Mary McDonald - No good deed

“It’s going to be dark out soon. I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind giving you a lift.”

The sailor was like young puppy, and even though Mark kept nudging him aside, the kid came back for more. Mark saw the earnestness in his eyes. “My parents live about ten miles north of the city. That’s way out of your way, I’m sure.”

His face lit up. “No, it’s not. We live in the north end, just inside the city. They won’t mind.”

The kid looked so eager, Mark didn’t have the heart to say no, so he shrugged. “Well, ask your parents when you see them. If it’s okay with them, I’d appreciate a ride.”

“Great!” The sailor grinned. “Wow, I don’t even know your name.” He stuck a hand out. “I’m Tommy Wilson.”

Mark looked at the hand, then shook it and smiled. “Mark Taylor.”

A few minutes later, the bus pulled into the station. The driver exited and began unloading the luggage from the compartment underneath the bus. Mark stood and stretched. Tommy zipped up his coat and peered out the windows. His face broke into a grin and he pointed. “There they are!” His enthusiasm made Mark smile. The kid was practically dancing down the aisle of the bus.

Mark followed and stood back as Tommy hugged his parents. They were all talking at once, smiling and laughing. The reunion went on so long that Mark began to sidle away, figuring Tommy had forgotten about him. With a last look at the happy family, he turned and shoved his hands into his pockets. There was only about an hour of light left and he quickened his step.

“Mark! Where ya going?”

He turned to see Tommy jogging towards him. “I…ah, well, I don’t want to bother anyone.”

“Naw, no bother. My parents are okay with it. Come on.” Tommy made a follow motion with his hand and turned back towards the parking lot.

Mark saw no graceful way out of the situation and as a cold wind whipped his hair around, he decided that a nice warm car was preferable to walking in the frigid dark. He just hoped there wouldn’t be too many questions.

Tommy made introductions, and his parents greeted Mark with in a friendly tone, although his dad, who wasn’t much older than Mark, did study him for a long moment before saying, “Well, I’m freezing, so let’s get going.”

Mark trailed behind the group and got in the backseat beside Tommy. He gave the father the address then settled back, listening to the parents quiz Tommy on what had gone on in basic. Had it been hard? Were the drill instructors mean? Was the food good? He was glad for all the chatter because it allowed him to remain silent.

Tommy borrowed his mother’s cell-phone and called someone, and judging from the grin on the kid’s face and the way he turned away from the rest of the car, Mark guessed it was the girlfriend.

Tommy’s dad glanced at Mark in the rear-view mirror. “So, Tommy said you’re going home to see your folks.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir? That’s awfully formal. My name’s Jeff.” Every few seconds, he would take his eyes off the road and look at Mark. “I bet they’ll be glad to see you.” Was there a hint of a question in that statement?

Mark nodded, meeting Jeff’s gaze for an instant before averting his eyes. The other man knew something. He could tell by the tone of his voice and how he regarded Mark. Feeling a need to fill the silence and to answer an unspoken question, Mark said, “They’re not expecting me. I want to surprise them.”

“You live in Chicago?” He was digging.

“Yes, sir.” Mark didn’t offer more. He squirmed and glanced at Tommy, who was oblivious to everything except the voice on the other end of the phone.

“Are you military? You sound like it.”

“No, sir…, uh, Jeff. I’ve just been around military people a lot lately. Guess it wore off on me.” He tried to chuckle and make a joke, but it fell flat.

The car stopped at a light and Mark saw Jeff exchange a glance with his wife. The light turned green and Jeff focused his attention on driving and didn’t ask Mark any more questions. The rest of the drive continued with only Tommy’s voice breaking the silence.

“Thank you for the ride. I appreciate it.” Mark wanted to jump out of the car before it came to a complete stop in front of his parents’ house, but instead, he tried to smile at the Wilsons. “It was a pleasure meeting all of you.” Mark opened the door and shook Tommy’s hand again. “You take care, and good luck with the Navy.” With a last wave, he shut the door and began walking up the drive.

The house looked the same as he remembered. The porch, with its white spindle railing, hugged the sunny yellow home. The flower beds lay fallow, but he pictured them bursting with flowers as they usually were in the summer. The memory was so vivid, he could almost hear the lazy buzz of the bees that had been a melody from his boyhood. How many times had he sat on those steps and guzzled lemonade underneath a blazing summer sun?

The second floor was dark, but warm light shone from the front windows, and he knew that the kitchen in the back would be bright. Mark sniffed. Wood smoke. His dad always loved a good fire in the fireplace. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and mounted the steps.

Should he knock? Normally, he just walked in because his parents never locked the door. There was never a need. He didn’t want to scare them though. He compromised and knocked, then opened the door a tiny bit. “Hello?” The scent of wood burning mingled with another tantalizing aroma. Beef stew?

Mark winced as something in the kitchen hit the floor with a loud crash. Then his mom’s face peeked around the corner from the kitchen into the long hallway to the front door. “Hi, Mom.”

“Mark?” She looked like she didn’t believe her eyes, then she gave a shriek and flew towards him and into his arms. “Oh my God! It really is you.” She alternated between hugging him and pulling back to see his face. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Norma? What the hell is going on?” The basement door opened and his dad, his protective goggles pushed up on top of his head, froze as he saw Mark. “Jesus Christ!”

His mom broke away, but kept an arm around Mark’s waist. “Mark’s home, Gene. He came home!”

Not seeming to comprehend, his dad looked from Mark to his wife for a few seconds before he finally moved, his steps hesitant as he approached.

Mark swallowed hard. “How have you been, Dad?”

His father’s steps quickened. “Mark.” It was all he said, but it was enough. In a heartbeat, his dad’s arms were around him, his hand going up to the back of Mark’s neck and pulling him close. “We’ve missed you, son.” His voice was thick.

Wood shavings clung to his dad’s flannel shirt and he smelled of pine and varnish. Mark could only nod and his throat swelled. He sighed when his mom reached up and feathered his hair.

His dad broke off the hug and took a step back, eyeing him from head to toe. “Are you okay? Did they treat you well?”

Mark saw the worry on his mom’s face, and said the only thing he could, “Yes, sir. I’m fine.” He tried to smile, but then had to duck his head and bite his lip to keep his emotions in check. “I don’t really want to talk about it now, if that’s okay.”

She ran her hand up his arm, stroking it gently, and tilted her head. “Oh, hon, we don’t have to. Are you hungry? Dinner is almost ready.”

“I’m starved.” Mark did smile then, and rubbed his hands together. “I can’t wait to taste your cooking again.”

His dad clapped him on the back. “It’s good to have you home.” Nodding, his lips tight, he turned and abruptly went back to the basement.