Chapter Thirty-Four
The next day, Kermit and Miss Piggy stood in front of the door to apartment number 613 of one of the less-expensive buildings in New York City. "Well," Kermit said. "I guess this is the place." He knocked on the door.
"Kermie?" Miss Piggy said quietly.
"Hm?"
"Would you mind too terribly if moi went shopping while you and Bob... um, catch up?"
He turned to marvel at her. "That would be fine," he smiled.
The door opened. "Frog! Good to see you!"
"Hey Geraldson!"
The two former Marines pulled into a brief but warm hug before Bob turned his smiling face to the pig. "Miss Piggy..." He shook her hand.
"Hello Bob," she smiled at him.
"Come on in, come on in!" Bob warmly ushered them into the apartment. "Glad you could stop by! MOM!" he called out, and he led them into the kitchen. "Mom, this is Pfc. Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy. I've mentioned them..."
A curly-haired woman in a pink floral apron pulled a tray of something hot out of the oven and straightened up with a smile. "Oh, hello!" she said. "You're the one who saved Bobby's life?"
She was getting to be an older woman, with strands of gray hair sprinkled through mostly dark curls. Her face was weathered, for she had been through a great deal in her life, yet she was bright and chipper. Whatever pain had filled her once had now been wiped away.
Kermit squirmed modestly. "Well, I, uh-"
"That's him!" Bob said.
Ms. Geraldson pulled her hand out of an oven mitt and reached across a small counter to shake Kermit's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. the Frog," she said, "And I can't thank you enough."
Kermit shook his hand. "I- I was just doing what anyone would've done, Ma'am," he said quietly.
She waved it off. "That's what they
teach you to say. Go on and be proud of yourself!" She turned her attention to the hot thing she had pulled out of the oven, which happened to be a small pie. "And you, Miss Piggy!" she said. "I understand you're the lucky lady who gets to hang on this frog's arm!"
"Mm-hm," Miss Piggy said.
Ms. Geraldson turned and raised her eyebrows at her. She nodded towards Kermit. "You gotta give him lessons on how to be proud of himself, because you've got it down pat," she said.
Miss Piggy smiled. "Years of practice," she said simply.
"I should imagine so," Ms. Geraldson said. "You're about what I wanted to grow up to be when I was about..." She licked her fingers and held her hand at her hip's height. "Yay high? Then this thing came into the picture, maybe you've heard of it, it's called money..." She turned the sink on and scrubbed at her hands. "So yeah, I'd say you got a lot to be proud of."
Kermit and Bob had shifted towards the kitchen table and were pouring over the newspaper- everything but the front page- and mumbling to each other about what was there, paying very little mind to the women.
Ms. Geraldson turned the faucet off and glanced at her son. "That, and you know where your sweetie is," she muttered. She dried her hands and gestured for Miss Piggy to stand beside her at the counter. "I worry about my Bobby sometimes," she murmured in a business type of fashion. "When your Frog came home, was he real quiet-like?"
Miss Piggy looked over her shoulder at Kermit. She turned and watched Ms. Geraldson's hands cut the pie into perfect slices. "He wasn't himself for a long time," she said quietly. "Sometimes he still isn't." She wasn't sure why she trusted Ms. Geraldson so much and so quickly, but the woman had an honesty about her that could not be doubted.
Ms. Geraldson nodded. "Same with Bobby," she murmured. "I just wasn't sure... Bobby and I didn't leave off on the greatest terms," she said. "Partly my own fault, but..." She shook her head. "Bobby wasn't drafted," she explained. "He wanted to leave. And Lordy, I'm glad he's home."
Miss Piggy turned and looked over her shoulder. Bob was imitating a sports announcer, reading an article about the art of cooking a turkey. Kermit was laughing and shaking his head. She turned again and re-assessed the weathering in Ms. Geraldson's face.
"We've gotta take care of our boys, Miss Piggy," Ms. Geraldson said. She set the pie aside. "They go off and fight for what they fight for, and forget to take care of what's inside of them. And I don't mean intestines and stuff, I don't even mean their stomachs, though Lordy knows they forget that too sometimes." She studiously smoothed her apron. "Sometimes when a boy goes to fight, he has to forget about his own mortal emotions, and how they'll hold on to him when he comes home." She looked into Miss Piggy's eyes. "You take care of your frog?"
"Yes," Miss Piggy said firmly.
"Good," Ms. Geraldson said, just as firmly. Her eyes grew distant and wandered towards Bob. "Hurts to see them down, don't it?"
Miss Piggy turned and let her eyes rest on Kermit. "More than anything," she whispered.
"That's where we come in," Ms. Geraldson said as she reached up to a cabinet and pulled out a few plates. "We've got to take care of them however we can." She set the pie on top of the stack of plates. "All I can do is cook. And with these darned rations, I can hardly do that even." She dropped her serious tone and carried the plates and pie to the table. "Who's hungry?"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Bob and Kermit stood at the railing on the ferry, watching as the Statue of Liberty approached. Miss Piggy had left them for her shopping spree.
They were quiet, but the people next to them were not.
"People just
won’t let that Child Corps Charge thing die down," one of them said.
"You know, I'm still not even sure it's true sometimes. It just seems like something out of a movie."
"The press wouldn't put this much into it if it was fake."
"Oh, who trusts the press? They'll say anything for good reviews."
"Well duh. But how are we supposed to know what's sensationalized and what's left out completely?"
"What makes you think they leave stuff out completely?"
"Did you catch Tangent yesterday?"
"No, had to get Tina to band practice. Why? Who was on?"
"Kermit the Frog. Magnus got him talking about the war."
"Oh yeah? What'd he say?"
"He said the press doesn't tell the whole story."
"Huh. Wonder what that means."
"I dunno, but I gotta pity him. Did you see those protesters on the way in?"
"Who didn't?"
"They completely twisted his words."
"Wait, that was
Kermit they pretended to quote?"
"Oh they weren't pretending. They were really quoting him. They just screwed with the context."
"Jeez. They must've really butchered it, then..."
"Well that's the thing though. When he was saying it himself, he kinda... I dunno. It's impossible to figure out what anyone really means these days.”
"Yeah, especially about the war."
"Sometimes I think the protesters are right. We should just get out of there and figure out what we're doing again. It'd be easier to communicate, anyway."
"Yeah, and I'll tell ya, I really do miss a lot of the stuff that's been rationed."
"Like potato chips. Whoever heard of rationing potato chips?"
By silent, mutual consent, Bob and Kermit moved further down the railing, out of earshot of the talkers.
"I can't stand it sometimes," Kermit said quietly.
"They don't even know what they're talking about," Bob said. "We try to explain, and it just confuses them. Nobody gets it, you know? The only people who still support this war 100 percent are the guys who are fighting it and the guys like us. We've
seen it, you know?"
"I know," Kermit said. "And in the meantime, we get criticized left and right. We start to say that we need to fight this war, and we're immediately called villains and heartless killing machines and child murder-" He stopped.
They were quiet.
"Yeah," Bob said. He took a deep breath and let it out. "And then I just feel
worthless here, y'know?" he hit his hand on the railing for emphasis. "We give to the war fund, we take our rations in stride, we do whatever the heck we can, and it feels like
nothing."
"It feels like we still owe them something," Kermit agreed.
"And we're stuck lounging around here doing
nothing." Bob struck the railing again. His eyes grew distant and his face grew quiet as he gazed at the Statue of Liberty. "Frog, what's it say on it?" he said in a hushed voice. "Give me your tired, your poor..."
"Your huddled masses yearning to be free," Kermit whispered.
"Yeah." Bob tapped his fist on the railing. "Yearning to be free." He stared at Lady Liberty. "We can't bring them to her this time," he said quietly. "We've gotta go to them."
Kermit sighed.
Bob leaned over and set his elbows on the railing. "I wanted to tell you in person," he said quietly. "I'm sick of sitting here feeling like a failed attempt at a civilian life." He took a deep breath. "I'm going back."
Kermit looked up. "But you were hurt-"
"I'm healed," Bob said.
Kermit let his hands rest on the railing. "Does your mom know?" he asked.
Bob rubbed his fingers. "Yeah," he whispered. "I don't think it's quite sunk in yet, though. I promised to write her this time..."
"Good," Kermit said quietly.
"It'll be different this time," Bob said. "I mean, me and her- we get along now, y'know? I mean, she's just sort of always there."
"Yeah," Kermit said. "It's good to have people like that."
Bob sighed. "I don't know how to tell Craig, though..."
Kermit nodded. "You don't think he'll take it well..."
"Do you?" Bob looked at him, his face ridden with guilt. "I'd like to tell him in person, but..."
"Maybe we should
both be there," Kermit said.
"
Would you come? Please?" Bob straightened up. "You're supposed to go home tomorrow-"
"But schedules can change," Kermit said. "And besides," he smiled, "Piggy can probably find some shopping to do in Memphis, too."
Bob shook his head. "You might wanna check with her, first-"
"Well, of course," Kermit said. "But she'll probably be okay if we make our trip just a little longer."
"You're sure?" Bob said.
Bob smiled a small smile. "Thanks," he said quietly. "We'll go tomorrow, then?"
"Sure," Kermit said.
Bob nodded and gave Kermit a slap on the back. "Thanks, Frog."
"Any time, Geraldson." Kermit turned to gaze at the Statue of Liberty once more. "Any time."
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