Love, Carry My Bags

by Everett, C. R.

  * * *

  “Honey girl, will you bring a box of my books next time you come to visit? I’d like to give them to the nursing staff.” Father said, feeling better. “Get Reese to help you. He’s strong; he can carry a big load.” My dad had authored some self-help books and found a worthy outlet for the stockpile. “They tell me I’ll be coming home soon, to recuperate.”

  “You need to get your strength back.”

  “Yes, I need to get just strong enough so they can put me under the knife.”

  He needed bypass surgery before another, more catastrophic heart attack attacked. A few weeks in the hospital was not enough recovery time for his damaged heart to survive a rigorous lifesaving operation. The delicate paradox weighed heavy on our minds.

  “I’ll bring Reese up. He’ll be home real soon and we’ll bring the books.” I gave Father a peck on the cheek and went again to an empty house. Jo had been home for only a few hours since Father’s heart attack. She came home to pack a suitcase, then stayed closer to the hospital at a friend’s.

  So Jo wasn’t home the next day when Reese showed up at the front door. I was sitting at the kitchen table in my nightgown eating breakfast, reading the newspaper, and feeling like queen of my castle. Music played in the background, windows and doors open to a summer morning breeze.

  “Anybody home?” Reese called through the front screen door. I jumped for joy at the sound of his voice and ran to greet him.

  “I’m so glad you’re home!” I let Reese in, feeling like I should give him a welcome home hug, but didn’t.

  “I have something for you.” Reese handed me two shirts. One was a T-shirt that said ‘Life’s a Beach.’ The other was a lavender-sleeved baseball shirt with a silk-screened panorama of a North Carolina beach.

  “Oh, thanks,” I said, excited. I would have Reese nearby every time I wore, washed, or looked at the shirts he had given me.

  “What’s been going on here the past three weeks?”

  “Didn’t you get my letter?” I said, surprised he didn’t already know.

  “No. Why? What’s been going on?”

  “Nothing. Everything.” I sat down at the kitchen table, set Whiskers in my lap. “My dad had a heart attack the Thursday after you left.”

  “Is he okay?” Reese asked, panicking.

  “He’s in the hospital, but coming home soon. He needs quadruple bypass surgery about the time I’m supposed to leave for Australia.” I bent over to nuzzle Whiskers. She licked my face, keeping any possible tears in check.

  “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. My dad had that done too.”

  “He wants us to bring a box of his books to the hospital, so he can give them away. He said you could carry them, that you were a pack mule.” A smile came back to my face as I teased Reese. “No, he didn’t really say that, but he did say you could carry them. So, how about I go get dressed and you come to Rockford with me? You can tell me all about your vacation . . .” I ran upstairs without waiting for an answer.

  “I’ll call my mom,” Reese yelled, “and let her know I’ll be gone for a while.”

  “Okay,” I answered, sticking my head out the bedroom door. Reese was back. We were on a mission. I felt together again.

  * * *

  Reese told me about dominating the basketball camp, standing in awe of Michael Jordan, and holding his own against his brother. “I’m really looking forward to senior year this fall. We’re going all the way . . . . I just wish you’d be here to see it.”

  “You know I’d go to all of your games if I was here. I’ll think of you though, and cheer you on from Down Under,” I said. “Write and tell me all about it.” I began to regret tying myself down to the exchange student plans. The last year had been so much fun and the next year surely would have surpassed it if I hadn’t graduated a year early and committed to Australia. I bailed out on my senior year with Reese before I even knew what I was doing. I kicked myself for it, but saw no turning back. “Send me the newspaper clips. They can go along with the ones I clipped this year.”

  “You cut out my basketball articles?”

  “Of course, and your golf meets, and your track meets, and . . .” Reese glowed, knowing he had his own personal groupie.

  “It would have been great if you could have come to the beach with me. I’d teach you to scuba dive.”

  “You would?”

  “Yeah, we went diving and I found this lantern off one of the sunken ships. The newspaper came out and took my picture. Made a big deal of it.” Reese thought it was cool, but shied away from the attention. “I can give you that clip too.”

  “Great,” I said as we pulled into the hospital parking lot, “I’ll add it to my collection.” Reese caught my eye, and when I looked back into his and saw his heart, I squirmed. “Grab the books,” I said, shaking off closeness. Reese pretended like the box weighed five tons, when actually, to him, it was an insignificant burden; besides, he liked books. His mother was even a librarian.

  “C’mon, mule.” I prodded Reese up the stairs. He pretended to kick me. We walked down the sterile hallway to Father’s room.

  “Hello there,” Father greeted us, upbeat. Reese set the box down on the visitor’s chair. “Thank you, Reese, for carrying the books,” Father said.

  “You’re welcome.” Reese answered respectfully, then clammed up. He felt uncomfortable staring at the pastor of his church lying in bed, weak, and twenty pounds lighter than four Sundays ago. I sat on the bed for a few minutes visiting with Father. Reese stood, looking like he was ready to go the moment he came in, but waited for me patiently.

  * * *

  That afternoon, we took Sarah, Kate, and Kurt on a road trip to the beach. The swimming beach at the southern end of Lake Geneva, that is. We went to the lake most every day that summer. This day, I drove. Reese sat up front with me, and the three kids sat in the back seat. That’s how it felt at least. Kurt rolled down the window at every stoplight making rude tongue-licking gestures to ladies in cars next to us, attempting to bust out of his nerd mold, trying on imbecilic jerk for size. Kate rolled down her window in the countryside communicating with cows. “Moo,” she bellered. And every time one answered back, she did a victory dance in her seat. Sarah sat between them turning all shades of scarlet. It felt good. It felt like a white picket fence would be waiting for us when we arrived home.

  The beach in Fontana had a one dollar admission fee. “I’m paying for Cammie,” Reese sang. The girls looked at me with the knowing, what’s up with that, look.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said even though his gesture felt great.

  “Yes, I do. I want to.” He was the best. We stripped down to our suits. The guys threw their T-shirts in a heap with the towels and we jumped in. Reese brought an extra snorkeling mask, teaching me how to spit into it so it wouldn’t fog up. We donned the masks, then dove to the bottom of the pier where minnows congregated and occasionally nipped our hands. I surfaced; Reese grabbed my foot from under the water. “Fish bite!” he said when he came up. We tread there, inching toward shore until Reese could touch bottom. Then I rode him piggyback over to where the others played Frisbee and we joined in. Fearful of losing my contacts in the water, I had taken them out. More afraid of wearing my ugly glasses, I played Frisbee blind.

  The afternoon melted away in warm sunlight until it was gone, and time to go home.

  “Reese, will you drive?” I asked quietly, on the side, handing him the car keys. “I can’t see and you’re the only one I trust.” I never risked putting my contacts back in at the beach, afraid of getting sand in my eyes. I rode in the front passenger seat watching a great blur while Reese drove us home in my dad’s car.

  * * *

  Five days later, Jo brought Father home from the hospital to a forever-altered life—for all of us. A period of mourning set in and we mourned in our own ways for our own reasons. Father grieved for his lost health and his perceived lost usefulness. Jo mourned a lost future with an able-bodied husba
nd. I grieved for the father I thought I had. I possessed an unwelcome and unforeseen dose of change. We all did.

  “Camryn, I want to let you know that it is okay with me for you to still go to Australia.” Father broached the subject, sensing that I might feel obligated to cancel the exchange. “And if anything would happen and I don’t make it through surgery, you don’t have to come back,” he said, letting me know that his death shouldn’t substantially alter my life plans. I appreciated the input, unconventional and unsettling as it was.

  * * *

  Another McDonald’s shift passed. Another ‘can’t wait to get home,’ driven. And another rush to the beach before sunset. Sarah was fully involved with John. Kate worked nights. Kurt was busy with other friends, or was grounded. So, often, Reese and I enjoyed each other’s company with only each other.

  “My treat.” Reese insisted again on paying my way for swimming. The beach was nearly empty as we arrived forty-five minutes before closing time. It was almost too cold to swim in the latent sun. We stripped off our outer clothes, swimsuits underneath, and ran into the warm lake, submerging ourselves up to our necks, erasing the goose flesh. The water felt significantly warmer than the air, so there was little incentive to emerge. I held Reese in place as I attempted a snuggle-from-behind maneuver, which backfired. Instead of me getting warmer, I exposed my back to the crisp air while I wrapped my legs around his waist, arms around his neck in an essentially piggyback stance. I shivered.

  “Goofy, what are you doing?” Reese asked, puzzled by my horseplay.

  “Trying to get warm.”

  “Well come here then.” Reese gently pulled my right arm around to the front of him and placed my hand on his back rather than his chest where it had been. My body followed and my legs loosened enough to settle into the same position only facing him in a full frontal hug. He held me. Water was again up to my neck. Swimming, too, had become a contact sport.

  “Now I’m warm.”

  “Me too,” Reese said and began to swing me around back and forth in the water. It was almost a dance.

  “Everybody out!” the lifeguard yelled, clearing the water for closing. He was yelling to all two of us. Everyone else had already gone. Even twilight would disappear soon. We shivered in the cool air while drying off. My wet swimsuit was more chill than I could take, but neither of us was in any hurry to get home. I pulled the T-shirt Reese had given me over my head and shoulders, but left my arms hanging inside so I could slip my one-piece down around my waist and then put my arms through the sleeves, keeping from being cold. Still standing in the middle of the grass, I tied my towel around my waist above my swimsuit, pulled the swimsuit off, then pulled my shorts on under the towel.

  “Ta Da! Warm!” I exclaimed and ripped off my towel.

  “RRRrrrrr.” Reese made some frustrated animal sounds and ran after me. I wasn’t hard to catch, and when he did, he held me again. “I don’t want you to go,” Reese said softly as he looked me straight in the eyes. I knew the next year would be the longest year of my life.

  “I’ll hurry home.” I tried to downplay his comment, but it didn’t work. The sinking sensation had taken hold. Reese spread his towel out over the ground for us to sit on. At first, we sat side by side with my head resting on his shoulder and his arm around me. Reese’s heart beat steadily beneath my ear, comforting me like a ticking clock comforts a lone puppy. We sat quietly watching the sky turn dark and the water reflect the moon. Reese pulled me in front of him, sitting, both facing the water, his legs straddling me, arms holding me. Reese whispered in my ear, “I’m going to miss you.”

  “I’m going to miss you too,” I said while focusing on a duck’s silhouette disappear under the surface. An emptiness and a fullness coincided within. As our summer drew to a close, nights at the beach were too few. This night at the beach was sacred.

  * * *

  The Sunday before my big departure, Brad and I sat together in church. He flew in from the Mediterranean for Father’s surgery, and coincidentally, to see me off to Australia too. Father, just well enough, delivered the morning message, but let others handle the rest of the service while he sat, resting in the pew.

  “I’m taking you to lunch after church,” Brad whispered during a choral number.

  “Where are we going?” I whispered back, happy to spend time with him. I missed him when he was away, which was most of my life, he being over a decade older than I.

  “Wisconsin.” It was a typical Brad answer—vague.

  * * *

  We drove the state line part of the way up to The Butterfly Club in Beloit. Brad drove down the center of the road, goofing off, so we could drive in two states at once. After our leisurely lunch, dessert included, he turned north. Heading home? My eyes questioned him.

  “We’re taking the scenic route,” he said.

  “Okay.” I had no idea why we were taking the scenic route, but, whatever. I was along for the ride. Holsteins and haystacks, cornfields and wildflowers, speckled the rolling green countryside. Midwest humidity filtered the sun. Warm air breezed by. Brad checked his watch and turned back south after having strayed to the northeast. Soon we were at a snail’s pace through the metropolis of Big Foot Prairie, population minuscule, located on highway 14 at the Wisconsin-Illinois border. It had a reputation for speed traps and being the gateway to legal alcohol for minor Illinoisans. Most people just called it Big Foot. Harvard and home was not far off. I was thinking of renting a movie with friends when I got home. Then I was home. I noticed an unfamiliar purse next to the stairs when I walked into the kitchen. I turned the corner and a multitude yelled out “Surprise!” A good thirty people filled my house—people from school, people from church, people from Rockford, Sarah, Kate, Kurt, Reese and his mother, Jo, and Father. Brad had created the diversion while Jo prepared my going away party. I looked around the room, still stunned, and caught Reese’s eye. “Yes, we’re in on it,” he said with a smile. I smiled back.

  “Wow,” was all I could say. On one table sat a frosted goodbye cake with rainbow icing. Gifts piled high sat on another table. I joined my close friends and the party fell into place.

  After we consumed cake, Jo directed me to the couch and handed me the cards and gifts one by one. Money. Money. Diary. Jewelry. Another Bible from Mother. Money. I passed the cards and gifts around for all to see. Reese gave me stationery. Sarah gave me a sponge. It was a large yellow cleaning sponge tied up with a blue string to hang around my neck. Printed on an attached piece of paper in Sarah’s handwriting was Sob Sopper® For those long goodbyes. “Thanks. I’ll need it,” I said holding it up toward Sarah. She fake boo hoo-ed, rubbing her eyes with her fists. When the Sopper reached Reese he quietly looked my way, looked away, and left the room. Sarah said to him, “You two can share.”

  * * *

  When the goodbye party was over and everyone had gone home, I walked through the summer trees to Reese’s, remembering the many walks to school. “Want some pizza?” he asked, happy I stopped by. “I just put a frozen Tombstone in the oven.”

  “Sure.” I ate one piece. He ate the rest.

  “I’m still hungry,” he said.

  “That boy’s gonna eat me out of house and home,” his mom said in her Southern drawl. Both of Reese’s parents spoke fluent Southern, but he and his brother did not.

  “Mom,” Reese whined in disgust, then teased, “I’m a growing boy.” He looked my way, shrugged.

  “Why don’t you two go for a walk?” Reese’s mom herded us out the door.

  “You were surprised this afternoon, weren’t you?”

  “Yes. It’s hard to surprise me, but I was shocked. I wondered about that purse I saw by the stairs, but—”

  “Well, you deserve it. You deserve the best,” Reese cut me off, politely interrupting.

  You are the best, I thought, continuing our stroll, occasionally bumping shoulders in tranquil silence.

  * * *

  My McDonald’s career had ended. My time was my o
wn. I treated myself to a last week in the United States free to do as I pleased, make the rounds, say my goodbyes, and finish packing. Monday morning I arranged my luggage, the essentials. I stowed Reese’s stationery safely in the zippered side pocket. At the outbound exchange student conference, former exchange students told me Australian girls didn’t wear makeup; not wanting to waste valuable space, I left it behind. I looked out my second-story bedroom window, open field across the street. It felt like a last glimpse of life as I knew it.

  With a visit to Michelle, I scratched off the first of many goodbyes from my list. Michelle, a casual friend at school, was the only girlfriend I had who still had another year in school.

  “I was wondering if you’d do me a favor,” I said to her.

  “Sure, name it.”

  “When homecoming flowers go on sale, would you take this and buy a couple for Reese, from me? Sign my name.” I handed her a few dollars. “Write I miss you on one and I love you on the other.”

  “Sure I’ll do that,” Michelle said, looking at me like it was the most romantic idea she’d ever heard, touched I had enlisted her help.

  “It’s a secret. Keep it to yourself,” I said, giving her a soft hug. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him for you. I know you’ll miss each other.”

  The moment I walked away from her house, a torrent of thoughts, thoughts about what I was leaving behind poured in: homecoming dance, basketball season, going to the movies together, the plays, his graduation, prom. Was I out of my mind?

  * * *

  That afternoon I went to Reese’s house. “Come to Rockford with me,” I said.

  “Where are we going?” he asked. I knew he would come along because we spent every waking moment possible together the last few days before I left.