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The next afternoon I was supposed to have met up with Ralph before work, but I didn’t want to feel the weight of his pity. I wondered how much he’d heard of my conversation with Papa in the café. From his facial expression, I thought he’d heard enough. Sometimes, after a long stretch of misfortune, compassion is not what you want most, not even when it comes from a good friend. There comes a time when what you want is for your situation to be different. So I skipped our meeting and went straight to the café, walking unimpressed past the trees that hadn’t been felled by bombs and whose leaves were now turning brilliant shades of crimson, gold, and ochre.
I figured at some point Ralph would come by the café to ask if I was all right. I knew that about him, that he had odd ideas about how the world should function but that he cared about people. Ralph stepped inside a few minutes before closing, when he knew the café would be nearly empty. He slid into a chair and I went over to his table, strangely relieved to see him. He put his hand over the cup that had been set on the table.
“I didn’t come here today for coffee,” he said.
I drew back the carafe I held. I owed him an apology for standing him up. I opened my mouth to give it, but he spoke before I could.
“What happened yesterday?” he said. “When your father was here. Who was that letter from?”
I told him. I told him everything that was in Mariko’s letter.
“I’m so sorry about that,” he said when I was finished. “I know you and she had big plans.”
“We did,” I said quietly.
He paused a moment before asking, “What will you do now?”
I hadn’t come up with a plan. All I could see was the immense sky. “I don’t know. The idea to meet in New York was Mariko’s from the start. I don’t know how to go about it without her. I can’t imagine going back to the States alone. I feel like I’m stuck here now.” I dropped into the chair opposite his. “And I hate it here.”
He smiled. A soft smile, not a mirthful one. “Hate’s a pretty strong word.”
I sighed. “All right, maybe I don’t hate it. But I just feel . . . like I’m wedged into a place that was never meant for me. I don’t feel at home here.”
“Would you go back to Iowa if you could?”
“I don’t know. I had a good friend there. But that was before everything happened. You should have seen how people there looked at us after my father was arrested. I don’t know where I belong now. I just know it’s not here.”
“Maybe you’re at the point in your life where you can choose where you want to be. You know what I mean?”
I shook my head.
“Well, your dad decided you’d go to Crystal City, right? And then the feds decided you’d come here. Even Mariko was the one who chose Manhattan. Maybe now it’s your turn to choose.”
I’d known Ralph long enough to know he possessed an independent spirit and the gumption to go with it. I was practiced in deciding what books to check out at the library, which clothes to wear to school, which movie I wanted to see—all the insignificant decisions a young girl makes. It was another thing entirely to decide where in the big world I wanted to go, and what I would do there. “It’s not that easy,” I said. “I told you. I don’t know where to begin.”
He studied me for a moment. And then an odd look came over him, as though he’d just solved an impossibly hard puzzle. “Hey,” he said. “I know how you could get back to the States and not have to go alone.” He sat back in his chair and smiled. “You could marry me.”
I laughed. “Yeah. Sure I could.”
He leaned forward now and lowered his voice. “No, I’m serious. You could marry me and go back to America when I leave in February. You could come to California with me. It makes perfect sense.”
“How in the world does that make perfect sense?” I said, whispering the words and checking out of the corner of my eye to make sure that of the few people left in the café, none of them had overheard him.
“It makes sense because it will give you back your life. The one that was stolen from you.”
The air around me felt warm with both possibility and peril, as though I had been brought to a ledge where I could see nothing but fog in front of me. What he was suggesting was ridiculously wrong, wasn’t it?
“But marriage is for two people who love each other,” I said.
“What, like for Mariko and the man she married? Like for my sister, Irene, and her husband? Can’t marriage be for two good friends looking for their place in the world?”
I could only stare at him, dumbfounded.
“It’s so simple, really. It’s the simplest of arrangements,” he said. “I can give you a divorce the minute you want one, but you’ll have a good life as long as you need it and want it. You’ll be in the States, you’ll have money, and you’ll have my family around, so you won’t be alone. You’ll have everything you need to reclaim your life.”
“But I . . . we don’t . . .” I didn’t finish. I was going to say we weren’t in love with each other. I liked Ralph very much. But I didn’t love him.
He’d read my thoughts. “That doesn’t matter. We’re good friends, aren’t we? I want to help you, Elise. This is what good friends do for each other. You don’t deserve what happened to you. There’s not much I can make right in this world at the moment, but I can do this. I can give you your life back. Let me. And someday when you meet someone you really do love, you’ll be free to marry him. It’s simple.”
“It is not simple!” I said, as forcefully as I could without raising my voice. “What about what you want for your life? Don’t you want to marry someone you love?”
“No, actually, I don’t,” he said. “I’ve felt for a long time that my life is meant to be lived solo. I want to see the world. I want to photograph the world. I want to help change the world. I don’t care if it takes me to dangerous places, but I couldn’t expect someone I’d promised to love, honor, and protect for the rest of her life to be fine with that. But that’s not what I’m promising you. Come home with me as my wife and I’ll support you while you figure out where and what you want to be. I’ll probably be gone most of the time anyway, so I won’t be intruding on your quest. It’s the perfect solution for you.”
I blinked at him. “You’ll be gone?”
“I know what I want to do with my life, Elise. I’m going to be doing it. What I want to do isn’t in LA.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Talking about divorce along with marriage is so . . .” I couldn’t find the right word. It seemed to cut my throat just to say the word divorce. I’d been raised to believe marriage vows were sacred and eternal. People who divorced were shameful people. “What would people think of me?”
“What people are you referring to, Elise?” he said gently. “All your friends back in the States? All your friends here?”
I thought of Mommi and Papa. What would they think? “My parents,” I murmured.
“Do you really think your parents would disown you if you got divorced? And we wouldn’t have to rush into that anyway. You could take your time. Try out some things. Get a job. Or just sit by the pool with a cool drink and read magazines for a while. God knows you deserve a little pampering after everything you’ve been through.”
It was crazy and yet it wasn’t, this idea of his. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest as I pondered it.
“We’d have to start making plans now, though,” Ralph said. “I’ve only got three and a half months left before I start the paperwork to get shipped back. I need to get my commander’s permission to marry while I’m here. You’ll need your parents to sign off on it since you’re still seventeen. But I think if we start now, we can have everything in place for when I’m slated to head back. We can get married right here in Stuttgart.”
My thoughts were in a whirl. I could scarcely believe that I was actually considering his proposal. But I was. He was offering me a way out. A way to find out who I was without Mariko.
“And when we got to Los Angeles?” I said. “What would I do then?”
He shrugged. “Whatever you wanted. You could finish school. Go to college. Learn to drive. Whatever you wanted.”
Whatever I wanted.
“And . . . and what would you do?” I asked.
“I already told you. I’m going to get a better camera and a duffel bag and travel. I won’t be in your way, Elise. And you won’t be in mine. Don’t you see? I could do something really good for you. It would mean a lot to me if I could. What’s the use of having my grandfather’s money if I can’t spend it doing good?”
“So, you would marry me,” I said.
“I would save you.”