small apartment he had, left his job, and moved in with Faye and Ward for a few days before he left for boot camp. They were grateful to have the time with him and they both left work early every day. But the last night was rough. Everyone cried as they toasted him. And they all stood in the doorway and waved the next day at 6 A.M. as the cab drove away, and Faye collapsed in Ward's arms and sobbed. She was afraid she would never see him again, and as he held her, Ward cried just as hard. It was a heartbreaking time for all of them, and as she and Bill went for a long, long walk, Anne voiced to Bill what her parents were afraid to say, that he had never recovered from John's death and maybe he had gone to Vietnam to let himself be killed. It was a sobering thought.
“I'm sure that's not true, sweetheart. He's just doing what he thinks he has to do. I went to war once too, you know. Not everyone gets killed. And if he's working in film, I'm sure he'll be pretty safe.” It wasn't entirely true. He knew that those boys often got hit, riding low in helicopters to get the best shots. He just prayed that her brother would be sensible, and that her assessment of his psychological state was wrong. But Ward and Faye were secretly afraid of it too.
Only Val seemed certain that he'd be fine. She was so involved in her own life, it was difficult for her to think of much else. She had just gotten a part in a monster movie being made outside Rome. It was an international cast and the whole thing was being dubbed, but she had no lines in it anyway. There were a number of old stars in it, all of them failing badly and long since out of work.
“Isn't that great?” She had called Vanessa to tell her she'd be coming through New York. Only for one night, but it would be fun anyway. Vanessa had invited her to stay to meet her “friend.”
Valerie hurtled off the plane wearing a red leather skirt and purple tights, a purple fur, and suede boots that looked like neon signs. The sweater she had on was cut almost to her waist, and her hair was still the same wild mane. Suddenly as Vanessa glanced up at Jason in his subdued forest greens and charcoal grays, she coughed and wondered what she had done.
“My God, is she for real?” he whispered to Van, but her beauty was undeniable, no matter how ridiculous her clothes were, and Vanessa grinned.
“Plastic Land at its best.”
She threw herself into Vanessa's arms, kissed Jason a little too lovingly for a first time. Her perfume was too heavy and as they kissed, Vanessa could smell marijuana in her hair. They went to Greenwich Village that night, to listen to some jazz, and then came back and talked in Jason's apartment until four o'clock. He poured tequila until they ran out, and Valerie pulled out a box of joints.
“Help yourselves.” She lit one expertly as Jason watched, and he followed suit, as Vanessa hesitated. She had only tried it once before and she didn't think much of it. “Come on, Sis, don't be a square.” Vanessa did it to be a good sport, and insisted it had had no effect, except that they all found themselves combing the Yellow Pages for an all-night pizza joint, and settled for emptying Louise and Van's refrigerator instead, laughing and giggling as Jason stared at Val. He couldn't get over how different she was from Van, and he was still staring at her the next day as she got back on the plane, this time in a lime-green leather suit her parents had never seen. She had borrowed a lot of her wardrobe for the trip from the girls she roomed with and no one seemed to care. No one knew what belonged to who anymore, and she was only going to be gone a few weeks, unless she got more work, once she was over there.
“Ta ta, guys. Take care of yourselves.” And then she winked at Van. “He's okay.”
“Thanks.” The two young women kissed, and Jason waved as she boarded the plane. It was like having been hit by a cyclone for two days.
“How on earth did she wind up like that, with you the way you are?”