Running Barefoot
Page 26
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“For good?” My voice rose with a squeak, and I stared down at my half-eaten slice of bread, my mind spinning. “He’s not coming back?” I said in a more controlled tone, though my heart was constricting painfully in my chest.
“Well, we don’t know exactly,” Nettie said carefully, sharing a meaningful look with Don.
“What does that mean?” My fear was making me impertinent.
“Well,” Nettie started every sentence with ‘well’, especially when she was trying to be discreet.
“Samuel’s mom wants him back home.” Don’s gravely voice was blunt as he wiped the back of his hand over his lips, checking his mustache for crumbs.
“But....” I tried to proceed gingerly, not wanting to give my feelings away. “Won’t it be hard for Samuel to finish school if he leaves now?”
“His mom said he doesn’t need to finish if he’s just going to herd sheep. She says they need him there.” I could tell Don was none to happy about the situation. “Samuel is eighteen years old. Legally, he’s an adult, and nobody can make him finish.”
“But I thought she was the one who wanted him to come here!” I was angry and confused, and my face probably showed it.
“She did!” I must have hit a nerve, because Don’s voice rose emphatically. “She talked to him on the phone last week. She said he sounded good and decided he ‘was cured’.” Don lifted up his fingers and waggled them, making quotations in the air as he repeated the words Samuel’s mother had used.
“But…what about the Marines?” I was trying to keep my composure. I couldn’t let them know how much this conversation was upsetting me. “He’s worked so hard! He’s even learning how to swim!”
Nettie set down her cup of cocoa and looked at me in surprise. “How did you know about the Marines?”
“Samuel and I are assigned to the same seat on the bus, Mrs. Yates,” I confessed. “I’ve talked to him a little bit. He’s been trying so hard to get good grades, too! I can’t believe he’s just going to quit school.”
“Samuel’s bein’ pulled in two directions, Josie.” Don shook his head and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t know that he feels like he has a lot of say in the matter.”
I needed to get out of there. I was going to burst into tears and there was no way I was going to do it in front of Don and Nettie. I bit my inner cheek hard, the sharp pain postponing my rising emotion.
“Well, I’d better get on home. Dad’s going to be wanting something hot to eat on a night like this.” I headed to the mudroom and grabbed my things, not letting myself breathe too deeply, not releasing my soft inner cheek from my back teeth.
I yanked my boots on and zipped up my coat frantically, pulling the hood down over my messy curls. Don made a move to get up, maybe to see me home.
“Don’t worry about me getting home, Mr. Yates. I can see our front porch light from here. It’s only a block. I’ll be fine.”
“Well, thanks for comin’ by, Josie.” Nettie seemed a little stumped by my erratic behavior. I’m sure she thought my interest in Samuel was a little peculiar as well.
I took my dishtowel from her outstretched hand and turned to leave.
I stopped, torn between my concern for Samuel and my wish to vacate the kitchen before I dissolved into a howling puddle.
“If you talk to Samuel soon.....will you tell him I came by and asked about him? Please remind him about his umbilical cord.”
Nettie and Don stared at me like I’d lost my marbles. “Just tell him, okay? He’ll understand.”
I fled through the house and out into the frigid February evening.
Another week passed. March came, and Samuel didn’t come back to school. I didn’t return for updates from Don and Nettie. It would only raise questions, and I’d raised enough already. I had started making him tapes of all the music we had been listening to. I had made him a ‘collection’ of greatest hits from all the composers I loved. I had 10 tapes of my favorites, everything from Beethoven to Gershwin. I had put my absolute favorites on one tape and entitled it Josie’s Top 10. I had included Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C Sharp Minor that Samuel had loved. It had not been among my top ten before, but it always would be now. Each cassette case had the titles neatly labeled next to the composer. I didn’t know how I was going to give him the gift now.
Then one morning, about two weeks after he left, I climbed on the bus, and he was sitting there waiting for me like he’d never been gone. I rushed to him and sat down, grabbing his hand in mine and holding on for all I was worth.
“You’re here!” I was whispering, trying to be discreet, but I felt like laughing out loud and dancing. He turned his face toward me, and I saw that the left side of his face, from his eye to his chin, was covered with a mottled green and yellow bruise, most likely a few days old.
“What happened? Oh, Samuel, your face!”
Samuel let me hold his hand for a moment, clasping mine tightly in his as well. Then he gently extricated his fingers and folded his hands together, like he was afraid he might take my hand again.
“I’m here until I graduate, which is going to be harder than it would have been two weeks ago. I have to go to my teachers and beg them to help me. I missed mid-terms and big assignments in every class. I have to read Othello.” He grimaced and looked at me. “I might need your help with that.” I nodded my head willingly as he continued. “When I graduate, my grandparents are going to take me to San Diego for Marine boot camp. I don’t think I’ll be going back to the rez any time soon.” Sorrow bracketed his mouth and his lips turned down slightly.
“Well, we don’t know exactly,” Nettie said carefully, sharing a meaningful look with Don.
“What does that mean?” My fear was making me impertinent.
“Well,” Nettie started every sentence with ‘well’, especially when she was trying to be discreet.
“Samuel’s mom wants him back home.” Don’s gravely voice was blunt as he wiped the back of his hand over his lips, checking his mustache for crumbs.
“But....” I tried to proceed gingerly, not wanting to give my feelings away. “Won’t it be hard for Samuel to finish school if he leaves now?”
“His mom said he doesn’t need to finish if he’s just going to herd sheep. She says they need him there.” I could tell Don was none to happy about the situation. “Samuel is eighteen years old. Legally, he’s an adult, and nobody can make him finish.”
“But I thought she was the one who wanted him to come here!” I was angry and confused, and my face probably showed it.
“She did!” I must have hit a nerve, because Don’s voice rose emphatically. “She talked to him on the phone last week. She said he sounded good and decided he ‘was cured’.” Don lifted up his fingers and waggled them, making quotations in the air as he repeated the words Samuel’s mother had used.
“But…what about the Marines?” I was trying to keep my composure. I couldn’t let them know how much this conversation was upsetting me. “He’s worked so hard! He’s even learning how to swim!”
Nettie set down her cup of cocoa and looked at me in surprise. “How did you know about the Marines?”
“Samuel and I are assigned to the same seat on the bus, Mrs. Yates,” I confessed. “I’ve talked to him a little bit. He’s been trying so hard to get good grades, too! I can’t believe he’s just going to quit school.”
“Samuel’s bein’ pulled in two directions, Josie.” Don shook his head and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t know that he feels like he has a lot of say in the matter.”
I needed to get out of there. I was going to burst into tears and there was no way I was going to do it in front of Don and Nettie. I bit my inner cheek hard, the sharp pain postponing my rising emotion.
“Well, I’d better get on home. Dad’s going to be wanting something hot to eat on a night like this.” I headed to the mudroom and grabbed my things, not letting myself breathe too deeply, not releasing my soft inner cheek from my back teeth.
I yanked my boots on and zipped up my coat frantically, pulling the hood down over my messy curls. Don made a move to get up, maybe to see me home.
“Don’t worry about me getting home, Mr. Yates. I can see our front porch light from here. It’s only a block. I’ll be fine.”
“Well, thanks for comin’ by, Josie.” Nettie seemed a little stumped by my erratic behavior. I’m sure she thought my interest in Samuel was a little peculiar as well.
I took my dishtowel from her outstretched hand and turned to leave.
I stopped, torn between my concern for Samuel and my wish to vacate the kitchen before I dissolved into a howling puddle.
“If you talk to Samuel soon.....will you tell him I came by and asked about him? Please remind him about his umbilical cord.”
Nettie and Don stared at me like I’d lost my marbles. “Just tell him, okay? He’ll understand.”
I fled through the house and out into the frigid February evening.
Another week passed. March came, and Samuel didn’t come back to school. I didn’t return for updates from Don and Nettie. It would only raise questions, and I’d raised enough already. I had started making him tapes of all the music we had been listening to. I had made him a ‘collection’ of greatest hits from all the composers I loved. I had 10 tapes of my favorites, everything from Beethoven to Gershwin. I had put my absolute favorites on one tape and entitled it Josie’s Top 10. I had included Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C Sharp Minor that Samuel had loved. It had not been among my top ten before, but it always would be now. Each cassette case had the titles neatly labeled next to the composer. I didn’t know how I was going to give him the gift now.
Then one morning, about two weeks after he left, I climbed on the bus, and he was sitting there waiting for me like he’d never been gone. I rushed to him and sat down, grabbing his hand in mine and holding on for all I was worth.
“You’re here!” I was whispering, trying to be discreet, but I felt like laughing out loud and dancing. He turned his face toward me, and I saw that the left side of his face, from his eye to his chin, was covered with a mottled green and yellow bruise, most likely a few days old.
“What happened? Oh, Samuel, your face!”
Samuel let me hold his hand for a moment, clasping mine tightly in his as well. Then he gently extricated his fingers and folded his hands together, like he was afraid he might take my hand again.
“I’m here until I graduate, which is going to be harder than it would have been two weeks ago. I have to go to my teachers and beg them to help me. I missed mid-terms and big assignments in every class. I have to read Othello.” He grimaced and looked at me. “I might need your help with that.” I nodded my head willingly as he continued. “When I graduate, my grandparents are going to take me to San Diego for Marine boot camp. I don’t think I’ll be going back to the rez any time soon.” Sorrow bracketed his mouth and his lips turned down slightly.
