The Caine Mutiny (76 page)
“It feels funny to hear you call me May. I’m getting used to Marie.”
“I got this for my colossal heroism.” He pulled the Bronze Star out of his pocket, opened the box, and showed it to her. May’s eyes gleamed in admiration. “Here, take it.”
“Who, me? Don’t be crazy.”
“I want you to have it. That’s the only good I’ll ever get out of it-”
“No, Willie, no-”
“Please-”
“Not now. Put it away. I don’t know, maybe another time-it’s- Thanks, but put it in your pocket.”
He did, and they looked at each other. She said after a while, “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“I hope for the best.”
“We might try another kiss. As long as you’re a hero.” She stood, pushed aside his coat, and clung to him, kissing hard. With her face against his shoulder she said faintly, “I always did think I would like to have your kids-before. I-I don’t feel that way about Walter, it’s different- Willie, this thing would need an iron lung and-and then I don’t know-you’d never forget Walter-neither would I-honestly, you’re being hard on me. I was all back in one piece until an hour ago-”
“Were you happy?”
“Happy? Happy is when you don’t have a broken leg, so far as I know.” She began to cry.
“I swear you’re wrong, May-”
She pushed herself away from him suddenly and pulled a mirror out of her coat pocket. “God, if Walter sees me in this condition, things will really start popping.” She began to work hurriedly at her make-up. “Willie, you devil, you’ve never been anything but trouble for me, you’re my haunt.” Powder flew in little clouds from the puff. “Imagine you wanting to raise the kids Catholic! That’s the point in the letter where I started to cry-it was so absurd, talking about the kids.
What
kids? ... Look at those eyes. Burnt holes-” Some musicians came strolling through the curtains on the stage. May glanced at them over her shoulder. Her smile faded and her face set in a businesslike look. She put her make-up away. Willie said quickly, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Oh, sure, why not? I’ll have lunch with you. But I have to make records at three-thirty.”
“And tomorrow night?”
“Willie, don’t start pressing me. And don’t start building things in your head. This talking has gone all wrong-I feel drunk-it proves nothing- Look, do me a favor and wipe off that lipstick-” She looked uneasily at the musicians again.
He stepped to her side and said in a low voice, “I love you. We’ll be happy. Not comfortable. Happy. Not two-fifty a week. Happy. Happy in love.”
“So you say. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Willie said, “I also like your eyes and your face and your voice and your mouth. I don’t want to leave you. Make it breakfast instead of lunch, breakfast at seven o’clock. I’ll check into this hotel so I can be within a few floors of you-”
“No, no, not breakfast. Don’t check in. Don’t be crazy. The war’s over, there’s time, all kinds of time. Willie, get that look off your face, and go away, for God’s sake, I still have to work-” She turned away abruptly, trembling, and walked toward the stage, hugging her coat about her.
The door opened and Walter Feather came in. “Hi, Lieutenant. If you want to see the Navy parade, it’s coming down Fifth Avenue now. You can hear the drums in the street.”
They faced each other for a moment, and there was something in the bandleader’s face that unaccountably reminded Willie of Tom Keefer-the mocking condescension perhaps, or perhaps a softness under the brightness. He felt encouraged. He had matched Keefer.
“Thanks, Feather. I guess I’ll have a look at it.” He glanced at the stage. May was watching them, holding a sheet of music. He gestured good-by to her, and she barely nodded. He went out into the street.
Brass-band music was echoing down the side streets. He hurried to Fifth Avenue, worked to the front of the crowd, and watched the Navy’s blue ranks marching by. The music made him straighten up in his heavy bridge coat. But he felt no regret at being on the sidelines. His mind was full of the fight that lay ahead. He was going to make May his wife. He did not know what manner of life they could find together, he did not even know whether they would be happy, and he did not care now. He was going to make May his wife.
Torn paper was flying in the air over the victorious marchers; and now and then a scrap drifted down and brushed the face of the last captain of the
Caine
.
THE END.