Life goes on…no matter what happens. Hearts may break, but they still
beat. The world will always keep turning.
I sat still and silent taking in one of George's stories which under normal circumstances would have been more than easy to hear—and it wasn't just because I was staring down Holden.
***
Woodcliff Lake, New Jersey, 1903
It was a bright Saturday in early spring. Four boys were in the backyard recovering from the uneventful Bar Mitzvah services earlier that day.
"Now to answer that question 'can babies fly?'!" A thirteen year-old George Ariel Calvert had allegedly become a man today. He had 20 month-old Dave pulled back on the swing of the old oak tree. His other brother Ricky and his cousin Jerome were eleven. "Ready Davey?" George leaned into his baby brother's ear.
"Yeah yeah! Go!" said the little toddler.
"BOYS!" Sophie Calvert called from the porch, her Russian accent still thick.
George grabbed Dave and followed the younger boys into the house. George set down his brother on kitchen floor and ran into the living room. His Uncle Max immediately swooped him up onto a chair.
His father and his other uncles all grabbed on and began singing Hava Nagila.
"Hava, hava nagila, hava nagila, hava nagila, v'nis m'cha, hava nagila, hava—"
"OW!!!!!!!" wailed George as the top of his head smashed against the ceiling
The older men had apparently overestimated the height of ceiling and raised George a little too high and little too fast.
Sophie ran in lifting her son's head. "George! George!"
He looked at his mother, perplexed.
"Well, the boy is tall." said Tevye's brother, Mendel.
His mother took George into the kitchen and had him hold ice over the bump.
"What happened to *you*?" laughed George's cousin Frank, who was just a month older than him. And 'a pain in the ass' according to George.
"Oh, can't you see I'm just putting on my face?" said George spitefully as he carefully wiped the water from his face."
***
Then she called by my middle name, "now Ariel…" George mimicked his mother's accent. That was my 'in-trouble' name."
"My parents stuck with the old full name. Tobias Lee Jackson. But when I got in trouble with strangers I had two different names I used. It would start off with 'what's your name son!' then I'd give 'em the false name."
"Which was…?" I asked.
"Milo Shaw or Jack Dawson…You have no idea how much that pissed them off. Milo because he was picked on a lot anyway, and Jack because it took people a while to convince people he actually *didn't* do it."
"Hey speaking of pissed off." George leered over at Holden.
"Hey George, guess what!" Tobey jumped up suddenly.
"What a stitch in time only saves seven now?! What?"
"Come over here with me."
"What?" Tobey pulled him away to something. I now realized there was nothing special he had to tell George. They left Holden and me alone on purpose.
I pretended to be extremely interested in my book, which I hadn't so much as glanced at while George was speaking.
"You know if you make faces like that it'll just stick that way."
"I'm not making any face." I said not looking up from my book.
"If only I had a mirror. If that's your angry face pity the unwitting human who sleeps with you. I wonder what those faces look like."
I dropped my book…and tried not to crack a smile.
"How's the nose, Corporal Hockley?" asked Shirley, "It was bleeding something awful. Don't sneak around like that again…or run with that leg or yours."
"I'm fine Nurse Thomas, really."
"Watch this one, Rose, he's slippery," she laughed, "wandered up by the hill and fell on the big rock, snuck past all the girls too. If Chief Nurse Frost found out she'd have our hides! Crazy guy." She smiled at us and moved on.
He covered for me. I couldn't believe it; he covered for me.
"Why did you do that?" I asked softly.
He just shrugged. "…I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too. I said some really awful things. I had no right."
"Neither did I. That last comment…about Daw—"
"No don't." I put my hand up.
"Please, listen I saw the look in your eyes when I asked about the widow thing, and I knew it when I used it against you. I'm so sorry."
"It's alright. We both said some pretty horrible things. About what I said about your mother."
"No that's really what she was to Nathan. Just a prize wife. Eleanor was the 'real' wife."
"He divorced her."
"Yeah, still."
"What do you mean by 'was'?" I said as gently as I could.
"Bastard died last year. Cal's got the company now." I could tell he really wanted it. Holden liked business. He was good at it. But he hated school and schoolwork. He didn't get into Harvard and he was the younger son. He would never own Hockley Steel, even if he was what it needed.
"Sorry."
"Not your fault."
"…I think that was the first time I ever said 'cunt' before. My vocabulary's really gone down the drain."
He cracked a smile. "Well, at least I'm good for something."
"Good for corrupting my language?"
"Somehow I doubt you have clean mouth."
"Yes, but you'd never heard me swear before."
"Still I get the feeling. By the way," he paused to explain, "do to my general nature I've been many a time smacked in the face by a woman…but you hit *really* hard."
"Sorry about that," I blushed, "I guess I'll take that as compliment, but thanks for covering for me, you really should not have."
"Think nothing of it."
"…Why did we yell at each other like that?"
"I don't know. I guess for me it's just so strange. It's registering now, but it didn't seem right. Strange that we were both defending Cal, the sorry son of a bitch, but the way everyone reacted when you were gone, and the way you seem so happy now."
"I'm in the middle of a war zone. I'm not happy."
"Alright…you're well-adjusted is more like it. Maybe you needed to leave and to do what you did, but Jesus I don't think you realize the trail of ruins you left behind. More people cared about you than you'll ever dream."
I was dumbfounded.
"…I-I don't know what to say."
"If there's one thing you taught me. It's that a person loves more people than they think…I liked you, you were going to be my sister-in-law. I didn't know you a lot, but I knew you enough. You weren't a close friend, but I still regarded you as a friend. I never had any sort of thing for you or anything, but when you died…I was crushed. I'd never lost anyone before, especially not like that. It hurt."
There was a pause. "I would've thought you'd be one to think it as just a reaction to death, not a general love for people."
"Well," he said, "you thought wrong, I'm not like that…you're alright Bukater."
"Don't call me that." I smiled.
"There's already a Private Dawson and Tobey and George's friends they keep talking about. It's confusing."
"Fine, but only you can call me that."
After the initial tensions faded it was still uneasy. Holden was from my old world, but we were both in a new place now and it was clear he would not betray me. As for him I was the living dead. We were both unnerved and a little scared. We were also both very intense people. And with Mary, though I won't use her as an excuse, an altercation seemed inevitable.
But now a new kind of tension had set in.
***
Holden stood there with his common sour look on his face. George and Tobey exchanged glances. They were each about ten feet away from him and on opposite sides.
"Holden!" George shouted with his arms out running toward him.
"HOLDEN!" Tobey shouted doing the same.
They ran crashing into him and giving him a big bear hug.
"Ugh! Get off of me!"
"Holden Hockley is my hero!" beamed Tobey.
"You're a couple of bastards."
Something fell from Tobey's pocket.
"Wow, my lucky fork I thought I lost it!" Tobey triumphantly pulled out the utensil.
"A twenty-five year-old man still has to carry around a dinky little charm." Holden sighed.
"It was only unlucky the first time, then it was all lucky after that." He smiled.
"Too bad that's also your philosophy with women Tob, no wonder you're still single."
"You're single too."
"Yeah, but I'm just a jerk."
Tobey nodded agreeing.
"Sorry truth, ain't it?" said George. "So tell us about this fork."
"One of my friends Judy Parker stabbed me with it when I was fourteen. I kinda sold her out on something. She wasn't too thrilled to say the least."
"Oh my God I've heard this story." George groaned.
"You heard it from a twisted eight year-old's perspective."
"And yours is any less twisted?" George asked.
Tobey let out a sigh. "Yeah, you're right."
"I got stabbed with a fork once." said Holden.
"What did you do?" Tobey said interested in hearing a similar tale.
"Well, let's just say I had a little crush on my best friend's girl…and I acted on it."
"Ooo!" George winced.
"*Never* move in on your best friend's girl! That's a cardinal rule, Hockley!" He got up.
"Where are you going little fella?" George asked him.
"Gonna go put the old Jackson charm on Nurse Dawson." He skipped off.
"Our little boy's all grown up." sighed George.
"Good, I hope he gets smacked in face too." Holden smiled.
***
"This one goes out to a personal friend of mine!" Tobey sat in front of the player piano we'd managed to acquire. "I wrote it about her."
"Adamay!" I called to my friend. She waved and pointed to Tobey.
"Wait Rose, I wrote you a song! …Actually, I didn't but I'm still a hell of a singer." Tobey called out.
"This should be interesting." Holden grunted. Our eyes met.
"I've seen some beautiful floweeeeers, something something somethiiiiing, I've spent some wonderful hours, ummm…uh…beyond compare! Mid the war's great curse stands the Red Cross nurse! She's the rose of no man's land!"
"Tobias, that was genuinely terrible." I complimented.
"Why thank you ma'am." He tipped his hat. He suddenly leaped into my arms. I held him like a baby. We exchanged childish grins. The other nurses and men laughed in surprise. "God bless the nurses of Base Camp 42!"
"And God bless the Tobey Jacksons of America." I put him down.
"Rose!" called one of my tent mates.
"Amelia!"
She whispered low. "Our life-line's broken." I nodded knowing what she was referring to.
"Oh Tobey, this is Amelia…Nurse Baker. Corporal Jackson." I sensed something about the two of them and left. "I'll go check on that piece of machinery in question."
"Yeah…" she nodded.
I scurried to my tent. I had to hurry my shift started in less than twenty minutes.
"I've got it all under control!" Carrie waved her hand up. She was crouched next to the problem.
"What happened?"
"We had a leak. But I'm fixing it. Chief Nurse Frost won't suspect a thing."
We were a weird group. We were also the youngest ones there. Adamay (as we called by both her names) and I were 23, Carrie was 24, Amelia was 22, and the broken distiller was two weeks.
"Well, my shift is starting soon, I don't think I'll be needed anything from there."
***
A few days later it was time for this wave of men to leave now that they had all recuperated.
"I'll be seeing you I hope." George smiled. "Listen I've had this for a while. We found it in her desk." He handed me a letter.
I smiled weakly. I knew whom it was from. "Well, say hi to Emily and Sonny, and Danny if he ever comes back, for me. Oh and Bookie too, I mean if he comes back too. And Rick and Ellen too, and…" I paused trying to think of anyone else. I almost wanted to say Mary.
"Anyone I see I'll tell them Rose Dawson says hi."
"Deal then." We shook hands. "Watch yourself. There's crazy people out there."
"I know. I finally get away getting shot at at work, now they shoot at me…at work."
"Tough break, eh Calvert?"
"Yup."
"Where's Tobey?"
"Talking to Nurse Baker. He's got one big, sad crush on her."
"I think the feeling's mutual…goodbye George." I embraced him.
"Bye Rose."
George got on the train. I tried to catch Tobey's attention, but he seemed busy with Amelia.
Holden approached me. "The old leg's feeling better. Thanks."
"Well, it is my job."
"But really. I'm glad…I'm glad that I got to really be friends with you."
"Me too."
"By the way, glasses look good on you."
"Well, I all I can say is that I see much better now. It's nice to see a smile on you. I'll miss you…again."
"Hey, no getting to sentimental on me now." He smiled wider saying nothing after. I tried to think of something else to say. I couldn't, but I still didn't want him to leave quite yet. It was hard to say something. His face was only inches from mine. "—Oh, I have my address here," he interjected, "in case you want to write." He shoved a piece of paper into my hand.
"Oh, umm, yes."
"Bye Rose!" He jumped on the train.
"…bye Holden."
He disappeared, not going to a window.
Tobey approached me slowly. He saw the two of us before. "Bye Rose…I'll miss ya, Philly."
"I'll miss ya, too, Wisconsin."
"Thanks for introducing me to Amelia. You're the best!" He gave me a hard kiss on the cheek and leapt onto the train. He quickly got to a window and leaned out. George joined him.
They waved until they disappeared, off to an uncertain fate.
***
That night after my shift I went to read Mary's letter. First I placed Holden's address down on my bed. I noticed it was written on the back of something: a letter. It was partly torn. He must have just grabbed something quickly. I turned it over and read what was left of it. I looked over the familiar handwriting.
...that boy from the mailroom says 'hello.' The one that calls you 'H.' Tak, I think his name is, right? It's that Japanese kid from Canada. You know him better than I. Either way, he sends his regards.
Things are well despite your absence. You are sorely missed whether you chose to believe it or not. I should inform you that you are now an uncle for the third time. We had a little girl. Her name is Caroline.
When you get back I hope you'll consider the position I offered you. The company needs you. Without Father around it's madness. I know things have never been the best between us, but I want you to take it. Truthfully, I need you. You're the only one I trust. More so, I just want my little brother back.
Come home safely,
Cal
Well, that was an interesting surprise. That last paragraph was strangely honest. It sounded like him in the way he wrote his letters, but something was different. I doubted I had anything to do with it. After all, he *was* his brother—even if it was only half.
Sitting myself down I moved onto Mary's letter. It was dated just a few days before her death.
Dear Rose,
How's school? Kill any patients yet? Just kidding! Everything is actually completely fine with me. (For once.) Johnny and Billy, my brothers, are over in Europe, but both of them are coming home very soon, aren't stupid little injuries in the right places just fantastic? George and I are getting married!!!! The wedding is in October; I hope you can make it. I'm getting started on the invitations today. The whole thing's a hassle, but I'm having fun. Emily is going to be the worst maid of honor. But I can't wait!
George's parents actually like me and gave their 6'4, 220 lb little boy their blessing, even though he's marrying out of the faith. George is Jewish. I know, 'Calvert.' It's a long story. Anyway, he's doing great. He's giddier than I am. He's such a little boy. He's such a mercenary on the outside, but he's a big sap at heart and he knows it.
Alright, Rose, sit down for one of them heavy moments. I want to thank you. When I first came to Columbus I thought leaving Clancy at the alter was crazy. I thought the way I loved George was crazy. But leaving George that night had been the crazy thing. You were the one who told me that I had to follow my heart. And loving people isn't crazy at all. It didn't make 'sense,' but it made sense. You were right. I'm still glad I got to live with the weird lot of you and everyone for that year and a half. Still, what I'm trying to say is if it weren't for you I couldn't have done it.
I'm more stubborn than I let on. If you hadn't said what you said to me that night I would never have realized and I would have never written to George telling him I loved him and wanted to be with him. I even remember exactly what you said: "You were in an unhappy situation and you took yourself out of that. The only illogical part about is that you waited until the last minute to do it. It wasn't crazy, only extreme. Besides life is crazy." Thanks for being there, Rose. I love you.
Miss you—and write back soon damn it,
Mare
P.S. – Stay out of trouble
P.P.S. – I think I over-used the word 'crazy' in this letter, oh well.
I sat still and silent taking in one of George's stories which under normal circumstances would have been more than easy to hear—and it wasn't just because I was staring down Holden.
***
Woodcliff Lake, New Jersey, 1903
It was a bright Saturday in early spring. Four boys were in the backyard recovering from the uneventful Bar Mitzvah services earlier that day.
"Now to answer that question 'can babies fly?'!" A thirteen year-old George Ariel Calvert had allegedly become a man today. He had 20 month-old Dave pulled back on the swing of the old oak tree. His other brother Ricky and his cousin Jerome were eleven. "Ready Davey?" George leaned into his baby brother's ear.
"Yeah yeah! Go!" said the little toddler.
"BOYS!" Sophie Calvert called from the porch, her Russian accent still thick.
George grabbed Dave and followed the younger boys into the house. George set down his brother on kitchen floor and ran into the living room. His Uncle Max immediately swooped him up onto a chair.
His father and his other uncles all grabbed on and began singing Hava Nagila.
"Hava, hava nagila, hava nagila, hava nagila, v'nis m'cha, hava nagila, hava—"
"OW!!!!!!!" wailed George as the top of his head smashed against the ceiling
The older men had apparently overestimated the height of ceiling and raised George a little too high and little too fast.
Sophie ran in lifting her son's head. "George! George!"
He looked at his mother, perplexed.
"Well, the boy is tall." said Tevye's brother, Mendel.
His mother took George into the kitchen and had him hold ice over the bump.
"What happened to *you*?" laughed George's cousin Frank, who was just a month older than him. And 'a pain in the ass' according to George.
"Oh, can't you see I'm just putting on my face?" said George spitefully as he carefully wiped the water from his face."
***
Then she called by my middle name, "now Ariel…" George mimicked his mother's accent. That was my 'in-trouble' name."
"My parents stuck with the old full name. Tobias Lee Jackson. But when I got in trouble with strangers I had two different names I used. It would start off with 'what's your name son!' then I'd give 'em the false name."
"Which was…?" I asked.
"Milo Shaw or Jack Dawson…You have no idea how much that pissed them off. Milo because he was picked on a lot anyway, and Jack because it took people a while to convince people he actually *didn't* do it."
"Hey speaking of pissed off." George leered over at Holden.
"Hey George, guess what!" Tobey jumped up suddenly.
"What a stitch in time only saves seven now?! What?"
"Come over here with me."
"What?" Tobey pulled him away to something. I now realized there was nothing special he had to tell George. They left Holden and me alone on purpose.
I pretended to be extremely interested in my book, which I hadn't so much as glanced at while George was speaking.
"You know if you make faces like that it'll just stick that way."
"I'm not making any face." I said not looking up from my book.
"If only I had a mirror. If that's your angry face pity the unwitting human who sleeps with you. I wonder what those faces look like."
I dropped my book…and tried not to crack a smile.
"How's the nose, Corporal Hockley?" asked Shirley, "It was bleeding something awful. Don't sneak around like that again…or run with that leg or yours."
"I'm fine Nurse Thomas, really."
"Watch this one, Rose, he's slippery," she laughed, "wandered up by the hill and fell on the big rock, snuck past all the girls too. If Chief Nurse Frost found out she'd have our hides! Crazy guy." She smiled at us and moved on.
He covered for me. I couldn't believe it; he covered for me.
"Why did you do that?" I asked softly.
He just shrugged. "…I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too. I said some really awful things. I had no right."
"Neither did I. That last comment…about Daw—"
"No don't." I put my hand up.
"Please, listen I saw the look in your eyes when I asked about the widow thing, and I knew it when I used it against you. I'm so sorry."
"It's alright. We both said some pretty horrible things. About what I said about your mother."
"No that's really what she was to Nathan. Just a prize wife. Eleanor was the 'real' wife."
"He divorced her."
"Yeah, still."
"What do you mean by 'was'?" I said as gently as I could.
"Bastard died last year. Cal's got the company now." I could tell he really wanted it. Holden liked business. He was good at it. But he hated school and schoolwork. He didn't get into Harvard and he was the younger son. He would never own Hockley Steel, even if he was what it needed.
"Sorry."
"Not your fault."
"…I think that was the first time I ever said 'cunt' before. My vocabulary's really gone down the drain."
He cracked a smile. "Well, at least I'm good for something."
"Good for corrupting my language?"
"Somehow I doubt you have clean mouth."
"Yes, but you'd never heard me swear before."
"Still I get the feeling. By the way," he paused to explain, "do to my general nature I've been many a time smacked in the face by a woman…but you hit *really* hard."
"Sorry about that," I blushed, "I guess I'll take that as compliment, but thanks for covering for me, you really should not have."
"Think nothing of it."
"…Why did we yell at each other like that?"
"I don't know. I guess for me it's just so strange. It's registering now, but it didn't seem right. Strange that we were both defending Cal, the sorry son of a bitch, but the way everyone reacted when you were gone, and the way you seem so happy now."
"I'm in the middle of a war zone. I'm not happy."
"Alright…you're well-adjusted is more like it. Maybe you needed to leave and to do what you did, but Jesus I don't think you realize the trail of ruins you left behind. More people cared about you than you'll ever dream."
I was dumbfounded.
"…I-I don't know what to say."
"If there's one thing you taught me. It's that a person loves more people than they think…I liked you, you were going to be my sister-in-law. I didn't know you a lot, but I knew you enough. You weren't a close friend, but I still regarded you as a friend. I never had any sort of thing for you or anything, but when you died…I was crushed. I'd never lost anyone before, especially not like that. It hurt."
There was a pause. "I would've thought you'd be one to think it as just a reaction to death, not a general love for people."
"Well," he said, "you thought wrong, I'm not like that…you're alright Bukater."
"Don't call me that." I smiled.
"There's already a Private Dawson and Tobey and George's friends they keep talking about. It's confusing."
"Fine, but only you can call me that."
After the initial tensions faded it was still uneasy. Holden was from my old world, but we were both in a new place now and it was clear he would not betray me. As for him I was the living dead. We were both unnerved and a little scared. We were also both very intense people. And with Mary, though I won't use her as an excuse, an altercation seemed inevitable.
But now a new kind of tension had set in.
***
Holden stood there with his common sour look on his face. George and Tobey exchanged glances. They were each about ten feet away from him and on opposite sides.
"Holden!" George shouted with his arms out running toward him.
"HOLDEN!" Tobey shouted doing the same.
They ran crashing into him and giving him a big bear hug.
"Ugh! Get off of me!"
"Holden Hockley is my hero!" beamed Tobey.
"You're a couple of bastards."
Something fell from Tobey's pocket.
"Wow, my lucky fork I thought I lost it!" Tobey triumphantly pulled out the utensil.
"A twenty-five year-old man still has to carry around a dinky little charm." Holden sighed.
"It was only unlucky the first time, then it was all lucky after that." He smiled.
"Too bad that's also your philosophy with women Tob, no wonder you're still single."
"You're single too."
"Yeah, but I'm just a jerk."
Tobey nodded agreeing.
"Sorry truth, ain't it?" said George. "So tell us about this fork."
"One of my friends Judy Parker stabbed me with it when I was fourteen. I kinda sold her out on something. She wasn't too thrilled to say the least."
"Oh my God I've heard this story." George groaned.
"You heard it from a twisted eight year-old's perspective."
"And yours is any less twisted?" George asked.
Tobey let out a sigh. "Yeah, you're right."
"I got stabbed with a fork once." said Holden.
"What did you do?" Tobey said interested in hearing a similar tale.
"Well, let's just say I had a little crush on my best friend's girl…and I acted on it."
"Ooo!" George winced.
"*Never* move in on your best friend's girl! That's a cardinal rule, Hockley!" He got up.
"Where are you going little fella?" George asked him.
"Gonna go put the old Jackson charm on Nurse Dawson." He skipped off.
"Our little boy's all grown up." sighed George.
"Good, I hope he gets smacked in face too." Holden smiled.
***
"This one goes out to a personal friend of mine!" Tobey sat in front of the player piano we'd managed to acquire. "I wrote it about her."
"Adamay!" I called to my friend. She waved and pointed to Tobey.
"Wait Rose, I wrote you a song! …Actually, I didn't but I'm still a hell of a singer." Tobey called out.
"This should be interesting." Holden grunted. Our eyes met.
"I've seen some beautiful floweeeeers, something something somethiiiiing, I've spent some wonderful hours, ummm…uh…beyond compare! Mid the war's great curse stands the Red Cross nurse! She's the rose of no man's land!"
"Tobias, that was genuinely terrible." I complimented.
"Why thank you ma'am." He tipped his hat. He suddenly leaped into my arms. I held him like a baby. We exchanged childish grins. The other nurses and men laughed in surprise. "God bless the nurses of Base Camp 42!"
"And God bless the Tobey Jacksons of America." I put him down.
"Rose!" called one of my tent mates.
"Amelia!"
She whispered low. "Our life-line's broken." I nodded knowing what she was referring to.
"Oh Tobey, this is Amelia…Nurse Baker. Corporal Jackson." I sensed something about the two of them and left. "I'll go check on that piece of machinery in question."
"Yeah…" she nodded.
I scurried to my tent. I had to hurry my shift started in less than twenty minutes.
"I've got it all under control!" Carrie waved her hand up. She was crouched next to the problem.
"What happened?"
"We had a leak. But I'm fixing it. Chief Nurse Frost won't suspect a thing."
We were a weird group. We were also the youngest ones there. Adamay (as we called by both her names) and I were 23, Carrie was 24, Amelia was 22, and the broken distiller was two weeks.
"Well, my shift is starting soon, I don't think I'll be needed anything from there."
***
A few days later it was time for this wave of men to leave now that they had all recuperated.
"I'll be seeing you I hope." George smiled. "Listen I've had this for a while. We found it in her desk." He handed me a letter.
I smiled weakly. I knew whom it was from. "Well, say hi to Emily and Sonny, and Danny if he ever comes back, for me. Oh and Bookie too, I mean if he comes back too. And Rick and Ellen too, and…" I paused trying to think of anyone else. I almost wanted to say Mary.
"Anyone I see I'll tell them Rose Dawson says hi."
"Deal then." We shook hands. "Watch yourself. There's crazy people out there."
"I know. I finally get away getting shot at at work, now they shoot at me…at work."
"Tough break, eh Calvert?"
"Yup."
"Where's Tobey?"
"Talking to Nurse Baker. He's got one big, sad crush on her."
"I think the feeling's mutual…goodbye George." I embraced him.
"Bye Rose."
George got on the train. I tried to catch Tobey's attention, but he seemed busy with Amelia.
Holden approached me. "The old leg's feeling better. Thanks."
"Well, it is my job."
"But really. I'm glad…I'm glad that I got to really be friends with you."
"Me too."
"By the way, glasses look good on you."
"Well, I all I can say is that I see much better now. It's nice to see a smile on you. I'll miss you…again."
"Hey, no getting to sentimental on me now." He smiled wider saying nothing after. I tried to think of something else to say. I couldn't, but I still didn't want him to leave quite yet. It was hard to say something. His face was only inches from mine. "—Oh, I have my address here," he interjected, "in case you want to write." He shoved a piece of paper into my hand.
"Oh, umm, yes."
"Bye Rose!" He jumped on the train.
"…bye Holden."
He disappeared, not going to a window.
Tobey approached me slowly. He saw the two of us before. "Bye Rose…I'll miss ya, Philly."
"I'll miss ya, too, Wisconsin."
"Thanks for introducing me to Amelia. You're the best!" He gave me a hard kiss on the cheek and leapt onto the train. He quickly got to a window and leaned out. George joined him.
They waved until they disappeared, off to an uncertain fate.
***
That night after my shift I went to read Mary's letter. First I placed Holden's address down on my bed. I noticed it was written on the back of something: a letter. It was partly torn. He must have just grabbed something quickly. I turned it over and read what was left of it. I looked over the familiar handwriting.
...that boy from the mailroom says 'hello.' The one that calls you 'H.' Tak, I think his name is, right? It's that Japanese kid from Canada. You know him better than I. Either way, he sends his regards.
Things are well despite your absence. You are sorely missed whether you chose to believe it or not. I should inform you that you are now an uncle for the third time. We had a little girl. Her name is Caroline.
When you get back I hope you'll consider the position I offered you. The company needs you. Without Father around it's madness. I know things have never been the best between us, but I want you to take it. Truthfully, I need you. You're the only one I trust. More so, I just want my little brother back.
Come home safely,
Cal
Well, that was an interesting surprise. That last paragraph was strangely honest. It sounded like him in the way he wrote his letters, but something was different. I doubted I had anything to do with it. After all, he *was* his brother—even if it was only half.
Sitting myself down I moved onto Mary's letter. It was dated just a few days before her death.
Dear Rose,
How's school? Kill any patients yet? Just kidding! Everything is actually completely fine with me. (For once.) Johnny and Billy, my brothers, are over in Europe, but both of them are coming home very soon, aren't stupid little injuries in the right places just fantastic? George and I are getting married!!!! The wedding is in October; I hope you can make it. I'm getting started on the invitations today. The whole thing's a hassle, but I'm having fun. Emily is going to be the worst maid of honor. But I can't wait!
George's parents actually like me and gave their 6'4, 220 lb little boy their blessing, even though he's marrying out of the faith. George is Jewish. I know, 'Calvert.' It's a long story. Anyway, he's doing great. He's giddier than I am. He's such a little boy. He's such a mercenary on the outside, but he's a big sap at heart and he knows it.
Alright, Rose, sit down for one of them heavy moments. I want to thank you. When I first came to Columbus I thought leaving Clancy at the alter was crazy. I thought the way I loved George was crazy. But leaving George that night had been the crazy thing. You were the one who told me that I had to follow my heart. And loving people isn't crazy at all. It didn't make 'sense,' but it made sense. You were right. I'm still glad I got to live with the weird lot of you and everyone for that year and a half. Still, what I'm trying to say is if it weren't for you I couldn't have done it.
I'm more stubborn than I let on. If you hadn't said what you said to me that night I would never have realized and I would have never written to George telling him I loved him and wanted to be with him. I even remember exactly what you said: "You were in an unhappy situation and you took yourself out of that. The only illogical part about is that you waited until the last minute to do it. It wasn't crazy, only extreme. Besides life is crazy." Thanks for being there, Rose. I love you.
Miss you—and write back soon damn it,
Mare
P.S. – Stay out of trouble
P.P.S. – I think I over-used the word 'crazy' in this letter, oh well.