Rita couldn’t bring herself to look at Gavin as a couple of New York’s Finest took him away. She sobbed as she and Lorie waited in the emergency room for Donald to be taken to a private room.
“I’m so sorry,” Rita said yet again.
Lorie patted her friend’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”
“I never knew Gavin gave it a thought. That’s more than two centuries in the past. I can’t fathom why it would it make him so angry.”
“People carry grudges, I guess.” Lorie pondered a moment, looking over to where her husband lay sedated. She could see only the thin sheet covering his feet; his face and the bandaging on his left shoulder were hidden behind a curtain. “Did you know Gavin’s family had lost a man at Bunker Hill?”
“No; he never said a word about it till today.” Rita heaved another sob. “Oh, Lorie, we’ve been friends since I came over as an exchange all those years ago. And now Gavin’s gone off his trolley and it’s all a shambles.”
Lorie hugged Rita. “We’re still chums; don’t be silly. I still want to visit you in Liverpool in the fall.” She paused thoughtfully again. “But in the future… I don’t think we’ll invite friends from England to dinner on our Independence Day.”
There’s an interesting theme woven into Gavin’s festering grudge, Rita’s shock and grief, Lorie’s eerie analytical calm… and whatever the inert Donald contributed to the conflict. To me it seems related to everyone’s surprise that anyone might have real feelings attached to a 200-year-old event. If everyone cherished resentments like Gavin, America would never be safe from itself and its past. Maybe noplace would.