Love, Carry My Bags

by Everett, C. R.

  “What are your plans, Camryn?” Mr. Dahlgren asked. “For higher education, I mean?”

  “Well, I have one more year of junior college, then I’ll transfer to a four-year school.”

  “At least you have a plan.” Mr. Dahlgren’s loaded glance at Reese caused an uncomfortable silence. We all stared out the window watching the tide roll in until our food came.

  “Thanks for dinner,” I said to Reese’s parents when we were through.

  “You’re welcome.” Mr. Dahlgren answered, disinterested.

  “Hey, Mom. Camryn and I’ll walk back,” Reese said, his arm hanging on my shoulder.

  “Are you sure? It’s kinda far.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Reese shooed her on, but she hesitated. “Fine,” he said, period, making her go away.

  * * *

  “My dad really pisses me off sometimes! It’s not that I didn’t have a plan. He never liked any of my plans.”

  “Why don’t we go to school together?” I suggested.

  “That would be nice.” We held hands, walking in the sand.

  “What do you want to major in?”

  “I’d still like Marine Biology. There’s a good school in Florida, but my dad wouldn’t go for that.”

  “Who cares if he won’t go for that. It’s your life, not his.”

  “It’s not that easy.” Reese’s foot took out some frustration on the sand, scaring a flock of seagulls. I didn’t understand why it wasn’t that easy and he couldn’t seem to explain. “What major did you decide on?”

  “Something in travel, I think.”

  “Like a travel agent?”

  “I don’t know, maybe.” An odd silence hung between us. I didn’t know anything more about my future than that I wanted it to be with Reese and I wanted us to be college graduates.

  “Let’s talk about something else.” Reese overtly changed the subject neither one of us knew how to continue. “See way over there?” He pointed to a specific coordinate in the vast ocean, clear in his mind, leaving me to approximate within miles. “There’s a wreck out there, dove many times. There’s a ton of wrecks out there. Welcome to the Graveyard of the Atlantic.” His words gave me the shivers, made worse by the ghostly breeze that tousled my hair, but I heard a note of pride in his voice for having touched a part of this peculiar history. The surf rolled in, and in again, a steady rhythm building up to high tide. Reese took a seat in the sand, so we could sit quietly in the dark, graveside. “Maybe we can go sometime.”

  “Diving?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know how to dive.” Another wave pounded sand.

  “I’ll teach you. You silly.” Reese tweaked my nose for emphasis. The next thing I knew, we were lying on the beach, lip locked.

  Most of the meandering stroll back to the condo was silent, there wasn’t much more to say that we hadn’t already discussed in letters until Reese broke his pensive trance by saying, “When I die, I want my ashes spread over the waves. Then I’ll be free.”

  Taken aback by his sudden mortal admission, I looked him straight in the eyes, burning my soul into his and said, “I hope you never die.”

  Reese led me from our tidal path, across the loose sand to a seaside gazebo. I stood on a timeworn wooden bench, which made me taller than Reese. Usually it was I who was nuzzled into his midsection, secure in his arms, but this time, he was nuzzled into mine. I stroked his thick locks, then kissed the top of his head. The kiss migrated and our lips met—not just met, but moved in together and made themselves at home. My feet left the bench, following my legs, which were wrapped around Reese and I found myself securely in his arms again, alone, no cares, save each other and the moment. The moon glistened. Civilization was a million miles away even though the main drag was just over the dunes.

  “See why I love it here so much?” Reese asked, resuming our slow saunter. I wasn’t sure I did, not from the geographic locale aspect at least. I’d love anywhere being with Reese though. I smiled in answer.

  The condo was dark when we returned, everyone tucked in bed.

  “Tired?” Reese asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Want to go to bed?”

  “No.” It hurt too much to even think of parting again. I wanted to squeeze every moment out of this visit, my last night. I took his hand, pulling him down to the carpet in front of the couch. Reese smiled a soft smile. He knew I was putting off the inevitable. We lay facing each other, talking, snuggling. Reese pushed the hair from my face, leaned in, kissed me. He pulled me close, like he wanted to take me and never let go. The love and warmth turned to heat. Reese put his hands on all the right places, sometimes in all the right places. I lay straddling him on top, rocking side to side, which still wasn’t close enough. A wild, passionate animal took over. I was gone. If it was possible to make love with clothes on, this was it. I whimpered with an unfamiliar, yet overwhelming desire.

  “I love you,” I whispered, my appetite, insatiable. He ran his hand through my hair, intense in his caress, kissing me hard, then his hands ran down my back and over my butt, pulling me in tight. No amount of pounding passion was enough. Our lips and tongues could not do our mutual feelings justice even though they were fully engaged for the next hour. I loved Reese, this tender soul, more than I ever had before, which I had not thought possible. This love was not a contained, finite amount, but an ever-expanding universe.

  “It’s late,” Reese said, resigned. We’d managed to take a breather, tone it down. He kissed me once more, touched his fingers to my chin, then rested his hand just above my heart which beat as if it wanted to bust out of my chest and follow Reese to his bed. With a last lingering goodnight hug and kiss, I was off, reluctantly, to my sleeping quarters with Grandma.

  * * *

  “Bye,” Reese’s father droned, not looking up from the newspaper, the full extent of his send off. Reese, his mother and I left for ORF, Norfolk International Airport, the portal to lovesickness and gateway to atrophy.

  Reese and I stole a few last-minute goodbye kisses at the airport, the kind that put an embarrassed blush on witnesses nearby. Reese’s mother politely stared out the window, pretending not to know us.

  “I love you,” Reese said into my ear. His words drew tears I knew would spill out sooner or later. He said it so often, yet not too much. It felt like a precious gift every time. That day, he wore his bleeding heart on his sleeve and I knew his return to the base would be an excruciating experience to a new degree.

  My short stay, while full of irreplaceable memories and one of the highlights of my life, came to an abrupt end the moment I stepped foot aboard the Chicago-bound airplane. It was like standing on the edge of Victoria Falls, enveloped in its beauty, and then falling over the edge. And it hurt just as much, only damaging the inside, not the out. My soul fragmented again. When I fell into seat 7A, I noticed a red envelope peeking out of my purse which had not been there in the car. I opened it to a background of overhead bins clicking shut, the ding of the fasten-seatbelt reminder, and airplane windup. A hologram-covered card filled the envelope—entrancing prisms. Inside, the card read, I love you with my whole heart, more than you will ever know. I have leave in September. I’ll be home to visit you. With much love, Reese. This gave me hope. It dried my tears.

  * * *

  Dear Camryn,

  Things here have not been going well. I think you gave me a brain aneurism that night you raped me on the floor. I was up all night that night, tortured, knowing you had to go home the next day. Each time we separate, I feel diminished as a person, like I’m not complete. It gets worse every time. It’s true. I’m not trying to be sappy or anything, but you really make me whole. I miss you so much. That was the good news. The bad news is that my parents are getting divorced. I don’t know what to do. My mom said, “I’m leaving him and he doesn’t even know it yet.” He won’t take the news well. Mom stayed here longer than my dad, but plans to go back and get a few things from the house and then move b
ack east. I want her to be happy, but my family is in ruins. I wish you were here to hold. You always make me feel better. I think of all the things I’ve wished for and find they were all the wrong things—until now, but now it’s too late. Ryan doesn’t even care. He just said, “So what?”

  I’m torn up about my next visit home. I want to see you so badly, but staying with my dad will be a nightmare I’m not looking forward to. I hope you are doing better than I am.

  Love and miss you,

  Reese

  Dear Reese,

  I am always with you in spirit and you’re not all alone, ever. Your family will get through these tough times.

  I didn’t know I gave you a brain injury. I’m sorry. When you get home, I’ll kiss it all better. I didn’t know I raped you either. We were clothed, you know. =;)

  You’re right, the emptiness does get worse the more we leave each other. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to say goodbye to you without crying. I doubt it. When you get out of the Air Force, then we won’t have this problem. I can’t wait. We’ll find a school we can both go to.

  Can’t wait ‘til you get home.

  XOXO

  Camryn

  * * *

  I met Reese at the airport shuttle, my work schedule cleared. Schoolwork remained. The bus was late. Five hours’ worth of nervous excitement built up inside as I waited. A quick look at my watch revealed it had only been a five-minute delay.

  “I’m so glad to be out of that hell hole,” Reese said as soon as he got off the bus, giving me a bear hug. He said it more as an appreciation of seeing me again than relief of being away, but it was both. A more enlightened person would have probed the hell hole-ishness of it, but my eighteen-year-old self savored only the personal appreciation. Reese threw his bags in the back along with my already packed luggage. I didn’t need to ask about staying over anymore. We were a package deal.

  “Dad didn’t sound too happy when I spoke to him last,” Reese said. I looked at Reese with sad eyes. “I’m glad you’re with me,” he said, then ran his fingers through my hair and down my shoulder as I drove. His touch elaborated on the thoughts his words truncated. It was an honor to be his other leg to stand on.

  “I’m glad I’m with you too.”

  * * *

  Reese’s dad was putzing around the kitchen when we walked in. “Oh, you’re staying too,” he said, my duffel prodding his memory. “You can put your stuff in Helen’s room. Since she’s not using it anymore, you may as well.”

  “Hey.” Reese greeted his father.

  “If you want something to eat, you’ll have to fix it the old fashioned way.” Mr. Dahlgren stirred leftover spaghetti heating on the stove. “Your mother made sure I’d be living in the dark ages when she absconded with the microwave . . . . At least she left the television.” Reese and I exchanged uneasy glances.

  “Well, that’s a good thing because you and Reese would be bored watching the microwave together while I do my homework,” I said, grasping for the bright side. “Reese, would you show me upstairs?” I asked, conveniently escaping the awkward moment.

  He carried our bags up the stairs and placed mine on a low-set king-sized bed in the first room on the left. The room reminded me of my grandmother’s house with dimly lit gabled walls and a faint odor of must, the vintage green bedspread, a ‘50s remnant. “Your parents didn’t sleep together?” I asked, surprised. It hadn’t occurred to me that married people might not sleep together. Well, there were the Samuelson’s I’d heard of, but they were in their nineties and had health issues which made a shared bed logistically impractical.

  “They haven’t shared a room for years,” Reese said, like this was normal—at least in his parents’ household. I stood, focusing through the bed, my head, lost.

  “Look,” I said with reluctance, “I’ve got some homework that’s due tomorrow. Why don’t you go downstairs and spend some time with your dad?” Reese’s eyes told me he knew it was the right thing to do even though he’d rather not.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” he reiterated, giving me a parting kiss, then closed the door behind him. I flopped on the bed, opened Accounting II.

  Twenty T-squares later, Reese knocked on the door.

  “I brought you some water.” He set the glass on the bedside table, then sat down next to me. “How’s it going?”

  “I’m almost done.” I took a sip of water. “Thanks.”

  “Good, I could use some company down there. Dad keeps bringing up sore subjects, between channel surfing. ‘Have you spoke to your mother?’ ‘Why did she leave?’ ‘The grass isn’t greener . . . it’s damn brown for me.’ ‘Why don’t you do something worthwhile with your life?’ Stuff like that.” I put my accounting text down and climbed onto Reese’s lap. I wanted to make all his bad disappear.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, holding the pose. “You are doing something worthwhile with your life.”

  “I wish he’d think so,” Reese said.

  I gave him a warm, long hug.

  “I’ll be down soon.” With a kiss, I sent him to his other living hell.

  * * *

  Reese accompanied me to school the next morning. I let him have my car while I was in class and he picked me up when I was done. It didn’t feel like my boyfriend borrowing my car, it felt like family picking me up.

  “How’d you do on your test?”

  “I feel pretty good about it. Studying last night really helped.” Reese got the door for me, then he went around to the passenger’s seat. “Where’d you go?” I asked.

  “I stopped and visited your dad. Jo was at work.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, we talked. He asked how my job was, stuff like that. Your dad seems more like my father than my own.”

  “He’s pretty cool as far as dads go,” I said. “So, since you’ve already been to my house, where should we go?”

  “Let’s look at cars,” Reese suggested, one of our pastimes.

  Neither one of us came close to having enough money for a car, so we window-shopped and daydreamed. He looked at Toyota pickups, envisioning drives on the beach, and I wanted a Honda CRX. We sat in them, kicked the tires and looked under the hood even though neither of us knew what we were looking at. Salesmen talked to us like we were serious customers and we played the part, telling them we’d need some time to think about it, not mentioning that we’d be thinking for years.

  I took him down to the river, an excuse for a romantic walk, holding hands. Not much else mattered as we watched ducks paddle and the occasional water-skier pass by. Then we stopped in to see Mother. I primed him for the visit.

  “Mother thinks I’m going to get pregnant.”

  “What?” Reese went from pale to fire-engine red in one syllable.

  “She doesn’t trust me.”

  “She doesn’t know you,” he said.

  “It’s kind of hard for her to get to know me when all she wants to do is preach.” We locked the car, continuing the conversation up the driveway. “I try to tune it out. Sometimes I let Whiskers talk to her. You know, when she calls, but it still gets to me. I wish I had a mom like yours.” On cue, Mother opened the door.

  “Hi.” She said it as if she was holding a whole note. “It’s so good to see you!” she squealed. Geriatricity was setting in. Or was it fuddy-duddy?

  I headed to the kitchen cupboard in search of food. It was a motivating factor in our visit, probably more important than the visiting part, even though, for some reason, I wanted her to know her future son-in-law. Or maybe I wanted him to know what he was getting into, dangerous as that was. Enough to scare even the bravest soul away.

  “So, Reese, you’re at Langley, right? That must be exciting working with all those airplanes,” Mother began. I overheard them as they sat in the living room.

  “It is.”

  “Your parents must be so proud of you, placing yourself in the first line of defense for this nation, wrapping yourself in the armor of God, protecting our f
reedom from evil. The devil will try to infiltrate our shores, but we’ll defeat him with our swift and mighty sword. You know what our second line of defense is?” She didn’t give him any time to answer. “Prayer. We will fall to ruin if we don’t go to church, pay our tithes, and pray for the survival of our nation. Those who don’t, will fall to the left side of God and be cast away, goats gone astray not even trying to be sheep. Are you a sheep, or a goat? Do you go to church, Reese?” The conversation-turned-soliloquy became unbearable. Outrage and mortification reddened my ears. No free lunch was worth this price. Why had I come?

  “Can we please change the conversation?” I said with a snip, rescuing Reese from the assault. I handed him a plate of cheese and crackers, cookies on the side. Reese nibbled the saving grace. “Want some milk?”

  “Please.”

  “You are disrespecting your mother when you try to cut me off like that.” Mother’s lips quivered, she choked back tears. “You keep telling me to have an open mind. You have an open mind.” Her last sentence was an order.

  “I’m looking for a little acceptance, not having shit crammed down our throats.”

  She was taken aback with the word shit spewing forth from my mouth. Swearing was my involuntary reaction to getting spun up and out of control—something very few people could evoke, well, just one person.

  Reese fidgeted on the couch wishing he were somewhere else. Mother continued her oration, dismissing my comment. “You see, Jesus died on the cross for our sins, that we may live eternal. It’s not something we can turn our backs on.” She wept tears of salvation for emphasis.

  “You are making no sense. What does this really have to do with anything?” Horror came across her face. I could tell she was sure that I had not been churched enough.

  “So you want to go to hell?” Her words twisted and screwed.

  “I’m not going to hell.” I crossed my arms, fed up.