They Would Be Back

They Would Be Back

At 4:30 on a Monday morning, Tommy's mother woke him up. She told him to pack a small bag of clothes while handing him a black duffel. She leaned in and kissed his forehead. Tommy is a twelve year old boy. It wasn't the first time his mom woke him up in the early morning.

His stepfather came into the room with a coffee mug in hand taking a sip, “C'mon Tommy, hurry up,” he said.

Tommy shuffled out of his bed, and hurried to his dresser drawer. The floors were cold on his bare feet. His mom walked out of the little bedroom.

“Why do I have to pack my clothes?” Tommy asked.

“Because,” his stepfather said.

“Because why?” Tommy said.

“Don't ask questions, just pack.”

Earnest was a tall, balding man. He wore collar shirts tucked into his brown khakis. He golfed on weekends — and got drunk during the week. He didn't care for Tommy, he didn't care about anything except money. Tommy’s mom, Tamra, was a trophy wife, and Tommy was just an extra that came along with her.

It was early November, and Tommy was turning thirteen in a few days.

Earnest left his room. Then, Tommy thought for a moment, “Maybe, this is a surprise trip somewhere for his birthday.” A rush of excitement avalanched into his chest. Tommy was more awake now. He rushed to get his bag packed and went downstairs.

In the kitchen, Tamara and Earnest were looking at each other. Earnest sipping his coffee, his eyes looking like someone holding onto a secret. Tamara packed a ziplock baggie with three sandwiches in it. Tommy looked around for the cereal.

“Mom,” Tommy said, “Where are we going?”

His mom sunk her head down.

She smiled, “I can't tell you, it's a surprise.”

She dropped down to hug Tommy, grabbed him and kissed the top of his head over and over again.

“I love you,” she repeated.

“Let's get going,” his stepfather announced, “There isn't much time.”

The three left the kitchen, scurried to the sleek black benz. It was shiny, well kept, Tamra tossed the duffel bag in the back with Tommy. They all rode off down the swirling hills, passing one large house after another. Tommy thought of the places they could be going. Looking out the car window, street lights began to turn off, the town shopkeepers were flipping over closed signs to open. An older gentleman walked into a convenience store. Dump trucks drove around, beep beep beep, the sound moving through the streets. School buses picked up children. Earnest drove and drove.

The conversation was minimal, and all three silently looked out their windows. They got further away from downtown, and it wasn’t long before there were miles of fields around them.

Tommy began to think a bit harder. He looked around for his mother and stepfather's luggage.

“Hey, how come you two don't have any bags?” Tommy asked.

Earnest looked in the rearview mirror. His eyes sunken in, dark, lifeless. He put on a weak smile.

Tommy felt his stomach drop a little bit. A new weight overtook him, like a book being shelved. Tamara stared out her window, holding her hand across her mouth, her eyes tearing up.

Earnest pulled over to a rustic-looking gas station. The tires kicked up some gravel.

“Do me a favor Tommy,” Earnest handed him a twenty dollar bill. “Can you go into the gas station and pick out some road snacks for us?” We just have to check into the hotel down the street, and we will be right back.” He burped, and the smell of alcohol filled the car. Earnest smiled. His teeth, yellow.

Tommy looked him up and down. “Mom, is that true?”

Tamara wiped her eyes. “Yes, we will be right back for you.”

Tommy took the money. He walked up to the store's old wooden steps. They took off down the road. A cloud of dirt kicked up behind them, making Tommy cough.

He stood there for a moment, as the car vanished over the hill. He walked through the old swinging doors, and an older woman standing behind the counter said good morning. She smiled.

Tommy said, “Good morning.”

License plates hung from all corners of the little gas station. Old black and white photos of people from the past. A man was shaking a race car driver's hand. A baseball player was posing for a picture. Two framed photos of football teams with signatures, underneath their cleats. Black and white photos of boxers, musicians, large families, and smiling friends all layered the walls. It was a store filled with memories. Tommy was awestruck.

Tommy walked past a counter, behind it was a woman putting coffee in a brown filter. The flat top grill was layered with thick slices of bread, bacon, and sausage patties. She turned the switch on the coffee pot, grabbed the large spatula, and flipped over the bread. Rows of bar stools stood alongside the counter. She turned around and saw Tommy. She had long brown hair, brown eyes. She had a sweet smile. Behind her on the wall were more pictures of patrons eating at the bar top. More pictures of people shaking hands, laughing, smiling.

There were three aisles, lining the store. To the far right was a row of doughnuts, cakes, chips, licorice, chocolate, and sodas. Tommy walked over to the wooden shelves. A portly man with brown suspenders, a sweaty white t-shirt, and large oval reading glasses opened a small box up and stacked bags of chips. He looked down and saw Tommy.

“Well hello, young fella!”

“Hello,” Tommy replied.

“Come into the Old Johns Store. I’m John.” He extended his massive hand to Tommy, and shook Tommy's hand vigorously. “Come in to get some snacks, did ya?”

“Yes, sir,” Tommy replied, smiling. “How long have you had this store?”

“Oh, about forty years now, and I loved every moment of it,” John replied. “See, my grandfather built this store, and then his son took over when he passed, and well I never had a son, but if I did I would have hoped he would take over the store when I go.” Joe laughed then snorted. “We all got to go one day,” Joe laughed a little bit lighter.

“I think you have a beautiful store sir.” Tommy and Joe's eyes meet. There was a mutual appreciation between the two.

“Thank you kid.” He paused, took a bag of chips from the shelf, and handed them to Tommy. Joe patted Tommy on the back. “When you go to the counter tell Mary, these chips are on me.”

Tommy grabbed a few more things, Joe walked to the back room.

Tommy approached the checkout counter by the front door, where Mary stood. She’s an older lady with long silvery hair.

“Old Joe said these are on the house.” Tommy pulled out a bag of chips.

“Oh, did he now?” Mary peered over her glasses, eyeing him suspiciously. Then, she smiled. She rang Tommy up. “You have a good day honey,” Mary said.

“You too, this place is beautiful,” Tommy said before leaving the store.

Mary snorted, “Well thank you, you're a sweet young man.”

Tommy walked outside, he looked both ways, and didn't see his stepfather or mother anywhere. He walked over to a bench that was on the porch of Old Joe's store. He would sit there for the time being. A few minutes rolled by. Tommy swung his legs back and forth. An hour passed, Tommy stood up and walked back and forth. Two, then three, hours passed by, the afternoon sun was starting to peer out of the cloudy morning. Tommy began to eat the chips, then he opened up the small apple pies he bought. He ate those, then began to eat the doughnuts, then the pretzels. He leaned his head back on the bench, played with his shoelaces. Another hour passed, then another. Tommy looked around, still no car. The evening sky rolled around; it was getting late.

Old Joe stepped outside the store. He pulled out a pipe, put some tobacco in it, and turned to Tommy.

“Tommy, what are you still doing here?”

“Hey Joe, I'm waiting for my mom and my stepfather.”

“Where did they go?” Joe asked.

“They went to check into a hotel, I think.”

“A hotel?” Joe scratched his head. “What time did they drop you off?” Joe asked.

“This morning.”

Joe took a puff of his pipe and looked down the road.

“What did they say to you, before they dropped you off here?” Joe asked.

“They said they would be back.”