by J. E. Park
The longer I watched, the more furious I got. Miller was brutally murdered. There was no doubt about that. Knowing Pruitt, I was not going to contest that Miller died because he was gay, either. What I was upset about was the reporters implying that the entire ship had a hand in his death. The report regularly replaced the names of Pruitt and Decker with “the Belleau Wood’s crew.” It was as if those of us who did everything we could to save Miller's life murdered him as well.
I was getting ready to walk away when the screen filled with a shot of Deborah Miller, David’s mother. She was sitting on her couch somewhere in Connecticut, staring into the camera. You could see that she had done all the crying that she was capable of and was now reduced to an empty shell. The woman looked broken. Her husband had passed away when her son was three. She never remarried and never had any other children. Her parents were long gone, and she had been an only child as well. David Miller was all that that woman had.
“I…I…I just don’t understand,” she told the reporter. “I…I saw his body when it came home, and what they did to him…I just don’t…I don’t understand. They did that to him because of who he loved? Not because he killed somebody. Not because he hurt somebody. Not because he stole something, not because he was a spy or a traitor…but because of who he loved? I…I don’t understand.”
It was hard to watch. You could see that this woman was experiencing a loss so visceral that you could not help but hurt with her. It was particularly difficult to watch her describe David as a child. I wondered what she had to look forward to during the years she had ahead of her. To her, Miller was the one bright spot in an otherwise hard life. For an instant, I saw her son’s body on the floor in front of me, as vividly as I had seen it in the restroom, and I cringed.
As the show ended, Krause stood up and turned off the TV, smiling at Darrow and me. “You like that?” he gloated.
“What’s the matter with you?” Darrow growled at our division officer. “Petty Officer Murphy was there that night. What do you think is so funny about a young man getting murdered like he did?”
“Oh, there’s nothing funny about Miller’s murder. Especially seeing as he was killed before he had the chance to repent for his disgusting, sinful ways and get right with Jesus Christ,” Krause said. “I’m just happy to see that God has finally found us worthy of His blessing! He has reached out to save this ship, and the Navy, from the wickedness that has infested it.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Darrow asked, losing patience with our division officer.
Krause pointed at the television. “You don’t get it? That was national news, gentlemen. That was seen all over the country. Even in Washington DC. Men, what do you think our new president’s going to do in light of this when he takes office in January? You think he’s going to reward Captain Fleming for commanding a ‘floating Animal House’ that murders its own? Or do you think he’s going to take our captain away from us?”
Shocked, I looked at Darrow. With a look of genuine concern on his face, my master chief nodded at me, telling me that our skipper getting removed was a real possibility.
We were in serious danger of losing our patron, the man who had been protecting us since I beat Randy Green into epilepsy the year before.
*****
A week later, I came out of my episode to find Yukiko naked and cowering in the corner, screaming at me to stay away from her. I was unable to figure out where I was or what had happened. One second, I was fighting my father, the next, El Salvadoran soldiers. I snapped out of it when I was back in Olongapo, shooting at the gang punks in the alley off of Harris Street.
I couldn’t understand how it happened. There were no triggers, no stressors; there was nothing that could have set me off. Yukiko and I had finished making love. We were lying on the futon on the floor of her apartment. She had fallen asleep and I was watching her, marveling at her porcelain skin. When she shifted her position to get comfortable, the expression on her face changed ever so slightly. It made me remember how she looked the evening that David Miller was killed.
After that, everything happened at once. Whisked back to that night, I relived running across the Albuquerque Bridge, trying to keep Miller’s life from falling out of his head. Then it was that boy in the Philippines, but this time in slow motion. I watched the bullet pierce his skull high above his eyes, forcing its contents to erupt from the top of it in a grotesque geyser of gory gray matter. And then came the rest.
Things between Yukiko and I went way too fast. I never had the chance to confide in her about my episodes. She had no idea of what my father had done to my family. Nor was she aware of any of the sordid events I had experienced since joining the Navy. My episode came at her out of nowhere, and she was not even close to being prepared for it.
Not that I was. I nearly got stabbed outside the Pagoda. I watched a man get shot through the throat. I even killed someone myself. I did that all without ever triggering a flashback. I had convinced myself that I was cured.
“Yukiko,” I said, reaching out to her. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did I…”
“Get away from me!” A streetlamp shining in from her window cast a shard of light across the corner where she sought refuge. It illuminated her neck, and I thought it looked reddened as if my fingers had been wrapped around it.
I swallowed hard, feeling like I was going to vomit. I needed to get out of there. As I searched around for my clothes, I tried to apologize. “Yukiko, I’m sorry. I should have explained, but there was just no time. It seemed like we came right from the bridge to here and…I don’t know. I get these dreams, well they’re not exactly dreams, they’re more like flashbacks where I relive some stuff that happened to me and…”
Looking over at Yukiko, I could see that she was having none of it. Her eyes were wide in terror and I could tell that she could not understand a word that I said. Explaining it to her now was futile. Instead, I kept apologizing as I got dressed. Then I ran out of the door.
There were no cabs out that late and my bearings were all off. It took me forever to determine which direction the base was in. As I walked, I tried to figure out what had happened. Yukiko was everything I wanted. She was beautiful, smart, sophisticated, and exotic. She was also independent and successful. The two of us together could have accomplished so much. When I thought about it, though, that could have been what triggered me.
Yukiko did not have to put up with my episodes if she did not want to. She could do better, and she should. There was no reason for her to latch on to someone as damaged as I was. The realization hurt, but it was what it was.
Space Kate’s words once more echoed around my head:
One day you’re going to meet someone that can handle you, a great girl who’s probably been through some shit herself, and the two of you are going to make each other very happy.
More than ever, I now believed that that 'someone' was Tala.
Yukiko did not need me. Tala did. As I walked back to my ship that night, I finally realized that I needed her too. If I brought her back to the United States, I would still fear losing her. If I was in the Philippines with her, though, I was the best offer that she was going to get.
By the time I crossed the quarterdeck, it was four in the morning and I was out of cigarettes. Knowing that Master Chief Darrow kept a carton in his desk, I walked straight up to the EMO office to grab a pack. When I opened the door, I was surprised to find my master chief in civilian clothes, drunk, and sitting at his desk. Then again, I wasn’t. “Jung threw you out, didn’t she?”
Darrow nodded. “Yep. She saw me on CNN the day we left Subic. She bought her plane ticket back to San Diego within an hour but stayed long enough to kick me square in the balls before she left.”
I grinned. “Sorry, Master Chief. It happens to the best of us. In high school, a swift kick to the crotch and a blast of mace to my eyes was the way my girlfriends let me know that we should start seeing other people. You okay?”
&nbs
p; My master chief shrugged. “I’m okay as can be, I guess. It sucked, but it had to happen. It’s better this way than if I’d dragged it out. So, what are you doing here, anyway?”
“I need to bum a pack of smokes off of you.”
Darrow reached into his drawer and tossed me a pack. After I lit one, I took a seat in the lieutenant’s chair. “Hey Master Chief, this thing you and TJ are working on in San Felipe. Is it legit, or is it cover for something else?”
The master chief’s eyes narrowed at me. “What do you mean by ‘cover?’”
“Exactly what I said. Look, you and Tejada go way back, and by your own admission, you’ve not exactly spent your career doing things by the book. Before I make a decision, I need to know if I’m getting into a legitimate business or getting sucked into something darker. ‘The big leagues,’ as you put it.”
Darrow stubbed out his cigarette. “Yeah, Tejada and I have a history. Olongapo is a complicated machine with a lot of moving parts. You had the interests of the military on one side, the interests of the Philippine economy on the other. You had the safety of the sailors you had to protect, and the bar girls you had to protect from the sailors.”
Even while drinking, Master Chief Darrow was able to articulate Olongapo's complexities in a way I could understand. “You know, prostitution is illegal in the Philippines, yet Subic Bay is one of the biggest red-light districts in the world, right? Some loopholes are exploited to let it operate in the open. Because of that, we call it a ‘gray market.’ The gray market depends on the black market to keep it running. If we crack down too hard on the black market, we create a vacuum. When we do that, the criminal elements start fighting each other to fill the void. That leads to violence, which nobody wants. So, Tejada and I worked to promote stability. Is that clear?”
I took a drag off of my cigarette and nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
“If you have a group working the black market that can stay out of the headlines and not stir things up, it can work very well. They can get the girls what they need to get through their lives and even help us keep undesirables out before they become a problem. The danger is in letting them get too powerful. You don’t want them running the show like they do in Mexico. With this in mind, the cops will let them do their thing, but not for free. They pay a hefty premium for the police to look the other way while these gangsters conduct their business. If the crooks get out of line, though, the cops do not hesitate to put them back into their place, no matter how much they're paying.”
My master chief chuckled. “Like when those dipshits shot Tejada. Oh my god, was that ever a colossal clusterfuck! Four hours after that happened, damn near the entire gang running Barrio Barretto was assuming room temperature.
“Anyway, Tejada’s been doing this stuff forever. It’s time for him to get out. That happens to coincide with me getting out of this racket here in the Navy. We thought about opening a small beach resort, but the prime spots with nice calm water are way out of our price range. The only one that is attainable to us has water that’s a little too rough for little children to be swimming in. According to you, it has some potential for surfing, though. We don’t know shit about surfing. You do. We need you for this. It’s a legit business that’s going to allow us to avoid doing things like we had in the past.”
“And you’re going to let me buy in for $50,000?”
Darrow nodded. “That and your help in putting together a deal for Tejada here in Japan that’s a little less legit. He’s got something in the Philippines that he needs to sell. He wants us to find the right buyer.”
I sank into my chair. “Drugs?”
Darrow looked at me like I was an idiot. “Of course not.”
“People?”
“For Christ’s sake, no.”
“Is it something I’m going to have to smuggle into Japan?”
Darrow shook his head. “No, none of that. There’s some risks that have to be taken, but I’m assuming those. In fact, that part’s already done. All we want from you is to find the proper person and set up a meeting. Not even here in Japan. We want you to convince them to meet with Tejada in Olongapo. Once that deal is finished, you’ll have a third share in our San Felipe venture.”
“Set up a meeting? That’s it?”
My master chief glowered at me. “Look, Doyle, there is no ‘that’s it.’ When I told you ‘Welcome to the big leagues,’ this is what I meant. It ain’t going to be easy. It’s going to be work. Tejada and I have done stuff like this before, so we know how to cut the risk. We’ve done everything we need to for this to go as best it can. Make no mistake, though, if we have a weak link here, it’s you. If you fuck this up, everything falls apart. I think you can do it, though. In fact, you’re a far better person to play the part we have planned for you than either me or TJ.”
“What’s the merchandise that Tejada’s trying to peddle?” I asked.
“Are you in, or are you out?”
“I need to know what…”
“Are you in? Or are you out?”
I thought about Tala. I thought about Mari. I thought about spending the rest of my life on the beach in a tropical paradise, hanging out with people like Space Kate and Dreadlock John. It would be just like Ocean Beach.
When I considered it, I never had much of a future. My father made sure of that. If this worked out, though, I could make myself happy for a very long time. If it didn’t, well, maybe that was just my destiny. I escaped a lengthy prison sentence for what I had done to Randy Green, one I probably deserved for what happened to Rafaela and Manny in the process. If I lost this gamble and landed behind bars for whatever Darrow and Tejada wanted me to do, maybe it was just karma.
Resigning myself to whatever fate wanted to do with me, I looked Darrow in the eye and said, “I’m in.”
*****
EPILOGUE
B y the end of December, Tala was walking the former Subic Bay Naval Station with a shotgun in her hands and the sun on her face. She asked Lorna to take a picture of her, which she sent to me in a letter. Tala barely cleared five feet in height but did her best to look as fierce as she could in her uniform, holding her weapon. It was adorable. She reminded me of a cute little attack bunny.
In her letter, Tala told me that she was grateful for the opportunity Sergeant Tejada offered her. She put Mari into a new school, a better one, where all the other mothers knew her only as a security guard. Nobody considered her a whore any longer.
She also told me that Mari was wonderful. Her daughter finally had friends and was doing great in school. English was her favorite subject. She seemed to study it during every waking moment, hoping to speak to me in my native tongue one day. She had grown tired of my awful Tagalog.
Tala said Mari talked about me all the time and often told her friends about how I saved her from an American Marine. Apparently, she forgot how bad I got my ass kicked that day. Mari was also a bit confused about the shooting that had happened at our apartment. According to her, the bad guys shot a policeman, and I saved his life by luring them away. Then I beat them all up before they were arrested. Sergeant Tejada confirmed her version of events when he stopped by to check on them. In Mari’s eyes, I was larger than life.
Tala's letter described a lot of changes happening in Olongapo since we left. There was a bloodbath in Barrio Barreto, and the gang members had cleared out. The brothels along Magsaysay closed as soon as the American flag was lowered over the base. Many of the working girls flocked to Barrio Barretto, but business was so light that most left after a week or two. Baloy Beach was so tame now that Tala told me she was taking Mari there to swim when she got home from work.
Not all the change in Olongapo was good, though. Tala told me how she was heartbroken to see so many more children on the street now. Most were the result of relationships between Filipina women and American men. With their fathers gone and their mothers working long hours, these kids were on their own. They were hungry, neglected, and shunned by other childr
en.
Tala remembered what it was like for her to be on her own at such a young age. Wanting to help, Tala volunteered with a local organization, Children’s Hope Ministries, to get the street kids into shelters. She told me it was tough for her to work there, as it often was like reliving her own painful childhood. Having a child who was half-American was a heavy burden for a single woman to bear in the Philippines. It was a scarlet letter, suggesting to everyone that she once worked in the sex industry, whether she had or not. It was impossible to start anew that way. Some women could not handle it. After the pullout, there was a rash of suicides and drug overdoses. That resulted in a lot of orphans. Others simply abandoned their kids and went home.
That was the case the week before, Tala wrote to me. They were called to pick up a six-year-old found living on his own by his landlord. The boy told them that his mother dressed him one morning and sent him to school. She kissed him on the cheek and told him she would be waiting right there for him when he got back. When he returned that afternoon, though, she was gone.
Tala was with them when they processed the little boy into the shelter. They were surprised that, though he was not Amer-Asian, the boy was not very comfortable speaking Tagalog. “Where did you learn to speak English?” the American missionary asked.
“California,” the little boy answered.
“Did you live there?”
The little boy nodded.
“Do you have family there?”
The boy shook his head.
The missionary looked at the notes the officers had written. “Your name is Manuel?”
“Yes.”
The man wrote that down. “And your mother’s name?”
“Rafaela,” Manny told them. “Rafaela Green.”