Charlene stood looking out the window, holding back the blinds. She wore a calico dress and her was in a bun. The day was warm and sunny like July. She had 4 American flags around her house. She had one on the flag stand, a flag pole in the yard, and two hanging off of opposite sides of the porch. Her husband sat down in front of the TV. He was reading the paper and was not paying attention to the box.
“What time is he s’posed to be coming, John?”
“S’posed to be here about four.”
“What time is it?”
He looked at his watch.
“3:52.”
“Oh. He’ll be here any minute.”
“Should be.”
He went back to reading the paper.
In the kitchen was feast of food. A smoked ham and macaroni and cheese. Mashed potatoes and green beans. Two pies were in the oven and biscuits sat on top of the stove on a plate underneath a napkin.
“You think he’ll be hungry?”
“Prolly.”
“I made all of his favorite. I bet he’s starving for some home cooking.”
“I know I am.”
“Aw shush.”
“Just sayin’.”
There were pictures on the mantle. A candle of prayer glowed next to a picture of a muscular boy with a crew cut and a smile. Next to that was the black and white picture of less muscular man in uniform with a crew cut. Next to that was the picture of a little boy with a white plaster cast on his right arm. The boy smiled and had a backpack on his back as he stepped onto a yellow school bus.
Charlene saw the boys circling their bikes in the road. The Swanson girl was brushing her doll’s hair on the porch. A bus came up and stopped in front of the house.
“He’s here! He’s here!”
She ran to the mirror and checked herself. John heaved himself off of the chair and was behind her.
“Aw don’t fuss. He’s your son. Not your date.”
“I just wanna look good for our soldier boy.”
They stood holding hands in front of the closed door. They heard the offbeat sound on the steps. The heard the creeks of the porch. They heard it stop in front of the door. They held their hands tighter. He knocked. John said:
“Come on in.”
He was having trouble with the door handle. John unlocked from Charlene. He opened the door with a smile on his face. It quickly fell. He blocked the outside with his body.
“Who is it John?”
John didn’t answer.
“Is that our soldier boy?”
John said after a few seconds:
“Go into the kitchen, Charlene.”
“What?”
“Go to the kitchen. I’ll call you in a second.”
“What are you talking about, John? I wanna see my son.”
“Charlene, please.”
“No, John. Let me see my son.”
John sank his head and moved out of the doorway. Charlene saw her son. His left arm was made of metal as was his leg. She could say nothing, nor could John. Their soldier boy stood at the doorway.
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