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Deep into the night, the bus pulled in to a Howard Johnson’s restaurant and everybody got off the bus except Vingo. The young people began to wonder about him , trying to imagine his life. One of the girls sat beside him and introduced herself. After a long time, slowly and painfully, he began to tell his story. He had been in prison in New York for the last four years, and now he was going home.
“Well, when I was in prison I wrote to my wife. I said, ‘Martha, I understand if you can not stay married to me’. I said I was going to be away a long time, and that if she couldn’t stand it , if the kids kept asking questions, if it hurt her too much, well, she could just forget me . Get a new young man—she’s wonderful woman—and forget all about me. I told her she didn’t have to write to me, and she didn’t. Not for the three and a half years.”
“Last week, when I was sure freedom was coming through, I wrote to her. I told her that if she had a new young man, I would understand. But if she didn’t, if she would take me back, she should let me know. We used to live in the town, Brunswick, and there’s a great big oak tree just as you come into the town. I told her if she would take me back, she should put a yellow handkerchief on the tree, and if she didn’t want me, forgot me, no handkerchief and I’d keep going on through.”
Soon all the others were in it. When they were 20 miles from Brunswick, the young man took over window seats on the right side, waiting for the approach of the great oak tree. Vingo stopped looking, tightening his face into the ex-con’s mask. Then it was 10 miles, and then 5, and the bus became very quiet.
Then suddenly all of the young people were up out of their seats, screaming and shouting and crying, doing small dances. All except Vingo.
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