Long Way Home(37)
“He isn’t my young man.”
“I can tell he’s taken a shine to you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Why else is he sticking around?”
I opened my mouth to explain that we were trying to help Jimmy get well, then closed it again. Why bother? Donna was writing her own version of this story and probably envisioned us riding off into the sunset on Joe’s motorcycle. I wanted to tell her that Joe Fiore might be charming and good-looking, but he drank too much. And I’d spent a lifetime with people who drank too much. I’d been so busy trying to help Jimmy that I hadn’t had time to think about my own life, but I knew it wasn’t going to include Joe. Yet whenever I tried to imagine myself as a waitress or a store clerk, I couldn’t do that, either. I was awkward around strangers and terrible at engaging in conversation with them or smiling and being friendly and flirtatious like Donna. I had always gotten along best with animals. Give me a kennel full of dogs or a stable filled with horses, and I’d make friends with all of them.
Joe ended up staying all week and working in Pop’s garage every day. Twice, he woke us up in the middle of the night with nightmares, and I had to go downstairs to awaken him. I had trouble falling back asleep after returning to my room, so I looked up the Bible verses that Chaplain Bill and Jimmy’s father had mentioned and saw that they were already underlined in Jimmy’s Bible. Maybe I could read them to him when I visited on Sunday. I found the Psalms strangely comforting as I worried about my own future. On my darkest nights, I pictured Donna’s face every time one of the Psalms mentioned “mine enemies,” and I wondered if I dared to hope for God’s deliverance. I wanted my life to go back to the way it used to be, with Donna selling drinks at the Crow Bar and Jimmy helping his father at the veterinary clinic, but that wasn’t going to happen. A month had passed since Jimmy had tried to kill himself and he wasn’t getting any better.
I went looking for Joe on Saturday evening so we could plan our trip to the hospital the following day. I found him in our backyard, preparing to leave. He had cleaned himself up for a night out on the town—although not at the Crow Bar, he said, to show support for Donna. “Hey, why don’t you come with me?” he asked. “We could have a real good time.”
“Thanks, but I don’t drink much.”
“So? We can find a place that has a band or a jukebox, and we can dance, you know?”
“I don’t know how to dance.”
“I’ll teach you. Come on. You’ll be the prettiest girl in the place.” I shook my head. His magnetic smile disappeared, replaced by an angry frown. “Hey, why’re you giving me such a hard time? I thought we were friends.” Joe’s temper seemed to be easily triggered. I needed to appease him.
“We are friends, Joe. But I know I wouldn’t enjoy myself, and it would have nothing to do with you. I’m sure you’d be a charming companion and a lot of fun to be with, but I don’t really like going out to bars. Listen—about tomorrow. If you’re still planning to go to the hospital with me to see Jimmy, I think we should leave as soon as I get home from church. Chaplain Bill is going to drive over after his own church services.”
“We can take my motorcycle.”
“I was thinking we would take the car again. I don’t mind driving.”
We’d been talking out in the backyard all this time, and Donna must have been eavesdropping from the kitchen window because the screen door opened and she shouted down to us from the top of the apartment stairs. “I’m going to need the car tomorrow, Peg. Didn’t your father tell you?”
I wondered when Donna had decided that the car I’d been driving ever since gasoline rationing ended was now hers.
Joe gave me a happy grin. “Guess it’s my motorcycle, then.”
*
I was restless all through the church service, my anxiety building over the upcoming motorcycle ride. I headed for the door as soon as the service ended and was surprised when a man who looked vaguely familiar greeted me at the end of the aisle. “Good morning, Miss Serrano. Nice to see you again.” It took me a moment to realize that he was the new horse trainer from Blue Fence Farms. His tousled auburn hair looked darker after being tamed into submission with Brylcreem.
“Oh! Good morning, Mr. Dixon. I . . . um . . . It’s nice to see you, too.” I knew I should take time to greet him properly and welcome him to our church. After all, Mr. Dixon was new in town. But I was so clumsy at making small talk. And I was in a hurry to get to the hospital. “I-I . . . Please excuse me, but I’m running a little late today.” He gave me a baffled look as I hurried away.
Of course, Joe was still sound asleep when I returned home from church. I had to wake him up and pump him full of aspirin and coffee before he was ready to go. I could have hitched a ride to the hospital with the Barnetts, but I was afraid that Joe would be angry with me for leaving him behind, especially after I’d refused to go out with him last night. I needed his help. He was friends with the other soldiers I would be trying to contact.
My knees were knocking as I got ready to climb onto the back of his motorcycle. “I’ve never been on one of these before, Joe. Promise you’ll take it slow until I get used to it, okay?”
He just laughed. “Now, you gotta hang on to me unless you want to fall off,” he coached. “Just wrap your arms around me like we’re in love.” I did as he said, then cried out and gripped him tighter as the motorcycle roared to life. I couldn’t tell if I was trembling or if it was the machine rumbling beneath me. Probably both. I had never clung so tightly to a man before. It felt strange yet somehow kind of nice to be so close. Then Donna ruined it by calling out to us. She had walked down to the mailbox in her robe and slippers to fetch the Sunday newspaper.