Running Barefoot
Page 34
“If I stayed, you and I couldn’t remain friends.” Samuel’s voice was measured and he maintained his customary distance, but his back was rigid, attesting to his own inner tumult.
“Why?” I cried, scrubbing at my cheeks, my tears halted by his blunt reply.
“Because our age difference is a problem. I shouldn’t be here with you now. I only wanted to say goodbye....because the truth is, you are the best friend I have ever had too, and best friends don’t leave without saying goodbye.”
Samuel rose to his feet and leaning down, offered me his hand. I gathered Yazzie to my chest with one arm and put my other hand in his, letting him pull me to my feet beside him.
“Will you come back?” I asked woodenly, feeling the numbness of denial seeking to shield me from the finality of the moment.
“I hope so,” Samuel said wistfully. “When I do, maybe things will be different.”
I studied my feet, my mind frenzied, looking for a reason to delay him, to elongate the end of goodbye. I felt his sudden nearness, and I looked up into his face, which was now mere inches from my own. His eyes were very black in the twilight, and his breath was warm on my wet cheeks. He leaned down cautiously, his eyes never leaving mine, until our faces became so close that shape and color blurred. He tipped his face slightly to the right, and I lifted my mouth to his in the briefest hint of a kiss that never was. His lips fluttered lightly by and came to a firm standstill on my forehead. His kiss lingered there as my eyes swept closed and my sigh slipped out. And there we remained for several long seconds. And then he stood apart from me. He held my gifts in his arms and my heart in his hand.
“I won’t ever forget you, Josie.” His voice was low, his face devoid of emotion, and he turned and walked out of the little clearing. The horse whinnied in greeting, and Samuel swung into the saddle, gathering the reins. He prodded the horse with his heels and rode away, a black outline against the dying violet dusk. I followed slowly behind him, holding Yazzie against me, his head on my shoulder.
When I got home, I told my dad the truth about Yazzie; I told him that he had belonged to Don and Nettie’s grandson who was going into the Marine Corps, and he had given him to me because he couldn’t keep him. Truth without embellishment, although one could argue that it was slightly abbreviated. My dad didn’t seem to care where I’d gotten him.
“I’ve been thinking about getting a dog around here.” My dad cooed as well as a gravely cowboy can. “He’s a good boy, oh yes he is! He’s a little beauty!”
What was it about babies and puppies that made everyone talk with their lips pushed out in that kissy-faced way? I left Yazzie in my dad’s enthusiastic care and climbed up to my room. I untied Samuel’s necklace from around my neck and held it in front of me, watching the turquoise stone sway gently from the thin leather strip. My dad hadn’t cared about the puppy, but he would eventually notice if I was wearing the big turquoise rock. The pup and the rock together might set off alarms, and I was wise enough, even at thirteen, to grasp how others might perceive the relationship.
I rubbed the stone against my face, closing my eyes and thinking of our ‘almost’ kiss. I found myself wishing Samuel weren’t so careful and so honorable. I would have liked a real kiss from Samuel - for my very first kiss to belong to him. Almost immediately, I felt ashamed of my wistful criticism. If Jane Eyre could walk away from Mr. Rochester’s kisses, despite her own feelings, even though nobody would be harmed, and no one would really care, and do it out of principle, then I should expect no less of myself. That is what Samuel had done tonight at Sleepy Hollow.
I tucked his necklace into the little jewelry box I kept on my desk. A bracelet strung with silver hearts that had been my mothers, a sunflower pin that Tara had given me one birthday, and a green CTR (choose the right) ring from Sunday School crowded around my newest treasure. I shut the lid gently and trudged down the stairs, back to my roly-poly guardian.
10. Obbligato
I couldn’t write to Samuel at first. He didn’t have an address yet. He had promised to write me and let me know as soon as he could. It was about two weeks after he left that his first letter arrived.
June 7, 1997
Dear Josie,
The first couple days here have been a blur. They loaded us on a bus, and it was pretty late around 1:00 in the morning. It was so dark we couldn’t see anything out the bus windows as we were taken to what they called receiving. When we pulled up, this guy in full uniform came on the bus and started shouting for us to get our ‘trash’ together and line up out on the yellow footprints that were on the pavement. It was kind of foggy and it was hard to even see where the footprints were. This guy is shouting “Any day!” the whole time. One guy started to cry, just like that. He got control of himself, but I think everyone felt a little sympathetic, except for the drill instructor who got right in his face and told him to ‘dry it up.’
We got a chance to make a 15 second call, and I called my mom. Nobody answered, and I don’t think I’ll call again. I wrote her to let her know I’m here and what my address is, but now it’s up to her. I don’t know if she’ll write or not. My grandmother would if she could - she doesn’t expect letters because she can’t read them and she can’t write back. She knows I will come see her when I get boot leave at the end of the 12 weeks.
We didn’t sleep at all the first night. After we made our calls we went to a room with desks in it and they started throwing information at us - like the floor isn’t the floor, it’s the ‘deck,’ and the door is a ‘hatch.’ A hat is called a cover and running shoes are called go-fasters. When I’m done here I’ll speak three languages, English, Navajo, and Marine. Then they gave us our platoon number and we had to write it on our left hand in black permanent marker. My platoon is 4044, 1st Battalion. After that they collected all of our ‘civilian’ clothes, all jewelry, all knives, personal items, cigarettes, any food, gum, all of it. One kid tried stuffing a candy bar in his mouth so he didn’t have to turn it over. The drill sergeant made him spit it out on top of his stuff.
“Why?” I cried, scrubbing at my cheeks, my tears halted by his blunt reply.
“Because our age difference is a problem. I shouldn’t be here with you now. I only wanted to say goodbye....because the truth is, you are the best friend I have ever had too, and best friends don’t leave without saying goodbye.”
Samuel rose to his feet and leaning down, offered me his hand. I gathered Yazzie to my chest with one arm and put my other hand in his, letting him pull me to my feet beside him.
“Will you come back?” I asked woodenly, feeling the numbness of denial seeking to shield me from the finality of the moment.
“I hope so,” Samuel said wistfully. “When I do, maybe things will be different.”
I studied my feet, my mind frenzied, looking for a reason to delay him, to elongate the end of goodbye. I felt his sudden nearness, and I looked up into his face, which was now mere inches from my own. His eyes were very black in the twilight, and his breath was warm on my wet cheeks. He leaned down cautiously, his eyes never leaving mine, until our faces became so close that shape and color blurred. He tipped his face slightly to the right, and I lifted my mouth to his in the briefest hint of a kiss that never was. His lips fluttered lightly by and came to a firm standstill on my forehead. His kiss lingered there as my eyes swept closed and my sigh slipped out. And there we remained for several long seconds. And then he stood apart from me. He held my gifts in his arms and my heart in his hand.
“I won’t ever forget you, Josie.” His voice was low, his face devoid of emotion, and he turned and walked out of the little clearing. The horse whinnied in greeting, and Samuel swung into the saddle, gathering the reins. He prodded the horse with his heels and rode away, a black outline against the dying violet dusk. I followed slowly behind him, holding Yazzie against me, his head on my shoulder.
When I got home, I told my dad the truth about Yazzie; I told him that he had belonged to Don and Nettie’s grandson who was going into the Marine Corps, and he had given him to me because he couldn’t keep him. Truth without embellishment, although one could argue that it was slightly abbreviated. My dad didn’t seem to care where I’d gotten him.
“I’ve been thinking about getting a dog around here.” My dad cooed as well as a gravely cowboy can. “He’s a good boy, oh yes he is! He’s a little beauty!”
What was it about babies and puppies that made everyone talk with their lips pushed out in that kissy-faced way? I left Yazzie in my dad’s enthusiastic care and climbed up to my room. I untied Samuel’s necklace from around my neck and held it in front of me, watching the turquoise stone sway gently from the thin leather strip. My dad hadn’t cared about the puppy, but he would eventually notice if I was wearing the big turquoise rock. The pup and the rock together might set off alarms, and I was wise enough, even at thirteen, to grasp how others might perceive the relationship.
I rubbed the stone against my face, closing my eyes and thinking of our ‘almost’ kiss. I found myself wishing Samuel weren’t so careful and so honorable. I would have liked a real kiss from Samuel - for my very first kiss to belong to him. Almost immediately, I felt ashamed of my wistful criticism. If Jane Eyre could walk away from Mr. Rochester’s kisses, despite her own feelings, even though nobody would be harmed, and no one would really care, and do it out of principle, then I should expect no less of myself. That is what Samuel had done tonight at Sleepy Hollow.
I tucked his necklace into the little jewelry box I kept on my desk. A bracelet strung with silver hearts that had been my mothers, a sunflower pin that Tara had given me one birthday, and a green CTR (choose the right) ring from Sunday School crowded around my newest treasure. I shut the lid gently and trudged down the stairs, back to my roly-poly guardian.
10. Obbligato
I couldn’t write to Samuel at first. He didn’t have an address yet. He had promised to write me and let me know as soon as he could. It was about two weeks after he left that his first letter arrived.
June 7, 1997
Dear Josie,
The first couple days here have been a blur. They loaded us on a bus, and it was pretty late around 1:00 in the morning. It was so dark we couldn’t see anything out the bus windows as we were taken to what they called receiving. When we pulled up, this guy in full uniform came on the bus and started shouting for us to get our ‘trash’ together and line up out on the yellow footprints that were on the pavement. It was kind of foggy and it was hard to even see where the footprints were. This guy is shouting “Any day!” the whole time. One guy started to cry, just like that. He got control of himself, but I think everyone felt a little sympathetic, except for the drill instructor who got right in his face and told him to ‘dry it up.’
We got a chance to make a 15 second call, and I called my mom. Nobody answered, and I don’t think I’ll call again. I wrote her to let her know I’m here and what my address is, but now it’s up to her. I don’t know if she’ll write or not. My grandmother would if she could - she doesn’t expect letters because she can’t read them and she can’t write back. She knows I will come see her when I get boot leave at the end of the 12 weeks.
We didn’t sleep at all the first night. After we made our calls we went to a room with desks in it and they started throwing information at us - like the floor isn’t the floor, it’s the ‘deck,’ and the door is a ‘hatch.’ A hat is called a cover and running shoes are called go-fasters. When I’m done here I’ll speak three languages, English, Navajo, and Marine. Then they gave us our platoon number and we had to write it on our left hand in black permanent marker. My platoon is 4044, 1st Battalion. After that they collected all of our ‘civilian’ clothes, all jewelry, all knives, personal items, cigarettes, any food, gum, all of it. One kid tried stuffing a candy bar in his mouth so he didn’t have to turn it over. The drill sergeant made him spit it out on top of his stuff.
