Coming Home

'Jesus,' I thought, 'why was she picking on my father? He never hit anybody, and my brother was a marine. I was done.' I got up, "I'll be seeing you Katy dear."

She got up too, "Not if I can help it."

I thought, 'So much for Abelard and Heloise, Tristan and Isolde, or was it Guillaume and Melior. Alas, there's no such thing as true love anymore.' I wondered if Sarah knew about any of them. Ha! I bet she does. Sarah's smart!

~~~V~~~

I brushed by Katy and went straight back inside the restaurant. As I crossed the dance floor everyone was looking at me. I heard some quiet muttering, and maybe some subdued laughter. I knew I had to get out of there!

Just inside the front door before I stepped out to the lot I heard, "There's a real low class nobody there." Another said, "Yeah, a real shit sandwich." I knew where the second remark came from, it was Denny Miles. Oh, how I wanted to turn around and lay him out, but I didn't. I just kept walking. At least nobody laughed, not hard anyway.

Outside and across the parking lot to my truck I went. I had to get away before I did something I knew I would regret.

It started to rain; not a hard downpour, no, one of those cold damp drizzly things that only make a person feel colder and wetter. I checked in my pocket to make sure that ring was still there. It was. I jumped in my truck, found my keys, hit the ignition, and threw it in drive. I started out.

Just as I started off someone opened my passenger door and jumped in. In fact, they almost missed. It was Sarah. I looked over and pulled her in. I exclaimed, "What? What are you doing here? Get out!"

She slammed her door closed. "Drive," she said.

I guess I'd known Sarah nearly twenty years. When we first met, she was nothing but knees and elbows, a skinny mess. I looked her over since I got back; she'd changed quite a bit. That unkempt heap of straw she called hair had changed; now it was a thick wavy glorious 'new penny red'. I remember that's what they used to call Rita Hayworth's hair. Sarah's once crooked teeth had been mended by braces. She'd gained weight too; she had a healthy look; she wasn't the pallid anorexic kid I remembered from high school. "Look Sarah I'm in no mood..."

"Neither am I," she chirped, "Get moving."

She sounded squeaky hoarse, but what she wanted was not going to happen. I told her, "You're kidding." Her parents had recently moved north into Delaware, "you live way up in Millsboro now; that's like twenty miles. Now get out. I want to go home."

She wouldn't move, "Not Millsboro stupid. To the Ballard place. Now get going."

The Ballard place she said, that is the house I was fixing up. I didn't know what she was thinking, but she was always like that. She always had an eccentric mind, curious about everything; way too unpredictable for me. Baffled, I answered, "I'm not driving all the way to Millsboro. You can either get out here, or I'll drop you someplace where you can get someone to pick you up."

I got another perplexing response, "You heard me. I didn't mean Millsboro. I mean the place where you're living. Where is it; off the Old Honolulu Road?"

She sneezed. I noticed her hair was damp, not wet, but not dry, too wet to be comfortable. Her neck was wet too. She was probably catching a cold. She wasn't wearing a coat. How stupid!

"Sarah," I started. I pleaded, it sounded like pleading, "You're not making any sense; that's the house I'm fixing up."

She coughed. "Yes," she said, "I know that. I haven't been there since you bought it, and I want to see what you've done. It is the old Ballard place, isn't it?" She shivered, and went on, "We used to go there so we could park and 'make out'. Besides, my mom and dad took Teddy to New York to see some play and tour the city so I'll be alone, and I'm afraid to spend the whole night at my parents without a man around."

I thought, 'At least someone still thinks I'm a man, but that's how she does things. She's up to something, she always is.' "Where's your coat?" I asked, "And don't tell me you didn't wear one."

She answered, "I left it inside." She sneezed.

I heard her teeth chatter. I reflected on our past. Teddy was her younger brother. He is in high school now, but when Sarah and I dated he was a little kid. Her father is said to be some sort of executive at some big multinational, and because of that he spends a lot of time on the road. Teddy, when he was little, had no one to do things with so I used to take him fishing and boating. Quite often it was the three of us; Sarah, me, and Teddy, sometimes their mother even went. We used to go to Ocean City. Back then Sarah and Teddy looked almost alike, that androgynous look; Sarah was so flat chested she was often mistaken for a boy. I used to tease her about it. She'd pretend to get angry, but I knew she wasn't.

I also remembered our many trips to the Old Ballard place. She said once, the place looked romantic. She even said she thought it could be a good place to live if it was ever fixed up. Sarah's stupid. Really?

Who did she think she was, Donna Reed? Even then it was a wreck; kids from Frankford and Dagsboro used to ride their bikes there so they could throw rocks and break all the windows. No one ever went inside; someone once said it was haunted. They said old Mrs. Ballard killed her first husband there, chopped him up and cooked all the parts in the old oven. They say his ghost still haunts the place. I don't know why I ever bought it, except that it included an extra half acre. It was cheap, with good water, none of that rotten egg smell.

I had to get out of this somehow, "OK, I'll take you to the house. You can look it over. Then I'll take you someplace where you can feel safe. How's that?"

She reached across the truck and squeezed my shoulder. I felt like I'd been hit with a tiny electric shock. She always had that effect on me. Her hand felt peculiar; I couldn't tell, was it cold or hot? She whispered, "You better get going. We're starting to draw a crowd."

I didn't like the gleam in her eyes. Sarah's what I would call a schemer; she has a way about her, she can wangle things out of people and they don't even know they're being wangled.

I looked her over. She looked so damn good. She was wearing a plaid mini-skirt that rode halfway up her thighs, white tennis shoes and socks. She had on a turquoise blouse that sort of shimmered when she turned about. It was damp and had a minimalist 'see through' quality to it. She was wearing a bra, but it didn't do much to keep her smallish pear-shaped breasts from peeking through the top buttons. Yes, she was shivering. She was getting sick. She should have worn a coat. I was feeling... well... like a man feels when he's around a pretty woman who needs to be cared for.

I checked in my rearview mirror. She was right; several people, more than a few, had come out on the lot and they were standing by the restaurant's front doors staring in our direction. I admonished, "Just a quick visit."

Sarah peered over at me, she smiled; she looked down at my pants and smiled again. "Mash on her Travis." She knew what she was doing to me. I kind of liked it. 'Fuck Denny Miles,' I thought.

All the cars and trucks in our neck of the woods are girls, and that was her way of telling me to put my foot to the pedal. I did, and off we went.

We drove along in silence at first, and as we did, I reflected on the first time I ever talked to her. One of my best friends, a guy named Ralph Weidemeyer, invited me over to his parent's house. It was late May, and I had finished up the ninth grade. His parents had an in-ground pool, and a bunch of us were going to christen it. I remember I got there early, but a whole bunch of other kids had the same idea. One of them was this tiny little girl I had seen from time to time. I didn't know her name, but I had noticed her at some of the football, and later baseball games. I played on both junior varsity teams, and noticed she had been there. Other than noticing she was kind of pretty I hadn't paid much attention.

I was standing beside the table where Ralph's mother had laid out a lot of food. I was looking over the hot dogs when Jarvis Castleman, another one of my best friends came over. He leaned in and pointed at the girl I would come to know as Sarah Windover. He said, "You know she likes you."

I looked up at Jarvis (Jarvis is taller than I am.) and asked, "What's her name?"

He told me and then asked, "Want me to introduce you?"

I smiled and said, "No, I can do it." I walked over, got behind her, picked her up, and threw her in the pool. She had on a white two-piece swim suit, and looking back, I don't think she planned on going in the water or getting wet.

She hit that water with a high-pitched yelp. It wasn't a scream or anything; it was more like the sound a fawn makes when it's been shot. It was a piteous, heartbreaking cry; the sound a helpless animal or a small child would make when seriously hurt. I knew the sound because once when I was younger and out with my dad hunting deer, I mistakenly shot a fawn. Yeah, we were hunting illegally. It had a disquieting effect on me; so much so that I never went deer hunting again. I might still eat venison, but I'll never shoot one again. Hypocritical I know, like veal. I might drink the milk, but I'll never eat veal. It's about heifers; they're so damned beautiful and so affectionate.

Sarah's cry was pathetic, like that poor fawn. Worse, it hadn't occurred to me that it was still May and the pool had been freshly filled. Everyone was looking at her, and it was no wonder; the water had caused her beautiful white swimsuit to virtually disappear.

After a second's staring, I jumped in; that was when I also realized how cold the water was. I waded in her direction, but she was just as determinedly wading in the opposite direction. She was crying so distressingly, and when she looked back at me, I realized the severity of my trick. I knew then she liked me, and I knew I had betrayed her in a most unmanly way.

She got out and ran for the house. I chased after her, but was stopped by Mrs. Weidemeyer. She had heard the crying and, being the doyenne of the house, had come to see what was wrong. She immediately surmised what happened and my role in it. She held me back telling me, "Wait outside. Let Sarah get dressed. Then you can apologize."

That's what I did. I waited, and after a few minutes Sarah did come back out. Man, Oh man! If I had ogled her before, that was nothing to what I did when she reappeared. She wasn't much in the womanly body department, but she sure was beautiful, and those loose white shorts and that snow-white blouse gave me palpitations like I'd never had before. I held up my hands, "I'm sorry Sarah."

She smiled; it was as though I'd never done anything. She said, "You're Travis Tresh."

I dumbly nodded.

She added, "I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."

I remember we did, and here and now sitting in my truck I also remember that was the beginning of a real, live, honest to God, full-fledged adolescent love affair. Glancing over now and seeing that same girl, now as a fully grown woman, I wondered what had gone wrong. Then I remembered.

Teenage love affairs are always filled with a feverish sense of urgency; she was mine and mine alone. Nobody else could take her out. Nobody else could talk about her, and for sure, nobody could ever talk about "doing anything" with her. I remember I nearly lost a best friend over something that never actually happened. I'd known Trey Campbell since the first grade. He was a really good guy, not very athletic, but smart, and as a friend, sincere. Sarah's class was having its ring dance, but I got sick, probably the Cole slaw at the school cafeteria. She had already bought the tickets so instead of trying to force me to go sick or maybe just stay home, she asked Trey, and he agreed. I recall everybody at that dance told me how well they fit together. They never kissed or anything, but it sure made me mad. I got so mad I broke up with her. That turned out to be a seriously stupid mistake; once the word got out, half the guys at school were at her doorstep. I had a hell of a time; I couldn't get near her.

That had been in her junior year, and I was a senior. I wanted to take her to my senior prom, but she was so full of self-righteous anger that she accepted an offer from Derek Parker instead of me. I never much liked Derek anyway so I decided to beat him up after the prom. It didn't quite work out the way I planned. I started it, but Derek finished it. It had been my first and only fight. How was I to know he'd had boxing lessons?

Sarah found out how Derek beat me up, and had one of her girlfriends call me. Sarah said she was sorry I had gotten beaten up, and she even forgave me for trying to get Angela Everdeen to go to the prom with me. Angela was one of several girls I had asked to my prom who had turned me down. I never got to go to my own prom, and the next year when it was Sarah's prom I was already in the army. Funny thing, no one told me at the time, but Sarah, even though she had plenty of opportunities, skipped her own prom. By then, thanks to the girls of Columbus, I was heavy into antibiotics.

So, we're driving along in my truck, and I asked her, "Someone said you were dating Chevis Stottlemeyer."

She sighed, "He took me out a couple times."

I asked, "You like him?"

She said, "He's OK. He has horses."

I replied, "When I get my house finished, I'm going to buy a couple horses."

She smiled. I could see a sheen of sweat on her forehead. She answered, "You had a pony. His name was Johnny wasn't it? Whatever happened to Johnny?"

I tried to keep it light, but it wasn't easy, "After I left for the service my mom and dad decided to sell him. I heard he's way over in Cambridge now. "

She looked so tired, but so genuine, "You wished they hadn't."

"Yeah," I answered, "It's like everything's gone. Annie, my lab died. Johnny got sold. You went off to college. Booger got killed." Bob, 'Booger' Lawrence was a close friend who had been killed in a car crash, and Gracie, his sister, was one of Sarah's best friends. It was a shame, but we'd all been warned, no mixed drinks. That was mixing alcohol with gasoline.

"You weren't here for the funeral," said Sarah, "it was especially hard on Gracie. She had to quit school and come home to take care of her mom and dad."

I said, "I heard." I took a deep breath. There was something I had to say, "You know I came home from... the army, and... well... it was like no one knew or seemed to care about what we'd been doing. I mean over there. You know. I felt like no one even cared I was gone."

"You mean the Middle East," she murmured. "I cared. I missed you."

"Yeah, but you're different." I whispered, "It's like most people don't give a shit. Hell, from my class I'm the only one who even enlisted. People look at me like I'm some kind of moron, or worse, like I'm a serial killer or something."

Sarah put her hand on my arm, "That's not so. Amy joined the Air Force, Carly's in the Coast Guard, and Drake Asperger, even though I know you don't like him, he enlisted in the army right after you left." She took a deep breath of her own, "Come on Travis, it's not like you had a big class."

She turned to face me, "People have been worried about you. We read about all the suicides. I was worried. You disappeared for a whole year. Nobody knew anything. Your mom and dad were frantic. Had you gone someplace and done something? You know, like... well, you know."

I asked, "You were worried?"

She answered, "Come on. Don't be stupid."

I thought about it; Sarah worried about me. Yeah, but Sarah would worry about a homeless puppy. I said, "I didn't know Drake had signed up."

Sarah replied, "Well he did, and it wasn't for the benefits."

I was curious, "Do you know where he is now?"

"I heard somewhere in Greenland," she answered.

I didn't have anything to say, but she did. "Drake was dating Donna Shanklin. They still keep in touch. She says she loves him, but she's been off and on with Derek Parker. I don't know what'll happen when Drake gets home. I hear he's really serious."

I was curious, "How's come you never got serious about anybody?"

She looked at me like I was infected with Dengue Fever, "Are you that stupid?"

I nodded, "Dennis Miles."

Sarah coughed, then through a hoarse throat she growled, "You're an asshole."

We drove along for a while until we reached the old Ballard place. I asked, "You sure you want to go in?"

She nodded yes.

I opened her door and helped her undo her seatbelt. She leaned forward and fell into my arms. My God, I had forgotten how tiny she was! She was so hot to the touch. She must be burning up with fever. I got her down and helped her inside.

Sarah looked all around, then over at me, "This has always been kind of a special place for me. Can't say why; maybe it's because of all the times we came here and made love."

"Made love?" I asked. "I don't remember making any love."

With raised eyebrows she somewhat diffidently responded, "I mean when we came here and kissed."

"That's not making love Sarah."

"It was to me." She added, "Do you know what a good kisser you are? You can kiss me right now if you want."

I was still holding her, "I'd like to."

She sensed my reluctance and turned to look inside the house. "Wow," she exclaimed, "That's some kitchen table. It's one of those Amish things. They're usually made to order, and are they expensive!"

"Yeah," I replied, "My mom bought it. She said I'd need a good table and chairs. I don't know how much it costs though."

"I bet a couple thousand dollars," she said.

I scratched my head, "No kidding. She never said."

Sarah walked over and took a seat in one of the chairs. She rested her arms on the table, "This is nice." Then she looked all around, inspecting the place, then over at me and asked, "Your truck; it's not new, but it's a heavy-duty diesel. I guess you used some of your army money to buy it. Who painted the sign on the sides? I know you didn't."

She remembered my lack of artistic talent. "Would you believe," I half chuckled. "Glenna and her husband Waylon found it and fixed it up." I thought about my sister and her husband. Glenna's a few years older than me. Her husband is a veteran like me; he served in the First Iraq War. They have three kids, all girls, Violet, Venica, and Valerie. I added, "Waylon's a mechanic. He has his own body shop. He and she thought they'd get it for me when I mentioned I might go driving across country."

Sarah asked, "If I'm not being rude, but how much did they charge you?"

"Nothing," I said.

She sat back and stared back at the table, then the counter top. She got up, walked over and ran her fingers across the top, "This is quartz isn't it."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"What do you mean you guess so? You know its quartz."

"Well yeah, it's quartz. So what."

She asserted, "Quartz isn't cheap you know."

I guess she caught me off guard. She sure wasn't acting like someone who was sick, "Well no, I guess it's not."

Sarah had her hands folded on the table top, "So did you pay for it?"

"Uh... no."

"So who did?"

I had to think, "Aunt Flo."

Tapping her foot impatiently Sarah asked, "That's a mighty fine refrigerator. Where'd you get it?"

I got up, walked over, and opened it, "There's hardly anything inside." I thought, 'I should go buy a few things; some eggs, bacon, sausage, and milk maybe.'

"So, who bought it?" Sarah insisted.

"Uh, Ralph. He's Aunt Flo's husband you know he thought..."

Sarah tapped the quartz counter top, "I know who Uncle Ralph is. Tell me about the dishwasher, and the oven, and the microwave?"

"Aunt Flo and Uncle Ralph got the dishwasher and oven. Dad got the microwave."