“Yeah,” said Brinker.
“Enlist!” cried Finny at the same time. His large and clear eyes turned with an odd expression on
me. I had never seen such a look in them before. After looking at me closely he said, “You’re
going to enlist?”
“Well I just thought—last night after the railroad work—”
“You thought you might sign up?” he went on, looking carefully away.
Brinker drew one of his deep senatorial breaths, but he found nothing to say. We three stood
shivering in the thin New Hampshire morning light, Finny and I in pajamas, Brinker in a blue
flannel bathrobe and ripped moccasins. “When will you?” Finny went on.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “It was just something Brinker happened to say last night, that’s all.”
“I said,” Brinker began in an unusually guarded voice, glancing quickly at Phineas, “I said
something about enlisting today.”
Finny hobbled over to the dresser and took up his soap dish. “I’m first in the shower,” he said.
“You can’t get that cast wet, can you?” asked Brinker.
“No, I’ll keep it outside the curtain.”
“I’ll help,” said Brinker.
“No,” said Finny without looking at him, “I can manage all right.”
“How can you manage all right?” Brinker persisted aggressively.
“I can manage all right,” Finny repeated with a set face.
I could hardly believe it, but it was too plainly printed in the closed expression of his face to
mistake, too discernible beneath the even tone of his voice: Phineas was shocked at the idea of
my leaving. In some way he needed me. He needed me. I was the least trustworthy person he had
ever met. I knew that; he knew or should know that too. I had even told him. I had told him. But
there was no mistaking the shield of remoteness in his face and voice. He wanted me around.
The war then passed away from me, and dreams of enlistment and escape and a clean start lost
their meaning for me.
“Sure you can manage the shower all right,” I said, “but what difference does it make? Come on.
Brinker’s always ... Brinker’s always getting there first. Enlist! What a nutty idea. It’s just
Brinker wanting to get there first again. I wouldn’t enlist with you if you were General
MacArthur’s eldest son.”