It Ain't Tea and Crumpets Kermit
Fourth of July
Gabe Benedict's House
1993
First Sergeant Gabe Benedict looked out of the sparkling glass of the big bay window dominating the front of his brick home in the country outside of Fort Benning. The driveway was full of vehicles and as he watched, Giddy's black Ford 4x4 truck pulled up and parked along the curb blocking the matching brick mailbox. Several men jumped from the bed and three exited the cab. They headed up the fire brick walking toward the gate leading into the backyard; talking, jostling and laughing, all carrying duffle bags and cases of beer. One man, toting a well-worn duffle right handed and clutching a single beer bottle in his left, stopped just a quarter of the way to the house obviously hesitant to follow the group. Gabe sighed and shook his head.
"Come on Salem; it's a Fourth of July BBQ not a fucking debutant ball."
"Say something Gabe?" His long-time girlfriend Dorrie asked, sideling up alongside him and wrapping her left arm around his waist.
He leaned into her, kissed the top of her head enjoying the fresh scent of the shampoo in her tawny colored hair and looked back at the approaching men. The squad was home for a month long leave after the long recon op and he relished in the tall, pretty woman's nearness. Her perfume, her body, her intelligence and confidence had instantly endeared the career soldier to her nearly fifteen years ago when they'd met at a black tie gala for an on post charity. Ordered to attend the event as a representative of his unit, the young Ranger was completely out of his element and Dorrie, the child of a wealthy defense contractor and well versed in the etiquette of galas, noted with a bit of whimsy, the beleaguered man's distress and came to his rescue; tactfully extracting him from the clutches of a snooty, bed hopping southern belle named Gwendolyn. The chemistry, if one believed in the notion, was overwhelming and they still remained just as enrapt with one another as they'd been all those long years ago.
Unfortunately despite their mutual devotion they led very separate lives. Dorrie as a highly skilled operative for the CIA and Gabe as a less than entirely successful, depending on your definition of successful, Army Ranger. Because of their demanding careers they'd early on set aside the idea of a traditional family; so for the Benedicts, Gabe's kids' as they referred to the man's team at any given time, was their bevy of unruly children. Their home was even set up to house any of the wayward 'kids' who needed a safe place to decompress. Two of the five bedrooms had double sets of bunk beds and two had furnishings for single occupants. If the couple required more space the fully finished basement slash recreation room slept six, but typically the arrangement sufficed. Gabe had tried in vain to persuade Salem to take a room during the sorely needed vacation; feeling that a nice homey environment would work wonders to ease the man's troubled soul. Salem adamantly refused the kind offer though, going as far as threatening to leave town for the duration of the teams stay if Top persisted.
As Dorrie watched the group walk up she tried to push aside her concerns. This particular bevy of eight had become especially close and Gabe felt a far stronger affinity to the group than he'd ever felt with countless past squads. In his letters he'd railed to her about their foibles and brilliance, their humor and grief and Dorrie worried that after so many long years of raising 'his guys' Gabe was letting this group get too close. War was a thankless game and her work behind the scenes provided a glimpse of a coming reality that Gabe could not, or more pointedly, the government would not allow him to see. This group, should they stay active, had long years of fighting ahead of them and with that fighting came much grief.
"Problem dad?"
"Salem."
Dorrie looked out at the scene. Salem stood head down with Rios beside him. She smiled at the sight. The drastic difference in the two men's size made her chuckle. It was apparent in the photos Gabe had mailed her but seeing the pair in person made it more pronounced. To compound the disparity they wore civilian clothes. Rios, faded Levis and a snug green army issue tee shirt and Salem new Levis and an over large teal blue tee shirt. Both sported fresh bright white sneakers. Rios' low and Salem's high and untied, the cuffs of his stiff pants and the wayward laces tucked partly behind the puffy tongues. He topped the affair with his old, battered, good luck patrol cap characteristically on backwards. A week's worth of stubble and his trade mark shaggy hair showed that he'd obviously been steering well clear of the barber since arriving two weeks ago.
"He's adorable."
"Which one!"
Dorrie punched Gabe in the shoulder and laughed.
"Well Salem, silly. Of all of them over the years if I had to turn back the clock to adopt one it would be him. He's just so…so…needy."
"Needy?" He queried tersely. "Fucking needy? More like a cuddly puppy that grows up to be Cujo. Tyannikov calls him, Маленький Барсук, Little Badger. Now that's fitting. I don't think he's gonna come in Dor. And yea you are right; Salem is probably as needy as they come."
"I know dear; I am a profiler remember."
"I do, and for god sakes do not let him find that out. He'll catch the first hop outta here and be back in Africa in no time."
They watched as he turned and began to walk back toward the street. Rios followed and in two long strides had the smaller man by his right elbow. Rios spun him around and Elliot shook free bristling with anger. He took a final swig of the beer and tossed the empty perfectly into the bed of Giddy's truck then started to walk toward the road once more. Tyson grabbed him again and this time held both of his biceps.
"We should go out and greet them. Might help to ease his mind a bit."
"Yea, right behind you, Dor. Let's go ease Elliot's addled and needy mind."
"Stop." She scolded reaching for the door knob. "He reminds me of a certain young Ranger, awkwardly clad in his never before worn dress uniform, at his first black tie event and surrounded by what he described at the time as 'mindless brass adorned buffoons'."
"Hmm, and I remember a gorgeous young beauty in mint green chiffon whose primary objective was to get that Ranger out of his new dress uniform as quickly as possible."
They exited laughing at the memory and waited for the pair on the porch while listening to the argument.
"I swear Salem you baffle me! It's a BBQ; it ain't fucking tea and Crumpets Kermit. You drink beer and get shit faced; I know you can handle that. You eat real food and not some chow hall slop. You mingle. You talk to Dorrie and meet Samantha when she gets here later. Then tonight we do the fireworks and blow shit up for fun. Explosions Salem; you like explosions right?"
"I do not want to talk to Dorrie! I don't want to meet your, your girl-friend! I am happy with chow hall slop and I am perfectly capable of getting shit faced all alone in the hotel room where I do not have to mingle! The only explosion's gonna be when I fuck something up."
Salem jammed his hands deep into his pockets and studied his shoes balefully while listening to Rios' argument.
"What can you possibly fuck up Elliot? It's a party with friends. Everyone's military, everyone's known Gabe for years. Just relax and come on in. It's like family. Pedro, his wife and his kids are coming and he's dying to introduce you to them. Some of Gabe's old squad guys, family Salem."
"It's a god-damned- house, Rios!" Elliot finally growled out, his desperation suddenly brutally clear to Tyson. "A real Wonder Bread man house!"
That stopped the bigger man cold.
"A what? A Wonder Bread man…What are you babbling about Elliot? Well yea it's a house. What were you expecting Salem, a fucking GP Large with a pool out back?"
"The fucking Wonder Bread man Tyse! Haven't you ever heard of the Wonder Bread man?" He squawked incredulously pulling his cap off and slapping it against his right thigh annoyed with Rios' ignorance.
Then shaking his head mournfully he looked toward the house and back up at Rios. Now it was Salem's turn to argue his point and his frantic arm waving and posturing left little doubt in Gabe's mind that he was at his wits end.
"What, what if I break something, spill something, curse or say the wrong thing, use the wrong fork, miss the toilet, not like the food, step on some one's foot, not follow the conversation, lose my temper, fart, burp, soil the furniture, have the wrong opinion…fuck Rios a million things can, could, will go wrong. I don't fucking know how to act in a family, in a house that's a home, Tyse. I lived in a fucking one room shanty and slept on the floor of a bug infested closet. Things weren't much better in any of the fucking homes they dumped me in either. There are real people in there, Tyse! I'm…" He paused and shrugged trying to find the right words to convey his discomfiture. "I'm nothing. I don't belong in there with regular, properly trained people. All I know is shacks and cells and barracks."
Tyson stared down at him heartbroken. The look on Elliot's face was a mix of desperation and anguish frighteningly akin to how the young man looked after they'd piled into the chopper after the ambush mission and Salem, for whatever reason, did not possess the emotional tools to manage the onslaught of worrisome feelings. He knew that Salem was nervous about hanging out at Gabe's for the BBQ but the depth of Elliot's self-consciousness about his manners stunned him. After all this was Salem. A man typically too self-confident for his own good. A man who would charge straight into machine gun fire and attack men three times his size over a mere slight at the rec center but now, for the first since they'd been partnered up, Tyson had to find a way to come to terms with a terrified Salem. Rios knew fear when he saw it and Elliot was truly afraid he would commit one of the social gaffs he'd systematically rattled off. He knew as well that this was not a situation to take lightly despite the seemingly foolish nature of it. Salem was genuinely afraid and Tyson knew that if he mishandled Salem's fear it would breach the fragile trust he'd worked so diligently to build with his young partner. He sighed and tried to make eye contact.
"Hey, Ellie, hey." He reached out and grasped Salem's left shoulder firmly. "Hey man look at me. You will be fine. You have manners Ellie. You're smart and skilled and hell I've met most of these guys and trust me Salem any and all of them would serve with you in heartbeat. Dorrie's great and you already met her twice out at the bar right; so that's all outta the way. Come on now, it's Top, Elliot. His house, that house Ellie; it's set up for us. Us Elliot, Top's guys. We do this whenever we're all home together. This-is-home. This is family; and Ellie maybe you never had one before but when they dumped you with us, Gabe's Guys, you got one whether you wanted one or not."
He stopped and let his words sink in. He watched Salem struggle to accept the gentle admonition while trying to decide whether or not to trust that Rios wouldn't lead him astray. Finally Rios tilted his head toward the home and nodded. To emphasize his command to follow him he took Salem's bag from his right hand and retrieved his own with his left then turned and began to walk. When Salem still hesitated Tyson paused and waited patiently. Defeated, Elliot slapped the cap on backwards again, huffed and plodded after him like a recalcitrant hound dog
Dorrie and Gabe left the shady porch, strolled between the fuchsia colored Azaleas lining the brick walk and met the duo halfway.
"Gabe, Dorrie."
"Hey, Tyson, Fifty. I'm really glad you decided to come, Elliot, thank you."
"Rios ordered me. Morning, ma 'me."
"Good morning Elliot, and please we have been over this, call me Dorrie. Come on now the guys are all out back already. Elliot this way first though. We'll go through the house and I'll show you your room for the weekend. So how has your leave been Elliot, going well, relaxing?" She prattled hooking her left arm through his right at his elbow and scooting him along the sidewalk once he'd grabbed his bag back from Tyson, leaving Gabe and Rios behind.
"So." Gabe began as they watched the pair walk away. "How's he doing?"
Rios laughed and started walking.
"He's not, Gabe. He's got me worried actually. He stays in the room and drinks. He barely eats, won't go out with us, his biggest concern is his Fifty back at the base; hell the boy had no clothes, Gabe. One beat to shit pair a jeans that looked like he'd been dragging them around for years. I finally hauled him down to the mall to buy some new clothes. How do you not have clothes? I know we don't need them over there but damn it man I don't think he'd worn those old jeans since coming in. Didn't fit him for shit. What's he gonna do when we get out for good?"
"Maybe he'll re-up."
"He says no way but who knows with Salem."
"How'd he like the mall? Fifty does not impress me as mall material?"
Tyson laughed aloud as he pushed through the redwood stained cedar gate.
"That good hunh? Must have made for quite the mission."
"Top I'd have rather ferreted out a nest of suicide bombers from a village of mud hovels in the dead of night, during a sandstorm, while being plinked at by snipers as good as Salem."
"That good?"
"That good."
