In Scotland Afore Ye

 

We were beginning to feel some of the effects from the radiation as summer began.  Mainly fatigue, some aches and pains. Nothing too serious, yet.

Most of the townsfolk who were going to Scotland had already gotten there. There did not appear to be much of a hope for the rest of us Hoosiers. There was just not enough space, or interest, in the foreign countries that were still friendly to us to receive many more of our citizens.

India had taken more than their share; It was now Scotland’s turn, as the final host country to which we could turn.

There were thirty of us, all in our teens, arranged in our Class, all placed there from various homes all over Indiana. None of us had close families, we were essentially a group of loners whose families had been broken, and all, in some way, abandoned. We had no illusions for passage to India. When that lapsed, it was even more unlikely there would be much more room in Scotland for us. We had no idea how many groups like us existed in this state, let alone the entire country.

They tried to keep the number from us, to keep our spirits alive, but all knew there couldn’t be room for more than a small percentage of us in Scotland. We were not ignorant of the fact that there were still large pockets of people who would never leave this country in Iowa, Missouri, Ohio, all of the states.

What had begun as a mass sighting of drones and strange aircraft over our cities amounted to a nationwide hunt for dirty bombs that had been smuggled into the U.S.

Not enough were discovered and too many went off. Thus, the Exodus.

Those of us in Benton County banded together in the schoolhouse. We went through the motions, pretending we were ignoring the situation and continued with our lives and with our lessons, as if they would do any of us any good.

Three of the girls, Kelly Anson, Melissa Bennett, and Ida Stone, were among the first to go, already nesting somewhere in the high village of Wanlockhead. It was easier for girls. Families must be looking for future wives for their sons.

I was torn between a regret that Sandy Regan didn’t go, because I had a feeling for her, but then I’d hate myself because she was too beautiful a young woman to die in this terrible way. I knew I’d have to confess my feelings.

I also felt for Deana Wagstaff, the middle-aged volunteer who assumed control of our class. I knew, we all knew, she was in love with the janitor, Ollie Hunt, who had just gotten his passage to Scotland.

You know how gossip gets around. We all knew they were planning a September wedding. But Deana had her teaching duties and soon, Ollie would be transplanted near the River Tay. He found it surprisingly easy to leave her behind.

At first Miss Wagstaff tried to hide her emotions, but we all sensed what she was going through.

Then came the day she reported to class with a smell of alcohol about her. She slurred her words, became cranky, cursed, then walked out.

Left on our own, and knowing how this world’s situation affected her, I resolved more than ever to open up to Sandy, before the inevitable.

We continued to maintain the pretense that we were a class, each of us taking turns at Miss Wagstaff’s desk and tasks. Without her influence, our attention and participation also departed.

We were taking a lunch break, when I caught up to Sandy.

“Are you stalking me?” she asked.

“Following is a more polite word,” I responded.

“You’re not gonna tell me you’re in love with me or something, are you?”

“No, I’m not in love with you. That’s why I want to see you.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Look, none of us are getting out alive in this. We’re never gonna know what it’s like to really live, really love.”

“So you don’t love me but you want me to make love to you?”

“No, but I want us to pretend we’re in love.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Look, let’s skip the next class. Have you ever been on the roof?”

“No.”

“Come with me there, and I’ll explain.”

I began the eight-stairway climb to the roof, Sandy in back. I took her hand, and we skipped up the stairs side-by-side. “It’s more fun this way,” I said.

We reached the top and momentarily gazed into each other’s eyes.

“You’re not gonna try to kiss me, are you?” she asked.

“No, this is pretend, like I said.”

We reached the top and our hands separated.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.

“Let me explain it this way. What if it were my birthday and you made me a chocolate cake?”

“I make a mean German chocolate cake.”

“Okay, we’ll make it German chocolate. What if you made me this cake and I kept it and never ate a piece of it?”

“It would be kind of a waste, wouldn’t it?”

“My point! Now, as I said, we’re none of us getting out of this alive. Think of all the time we’ve been in this building.”

“Long."

“Yes, and you think you know it? You’ve never been through it all. You’ve never been to the top before. How can you say you know it?”

‘I never wanted to, before.”

“Well, now’s the time. We don’t know how long we’ve got. We have to make the most of each moment, each second of Life. Take a long look around you."

“I’ve…I’ve never seen things from this height before.”

"I come here often. Just to think. It’s a different world from up here. Look to the west, there’s the Fowler Theater, to the right, where they hold the Boswell Livestock Auctions, and straight ahead, well, it’ll take you to Goose Creek Cottage.”

“It’s wonderful. A nice view, but…”

“More than a view. It’s our Life, don’t you see? We have two choices: Wait in the classroom till we die, or take what we can from this life, while we have it.”

“We can’t just…”

“Don’t you see? We CAN…Now listen to my words. Tomorrow we pack some food, and we set out on a road trip.”

“Out where?”

“Into the world, across state lines, or wherever this world takes us…or would you rather remain here, a living corpse, without ever experiencing…”

Her eyes sparkled as she pondered my words. I drew closer to her. Our lips almost met.

“You’re not going to lunger in my mouth, are you?”

“I was considering a small kiss, but that's over now. After all, this is pretend, right?”

“Pretend?”

“Pretend. Otherwise, don’t you see? We’re the Forgotten Ones. There’s nothing Life can offer us, and it’s too late to search now. We either live out our lives never knowing anything of Love, or face the fact this is as good as we can get, and pretend to learn about love, from one another.”

“Promise you won’t really love me?”

“Promise.”

“Well that’s good, because I don’t love you!”

The following day we met in the corridor and exited the front door together. No one, at this point, cared who went out the door.

“So, where are we running off to today?” Sandy asked.

“Well, the whole point is to pretend we’re in love, to know more about it, right?”

“You say so, but remember that word, ‘Pretend’!”

“Well, the way I figure it is, we go someplace where there was Love, and try to get to know it.”

“I don’t get you.”

“You see, none of us have known Love in our homes. Miss Wagstaff, she showed us what Love isn’t. So let’s find a home where love flourished.”

“But there are hundreds of homes out there.”

“We’ll make a game of it. Let’s look for one with a red roof.”

We journeyed down several long avenues until Sandy pointed out a home in the distance that had a red tile roof.

We ran the rest of the way to the home. I thought we might have a bit of trouble getting inside the door, but it was unlocked. I guess they found a new home in India or Scotland and had no need of a lock.

We were greeted by a large family picture hanging in the hallway.  Mom, Pa, two young boys.

“I wonder what it’s like to have a family, be in love,” Sandy said.

I responded, “That’s the reason we’re here.”

The kitchen table was still decked out with a red and white checkered tablecloth. We spread our meager lunches on the table and ate, just like that husband and wife must have done.

When we completed our meal, I said, “Let’s go explore the upstairs.”

A small flight of stairs led to what had been the Master Bedroom. A queen-size bed with a comfy-looking quilt greeted us.

“No twin beds like them old TV shows,” I said.

I got into the left side of the bed and motioned Sandy to join me. She hesitated at first, saying, “Pretend, right?”

“Right.”

She got into her side of the bed and we lay on our backs and just talked.

Until…I could not resist the urge to stroke her hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Sorry, Sandy. I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s okay. I kind of liked it. I mean, I’m not in love or anything, but it felt good.”

“Sandy, I’m not in love either, believe me, but can I…can I touch you?”

“Alright, but behave.’

I placed my hand gently on her back and massaged it, then continued my stroking down her leg. Sandy remained silent, then held me in a firm grip. I must’ve lost my senses and pressed my lip hard against hers and we embraced one another just like that husband and wife must have in their day.

When it was over, I apologized to Sandy. “I’ve gone too far. I…I didn’t mean it, Sandy. It was supposed to be Pretend.”

Stepping out of bed, Sandy said, “Let’s get back for today.”

On the way back to the school, I asked her, “Will you pretend with me tomorrow?”

She winked and said, “What do you think?”

The following day, we walked out together, my arm around her waist.

“Where are we going today?”  Sandy asked.

“How about a romantic stroll through the meadows?”

“Like lovers?” she laughed.

“Pretend lovers.”

We skipped through the tall grass and I picked her some wildflowers. Then we lay on the ground wrapped in each other. Her breath tasted like peppermint and she smelled like all the lilacs in all the meadows of this state.

I wanted to tell her I wasn’t pretending but I let her pretend I was pretending. I needed to have Sandy next to me. Always.

Though I dreaded it, the night came and we held onto each other tightly for the walk back.

“Sandy?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing. That is, thank you.”

“For what?”

“For pretending.”

“And thank you.”

“For what?”

“Just thanks.”

I couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

When the next day came, Sandy was not waiting for me by the door. I walked into the classroom. Sandy was busy cleaning out her desk, and putting things in order.

“What’s up?” I asked.

Sandy gave me a big smile and held up a large white envelope. “This was in the mail!”

“It’s been a long time since anyone got any mail,” I remarked. “What is it?”

She pulled out a ticket and a photo of a mom and pop and their teenaged son. “It’s my Passage to Scotland!” she laughed, then remarked, “They probably need a bride for their son!’

Sandy collected her belongings and headed out.

I wasn’t sure if she could hear me, but I whispered, “It wasn’t Pretend! I love you, Sandy!”

As she went out the door, Sandy laughed and said, “Thank you for teaching me to want to be alive!”