Running Barefoot
Page 60
I realized belatedly he’d changed into jeans and boots. How observant of me. I didn’t want to just ride away, but bikes and horses make awkward riding partners. He didn’t seem in a hurry to retrieve his horse.
“Did you follow me?” I didn’t like the peevish tone in my voice, but I was peeved.
“It didn’t take Navajo tracking skills or Marine recon to figure it out, Josie.” His face was serious despite his sarcasm. “I just asked your dad where he thought you’d gone.” He waited a few beats. “You didn’t answer me.” His tone was not accusing, but it was persistent.
“I really didn’t think it was any of your business…” I flushed at my contentious words. I was not good at confrontation, and any time I was forced into one I usually stood my ground, but cried later in my room. It was not something I willingly participated in, but Samuel raised my ire. Most people stayed away when someone went to a cemetery, ALONE. Not Samuel, he just walked right in and asked me if I had loved my dead fiancé.
“I’m trying to understand you.” He said it point blank.
I just shook my head in wonder. “Yes. I loved him. I miss him.” My breath huffed out in exasperation. “That’s why I’m here - to visit him, you know?”
“But he’s not here.” Samuel was emphatic. “He’s never been here. Not since his death, anyway.”
I desperately needed chocolate cake. Now. Or I was going to scream and pull my hair out. Or scream and pull Samuel’s hair out. The temptation to do just that had me gritting my teeth.
“Why are you here, Samuel?” I crossed my arms and thrust my chin at him defensively. “I mean…why did you come back to Levan after all this time? It’s been seven years…and here you are. I’m sure you and I could probably be friends again, but…what’s the point? You know? You’ll be gone soon.”
“My grandparents are getting old. I wanted to see them.” Samuel cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at me. “Didn’t you think I’d ever come back?”
“Actually, yes. I just thought you would come back sooner. Where have you been? What have you been doing? I mean…you were gone so long!” Now where had that come from! I flushed and held my hands to my cheeks, mortified. Since I had seen Samuel in the rain I didn’t know myself. This was the second time I had acted completely out of character, speaking without thinking, reacting totally on emotion.
“I still have the letters you sent me,” Samuel offered softly.
“I wrote so many of them,” I blurted out and winced again. I didn’t seem to be able to curb my impulse to just tell him whatever came into my head. “But when you came back that Christmas and told me you’d outgrown me…well, I thought it was time I stopped making a fool of myself.” My voice faded off awkwardly, and I tucked my hair behind my ear nervously.
Samuel was looking off, almost as if he hadn’t been listening. “Even at boot camp, I didn’t feel right about writing to you, but I couldn’t help it, not then. I needed you too much.” His voice was low, and his eyes swung back to me, a brutal honesty in his expression. “But you were so young, and the feelings between us were too intense. I found myself thinking about you like you were my girl. Then I would remember how young you were, and I would be ashamed of myself. One of my buddies at sniper school asked me one day when I was going to show him a picture of you. I hadn’t talked about you, but you were the only one I ever got letters from and the only one I ever wrote to. I felt like a scum bag, nineteen years old, writing letters to a 14-year-old girl. I knew it couldn’t be good for you. You needed to grow up and so did I. I had things I had to do, and I did them.” His gaze narrowed. “I thought maybe it was time to come back.”
The way he said this made it sound like I was part of the reason he had returned, and my mouth grew dry. I cleared my throat, “And when you leave? What then?” I wasn’t sure what I wanted him to say, and I felt incredibly foolish all over again.
He looked at me wordlessly, considering, and I cursed myself silently. So what if he left? What was wrong with me! I felt like I was thirteen all over again and hated that he could make me feel so vulnerable. I picked up my bike, throwing my book in the basket. I climbed on the seat, twisting my skirt around my legs to keep it out of the spokes. He remained silent, watching me. I didn’t look back as I rode away.
15. Parody
The following morning I arose early as usual, pulling on my running shoes, slipping on my shorts and a t-shirt, and pulling my hair up in a ponytail. I took a forkful of chocolate cake, chugged down some orange juice, and walked out into the morning. Lying on the mat in front of the door was a thick manila envelope. Written across it in neat caps, someone had written ‘JOSIE’. I picked it up and turned it over. It was heavy, and I tested it in my hands curiously. I had ordered some piano books for some new students, but this wasn’t addressed or postmarked. Someone had set it on the mat early this morning, or maybe even late last night.
Curiously, I peeled the seal and pulled out the contents. Inside were stacks of sealed legal sized white envelopes, all with my name written across them in the same handwriting as the writing on the front of the manila envelope. I sank down on the porch swing and pulled one out. Turning it over, I saw a date written across the back: 8-19-1999. I pulled out another one. Another date was scrawled across the back. Swiftly, I pulled out all the letters, finding them ordered according to their date. Suddenly, I knew what they were. The first date was June 5, 1999, about a year after Samuel left Levan.
“Did you follow me?” I didn’t like the peevish tone in my voice, but I was peeved.
“It didn’t take Navajo tracking skills or Marine recon to figure it out, Josie.” His face was serious despite his sarcasm. “I just asked your dad where he thought you’d gone.” He waited a few beats. “You didn’t answer me.” His tone was not accusing, but it was persistent.
“I really didn’t think it was any of your business…” I flushed at my contentious words. I was not good at confrontation, and any time I was forced into one I usually stood my ground, but cried later in my room. It was not something I willingly participated in, but Samuel raised my ire. Most people stayed away when someone went to a cemetery, ALONE. Not Samuel, he just walked right in and asked me if I had loved my dead fiancé.
“I’m trying to understand you.” He said it point blank.
I just shook my head in wonder. “Yes. I loved him. I miss him.” My breath huffed out in exasperation. “That’s why I’m here - to visit him, you know?”
“But he’s not here.” Samuel was emphatic. “He’s never been here. Not since his death, anyway.”
I desperately needed chocolate cake. Now. Or I was going to scream and pull my hair out. Or scream and pull Samuel’s hair out. The temptation to do just that had me gritting my teeth.
“Why are you here, Samuel?” I crossed my arms and thrust my chin at him defensively. “I mean…why did you come back to Levan after all this time? It’s been seven years…and here you are. I’m sure you and I could probably be friends again, but…what’s the point? You know? You’ll be gone soon.”
“My grandparents are getting old. I wanted to see them.” Samuel cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at me. “Didn’t you think I’d ever come back?”
“Actually, yes. I just thought you would come back sooner. Where have you been? What have you been doing? I mean…you were gone so long!” Now where had that come from! I flushed and held my hands to my cheeks, mortified. Since I had seen Samuel in the rain I didn’t know myself. This was the second time I had acted completely out of character, speaking without thinking, reacting totally on emotion.
“I still have the letters you sent me,” Samuel offered softly.
“I wrote so many of them,” I blurted out and winced again. I didn’t seem to be able to curb my impulse to just tell him whatever came into my head. “But when you came back that Christmas and told me you’d outgrown me…well, I thought it was time I stopped making a fool of myself.” My voice faded off awkwardly, and I tucked my hair behind my ear nervously.
Samuel was looking off, almost as if he hadn’t been listening. “Even at boot camp, I didn’t feel right about writing to you, but I couldn’t help it, not then. I needed you too much.” His voice was low, and his eyes swung back to me, a brutal honesty in his expression. “But you were so young, and the feelings between us were too intense. I found myself thinking about you like you were my girl. Then I would remember how young you were, and I would be ashamed of myself. One of my buddies at sniper school asked me one day when I was going to show him a picture of you. I hadn’t talked about you, but you were the only one I ever got letters from and the only one I ever wrote to. I felt like a scum bag, nineteen years old, writing letters to a 14-year-old girl. I knew it couldn’t be good for you. You needed to grow up and so did I. I had things I had to do, and I did them.” His gaze narrowed. “I thought maybe it was time to come back.”
The way he said this made it sound like I was part of the reason he had returned, and my mouth grew dry. I cleared my throat, “And when you leave? What then?” I wasn’t sure what I wanted him to say, and I felt incredibly foolish all over again.
He looked at me wordlessly, considering, and I cursed myself silently. So what if he left? What was wrong with me! I felt like I was thirteen all over again and hated that he could make me feel so vulnerable. I picked up my bike, throwing my book in the basket. I climbed on the seat, twisting my skirt around my legs to keep it out of the spokes. He remained silent, watching me. I didn’t look back as I rode away.
15. Parody
The following morning I arose early as usual, pulling on my running shoes, slipping on my shorts and a t-shirt, and pulling my hair up in a ponytail. I took a forkful of chocolate cake, chugged down some orange juice, and walked out into the morning. Lying on the mat in front of the door was a thick manila envelope. Written across it in neat caps, someone had written ‘JOSIE’. I picked it up and turned it over. It was heavy, and I tested it in my hands curiously. I had ordered some piano books for some new students, but this wasn’t addressed or postmarked. Someone had set it on the mat early this morning, or maybe even late last night.
Curiously, I peeled the seal and pulled out the contents. Inside were stacks of sealed legal sized white envelopes, all with my name written across them in the same handwriting as the writing on the front of the manila envelope. I sank down on the porch swing and pulled one out. Turning it over, I saw a date written across the back: 8-19-1999. I pulled out another one. Another date was scrawled across the back. Swiftly, I pulled out all the letters, finding them ordered according to their date. Suddenly, I knew what they were. The first date was June 5, 1999, about a year after Samuel left Levan.
