Cassada by James Salter Read Free Book Online Page B

died or they got divorced. He lived with his mother.”
    â€œPuerto Rico,” Harlan said. “Well, how’d he get in the American Air Force?”
    â€œPuerto Rico’s part of the United States.”
    â€œSince when?”
    â€œI don’t know. A long time.”
    â€œI must of missed hearing about it.”
    Harlan continued to pick his teeth. He had figured out Cassada. It was written all over him. He followed Grace through a couple of rolls on that first ride and got the idea he could fly. You could tell what he was thinking about just by looking in his eye, like a bull.
    When Cassada was assigned to Wickenden’s flight, Harlan had thought: perfect. Sometimes they show a little sense.
    In with Wickenden and them was where he belonged. They could sit around when the ceiling went below a thousand feet and go over questions from the handbook. He’d fit in fine.
    â€œWhat time is it?” Godchaux asked.
    â€œFive to one.”
    â€œCome on, I’ll give you a ride. We’d better be getting on back.”

The phone was ringing. From the bedroom Isbell called, “Can you get that? I’m busy.”
    â€œI’m sure it’s for you,” his wife said. She got up, keeping her place with a finger, and went over to the phone. “Marian Isbell.” She had never learned and refused to say, “Captain Isbell’s quarters.”
    It was Dunning.
    â€œThat husband of yours still up?” he asked.
    â€œHe’s in the other room, Bud. Hold on.”
    â€œListen,” Dunning said, “don’t bother getting him to come to the phone. Ask him if he’ll pick me up in the morning.”
    â€œWho is it?” Isbell called.
    â€œBud Dunning.” She had her hand over the mouthpiece. “Can you stop by for him in the morning?”
    â€œSure, what time?”
    â€œWhat time, Bud?” she said, removing her hand.
    â€œOh, something like seven,” Dunning said.
    â€œSeven,” Marian said to her husband.
    â€œI’ll be there,” Isbell called.
    â€œI heard him,” Dunning said. “How are things going, Marian? Are you getting him all ready?”
    â€œOh, certainly.”
    â€œWell, that’s good.”
    After Dunning hung up, she returned to her chair and began reading again. She could hear her husband moving about in the next room—the steps and pauses—packing. There was not a sound or a silence she could not identify, not only in her own apartment but in a hundred others. Feet were creaking on the ceiling. Water ran at certain times. There was the quiet at mealtimes, not to mention the smell of cooking, the familiar odors.
    Isbell came into the hallway between the rooms. “Hey, honey, where are my socks?”
    â€œThey must be in the drawer.”
    â€œThere’s only four pairs in there.”
    â€œDon’t shout, you’ll wake them up. How many should there be?”
    â€œI had lots of socks.”
    â€œNot so loud.”
    â€œIt’s just a normal tone of voice. I’m not going to go around whispering all the time. Where are the rest of them?”
    â€œI don’t know. In the wash, I guess.”
    â€œIn the wash? You knew I was going to need them.”
    â€œCan’t you buy some when you get down there?”
    â€œJesus, I must own twenty pairs already.”
    â€œAll right. Just buy a few more. You can do that, can’t you?”
    â€œSure. You know I have all the time in the world. I could probably even knit them if I have to. I just thought I’d take some of the ones I already have. That’s one of the reasons I bought them.”
    â€œNot so loud. Please.”
    â€œThey’re not going to wake up.”
    â€œWell, you can try getting them back to sleep if they do.”
    After a pause Isbell said calmly, “Marian, you knew we were going a month ago.”
    â€œI forgot them,” she said, “that’s all. I