He left the engine running and returned minutes later. He handed her a twenty-ounce bottle of grape flavored Gatorade."This stuff is gross," she said."That stuff has things in it that will help with the pounding headache you have."That shut her up and she cracked open the cap and took a tentative sip."Not so bad," she announced."When it tastes good is when you need it."They drove in silence. It never took long to get anywhere in Fort Stockton. When he turned off 285 onto Old Cemetery Road, she looked over at him."Where are we going?" Where do you think?" If you're going to give me a lecture, feel free to skip it." Yesterday," he said, "was Veterans Day. I intend to pay my respects." Oh."Gravel crunched under the truck's tires as they idled along the narrow graveyard road. Scott parked and they got out. The wind felt colder on the edge of town, or maybe it was the location.Janie trailed behind as Scott walked to the grave. He didn't have anything to say, but memories of time spent with. "It's a good thing flower beds are soft, she thought, as he dove on her and pressed her down.The lovemaking afterwards was slow, gentle, more in line with swapping souls instead of bodily fluids. She had never felt so loved. Most surprising were the tears he shed. He was always so calm, so in control.She stepped on the porch, heading for the front door, trying to be as quiet as possible."Hi, Les."She jumped. He was sitting in the swing. The porch light wasn't on and she hadn't noticed him."Jesus, Kenny. You scared me. Come on, let's go inside." No, come sit by me for awhile. Let's enjoy the breeze for a few minutes."He patted the space beside him on the swing."Where were you? You said you were here, but you weren't when I got home."She shifted uncomfortably on the swing."Oh, I wasn't sleepy. I remembered I was almost out of gas and didn't want to try to get it in the morning, so I ran down to the corner market."The car only had a quarter tank, she hoped he didn't check it.He reached.
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