Home: Part 2

What follows is a work of fiction. Nothing here is either true or relevant. Read at your own risk. Do not expect anything, and that's exactly what you'll get. Oh: This could go on for awhile.

July 1974
(continued)

The room had a small window, and through it I could look out onto Subic City's early morning. Everything outside appeared quiet. When I lay on the bed again, I watched the ceiling fan rotate slowly above me. The room smelled stale, lived in, soaked in decades of sweat. I wasn't sure if Narcie would return, but I didn't want to wait all day. It was Friday, and I planned on getting out of town before a good portion of the Seventh Fleet was on liberty for the weekend. I had a flight scheduled from Manila to San Francisco via Honolulu on Sunday; being stuck in Subic City until then had no appeal.

Narcie did return. I must have dozed off while watching the fan blades turn above me. "I told you I'd come back." She was lying beside me and caressing my bare shoulder with her fingers.

"How was church?" I asked.

"I had to take my son," she said. "It is his birthday. He has friends there."

"You don't have to explain. How old is  your son?"

"He is five."

"His father?"

She shrugged the question away.

"I have to leave in a little while," I said. "Manila."

"We can eat first?"

"I think that is a fine idea," I said. "But not just yet." I smiled at her.

"You're like a sailor," she said. "Always ready to do something."

I laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."

She stood up and slipped out of her clothes. Naked, she looked down at me. "What do I call you?" she asked.

"Call me?"

"Your name. I want to know your name."

I thought about it. "Call me Ishmael," I said.