Last Bandit: Book 1 in The Bandits Series

Sweet Mary Ann

Chapter 5: Sweet Mary Ann ~

I'm driven to the bus garage in downtown St. Louis by all three members of the Montgomery family. William is driving. Theresa is in the passenger seat. And Mary Ann and I are in the back of this station wagon.

I stare at her, but she stares at the rosary in her hands, clutching it tight. She's troubled. I can't blame her.

Theresa was nice enough to wash all of my clothes. So I'm in a new outfit not very different from the one I left Ohio in. I've got on the same hat and the same cowboy boots, but now I'm in my black leather pants, black and white polka dot shirt, again, a women's blouse type of thing from nearly a decade ago, and a black vest that I've left unbuttoned. My shirt is only buttoned twice at the bottom. And I've got my concho belt around my waist, for it seems I've lost some weight.

I won't be going hungry on this half of my trip. The Montgomery's donated a hundred dollars along with the bus ticket to help me survive until I get to wherever I'm going.

We arrive at the Greyhound bus departure center and enter into the boarding area. I've got my guitar case in one hand, and my pillow case in the other. Theresa is wishing me luck and talking about God again. William pats me on the back. And Mary Ann stands in the distance, looking at the ground.

I break away from her parents and approach her. She looks surprised, scared. So I smile and reach into my pillowcase full of treasures and pull out my Stryper tape. And hold it out to her.

"I can't have this. My parents won't let me listen to it."

"Do you have a tape player?" I ask.

"There's one in the basement."

"Go there and listen to it when you can," I say and thrust the tape towards her.

She takes it slowly then stuffs it quickly into her coat pocket. Then she grabs my hand, turns it over, and places the rosary beads into it. And we smile at each other.

I've got the yearn to kiss her, but I probably shouldn't with her folks around. But then again, who cares? I won't be seeing them again.

"May The Lord be at your side on your journey," I hear Theresa say from behind me.

My bus pulls up right on time, and the door stops just inches from where Mary Ann and I stand. Her parents are yelling happily over the bus's roaring engine, but I ignore them. I lean down slowly and give Mary Ann one last kiss. Then I hop onto the bus without taking my eyes off of her.

Ten minutes of boarding passes as I look at her and only her from my seat at the back of the bus. And she looks at me and only me. I imagine her parents are at her ear questioning her. Or perhaps they thought what I did was an act of God or something.

Then my bus starts to pull away, and I tip my hat in leaving. Soon she's gone. And I'm on the road again.

I look at the silver and white rosary in my hand. I decide to hang it around my neck and wear it as jewelry. That way, I'll always know where it is.

I've got the Montgomery's address and phone number in my pillowcase if I need anything. Theresa told me to write when I could and call when it was an emergency. But I want to hear her daughter's voice more than I want to see her handwriting.

I didn't even ask her her age. I don't wanna know it.

I've got to go on and forget about her. She's too pure for a man like me. I'm too tainted for a girl like her. She's gonna be a nun. She's gonna lie about what the two of us did. And I'm gonna be a dead beat, wannabe, motherfucker. Wait, I already am.

Rolling hills of green pasture and golden farmlands pass by. There's only a few other people on this passage to the west, which is surprising to me. There's a weird man who's sitting across from a petite lady. By the way he's looking at her, I feel like I should pray for her safety.

God dammit. One night at the church-house and I'm already losing my brain. I don't pray. I don't think I ever have. Maybe I should start. But I don't know how to.

There's no snow here in the Midwest even though it's December. There's plastic Santas and colorful lights lining people's rooftops, though. I had completely forgotten about Thanksgiving. I guess it wasn't too long ago because there's still turkey replicas in some yards. I still don't know what day it is.