Coming Home

A Story by Doo23

Richie finds his way home. Written in prose block form.

Coming Home

The Bus

Shoulder to shoulder, Richard sat on the bus with the others. They were going home. Boot camp was over and Richie was on his way back to Springfield, back to the green house on the corner. Even after spending 3 months being so close to just these men, he felt so far. He was older than most of those kids, at 22. The air was sticky and all Richie wanted was to be off that bus.

The Depot

The bus depot was filled with noise. For Richie, it was empty, even as people pushed passed him to reunite with their sons and brothers and boyfriends. Three months is a long time to be away for 18 year olds. The writing wasn't enough for their mothers and they just had to be waiting for their new Marines the second they stepped off the bus. But Richie was apparently old enough to find his own way home. With his green duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, he pushed through the empty crowd of people and toward the door.

The Stoop

Richie's green duffel bag was dropped onto the stoop before he even reached for the screen door. Little Rita was only 10 and she could still be walking with Patrick, who had always waited for her after his high school was let out. May and June were always the social butterflies and even at 12 they would probably be out having fun with friends. Sueanne probably couldn't get off work at the Vineyard Gazette. Mom could be shopping, he thought, and Dad would be preparing his lesson plans. That's why no one was home when he came back. It's okay, he told himself.

The Kitchen

The chill of the refrigerator hit him in the face when he went looking for a drink. He pulled out a beer even when he knew it was early. Drifting in from outside, a radio was played. A copy of the Vineyard Gazette caught his eye as he reached for the bottle opener. Springfield was a while away from Martha's Vineyard, but Suanne's name in he byline told him why it was there. The family, meaning his mother, father, and 5 other siblings would be summering on the Vineyard. The kind of vacation they never took when he was young. The upstairs thumped. He didn't know where he would be that summer, but it wouldn't be on the Vineyard. From his spot in the kitchen, Richie heard the open and slam of the screen door.

The Green House on the Corner.

Little arms squeezed Richie's waist and he didn't know what to do. His big hands fell awkwardly on little Rita's shoulders, muttering a hello. The 10 year old squealed that she'd missed him. Right behind her, Patrick was dropping his bag at the door, tucking his long hair behind his ears. Richie thought of how his hair had been that long 3 months ago. Patrick muttered an awkward hello that meant everything to Richie as the glint in Pat's eyes made Richie's heart swell. A noise from the stairs made him look up and see Sueanne reprimanding him because he hadn't said he was home. She hugged him with Rita still around his waist. Patrick stumbled aside when the twins, May and June, burst into the green house on the corner, leaving their friends on the sidewalk to tell their big brother how much they had missed him. As his sisters fussed and his brother stood awkwardly back, Richie noticed his mother quietly slip into the room, still wearing gloves dirtied from garden work but holding her flushed face anyway, trying to let her children have their moment while silently having her own. Richie didn't know when he had come in, but his eyes darted to meet his father's, sniffing with his graying mustache and tucking his lesson plans under his arm. That was what Richie needed to see, the half smile from his father and the earned pat on the shoulder before suddenly feeling at home again in the full and crowded green house on the corner, his green duffel bag laying forgotten on the stoop.