by J. F. Smith
“Yes, there is, Matt! Christ, you can be so stupid sometimes,” said Brian, forcefully.
Petey had watched the interchange play out, his eyes narrowing and his fists clenching the more he listened to how Brian treated Matt. Brian obviously hadn’t noticed or he probably would have shut up much sooner than he did. Petey snarled, “You heard the flamer, asswipe! Get lost! He doesn’t need you anymore. He’s got fifteen real men here lined up to butt-fuck him tonight.”
Brian looked simultaneously terrified, and completely offended, and shocked.
Petey waited a second for Brian to get the unsubtle hint. But he didn’t get it fast enough, so Petey said, “C’mere, dumbass.” He put his large hand around the back of Brian’s neck, making him flinch, and led him a few feet away. Petey had that severe, angry look on his face that had scared Matt so bad the first few times he was around him. This time, it was Brian that he had never seen looking so frightened.
Matt looked at Baya and Desantos nervously, wondering what Petey might actually do. Petey kept his hand firmly on Brian’s neck so he couldn’t get away. He leaned over and whispered a few words in Brian’s ear. Brian jerked back away from Petey, and turned ashen-faced. Petey raised an eyebrow at him and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Do you want me to show you?”
Brian starting backing up, away from Petey, his jaw hanging open and his face horror-stricken. He didn’t look away from Petey and wound up backing into a car parked on the street, almost falling over it. He finally turned and fled as fast as he could go. Matt didn’t attempt to stop him.
Petey looked back at Matt and said, disappointed, “Cornhole, why would you ever go out with that fuckface?”
Matt felt like he surely had the absolute best friends in the whole world. “What the hell did you say to him, Petey?”
Petey said, “A simple seven-word statement of fact.”
Matt grinned. “What? My dick is smaller than a housefly’s?”
“I’ve got a rifle with a silencer.”
Matt couldn’t help but think what a terrible thing that was to say to someone, and he could have kissed Petey if he thought he could get away with it.
Matt looked at the three people he didn’t expect to see in person so suddenly, but it made his heart leap to see them. To know they were safe. To actually have them there, right in front of him, was almost too much.
He said, “I’ve sent you guys emails! You didn’t reply. I got worried about you. You have no idea how good it is to see you guys! God, you have no idea how good it is!”
Desantos said, “We had a short mission, after we left you, remember? Then we told you we had survival training after that. Survival training doesn’t mean a shitty internet connection and continental breakfast at a Holiday Inn, dummy! We were out in the middle of nowhere the whole time!”
The other men, none of which Matt recognized, had all walked up now, standing behind Baya and Desantos. Petey had moved behind Matt and put his hand on Matt’s shoulder.
Baya said, “We finished training this morning. And we just got back to Little Creek this afternoon. We all agreed to come and find you so the guys could meet you before we went our separate ways for the weekend.”
Matt looked across the other guys, another dozen of them, all gathered around now. All as intimidating as Petey, Baya, and Desantos had been when he first met them. At least this time, they were all dressed casually, in jeans, t-shirts, knit shirts and so on… no BDUs, helmets, rifles or black masks. Actually, now that he looked, Matt realized that Petey apparently couldn’t dress himself for shit. The ridiculously ill-fitting baggy jeans overwhelming his lean, muscular body. The dingy, dirty t-shirt looked like something he found while dumpster diving behind a crack house.
Matt was about to make a comment, but Baya said, “These are your brothers-in-arms, Matt. This is the rest of our platoon.”
The comment made Matt forget about Petey’s clothes. He looked at Baya, confused.
Baya laughed out loud and said, “Matt, when I said we voted and made you an honorary member of our team, it was the entire platoon that voted, not just the four of us. These guys all knew what went down almost as soon as it had happened. They wanted to meet the guy that helped bring Al-Hashim in.”
Matt felt funny again. He didn’t know what to do with the idea that this crowd of men, an actual platoon, had wanted to make the trip to Richmond to meet him.
But he also noticed the one that wasn’t there.
“Where’s Mope?” he asked.
Desantos and Baya glanced over Matt’s shoulder at Petey. Petey put his hands on his hips and said, “His whiny daddy issues were flaring up again. His dad called and said he needed to come see him as soon as he got back in town.”
Matt’s insides clenched. He hoped again he hadn’t fucked things up for Mope. He couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that the one he wanted to see more than any other couldn’t be there. He really, really hoped he hadn’t made things worse for Mope.
Petey waved at the rest of the guys and said, “So, here’s the rest of these pathetic losers, none of which can fight hand-to-hand for shit.”
And at this point, Matt was introduced to the brothers he didn’t know he had: Kennon, Wyatt, Wes, Fincher (also known as the other Wes), Crank, Rickey, Dillinger, Jonas, Marshall, Wasp (who was even bigger and more imposing than Petey), Geoff, and Ambush.
Matt felt completely outnumbered, and knew there was no way he’d remember their names. But he also found himself once again feeling something deep inside that all of these guys had felt him worth including in their platoon, even if informally.
Baya rubbed Matt’s head again and said, “We’re ready to go get drunk and get some chow, Matt. You got a place nearby we can go hang out and raise some hell?”
Matt couldn’t wait. His Friday night had suddenly become the best one he could remember in a long time. They walked as a group over to Poe’s, a pub near where Matt lived, and took over the outside patio area.
Matt spent the next several hours having a blast meeting the rest of the platoon. They ate a lot and drank even more, and Matt actually did learn all their names. They played darts, which Desantos understandably kicked ass at given his knife-throwing abilities. They all wanted Matt to tell the story of what happened, even though they already all knew it from Mope telling it to them. Matt was able to be the first to tell them it had been mentioned on the news earlier that evening as well.
Matt found out that the big guy named Wasp, who was another couple of inches taller than Petey and bigger all around, was one of Mope’s best friends. Surprisingly, he was also the youngest guy in the platoon, only 22 years old, despite looking more mature than that. He had a boyish face, but looked older than 22 at the same time. His light brown eyes seemed to watch everything, taking in every detail, but he didn’t smile and he didn’t laugh hardly any, like he didn’t know how. Wasp was a very quiet, very intense guy, the opposite of Petey’s offensive, loud-mouthed personality. At first, Matt felt a little uncomfortable around Wasp, feeling like this might be the one guy that was a little put off by the fact that Matt was gay. That didn’t seem to jive with him being such close friends with Travis, though, so Matt wasn’t sure what to think of him.
It got cleared up for Matt later, though. Petey pulled Wasp over, they did a round of Southern Comfort shots, and Petey announced he wanted to tell a story about Wasp.
Wasp’s lips clenched into tight lines and he told Petey, “No, man. Don’t.”
Petey said, “Relax, half pint. I’m gonna tell Cornhole how you got your nickname. Stop being such a damn woman!”
Wasp ran his hand over the dark gold buzzcut on top of his head nervously, but nodded at Petey, and Petey proceeded.
Keith, Wasp’s real name, had been in a sniper position trying to knock off some insurgents that had pinned down Kennon, Rickey, Dillinger, and Jonas on a mission just outside of Kabul. His sniper rifle had jammed, though, and he hadn’t even gotten a single shot off. So Inst
ead, over the next ninety minutes, he managed to slowly sneak his way up on the insurgents’ position and took out three armed guys with his bare hands. Petey started laughing at this point in the story, tickled by what was coming up, but Keith’s face was fire red from the blush. Petey told how Keith started to swagger up to where the pinned down SEALs were, the big-fucking-deal for single-handedly saving their asses. But halfway up to them, he stepped on a wasp nest in the ground and started running around screaming that the wasps were after him, practically dancing in the desert to get away from them. The guys he had saved laughed themselves silly all the way back to the extraction point, and Keith was known as Wasp ever since then.
Matt got it then. Keith was still the young one on the team that needed to prove himself. He was just shy. His behavior wasn’t about Matt at all, it was about himself. It made total sense to Matt now to find out that Travis would take him under his arm and be a good friend.
Wasp allowed a small grin to escape. He hated hearing this story told yet again, but knew there was no way Petey wasn’t going to tell it. He laughed at it good-naturedly anyway, and Matt tried to make him feel better by telling him at least he didn’t get the nickname Cornhole. Wasp shook his head and said, “God damn and god bless for small favors, you know?”
No sooner had Petey finished the story than he stood up, his eyes and nose flaring. He said, “That fucker! Excuse me while I go pound the shit out of Crank for picking this song out on the jukebox. I told him not to play this crap ever again.” Petey stomped off, which sent Crank trying to hide behind a couple of the other guys.
Matt turned to Wasp. “Mope’s a good guy. I wish he had been able to come tonight. I really look up to him. No way I would have been able to cause all that trouble in Latakia if it weren’t for him.”
Wasp nodded, warming up a little now, “Yeah. It’s hard joining up with this group ‘cause they’ve all got so much experience under their belt. I feel like an idiot around them. But Mope’s always been there, encouraging me, helping me through it. I doubt I’d still be here if it weren’t for him.”
Wasp looked down at his big hands and didn’t seem to want to look Matt in the eye for a moment. He picked at the label on the bottle of Coors he was drinking and looked like his dog had died.
Wasp’s silence dragged on way longer than it probably should have, so Matt asked, “You ok?”
Wasp nodded, but still didn’t look up at Matt for another few seconds. When he did, he said, “It’s been hard fitting in with these guys. You get through BUD/S and feel like a world-class bad-ass, but then you get on a team like this one and feel like you don’t know shit. I’ve been in the SEAL program for less than a year, but I… you know… I don’t know.”
Wasp changed the subject suddenly. “Mope really respects you and how you helped out in Syria. You did a lot more than we’ve got any right to ask from a civilian.”
Matt wasn’t sure what Wasp had been about to say, but he felt a little unwilling to press on it.
Wasp said, “Petey, too, you know. I mean, aside from him referring to you as queer and faggot and every other slur he can come up with, you can tell he likes you. So, it’s cool to meet you in person. Petey can be kinda tough to get to know. It seems weird that you’d actually be friends with him given how he treats you. But I guess he treats everybody that way. He calls me pipsqueak all the time.”
“It’s just a game between us. I know he doesn’t mean it. He’s just a big softie inside and doesn’t want anybody to know it,” said Matt, watching the drunk Petey still trying to get his hands on Crank, who was now holding Baya in front of him like a human shield.
Petey shouted, pissed, “Stop hiding behind Prince Falafel, Crank, and take it like a damn man!”
Wasp said as he squinted at Petey and grinned again, “You sure we’re talking about the same guy?”
Eventually, the group wound down as some of the guys started to go their own ways for the weekend. All too soon, Matt was left with just Petey, Baya and Desantos. It didn’t escape Matt’s attention that Petey had hardly left his side all evening. All of it, all of them, was just exactly what Matt needed that night. He felt like a new man getting to spend the time with them.
Petey, Desantos and Baya finally had to take their leave as well, a little before 11pm. They walked back towards Matt’s apartment, but stopped to say goodbye where the three of them would need to split off to get back to Desantos’ car.
Desantos told Matt, “Keep the emails coming, Matt. We love getting the emails, as many as you want to send. We’ll be at our home station in Little Creek for the next few weeks, so we’ll be able to reply this time.”
Baya handed Matt a disc and said, “And, here’s your photos, from your last day on the Iwo. They’re pretty good, I gotta admit, even that embarrassing one where you made us grab our junk. We even added a couple extras for you.”
Petey said, “And you’re not off the hook with just tonight, you little butt-suckin’-nut-nudger. You’ll be coming over to see us in Little Creek in the next few weeks, so you might as well just get used to the idea. You can bunk with me. I’ll let you do my laundry since you’ll probably be rooting around in my crusty underwear when I’m not looking, anyway.”
Matt was sorry for the night to end. But at least he now had something really good to look forward to.
Matt said goodbye, giving Baya and Desantos a hug and letting them rub on his head as was becoming their tradition, as every other member of the platoon had done that evening before leaving. When he got to Petey, though, he merely extended his hand out to shake his.
Petey shot Matt a scalding dirty look. “What? You too fucking good to give me one of your fucktard hugs now? But these dickheads get one? Is that how it is?”
Matt wrinkled up his nose and said, “You smell kind of like cheap beer and possum roadkill, Petey.”
Petey snarled, “FUCK YOU!” and grabbed Matt, throwing him up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Matt started laughing and Petey eventually put him back down. He gave the SEAL a hug, and Petey roughed up his head a little.
Desantos turned to Baya and said, “Would you look at that? Whaddya think, Baya? You think Petey will start in with buying a bunch of Streisand CDs first, or you think he’s more of a Celine Dion kinda guy?”
“Celine Dion. No contest,” said Baya.
“No way, man,” said Desantos. “He’s got Streisand written all over him.”
Baya gave Desantos a fist bump and said, “Twenty dollars and you’re on, D.”
Petey flipped both of them his middle fingers and told Matt, “You let me know if that asswipe of yours gives you any trouble. We can put an end to that shit in about two seconds, and nobody will ever know.”
As Matt made his way back to his apartment after watching the three of them drive off, he could still hear the concert playing faintly a few blocks away in the park. He was a little high from the drinks and shots, and a lot high from just being around the guys again. He felt better than he had in weeks, and he couldn’t wait to see the photos and show them to Bret and Jim. Of course, for those two, Matt would only describe the team as some of the guys he had met on the ship and became buddies with, but he knew they’d get a kick out of the pictures no matter what. Especially Bret.
As Matt turned onto his street, he looked down and saw yet one more person sitting on the front steps of his apartment. He wondered if Brian had come back and his heart sank a little. Maybe he’d take Petey up on that offer after all.
But then he noticed that the figure wasn’t sitting. He was crouching.
Chapter 29 – The Back Of Your Hand
Matt’s feet slowed a little as he approached his apartment. If the person crouching on his front steps turned out to not be who he hoped it was, he was going be devastated. And if it was who he thought, he was going to be nervous. What if he had made things worse between Mope and his father? How would he face Mope? Even more than that, now that he had broken up with Brian, and
knowing how Mope didn’t seem to share the feelings that Matt felt that night outside of Latakia, it was going to hurt.
Matt got about twenty yards away when the figure’s head turned, and Matt could see the ears sticking out in silhouette. There was no doubt who it was.
Mope stood up as Matt stepped up on the first step to his apartment, and then waited quietly in front of him, as serious as always. He was wearing a tight gray t-shirt that said Hilton Head Island, plus jeans, and a pair of seriously old sneakers. And it looked like he hadn’t shaved the entire time they had been out on survival training. Even after having seen Petey, Desantos, and Baya in casual civilian clothes, Mope looked a little odd to Matt in jeans and a t-shirt, but that was only because he wasn’t used to it. In reality, the tight t-shirt showed off Mope’s finely-tuned torso and broad chest really well.
Mope’s expression was serious, but his voice was more cheerful when he said, “Hi, Matt.”
“Hey, Mope. I… uh… shit, it’s just so good to see you. All the others just left. It was such a huge surprise to have them show up. A good one! Why are you here? I mean, Petey said you had to be somewhere. Why didn’t you come with the rest of the guys? Do you want to go inside?” Matt felt like he was blathering, and he wanted to turn and run, and grab Mope and hold onto him for all he was worth, all at the same time.
“Ehh… do you mind if we walk a little bit?” asked Mope.
Matt said sure and they walked back down the street, Matt aimlessly leading them back towards the park.
“I did go see my dad, Matt, for a little while, at least. And as for the rest of the guys, I’m glad they got some time with you. But me? I kind of wanted you all to myself. So I waited. How are you?”
“Are you kidding me? A helluva lot better now that I know you guys are ok, and now that you’re here. I got worried when I didn’t hear anything.”
Mope said, “No, I mean, how are you doing? A lot of people would wind up with PTSD after what happened to you. Are you ok? Are you having bad dreams? Panic attacks? I worried about you the last few weeks.”