Out of Gas

"Anderson, I am so sorry," she said sincerely as they headed back toward Enumclaw.

"Talk about a day late and a dollar short."

"Did you catch the name of the company on the truck?" she asked. "I didn't even think to look."

"No, but my cell phone is dead. Actually, I couldn't afford to renew my contract which ran out about three days ago, and I just let it expire."

"I was wondering why you didn't call for help."

"I was going to ask Caryn to call for me, but she kind of tends to be a little chatty."

Alisha laughed.

"She is that, alright. Until she gets mad. Then it's the cold shoulder and the silent treatment. Until she needs something."

Anderson smiled but didn't say anything.

"I need to stop talking about my daughter. I hope you don't think I'm a terrible mother for sharing this with you."

"No. Not at all. Kids aren't perfect and at times, they can be utterly trying. So, no, I don't think it's 'wrong' or 'bad' or anything else."

"Thank you for saying that. I'm not sure why, but I've really opened up to you. I rarely say much at all, and I've been talking almost the entire time since we met."

This time he did laugh.

"Same here. I go out of my way to avoid talking, and yet I find myself hoping you won't stop so we can keep the conversation going. And that just never happens."

"I know. It makes me wish I was 20 years..."

Alisha stopped talking and immediately wished she hadn't even said that much. It was one thing to think or feel something. It was entirely different matter to say it out loud. Especially when it was so completely inappropriate.

"Why? Why would you want to be any younger when you're perfect just the way you are?"

Alisha sighed then said, "You may not be a talker, but you are definitely a charmer."

Not sure what she meant, Anderson said, "I don't talk much. That's true. But I also never flatter a woman for flattery's sake."

He waited until she looked back at him then said, "But when she really is beautiful or amazing...or both...I'm not above telling her so."

The sincerity of those words and the meaning behind them caused a second wave of emotions to wash over her as she drove along trying to understand how she could even be feeling them. Perhaps it was nothing more than a healthy dose of friendliness momentarily dispelling the loneliness she knew was there in spite of her deeply-held belief that she was just fine on her own.

After all, it couldn't be anything more because this kind, polite, young man would be gone forever in just a few more hours. He was only a few years older than Bobby, for heaven's sake, so it wasn't as though they'd ever do anything together again let alone something as bizarre as...date.

Why then couldn't she make those feelings go away?

They were almost back to 'Enumscratch' when Anderson said, "You got very quiet all of a sudden."

"Sorry. I think maybe I did too much talking tonight," she said as kindly as she could.

"I disagree," he said just as politely. "In fact, I get this feeling there's more you'd like to say, but for some reason, you won't."

Alisha was amazed at how he just seemed to know what she was thinking and gave herself a moment to process what he said.

Once she had she said, "I have to admit that among many other things you're also very perceptive, Anderson", without explaining why. "But there are times when things need to be left unsaid. Don't you agree?"

"I do. I just don't think this is one of those times."

Alisha turned right where her daughter had just a few hours before. The rain was finally letting up, but it was still overcast and very dark.

She hadn't responded to his comment, and he didn't press the issue. As they drove along she broke the silence by asking, "How do you propose to find your car?"

"I'll have to do some calling around to local companies in the morning—or on Monday if they're not open—I suppose."

"I feel terrible being that close and yet..."

He smiled then sang, "So close, so close and yet so...far."

"No. Don't tell me you can sing, too! That is just not fair!"

"I'm a 'shower singer' I'm afraid. And as you can imagine, getting up in front of a bunch of people to do anything, isn't for me."

"No, but you have a very nice voice. If I could sing like that, I'd sing all the time."

Anderson was introverted and he embraced that. But he knew he wasn't shy. And knowing they only had a few more minutes until they reached her house again, he decided to try and subtly let her know he found her more interesting than any woman he'd ever met. He did so by finishing the Frankie Valli song he'd started.

"I...carried your books from school, playin' make believe you're married to me..."

Alisha smiled happily and said, "Don't stop."

"You were fifth grade, I was sixth, when we came to be. Walkin' home every day, over Bonnicut Bridge and Bay, till we grew into the me and you who went our separate ways."

Alisha wasn't much of a singer, but she could carry a tune and joined in on the chorus.

"My eyes adored you, though I never laid a hand on you, my eyes adored you. Like a million miles away you couldn't see how I adored you, so close—so close and yet so far!"

"Do you know the rest?" she asked.

"I do," he told her.

"Then go on. Finish it. Please."

"I don't know. I uh, I only sang that much because I thought it would set the stage for me to tell you how...amazing I think you are, Alisha."

If she only thought he was flirting before, that comment left little, if any, room for doubt.

"I...I don't understand, Anderson," she told him.

He could tell by the way she said it that she wasn't about to blast him for 'hitting on her' so he decided to go ahead and just say it.

"I think maybe you do," he began. "Just like I was fairly sure before there was more you wanted to tell me but didn't. And now I feel confident you really do know what I'm saying, Alisha."

She glanced over at him but didn't say anything. The only thing she really knew was her heart was pounding in her chest.

"Just in case my attempt at subtly didn't work, what I'm saying is I can't ever remember enjoying being with a woman...any...woman...as much as I've enjoyed being with you. And I'm willing to bet—well, if I had any money to bet—you've enjoyed your time with me."

She was going to say something when he told her, "And in my experience, at least, when a man and a woman enjoy being with each other, they typically make arrangements to spend additional time together. So because we do enjoy each other's company, I'm asking you to spend some more time with me."

They were now less than a mile from her house, and Alisha felt like he'd somehow reached inside her mind and read her deepest, most personal thoughts. And yet no matter what she might be feeling, she had to be realistic. He was maybe 26 years old, if that, and she had just turned 45.

So, no, it just couldn't happen. Even if she were to acknowledge whatever it was he was making her feel, how could she do that to him? Forget about how 'weird' it might be to date someone that age from her perspective, it would be unconscionable to inflict herself on someone so young and full of life.

She waited until she pulled back under the carport and shut the engine off before saying anything. When she did, she tried to kind of turn toward him so they could look one another in the eye.

"Anderson? I can't remember the last time a man said anything that...romantic to me."

"But?" he said knowing the 'but' was coming.

"Well, yes, but. But you have to know this...nice time...we've had is just that. It was a very pleasant, very enjoyable couple of hours, but it can't be anything more than that. You're so intelligent, among everything else, so you have to know that. Right?"

"Why?" he asked without any emotion.

"Why? Anderson. Please. Be serious. You know why."

"You don't find me attractive enough?" he asked, hoping to again the set the stage for another attempt.

"Of course I do. You're a very nice-looking guy. That's not the issue, though."

"So I'm not someone you enjoy talking with?"

He saw her look away for a moment then look back right at him.

"You know that's not true, either. I've enjoyed talking with you as much as I've enjoyed anything for...months."

She paused briefly then said, "Years maybe. But that's not the issue, either."

"Is it the lack of money? If so, I'm starting a very good job in less than three weeks," he said playfully.

He smiled then said, "I'll even be able to pay you back for the gas and the can we put it in—and I'll pour into your tank before I go."

Alisha tried not to laugh, but in spite of her best intentions, she couldn't help it.

"Okay, fine. But it isn't money, either."

He sat up a little straighter then said, "All right. Let me recap. You find me attractive, and you know I think you're very good looking. You enjoy talking with me, and I've had more fun talking with you than with anyone I can ever remember, and you said something very similar to that. Money isn't an issue or at least not a hugely important one, and from what you've told me there's no one else in your life, so...what is the issue, Alisha?"

He saw her look away again. This time, it was for several seconds. When she looked up to face him again she said, "Are you really going to make me have to say it?"

He smiled at her then said just as quietly, calmly, and politely as he'd said everything else, "I believe I am."

"Anderson, why are you doing this? Why are you making me...so...crazy?"

He smiled again then said, "Ah-hah! So that's the reason."

"What? No. No, that is not the reason. I was trying to say that I..."

"I make you crazy," he said before she could finish.

Her heart was not only still pounding, her hands were sweaty. For the first time since she was a very young girl her palms were wet. Rather than say the words she was thinking and knew needed to be said, all she could come up were three words.

"Maybe a little."

He leaned a little closer then said, "I'd like to see you again, Alisha."

The fight, what little there'd been of it, was now all but gone.

"Why? I...I still don't understand why," she said so quietly he could barely hear her.

"Hmmm. And here I thought you'd been paying attention," he said with a big old grin.

"I...I was listening,"she told him, again barely above a whisper.

He reached for her hand, and when she looked at him, he smiled again and told her, "Humor me, okay?"

She slowly gave him her hand, and as she did, he turned further sidewise and used both of his hands to make his point. Her palm was facing up as he touched her index finger with his.

"One—you're beautiful."

He touched her middle finger then said, "Two—you're a fellow introvert."

The ring finger brought, "Three—spending time with you is unbelievably pleasant."

Pinky. "Four—"

He waited for a moment or two then sang, "Before I ever laid a hand on you...my eyes adored you."

He saw her face lighten up, then a smile, and finally a laugh.

It began with a kind of spewing sound followed by the loudest laugh he'd heard all night.

"You nut!" she said as he continued to hold her hand.

He touched her thumb then said, "Five—I make you laugh."

She hadn't pulled her hand away, and when she looked down, Anderson used it to pull the two of them closer together. As she looked at him, he reached up with his right hand and touched her face as he said, "So can I come back tomorrow night and take you to dinner?"

He saw her tilt her head slightly then say, "I thought you were broke."

"Nah. I still have a piggy bank at home stuffed with money," he said as seriously as he could.

Alisha laughed again just as loudly and freely as she had before. When it got quiet she asked him another question.

"Are you really sure you want to go out with me?"

He touched her index finger again then said, "One—you're beautiful."

"Okay, okay! I'll...have dinner with you. But it's just one date. One. Only one."

"Okay. Sure," he said with that kind of silly playfulness that made another wave of emotion wash over her.

"You say that now," he added.

"I'll say that then, too," she tried to assure him.

"I bet you won't," he said quietly as he moved even closer.

When his lips were less than an inch from hers she said, "Anderson. Don't. Plea..."

Before the word 'please' was finished, his lips were pressing against hers, and no matter how hard she tried to pull away, she couldn't. And then to her horror she was kissing him back.

It wasn't overly long or passionate, but she was kissing him back.

As he pulled away, Alisha said, "Caryn is really going to hate me."

"No, she won't," he told her. "She'll be happy for you."

"Why? Because I've lost my mind?" she asked from just inches away.

"No, because she loves you and wants you to be happy."

"I see. And dating someone half my age will make me happy?"

"I believe it will," he told her with the sound of confidence that made her laugh again.

"Come on. Let's get inside so you can track down your car."

He took a minute to empty the gas can into her tank which needed all two-and-a-half gallons after their 100-mile roundtrip drive.

Anderson was pretty sure no impound lot would be open, and after a half dozen calls on her phone gave up.

"I think it's a lost cause for now. And I should probably give my folks a call anyway."

"Oh, right. I'm sure your mom is worried sick. I know I would be."

He rarely ever mentioned the war, but with Alisha, he felt like he could at least say what he was thinking.

"No, she told me after I got back from Afghanistan the second time that she'd worried enough for two lifetimes. Being a little late won't phase her."

"You were in Afghanistan? Twice?" she asked, now seeing him in a very different light.

"I was," he said without emotion.

"My God, I...had no idea. I can't even imagine."

He smiled at her and said, "That's a good thing."

"I don't know why, but when you said you were in the military I just assumed it was probably somewhere at a base in the US and safe and..."

"It's ancient history," he told her. "But if I can use your phone again, that would be great."

"Oh, right. Yes. Sure. Please," she said as she tried to imagine what it might have been like before her mind agreed with what he said. It was a good thing she had no idea what it was like.

"Mom? Yeah, hi. No, everything's fine. I just ran out of gas, and when I went back to get my car, it was being towed."

Alisha couldn't her the other side of the conversation, but Anderson's replies told her what he was being asked.

"No, everything's closed tonight. I'll try again tomorrow morning."

Another pause was followed with, "I'm out in Enum...scratch."

She could hear laughter followed by a voice that was unintelligible.

"I'm with a..."

He looked over at Alisha then said, "A friend...right now."

She heard him tell his mom how this friend had helped him get gas, but not mention who it was or Caryn or...anything else.

"I can give you directions. Just let me get the address, okay?"

When he put his hand over the receiver, Alisha said, "I can take you home. I mean, if you'd like."

He smiled but didn't reply.

"Hey, Mom? Don't worry about it. My friend will give me a ride."

After an 'are you sure' and an 'okay, see you soon', he hung up the phone.

"Are you sure you don't mind driving me clear to Auburn and back?"

She smiled back at him then said very sweetly, "I'm sure."

After hearing him talk to his mother, who was probably close to her age, she wasn't quite as sure as she'd been a few minutes earlier when she was 'only' very uncertain about this 'date' of theirs. But she'd already agreed, and after learning about where he'd been and what he'd done, the unsettled feeling was a little bit less unsettled.

As they drove the fifteen or so miles to Auburn, they continued their conversation by talking about where they'd grown up, gone to school, and Alisha even shared a few details about her marriage and why it ended.

Fearing that was a mood killer, Anderson asked her about her son, Bobby, hoping that would turn things around.

Just like magic, she began going on and on about her amazing son and what a joy he'd been to raise and how proud she was of him, as well as how he was doing at Air Force flight school.

"What does he want to fly?" Anderson asked, knowing most budding aviators wanted to fly fighters.

"He said he'll be happy with anything that isn't a cargo plane. I know the F-35 and F-22 are his top choices, but he'd also love to fly the B-2 or the F-117. Even the B-1."

"You know your planes," he told her.

Anderson often thought of the day the section of B-1s, two planes, were the only thing standing between being run over by a large-scale enemy assault and living another day. The company air officer, a Marine F-18 pilot doing a FAC or Forward Air Controller tour, got on the radio and directed the bombers their way. The enemy was less than 200 yards away making this a 'danger close' mission. And that meant they would be close enough to the explosions that their own lives would be in danger. And yet that was the only real choice they had left as the air officer said, "I say again, danger close!"

As the sound of their engines whined overhead the company first sergeant was shouting, "Get down! Get the hell down!"

Moments later the loudest, and the most wonderful, sounds he'd ever heard, erupted right on top of the battalion-sized enemy attack. The air officer calmly directed them back in for a second pass, and with that, the threat was over. And so were the lives of dozens of fanatics, many of whom were missing limbs or heads or who'd been utterly obliterated by the 500-pound laser-guided bombs.

He still remembered the call sign of that mission: Bone 21. The B-1's nickname was the Bone and that made perfect sense.

He heard Alisha say, "I didn't know any military planes until Bobby went into the Air Force. But since then I've done some research and can at least tell those planes I mentioned apart. I also have a general idea of what they do, but that's about it."

"Were you a pilot?" she asked not understanding that was impossible.

"Oh, no. I enlisted right out of high school. I was a grunt. An infantryman."

"I don't even want to ask what that was like," she said with genuine understanding.

Grateful she didn't, he turned things back to Bobby, and Alisha chatted happily all the way to his parents' home.

"They have a very nice place," she said when they pulled into the driveway.

"It's an older home, but they've completely renovated it inside. I think you'll really like it."

And that's when she realized he expected her to go inside and say 'hello'. Or at least that's what she assumed.

"You...you don't want me to go in with you...do you?" she asked in that 'please don't tell me you do' voice.

"No. Of course not," he replied immediately once he realized how she felt.

He smiled then said, "Not yet, anyway."

She laughed a nervous laugh then told him, "Go on. Your mom and dad are waiting for you."

"They can wait a little longer," he said politely as she looked at him.

As he stared back, she finally said, "What?"

"I just realized I don't have your number."

Relieved, Alisha said, "Oh! Right. Um...here. Let me get a pen."

She was looking for paper, too, when he held out his arm.

"Isn't this how you traded numbers...back in the Dark Ages?"

"Oh, okay. Now you're the one bringing up the age difference when you wouldn't even let me mention it earlier. Yeah. I see how this is gonna go."

When she smiled at him, he pulled his sleeve up so she could write on his forearm.

When she finished, he said very seriously, "What? No heart? No '4-ever'? That's it?"