Mitla Pass - Leon Uris [22]
To my surprise, they didn’t seem to give a damn. My own insecurity was quickly replaced by concern over the way my father looked. He was dying. That accounted for the sudden peace visit. He had cancer and I was grateful they had come. Mom told me he had refused all pain medication. “With the pain,” he had told her, “at least I know I’m alive.”
Well, don’t you know that two years of dreading this visit was all for naught. It turned out to be the most wonderful evening I had ever had with them. We blew everything on the meal. The El Globo Restaurant put up a stupendous pot of take-out bouillabaisse and sold us the vino wholesale.
The room was bathed in candlelight flickering from Chianti bottles which had grown wax hairdos six inches thick, and there was a background of operatic music. We all proceeded to gorge ourselves and get loaded.
The Admiral and Gideon talked about the invasion of Tarawa like two old war buddies. Gideon had seen it from a Marine’s point of view and researched it further to use in his novel. The Admiral was impressed as hell.
“Well, why aren’t you working on your book?” Father asked with a bluntness I knew only too well. “It’s not going to write itself.”
I don’t think any of us were ready for Gideon’s answer. “I’m scared,” he said.
“Scared? To write?” Mother asked, with honest innocence.
“Everything I’ve ever wanted or dreamed of since I was a little boy depends on that book. What if it fails? Sometimes I think that if I didn’t make it, I’d want to die. I just can’t go through life being nobody. So, I’m scared.”
The room became terribly quiet. The Admiral looked long and hard at Gideon. “I know exactly what you’re saying,” he said.
The record ended. Gideon switched it off.
The Admiral filled his glass again and spoke, as though to himself. “I’ve never known a sane man who wasn’t afraid. I’ve never known a great man who didn’t have to conquer his greatest fears.”
It came time for them to leave, too soon. Gideon said goodbye and tastefully left the three of us alone. Mother would come back when the baby was due. We all fingered at the door. We had never lingered before over farewells. The Admiral patted my shoulder as though I were a junior officer who had done something commendable.
“You are glowing with happiness, Val. I’m glad. That boy is a good boy. I’ve seen a thousand like him, burning inside. He’s picked a rough passage for himself.”
“Will he ever do it, Dad?”
“He’ll face that book when he has built enough courage to face defeat.”
“Oh, Dad!” I cried and flung my arms around him. I wanted to tell him that there was so much we hadn’t ever said to each other. And now he was going to leave! Forever. Just when we were starting to say hello.
The Admiral’s hands remained at his side as I held him. He was awkward in my embrace, not knowing what to do. I longed for him to put his arms around me. He couldn’t. Yet I realized that he understood everything. And I suppose he did love me, in his own way.
I’m glad the Admiral lived long enough to see Roxanne born. He was in a wheelchair then. There wasn’t much left of him. When they put her into his arms, he held her quite tenderly for a long time ... and he looked at me and smiled ... as though he had been holding me.
GLORY, GLORY, HALLELUJAH! And yet another easy monthly payment book bites the dust. We were now the proud owners of our own sofa, a Monkey Ward fridge, and a secondhand Model A Ford, for which we paid eighty dollars cold hard cash. Now comes the Great Valerie Santini balancing act!
Do we go for dishes, towels, silver, and linens?
OR
Gideon longed for one of those new long-playing record machines.
HOWEVER
Roxy needed a ballet