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"I had a best friend forever once, but she was a real bitch to me, so I figured—"
"Look, Tully, normally Id grovel for an hour or so and spoon a bunch of humble pie down my throat, but I dont have time for the ritual today. Im sorry. Your phone call came at a bad time and I was snotty. Okay?"
"Whats wrong?"
"Its Johnny. Hes going to Baghdad tomorrow. "
Tully should have seen this coming. The whole station was buzzing over what was happening in the Middle East. Everyone at the station and around the world was trying to guess when President Bush was going to drop the first bomb. "A lot of journalists are going over there, Katie. Hell be fine. "
"Im scared, Tully. What if—"
"Dont," Tully said sharply. "Dont even think it. Ill follow him from the station. We get most of the news first. Ill watch for you. "
"And youll tell me the truth, no matter what?"
Tully sighed. Their familiar promise didnt sound as airy and hopeful as usual; suddenly it had a dark, ominous edge that she had to force herself to ignore. "No matter what, Katie. But you dont have to worry. This war wont last long. Hell be home before Marah takes her first step. "
"I pray youre right. "
"Im always right. You know that. "
Tully hung up the phone, listening to the sound of Grant turning on the shower. His humming, which usually made her smile, had no effect. For the first time in a long time she was afraid.
Johnny in Baghdad.
Kate received the first message from Johnny two days after he left. Until then, shed walked around the house in a daze, never far from the new fax/phone theyd put on the kitchen counter. As she went about the business of her day—changing diapers, reading stories, watching Marah crawl from one potentially dangerous piece of furniture to the next—she thought: Okay, Johnny: let me know youre alive and well. Hed told her that phone calls could only be made with dire need (to which shed argued that her need was dire, and why didnt that count?), but that faxes were not only possible but relatively easy.
And so shed waited.
When the phone rang at four in the morning, she threw the blanket away and rolled off the sofa, stumbling toward the kitchen, waiting for the message to unfurl.
Before shed read a word, she started to cry. Just seeing the bold scrawl of his handwriting made missing him almost unbearable.
Dear Katie:
Its crazy here. Flat-out insane. We dont know exactly whats happening—its a waiting game right now. The journalists are all in the Al-Rashid Hotel in the middle of Baghdad and weve got unprecedented access to both sides. The coverage of this war will change everything. Tomorrow were leaving the city for the first time. Dont worry, Ill be careful.
Gotta run. Kiss M for me.
Love U
J
After that, the faxes came about once a week. Not nearly often enough.
K—
The bombing started last night. Or should I say this morning? We had a birds-eye view from the hotel and it was gut-wrenching and horrific and amazing. It was a gorgeous, starry night in Baghdad and the bombs turned this city into hell. An office tower exploded close to the hotel and the heat was like an oven.
Am being careful.
Love U
J
K—
Seventeen hours of bombing and still counting. There will be nothing left when it finally stops. Back to work.
