Home At Last

“Jeremy Wilkins, as I live and breathe!”

I stopped dead amid the exhaust smell of the Greyhound and the press of the other departing passengers, my grip on my suitcase gone suddenly and inexplicably weak. Hearing my name spoken aloud in that voice was like both seeing a ghost and walking through its incorporeal chill. I had heard that voice intermittently over the last few years, though it was always over the phone, warped by the tinniness of long distance. In person, I was shocked at how much it hadn’t changed from my memories.

“Jeez Louise, Greg, how the heck are ya?” I cried, wondering at the old saying that had emerged unbidden, a holdover from the vernacular of our youth, unused in some dozen-odd years. I stepped up and put out my hand for him to shake, and was surprised when he took it and pulled me in for a crushing hug. He released me, and we took stock of each other; gone was his childish chubbiness, turned to a hard and fit physique, and the long curls of his youth had retreated and thinned somewhat, but his eyes remained the same- full of a benevolently mischievous light. I saw myself from his eyes for a moment as well; still a lanky beanpole, my habitual slouch uncorrected, but my gapped grin fixed by modern orthodontic miracles. We stood that way for a moment, feeling the sudden current of time blaze by.

“God, what’s it been? Ten years?” he said quietly, his grin softening somewhat.

“Eleven,” I said, “Somehow.”

“Unreal. And you haven’t been back to town at all?” There was no blame in his voice, but I heard the unasked question beneath nonetheless.

I shook my head, and answered haltingly. “Meant to come back for Amanda’s funeral, but…” I paused, trying to remember what excuse I had come up with to avoid returning, and came up short. “Life just got in the way,” I finished lamely.

He nodded thoughtfully. "I barely made it there myself, and didn’t stay long. Mandy was the best of us.” There was an ungainly pause, and a cloud passed over his features, but then he brightened suddenly. “Got a surprise for you. You are gonna flip. C’mon!” 

He took my suitcase and strode off around the back of the small bus station toward the parking lot around back, and I marveled at how he carried himself. There was a confidence and poise there that was astounding to see; as kids, he constantly walked as though waiting for an invisible blow to fall. I glanced around the lot, trying to imagine what kind of car he would drive, imagining a no-nonsense sedan, something gas-conscious and pragmatic, befitting the supervisor of the plant in town.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said when he stopped. He turned to me, and his eyes were radiating a familiar light. 

“Uncle Bill left it to me,” he said, grinning. “Want to take her for a spin?”

I walked up, seeing my incredulous face reflected in the high polish.

It was a ‘64 Mustang, black as midnight on a moonless night, and it was the dream of our youth. 

The Beast.

I couldn’t help it- I let out a yelp of laughter.

“Hell yes I do.”

Uncle Bill had taken good care of the Beast. The upholstery was pristine, the radio was clear as could be, and boy that thing purred. We left the station and Greg took us on a circuitous loop of the back roads so we could put the Beast through its paces.

“I still can’t believe he left this to you,” I said wonderingly. “After what we did?”

“He did always have a sense of humor,” he replied, shaking his head and smiling. “Besides, we didn’t hurt it; we returned it without the tiniest scratch.”

“But still. We did steal it.”

“Technically, you stole it,” Greg said, chuckling. “All to impress Amanda.”

“I wasn’t really trying to impress her. She needed our help, and that was the only way we could do it.”

“I mean, we could have done it the rational way. Told our parents. Or biked there. We didn’t have to steal my uncle’s car.”

“Hey, I don’t remember you raising too many objections,” I laughed.

“Well, no, I mean, why do it the rational way when you could do it with style?” He turned onto the far side of Main street and we rolled into town proper. 

It was like a bucket of cold water was thrown over me. My memories of the main drag were bright and vivid- everywhere was splashes of color and movement; bustling shops and busy sidewalks, long lines at the softee cream and sun dancing off windshields and chrome bumpers. Now it was a ghost town. Boards and shutters were drawn across windows daubed with “HELP WANTED” in fading traceries of soap, and the main street was utterly devoid of cars and people. Even the softee cream was shut up, its windows looking out mournfully at the empty lot.

“What happened here man?” I said softly.

“Plant closed up.”

I sat silent for a moment, rocked by the news.

“But what about your job?”

“Gone with the wind, dear buddy. I was supervisor for only two months when word came down from the top. It was a bit of a process, took some time, but they shut her down. They were pretty gracious to me- old Warren was still running things, and my dad had worked for him for most of his life and had got me a job when I was still in high school. Warren made sure we were taken care of. He’s since died- I think that place was all he had.”

Greg pulled down the side street that led up to the plant and parked. Where the great hulking building had been was now empty, the concrete cracking and being invaded by weeds. We sat in silence for a while.

“What made you decide to come back?” Greg asked, looking out at the old foundation.

I thought for a while. “I guess… I was curious, mostly. We had talked here and there on the phone, but you had never invited me to come back around. I was curious, and I wanted to see you. I also still feel like a son of a bitch for missing Mandy’s funeral. I think I needed to come back, on my own terms.”

“Why did you invite me back?” I asked gently, feeling the early autumn wind blowing steady over the derelict lot. 

“I don’t know exactly,” he replied slowly. “I got to thinking about when your family moved. That was a crap year. I’m sure it was no picnic for you.”

“Yeah. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, honestly. Leaving you guys. Leaving the town. Starting somewhere new. But I got used to it I guess.”

Greg continued to stare out the windshield at the lot. “Not sure I ever got used to it. With you gone, and then Amanda a few years later… Well, I just kind of threw myself into my work, made manager and then supervisor pretty soon after. But now…” He gestured. “Now I don’t know what to do. Nothing is keeping me here. So I thought I’d call my old best friend and invite him out, so we could maybe give this place the proper farewell that it deserves.” He looked back over at me, and his eyes were reddened. “I missed you, man. I miss Amanda, and I miss the three of us running around like the little heathens that we were. It’s all gone beyond our reach, now. So I decided to leave. I was thinking I could drop you back off, maybe see what your town has to offer. If that’s okay with you. After all, it was you guys that made this place what it was. I know that I can’t reclaim my youth, but I’m hoping that I can reclaim our friendship.”

We were facing each other now from opposite ends of the Beast. I had never known him to speak so candidly, and I was moved by his words. Ever since we had moved away all those years back, I had felt an essential part of me had been left behind. Perhaps it was time for me to put things back together.

“Hell, man,” I said slowly. “Truthfully, there’s not a lot that I’d like more than that.”

His sudden smile flared like a sunbeam on an overcast day.

“Alright then. But we have to pay our respects first.” He reached into the backseat and pulled out a bundle of flowers wrapped in tissue paper.

I nodded solemnly. 

The Beast crept along the dirt road that led to the cemetery. We got out and walked along the gravel path up through the gates, the cloudy day drawing a chill around us. Greg led the way up over a small rise and stopped before a marker. It still looked rather new, and I felt a hard lump rise in my throat. Greg handed me the bouquet, kissed his fingers and touched them to the stone. Then he patted my shoulder and retreated.

“Hey,” I said, the lone word struggling to be heard amidst the whispering of the nearby pines. I let my mind tread back over a memory I had allowed to be buried: swimming in the lower creek with Greg and Amanda just before we had moved, the bitter cold water a tonic during the dog days, her flaxen hair darkened by the churning current. After Greg had tired of swimming, Amanda and I had shared a single kiss, unexpected but somehow inevitable, containing so many words that would forever go unspoken. I felt my eyes well up, and cleared my throat.

“I-... I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I stopped calling, and stopped answering. I’m sorry that I didn’t come back when you got sick. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to lay you to rest.” A tear slipped down my cheek. “If I could change one thing in my life, I would have come back earlier. I would have been there for you. Please forgive me, Mandy.” 

There was a sudden breeze, warmer than the rest, that swirled through the pines and tugged at my jacket. The last warmth of a long ago summer, coming to say good-bye at last.

Greg was leaning against the car, fiddling with a long strand of grass he’d plucked from nearby.  

“I’ve already got everything I’ll need packed in the trunk,” he said. “Hey- thanks for coming back.”

I nodded and brushed a sleeve over my eyes. 

“You ready, partner?” Greg said, and his eyes blazed with a mischievous fire.

I took a final look at the small hill past the gates and returned my gaze to my oldest friend, nodding once more.

The polished doors of the Beast slammed shut, and our tail lights winked red through the dust in our wake as we left the town behind us. We were home at last.