Coming Home

Sarah sneezed, she got up, walked over, and put her hands on my shoulders, "Gee Travis, it must be tough. I mean coming home from the war and nobody caring. Like what did you say to me? 'Nobody gives a shit?'"

I thought, 'Why does she always do this?' "Look Sarah, I didn't mean it that way. I mean I thought that... you know... well."

"Well, what," she exclaimed, "You expected a big party? A parade? A big brass band? Gosh Travis, everyone's practically building your house for you. What more...?"

I had to interrupt, "They did all this after I came back from my cross-country travels."

Sarah stepped away, coughed loudly, wheezed, and then sneezed. She did a pirouette and proclaimed, "I don't want to hear it!" She coughed again, "You got home in April. Hung around for what? Two weeks? And then you took off. I was still at school! Did you call me to tell me you were home?" She was shivering, "No, you did not! Did you give anybody a chance? No, I don't think so."

I liked the way she spun about. She looked pretty spinning around in her little mini. It made it go all up around her ass. She had a nice ass inside pretty panties, pink and lacy. I said, "Sarah, you've got a nice ass."

"And you're an asshole," she exclaimed.

I watched her sit down again. She looked like she was going to cry. I walked over and sat on the chair beside her. I tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away. I said, "Sarah."

She hiccoughed, then coughed again, "Travis. You came home. You never told anybody you were back. You never called or anything, and I was the only one who 'faced' with you while you were... over there."

She looked so fragile. I bet she was feeling really achy. I said, "I had to get away."

"Get away from what?" She asked.

I had no real answer, "All the stuff. All the things."

"So, you came home. You were angry and upset. You felt like no one cared. You thought you were all alone. So, you decided you needed to skip out, just leave everybody who loves you. Leave us all to wonder."

"No, it wasn't like that, not exactly."

She said, "You're kidding. You've got to be kidding. You come home, stay for a week and disappear. You disappear without a word, except to your brother-in-law Waylon, another veteran and a guy who never talks. You stay gone for almost a year, and with no word, not a note, not even a text. Gosh! I had to text you! Remember? What were you thinking? I mean all the suicides! You had us all scared out of our minds!"

What could I say? "I don't know. I guess, I didn't think."

"Didn't think!" She shouted. She was shaking. "You didn't think! And you came home, and didn't call me or anything. No! What did you do? You started going out with her! That Katy McFarland! My God! Katy McFarland!" Sarah got up again. She walked to the window, "And all that lumber outside; that was free too, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it's free." I said, "Would you believe dad bought all the thermal pane windows. I didn't even have to put them in."

Sarah looked all around, "It's like this is the place I always imagined. I used to pretend someday I would be a wife and raise a family. I know it sounds stupid, but in my fantasy, I saw myself wearing an apron, standing at this very sink with a little sandy haired boy asking me for a glass of milk."

My hair is sandy colored. I looked off at the heaps of wood my dad had ordered. There were several piles of two by fours and dry wall all neatly covered under tarps. He said he bought it because a friend of his needed to get rid of it. That hadn't made any sense since there was a housing boom all along the coast.

I walked toward the back of the house, "You want to see the rest?"

Sarah got up and followed me to the back of the first floor. There on the floor in what I supposed would become the dining room was a double bed mattress. She looked a little bewildered, "That's where you sleep?"

She coughed again; I could see she was starting to feel worse than before. I said, "Yeah, haven't bought a full bed yet."

Sarah asked me, "Has 'she' been here? Has 'she' slept here?"

I knew who she meant. I said, "No." I watched her and she seemed to relax a little. I added, "She doesn't like the place, says she wants to live at the beach."

She asked, "Is that where you want to live? At the beach?"

"No," I said. "I want to live here."

She asked, "Why here?"

I was flummoxed; she'd confounded me again, "I don't know. I guess it's always been the place. I don't know."

Sarah coughed some more, "I'm tired. I want to lie down."

I said, "If you want to, you could sleep here? I can put you up. Why don't you go in the bathroom?" I pointed to the bathroom near the hallway that led through to what would be the living room. "Get undressed. I'll find you some clothes. I have some sweat pants and a couple flannels you can sleep in."

While I obtained a clean pair of sweat pants, some dry socks, and a flannel shirt, Sarah walked back to the hall bathroom and shut the door. I brought the clothes and handed them in. I heard a mystifying sound, an almost indistinguishable "Oh". She came out holding a tiny stuffed animal, a stuffed owl. I remembered; she'd bought me that stuffed animal back when we were in high school. I had completely forgotten about where it came from.

She put the little owl down on the mattress. I thought she looked really pretty in my clothes. The flannel shirt was loose, but she'd tucked it in the sweats and it made her look small, like very feminine. I told her so, "You look really pretty in my clothes."

She lay down, "I'm cold."

I got an army blanket and covered her, "Want me to lie down beside you?" I asked.

She nodded.

I took off my damp shirt and lay down beside her.

She whispered, "You can hold me if you want to."

I wanted to. I put my arms around her and she closed her eyes. We lay there together for several minutes. I had to admit I was having a hard time. Her body was so warm and soft. Her breathing was so gentle and regular, plus she must have been eating mints or something, her breath smelled real inviting. I was feeling aroused. I leaned over and pressed my lips to her forehead. That seemed to have awakened her; she blinked and gave me one of her heavy-lidded looks. I'd seen that look from time to time in Georgia and during a stopover in Germany, but those women were skilled professionals, Sarah was just an innocent little bird. I asked, "Are you comfortable?"

She nodded; then she pressed herself more tightly against me. She was pressing in such a manner as to push her breasts against my chest. Her right hand had fallen to just between my thighs, just south of my private parts. Her fingertips could not have more than a few inches from my genitalia; it was proving to be very difficult to not touch her warm soft chest so I did the next best thing and caressed her neck. She sighed.

She whispered, "Don't you have feelings for me anymore?"

"You know I do," was my uncomfortable reply.

She asked, "You were gone a long time. Where did you go and what did you see?"

I rolled over on my back and placed my hands behind my head. That was a complicated question. I had done a lot of driving. Before I started to tell her, she rolled into me and rested her right arm on my stomach. Her fingertips were inches just inches above my crotch. I was afraid if she moved another inch, I'd end up having a 'dishonorable discharge'. To get away I rolled toward her and on my side. Her fingers slid down over my rigid penis to my hip. I whispered, "I'll tell you."

As her fingers unconsciously crossed and re-crossed my rigid manhood she murmured, "I'm all ears."

I breathed deeply and began, "You know I stopped off at Glenna and Waylon's first. Waylon wanted to see me. He'd been to Iraq and come home, and wanted to get my version of what was going on. When I got there that's not really what he wanted. He didn't care about Iraq; he wanted to find out how I was, so we talked about what we'd both seen, and about how things were now. The biggest thing was neither of us could sleep. It wasn't the nightmares so much, as it was just not getting through a whole night without waking up. He'd been home a long while and still couldn't get regulated. I told him it was the same with me. Yeah, sure we talked about the flies, the dogs, the random violence, and the damn people, but mostly it was about how people here at home acted like nothing was going on over there, and of course, the sleep thing. He said he'd lost some friends over there, and he knew he should visit their families, but he couldn't get to it. He said it wasn't that he was afraid to see anybody; it was that he didn't have anything to say. I hadn't thought about that. Anyway, when I told him about my plans, he thought it was a great idea. I had planned on renting a car, but he said he had a nearly new truck he could lend me. I took him up on the truck, and left a few days later."

Sarah asked, "That's the truck you're using now?"

"No," I said. "That was a different truck. The one I'm using now is bigger."

"So, you left."

"Yeah. You were at school so the first place I went was Frostburg. I saw your car and where you were living, but decided not to bother you.'

Sarah frowned but didn't say anything.

"So off I went. I won't give you a lot of boring details, but I stopped at Knoxville, Memphis, Texarkana, Austen, San Antonio, El Paso, Sedona, Monument Valley, and the Grand Canyon where I did the helicopter. I drove through Las Vegas just to see it. Then I went through the Mohave Desert to San Bernardino, then through Los Angeles to Paso Robles. I had to see the spot where James Dean was killed. If I hadn't done that my dad would kill me. I did San Francisco, Arcata where I saw the Redwoods. I tripped on up to Seattle, over to Victoria, then Vancouver, and out to Kelowna. I had to stop at Spokane to get the truck worked on, and then I hit Bozeman and Yellowstone where I saw Old Faithful. I thought that was a little overrated. I skipped down to Santa Fe, Amarillo, and Oklahoma City. I saw the Tim McVeigh thing there. I drove over to Springfield to see the Lincoln stuff, and then I stopped at Buchanan. After Buchanan I came on home. My last stop was Frostburg again, but you weren't there then. You'd gone home for the summer. When I got home, I was told you'd graduated and had gone off to Europe. That's when I met Katy."

Ignoring my Europe remark she asked me, "Did you really go to all those places?"

"Yes," I told her, "But I never stayed anywhere very long. Mostly I just drove. I wanted to see what I'd been fighting for."

"Was it worth it?"

"Sarah," I said. "I honestly don't know. I wanted to hear people talking about the war, but all they talked about was meaningless bullshit; money and local politics mostly. Sure, everybody was nice, but nobody seemed to know or care about what we were doing over there."

Then she blurted out, "If it was so good, what happened in Texas?"

Surprised, I looked at her. I didn't know what to say, but anyway, "What do you mean, Texas?"

She was blushing like someone had just caught her naked in the shower, something I'd done once back when we were high school. Something wasn't right, I asked again, "Texas. What about it?"

"Uh... ah... I mean. Gosh, I don't know."

"Yes, you do Sarah. What about Texas?"

She looked down, then off toward the kitchen window, "I heard..."

"You heard what?" I asked.

"Roosevelt, Texas. Four days. You were there four days. I heard, that's all."

"Sarah," I said, "What did you hear about Roosevelt, Texas?"

"An accident," she said. "You had an accident."

"Who told you that?" I asked.

"I don't remember exactly. I think your mom."

This was getting really strange. It was true I'd had an accident on Interstate Ten just outside Roosevelt, Texas. I remember I'd gotten headachy and dizzy, and fallen asleep. I didn't go far off the road. A local guy found me and took me to his place where his wife got me in a bed. When I woke up, he told me my truck had been taken to a body shop that was close by, but they wouldn't work on it until I gave the Ok. I did that, and gave them my information. Actually, the truck was still in my brother-in-law's name. That must have been it. Waylon got the notice, and probably called my mother and father. They probably told Sarah.

"Shit," I cursed. "Don't I have any privacy?"

"We were all worried Travis. I was worried. I'm glad your back." She furthered, "But right now I'm terribly tired, and I don't feel very good. I want to go to sleep."

I looked at her; those big green eyes, her pretty face, and her long tangled up hair. I whispered, "Me too."

She closed her eyes and I thought she was asleep. Her body was swallowed up in my red flannel shirt. All cuddled up against me, her form so warm and soft, perfect breasts slowly rising and falling with each breath, hair gently framing her adorable heart shaped face, sweet pursed cherry red lips pleading to be kissed, and perfect ears, only one piercing, and dangling from each delicate lobe the same tiny jade earrings I had bought for her when we were in high school. She'd been my dream girl once. I don't know why, but I didn't have a single sexual thought. It felt like a homecoming. I was just happy. I went to sleep too.

I thought she was asleep, but she wasn't, not exactly, she murmured something. I couldn't understand what it was. Droopy eyes held mine. She took my left hand in hers and slowly pulled it down inside the sweatpants she was wearing. She placed the palm of my hand so that it covered her vagina. I felt her crease. I realized what she must have whispered. I could have her. I could've taken her right there. I didn't. I couldn't. I just couldn't. I brushed a few luscious fronds from pink cheeks and whispered, "Shh. Go back to sleep."

She closed her eyes. I heard a soft sigh. My thoughts lay out in my mind like a shattered vase, 'This was Sarah, my Sarah. Once anyways. Not anymore. She was gold. I wasn't even iron pyrite. I closed my eyes again too.

~~~V~~~

I couldn't stay asleep. No big deal. I hadn't gotten more than four or five hours at any one time since I came home. It was chilly, but nothing like the night before. I checked Sarah, she was quietly snoring. I felt her forehead; she was cool to the touch. I suppose whatever she had she'd recovered. I very quietly got dressed, went to the kitchen, and wrote her a note.

"Sarah:

Gone to the market to get some supplies. If you awaken before I get back just stay in bed and rest. Stay warm.

Travis"

I thought about leaving an added note, maybe saying love or something, but decided not to.

I got to the local all-night grocery. There were a few people up and about. I recognized Katy's Lexus. Damn, I hope she's not in there. Big mistake, she was; so were Galloway and Derek Parker. By the look of them I figured they'd been up all night. I went in, picked up some eggs, milk, sausage, a pint of half & half, some bacon, and, since they were out of bread, I got rolls.

I nearly made it out without being seen before they spotted me. First to see me was Jimmy Galloway. Of course, he had to say something, "Hey wow! Look who's here. Isn't that our war hero? Hey hero, what're you doing out so late?"

I didn't want to say anything, plus I sure didn't like the hero bullshit, but it didn't really matter that much, not coming from him. Regardless I knew I was stuck, "I'm not out late, got up early; needed some breakfast food."

Parker had to open his big mouth. "Hey Tresh, who's the food for? Who you got back in the crib? I'll bet it's your little girlfriend. What's her name? Sarah? Yeah, 'Saint Sarah, Sarah the Virgin'."

Laughing, he pulled on my arm.

It happened so fast Parker didn't have a chance. I dropped the groceries, and I took him out! Down he went! I was going in for the kill shot when...!

Katy shouted in astonishment, "Travis! Jesus Christ! What'd you do to him?"

Galloway looked stunned.

Parker was on the macadam.

I had smashed in his left collar bone and dislocated his left shoulder. Where was I? The Yazidi girl's face flashed before me. I saw the African girl, Farida through the airplane window. I closed my eyes. I silently screamed, "No, no!"

I recovered. I grabbed up my groceries luckily nothing was broken.

I glared at a terrified Katy, "Lucky guy," I said. "Maybe he'll be more careful next time." I walked briskly to my truck, got in, lit er up, and pulled away. The last thing I saw was Katy and Galloway trying to get Parker back on his feet. I supposed they would be spending a few hours at the infirmary. 'Oh well,' I thought. 'He should've kept his hands to his self and his mouth shut.' I was shaking all over. Parker isn't such a bad guy, but I was going to kill him. What's wrong with me?

~~V ~~

Sarah was up when I got back. Still in my old flannel and sweats; she gave me a silly look. Luckily, she didn't notice if anything was wrong, or I hoped she didn't notice..., she's a funny kid. She said, "I read your note."

I did recognize she'd been up to something, then I saw what it was. Since I'd been working on the house, I'd been careless with my papers. I had foolishly, actually lazily, left a few things lying around I should have put away. Somehow, she'd found my medicals and my DD214. I had planned to throw all that away, but I stupidly forgot.

She held the damn DD214 up, "What's all this Travis?"

I reached for it, but she pulled it away too fast. "It's nothing," I said. "Just my discharge papers, they don't mean anything."

She moved to the opposite side of the kitchen table, "Gee," she said. "Iraq, Afghanistan, Germany, and what's this, it says Africa-Burkina Faso."

"Give me the paper Sarah."

"Good Conduct, Sharpshooter, says M16, Iraq Medal, War on Terrorism Medal, Defense Ribbon. Bronze Star, Distinguished Service Cross. I think I know most of it." She paused, then added, "But what's this other thing; it says Article Fifteen?"

I caught up with her and reached for the papers but missed. I told her, "It doesn't mean anything. Forget you saw it. All that stuff is in the past, like it never happened."

She looked me over. She was dead serious, "I know what a Distinguished Service Cross is Travis. It's something important. That's great! I think I know what an Article Fifteen is too. How did you get it?"

"Nothing," I said. "A fight in Germany."

"OK, she said, "What about the D.S.C?"

"No big deal. I killed some people and saved a guy. That's all. I don't want to talk about it. Put it to rest."

She wasn't done, "What's with the medicals? It says here you've had some concussions. You're supposed to report to someplace in Laurel."

"Let it be Sarah. I got hit on the head a couple times. No big deal. They said I should see some guy in Laurel."

"Did you go to Laurel?"

I lied, "Yeah, now give me the stuff. It's supposed to be confidential."

She still held it, "When did you go to Laurel? It says here you're supposed to finish your military commitment through them. What commitment is that? Did you re-enlist?"

'Jesus,' I thought. 'She's a determined little... something.' "No, I didn't re-enlist. Everybody has a six-year commitment when they sign up. I served five active and was supposed to finish out with one inactive, but because I got a little bump on the head, they want to put me in an active reserve slot. Ok? Now give me the papers."

"They want you in the active reserves so they can keep an eye on your 'little bump'. Is that it?"

"I suppose so." I reached out, "Now hand it over."

She understood, "OK, here." She started to hand me the paperwork. Then she stopped, started again, and said, "But I'm going to tell my dad."

"Tell him what?"

"About your little bump on the head."

"Sarah please," I begged. "Leave it alone. Look, I got us stuff to eat. Maybe you could whip something up? I could go for some fried eggs and sausage."