Coming Home

At our church nearly all the families, and their kids, have good paying careers, with lots of money, and degrees from prestigious colleges. College, my family hasn't been nearly so well off, and sometimes, though no one ever says anything, it shows up, like when families go on vacations or travel locally to sporting or theatrical events. No one's ever said anything, and I honestly never noticed, but I bet they'd notice now. I bet they'd all notice if a loser like me showed up. I did not need that kind of 'put down', not now, not today.

I thought I asserted rather vigorously, "No way Sarah. I'm fine. No church for me."

She wasn't buying it, "I don't want to hear it Trav. Get your butt in gear. Clean up. Put something on. I want you in church with me, right now, today, this morning! You've been hiding from everyone long enough, and I want to show you off."

Show me off. I knew what that meant. I thought, 'OK, I'll go. She'll see, and she'll never ask me again.' I said, "I don't have much to wear."

"You'll be fine," she said, "everything's casual now a days."

I went to where I had everything lying around and pulled up a pair denim dungarees.

She followed me and pulled up a pair of tan slacks.

I grabbed a denim shirt.

She grabbed my tattersall button down.

I reached for my work boots.

She pulled up my old, pre-army, black loafers.

I said, "Ok, ok, I get it." I went in the bathroom, I showered, shaved, and splashed on some after shave. Wrapped in a towel, I came out and she was there with a clean pair of boxers, a clean white Tee shirt, and a pair of dark brown socks.

She was just agleam with mischief, "Don't think you're wearing white socks."

I smiled at that. She knew me. I felt better.

~~V~~

So we went to church, she drove, that way I couldn't get away. I expected at best to be ignored, or at the worst to be lightly chided for being a sucker for serving. Brother, was I wrong! After a couple hymns, Father Webley introduced me. He made me stand up. He must have talked to someone because he knew my military record, he told everybody in the congregation where I'd been, and guess what? They all applauded! They applauded for me! It was scary! What was even scarier was how full the church was. I never remembered that many people in attendance, not even for Easter. Someone must have put the word out. When I looked down at Sarah, I got my answer. I whispered, "You little minx."

She smiled. She tangled her left arm in my right. She was beaming so brightly she could've lit up the Bay at midnight. She whispered, "Everyone missed you, they all admire what you've done. You're a hero Trav."

I had a flashback! Not to Iraq, no, to middle school. Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg made a TV series, "The Pacific". At the end of one episode the survivors on Guadalcanal were aboard a ship. They were tired and depressed. They figured no one back home knew or cared. They said something to a cook. The cook said, "Everyone back home has heard of Guadalcanal. You guys are heroes!" For a second, I felt good.

I smiled back at Sarah, but I wondered if they would admire me if they really knew. I thought about that Yazidi girl. What I had done. I could have saved her. She didn't want to die. She didn't deserve to die. I was the one who killed her. And my buddies, I could have done more. I smiled, but I didn't feel like smiling.

Sarah must have known. She squeezed my arm. "You didn't start that war, Travis. You can't blame yourself for everything that happened while you were there. It wasn't your fault. Look around Trav; people love you here. This is your place. This is your home. This is where you belong."

I did look around, but it still didn't feel right. I whispered, "You're good kid Sarah."

She gave me another shock, she whispered, "I love you, Travis Tresh. You are why I'm not married."

I felt my cheeks turn red. I knew she didn't mean that. She did not mean it; she couldn't love me. By then we were sitting again. I whispered, "Don't lie to me. Don't be stupid."

She pinched me, "You remember the other night. I bet you thought I was asleep. I wasn't."

I didn't know what she meant. She must have figured it out, she whispered, "You know, my..."

I got it.

~~V~~

When church was over, we followed Sarah's mother and father out. Her dad came up to me, "We're all very proud of you Travis."

Mrs. Windover took my hand. She reached up and kissed me on the cheek, "We'd like you to come for dinner today."

I smiled, I didn't have any plans, but I figured I should see my parents. I told her, "I think my parents are expecting me today."

Before I got out another word Sarah blurted out, "Oh good, I'll come too."

I thought, 'What's this? Is she afraid of something? Then it occurred to me, she might be.' I grinned, "You sure? It'll probably be just hot dogs or something."

She grinned right back, "I like hot dogs."

The last person to see me was Father Webley. Being six feet, he was taller than I was. He wrapped his big powerful arms around me and said, "We really are very proud of you Travis." Then he stepped away slightly and asked, "Travis, have you ever been to Arlington?"

I answered honestly, "No sir, I haven't."

He hesitated only a second. He reached in his coat jacket and pulled out his pocket planner. He seemed to squirm around in it. "Tuesday, this Tuesday. I'll pick you up at 9:00. Wear something warm."

I started to object, but he'd already moved away. He looked back, "Tuesday, 0900. Don't forget."

He had me. I shrugged, "Yes sir."

~~V~~

So, it was Sunday, and that meant dinner someplace. I thought we had that all figured out, but then outside church Sarah took my arm, "I have a better idea. Let's you and me eat with my mom and dad today, and I'll eat Thanksgiving with you and your parents later this week?"

"Won't your mother and father be put out? I mean for them it's just you and Teddy?"

Again, that enigmatic smile, "Oh, I don't think so."

"All right," I said, "What time?"

"Come on," she answered, "You know my mom and dad always have Sunday dinner at 6:00."

"OK then, I'll be there at 6:00."

"No," she answered, "Be there at 4:00."

"Why 4:00?" I asked.

"Because I said so," was her firm reply.

I nodded, "OK." Somehow, she had stiffed me, but I couldn't figure out how, not yet anyway. I didn't mind, it was Sarah. I kind of liked being stiffed by Sarah.

I went back to the old Ballard place and tried to figure out what Sarah was up to, but for the life of me I couldn't come up with a damn thing. I fiddled around a while, moving dry wall around some more and checking on my supply of nails. Everything seemed Ok, so around 3:30 I climbed in my truck and went up to Millsboro and the Windover's.

As I was getting out of my truck Ted, he didn't like being called Teddy anymore, came out the front door, "Come on around back. I want to show you something."

We walked around back to Mr. Windover's open garage. At the doors Ted pointed and exclaimed, "Look!"

I saw three things; first I saw Maggie, the Windover's black Labrador. She was lying on a heap of straw nursing her puppies. I knew she'd had another litter, Sarah had told me. Second, I saw a brand-new John Deere tractor with a new wood splitter hooked on the back.

Ted asked, "What do ya think?"

"About what?" I asked.

Ted answered, "The Deere, the splitter and the pups."

"They're all good Ted."

He grinned and punched my arm, "Dad got you the tractor and splitter and mom wants you to choose one of the puppies. They won't be ready for a while, but everyone agrees one of them should be yours."

Just then I heard a gruff voice behind us, it was Mr. Windover. He strode over, "Got you the tractor and splitter. I figure they might come in handy next year."

I was confused, "How's that Mr. Windover?"

He was looking at the tractor, "You know how the Sheldon brothers have been working my land over near Roxana. They've been getting along you know. They told me this was going to be their last year. They're selling out and moving to Florida. So, you know."

"So, what's that got to do with me?" I asked.

He took his baseball cap off, it was old caterpillar, and scratched his head, "I'm buying them out. Well, you know, just their land. They're auctioning off their equipment, all of it except, you know, the harvester."

I was listening, but I was wondering if this didn't have something to do with Sarah's earlier comment about me eating here. I added things up and said, "That'll be close on to four hundred acres."

Mr. Windover put his hat back on, "Three hundred eighty; more or less. Somebody's got to work it, and I thought, what, since you'll be here it might do you some good to, you know, get back out and... well... you know what I mean."

I thought, 'Shit!' Didn't say it though. "Mr. Windover, I think that's a great offer, but I'm not sure. I'm supposed to go up to Laurel this week and talk to some army types. I might sign back up and then who knows?" I was lying, but he didn't know that. I got this scoped out. I'd start working his ground. Sarah would start hanging around, and then everyone would start planning somebody's wedding.

He took his cap off again, "The tractor and splitter are yours regardless. You know what I mean? Mrs. Windover would like it if you took one of Maggie's dogs. You'll do that for us won't you?"

I shrugged, "I guess so." What else could I say? I probably needed a dog anyway.

It was then Mrs. Windover called out the back door, "Dinner's ready!"

Dinner was a little awkward. We ate in their dining room. They usually ate in their breakfast room which was really an adjunct of their kitchen. We sat at a long table. Mr. Windover at one end with the dining room window at his back. Mrs. Windover was at the other end close to the kitchen so she could go in and out with all the foods. Ted sat on one side across from me and Sarah. I sat nearest Mr. Windover. Sarah sat to my right, near her mother, but closer to me.

Mrs. Windover brought everything out. It was pretty standard fare; roast beef, gravy, mashed potatoes, string beans, corn, biscuits, iced tea, oleo for us kids, and butter for Mr. Windover.

Sarah gave the grace. After that nobody said much. The Windover's were a little different from my family. The Windover's never said much at the table, while my family couldn't shut up. About the only thing that was said was when Mr. Windover looked at me real serious and said, "You know Travis, we're all very proud of you. You know, what you did for our country."

I'd heard quite a few thank yous, but coming from Mr. Windover it meant a lot. He'd been in the army or something, so one knew exactly. He'd been in Germany during the First Iraq War; nobody knew exactly what he did. He always seemed to be mad about something, but nobody knew what it might be. I just nodded and answered, "Yes sir, thank you."

He nodded back. That was all.

The dinner was tasty. Mrs. Windover always had been a good cook. It was a little discomfiting with Sarah sitting so close to me; her left hand kept flitting back and forth across the top of my thigh, twice she let it rest on my pants zipper. I wasn't sure if it wasn't deliberate. I didn't think so. I know it made me nervous.

After dinner, dessert and coffee, Sarah walked me out to my truck. As I climbed in, she asked, "Are you going to help my father out?"

I said, "Sarah, I don't know. There's so much going on. A couple days ago I was going to ask 'what's her name' to marry me. I've got to get up to Laurel before they send the M.P.s out for me. Sarah, I'm just all mixed up." I tapped the side of my truck where my advertisement was, "I know this isn't going anywhere. Other than that, I just don't know."

She looked up at me with those damned big green eyes. She took my hand and held it, "The other night when we were in your bed, on your mattress, I wasn't asleep."

I knew; she had already told me, just the same I asked, "What do you mean?"

She didn't say anything, she just kept looking at me. I got it. This was the second time. I told her, "Sarah I've got to go. Tomorrow could be a busy day."

She didn't move, "I'm here Trav... always."

I smiled and said, "Sure." I thought, 'Maybe she was, and maybe she wasn't. There was always Denny Miles and of course money bags, Stottlemeyer.'

I drove home. I couldn't get sorted; some strange things that were moving in and out of my head. What was Mr. Windover up to? What's with the tractor and the deal with the Sheldon farmland? Those tractors aren't cheap! Why would he do any of that? Not for me anyway. Damn it, the guy never spoke ten words to me in all the years I dated his daughter. Yeah, but I had to acknowledge, he never spoke to anybody much. They say he works somewhere outside Philadelphia. No one knows what he does, but he must make a shit load of money. I'm sure he'd rather have his daughter marry Denny Miles or 'dickhead' Chevis Stottlemeyer. Then there's Father Webley, and Arlington, and the people at church, and my parents and all the shit they kept buying, and Glenna and Waylon and the truck, and Garvin.

When I got home, I wondered what I should do. I was supposed to start work for a man up in Rehoboth, but if my mother and father were buying me a bed, I knew I better get the upstairs at least partly ready. Could I do the dry wall in a day? Yes, of course I could. I had to! Minister Webley wanted me to go to Arlington on Tuesday, and Wednesday was the day before Thanksgiving. My brother Garvin was coming home for Thanksgiving. If he was, I knew I had to spruce up where I was living. He'd want to check the place out. I'll call the man in Rehoboth first thing in the morning, then I'll get the bedroom out of the way. I lay down on my mattress. What was I thinking? Marrying Katy Newberry, Jeesh! Hell, I could marry Sarah. I bet I could. I wonder what would happen if I did marry her, if I could get her to marry me. That girl, she confuses me. Damn, I'm confused. Everything confuses me. I'm a mess!

~~V~~

Back at it Monday morning; first thing is clean up and clear out all that stupid paperwork. I looked through the stuff one more time. I tossed most of it, but decided to keep my DD214. Why, I didn't know.

I found the box that held my Beretta and opened it. Man, it was a beautiful piece of machinery, Beretta 92A1, just eight inches long, light as a feather, easy to clean, fires a nine mm bullet, and never, well almost never misfires. I held it up; fully loaded magazine, all ready to fire. I held it out in my hand, I passed it from right to left, beautiful! Some guys told me the best way to use it, it someone were to use it, was to put it up just behind and up against your right or left eyeball. That was the best place. Some guys, I was told, put it in their mouth, but every now and then they held it too low and ended up blowing off the bottom of their spine. That left them alive but totally infirm for the rest of whatever they had. One guy told me there was a guy who put it under his chin. He blew the bottom of his face off. No, the best place is right behind the eye, pull the trigger, and it's all over, no more bullshit, just peace.

I held it some more. Sweet! Why had I bought it? I hated to think about that. I remember when I left Maryland to tour the country, I never planned on coming back. Why had I come back? It sure wasn't to marry Katy Newberry, I knew that. God damn, I wish I knew. And why the fuck did I buy the old Ballard place? I looked around. Really! What a shithole. What the fuck was I doing? I looked down at my hand. I had the answer to all my problems right here. All I had to was...

"Trav? Are you there? I see your truck's here."

"Shit!" I looked at my watch, nine a.m. What is she doing here? I hollered out, "I'm back here. Just getting started." Quickly I put the pistol back in its case, got up, and shoved it in a cupboard. Just in time too.

Sarah walked in, "Hi, I brought some Starbucks. I know you like it black, but I got some sugars and some creamers too."

I got to her as she put the coffees down. I felt nervous, a little shaky. I didn't know why. My brain kept telling me, 'Say something. Put her off.' I said, "What? No donuts?"

She grinned, "I left them in the car. I know how you sometimes get angry about too many sweets."

I smiled and opened the lid on the coffee, took a sip, "Know something? A honey-dip wouldn't be a bad idea right about now."

She smiled and ran back out to her car.

I looked at the cupboard and thought, 'I need to get rid of that before somebody gets hurt.''

Sarah was back inside. Holding up a box, "I bought a dozen."

I opened it and took two out, "You busy today? If you aren't I could use the help."

She grinned.

I added, "All I need is someone around who I can yell at. You'd do fine for that."

She grinned even more broadly, then stood at attention, saluted, and exclaimed, "Yes sir, sergeant Tresh!"

I took her hand and put it down, "You're not supposed to say sir to sergeants."

"All righty," she added, "What're we doing?"

I said, "Dry wall. All day."

She got out a donut, took a nibble, and like it was the greatest thing said, "OK!"

She looked so God damned pretty, pony tail, dressed in a white blouse sitting underneath those girl's overalls. I thought, 'Just about as kissable as could be.' I didn't though.

We worked almost all day. We took a long break for lunch, went to Subway, and bought a cold cut. We worked hard. She pulled and lugged on those big sheets of drywall like a trooper. I did kiss her once or twice, got her on the head once, twice on her neck. Both times she turned and smiled. Once she grinned and said, "We're a team." A couple times I thought about asking her about... you know. I could, I think. I know she loves me. No, I'm not right for her. I thought of the Beretta... the gun or her, gun or her. Would she? Which way? Choose, ask, no going back.' I couldn't decide.

Long about four O'clock, and we finished up. I told her, "I know you're tired. Let's order out."

She smiled that oh so beautiful smile, "I've got a change of clothes in my car. Mind if I take a shower?"

I nodded.

She started for her car, then turned, "Let's get a pizza."

I asked, "Toppings?"

"She said, "Pepperoni and mushrooms."

"How about onions," I suggested.

She shook her head, "Makes your breath bad."

I smiled; it was almost like old times, like before, when we were high school. I lost my good feeling; she couldn't marry any of those guys she mentioned. No, she needed to find somebody else, somebody suitable. Shit, she needed me..., maybe... no, somebody better than me. Who? I wondered. No, me. But what if I asked? Would she say yes? What would she say?

I called a local place, Bertolli's, and ordered the pizza, mushrooms and pepperoni. She took a shower, then I did. The pizza came. We ate pizza at the table my parents bought. A little later we watched some television. There was a Hallmark, something about Christmas. I was bored. Last, we went to bed on my old mattress, and like before, we snuggled up but were careful not to get 'intimate'. We talked a lot.

What I like about Sarah is she never gives advice. She never tells me what I need. She disagrees all the time, but she does it in a way that sort of affirms what I'm thinking. Mostly, she makes me think about the goods things, like family, raising children, and helping others. She kept talking about children, how many she wants, how much fun it would be. She has a good soul. When I talk to her, I feel better. We did eventually get to sleep.

~~V~~

I woke up to the sound and smell of sizzling bacon. Sarah must have heard me, she called, "Eggs in a minute. Brush your teeth." I looked at the clock; I slept seven hours! Seven hours! Straight through!