Waiting for You

by Kasey Croshaw

  “No, honey, Uncle Dave has his hands full without you bothering him.” I had to laugh and so did Dave, but we still didn’t break the kiss, chuckling against each other’s lips.

  When we finally did pull our lips apart, it was Dave who spoke. “Yes, Nick, I want to be your lover and your partner. That’s what I have been waiting to hear from you, that you wanted me too.”

  “Hell yes, I want you. You are all I have thought about for the past five years, and besides, I kind of like you,” I said. Dave slapped my ass.

  “Where do we go from here?” Dave asked me.

  “I’m not sure. I guess you and I will just figure it as we go. I do know one thing, Dave. I want you in my life, and I want you to live with me,” I said.

  “Uh, okay, I guess,” Dave stammered, and his face reddened.

  “You don’t want to live with me?” I asked almost hurt by his response.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to, I do, but I sorta, kinda, help Mom pay for things in the house with my paycheck,” Dave told me.

  “I don’t mean right now, but soon. I can support the two of us,” I assured him.

  “How? You don’t have a job yet, do you?” Dave seemed worried.

  “Well, I’ll get one soon enough, until then, I have plenty of savings,” I told him. “Let’s talk to your mom about it and see what she thinks.” And then, I kissed him again.

  “God, you are a good kisser. I’ve never kissed a guy before, but fuck, it is so intense when I feel your lips against mine,” Dave moaned.

  “I hear yeah, I haven’t kissed a dude before either, but God damn Dave, you are fucking hot,” I groaned as I kissed him again.

  Running my lips across the short dark bristles on his cheek, I moved to gently bite his earlobe. I felt his body shudder against me and a moan of pleasure escape his lips.

  “What say we head on over to the El Dorado for some dinner and talk to your mom if she has a minute,” I whispered in his ear. I backed away from our hug and took his hand. Our faces were flushed with the excitement of our embrace.

  Dave closed the door behind us as we left the house. He pulled his keys from his pocket and handed them to me. I didn’t question him; I just took the keys as we walked to his new Dodge Ram pickup. “Nice wheels buddy,” I commented, opening the passenger door for him.

  “Just one more perk of living at home, no house payment so that I can have a truck payment,” Dave laughed.

  “See one more reason for you to live with me, no house payment. The folks left it to me free and clear, so you can still have a truck payment.” I grinned, trying to make my case for him moving in with me.

  That Hemi engine roared to life when I turned the key, and we were off.

  “What happened to that POS Chev you drove in high school?” Dave asked with a laugh.

  “Guess, my dad must have sold it when I left,” I said shrugging my shoulders. Back then, I always drove. If it wasn’t my car, it was Dave’s car, but I was the driver. This time, however, we held hands as I drove.

  The café’s screen banged loudly after we entered, me following right behind Dave. That got the attention of the patrons, and the place was packed.

  “Hey Nick, heard you were back in town.” Pushing my sunglasses to my head, I looked around to see who it was.

  “Oh, hey, Rick. Thanks, good to be back,” I said.

  Georgia waved us up to the bar where she was clearing plates and wiping off two places for us. “Dave, can you and Nick take Amber for me. We just got a big rush. Sit tight. It’s gonna be a while before I can get you two dinner,” she said, blowing a wisp of blonde hair that had fallen across her forehead.

  Dave had me sit at the bar while he went to the back and retrieved the 3-year-old, who was coloring, while grandma was cooking with Berto, Georgia’s cook. “Come on Amber,” I heard him say, “let’s go sit with Nick, and you can color at the bar.”

  “Okay, Uncle Dave. Who’s Nick?” she asked.

  Dave had Amber in one arm and her coloring book and crayons in his other hand. He handed her to me and put her coloring book on the bar along with the crayons. I gave him a WTF look.

  “Help her color, and I’ll help Mom get dinner served. The quicker they eat, the quicker we eat,” Dave said as he tied an apron around his waist.

  “Are you gonna be my new uncle?” Amber whispered to me.

  I tried to ignore her question, but as I was to learn that doesn’t work with a child. I knew that I always wanted kids, but I had no experience with kids, raising kids, holding kids, playing with kids, nada, zip. “Maybe, why do you think I would be your new uncle?” I asked her.

  “I saw you and Uncle Dave kissing. Does that mean that you are getting married or something?” she asked. I looked around to see who was listening, but everyone else was talking and paying no attention to the soldier holding the little girl on his lap.

  “Your Uncle Dave and I very good friends and sometimes good friends kiss each other,” I tried to explain in simple terms.

  “I know that, silly,” Amber said. She already had the coloring book open and was coloring as we talked.

  “Why would you think are going to get married?” I asked.

  She shrugged her shoulders and continued her objective of coloring the zebra purple. “Are you the Nick that Uncle Dave talks about with Grandma?” she asked.

  “I suppose so,” I said.

  “He told Grandma that he loves you. I wasn’t possa be listening, but I was. Don’t tell, okay?” she said with a giggle.

  “It will be our secret,” I told her and kissed her on top of her head.

  Dave looked so sexy as he rushed through the café delivering diners and bussing tables. He handed me a cola and Amber a juice box from behind the bar. “Thanks.”

  “What are you coloring?” I asked her.

  “A zebra and a giraffe,” she said without stopping rubbing her crayon neatly between the lines.

  “Are zebras purple?” I asked with a sly grin.

  “No, but they look prettier in purple. She’s a girl zebra, so… ,” Amber sighed as if I was annoying.

  In my solitude of holding Amber, I picked up a crayon and started coloring on the page opposite from Amber. “Is it okay if I color in your book?” I asked.

  “Sure, I like to share,” she said, smiling up at me.

  She was very content and easy to take care of while Grandma and Uncle Dave scurried to serve their customers. By 7:30 the dinner crowd was gone. Most had to get home to feed cattle or close-up shop. The sidewalks rolled up early in this town. Amber had fallen asleep in my lap with her little face pushed against my chest. It was so sweet, and I loved the feeling of having a young one, dependent on me taking care of her.

  Georgia came out the swinging doors from the kitchen and flipped a towel over her shoulder. She reached out for me to take Amber. “She’s fine, don’t wake her up,” I said.

  “Okie dokie. You were so good with her,” Georgia said. “Let me get you a plate of food. Meatloaf okay?”

  I nodded. Dave came up beside me and put his hand on my shoulder, looking down at Amber sleeping in my lap. “You’ll make a great dad,” he said softly.

  Georgia overheard her son. “I guess you two have kissed and made up?”

  “We kissed, but there was nothing to make up for,” Dave said.

  “So you two are over that bullshit of pretending like you’re not in love?” she asked with a smirk.

  “Yes, ma’am,” we said in unison.

  “Sit down by him, Dave, and I’ll get you a plate of meatloaf as well,” she said going back through the swinging doors.

  “Berto, two specials,” she called out.

  Georgia finished bussing tables and cleaning up while we ate. She locked the door and hung the closed sign on the door. “Bars open till 1:00 if you two want to go through here,” she pointed to the door behind the bar, separating the two businesses.

  “No thanks, ma’am,” I said. “It’s been a long couple of days
.”

  Georgia owned the El Dorado Bar & Grill, but she leased the bar out to Sam Graves, who paid her a tidy sum to run the place. It was always packed, and he got a few good bands to come in on weekends. Dave ate quickly and got up to help his mom finish cleaning up and closing.

  I continued to hold little Amber on my lap until everything was done and we were leaving. I handed over the child to Georgia.

  “Georgia,” I said before we turned to head to the truck, “I’ve asked Dave to move in with me, not right now, you understand, but soon.”

  “It’s about God damn time, Nick,” she said.

  “Mom!” he said, surprised by her comment.

  “Just given you boys shit. I’m happy for the two of you. You’ll be living down the street if I need you. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about leaving the nest. Besides, your brother’s still living downstairs.”

  “Thanks, Mom, I love you,” Dave said.

  I opened the truck door for Dave, staring at the hot ass while he got in. We followed Georgia around the corner and up the street. I took Amber from her, while she unlocked the door and we all went inside. Amanda had wrapped her little arms around my neck and had her head laying on my shoulder.

  The little one began to fuss at being disturbed. “Come with Grandma, baby. I’ll put to you to bed. Goodnight Nick. You take good care of my boy, or I’ll box your ears,” Georgia said.

  “Night, Georgia, see you tomorrow. I plan on keeping Dave safe and loved. I do love him, very much,” I said.

  “I know, hon,” she said as she patted my cheek, and headed upstairs with Amber to put her to bed.

  Now we were alone, standing in the living room, Nick wrapped the beefy arms around my torso and pulled me in tight and press his lips to mine.

  “Thanks for coming home, Nick. I was afraid you wouldn’t come back to me. Now I know you love me for real and I love you,” Dave said as he gave me one final kiss goodnight.

  I walked back down the street to the trailer as if I were walking on a cloud. My head was filled with plans and ideas and a life together with Dave, and his family, and the people of this town where I had grown up. It may be a shithole, but it was my shithole. I was going to settle down here and make a good life for Dave and me and, hopefully, kids.

  As opposed to the Iraqi desert, the high desert of Western Wyoming dissipates that the heat of the day as soon as the sun sets. Even when the daytime temperature is in the upper 90’s, by Midnight, it can get downright chilly outside. By the time I fell asleep on the sofa, the trailer was nice and cool. Sleeping only in my skivvies, I had pulled a throw from the back of the sofa and slept away thinking of Davy.

  It must have only been around 2:00 a.m. when I awoke to the sound of two gunshots. At first, the noise registered in my brain as part of a dream where Dave and I were on recon in Fallujah. We were backed against a wall and were firing back at enemy combatants. That’s when I heard the shots for real. It brought me out of a dead sleep, and I hastily rolled to the floor for cover. I laid there spread eagle on my belly with my torso up against the base of the sofa. I didn’t even breathe for a few seconds, waiting for more gunfire. My Army train had kicked into high gear. Quickly, I found my desert field boots and pulled them on without tying the laces.

  Now a civilian, I no longer had a weapon readily available. That would have to change. I remember my dad’s hunting rifles were in the back of the closet in the master bedroom. It was dark outside. The landscape was still under a new moon, and there was not even a faint moonglow coming through the open windows. The screens that normally protected against flying insects invading the trailer were vacant of the pests tonight. There was no electricity in the place, no noise, no fans, and no lights to attract the pesky critters.

  My nose caught a mild whiff of sulfur from the discharge of a weapon. The shots were close. The frogs down by the creek had stopped croaking, and the crickets had stopped chirping. I rose up against the wall and peered out into the night. I heard the rustle of the tall grass as someone moved through the yard. Beams from a flashlight broke through the nocturnal blackness. The shafts of light bounced and scanned as the invaders receded into the dense undergrowth towards the creek.

  The temperature had dropped into the low 70’s after the scorching heat of the day, but there was no breeze to stir the curtains hanging open on the windows. I heard the whispers of two male voices but was unable to discern what was being said.

  In a low crawl, I stealthily moved through the living room to the hallway. Rising into a high military crawl, I scrambled into my folk's bedroom into the open closet. My outstretched hands hunted for the butt of a rifle or the barrel of a shotgun. The feel of a cold metal rifle bolt caught my attention. It was my dad’s .30/06.

  Making my way across the bedroom carpet, I silently opened the bottom drawer of the dresser, knowing that is where Dad kept his ammo. I fumbled through the boxes and found what I thought were shells for the rifle. I also touched the handle of Dad’s Ruger. “Better,” I thought, “Easier to handle than a rifle.” Finding a box of 40 caliber rounds, I loaded the magazine as quietly as possible. The click of the magazine being pushed back into place made me grimace.

  Moving to the window, I peeked out and saw that the beams of now two flashlights were out among the cottonwoods at the creek bank. When I was finally out the back door of the utility room, I heard the engine of a car. Looking around the corner of the trailer, I saw the headlights of a car as it sped away across the bridge.

  My breathing returned to normal as I decocked the pistol. Deciding it was safe, I went back to the living room and fell back asleep with my boots on and my Ruger resting on my chest. Morning might tell the story of what was going on in my yard that night.

  The light of day brought no answers about the shots fired the previous night. I thought about reporting it to the sheriff, but what was I to report. This was rural Wyoming. People shoot guns around here all the time, but not at 2:00 a.m. The next few days and nights went without incident. The power company came around and got my power reconnected. Karl got the Camry running, so I had wheels. I got my mom and dad’s clothes and personal items donated and the place looking good.

  The best part was spending my evenings with Dave, having dinner at the El Dorado. He would help his mom wait, and bus tables and I would keep Amber occupied while her Grandma and Uncle worked the café. It was nice. It was gratifying. Dave and I were getting closer. There was no sex yet, but I was okay with giving him all the time he needed. As for Amber, that little girl got under my skin and had me wrapped around her little finger.

  Karl offered me a job as a mechanic at the shop, but I figured that might not work out too well with Dave and me being an item. Nobody in town said anything about us, as near as I could tell, but we were kin and around these parts, you don’t mess with kin. They were church-going folks, but they either didn’t care or kept their mouths shut.

  With my days free, I was finally getting the yard in shape. It took a few trips to Gary’s Ace and rebuilding the lawnmower engine, but it didn’t look half bad. A final trip for the day to Gary’s got my attention. I heard the siren before I saw the flashing lights in my rearview mirror.

  “Nick Sloan, I’ve meant to come by the old place and tell you welcome home,” the Sheriff said.

  “Thanks, Sheriff Lassiter, good to be back. You old son-of-a-bitch, damn near made me crap my pants when I heard that siren,” I said.

  He stood beside my car. His black baseball cap shielded his eyes from the glare of the afternoon sun, even though he was also wearing mirrored aviators. Sheriff Jim Lassiter was a big man, 6’4”, maybe 250 pounds. Not fat, I mean big, bulky, and muscular. He was only in his early thirties and a handsome devil. He was a lady’s man around town. Not that he would cheat on his wife. She would have his head on a platter if he did. Jim liked to flirt, and he liked women to flirt back.

  “The reason I stopped you, Sloan, is that your tags are expired,” he said with a smirk. “Why don’t you fol
low me down to the courthouse and get ‘em renewed, and then, come over to the jail. I have a proposition for you.”

  “Thanks for catching that, Sheriff. I didn’t even think about expired tags, just glad to have wheels,” I said, staring up at the mountain of a man casting his shadow over me as I sat in my car.

  It was a forty-five-minute drive over to the county seat, and the Lincoln County Courthouse was damn near empty on a Tuesday afternoon. It was summer, and those few civil servants who weren’t on vacation were manning the front desks. I got a new driver’s license along with renewing my tags and changing the title on the car to my name. Marla, a girl I had gone to school with, took care of everything for me. She even leaned across the desk to give me a peck on the cheek and welcome me home. That made me blush, and the two other women in the office giggle with delight.

  It had been a few years since I had been to the county lockup. As I walked across the courthouse lawn toward the jail, I recalled that it was Sheriff Jim, who had caught a few of us boys drinking beer that we had stolen. He didn’t arrest us, and he didn’t call our parents. He simply put us in jail for a few hours without telling us what was going to happen. We were all scared shitless.

  He made us pay back the cost of the beer to the grocery store, and we had to each do eight hours of community service as a, so-called, school project so our parents would be none the wiser. That is the kind of guy, Sheriff Jim was. We all respected him more after that incident, and I don’t recall any of us getting into any more trouble.

  Walking into Sheriff Jim’s office, I wondered why he wanted to talk with me. I found out soon enough.

  “Have a seat, Sloan,” the Sheriff said, offering me a handshake and a chair in front of his desk. “Sorry about earlier didn’t mean to put the fear of God in you with the siren.”