Forever

by Jeff Holmes

  “Get the fuck out of my face,” Rick said. “This has been a long enough month for me.”

  “For YOU?” Scott bellowed. “Some chick shows up at your house three weeks before your wedding and tells Maggie the whole story, and it’s been a long month for YOU? You selfish, stupid, piece of shit!”

  “I’m sorry about that, and I apologized to Maggie,” Rick shot back. “I’m sorry that happened.”

  “You’re sorry you got caught? You’re sorry your skank showed up at the house? That’s all you’re sorry about? You are so fucking stupid.”

  “You’re just pissed because Roni took this personally,” Rick seethed. “If she’s pissed at you, that’s not my problem. You have to control your woman.”

  Scott stepped back and shook his head. “You’re almost right. I’m pissed at myself because of the way Roni reacted. I wasn’t honest with her. I gave her a reason to doubt me. And I will never do that again.

  “As for needing to ‘control my woman’,” he said, “our relationship isn’t about control. It’s about love and sharing and trust. Which whether you want to fucking believe it or not, that’s what it’s supposed to be about.”

  “You do things your way and I’ll do them mine,” Rick said, smugly. “Maggie and I are getting married. She forgave me. That’s all we needed.”

  “Does that mean it’s over?” Scott asked. “Are you saying you’re done cheating? Are you saying it’s never going to happen again?”

  Rick smirked. “It means I need to be more careful.”

  Scott charged Rick, grabbed him by the front of his jacket and slammed him into the stall gate.

  “Look, fuckhead,” Scott screamed, his face inches from Rick’s. “Maggie might be your woman to you, but she’s my friend and Roni’s friend and we might not even be together if it wasn’t for her. We love her.

  “If you can’t keep your dick in your pants, then break up with her NOW and let her find someone who won’t treat her like a like a piece of shit!”

  Rick pushed back against Scott, created some space and punched him in the jaw. Scott staggered a moment, then returned the punch, dropping Rick into the hay and horseshit.

  “Bottom line, Weber,” Scott said, standing over him. “I am your friend and I am Maggie’s. And for reasons that pass understanding, I love both of you. But I covered up for you for years and I’m not going to do it again. You do what you want, but you better pray I never find out, because I will go to Maggie in a heartbeat. You will not hurt her again. I will burn you down.”

  Rick sat there for a moment. “I don’t know why I do it,” he said. “I love Maggie very much. I guess I don’t look at random sex and love as the same thing.”

  “It isn’t about love and it isn’t about sex, asshole,” Scott said. “It’s about trust. You can have all the love in the world, but if there’s no trust, there’s nothing. If you can’t see that, you should walk away now, before you hurt her again. I protected you before; I won’t do it again.”

  “I don’t need your protection,” Rick said.

  “Fine,” Scott said, reaching out his hand to Rick up. “Just remember what I said.”

  ****

  CHAPTER 21

  “Gentlemen, it is time.”

  Rick, Scott, Rick’s brother Tom, Maggie’s brother Tony, and Kirk Rathbun huddled up in the second floor Sunday School room at the Wild Horse First Congregational Church.

  As best man, it was Scott’s job to lead the way. “Well, we’ve got him this far. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  The guys headed down the stairs and lined up. Instead of a single aisle, First Congregational had two; the girls were on the left, guys on the right. Mark was one usher, Kurt Forrester the other. As the music started, the doors to the two side rooms opened. Rathbun went out first, as did Rick’s sister, Deena, married and five months pregnant. Then Tom and Wendy, and Tony and Lyn, Maggie’s roommate from UNC. Roni and Scott rounded out the processional. And they were having fun with it.

  At the back of the church, they made eye-contact, then mouthed-out “one-two-three” to get ready to walk down the aisle. On “three” Scott took two steps down the aisle, while Roni froze and laughed, pointing at him. Maggie and her dad were right behind her, laughing too. Scott stopped and gave a Roni a deadpan stare. She put on a mock serious look then started down the aisle and they walked the rest of the way down together.

  The girls all wore pastel short-sleeved lace dresses – Deena in pink, Wendy in lavender, Lyn in green and Roni in yellow. They all donned white sun hats trimmed with their dress color and carried bouquets of daisies. The guys were decked out in white tuxes with shirts that matched the girls’ dresses. Rick cleaned up nicely in an all-white tux with tails.

  Maggie was beautiful. To Scott she was far and away the second best-looking girl there, behind Roni. She graced a white satin dress with short sleeves, a long train and veil. But a couple of things varied from the original plan. She wore her long hair up and styled with baby’s breath and daisies woven through it. And she wasn’t wearing the blusher.

  These were two things Rick had absolutely insisted on – hair down and blusher – but he forfeited those two things for obvious reasons.

  The wedding was very sweet. Scott and Roni never took their eyes off each other, even mouthing the vows to each other. Maggie’s dad performed the service as a true professional, yet choked up a couple of times as his only daughter was no longer his little girl. If only he knew the truth.

  The reception was simple; cake and punch in the church basement. The Saturday before Labor Day, the Wild Horse Volunteer Fireman’s Dance was that night, so the party would naturally wind up there.

  Expectedly, Roni caught the bouquet and Scott caught the garter. And by the time the reception died down around 6:30, everyone was ready blow off some steam at the dance, although the bride and groom were headed to Denver. They were staying there overnight, then flying to Hawaii for a weeklong honeymoon. But first they had to say goodbye to the soon-to-be Mitchells.

  “Footer, thanks for everything,” Maggie said. “I’m not pissed at you anymore. We’re still coming next month, OK?”

  “I’m glad you’re not mad,” Scott said. “I love you, Mags. Be happy, and don’t be afraid to kick him in the balls.”

  “Thanks, Scott,” Rick said. “I’m sorry about what I put you guys through. I just told Roni to never doubt how much you love her. She knew.”

  “Look,” Scott said. “Just don’t fuck this up. I now have a vast knowledge of how to use both semi-automatic and automatic weapons, and after this, I have no problem whatsoever using them on you.”

  Rick hugged him. “See you in about a month or so!”

  Under a shower of rice, Mr. and Mrs. Rick Weber jumped into the big white station wagon and sped off down the street.

  “Well, Footer,” Roni said, wrapping her arms around him. “We’re next.”

  By noon Sunday, the last caravan was headed east, near Hays, Kansas. Sarge led the way with Scott and Kimmy. It was loaded down with everything that could fit under the tonneau cover. Amy and Brooke rode with Roni in the Sky Bird behind them.

  Ray followed in a small U-Haul carrying Scott and Roni’s bedroom set, dining room table, the piano and a papa-san love seat Roni found in Denver. Bringing up the rear were Kat and Donna in the McIntyre’s Jimmy and Wayne and Mark in the Mitchells’ van.

  It was around 3:00 when the parade turned off 14th and onto Fremont in Manhattan. As they did, Jack and Esther came out the front door of the house while Amanda and her roommates came out from next door.

  “Moving crew!” Amanda shouted as they came across the yard.

  Around 8:00 p.m., the McIntyres and Mitchells had already gone back to the Ramada Inn. Esther dragged Jack out the door, reminding him it was well past his bedtime. And the crew from next door was off to a party across campus.

  Scott and Roni sat in the porch swing in the twilight. The stereo was on behind them; Scott threw in Crosby, Still
s, Nash and Young.

  “Let’s make a deal, McIntyre,” he said.

  “What’s that, Mitchell?” Roni asked.

  “Once we get through our wedding, whenever I get leave, we’re staying right here! We’ve done enough traveling in the last four months for about 10 years.”

  “That is a deal. I will be very happy being bored here with you.”

  At that moment, quite appropriately, Our House came through the speakers.

  “I love you, Footer. We made it!”

  “Are we going to get a couple of cats now, too?”

  “Bet your ass we are.”

  “I love you, Cowgirl.”

  ****

  CHAPTER 22

  “Where are you taking me for lunch today, Footer?”

  “Hmmm….cheese sandwiches in the east stands of Memorial, maybe?”

  “Cheese? C’mon big spender…pop for bologna at least!”

  “OK, baby, anything for you!”

  Roni leaned over and kissed Scott as she gathered up her purse, keys and jacket to head off to work.

  “OK, love you! Don’t forget the dry cleaning!”

  “I won’t. Love you too, baby.”

  Roni bounced down the steps and out the back door, fired up the Sky Bird and pulled out of the carport. It had been just over three weeks since the McIntyres and Mitchells departed Manhattan, leaving Scott and Roni to start forever.

  Ray used some connections to land Roni a job at Briggs Auto in Manhattan. She was working in the service department as a scheduler and it was only 20 hours a week, but it helped pay for groceries.

  Amanda helped Roni land a job on weekends at Kite’s and another bar, The Poison Apple. Mostly she bartended, but at times, she was a server. It was minimum wage and tips. Every little bit helped.

  Scott didn’t have the average Army schedule. As an EMT, he worked three 15-hour days, then had three days off. It was either 0600 to 2100 or 1500 to 0600; three days of day shift, three days off, three days of overnights, then three days off. It was at times exciting, at other times boring.

  Scott and Roni struggled a bit financially, but they were hanging in there. They were playing a waiting game. They couldn’t start collecting BAS (food allowance) and BEQ (housing allowance) until after the wedding New Year’s Eve. Once they presented their marriage license, they would qualify for an extra $470 a month that would cover rent and food. But that was still three-and-a-half months away.

  And, while Roni didn’t mind her jobs, she was really looking forward to working on campus. Her parents agreed to make up the difference between in-state and out-of-state tuition for a year at K-State. But she had also already been hired for a 20-hour-a-week job in the University library that would pay more than her other jobs put together and let her do homework.

  But again, since she didn’t start school until January, she couldn’t start the job until then, either. They dipped into savings to pay Jack and Esther their first four months rent in advance, so they wouldn’t have that headache. The rest of the savings was reserved for Roni’s school.

  In the meantime, date nights were $1.00 movies on base, watching TV, sex, or pizza nights. On the 17th they attended their first Kansas State football game. The picnics at Memorial Stadium added a spark to otherwise routine days.

  “How’s your bologna, Cowgirl?”

  “Beats just cheese!”

  One of Scott’s favorite areas of the KSU campus was Memorial Stadium, an ancient stone edifice that was the home of Wildcat football from 1922 until 1967. It resembled castle walls and sat below the equally fortress-looking Ahearn Fieldhouse, home to basketball, volleyball and just about everything else.

  What was most impressive to Scott was the old stadium was still standing. Usually when a school built a new stadium, the old one was bulldozed. A cinder track circled around Memorial’s field with a goal post on the north end and soccer goals on both ends. The old wooden bleachers still stood, and scattered throughout its 17,500-seat bowl, several dozen individuals or groups often studied or ate lunch. Footballs and Frisbees freely flew around the Astroturf field.

  “This place is just awesome, Roni!” Scott said. “It would have been cooler than hell to play here.”

  Roni, dressed in khaki shorts, sandals and a red Briggs Auto Center polo shirt with “Roni” embroidered over her right breast, wrinkled her nose. “I dunno, Footer. It’s kind of a dump.”

  “Dump? DUMP?” Scott exclaimed, feigning hurt. “This is a classic.”

  “Folsom Field is a classic, Footer,” she said, barely looking up from her bridal magazine. “This would have made a nice high school field; in 1950.”

  “You just don’t appreciate history, baby.”

  “I will say one thing; this would be a great place to come work out for your comeback. A track and stairs to run, a goal post, even a turf field. We should get the ball and block out and start coming over.”

  “I’d go for that,” Scott said. “This place would be perfect. NAIA here we come!”

  “Actually, back to work, here I come,” Roni said. “Can we spring for Pizza Hut tonight?”

  “Well, we have to pay cable, and I’ll gas up both cars, but yeah, let’s get pizza.”

  They hopped up and walked back down the bleachers, out the 35-yard line tunnel and into the parking lot. It was a nice day so Roni had the t-tops off the Sky Bird. “Want me to drop you off at home?”

  “Nope, I’ll walk. Might come back and go for a run.”

  She kissed him and got in the car. “Don’t hurt yourself. You have a talent for that.”

  “I love you, too.”

  It was Wednesday, Sept. 28, two days from end-of-month payday and the first of three days off for Scott. Roni and Amanda were working that Friday night at The Poison Apple and Scott wasn’t too thrilled about it. Army end-of-month payday could get a little crazy. A lot crazy.

  For the average soldier at Fort Riley, end-of-month payday was a training holiday. Everyone received their checks about noon, and then all bets were off. Most had blown their month’s salary weeks ago and now they could load up on cigarettes, weed, and partying.

  Many off-post troops, who had to learn to budget, were fine on end-of-month, but for the gang on Custer Hill, it was like Bastille Day. And while most guys headed to Junction City for payday, a few made their way to Manhattan, hoping to score some college tail as opposed to the JC skanks and hookers.

  Roni was off all day on Friday, too. She and Scott spent the morning the way they spent most mornings they had off together, sleeping in and making love. They talked about wedding plans and maybe going to the K-State game against Mississippi State on Saturday.

  About noon they drove to the Fort to pick up Scott’s paycheck; it was $560, his first check as a Spec 4. They bought groceries at the Commissary, picked up some items at the PX, then headed home.

  “Knockity-knock people!”

  “C’mon on in Amanda!” Scott shouted.

  Amanda burst through the door at in her Poison Apple outfit; purple t-shirt and tight black shorts. She was a little off-kilter at times, but Scott and Roni really liked her. She was a military brat. Her dad was an Air Force colonel based out of McConnell AFB in Wichita. She was Roni’s height, but with more of an athletic build, with shoulder-length, wavy raven-black hair, dark brown eyes, and the vocabulary of a sailor.

  Roni and Scott weren’t the only ones fond of her. Scott’s new EMT partner, Todd Marquis, liked Amanda, too. He went with the gang to the Florida State game and even hung out last Saturday at Kite’s listening to the Wildcats beat Wichita State. A Kansas boy himself, he hailed from the small town of Greenberg.

  Todd was already at the house when Amanda arrived. He and Scott had volunteered to help out as trainers at the Manhattan High football game that night. They didn’t have to be there until 5:30, but when Scott let it slip that Amanda would be over about 4:00, Todd was there by 3:30.

  “Hi Toddy,” Amanda said, brightly. “Scotty, where’s my girl?” />
  “Upstairs getting ready, Mandy. Go get her.”

  Amanda bounded up the steps. Todd sighed. “Dude. She is hot.”

  “Careful partner. Colonel’s kid. That could be dangerous to your scrotum.”

  “Don’t care; one shot would be worth it.”

  The girls came down the stairs, giggling like seventh-graders.

  “What is so funny?” Scott asked. “You two are goofy.”

  “Ummm…” Roni said, “Amanda has some really good hash. Here!”

  She passed Todd the pipe. He took a hit and handed it to Scott.

  “That’s good shit, Amanda,” Todd said.

  “I always have good shit,” she said.

  “OK, honey, how do we look?” Roni asked.

  They both looked good in their tight purple shirts and black shorts. Scott frowned.

  “Gorgeous. Stay home.”

  “Footer, I’m bartending. We’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah, until the First of the 18th Infantry lands at the Apple.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “He doesn’t trust the infantry,” Todd chimed in. Roni shot him a dirty look.

  “Didn’t Slick Man say we can trust the infantry?” she asked.

  “Not when they’re drunk and horny.” Scott said.

  “I’ll take care of my girl,” Amanda said, hugging Roni. “C’mon, we better get over there.”

  The Poison Apple was just a three-block walk out the back door. Scott still wasn’t thrilled.

  “Please be careful,” he said. “This can be a rough night.”

  “I’ll be fine, baby. Amanda has my back and we have really big-assed bouncers.”

  “OK, we’ll stop by after the game.”

  “Going to be our knights in shining armor, Todd?” Amanda asked.

  “Yes ma’am,” Todd said, grinning.

  Roni gave Scott a quick kiss and they headed out the back door. Scott flopped back in their old love seat as Todd fired up the bowl again.