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Hot Buttons and Weak Spots
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more that she had blown the opportunity to finally meet a decent
man. “Tell me what happened,” she added quickly, hoping to repair
the conversation; then, just as quickly, she remembered that her father
would never talk about his combat experience. It was just too
painful for him. Nancy felt that the conversation was heading into a
death spiral, and she didn’t know how to save herself.
Marshall, leaning back, closed his eyes briefly and then proceeded
to tell her about his war experiences. Nancy listened intently.
She couldn’t help but be impressed by the valor Marshall showed
that day and she felt pride for him and, in a moment of reverie, her
late father.
“After I got out I got a job as a private pilot and made good
money, but I then decided I wanted to help sick people more than
ferry rich ones to and from exotic vacation spots,” he said, rolling his
eyes. “I guess having the medics sew me back together,” Marshall
paused, looked away and then back, “I guess I was grateful, and it
was then that I decided that I should help others.”
Nancy was touched, and toward the end of the flight, when Marshall
asked for her phone number, she eagerly obliged.
Marshall and Nancy dated for about four months. While her crazy
schedule kept her close to home, Marshall, who lived and worked
eighty miles away, made the trek whenever he could steal enough
time to stay with her. He always arrived at her place with flowers,
candy, a small piece of jewelry, expensive champagne, and sometimes
a naughty negligee. Nancy loved all the attention. They dined
at fancy restaurants, and being proud of her ability to support herself
as a traveling nurse, she often offered to pay.
Their conversations were different than any she had ever had
with a man—serious, humorous, lighthearted, and deep. She was always
surprised by how much Marshall knew about the world, about
people, and about medicine.
At times, she would fantasize about their spending their lives