by Red Phoenix
When I open the front door, Dad calls out from the kitchen, “Welcome home, C, my little high school graduate!”
I smile, amused by the fact he’s shortened the ridiculous name he saddled me with to just one letter. “I’m not a graduate yet, Dad. You know I’ve got to get through the whole pomp and circumstance thing this weekend. Or did you forget?”
“About that…” he says with a pained expression. “Your mom—”
“I know, Dad. It’s okay.”
My dad gives me a hug. “She’d be there if she could, C.”
I glance at their closed bedroom door. I’ve been through this countless times, and I have learned over the years to take care of myself whenever she gets like this. “Don’t worry about me.”
“But I want to celebrate this momentous day, so I’m making your favorite tonight—my dad’s famous lasagna.” He leans down and whispers in my ear, “I’ve even bought some wine. I think we ought to toast an accomplishment as big as this.”
I’m deeply touched that he’s gone to all the trouble, but I can’t afford to stuff myself before I see Ethan, and my dad would expect nothing less than me eating two helpings tonight. I feel badly when I tell him, “Dad, I love that you did this, but I’m headed out tonight to hang with one of my friends. Can we do it tomorrow?”
I see the hurt in his eyes, but he nods and smiles. “Not a problem. I’ll go ahead and put it in the fridge after it cools. It always tastes better the second day, anyway.”
“Perfect.”
I glance at their bedroom door, knowing he likes it whenever I tell Mom about my day. To ease the guilt I feel for leaving him alone tonight, I tell him, “I’m going to let Mom know I’ve successfully made it through my last day of high school.”
The smile returns to his eyes. “She’ll like that, C.”
He’s wrong.
She won’t even know I’m there.
I hate when my mom gets like this, but I like seeing my dad happy, so I turn to face the door, a pit in my stomach growing as I walk toward it. My mom is normally a fun person to be around, but not when she gets like this…
Opening the door slowly, I peek into the darkened room and see the lump on the bed covered in blankets. “Hey, Mom.”
I look back at my dad and he winks as I close the door behind me.
“So, today was my last day as a senior.”
Silence.
I stand over the bed and look down at her. My mother’s eyes are open, but you can tell her mind is somewhere else.
“I’m graduating this weekend. Grandma and Grandpa will be there…”
But you won’t, I add to myself.
More silence follows.
I decide to throw caution to the wind, needing some kind of response from her. “So, to celebrate, I’m going to make love to Ethan tonight.”
Absolutely nothing. Not even a blink.
“Do you hear me, Mom? I’m going to lose my virginity tonight.”
She stares off into space, lost in that darkness none of us can penetrate.
“You know, you’re supposed to be there for me in moments like this. At least tell me we have to use a condom or something.”
She doesn’t make any outward sign she’s heard me.
I growl as I turn to leave, muttering under my breath, “I don’t even know why I bother.”
I leave her alone in the dark, disgusted with myself for even trying, but still smile at my dad, who looks at me with a hopeful expression.
“How is she?”
“Same.”
“Well, at least she knows you care.”
I feel tears prick my eyes. If only she cared too.
I shake off the sadness, not wanting anything to ruin my night ahead. “I’m headed upstairs to take a relaxing bath and get myself ready for tonight.”
“Where are you headed off to?” my father asks.
I shrug, purposely keeping my answer vague. “Probably watch a movie.”
“No wild parties tonight?” he prods. “You know all you have to do is call and I’ll come get ya. No questions asked.”
I walk over and hug him. “I appreciate that, Dad. But I don’t see the point of hanging with a bunch of inebriated teenagers. They’re dumb enough sober.”
He rubs the top of my head. “You’ve always been an old soul, C.”
“Probably because you cursed me with an old person’s name.” I smirk at him and crinkle my nose.
He chuckles. “I know you secretly love it.”
“Right…what girl wouldn’t want the name Cleopatra?”
I head up the stairs, laughing.
Now for a long relaxing bath. I take extra time shaving my legs and primping for Ethan. Although my breasts are tiny and I look like a boy, I am all woman inside—and I want him to see that tonight.
In preparation, I secretly bought a set of sexy lace underwear and matching padded bra for tonight. I slip them on and look at my reflection in the mirror.
I feel giddy as I stare at myself, imagining what Ethan will think when he looks at me. He’s always said I have the perfect body and insists he likes women with smaller breasts, claiming, “There’s no need for more than a mouthful…”
Curious, I caress my nipples through the thick material of my bra, wondering what it will feel like to have him suck them.
Just thinking about it makes me wet, so I reach down and sneak a hand under my panties, feeling the slickness. The idea that he will be making me a woman tonight gets me feeling all weak and trembly inside.
I have never wanted anything this much.
I take extra time with my makeup, wanting to accentuate my eyes and lips, my two best assets. For the final touch, I dress in a short skirt, knee-high socks, and a white button-up blouse, attempting to capture the whole schoolgirl look.
When I bounce down the stairs just fifteen minutes before Ethan is supposed to arrive, my dad looks at me and smiles. “Well, now, don’t you look cute?” His expression suddenly changes. “Wait. Is this friend of yours a guy?”
“He is, Dad, and you even know him. I’m going to hang with Ethan tonight.”
“Didn’t he move away?”
“He did, but he’s back now. Don’t you remember me telling you that?”
I can’t tell you the number of times he’s forgotten something I’ve said, but I know it’s because he’s constantly worrying about Mom.
He scratches his head, looking a little lost and embarrassed.
“It’s okay, Dad. You’ve got a lot on your plate. Anyway…you liked him then, and you’ll like him even more now.”
“The boy doesn’t own a motorcycle, does he?”
“As a matter of fact, he does but he’s in the middle of restoring it.” When I see the worried look on my father’s face, I add, “It’s old and doesn’t even run, so you don’t have to worry. Ethan’s picking me up in his dad’s old pickup truck. I couldn’t be safer.”
“Good,” my dad replies, seemingly satisfied, but then he frowns at me in concern. “You haven’t had anything to eat yet.”
“Ethan plans on feeding me.” I feel the heat rise to my cheeks when I suddenly imagine sucking Ethan’s hard cock.
“See? You’re getting flushed from not eating. Let me get you something—”
The doorbell interrupts our conversation and I jump and then giggle nervously as I look at the door.
This is it…
“At least the boy knows to come to the door to pick up his date,” my dad mutters as he opens it.
I let out a dreamy sigh when I see Ethan. He has gone all out and is wearing dress pants, a dress white shirt, and a tie.
Oh man, he looks so hot!
My dad holds out his hand and gives Ethan a firm handshake before letting him inside. “I trust you’ll feed my daughter and have her home at a reasonable hour?”
Ethan glances at me and smiles charmingly before answering him. “Yes, sir.”
“Dad, don’t you think you should say hello to Ethan first?�
� I tease.
When I look back at Ethan, I’m totally captivated by those gorgeous blue eyes—so much so, that my dad notices.
“So, Ethan, I’m expecting you to treat my little girl like a queen tonight. She is, after all, Cleopatra.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ethan chuckles softly as he looks at me tenderly. “Your daughter deserves no less.”
I can’t wait to be alone with him. Taking hold of Ethan’s hand, I lead him to the front door as I call out behind me, “See you, Dad.”
“Have her back before twelve,” my dad insists.
I turn around and look at him as if he’s crazy. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
Nodding, he thinks about it for a moment before amending his edict. “Fine, make it one.”
I shake my head at him, but Ethan answers, “One it is, Mr. Cox.”
Once the door shuts behind us, Ethan lifts me up and twirls me in the air. “Now I’ve got you all to myself…”
A Man
Charles Walker
I can’t sleep. My father’s actions replay in my head, and I spend the night tossing and turning on the uncomfortable wooden bench.
At around 11:00, a security guard walks by, smacking his nightstick in his palm for emphasis. “Get up. Vagrants aren’t allowed here.”
I sit up slowly. “Not a vagrant, sir. Just waiting for my bus.”
“This isn’t a hotel, boy,” he snaps, not even bothering to look at it.
I stand up, combing my hair back with my fingers, trying to look more presentable. “I understand, but my father and I have had a parting of ways and I have no place to stay tonight.”
“Running away?” he states sarcastically. I look at the badge on his shirt and address him by name.
“No, Officer Hall. I’ve enlisted in the Army and am headed to boot camp in the morning.”
The man slides his nightstick back into the slot on his belt and holds out his hand to me. “Thank you.”
I look at his hand before taking it, wary of his sudden change of heart, but then shake it as a gesture of goodwill.
His handshake is equally firm. “We need more patriotic young men like you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The man suddenly frowns. “Your father must be a fool.”
“Stubborn is the word, sir,” I correct him, not wanting to disrespect my father no matter how furious I am at him right now.
“If I didn’t work the night shift, I’d offer you a place to sleep,” he tells me with regret.
I gesture toward the bench. “This works fine—if it’s all right with you, that is.”
“Of course, son.”
He gives me a wink as he pulls out his nightstick and starts whistling, swinging the club in time with his tune as he walks away.
I stretch as I stare back at the bench, not ready to lie back down on it. Instead, I head off into the night to take a lap around the parking lot under the flickering light of fluorescent bulbs. I need to release the tension fighting with my father has stirred in me.
Luckily, I’ve found a good jog has the ability to reset my thinking—which I desperately need of right now.
When I finally return to my bench, I find a bag of chips, a sandwich and a bottle of water sitting there. I look around, but don’t see any signs of Officer Hall.
I actually tear up as I rip open the plastic wrap, my stomach growling as I take the first bite. I’m touched by the man’s thoughtfulness.
After a good run and a meal, I’m finally able to close my eyes and catch a few hours of sleep, but the moment I hear the birds start chirping just before dawn, making further rest impossible.
My recruiter comes to meet me at the station just before my bus arrives. He hands over my paperwork and bus ticket. “Make me proud.”
“I aim to, sir.”
I’m far too anxious for my new life to begin and board the bus early, feeling zero hesitation as I climb onto it. To my surprise, I spot Officer Hall standing at attention as the bus heads out of the station. Our eyes meet briefly, and I give him a nod, grateful for his send-off.
After hours on the road and many stops, we pull into another bus station where I join a group of fellow recruits as we transfer to a military bus. I sit next to a scrawny kid with disheveled red hair. Rather than looking excited, his downcast eyes and the way he keeps scratching the back of his neck tells me he’s nervous. I am curious to know why.
Holding my hand out to him, I introduce myself. “I’m Charles Walker, and you are…?”
“Billy,” he answers, smiling awkwardly as he takes my hand.
“Billy what?”
“Jackson. Billy Jackson.”
“Nice to meet you, Jackson,” I reply, shaking his hand enthusiastically.
His awkward smile returns before he glances out the window, scratching at the back of his neck again.
“So, what made you want to join the Army?”
He looks back at me with an embarrassed smile. “My stepfather made me join. Said it would make a man out of me.”
“And my dad forbade me from joining.” I add with a chuckle, “We’re like opposite sides of a coin, Jackson. Must be fate we met up today.”
I see him relax a little. “Yeah.”
I cross my arms and smile, confident he and I will make it through training together. Boot camp is where they separate the men from the boys, and I can’t wait to be tested.
When we finally arrive at the reception station, we are ordered to walk single file into a large hall where the flags of all fifty states line the room. Jackson and I sit down on benches and are given simple instructions like responding to orders with a respectful, “Yes, Drill Sergeant.”
That won’t be an issue for me. My father taught me well, growing up.
We are also told to make a quick call home and we’re instructed to say three sentences only. I stand in line waiting for my turn, but I feel the nerves set in, wondering who will be answering the phone when I call. I hope it’s Jacob, because I want him to know I’m okay. I can’t imagine what the poor kid must be thinking right now.
I dial the number and listen as the phone rings several times before it picks up. I immediately begin my speech. “I have arrived. I am safe. I will call you when I can.”
“Don’t bother,” I hear my father say before hanging up.
I put the receiver down and nod to the guy behind me. Although his words cut me like a knife, I’m not going to let him control me. The anger I feel toward him can’t outshine the satisfaction of being here—this is where I belong.
That night, I lie in my bunk, along with more than thirty other men. I hear the sighs and grunts of other recruits who are restless and in shock, finding themselves in this foreign environment. For them, this place is stifling and unfamiliar but, for me, this is my emancipation, and I can’t stop smiling in the dark when I imagine how hard my father must be fuming tonight.
The following day, I get my PTs, the classic gray Army shirt and black shorts that makes up our physical training uniforms. I have wanted to wear these since I was a boy. Putting them on, I feel more settled.
Every step I take in this process makes it more real to me.
The second day at the reception center, however, is far from challenging or exciting. It is a day of waiting—waiting for blood work, waiting for a hearing exam, waiting for a dental screening and, at the end I get my official Army haircut. I rub the top of my head after I get out of the chair, liking the short cut. It’s simple and requires no care.
I see Jackson outside, looking a bit dazed, so I clap him on the back. “What’s up?”
“It’s like being put through a meat grinder.”
“How so?”
“We all look the same now, like they’re trying to erase who we are.”
I shake my head, looking around at the other recruits with haircuts like ours. “I don’t see it that way at all. They’re walking us through a series of steps designed to bring us closer together as a unit. One
for all, all for one.”
He snorts. “You have a strange way of looking at things.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think I’m wrong?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. But how you perceive all this,” he says gesturing around, “is not how I perceive it.”
I slap him on the back again. “When we graduate from training, let’s have this talk again.”
I look around me, knowing we are about to enter a period of conditioning that will make us stronger physically, as well as quick to follow orders. The military tears down the individual to build up a team that is efficient in battle—and will ultimately save lives.
Basic training, and all that it entails, is necessary if we are to survive on the battlefield.
Late in the day I finally get to my physical fitness test and pass easily, which moves me into another line where I’m issued a duffle bag with my combat uniform. I proudly sling it over my shoulder, ending the day waiting in the last line to have my picture taken in uniform. I’m handed my military ID, known as a CAC card—which makes it official.
Back at the barracks, Jackson stops by to tell me, “Hey, I heard we’re headed out tomorrow.” I watch as he scratches his neck nervously.
I smile, grateful for the news. “Good. It’ll be fun.”
He frowns and turns to walk away. I can sense he’s really struggling and I want to encourage him. “I can tell you what to expect, if you’d like.”
Jackson turns back around and nods as he scratches his neck again.
“You’ll get yelled at constantly and fail over and over again. Don’t fight it. Just follow orders and answer with a ‘Yes, Drill Sergeant.’ They’re going to test our patience, barking repetitive orders to see if we can follow basic instructions. It’s like a game. You can handle that, can’t you?”
“Sure…” he answers.
“Just remember not to stand out. Don’t be first and don’t be last. Whatever they ask, you just suck it up and do what they tell you without complaint. The purpose of basic training is to get us thinking and acting as one.”
“It doesn’t seem so bad, the way you explain it.”
I laugh as his naiveté. “Oh, don’t kid yourself. The next two months are going to be hell.”