The Best of Enemies (36 page)

“I’m afraid so.
We’d best discuss Malaysia,” I reply and we share a genuine laugh.

“So . . .
Malaysia is really spectacular, huh?”
Kitty asks.

“God, yes.
Singapore’s spotlessly clean, and modern to the point of feeling space-aged.
The city is a blend of Eastern and Western culture and architecture, so it’s fascinating.
Then, if you travel far enough north, you’ll hit the rain forest, which feels prehistoric with the leaf canopy and wildlife like orangutans and tigers.
And the foliage?
Not to be believed.
Imagine Kassie’s drawings come to life.
The flora’s like something out of
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
.
Last time I visited, I saw a type of rafflesia, better known as the corpse flower.
Reminded me of the flowers on your dorm comforter, except this one can grow up to three feet in diameter and smells like rotting flesh.”

“Why does it stink?”

“To attract bugs for pollination.
This was not my favorite part of Malaysia.
Still, what a spectacular country.
Definitely in my top ten.”

“I’d love to see it.”
Kitty sighs and then adds, “Someday.”

“Look at us, engaging in conversation,” I observe.

“And wearing underwear.”

“Tremendous fan of that.”

We both go quiet, but now it’s a comfortable silence.

After a few more miles, I say, “Regardless of what we find out about Trip, our finally making peace will have a profound impact on Sars.”

Kitty raises an eyebrow.
“You mean Betsy.”

I grin.
“That’s more like it.”

“Hey, while we’re not fighting, can I ask you something personal?”
Kitty says.

I shrug.
“Depends.”

“What’s the deal with
Top Gun
?”

I turn entirely in my seat to face her.
“
That?
That’s what you want to know?
Not,
‘Jack, why didn’t you ever get married?’
or
‘Jack, what are your greatest triumphs or regrets?’
Not even,
‘Jack, what about you and Petraeus?’
”

She shrugs.
“Eh, those questions tell me what you’ve done, not who you are.
I’m curious because as Bobby was leaving earlier, he said to remind you that the plaque for the alternates is down in the ladies’ room?
I assume that’s another
Top Gun
quote.
I don’t personally understand the reference, but he wasn’t saying it for my benefit.
Obviously, this thirty-year-old film is important to you; I want to know why.”

“How long do you have?”
I ask.

Kitty glances at the GPS.
“Seven hours.”

I pause to collect my thoughts.
How do I explain without exposing too much of myself?
Or is it truly time to let down my guard?

Ultimately, I choose the second option.

“We lost my mother in the spring of 1986.
That’s no secret.
My father didn’t know what to do with himself, let alone four shell-shocked kids.
We were just . . .
zombies.
All of us, just going through the motions at school, at practices, in our home.
How do you process something like that?”

“I really am sorry.”

“I appreciate hearing that, Kitty.
So,
Top Gun
.
We were all numb at the time.
Hollow.
No highs, no lows.
Then, one day we saw the trailer for the film and we all forgot to grieve for a minute.
When you suffer a tremendous loss, even when the situation wasn’t ideal in the first place, you mourn.
But for the one minute and thirty seconds of the trailer, we were just a bunch of American kids who wanted to see a cool movie.

“When Dad realized we were excited about something—anything—he jumped on it.
He took us to see the movie on opening day and it was transformative.
One of his law school buddies did entertainment law, and he somehow managed to secure an early VHS copy of the film, too.
Getting lost in that movie for two hours gave us back something we’d been missing—joy.
Top Gun
became a touchstone for us.
A common love.
The ritual of watching became far more important than the movie’s content.
Our broken family began to slowly knit itself back together, stronger than before, and the movie was the impetus.”

Kitty’s listening, really listening, as I speak.
“None of us knew how to articulate our thoughts back then.
Therapy wasn’t a
thing
yet.
Top Gun
gave us a way to feel the gamut of emotions within a safe space.
Maybe we couldn’t cry over our mother, but it was just fine to pop in the VHS and tear up for Goose.
Top Gun
has always been the language of love for my brothers and me.
Our family isn’t terribly demonstrative, so when Bobby quotes ‘it’s time to buzz a tower,’ I know what he really means.
That’s why I lost my mind when you ripped my poster, starting the whole chain of events that—well, you were there.
No need to rehash.”

“I truly had no idea,” Kitty said.
“Maybe if we’d had this conversation twenty years ago, we’d be in a different place.”

“Perhaps,” I agree.
“But we’re here now.
That’s enough.”

“I feel like I should watch the movie sometime.”

I am incredulous.
“Hold the fu—
flip
on.
You’ve never seen
Top Gun
?
How’s that possible?
It’s such an important part of American pop culture with the music and the styles and the stars—how have you avoided it for almost thirty years?”

Kitty shrugged.
“I don’t know.
I guess I preferred Meg Ryan movies?”

“But she’s in it!”
I exclaim.

“Really?”

“Yes.
Pull off at the next exit.
There’s a Walmart.
We have a DVD to buy.”

•   •   •

While Kitty’s watching the movie, I’ve been piloting the Escalade.
I’m deeply, profoundly in love.
I haven’t felt this deeply drawn to a vehicle since I sat behind the stick of my first Cessna.

As the credits roll, I ask, “Thoughts?”

“I liked it a lot, especially understanding what it means to you.
Still, I have questions,” Kitty replies.
“Many questions.
For example, how come Goose didn’t get to take off his shirt during the volleyball game?
And why was everyone so sweaty the whole time?
They were mostly in San Diego—isn’t San Diego famously temperate?
Is it wrong that I found Tom Skerritt to be the hot one?”

Kitty’s a font of surprises.
“That’s what you got out of it?
You don’t feel the need, the need for speed?
You’re not concerned your ego’s writing checks your body can’t cash?
You don’t want to climb into an F-14 and go screaming across the sky, chasing MiGs?”

“No, thank you,” Kitty replies.
“I’m good here.
I guess I was most surprised by how homoerotic the whole thing was.”

“What?”
I practically swerve off the road, which causes the Driver Awareness System to pulse my seat bolster.
I quickly right our path.

“Oh, yeah.”
Kitty nods.
“Like, how many shower scenes can you pack into two hours?
Also, all underpants, all the time?
And my goodness, the suggestive dialogue?
‘Iceman’s on my tail, he’s coming hard.’
‘Damn it, I want some butts!’
Homo.
Erotic.
Nothing wrong with that, just pointing it out.”

“You have quite the overactive imagination.”

“Disagree.”
Kitty whips out her smartphone.
“I’m going to Google
‘Top Gun’
and ‘gay.’
And . . .
fifty-three million results.
I’m obvi not the first to have noticed.”

“Can I use your phone?
I need to make a call.”

She points at the dash.
“Bluetooth enabled.
You dial through the console.
Here, I’ll do it for you—what’s the number?”

I give her the digits and wait as the phone rings.
“Ted Jordan speaking.”

“Teddy, it’s me.
Quick question—was
Top Gun
homoerotic?”

He bursts out laughing.
“Not what I expected to hear from you, Jack-o.”

“Well, Kitty and I are having an argument—”

“Discussion,” she interrupts.
“We’re having a civilized discussion.
P.S.
we’re on speakerphone.
P.P.S.
We’re friends now.”

“Glad to hear it,” Teddy says.
“So, you’re both calling to confirm that
Top Gun
was homoerotic?”

I say, “Or deny.
Feel free to deny.”

“Let me put it to you like this,” Teddy says.
“Val Kilmer was my first crush.
That answer your question?”

I feel all the breath leave me.
“I . . .
don’t even know who I am anymore.
This alters my whole worldview.”

Teddy says, “Kiddo, this doesn’t mean
Top Gun
wasn’t the best thing to happen to the Jordan family.
Just means we each took something different away from it.
Nothing’s changed.
You’re fine.”

“I’m driving, so I have to go,” I reply.

“See you later, Teddy,” Kitty says.

“Don’t kill each other, you two,” he says by way of good-bye.

I shoot Kitty a look.
“No promises,” I reply.

•   •   •

“Uncle, okay?
I finally see it,” I say after our second and third viewings.
“No need to rub it in.”

“We can both agree that it’s a terrific movie that stands the test of time.
I’ll leave the DVD in the car so the boys can watch,” Kitty says.
“See?
Now we’re bonding.
Everyone wins!”

“Just in time.
John-John’s house is right around the corner.”

We pull into his driveway and I have a new appreciation for the property surrounding his house.
Excellent tree-to-grass-to-home ratio.
Proportionate.
Leaving our bags in the car, we grab the laptop and hustle inside.
We realize the clock’s ticking and now that the drive’s over, we have a mystery to solve, preferably before the story breaks on Sunday.

After greeting John’s wife and kids, we settle into the dining room to watch John do his magic.
He’s always bragging about his mad hacking skills, so I’m interested to watch him perform.

“How long will it take you to get in?”
I ask.

“Can’t say for sure,” he replies.
“I’m using John the Ripper, which is a password cracker.
The amount of time’s dictated by the length and strength of her password.
If it’s heavy on alphanumerics, could be a while, so get comfortable.”
I hover over John’s shoulder while Kitty pokes around, admiring the decor.

“I’m in love with your toile,” she says, examining the curtains printed with pastoral scenes.

“I don’t know what that means,” John replies.

“Girl stuff,” I say.

Naturally, she and John’s wife, Heather, got on like a house on fire.
I’m sure they’d be the best of friends if they lived closer, likely trading recipes and child rearing secrets.
But I have a new respect for how hard Kitty works for her family, which is why I suggested John finally buy his wife the jetted tub.
I suspect she’s earned it.

“Cute pic of your kids at the Millennium Park bean,” she says, holding a photo of the whole brood.

“Thanks.
I can’t believe they stood still long enough for us to snap the shot,” John replies.
Because he’s helping us, I don’t mention exactly how much light his rapidly balding head reflects from the chandelier.