I’m also more than a little curious to know if it’s true the ships you will be flying, as Daddy heard (P40-Bs?), are the ones the English rejected as obsolete. If that’s a military secret, of course, ignore the question.
Take care of yourself, Canidy.
Cordially,
Ann Chambers
Bitter came into the dining room as Canidy was rereading one of his father’s letters.
He fixed him with a penetrating stare and kept it up until Bitter finally responded.
‘‘Why are you staring at me?’’
‘‘That’s what’s known as keeping an eye on an idiot cousin,’’ Canidy said, pleased with himself.
He handed Bitter Ann Chambers’s letter. He wondered how her father had been able to come up with CAMCO’s Rockefeller Center mail-drop address.
Bitter handed the letter back.
‘‘She writes a funny letter,’’ he said. ‘‘I got one too. I mean a morale builder. From Ann’s friend.’’
‘‘Which friend?’’
‘‘Sarah Child,’’ Bitter said, handing it to him.
‘‘The one with the nice ass,’’ Canidy said. He read the letter.
P.O. Box 135
College Station
Bryn Mawr, Pa.
Sept. 4,1941
Dear Ed:
I suppose you’ll be as surprised to hear from me as I am surprised to be writing. There was a Red Cross program here to get the girls to write to men in the service. I just don’t have the courage to write to a complete stranger, and Ann, as usual, came up with a solution that will keep the powers that be off our backs: She’s writing Dick Canidy (she got the address from her father) and I’m writing you.
I’m sure that you have absolutely no interest in what’s happened since we were at Ann’s place, but for lack of anything else to write about, I spent most of the summer in New York, except for two weeks, when we went to Mackinac Island, where there is an enormous old hotel and no automobiles. It was kind of nice, probably just the way it was in the 1890s.
Charity came in and said that what we’re doing is no fair. She was going to write one or the other of you, but we told her that would be unfair to you, that you had more important things to do with your time than solve what must seem like a silly problem for us.
It was very nice meeting you and Dick Canidy in Alabama, and I hope this finds both of you happy and in good health. If you do have a spare moment sometime, it would be nice to get a postcard. Or do they have postcards in China?
Sincerely,
Sarah Child
‘‘Holy shit!’’ Bitter exclaimed excitedly. Canidy looked at him. Bitter was pointing to an enormous insect crawling across an ancient copy of the Times of India on the table beside Canidy. ‘‘Kill the fucking thing!’’ Bitter said.
‘‘My God, you’re learning to swear and everything,’’ Canidy chuckled. ‘‘You kill it. I’m willing to talk things over with it.’’
‘‘Fuck you,’’ Ed Bitter said. He dumped the insect on the floor by turning the newspaper over and then stamped on the bug.
Canidy handed Sarah Child’s letter back to him.
‘‘Clever,’’ he said. ‘‘Not as clever as Ann’s, but clever.’’