Dear Bailey

Part 67

 Bailey

The town was small, so he drove me along the main street from one end to the other so I could see all the shops and restaurants. Every once in a while he would point out a place and tell me a story about something that happened there. It felt like I was finally able to fill in the blanks of all the little stories he'd been telling me since he came back to that town. I could imagine the patio at the burgers and beer place he ate at the night his friend had picked a fight with some local guys and he'd had to try and smuggle his friend back on base before any of them got in trouble.

I could see the small Winn-Dixie were he would grab things he didn't want to purchase on base. He told me sometimes he just loaded up on candy bars and chips so he could have a snack when he got home late at night. I imagined him in there with is friends, the ones I hadn't met yet, and I felt my heart clench with the idea that he'd been living his life while I had been living mine. We loved each other, but we didn't get to experience the little things together. Would we ever?

"What's making you frown?" He looked over at me from the seat of his truck. The defroster was blowing inside and it made his cheeks a little pink. I smiled. "That's better," he said, reaching over and taking my hand in his.

"It's just hard to imagine you being here. Now I'm finally getting to put images to all our letters. I'm worried it's making things more real."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, before when you wrote me, the letters just felt like stories. I had an idea of what a small grocery store would look like, but now I can see it. I can imagine you parking this truck in the parking lot and going inside. It just makes it more real. More real feels like it makes you so much further away from me. You have a whole life here." I used my sleeve to wipe at the water on the inside of the window.

"I have a life here for now. In a few days, that life will be somewhere else. After that, who knows?" He pulled the truck into a parking lot outside a 24-hour restaurant. "I can't build relationships long enough to make anyone a threat to you." He parked the car in a spot at the end of a row. I could see the crowded dinning area from inside the truck. "You have a life in a place close to home. You see the same people everyday and go to the same places. You aren't going to be bounced around from place to place, so it's safe to let people in and build friendships. You get to put down roots."

I turned in my seat so I could watch his face. He was looking into the dinning room also, but it seemed like his thoughts were somewhere far off. He turned to me, "You're this little glow of brightness and I know I'm not the only one that notices that about you." His fingers brush my hair behind my ear. "One day some guy is going to come along. He's going to be able to offer you the things I can't offer you right now. Maybe he has a home, or wants to do the same thing you do. Maybe he just wants to get off work like a normal person and take you out to dinner without having to be back on base at a certain time, or report to duty on the weekend."

I shook my head, but he reached out and steadied my face with his finger under my chin. He continued, "I just hope that when he comes along, I've already filled your heart so that there's no room for him in it. I might not be able to do everything for you that he will be able to do, but I'll be loyal to you, write you every chance I get, and think about you every day. Then when the day comes that I get my walking papers, I'll come home to you."

"You don't have to worry about that," I assure him. "I don't want anyone else."

His smile didn't reach his eyes, but he nodded his head. "I hope that's always the truth. I don't know how I'll ever make it up to you that you waited for me, but I promise I will." I looked away for a minute so I could swallow down the lump that was forming in my throat. His truck's dash display harshly reminded me that the sand was still falling through the hourglass. 10:54PM

"Just come home."