by Sarah Black
Eddie’s platoon was not eating in silence. Just as he’d thought, they had mowed through every bit of food in the place like a pack of hungry bears. They were huddled around a couple of tables shoved together, laughing and talking and shoving each other in the shoulder, telling stories and reminding themselves they were brothers. Graham looked at Eddie, his big brother, and felt an unexpected double-thump of love fill up his chest until he couldn’t take a breath. Eddie was a little broader across the chest, and Graham was a half-inch taller, but otherwise they could have been twins, same dark-honey hair and hazel eyes, with a dimple in their stubborn chins. Graham still wasn’t over that low-level panic that had never left him while they’d been gone, that knowledge in his gut that Eddie might not come back, that Tommy might come back in pieces. Graham still got up and turned on CNN when he couldn’t sleep.
Tommy was with them. He seemed to be the only one at the table not in uproarious good spirits. Those guys looked vulnerable, too, like they’d just realized they were alive and couldn’t quite believe it yet. Like somebody could still put a bomb down in the road in front of them, and they could drive their pickups over it and kiss their legs good-bye.
And the ranch hands, those tough cowboys, they looked like they were living the words to a sad cowboy song. What would it be like to work with the cattle every day, to spend all day in the saddle, shoulders sore, back sore, face chapped and raw, and lie down at night on a narrow bed, in a bunkhouse full of other cowboys? Solitude was one thing, and it had its joys. But those men looked lonesome.
Graham shrugged. They were lonesome but well-fed, and that was all he could do. He could offer food so good it would fill up some empty little place in their chests that needed beauty. His good food helped when a person was feeing lonesome. He looked over and locked eyes with Tommy, and for once Tommy didn’t nod and look away.
Ziegler pushed open the door to the Moose and crossed to the table Eddie was sharing with his platoon. Graham watched with interest. Zeigler had been the top-dog veteran in Lincoln County for a long time, ran the VFW’s Memorial Day, Veteran’s Day, and Fourth of July parades with the organizational skills of a born supply sergeant, which he had been in Vietnam. He was also mayor of Capitan, and his resemblance to the town’s most famous citizen, Smokey the Bear, was noted by everyone, but never discussed out loud. Graham had wondered how Ziegler would take having a new generation of young vets working through the wounds of a war, coming back home and filling up the VFW hall with their stories and their energy and pain. Especially since it was coming up to election time.
Zeigler pressed the flesh, slapped a few backs, and made his genial way up to the buffet. “Graham, load me up a to-go box, okay? Give me some of everything.” When Graham brought the mayor’s favorite piece of pie from the kitchen, wrapped in plastic, he noticed that Baxter had dragged him off for a chat, skinny arms flailing around as he made his point. Zeigler had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his fist balled. Oh, God. Graham hoped Baxter wasn’t proposing his John Wayne in Drag contest idea. Zeigler was touchy about the VFW bathroom issue. He thought since Lincoln County only had one vet in a wheelchair they shouldn’t spend a lot of money on an overhaul. Especially since she had publicly suggested they burn down the VFW hall and called Zeigler a sexist fucker and worse, a desk jockey.
Baxter’s mother had been a Navy helo pilot in the first Iraq war, took an RPG up the belly of her chopper when she was in the co-pilot’s seat on a medevac mission. Merry was a legend, more balls than half the boots in Lincoln County. She drove Baxter crazy, drove the ranch hands crazy, drove the cattle crazy, and drove her father crazy driving hell bent for leather over the ranch in a souped-up four-wheeler fitted with hand controls. Every time there was an election in the county, for mayor or for the VFW leadership, half the votes were write-ins for Merry. Ziegler couldn’t look at her without getting red in the face and spitting in a nearby patch of dirt. Baxter had latched onto the VFW bathroom because he wanted to give his mother a gift she couldn’t ask for herself.
Back in the kitchen Baxter pulled boxes of vanilla ice cream out of the freezer, set them on the counter to soften. The pies were still warm and so were the brownies, and the kitchen smelled like heaven. Graham started scooping pieces onto small plates and carried a tray to the buffet table. Baxter followed him out with the coffeepot. They’d started serving buffet-style over a year ago now, when their waitress scampered. The buffet was very popular. It was a rare night they had any food left to put away.
When Eddie’s platoon started coming up to the table to choose a dessert, Graham went back into the kitchen and sank gratefully into the plastic lawn chair he kept in the corner for just these moments. He propped his feet up on the kitchen trash can and studied the toes of his boots. These boots were hot, square-toed Ariat Rowdy Ramblers in oiled tobacco brown leather. His feet were killing him. He was going to have to save these boots, switch back to his rubber Crocs for kitchen work. Maybe he’d save these boots for a date, if he ever went on one again. He was studying the toes of the boots when Tommy pushed open the door and walked into the kitchen.
“Callahan.” Graham didn’t move. “Listen, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For what I said before. You know I didn’t mean it.” Tommy was grinding away on his back teeth, his jaw like a rock. Graham nodded, didn’t speak. Tommy walked closer, nudged him in the thigh with one knee. “I said I was sorry, Callahan.”
“Yeah, I heard you. Where the fuck have you been? You’ve been home two months.” He blinked hard to keep his eyes from filling up with tears.
Tommy rocked back on his heels, and Graham looked over and studied his boots. Black Justins, lizard skin. Tommy had worn his good boots to dinner.
“You didn’t eat anything, Graham. The food was good tonight.”
Graham leaned back and stared up into his face. “You’re not very good at bullshit small talk, Tommy. You want some small talk? Fine. I think if you’ve fallen in love with someone else, you ought to have the decency to tell me so yourself, after ten fucking years, not just…” He put his feet down on the ground and stood up, put one hand flat on Tommy’s chest and gave him a shove. “And if you haven’t fallen in love with somebody else, I’m gonna be even more pissed off. Every time you stay away from me for some bullshit reason of your own that you don’t care to share, that makes me just a little bit madder.”
Tommy didn’t budge. It was like trying to shove a mountain. “You have everything of me I have to give you. What do you want, Callahan? Friends isn’t good enough anymore? You can’t even be fucking civil in public?”
“Friends? Friends actually get to see each other every once in awhile. And we’re not in public. And…and you just leave Baxter alone. He’s just a kid, trying it on. He gets hassled, he’s gonna get more and more outrageous. He’s stubborn as his mamma, Tommy, and he’s looking for a cause.”
“I know that. Don’t you think I know that? You think I came in here to talk about Baxter?” Tommy pulled the chair over and sat down heavily, closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead wearily. “Jesus, Graham. Give me a break. Can’t you please just give me a break? I’m…I’m not right yet. I said I was sorry. Don’t expect me to get out the fucking scourge.”
Graham studied Tommy’s face, arms crossed over his chest. He could not believe this. Was that all the apology he was going to get for a goddamn year at war and one letter? For Tommy being home two months and not coming thirty miles up the road to see him? Apparently so. “You don’t look so good, Tommy. You’re not sleeping?”
“No.” Tommy stood up and walked out the door without another word.
The ranch hands filed out as silently as they had eaten, nodding their thanks as they pushed through the door. Half of Eddie’s platoon came up and hugged Graham, the other half shook his hand and thanked him for the good supper and all the support when they’d been deployed.
Bear, a tall, lanky guy who looked like he hadn’t shaved or
cut his hair since he’d been back, asked him about the venison recipe, then told him, “There was this one time, Graham, I was just… I don’t know. I felt totally wasted, the noise, the shit food, my stomach jumping every time I heard something that could have been small arms fire. I read that letter you wrote – you remember? The one about Valentine’s Day down at the high school, and they had that dance and all, and I didn’t even know who you were talking about, man, but it didn’t matter. It reminded me of the whole country, Valentine’s Day in America, and I remembered that everything was normal back here, and people were acting normal and doing what they were supposed to do. And I knew next Valentine’s Day I’d be home where everything was the way it was supposed to be.” He rubbed his hand down over his face. “Anyway, thanks, buddy.”
“You’re welcome, Bear. You staying with Eddie?” He looked a little frayed around the edges; they all did.
“Yeah. He gave me a place on the couch for a couple of days. I’m gonna go out again, maybe look around for a job driving a truck. That’s what I did over there. I could drive a Coors truck without too much trouble.”
Graham laughed. “Just make sure your beer run goes through this part of New Mexico, so you can come eat and look in on Eddie. I think he’s been missing you guys.”
Bear looked over at the group of men pushing back their chairs and talking together. “Yeah, me, too. It’s funny. I sleep better now with a bunch of guys laying around in their sleeping bags on the floor, cussing and farting. Jesus, I hope that doesn’t last forever.”
* * * * *
Graham was so tired his bones ached, but he shaved and brushed his teeth before crawling between warm flannel sheets the ice-blue color of Tommy’s eyes. Time was he would have showered and slid naked between the sheets, rock-hard with anticipation and desire, would have lain awake twisting the sheets between restless legs, hoping Tommy would show up in the night and climb into bed with him. But that waiting was a killer.
Tommy sat down on the side of Graham’s bed about midnight, started pulling off his boots, and Graham felt his resentment disappear in a flash of heat and anticipation, need so strong he couldn’t catch his breath. He rolled over and put the palm of his hand on the flat of Tommy’s back, up under his sweatshirt. Tommy’s back was warm and damp, and Graham’s hands were shaking against his skin. Desire rolled through his belly, desire and some strange relief that things were back to the way they were supposed to be in the world, him lying in bed waiting, aching to be touched, Tommy sitting on the side of his bed and pulling off his boots. He could feel his cock filling between his legs, had to struggle to not climb out of the sheets and crawl all over Tommy and shove his cock… “One of these nights you’re gonna wander in here after a year and two months and I won’t be alone in this bed.”
Tommy looked over his shoulder, hunger and sorrow moving like the wind over his face. “Maybe I’ll be happy for you, you got somebody else to love. That you’re not spending your life here alone waiting for me.”
Goddamnit! If he had the balls, he would kick Tommy’s sorry ass right out of here. “Fuck you, Tommy. Maybe I’m laying here alone, but don’t think I’m just waiting for you. I’m not lonely.” Yeah, and if you believe that… Graham rolled over and shoved his face in the pillow, his cock aching.
“You keep saying that to me today, ‘Fuck you, Tommy.’ You’ve never told me to go fuck myself. Now you’ve said it twice in one day.” Tommy pulled his sweatshirt over his head and dropped it on the floor, then shucked off his jeans. “You never cussed before. Do you want me to go?” He slid naked between the sheets, his hands reaching for Graham. “Baby, don’t make me go.”
Graham reached up and touched Tommy’s face, slid hands through his hair to hold them close. He could feel their legs tangling together, their cocks sliding against each other. Tommy was hard already, too, and he was shaking. He lifted his hips, thrust against Graham’s cock, buried his moans in Graham’s neck.
Graham wrapped his legs around Tommy’s hips, pulled him in close. He smelled good, and he’d just shaved, too. “Tommy, you got new aftershave.” It was wonderful, the fragrance spicy and sharp, but Graham felt thrown off balance. What was Tommy doing with new aftershave? The old one wasn’t good enough? Why had he…
Tommy leaned up on an elbow and looked down at him. “Do you like it? It’s Calvin Klein.”
“Calvin Klein? What are you doing buying Calvin Kl – ”
“I bought it for you. I thought, you know, you might like something different. This is the first time I’ve worn it.”
Graham’s eyes blurred with tears. “Yeah, Tommy.” His voice was husky, and he pulled Tommy down and sniffed at the new aftershave. “Yeah, I like it a lot.”
Tommy’s body fit against his with the ease of long practice. He settled down on top of Graham and sighed, his breath warm and beer-scented against Graham’s neck. “Jesus, Graham.” He reached for Graham’s face and kissed him, and Graham could taste how hungry he was. Hungry and angry and full of sorrow. “I thought I would die for wanting you.” Their cheeks were wet with tears.
“I thought you burned me out of your system,” Graham said later. “A year gone, and it took you two months to make it over here from Carrizozo. You never stayed away that long before. Did you fall in love with someone else?”
Tommy shook his head. Graham was splayed out on top of him, his belly sticky and wet, and Tommy was holding him with both hands on his ass to keep him from moving away. “Are you still in love with me, Tommy?”
“I never said I was in love with you.” Tommy was moving down his neck, his mouth tender. He licked Graham’s damp skin. “You feel bitter about the way things are between us, and one of these days, that bitterness is gonna kill off whatever feeling is left between you and me. I can already see it happening. You’re getting hard, Graham. You’re starting to resent me. Maybe I feel some of that resentment, too.”
“I’m getting hard? You don’t talk to me enough to know me, Tommy. I’m not nineteen. You don’t even know me anymore.”
“Maybe you’re right, Graham. Do you know me?” He reached for Graham’s mouth and kissed him hard, and Graham could feel a little anger simmering behind his kiss. “You still love me? I know you do, I can feel it.”
“I never said I loved you. But I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Tommy. I want to pretend like everything is fine between us, and you were in my bed last night, and you will be again tomorrow. I want to make love like we have all the time in the world. Just this once, okay? Tell me what you would do, if you could do anything.”
“I’m doing it. I just want to be with you and touch you again. I’m sorry I waited. Don’t ask me to explain, Graham. I can’t talk about it, not yet.” His hands were roaming over Graham’s back, up to his shoulders, down the long slope of his back to his ass. Tommy moved his head, traced the line of Graham’s jaw with his mouth. “You shaved. Did you know I was coming?”
Graham leaned up on his arms and looked down at Tommy. His hair was wild on the pillowcase, brown curls tumbling over his forehead, and his eyes were tender. Graham felt his heart do a slow stumble in his chest. “We’ve been doing this for ten years, Tommy. Of course I knew you were coming.”
Graham could feel Tommy’s cock stirring, nudging him for a little attention. He eased back and moved his hands down Tommy’s body, tangling his fingers in the dark brown hair that covered his chest and belly. He traced a line of new pink scars, like a starburst on Tommy’s shoulder and big right arm. “What’s this? You got hurt, Tommy? Nobody told me.”
Tommy shrugged. “It wasn’t much of an injury, some shrapnel from an IED in the road. We got off pretty lucky, really. Everybody loved your letters, Graham. Even more than the care packages, I think. Somebody would read one of your letters out loud, and I could hear you. I could hear your voice. It was good. It made me feel good.”
Graham put his cheek down next to Tommy’s cock, the musty smell of semen and sweat filling his nose. This was their
smell, when their come was smeared together over their bellies, and this was their taste. He rubbed his cheek against Tommy’s cock, felt it fill and lift into the air. He took the head between his lips, traced the velvet soft opening with the tip of his tongue. Tommy groaned a little, lifted his hips, and reached for Graham’s head.
Tommy’s fingers grazed his cheek, and Graham looked up at him. “You didn’t leave the door open for me, Callahan.”
Graham smiled, and he realized it was his first smile tonight. “I wanted to make you break in.”
* * * * *
Supper the next night, Baxter and Max were brainstorming, and Graham’s headache was back.
“How about a cowboy auction? I read about this. They have one up in Alaska somewhere. You get a dance and a drink with your cowboy if you win the bidding, all proceeds to the VFW.”
“Max, that’s brilliant! If they have a talent, we could do a talent show thing to up the bidding. American Idol in boots.”
“Baxter, are you going to tell these cowboys ahead of time that both boys and girls are gonna be in on the bidding? Because I think otherwise blood might get spilled.” Graham dished up a big plate of salad, put about a pound of sweet, slow-cooked venison on top of it, and passed it to Ray.
Ray was ranch foreman for Baxter’s granddad’s ranch, and he had been in a bad mood since he went on a diet a couple of weeks ago. “What’s wrong with the chili cook-off? We have it every year. It raises three, four hundred dollars. If we chop the wood ourselves for the wood stove, that should be enough to last the VFW from Veteran’s Day to Memorial Day.” Ray was a Vietnam Marine, but he had not said one word about Vietnam to anyone in all the years since then.
