"I'm all right. It's okay. I won't do that again. I promise."
"It's okay to do it as long as I can be next to you," he said, "but I hate to think of you alone out there, crying your eyes out with no one to comfort you, Melody."
"There'll be Mama Arlene," I said.
He stared at me a moment and then slid behind the wheel again. We drove on. Car headlights blinded us in the rain, but he drove relentlessly, firmly.
Cary talked me into stopping for something to eat. I did it for his sake more than my own, although the hot coffee helped and something warm in my stomach gave me needed energy. I lost track of time afterward and fell asleep with my head on his shoulder. When I opened my eyes again, he told me we were pulling into Boston and heading for the bus depot. I sat up and scrubbed the sleep from my cheeks with my dry palms.
Cary went into the bus station with me. We spoke with the ticket seller who, after we explained where I wanted to go, said the best ticket was one to Richmond. There was a shuttle service to Sewell, but he couldn't guarantee the schedule after I had arrived in Richmond.
"Once I get to Richmond, I'll be fine," I said. Cary paid for the ticket and then insisted I take another fifty dollars.
"Somehow,Ill pay you back," I promised.
"You don't have to as long as you promise to call me from Sewell and then write letters."
"I'll promise you that if you promise me you'll pass all your tests and graduate."
"Big promise, but okay," he said. "You've convinced me to work harder." He smiled.
"That's the bus to Richmond now," the ticket seller announced.
Cary gazed into my eyes, his eyes full of sadness and fear for me.
"I'll be all right once I get home," I said. "Don't worry." He nodded.
"I wish that somehow you had come to think of Provincetown as your home."
"When you have no real family, home has to be where you find love," I said.
"You found it in Provincetown," he said indicating himself.
"I know," I whispered. I leaned toward him and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Oh," I said. "Your jacket." I started to take it off.
"No, please keep it."
"Thanks," I said.
He followed me out to the bus and watched me get on. After I sat at the window, he held up his hand.
"Good-bye," I mouthed through the glass. The bus driver started the engine. Cary's face seemed to crumple, his lips trembling. There were tears on his cheeks, and his tears put tears in my heart. I put my hand against the glass as if I could stop his crying by doing so. He raised his hand. The bus started away. He walked alongside it for a few feet and then the bus turned. He was gone.
I knew where he would go when he got home. He would go to his attic and he would curl up on his cot and he would think of Laura and me and wonder why all that was good and soft in his world seemed to slip through his fingers.
I closed my eyes and thought about Mama Arlene's smile and Papa George and Alice and the warm living room in my old trailer home.
Like a beacon in a storm, the light from those memories held out a tiny spark of hope.
17
There's No
Place Like Home
.
I rode the bus all night. People got on and off at