Page 19 of The History in Us

Levi

Thoughts of her hadn’t left my mind, and restless sleep had filled the night before despite the soothing shots at the bar. Memories haunted my dreams.

My father had died.

I sipped my drink at Town Tavern, waiting for my older brother to meet me. The funeral had been minimal. Our father wasn’t a well-loved man in the community. After years of public drinking and known child abuse, the notice of his untimely death could have drifted in the bitter winds around the lake surrounding our small town, if not for the weekly housekeeper who found him. The United States Army released me to attend his funeral. The general demanded my presence.

Put him to rest, if for no other reason than to put yourself at ease.

Sharp amber liquor cut down my throat. Where the hell was Caleb? He promised he’d meet me here, after he did a few things at the house. I drew the line at entering the hovel which had once been our home.Home, I laughed bitterly. There was nothing homey about the place that I’d had to bear for three years, alone. Three years before I enlisted and left and hoped to never look back.

The jingle of a bell notified the bar of someone’s entrance. The night was rather young, but darkness filled the sky in late fall. I had nowhere else to go despite knowing every inch of this small town. I stared at the television until another jingle at the door alerted the slowly filling space of additional entrants. Twisting only enough to catch a glimpse of straw-blonde waves and bright blue eyes, a warm smile crossed swollen pink lips and then her eyes shifted to the growing number of occupants at several tables pressed together.

“Katie?” Without looking, I recognized the voice of someone who had once been my oldest brother’s friend. I hunched my shoulders, hoping not to be recognized. Dressed in regulation uniform, I stood out in the comfort of the local bar, but this was a place accustomed to travelers, tourists, and those who passed by. In my opinion, if you didn’t have to stay there, you wouldn’t, and that’s why the army appealed to me.

“Katie girl, you aren’t old enough to be in here yet.” Tom Carter’s voice boomed over the titters and giggles of a proud family gathering for a weekly reunion. This was tradition for the famous Carters. Even I, now considered an outsider, remembered the ritual.

Katie Carter. Her name was a distant memory to me. One of foolish games, too much drink, and the excitement of a new life mixed with mistaken identity. And idolism.

Will you be a hero one day?

An innocent question burned sharper than the whiskey crawling down my throat.

“How you holding up?” Nothing got past Calvin. The bald-headed bartender could recognize a Walker. The sheer magnitude of our alcohol consumption was a giveaway. Calvin had known my father all too well.

“It’s been a long twenty-four hours, sir.” The address so rote, the title slipped out. Calvin’s bushy eyebrows rose as he poured me another. The flight from base to here by way of Washington D.C, Detroit, and the small Cherry City Airport in Traverse City wasn’t something I looked forward to repeating in reverse tomorrow. But back to the dry heat, sand storms, and brown surroundings of desert I would return in another twenty-four hours.

I drank down my whiskey at the thought. A giggle behind me sent a shiver up my spine. How long had it been since I’d known the touch of a woman? Forget tenderness, how long had it been since I sank into one? A second ripple of laughter tickled up my neck and my body trembled. I squinted in the mirror behind the bar to catch a glance of the assailant. Blue eyes met mine. On deeper inspection, I recognized those eyes. I’d seen them before on a shy child. A slow smile graced her lips before her eyes lowered to the table. Something drew her attention to the left.

I watched inconspicuously as two girls stood, Katie being one of them. Blue eyes flicked up to me again, and I turned away. In the reflecting glass, which highlighted bottles of colored liquid behind the bar, I watched her walk to the back of the noisy space. My chin lowered before I rolled my head to follow her exit from the main area over my shoulder.

I can’t make it.My phone pinged with the text from my older brother.

How am I supposed to get back to Traverse?

Walk.

Fucker. I took a final swallow, placed a bill on the bar, and headed for the back door. My feet wouldn’t travel fast enough to get me out of this town. Pushing through the exit, I entered the small lot behind the tavern to find one girl lighting a cigarette while the blonde faced her friend. The ember-circle of light triggered a painful memory, but I quickly shut down the thought. Burn marks still coated my skin, which had been covered with tats. Being in this town messed with my head, and the twenty-four hours back to the desert couldn’t come soon enough. With a brief inspection, I realized the two were younger than I originally assessed. I tipped my chin as the blonde sought my face again. Instead of making contact, I continued walking toward the back alley. Screw Caleb.

A brief cough quickly turned to heavy hacking behind me.

Don’t look back, my brain warned me, but I turned anyway to find the girl with the cigarette bent over at the waist. The blonde patted her back, soothing her. I shook my head, closed my eyes, and willed myself to walk away.

“Are you okay?” My voice roughly addressed the choking brunette. Stupid teens. I stepped back in their direction when eyes the color of the deep lake froze my approach. I wanted to dive in and float in the soothing blue. I couldn’t move, although I tried to suck in air. White teeth tugged at the corner of her lower lip as her eyes searched my face.

“Haven’t you learned smoking can kill you?” The coughing spree proved my point. The brunette lifted her head, long waves falling haphazardly over her red face. Her hand wrapped around her throat.

“I just sucked in too much at once.” Her attempts to fool me failed. Her eyes watered from the smoke attack.

“Maybe you need some water.” She nodded and stood taller before stepping away from the blonde and re-entering the bar, mumbling she’d return in a moment. The blonde didn’t move.

“Are you home on leave?” Her voice was soft, just like she looked. Too young, my head screamed, but there was something that drew me to her, just like that night long ago. She couldn’t be more than seventeen, maybe eighteen. I was twenty-four.

“Funeral.” I don’t know why the word slipped out. I didn’t need the pity that would follow. The few who attended Dad’s funeral were there out of obligation. Church women. Assistant to the mortician. The minister. They all shared that look.

“I heard about your dad. I’m sorry,” she said.