by Eden Winters
A questioning glance at Michael received a nod. Oh shit. No way to back out gracefully now, not with others watching.
“Should we wait for Jase?” Jay asked.
“Nah,” Mark replied, eyes on Jase’s retreating back. Though he shuffled a bit slowly, if Mark hadn’t told Jay about Jase’s injuries, Michael would never have guessed that the man lost a leg in the attack on his base.
Jay raised a brow in Michael’s direction.
Michael did his best to exhale slowly and not huff out a sigh. “Come on then, let’s go find a table.”
“So, Michael,” Mark said, finally ripping his eyes from his mate, “Jay tells me you’re in college. So am I. What’re you taking?”
They talked about school during the elevator’s descent. Michael took a deep breath when the doors opened. A few people stood chatting in the lobby, but not enough to induce fight or flight instincts.
Tasteful decorations in the banquet hall welcomed them. And not a military insignia in sight. Some attendees dressed in business casual attire, like Jay, Michael, Jase, and Mark, others wore jeans, and Michael spotted a suit or two. A dozen tables, each surrounded by eight chairs, filled the room.
They sat down at an out of the way table. “Can we join you?” a man and woman, who looked roughly the same age as Jay, Michael, and Mark, asked. Michael tried not to figure out what infirmity found the newcomers at a The Wounded event.
***
Jase keyed into their room and slammed the door behind him. He rattled through his suitcase looking for his anxiety medication. He slumped onto the bed, his breathing ragged. Forgot to turn the iron off. Yeah, that was believable. He raked his fingers through his hair, trying desperately to quell the panic. All those people, together in one room. Looking at him, judging him because he’d only lost a leg, while others had lost multiple limbs, eyes, parts of their faces.
He snapped the lid off the lorazepam and popped one into his mouth, swallowing without water. He did some of the relaxation techniques he’d practiced with Mark until his heart stopped trying to burst from his chest and he felt more normal. He sucked in a deep breath and made it to the banquet room without a full blown panic attack. Mark turned and waved to him. It seemed Mark was always aware of where Jase was. Jase gave a weak smile and strode toward the table.
“Did you get the iron taken care of?” Mark asked, reaching out to stroke Jase’s leg.
“Yeah, we’re good.”
Jase glanced up and caught Michael’s eyes. A moment of silent understanding passed. Though Michael didn’t walk with a limp, the sympathy in his eyes said he understood. Perhaps he did.
Chapter Three
Dinner was good. Creamy tomato bisque started off the fare, followed by a field green salad, steak and potatoes, and some kind of chocolaty dessert that puffed up like a marshmallow, but tasted like pudding.
Michael tuned into the conversation around him, content to hear from the others, only contributing when asked a direct question. Jay knew the drill and handled the situation well.
Terri and Greg, the other couple at the table, had met in service, and looked each other up once they were stateside.
“What about you two,” Terri asked, zigzagging a finger between Mark and Jase.
Jase flushed, but Mark spoke up without hesitation. “Jase here was my first and only crush, and my brother’s best friend.” He bestowed an affectionate smile on Jase. “We were meant for each other. He just needed some convincing.” The muscle twitching in his upper arm made Michael believe that, under the table cloth, Mark had just squeezed Jase’s hand.
Terri gave a dreamy sigh. “And now you’re married.” She stroked her hand over Greg’s shoulder.
“Yep. All legal.” Mark raised their joined hands to display his wedding band.
Michael glanced at Jay, who seemed riveted by the tale. Jay deserved a shiny band as well as a home. Even if the state of Alabama wouldn’t acknowledge them legally at the moment, the thing Michael wanted most in the world was to sweep Jay into his arms and ask him to spend the rest of their lives together.
Now wasn’t the time, in a roomful of people. What if Jay said no? Michael still had a lot of issues to work on, and naturally outgoing Jay might get tired of Michael’s wanting to hide in the house all the time. He’d not even been home to see his folks in ages; especially since Michael wasn’t ready to travel so far from home.
At the end of the meal a speaker approached the podium, breaking into Michael’s thoughts. The woman Michael had met in the hallway stood beaming to one side. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the speaker began, “although she needs no introduction, allow me to introduce a special guest, Lisle Finney.”
Murmurs grew at a nearby table. “Holy shit!” someone hissed. “I didn’t know she was blind.”
Michael shot a glance at Jay. “Who’s she?”
Jay’s eyebrows reached for his hairline, and then he frantically began punching buttons on his iPhone before passing it over. The petite blond smiled from the screen, surrounded by dozens of busts of men and women. Michael had gotten as far as “blind from birth” before the lady herself called his attention back to the podium.
The woman from the hallway addressed the crowd. “I was born perfectly healthy, ten fingers, ten toes. As I developed it quickly grew apparent that I wasn’t like other children. My birth mother, feeling she wasn’t up to the task of raising a blind daughter, gave me up for adoption.”
Oh shit. While Michael’s father hadn’t been up to the task of being a father at all, he couldn’t imagine his mother giving him up for any reason.
Despite the harshness of the words, the lady smiled. “My adoptive parents couldn’t understand the problem. You see, they say I was perfect, but you know how biased parents could be.” A few people chuckled.
Her smile fell. “My birth mother did me a kindness. If I’d grown up with her, I might have limited myself, as she saw limitations. Instead, I was taught there was nothing I couldn’t do. Otherwise, who’d believe a woman who’d never seen a face could sculpt one?”
A trio of men entered from a door behind her, each carrying a likeness of himself—a startling likeness.
She continued, “The first bust I created was of my uncle when he’d returned from Desert Storm. He often babysat for me while he stayed with us during his recovery, and was indulgent enough to sit for hours.” Another man entered, carrying yet another bust, this one of a man with scars marring half his face.
Even from a distance Michael couldn’t miss the misty eyes or Lisle blinking back tears. “He later told me that during that time he’d often thought of taking his own life, but stuck around so I could finish my work.” She managed a weak smile. “I took my time. Since then I’ve created twenty-seven works of men and women whose lives were forever changed by war.”
The men placed the sculptures on tables then found a seat in the banquet hall. “My uncle credits me with giving him new purpose. He stopped mourning his losses and set himself to helping others. May I introduce the great man himself, Raymond Finney, founder of The Wounded?”
The man who rolled a wheelchair up to give Lisle a quick peck on the cheek appeared normal from the side, until he turned and showed waxy scars over half of his face. Michael bore a similar mark on his arm, caused by a bit of burning shrapnel. One hand remained in the man’s lap. A blanket covered him from the thighs down.
The story Raymond told ripped at Michael’s heart. How had the man endured losing his entire platoon, the use of one arm and his legs, spending months in the hospital, and still find strength in his heart to surround himself with fellow veterans who also bore the scars of their time in service?
“Here is the message I wanted to deliver to the world when I started The Wounded,” the man said. “When you see us, with our wheelchairs, crutches, or one empty sleeve pinned to our chests, don’t feel pity, for we don’t want or need your pity. Instead, reflect upon the sacrifices others have made to ensure all of our freedom. Take pride in thi
s great land of ours, as we do. We did our duty and hold no regrets. Save your pity for those who have no voice, who live in fear every day of their own governments. Where there is injustice, our nation brings balance, where there is hunger, we bring food, where there is despair, we bring hope.”
The ever increasing pressure around Michael’s heart clenched hard, fear replaced by pride unlike he’d ever known. Here he was, a simple country boy, once called a silly faggot by his stepfather, and he sat with some of the finest men and women to ever wear a uniform. At the end of the speech a string quartet played, first the Army’s anthem, then the Navy’s, then the Marines’. It mattered not what branch of service the assembled represented, when the music died, every voice joined together to proclaim, “Hoo-ah!”
***
“Michael? Are you okay?” Michael glanced up. Very few people remained in the room, though a small group huddled around the artist, asking her questions. Most folks left to prepare to march the next day. The other couple had left the table, leaving only Michael, Jay, Mark, and Jase.
Jay had checked constantly over the last few hours, and Michael seemed to be okay, though several times he’d noticed Michael’s hand in his pocket. More than likely, Michael’s fingers clutched the pill bottle he sometime clung to like a small child seeking comfort from a Teddy bear. A least he hadn’t taken one during the past three hours, or not that Jay had seen.
“Yeah, I’m fine. If you don’t mind, why don’t you go on up to bed. I’ll be there soon. I want to talk to Jase a bit.”
Jay shifted his gaze to Jase, who nodded. Mark placed a hand on Jay’s arm, leading him away. “Think they’ll be all right?” Jay asked once they’d left the banquet hall.
“They’ll be fine. I think they’ve been needing to talk for a while now. How about you, are you okay?”
Jay nodded, though he wasn’t sure. He’d only wanted Michael to feel he fit in, to know he wasn’t alone. Did hearing war stories bring back memories of fallen friends? “Michael lost a good friend over there.”
Mark nodded. “So did Jase. For a long time he wouldn’t talk about it, but now he’s starting to open up.” His eyes roved toward the banquet hall door. “As much as it hurts that he can’t yet tell me everything, I hope that with Michael he’ll unburden himself to the understanding ear.”
They bid each other good night and Jay went upstairs. He lay awake in the dark, waiting to hear Michael’s key in the lock.
***
Jase watched Mark walk away with Jay and gave a silent thank you. He turned his attention back to Michael, who fumbled with one of the napkins they’d used at dinner.
“You, too?” he asked softly.
Michael’s head jerked up. “What do you mean?” he snapped, then shook his head. “Sorry.”
Jase smiled awkwardly. “Not big on crowds, right? I get the sweats when I go out. I work late nights because it’s the only time there aren’t a lot of folks around.”
Michael nodded. “I’ve been in therapy for a while. If it wasn’t for Jay, I don’t think I would have ever done it.”
Jase stood and moved to the chair next to Michael. “I tried to push Mark away. I didn’t want him to see me since I thought I was…less than a man. The stubborn son of a bitch wouldn’t let me, though. He saved my life, even if he doesn’t know it. I wanted to die. I’d lost my folks when I came out. I wouldn’t have Mark, especially after what I did to him. I just wanted it to be over. Eric, Mark’s brother, brought him to see me and Mark gave me holy hell.”
Michael looked around at the nearly empty dining hall before turning his attention back to Jase. “Same with Jay. He pulled me out of the darkness and got me to stand on my own again.” Michael blanched. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Jase laughed, deep and hearty. “Never thought you did.”
Michael scrubbed the side of his face. “It’s weird, you know? We get invited to this because of what happened to us in the war, but those people who love us? They’re our heroes. They won’t let us give up. Won’t let us lose out on having a life. Not everyone is that lucky, I know, but when I think about Jay, I can’t imagine not having him in my life.”
Jase bobbed his head. “I know. That’s exactly how I feel.”
There was an awkward pause before Michael spoke. “What was it like?” he asked quietly.
Jase didn’t answer for a moment. “I don’t remember much of it. I heard voices around me and I hurt badly. I think I cried out for Mark, but I’m not really sure. When I woke up and they told me my leg was gone, I knew the doctors were lying. I could feel that it was still there. After they left, I looked and saw…nothing. It was like it was never even there. They patched me up and sent me home, but I thought my life was over.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Michael said, his voice choked with emotion.
Jase reached out and grabbed Michael’s shoulder. “Thank you. Marky told me what happened to you. I think we’re both just damn lucky.”
Michael nodded. “I’m really glad Jay forced me to come. Meeting you and Mark means a lot.”
“Yeah, our guys are definitely stubborn. I’d hate to see them if they didn’t use their power for good.” Jase looked at his watch. “I’d better get back before Marky falls asleep. He made me a promise and I intend on seeing that he keeps it tonight.”
Michael chuckled, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “Hope you have fun.”
“See you tomorrow at the parade?”
Michael shook his head. “I’m not really good with those things. I think I’ll just sit in the room and wait for Jay to come back.”
Jase leaned forward and grabbed Michael by the elbow. “You have to come. This parade isn’t just for us, it’s for those who love us. Jay didn’t just bring you here to sit alone. He wanted you to know how proud of you he is that you were strong enough to be up there for him. It’s why I’m doing it for Mark. It’s my way to give him my thanks.”
Michael leaned back against the chair, rubbed his chin, and nodded. “Okay, but I’m marching with you, and I expect you to keep me moving forward.”
“Deal.” Jase pulled Michael into an awkward hug. He felt Michael stiffen, then sigh, before finally relaxing into it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Michael finally said, pulling away. He nodded toward Lisle, who had finally broken free of her admirers. “I think I want to talk to Lisle a minute.”
“It’s a date.”
***
At long last the room door opened, emitting a momentary stripe of light to dance across the comforter. Keeping his breath even, Jay pretended to be asleep, waiting to take his cue from Michael. “Jay,” Michael whispered. “Are you awake?”
“Yeah, I’m awake.” He rolled over and opened his arms, letting Michael slide against his chest. Michael’s breath ruffled his hair.
If Michael wanted to speak, he would, though by his own admission, sometimes he wasn’t good with words. Instead, he roved soft lips over Jay’s eyelids, down his jaw, mapping out his face with lips and fingers, as though memorizing every inch of skin, every ridge, every plane. Was he imagining using only his other senses, not his sight, as the blind artist did?
Michael answered the unspoken question. “I spoke to the artist after you left. Damn, but she’s good, without ever even seeing who she’s sculpting. Before meeting her I’d have called her handicapped, but she explained to me that, using her fingers, she finds things in faces that eyes might miss, the way someone’s mouth pulls up higher on one side, or how a nose might be flare a bit more on the right than on the left.”
Mimicking Michael’s movement, Jay stroked his fingers down his lover’s cheek. He found the dimple that stayed hidden except on special occasions, and a tiny scar from when Michael fell out of tree when he was six. Each scar, each line, told a story of the man who bore them.
They abandoned faces to work lower, and though they both sported erections, there was nothing sexual in their touches. “Do you reckon that in the dark you c
ould pick me out of a line up?” Jay teased.
“Yeah,” Michael replied. “You have a scar here,” he traced an appendectomy scar, “and here,” a lasting reminder of a mole that’d been removed.
“We all have our scars.”
“Yes, we do.” Michael grew silent for a time, fingertips still stroking Jay’s skin. “I guess they’re just a part of who we are.”
“Yeah.”
More silence, then, “Why do you put up with me?”
“There’s no ‘putting up with’. I love you.” Jay pulled Michael close to rest against his chest.
“But I’m not easy to live with. Look at how hard you had to work to get me here.”
“You came, didn’t you?”
“Dragging my heels.”
“But you’re here.”
“Thanks to you.”
“What did you think of Mark and Jase?”
“I can see why you wanted me to meet them. They’re nice guys.”
“Yes, they are.” Jay had once asked his papa how he’d proposed to Mom. “The time was right and the words just came out,” Papa had said.
Holding Michael, gently caressing his skin, Jay’s heart filled to bursting. If the time wasn’t right, it might never be. “You know they’re married, right?” he ventured.
“Cool! Too bad Alabama doesn’t allow that.”
Really? Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all. “No, they don’t. Not yet, but we don’t need the state’s approval to live our lives together, even without the benefits of a piece of paper.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” The hitch in Michael’s voice might be a good thing or a bad thing.
“If you’re thinking I’m asking you to be my husband, then yes. If that scares the hell out of you and makes you want to run, then I’m just thinking about ordering coffee and dessert from room service.” Please, Lord, let him say yes! Jay held his breath.
Laughter was the last thing Jay expected.
“What?” Oh God, he’d pushed too far and Michael’d lost his mind.
