was another reason for his marriage that he hadn’t admitted to Helen, which had to do with his fear of not coming back; a kind of insurance policy at the time to leave someone behind, waiting for him. But this woman’s love had not weighted him down to either safety or caution.
The jeep stopped in front of the hotel, and Darrow climbed out. He tossed the rest of the pack of cigarettes to the driver and received a happy nod as the jeep sped away.
He felt a hazy discomfort, as slight as a sore muscle, afraid that changing the status quo, no matter how unsatisfactory, would jinx his luck. Helen’s love was difficult, took away his lightness, his fearlessness.
Sunlight, broken up and scattering itself as the leaves of the flamboyant tree moved in the wind outside the window. Helen hadn’t slept, reconciling herself to the future of things, and now at late morning, she still lay in bed, heavy, half awake.
She heard the key in the door, and then Darrow stood in the bedroom. Studying his face under half-closed eyes, she imagined she had summoned him with her dreams. The thought surprised her that she would never love anyone as much. His expression defiant as he pulled the wedding band off his finger and threw it across the floor. They both heard the hollow roll of it as it circled down into silence.
TWELVE. A Map of the Earth
Months passed. Robert’s assignment was up; he was being promoted and sent to Los Angeles as bureau chief. When he invited Helen for a last lunch, they sat at the patio tables of the Cercle Sportif as shy as young lovers with unfinished business. Helen pretended to sun herself, tilting her face and closing her eyes. Although she always enjoyed his company, she wanted to know nothing about his relationship with Annick, which had been going on for the last few months. Annick had indicated that the relationship was less than satisfactory. Out at the pool, the daughters of wealthy South Vietnamese families sunned in French bikinis and ordered drinks from waiters who had been there since the colonial era.
Robert’s white shirt and khaki pants were freshly pressed, his face shaven and smooth. And yet there were circles under his eyes and a cowlick that wouldn’t settle over his forehead. Something vaguely dissipated about him, as if the tropics had finally had their way. He had aged a decade in the year and a half Helen had known him.
“If ever there was a revolution,” Robert said, “it should start here, don’t you think? Hopefully that waiter over there is a VC operative, a nephew of Uncle Ho.”
“How can you leave all this?” She was teasing but also curious. Reporters were beginning to consider Vietnam a must-have on their resumes.
“I’ve had more than enough of this place. Two years is a lifetime in Saigon.” He looked at her and smirked. “When’re you taking off?”
“Soon…” Her hand fluttered toward the pool, the city beyond, before running out of force and dropping back in her lap. Darrow had delayed their departure three times, and the fourth date of departure was still up in the air. “If things would settle down… it’s been one crisis after another.”
He felt bad for needling her, so clear to him the one-sidedness of the thing with Darrow. “You’re both coming to my going-away party?”
“Do we ever miss a party?” The truth was if Darrow wasn’t on assignment, then he was buried in a crowd of people, either at other people’s houses or at impromptu get-togethers at the Cholon apartment. They were never alone anymore; no doubt he intended the buffer to keep him safe from her nagging.
“Annick and I didn’t work out. It’s easier this way. Hope that doesn’t change your mind about coming.” Robert stood up. “I’d better get back to the grindstone.”
Helen pushed back her chair to get up. “What happened?”
“She’s a crazy one. Another war casualty. But it’s ungentlemanly to kiss and tell… Stay and enjoy your coffee.”
She sat back and shaded her eyes to look up at him. “That’s too bad, but I’ve missed you. You haven’t had any time for me. I’m almost a lady of leisure now. Feature work. I’ve been sticking close in.”
He wondered if part of his attraction to her simply had to do with being rejected, but now that the possibility was long past, he thought himself probably lucky. “I worry about you. I’ve kept my mouth shut because it’ll sound like sour grapes,” Robert said. “With Darrow, the war’s different. I’ve seen it in other guys. He can’t let it go. He’s searching for more than a picture when he goes out, do you understand?”
Helen picked up her coffee cup and held it in mid air, then set it back down without taking a sip. “What are you saying?”
“He’s taking risks he doesn’t have to take anymore to get a cover,” Robert said.
“You’re wrong. He wanted to leave for Angkor awhile ago.”
“For your sake, I hope I am.”
“Anyway, we’re leaving here right after you. He’s got a replacement coming.”
“But do you think he’ll stay away? A man like him living in a house with a wife and a dog, taking the garbage out Monday nights?”
Helen shook her head. “There are other things to do. Stories that don’t involve war, like the Angkor piece.”
“His choice?”
“Our choice. We both want this.”
Robert sighed. “So why have you stopped going out?”
Helen shrugged. Since Samuels, she had not ventured into the field, making excuses to Gary, which he all too readily accepted. Samuels’s picture had gotten a lot of play and had been copied for numerous articles. Each plane of new soldiers coming off the planes at Tan Son Nhut a weight on her. “I’m taking a break. You know-do no harm.”
“Just don’t let him take you down with him.” He bent to kiss her cheek, but she turned her face and kissed him on the mouth.
“Don’t worry about me,” she whispered. “I’ll save both of us.”
But days passed each other in a succession of delays and excuses, fights and lies. As if Robert’s words, spoken aloud, had taken on a truth of their own. Darrow bewitched, enchanted, and nothing Helen could do.
As one of their last assignments, Gary had arranged for them to cover a Red Cross center for children. Darrow went there for a week while Helen made arrangements for their trip back to the States. The day he finally took her, she noticed a strange excitement in him.
The courtyard, a converted villa, was filled with the “healthy” ones, children merely missing limbs but who could still sit or crawl or hobble about. They threaded their way around children sitting in the fine white dust of the yard; Helen watched as a small boy picked up a fallen red bougainvillea flower and popped it in his mouth.
Inside, the unlucky were hidden away-the ones paralyzed by mortar fragments or burned from napalm or white phosphorous, flesh and muscle melted away.
“I was walking through the wards when I caught sight of Lan. You’ll know when you meet her. What I’m thinking is narrow the focus to one child and stay with her through the entire rehab so that people get caught up in her story.”
Darrow walked quickly, pulling Helen along by the arm. They entered a long, low-ceilinged room that was hot, like the dark insides of an oven, crowded with beds, two children in each one, sardine-style, head to feet. The sheets smelled of sweat and urine. One harried nurse, a Scotswoman with a sunken face and wide, maternal hips, was in charge of thirty children. The more fortunate ones had family who brought food and cleaned them; the others languished in institutional neglect. Lan was a single-leg amputee flown in from a free-fire zone west of Danang.
Darrow led Helen to a small cot by the shuttered window. He crouched down and spoke softly. “How’s my sweetheart?”
