Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Weiss, if I did I would to
naughty things to them and they wouldn't complain.
Comments: Man, Marty is tired. Christmas just sapped all my energy away. Bleh. Oh well, it's over and I got some cool shiz out of the deal. (Ewww... I just took a sip of really old Pepsi...) Well, so here's the next chapter. I really wasn't sure if I liked it or hated it, but I think I like it. Lilas had her own opinion which I will share with you at the end of the chapter, although if you dun like profanity I wouldn't suggest reading it. For sure. Anyway I get to go see "The Two Towers" tonight with Caleb. *huggles Caleb* Gay boys are so fun! I kinda thought that I would answer some specific questions about stuff in the reviews, but I think I'll do that on the last chapter cause that would just make more sense. *nods* But I would like to say, for the record, that I am -female- . There seems to be a tiny bit of confusion. Got called "kun" the other day, not that you can't call a girl "kun" but it's old fashioned and usually only old people do it so... yeah. I guess the name "Marty" doesn't exactly make my femaleness apparent, but whatever. I don't really think anyone cares anyway. *shakes head* Well that's all for now. Hope you like this chapter. I pray *prays* that everyone will. So yah. Review if you love me! hehehe
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My limbs felt so heavy when I woke up, everything was stiff but most of my pain was gone. I felt oddly peaceful and yet in the back of my mind an angry, niggling feeling kept plunging me into momentary states of panic. My vision fought to clear itself of the dark patches and haziness that had been induced by the morphine and my own exhaustion. Suddenly I jerked and sat up, supporting myself on one elbow, looking around nervously. As I did so my head cleared momentarily and I could make out everything around me, the deafening sound of chopper blades, the medical equipment, the medic guys, now all staring at me.
Had they kept their promise? Was Ran still with me?
I looked around hastily, ignoring the heavy hands I began to feel on my body, trying to push me back onto the gurney. Voices told me to relax, lay back, don't move. But they were just making it harder for me to get done what I needed to do.
"Where is he?" I cried, my voice laced with panic. "Fujimiya, where is he?"
"Lie down, soldier, he's right here. You're friend's right here, son," a voice said softly.
Groaning softly I turned my head in the direction his hand pointed. When I saw him lying practically next to me the first thing I felt was relief and then I felt chagrin. He'd been beside me all along and I hadn't even noticed.
His gurney was next to mine, bolted to the floor and he was strapped to it in case we hit a rough patch. His eyes were closed, an oxygen mask placed over his mouth. A pump was slowly doing his breathing for him, and I was glad that he had finally been allowed to escape into unconsciousness. One medic sat in the space between us, but I could reach around him easily enough. Still ignoring the hands, which had grown lighter since I'd calmed myself down, I leaned sideways and stretched my hand over the space between us to touch his motionless hand which lay at his side.
"Stay with me, Ran," I said softly. And then lay down onto my side, letting my hand linger in the slight cup of his cold fingers.
None of the medics seemed to think my behavior was odd, but then again in the kind of shape I was in I could probably have started spouting love poetry and they would have chalked it up to delirium.
I tried to stay awake so that I could watch him, not trusting the dark void of unknown time that would come between us if I drifted off again, but in the end the rocking motion of the helicopter and the morphine's ever present influence lulled me back into dreamless nothingness.
The next time I came back into wakefulness it was to the sound of hurried, shouting voices. Orders barked, information yelled back and forth, and the insistent tugging on my arm. The more the tugging went on the harder I wanted to hold onto whatever I was holding onto. Ran's hand.
"Shit, I can't get him to let go!" a loud voice suddenly echoed through my head.
No no, don't make me let! I don't want him to go away. I want to stay with Ran, I love him, don't you understand, I love him! If you take him away I'll die, I won't be anything anymore, I won't have a reason to go on. I shouted all of these things inside my head, I wanted to scream them at the top of my lungs but I couldn't make myself stir sufficiently, I didn't want them to know I was awake.
"What the fuck are you idiots doing? Get them out of the bird, they need medical attention now!" I knew that voice. It was the Lieutenant. Kudou. "I didn't risk this retrieval just have them die because of your incompetence!"
"We can't move them, sir, this guy won't let go of the other guy's hand, and he won't fucking wake up either," the medic who was still tugging on my arm spat back.
"Oh Jesus," I heard Kudou mumble. He climbed up into the bird and bent over me. "Hidaka, wake up you useless bastard!"
I squeezed my eyes shut farther, squinting them up against the sound of his voice. Kudou must have seen and realized I was awake because I felt his hand come to rest gently on my shoulder and then his warm breath against my ear. He spoke to me softly, softly so that no one else could hear. "Ken, listen to me. Pull yourself together. I don't know what happened out there, but you need to let him go now. If you don't Ran will die. He needs medical attention, please let go and let him get help."
Tears began to make their way between the tightly closed edges of my eyelids. I wanted to pull myself into a fetal position and stay that way forever. "I want to stay with him," I whispered so softly I wasn't sure Youji could hear me.
"I know you do, but you can't, Hidaka. We need to get Ran out of here, we need to get him north. If you love him, and I know you do, let him go. Let him go so that we can save his life."
His words were breaking my heart because I knew they were all true. I loved Ran and holding onto him, keeping him with me was selfish. I had to let go and let him get help even if that meant going on without me. So as I uncurled my stiff fingers from around his chilled hand I let go of a sob that felt like it contained all the pain in the world. Even then as I let go of his hand somehow I felt like I wasn't just letting go for a little while, but letting go forever. Oh that last touch... so distant and so cold.
"Ran..." I cried pitifully, so quietly that scarcely anyone heard. And then everything started to move. The meds, finally able to do something shooed Kudou out of the hold and then hoisted Ran and myself onto litters and then lifted us down, our bodies jostling and bumping, to the landing field below where we were passed off to other carriers.
I had the last, fading presence of mind to sit up as they carried me off towards the infirmary and watched Ran's litter be spirited away in to opposite direction towards a waiting Bell UH-1H that would take him north to a larger hospital. Probably to Vung Tua or Long Binh. He never moved or stirred and I watched, resisting the hands that tried to push me back once again until they lifted him inside and I could see him no more. At that point I fell back, exhausted, sick with heartbreak, and overcome by my tears.
That was the last I ever saw of Ran Fujimiya.
* * * * * *
My hand pauses on the gate to my yard. Banzai looks up at me curiously and gives a small, cursory bark, spurring me to swing the gate inward. I smile down at him, my tears having abated on the way home, and then reach down to ruffle the warm fur behind his ear.
"Good, boy. Yeah, you look after me pretty well, don't you boy?"
Banzai barks again, wagging his tail and dancing a little on his feet. With another soft smile I let the gate open and he dashes inside, running up the steps to sniff around the door. I shake my head. Weird dog.
Inside I take off my jacket, hang it up on a peg inside the door and shed my shoes. Banzai goes to lie down on his bed in the living room and I make a bee line for the sink. With hands that shake just so slightly I reach for one of the plastic, amber bottles lined up against the splash guard. I down two pills, finish off the glass of water that I pour myself and then stand, leaning over the sink, staring down into the drain.
Feels like my life.
Calling to Banzai I make my way out of the kitchen and mount the stairs. It's odd, how still the house is. I can hear every sound it makes as it settles into its foundation, as the rain begins to fall on the roof again, as my dog skitters across the linoleum of the kitchen.
At the top of the stair The Cat is waiting for me, blinking at me sleepily with a rather detached air. It's as if she wants to say, "Why are you home so early, not that care or anything." She gets up and rubs against my legs as I walk past and I take a moment to bend down and tug her tail gently. She makes a funny mewling sound and then scampers off in front of me, heading for the bedroom.
I follow after, noticing absently as Banzai pads past me. In my room I change quickly, stripping off my wet clothing before yanking on a pair of sweat pants and a dingy t-shirt. Calmness, smoothness, evenness fills my mind. I'm so tired all of a sudden. Tired and empty. Maybe I will sleep without dreams for once. Maybe when I wake it will all have been a dream and I will find myself back on that jungle floor lost in my fever. Would I prefer that? I don't know. It might be worth it just to be with him, but then again, I've worked so hard to make a life despite all of my losses. I'm so weak that I have forgotten what it means to be alive. I said I would live for him and I will. Even if living for him is living without him.
Crawling under my blankets, pulling them to my chin, I shiver for a few moments until my bed is warmed up. I feel The Cat pad her way across the bed and come to curl up on the pillow by my face. I blow on her fur for a moment, watching it as it swirls until I hear her grumble and watch her ears flick backwards.
Chuckling I bury my face in the pillows and wait for sleep to come. As I wait I finish up with Vietnam.
* * * * * *
After they took Ran away I slept for three days straight. Immediately after I awoke I remembered very little about the crash or my day in the jungle. I kept asking where Ran was and I kept getting no answer. Every person I talked to just told me to 'lie back and relax'. It was hard, so hard when I was so confused, my brain and body still muddled from fever, and still fighting to get well again. Eventually the new Lieutenant Commander, Botan, came in to see me. He didn't say much that really made much sense, kind of going around in circles with thanks and apologies.
When I finally got a word in and asked what had happened to Ran, what had happened to me for that matter he just kind of gave me a funny look and left. That certainly hadn't helped me. Suffice to say I didn't get any real answers until I had been in the infirmary for nearly a week and my condition was almost back to normal. Slowly over the past couple days my memory had begun to clear, but only in bits and pieces. Flashes of blood and pain, the scent of death carried on a humid breeze. I didn't like what I was remembering and it made my anticipation all the worse.
The nurse came in to take off the bandages on my head, giving the healing gash there a good look. "Well, it'll leave a scar, but nothing too bad. Mostly covered by your hair anyway. You're a lucky man, soldier."
"I just wish someone would tell me why I'm lucky," I'd grumbled.
The nurse had given me a pitying look and then shrugged, turning away. "I'm not at liberty to say anything, soldier. Officially you never even checked into this infirmary."
And that only got me more confused.
So it wasn't until Kudou came to visit me that I got some answers.
"Hey, Hidaka, back among the living, I see."
"Where is he?" I grated stiffly.
Kudou shook his head and sat down on the stool next to me, groaning. "Cut the crap, right? Heh, I guess you probably have a right to feel a little antsy."
"Please, sir, don't dick around with me. I've been stuck in this bed for a week and I don't remember much about why, and what I do remember doesn't make me feel very good. Tell me what happened, where is Fujimiya?" I said, looking at him with pleading eyes.
Youji shook his head. "I'm not really sure. Somewhere north of here. Vung Tao, I think, but like I said even I can't be sure. This whole mess is all hush-hush. We never even got word from the med team who lifted him if he made it to Vung alive or was allowed admittance or anything."
"Why wouldn't they admit him?!" I broke in incredulously.
Kudou looked up at me with dark, tired eyes, and sighed. "Remember when I told you that this mission was off the record books? Well that still stands. As far as the army's concerned this whole thing never happened. Ken Hidaka and Ran Fujimiya were never survivors of an Iroquois that was downed by Charlie on the return from a supply run, because they were never in an Iroquois that was downed by Charlie on the return from a supply run, because there never -was- a supply run. Therefore neither you nor Fujimiya exist officially in the condition you are in. Do you see what I am getting at? Even if the hospital north of here took Ran in without documentation or the clear from the up above we'll never know about it because -it never happened-. There will be no records ever to be found on either of you concerning your medical treatment after this mission."
"What?! How will we know he's alright?! How will we know he's alive?" I cried.
Kudou shook his head. "We won't."
I had simply sat there in that bed, tubes running into my body, a machine echoing the slowly increasing beat of my heart as I realized what he was telling me. Unless Ran fully recovered and was sent back to Pang Nuan, which was highly unlikely, I would never hear from the government whether he was officially alive or not. No one would. He was dead to the unit as far as anyone was concerned.
For a moment emptiness threatened to consume me until my mind found a tiny glimmer of light, a spark of hope that it clung to madly. "But that doesn't mean we won't hear from him ourselves, right? I mean if they ship him home after he recovers, he'll write to the unit, to you at least to say what happened. He wouldn't just... cease to exist like that."
Something strange had passed over Youji's face and then he'd smiled, his eyes lighting up a little. "There's always that. If Ran's ok, I'm sure he'd let us know. Let you know especially. Unless he would have reason not to contact you, which I can't imagine he would."
I stared at him and for a moment uncertainty flittered through my mind. I remembered his eyes, those eyes that begged me to leave him alone, that asked that I let him die. I thought of the resentment I had found there and all the pain I had put him through. The crash had been my fault after all, hadn't it? I'd let myself get distracted. I'd let him down just like Yuushi had. Did he have reason not to want to contact me? Would he just want to forget what we had shared and move on? Would his anger and resentment linger after he recovered? Would the fact that I couldn't be with him now fuel his resentment? Had I given him reason not to love me anymore?
All of these thoughts chased around on each other's heels in my head until I was suddenly so exhausted that I simply fell back against my pillows and stared up at the ceiling. If I didn't lose him to the pain, I would lose him to himself. Oh God, please no, please don't make him hate me, don't take him away. If he survives, don't take him away.
"Ken?" I heared Youji's voice softly call my name, and then I felt his hand on my head. "Don't let it get to you, ok? Everything will work out for the best. It's the best, Ken. Get some sleep. You did the right thing when you let him go. I promise. Get some rest."
The next few weeks were so hard to endure. I waited and waited, each day going down when the supply trucks came in to check my mail, but nothing ever came. As more and more time went on my optimism began to wane and I found myself spending more and more time alone in my thoughts. Kudou told me to move on, he encouraged me to forget about the past and to look forward. I tried, but it was so hard. I loathed those last days at Pang Nuan. Even thought I was still surrounded by my comrades I always felt so alone without Ran.
I spent the remainder of the wet season at Pang Nuan with the 326th AHC. For two month after that I flew missions out of the base. Somewhere inside of myself and inside of that bottle of pills I found the strength and composure to go on without Ran. I still had Max and Jei, who were oddly supportive and caring towards me for the remainder of our time together. They were among the first to be pulled out during Nixon's downsizing campaigns only one year later in 1970.
Soon after that Pang Nuan was closed from active duty, having only served a little over a year. But by that time I had already been transferred to flying the Cambodian supply runs, running either strictly freight or on the odd occasion a transport mission. During that time, which in retrospect was actually the majority of my tour though I always see it as an afterthought now, I lived in conditions far worse than those at Pang Nuan. We had base camps, not bases. Our birds were lined up in cleared patched of jungle while we slept in sandbag walls covered with tarps. I always remembered to keep my feet dry.
During the rest of my tour I still received letters from Max and Jei. I still keep in contact with them. Farf moved back to New York to work in the 'family business.' And if the rumors were true the Farfarello family does a mean turn in cement shoe making. Schu went back home and then moved to Texas where he met his current wife. In only three years they managed to have two children and start a booming business. Who would have ever thought that Max and cattle mixed so well?
As far as Kudou went I heard from him occasionally as well. After Pang Nuan was closed down he was moved to some cushy office job pushing papers at the embassy in Saigon. He was among one of the last to evacuate the country.
I spent two more years in Nam without Ran, and I never heard from him. Everyday I would wait, and every mail delivery no matter where I was I would greet eagerly. Always I had hope. Hope was all that carried me through.
When I returned home in 1972 during the last major downsizing of troops I wrote my mother a letter and then moved to Northern California and slowly started falling apart. It had been so hard to come back and try to return to life. Everywhere I turned there were people protesting, protesting -me- ! Protesting the very people who had fought for them. And the more I looked at these people on TV who gathered and waved their banners and called us savages and monsters, who said war was meaningless the more I hated them. Of course it was meaningless, but what did they know of it? How many dead men had they seen or held or flown back to safety? How many of them had lost their loved ones because of the war? The war defined me, it was a part of me, it made me who I was and they were there, protesting me. I shut them out. I shut it all out.
For one year after the official end of the war in seventy three I looked for Ran. I called officials, searched hospital records for Vung Tao, looked over deceased records, nothing. I even managed to track down staff members from the hospital, anybody who I thought might remember what happened to him. I got varying stories. Some people said they never even saw a man who fit Ran description around that time, others said he must have been one of the DOA or else there would have been a record, but mostly people just told me they had seen so many half dead soldiers they couldn't remember one from the other. At one point I tried to track down his sister, but for the life of me I couldn't even remember if he'd told me her name. Everything I tried left me empty handed.
I still remember the day I simply stopped searching. The day I finally gave him up for dead and washed my hands clean. I had received a letter in the mail from one of the Officers who had been in charge of that last mission we had flown. It took a lot of wheedling but I finally got the name out of Kudou. The letter was short and to the point.
-I regret to inform you that your inquiries into this matter must now and always go unanswered. I understand your situation. We all grieve for our brothers who are missing and lost in action. Occurrences such as these are unfortunate and regrettable, but I strongly urge you to bury this subject and refer to it no more. Further inquiries into the outcomes and occurrences of June 21st 1969 may lead to unsought for consequences.-
After that I just gave up. It wasn't worth it. No one wanted me to find out what had happened to Ran. No one cared. And if Ran was still alive why hadn't he contacted me? My information was easy enough to find. My records were all still on hand. Maybe the truth was that even Ran didn't want me to find him. Or maybe he wasn't anywhere to be found. He could be dead. He could very well have been dead. It was the not knowing that slowly ate away at my soul.
It was then that the dreams began in earnest. I had been having nightmares ever since Omi Tsukiyono had died in my arms, but when I finally gave up on Ran was when they truly began to plague me. That was when the anxiety attacks and flashbacks and voices set in and I stared going to see Doctor Craig. That's when I was first prescribed with things other than my pills from Nam. I'd been all through the prescription drug racket in only two years and my nerves were proof enough of it.
Since then my life had slowly become what it is today, an endless, meaningless routine of drugs, deleted phone messages, and tasks. I tended to my pets and they tended to me. There were a few people, like Mary, who looked in on me, but no one I really called close. Everyone was just there, they weren't real. Nothing was real except my dreams. We were all ghosts, nothing to anchor us. So I drifted on until I came to where I was.
* * * * * *
I inhale warm fur. Snorting in surprise at the sudden lack of oxygen and the unexpected hair in my nose I jerk myself away and open my eyes. How pleasant. Sneezing once I yawn widely and push The Cat away from my face where she decided to settle as I slept. Blinking sleepily I raise my head off the warm pillow and peer at my clock. It's past five. I slept the entire afternoon.
Deciding that I'm just too comfortable to get up I fall back onto the pillow and close my eyes again, drifting down into the warmth of it all. Everything smells like sleep. It's so nice. So soft, so quiet, so peaceful. I want to stay here forever, lost in the darkness. If only I could trade the darkness of my mind for the darkness of a curtained room.
Now disturbed, The Cat yawns widely in my face and then starts to lick my cheek with its rough tongue. Tuna breath double whammy.
"Get off," I grumble, pushing at the soft, furry, yielding body. I hear The Cat make a little yowling sound and then feel its needley teeth clamp down around my finger momentarily. Jerking my hand away I cry out and then sit up, grabbing The Cat and tossing her off my bed. "Bitch cat."
I watch with satisfaction as she lands and then scampers away across the carpet. Banzai trots over to my side and puts his head on the edge of the bed. Smiling softly I play with his ears and then toss the covers off. My bare feet touch the carpet and I scrunch my toes around in it. I've always liked the way carpet feels on bare feet.
I give the clock another glance as Banzai lays his head in my lap. Mary will be here soon. I'd better get the kitchen cleaned up if I don't want to hear about my poor living habits from her. Oh if only she knew.
I chuckle acridly and scratch my dog's muzzle. Such a good boy.
"Are you hungry, Banzai?" I ask, grinning at him. Sometimes it helps to know that someone depends on me.
Banzai gives s low bark of agreement and then gets off his haunches, tossing his head and dancing playfully on the carpet. "Are you hungry? Who's hungry?" I say in my best facsimile of baby talk.
And he's off. As soon as I stand and take a step towards the door Banzai is streaking ahead of me and I can hear him clamoring down the stairs. Oh to have the life of a dog. If only I could get that excited about dried kibble and canned meat. Actually... come to think of it I did used to get that excited about dried kibble and canned meat. Only we called it mess.
Chuckling to myself I take a cursory glance in the mirror and pause. Sometimes I look and expect to see that kid I used to be. Sometimes I am startled by the young man who looks bleakly back at me from the depths of my mirrors. I guess maybe he doesn't look so different from the 19 year old boy he used to be when he left home for the shores of a hostile nation only to find and lose so much more. Maybe his hair is a little longer, his features a little sharper, less boyish now than they had been, but those things aren't the things that throw me. It's my own eyes that throw me. It's not the dark circles beneath them or the listlessness of my eyelids, always so heavy these days, it's the dullness. Did they used to look alive? Or have they always been so flat and tired? I think I can remember a time when my smile reached my eyes, but it's been a long time since that's happened.
I lean a little closer to the mirror and run one hand up my forehead, pushing my dark bangs out of the way, revealing the long, thin, jagged scar that runs just below my hairline. My lips twitch perversely as I study it for a moment and then I am brought back from my reverie by the sharp, demanding sound of my dog's bark from the foot of the stairs.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming! Sheesh, give me a minute," I call, letting my hair fall back into place, tearing myself away from the mirror and heading for the door.
Bare feet on bare wood as I descend the stairs, the third one from the top groans beneath me as it always does and I sigh softly, taking comfort in the things that never change.
From the base of the stairs Banzai and The Cat both look up at me plaintively, The Cat twining itself through the dog's dancing legs, her tail flicking back and forth impatiently.
"I'm coming, I'm coming. Don't look at me like that," I grumbled as I step down from the last step hard and sachet past them.
Before I fix the pets' dinner I walk past the kitchen to the wall unit where I keep the hi-fi. I just got the new ABBA album. I love the way vinyl feels in my hands. Placing the record on the turntable I flick the switch and drop the needle into the first groove, and then return to the kitchen as the first song kicks on. I tap my feet and sing along as I start to get things in order, twitching rhythmically to the beat.
For a few moments I rummage around in the cupboards beneath the sink, searching for what I did with the last bag of dog food. When I finally find it I set it on the counter and gather up the pet dishes. As I go about fixing the animals dinner I notice that the message machine is blinking. I twist the knob as I pass by and listen as I go about my business in the kitchen, glad that I didn't turn the music up so loud that I can't hear over it.
"Hi, Ken. This is Doctor Craig again. I know you're probably at work still, but I just thought I'd leave another message to remind you that we need to go over your charts. I'm really not sure you should be on your current dosages. Please call me and set up an appointment, I don't want to let this go until out next scheduled meeting, m'kay? M'kay. Have a good day."
I roll my eyes and give my prescription pill bottle collection a guilty glance. If Doctor Craig wants to change my dosage -again- I'm going to be on a chemical roller coaster ride for at least a week. Better start hoarding what I have left if I want to weather the storm. Why can't these goddamned 'professionals' ever leave well enough alone?
"Jesus," I mutter under my breath and then set the dog and cat dishes aside, going to scribble myself a note to call my doctor.
As I pass the recorder I notice there's yet another message. What do all these people want from me? I twist the dial.
"Hidaka! Yo, it's Max. Where the hell are you? Do you actually have a job? I thought the army fucked you up enough that you didn't have to work anymore, well whatever. I've been talking to Sherry, sexy beast that she is, and we think you should come down to the ranch for Thanksgiving or some shit this year. It really isn't good for you to be all cooped up all alone in the middle of butt-fuckin' nowhere Northern California. So either call your mother and go home or else come down here for the holidays. I'll call you back and you better not be screening your calls you ass-muncher. Only gay people screen their calls, oh wait... I guess you qualify then. Nonetheless I will be in touch. Ciao."
I can't help but laugh at just the sound of Max's voice. Shaking my head I stir up Banzai's dinner and chuckle to myself. Max decided to be my official keeper it would seem. He calls me about once a month, always telling me to come stay in Texas. I've been twice in the past three years, but in a way it's just too disconcerting to see him in that light. I saw the way he played with his kids and interacted with his wife and I just kept thinking back to the ass-hole I knew who shot some poor Gook kid in the arm and broke the table at Willy Ng's. They wouldn't recognize the man I knew as Schuldich and I hardly recognized the man they knew as Max Wolff.
Setting the dog's bowl on the floor by the fridge I call to The Cat and fish around for the can opener in one of the drawer. I really need to organize in here at some point. What a hassle. The Cat comes over to mewl at my feet and rub against my legs, eventually jumping up onto the counter as it hears the lid of its food can being popped off.
I plop some of the wet slop into a bowl and then go to drop the can in the garbage. There's still another message.
Grumbling I give the dial one last savage twist and then begin to walk away. The tape whirs and then clicks, playing forward. I listen for a few moments. Silence. Nothing but dead air space, the crackling of silence recorded, static. And then a quiet intake of breath, a hesitation, and release. Click. Dial tone. Nothing.
Something about it makes my skin crawl. Something... something feels wrong. I look back at the message machine. No more messages. I walk quietly across the linoleum, my bare feet making small slapping sounds as I go. I don't know why, but I feel the undeniable impulse to play the message back. I do so.
Again silence. A breath and then nothing. Most likely just a wrong number. Some guy calling for Judy or Greg or something only to get the message machine of a stranger. But then why the hesitation? Why the breath?
In the back ground I hear "SOS" come on the hi-fi system. God I hate this song. It makes me feel too much. It speaks too many words that belong to me. But I don't want to go and change it.
"Whatever happened to our love? I wish I understood. It used to be so nice it used to be so good. So when you're near me, darling can't you hear me, SOS. The love you gave me, nothing else can save me, SOS. When you're gone how can I even try to go on? When you're gone though I try how can I carry on?"
Feeling perturbed I shove it out of my mind and turn towards the sink. I need a glass of water. What I really need is a pill, but I can't get myself all drugged up before Mary gets here. Speaking of which, Jesus, where is she? It's almost six. She usually gets off by around five thirty. I hope she gets here soon, I'm getting hungry. I don't want to be alone here in this house any longer. Why do I feel so anxious all of a sudden?
The weight of the glass feels good in my hands and just as I turn on the tap I hear the knock at my door that means Mary is here. I sigh in relief, relief about what I don't know. I'm just glad someone else is here. Watching the glass fill up with clear liquid I smile to myself and pause. I keep waiting to hear the door open, Mary knows she doesn't really even have to knock.
But instead the knock comes again, a little more hesitant this time.
I furrow my eyebrows and shake my head. Maybe she's afraid I'm still sleeping. Forcing my voice to sound as cheerful as I can I call out, "It's open! Come on in."
For a few moments nothing happens. I turn off the tap and then reach for one of my bottles. No, wait. No pills. Not while Mary is here.
I hear the door swing open slowly and then hear it close again. Banzai lifts his head and flicks his ears, the cat's tail slowly lashes back and forth.
Oh, shit look at all those dirty dishes on the counter! I set down the glass of water and hastily start grabbing plates and piling them in the sink.
Over my shoulder I call out cheerfully, "You're late. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to get here, seriously. You should have called if you were going to be late. I've been up for a while. All alone waiting, despairing," I chuckle.
Slow footsteps in the back hall, across the landing. They pause at the entrance to the kitchen. I smile to myself and reach for my glass of water, bringing it to my lips to take a sip before I turn around to greet Mary.
"I didn't know you were expecting me."
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Comments: Man, Marty is tired. Christmas just sapped all my energy away. Bleh. Oh well, it's over and I got some cool shiz out of the deal. (Ewww... I just took a sip of really old Pepsi...) Well, so here's the next chapter. I really wasn't sure if I liked it or hated it, but I think I like it. Lilas had her own opinion which I will share with you at the end of the chapter, although if you dun like profanity I wouldn't suggest reading it. For sure. Anyway I get to go see "The Two Towers" tonight with Caleb. *huggles Caleb* Gay boys are so fun! I kinda thought that I would answer some specific questions about stuff in the reviews, but I think I'll do that on the last chapter cause that would just make more sense. *nods* But I would like to say, for the record, that I am -female- . There seems to be a tiny bit of confusion. Got called "kun" the other day, not that you can't call a girl "kun" but it's old fashioned and usually only old people do it so... yeah. I guess the name "Marty" doesn't exactly make my femaleness apparent, but whatever. I don't really think anyone cares anyway. *shakes head* Well that's all for now. Hope you like this chapter. I pray *prays* that everyone will. So yah. Review if you love me! hehehe
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My limbs felt so heavy when I woke up, everything was stiff but most of my pain was gone. I felt oddly peaceful and yet in the back of my mind an angry, niggling feeling kept plunging me into momentary states of panic. My vision fought to clear itself of the dark patches and haziness that had been induced by the morphine and my own exhaustion. Suddenly I jerked and sat up, supporting myself on one elbow, looking around nervously. As I did so my head cleared momentarily and I could make out everything around me, the deafening sound of chopper blades, the medical equipment, the medic guys, now all staring at me.
Had they kept their promise? Was Ran still with me?
I looked around hastily, ignoring the heavy hands I began to feel on my body, trying to push me back onto the gurney. Voices told me to relax, lay back, don't move. But they were just making it harder for me to get done what I needed to do.
"Where is he?" I cried, my voice laced with panic. "Fujimiya, where is he?"
"Lie down, soldier, he's right here. You're friend's right here, son," a voice said softly.
Groaning softly I turned my head in the direction his hand pointed. When I saw him lying practically next to me the first thing I felt was relief and then I felt chagrin. He'd been beside me all along and I hadn't even noticed.
His gurney was next to mine, bolted to the floor and he was strapped to it in case we hit a rough patch. His eyes were closed, an oxygen mask placed over his mouth. A pump was slowly doing his breathing for him, and I was glad that he had finally been allowed to escape into unconsciousness. One medic sat in the space between us, but I could reach around him easily enough. Still ignoring the hands, which had grown lighter since I'd calmed myself down, I leaned sideways and stretched my hand over the space between us to touch his motionless hand which lay at his side.
"Stay with me, Ran," I said softly. And then lay down onto my side, letting my hand linger in the slight cup of his cold fingers.
None of the medics seemed to think my behavior was odd, but then again in the kind of shape I was in I could probably have started spouting love poetry and they would have chalked it up to delirium.
I tried to stay awake so that I could watch him, not trusting the dark void of unknown time that would come between us if I drifted off again, but in the end the rocking motion of the helicopter and the morphine's ever present influence lulled me back into dreamless nothingness.
The next time I came back into wakefulness it was to the sound of hurried, shouting voices. Orders barked, information yelled back and forth, and the insistent tugging on my arm. The more the tugging went on the harder I wanted to hold onto whatever I was holding onto. Ran's hand.
"Shit, I can't get him to let go!" a loud voice suddenly echoed through my head.
No no, don't make me let! I don't want him to go away. I want to stay with Ran, I love him, don't you understand, I love him! If you take him away I'll die, I won't be anything anymore, I won't have a reason to go on. I shouted all of these things inside my head, I wanted to scream them at the top of my lungs but I couldn't make myself stir sufficiently, I didn't want them to know I was awake.
"What the fuck are you idiots doing? Get them out of the bird, they need medical attention now!" I knew that voice. It was the Lieutenant. Kudou. "I didn't risk this retrieval just have them die because of your incompetence!"
"We can't move them, sir, this guy won't let go of the other guy's hand, and he won't fucking wake up either," the medic who was still tugging on my arm spat back.
"Oh Jesus," I heard Kudou mumble. He climbed up into the bird and bent over me. "Hidaka, wake up you useless bastard!"
I squeezed my eyes shut farther, squinting them up against the sound of his voice. Kudou must have seen and realized I was awake because I felt his hand come to rest gently on my shoulder and then his warm breath against my ear. He spoke to me softly, softly so that no one else could hear. "Ken, listen to me. Pull yourself together. I don't know what happened out there, but you need to let him go now. If you don't Ran will die. He needs medical attention, please let go and let him get help."
Tears began to make their way between the tightly closed edges of my eyelids. I wanted to pull myself into a fetal position and stay that way forever. "I want to stay with him," I whispered so softly I wasn't sure Youji could hear me.
"I know you do, but you can't, Hidaka. We need to get Ran out of here, we need to get him north. If you love him, and I know you do, let him go. Let him go so that we can save his life."
His words were breaking my heart because I knew they were all true. I loved Ran and holding onto him, keeping him with me was selfish. I had to let go and let him get help even if that meant going on without me. So as I uncurled my stiff fingers from around his chilled hand I let go of a sob that felt like it contained all the pain in the world. Even then as I let go of his hand somehow I felt like I wasn't just letting go for a little while, but letting go forever. Oh that last touch... so distant and so cold.
"Ran..." I cried pitifully, so quietly that scarcely anyone heard. And then everything started to move. The meds, finally able to do something shooed Kudou out of the hold and then hoisted Ran and myself onto litters and then lifted us down, our bodies jostling and bumping, to the landing field below where we were passed off to other carriers.
I had the last, fading presence of mind to sit up as they carried me off towards the infirmary and watched Ran's litter be spirited away in to opposite direction towards a waiting Bell UH-1H that would take him north to a larger hospital. Probably to Vung Tua or Long Binh. He never moved or stirred and I watched, resisting the hands that tried to push me back once again until they lifted him inside and I could see him no more. At that point I fell back, exhausted, sick with heartbreak, and overcome by my tears.
That was the last I ever saw of Ran Fujimiya.
* * * * * *
My hand pauses on the gate to my yard. Banzai looks up at me curiously and gives a small, cursory bark, spurring me to swing the gate inward. I smile down at him, my tears having abated on the way home, and then reach down to ruffle the warm fur behind his ear.
"Good, boy. Yeah, you look after me pretty well, don't you boy?"
Banzai barks again, wagging his tail and dancing a little on his feet. With another soft smile I let the gate open and he dashes inside, running up the steps to sniff around the door. I shake my head. Weird dog.
Inside I take off my jacket, hang it up on a peg inside the door and shed my shoes. Banzai goes to lie down on his bed in the living room and I make a bee line for the sink. With hands that shake just so slightly I reach for one of the plastic, amber bottles lined up against the splash guard. I down two pills, finish off the glass of water that I pour myself and then stand, leaning over the sink, staring down into the drain.
Feels like my life.
Calling to Banzai I make my way out of the kitchen and mount the stairs. It's odd, how still the house is. I can hear every sound it makes as it settles into its foundation, as the rain begins to fall on the roof again, as my dog skitters across the linoleum of the kitchen.
At the top of the stair The Cat is waiting for me, blinking at me sleepily with a rather detached air. It's as if she wants to say, "Why are you home so early, not that care or anything." She gets up and rubs against my legs as I walk past and I take a moment to bend down and tug her tail gently. She makes a funny mewling sound and then scampers off in front of me, heading for the bedroom.
I follow after, noticing absently as Banzai pads past me. In my room I change quickly, stripping off my wet clothing before yanking on a pair of sweat pants and a dingy t-shirt. Calmness, smoothness, evenness fills my mind. I'm so tired all of a sudden. Tired and empty. Maybe I will sleep without dreams for once. Maybe when I wake it will all have been a dream and I will find myself back on that jungle floor lost in my fever. Would I prefer that? I don't know. It might be worth it just to be with him, but then again, I've worked so hard to make a life despite all of my losses. I'm so weak that I have forgotten what it means to be alive. I said I would live for him and I will. Even if living for him is living without him.
Crawling under my blankets, pulling them to my chin, I shiver for a few moments until my bed is warmed up. I feel The Cat pad her way across the bed and come to curl up on the pillow by my face. I blow on her fur for a moment, watching it as it swirls until I hear her grumble and watch her ears flick backwards.
Chuckling I bury my face in the pillows and wait for sleep to come. As I wait I finish up with Vietnam.
* * * * * *
After they took Ran away I slept for three days straight. Immediately after I awoke I remembered very little about the crash or my day in the jungle. I kept asking where Ran was and I kept getting no answer. Every person I talked to just told me to 'lie back and relax'. It was hard, so hard when I was so confused, my brain and body still muddled from fever, and still fighting to get well again. Eventually the new Lieutenant Commander, Botan, came in to see me. He didn't say much that really made much sense, kind of going around in circles with thanks and apologies.
When I finally got a word in and asked what had happened to Ran, what had happened to me for that matter he just kind of gave me a funny look and left. That certainly hadn't helped me. Suffice to say I didn't get any real answers until I had been in the infirmary for nearly a week and my condition was almost back to normal. Slowly over the past couple days my memory had begun to clear, but only in bits and pieces. Flashes of blood and pain, the scent of death carried on a humid breeze. I didn't like what I was remembering and it made my anticipation all the worse.
The nurse came in to take off the bandages on my head, giving the healing gash there a good look. "Well, it'll leave a scar, but nothing too bad. Mostly covered by your hair anyway. You're a lucky man, soldier."
"I just wish someone would tell me why I'm lucky," I'd grumbled.
The nurse had given me a pitying look and then shrugged, turning away. "I'm not at liberty to say anything, soldier. Officially you never even checked into this infirmary."
And that only got me more confused.
So it wasn't until Kudou came to visit me that I got some answers.
"Hey, Hidaka, back among the living, I see."
"Where is he?" I grated stiffly.
Kudou shook his head and sat down on the stool next to me, groaning. "Cut the crap, right? Heh, I guess you probably have a right to feel a little antsy."
"Please, sir, don't dick around with me. I've been stuck in this bed for a week and I don't remember much about why, and what I do remember doesn't make me feel very good. Tell me what happened, where is Fujimiya?" I said, looking at him with pleading eyes.
Youji shook his head. "I'm not really sure. Somewhere north of here. Vung Tao, I think, but like I said even I can't be sure. This whole mess is all hush-hush. We never even got word from the med team who lifted him if he made it to Vung alive or was allowed admittance or anything."
"Why wouldn't they admit him?!" I broke in incredulously.
Kudou looked up at me with dark, tired eyes, and sighed. "Remember when I told you that this mission was off the record books? Well that still stands. As far as the army's concerned this whole thing never happened. Ken Hidaka and Ran Fujimiya were never survivors of an Iroquois that was downed by Charlie on the return from a supply run, because they were never in an Iroquois that was downed by Charlie on the return from a supply run, because there never -was- a supply run. Therefore neither you nor Fujimiya exist officially in the condition you are in. Do you see what I am getting at? Even if the hospital north of here took Ran in without documentation or the clear from the up above we'll never know about it because -it never happened-. There will be no records ever to be found on either of you concerning your medical treatment after this mission."
"What?! How will we know he's alright?! How will we know he's alive?" I cried.
Kudou shook his head. "We won't."
I had simply sat there in that bed, tubes running into my body, a machine echoing the slowly increasing beat of my heart as I realized what he was telling me. Unless Ran fully recovered and was sent back to Pang Nuan, which was highly unlikely, I would never hear from the government whether he was officially alive or not. No one would. He was dead to the unit as far as anyone was concerned.
For a moment emptiness threatened to consume me until my mind found a tiny glimmer of light, a spark of hope that it clung to madly. "But that doesn't mean we won't hear from him ourselves, right? I mean if they ship him home after he recovers, he'll write to the unit, to you at least to say what happened. He wouldn't just... cease to exist like that."
Something strange had passed over Youji's face and then he'd smiled, his eyes lighting up a little. "There's always that. If Ran's ok, I'm sure he'd let us know. Let you know especially. Unless he would have reason not to contact you, which I can't imagine he would."
I stared at him and for a moment uncertainty flittered through my mind. I remembered his eyes, those eyes that begged me to leave him alone, that asked that I let him die. I thought of the resentment I had found there and all the pain I had put him through. The crash had been my fault after all, hadn't it? I'd let myself get distracted. I'd let him down just like Yuushi had. Did he have reason not to want to contact me? Would he just want to forget what we had shared and move on? Would his anger and resentment linger after he recovered? Would the fact that I couldn't be with him now fuel his resentment? Had I given him reason not to love me anymore?
All of these thoughts chased around on each other's heels in my head until I was suddenly so exhausted that I simply fell back against my pillows and stared up at the ceiling. If I didn't lose him to the pain, I would lose him to himself. Oh God, please no, please don't make him hate me, don't take him away. If he survives, don't take him away.
"Ken?" I heared Youji's voice softly call my name, and then I felt his hand on my head. "Don't let it get to you, ok? Everything will work out for the best. It's the best, Ken. Get some sleep. You did the right thing when you let him go. I promise. Get some rest."
The next few weeks were so hard to endure. I waited and waited, each day going down when the supply trucks came in to check my mail, but nothing ever came. As more and more time went on my optimism began to wane and I found myself spending more and more time alone in my thoughts. Kudou told me to move on, he encouraged me to forget about the past and to look forward. I tried, but it was so hard. I loathed those last days at Pang Nuan. Even thought I was still surrounded by my comrades I always felt so alone without Ran.
I spent the remainder of the wet season at Pang Nuan with the 326th AHC. For two month after that I flew missions out of the base. Somewhere inside of myself and inside of that bottle of pills I found the strength and composure to go on without Ran. I still had Max and Jei, who were oddly supportive and caring towards me for the remainder of our time together. They were among the first to be pulled out during Nixon's downsizing campaigns only one year later in 1970.
Soon after that Pang Nuan was closed from active duty, having only served a little over a year. But by that time I had already been transferred to flying the Cambodian supply runs, running either strictly freight or on the odd occasion a transport mission. During that time, which in retrospect was actually the majority of my tour though I always see it as an afterthought now, I lived in conditions far worse than those at Pang Nuan. We had base camps, not bases. Our birds were lined up in cleared patched of jungle while we slept in sandbag walls covered with tarps. I always remembered to keep my feet dry.
During the rest of my tour I still received letters from Max and Jei. I still keep in contact with them. Farf moved back to New York to work in the 'family business.' And if the rumors were true the Farfarello family does a mean turn in cement shoe making. Schu went back home and then moved to Texas where he met his current wife. In only three years they managed to have two children and start a booming business. Who would have ever thought that Max and cattle mixed so well?
As far as Kudou went I heard from him occasionally as well. After Pang Nuan was closed down he was moved to some cushy office job pushing papers at the embassy in Saigon. He was among one of the last to evacuate the country.
I spent two more years in Nam without Ran, and I never heard from him. Everyday I would wait, and every mail delivery no matter where I was I would greet eagerly. Always I had hope. Hope was all that carried me through.
When I returned home in 1972 during the last major downsizing of troops I wrote my mother a letter and then moved to Northern California and slowly started falling apart. It had been so hard to come back and try to return to life. Everywhere I turned there were people protesting, protesting -me- ! Protesting the very people who had fought for them. And the more I looked at these people on TV who gathered and waved their banners and called us savages and monsters, who said war was meaningless the more I hated them. Of course it was meaningless, but what did they know of it? How many dead men had they seen or held or flown back to safety? How many of them had lost their loved ones because of the war? The war defined me, it was a part of me, it made me who I was and they were there, protesting me. I shut them out. I shut it all out.
For one year after the official end of the war in seventy three I looked for Ran. I called officials, searched hospital records for Vung Tao, looked over deceased records, nothing. I even managed to track down staff members from the hospital, anybody who I thought might remember what happened to him. I got varying stories. Some people said they never even saw a man who fit Ran description around that time, others said he must have been one of the DOA or else there would have been a record, but mostly people just told me they had seen so many half dead soldiers they couldn't remember one from the other. At one point I tried to track down his sister, but for the life of me I couldn't even remember if he'd told me her name. Everything I tried left me empty handed.
I still remember the day I simply stopped searching. The day I finally gave him up for dead and washed my hands clean. I had received a letter in the mail from one of the Officers who had been in charge of that last mission we had flown. It took a lot of wheedling but I finally got the name out of Kudou. The letter was short and to the point.
-I regret to inform you that your inquiries into this matter must now and always go unanswered. I understand your situation. We all grieve for our brothers who are missing and lost in action. Occurrences such as these are unfortunate and regrettable, but I strongly urge you to bury this subject and refer to it no more. Further inquiries into the outcomes and occurrences of June 21st 1969 may lead to unsought for consequences.-
After that I just gave up. It wasn't worth it. No one wanted me to find out what had happened to Ran. No one cared. And if Ran was still alive why hadn't he contacted me? My information was easy enough to find. My records were all still on hand. Maybe the truth was that even Ran didn't want me to find him. Or maybe he wasn't anywhere to be found. He could be dead. He could very well have been dead. It was the not knowing that slowly ate away at my soul.
It was then that the dreams began in earnest. I had been having nightmares ever since Omi Tsukiyono had died in my arms, but when I finally gave up on Ran was when they truly began to plague me. That was when the anxiety attacks and flashbacks and voices set in and I stared going to see Doctor Craig. That's when I was first prescribed with things other than my pills from Nam. I'd been all through the prescription drug racket in only two years and my nerves were proof enough of it.
Since then my life had slowly become what it is today, an endless, meaningless routine of drugs, deleted phone messages, and tasks. I tended to my pets and they tended to me. There were a few people, like Mary, who looked in on me, but no one I really called close. Everyone was just there, they weren't real. Nothing was real except my dreams. We were all ghosts, nothing to anchor us. So I drifted on until I came to where I was.
* * * * * *
I inhale warm fur. Snorting in surprise at the sudden lack of oxygen and the unexpected hair in my nose I jerk myself away and open my eyes. How pleasant. Sneezing once I yawn widely and push The Cat away from my face where she decided to settle as I slept. Blinking sleepily I raise my head off the warm pillow and peer at my clock. It's past five. I slept the entire afternoon.
Deciding that I'm just too comfortable to get up I fall back onto the pillow and close my eyes again, drifting down into the warmth of it all. Everything smells like sleep. It's so nice. So soft, so quiet, so peaceful. I want to stay here forever, lost in the darkness. If only I could trade the darkness of my mind for the darkness of a curtained room.
Now disturbed, The Cat yawns widely in my face and then starts to lick my cheek with its rough tongue. Tuna breath double whammy.
"Get off," I grumble, pushing at the soft, furry, yielding body. I hear The Cat make a little yowling sound and then feel its needley teeth clamp down around my finger momentarily. Jerking my hand away I cry out and then sit up, grabbing The Cat and tossing her off my bed. "Bitch cat."
I watch with satisfaction as she lands and then scampers away across the carpet. Banzai trots over to my side and puts his head on the edge of the bed. Smiling softly I play with his ears and then toss the covers off. My bare feet touch the carpet and I scrunch my toes around in it. I've always liked the way carpet feels on bare feet.
I give the clock another glance as Banzai lays his head in my lap. Mary will be here soon. I'd better get the kitchen cleaned up if I don't want to hear about my poor living habits from her. Oh if only she knew.
I chuckle acridly and scratch my dog's muzzle. Such a good boy.
"Are you hungry, Banzai?" I ask, grinning at him. Sometimes it helps to know that someone depends on me.
Banzai gives s low bark of agreement and then gets off his haunches, tossing his head and dancing playfully on the carpet. "Are you hungry? Who's hungry?" I say in my best facsimile of baby talk.
And he's off. As soon as I stand and take a step towards the door Banzai is streaking ahead of me and I can hear him clamoring down the stairs. Oh to have the life of a dog. If only I could get that excited about dried kibble and canned meat. Actually... come to think of it I did used to get that excited about dried kibble and canned meat. Only we called it mess.
Chuckling to myself I take a cursory glance in the mirror and pause. Sometimes I look and expect to see that kid I used to be. Sometimes I am startled by the young man who looks bleakly back at me from the depths of my mirrors. I guess maybe he doesn't look so different from the 19 year old boy he used to be when he left home for the shores of a hostile nation only to find and lose so much more. Maybe his hair is a little longer, his features a little sharper, less boyish now than they had been, but those things aren't the things that throw me. It's my own eyes that throw me. It's not the dark circles beneath them or the listlessness of my eyelids, always so heavy these days, it's the dullness. Did they used to look alive? Or have they always been so flat and tired? I think I can remember a time when my smile reached my eyes, but it's been a long time since that's happened.
I lean a little closer to the mirror and run one hand up my forehead, pushing my dark bangs out of the way, revealing the long, thin, jagged scar that runs just below my hairline. My lips twitch perversely as I study it for a moment and then I am brought back from my reverie by the sharp, demanding sound of my dog's bark from the foot of the stairs.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming! Sheesh, give me a minute," I call, letting my hair fall back into place, tearing myself away from the mirror and heading for the door.
Bare feet on bare wood as I descend the stairs, the third one from the top groans beneath me as it always does and I sigh softly, taking comfort in the things that never change.
From the base of the stairs Banzai and The Cat both look up at me plaintively, The Cat twining itself through the dog's dancing legs, her tail flicking back and forth impatiently.
"I'm coming, I'm coming. Don't look at me like that," I grumbled as I step down from the last step hard and sachet past them.
Before I fix the pets' dinner I walk past the kitchen to the wall unit where I keep the hi-fi. I just got the new ABBA album. I love the way vinyl feels in my hands. Placing the record on the turntable I flick the switch and drop the needle into the first groove, and then return to the kitchen as the first song kicks on. I tap my feet and sing along as I start to get things in order, twitching rhythmically to the beat.
For a few moments I rummage around in the cupboards beneath the sink, searching for what I did with the last bag of dog food. When I finally find it I set it on the counter and gather up the pet dishes. As I go about fixing the animals dinner I notice that the message machine is blinking. I twist the knob as I pass by and listen as I go about my business in the kitchen, glad that I didn't turn the music up so loud that I can't hear over it.
"Hi, Ken. This is Doctor Craig again. I know you're probably at work still, but I just thought I'd leave another message to remind you that we need to go over your charts. I'm really not sure you should be on your current dosages. Please call me and set up an appointment, I don't want to let this go until out next scheduled meeting, m'kay? M'kay. Have a good day."
I roll my eyes and give my prescription pill bottle collection a guilty glance. If Doctor Craig wants to change my dosage -again- I'm going to be on a chemical roller coaster ride for at least a week. Better start hoarding what I have left if I want to weather the storm. Why can't these goddamned 'professionals' ever leave well enough alone?
"Jesus," I mutter under my breath and then set the dog and cat dishes aside, going to scribble myself a note to call my doctor.
As I pass the recorder I notice there's yet another message. What do all these people want from me? I twist the dial.
"Hidaka! Yo, it's Max. Where the hell are you? Do you actually have a job? I thought the army fucked you up enough that you didn't have to work anymore, well whatever. I've been talking to Sherry, sexy beast that she is, and we think you should come down to the ranch for Thanksgiving or some shit this year. It really isn't good for you to be all cooped up all alone in the middle of butt-fuckin' nowhere Northern California. So either call your mother and go home or else come down here for the holidays. I'll call you back and you better not be screening your calls you ass-muncher. Only gay people screen their calls, oh wait... I guess you qualify then. Nonetheless I will be in touch. Ciao."
I can't help but laugh at just the sound of Max's voice. Shaking my head I stir up Banzai's dinner and chuckle to myself. Max decided to be my official keeper it would seem. He calls me about once a month, always telling me to come stay in Texas. I've been twice in the past three years, but in a way it's just too disconcerting to see him in that light. I saw the way he played with his kids and interacted with his wife and I just kept thinking back to the ass-hole I knew who shot some poor Gook kid in the arm and broke the table at Willy Ng's. They wouldn't recognize the man I knew as Schuldich and I hardly recognized the man they knew as Max Wolff.
Setting the dog's bowl on the floor by the fridge I call to The Cat and fish around for the can opener in one of the drawer. I really need to organize in here at some point. What a hassle. The Cat comes over to mewl at my feet and rub against my legs, eventually jumping up onto the counter as it hears the lid of its food can being popped off.
I plop some of the wet slop into a bowl and then go to drop the can in the garbage. There's still another message.
Grumbling I give the dial one last savage twist and then begin to walk away. The tape whirs and then clicks, playing forward. I listen for a few moments. Silence. Nothing but dead air space, the crackling of silence recorded, static. And then a quiet intake of breath, a hesitation, and release. Click. Dial tone. Nothing.
Something about it makes my skin crawl. Something... something feels wrong. I look back at the message machine. No more messages. I walk quietly across the linoleum, my bare feet making small slapping sounds as I go. I don't know why, but I feel the undeniable impulse to play the message back. I do so.
Again silence. A breath and then nothing. Most likely just a wrong number. Some guy calling for Judy or Greg or something only to get the message machine of a stranger. But then why the hesitation? Why the breath?
In the back ground I hear "SOS" come on the hi-fi system. God I hate this song. It makes me feel too much. It speaks too many words that belong to me. But I don't want to go and change it.
"Whatever happened to our love? I wish I understood. It used to be so nice it used to be so good. So when you're near me, darling can't you hear me, SOS. The love you gave me, nothing else can save me, SOS. When you're gone how can I even try to go on? When you're gone though I try how can I carry on?"
Feeling perturbed I shove it out of my mind and turn towards the sink. I need a glass of water. What I really need is a pill, but I can't get myself all drugged up before Mary gets here. Speaking of which, Jesus, where is she? It's almost six. She usually gets off by around five thirty. I hope she gets here soon, I'm getting hungry. I don't want to be alone here in this house any longer. Why do I feel so anxious all of a sudden?
The weight of the glass feels good in my hands and just as I turn on the tap I hear the knock at my door that means Mary is here. I sigh in relief, relief about what I don't know. I'm just glad someone else is here. Watching the glass fill up with clear liquid I smile to myself and pause. I keep waiting to hear the door open, Mary knows she doesn't really even have to knock.
But instead the knock comes again, a little more hesitant this time.
I furrow my eyebrows and shake my head. Maybe she's afraid I'm still sleeping. Forcing my voice to sound as cheerful as I can I call out, "It's open! Come on in."
For a few moments nothing happens. I turn off the tap and then reach for one of my bottles. No, wait. No pills. Not while Mary is here.
I hear the door swing open slowly and then hear it close again. Banzai lifts his head and flicks his ears, the cat's tail slowly lashes back and forth.
Oh, shit look at all those dirty dishes on the counter! I set down the glass of water and hastily start grabbing plates and piling them in the sink.
Over my shoulder I call out cheerfully, "You're late. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to get here, seriously. You should have called if you were going to be late. I've been up for a while. All alone waiting, despairing," I chuckle.
Slow footsteps in the back hall, across the landing. They pause at the entrance to the kitchen. I smile to myself and reach for my glass of water, bringing it to my lips to take a sip before I turn around to greet Mary.
"I didn't know you were expecting me."
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And now a word from our sponsor:
"*SCREAMS!!!!!!!!!!!!!* I'M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING HORRENDOUS BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! STOP DOING THIS TO US!!!!! FUCKING PRICK!!!! FUCK YOU!!!! I REFUSE TO COMMENT ON THIS UNLESS YOU WRITE MORE!!!! MY GOD I'M GONNA KILL YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!! AND MY HEART WAS POUNDING THE ENTIRE TIME AND YOU STOP THERE AND YOU JUST WANT US TO GET PISSED AT YOU AND, AND... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *dies from lack of air*"
If you concur with Lilas you can simply tell me so, you don't -have- to call me a bitch -again-. Of course if you -want- to, you can. I guess it means you care, right? E-hehehe. Right. -_-;;;;