"Ten lousy minutes"
"See at you at the next reunion. Couldn't stay. Sorry."
That was it. Scribbled on a bit of paper. He hadn't even signed it.
He was only ten minutes late. Ten lousy minutes. Surely he could've waited. It wasn't like he had a plane to catch. Or a war to get away from.
It had already been more than five years since he'd been ten minutes late the first time.
Now again.
This time, at least, he'd left hime a note. Even if it was only one line.
One line for five years. Not much really.
Not anything, really.
It was his own fault, Hawkeye decided. If he would've left home ten minutes earlier. Or if he would've driven just that bit faster. Skipped a red light or two. Then maybe he would've caught him and he wouldn't be sitting in a corner with a scribbled note and a glass of champagne someone had handed him.
He'd touched the lettres on the note so many times that they'd started to fade. But it didn't matter. He could dip it in the still full champagne glass or chew it in to a ball and throw up to the ceiling, he'd never forget the words on it. Not as long as he lived.
He'd never forget walking in the room, Radar coming towards him and saying:"Trapper asked me to give you this." He had half expected to get a kiss and Trapper then appear from behind a curtain. Smiling, happy to see him again.
But all he got was a note.
A one lined note was all he was worth.
A one lined note to cover more than five years.
A one lined note for being ten minutes late.
Ten lousy minutes.
"See at you at the next reunion. Couldn't stay. Sorry."
That was it. Scribbled on a bit of paper. He hadn't even signed it.
He was only ten minutes late. Ten lousy minutes. Surely he could've waited. It wasn't like he had a plane to catch. Or a war to get away from.
It had already been more than five years since he'd been ten minutes late the first time.
Now again.
This time, at least, he'd left hime a note. Even if it was only one line.
One line for five years. Not much really.
Not anything, really.
It was his own fault, Hawkeye decided. If he would've left home ten minutes earlier. Or if he would've driven just that bit faster. Skipped a red light or two. Then maybe he would've caught him and he wouldn't be sitting in a corner with a scribbled note and a glass of champagne someone had handed him.
He'd touched the lettres on the note so many times that they'd started to fade. But it didn't matter. He could dip it in the still full champagne glass or chew it in to a ball and throw up to the ceiling, he'd never forget the words on it. Not as long as he lived.
He'd never forget walking in the room, Radar coming towards him and saying:"Trapper asked me to give you this." He had half expected to get a kiss and Trapper then appear from behind a curtain. Smiling, happy to see him again.
But all he got was a note.
A one lined note was all he was worth.
A one lined note to cover more than five years.
A one lined note for being ten minutes late.
Ten lousy minutes.