Chapter 15
Dad’s Home Coming
The Saturday just before the July Fourth holiday, Richard Johansson, Jr. arrived at the airbase just an hour and a half away. Only fourteen people disembarked the troop carrier after it came to a stop and families were permitted to gather closer. Every one of them received hugs, cheers and kisses from loved ones. Richard got his as well from all but his youngest son.
Patting what he thought was Little Ricky on the head, Dad said, “What’s wrong with you, big guy? Didn’t you miss me?”
Kile tried his best to form an appropriate expression and then gave Mr. Johansson a great hug, but he didn’t think he should try to force tears to match Mrs. Johansson or even Robert’s. His instructions were clear: just play it cool and try not to talk a whole lot. So that’s what he did. Unfortunately, if Mom and Robbie had just set Kile free to act any way he might, the disguise might actually have gone over a little better. The first day, father was already suspecting something about his son, but he had feared he disappointed him or something rather than imagining a faerie folk waltzing around in a Little Ricky glimmer.
For dinner they went to a nicer restaurant so Dad could be celebrated home with his favorite steak and lobster tail meal. Sara Johansson was a fine chef, but lobster and crab were two items she had indicated many years earlier she would never try at home. So, there they sat in the restaurant booth, asking Richard about events in Iraq and what he’d seen or done. Marveling at the many close calls he’d experienced, and laughing at some of the jokes the various troops Dad had worked with played on each other.
A certain troll on a mission, however, became more glum as he listened. Robert and Ricky’s father carried a gun, and at times had to use it. Worse, he seemed to think some of the stories of what they’d done with the guns were terribly funny, like when they teased one particular braggart in the regular army that he couldn’t hit a tin can which they had attached to thin fishing wire and moved it slightly every time he got ready to pull the trigger. If Kile had been able to read between the lines, Richard simply wanted to impress his sons with some good stories, but he himself would rather not have ever had to fire one. But being a troll, he hadn’t been able to. They returned home and Kile fell to sleep worrying about how he would explain to the Queen that he didn’t think they should trust the humans after all. They still definitely had guns, lots of them it seemed, and they certainly weren’t afraid to use them.