Part 72 (1/2)
”Is there?” she asked.
”Is there what?”
”Anything I can do for you? Anything you need?”
Don't even start to think what you started to think. You sonofab.i.t.c.h!
”I'm really in pretty good shape. I really think I should be asking you that question. How are you doing?”
”Well, you tell yourself over and over that you married a Marine pilot, and that sometimes they go away and don't come back. But when it happens, you just don't believe it for a while. It's unreal.”
Yeah, I know. When it happens, you just don't believe it for a while.
”I think I understand,” Pick said.
She didn't challenge the statement, but he saw in her eyes that she simply thought he was being nice.
She doesn't want to hear your problems. She's got a load of her own.
”The same day I was rescued,” he heard himself saying, ”my girlfriend-we were talking about getting married- was in an Air Force medical supply Gooney Bird that went down in Korea.”
”Oh, how terrible for you!” she said.
”You're right, you just don't believe it for a while,” he said.
”She was a nurse?”
”A war correspondent,” he said. ”Jeanette Priestly. Of the Chicago Tribune. Chicago Tribune.”
”Oh, I saw that in the paper,” she said. ”I'm so sorry.”
”Thank you,” he said.
”I didn't believe it when the notification team came,” she said. ”I guess I didn't believe it until yesterday, when they called up to ask 'what my wishes were with regard to funeral arrangements.' Then it really sank in.”
”What were they talking about?” Pick asked.
”Well, they've recovered what they call d.i.c.k's 'remains. ' Why can't they say 'body'?”
”I don't know,” Pick confessed.
”And they wanted to know 'my wishes.' ”
”What about? Where to . . . bury him?”
”Uh-huh. And when did I want to accept his Distinguished Flying Cross? At the funeral, or separately?”
”What did you decide?”
”Well, he's not going back to Arkansas. He hated Arkansas.”
”That's where his family is?”
She nodded. ”Mine, too.”
”Are you going there? What are you going to do?”
”I don't know. The only thing I know is that I'm not going to go back to Arkansas. I'm going to bury d.i.c.k here. We were happy here.”
”You mean in San Diego?”
”At the National Cemetery, on Point Loma?”
”I know it.”
”It overlooks the ocean. d.i.c.k loved the ocean. I do, too. Maybe because there's no ocean in Arkansas.”
”I grew up on the ocean,” Pick said. ”And I love it, too.”
”Where?”
”San Francisco,” Pick said. ”My parents have a place on the ocean a little south of San Francisco.”
”You're not a regular, are you?” she asked.
He shook his head no.
”Just a weekend warrior,” he said.
”What did you do as a civilian?”
”I flew for an airline,” he said. ”Trans-Global.”
”That's what I'd like to do,” she said.
”Fly for an airline? I don't think they have lady pilots.”
She giggled, and smiled at him.
Jesus Christ, I could fall into those eyes.
”No, silly. I meant see if I could get a job as a stewardess. Maybe I could get a recommendation from you at Trans-Global? Absolutely no experience, but willing to learn. Free to travel. No family ties.”
”I thought you said your family was in Arkansas.”
”They were annoyed-d.i.c.k's family and mine, both- when I wouldn't go 'home' when d.i.c.k s.h.i.+pped out. There were words then. And when I wouldn't go home . . . after d.i.c.k died, there were more words.”
”I'm sorry to hear that,” Pick said.