Mrs. Lieutenant: A Sharon Gold Novel by Phyllis Zimbler Miller

heads.
    "We'll teach you."
    **
    The next day Sharon drives the couple of
blocks to Kim and Jim's apartment, which is actually just behind
her own complex and could be reached on foot across an open field.
Large trees circle the small parking lot facing a single two-story
apartment building.
    Kim opens the door of her first-floor
apartment. "Come on in," she says.
    Sharon smiles at her, then shrieks. The white
furry creature in Kim's hand jumps down and runs towards the back
of the apartment.
    Kim laughs, her short blond curls swirling
around her face. "I didn't mean to scare you. That's just my pet
white rat – Squeaky."
    "A rat?" Sharon's eyes dart to the floor,
checking for stray vermin.
    "He's harmless. He was bred for laboratory
tests and I rescued him. He keeps me company."
    Kim motions for Sharon to sit down while she
searches for Squeaky. When Kim brings him back, cradled in her hand
again, Sharon asks, "Do you think you could put him in his cage –
he does have a cage, doesn't he? – for now? I'm sort of afraid of
animals."
    Kim laughs again. "That means you don't want
to pet him?"
    "No, thanks."
    While Kim puts Squeaky in the bedroom, Sharon
looks around the front part of the apartment. This furnished
apartment is basically no different than hers, and there aren't any
personal signs of the individuals living here, just as there aren't
in her apartment, except for some miniature figures set up on the
floor near the coffee table. Metal soldiers in blue uniforms and
other metal soldiers in grey uniforms face each other, cannons and
horses lined up on both sides. Is it a reenactment of a Civil War
battle?
    Kim returns without Squeaky. "Would you like
some Coca-Cola? It could be 7-up or Coke."
    "I'd like a Coke. It certainly is hot
out."
    Kim brings out two Cokes and hands Sharon
one.
    Now what? Sharon thinks. What can they talk
about?
    Family. People always like to talk about
their family.
    "Did your parents object to your coming here
with Jim?" Sharon asks.
    A blush rises up Kim's neck."I don't have any
parents. I'm an orphan."
    Yikes! Sharon has put her foot in her mouth
already. When will she learn not to ask personal questions? "I'm
sorry," she says.
    "It was a long time ago. My sister and I were
raised in foster homes, and the church was kind of our family.
That's why I sang in the choir."
    Oh, yes, Kim met Jim when she was singing in
the choir. "You must have a beautiful voice."
    Kim smiles. "It's passable. I was never a
soloist."
    Unsure of what else to talk about, Sharon
asks, "Are you ready to go to the PX now? Do you have your ID?"
    Kim nods, then says, "Something happened a
couple of days ago. I'm not very comfortable going places
here."
    "What happened?"
    Kim looks out the window, then back at
Sharon. "I ... I went to that little store up the road to get some
things. And ... and a soldier shot the clerk dead right in front of
me."
    A shiver runs up Sharon’s spine. "How did it
happen?"
    Kim averts her face. "It just did."
    Sharon hesitates to take Kim's hands to show
sympathy – it may be too forward. Instead she says, "That's
terrible! Yet it's obviously a freak thing – it's not going to
happen again. We'll be okay at the PX."
    Then she lightly touches Kim's hands.
    Kim looks up, her eyes bright, and lets out
her breath. "I'll go with you."
    Now Kim walks towards the bedroom and comes
back with her purse. "Are we dressed okay?"
    Sharon nods. They both wear skirts and
blouses, although Sharon's skirt ends considerably higher above her
knees than Kim's. Certainly this is a long way from the required
"to-the-knee or below" skirts of junior high, where the principal
made Sharon kneel down in the library to prove her skirt touched
the floor. Sharon wonders whether Kim's skirt length is
modesty-inspired or just out-of-fashion.
    They get into the Fiat. "Do you mind the top
down?” Sharon says. “It's somewhat cooler."
    Kim shakes her head, and Sharon backs the car
out of the space.
    "Your apartment is