CHAPTER 7 - RELUCTANT FAREWELLS

            The fateful day arrived much too soon. We rode to the bus station in silence with each of us absorbed in our private thoughts. My father stared straight ahead, chewing his lower lip, his eyes on the road. My mother had made a few failed attempts to engage in small talk. After finding the rest of us unresponsive, she finally gave up and was filing her nails. Joey and I were each staring out of our respective car windows in the backseat of the Buick. We didn't dare to look at each other for fear of being overcome by the emotion of the situation, but our hands were clasped between us on the seat. I stole a quick glance at his handsome profile. Then I pressed my lips together to stifle yet another siege of tears as I turned back again to gaze at the passing scenery. I felt Joey squeeze my hand gently. He'd noticed, and he understood.

            In the waiting room of the Greyhound Bus Station it was time to say our good-byes. Joey looked so grown-up standing there in his Sunday suit with his small suitcase on the floor beside him. He began with my mother. "Good-bye, Phyllis. I appreciate everything you've done for me."

            She gave him one of those stiff, A-frame hugs that only touch at the shoulders, the preferred mode of embrace for people with intimacy issues. "Bye, Joe. It was my pleasure. Take care of yourself."

            He turned to my father. "Well, Rick?"

            My father looked uneasy. Declarations of emotion did not come naturally to him. "Joseph, I know we've had our disagreements, but I've always had your best interests at heart." He extended his hand for a formal handshake.

            Joey looked at the proffered hand and smiled slightly before grasping it. "I know that, Ricky. Good-bye and thanks." He pulled my father toward him and enfolded him in a bear hug. At the age of 18, Joey had equaled my father's six-foot stature, and a physique built by working on the highway construction crew had given him the advantage over my father in strength.

            My father stood there awkwardly and stiffly for a couple of seconds, not really sure what to do with his hands, before he was finally able to yield enough to return the heartfelt gesture. "Take care of yourself, Joey," he said, choking up, "and let me know if you need anything."

            Joey nodded. "Will do." He finally released his brother and took a step back.

            "Joey, I . . . ," my father began.

            Joey stopped him with a raised hand. "I know," he said. "Me too." That was as close to "I love you" and "I'm sorry" as the two of them ever came.

            At last, he turned to me. I was biting my lip to keep from bursting into tears. He knelt on one knee in front of me so that I was looking down at him. Those beautiful, bright eyes were shining as he looked up into mine. "Well, this is it, Squirt." He took both my hands in his and kissed each one before releasing them. "You gotta be brave for me or I'll never be able to do this."

            "I don't want you to do this." I observed wryly as I ran my fingers through his soft thick hair, bleached a couple of shades lighter by his hours of labor in the merciless Texas sun. "You look like a hippie," I teased. "They're gonna shave off all your hair, y'know."

            He cocked his head and grinned at me. "It'll grow back," he promised.

            I bent slightly to give him a hug. "I love you so much," I whispered as I kissed his cheek.

            "I love you too, darlin', more than anything in the world." He returned my kiss as he wrapped his arms around me and held me for a moment. "God, I'm really gonna miss these. I don't guess I'll be gettin' many hugs in Vietnam."

            "Then you're just gonna have to come back safe and come back soon," I admonished as I held him a little more tightly, "because I'll be savin' all my hugs up for you." I squeezed my eyes shut too late to stop the solitary tear that escaped from the corner of my eye. I wiped it quickly on my sleeve.

            I felt him chuckling softly at my futile effort to be brave. "It's a deal, sweetheart." Standing up, he cupped my face in his gentle hands. Then, he looked deeply into my eyes for a long moment before leaning over to place one last kiss on my forehead. By this time, his own eyes were glittering with unshed tears. A voice over the loudspeaker announced the imminent departure of his bus, so he reluctantly picked up his suitcase, turned and walked away.

            I gazed through the big window at the line of buses surrounded by a cloud of noxious diesel smoke, keeping my eyes on Joey as he boarded and found his seat. He looked back at me once more through the bus window, smiled and waved. I waved back, willing myself not to cry, and crossed my arms over my chest, pantomiming a hug. He nodded, and grinned, crossing his arms and mimicking my gesture. I stood there for a long time, watching as the bus pulled out of the terminal until my parents each took one of my hands and led me away. That was the last time any of us saw Joey alive.