Coming Home

She also told me about some of the boys she'd met at college and how they liked to take advantage. She said I had a calming effect on her. Imagine, me calming someone else down.

So here I am at Elly's. I got out of my truck and looked around. There were a handful of locals like me, plus a bunch of biker dudes hanging around outside. Bikers always seem to get a bad rap; I guess it's the way they're portrayed in movies. Most bikers are pretty nice people; they just like to ride around on their motorcycles and make a lot of noise. I say, 'To each his own.' I nodded as I pushed by to get inside. They all grinned and nodded back.

So, inside I went; through the front door past the service counter, and I was there. The place was warm and dry, and boy, it was hopping! Elly, the owner, had placed several gorgeous pictures of the beach and ocean across the back wall behind the sixty-foot bar. Below the pictures was the usual long mirror; the kind of mirror where guys surreptitiously try out their macho looks, and where girls pretend they're not checking out the guys.

Lined up along the back were about a dozen booths. It was probably one booth too many, as the seats were too close to the tables to be comfortable for anyone taller than a midget. In front of the booths was an indeterminate number of tables. One never knew precisely how many tables; Elly kept adding one or two every now and then. I suppose that sooner or later there wouldn't be any room on the dance floor; no one bought food or drank beer on an open floor. It was a nice hardwood dance floor, and tonight, like most others, it was overcrowded with couples trying to look graceful.

Dancing at Elly's is a pretty precise prospect; couples either drift around the floor in a casual "two step", or occasionally someone would get up the nerve get a line dance going. In the summertime it was always kind of fun watching the vacationers trying to imitate all us locals out on the floor. They tried, and we were nice about it.

I like to dance, and here at Elly's it's fun and easy. A lot of it has to do with the music; most of it is "western swing" with some slow songs thrown in for the gropers and huggers. Everybody knows the songs; George Strait, Tim McGraw, and Blake Shelton, but once in a while someone will throw in a Willie, Waylon, Dolly, or Lady Antebellum. Got all that, and you pretty much filled the juke box. They tell me George Strait never comes east. That's too bad; he'd have a good audience here along the Atlantic. Likes his Texas I guess.

The floor was crowded tonight. I scouted the place out and saw quite a few old friends, some new friends, and a few acquaintances. Since high school there'd been a steady influx of new families who had moved down and settled close to the coast. Most of the "new people" were what I considered total outsiders; they will never fit in. Some, however, do turn out to be pretty good. Those "pretty good" types quite often turn up at places like Elly's. I saw tonight a mixture of "newbys" filtered in with us "regulars".

I wasn't looking for any of them tonight. I was looking for my sweetheart; her official name is Kathy McFarland, but everyone calls her Katy. Katy is what I'd call an older "newby". Her family moved down when she was a junior. I met her after I'd worn the traveling urge out. I guess you might say she scoped me out back at the Wagon Wheel, and gone to work. By the time I got settled in with my business Katy had become my main squeeze. We've been an exclusive item for a while, and I guess I've fallen in love.

Love is a peculiar word. I thought I loved my old high school girlfriend. I know, even now, I sure feel funny around her, all kind of tickly inside. Whenever I see her, I still feel self-conscious. It's hard to figure. I don't know that it's love; I just like to be around her. I worry about her too; she's kind of small and dainty. I'm afraid somebody's going to hurt her some day. I think Katy might love me, but really, no one can say for sure what another person is thinking.

That's when I saw Sarah, my old girlfriend out on the floor. I sort of figured she thought I'd come back for her. I didn't. I don't know, maybe I should've. Who can say? I know, even though she's had several chances she hasn't married anyone yet. When I was gone, she was the only one who ever wrote or texted, and when I was in the Middle-East she was the only person who ever face-timed with me. I didn't even face-time with my mom or dad; my mom texted some, but never "faced" me. I didn't want her to anyway.

Back in the day I didn't know what to think about Sarah. When we talked neither of us ever brought up anything about marriage or what I was going to do when I got home. When I was in the army, I never told her anything or offered any plans. Hell, where I was, people were getting killed, and worse, maimed! She never made any suggestions either. My guess is; she went off to become a college graduate, while I was still just high school.

The day I got out I was at Fort Sam Houston. I caught a plane and flew into Andrews outside D.C. The doctors at Fort Sam wanted me to stay, but I was through. I was sick of all their bullshit. I was sick of all the suffering. I recall some asshole spouting bullshit about concussions. I overheard one of them as I was leaving; the son-of-a-bitch looked at one of his compatriots and made some shit-assed comment about me. I remember he said, "I bet he's done in six months." The doctor he was talking to answered, "No I give him a year." I knew what they meant. Did I give a shit? Hell no! So, what if I had a few dizzy spells, and everybody gets headaches. So, what! So, what if someday I might get bored and decide to "off" myself. That was my business. They gave me some prescriptions, Lexapro and Latuda. I threw em out once I got outside. I got my paperwork and left.

From Andrews I rented a car and drove home. I never told anyone I was coming. When I got home, I found out Sarah was dating this creep Denny, Dennis, Miles. He's a newer person whose family had moved to the shore from the D.C. suburbs. His father is a lawyer; he'd been a local politician up in northern Virginia. When they got to where I lived, he settled his family in one of the pricier parts of Bethany Beach, and from there took up a job doing something where he makes a lot of money, so his boy, Denny, doesn't have to do anything. Denny always has lots of money, and he always drives around in some kind of fast car. Back in the day I never gave him a thought, but when I found out he was dating Sarah I knew I didn't like him.

Back then Sarah worked part-time at the Walmart. She still does, but I can't figure out why. I'd seen that creep Denny hovering around her before I left for the service. I never dreamed she'd take up with him, but there wasn't anything I could say; damn it, I'd broken up with her.

With a Lite beer in my hand; looking around the dance floor for Katy I couldn't help but see Sarah out there with Denny's arms all around her. Somebody had put on an old George Strait, and together, they were making all the right moves. Well, Denny was trying to make some moves, but, just as I remembered, Sarah was cunningly blocking every attempted grope. I really don't like that guy!

Sarah must have noticed me at the bar, because she started dancing with a little more flair. I know her. She can't fool me. She still likes me. I wish I had done something with my life.

Back when we were in high school, she was kind of skinny and she giggled a lot. She's changed; that skinny girl I remembered blossomed into a beautiful young woman. I felt like going over and cutting in. I didn't though. She has great hair, and the way she's wearing it makes her neck look naked. She's got this beautiful heart shaped face with a kind of pert turned up nose, and a real pretty mouth with shiny red lips that always look pursed up like she's getting ready to kiss somebody. She has a kind of pale complexion with lots of freckles; I reckon that's the Gaelic in her. I thought, 'It would be great to go over and put both my hands on her shoulders.' I used to do that when we were in high school.

Just then I saw Katy walk in from the pavilion. She was with Jimmy Galloway, another guy I don't like. Jimmy, or I should say James, is another of those newby types, and yeah, his family is awash in ill-gotten gain. I heard his father worked for the Carlyle Group, or some such group of rich malefactors; he'd been caught with his fingers in the cookie jar and to avert a scandal had taken an early retirement. That retirement, of course, came with the commensurate "golden parachute" regular people like my dad and I usually end up subsidizing. Yes, Galloway is a creep; not as creepy as Denny, but a creep all the same. 'No,' I thought, 'they're both pretty much equally sleazy.'

That son-of-a-bitch Denny just tried to kiss Sarah, but she gave him a deft turn of the cheek so all he got was some of her pretty auburn hair and an ear. I thought, 'You go girl.' I should've cut in. What I really wanted to do is go over and hammer that Mr. Denny Miles right in his arrogant face. I would enjoy smashing his nose flat against his cheeks. I can't imagine what Sarah sees in him. I felt nauseous; Christ, Denny Miles kissing Sarah? On the lips!

I watched Katy give Galloway the eye, and I didn't like it. I casually walked across the dance floor in their direction. It occurred to me, as I walked, that people were deliberately giving me room. 'What was up,' I wondered? I was getting annoyed.

The only person who didn't give me a wide berth was Sarah. She stepped right in front of me and poked me in the chest. I admit it; it hurt. She started to say something, but stopped. After a piercing look from those jade green eyes of hers, she stepped away. She has big wide-set eyes and long droopy lashes. I remembered all those 'butterfly kisses' I used to get. I hope that asshole Denny doesn't think he's getting any.

Halfway between the bar and the back door that led to the pavilion I reached Katy. She stopped and I stopped. I said, "Hi, what's up?"

She gave Galloway a brief sidewise look and said to me, "We have to talk."

I said, "Sure."

She grabbed my arm, "Let's take it outside."

I felt in my pocket and found the ring I had bought. I wondered what might be going on. I wondered if I could get my money back.

The pavilion outside is certainly a well-arranged affair. Elly originally planned it to be just another long and wide outside porch, but it hadn't taken her long to realize that with the brackish water of the Assawoman Bay right beneath the porch anyone who sat there in the summertime would be inundated with mosquitoes. She fixed that by screening the whole thing in during the summer; once things got past Labor Day, she had the screens replaced with broad, and expensive, panes of glass. She could have used jalousie windows, but she said she wanted the people who sat out there during the late season to enjoy the view of the whole bay. It wasn't breathtaking, but it served to give her establishment an added of sense of sophistication, a comfortable feel, ambiance is the word she used

It was really a waste of money since most of the people who went out there were too drunk to appreciate it. It wasn't all that great in warding off mosquitoes either, since she had a pier built below the porch for boaters who could pull in and get a meal from right off the water. Waste of money. Most of the boaters didn't have enough sense to close the screen doors, and later the glass doors, when they came up to go in the restaurant, so mosquitos still got in.

Katy and I went out on the porch. It was a cool damp evening; the kind of weather I disliked, but the glass helped to keep the area a little warmer, if not dryer. She led me over to one of the tables. We sat down.

She started in, "Travis, you know how much I love you."

I smiled, "I guess I do. What's on your mind?"

She fidgeted a moment before she said, "I need more space."

"More space for what," I asked?

"You know," she said, "More space before we settle down. I still have a few things I'd like to do."

I smiled back, "Like fool around with Jimmy Galloway I guess."

She answered, "His name is James, and I wouldn't call it fooling around. I mean he has a boat, and his dad has a plane. I just want to have a few more experiences."

I reached out and took her left hand, "And that means a little of the carnal too maybe."

"Look," she said. "I wasn't some innocent flower when you met me. You know that. I'm a woman grown. I have needs."

"And I'm not enough," I responded.

She sighed, or pretended to, "Come on Travis. We have it good. It's just... well. Sometimes I need something different."

She was pissing me off. I said, "You could've said something before I put money down on a God damned house."

She pulled her hand away, "I never told you to buy that shithole you call a house."

"Jesus Katy," I said. "You told me you wanted a house. You said you didn't care where it was. You even saw it. We both knew it needed work. Damn it Katy, what do you think I've been pouring all my hard-earned money into? Christ Katy, I bought us a God damn house!" I wasn't sure if it was really for her.

I regretted raising my voice almost right away. It wasn't that Katy was all that sensitive; it was just I knew she'd try to use my temper to get what she wanted.

She reached her hand back out. This time I pulled away. She said, "Look Travis, you mean a lot to me. I love you. I mean it. I really do. It's that, well, I need more time."

I was beyond caring, "You mean you want to gallivant around with that asshole Galloway. Hell Katy, he'll probably give you the clap."

She pulled her hand back again. I could tell I'd hit her in a way she hadn't expected. She replied, "Who are you to talk? As I recall you told me you got Herpes or something when you were in the army. How was I to know when we started dating you wouldn't give me something?"

"It wasn't herpes, it was gonorrhea. And I remember telling you that so you would know I was being honest with you. Shit, how do I know you didn't have something?"

She took umbrage and had to fight back, "I never. I mean I never had anything like that."

She smirked.

I went after her, "How many colleges did you have to go to before you got a degree?"

She blipped right back, "That's not fair! I told you I was having emotional problems." She pushed hard, "I bet you had your share of problems. How many people did you kill when you were in Iraq? I bet a lot."

And on again she went, "I bet that's why you thought you had to run away when you came home. You stayed away nearly a whole year I heard."

'Man,' I thought, 'she's the worst.' With vehemence, I replied, "What I did in the army stays in the army. And you, what about all those colleges? University of Maryland at College Park, Goucher College in Baltimore, and then Wilson in Pennsylvania. That's what I heard. Three colleges to get a Bachelor's degree in Art History! Art history! Come on."

"That's right," she said, "Three colleges. I had to shop around to get the courses I wanted." She sneered, "I don't want to marry you anyway. Look at you, you're a dirt ball. All you do is pound nails. You work for the kind of people my father hires." She scowled, "I bet right now you've got a pound of dirt under your fingernails."

Stupidly, I looked down at my fingers. I did have some dirt under my nails.

Before I could respond she grinned and said, "Cracker."

I retaliated, "Sorry, but some of us have to do real work for a living."

She ignored me, "Look at yourself. I hate it when you touch me. You have callouses on your hands. You're rough. You have whiskers. My skin is tender. And that mustache," she pointed at my mustache, "this is the first time you trimmed it, and tell me dip wad, have you ever flossed?"

That cut. I had good teeth, and I did floss. Angrily I said, "You knew all that when you met me."

I was working up a full head of steam, "You said you liked the idea of being with a 'real man'. Isn't that what you said Katy?"

For good measure I whispered, but with emphasis, "And I DO floss!" Then, out of hand, I yelled, "I floss every God damned day!" I wondered, 'What am I doing? I'm arguing with a slimy scum bucket! And I was going to marry her?'

She seemed to shrug, "I might have said something like that. I don't remember. Anyway, I know I don't like the places you take me, and I don't like your friends. They're all coarse and dirty like you, and I'm sick of country music. Who wants to sit in a pick-up truck every time they go out? I mean a pick-up with an advertisement on the side. Gee, 'Tresh Contracting'." She deliberately misnamed it. "You're not even official. You're not incorporated or anything. I know because my father told me."

I kept trying to remember if I had kept the receipt for that damned ring. Then, I thought, 'What the hell? It isn't like she said she wanted one anyway. Katy had said she wanted some kind of two carat thing with smaller stones all around. I'd picked the one in my pocket because... Why did I pick this one? Oh, damn I forget.' I answered, "I suppose you're right. We're not suited for each other. I'm just some hay-seed you picked up. You, you're Taylor Swift. Yeah, just like Taylor Swift. I remember she promised to stay a virgin until she got married, but ever since that Jimmy Beaver or whoever he is, she's slept with half the singers in Nashville. Tell me, how long did it take lard ass, Jimmy Galloway to get in your drawers?"

She flinched, then hit back, "First, he and I are serious, a little anyway. Second, he's not little; he's way bigger than you, and he goes a lot stronger, and longer!"

She mocked, "You a ranger? Makes sense; they're all small - little guys. Have to be less than six feet don't they. You're just a skinny little ranger boy, a wannabe John Wayne."

I didn't tell her John Wayne had been a draft dodger; didn't get the chance.

Katy was really airing it out! She finally a hit a nerve, "I bet you've been tapping that little dough-head whenever I'm not around. What's her name? Sarah? Oh yes, 'Sarah Wonder Bread'. How does it feel when she wraps her scrawny little legs around your ugly ass?"

I bristled. She saw, she smile and..., "I saw her earlier' she's with Denny Miles tonight. Know who she was with last night? Chevis Stottlemeyer! She's just another spongy-headed yokel. She'll probably end up marrying some truck driver with shit stains in his underwear and have a half dozen kids running around with chicken shit between their toes."

I froze! Chevis Stottlemeyer? Sarah couldn't be that desperate! Stottlemeyer was another new import; they said his family lived in Connecticut, but bought a house in Rehoboth. Stottlemeyer sure wasn't some brain-dead truck driver; he drove a Porsche, owned like a sixty-foot yacht, had his own plane, stood six foot four, had blond hair, had charisma, and he played college football. The guy was a real stud, and now? Katy said he'd been with Sarah. I really hated him!

I had it. She'd gone too far. "First," I said, "Sarah's still a virgin. Believe me, I Know, I've tried. Second, she's got things you'll never have. She's got integrity and poise."

Katy scoffed, "Integrity! Poise! I suppose she got that at Frostburg where she majored in English Literature. Wow, that's a program that'll land her where? Walmart? Oh, I forgot, that's where she works."

I was so mad, I couldn't think of a thing to say. I sat there and started drumming my fingers on the table. She had me!

Then she finished me off, "I know you. You're just like your father and your greasy brother. Whenever you don't get your way, whenever things don't work the way you want, you pick a fight. I bet you'd like to hit me right now. I'm warning you mister. You better not. I have friends, and my father has money. You touch me, and you'll end up in jail. Imagine. You, the big war hero in jail for beating up a woman. Ha!" She laughed.