...and the Memorial spans the sunken battleship.”
My father’s ship. His home when he was away from home, and where he died... when I was ten years old, five thousand miles away in Philadelphia. Andrew reached out, took Celia's hand and held it. Neither spoke. Among all the passengers on the boat there seemed a constraint, a quietness, as if common sensibilities were shared. The coxswain laid them neatly alongside a pontoon dock at the Memorial entrance. The woman sailor secured the moorings, and the Jordan family, along with others, disembarked. As they moved inward, there was no longer movement beneath their feet since the Memorial rested on pilings driven into the harbor bottom. No part of it touched the ship. Near the Memorial's center, Celia, Andrew and Lisa stood at an opening in the concrete structure gazing downward at the main deck of the Arizona, now clearly visible, awesome in its closeness. Somewhere beneath us are myfather's bones, or what remains of them. I wonder how he died. Was it swift and merciful, or some other, awful way? Oh, how I hope it was the first! Bruce, who had moved away, returned to them. He said quietly, "I've found Grandfather's name. I'll show you.”
His parents and sister followed until, standing beside many others, all subdued, they faced a marble wall, a sea of names and ranks. In that fierce few minutes of the Japanese attack, 1,177 had died on the Arizona alone. Later it had proved impossible to raise the ship which became-for more than a thousand of the dead-their final grave. An inscription read:
TO THE MEMORY OF THE GALLANT MEN HERE ENTOMBED
Bruce pointed.”There, Mom.”
W F DE GREY CEM
They stood respectfully, each with individual thoughts; then it was Celia who led the way back to where they had been earlier, looking down on the sunken hull from which the superstructure had long since been removed. The closeness of it fascinated her. While they watched, a bubble of oil rose from somewhere far below. The oil spread itself, like a petal on the water's surface. A few minutes later, eerily, the process was repeated. "Those oil bubbles are from what's left in fuel tanks," Bruce explained. "They've been coming up like that since the ship went down. No one knows how long the oil will last, but it could be another twenty years.”
Celia reached out to touch her son. This is my son, your grandson. He is explaining to me about your ship. "I wish I could have known Grandfather," Lisa said. Celia was about to speak when suddenly, without warning, her emotional defenses wavered and collapsed. It was as if Lisa's simple, moving remark was the last iota added to a barely balanced scale before it tipped. Grief and sadness overwhelmed Celia-grief for the father she had known so briefly, but had loved and whose memory these poignant moments at Pearl Harbor had brought flooding back; memories of her mother who had died ten years ago this month; and, combining with those older grief’s revived, Celia's nearer sorrow from her own failure, her great misjudgment as it now appeared, the recent ignominious end to her career. The last thought had, for six months or more, been resolutely thrust away. Now, like dues delayed but later to be paid, it added to the emotion and she broke. Oblivious to all else, she wept. Seeing what was happening, Andrew moved toward her, but Lisa and Bruce were faster. Both children embraced their mother, comforting her, and unashamedly were crying too. Andrew, gently, put his arms around them all.
The family assembled for dinner that night in the Mail Room of the Kahala Hilton. On sitting down, Celia's first words were, "Andrew dear, I would like us to have champagne.”
"Of course.”
Beckoning a sommelier, Andrew ordered Taittinger, which lie knew to be his wife's favorite, then told her, "You look radiant tonight.”
"It's how I feel," she responded, beaming at them all. Since this morning, little had been said about their excursion to Pearl Harbor. On the Memorial during the few minutes of Celia's breakdown, other people nearby had considerately looked away, and Andrew sensed that the Arizona setting, which evoked sad, sometimes tragic memories in so many who went there, had seen frequent and similar scenes of grief. Through most of the afternoon Celia slept, then later had gone shopping in one of the hotel stores, buying herself a stunning red-and-white long dress, Hawaiian style. She was wearing it now. "When you get tired of that dress, Mom," Lisa said admiringly, "I'll be glad to take it over.”
At that moment the champagne arrived. When it was poured, Celia raised her glass and said, "To you all-I love you dearly, and thank you! I want you to know that I shall never forget what happened today, and your comfort and understanding. But you should also know that now I am over it. In a way, I suppose, it was a cleansing process, a-what's that word?" "Catharsis," Bruce said.”Actually it's Greek and means purification. Aristotle used it to...”
"Oh, cool it!" Lisa, leaning across the table, slapped her brother's hand.”Sometimes you're too much!" Andrew laughed and the others joined in, including Bruce. "Go on, Mom," Lisa urged. "Well," Celia said, "I've decided it's time to stop feeling sorry for myself, and to put my life back together. It's been a wonderful holiday, the finest ever, but it will be over in two more days.”
She regarded Andrew fondly.”I imagine you're ready to get back into practice, “He nodded.
”Ready and keen.”
"I can understand it," Celia said, "because I feel the same way. So I won't stay unemployed. I intend to find work.”
Bruce asked, "What will you do?" Celia sipped her champagne before answering.”I've thought a lot about it, and asked myself questions, and come up each time with the same answer: The pharmaceutical business is what I know best, so it makes sense that I should stay in it.”
Andrew assured her, "Yes, it does.”
"Could you go back to Felding-Roth?" It was Lisa's question. Her mother shook her head.”I burned my bridges. I'm sure there's no way Felding-Roth would have me now, even if I wanted it. No, I'll try other companies.”
"If some of them don't jump and grab you, they need their business acumen examined," Andrew said.”Have you considered which ones?" "Yes.”
Celia went on thoughtfully, "There's one company, above all others, which I've admired. It's Merck. If you were to look for a 'Rolls-Royce' of the drug industry, Merck's the one. So I shall apply there first.” "And after that?"
"I like SmithKline, also Upjohn. Both are companies I'd be proud to work for. After that, if it's needed, I'll make a longer list.”
"I predict you won't have to.”
Andrew raised his glass.”Here's to the lucky company that gets Celia Jordan!" Later, over dinner, Bruce asked, "What do we do tomorrow?" "Since it's our last full day in Hawaii," Celia suggested, "how about a lazy time on the beach?" They agreed that a lazy day was what they wanted most. In the bedroom of the Jordans' suite, a few minutes before 6 A.m., a bedside telephone rang stridently. The ringing stopped, then began again. Celia was sleeping soundly. Beside her, Andrew, crossing the boundary from sleep to wakefulness, stirred at the phone's insistence. The night before, on going to bed, they had left the sliding glass doors to a balcony open, admitting a soft breeze and the murmur of the sea. Now, outside in the grayness of pre-dawn, objects were becoming visible-as if a stage director were going slowly from black, lighting a new scene. In another fifteen minutes the sun would begin ascending over the horizon. Andrew sat up, awake, the phone having penetrated his consciousness. He reached out to answer it. Celia stirred and asked sleepily, "What's the time?"