Seeking the Balance

by A. R. Moler

  God, he had a love/hate relationship with those people. Having the backup, the protection, and the training -- all that was just incredible. Then there was the down side -- watching Cam at risk, and himself for that matter, the flying thing, the fact that they wanted Mason to become competent in the field, which could translate to under fire -- that part just sucked. His brain circled back around to the fact that even Peter, who he tended to unrealistically think of as all-powerful, couldn’t save the life of four year old Jason Ambers. That made him just want to scream or hit something. Yeah, right, like that would be productive.

  Mason’s cell phone vibrated on his hip and he answered it without bothering to look at the number, “Dr. Flynn.”

  “Hey Mason. How’re you holding up?” asked Cam.

  Mason leaned back in his desk chair and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m okay,” Mason replied. “You headed in my direction?”

  “No... I have to be at a Hail and Farewell for Commander Rochester at the officer’s club in half an hour. I thought I told you.” Mason thought he could hear guilty reticence in Cam’s voice. A Hail and Farewell was a long standing traditional when an officer was moved to a different duty station as it usually involved a promotion as well.

  “Crap,” Mason said with a sigh. It had totally slipped his mind. “You did. You really did. I forgot. I’m being brain dead.”

  “It’s okay. It’s understandable. I’d come lend some moral support, but this is a Navy politics sort of deal. I need to put in some face time.”

  “It’s fine. I forgot. I don’t need a babysitter. I’ve lost patients before, and well, technically he’s not even dead yet.”

  “Mason...” Cam said. His tone was soft.

  “Don’t sweat it. We made an agreement. Your job and my job have to take precedence. That includes the internal politics stuff. Me being in a shitty mood does not constitute a crisis. “

  “I have duty till four tomorrow. I’ll be there as soon as I can afterward, so we can go to the party. Okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry, you know. I wish having Peter be able to help had panned out.”

  “It was a long shot,” Mason admitted.

  After Mason hung up, he stared at the phone for a while. Just how lame he could he possibly get? To wish, if only for one illogical moment, that Cam would beg off from the Navy event. Mason had gone through literally years of his life with only occasionally having a lover he felt safe enough with open up to even a little. Now here he was having thoughts worthy of some idealistic love-sick teenager. Suck it up, he told himself. Go home. Eat. Do something not work-related for a couple of hours.

  ~

  Two beers, a sit down dinner, and an irreverent skit about the Commander’s tour of duty at Oceana Naval Air Station later, Cam was leaning back in his chair, listening to Captain Martin spin a tale about embarrassing the crap out of his teenager daughter.

  “So we’re sitting in the mini-van waiting on Jen, and Gwen is flopping around complaining about how if she has to wait she wishes there was enough room to stretch out and take a nap. It was just too good an opening. I said -- there’s room enough for sex, implying that her mother and I... And then there’s this dead silence and I though she was gonna try and crawl under the seat. She says -- I so did not need to know that.” Martin finished his tale, and the people around the table went into gales of laughter.

  It was a funny story, but Cam’s thoughts were of his partner. He was worried about Mason. The trip to Philly, meant to bolster the doctor’s confidence in his field skills, had been a stressful near disaster. Add the guilt about this child cancer patient and Cam wondered just how dark the depression eating at Mason’s psyche was likely to be tonight. Not that Mason would let him know more than a hint of his personal torture until he practically disintegrated under the weight.

  ~

  The chisel shaved loose a narrow sliver of wood as he tapped it carefully with a mallet. It would probably take another dozen passes before the area beside the pin of the dove-tail was sufficiently clear of wood. Mason adjusted the chisel to a horizontal position and levered out the tiny slice. He could probably do this task in about 30 seconds given the proper power tool, but that would never draw the same sort of satisfaction. Mason hated modern power tools. You didn’t feel the wood the same way. The hot smell of friction would have overpowered the scent of the maple. He stubbornly stuck to the height of 18th century “technology” -- hand tools, muscle power and patience. It would probably take him at least another four months of painstaking work in spare hours to finish this little table.

  Mason had already spent two hours out here in the garage tonight. The radio played softly in the background as he tried to distract himself from an internal monologue of what ifs. The little pile of wood chips and shavings was growing on the floor. He glanced at his watch. It was after ten; Mason had been up since six. Maybe it was time to put up the tools and give up for the night.

  The inside of the house was nearly silent, only the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen disturbed the quiet. Mason flipped on the light and set about filling the coffee pot and pushing the button for “cruise control” so it would come on in the morning. Heading into the bedroom, he stripped and grabbed a pair of pajama pants from a drawer. The night was chilly and there wasn’t going to be a warm body to snuggle up to tonight.

  Damn, damn, just damn. Mason sat down on the edge of the bed. When had he become so dependent on Cam for comfort? Mason blew out a long breath as he pulled on the pants. Be a grownup. What are you going to do when he goes on deployment? Mason asked himself. That was an idea he wasn’t ready to face at the moment. He turned out the light and crawled into bed. He lay in the darkness for a long time, staring at nothing.

  Finally he got up and went to hunt through the laundry basket. This is stupid; this is juvenile, he told himself. He found a T-shirt that Cam had left there days ago and Mason put it on. It smelled faintly of his lover. This was freakin’ pathetic... and no one would ever know. Sleep did come eventually.

  ~

  As Cam walked through Mason’s house, he could faintly hear the sound of the shower running. He made his way to the bathroom and leaned into the open doorway.

  “Cat burglar,” called Cam.

  “You’re out of luck. I don’t have a cat,” replied Mason over the noise of the water.

  “A bit late in the day to be taking a shower isn’t it? Or did you pull an all nighter?”

  “I went running. Didn’t think it’d be exactly PC to show up for the party drenched in sweat,” said Mason. The water shut off and Mason pushed the shower curtain open. Cam drank in the sight of the long lean lines of his lover’s body, dripping wet.

  “Speaking of cats... I could give you a tongue bath?” Cam teased.

  “I think that would kind of defeat the purpose of the shower.” He watched Mason grab a towel and begin to dry off. “So how’d the shin-dig go last night?”

  “Enh, the usual. Beer, food, bad jokes. You okay?” Cam took hold of the ends of the towel where it was draped over his lover’s head, as Mason dried his hair. He pulled Mason toward him with the fabric and kissed him softly. The faint taste of soap mixed with the warmth of his lover’s mouth was a funky odd contrast but still a turn on none the less. As Cam drew back his face, he met Mason’s gaze.

  “I’m surviving,” Mason whispered. The doctor gently pulled away and finished drying off. Cam followed him into the bedroom and parked himself on the bed while Mason dressed in jeans and a dark green polo shirt.

  ~

  Backing the Mustang out of his driveway, Mason said, “Oh, the blood work came back.”

  “And? Since you’re not bent out of shape, I’m guessing we’re good.”

  “Yeah. We’re both fine.”

  “You would tell me this when we’re headed off to a party. You’re just evil,” said Cam.

  Mason just smiled.

  ~

  Nearly two dozen cars line
d both sides of the street near Steve Villetti’s house. Mason frequently teased Steve about the size of the “McMansion” located in the upscale Courthouse Estates area. The nearest parking space was nearly a block away.

  “Guess Villetti must be a popular guy,” commented Cam. Mason could hear the sarcasm in his lover’s voice. Steve had been responsible for Cam nearly falling off an exam table during an office visit for his shattered leg months before.

  “From a patient point of view, his bedside manner improves markedly if you’re under anesthesia,” snarked Mason.

  Cam laughed. “Tell me again why you’re in a practice with this guy?”

  “He’s brilliant in the OR. And truthfully we get along better than most ego-centric collections of surgeons. Kyle’s our buffer, anyway,” said Mason referring to the third member of the practice, Kyle Marrin. “Think about it. If you put a couple dozen alpha male pilots together without the whole chain of command and military regs thing, wouldn’t there be a hell of a lot of head butting?”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  They stood together at the front door as Mason knocked. A medium height woman with sandy blond curls opened it.

  “Mason! It’s about time you made it,” she said with a smile. “Steve swore to me that you were coming, but the game started an hour ago.”

  “Which game?” asked Mason.

  “Like I would know.” She rolled her eyes. “Hi, I’m Lisa Villetti.” She held out her hand. Mason introduced Cam and they followed her toward the kitchen. “There’s beer and tons of food. Pretty much all the men are in the den watching the game on Steve’s new toy, the plasma screen.”

  “He hasn’t shut up about that thing for the past two weeks,” said Mason. Two children came charging through the kitchen. Mason recognized the toddler as Tyra’s two year old daughter, Elizabeth. The older one was Steve’s nine year old, Constantia. Mason scooped the little one up off her feet as she scampered by, and she let out an ear piercing squeal.

  “Geez, Lizzie! Trying to make me deaf?” Mason asked. He buried his face against her belly where her shirt had pulled up, and blew a raspberry on her skin. She let out squeals of laughter.

  “Gain! Gain!” Lizzie yelled and Mason obliged. The little girl laughed until she was out of breath.

  “Go play, squirt. No running in the house,” said Mason, setting her down.

  Constantia gave him the hairy eyeball. “We were playing tag,” the older child said with an imperious tone. Constantia then hurried after the toddler.

  “Oh Lord, nine years old, going on thirty,” said Lisa, her mother.

  Mason saw Cam giving him a funny look.

  “You’re, um... quite the hit with the little one,” said Cam. Mason walked around the counter to snag a soda from the bucket of ice on the floor.

  “Tyra brings Lizzie to work every once in awhile when there’s daycare issues,” said Mason.

  “No father?”

  “He’s deployed for four more months. Ross is on the Stennis. He’s enlisted.”

  “Oh.” The slight nod from Cam let Mason know that this was a very familiar concept.

  ~

  Cam spent the next couple of hours at the party, being introduced to people Mason knew, and generally hanging out, intermittently watching football on TV. It turned out there was a good handful of children at the party, ranging in age from someone’s infant son to Steve’s older child, a twelve year old boy, whose name Cam promptly forgot. All but the infant seemed to know Mason.

  Mason was sitting cross-legged on the floor near Cam’s feet, the doctor’s back leaned against the edge of the upholstered chair where Cam was sitting. There was a careful few inches between them that wouldn’t have been there if they had been alone. Cam watched Lizzie come wandering toward them. The toddler plopped into Mason’s lap and curled up against his chest with a thumb in her mouth. Mason’s arm curved around her and he glanced momentarily down at the top of her head.

  “Did momma turn you down?” Mason asked softly. Lizzie looked up at him with wide teary eyes, and then buried her face into his shirt.

  “What’s that all about?” asked Cam.

  “Tyra’s trying to wean her from nursing in public. Obviously this is an unpopular decision.”

  “So why’d she come to you?”

  “For sympathy while she pouts. I think she’s pretty tired, too.” Mason’s fingers trailed through the toddler’s hair.

  “I’m beginning to wonder why you didn’t go into pediatrics,” said Cam. The look of anguish in Mason’s eyes made Cam regret his words. Cam had momentarily forgotten the little cancer patient. There was obviously an enormous difference to Mason between enjoying children, and caring for the sick and dying. Mason’s gaze fell back to Lizzie in his lap. She was nearly asleep.

  “I probably ought to go find out if Tyra wants me to put her somewhere to nap,” said Mason. He shifted the child to his shoulder and stood up. Cam watched him leave. Children were not something the two of them were ever likely to have.

  ~

  After depositing Lizzie on a blanket in the far corner of the kitchen floor for Tyra, Mason lingered to get some food and a beer. A hand landed on his shoulder, and Mason glanced back to see a familiar face. The man behind him was several inches shorter and had short blond curls.

  “Nathan!” Mason said. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that you were coming to this coast?” he demanded, giving Nathan a bone crushing hug.

  “Last minute business thing. I wasn’t even sure it was going to happen, then I up and forgot to email you.

  “Still living the California dream I see.” Mason held up his relatively pale hand against Nathan’s deeply tanned one.

  “Unh. Yeah, and the California mortgage to go with it. Ed and I are looking to move someplace cheaper and a little less earthquake prone.”

  “Kansas?” grinned Mason.

  “So I can trade earthquakes for tornados?”

  “Sure why not?”

  “Actually we were kind of thinking about moving back here.”

  “Wow. How come this is the first I’ve heard of this?” asked Mason.

  “It’s all just kind of hypothetical at this point. It depends on job opportunities and a whole slew of other iffy things.”

  “Grab a beer and give me all the details. God, it’s good to see you.”

  ~

  Cam glanced in the direction that Mason had disappeared. There was no sign of him. Maybe it was time to get a drink and see where the man had gotten to. Cam ambled into the kitchen. There were several people eating and talking in the room. He could see Tyra’s back. She was talking to Mason and... another man. A man with blond curly hair about the same age as Mason was standing with his arm hanging around Mason’s neck. They were laughing and talking with the nurse. Cam felt an uncomfortably hard knot in his chest. Mason didn’t let people touch him casually, not often anyway. Who was this guy hanging all over him?

  ~

  “So tell me about this guy you’re seeing” prompted Nathan as he took a sip from his beer bottle. “Last email I got from you, it sounded serious.”

  “It is. Or at least it seems to be,” Mason said. Mason couldn’t help the little smile on his lips. He saw his lover on the far side of the room. They met eyes, and Mason was disconcerted. Cam seemed to be bordering on angry. Not that anyone else would notice, but the tense line of his crossed arms, the stance, and the hint of a head tilt. What was bugging him? The look they shared, on the other hand, suggested he’d like to fuck Mason up against a wall. People moved in between them and Mason’s view was cut off.