by Sarah Black
Chapter 9
JOHN closed the kitchen door after Kim, and Gabriel started working on the Mr. Coffee. John went back to his office and pulled out a legal pad and a pen, then joined Gabriel at the table. “Let’s get started.” He looked up, noticed the grin on Gabriel’s face. “What?”
“‘You don’t have a dog in this fight.’ Is that kid for real?”
“He’s learning how to be a man, stand up for what he believes. Stand up for his friends. I’m happy to see it, actually.” He tapped the pen against the paper for a few moments. “Not every boy has to reject his father to become his own person, despite what the ancient Greek playwrights suggest. I hope Kim and I can coexist with our divergent world viewpoints for many years in the future. Until he comes around to see that I am right.” He grinned at Gabriel now. “Or until I come to see that his way is right.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing that. You must be doing some calculations again, your eyes are like stainless steel.” He hesitated, then got up and poured two mugs of coffee. “John, how old is that boy? Shit, when he walked into the bar the other night, I thought he didn’t look any older than Juan, and I should have followed up and made sure he was safe.”
“I saw him too, and had the same thought. I’ll see if I can find out. But I agree. Even discounting the issue of the violent assault, he seems too young by about a hundred years to be running with the likes of Brian Walker.”
“I have access to some software that should let me find out the basics. I think we can do that much without causing Kim too much grief.”
“I want you to do something for me today, if you would. Contact Dean Fox, let him know that my resignation, while it was in response to the issue under discussion, is not a bargaining point.”
“You’ve decided to move on.”
John was struck for the moment at Gabriel’s choice of words. “It’s just a job, Horse-Lord. I’m not ever going to move on from you. Not unless you tell me to get lost. And then I’ll probably just moon around Albuquerque, drinking my lunch and taking naps and remembering the glory days, and your ass in a flight suit.”
Gabriel was staring down at his cup. “I don’t want to cling around your neck so hard we both go down. But it’s good, right? I mean, it’s good being with you. Just like regular guys, not secret lovers. If we’d had this problem, like suddenly we had nothing to say, and the awkward silences started getting longer and longer… oh, man, that would suck.”
“It’s good.” He reached across the table and took Gabriel’s hand, let their fingers slide together. “Better than I ever imagined, having someone to talk to. I feel like a regular little chatterbox.”
“You haven’t spent any time with my daughter, have you? Speaking of regular little chatterboxes.” His hand tightened on John’s. “If anyone ever touches her like that bastard touched Kim, or that poor boy in there, I will come after him with every weapon at my disposal.” He took a deep breath. “Even if my baby tells me I don’t have a dog in that fight.”
John laughed, but he felt his throat close up for a moment, thinking of the fear in Billy’s eyes, the way he’d cringed back when they’d opened the door. “What I am used to doing is keeping a squadron safe. The dynamics are different in a group when you have leaders who can watch out for their people. How do we keep them safe when they roam around town on their own, go into bars, eat at Ho Ho’s, go to classes with professors who like to hit them? With no platoon leaders to keep an eye out?”
“Is it too late to send them all to Catholic school? I mean, the Jesuits have some universities, right?”
“But back to the point, I have decided to move on from teaching leadership seminars and freshman civics. What I have to say will need to be said a different way.”
“You’ve always written.”
“I enjoy the company of scholars, though I have noticed the use of intellectual discussion as a means to forestall action much too often in that group. It’s a hard nut to swallow, making a decision and moving forward, knowing you might be wrong. When the stakes are very high. But I’ve learned to swallow that nut. Most of the time, it’s not fatal to be wrong. Maybe 65 percent of the time, on a bad day. Those aren’t bad odds.”
“So, leadership?” Gabriel winced. “John, you do realize, in the civilian world, leadership means politics?”
GABRIEL left for the office, his jeans and tee shirt folded on the chair in John’s bedroom. John wrapped an arm around his waist before he left, took a little bite out of the caramel-sweet skin on his neck. “Come back here tonight.” He thought about saying, come back tonight, don’t leave me alone with these two hurt boys. But it wouldn’t have been true. He could use Gabriel’s help, no question, but he’d really just wanted him again. Wanted him in his bed, again. Wanted the smell of his shampoo in the bathroom. Wanted to see how neatly he tucked his dirty socks into the laundry bin. John shook his head. Give him a little bite of something sweet, suddenly he was starving for more.
Kim left for Ho Ho’s at about ten thirty, said he had class, not with the crazy professor, at two, and he’d try to be home after if he could get someone to cover the dinner shift. Billy had agreed to sleep in, and he would open the door to the garage when he was awake. John understood by the stern look Kim gave him that his role was to provide lunch and clean towels and no questions.
Chicken noodle and grilled cheese was the go-to lunch for hurt boys and upset stomachs and broken hearts in the general’s house. He’d eaten little else when Gabriel had told him he intended to get married, six weeks at least, until he shook it off and told himself he needed to grow up and get real and get back to work. Gabriel had loved him so hard back then, like he was storing it up for a lifetime of loneliness, and John really thought he’d never see him naked again. They’d lasted about a month after the wedding before Gabriel had leaned against his office door, asked him if he’d like to go to the O Club and get a steak, and his face had been so humble and hurt, such an ache in his dark eyes, that John had pulled him into his office and closed the door behind them.
It was noon, and John could hear Billy moving around in the garage. He didn’t open the door, though. When John heard the muffled weeping again, like a boy would sound when he pressed his hurt face into a pillow, he went to the door and knocked. Billy opened it a moment later, holding a towel up to cover the battered side. “I bet you need a new ice pack. And I’ve got lunch ready. You should probably eat something before you take more pain medicine on an empty stomach.”
Billy let himself be herded to the table, ate his chicken noodle and grilled cheese, and took the two Tylenol the general put in his palm. “Are you in the graduate art program with Kim, Billy?”
The boy shook his head. “I’m still an undergraduate. In art, though, mixed media and printmaking. I thought New Mexico would be cool, you know? It’s got a reputation as being supportive of artists.”
“Where are you from, originally?”
“Cheyenne. Wyoming.” This was said with a gloomy look at the table. “It’s going to be harder than I thought it would be, to find a place to fit in. A place where I can be myself.”
“It is for everyone, Billy.”
“Not for you. I mean, it must have been easy for you, you’re….” Billy stopped, obviously thinking back to the two men who’d come in to check on him in the night.
“I went into the army after college. That was the place I fit in best. I was very happy there, with the work and with the company. Military people, they tend to be warrior-philosophers. Deep thinkers, strong, able to act when need be, with stainless-steel balls. Most of us can leap tall buildings with a single bound, or, I should say, we’ve been known to try.” This last got a laugh from Billy, as he’d intended.
“Kim told me he’d never been afraid when he was in your company. He always knew you were strong enough to protect him.”
“You can be assured that protection now extends to you too, kiddo. As long as you’re under my roof, no one will hurt you.”
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“Thanks for letting me stay.”
“You’re welcome.”
The knock on the front door startled Billy so much, he jumped up from the table, tears pooling in his eyes. John stood very close to him, but didn’t touch him. He could see the new bruises around his wrist, along his forearm. “Let’s go into the garage, okay? You’ll be safe there. I’ll knock on the door when it’s safe to come out.”
“How will I know it’s you?”
“Shave and a haircut, two bits.”
“Huh?”
The knock on the front door came again. “Go on now, Billy.” John went to the door, opened it to Dean Fox.
“General! Can I come in? I hope I’m not interrupting your lunch.”
“Not at all. What can I do for you?”
“I heard from your counsel this morning, Gabriel Sanchez. He’s retired army, isn’t he?”
“He is.”
“He has that military bearing. Also has a no bullshit way of getting down to business.”
“That’s a way I appreciate as well.”
“So I’ll get down to it.” Dean Fox gave him a wry smile. “You certainly keep the kettle on full boil, General. The president tells me under no circumstances should I let you resign. Your admin, Cynthia, comes to me with her hand over her mouth, little squeaks of distress, and says you run a violent office. Professor Walker comes in and tells me to rein you in before he calls in some favors and has you whacked. Just kidding about getting you whacked.”
“So which of these issues brings you here today, Dean Fox?”
“Please, call me George. Cynthia, of course. A good admin is hard to find.”
“I agree. Let me go get my little tape recorder, okay?”
“Oh, God, I was afraid of that. You always have such excellent documentation.”
“I grew up during Watergate.”
John came back with the recorder that fit in the palm of his hand. He played back the conversation between he and Brian Walker in his office, and when he got to the part where Walker made his comment about Kim bending over like a little Korean dog, Dean Fox blanched, held a hand out to stop him. “You sure you don’t want to hear the rest? There is about to be the violence Cynthia was forced to witness.”
Dean Fox shook his head. “I just don’t….”
John stood over him for a moment. “Dean, will you excuse me for a moment?”
John knocked on the garage door. Billy opened it to the secret knock. “So that’s what that knock means! I never knew.”
“Dean Fox is here to see me about another matter. You know him? He’s the dean of students.”
Billy nodded, and John could see a cringe. “Son, you need to stand up right now and go in there and talk to him. I’ll go with you.” John put his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “Stand up like a man, and get this job done. You know it’s the right thing to do. You aren’t the first, but maybe you can be the last.”
“He won’t tell the police, will he?”
“You tell him the terms, Billy. But he should know what his professors are doing. You’re a student at his university. This happened on his watch. Give him a chance to do the right thing.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about half the time,” Billy said. “You sound like one of those Cheyenne cowboys I grew up with. I never knew what they were talking about, either. Some secret man code.”
“Your daddy a cowboy?”
“Yeah. If he knew about this, he’d…. Oh, God, I can’t even imagine.”
Billy walked into the living room ahead of John, and Dean Fox came to his feet when he saw him. He looked up at John, his face sick, and John moved Billy to a chair, stood next to him. Dean Fox sat back down on the couch like his knees couldn’t hold him.
“I’m Billy Dial.”
“Hi, Billy. I’m Dean Fox. We’ve never met before.”
“I saw you, though, at new student orientation.”
“You’re a student here? What year?”
“I’m a freshman in studio arts.”
A freshman? John’s head came up at that, and he stared at the Dean until Fox lifted his eyes and met his.
“Billy? What happened? Somebody hit you.”
“It was Professor Walker. Brian Walker. He was… we were dating, you know.”
BILLY lay down on Kim’s bed after the dean left, and John pulled up a straight chair, sat next to the bed reading a book until the boy fell asleep. A freshman. Eighteen? Seventeen? He wanted more than anything to pull out the phone directory and call Cheyenne, Wyoming, and bring a little cowboy justice down on Brian Walker’s ass.
He’d need to have that conversation very carefully with Billy and Kim. Kim called about four to report he couldn’t get anyone to cover his shift at Ho Ho’s, so he’d have to work. John told him he’d stay at home with Billy, and handed the phone over to Billy when he was done.
“We’ll talk when I get home, okay?” Kim sounded rushed and a little overwhelmed when he got the phone back, so John assumed Billy had told him about talking to Dean Fox. After Billy fell asleep, John propped the door to the garage open and sent Gabriel an email, telling him what had happened. Gabriel emailed back about an hour later, saying he’d be home by six, and Martha had given them a tentative okay to the tutoring.
John loved the way that sounded: I’ll be home by six. He had spent more of his adult life than he could have imagined, when he was eighteen and a freshman in college, listening to the echoes of his footsteps walking down the hall of an empty house, to sleep alone in an empty bed.
Chapter 10
HE HAD chili ingredients, and everyone liked chili, so he cooked a pot for dinner. Billy helped him chop up green chilies and onions, and John noticed he’d painted his fingernails a very delicate pale pink to make himself feel better. “I used Kim’s nail polish. You don’t think he’ll mind?”
John shook his head. It was news to him that Kim had nail polish. What was he using it on, his toes? John had never seen any polish in evidence. It occurred to him, for the first time, that Kim had possibly made adjustments to his behavior in order to live in peace with his uncle. If so, he’d been very quiet about it, and this was something new for Kim. New and mature, John thought, feeling quite pleased.
Gabriel came home and put his briefcase on the kitchen table, wrapped an arm around John’s waist and nuzzled the back of his neck. “Chili smells good.”
Billy watched them out of the corner of his good eye. John remembered what Kim had told him, about wanting to have had a role model, to see someone be in a real relationship as a gay man. He reached a hand up to Gabriel’s cheek. “Hi, handsome. Welcome home.” He thought it probably sounded even more lame than it felt, but Gabriel looked surprised and pleased and Billy giggled a little behind his hand.
“I brought some potting soil for the cold frame,” Gabriel said. “I didn’t get seeds, though. It’s your project.”
“You can get the seeds. My initial burst of enthusiasm with woodwork was in response to not having a job. I was over it in about seven hours.”
Gabriel leaned over and smelled the chili. “How about herbs, then? Basil and rosemary and lemon thyme?”
“Okay with me.”
“Is the wonder boy coming home for supper?”
“He’s got the dinner shift at Ho Ho’s.”
“I’m going back to the dorm,” Billy announced, surprising them both. “I feel better. I mean, I can’t hide out here, and I know Kim didn’t get any sleep last night. I’ll drive by Ho Ho’s and tell him thanks, and that I’m okay.”
“What am I going to do with all this chili?” John wasn’t sure this was a good idea.
“You can freeze it into individual portions,” Billy said, looking very serious and helpful.
“Oh, okay. Thanks, Billy.”
Billy held out his hand, and John shook it, saw a glimmer of tears in his one good eye. Gabriel leaned back against the cabinet. “Billy, you sure you can drive with one good eye?”
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nbsp; “I came on my bike. And I live in those dorms down off Amherst, so I’m really close.”
John reached for the legal pad on the table, wrote down his cell and email. “I’m your emergency contact, okay?”
“John, give him my office number, too. Never know when you might need a lawyer to ride to the rescue.”
Billy nodded his thanks, stuffed the paper down into his jeans pocket. Then he reached out, gave John a hug around the waist, and was out the door.
John pulled open his phone and called Kim. “Yo! Uncle J, what’s up?”
“Yo to you too. I wanted to tell you Billy just left for home on his bike. He said he was okay, and he looked better.”
“Okay.” John could tell Kim was chewing on his thoughts. “He told me earlier he would go home tonight if he felt better. How did he look to you?”
“He put nail polish on.”
“That’s a good sign, in case you didn’t know.”
“I figured it out. Later, son.”
Gabriel pulled open the fridge and grabbed a couple of beers. He twisted off the tops and handed one to John, leaned back in his kitchen chair. “You’re a good guy,” he said. “You take care of everybody. Your squadrons and your tribes and your kids. I don’t see you taking care of yourself very often.”
John turned from the stove, surprised. “What do you mean? I have everything I need.”
“No, you don’t. You have one enormous crater in your life. A sinkhole. What you need, that you don’t have? Love. A relationship. Me. In your life. Permanently.”
John was speechless. What was he talking about? “You’ve been in my life for most of my adulthood, Gabriel.”
“On the down-low. That’s not what I’m talking about.”
John pulled out a chair, sat down next to him, and took a long pull on his beer. “Gabriel, okay. So what are you talking about? You’re still married, remember? I mean, it’s not like we can just….”
Gabriel put his beer down, a line of bad temper going down between his brows. “Oh, yes, we can. You’re saying I’m jumping the gun. Why can’t we talk about you and me?”