Finding Home (2 page)

“Couldn’t pass up a free meal?” Brandon said, leaning over to me after his nephew had bolted from his lap to go watch cartoons on his tablet. 

“Your mom invited me,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. “She likes me, even if you don’t.  I can go if you want me to.”

“Hey!” he said in the typical overly dramatic Brandon fashion. “I like you.  You make good cookies and stuff.  Is that what I saw in my mom’s hands?” I nodded and he smiled. “Then you can definitely stay.”

“You only want me for my cookies?” I asked and he started laughing.

“Sounds a little dirty, don’t you think?” I just rolled my eyes and started laughing too, suddenly relaxing.  This was the Brandon I’d always known and he was back and I don’t think I could ever recall a time I was happier.

~~~

Dinner was delicious and sitting around the table with Brandon’s family was even nicer than I’d expected.  I knew they were all relieved to have him home and safe and they went around the table telling funny stories from his childhood.  I couldn’t stop laughing when Jennifer showed me a picture of Brandon all dolled up in a dress and high heels, complete with a strand of pearls and bright red lipstick.  He looked about three-years-old and his sisters appeared to have had a great time playing dress up with their little brother.  While we were all laughing, Brandon looked annoyed, but he just ignored us. 

His sisters left shortly after dinner.  They both lived in Wichita and had to get home.  I helped Mrs. Seaver clean up while Brandon and his dad played a game of table tennis on the back porch.  When we were done, we joined them outside just as they were finishing their game.  Brandon moved so easily, shifting his weight effortlessly between each foot as he hit the ball back and forth.  You’d never know just by looking at him that his left leg was missing from the knee down. 

I hadn’t known what to expect when Riley and I first went to see him when he got home.  He was wearing jeans then too, but after he caught Riley staring at the denim caving in around the prosthesis, he’d shown it to us.  I could still see the silly grin he’d had on his face as he sat in the living room, him in the recliner and Riley and me across from him.

Wanna see it?
He’d said and then, before we could respond, he’d lifted up his pant leg, revealing the prosthesis.  He’d tapped it and said,
This thing is state of the art.  The best there is out there.  I’m practically normal wearing this thing.
  And watching him now, he did seem perfectly normal. 

Brandon cheered a little too enthusiastically as he smacked the ball across the table.  It zoomed past his dad and landed in a potted plant a few feet away and Brandon slammed his paddle down in victory. 

“I’m calling it quits,” his dad said, admitting defeat by placing his paddle down on the table.

“Wanna rematch, Dad?” Brandon taunted as he walked past his dad and fished the ping pong ball out of the plant.

“No, son, I do not.  I’d rather have a gin and tonic.” He patted Brandon on the back and then pulled him in for a quick hug before heading into the house. 

“What about you, Mandy?  Can I interest you in a game?” Brandon asked and I nodded, standing up and taking the paddle Mr. Seaver had left on the table. “Just be prepared to have your ass handed to you.”

“Brandon.  Watch the language,” Mrs. Seaver said and she shot him a warning look.  She hated when he used bad language and I couldn’t help but think it was a good thing she couldn’t hear him when she wasn’t around.  I was surprised Brandon hadn’t joined the navy because he could definitely put a sailor to shame.

“Sorry, Mandy.  Be prepared to have your heinie handed to you.”

“I don’t know why I even bother.” Mrs. Seaver sighed and headed inside, but not before kissing him on the cheek. 

“I see you haven’t changed much,” I said as Brandon rolled the ball to me so I could serve. “Still as sarcastic as ever.”

“Would you want me to change?” He raised an eyebrow at me and I shook my head.

“You are one of the biggest pains in the butts I’ve ever met, but I wouldn’t change you.”

“Good answer, Mand.”

“Did you expect anything less, Brand?” I grinned and then hit the ball to him, which he promptly hit back with such force I didn’t even attempt to return it and I watched as it bounced away into the grass.

“C’mon, Mandy!  You didn’t even try!” he groaned and I laid the paddle down and held up my hands in defeat.

“Because I suck.  I’m not gonna stand here and get annihilated and listen to your trash talking.”

“I wouldn’t trash talk you,” he said, following me and sitting down.

“You would.  You trash talk everyone.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I’ve known you since we were five.”

“But you’ve hardly seen me in the last three years.  Perhaps I’ve changed.”

“You haven’t changed,” I laughed. “You’re still the same jackass you’ve always been.”

“Hey,” he said, jerking his head back. “That offends me, Mandy.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Why don’t you show some respect?  I am a wounded war veteran and a crippled one at that.” I cringed, thinking I might’ve actually offended him, but when I looked over and he was grinning one of his stupid grins, I knew I hadn’t.

“You’re so full of crap, Brandon.”

“I won’t deny that,” he said and then it got quiet for a moment before he looked at me, his eyebrow raising and his head cocked to the side. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“Where to?”

“I dunno.  I’ve been cooped up here since I got home and I just wanna get out.”

“Okay,” I said, getting up and I watched as Brandon stood up.  He stumbled a little bit once he was on his feet, but I doubt I would’ve noticed had I not been looking for it. 

“Let me just grab my wallet,” he said and I followed him inside and down the hall to his room.  I knew Mrs. Seaver had changed it into a guest room pretty quickly after he left for the army, but I had to hold back my laughter when I saw it.  I had a hard time imaging Brandon sleeping in it.  Brandon’s room had been covered in football posters and bikini models.  His bed was never made and it usually smelled too. There was always this mystery aroma about it and then Brandon would look under the bed and find a half-eaten sandwich or an apple core or something, discovering the source of the stench.  He was a definite slob and the room now was a far cry from what I’d remembered.  The bed was covered in a frilly floral quilt and there was a fake flower arrangement sitting on a doily in the window.  It smelled good too, like lavender. 

“Nice room,” I snickered as he slid his wallet into his back pocket. 

“Zip it, Mandy,” he glared.

“It’s very masculine,” I continued and he eventually cracked a smile. 

“I’m surprised at you.  You were always the nice one of our group.”

“Still am.”

He didn’t say anything else as he walked by me and after we said goodbye to his parents, we headed outside to my car. 

“I see you’re still driving this piece of shit,” he said, pulling on the handle and sitting down in the passenger seat.

“And I see you’re still not driving anything,” I smirked as I started my P.O.S. and pulled out of the driveway.

“Well played, Miss Dalton,” he said and I glanced over to him quickly.  He was smiling at me and I smiled back. 

“Where’re we headed?”

“Just drive,” he said, rolling down the window and then reaching for the radio dial and cranking up the volume. 

Brandon leaned his head back, the warm summer air blowing over his skin as I drove.  His eyes were closed, but there was a little smile on his face.  He looked content and I wondered what he was thinking about.

“Are you okay?” I finally asked.

“Yeah.  The wind just feels good.  It was so damn hot today,” he sighed and then he breathed in deeply. “I’ve missed the way Kansas smells.”

I inhaled as well, but all I smelled was the musty upholstery of my old car.

“And how exactly does Kansas smell?”

“Like home,” he said, taking in another deep breath and I don’t know why, but I got choked up at his words.  I’d never left home so I’d never had a chance to miss it.  Brandon had though and he’d almost never got the chance to come home again. 

We drove silently for a while until I pulled the car up to Slate Creek.  There were a few other cars there, which didn’t surprise me.  Entertainment was scarce in Carver and we resorted to sitting in parked cars as ways to have fun.  We used to come to Slate Creek a lot when we were younger.  There’s nothing really special about it, just picnic tables along the creek.  Creek was actually a deceptive word, because it was more like a small river that eventually poured into Rome Lake.  What I loved about it was the small waterfall that spanned the length of the creek, spilling over the slate rocks, making them smooth and shiny. 

I stopped the car once we’d got to the edge of the creek and turned off the engine, but left the key turned a notch so the radio stayed on.  Brandon reached down and turned it up when he heard the beginning of Eric Church’s
Give Me Back My Hometown
. 

“I love this song,” he said, tapping his finger to the beat on his thigh.  I watched as he bobbed his head and started singing along, his voice surprisingly good. 
“These sleepy street lights on every sidewalk, side street, shed a light on everything that used to be. Give me back my hometown.  This is my hometown.” 
His foot started tapping too and then he reached over to the knob and turned up the volume even more before stepping out of the car without saying a word.  He walked in front of the car and then stopped by my door, opening it and holding his hand out to me.

“I feel like dancing,” he said and I just looked up at him and started laughing.

“Well, I don’t.”

“C’mon,” he whined and reached down for my hand. “You can’t turn a guy down.” I looked up at him and just shook my head. “C’mon, Mandy.  Dance with me.”

“In front of all these people?”

“All these people?  There are like three cars here.  And what does it matter anyway?  You’ve gotta live for now because you don’t know if you’re gonna have tomorrow.”

He had his usual lighthearted grin on his face, but there was a sincerity behind his blue eyes that told me he meant what he said, and I relented, placing my hand in his and stepping out of the car.  Before I had a chance to compose myself, his hand wrapped around me and he pulled me to him so close we were touching.  I was nervous as I focused on the way my chest pressed against him, but he didn’t seem to mind as he took my hand with his free one and started swaying to the beat.  He seemed light on his feet.  I don’t know why it surprised me.  I guess I just didn’t expect him to move the way he did.  I had no frame of reference though.  I’d never danced with Brandon.  We’d gone to a few dances in high school as a group together, but in all that time, he’d never asked me to dance.  I wasn’t the kind of girl boys asked to dance, especially not guys like Brandon.  I knew the kind of girls he liked…the impossibly beautiful ones.  That definitely wasn’t me. 

“When did you become such a good dancer?” he asked as he spun me, pulling me back to him. 

“I’ve always been a good dancer.  You just never took the time to notice,” I said playfully and he smiled, spinning me again.

“My loss.”

He smiled at me and for the next couple of minutes we just danced and it felt good to be this close to him after I’d feared I’d never see him again.  I was disappointed when the song started to fade and was replaced by a commercial for the local Ford dealership.  He let me go and leaned into the window, turning down the volume so the announcer’s voice was barely audible.

“I listened to that song a lot when I was in the hospital.  I can’t believe I actually missed this shithole.”

“Why am I the only person who doesn’t hate Carver?” I asked as we started walking towards the creek, stopping on the edge and sitting down.  I slid my sandals off and put my feet in the water, kicking them gently so it splashed up at us.  Brandon was still standing and when I looked up, I suddenly felt guilty that I could dip my toes in the water and he couldn’t.  I hadn’t given it a second thought, but now that I was, my feet stopped.

“I don’t hate Carver.” He sat down next to me, but then leaned back onto the grass, resting his hands behind his head and staring up at the sky.  I leaned back too.

“Since when?  You wanted to get out of this town worse than anybody.”

“Since I almost didn’t come home.”

The quiet that settled between us was uncomfortable and I turned my head toward him.  He was still looking up at the sky and I felt a knot form in my throat. 

“I’m sorry.  I always say the wrong thing.”

My voice was quiet, but he turned his head so our eyes met and his lips curled into a little smile.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” I insisted. “I just open my mouth and it comes spewing out.  It’s like a disease.  You’d think I would’ve outgrown it by now.”

“I hope you never outgrow it.  It’s actually one of the things I love most about you.”  I don’t know why, but I felt my cheeks redden and I looked away, my eyes staring up at the stars again.