The Complete Veterans Affairs Romances: Gay Military Romances

by A. E. Wasp

  He went to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings instead of Narcotics Anonymous because there were way more AA groups, and he liked to go to meetings with Benny. This one had been the same as most of them until one guy started yakking about his mother and how he’d hurt her and he’d wanted to stop. The next thing you know, they’re going around a circle, and everyone’s got a family story to share. Chris passed when it was his turn. Benny did, too.

  Afterward, at the ubiquitous AA meeting coffee urn, Selena, one of the older women Chris and Benny had gotten to know, motioned them over to a quiet corner of the room. She must have read something in Chris’s eyes.

  A tall woman with tan skin and long dark hair, he’d never seen her in anything but a flannel shirt and jeans. Today’s flannel was baby blue and black. Chris had a feeling she was Native American but didn’t really know her well enough to ask. “Tough meeting, huh?” she asked.

  Chris grunted something.

  “He means yes,” Benny translated. “Family stuff sucks. I haven’t talked to my mother in a year,” he confessed. “We haven’t had a real conversation in eight years.”

  “What about you?” Selena asked Chris.

  “You know. The usual.” Chris had shared the basics of his story enough times that everyone knew he had starting using at a young age, but he never shared the particulars. That wasn’t what the meetings were for.

  Besides, no one in this mostly blue-collar meeting was going to feel sorry for a poor little rich boy because he had an absentee dad and a mother who loved him in an abstract way. She loved him in theory but never devoted enough attention to anything around her to notice that her fourteen-year-old was drunk half the time, stoned the rest, and fucking around with anyone he could, which in his prep school was half the upperclassmen and, before he had graduated, a handful of the teachers.

  Selena looked at him like she could read his mind. “You’re allowed to grieve, you know, for the childhood you got robbed out of.”

  He stared into his chipped ceramic coffee mug. No Styrofoam in this hippie town. “Yeah. Well, a lot of people had it worse. No one beat me. No one—” He cut himself off, blinking back tears as he thought about some of the men he had been with while he was still in high school.

  Maybe no one had technically forced him, but they’d definitely exploited him, plying him with drugs and alcohol and playing on his vulnerability. He’d been a lonely, stupid kid, grateful for the attention, as fucked up as it was. Some tears escaped his closed eyelids and trailed down his cheeks.

  Benny offered him a tissue from one of the many boxes stashed around the room. Chris grabbed it, wiping his face angrily. Fuck this. His problems felt like a hydra. Every time he thought he had his shit under control, every time he dealt with one thing, up popped two new things he had been repressing.

  Benny pulled him into a tight hug, and Chris clung to him, grateful for his silent unconditional acceptance.

  They drove to Vincent’s in silence.

  They got to the restaurant before Mikey and Jasmine. Benny made small talk with Dmitri, Troy, and Angel while Chris sat off to the side drawing.

  Mikey gave Chris the friendliest hello they had ever exchanged. Moving day had changed things between them.

  When Chris had rolled up to Mikey’s house on that day, Mikey had been even more stressed than usual. Chris had expected that; moving sucked. But when Mikey had rolled his eyes and asked Chris, “Why do you have to be that way?” Chris had had it. Screw Mikey’s internalized homophobia or biphobia or whatever model minority-wanna-be bullshit he had going on.

  “You mean gay?” Chris had asked loudly.

  Wisely recognizing how stupid he sounded, Mikey shut up.

  Just before they pulled away to take the first load of stuff from Mikey’s house to Benny’s, Chris cornered Mikey. He looked nervous as Chris leaned in close. Chris dropped the twink affectations he put on sometimes. Sure, some of it was real, but he mostly he liked playing the swishy role, especially around friends. It didn’t matter. He had Mikey’s number. Mikey could pretend to want to blend in, but deep down inside he knew he never would.

  “For your information,” he hissed into Mikey’s ear, “the reason I choose to be ‘that way’ is the same reason you have those frankly drop-dead sexy dreadlocks. Because fuck them, that’s why.” His voice was deep and hard, worlds away from his twinky party-boy voice.

  “Fuck the haters and the judgers. They’re gonna hate us no matter what, Mikey, my friend. You can be the model minority, be everything they want you to be: quiet, respectable, non-threatening, rich, successful. You could be President Fucking Obama. And they’re still gonna cross the street when you walk up, and they’re gonna spit on me and call me a fag. So fuck ‘em. Every day I can make some judgmental so-called-nice lady clutch their pearls, is a good day for me.”

  Then he stood up and smiled brightly. He kissed Mikey loudly on the cheek and wiggled his fingers at him in an ironic wave. “Toodles!” He skipped over to his loaded-up car.

  He could see Mikey’s appraising gaze on him as he drove away.

  Today, Mikey seemed genuinely friendly and even cracked a joke when Vanessa pulled him over for a private talk.

  Sitting outside on the patio at Vincent’s on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon helped dissipate Chris’s foul mood. Somehow, thanks to Benny, he had acquired a group of friends.

  There was Troy, a handsome dark-haired man of twenty-six, with black tattoos up and down his arms and shoulders. A golden retriever service dog as his feet, he sat next to his husband, Dmitri, and Dmitri’s crazy Border Collie Moby who definitely was not a service dog.

  Dmitri was a veterinarian if Chris remembered correctly, and a little bit older than the rest of them. He was a tall man with sandy blond hair and a quiet manner except when he was talking to Angel, his best friend since childhood, and one of two women in their group. They teased and picked on each other the way Chris imagined real siblings would.

  Mikey’s sister, Vanessa, who was as tall and beautiful as Mikey, and Jasmine, his completely adorable four-year-old daughter, completed their group.

  The late summer afternoon still held the heat of the day, and the lowering sun cast long shadows across the patio. The group had snagged a large round table shaded by a couple of trees. Troy and Angel, who both worked at Vincent’s, had just gotten off shift and still wore their black work t-shirts.

  Chris sat a little away from the group, working in his sketchbook. His hands itched to hold a pencil, to capture the faces and the relationships in their small group. He drew Mikey and Benny. Then Mikey and Jasmine. Dmitri and Angel, as close as brother and sister. Benny and Troy bound by the scars of military service.

  People’s faces were fascinating to Chris. He had dozens of sketchbooks filled with drawings of all the people who had been in his life. Some of whom he would never see again. Some he hoped to find his way back to.

  Chris said little as they ate, letting the casual conversation flow around him. When he’d first moved to Colorado, he’d wondered if he’d be able to make a life here in this mid-sized town two thousand miles away from New York. It had taken a while, and the addition of Benny, but he was starting to think it could happen.

  The sun dropped even lower, and the light shifted from the cool blues of daytime through the oranges and reds of sunset. Shadows stretched longer in the courtyard, and the temperature dropped. All that was left of the food were the scraps Jasmine was busy feeding to the dogs when she thought no one was looking. Sadly for her, the way they huddled around her chair like she was their goddess gave her away.

  Across the patio, a bluegrass band started tuning up under the small white band shell.

  “You and Jay move in together yet?” Benny asked Angel. She ran her fingers through her blue hair. Shaved on both sides, it flowed from the top of her head like a waterfall.

  Pushing his half-eaten food aside, Chris reached for the blue crayon Jasmine had been using and opened his sketchbook again.

  �
��No. We’re taking it slow.” She made a face. “Glacial, you could say. We’re like the unicorns of the lesbian world.”

  “The chupacabras of the lesbian world,” Dmitri said, then ducked the flying french fry. “You have to stop throwing things at me. We’re not twelve anymore.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him.

  Benny smacked Chris gently on the arm to get his attention. “Whatcha working on?”

  Chris turned his sketchbook around so they all could see. One big picture of the whole group spread across two pages. With a minimum of lines and a few strokes of color from the cheap waxy crayons, he managed to capture not only their individual personalities but also the feel of the long, lazy Sunday afternoon and the golden haze of the sunlight streaming through the trees.

  “I hate you,” Benny said. “You’re so,” he bit back the curse, probably because of Jasmine, “freaking talented.”

  “¡No mames!” Angel exclaimed, the front two legs of her chair hitting the ground as she lunged for the sketchbook.

  Chris handed it to her. “Be gentle.”

  They all crowded around her chair, looking over her shoulder. She started to flip the pages and then stopped. “Do you mind?”

  Chris shook his head. He’d never been shy about showing his work.

  On the other pages were more charcoal sketches of them from throughout the meal. A few of each of them. Chris’s favorite was a beautiful one of Jasmine that caught her open-mouth smile as she laughed in delight at something. Angel turned it so Mikey could get a better look.

  “Oh, my God. That’s gorgeous.” Mikey looked at Chris in amazement. “The first thing Benny ever said to me about you was how talented you were. I saw your artwork in your condo in Denver. It was great. I love this.”

  Chris waved for Angel to hand the book back. She reluctantly did. Chris signed his name with a flourish at the bottom of the page and ripped it out, handing it to Mikey. “Here you go. I’m jealous of you. You have such a lovely family.”

  Mikey took it and nodded, not really listening, as he stared at the picture.

  Benny shook his head as he examined the drawing. Fix? he mouthed to Chris. Chris nodded towards the backpack he always traveled with, and Benny rummaged through it for the protective spray coating.

  “Can I pay you for this?” Mikey asked.

  “No,” Chris said, leaning forward over the table. “But I’ll take it in trade. Would you model for me one day?”

  Mikey blinked. “Me?”

  “Yeah. You’re striking, and I’ve been dying to draw you. Jay-Cee and I are working on a new concept, and I think you’d be perfect.” The idea had been taking shape in the back of his mind; nothing concrete just a sense of something forming. He knew Jay-Cee would approve.

  “Say yes,” Benny called from the other table where he sprayed the paper in long smooth strokes back and forth. “Don’t be an idiot. This guy is going to be famous one day, and we’ll sell the sketches for thousands and ride on his coattails.”

  Benny’s unwavering belief in him made a warm spot in Chris’s soul. It was hard to stay in a bad mood around Benny. “Nice plan,” he said. “But if you’re going to be my hangers-on, I’m going to expect favors. Special favors. From all of you.” He waggled his eyebrows salaciously at the whole group.

  “Even me?” Angel asked.

  Chris frowned thoughtfully and shrugged. “Why not? First time for everything.” He’d like to draw her more, too. She was compact and thin but muscular with a coiled energy. Chris bet she had a backstory, too. Who didn’t? Probably Dmitri, Chris mused. He moved through life with the open manner of a man who had never really had any hard times and expected the best of people and situations. Must be nice.

  Jasmine had some art to hand out as well.

  It was while Chris was distributing her paper hearts as she had instructed that all hell broke loose.

  13 – Your little secret

  “None for Benny?” Chris asked the little girl.

  Jasmine burst into tears. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

  Benny reached over and patted her gently on the head. “Hey, hey, baby, don’t cry. It’s okay. You make me hearts all the time.” He looked at Chris, and they shared a shrug.

  Still crying, Jasmine shook her head no. “I’m sorry. I did a bad thing.”

  She reached into her bag and pulled out a rectangular box about five inches long and put it on the table in front of her.

  Benny froze and all the blood drained from his face. Chris had never seen him look so pale. What the hell was in that box?

  “It was so pretty,” Jasmine was saying. “It’s a heart, and it’s all shiny.”

  Mikey flipped open the lid to show a small gold heart hanging from a purple ribbon.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Chris looked at Benny as if seeing him for the first time.

  “What is it, daddy?” Jasmine asked through her tears.

  “It’s called a Purple Heart,” Troy answered. “It’s a medal you get for being very brave.”

  Benny stood up, knocking his chair over backward. “No, it’s a consolation prize they give you for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then they kick your ass out into the cold with a nice fat ‘thanks for killing for us,’ but it’s not really working out. Not even a general discharge for you. Buh-bye. Sorry about the brain damage.”

  “You know?” Dmitri stared wide-eyed at Benny.

  Benny made a face at him. “That there’s something wrong with my brain? Yeah. I know. I’m not an idiot, regardless of how fucked up my head is now.”

  Chris blinked in disbelief as Benny tore across the patio. Troy caught up to him at the fence, easily ducking the punch Benny threw at him. Benny hunched over as if he was in pain. Troy put a hand on his back, speaking low. Mikey ran over to them, a helpless expression on his face.

  Chris turned to Dmitri. “Benny has brain damage? I knew he’d gotten hurt, but he never said it was that bad.”

  Dmitri looked torn. He sighed. “I guess it’s not a secret anymore. I suspected when we helped him move. Have you ever noticed him zoning out? Staring into space?”

  “Yeah, sure. We work in an art studio. That’s kind of an everyday experience for all of us.”

  Dmitri shook his head. “No. This is different. I think Benny’s been having small seizures. Absence seizures.”

  Mikey came back and asked Vanessa if she minded taking Jasmine home. She scooped up her niece and Angel followed her into the restaurant.

  “Why?” Chris looked over at Benny. He was finally standing upright again, but he still looked ready to bolt. Chris reached out and pulled the Purple Heart closer to him. “From his injuries? From him being in the Marines?”

  “Yeah, I guess. And this is pure speculation, but I think the damage to his brain had something to do with him leaving. It can cause behavioral changes. I think he might have been kicked out.”

  Chris’s mind reeled with this new information. He could barely process it. Desperately, he wished Jay-Cee was there to help him make sense of everything.

  The server came back to clear off the table, and Chris asked her to put all the food on one check and bring it to him. That was one thing he could do to help. He waved off Dmitri and Mikey’s objections. “It’s not a problem. Just let me.”

  “But you’re,” Dmitri started.

  “I’m what? A junkie?” Chris had no idea what Benny had told these people about him. Dmitri was older, over thirty and a doctor. He probably thought Chris was one step up from the homeless teens who hung out at the park on the north end of town.

  Dmitri frowned as if he were disappointed Chris would think so little of him. “No. A kid.”

  “I’m twenty-two.”

  “Exactly.”

  The server came back, and Chris handed her his American Express card. “I’m a trust fund baby, baby.” He pulled his sketchbook back out, needing something to do with the nervous energy running through him.

  Mikey stood behind
Chris’s chair to watch him draw.

  Benny and Troy walked slowly back to the table. Troy headed into the restaurant, and Dmitri stood up to follow him. “Thank you,” he said to Chris before he left.

  “I’m sorry,” Mikey said when Benny got close. “I don’t know how she got into your stuff.”

  Benny shook his head and pulled the box towards him. “It was in the nightstand. I threw it in there when I moved in because I didn’t know what else to do with it. I can’t quite bring myself to throw it out.”

  “Don’t,” Chris said fiercely. “Don’t do that. It’s part of you. You don’t get to throw parts of yourself out.” He carefully stuck his sketchbook back in his bag and stood up.

  Benny grabbed him in a hug. He felt Benny’s tears on his cheek. Looked like they were even in the giving and taking comfort department today. It wouldn’t be the last time they comforted each other. He had some questions for Benny. But more than anything, he wanted to talk to Jay-Cee.

  Chris kissed Benny on the cheek. “I love you, you fucking idiot. Stop keeping every fucking thing a secret. That’s not how you get better.”

  “I know.” Benny pulled away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. The band started playing some upbeat, bouncy bluegrass.

  “Call me later. Thanks for the dinner invite, let’s not do it again.” To Benny’s and Mikey’s surprise, Chris turned and grabbed Mikey in a tight hug. “Take care of this idiot.”

  Mikey hugged back. “I’ll try. He doesn’t make it easy.”

  “Don’t I know it.” With a farewell hug, Chris left.

  14 – A conversation I just can’t have tonight

  The sun slipped behind the mountains in the short time it took Chris to drive back to Jay-Cee’s studio, streetlights turning on as night fell. The best of the 1970’s singers and songwriters played softly from the car speakers. It was his mother’s favorite album. For some reason, he had taken the CD with him when he had left New York for good.

  Red Deer rolled up the streets at sunset, and the reflection of Chris’s old Volvo station wagon scrolled across the darkened storefront windows as he cruised slowly through the south end of the town.