by Sarah Black
“You know how long ago?”
She shook her head. “Maybe February? It was cold at night. He said something about it being too cold to camp out.”
“That’s two months ago,” Easy said when she went off with our dirty plates. “At least he was in one piece when he was here.”
I nodded, left a twenty on the table under a soda glass. “Thanks for the good supper, John.”
“Any time, Jamie.” He nodded at Easy. “You boys come on back anytime.”
“Thank you, sir,” Easy said. “It was a great burger.” He held up the tee shirt. “And thanks for this.”
“Don’t call me sir,” John called out when we pushed through the doors. “I work for a living!”
The sunshine was still bright. I slipped on a pair of sunglasses. “You need dark glasses if you drive around out here,” I said. “Want me to drive back?”
Easy shook his head. “She’s a sensitive girl. Needs a familiar hand on the controls.” He climbed behind the wheel, started the big engine.
“I can’t believe how much these doors weigh,” I said, swinging one shut. “This thing is built like a tank. Like tanks used to be built, I mean.”
Easy headed west, back into Albuquerque, the setting sun bloody red in our windshield. I handed him my sunglasses and he put them on. “Look in that glove box, see if my uncle left some Rolaids.”
WE WERE quiet on the road back home, Easy trying to keep his food down and me just drifting. Tomorrow would be time enough to think about what we would need to do. I let myself relax, riding in a big rumbling truck, driven by a person I trusted. A person I had loved.
I did a meditation exercise in my mind, something I’d written for the Mindful Vet but hadn’t posted yet. I pictured myself in the center of a lotus. The flower was big, or I was small, and the petals wrapped around me, one by one, enclosing me in solitude, darkness, and peace. It was good.
Easy reached over and patted my leg. “Is this our exit?”
I looked up. “Yeah. Take the west exit, then turn right.”
“Where do we go next, James Lee?”
“My house tonight, then in the morning we head off toward Flag, I guess. One of those postcards is from Winslow. That’s on Highway 40 going west.”
“Why does everybody out here call you Jamie?”
“That’s what my family called me when I was a kid. John knew my dad and mom growing up. Mom said he always had a thing for her, but I try not to think about that. Just imagine if she’d married him and I grew up flipping Double XLs on the grill.”
“When did your mom and dad move to Virginia?”
“We left Albuquerque when I was fifteen. No, sixteen. Two years left in high school. Dad got offered a big promotion. He was working for the Bureau of Indian Affairs, the BIA, and my mom was working for the public health service. They offered to transfer her job too, so they took it and moved.”
“This grandmother you came out to stay with, she was your mom’s mother?”
“Yeah. I’ve got family all over New Mexico and some out in Wyoming. My dad had a grandmother who was Crow. That’s why they let him work for the BIA.”
He reached out, tugged on my black braid. “That where all this hair comes from?”
“I come from a long line of black-haired beauties.”
“I believe that, James Lee.”
Tino didn’t want to be put out when we got home, but I shut the screen door on his snarling face.
“Let’s do a load of laundry,” I said. “We can head out with clean gear in the morning.”
“My bag’s full of dirty clothes,” Easy said.
He pulled his tee shirt over his head, dropped it into the machine. I only got a second to look at the sandy hair curling on his big chest before he went to the living room and came back with a bag of laundry, wearing the Double XL tee shirt John had given him and a pair of gym shorts.
“You got anything to put in?”
I grabbed the shirt and leggings I had worn for work that morning, threw them into the machine with his clothes. I left a message with the girl who was currently scheduling classes at the YMCA. She was a junior at the university, studying PE. I think she was interning for the semester. Well, the chair yoga class would give her some good job experience.
Easy went to the door and let Tino back into the house. He reached over and picked him up, tucked him into the crook of his arm. “You are about the tiniest dog I have ever seen. But don’t think that means I don’t look at you like you’re a badass killer.” Tino looked pleased with this praise. “How’d you say he lost his eye?”
“Doberman,” I said. “Tried to get into the yard.”
Easy reached down, tugged the black-and-tan hair on Tino’s forehead up until it stood at attention. “Okay, boss,” he said, putting the little dog down. “You planning out our itinerary?”
“If we go by the postcards,” I said, “we only have directions from here across Arizona, then down south toward Ajo. That’s where Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument is. After that, if he was looking to stay warm, he would have traveled west to Yuma, then into California. Last postcard was from Yuma, those ridiculous arrows and concrete teepees. You think he would have gone into California?”
“Yeah. Probably. He was that far, he would have tried to reach the Pacific. Don’t you think? I mean, if you were looking for America, you would ride your bike to the Pacific Ocean, right?”
“I don’t know what he was thinking, Easy. You want to find America, look out my front door. Look down the block from your uncle’s old barbershop.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you were a cynic.”
“I don’t think I’m being a cynic to tell the truth.”
He rubbed hard across his eyes. “I need to lay down. I’m tired and I’m tired of worrying about this. That fucking burger might give me a heart attack in the night. But even so, that was the best green chili cheeseburger I have ever tasted in my life. Ever.”
“Out of how many?”
“That’s the only one so far, but I can’t believe anything could top it. Don’t ever let me do that again. I look like I’m going to try, you’ve got my permission to stun me.”
I nodded, pointed him toward the small bedroom. “Better take one of those Rolaids before you go to sleep. I’m going to get us packed.” Tino trotted after him into the bedroom. “That dog does not get on the bed.”
Five minutes later and Easy was sprawled out in a tangle of sheets, Tino’s head snuggled into the crook of his elbow. I thought about smothering him with one of my grandmother’s pillows, but I was sure she would be watching me from heaven if I tried to kill her little dog.
Chapter Five
I PACKED the clean laundry, noting that both pairs of my clean jeans had chew marks around the hems. Then I cleaned out the refrigerator and packed a go bag with Tino’s food and water bowls. I looked around the old house, then shoved my passport and my Army discharge papers into our bag. I gave it a fifty-fifty chance that the house would still be standing when we returned. If I returned. I was thinking for the first time since I’d come out here about just closing the door and walking away. It seemed possible, like maybe I was ready to go. Maybe I just needed a job to do, a mission. I looked toward the bedroom. Maybe what I’d needed was a friend to come along and kick my ass out of Albuquerque.
I pulled a chair up next to the bed, watched him sleeping. Easy, sleeping in my bed again. The last time, I’d jumped at the chance, so happy I’d found somebody nice, somebody not crazy or mean, somebody like me, who seemed to want to be happy, who wanted to wake up in my bed. No pain or angst or drama, just a man who smiled into my eyes when he woke up and saw my face on the pillow next to his. I’d jumped at the chance and ended up hurting him, hurting both of us.
What was he doing here? If he’d wanted help with Austin, all he needed to do was call. Send me an email. But he came out here, and he climbed into my bed when I pointed into the bedroom. Did he come out here to find Austin, or
to find me? We’d have to wade through a lot of hurt if he’d come out here for me. But the possibility made me feel like something in my chest was growing wings.
I climbed into bed next to him, listened to the noise of the oscillating fan that kept the room cool at night and provided my meditation focus. It was like listening to the ocean, a little bedside fan. Maybe we’d all stopped sleeping well when we abandoned our fans for central air-conditioning.
I remembered the way he smelled. I’d leaned over his shoulder more often than I needed to over the years, because the sweat on the back of his neck was my idea of the way heaven would smell. I thought he probably knew it. I rolled over to face him, forced myself to stop trying to sniff his neck and focus on the fan.
He rolled over too, blinked sleepy eyes at me. He reached out, traced along my face, pushed stray hair behind my ear. His hands were tender, eyes so full of hope and love I felt like I was looking at a night sky full of stars. I blinked back the tears I couldn’t seem to control.
“Love the hair, James Lee.” He closed his eyes again, and I felt something long and hard against my belly. Then it started wiggling and Tino popped up between us, shook his tiny head. He huffed, jumped off the end of the bed, and settled himself on top of the old pillow I’d put on the floor.
Easy was grinning. “Yeah, man, I’m happy to see you. But that’s a Chihuahua.”
WE MET in a bar, of course, like half the couples in America. I came into the club for a beer and some noise, some company, and I met his eyes across the crowded room. We both smiled at the same time. I liked what I saw, an open face with complicated blue eyes the color of a storm cloud.
He pushed across the room and stood next to me at the bar. He had about half his beer left, and he gave me a little toast with his glass. “I’m Easy Jacobs,” he said, holding out his hand.
“James Lee Hooker,” I said, and I left my hand in his. He had a very tidy haircut, a flattop with all the right stuff, and I thought just for a moment, oh, no, please tell me he’s not Army.
But then he said, “I like your haircut. I’m a barber. I always look.”
“Thanks.” He was still holding my hand, and neither of us seemed interested in letting go. I took a long pull on my beer.
He finished his glass, set it down on the bar. “Want to split a piece of pie? I saw the diner up the street has cherry on special.” He raised his eyebrows. “With ice cream.”
I stared up into his face and smiled again, or maybe I hadn’t stopped smiling. “Yeah. I want to split a piece of pie.” But what I was thinking was, You’re for me. You’re here for me.
The DJ put on an oldie, The Boss singing “Dancing in the Dark.” Young couples were crowding onto the dance floor, but it wasn’t our kind of bar. So he said, “Come on,” and pulled me into the alley where we could still hear the music. He kept my hand, spun me in close for a cuddle. An interested feral cat watched us from the dumpster, and we were laughing before the song finished. He kept my hand, pulled me down the block to the diner.
Before the pie was finished, I knew I had met the love of my life. He told me he was from Tennessee, and we discovered we both shared a passion for sixties rockers. He said he admired Neil Young for both his music and the sideburns he’d worn in his youth. I told him I had always wanted to kiss Carlos Santana on the lips.
He said, “Kiss me instead,” and I did. He tasted like cherry pie, of course, cherry pie and forever.
That kiss slid down my throat, into my thumping heart, and settled in my bones, into a crystalline matrix that held my happiest moments. Easy was twenty-three and I was twenty-five. Everything was still possible, and I knew, looking into his face, that I wasn’t going to be alone, that my life was going to be full of love after all. We had six weeks to fall in love before it all came crashing down.
“IS THIS the way it’s going to be with us?” His toes reached for mine under the covers. He was asking my intentions, no bullshit. Leaving it up to me. “Because if it is, you waited long enough. Just saying. I mean, it’s been three fucking years.” Now he was the one blinking back tears.
I reached out, ran my fingers down his face, down the length of his nose, traced the lines of his smiling mouth. “Yeah, I think so. You’re laying here in my bed, and you seem to have lost your boxers. We should give it a try, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I do think. But I thought so a long time ago. You’re the one put the brakes on. I don’t want anybody fucking with my head again. So. Just don’t.”
I could see traces of resentment in his eyes. “You still pissed off at me?”
“Yeah, some.” He reached out, tugged me over until I was lying across his chest.
We figured out we were both in the Army when my new uniforms were delivered to my apartment. Neither one of us was ready to quit. We’d signed up to do a job and had trained and gone to school and trained some more, and now we were awaiting orders to deploy. That’s why we had the time off. They always gave units a couple of weeks to go visit the family before shipping out. Time to go home and hug your mama goodbye.
Easy understood when I told him we had to break it off. Everyone in the unit had to know that their leaders had their back. There couldn’t be any distractions, and the captain in love with the new platoon sergeant was one bigass distraction that absolutely would have ruined the unit. He knew more than I did how critical morale was to safety, and morale did not need the double trouble of gay leaders in love. The kids had to believe, with no question and no doubt, that the only thing in my head, and Easy’s head, was kicking Taliban butt and getting their scrawny asses home to their moms in one piece.
“You don’t have anybody back home?”
“No, not really.”
I raised my head. I had been buried nose-deep in the sleep-warm skin of his neck. “No? Or not really?”
“James Lee, you need to learn that there is a time for talking and a time for making love. Even though this is not what I came here for, just so you know. And this is not why I climbed into your bed. I can go sleep on the couch, no problem. I can sleep on the floor.”
This part was always easy for us. We were good together, and the sex came as naturally as breathing. From the very beginning, we fit like we’d been made for each other. That was the problem. It was too good, love as rich and fine as vintage wine.
We couldn’t stay away from each other. Even after we said we both wanted to stay in the unit and get the job done and we’d put this thing between us on hold, we couldn’t stay away. Too many times we were lonely, or scared, or too tired not to reach out to a friend. We kept walls up between us most of the time, and when we couldn’t stand it anymore, one of us would reach out. We’d take our clothes off as fast as we could, like the walls were coming down with the uniforms. We never talked until it was us again, until after we’d sunk into arms that were open, and forgiving, and welcoming. But it wasn’t right, the hiding and the pressure of living a lie, of keeping our real selves, our real feelings, under wraps. Over time it got harder and harder for the walls to come down.
Easy said I could have talked anyone into anything, and he was prepared to bull his way through and force the world to accept us and beat the shit out of anyone who disagreed. I thought it was too dangerous, and he let me make the decision. But the bitterness and resentment crept in the longer we had to hide. He blamed me, and he was right. But it would have all been worth it if I had done that one thing, if I had kept his little cousin safe. We gave up everything to bring the unit home safely. And in the end I fucked it up. I knew he would never forgive me for hurting him, for screwing up what we could have had between us, and for letting Austin get hurt. Why should he? And why should he ever trust me again?
“Don’t go to sleep on the floor. Even Tino has a little pillow.” I reached out, tasted his sweet warm mouth, finally, after lifetimes apart, forever and a day apart. “I’ll leave you alone if you want me to. I won’t even touch you. Just say the word, I’ll go to the couch.” A shudder ran do
wn my belly, like some great fault inside me was cracking open. In a minute I’d be weeping all over the stubble on his stubborn chin. “I mean, we don’t have to resolve anything tonight, right? Let’s just stay calm,” I said. “Focus on the fan.”
I felt his mouth still under mine. “What fan?” He ran his hands down my back, gripped my ass in both hands. “What the hell are you talking about? Don’t you start meditating while I’m kissing you, James Lee.” He settled me against him, belly to belly. “That, my friend, is not a Chihuahua.”
I SLEPT like I’d been clubbed in the head, and the sun was well up when I finally staggered out of the shower. Easy was gone, but his truck was still in the driveway. The rat king was gone too, so I suspected they were together, bonding. Plotting the overthrow of the kingdom.
I did a quick centering routine in the living room, Qigong today. I thought I needed something strong and smooth. The coffee pot in the kitchen was still half-full. I needed to stay calm, stay prepared. Not walk around like there were tiny bluebirds circling my head. Somehow my feet weren’t quite in contact with the floor.
Well, we’d slept together again. It didn’t mean anything was resolved, or forgiven. Sex was easy and beautiful and we still loved each other after all this time, after everything I’d done to let him down. But sex was one thing, and forgiveness was another.
I stood in the middle of my grandmother’s living room, loving him, trying not to get my hopes up. It could all come crashing down again. I knew in my head that we couldn’t just kiss and make up, but my heart felt new again, whole and sweet and warm. For the moment, I couldn’t think what else there was that mattered.
Easy came through the screen door, Tino perched on his arm like a tiny sphinx. He’d been in the shower already, his flattop pointed up at a jaunty angle, a tee shirt the same blue-gray as his eyes stretching over that big chest. He’d used a bit of his hair gel to give Tino a ’do, and several hairs on the top of his head were lancing toward the sky. He also had a tiny bandana around his neck, black with a grinning white skull.