Ed Gorman: Ticket to Ride

“You like hanging out with Commies, do you, William?”

“Oh, now, c’mon, Mike. You know what I told you. There’s some people who just don’t understand why we need to be over there. That doesn’t make them bad people, that just makes them full of shit.” I got the grin when he finished talking.

“Well, if there’s one thing McCain is, it’s full of shit. Always has been.”

“So you two know each other?”

“Old friends,” I said.

“Used to be old friends, you mean.”

I guess it was the sudden tension. Or maybe it was just because I’d been standing for so long. The legs started to tremble and the head started to spin a little.

“I’m sorry, Mike. I feel like hell about it. I just think it’s a mistake being over there.”

Then I fell against the rolling table on the side of Hughes’ bed.

A strong hand grabbed my forearm. “You all right?” Hughes said, still holding onto me.

“Just a little weak. I’d better get back to my room.”

“Maybe I should call a nurse.”

“No. I’ll be all right. But I’d better get going.”

I looked over at Mike in his wheelchair. I put out my hand. He wouldn’t shake.

About halfway back to my room, I wished I’d asked Hughes to call for a nurse. I was sodden and chilled with sweat. The legs were weaker than ever.

By the time I reached my room, I was staggering. I was so concerned with not falling over that I didn’t realize Wendy had not only appeared but helped me to my bed.

“Real smart, Sam. What’d you do, run up and down the hall?”

But I was too fatigued to say anything. I drifted into a half sleep, aware that Wendy had been joined by a nurse. There was something about a sponge bath and something about sheets being changed and something about another IV drip. Then there was something about sleep.

Voices woke me. Man and woman. Both familiar.

When I rolled on my side and opened my eyes, I wasn’t sure if what I saw was real. Wendy sitting in a chair next to my bed. Mike Parnell sitting in his wheelchair next to Wendy.

“I saw Mike in the hall. I wanted to tell him how much he hurt your feelings. Which was fine, because Mike wanted to tell me how much you hurt his feelings.”

“You should be a cruise director.”

“Very funny. Now I want you two morons to agree to disagree. I’ve invited Mike out to my place as soon as you get out of here and are able to have a little fun. We’ll have some steaks and some liquor and we’ll have a nice time. Mike’s girlfriend will be joining us.”

“I still can’t believe you’re going out with him,” Mike said. “You were a cheerleader.”

“I know. But times change. You have to make do with what’s available.”

“Yeah, but Sam McCain? You can’t do better than that?”

“I know, it’s terrible, isn’t it? The worst thing of all is that I even started to like him. I like him quite a lot, actually.”

Mike looked right at me and said, “I sure wouldn’t admit it to anybody.”

“I agree. Just please don’t tell anybody what I said.”

Shaking his head, Mike said, “Well, I need to leave. An hour and a half in a hospital is about all I can take.” He reached over and patted Wendy’s arm. “It’s great seeing you again.” He too had long lusted for the cheerleader. “Bye, Wendy.”

“Bye, Mike. Remember my invitation.”

He wheeled around in his chair and started rolling fast for the door.

“You’re not going to say good-bye to me?” I said to his receding back.

He raised his right hand and without turning around gave me the bird. On his way toward the door, he said, “You’re an asshole, McCain. You always were. I just never got around to telling you that when we were growing up.”

Then he and his middle finger were gone.

“I’m sure we’ll have a nice time when we all get together,” Wendy said.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, “as long as Mike doesn’t bring a knife or a gun.”

She laughed. “Well, at least he stopped in to see you.” Then that cheerleader face of hers, so finely wrought despite the shadows of coming age we both bore, became mournful in the full flush of the sunlight. “I don’t know what I’d ever do if I saw someone I love in a wheelchair because of some goddamn war. I’ve seen him around most of my life. Running and playing and horsing around. And now look at him. And for no good reason at all.”

She started to cry, and I could see she was embarrassed. She managed a smile. “Listen to me, Sam, I sound just like you.”

Then she leaned down and put her face into my neck and she slid her arms around me. Her skin was warm from her tears. She stayed like that for a while. Long enough for me to have the same pictures of Mike she had, of him running and jumping and horsing around.

Things he would never be able to do again.

And for no good reason at all.