In a Book Club Far Away(73)
While others simply looked off into space, in the hopes of catching sight of those buses sooner rather than later, Sophie pulled out The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks for book club next week, hosted by Kerry. Her bag was never without a book, and these days, usually two, with at least one romance novel. But the priority was Henrietta Lacks.
Except, Sophie hadn’t gotten past the prologue in the last six weeks since Kerry had announced this title. The prologue set a serious tone, and while Henrietta’s story was clearly important, Sophie wasn’t sure she had the emotional fortitude to read this story of injustice, not with their family reunion on the horizon. Not when another huge feat would have to be completed: Jasper’s reintegration home.
She gripped the sides of the book with the same fervor she gripped her children whenever they crossed a busy street, in hopes that her nerves would remain still and steady for the next few minutes.
“The buses are about ten minutes out,” the announcer on the loudspeaker said, snapping Sophie out of her thoughts.
She called out to her girls, who had been playing with other kids, and they ran toward her. They were in matching red, white, and blue dresses. Sophie hadn’t told them that Jasper was coming home until that morning. From her experience, it was best to hold off for as long as possible. It was tough enough for adults to comprehend if a flight was suddenly canceled or delayed, but the children? These children were placed under enough pressure.
Not to say she didn’t prepare. She’d filled up the fridge with Jasper’s drinks of choice—chocolate milk and Mountain Dew—and the cupboards with pork rinds and dark-chocolate-covered pretzels. She’d purchased the girls’ dresses and her own outfit this week, then gotten her hair and nails done. She had also shaved her legs, braving the forest that had grown all winter.
All the while, she felt the pressure of transition. Soon, she would not have the bed to herself. She would have to consult with Jasper on parental decisions. All completely understandable, but still, it was a change.
Once the girls were seated, Sophie turned and searched the crowd for Regina, for whom she’d saved a seat. Above the heads of seated families, her friend was nowhere to be found. Adelaide was with the battalion commander’s spouse, doing her duty and making the rounds to greet families.
“Regina’s not here yet,” Annie Rodriguez, an occasional book club member, whose husband was arriving early as well, said. “You don’t think she went into labor, do you?”
“She better not have! She’s only eight months along. But I should text her.” Sophie took out her phone: no texts from Regina, but one from Kerry. “Hey, I just got a text from Kerry. One of her kids has hand, foot, and mouth. So no book club at her place. She asked me to pass on the message.”
Annie made a face. “Oh man, we had that a couple of years ago, and I am not envious. But maybe it’s a good thing. I haven’t even cracked the book open. You?”
“Honestly?” Sophie said. “No. I can barely keep my mind straight.”
To the side, the unit military band had begun their set with an uplifting patriotic instrumental, signaling the arrival of the buses. Smiles appeared in the crowd, the anticipation rising. Sophie’s heart thumped in time with the music, and she tapped her heel-clad food onto the ground. Her girls began to dance next to her.
The rush of emotions was like the rising of the tide, looming above surfers, enormous. That tide represented the length of separation, the struggles of the last eight months, the triumph of survival.
When Sophie saw the flash of the white buses, knowing that in one of them was Jasper, the wave crashed down. Her emotions jumbled in the foam, with no way of knowing up from down in all that rushing water. She wanted to cry, to laugh, to clap, all the while finally experiencing the belated worry that she could have lost Jasper during the last eight months, when most days she’d been able to ignore this fact altogether.
Forgetting her intention to text Regina, Sophie reveled in the anticipation of seeing her partner: How he would look, surely different from on the screen. How he would feel in her arms. A smile bloomed on her face, so big, so bright she imagined he could see her smile, too.
The white buses parked quite a ways from them, just as they had at deployment. Except this time, when the doors opened, bodies in camouflage tumbled out. Family members began yelling names; children were crying. Sophie began to tear up. It wasn’t just for her soldier, but also for the others, some mothers and fathers, all sons and daughters, friends and neighbors. These soldiers stumbled out, with wide smiles and bright eyes, radiating joy. Their faces said that they were home. Finally.
And yet, formality must be observed. The formation’s march to the front of the stands. The stillness of their proud bodies. And while they stood there, at parade rest, Sophie did what everyone was doing; she searched the sea of faces for her loved one.
“Where’s Daddy?” Olivia asked.
“I’m looking for him, baby,” Sophie answered, then hooked an arm around each one of her daughters’ shoulders, shocked at how tall they’d gotten. They bowed their heads at the chaplain’s prayer and then waited patiently through the general’s brief speech.
“I see Mr. Logan,” Carmela said, pointing up ahead.
“Oh, you do?” Sophie’s curiosity was again piqued after the reminder that Regina was not there. Or maybe just not next to her. The crowd behind them had grown, and Regina could have been in the back somewhere.