Seven Letter Words #Wattys2016

Part 35

Liam

It was already hot outside as we left the lobby and headed out on foot back to the truck. It was interesting that none of the early morning drivers even gave us a second glance, letting me know that wayward travelers must be commonplace in their town. I had both our bags strapped across my back and hoped the shop would have a tire that could at least get us into the next big city.

"I thought my town was small," she said from beside me. Her hand perched above her eyes to shield out the brightness of the rising sun. When she dropped it back down, I couldn't resist reaching out for it. She didn't pull it away or even really acknowledge the new connection and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yea, this place is too small for me. I like more action. I think I'd be bored out of my mind seeing the same people over and over again." I looked down the street before leading her across it.

"It's kind of nice actually. I mean of course there are a lot of things that suck. Everyone knows your business and you can never really get away from anyone even when you want to. But there's also something very special about being together as a community." Her smile was sweet, but I could see that there were a million thoughts behind it. I wanted her to spill them all out. I squeezed her hand twice and waited for her to explain. Even with her face still puffy from crying, she giggled and my heart bounced against my ribs at how pretty she looked.

"When the town found out about Ken they hung ribbons everywhere. The kids at the elementary school sent us cards and handwritten notes. There was this unified front that was so powerful it made my heart hurt. None of the politics of war mattered—our bereavement was felt by everyone." She watched another truck as it passed us. "At times I want to get as far away from my hometown as possible, but then I feel this homesick feeling deep in my stomach every time I start making plans to leave."

"Maybe you just need a vacation from it. I get fed up with my friends and all our old hangouts, too. I love that I have a reason for leaving and that returning home is exciting after a few months. It's forward moving momentum. I'm not stuck there like other people. I get to stop in and choose what I want to be a part of, then leave," I explained as we walked past a few shops that were just beginning to open. I could already smell the donuts from a few storefronts away.

"Maybe," she answered noncommittally with a shrug of her shoulder. "I've never really considered leaving and coming back. It makes me think about those little black ants." She smiled at my confused expression.

"Black ants?"

"Have you ever watched what happens when another bug gets wounded by their colony?" I nodded my head at her question. "They surround it and smother it. Alone they are just one tiny creature, but together they are overwhelming. They pull the outsider apart and drag them back into the earth."

"It's equally impressive and morbid." I pointed up ahead to a small coffee shop and she nodded her head.

"That's what I think returning to your small home town after being gone is like. I've seen it happen a few times with women that married and moved away. When they come back they don't fit in anymore. The other women are jealous of them or unwilling to catch them up on what's happened while they were away. It's silly, but it's almost like the only thing they have in a small town is the history. They don't want to share that with anyone who found the strength to move away. I think sometimes the ones that were left behind take it personally."

We ducked into the small shop that was surprisingly full of people at such an early time in the morning. I ordered us coffee and we both picked out a donut. "Is it always that way, or do people manage to get back in?" I asked, handing her a cup and her sugary breakfast. We took our treats to go so we could get back on the road as soon as possible.

"Sure. I mean this one lady, Betsy Miller, she moved away right after her husband retired. They bought some small condo in Florida." She licked some chocolate off the tip of her finger and laughed. "Boy did that get the town talking. Some of the old ladies at church BINGO were really jealous of her. They used to make fun of them for being textbook retired people—moving to Florida to live in a seniors only block of homes. But a few months after the move her husband passed away. She got really lonely and moved back."

"That's awful," I said around a bite of my bear claw.

"It was really sad. It took almost a year for her to get back in with that group of old bitties. I think she was just determined to make it work. I probably would have given them all the finger and moved to California to live by my children." Her feistiness had me laughing. I almost spit out my coffee, but fought to keep it in my mouth.

"Old bitties, huh?"

"You have no idea. The fact that I will become one later in my future is terrifying," she took another bite of her donut as if what she had just said was more fact than speculation.

"You don't know that for sure." I turned around and walked backwards so I could look at her face.

"Oh, I know it. I'm as sure about that as I am that you'll be one of those old grumpy retired Marines. Salty, I think they call it." Her brows drew together in thought and I chuckled. I shook my head but she was already pointing her icing covered finger at me. "Don't even try to deny it. You will wear an old trucker hat with your squadron on it. It will sit on top of your head, instead of how you wear your baseball caps now. It's like when a Marine gets old, he reverts back to the uniform rules of his younger years—wears his cap like a cover." She's shaking her head and I watch her serious expression, fighting the sudden urge to pull her into me and kiss her.

"I won't."

"You will," she counters without hesitation. "And that won't even be the worst of it. You'll have an old pickup truck because you'll believe 'they just don't build them like they used to,' and it will be covered in bumper stickers. Crazy little saying about 'Once a Marine, always a Marine,' or 'If you can't stand behind them, be sure to stand in front of them." She used a deep voice, mocking old cranky men everywhere.

"Is that so?" I tossed a scrap of my donut at her and she made an angry face when it bounced off her shirt and into her coffee. She retrieved it quickly and tossed it aside.

"You better believe it."

"Maybe you'll be an old bitty who likes cranky retired Marines." I turned back around and walked beside her. I could see the shop now and was relieved that the lights were on and the front door was propped open. She was quiet for a minute as she thought about something.

"It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, I guess."

"Are you changing your policy on dating Marines?" I nudged her gently with my elbow.

"Let me put it this way: When you become that old cranky retired Marine, look me up and give me a call. Retired is a seven-lettered word that might actually work for me." She pushed the last bite of her donut into her mouth and shut her eyes as if it was heavenly. When she opened them again it made my stomach drop. She was beautifully wounded, a strong woman wise beyond her years. I got the feeling she was an old soul and it wasn't our first time together.

I was getting in too deep. I was falling for her and had no way of making it stop. I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it was that thinking about looking her up decades from today made my stomach turn—I wanted her now. But even in all my selfishness, I could see the pain in her eyes and the shadow casting darkness over her spirit. I couldn't save her from all the losses in her future, but when I walked away I'd be stacking the odds in her favor that she'd never have to love and then lose me. I'd do that for her.

"Don't be silly," I told her as I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her into my side. I kissed the top of her head and teased, "I'll never be into old bitties." 

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