by Dennis Foley
“Look, you headed home?”
“Yep. I just got in town.”
“Hold on. Just lemme cash this check and I’ll give you a ride.”
Scotty waited outside the bank, half thumbing through all the copies of all the paperwork the bank officers had given him. Through the large window he noticed Malcolm kept looking back at him from the teller’s cage and he suddenly felt a bit conspicuous in his paratrooper boots and Army green uniform.
Malcolm waved a handful of cash at Scotty and mimed something about being rich as he walked to the doorway. Outside, he made a sweeping gesture, “This way if you’re goin’ with me.”
They crossed the small parking lot. Malcolm stopped and began patting his pockets. He nodded at a truck. “This is my Cadillac.” He dug around in the front pocket of his coveralls looking for the keys to the twenty-year-old plumbing truck marked with a company logo on the door.
Scotty threw his duffel bag in the back of the truck on top of a bundle of copper pipes and next to a wooden tool box. “Man, you always did know how to go first class, Mal.”
“Fuck you, Hayes.”
Scotty opened the passenger door only to find Malcolm already cleaning off the seat. Malcolm’s black metal lunchbox and a hat matching his coveralls sat on top of a work order clipboard. He waited while Malcolm took everything and shoved it behind the seat.
Before Malcolm started the truck he leaned over and popped open the door to the glove compartment. Sitting on top of a pile of dog-eared papers, a pint bottle of Old Crow rested on its side, half empty. “What do you say? Want some?”
Scotty was surprised at the offer, so he laughed it off. “Whoa! Too early in the day for me. Remember, I’ve been locked up for over a year. Hardly ever had a chance for more than a beer now and then. I’m gonna pass.”
Malcolm had already pulled the bottle from the glove compartment but quickly threw it back in and slammed the door shut. “Okay. Maybe later.”
There was an awkward silence between them as Malcolm pulled away from the curb. Once they were at the next light he turned to take in Scotty again. “Damn, man. Who are you now? What is all this?” he gestured at the uniform with its badges, patches, insignia and chevrons.
“You knew I’d been drafted.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know you were going to become a paratrooper and whatever else all that stuff means.”
“Ranger. I went through Ranger School too.”
Malcolm looked at the chevrons on his sleeve. “And this? Are you some kind of general now?”
“Sergeant. I’m a sergeant. Don’t you know anything about the Army, Mal?”
“No. And I’d just a’soon not learn. You ain’t talking me into a haircut like yours.”
They were quiet again until Scotty decided it was his turn. “How about those plans, baseball scholarship and all? Didn’t you ever get accepted to Florida State?”
“I did. But I only lasted half a semester. I got drunk one night trashed my knee going home from a party on my motorcycle and found myself back here in a heartbeat.” He tapped the embroidered patch over his pocket. My cousin, Junior, works for these guys and got me this job. I hate it, but what the hell else am I going to do in Belton?”
Where had the rest of his classmates gone? Scotty wondered how many had gone on to college as planned and how many had stumbled, like Malcolm. He realized he had not stayed in touch with anyone but Kitty since joining the Army. There just wasn’t time. His days had been filled with sergeants like Russell, training, desperate attempts to get caught up on sleep and the constant demands of cleaning things: the barracks, his gear, his weapons, his uniforms to get ready for training sure to trash everything and start the cycle all over again.
He watched Belton go by as they passed through town. The Orange Coast Apothecary was still there and kids were still inside at the counter. He wondered if was the same for them—a place and an excuse to get together, to hang out with something to do other than just standing on the street corner.
They passed the Phillips 66 station where he had worked changing tires and pumping gas one summer. He remembered the seventy-five cents an hour he got and laughed to himself.
It all seemed so different to Scotty. It wasn’t his childhood town anymore. There were faces he didn’t recognize and high school kids in cars who must have been in grade school when he was a student.
“Kitty’s?”
“What?”
“You’re going to Kitty’s. Right?”
“Oh, yeah. I haven’t been home yet.”
Malcolm waved at a friend passing in the oncoming lane. “I saw Kitty last week at Kroger’s.”
“You did? How’d she look to you?”
“You know Kitty. She was asking about me and telling me about you. She looks tired.” He shrugged. “But I guess she looked okay to me.”
Scotty checked his watch. “You sure I’m not going to get you in trouble?”
Malcolm laughed. “My boss won’t even miss me. He spends all day on the phone bettin’ on the dogs and Jai Alai. It’ll be okay.”
“How does it feel?”
Unsure what Malcolm meant, Scotty looked at him. “How does what feel?”
“Being home.”
“Different.”
“I’ll bet. You don’t look anything like the guy I spent four years with at Palms High. Just what did they do to your hair, man?”
They both laughed.
“The Army doesn’t have much use for hair.”
“I’ll say. I got more hair on my butt.”
“They never asked me about my butt.”
They laughed again and Scotty started to realize he really was home and he didn’t have to get up the next morning well before dawn.
It felt so strange to be away from Fort Benning, where he’d only been surrounded by things Army: men in uniform, geometric landscaping, clean and painted buildings, whitewashed rocks trimming walkways, manicured lawns, hedges and tree wells. He had forgotten how Belton was. He’d forgotten old friends like Malcolm.
Malcolm pulled up in front of Kitty’s with a heavy foot on the brake pedal. “Here you go, man. That’ll be nine dollars.”
Scotty reached over and lightly punched Malcolm on the leg. “Thanks. I owe you, Mal. Let’s get together before I leave. You know. A beer or something. Anything but bowling. I hated it when you used to drag me to the bowling alley in high school”
“I’d like that. We can go chase some women like the old days. But the bowling alley’s still a good place to find them.”
Scotty got out, slammed the door and walked around the driver’s side of the truck. He laughed at Malcolm. “Women? What are women?”
“If you don’t remember I know I really don’t want to go into the Army. We’re going to have to help you reenter the world, man.”
“I could go for that,” Scotty yanked his bag off the ground and slipped his shoulder into the loop.
Malcolm hesitated. “You really got to go over there?”
Scotty grabbed his bag from the bed of the truck. “Yep. That’s what it says on my orders: Saigon, Vietnam. Do not pass Go.”
Malcolm waved out the window as he drove off.
Nothing had changed. The small yard was a little overgrown and the mailbox was bent at an odd angle, but the house looked the same. Scotty stood in the roadway thinking about all the long nights in training when he had thought about standing on the very same spot and had to put the image out of his mind. He just didn’t want to think about coming home. About being away from Benning and away from Russell. But now he was home. He was flooded with mixed emotions—happy to be home and anticipating the worst.
He covered the distance from the street to the front steps in five long strides and found himself standing at the front door. Only then did he realize he didn’t have a key. He tried the door and found it open and unlocked.
Not wanting to wake Kitty if she was resting, he half called out and half spoke up, “Mom? You home?”
Scotty stopped at the open doorway to Kitty’s room. Many things had changed. And she appeared smaller, curled up on her bed, a throw covering her even though the temperature had to be in the eighties.
The room wasn’t at all like he remembered it. There was much more light. It was clean. Gone were the ash trays spilling over with cigarette butts. The dark floral wall paper was gone, or maybe just painted over with a light peach color. It warmed up everything else in the room. The clutter had disappeared and there was a sweet smelling breeze originating in the Magnolia tree outside, passing from one jalousied window to the matching one on the opposite side of the room. The throw rug was gone leaving waxed checkerboard green and grey linoleum tiles he couldn’t remember ever seeing.
“Scotty? Is that you, baby?” Kitty rubbed the sleep from her face and tried to sit up.
“Yeah. It’s me, Mom.”
She propped up the pillow behind her back. “Oh, my! Look at you.” Tears flooded her eyes and quickly ran down both her cheeks. “You look just like your daddy, honey. Just like he did when he went off to Korea.”
Scotty stepped over to the bed, bent and kissed her on top of the head. Her hair smelled of soap and lavender. Gone was the smell of cigarette smoke always surrounding her like a halo.
She took his hands and held him at arm’s length to look at him some more. “Your daddy would be so so proud of you, baby.” She touched the stripes on his sleeve and tried to continue but not before coughing and stifling another. “You been gone so long. I really, really missed you so much. But you’re home now and we’re going to catch up. Okay, sugar?”
Feeling a little self-conscious, he pulled a few tissues out of a box on the night stand next to the bed and handed them to her. “You bet. I’ve really been looking forward to this too, Mom.”
She wiped the tears from her face and then was overtaken by another small coughing bout.
“You okay? I mean, do you feel okay?” He looked around the room. “Can I get something?”
She waved and dismissed it. “Oh, course I am. Just too many years and too many cigarettes. But y’know I’ve quit now.”
Scotty squeezed her hand for encouragement. “That’s great. That’s really great.”
She dropped her voice to a more conspiratorial tone. “But truth be known, I’d kill for just one cigarette right now.”
“And I’ll kill you if you have one. You know cigarettes got you into this fix. How about we go out and jog around the block until your craving goes away?”
Kitty laughed, coughed and laughed. “Stop. That’s hitting below the belt.”
He sat on the corner of the bed, pulled the throw up where it had fallen off and tucked it in. “Seriously, you want to get some more rest? I mean… I’ve got to unpack and get cleaned up. So, if you want to —”
“No. Let me up. You must be hungry. Let me make you something to eat, hon.”
“Nope. You stay right there.” Scotty lied. “I had a big lunch on the road. You just get some more rest and I’ll come back and check on you after I get settled in.”
“Promise?”
She slid down in her bed and he tucked in a loose corner of her blanket. She held his hand as he pulled away. “I promise. But don’t be takin’ too long, now.”
He stood and crossed the room, stopping at the doorway. He made an X across his chest. “Cross my heart.”
She finished wiggling back down into a more comfortable position and smiled at Scotty. “I’m so happy to have you home, baby.”
She closed her eyes again and he took one last look around the room more slowly and then back to her. As much as it had brightened she had darkened. Her skin had taken on a bit of gray. He could see other changes—new hollows in her cheeks, the loss of shine in her hair and the thinness of her neck and wrists.
He walked through the house toward his bedroom, stopping to pick things up and put them where they belonged and to throw things away that were beyond their usefulness. The place was a mess. It probably wasn’t any messier than when he had left, but he’d picked up so many new habits. Habits of orderliness, neatness and cleanliness. Habits had become part of Scotty Hayes the sergeant. Habits Scotty Hayes the boy hadn’t given a moment’s thought.
At the doorway to his old room he saw it was smaller than he remembered and far more cluttered. He promised himself along with all the other things he’d promised himself he would do while he was home, he’d give cleaning up the house a good try.
Chapter 11
A SHOWER ALONE WAS A LUXURY Scotty had forgotten about. There was no one yelling for him to hurry up. He sucked in the smell of a clean shower stall filled with the aroma of Kitty’s shampoo and scented soap.
Scotty washed his hair for the second time and found himself half-singing, half-humming The Animals’ House of the Rising Sun. He couldn’t seem to shake the song.
The water started running cooler. He remembered the water heater was not only small, it was old. But he didn’t care. It was a warm Florida day and even lukewarm water by himself was better than steaming water in a shower room full of loud-talking, grab-assing soldiers.
He looked in the steamed-up mirror over the small bathroom basin. It was the first time he’d really had a chance to look at himself in over a year without other guys standing nearby. In an Army latrine no soldier dared to examine his own image in the mirror without taking a lot of teasing from the others in the room.
The Scotty looking back at him was different than the boy he had seen many times in the same mirror. His skin was tanned where his uniform didn’t cover it; his shoulders were broader and his waist was smaller. The Army, Airborne and Ranger School training had been far more physically demanding than high school sports.
When Scotty reached for his shaving kit and remembered he hadn’t unpacked it. He wrapped his hips in a towel, tucked the end of it into itself to keep it snug around his waist and walked back toward the front door to find Jake’s duffel bag. As he approached the kitchen he heard pots and pans clanging in the sink and prepared himself to chide Kitty for not staying in bed as she had promised.
He stepped from the hallway into the kitchen and was completely surprised at what he saw. There, her back to him, was a young woman in some kind of waitress uniform washing dishes. The shortened skirt of the uniform showed off her well-formed legs and a bottom sure never to fail to generate a whistle or a compliment.
She turned with a start. “Scotty!”
“Eileen?” It was the Eileen Carter he had fantasized about in high school. Eileen Carter the plain yet pretty Eileen Carter. The quiet Eileen Carter from his American history class. The same Eileen Carter whose name never came up among his friends without the words beautiful and tits being mentioned in the same sentence. The Eileen Carter who while she was never rude to him never knew he existed. The Eileen Carter who always smelled so good. It was that same Eileen Carter.
“Of course it is. Didn’t Kitty tell you I was helping her out? I didn’t know you were home.”
He suddenly realized he was standing there with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “No. I mean, yes. Ah, give me a minute. Let me get something on.”
“Sure,” she smiled at his embarrassment. “Take your time. I’ve got a whole sink full of dishes to keep me busy.”
Jake Hayes’ duffel bag was heavy. Scotty dropped it on the floor in his room it stood upright like a wet bag of sand. Without thinking, he unbuckled the top and began unpacking its wrinkled compacted contents. With his shaving kit in one hand, he looked at what he was dropping onto his bed and laughed. There was nothing in the bag he’d be wearing while in Belton. The only civilian clothes he owned were already in his closet. And he recalled how he’d looked forward to wearing something other than a uniform after a year of nothing but.
He quit unpacking and walked through the connecting doorway to the bathroom. As he lathered up his face to shave, Scotty coul
dn’t help but think about Eileen Carter still in his kitchen. Eileen Carter from school. Pretty but distant, Eileen Carter.
He remembered her well. There wasn’t much about high school he looked forward to each day but a few sports and his American history class were the exceptions. He remembered sitting just behind her over her left shoulder. This put her in profile whenever she looked up at the teacher. Even though Scotty knew he had no chance with her he enjoyed watching her in class. She was a good student, quiet and more private than a loner. She came and went with little fuss or fanfare and limited her conversations with most classmates to the exchange of pleasantries but not much more.
Scotty spun the jaws of his double-edged razor closed and began at his left sideburn. He thought back about after-school events during his senior year and recalled how he never saw her at parties, ball games or even impromptu after school gatherings.
He rinsed his razor in the hot water in the sink and thought of how she looked then, always wearing a large boy’s class ring on a small gold chain around her neck. Everyone assumed she was going steady with someone from another school and just traveled in other circles. There were various rumors she was dating a college student who had never attended Palms High and she often spent weekends traveling to see him. It would explain her not being around much for weekend social gatherings.
Scotty raised his chin and began the dangerous attack on his neck and vulnerable Adam’s apple. More than once his Blue Blade had left its painful marks on the boney parts of his face and neck. He stopped for a moment and leaned on the wash basin trying to imagine a clearer picture of Eileen Carter from school. She was one of those girls who frequently clutched her three-ring binder to her breasts as if she was uncomfortable or self-conscious.
She had a great shape and nothing she should have been uncomfortable with, but somehow he’d known it would be a waste of time for him or any of his buddies to try to get close. Still, Eileen was pleasant and always met him with a warm, if only a small, smile.
