s miscarriages, never daring to discuss the matter between themselves or with anyone else. It was one of those subjects one never discussed with anyone, but Dom felt the stirrings of anger as he considered a few choice words for his father at the first opportunity.

Sensing his agitation, Brigid tried to lighten the mood by switching on the car radio. The voice of Dionne Warrick singing I Say a Little Prayer came through the speakers and she turned up the volume. “She’ll be better when she sees you safe and sound. It’s just been hard on her, worrying so about you. Don’t make any snap judgments about anything until you’ve seen everyone. You won’t recognize the girls … well, maybe you will. They’re still into everything, but Kerry’s decided that she wants to be a fashion designer when she grows up. Mum nearly fainted when she saw what she did to her bed linens.” She laughed at the memory.

“Kevin hasn’t changed much. He comes around every so often to see how the folks are doing, but he’s still working at the garage and still getting pissed every Friday and Saturday. I think he was engaged to a girl he met at a concert last year …” she snapped her fingers as she tried to remember the girl’s name. “…Rhonda I think ... yeah, Rhonda was her name. She seemed nice, but a bit too high-society if you ask me. Something happened and she stopped coming around. I think she got tired of his drinking.”

Brigid caught him up with all the local gossip and when she pulled the car up in front of their parent’s house there was hand painted sign on the front door.

Welcome Home Dominic!

“That was Moya’s idea,” Brigid explained as she caught sight of her brother’s smile. “I hope you weren’t expecting a quiet night at home, ‘cuz mum and dad invited a few folks over to help celebrate.”

To Dominic’s eyes, the neighborhood hadn’t changed much. His parent’s house needed painting and the garden looked sparse, but when he caught sight of the clothesline tethered out back pinned with what looked like fresh laundry he had a fleeting sensation of never having gone away.

As they walked in through the front door Brigid turned to Dominic and gave him a serious look. “Remember, hold back on your judgment of things until you’ve been home a couple of days.”

He wondered just how bad things had gotten in his absence but at that moment Mary Maloney came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron at the sound of Brigid’s voice. She got just a few steps into the hallway and stopped short at the sight of her eldest son.

“Oh Dom.”

Two long strides and Dominic swept her up in his arms, shocked to see how his mother had aged during his absence, but so blessedly happy to be back home. His mother was crying and Dom fought back his own tears.

“My sweet boy, you’re finally home!”

Brigid smiled and scooted around them to check on the girls and Brendan.  

“I made your favorite for dinner,” Mary told him, looking up into his eyes as he sat her down again. She felt such an overwhelming sense of joy in seeing her son safe and back home where he belonged. “I was afraid that you weren’t eating properly, but you’ve put on weight.” It wasn’t an accusation as much as an observation over how much her son had changed. Still handsome as ever, she realized that her firstborn child was now a full grown man.

“Mum, is everything okay? Brigid said that …”

He didn’t get the chance to finish because right at that moment his little sisters Kerry and Moya came chasing after each other a few steps ahead of Brigid.

“Dominic’s home! Dominic’s home!” Both girls threw their arms around his waist and squealed in that high pitched way that little girls are wont to do.

“Hey, who are these two lovely sheilas? I thought you said Moya and Kerry were home?” He winked at his mother who smiled at the sight of her children all together once again. The only one missing was Brendan and he’d be home before too long.

“Come on you two; you’ll have plenty of time to visit with your brother later. Give the man some air.”

Both girls cried out in protest as Brigid pulled them away.

“You can talk to him a little later but your brother’s tired from his long trip.” She looked over her shoulder at her mother and Dom before following after the girls. “Good luck trying to get any rest tonight.”

It didn’t take long for Dominic to understand what she’d been hinting at. A couple of hours later the house was full of friends and neighbors stopping over to welcome him home.

“Oh Mary, you must be so proud of him!”

“Hey, did you bring back any souvenirs? I had a mate who brought home a grenade. His mother nearly had a heart attack when she dumped out his duffle bag to do his laundry and it came rolling out at her feet …”

“Bet yer looking forward to eating your mum’s home cooking again, eh?”

“Think you’ll be going back to work at the garage now that you’re home? The manager said they’d be glad to have you back if you were interested. My car hasn’t been running the same since you shipped out …”

The questions and comments came at him all evening and by nine he was desperate for escape.

“Hey, Dom, a bunch of us have our own little party planned for you over at Jim Sutter’s place.” This came from his mate Kevin who had edged up beside him just after Mrs. Singleton suggested to Dom that he come by sometime later that week and say hello to her daughter who was home visiting from uni. “Don’t fall for it. Martha Singleton is even fatter now than she was before you left. Her mother still thinks her baby is going to be the next Miss Australia.”

Dominic had wanted to find some time alone with his father, but there had been no chance. Guests had started arriving as soon as the older Maloney had come home from work and he hadn’t had a moment alone since.

Kevin persisted. “Come on. Remember Stephanie O’Hara? She always did have a thing for you and she asked me to be sure to mention that she’d be there.”

Dominic certainly remembered Stephanie. She was the kind of girl that all the guys remembered, and with good reason. Well, there was nothing wrong with him having his own little welcome home party, was there?

He nodded and turned to head out towards the back door before anyone would notice that he had slipped out. He’d catch up with his father tomorrow.

Tonight he was getting laid.