Forever (7 page)

“Mollie?” Scott asked Andy. “She’s gorgeous, buddy.”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “She is. But, that girl over there is too.”

Andy was looking back over Scott’s shoulder and smiling. “Turn around, dumbshit.”

As Scott turned around, he noticed a brand new powder blue Firebird and a gaggle of people standing near it. Terry and his family, Carl and his wife,
Derric and his mom and grandma, were all standing and talking to someone. The whole gang turned to face him, smiling. The Firebird had Colorado plates. Carl stepped back.

She hadn’t cut her hair; it was nearly to the middle of her back now. She had on purple shorts and a white sleeveless shirt and sandals, with her sunglasses sitting on top of her head. She walked out of the group with a shy smile. And Scott saw those eyes. He stood there, transfixed for a moment. “Happy graduation, buddy,” Andy said.

“Did you do this?” Scott turned to look at him in astonishment.

“Shut up and get over there.”

Scott walked down the concrete steps and went across the gravel toward her. He stepped cautiously about halfway before she ran to him and jumped into his arms, hers around his neck, suspended off the ground. They held on to each other so tight they’d become one person. “If I’m dreaming this, I’m going to be really pissed,” he said in her ear.

“You’re not,” she said, pulling back and looking into his eyes. “It’s me. I love you.”

Scott and Roni kissed, hard and as passionately as two people in love who hadn’t seen each other in five months could kiss. Like it was the first time.

He set her down, and took both of her hands. “Not to sound like I’m complaining, but what are you doing here?”

She put her left hand to his face. “You sounded so sad when you told me about Memorial Day. I can’t stand you being sad, Footer.”

It was a wild story. She wrote to Andy that night to ask about graduation. He wrote back and in the meantime, told the rest of the guys. She was talking to Andy on the phone Sunday when Scott was calling, only to reach the busy signal. Right after she hung up from talking to Scott, she jumped in the car.

“You drove all the way here alone?” he asked in astonishment.

“Yeah.
I drove to Oakley on Sunday night, then stopped in Manhattan on Monday. That’s a nice town,” she said. “Then I drove in here yesterday and stayed at the Quality Inn. Andy’s family is staying there, too. Mollie is really a sweetie. We went swimming and hung out last night.”

Everyone who had family coming could have an overnight pass if they wanted one, but Scott hadn’t put in for one. “I love that you’re here, but I don’t have a pass,” he said.

He heard someone walk up behind him.

“You have a pass, trainee.”

He turned and there was Drill Sergeant Alexander. He had a huge grin on his face and his usual chaw of plug tobacco in his mouth. And in his hand was a laminated white card with “OFF-POST” stamped across it in red.

“Were you in on this too?” Scott asked the DI.

Alexander looked at him sternly. “You’d best go change clothes, boy. You can’t go driving off this post in those raggedy fatigues.”

The DI then tipped his hat to Roni. “Ma’am,” he said. “You’re as lovely as this boy described. And you just cost me $20.”

“Why thank you, sir. How did I cost you $20?” Roni asked with a smile.

“Well, I bet Drill Sergeant Sprouil that you weren’t real,” he grinned. “Turns out you are. And it’s a pleasure.”

“Well, thank you,” Roni said. “You’re the one who made him eat all the cookies, right?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Roni looked back toward her car and pointed to Carl. He reached inside the front seat, pulled out a box and ran back up to where she was standing.

“This is for you Sgt. Alexander,” she said, handing him the box. “Scott’s grandma wasn’t there from Arizona yet, so his Mom made these. But it’s the same recipe.”

“Chocolate chip cookies?” Alexander asked with a grin.

“Just for you,” Roni said.  “Thanks for taking good care on him for us.”

Again he tipped his hat to Roni. “Thank you ma’am,” he said, turning to Scott. “Want one, boy?”

“I’ll pass, thank you, Drill Sergeant,” Scott laughed.

“Go change clothes, boy,” Alexander said, turning to walk back toward the operations shack.

“Yes, Drill Sergeant,” he said. Scott turned to Roni. “I’m going to go change,” he said.

“Do that,” she said with a bit of an evil smile. “I have plans for you. And they don’t involve cookies. Or clothes, for that matter.”

“I’ll hurry.”

By 1630, Roni was guiding the Sky Bird — with the T-tops removed — through the streets of Fort Leonard Wood, heading for the main gate.

“It would be easy to get lost here,” she said, pausing to check street signs. “How do you find your way around?”

“We don’t,” he said. “I’ve never seen any of this. I’m guessing they don’t want us to know where the gate is.”

“Afraid you’ll ‘go over the wall,’?” she asked. “Like ‘Tribes?’”

“Something like that,” he said. He just kept staring at her; he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“You’re staring at me, baby,” Roni said with a smile. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, Roni,” Scott said, almost in a dream-like state. “Two hours ago, this scene was about as far from reality as going to the moon.”

“So you were surprised?” she asked, innocently. “That was the idea, Footer.”

“It worked,” he said, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.

“What do you think of my car?” she asked. “It’s my baby blue baby!”

“It’s gorgeous,” Scott said.

“When I told Dad about wanting to go
come here, he decided I should have a better car. This one had just come in and I fell in love with it,” she said. “So he said OK. He’s getting Brooke a red one.”

They finally arrived at the front gate. Roni rolled the window down and showed the guard at the gate her visitor pass, while Scott gave him his pass.  The guard eyed both of them,
then waved them through.

“I’m sneaking him out so we can go somewhere and have WIILLLD sex!” Roni shouted as they pulled away from the gate.

“WILLLLLLLD?” Scott asked, as they pulled up to a stop sign.

“Wild,” Roni said, reaching across to kiss him. “There’s a joint in the console. Put
James Taylor in the tape deck.”

Before they reached the Quality Inn in St. Robert, they had ordered an extra-large carry-out ham and pineapple pizza at a place called “
Sarge’s.” Then they picked up cigarettes, pop and ice at 7-Eleven. Roni had brought beer, wine, weed and munchies that were already in the room.

Their room was on the same floor as Andy and his family and as Roni and Scott stepped out of the elevator, he and Mollie were in front of it, tapping on the door.

“There you are!” Andy said. “You guys want to come down for a drink? It looks like my folks bought out a bar.”

Scott started to beg off, but Roni answered for them. “We’d love to! Put the groceries away, dear,” she said, handing the pizza to Andy, hooking arms with Mollie and heading down hall, skipping like 8-year olds. They were already friends.

“I am just fucking amazed,” Scott said. “I’m not sure which is harder to believe, that she drove 800 miles to be here or that you, the boys and Alexander were all in on this, and I didn’t figure it out.”

“When she sent the letter to me,” Andy said, “she said she had this week off and had wanted to go through Kansas anyway. And she figured you’d pretty much shit; which you did, by the way. Best part was Alexander walking up with the pass.”

“Amazing,” Scott said as he and Andy followed their ladies down the hall. “Fucking amazing.”

After about 45 minutes, they walked back down the hall to their room. They had fun with the Days, listening to the boys’ BCT stories, but Roni and Scott had their own dinner plans. Scott put the key in the door and opened it. They walked in and Scott promptly did a back flop onto the bed. There was a big cooler with beer and wine, a bag of food that looked like his mom had packed it, and in the corner was his guitar case.

“Got my guitar tuned, huh?” Scott asked with a sly smile.

“Mark said it needed it,” she said. “I brought the Ovation.”

“Want to hear something really stupid?” he said, staring peacefully at the ceiling. “Once I realized we were spending the night here, one of the first things I thought was, ‘wow, I get to sleep in a real bed!’”

Roni climbed on to the edge of the bed, crawled over and kissed him and started unbuttoning his shirt. “Sleep?” she said. “Why don’t you go take a shower, while I get dinner
ready. I put something in there for you to wear.”

The shower felt incredible. It was the first time in months he had privacy in the shower, and he really enjoyed it. He took his time.

On the edge of the sink, wrapped in a towel, was his change of clothes. It was his old UNC football t-shirt and his burgundy WHHS wrestling shorts. After he dressed, he looked at himself in the mirror. Besides his long hair missing, he actually looked like Scott Mitchell again. And she had done it.

He walked back into the room. She had neatly hung his khakis on a hanger so they’d be ready for the next day. He looked into the room, and thought, “She’s really outdone herself.”

She’d pulled a night table down so it was about in the middle of the bed instead of the head. A small Styrofoam cooler, filled with ice and two bottles of Strawberry Hill sat on the night table. There were candles everywhere. The pizza was sitting in the middle of the bed with paper plates, and wine glasses sitting in the open pizza lid.

At the head of the king-sized bed was Roni. She had changed into Scott’s jersey and her black ski socks. She sat crossed-legged, propped up by a pillow, playing John Denver’s “This Old Guitar.” She had played when they were younger, but it had been years since he’d seen a guitar in her hands.

“Hello sir,” she said, setting the guitar next to the bed. “I’ve been practicing. And your dinner is ready.”

Scott smiled and sat down opposite her on the foot of the bed. “Why thank you, ma’am,” he said. “Can I interest you in some wine?”

She nodded and smiled. “You’re so gracious,” she said, her eyes dancing.

They
talked, they drank wine and ate pizza. They talked about the future and the past and the present. Roni finally reached over and grabbed his guitar.

“Play me a song, Footer,” she said. “I love hearing you sing.”

Scott took the guitar and fingered the strings. It felt good; he hadn’t touched it since the night before he’d left. Kimmy asked him to play her a lullaby so he played John Denver’s “For Baby.” It made her cry.

He then grabbed his capo and strapped it on, two frets down. He knew what he wanted to play.

Two years before, the week after graduation, John Denver played Red Rocks in Colorado. Half the senior class was there, including Scott and Roni. The two of them were standing there together when John played “My Sweet Lady,” harmonizing. So he sang it to her again.

Roni leaned across and hugged him as he finished. Scott had never felt more alive. He climbed off the bed and put the guitar away, then climbed back on. He had a question for her.

“Tell me about two years ago,” he said.

“Right after Christmas when we were seniors, I found out about a contest for architectural art that one of the big design firms in Denver was sponsoring,” she said. “It was a big deal; the winner won a $2,500 scholarship to any school in the state.

“So I spent the next three-and-a-half months at my drawing table.  I did up this 5,000 square-foot house in the foothills,” she said. “There were 12 rooms, three different views of each one. The deadline was April 15. I worked right up until the last day, then I actually drove to Denver to drop it off at their office; I wasn’t about to trust it in the mail.

“I finally received my rejection letter the day after the John Denver concert at Red Rocks,” she said. “They hated it; said it was ‘amateurish, even for a high school student.’

“So I was done. I dumped my plans to go to Boulder, and decided to go to Greeley. I was done with design.

“But since everything has happened with us and talking about the future and stuff, I decided I really wanted to try it again,” she said. “So I started applying at a few places.”

“And, Manhattan?” Scott asked.

Roni took a deep breath. “I’ve been accepted at five places for design school; Nebraska and Kansas State are my favorites. I’d never been to Kansas State, so that’s why I planned the trip that way. I walked around campus and around Aggieville and I really love it, Footer. I even talked to an advisor.

“I haven’t said anything because I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to push anything, Scott,” she said. “When I applied there, I didn’t even realize it was just 10 miles from Fort Riley.

“If you want more room, I’ll go to Nebraska; we’ll go slower. I want you to have everything you’ve ever dreamed of in life; I want you to get you chance to play again, I want you to be happy. You always say I saved you – twice – and someday you have to return the favor.