As if I weren't already curious and slightly uncomfortable around Tallulah, I'm now sharing the Plane Recognition Cart with her, standing before my enemy and behind the Carrier Aviation Memorial. Temple leaves us, but I hear the crickets chirping through the awkward silence between us. I want to mentor Tallulah but don't know what to tell her. Right now, I'm focused more on the "big" surprise than on the damn Plane Recognition Cart.
"So... What interested you and your friend in joining the Navy?" Tallulah eventually asks, brushing her fingers through her hair.
"World War II airplanes," I reply, picking up the model Corsair on the cart. "The Corsair, especially."
Tallulah grips the cart's handle. "What about the Corsair?"
"Her nickname—Whistling Death," I explain. "The Japanese called her that because wind passed through her engine whenever she flew, creating a whistling sound."
"Oh, that's so cool!" Tallulah smacks her hands together. "I've always tried asking why the Corsair was called Whistling Death."
I cock my head. "Don't you have Internet?"
"We're a little old school." Tallulah tucks her hair behind her ear. "I somewhat miss the days when it was all books instead of the Internet."
Huh, that is something we both agree on.
I nod and say, "Me, too."
The awkward silence continues, and then Tallulah gestures at the model airplanes. "So, what exactly are these airplanes? All I know is the Corsair because of my dad."
"Did he fly Corsairs?" I question as another flashback crosses my mind.
"He did," Tallulah replies.
"Which war? Wait, let me guess." I massage my chin and study Tallulah. "Looking at how old you are, I'm assuming the Korean War, too."
Tallulah chuckles. "Right on the money." Her face drops.
I lower my hand and pat her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know what it's like to lose a loved one."
"It's not just that. It's... something else." Tallulah dips her head like she's said too much, and I raise an eyebrow before clearing my throat.
"These are Japanese and American aircraft." I show Tallulah each aircraft and list their names. "Before 1942, we used the Weft Method to identify the planes. It stands for Wings, Engine, Fuselage, and Tail." I can't believe I'm mentoring Tallulah right now. "The Flash Method was invented in 1942, and it was meant for pilots to study the entire aircraft, instead of merely individual features."
I demonstrate my following line with my hands. "I'm sure you remember a Viewmaster as a kid. Am I right? Well, with the Flash Method, pictures of the airplanes were placed in a Viewmaster, and they flashed repeatedly in the pilots' faces. It was meant to train the rapid eye so they could identify aircraft faster. Proved to be more effective." I take a breath and examine Tallulah's face. "Are you taking notes, star pupil?"
"Oh." Tallulah blushes and feels around her body. She giggles and pushes my shoulder. "I'll do better next time, Master."
I wink and joke, "That's what they always say."
Tallulah smirks. "Well, I'm not that they."
I hope she's right.
The next hour passes smoothly for us. I quiz Tallulah on the airplanes, and she guesses four of the nine, so she's improving. She continues to talk about her dad; he chose to fly because, like Ted and I, World War II fascinated him. Nevertheless, something's missing from Tallulah's speech. I assume it's too hard for her to talk about it. I also guess her father died after the war, in looking at Tallulah's age, from injuries sustained during it. I almost hope Ted died instantly so he didn't suffer like him.
"Well," Tallulah says, after sharing her story, "I've told you my story. Could you maybe tell me a little more about your friend?"
A lump forms in my throat, but I let the truth slide. "He told me when we were tossed into the brig one day that he loved me—that he was queer—and I didn't know how to react to it."
"Queer, really?" Why is Tallulah excited all of a sudden? She catches herself in the act and calms herself. "I mean... Let me guess, you shot him down before accepting it?" She now sounds angry and even narrows her eyes. Her emotions change as much as mine, and I wonder why.
I cringe and say, "I never meant to hurt him, Tallulah, never. And yes…" I gulp. "It's not that I didn't accept his confession; I shot him down before telling him I did."
Tallulah's face relaxes, and she wraps her hands around my arm. "I'm sorry, Bill. I shouldn't have bugged out like that. I know you never meant to hurt him. It's not your fault."
"Then why do I still feel guilty at ninety-two?" Most people would've moved on after seventy years, right? So, why not me?
"You loved him, Bill," Tallulah elucidates, releasing my arm. "He was your best friend. It's as simple as that."
"But I'm not queer," I argue. At least, I don't think I am.
Tallulah shakes her head. "That doesn't matter. What matters is that you loved him, queer or not. It's like a quote I read: 'Good friends are like stars. You don't always see them, but you know they're always there.'"
Okay, Tallulah's okay, but she is hiding something from me that she's most likely sharing with Temple and Natalie. If only I knew what.
After another minute, Tallulah grins. "Bill, look!" She gestures at a few people walking toward the cart. "I think we finally got our first customers." She steps aside and places her hands behind her. "I'll let you take the stage and watch."
I shiver when the nervousness and flashbacks of the last time I tried presenting the Education Cart bombard me like a bomb from a B-25. However, it doesn't look like there's a Ted lookalike in this crowd, so who knows? Maybe I'll be okay. And at least Tallulah's here, just in case. Now, let's do this thing.
I don't know how, but I look past that B-25 bomb and give a ten-minute presentation on the Weft Method and the airplanes on display. The cherry on top is that I pat the cart's front afterward and tell the group, "Pop quiz time. On the front of the cart is a picture of an airplane we shot down while filming The Fighting Lady. Looking closer, can you guess which airplane it is?" I gesture at the Japanese aircraft models on the cart. "It narrows down to these four."
The visitors study the cart, but their blank expressions say it all. Therefore, it's clue-giving time.
"What airplane flies close to the ocean's surface?" I challenge.
"Oh!" A man snaps his fingers. "A torpedo-bomber! That means the plane's a Kate!"
"Ding, ding, ding!" I say. "You got it."
The group titters. One by one, they shake my hand and thank me. They then turn on their heels and head toward the Smoky Stover Theater.
Pride engulfs my soul like an inferno, and I face Tallulah. "I did it, Tallulah. I did it." This is the best I've felt in seventy years. I feel so good that I grasp Tallulah's shoulder and lead her away from the Education Cart. "Here, let me teach you a few things about the Hangar Bay." It's like I'm eighteen again and obsessing over World War II history.
Without thinking, Tallulah and I abandon the cart, and I act as a tour guide while we explore the Hangar Bay. I still don't look at the Corsair, but I drag Tallulah to the Battle of Midway exhibit behind the Carrier Aviation Memorial. She helps me up the step, and we soon find ourselves surrounded by pictures, models, and history.
"Look at this," I say, stopping before a porthole with a projector inside. It's beside a plank of wood that looks like a carrier's Flight Deck when she's listing. "Robert Ballard," I read, pointing at the name above the porthole, "the man who found Titanic also found CV-5."
"Wait, really?" Tallulah reads the name, too, and now she's as jittery as me. "Wow! Who knew Ballard would discover legendary ships in his lifetime?"
We laugh and begin crossing over to a Battle of the Coral Sea exhibit across from the Midway one; however, we freeze when we see Temple standing at the Education Cart, arms crossed and glaring.
Shit! That B-25 just dropped another bomb. What have I done?
Tallulah and I's knees shake, and we hesitantly approach Temple. By the time we reach him, more than our knees jiggle.
Temple packs up the cart and pushes Tallulah and me toward the room where we store it. He opens the glass doors and motions us inside, his foot tapping.
I sit at one of the rounded tables, Tallulah across from me, and examine the World War II pictures decorating the room's walls. Finally, I glimpse at Tallulah and whisper, "I'm sorry, Tallulah."
"It's okay," she muses, smiling feebly, and I return it.
Temple soon approaches and hovers over us like a teacher, ensuring no students are cheating. "Tallulah and Bill, could you tell me what you did wrong?"
I nod and turn in my seat, sticking my cane between my thighs. "We abandoned the cart. Please, don't blame Tallulah; it was all me."
"Nah, hah, hah." Temple waves his hand. "I don't want to hear excuses. You guys abandoned it together. You never want to abandon an Education Cart. People, kids or not, can steal the artifacts or models. That'd blow a huge hole in the Education Department here." He gazes from Tallulah to me and back to Tallulah. "Do y'all understand?"
Tallulah nods first. "Yes, sir."
"Bill?" Temple fixes his eyes on me.
"Yes, sir." I mimic Tallulah's nod but also salute. This talk Temple is giving us is similar to the talk Ted and I got after the Marines released us from the brig.
Temple's face loosens. "Good." He lifts his finger. "I'm happy to see you guys enjoying yourselves, especially you, Bill, but let's not be selfish, okay? I'll let y'all off with a warning since you're still new. Just promise that you'll never do that again."
I begin picking up the pieces of the bomb's shrapnel and state with Tallulah, "We promise." Who knew that a sixty and ninety-two-year-old still makes mistakes? I didn't until now. However, what happened also tells me that, yes, somewhere beyond my grief and guilt, I'm still that teenage boy who loves World War II. One would call this a win-win situation in my book.
Returning to his friendly self, Temple voices, "Now, Bill, I heard you and your daughter are going on a Harbor Tour after your shift for your big day?" Does he seriously need to remind me how old I am now? Well, considering it's Temple, I suppose so.
I push past my fear and acknowledge, "Yes, sir."
"Then why don't you take off a few minutes early? You, too, Tallulah. You guys did great today, even with that little mishap." Temple clutches his hips and stands tall. "I've already put your movie behind the Information Booth, Bill."
"Thanks." I wobble when I stand, so Tallulah wraps herself around the table and catches me. "Oops, I guess I stood the wrong way."
"Take your time," Temple orders. "Tallulah, could you ensure he gets his movie and to his daughter okay?"
"Of course, sir." Tallulah stands beside me while I slowly exit the room and return to the Hangar Bay.
Before heading to the Information Booth, we stop at the Carrier Aviation Memorial, where I adjust Ted's flowers. "I'm still that Cheeky you knew from childhood," I admit after telling him what happened with the Education Cart. "It's just another story for Willed." From here, I back away and salute goodbye. "See you next week, Roosevelt, with a fresh batch of flowers."
My mind returns to Tallulah and mine's earlier conversation when I explained that I shot Ted down before accepting his confession of being queer. Is now a good time to tell him, or should I wait a little longer?
I think I'll wait a little longer.