“I’ll see you later?”
“I might stop by. If I’m not too busy.”
“Promise,” he said.
“I never make promises I’m not sure I’ll keep.”
“Then promise, and keep the promise.”
“They ought to make you a recruiting officer,” she said.
“Then you’ll come back?”
“Yes, later. For just a few minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“Breathlessly, no doubt,” she said, and left the room.
She went back to him a little later, after she’d seen her other patients. He was propped up in bed, the pillow behind him, and he stared through the window, with the sun laying long golden bars across his face. He looked very weak and very pathetic that way, and she paused in the doorway for a moment before entering. She had always felt an enormous sympathy for anyone who was ill, and his pose when she entered was such a desolately lonely one that she felt a sudden wrench of her heart. He kept staring through the window, unaware of her presence, and she wondered for a moment if she shouldn’t leave him with his thoughts. Instead, she walked crisply to the foot of his bed, and he turned when he heard the rustle of her uniform, and then a smile mushroomed on his face.
“Hi,” he said. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I promised, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did. Gee, I’m glad to see you.”
“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything. You looked so... so solemn.”
Pain seemed to stab his eyes, and he turned his head for a moment, the sun limning his profile. “Well, you know,” he said.
“No, I don’t. Is something wrong?”
He turned to face her again, studying her, studying her minutely, as if trying to memorize her features. “No, nothing,” he said at last. He smiled broadly. “Nothing to worry your pretty head about, anyway.”
Jean looked at him curiously. “If it’s anything I can help with...”
“No, no, nothing. It’s just... a fellow gets lonely sometimes.”
“How long have you been in the Navy?” Jean asked.
“Oh, a while.”
“Homesick?”
“A little.”
She raised her brows and looked at him again. There was a strange quality about him, a feeling of utter truth that was somehow submerged. She couldn’t tell whether or not he was being honest with her, or whether his tongue was in his cheek, and this inability to determine his motives annoyed her and piqued her interest at the same time. For no real reason, she asked, “Are you married?”
“No,” he answered quickly, without hesitation.
“Girl back home?”
“No,” he said. “That’s not it.”
“Just miss things in general, is that it? Your town, the people there?”
“I suppose,” he said, and his voice was lonely and forlorn again, and she felt once more an enormous sympathy sweeping over her.
“I feel like that sometimes, too,” she said. “It’s a normal thing.” She paused. “It’s hard to pick up your roots. The Navy asks you to do that, but it’s very hard, I know.”
“Do you like the Navy, Miss Dvorak?” he asked.
“Yes. Very much.”
“Good.” He paused. “I do, too.”
“Well, good. That makes two of us.”
“Except... well, never mind.”
“No, what is it?” she asked.
“Well, the regulations. Sometimes they bother me.”
“The regulations bother everyone. You have to have regulations, or you wouldn’t have a navy.”
“Oh, don’t misunderstand me, Jean—” He cut himself short. “Say, is it all right to call you Jean?”
“Well...”
“See, that’s what I mean about regulations. Isn’t it natural for a guy and a girl to call each other by their first names? Well, sure it is. But I have to be careful about calling you Jean. Now that’s silly, isn’t it?”
“Well...” She smiled. “I guess it is silly, when you consider it.”
“May I call you Jean?”
She hesitated. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Well, regulations...”
“Sure,” he said, the sadness back in his voice again.
“Oh, now don’t look so desolate.”
“No, it’s all right.”
“Really, it’s not that important.”
“It is important to me,” he said. His eyes sought hers. “It’s very important that I call you Jean.”
“Well, if it’s that important...” She smiled mischievously. “Suppose you call me Jean, then. But only in this room, all right?”
“And will you call me by my first name?”
“I don’t even know your first name,” she said. “In fact, I’m not even sure of your last name.”
“You’re kidding me. I thought surely you’d memorized the chart by now.”
“No, I’m afraid I haven’t,” she said, still smiling. “In fact, I have a confession. To me, you’re just One-o-seven.”
“One-o-seven?”
“The room number,” she said, gesturing toward the door with her head.
“One-o-seven,” he repeated, wagging his head. “The Navy’s finally reduced me to a cipher. Look, will you do me a favor?”
“That depends.”
“You won’t even have to look at the chart, how’s that? I mean, I’ll make it real easy or you, no fuss, no muss. O.K.?”
“It still depends.”
“I’ll give you my name. No work involved. No walking around to the foot of the bed, no eyestrain. How about it? All you have to do is promise you’ll call me by it.”
She thought about this for several moments. Then she said, “No.”
“Why not?” he said plaintively.
“It’s better this way.” She nodded her head. “It’s better if you remain One-o-seven.”
He looked crestfallen. “You engaged or something?”
“No,” she said slowly.
“Going steady?”
“No.”
“A guy?”
“Maybe a guy,” she admitted.
“Would he object to your calling me by my first name? Gee, is that a lot to ask? It’s not as if I’m... Well, I’m only asking you to...” He spread his hands in frustration.
“One-o-seven,” she said again, smiling.
“Well, I guess I know when I’m licked. That’s a nice name when you get down to it, I suppose. Has a good ring, and it’s sure individual. Oh, yes. I knew a guy named One-o-eight once, but I never met anybody named One-o-seven.”
She burst out laughing and then stopped abruptly, still unable to keep the smile off her face.
“You’re really very beautiful when you smile, did you know that?” he asked.
His statement surprised her, and her thoughts fled back to that night in the Officers’ Club, when Chuck had used almost the exact words. She thought of Chuck now, and a blush rose on her throat, spread into her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Jean.”
“It’s just... never mind. Thank you for your compliment.”
“With love, from One-o-seven,” he said, smiling.
She rose abruptly, glancing at her watch. “I’ve got to go. This has been very nice.”
“I enjoyed it,” he said. “Will you come back again?”
“Oh, you’ll see me around. You’ll get to hate me.”
His face grew suddenly serious. “I’ll never get to hate you, Jean,” he said, and his eyes were so penetrating that she knew she would blush again unless she got out of the room immediately.
“Get some sleep,” she said, and then she whirled on her heel and walked out of the room.
From the end of the corridor, Greg saw her leaving 107. His eyes followed her until she rounded the bend in the corridor, and then he turned back to the report he was filling out, annoyed when he found his concentration had been destroyed.