Page 46 of And Still Her Voice
I grew quiet. Why had I volunteered that? Except that even after the gulf separated Dad and me, I’d always be part sailor, by blood. I wouldn’t mention how he ended up over in the psychiatric ward of the Oakland Naval Hospital before being medically discharged with a lifelong prescription of lithium. He would go for long periods without taking them and then a couple of years ago, Mom made me take the pills. She’d read somewhere that it worked on migraines. It didn’t. It made me twitch and pee a lot.
Finally, we made it to the top of the bridge. My brain kept going back to how my father said he tried to jump. Again, I wondered what it would feel like to just jump off, not to die necessarily, but to be a girl flying through the air without a care. Not that I would jump because girls don’t fly.
I looked across. “What’s over there?”
“Just a sleepy little town called Mill Valley.”
I stared at the vessels coming and going. “I wonder where it’s off to,” I said, noticing a tall cruise ship pass underneath us.
“Some place exotic, I imagine,” Thomas said.
“Like Hawaii? That, sounds exotic.” I imagined being a stowaway off to see the world.
“Yeah, I hope to get stationed there someday. Listen, I should turn back. Have you eaten?” I shook my head. “Why don’t you come back with me to the base and grab a bite to eat? You know, until you figure things out.”
It sounded like a good idea, but I’d come this far, nearly crossed the bridge—the bridge of no return.Listen to yourgut, darling. You are hungry. He seems decent. The bridgewill still be here. You can jump later.
“Okay.”
***
The seagulls gathered like the hungry hippies in Panhandle Park as soon as we took a seat at a picnic table just outside the barracks. Thomas broke off some bread and flung it far enough to keep them at bay.
“That was nice of you to watch over me,” I said, bringing a spoonful of soup to my mouth. “But for your information, I wasn’t going to jump. I just wondered what it was like on the other side.”
“No problem. You might be the last female civilian I get to talk to for a long time.” He gulped his coffee. “Where’s home?”
I put my hand over my heart. “Right here.”
He smiled. “Of course.”
“How about you?”
“Good question. As a child I was uprooted so many times, sometimes I don’t remember,” Thomas said.
I’d been stuck in the same place for sixteen years, my roots had grown deep until Dad, the final tornado, ripped me out and hurled me away. Even Grandma wasn’t strong enough to hold me down anymore. But was I strong enough to stand on my own, I wondered?
“Seriously, I was born in Philly, but my family is scattered. I miss them.”
“Are you scared?” I asked. “I mean—of going to Vietnam?”
“Oh, hell yeah.”
I slurped some more soup, noticing the birds had returned. This time I tore off a piece of my bread and tossed it. “I guess sometimes we have no choice except to face our fears,” I said, mimicking some of the grown up talk I’d heard through the years.Don’tbe a sissy. This will make you tougher,Dad had said, teaching me some boxing moves that left me with bruises. Ifinished my soup. “Thank you so much.” I pushed the bowl away. “Where’s the nearest bus station?”
Thomas’s smile faded. “Over on Mission Street. Where are you headed?”
“Not sure.” I looked away from his kind eyes. “I’ll decide when I get there.” I wrapped the rest of my bread in a napkin and slipped it into my pocket.
“I could give you a ride as soon as I’m finished here in a couple of hours.”
I stood. “That’s okay. You’ve been very nice, Thomas.”
“You can call me Tommy.”
And with that invitation to familiarity, a hug seemed in order, like I was leaving someone very close to me, but I’d only just met him and besides, I wasn’t a hugger. We shook hands and said goodbye. I walked a few yards, before looking back over my shoulder. He stared at me. And then he waved.
“Goodbye, Tommy.”
