And then Sara introduced me to a world I hadn’t even fantasized about.
Sunday morning, I awoke wrapped around the warm soft skin of my lover. I wasn’t sure if I was in love or in heat, and I didn’t care. I had never been this close with anyone. Sara, along with being an unbelievable teacher, was a glorious adventure. I was Columbus, and she was my new world.
Our naked weekend seemed a blur of sexual bliss with minor interruptions for food, slow dances, and late night towel-wrapped walks on the beach; also without clothing. And we’d slept past noon on Saturday and Sunday.
I knew every square inch of her body, but other than her insatiable sexual appetite and her dislike of raised toilet seats and unmade beds, I was in the dark. The woman, her mind, her character, her soul, they were still a mystery to me.
Sara stirred, eased out of my arms, sat up, stretched, and yawned; unconcerned about her nudity. “Good morning, Mick Mackenzie.” She touched my face, her eyes intense, and then leaned down and softly kissed me.
When she eased away, I pulled her back into my arms. “Good morning, Sara Wiggs.” I looked out the opened doors to the veranda and could see the Atlantic Ocean in the distance. “It looks like it’s going to be another spectacular day. Although, as long as I am with you, any day would be fantastic.” I sighed and squeezed her. “Thanks to my parents, I’ve had a good life. But I never really knew what happiness was until this weekend.”
She slipped out of my arms and sat up. The smile I expected wasn’t there. Her wrinkled-forehead expression suggested there was something she needed to say, something not in line with happiness. “Mick, we need to talk.”
I pushed up and leaned against the cherry headboard. “Okay.”
Sara grabbed a corner of the rumpled sheet and, for the first time this weekend, covered herself. “I, ah.” She looked down at her covered body and then at me. “I want your undivided attention.”
“Obviously,” I said, nodding my head.
“When I called you Friday, my intentions were to party all weekend and maybe save a young man from going to war. And that was going to be the end of it, the end of us. But . . .”
Her words caused me to sit upright, unsupported by the headboard. “This was just a weekend fling? I was just . . .” I blew out a long breath. “But what?”
“You made me happy as well. You caused me to experience feelings I’d forgotten about and others I didn’t know existed. But . . . but we do need to end whatever this is.” She looked away. “There is so much you don’t know about me.”
“Then tell me. I want to know everything about you.”
Her eyes met mine. “No, you don’t,” her tone chilled with finality.
I reached out and touched her shoulder. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.”
She took my hand from her shoulder and kissed it; her mouth soft and warm against my flesh. Then she closed her eyes and shook her head. “With the exception of you, Mick, my life’s a mess.”
“Sara, you said you wanted to talk; so please, talk.”
Her eyes opened, and she sandwiched my hand in both of hers. “I’m engaged. He’s in the hospital, and I’m naked with someone I don’t really know. I’m living with his parents. I had to lie my ass off to get away this weekend so I could have a fling with a man I screwed in a car the second time we were together. And there is so much more you don’t know; things I can’t tell you; not now; hopefully never. Worse things than what you know. Do you really want to be involved with someone like me?”
I nodded. “Yes. All those things are from your past. This is now. Were you happy then like you just admitted you are now?”
She shook her bowed head.
“I’m not the same person I was a week ago let alone last Friday,” I said, adding my other hand to the three of ours. “I’ve changed. I’ve never felt like this about anyone else. I’ve never felt this good about me. I don’t want this to end. Can’t we just give us a little more time and see what happens?”
“I can tell you what will happen.” She looked away. “If we were to continue this, when the lust begins to fade, you’ll start thinking about all the things I just said. Whatever feelings you have for me will be consumed by trust issues. For want of a better term, our relationship will go down hill. And you won’t walk away, you’ll run.”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know me.” And then before I could stop my words, they came out. “You talk as if you’ve experienced that.”
Her glistening eyes returned to mine. “See what I mean? You already have trust issues.” She pulled free, dropped the sheet, and got up. She walked over to where her clothes decorated a chair. “It’s been a blast, Mick. Don’t enlist.”
I leapt from the bed, grabbed her arm as she reached for her panties, and turned her around. I engulfed her in my arms. The warmth of her body against mine, the clean smell of her hair, and her hands clutching my back, erased any doubts I had about my feelings for her.
“Call this whatever you want to call it, lust, naivety, whatever, I want this. I want you in my life. At least give us a chance to get to know each other . . . please.”
Sara looked up me, tears streaked her cheeks. “Mick, I won’t be able to answer a lot of your questions about my current life. I can’t. And if you really want to continue us, you’ll have to accept that. But I can tell you who I am. My likes and dislikes; what makes me laugh, or smile, or . . . or cry.” She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Knowing that, do you still want to see me?”
“More than anything. How about you? Do you want to give us a chance?”
“Yes. I . . . I like how you make me feel. I want to see you again.”
I pulled her against me and kissed her as if it was our last kiss before I left for the war.
In need of air, I finally ended the kiss.
Sara stepped back and grinned. “That leaves us with one last Sara rule for today. We can’t leave here without a plan for next weekend.” She broke into a deep-dimpled smile.
I fingered my chin. “I’ve always thought planning is as good as the purpose. And I think we need to strengthen our purpose.” I stepped forward and lifted her into my arms and carried her back to the bed.
Overnight I’d changed. My life would never be the same. I’d crossed over a line. I’d entered a new world. Everything looked different; older, smaller, and more detailed. And many of my values were affected and not necessarily for the better. It was easier to lie to my parents a week later.
When I came home from work on the Monday following Sara’s and my second three-day escape, my mom was waiting for me.
“Mick, how was your weekend with your buddies?”
Her strident tone put me on edge. I was in trouble. But unlike prior times, I knew I was guilty, but didn’t care.
“Fine,” I said.
“Did you take time to see them off today?” she asked.
My friends had left?
I tilted my head to one side. “What’s going on, Mom?”
“Bob called Friday night, after you’d left to spend the weekend with him, to invite you to a going away party Saturday night for Jerry, Carl Henry, Sam, and him. They wanted you to know they didn’t care if you didn’t enlist. They just wanted to see you again before they shipped out for Camp Pendleton this morning.”
Chapter Fifteen
Three weeks later
Savannah, Georgia
The sun was close to setting when I entered our two-story Savannah apartment building on Jones Street, just a few blocks from the historical squares.
To me, the small one-bedroom apartment was perfect. To Sara, the dwelling had to be like a phone-booth. The furniture was a hodge-podge of stuff primarily from my late grandparents’ remnants that had been stored in an uncle’s barn. Everything was old and used, but clean. The only things that were new were linens, the Philco oak cabinet radio, and a phonograph all of which Sara had purchased.
Sara, wearing what my mother would call a Sunday
dress covered by an apron, met me in the small foyer, but stopped s few steps from me.
“Oh my God,” Sara said, shaking her head while holding her nose. “My heart loves you like there’s no tomorrow, but my olfactory glands are having trouble. You reek every time you come home from that place.”
“Olfactory glands?” I shook my head. “You’ve got a great mind. You should’ve finished med school.” I set my lunch box on the floor and untied my shoes. “Yeah, I know I stink. When I suggested to my boss that they add locker rooms so we could at least change clothes before going home, he laughed.”
“The man has a warped sense of humor. At least you tried. What on earth does that mill use to make paper? Pig shit? I feel so sorry for you. How do you stand being there for twelve hour shifts?”
“They say you get used to it. I hope not.” I stood and toed my shoes off. “It’s another incentive to go to college and do well so I can get out of there. I feel sorry for you, the people who live in the area, and the poor souls who have to ride the bus with me.”
She nodded. “I can’t do much about those people, but as far as you and I are concerned, I can. A ton of Ivory soap, an ocean of hot water, oh,” she clasped her hands together, “and my new washing lady, and we’ll be fine. Can you believe it, I found a woman nearby who does washing? What luck.” She handed me a bag. “You know the drill. Strip right there and bag those clothes including your shoes. And please don’t touch anything until you’ve taken a bath. I’m sorry, just the thought of . . . thank God I found a wash-woman.”
Sometimes Sara and her spoiled rich lifestyle caused me to say things I normally wouldn’t. “Mom would’ve hugged me, washed my clothes, and cleaned and polished my shoes.” I started undressing in the entry way.
She cocked her head and flexed her jaws; not a good thing. “Yeah, sure, but your mom isn’t here, and I doubt she’ll ever be as long as you’re with ‘the engaged harlot who sleeps around with younger men’, or whatever she calls me.” Sara’s expression softened, and she shook her head as if she wanted to start our evening all over. “Sorry. I got a little carried away. All that matters is we’re together.” She patted my naked butt.
Every time I got somewhat irritated with her, she always said or did something, as subtle as a butt pat, some act of fondness, to redirect me.
“At least one of us smells good,” I said as I stepped past her, stuffed bag in hand. “Why are you all dolled up?”
“I have to go to the hospital tonight,” she said following me into the living room. “You know Johnny gets mad if I miss more than one night. He hates the place as it is and uses every excuse to want to go back to Okatie. Fortunately, they keep him sedated most of the time. I’ll be home before nine. I made you a catfish sandwich and some macaroni and cheese.”
“You’re the best,” I said.
A dimple-drilling smile lit up her blue eyes. “Oh well, so you smell. How about a little kiss?” She held out her arms, closed her eyes, and puckered her lips.
“No. I do smell.”
“Then we’ll bank that kiss.” Sara’s eyebrows arched, and she snapped her fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot. You got your first bank statement today. I put it next to the newspaper by your dinner. You’re pseudo-rich.”
“Finally,” I said. “That took forever.”
“All the time-and-a-half overtime you make for just hauling product from one place to another sure adds up quickly. At this rate, if you can work second or third shift while you go to school, you’ll be able to afford a fully accredited university versus a junior college.”
“Funny you mentioned that. I talked to Hank, my foreman, today. He thinks I’m a good worker, and said this fall he’d probably have no problem putting me on a twelve-hour third shift from Friday through Sunday; which would be equivalent to a forty-three-hour work week. I . . . we can make it. I don’t think we’d be living together if it weren’t for The Union Bag and Paper Company and Saint Joseph Candler Hospital.”
“Those are good things, except for how the paper company makes Savannah and you stink. I have to go. See you later, and when I get home, maybe I’ll get that kiss, and possibly you’ll get more. A lot more.” She turned and swished out the door, smiling at me over her shoulder, leaving a trace of jasmine in her wake.
On my way to the bathroom, I stopped in the tiny kitchen to get a second bag for my clothes and to put them in a metal box she’d bought. I started to leave but hesitated. The Savannah Morning News, my daily guilt-wound opener, sat on the table by my meal. I picked it up and unfolded the paper exposing a front page article on Korea, MARINES EXPAND PUSAN PERIMETER.
Bluffton was a small town. It hadn’t taken a lot of effort to find out that all my friends would be shipped to Korea after Basic Training. The papers were reporting every available Marine would go. And the Marines were currently in the thick of the fighting.
I sat down, the chair wood cool against my skin, and read the first paragraph.
The North Korean drive for Taegu appeared to be broken as the defenders counterattacked to push back twin enemy offenses. The Marines gained more than three miles near Changnyong, southwest of Taegu, and were nearing the Naktong River.
I leaned back and slumped in the chair. Before long it would be my buddies who were pinned in the ‘Pusan Pocket’; the media’s reference to the southern tip of South Korea.
Every day for a Marine in Korea had to be a fight for survival. I couldn’t imagine what those guys were going through, guys my age. Men had to be getting killed or maimed daily. And before long, my friends would be there, with death all around them.
The fact that my grandfather, my father, and now my friends served the country in time of war was a nagging, guilt-generating issue for me. But the thought of being without Sara for years was a bigger issue to me.
I couldn’t help but wonder how I’d react to war. A shiver jerked through me.
Chapter Sixteen
A few days later, I’d just cleaned up after work, when Sara got home from her Johnny-visit at the hospital. She had on a belted-at-the-waist, sleeveless blue summer dress that accentuated her curves. The dress color caused her eyes to be bluer than normal.
“You look fantastic,” I said, as she embraced me with her arms and a hint of jasmine.
Sara’s hello kiss quickly squelched my pang of jealousy of her going to all the trouble to be so stunning for Johnny.
“Mick, listen to you dishing out compliments when it’s you that’s so handsome. Where’re you going?” she asked as she kicked off her heals, dropping an inch or two below my chin.
“I was hoping we’d go out,” I said.
She glanced up at me and smiled. “How fun. I’d love to. What do you have in mind?”
“I still have some savings from Clarence’s burning a hole in my pocket. So I thought we’d get a burger at the Crystal Beer Parlor and then go to Barbee’s Pavilion on Isle of Hope. Some of the guys at work said there was a great band there tonight with hip singers doing Johnny Mercer’s hit songs.”
She gave me another peck. “You’ve got a date, mister. Why use your savings? What’re you doing with all that money from the mill?”
“That’s rent, food, and rainy day money. Are you ready?”
“Just let me freshen up.”
“No. Let me.” I kissed every square inch of her face as she giggled.
“How do you do it?” she asked.
“Do what, freshen your face?”
“No. How do you make me so happy every day? Yesterday you had me laugh until I cried with your funny stories from work. Last week you greeted me wearing nothing but a bow. Oh my God, that was funny and exciting. And before that, there was the hidden surprise. Always something. You are my entertainment, my joy. Don’t ever change. In my whole life, I never have been this happy.” She cupped my cheeks in her hands and kissed me, a brief touching of lips. “You’re a gift from God, Mick Mackenzie. I love you.” She patted her facial skin. “And thanks to you I think I’m ready to
go.”
Two hours later, Sara and I sat at a table on the Barbee Pavilion, listening to Mercer’s “Autumn Leaves”. A cool Skidaway River breeze flowed through the open pavilion as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Sara reached over and interlaced her fingers in mine. Sara’s little things, like just touching me, caused that tingling sensation up the back of my neck. She knew how to make me feel taller.
“Sara, do you think,” I took a swig of beer, “do you think I’m a coward?”
She released my hand and leaned over the table cupping my face in her hands. Her blue eyes fixed on mine. “Running off to a war that was probably started by some green-eye-shade government economist, and possibly getting maimed or killed, doesn’t make you a hero. To me, staying here and working in that God-awful paper mill, living in a tiny apartment, barely scraping by so you can go to school and better yourself, takes a person of substance, grit, and courage. Every day when you come home dirty and stinky, I see my hero. Though I won’t touch him.” She giggled and then her face was masked with seriousness again. “You never complain. Instead, you do everything possible to make me happy. And you’re extremely successful.” She kissed me; a short, soft, Sara kiss.
“You changed my life, Sara. God, I don’t know what I’d do without you?”
“And you’ve changed mine for the better, sweetheart.”
I lifted my glass to take a drink and hesitated an inch or two from my mouth. “Sara, how much money does your father make a year?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “A lot. Why?” She took my hand in hers again.
My fingers played with hers. “You’ve got to be used to living well. Way beyond anything I’ve known or will ever know. I’m a stinky mill worker barely able to live above the poverty level, and you say you’re happy and your life is better. Am I dreaming?”
Mickey's Wars Page 5
