“But why you?” They sat silently for a long time and the day went too fast. She held him tight when they said goodbye, and she made him promise to call whenever he could. But that wasn't for another six weeks, and by then basic training was over. He had been planning to come back to San Francisco to see her, but instead of going north, he was being sent south. “I leave for San Diego tonight.” It was Saturday. “And Honolulu, the beginning of the week.” And she had midterm exams, so she couldn't just run down to San Diego for a day or two.
“Damn. Will you stay in Honolulu for a while?”
“Apparently not.” She sensed instantly that he wasn't telling her what she wanted to know.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I'm being sent to Saigon by the end of next week.” His voice sounded cold and hard, almost like steel, and it didn't sound like Harry at all. She wondered how this had happened to him, and it was something he had wondered himself every day for six weeks. “Just lucky, I guess,” he had said jokingly to his friends, but there was nothing to joke about, and you could have cut the air with a knife when they handed the assignments out. No one dared say anything to anyone, least of all those who had fared well, for fear that others had not. And Harry was one of the unlucky ones. “It's a bitch, Tan, but there it is.”
“Does your father know?”
“I called last night. No one knows where he is. In Paris, they think he's in Rome. In Rome, they think he's in New York. I tried South Africa, and then I figured fuck the son of a bitch. He'll find out sooner or later where I am.” Why the hell didn't he have a father one could reach? Tana would even have called for him, but he had always sounded like the kind of man she didn't want to know anyway. “I wrote to him at the London address, and I left a message at the Pierre in New York. That's the best I can do.”
“It's probably more than he deserves anyway. Harry, is there anything I can do?”
“Say a prayer.” He sounded as though he were serious, and she was shocked. This wasn't possible. Harry was her best friend, her brother, practically her twin, and they were sending him to Vietnam. She had a sense of panic she had never known before and there was absolutely nothing she could do.
“Will you call me again before you leave? … and from Honolulu … ?” There were tears in her eyes … what if something happened to him? But nothing would, she gritted her teeth, she wouldn't even let herself think like that. Harry Winslow was invincible, and he belonged to her. He owned a piece of her heart. But she felt lost for the next few days, waiting constantly for his calls. There were two from San Diego before he left, “Sorry I took so long, I was busy getting laid, probably got the clap, but what the hell.” He was drunk most of the time, and even more so in Hawaii, and he called her twice from there too, and after that he was gone, into the silence, the jungles and the abyss of Vietnam. She constantly imagined him in danger, and then began to get outrageous letters describing life in Saigon, the hookers, the drugs, the once lovely hotels, the exquisite girls, the constant use he had for his French, and she began to relax. Good old Harry, nothing ever changed, from Cambridge to Saigon, he was the same. She managed to get through her exams, Thanksgiving, and the first two days of the Christmas holiday, which she was spending in her room with a two-foot-tall stack of books, when someone came and pounded on her door at seven o'clock one night.
“Call for you.” Her mother had been calling her a lot, but Tana knew why, although neither of them ever admitted it. The holidays were difficult for Jean. Arthur never spent much time with her, and somehow she always hoped that he would. There were excuses and reasons and parties where he just couldn't take her along, and Tana suspected that there were probably other women too, and now there was Ann and her husband and her baby, and maybe Billy was there too, and Jean just wasn't family, no matter how many years she'd been around.
“I'll be right there,” Tana called out, pulled on her bathrobe, and went to the phone. The hall was cold, and she knew it was foggy outside. It was rare for the fog to come this far east, but sometimes it did on particularly bad nights. “Hello?” She expected her mother's voice and was shocked when she heard Harry's instead. He sounded hoarse and very tired, as though he'd been up all night, which was understandable, if he was in town. His voice sounded exquisitely close. “Harry?…” Tears instantly filled her eyes, “Harry! Is that you?”
“Hell, yes, Tan.” He almost growled at her, and she could almost feel the beard stubble on his face.
“Where are you?”
There was only a fraction of a pause. “Here. San Francisco.”
“When did you arrive? Christ, I'd have picked you up if I'd known.” What a Christmas gift, having Harry back!
“I just got in.” It was a lie, but it was easier to say that than to explain why it had taken so long to call.
“You sure didn't stay long, thank God.” She was so grateful to hear his voice that she couldn't stop the tears. She was smiling and crying all at once, and at his end, so was he. He had never thought he would hear her voice again, and he loved her more than he ever had before. He wasn't even sure that he could hide it now. But he would have to, for her sake, and his own. “Why'd they let you come back so soon?”
“I guess I gave them a bad time. The food stank, the girls had lice. Shit, I caught crabs twice, and the worst case of the clap I ever had.…” He tried to laugh but it hurt too much.
“You creep. Don't you ever behave yourself?”
“Not if I have a choice.”
“So where are you now?”
There was that pause again. “They're cleaning me up at Letterman.”
“Hospital?”
“Yeah.”
“For the clap?” She said it so loud that two girls turned halfway down the hall and she started to laugh. “You know, you're impossible. You're the worst person I know, Harry Winslow the Fourth, or whoever the hell you are. Can I come and visit you or will I get it too?” She was still laughing, and he still sounded tired and hoarse.
“Just don't use my toilet seat.”
“Don't worry, I won't. I may not shake your hand either unless I see it boiled. God only knows where it's been.” He smiled. It was so goddamn good to hear her voice. She looked at her watch. “Can I come over now?”
“Don't you have anything better to do on a Saturday night?”
“I was planning to make love to a stack of law books.”
“You're about as amusing as you used to be, I see.”
“Yeah, but I'm a lot smarter than you are, asshole, and nobody sent me to Vietnam.” There was a strange silent pause, and Harry wasn't smiling when he answered her.
“Thank God, Tan.” She felt strange as she heard his voice, and an odd feeling crept over her, that sent chills up her spine. “Do you really want to come over tonight?”
“Hell, yes, do you think I wouldn't come? I just don't want to catch the clap, that's all.”
He smiled. “I'll behave myself.” But he had to say something to her … before she came … it wasn't fair. “Tan…” His voice caught on the words. He hadn't said anything to anyone yet. He hadn't even talked to his father yet. They hadn't been able to locate him anywhere although Harry knew he'd be in Gstaad by the end of the week. He always spent Christmas there, whether Harry was there or not. Switzerland meant Christmas to him. “Tan … I've got a little more than the clap.…” An odd chill raced up her spine and she closed her eyes.
“Yeah, asshole? Like what?” She wanted to fight back the words, to make him laugh, to make him all right in case he was not, but it was too late … to stop either the truth or the words.…
“I got a little bit shot up.…” She heard his voice crack, and felt a sudden pain in her chest as she fought back a sob.
“Oh yeah? Why'd you go do a thing like that?” She was fighting back tears and so was he.