The Writing on the Wall A Novel - By W. D. Wetherell Page 0,55
know what I thought? THERE YOU ARE!!! Just like in hide and go seek. Even then I was slow on the uptake. I thought it was a recipe she had jotted down on the wall while she was papering or a calculation about how many rolls she needed or some simple sort of reminder.
If I stripped off more paper I would have discovered what it really hid but just then I heard a noise outside like a giant blender crushing ice. I felt like I’d been caught doing something secret so I reached up as high as I could and tucked the edge of that first strip back under the molding and patted it down so the writing was hidden again and only then went outside.
A big Greyhound bus was pulling over to the side of the road ANOTHER BUS so it seemed like my place had suddenly become Grand Central Station. The driver climbed down muttering to himself and right behind him of all people came Andy! “Lend a hand?” the driver asked and Andy nodded. He gave me a little wave and followed the driver around to the back of the bus and the next thing I knew the two of them were under there hammering away at a pipe that had bounced loose on one of our potholes. When they scooted back out again Andy’s uniform was covered in mustard-colored grease which made him look like a hot dog after crawling through a bun. The driver climbed inside then threw a duffel bag down to him and snapped off a salute.
“Enjoy your leave, soldier! When you get over there give ’em hell for me!”
That eased the shock since at least I knew now it was leave that had brought him home. He hadn’t said anything in his last letter but he was never one to say. He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead like he’d only been gone a few hours and followed me over to the porch. I think he would have continued right straight to the TV room but I wasn’t going to let him do that at least not right away.
“Home sweet home,” I said sort of prompting him.
He looked around and nodded. “Home sweet home.”
“So, you got a leave?”
“Yeah.”
“Regular?”
“Embarkation.”
“You’re going?”
“Nam.”
“How long is your leave?”
“Thursday.”
“And you ship out?”
“Monday.”
“I thought it might be Germany.”
“Nope.”
That’s pretty much how our conversation went the two of us circling around each other on the porch like Cassius Clay and Sonny Liston me jabbing him ducking.
“Well come on in, come on in! Take your shirt or tunic or whatever it’s called off and I’ll put it in the wash.”
You need to be careful with Andy since if you tell him something he’ll do it. Right there on the porch he started stripping off his uniform! That made me laugh. Same old Andy! But the truth is he looked different than when he left not skinny and hard like you would think after basic training but thicker and puffier especially around the middle. His hair was pushed straight back in a crew cut and his acne was just as tomato red as ever and his eyes still had that meekness that used to irritate his dad and the dimple under his lip still reminded me of Kirk Douglas but what surprised me most was that over his belt hung the beginning of a paunch. I couldn’t help sticking out my hand and patting it as sort of a question.
“Good chow,” he said. “The cooks are pals of mine and I can never say no when they offer me seconds.”
That’s all I could get out of him about army life. He went up to his room and when he came back he had on the white t-shirt and khaki work pants that had always been his favorite clothes. I asked if he was thirsty but he said not particularly and went right over to the TV room and plopped himself down on the couch. One of his favorite shows was on which turned out to be a soap opera and he told me who all the characters were and what rotten things they were doing to each other. Just by luck I had chicken cutlets in the ice box which had always been his favorite and I fixed them with red potatoes and corn on the cob and maple biscuits and brought it to him on his old Donald Duck tray and when he saw what it was I got