II
775 Words
II"IS THAT ALL YOU'RE taking?" Mom was hovering around me, trying not to appear anxious, but she and I both knew she was nervous about my trip.
"Mom, I'll be find. Uncle Jean will make sure I'm safe. And besides, all those classes you make me take in self-defense don't exactly make me a victim waiting to happen."
"I know, I know. And when you get back, you can work on getting your next belt. All I want you to know is that we wanted you to be able to defend yourself, not look for trouble." Her forehead frowned again.
"Mom. Look, it's that Zen stuff that I like in these classes. They help me control any situation. I know my limits. I know when to back away. OK?"
She smiled and moved off a bit, knowing her hovering wasn't going to do either of us any good. "Oh, I almost forgot..." A few quick steps into the kitchen and then she was back by the front door where I had my knapsack and book bag. In her hands were two rolled-over lunch bags.
I had to smile. Mom was always looking out for everyone.
"This is a snack for the road." She held up the smaller of two bags, a brown one. Then lifted the bigger white bag. "And these are your Uncle Jean's favorite treats. But I know you like them, too."
Just then we could both hear the down-shifting gears of a heavy truck outside on the graveled street. Through the front door window, I could see the big food van slow to a stop.
I kissed Mom on the cheek and grabbed the rucksack. She bent to pick up the book sack and put the two lunch bags inside it on top, holding out the long straps together so I could put them on my shoulder.
I opened the door, slipped the straps on my arm, then pushed through the screen door out onto the paving stone walk to our graveled street.
"Be careful..." She called from the doorway.
I smiled and waved.
Jean had the door open for me and was smiling as he moved down the van steps to greet me. Giving me a big hug in spite of the bags I was carrying, he then turned and went back ahead of me to his driver's seat.
I made my way up the steps and saw the young man in the bus bench seat. I had to pause. He wasn't the same boy I'd met every year at the summer festivals. Longer, and now some beard showing up on his chin. His eyes were darker, even moody now. And a frown crossed his forehead as he swung his long legs down and got up to give me the bench to sit on.
"Hi, Hami."
"Hi, Chaz. Been awhile."
"Missed the festival last year."
"Yea, things come up. You didn't miss much."
"There's space under the bench for your things, I'll ride shotgun for awhile."
Chaz meant the fold-down seat just inside the van's front door. Where the only place to put your legs was usually curled up underneath it. Not comfortable for a long trip.
I stowed my knapsack under the bench, but put the book bag on the bench seat. "Jean, Mom made something for you, but she only told me you'd like it." I pulled out the white bag and handed it to him.
Jean took the bag into his lap and opened the top, then closed his eyes with the smells making his face widen into a smile of contentment. "Macaroons. She knows the way to my heart."
He waved out the still-open door to Mom, who was standing in the doorway, holding the screen open to see us off. She smiled back. Jean closed the front side door to the van, and put it into gear.
Chaz flipped down the seat by the door and got his own seat belt on to match Jean's. Then stretched his long legs out to rest them on the dash. Putting those new inches of his to good use.
Jean handed him the bag of cookies, and Chaz held it open in return, so he could take a couple in his large hand. Chaz then turned to me to see if I wanted any.
I shook my head no and settled in to get my own seat belt on.
But I couldn't get that vision of Chaz' dark eyes out of my head. Moody, maybe, but I knew we were needing to have a talk about things – comparing notes, or something.
Soon we were onto that paved state road. There were still some miles ahead before we could get onto the Interstate and start feeling that freedom that travel brings.
- Writer
