Grace sighed.
I’m right here, he said.
It sounds pretty bad, the test, she said. They’ve got to do a spinal tap; inject air into her spine.
She’s a tough kid, he said. She’ll be fine. And you’ll be right there with her, right?
Grace nodded, inaudible, but he knew.
Think we’re gonna be here all day, she said.
Yeah, he said.
Ridley reappeared in the office.
Hon, I gotta go, Harrison said.
Sure, she said. I’ll speak to you later. What time you home?
Seven, most likely.
Okay.
Okay. Call me here if you find out any more. And tell Duck I love her.
I will.
Okay then.
Okay. Bye.
Bye.
It was close to four and he had a day’s work behind him. His body was tired. He stood at the sink in the men’s room and ran a little water and it collected in a small pool and he dipped his hands into it and brought it to his face. He looked in the mirror. He had been clean-shaven that morning. There was one more flight scheduled. He and Walker had been pushing the X-15 higher and faster each time they went up. Walker had just set a new speed record of Mach three point three one. If everything went well, Harrison’s flight profile was aiming for an altitude of a hundred and thirty-six thousand five hundred feet, or twenty-six miles up, which would be a new altitude record. He looked at his watch. He pissed, changed into his flight suit, left the locker room. He saw Ridley heading down the stairs toward him. Their eyes met and he knew then that something was very badly wrong.
Phone call, Ridley said.
Harrison was alone in the office. He looked at the telephone on Ridley’s desk. The receiver lay on its side like an injured animal. He walked over and picked it up.
Jim, is that you? Grace said.
Yeah, it’s me, he said. What’s the matter?
Oh, God, Jim. She’s got a tumor; a tumor in her brain stem.
Harrison sat down in Ridley’s chair.
Jim?
What did the doctor—what did Lapitus—say?
I—
It’s okay, he said. Hon? It’s okay. Tell me what Lapitus said.
He—they—said, they came in with a nurse, the nurse said why don’t I take Florence to the rec room to play for a few minutes so you can have a chat with the doctors and I said, okay, and they left, and Lapitus said, we’ve got the results back. And I knew, I knew right then …
It’s okay, Harrison said, swapping the receiver to his other ear. What did he say?
He said the X-rays showed Florence has a glioma of the pons, and I said, what’s that? And the other doctor—I can’t remember his name—said the pons was the stem of the brain and a glioma was a malignant tumor.
Malignant? What is that? Harrison said.
It means it’s cancerous, she said. They want to start treatment on her straightaway, X-ray treatment, to shrink the tumor.
Where is she now? he said.
They’ve got her a bed; she’s sleeping, she said.
Is she okay? I mean, right now?
She’s tired. I told her that the doctors have figured out why she feels sick, and they’re going to start giving her some special medicine in the morning.
Grace began to cry.
I feel like I’m lying to her, Jim; I can’t bear it.
You told her enough, hon. I’ll come straight out.
No sense in you racing to get here tonight—Duck’ll sleep til morning and I’m about to collapse. Go home, get some rest.
Okay, he said. I’ll be there first thing.
Okay.
Hon?
Yeah?
It’s gonna be fine; just wait and see. Might be in for a tough time, but she’s a tough kid. She gets that from you.
I’ll see you in the morning?
You bet.
Jim? I love you.
I love you too, hon.
He put down the receiver and stood up.
Ridley appeared at the door.
All set? Harrison said.
You all right? Ridley said.
She fueled?
Waiting on the main runway.
Okay.
Why don’t we call it a day; head over to Pancho’s?
You got the profile?
Sure do, Jim.
Then let’s hit the sky and light this candle.
The sky bled red and the sullen yellow sun sunk fat and weak. Black Joshua trees cut the sharp horizon. Harrison hung around after the flight. His coffee steamed in the cool air. The base was quiet. The ground crew was finishing up. Ridley stepped out of the hangar and said, well buddy, looks like that’s a new world altitude record. A hundred and thirty-six thousand five hundred feet. Nobody’s flown higher. That’s one magnificent beast.
A real Black Beauty, Harrison said.
Pancho’s? Ridley said.
Gonna head home, Harrison said.
Sure.
Harrison drank his coffee. The men stood in silence.
You need a hand with anything, let me know, Ridley said. Grace, she, well, filled me in on your little, uh, situation.
Sure appreciate that, Jack, Harrison said. Just got off the phone with the old man; got a week off. Heading down there first thing. I got to pack some bags.
Well, how you gonna get them there?
I was gonna see if I could borrow Reggie Withers’s truck.