he said, opening the truck door and boosting me inside. We kissed. He tasted of our after-dinner peppermint. With my tongue, I found the space between his teeth. He leaned over me, and I lay back in the cramped space, eager and yearning for the weight and warmth of him—but Neal pulled away, and drove us down the mountain back to town.
He stopped at the curb beneath the Jail. The glow of my father’s reading light shone through the curtain on his bedroom window.
“Joe’s taking me to the station in Cumberland tomorrow. Will you come?” Neal asked.
“Yes,” I said.
And we kissed good-bye for the night, a long, lingering kiss.
The next day, I sat between Joe and Neal on the drive. No one spoke as Joe drove us over the mountains, past rocky farms and orchards, to Cumberland, just beyond the Maryland border. Neal and I held hands. Too soon we descended into Cumberland, the Queen City, busy and important at the confluence of rivers and railroad lines.
We kissed on the station platform, and when the whistle blew it sounded like it was announcing the end of the world.
June 30th, my birthday, my father opened his roll top desk after the cake, before we left for our annual visit to my mother’s grave with our jam jar of violets. He withdrew a small, narrow box from one of the pigeonholes. Inside, a rose gold locket on a fine chain rested on white cotton batting. I snapped it open and found a tiny print of her high school graduation portrait. My own dark eyes looked out of the tiny frame.
I had a job at the Coffee Pot for the summer, the morning shift. Crossing off days on the calendar, I counted down to Neal’s furlough. He would arrive home after basic training at the end of August and then he would ship out. Soon after, I would leave for Bryn Mawr College.
I read and re-read his letters. “Got your box of cookies and the fudge from Miss McKee. They really came in handy. I’m learning blackjack. One fellow lost $45! Don’t worry, I’m careful. Yesterday we were out in the athletic field for two hours. We had to do the obstacle course. It’s a low hurdle, high hurdle, an alley to run through, an eight foot barrier, a tunnel thing, and a creek to broad jump. Two guys had to be carried back to the tents. Nothing else to say now, so I’ll close. Your friend, Neal.”
I wrote back, trying to spin something interesting from my quiet routine.
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