This time she felt his shock through the phone. “To Vietnam?”
“As a VPVN. A volunteer physician in Viet Nam.”
“Listen, Marion, when I suggested you live a little, this wasn’t what I meant. That’s nuts.”
She couldn’t stop now, or she might lose her nerve. “Do you know anyone in the Red Cross, or don’t you?”
“Listen, even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. That’s insane, Marion, and you and I both know insanity pretty well. Even if I was a surgeon, I’d think long and hard on this, and I’d probably decide against it. But if I was awomansurgeon, I would accept that the idea is beyond far-fetched. Probably suicidal. You’re not even a surgeon.”
“But I was, almost. I’m going, Paul. With or without your help.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, then he sighed. “I have a friend who’s going. Lee Willard, neurosurgeon. I’m not too surprised about him, to be honest, because he enjoys doing things that should kill him. He goes parachuting for kicks on weekends.”
“I want to talk with him,” she said quickly, her pulse hammering in her temples. “Please, Paul?”
She held her breath, practically hearing him consider the idea.
“I’ll tell you what. You might be nuts, but I do admire your courage. I’m sure the answer will be no, but I’ll call Willard and plead your case. He can talk with the CRC. Hang tight, Marion. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”
twenty-nineSASSY
Sassy felt sick with shame. Here she was, curled like a pathetic snail, too chicken to answer the door when her best friend knocked. All along, Sassy had been so happy when Marion promised she would always be there, but now Sassy was hiding from her. What kind of friend was she?
But there was so much in her head. How could she explain it all to Marion?
Tom could call her father a good man a hundred times, but Sassy wasn’t convinced. She kept trying to bring happy thoughts to mind about him, how he looked when he laughed, how proud he’d been of her in that meeting about the strip malls. But the pretty pictures didn’t last.
Jim Rankin was a fraud. And his deception had made Sassy a liar.
Marion’s father, the quiet, humble plumber no one talked about, was the real hero. Marion had told Sassy about her father’s “episodes,” those dark times when the war found him again and dragged him under. Sassy had sympathized, saying how awful that must be, and how sorry she was for it, but inside, she couldn’t deny feeling just the tiniest bit smug. Until today, Sassy’s dad had been the hero, and he’d never suffered “episodes” to embarrass her. She hated the competitive edge she felt when they discussed their fathers, but she couldn’t deny the satisfaction her father’s status gave her.
Until the reading of the will.
Marion’s father was the true hero, and he was still suffering for it. Jim was just a man who had taken the credit then killed himself.
Just a few days ago, Marion had come to Sassy in her time of need, bearing muffins and encouragement, and had called Sassy’s father “complicated.” A loving father and a war hero, she’d said, giving Sassy a sense of family pride. That had given her what she needed to emerge from her deep well of grief.
Now she couldn’t face Marion. At least with Tom, he’d been lied to in the same way Sassy had. He’d thought Jim Rankin was his friend, but Sassy didn’t buy that. Friends didn’t lie to one another.
“I don’t know what to say to Marion,” she’d said to Tom.
He encouraged her to tell her everything she was thinking, but Sassy couldn’t see that happening. She was too scared, too humiliated to broach the subject, even though she knew Marion would help her with it.
By ignoring Marion’s knock, Sassy had put their meeting off for tonight, but there was no way she could avoid her best friend forever. What should she do, then? Apologize? Beg for forgiveness? But what for? Her own ignorance of the truth or her cowardice to face her friend?
She hugged her knees closer to her chest, feeling very small. And ashamed. And alone.
In the morning, she stayed in her apartment until she heard Marion’s door lock behind her, then the mechanical swoosh of the elevator door. When Marion came home later that afternoon and knocked again, Sassy hid. Another day down, another night of feeling guilty. She did the same the next day and night, though her heart broke a little more every time she heard Marion at her door.
On the third morning, once she was sure her friend was safely out of the building, Sassy extricated herself from her couch. She couldn’t stay home today. The day promised to be as dull as watching paint dry, but she couldn’t ignore it. She’d been delaying the meeting, put off by the long bus ride to the lawyer’s office to sign papers regarding her father’s estate. Once she arrived, there was all the paperwork, then the torture of Mr. Godfrey droning on and on, advising her about money and legal stuff and whatever else. Honestly, she missed most of what he was saying and almost fell asleep halfway through.Finally done there, she climbed back on the bus then got off early, reminding herself to stop and pick up some much-needed groceries. On her walk home after that, she reminded herself that she had better get some laundry done. She was running out of clean things to wear. Oh, a bath would be nice, too. It was a relief to finally get home. Just inside the building’s front door, she checked her mailbox, which was empty, then stepped inside the elevator.
“Hey!” Marion rushed in just behind her, flushed and smiling. “My goodness! Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for days now. How are you doing?”
Sassy gave a weak shrug and tried to look happy, but she was uncomfortably aware of the beads of sweat popping up on her brow.
“Oh, nothing much. I’ve been out, you know, working and”—she lifted the envelope in her hand—“and dealing with lawyer things. You know. Stuff like that.”
Marion looked unsure, and Sassy felt even more embarrassed. Not only was Marion smart, she was a psychiatrist. She would easily see right through her flimsy excuses. She poked the button for the fifth floor a few times, trying to convince herself that if she could get up there fast, she could disappear again and avoid the conversation she knew was coming.
