divulged. Every feeling I…. Oh, God!
“It’ll be all right,” he said, smiling reassuringly and handing the compact back to me.
He unzipped his jacket and took it off. Wiley was wearing a white t-shirt underneath. It was drenched in sweat and clung to his chest. He was lean and hard, thinner than I remembered and his eyes were a bit duller. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, shook one out, lit it up, and inhaled deeply.
“Hoped I would see you today,” he said, blowing out a stream of smoke. “When I came in this morning I saw that your Daddy had scheduled an oil change. Thought you might come with him.”
“Momma and Daddy are in Houston with Sam. His number came up yesterday. He’s getting his physical today.”
Wylie tossed his cigarette onto the ground. “Damn,” he murmured. “Sorry to hear that, Junebug.” Wylie fished the keys to the garage out of his front pocket and unlocked the door.
“No one calls me Junebug anymore,” I told him, stepping over the threshold.
He opened up the cooler that contained the Coca Colas, pulled out two, popped the caps off using the side of the countertop and handed me one. “What do they call you?”
“Just June.”
“Well, ‘Just June’, suit up. You can help me with the oil change,” he said, tossing a pair of greasy overalls at me.
I dodged them.
“Wiley! I’m wearing white linen for heaven’s sake!”
“Wouldn’t be my choice for changing oil,” he said, shaking his head. “But then, you’ve always been peculiar.”
“I am not peculiar and I’m certainly not changing the oil!”
“Forgot how?”
“No!” I said feeling exasperated. “Are you blind? Look at me. I’m—”
“All grown up, with thoughts…and feelings. I remember,” he said, taking a step towards me.
I felt myself start to blush.
“I don’t mean to embarrass you. Your letters were wonderful, June. They were all that kept me going sometimes. The war, it…it wasn’t what I thought it would be. ”
I was certain that I was going to faint. My heart was pounding so fast and so loud I half expected it to break my chest.
“You never wrote back,” I managed to say, my voice barely a whisper.
He glanced down at his boots then looked up at me and smiled. His long sandy blonde hair half hiding his eyes. “I wrote. I wrote all the time. I just didn’t mail any of them.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not the boy you knew anymore June. I’m not the boy you wrote those letters to. I haven’t been for a long time. I’ve seen things. I’ve done things. Everyone expects me to be the same ol’ Wiley…”
“But you’re not. We all change, Wiley.”
“You lightened your hair and your tits got bigger. I killed people. Lots of people.”
“Wiley!” I gasped, my arms folding, protectively over my chest. “They’re called breasts and you shouldn’t be commenting on them!”
He brushed the hair out of his eyes. “Sorry, my manners are a bit rusty.”
“Do you still have the letters?”
“Some.”
“I’d like to read them.”
“No. They’re…dark.”
“I want to read them.”
“I’ll think about it.” He held his hand out.
I looked up at him.
“Keys,” he said. “So I can pull the truck into the garage?”
“Of course.” I dropped the keys into the palm of his outstretched hand and yawned.
“Am I boring you?” he yelled over his shoulder as he stepped outside and sauntered towards the truck. He had the same smooth, confident stride that he’d always had. Graceful yet determined.
“No. I was up late last night with Sam. He tried to hang himself.”
Wylie had been climbing into the cab of the truck, but he stopped. He stood there, stock-still for a minute. Then he turned back to face me. His hand, the one that held my keys was shaking.
“Doc Lyons said he’d fix it. Sam’s not gonna have to go fight. It’ll be all right. Doc promised. Momma and Daddy don’t know. They wouldn’t understand.”
Wylie nodded,
“It’ll be all right,” he said, smiling reassuringly and handing the compact back to me.
He unzipped his jacket and took it off. Wiley was wearing a white t-shirt underneath. It was drenched in sweat and clung to his chest. He was lean and hard, thinner than I remembered and his eyes were a bit duller. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, shook one out, lit it up, and inhaled deeply.
“Hoped I would see you today,” he said, blowing out a stream of smoke. “When I came in this morning I saw that your Daddy had scheduled an oil change. Thought you might come with him.”
“Momma and Daddy are in Houston with Sam. His number came up yesterday. He’s getting his physical today.”
Wylie tossed his cigarette onto the ground. “Damn,” he murmured. “Sorry to hear that, Junebug.” Wylie fished the keys to the garage out of his front pocket and unlocked the door.
“No one calls me Junebug anymore,” I told him, stepping over the threshold.
He opened up the cooler that contained the Coca Colas, pulled out two, popped the caps off using the side of the countertop and handed me one. “What do they call you?”
“Just June.”
“Well, ‘Just June’, suit up. You can help me with the oil change,” he said, tossing a pair of greasy overalls at me.
I dodged them.
“Wiley! I’m wearing white linen for heaven’s sake!”
“Wouldn’t be my choice for changing oil,” he said, shaking his head. “But then, you’ve always been peculiar.”
“I am not peculiar and I’m certainly not changing the oil!”
“Forgot how?”
“No!” I said feeling exasperated. “Are you blind? Look at me. I’m—”
“All grown up, with thoughts…and feelings. I remember,” he said, taking a step towards me.
I felt myself start to blush.
“I don’t mean to embarrass you. Your letters were wonderful, June. They were all that kept me going sometimes. The war, it…it wasn’t what I thought it would be. ”
I was certain that I was going to faint. My heart was pounding so fast and so loud I half expected it to break my chest.
“You never wrote back,” I managed to say, my voice barely a whisper.
He glanced down at his boots then looked up at me and smiled. His long sandy blonde hair half hiding his eyes. “I wrote. I wrote all the time. I just didn’t mail any of them.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not the boy you knew anymore June. I’m not the boy you wrote those letters to. I haven’t been for a long time. I’ve seen things. I’ve done things. Everyone expects me to be the same ol’ Wiley…”
“But you’re not. We all change, Wiley.”
“You lightened your hair and your tits got bigger. I killed people. Lots of people.”
“Wiley!” I gasped, my arms folding, protectively over my chest. “They’re called breasts and you shouldn’t be commenting on them!”
He brushed the hair out of his eyes. “Sorry, my manners are a bit rusty.”
“Do you still have the letters?”
“Some.”
“I’d like to read them.”
“No. They’re…dark.”
“I want to read them.”
“I’ll think about it.” He held his hand out.
I looked up at him.
“Keys,” he said. “So I can pull the truck into the garage?”
“Of course.” I dropped the keys into the palm of his outstretched hand and yawned.
“Am I boring you?” he yelled over his shoulder as he stepped outside and sauntered towards the truck. He had the same smooth, confident stride that he’d always had. Graceful yet determined.
“No. I was up late last night with Sam. He tried to hang himself.”
Wylie had been climbing into the cab of the truck, but he stopped. He stood there, stock-still for a minute. Then he turned back to face me. His hand, the one that held my keys was shaking.
“Doc Lyons said he’d fix it. Sam’s not gonna have to go fight. It’ll be all right. Doc promised. Momma and Daddy don’t know. They wouldn’t understand.”
Wylie nodded,
Similar Books
