Maybe they needed to get laid. God knows I wanted to. Mom said, “I just ironed this tablecloth.” Big patented sigh. As if she had slaved over it all day.
Dad said, “Oh it’s nothing, he didn’t mean anything by it.”
Mean anything? How could a bit of dropped food have a meaning? What would it mean? I hate you? You’re a bad mommy?
I don’t mean to say my parents are awful. Please don’t get me wrong. But sometimes, I suppose like all couples, they just have to—what, vent? They started saying things to each other. They escalated to raised voices. Then they got to shouting at each other, and my sister excused herself and went to her room without dessert. That was unusual. That left just me and when I tried to calm them down they both turned on me. I fled. I can’t lie, I didn’t excuse myself and leave politely, I grabbed my keys and jacket and ran out the door, slamming it as hard as I could behind me. I don’t know why, I just got scared all of a sudden, or maybe, really, I got angry. I think it brought up the feeling of being the victim that had flooded over me when the boys had lied about making me fall and I’d had to sit there and take it.
* * * *
Of course I almost fell off the porch and could feel the stitches in my left knee pull. I was afraid to look at it but right then I didn’t give a shit one way or the other. I hoped it was all torn up and resorted to thinking, that will teach them, then they’ll be sorry, like a little kid. Part of me wanted to run away from home, but since I was now limping, upset and knew of nowhere I could go anyhow, I just wandered down the street, off the block, and into town. I wished I’d grabbed my wallet instead of my keys, but I hadn’t. So I had no money anyhow, not even loose change in my pockets. I was in the glorious and enviable, pitiful condition of not even being able to buy myself a cup of joe. A wounded warrior, down on his luck. I couldn’t even go see Frederick because there was some church function he was doing. Well I could have maybe at least hung out around his church but that would have felt too good, you know? And yet I wanted his comfort…but not just then. There was also this tiny bit of pride in handling this myself, which was stupid, and was about to get stupider, but there it was.
I could feel that there was blood dripping down my leg from my left knee. It didn’t seem to be a lot and I wasn’t about to pull my jeans down to see and anyhow, I still had that ‘I’ll die and that will teach them’ thing going on in my head. I just kept walking, and after a while found myself all the way downtown—not the best place to be at night, but the only place there was any life in town after the sidewalks were rolled up at supper time.
* * * *
Outside one of the bars I saw a couple of guys from school. They were older than me and were both jocks. I nodded and said “Hey,” and they called me over. “You got a cigarette?” one, Tony, asked me. I said no. “Hey, you want a beer?” the other one asked, Roger his name was. They had both dropped out of school so I hadn’t seen them in a while. Neither had gone to college. I don’t know if they had jobs or not. Frankly I didn’t know them very well at all and that felt just right. Since I didn’t particularly want to be clumsy old me right then, why not be someone else, right? Wrong.
I took the beer. And another. And after that things really started rolling downhill fast. I got scared when they asked me for money so they could buy more beer. Then someone they knew showed up and they bought some dope, right in front of me, and I wanted to leave but Tony grabbed my arm and said, “Not so fast. You owe us for the beer.” He shoved me, and I stumbled and fell. I wasn’t afraid, just totally disgusted with myself for everything I’d done to end up in this position, coming out of the house, coming this way, and hanging out with these guys. For being stupid enough to think I’d be accepted, or smart enough to handle what they could dish out. I was angry that life had made me the kind of person this could happen to. It wasn’t fair.
While he had me on the ground, Tony dug around in my pants pockets and pulled out my keys. “Shit,” he said, “He ain’t got nothin’.” He threw the keys away. He rifled through the rest of my pockets and still came up empty, except for a folded up piece of paper. I said, “Fuck you, give me that!” Brilliant, right? He opened up the paper while I made futile grabs for it. It was a note from Frederick inviting me to come and make music next Saturday. Tony read it out loud, ‘Will you come play the organ with me?” and started hooting and making insinuations. “Ooh, who’s a little faggot then?” cracked his friends up the most. They had a great time laughing at the ‘organ’ reference, and I fought to get up and leave, but Tony held me down as easily as if I were a piece of paper myself.
It was dark and clouding up like it was going to rain. My jacket was torn and my knees still oozing blood. I was afraid I was going to piss myself with fear, what with not being used to the beer and all. As I struggled, Tony narrowed his eyes. “I hate guys like you,” he said, and then things got worse.
As scared as I was, I was determined to do what I had to do to make this situation not be real. It didn’t work. I couldn’t do a thing. In the end, it just got uglier, and all my fear didn’t do me a bit of good at all.
The police found me in the alley several hours after midnight. I had no ID and no money, nothing but that note from Frederick, which he’d written on the church stationery. I was unconscious and bloody, beaten up, robbed, had knocked my head on the sidewalk (good old clumsy me), and the knees of my jeans were stained with blood, both knees being all torn open again. I wouldn’t be wearing those jeans again. I never had liked that torn look anyhow.
I’m sorry I’m telling you this like a short news article, but I can’t in all honesty ‘show you’ in a literary sense as I don’t remember most of it. But this is what happened next.
Frederick came rushing to the emergency room when they called him, and they found out from him who I was and called my parents. Because I’d had the previous concussion, I’d had a worse one this time and they were quite concerned about me, did X-rays and an EEG and all that stuff, and admitted me for observation. My parents were still arguing and angry and scared now as well. It didn’t help that Tony or someone had written ‘fags suk cock’ on my arm in sharpie and…never mind. I was ‘out’ now I guess, though I didn’t know anything about it because, well, I was out—out cold.
* * * *
Apparently besides being beaten up and all that, the cops had found me amid all the empty beer cans and some marijuana residue. So—oops. My bad, right?
The doctor said one person should or could stay with me and when neither of my parents leapt in to do it, Frederick offered.
“It’s just to keep an eye on him,” (and make sure he doesn’t die or something.) “Wake him up every hour and call the nurse if there are any changes.” I’m sure he smiled.
My dad replied, “Well I would but I have to be at work at six o’clock for an important client.” Dad’s okay but if there’s any blood involved or anything unpleasant to do (what if I peed myself? Or worse?) he always defers to Mom.
Everybody looked from him to my mother.
My mom said, “I—I’m going to be sick!” and she fled. Dad followed her into the bathroom.
My dad was aghast that Mom wasn’t going to be able to stay. He was also horrified to think I might be gay. He did not say anything about that, like, “My son is a fag? What if he has something? What if the cops arrest him for the beer? It’s not my fault!” And we all know what fags do (if not, refer to ‘arm’, above). He never could ‘deal’, you know? He even made Mom take out the mice we caught in the basement and kill any bugs that might get in.
Mom was so upset that she had fainted at first sight of me; so they didn’t really want her to stay even if she wasn’t in the bathroom upchucking. Good old Mom, so that’s where I got the sickly part from. Ha. Ha. Ha. They both turned and looked at Frederick who raised one eyebrow and smiled. “I’m from the church,” he said innocently, hiding a steely determination to stay no matter what. “I’ll be glad to do it.”
So my mom stopped puking, an
d she and Dad made whatever assumptions they wanted to make about Frederick, and with great relief and some guilt hidden behind their fearful and sick-looking white faces, they slunk out and back home to a gin and tonic and an unsaid ‘where did we go wrong?’ assessment.
Maggie was still standing there, frowning. She was disgusted by how useless our parents were now that they were faced with a crisis. She would have stayed, but they said she was too young. “I am not!” she pouted.
Frederick said, “It’s okay. I’ll be here.”
Maggie glared, starting to cry.
“Really,” Frederick added. “I know what I’m doing. He’ll be okay.” He was rubbing my arm at the time and grinned at her.
“Ah ha,” Maggie said, nodding. “I thought so when my friend Emily said he didn’t want to see her boobs the last time she was over at our house.” She stared at Frederick for a bit longer, sighed, shook her head, and followed our parents out the door.
So Frederick stayed. Maybe some people assumed Frederick was my lover or something. I dunno. Later he told me about that and how funny it would have been if I weren’t hurt so badly. That and the way he smiled when he said it, made me feel so good. It was the best part of the whole thing, well, maybe the only good part at all.
It’s weird but I knew I’d sort of brought this upon myself, and I took responsibility for putting myself in a bad place. I don’t believe in flat out blaming the victim, but I knew I’d been careless, if not downright stupid.
It took several years for Frederick to admit to me that as soon as he was alone with me, he looked over my entire body to see what those assholes (his word) had done to his precious. I think he may have even counted my fingers and toes. I hope he had a good look at my poor, unhappy place that had sustained at least one solid size twelve booted kick. Just the way you want your future life partner to see the goods for the first time ever, you know?
* * * *
Okay. I don’t remember anything about what happened next, but this is what I’m told happened. It was around two in the morning when I woke up mumbling, and Frederick, who had dozed off, was awake instantly. Although it was the same room as before, the same background noises and smells, there was something different, besides the dimness of the night. With only the light from the hall and the few red and blue blips of my monitors, it was hard to believe it was the same place. Though barely awake, I was confused, as it was so similar to where I had just been…the inside of a plane, smoke, lights strobing in and out, beeps and noise that seemed unreal.
Frederick rubbed my back and shoulders, thinking I was fully awake because I was talking. “I had this incredible dream,” I said. “I was in England, getting ready to fly another mission over Germany. It was WWII and my plane and crew were ready. I came into the mess and they all cheered. We were all so close and they all respected me. I felt confident and—whole—and—I dunno, accepted is too mild a word, you know? We all joked and laughed, even though we knew we could die. There just wasn’t room or energy enough to be afraid.
“Then I was alone, and my crew were all climbing into the plane. I was saying to the ship’s cat, “We’re going to crash and four of us are going to die. Gunnar—he’s our gunner—is going to die and Tony is going to die. I don’t know who the other two to die are, it might even be me. I don’t know. I’m okay with that but the men all trust me and I’m—it will be my fault. I’ll be off course.” The cat just looked at me. It licked its paw and said, ‘I’d go with you ordinarily but not this time. This time all the rats and I are deserting the ship.’”
* * * *
I could feel Frederick still rubbing my shoulder and it comforted me. I woke up a bit more and said plainly, “Where is this?” I remember I could see, but it was all foggy and blurred, like it was either a very dark rainy night, or like I had gauze over my face, like you might on a Halloween mask. I even waved my hand in front of my eyes as if there was smoke there.
Frederick said, “You’re in the hospital.” I could see so much pain in the depths of his eyes. I knew it must be terrible, whatever had happened. Inside a building somewhere then, okay. I was terrified as well as still confused though. I asked, “But where? Is it France or Germany or are we back in England?” I searched his eyes. They told me nothing more, but only mirrored my own confusion.
For a while Frederick didn’t answer, just looked at me. Finally he said, as calmly and logically as he could, “You’ve been dreaming. We’re right here, in town, at the Medical Center.”
I got upset. What town? What center? “No!” I whispered hoarsely. “No. When—when is this?”
Frederick said, “Friday.”
“No! What year?” I was getting really agitated; his answers were not helping at all. My breathing was faster and various machines were bleeping frantically away.
After a nurse came in and looked me over, Frederick said to himself, “I’m writing this down. This is just crazy. Go back to sleep, Blaine.” He sounded upset. I thought I heard him say ‘darling’. I know I felt him kiss my cheek, his lips lingering there, him, alone with me.
* * * *
I lost focus and everything got foggy again. A part of me wanted to stay there, with Frederick, in his arms, wherever we were, but I could not. I drifted off once again, Not fully asleep, but certainly not fully awake either. And after a bit I started talking once again. “A captain always goes down with his ship. My ship happens to be an airship, unlike its namesake, the original Cagafuego that belonged to my pirate grandfather Drystan, but she still needs her captain to boss the crew around. I’m a very lucky pirate that they respect me so much.
“Once, when I was a young lad back on the farm, I had a weird dream. I’d dozed off in the hay after milking the cows. And I dreamed…I dreamed I was my pirate ancestor and the ship was indeed, sinking, with all hands. I knew that I was going to live however, and one other, but not the man I loved—yes I dare say loved. I knew he would not be that other one.” I woke up just enough to look at Frederick and ask him, “Isn’t that the saddest thing, dear?” and then I was back out of my own reality once again.
“But see, when I was on the plane, and we were in the flak, that feeling came over me once again, and I knew we were going down, not into the ocean such as the original Cagafuego did, but into the land, the forest below. And all would die but me, and one other, and not the one I loved.” I woke enough to look at Frederick and cry, “Tis so, so sad!”
I noticed him listening to me, and gave it no thought. Apparently I talked for a long time and told a very weird story. Frederick, having nothing else to do, kept touching my shoulder or arm or cheek (and I think he kissed me more than once) and was writing it all down. It didn’t matter to me that he was writing, only that he was there. He was a solid form, sitting there in the semi-darkness with all the little green and red lights and beeping noises, and the hushed talk of the nurses down the hall. I was aware enough, I suppose, to hope he was as casual as he appeared, and not as upset as was I.
Unaware of all that, I went on. “We’re going to crash and four of us will die. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. I just don’t know which ones. Not all of us anyhow. But come on, let’s go play pirates on a plane. Pay no attention to the cat; he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
“When we got close to the target I checked the course and direction and then when all the flak and anti-aircraft started in on us, we dropped our bombs so fast it felt like the plane had diarrhea. We truly were our namesake then, shitting fire on the land below, but we had been hit and hit badly. One of my maneuvers took us seventy degrees off course, which would have been fine but not with the navigator already dead or out of his mind, I don’t know which. All I know is, we got lost. The rudder and aileron controls must have been hit as well, for the wings and fuselage were full of holes, both engines were trailing black, oily smoke, and all we could do was stay on that heading.. After about thirty miles we came out of the doldrums, uh, I mean the mizzenmast got shot off, no wait…(that was
the ship, hmm, this is the plane, right?) Oh yeah, anyhow after that the engines died too, and…uh, then we went down. Sank like a stone. Crash landed. Boom! Much easier to sink a plane than a real ship, ha ha. I was hiding from the terror then, not in the closet in my quarters on the ship like dear old Drystan crying. “Oh my dresses, my treasure, my love!” but hiding in my mind as the terror went on around me. The banging of torn fuselage parts and the air rushing through the holes and the engines grew louder and the land grew closer below. I struggled to keep the nose up and to bleed off airspeed before we hit the ground and slithered between trees, tearing the wings off.
“I guess the navigator was one of the first ones to die. I’d never told anyone that before and certainly not after, because they thought I was dead then too, didn’t they? Some thought I’d deserted because of that seventy degree turn off course, but others reported that the engines were aflame and the plane was all torn up. Nobody ever knew for sure. The plane—and the crew, all of us—were never found. And, of course, four of us were dead.
“I was dreadfully sorry about it all, even though my part of the whole disaster was very small. There was a whole chain of things that happened, nothing to do about most of them. I shouldn’t even be talking about it now, probably, but time passes, time passes. The others are gone now, and I have someone else. I’m missing Gunnar the most of course, he and I had—an understanding, you know. It wasn’t unheard of at the time, and we hid it the best we could. And with me hiding still, our families need never know. If I die now too, at least I will have known love. I’m not sorry about that, but my poor, darling Gunnar.”
I was silent a few moments. Then in a very low tone I added, “I’m most sorry about my wife and son back in the states. I’m over here to make their lives safe and better, and now…well with me thought dead, they’ll be taken care of, and never have to know about…what I really am.”
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