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the back seat. “Your dad and I aren’t letting go of you a minute before we have to. I can’t even think about seeing your empty room tonight when we get back.” She pulled a Kleenex from her purse.
    Ahh, geez. Here come the waterworks , Janie thought.
    The thing the adults apparently didn’t get was that Dena was light years ahead of Janie or Frannie in maturity. In fact, most teenagers for that matter. Dena not only thought and behaved in a much more adult manner, she cussed like a sailor. Janie never knew anyone who could make the F-bomb sound like an acceptable adjective, which was just Dena’s way. And anyone who knew Dena was well aware of what language rating would most likely fly out of her mouth at any given time. The questionable language didn’t seem adulterated coming from Dena, for some reason. And certainly not reserved strictly for bursts of anger or frustration, but easily parlayed into normal conversation.
    An only child, Dena had picked up her prolific use of the English language from her dad, a Navy man. Her parents were divorced and her dad from time to time would drop out of her life, leaving Beverly, Dena’s mom, to raise her daughter as a single parent.  Beverly considered herself a well-refined Southern woman. However, despite her best efforts, she could not break Dena of her trash mouth. 
    “You cuss like a sailor!” Beverly would say.
    “Well, it got the fucking point across, didn’t it?” would be Dena’s reply.
    Dena marched to her own drummer, even had her own band for that matter. She said what she thought, and she said what she thought with explicit language. That was Dena and that’s why everyone loved her. That, and her big hair and big smile. She always said she needed the big hair and big teeth to downplay the size of her nose, which was ridiculous because her nose was perfect. Another favorite Dena-ism was “don’t ever leave the house without checking the back of your hair in the mirror.” She had plenty of “isms,” and most always said them in the most colorful ways.
    Ward’s conversation to June brought Janie back to the present. 
    “She’s not going to Europe, you know. Sam Houston isn’t that far away.” Her dad had a much more practical hold of his emotions.
    “You’re right!” A quick “ha” escaped June’s mouth. “I could come up sometimes during the week for lunch.” Her mother’s eyes lit up like she’d just won the Betty Crocker Cook Off.
    Straightening in horror in the back seat, Janie caught her dad’s attention in the rearview mirror, shook her head, and mouthed the word nooooooo.
    “No, you won’t.” He winked into the mirror. “Don’t worry, Sugar. I’ll tie her leg to the kitchen table if I have to.”
    “What?” June whipped back in her seat and crossed her arms in a pout. “I can visit my daughter whenever I want to. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
    Smiling as gently as she could, Janie sank down in the back seat, chalked up a point for going away to school, and felt a tad better about the freedom thing.
    Heading off to college and not knowing anyone would be unbearable. If Dena and Frannie had gone somewhere else, she’d be in pure hell. Okay, it was not like she wouldn’t know anybody. Her high school had close to eight hundred graduates. Some of them had to be heading to Sam. But she needed her close friends. Buddy had been in Vietnam since last December. The war seemed to be slowing down, and everyone said it would end soon. But when was soon? Even though they weren’t together anymore, she still wanted him to come back alive.
    ~~~
    On that horrible day in February, her junior year, she had her eyes glued to the auditorium door waiting for Buddy to find her after receiving his draft number. She’d used up every prayer and bargain she could think of to sway God to please keep him there. She knew many other girlfriends, mothers, dads, brothers, and sisters were doing the same. When Buddy finally pushed through the