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Kent nodded. They walked a couple of graves over, and he placed a quarter on the one they stopped in front of. “Brian is one I couldn’t save,” he said quietly. From that moment, Kent placed nickels, dimes, and quarters, along with some pennies, on the tombstones.
“So much death.” Palmer placed her hand over Kent’s as he pushed her up a hill. They came to the eternal flame of John F. Kennedy and Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, and just beyond there, General Lee’s home.
“Do you think she wanted to be buried next to her husband?” Kent asked.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I think it’s more for her daughter than anything.” Palmer thought about her burial, or lack thereof. Prior to coming on this trip with Kent, she’d expected the city to cremate her, but now maybe she could ask Kent to do it and spread her ashes somewhere. Although she didn’t want to burden him. Taking her on a trip was one thing; to dispose of her remains was something wholly different.
Kent and Palmer made their way to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. They sat in front and watched the sentinel march his twenty-one steps down the black mat before turning, and then another twenty-one steps to the other end of the mat. Everyone around there was quiet or used a very hushed tone to speak to the person next to them. Palmer couldn’t take her eyes off the man marching in front of her. His precise movements mesmerized her, and she counted each step and jumped when he reached the end of the mat and tapped his shoes together.
The relief commander appeared and asked everyone to stand and remain silent. Palmer held on to Kent and watched with rapt attention at the changing of the guard. In the background, taps played, and the sound of the bugle brought tears to her eyes.
When the ceremony was over, she hugged Kent. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“Thank you for coming with me.”
They stayed for a few more minutes and then made their way out of the cemetery. Off in the distance, they saw a horse-drawn carriage and people gathered. “Another soldier,” Palmer said.
“Upward to thirty a day are buried here.”
She shook her head and placed her hand on top of Kent’s, thankful to know him and be there with him as he honored his friends.
Palmer wasn’t ready to call it a day, so they headed to another museum. She needed something to cleanse her emotional palate. Kent gave her two options: the Air and Space Museum or the National Archives. She chose the latter.
When they finally made it inside to see the US Constitution, Palmer was less than impressed, mostly because the dim lighting and the yellowish faded documents were unreadable to her. Still, she walked around and pretended to enjoy the moment. In the gift shop, she insisted Kent buy a magnet—his collection was growing tenfold—and suggested they watch National Treasure in bed later in the evening.
As dusk settled over DC, they sat on the steps of the Capitol, drinking soda and eating food truck hot dogs and fries shaped like the Washington Monument.
“Today was a good day,” she said to Kent, meaning every word of it. No pain. She’d laughed and cried, and she’d enjoyed every moment, even the ones inside the stuffy archives, where you had to be quiet.
“We have another day tomorrow,” he told her. “The National Museum of Natural History and the National Museum of American History, for sure.”
“I really like it here.”
“We can stay another day, if you’d like,” he said. “Maybe go to the zoo. They have pandas there, or we could try the other museums. We have the National Museum of African American History and Culture, the US Holocaust Memorial, and the Smithsonian American Art Museum,” Kent said as he read from the pamphlet he’d picked up when they’d first arrived at the Mall.
“That seems like a lot to tackle in a day.”
“We can just stay another day.”
“Well, before we decide, we should probably talk to the hotel.”
Kent smiled and pulled his phone out. “Let me just text our friend Greg.”
“He’s a gem,” Palmer said. While Kent texted Greg, she thought back to the night prior. When they returned from their jaunt in the park, he was waiting for them in the lobby, hours before his shift started. He’d decorated one of the square tables with a party tablecloth, added some plastic toys, and had three Happy Meals on the table. Kent and Palmer learned that McDonald’s had indeed come out with adult-size Happy Meals, with toys, and Kent was over the moon.
“Ask Greg if he can join us tomorrow.” Palmer nudged Kent’s leg with hers.
“You want him to come with us?”
She nodded. “Why not?”
“You’re the boss.” Kent typed and then grinned when the response came in. “Greg says he called his manager. There’s a room, and it’s ours, and he’s in for tomorrow. He says, and I quote, ‘Tell Palmer she better be ready for IG because it’s going to be lit.’”
