What Lies Ahead
(A response to the prompt "the future.")
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Rosie set the bottle down in front of him. What number beer was this? Hawkeye didn't know. But he was feeling a nice buzz right about now, so safe to say… there'd been quite a few. He took a long pull from it. Still tasted good. Not time to stop drinking yet.
B.J. was smiling at him across the table. Leaning back, one arm snaked out across the chair next to him, his eyes almost at half-mast. It ought to be a crime, looking all delicious like that. Delicious and unavailable… that was the crime.
"Go on," B.J. said with a lazy hand gesture. "You were saying…?"
Hawkeye blinked. "Uh, refresh my memory. This beer came along and completely captured my attention. I was saying what?"
B.J. laughed a little, showing unnaturally white teeth. "You were about to predict what my life is going to be like in five years. Like some kind of drunk, deranged soothsayer. Tell me, oh wise one… what awaits five years down the road? Is the war going to be over by then?"
Hawkeye was in a playful—not to mention optimistic—mood. "Yeah, sure, the war'll be over by then. Maybe by a year or two." He cocked his head as he watched his friend, using this silly conversation as an excuse to stare, because damn, he loved to stare. "I predict your life will be quite wonderful, Beej. You'll be back in Mill Valley with the wife and kid, with your house and the white picket fence and the dog… is it Wiggles?"
Still with the white teeth. "Waggle."
"Yeah. Waggle." Hawkeye couldn't help smiling right back. "So Erin will be, what? Almost 7 years old, and in addition to her, you've had a post-war baby—a son, all towheaded and cute. He's about 6 months old, the apple of his daddy's eye… got the same wholesome good looks, the same captivating blue eyes…" He stopped himself, aware that he was drifting into dangerous territory, that he was sounding entranced and smitten. He cleared his throat, took another swig of beer. "Anyway, you're working at some prestigious San Francisco hospital… highly respected young surgeon, ridiculously successful, insanely happy. You've got it all, Beej. The great career, the terrific family, the gorgeous house in the suburbs. I almost envy you."
B.J. laughed. "Almost, huh?"
"Well, you know. If I aspired to that kind of thing."
"I see. So, Benjamin Franklin Pierce… he who doesn't aspire to the wife and the kiddies and the dog… tell me, what is your life going to be like in five years?"
Hawkeye picked up his bottle of beer and drank some more, only dimly aware he was stalling. His eyes never left B.J.'s face. If life were fair, I would get what I wanted, and in five years I would be living with the love of my life, insanely happy myself, because I'd be with the only person who's ever understood me... who's ever seen through me and into me, and liked me anyway. If life were fair, I'd get the highly respected San Francisco surgeon with the captivating blue eyes and the blinding smile and the voice that seems to soothe me like no other sound on this planet. I'd get to spend the rest of my life with him… safe, content, joyful.
If only life were fair…
Finally he shrugged, his smile gone. "Oh you know, Beej. Footloose and fancy-free. No troubles, no cares, no ties. What more could a man want?"