It turned out that the waitress had grown worried when I didn't return to the coffee shop and she had alerted a passing patrolman in case something had happened to me. He knew what I'd been doing, as the spunky evidence was still running down the wall and glistening on the floor of the cubicle and told me I was lucky not to have been caught in the act. He didn't book me or anything but gave me a very stern warning, and I hot-footed it out of the bus terminal as if my life depended on it.
For the next week or so, I was constantly looking over my shoulder, scared that the cop would track me down and make trouble for me. God, if my folks ever found out, I'd be mortified. My Pop commented that he had noticed I was jittery of late and asked if there was anything troubling me. I denied it, making an excuse that I was being overworked at the store and that the boss didn't care for me that much.
"You know, Smith, I'm not surprised you're exhausted," he said to me over breakfast one morning. "You've gone straight from High School to working a forty-hour week. Now, you know your Ma and me are proud of you, son, but have you thought about taking some time to figure out what it is you want to do with your life?"
I shook my head. "No, Pop, I hadn't. I just wanted to get straight to earning, so I could pay my way."
He smiled. "And we appreciate it, but do you really see yourself working in that store for the rest of your life? It's so easy to get trapped, you know."
"I know, Dad. And it's not really what I want to do, but I'm stuck on ideas now. I made my grades, as you know, but I have no idea what I want to do," I replied, relieved that he had instigated this conversation.
"Okay, why don't you go upstate and stay with Uncle Cal for a while? Get some fresh air, clear your head and see if it helps," Dad offered.
And that's what I found myself doing. I gave notice at the store and borrowed my Dad's Caddy convertible to make the drive more tolerable. I had called ahead and asked Uncle Cal if it was okay for me to stay for a couple of weeks. He sounded delighted and said it was fine. Now, Cal wasn't my real Uncle, not by blood anyway. He was an old Army pal of my Dad's and they stayed in touch when they had both finished active service and were close buddies. I had always known him as 'Uncle', however, and was devastated when he had to leave town suddenly ten years ago. I never knew the reason for his sudden departure but, judging from the hushed tones and whispers that passed between my parents when they discussed it at the time, I knew it was an adult secret not to be shared with a nine-year-old.
The drive was long, but with the top down and my music on, I was pulling into Cal's drive before I knew it. He greeted me at the door with a hug and helped me in with my case. He lived in a split-level ranch house, with high ceilings and huge windows that flooded the place with natural sunlight. Cal showed me to my room and said he was going to fix us both a drink. Out of my window, I could see down to the beach that was maybe three hundred yards from the house. I felt a wave of peace and serenity wash over me. I changed out of my jeans into cargo shorts and made my way down to the kitchen.
Cal was just finishing with the drinks and I saw that he had also changed into shorts and was shirtless. We went and sat out by the pool, in a huge garden with an enclosed patio area. "Thanks, Uncle Cal," I said as he set the drinks down on the table.
He grinned at me. "Hey Smith, I think you're old enough now to call me just Cal."
"Ok, just Cal," I smiled back and we both laughed.
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping our drinks. "So, your Dad tells me you've been working flat-out since graduation," Cal said.
I nodded. "Pretty much, yeah. I wanted to get on and do something before I made up my mind what I should do next."
"And have you?" he enquired.
"No, not yet. That was mostly the reason Dad suggested I come stay for a spell," I confirmed.
He looked off into the distance, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, which he offered to me. I took one, seeing as I was an occasional smoker, and he lit them both. We talked about family stuff for a while, even though he must have known most it from the regular phone conversations he had with my Dad. I felt like an adult for the first time in a long while and completely relaxed in his company. I couldn't help but notice that he kept himself in pretty good shape and his arms, chest and torso were thick with muscle and deeply tanned. I knew he worked as a forester now and the exposure to the sun and fresh air obviously agreed with him. I had always looked up to Cal, but it dawned on me that I must have had a crush on him too, before I knew what those kinds of feelings even meant. I examined his chiselled jaw with its coating of dark stubble and his thick forearms and I had to stop myself from staring. It had never really occurred to me just how handsome and sexy he was. Until now.
"See something green, Smith?" Cal asked, breaking me out of my reverie.
To my relief, he said it with a smirk, so I relaxed. "No Unc - sorry, Cal. I was thinking I can't believe it's been ten years since I last saw you."
He nodded, then seemed to cogitate something. "Yeah, been a long time." He looked directly at me. "I suppose no-one ever told you the truth about why I left?"
I shook my head. "No, it wasn't discussed. Not with me anyhow."
He took another couple of cigarettes from the packet, lit them both and handed one to me. "Well, I guess you're old enough now to know the truth. I just hope you don't feel any differently towards me, Smith." He smiled at me. "Although, reading between the lines, I have an idea that there's more to your Dad's suggestion about you coming to stay than either of you have said."
I was really confused by what he had just said and couldn't think of how to respond so I kept quiet, hoping it would encourage him to continue.
"The thing is, Smith," he continued, "I had to leave to avoid any trouble. Things were a hell of a lot different for me back then. I was confused about a great number of things."
