The Wanderer
by Tracy LeCates
It's at times like this, when the moon hangs overhead and the crickets are so loud they're almost deafening, that I wonder how many roads there are in this country. In this world. How many highways, how many streets, roads and avenues. How many cow-paths. And, how many travelers have wandered their lengths on wheels and on foot.
My boots make no noise as I tread along the dusty surface. I move in the shadows so often, I'm beginning to feel as though I've become one, myself. Certainly, most people back home would agree I am now but a shadow of the man I once was. Home. It's been months since I've seen it with my eyes, though I carry it in my heart and remember it with every beat.
My feet ache after many hours of travel, and as I see the clouds moving across the sky, beginning to shroud the stars and moon, I long for a more modern mode of transportation. A car. Any car would do, but I'd prefer the old Stealth. Washed and waxed, she was placed in storage a long time ago. I'd outgrown her, but couldn't find it in my heart to give her up. Even now, the thought of that bucket of bolts brings a smile to my face. She reminds me of myself, back in the old days. Sleek, fast, hard-driving and usually headed for a breakdown. Thunder rumbles in the distance and I know soon I'll be seeking shelter, wherever I can find it.
I comfort myself with the idea that at least it's spring now. The harsh winter caught me in an unfortunate area, and I was forced to stay in one place a little longer than I would have liked. Shelter shouldn't be a problem tonight. Plenty of farms in sight, and with farms, there are barns. Barns, and the possibility of a little work. A few odd jobs to buy myself a few meals and a night or two indoors. And, company. Company would be nice right about now.
The solitude of the road is hard, sometimes. The first few weeks were the hardest. Walking away from Chinatown, as my father had done so many years before me... My heart was heavier than the pack on my back. Behind me were my friends, my family, my life. Ahead of me was my uncertain future. And the only chance of safety for my son.
Faces. Those are the images which flash through my mind most of all. Faces. Annie and Paul, my father, my friends from the 101st, people from Chinatown - my community. New faces, every day. People I've met on my journey. Storekeepers and gas station managers, parents and grandparents and children of all ages. Old souls and the young at heart. Each of their faces is now imbedded in my memory. Each taught me something.
My son. His face returns to my mind's eye more than any other. So often, in fact, that I begin to wonder if he's ever left my sight at all since the first time I laid eyes on him. He has his mother's eyes. God, I miss her. I promised Megan I'd take care of our son, no matter what. I never thought it would cost so much.
So many hopes and dreams. So many plans. When he was six months old, I held him in my arms and looked into his eyes.
~ ~ "Six months old today, and already he understands everything there is to know about love. How is that possible?" I asked the petite blonde I'd married.
"I think we're all born that way. The world takes the understanding away from us as we get older. Sad... but true." ~ ~
Jody's taking care of him, now. Jody and Carl. I had my watchers when I was a teen, and now Sean has his. Ironic. For a long time, Jody hoped we'd marry, have a child together, and now she's raising my teenage son. When I left the precinct that fateful day I remember telling her we'd been a lot of things to each other, but never strangers. We've been a lot more things to each other since that day. But, never lovers. I miss my friend.
Months passed without a visit from Jody after I took the brands. She had a lot to sort out for herself, and we both needed space. When she finally started coming around again, it was as if the monumental changes in each of our lives hadn't changed a thing between us. The ease and companionability were still there. She came by regularly to poke fun at the struggling priest/apothecary. All in good fun. I needed someone to keep my feet on the ground.
She came to my wedding. She and Carl had been seeing each other for a month. She was there the day my son entered the world the following year. With an engagement ring on her finger. She was there on the bright spring morning I buried my wife, two years later. A gold band had long ago joined the diamond ring. She quietly took control over the course of the next few weeks, when my mind and heart were too numb to allow me to care for myself, or my son. We held each other, and shared our tears the night Kermit was taken from us. There was no one else I would have trusted more with the task of seeing another young Caine through his teenage years, protecting him, should I be gone that long. And I may be.
The first drops of rain are starting to fall, and the lights of the farmhouse ahead seem inviting. I't's been a long road, and I'm ready to come in out of the rain.