Honey Ko - A Novel

Chapter Nine

The silence pounded in my ears. I wanted to sit and think, but my knees were locked. All I could do was stare at the door that had both opened and closed a moment before. I had learned something about Chip and something about myself. I had often noticed the purple heart among his many decorations but never asked for what action he earned it. Those questions weren't asked; the answers were volunteered. Chip was one of those men you didn't question but accepted as invincible, courageous, impervious to harm and fear.

I had learned too that I needed a woman's understanding and strength, her gift of love for a deeply injured man carrying a heart full of scars. I needed a woman's tender touch to smooth away the creases and ridges of worry and fear that life flays a man with, and temper the thoughtless exploration of the dark side of the soul with soothing words and caresses. All women are nurses and all men are flawed, and both come together to love and be loved. How many words had I exchanged with Marie that night? A dozen? Two dozen? Something wonderful had shaken me, and Marie too, I was certain, when our fingers touched. She had felt it. Maybe Marie will save me. Would she? Could she? Did I need saving? I needed nursing. I needed a nurse.

I wasn't in Vietnam, however. It was over. I was safe. For now. But, still, something told me it wasn't over. Thinking about it raised the hairs on the back of my neck. My head filled with the faces of friends who died over there. I remembered them and regretted their eternal absence. Did the faces come to stay right away? Or did something trigger them to show up unbidden later as nightmares? Did I need saving now or later? I had never thought I needed saving, and never sought a woman because I needed her.

But now. Was now different? Was I falling for Marie because I needed her?

I wanted to talk to her, but her refusal to have a drink with me made me gun shy. Some servers had come into the back room after Chip left and invited me to play pool with them. My heart wasn't in it, though, and I went into the bar after a few games and sipped a warm beer while deflecting playful propositions from the servers on duty. I reminded myself that I hadn't had a girlfriend in several years. Maybe I hadn't been needy enough. I had been lonely, though.

The girls feared Marie. That much I gathered as they spoke openly about her while we played pool. She wasn't one of them and didn't try to know them. She didn't hustle guys for drinks, didn't dance, and always went home alone. She might let a guy buy her a watered-down drink, but he never made it past, "Thank you. Goodbye." Mystery surrounded her; no one knew where she was from, how she made her living, or why she worked at Rufadora. She drove a luxury car, wore nice clothes, and didn't smell of cheap perfume. Her jewelry was real, and she drove to Manila to have her hair done. Besides Helen, only Amy could engage Marie in conversation, joke with her, draw a smile from her. Now, for the first time in anyone's memory, she had revealed herself to be a woman: she was interested in a man. The last was said with a glance at me.

The bartender brought another beer and took away the empty. Warm again. On busy nights, beer sold faster than it could chill. I considered asking for a glass with ice, but it was laborious picking out the bits of rust and occasional fly embedded in the ice. Marie was sitting with a stocky Marine, the type who probably had Mother tattooed across his chest. The guy guzzled his beer and belched. He laughed and guzzled more and belched again, this time sitting up and concentrating. The belch rolled across the bar, catching the silence between songs from the jukebox and wringing applause from the crowd. The look of disgust on Marie's face spoke volumes. She pushed the glass away with her fingertips and walked from the table. He took another swig and picked up and finished Marie's drink. He wavered on his feet but steadied himself and joined a group of Marines at another table. They looked Marie's way and laughed.