He nodded.
“Some men can move past these war experiences, but some never do.” She swallowed, preparing to share. “My dad still fights his war. I see how scared he is when it comes back to him. But I’m learning from you that maybe that’s a good thing. He’s still scared, and maybe that’s why he’s still alive.”
Daniel said nothing.
“You’re calm now,” she noted. “You’re aware. What does it feel like to find the sense of calm after all that chaos? To return to what you were before?”
“But I’m not who I was. I remember that guy, and I miss those simpler days, but I’m different. I’m stronger. People might not see that when I freak out. They might see me as sick in the head, but I know what I’m capable of. I have moments, sure, but most of the time, I’m a stronger, more reliable me.”
Knowing he felt that way made it a little easier for Marion to accept his impending release into society. Daniel should have been discharged already, but he had developed an infection around his eye socket, and she had used that as an excuse to keep him in the hospital’s care for as long as she could. She was concerned, as she was for all her patients, about how he would deal with living on his own, but she had a selfish reason, too. Every time they spoke, she felt strongly connected to him, and she wanted more. More of his stories, more of his perspective. More of his company. More ofhim.
When Sassy came over to Marion’s apartment later that week, Marion shared some of Daniel’s thoughts on life after war, hoping Sassy could think of Joey in that light. When he came back, he would be different, she told her, but he would still be himself inside. And he would crave a brotherhood of veterans. Sassy listened in silence, her eyes locked onto Marion as she drank in her hope. When she finished, they didn’t speak for a little while.
At the other side of her living room, Marion’s brand-new record player clicked off, so she stood to flip the record over. She’d gotten used to the routineof sliding a record out of its sleeve, placing it over the post in the middle of the spinning turntable, then carefully lowering the needle onto the vinyl.
She’d never planned to buy a record player. A few weeks before, on a sunny Saturday, Sassy had knocked on her door and said she was dying to buyHelp!, an LP put out two years before by the Beatles. She asked Marion to grab her purse and go with her. Initially, Sassy’s impromptu ideas had knocked her back a step. Marion’s usual reticence was at odds with Sassy’s impulsive nature. But over time, her reluctance gave way to a new, invigorating curiosity. Now she rarely questioned Sassy’s plans. On that Saturday, they bundled up against the December chill and walked from the apartment to Yonge and Elm, where Marion noticed the huge yellow A&A sign for the first time.
When they entered the record store, Marion thought immediately of a library. Thousands of records stood inside trays, lined up in rows that stretched the length of the store. About twenty people milled around them, flipping through albums. Some of the shoppers were talking to friends, others were silent in their searches, but around all of them wafted music that Marion had never heard before. When a man’s smooth, warm voice soared from the speakers, violins stretching melodies around it, Marion stopped short.
“What’s that?”
Sassy tilted her head, listening. “Nat King Cole.”
“I could listen to him forever,” Marion breathed.
Sassy strode down the row, sorted through a stack of records, then plucked one out and handed it to Marion. The cover was light brown and featured a portrait of a smiling young Black man wearing a yellow tie.
“Love Is the Thing,” Marion read. She turned it over and read through the list of songs, landing on “When I Fall in Love,”the song that had just played. “Are you going to buy it?”
“Yes. For you.”
Marion chuckled. “All right. Every time I come over, you have to play it.”
“No, no,” Sassy said, walking on. “You’ll play it on your new record player. That’s our next stop.”
Marion had balked then surrendered. Why shouldn’t she have music in her home? The most difficult thing about a record player, Sassy claimed, waschoosing which record to play. Once they brought it home, Sassy loaned her other LPs, and Marion began to rely on music to bring her calm at the end of the day. She had not expected the impact the little box would have on her life.
Now she liftedMr. Tambourine Manoff the turntable, flipped it over, and started side two.
“Would you like more wine?” she asked, heading toward the kitchen to refill her own.
“Tell me about Daniel,” Sassy requested from the other room. “Not Daniel the patient. Daniel the man.”
Marion brought the bottle out and filled both glasses, frowning. She wasn’t really supposed to talk about her patients, but with all the conversations she was passing between Sassy and Daniel about Joey, it seemed all right. Besides, she never gave out any medical or private information.
Sassy was insistent. “He sounds cool. I hope to meet him someday. You’re, like, so stoked when you talk about him.”
“I’ve learned a lot from him.”
“Maybe so,” Sassy replied, her gaze soft, “but there’s more there. Your aura is so warm when you think about him. Talk to me, Marion.”
Marion had to adjust her thinking, taking Daniel out of the hospital examination room and bringing him closer to home. As soon as his image appeared in her mind, she felt lighter.
“He’s like you, in a way,” she realized. “He’s opened up windows in my mind and shown me life from different perspectives. With you, I am braver about trying new things. With him, I feel like… like I want more excitement out of life.”
“There it is,” Sassy grinned. “Can you feel that glow in your cheeks? I can see it. Marion, he’s your Sonny!”
Marion stared at her.
