I stood between Shannie and scrum on the ground. Her eyes teared. Her hands clenched into tiny fists. "We better get out of here," I told her.
"He's right, you oughta get out of here," said the unknown soldier, still holding Mulberry to the ground. Covering Mulberry's ears, the unknown soldier continued. "Meet me on the steps of the Lincoln memorial in an hour. We need to talk. Now, get out of here. Go count blue cars! Go on, Scram!"
***
"What do you think he knows?" I asked trying to inspire conversation. We sat on the top step of the Lincoln memorial, glancing past the reflecting pool and the Washington monument towards the Capitol. The mall swelled with a sea of humanity. Many in crisp, pleated uniforms, arms around significant others. Giddy with the patriotic fever, their laughter and smiles crashed over us.
Shannie glanced at me before turning her attention back to the crowd. With slouched shoulders and chin resting in her upturned hands, she was the picture of exhaustion. Dark rings emerged under her eyes, which were absent and pallid.
Our silence thickened. I returned to looking for the black soldier. It was well over an hour and still no sign of him. "We didn't even get his name," Shannie bemoaned. "I don't believe it. We just fucked up the chance of a lifetime. We blew it, we'll never know. And all because of that rat bastard Mulberry."
I nodded in agreement. We watched the crowd thin. "Nothing like being at funeral when the rest of the world is at a wedding," Shannie said.
"Huh?"
"Never mind," Shannie sighed. "Let's get out of here."
"Okay." I agreed.
We stood. "Just James, make me a promise. Don't ever leave me! Promise you'll never leave me! Please? I mean you're the only friend I've got. I need you." She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me against her.
For a moment, I felt we were one. I imagined our hearts beating together. Her feel showered me with goosebumps. "I won't leave you. Never, ever, I promise!" She smiled, took my hand and led me down the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. From the corner of my eye, I watched Shannie's hair sway back and forth over her lowered face, each step playing peek-a-boo with her tired smile. Despite everything, it was the happiest moment of my life.
I wonder how different life would be if we'd left a minute earlier? How different life would be if we missed Calvin Gray at the bottom of the Lincoln Memorial? I'm positive two people would still be alive.