Chapter Fifteen
Fifteen
“When was the last time you slept?” Kerry asked as she slid a carton of takeout Chinese food to Vivian.
“I caught an hour or two on a cot last night,” Vivian replied, gratefully picking up the food Kerry had brought her.
“Well, it’s almost three o’clock in the afternoon now, so it sounds like you’re due for another rest. It does no one any good if you’re collapsing on your feet.”
“Is anyone sleeping?” Vivian asked her.
How could you sleep when the world was on the brink of nuclear war?
The newsroom was brimming with people, the news that the Soviets had nuclear weapons in Cuba setting off a global panic that had children hiding under their desks at school and politicians scrambling for an end to the crisis.
“I went back to my apartment,” Kerry replied. “Took a shower. Picked up the food. Trust me, you have to be careful about burning out in this business. It’s smart to take care of yourself.”
Kerry slid into the chair next to Vivian, her gaze pointed as it zeroed in on Brian Forrester, the network’s star reporter who had filled the void after Graham left.
Vivian liked Brian well enough, had enjoyed working on the story of Kennedy’s speech at Rice with him, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed that Kerry had him beat in seniority. Ultimately, it hadn’t mattered, and Graham’s time slot had gone to Brian.
“The men in this business have more support than we’ll ever get,” Kerry added.
“They have secretaries, and assistants, and the network gives them the tools to be successful. For the women—well, if you’re successful, then they’ll be happy with you, of course, but you aren’t treated as though you have the same level of star power.
Nobody makes it any easier for you. You have to work ten times harder to do the same job.
Because I promise you, Brian’s lovely wife Jan will be in here with fresh shirts for him and dinner in Tupperware dishes in a few hours.
No one is bringing us freshly laundered clothes and dinners.
It’s why we have to make a point to take care of ourselves when we can. ”
Kerry didn’t say it with an air of complaint, but matter-of-factly, as though it was something she’d learned and accepted a long time ago.
Vivian had never asked, had never felt comfortable with their relationship venturing into personal territory when it was strictly professional, but she didn’t think Kerry was married, that she had anyone she was interested in romantically in her life.
Kerry seemed to have decided early in her career that she was going to devote herself to it with everything she had, and now, hearing her speak about it, Vivian realized that Kerry’s point was how much more difficult it was to have it all when you had to be it all, when you didn’t have the advantage of someone at home to help you out, to take care of you so you could wholly focus on your job.
“I’m going on air later,” Kerry said. “Do you want to help work on some of the copy? What these guys gave me to go off is pretty terrible. I’d clean it up myself, but I’m in the middle of trying to chase down a few sources at the White House.
” She leaned in closer to Vivian, her voice lowering.
“An ExComm meeting just ended,” Kerry added, referring to the Executive Committee President Kennedy had formed to address the missile crisis in Cuba.
“I’m trying to see if I can get an update on whether the president’s thinking has changed. On what the plan is.”
The rumor was that military assets were standing by, jets ready to launch and act against the Soviet presence in Cuba.
Vivian hadn’t heard anything from Joe since he left her in Italy, didn’t know where he was or if he was one of those pilots sitting alert, waiting for the order to go to war.
She’d heard through one of the reporters that they were using F-100s, which was the plane Joe had told her he flew, so she figured that was why they’d chosen to deploy his squadron from Italy, although she didn’t know for sure where they’d been sent.
There were rumors that planes were lining the runway at Homestead Air Force Base near Miami, and Vivian wondered if Joe was among them.
As soon as she’d realized why he’d been called away, she’d changed her ticket and jumped on the first flight back to Washington D.C.
This was the kind of story careers were made on, the kind of moment when the world looked to the newsroom to inform, to inspire, to comfort.
This was the kind of moment that made her want to be a journalist in the first place.
And still, now that the world was faced with the possibility of nuclear war, the greatest regret that Vivian faced wasn’t a professional one, but rather that she hadn’t spent more time with Joe when she had the chance.
—
Vivian stumbled into the hallway of her apartment building at nearly midnight, feeling like she’d worked for thirteen days straight.
The Soviets had finally removed the nuclear weapons from Cuba, and the world was no longer on the brink of nuclear war.
It was terrifying to realize how close they’d come.
Vivian headed down the hallway, walking toward her apartment—
A dark shadow filled the doorway.
Vivian took a step back, unease filling her.
It was a safe building, but ever since Polly had moved out when she married Frank, Vivian had to admit that at times she felt a little—not scared, just aware of the fact that she was a single woman living alone in the city.
After Polly left, Vivian was finally making enough money at the station that she didn’t necessarily need a roommate to pay the rent, and the idea of another woman moving into the apartment felt wrong considering the bond she’d shared with Polly.
The shadow moved.
“Viv.”
Joe emerged into the dimly lit hallway.
Vivian rushed toward him, throwing her arms around him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, pulling him more tightly toward her.
“I took leave. I wanted to see you. Needed to see you. It’s been a hell of a two weeks.”
Joe leaned back slightly, cupping her face with his hands, his thumbs brushing at the tears falling from her cheeks. “Are you alright?”
Vivian nodded. “I’m sorry—it’s silly, I don’t even know why I’m crying; everything is catching up with me at once.”
“I know. I feel the same way. I haven’t been scared all that much doing what I do, but this week—I was scared for all of us. We came so close to everything ending—to the world as we know it being annihilated.”
He took a deep, shaky breath. “I was scared I’d never see you again, never get to tell you this.” His expression turned serious. “I love you, Viv.”
The words landed with a force that she felt in her bones.
And even though the urge to panic was there, the fear that if she said it back to him, she would cross some imaginary line there would be no going back from, she did love him. She couldn’t hear the man she loved put himself out there and not return his truth with her own.
Not after the two weeks she’d just lived through.
Joe was right—anticipating the end of the world had changed Vivian’s perspective on things, made her realize that she didn’t want to live her remaining days with regret for the opportunities she’d missed, for not following her heart.
“I love you, too.”
For a moment, they just stood there in the hall, their bodies intertwined, and she could see and feel the exhaustion overtaking him, the toll that the last two weeks had on him.
“Viv?” Joe murmured finally. “Can we go to sleep?”
—
Vivian woke up twelve hours later in bed, her arms wrapped around Joe’s bare chest.
“You’re awake,” she said, feeling more relaxed than she had in a long time—maybe ever. He’d held her the entire time they slept, and there was something intensely comforting about waking up in his arms. The intensity of the bond that had sprung up between them still surprised her.
Joe, for his part, didn’t look relaxed at all. His brow knitted as he looked at her.
“What’s wrong? Do you have to leave again?” Vivian asked him.
To be fair, he’d never said how long his leave was for or when he was expected back in Italy. She’d hoped they would have a bit more time together, but—
“No. Nothing like that. I just—can we talk?”
“Can we talk” always had a particularly ominous ring. Vivian was pretty sure she’d used those same words with Graham right before she ended things with him.
“Alright.”
“Do you want coffee first?” Joe asked. “This might be a coffee conversation.”
“What’s going on? No, I don’t need coffee.”
“I wanted to talk to you about us when you came to Italy. The phone calls and letters are great, but this felt like a conversation we should have in person. But then, of course, all hell broke loose, and I had to leave, but when I was in Florida—”
So he had been sent to Homestead during the missile crisis, had been sitting in one of those F-100s waiting to launch.
The thought terrified her.
“How do you do it?” Vivian asked.
“What do you mean? It’s a job like any other one. There are risks to any job.”
“I doubt dentists face death as much as you do.”
Joe pulled a face. “I’m not sure I can envision anything as boring as being a dentist. I can’t be afraid of death every single time I go up.
It wouldn’t do me any good; in fact it would only make things worse.
If I don’t believe I’m invincible up there, then I’ll spend too much time worrying I’ll make a mistake. ”
“I still wish I’d fallen in love with a dentist.”
“You’re killing me, Viv.” Joe took a deep breath. “When I was in Florida, I thought more about how badly I wanted to have this conversation.” He hesitated. “I guess I want to know where you see this going between us.”
“I don’t know. It feels like a whirlwind. Things have been happening so quickly, and—”
“Have they, though? We’ve known each other for a year and a half. Our best friends are married to each other. We’ve written each other how many letters?”
“We’ve only seen each other a handful of times.”
“We’ve corresponded a great deal more than that.”
“We have,” she acknowledged.