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looncallsMama Karamanlis had been happy with her daughter for doing so many chores outside the house. She considered it must do Stella good to be outside. The task she had set for herself today wasn’t physical but emotional. A task for her heart and her lovely daughter couldn’t take care of every piece of her heart, so sweet how she tried. Their small family had done well to become three people who could care for each other so well.
She walks towards the cricket stadium which houses the American boys and, still blocks away, asks the first marine she sees for Robert Leckie. She’s not looking for him, she just wants to know his information for the papers.
“Love is hard in the moment,” she tells the marine who knows him, “I won’t make my daughter check for me.” She means the papers. She means for his death.
Love is hard and it can make you cry. Mrs. Karamanlis, as Hoosier writes down Leckie’s information for her, starts crying at the little outdoor table for the closed restaurant they sit at. Things are still quiet this early in the morning, but privacy can’t be guaranteed, and Hoosier feels like she deserves it. Plus, he owes her for hiding that Leckie hasn’t shipped out yet.
He pulls her up from her chair and lets her cry into his shirt. There’s a hotel nearby, and he figures there are worse places than a lobby to have a breakdown.
“You ship out soon?” The middle-aged man behind the desk guesses. Hoosier doesn’t have time to reply before the man hands him a room key. “Be out before one and I won’t charge you.”
Hoosier might have turned down a room, but he wouldn’t turn down a free one. “Thank you, sir.”
The man just frowns at Mrs. Karamanlis, who is still crying into Hoosier’s shirt so hard he’s starting to feel like it’s raining. He hardly knows this woman but, for the sake of nothing getting complicated, he holds her tighter to his chest and nods seriously at the man before taking Mrs. Karamanlis upstairs.
When they get into the room, he considers leaving the door open for respectability, but he’s a marine and she’s a married woman. What the hell does propriety matter? And the thought of romantic strangers passing their room and peering in pisses him off. This is all Leckie’s fault, for sure.
He sits her down on the bed and asks if she wants anything. She shakes her head and guides him by his shirt to sit down next to her.
“No, no. I am fine.” She assures him. She laughs, self-conscious. “I could never cry like this around my family or your friend, Robert. It comes all out of me now!”
“What else is the kindness of strangers for, ma’am?” Hoosier asks her. His words make her cry again.
“You are a good man, Mr. Hoosier.”
“Just Hoosier is fine, ma’am.”
“Please, you can call me ‘mama’, Robert does.”
She’s stopped crying, so Bill carefully agrees, “Alright. Mama.”
She pats his cheek and that makes him smile. “Now tell me, what was Hoosier up to while Robert was seducing my daughter?”
Hoosier laughs and admits, “sleep, mostly."
“Sleep! You’re not still tired, are you?”
“Got a lot I’m trying to recover."
She reaches her hand back and pats the other side of the bed. “You can sleep here. I need time, and I know you do, too.” He hesitates, but he can also see how tired her eyes are above her smile and how her smile pulls down at the sides into a frown when she talks. “We need to take these nice things when we are lucky to find them.”
Hoosier hesitates for one second longer, but the bed looks miles better than a cot, and as she settles to sit at the head of the bed, with the pillow cushioning her back and a yarn project of some type appearing out of her bag, he feels safe under her watch.
He wakes up to his pillow shifting, and his training keeps him still even though the only shapes his brain can make out is the floral pattern of Mama’s dress. He turns his head on her thigh to look up at her and sees only more dress and the project she was working on. “What are you making?” He asks, his voice hoarse.
“Ah, semedaki.” She shows him the pattern best she can with his head on her lap; she tosses it over his face and giggles as his picks it up to look at it himself.
“Looks nice.” He rotates the lacey white circle in his hands, careful not to dislodge or twist the crochet hook as he does. He hands it back to her, and she pats his cheek again. Embarrassingly, he flushes seeing how the innocent, motherly action makes her breasts jiggle. Only slightly, but Hoosier is affected all the same. He jolts off her lap and recalls as he moves some vague idea of civilian modesty.
“It is okay, Hoosier! No one is shocked.” Of course not, no one else is in the room. “We’ve all learned to keep our eyes to ourselves with how easily you boys are riled.”
“Mama, when I see Leckie again, I’ll slap him for you.” They laugh, even though for Hoosier it was not a joke. At all. Still, Hoosier considers his options. Send Mama Karamanlis out the room by herself, go in the bathroom and jerk off, or just ignore it. Hoosier sighs and, careful not to show anything more to Mrs. Karamanlis—who is very nicely covering her eyes, which makes him grin—lays back down on the bed, on his stomach this time. Not on her lap, either, and the idea which he would have never done makes him flush. No, he rests his head on his wrists and gives himself plenty of distance between his face and her bent knee.
“So, how do you make that… saymayvaky?”
“Semedaki. Your pronunciation is good!” Mama Karmanlis exclaims, but Hoosier sure as hell isn’t trying again. She doesn’t seem to mind that he’s not interested in learning Greek; instead, she explains how to work the white string, looping it around the metal stick and then sticking the hook through the top loop of that other loop and then pull that loop over and through.
“It’s nice listening to someone talk about making something.” Hoosier mumbles into the blankets. “Not just dreams.” He can see the proof she can do what she says right in front of him. As he watches, the circle gets wider one twisting dance routine at a time. It reminds him, weirdly, of square dancing. Repetitive and solitary, yet something everyone can enjoy and can be set down or rejoined at any moment.
She reaches for his face again and Hoosier can’t stand that right now, so he grabs her wrist just before she can touch him. It strikes Hoosier that he hasn’t touched anyone who wasn’t a fellow marine in a lifetime. His hands haven’t been on someone else’s skin—soft, clean skin.
He forgets her name, and his own as well, he can’t imagine being able to reply to anything. He rests his mouth against the base of her palm and breathes. She feels like she could be torn to pieces on accident and he loosens his grip but can’t let go.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbles into her skin.
“Call me mama,” she whispers back, surely not meaning that.
“Mama. Mama, how much time do we have before they want us out.” He can feel her tendons turn as she looks.
“It is twelve, now. You have another hour.”
“How much time do we have?” He asks again.
Mrs. Karamanlis takes time to answer. Hoosier doesn’t mind waiting. He can smell her skin. Not soap, not sweat. No grime, dirt or blood. No metal or oil. Human skin, and he can wait on tasting her. He keeps his lips partly closed and keeps his needs to himself. Then, it’s not like she’s a virgin or that her husband will find out, he opens his mouth against her wrist. Instantly wet, it’s unfair how easily his tongue moves on her warm skin and how difficult it is to keep his teeth from leaving marks.
She pulls her wrist back towards herself, slow enough that he can follow, and Hoosier has to remind himself that he is a marine and he did train for moving quickly on his belly—transferbility to a bed with a married woman probably not his drill sergeant’s intention. He lets his mouth be separated from her wrist, but not his hand. He bites his lip when he sees the wet mark he left behind.
He tells her, “I’ll listen if you say no.”
“What about Robert Leckie?”
Hoosier frowns, not wanting to let slip something her daughter and his friend felt right to keep from her. “I’ll be with him.”
“The whole time?”
“The whole time.”
“I hope you also come home, Hoosier.” At this point, Hoosier doesn’t give a shit, and she must see that on his face because her anguish vanishes, obliterated by a giggle. He’s helplessly offended at first, but all is forgiven when Mama Karamanlis presses her finger to his mouth (Had he been about to say something?) and tells him clearly, “I will say yes to you, Hoosier, but not to everything, okay?”
He nods, and her fingertip slips into his mouth. She takes it out before he can playfully bite it but it’s a near thing. Being careful with her, he crawls up further on top of her and tries not to lose his mind just from being between a woman’s legs. He’s looking down her dress when he asks if he can kiss her. Again, she says yes.
She walks towards the cricket stadium which houses the American boys and, still blocks away, asks the first marine she sees for Robert Leckie. She’s not looking for him, she just wants to know his information for the papers.
“Love is hard in the moment,” she tells the marine who knows him, “I won’t make my daughter check for me.” She means the papers. She means for his death.
Love is hard and it can make you cry. Mrs. Karamanlis, as Hoosier writes down Leckie’s information for her, starts crying at the little outdoor table for the closed restaurant they sit at. Things are still quiet this early in the morning, but privacy can’t be guaranteed, and Hoosier feels like she deserves it. Plus, he owes her for hiding that Leckie hasn’t shipped out yet.
He pulls her up from her chair and lets her cry into his shirt. There’s a hotel nearby, and he figures there are worse places than a lobby to have a breakdown.
“You ship out soon?” The middle-aged man behind the desk guesses. Hoosier doesn’t have time to reply before the man hands him a room key. “Be out before one and I won’t charge you.”
Hoosier might have turned down a room, but he wouldn’t turn down a free one. “Thank you, sir.”
The man just frowns at Mrs. Karamanlis, who is still crying into Hoosier’s shirt so hard he’s starting to feel like it’s raining. He hardly knows this woman but, for the sake of nothing getting complicated, he holds her tighter to his chest and nods seriously at the man before taking Mrs. Karamanlis upstairs.
When they get into the room, he considers leaving the door open for respectability, but he’s a marine and she’s a married woman. What the hell does propriety matter? And the thought of romantic strangers passing their room and peering in pisses him off. This is all Leckie’s fault, for sure.
He sits her down on the bed and asks if she wants anything. She shakes her head and guides him by his shirt to sit down next to her.
“No, no. I am fine.” She assures him. She laughs, self-conscious. “I could never cry like this around my family or your friend, Robert. It comes all out of me now!”
“What else is the kindness of strangers for, ma’am?” Hoosier asks her. His words make her cry again.
“You are a good man, Mr. Hoosier.”
“Just Hoosier is fine, ma’am.”
“Please, you can call me ‘mama’, Robert does.”
She’s stopped crying, so Bill carefully agrees, “Alright. Mama.”
She pats his cheek and that makes him smile. “Now tell me, what was Hoosier up to while Robert was seducing my daughter?”
Hoosier laughs and admits, “sleep, mostly."
“Sleep! You’re not still tired, are you?”
“Got a lot I’m trying to recover."
She reaches her hand back and pats the other side of the bed. “You can sleep here. I need time, and I know you do, too.” He hesitates, but he can also see how tired her eyes are above her smile and how her smile pulls down at the sides into a frown when she talks. “We need to take these nice things when we are lucky to find them.”
Hoosier hesitates for one second longer, but the bed looks miles better than a cot, and as she settles to sit at the head of the bed, with the pillow cushioning her back and a yarn project of some type appearing out of her bag, he feels safe under her watch.
He wakes up to his pillow shifting, and his training keeps him still even though the only shapes his brain can make out is the floral pattern of Mama’s dress. He turns his head on her thigh to look up at her and sees only more dress and the project she was working on. “What are you making?” He asks, his voice hoarse.
“Ah, semedaki.” She shows him the pattern best she can with his head on her lap; she tosses it over his face and giggles as his picks it up to look at it himself.
“Looks nice.” He rotates the lacey white circle in his hands, careful not to dislodge or twist the crochet hook as he does. He hands it back to her, and she pats his cheek again. Embarrassingly, he flushes seeing how the innocent, motherly action makes her breasts jiggle. Only slightly, but Hoosier is affected all the same. He jolts off her lap and recalls as he moves some vague idea of civilian modesty.
“It is okay, Hoosier! No one is shocked.” Of course not, no one else is in the room. “We’ve all learned to keep our eyes to ourselves with how easily you boys are riled.”
“Mama, when I see Leckie again, I’ll slap him for you.” They laugh, even though for Hoosier it was not a joke. At all. Still, Hoosier considers his options. Send Mama Karamanlis out the room by herself, go in the bathroom and jerk off, or just ignore it. Hoosier sighs and, careful not to show anything more to Mrs. Karamanlis—who is very nicely covering her eyes, which makes him grin—lays back down on the bed, on his stomach this time. Not on her lap, either, and the idea which he would have never done makes him flush. No, he rests his head on his wrists and gives himself plenty of distance between his face and her bent knee.
“So, how do you make that… saymayvaky?”
“Semedaki. Your pronunciation is good!” Mama Karmanlis exclaims, but Hoosier sure as hell isn’t trying again. She doesn’t seem to mind that he’s not interested in learning Greek; instead, she explains how to work the white string, looping it around the metal stick and then sticking the hook through the top loop of that other loop and then pull that loop over and through.
“It’s nice listening to someone talk about making something.” Hoosier mumbles into the blankets. “Not just dreams.” He can see the proof she can do what she says right in front of him. As he watches, the circle gets wider one twisting dance routine at a time. It reminds him, weirdly, of square dancing. Repetitive and solitary, yet something everyone can enjoy and can be set down or rejoined at any moment.
She reaches for his face again and Hoosier can’t stand that right now, so he grabs her wrist just before she can touch him. It strikes Hoosier that he hasn’t touched anyone who wasn’t a fellow marine in a lifetime. His hands haven’t been on someone else’s skin—soft, clean skin.
He forgets her name, and his own as well, he can’t imagine being able to reply to anything. He rests his mouth against the base of her palm and breathes. She feels like she could be torn to pieces on accident and he loosens his grip but can’t let go.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbles into her skin.
“Call me mama,” she whispers back, surely not meaning that.
“Mama. Mama, how much time do we have before they want us out.” He can feel her tendons turn as she looks.
“It is twelve, now. You have another hour.”
“How much time do we have?” He asks again.
Mrs. Karamanlis takes time to answer. Hoosier doesn’t mind waiting. He can smell her skin. Not soap, not sweat. No grime, dirt or blood. No metal or oil. Human skin, and he can wait on tasting her. He keeps his lips partly closed and keeps his needs to himself. Then, it’s not like she’s a virgin or that her husband will find out, he opens his mouth against her wrist. Instantly wet, it’s unfair how easily his tongue moves on her warm skin and how difficult it is to keep his teeth from leaving marks.
She pulls her wrist back towards herself, slow enough that he can follow, and Hoosier has to remind himself that he is a marine and he did train for moving quickly on his belly—transferbility to a bed with a married woman probably not his drill sergeant’s intention. He lets his mouth be separated from her wrist, but not his hand. He bites his lip when he sees the wet mark he left behind.
He tells her, “I’ll listen if you say no.”
“What about Robert Leckie?”
Hoosier frowns, not wanting to let slip something her daughter and his friend felt right to keep from her. “I’ll be with him.”
“The whole time?”
“The whole time.”
“I hope you also come home, Hoosier.” At this point, Hoosier doesn’t give a shit, and she must see that on his face because her anguish vanishes, obliterated by a giggle. He’s helplessly offended at first, but all is forgiven when Mama Karamanlis presses her finger to his mouth (Had he been about to say something?) and tells him clearly, “I will say yes to you, Hoosier, but not to everything, okay?”
He nods, and her fingertip slips into his mouth. She takes it out before he can playfully bite it but it’s a near thing. Being careful with her, he crawls up further on top of her and tries not to lose his mind just from being between a woman’s legs. He’s looking down her dress when he asks if he can kiss her. Again, she says yes.
