Rank

by Richard Compson Sater

  He’d put out the china plates and cloth napkins and silverware, gleaming in the light from six candles set in a pine wreath at the center of the table. A crystal bowl on the sideboard contained sparkling red punch with a green ring of ice floating in it. Bottles of wine stood by stemmed glasses. He’d dimmed the lights, and everyone looked charming and attractive, himself most of all.

  “It looks like a Christmas card in here,” I said. “I never would have guessed you had such talents.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know yet about your old Traveler,” he said, low.

  That caught me up short. So I was his. “Teach me,” I whispered back.

  “I was hoping you would ask.”

  Julia chose that moment to come back, and she caught the general with his mustache against my ear. “No secrets, you two,” she said. “What conspiracy are you plotting now?”

  “We’re going to kidnap Santa Claus and hijack Christmas,” I said. “You want to help? We need a glamorous assistant.”

  She laughed. We surveyed the perfect table. “Everything looks too beautiful to eat,” she said.

  “None of that,” the general said. “Fill your plate. And try the sugar cookies—my mother’s recipe. Excuse me while I encourage my guests to come to the table.”

  A familiar voice called my name. I turned to find Mark, and we shared a warm hug.

  “I was hoping you’d be here, Harris,” he said. “Let me introduce Lou.”

  An extraordinarily handsome man with curly hair, a precise black mustache, and a radiant, sinful smile extended his hand. He was slim, compact, dashing, sharply dressed, and in all ways appealing.

  “Luis Antonio Dámaso de Alonso, to be exact,” he said, extending his hand.

  “What a beautiful name. It’s like music,” I said, returning the handshake. “I’m Harris Alfred Langdon Mitchell myself.”

  “That’s rather magnificent, too. But Mark, here, insists on shortchanging me to a single syllable. I think he’s just jealous because his name is so colorless by comparison.”

  “If you really want me to call you Luis Antonio Dámaso, I’ll be happy to accommodate you. I’ll just have to get up a half hour earlier in the morning,” Mark said.

  Lou put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. I suspected this was a game they played often. “My great-grandfather was a bullfighter in Juarez,” he said. “I was named in his honor in the hope that I’d follow in his footsteps. But I decided to become a vegetarian instead.” His laughter was contagious.

  “Hi, Lou,” Julia said. “Good to see you again.”

  “Hey, gorgeous. Likewise.” They exchanged a hug as well. “What have you been up to? Keeping the NAF out of the papers?”

  “No, I’ve been trying to get the NAF into the papers,” she said. “We could use a couple of good-news stories to generate some positive publicity.”

  “You’d have no trouble featuring this little soiree on the society page,” Lou said. “Did you bring your camera?”

  “Somehow I don’t think General O’Neill would be interested in appearing on the society page.”

  “He should think about it. He looks like he’s stepped out of the pages of Gentleman’s Quarterly tonight,” Lou said. “And just look at this splendid table!”

  “Dig in, by the way,” I said. “General’s orders.” We each took a plate and helped ourselves. After a little small talk over the snacks, Julia excused herself.

  “I’m going to make the rounds just to be polite,” she said. “Shouldn’t take me long.”

  “Have fun,” I said. She rolled her eyes.

  “So, Harris,” Mark said. “How are you doing? We haven’t sat down to chat for a while. Have things calmed down any?”

  “The general is still impossible. It’s his greatest talent.”

  “I know. But you seem to be coping pretty well. And let me thank you on behalf of the staff for keeping him in line.”

  “You’re welcome. Just doing my job.”

  “It’s always a blast to socialize with the boss when you’re off duty, isn’t it?” Mark said.

  “Ordinarily, but I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” I said. “Who knew the general could be such a congenial host? Or such a talented decorator?”

  Lou nudged me and winked. “I think Seamus may be hiding a few other talents in his closet, too.”

  Mark laughed. “You think General O’Neill might be one of the family, Harris?”

  “We’ve discussed the matter at length,” Lou said, “and we are of the opinion that he is, without a doubt. Further evidence might include the red ribbon on his tie.”

  “I think it’s just intended as a splash of color,” I said. “Red and green for Christmas.”

  “Uh-huh,” Lou said. “And he just randomly decided to pin it on exactly like the AIDS awareness ribbon and just in time for World AIDS Day. I think he’s sending us a message in code.”

  “Suppose we go ask him,” I said.

  All three of us laughed. Fortunately, my remark ended that particular conversational thread, and we turned to other subjects. Lou asked about my job and I asked about his. I recalled that he ran the Chamber of Commerce and had never served in the military. He was outgoing and warmly familiar in a manner that put me at ease immediately. Had he not been with Mark and had I not already committed to a certain gent wearing a green tie with red accent elsewhere in the room, I would certainly have wanted to know him more intimately.

  “How’d you two meet?”

  “I was a real-estate agent in Tucson,” Lou said. “Back in the late eighties.”

  “And I was newly stationed at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base as a captain, living in temporary housing. I wanted a place of my own,” Mark said. “So I picked a real-estate agency out of the phone book and called for an appointment.”

  Lou took over. “When he came into the office, I took one good look at him, and that’s all she wrote. When he asked to see some houses, I said—”

  “‘Let me show you mine, for starters.’” Mark chuckled.

  “He moved in two weeks later,” Lou said. “Luckily, a real-estate agent has portable skills, so when he was transferred to his next duty station in godforsaken backwoods Indiana, I pulled up stakes, too.”

  “And I haven’t been able to shake him since,” Mark said. Lou gave him a playful poke. “To my everlasting good fortune, I might add.”

  “Thank you. The worst time was his remote tour to South Korea back in 1997,” Lou told me. “I couldn’t go with him, obviously. It was the hardest two years of my life. We only got to see each other every six months, and I dropped half of my income on phone bills. It was a relief when he finally retired. I was tired of being the lover undercover.”

  “You put up with a hell of a lot for a hell of a long time, Lou,” Mark said.

  “I did. You can thank me again later tonight, Casanova. It’s my turn to be on top, by the way.”

  I took thorough joy in watching them together. Outwardly, they seemed very different, and they certainly came from different backgrounds, but they had found common ground and built a home there. I envied their closeness, their ease with each other, the casual banter and inside jokes, their complete lack of self-consciousness. Even a stranger could tell that they were committed partners in love. That they were utterly comfortable being themselves in the general’s home, in front of Mark’s military and civilian coworkers, spoke more of hopefulness for the future than anything I could imagine. Maybe we truly were heading for a new world.

  I wished the general could have been with us. I wanted him to see close up, two men who loved each other. I wanted him and me to be Mark and Lou, now and twenty-five years from now.

  Mark interrupted my reverie. “So what’s the scoop, Harris?”

  “Huh? Oh, sorry. About what?”

  “I just wondered if you were seeing anyone special these days,” Mark said.

  “Bet he’s mooning over some hot stud right now,” Lou said. “Eh, Harri
s?”

  I wondered how much, if any, I could tell them about my relationship with the general. I was aching for someone to know. I missed having a friend to listen when I felt the need to praise or damn the man I loved. I might never be able to confide fully in Mark and Lou, but I couldn’t resist nodding.

  “Good for you,” Mark said. “When can we meet him?”

  I hesitated. “It’s a little complicated right now.”

  “Ah,” Mark said. “Military?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “And he hasn’t come out, right?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Lou shook his head. “I don’t get it. You guys don’t have to stay in the closet anymore. Why would anybody want to?”

  “Everyone’s different,” Mark said. “I’m sure if he’s made the choice not to come out, there must be a good reason.”

  “I guess,” I said. “I’ve asked him, but no luck.”

  “Maybe he’ll see the light one of these days,” Lou said.

  “Maybe,” I said. “He’s pretty stubborn.”

  “We’d love to have you join us for dinner,” Mark said. “Ask him if he’d be interested. It would be very low-key, just the four of us. You can certainly trust us to keep any confidence required.”

  “Thanks. I don’t think he’ll be interested, though.”

  Julia rejoined our group, and our lively conversation continued as we swapped stories and traded gossip. The general, for his part, never had ten minutes to himself. But since charm is a habit with him, even an art form, he played the role of the gracious host to the last degree. He moved effortlessly from one group of guests to another, putting them at ease with talk and easy laughter, urging them to eat and drink. I admired him for it, although I wondered why he put himself to the trouble. He’d certainly be unlikely to receive few, if any, return invitations. But such is a general’s lot. Even if he might accept an invitation, who would be so bold as to ask? He had few close friends, another casualty of rank. At his level, friendship becomes almost political, and it shouldn’t require that much work. His circle was mostly limited to other generals and senior-ranked civilians, and my experience indicated they weren’t a very interesting lot.

  I’d certainly been lucky to find Traveler, considering the odds against us. At the party, I felt the longing cut more sharply. I found myself envious even of his pleasantries toward others. I felt left out, realizing I knew nothing about a giant-sized portion of his life. I wondered if he and I would ever be able to host a holiday party together, greeting guests and making witty conversation, pouring burgundy and serving crackers and brie. I wanted it as much as I doubted it could ever be, though I tried hard to crowd those misgivings from my head.

  Two hours slipped by, and I wished everyone were far away so that I could have the general to myself. He must have sensed my frustration, because he kept signaling, discreetly. Even across the room in the subdued light, his brown eyes shone brightly, and he’d wink, deliberate. I couldn’t keep from grinning, though when Julia asked me why, I couldn’t answer.

  “You want to get going?” she said. She looked at her watch. “I’ve had enough, and we’ve certainly filled the square. We might earn ourselves some brownie points if we start the ball rolling. I’m sure the general doesn’t want to entertain this dull crowd all night.”

  Most of the others didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry, and who could blame them? The winter chill lurked beyond the door, and food and drink and conversation were plentiful inside. She had a point, however. The sooner I left, the sooner I could come back. When she excused herself to use the bathroom, I cornered the general in the kitchen alone for a moment.

  “Julia wants to go,” I said.

  “Good,” he said. And then, low, into my ear, he said, “Be back here at ten.”

  “I’ll have to come up with some excuse,” I said. “It’s early yet, and Julia will probably want to go to the club or something.”

  “You’re very resourceful,” he said. “You’ll figure something out.”

  I glanced at the kitchen wall clock. It read 8:45. “Will everyone be gone before ten?”

  He grinned again. “Trust me. I’m a general, remember.” How could I forget? He squeezed my shoulder and was still whispering in my ear when Julia came into the room. He straightened up, guilty, but she gave no sign anything was amiss.

  “There you are,” she said. “Still conspiring against the rest of us?”

  “Always,” I said.

  “Well, General O’Neill, we’re going to be the trendsetters and hit the road. Maybe the rest will get the same idea and leave you in peace.”

  He laughed. “Last one out gets to do the dishes,” he said. “That’ll be a good incentive.”

  “We’ll bid you good night then, sir, with thanks for the finest Christmas party I’ve ever attended,” I said.

  “You’re very welcome. Thanks again for the fudge, Julia.”

  “Anytime, sir.”

  The general fetched our coats, and we bundled up. We exchanged good-byes and holiday wishes with the rest of the party. Mark and Lou took their cue from us, and the general retrieved their coats as well.

  “You’re a lucky man, Mark,” I told him as we embraced in the foyer.

  “I’m the lucky one, amigo,” Lou said. He pointed to the mistletoe. “Who’s first?”

  “I’ll take the plunge,” I said. I didn’t expect him to kiss me full on the mouth, but he did, and did he ever. It was more than a little arousing, though I don’t know which was more titillating—the kiss itself or the fact that the general was watching while Lou kissed me.

  When we separated, I couldn’t help grinning.

  “You enjoyed that,” Julia said.

  “I did,” I said. “Thoroughly. I’m ready to convert. Let me know when you’re available, Lou, and I’m all yours.”

  “I’m tempted,” Lou said, “but I’ll have to see if I can jettison this guy first.” He jerked his thumb at Mark.

  “Step aside, homewrecker,” Mark said to me. “Let’s see if I can make him forget all about you.” He and Lou showed everyone how it should be done with a lusty and lengthy exchange.

  We applauded. To my shock, the general said, “Hey, what about me?”

  “Keep your shirt on,” Lou said. “I’m saving the best for last.”

  “Not while I’m around,” Mark said. “It’s too risky. You’ll convert everyone in the place. I can’t take you anywhere, Luis Antonio Dámaso.”

  Lou extended a hand to the general. “Good night, Seamus, and a merry holiday to you. Thanks for a wonderful party,” he said. “Come for dinner after Christmas?”

  “Of course,” the general said. “Call me, and we’ll set the date.”

  Mark and Lou walked off to their car, holding hands. I was sorry to see them go.

  “Thanks for coming,” the general said to Julia and me. “Y’all behave yourselves.”

  “Will you need me for anything tomorrow or Sunday, sir?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, thanks, Bonfire. Relax. We’ve got a busy week coming up.”

  He waited at the door until we were safely in our car, and he waved a farewell as we drove off.

  “Well,” I said. “That was a fascinating party for any number of reasons. Mark told me about Lou, and I’ve been wanting to meet him. What a hot guy!”

  “I agree,” Julia said. “Lou is a prince, and he and Mark make a great couple. I’m glad General O’Neill feels comfortable around them. Not everybody does.”

  I didn’t doubt it.

  Julia and I weren’t hungry, of course, but she suggested that we check out the DJ at the club. We looked in, but I didn’t feel like dancing. I didn’t want to perspire and get myself rumpled. I wanted to be presentable when I went back over to the general’s. Anxiously watching the clock, I told her I wasn’t really feeling too well, and I wanted to make it an early night.

  She sighed. “You’re no fun sometimes.” We drove back to her place in s
ilence. I knew she was puzzled and a little annoyed with my quick leave-taking. I’d certainly given her no indication that I’d felt ill or uncomfortable earlier.

  I walked her to the door and we shared a dutiful kiss.

  “I’m not even going to invite you in for a drink,” she said. Abruptly, she switched gears. “You want to do anything this weekend? A movie or something? There’s a Christmas concert at the community center that might be entertaining.”

  I didn’t know. It would depend on the general’s availability, though I could hardly tell her so. “I’ll call you,” I said.

  With an admonishment to get a good night’s sleep and take care of myself, she went inside. I forced myself to walk, not run, back to my car, and I even remembered to head off in the direction that would suggest I was leaving the base rather than returning to the general’s.

  I parked a few blocks away from his house and made my way on foot, as it would arouse less suspicion. The walk to the general’s was perhaps a quarter of a mile, and the chill of the dark provided extra incentive for speed if I needed any.

  I went around to the back door. Tonight would be an exception, as I virtually never stayed over at his house. Afternoon visits made more sense on Saturday or Sunday. No one would think twice about the general’s aide stopping by his house on the weekend, as long as I left within a reasonable time. Whenever possible, we spent our time together at my apartment, located far enough away from the base that we remained anonymous.

  The trade-off, of course, was that I missed him most at night, missed his angles and lines against me in bed. The deception was getting easier, and though we both knew we could never afford to become lazy, the risk was nothing compared to the sheer pleasure of nights together, equal parts sandstorm and calm sea. With his flint against my steel, we didn’t need darkness to see sparks.

  I knocked, just at ten o’clock. He came to the door immediately, held it open for me, and I stepped inside. He had loosened his tie and put on an old butcher’s apron to wash the dishes from the party. He grinned and pressed his mustache to mine. When we separated, breathless, he still wore the same grin, colored with anticipation.