The Complete Veterans Affairs Romances: Gay Military Romances

by A. E. Wasp

  Jay-Cee’s hands hovered awkwardly over Chris’ back for a second, then he patted Chris before pulling him into a hug. “It’s okay,” he said. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  Jay-Cee kept his arm around Chris’ shoulder and walked up to Mikey. “You must be Mikey,” he said, offering his hand. “Very nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard many good things about you.” He hands were hard and callused, his grip extremely strong.

  Mikey had to work a little bit not to stare. Benny hadn’t said anything about how good-looking Jay-Cee was. Mikey felt a bit smug about that, and simultaneously a little bad for even noticing it, but seeing as Angel was mouthing Oh my god behind Jay-Cee’s back, he wasn’t the only one noticing.

  “I brought Benny’s insurance card. I’m not sure he even knows he has insurance.” He pulled his wallet out of clay-stained overalls and handed Mikey a laminated plastic card.

  “Thank you so much,” Mikey said.

  Jay-Cee nodded at the rest of the group, smile tight, hands deep in his pockets to thwart any attempts at hugging or hand-shaking. “Is there anything else you need me for?”

  Chris stood close to Jay-Cee, hand hovering near Jay-Cee’s lower back. He looked small and fragile next to the man.

  Mikey was happy to let them go. “No. Thank you so much. Actually, I think everyone should go. I promise I’ll call as soon as I have any information.”

  They left in a chorus of goodbyes.

  Dmitri put a hand on Mikey’s shoulders. “I’ll go see what I can find out, okay?”

  “Thanks, that would be great. Even a time frame would be helpful.”

  Mikey held out his arms for a sticky goodbye kiss from Jasmine. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. It might be late.”

  “Not a problem. I can stay the night if I need to.” Vanessa shifted Jasmine up, re-adjusting her weight. “You’re getting big, baby.”

  “I’m not a baby.” Jasmine laid her head on Vanessa’s shoulder.

  “She’s going to be asleep before you get home,” Mikey commented. “Angel, thanks for keeping my sister company.”

  “De nada.”

  Another round of kisses and it was just Mikey and Julia’s parents once again sitting in hard plastic chairs in a hospital waiting room. Yet somehow this silence was even more awkward than the last one.

  George slurped his coffee, the sound echoing off the laminate walls. “So,” George said. “Why don’t you tell us a little more about this Benny person. Seeing as you’re his husband.”

  Mikey dropped his head into his hands. Tears slipped through his closed eyelids, dripping hot onto his palms. He stomach was tied in knots, his shoulder muscles were so tight, and the pain crawled up his neck. And his heart, oh his heart. “I can’t do it,” he said, surprising himself. “I just can’t. I can’t sit here and wait for another person I love to die.” His breath caught on a sob and chest heaved as he tried to pull himself together.

  “Oh, honey,” he heard Frances said, and then she was pulling him against her chest. “Oh, Mikey. I’m so sorry.”

  He grabbed on to her, fist clenched in her perfect, tiny sweater, and he just let go, crying like he hadn’t done in years. Maybe ever. His shoulders shook as he cried for everything that had happened to him and Julia and Jasmine and Benny and Julia’s parents. He cried for the unfairness of life and for him and Benny both forced by circumstance to grow up too quickly and for Julia, taken before she could see her beautiful daughter grow up.

  Frances’ held him, running her hand over his hair, soothing him, saying nonsense sounds until he could breathe again. God, he missed his parents.

  He sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand like a child. “I’m sorry,” he sniffed.

  George’s hand came into view holding a box of tissues. Mikey took them gratefully. He would be embarrassed if he had any energy left to feel anything. He felt like he could lay down on the floor and sleep for a year. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I think I ruined your sweater.”

  Frances kept her hand on his arm. “It’s washable. I’m sorry you’re worried about your, your -” she waited for him to fill in the word.

  He laughed and almost started sobbing again. “I guess my boyfriend. It sounds ridiculous.”

  “But you love him?” She didn’t sound angry or disgusted.

  He nodded, availing himself of more tissues. “I really have known him since I was twelve. We were friends in school.”

  She nodded. “And were you going to tell us?”

  “I thought you would take Jasmine away from me,” he said, laying it all out on the table.

  “If we found out you were gay,” George said bluntly.

  Mikey looked him in the eye. “I loved Julia. You know I did. We would have gotten married if we could have. It’s not a contest.” Anger replaced a little of the grief, and Mikey grabbed it like a lifeline.

  George stared at Mikey. “Does Jasmine know?”

  Mikey threw his hands up. “I don’t know what she knows. She’s four. We have separate bedrooms if that’s what you’re asking. We don’t make out in the kitchen or anything. Just like I wouldn’t if I was dating a woman.”

  George looked unconvinced, but Mikey couldn’t care because Dmitri was heading back to them and he was smiling.

  “Good news?” Mikey asked.

  Dmitri nodded, somehow managing to look professional in jeans and a Broncos t-shirt. It was his mannerisms, Mikey decided. In the hospital, he had that doctor air about him. “Benny’s awake and back in his room and asking for you. And food. He left a message with the nurses’ station that someone should bring him food.”

  Mikey laughed, relief flooding his body and letting him breathe deeply for the first time in a long time. “So he’s okay?”

  Dmitri’s face turned serious. “I’ll let his doctor talk to you. He’s not in danger of dying that I assure you. But he’s going to have to make some changes.”

  “Whatever they are, we’ll make them. I promise.” He started down the hallway, stopped and looked back.

  “Room 312,” Dmitri said, laughing.

  Mikey looked at George and Frances.

  “Go,” Frances told him. “We’ll get some food and give you some time alone. Text us when it’s safe to come up.”

  “Thank you.” He ran for the elevator.

  chapter twenty-two

  Benny held the button down on the controller and let the bed push him upright. He sipped ice water through a bendy straw and tried to force his headache back by sheer force of will. As if his will had ever been able to accomplish anything.

  The nurse that had wheeled him back to his room after he’d finished test after test in an ever-changing series of cold rooms had told him that his ‘husband’ Michael was on his way up. She may have said something else, but Benny’s semi-functional brain had gotten stuck on the word ‘husband.’

  The fingers of Benny’s good hand wound and unwound themselves from the metal railings of the bar as he wondered if she had heard wrong, or made an assumption, or if that had been the word Mikey himself had used.

  The railings confining him to the bed taunted him, reminding him of the unreliableness of his body and the untrustworthiness of his brain. He glared at the splint on his left wrist; another traitorous body part. According to the EMTs, when he’d had the seizure, he’d gone straight down like a felled tree, his wrist twisting beneath him. He’d also smacked the front of his head pretty hard on the concrete and scraped up his knees.

  After his last test, a doctor had spoken to him briefly, but all Benny had heard were the words epilepsy, medication, and his all-time favorite, traumatic brain injury. It sounded like they didn’t know much and had no hard answers. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t absorb the little information they’d given him. His head hurt, and he was exhausted and shaky. All he wanted was Mikey, and yet he was terrified of Mikey seeing him like this. He pulled the thin blanket up higher, shivering in the cheap cotton hospital gown. He tried not to think a
bout how many other people had worn it before him.

  Sunlight streamed through the white mini-blinds, casting strips of light and dark across the privacy curtain separating Benny from the person in the next bed. He could hear a nurse doing something behind the curtain.

  Obviously, Mikey was going to have to break up with him. Benny couldn’t be trusted alone with Jasmine if he was going to have fits all the time.

  Being diagnosed with epilepsy felt like being back in the war, constantly afraid all the time that someone was going to attack you or something was going to blow up under your feet. Except now the thing that was attacking Benny was his own brain. You can’t get away from your brain; God knows Benny had tried.

  Then there was the medication to control the seizures that doctor had mentioned. How in the world was he going to afford that? And now that it was a pre-existing condition, he’d never be able to get insurance even if he had been able to afford it.

  God, he was an idiot. For a moment he’d almost believed his life was going to work out. He’d fucked up everything he’d ever tried. Why had he ever thought it would be different?

  Oh look, there they came, right on schedule, his old friends, depression and self-loathing. He felt the black cloud slipping under his skin, weighing down his limbs, and dragging his eyelids closed. As familiar and painful as a favorite hair shirt.

  You know what would help make you feel better for a little while? the old Benny part of his brain asked.

  What? another part asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

  Vodka. Lots of vodka. Old-Benny Brain wasn’t wrong, just short-sighted. But short-term was all Benny felt like he could handle. But he decided to table the discussion until it wasn’t a moot point. There wasn’t a lot of vodka in the hospital. He was losing his mind, and he didn’t even care. It was a fucked up mind anyway. Who would want it? Maybe he’d settle on the couch with a bottle of something when he got home.

  Home. Oh god. Where Mikey and Jasmine lived now. He’d never be able to drink there, and Mikey would want to talk.

  The door to the room squeaked open, and Benny heard Mikey walking across the room. He could have sworn he heard the nurse behind the curtain whisper oh, day-um.

  Mikey walked around the curtain and Benny had to agree with her. For some reason, Mikey wore only a tight white t-shirt tucked into his gray suit pants. His hair was completely loose around his face. He looked gorgeous, and the expression in his eyes was so soft it took Benny’s breath away.

  Mikey smiled with relief at seeing Benny awake. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

  Benny licked his lips and reflexively smoothed his hair down for what little good it would do. “Like warmed over death. How do I look?”

  Mikey moved to the head of the bed, his hands on the railing. “Like warmed over death. Cute warmed over death, though.” He bent down to kiss Benny, and Benny couldn’t resist, he cradled his good hand against Mikey’s cheek, holding him close for just a second longer.

  “So,” Benny said when Mikey pulled away. He rubbed his fingers over Mikey’s knuckles where they rested on the railing, skating up and down the bones in his hand. “Did you tell the nurse you were my husband?”

  Mikey laughed. “Yeah. It was the only way they would tell me if you were even alive.”

  Benny touched his chest with his fingertips, feigning shock. “Michael Washington, I can’t believe you lied to an authority figure like that.” Benny shook his head sorrowfully. “I’m a bad influence on you.”

  “You don’t even know. The things I do for you. So about the husband thing. I was thinking.” He pulled his hand away and fumbled for something in his pocket.

  Benny looked at him. Was Mikey blushing?

  He pulled a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Benny. “Anyway.”

  Benny frowned but took the paper. It was a plain sheet of copy paper cut into the shape of a heart and folded in half.

  “Aw, did Jasmine make this for me? Where is she anyway?”

  “Vanessa has her. Angel went with her. I think they’re watching a movie or overthrowing the patriarchy or something. Mikey sighed and pushed the hair out of his face. The front dreads slipped immediately back over his shoulders. “Just open the damn card.”

  “Okay.” Benny opened the card. MARRY ME it read in black marker. All the blood rushed from Benny’s head, and he was damn grateful he was already lying down. His jaw dropped.

  “Well?” Mikey sounded nervous, fingers tapping the rail.

  “You want to marry me? For real?”

  The nurse on the other side of the curtain gasped softly.

  “Yeah.” He shook his head. “Shit, Benny. When I got here, they wouldn’t tell me anything. I didn’t know if you were dead or alive. If Chris hadn’t called me, I wouldn’t have even known you were in the hospital. Officially, I’m not anything, we’re not anything to each other. Just friends.” He shook his head again, looking away and pushing his hair back again.

  “So is this like an on paper thing? For benefits? Because it would be easier?”

  Mikey laughed. “Yeah, because marrying you would make my life so easy. No, it’s because I love you and I want you to hang around for a while.”

  Benny’s fingers tightened on the heart, crumpling it. “I thought you didn’t want to tell anyone,” he said softly. “What about Jasmine’s grandparents? What would they do?”

  Mikey’s rubbed his chin and looked at the floor. “I may have not given them the credit they deserved. At least I don’t think they are going to try and take Jasmine from me, even if I am with you.”

  Benny’s hand trembled. Did he want to marry Mikey? Skinny twelve-year-old Mikey with the stupid laugh and the big ears? Twenty-six-year-old Mikey tempered by grief and loss, the beautiful man with a four-year-old daughter?

  God, he did. More than anything. He wanted to grab onto Mikey and never let go. He wanted to cocoon them in his little house by the river and never come out. But it wouldn’t be fair to them. He couldn’t put that burden on Mikey and Jasmine.

  “Are you going to say anything?” Mikey glared at him, hands white-knuckled around the bed rails.

  For once in his life, Benny was going to do the right thing, even if the thought made him want to throw up. “I think it’s a bad idea,” he forced out, trying to make himself look Mikey in the eyes.

  Mikey stared him down. “Give me one good reason. One actual non-Benny being a drama queen reason.”

  The nurse gasped. Benny wasn’t even sure there was a patient behind that curtain with her. “Did you talk to the doctor? Did he tell you what they think is going on?”

  “Briefly. Well, Dmitri got some info from the nurse. I’m assuming the doctor will come in at some point, and I’m going to have Dmitri listen in if that’s okay.”

  Mikey was just being so reasonable. It made Benny insane. He wanted Mikey to be freaking out with him. “They’re pretty sure it’s epilepsy. Which as far as I can tell is medical speak for your brain is fucked from all the crap you’ve done to it. The seizure was probably brought on from all the stress and the lack of sleep.”

  The relief in Mikey’s face took Benny by surprise. “Oh, thank God.”

  Years ago, when they had still been in high school, Benny and Mikey had gone to a local carnival. There had been a mirrored labyrinth, one of those rickety rides built into a cargo container so it could be dragged from state to state. Stoned out of their minds, they’d stepped into a directionless world of reflections and false pathways. They had gotten trapped in the forty-foot space, wandering into walls, smashing into mirrors, and laughing hysterically the whole time.

  Benny felt the same way now, including the impending hysteria. The conversation kept veering into unexpected directions. He was trying to do the right thing for once. “What are you talking about? Why is epilepsy good news?”

  “I thought you were going to die, shit for brains. Jasmine kept asking me if you were going to die, and I told her no defin
itely not, but I didn’t know if I was lying to her. Epilepsy, we can treat. Stress and lack of sleep we can manage. We can deal with it.”

  “But there’s so much we don’t know.” Benny searched through his index of worst-case scenarios for one that might convince Mikey how bad of an idea it was for him to marry Benny. “What if I can never drive again?” he asked, a challenge in his eyes.

  “You can’t drive now!” Mikey flung his hands up in exasperation.

  “Yeah, that’s cause I lost my license from a DUI.”

  “Better that you’re not driving then.”

  Okay, time for the big guns. “What if I’m with Jasmine alone, and I have a seizure, and something bad happens to her?”

  Mikey exhaled harshly, stepping away from the bed to pace a quick circle. “Christ, Benny, We don’t have to figure out everything today! Do you want to marry me or not, pendejo?”

  Benny wasn’t an expert on the subject by any means, but he was reasonably sure marriage proposals usually came with less cursing. He could feel his resolve crumbling. Why was he trying to talk Mikey out of it? His heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings against his rib cage, and he felt like he couldn’t take a deep breath. “It’s not that easy.”

  Mikey reached down and took Benny’s hand. “Why can’t it be? Why can’t we just let this part be easy, and we’ll save the hard part for later?”

  Benny waved his splinted hand up and down the bed. “This part right now is pretty hard. Every inch of my body hurts from the inside. My brain is having an argument with itself over whether or not we should get some vodka, and I feel like I’m carrying a time bomb around in my head.”

  Mikey lowered the bed rail with the ease of long practice, shoved Benny’s feet over, and sat on the bed facing Benny. “This is one-hundred percent less hard than what happened the last time I was in this place. And I’m not saying that to make you feel bad. One thing I learned from that is that we all could be ticking time bombs. We never know when our bodies will turn against us, or some sleepy truck driver will cross the double yellow line.” He reached for Benny’s good hand and tangled their hands together. “I know you’re scared. I’m starting to realize you’ve been scared for a long time. Maybe since that night with Grant Hansen in your mom’s kitchen.”