"I had a great time tonight."
Mary-Jean Whitmore leaned in close and looked up at him with big, sparkling eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, me too. Great movie. That was one creepy creature."
"I was so happy you were there to protect me."
Her voice was sweet as molasses, and her teeth gleamed white in the moonlight.
Hawkeye could feel a piece of popcorn stuck between two molars and poked at it with his tongue. He longed for floss.
"Yeah, sure, always ready to protect and serve."
She showed more moonlit teeth.
The evening really had been nice. Mary-Jean was sweet and charming. Talkative and sweet. Very, very sweet. He had walked her home through the august night, and it wasn't until they reached her house that he realized they'd crossed the baseball field by the school, and not once had he thought about mines. That was progress.
She giggled a little.
"I can't believe I've been on a date with Hawkeye Pierce."
Her hair looked pretty in the moonlight. Strawberry blonde.
Margaret had chameleon hair. Silvery in the moonlight, and a hundred shades of gold by candlelight. Platinum blonde in the harsh light of post-op. Or red, on the night of that crazy, wonderful party, when she somehow had made cheap dye look like something straight off the cover of a glossy magazine. He remembered how the rising sun had made her hair glow, when they were alone behind the O-club, how it made her look like a mythical creature from another realm. He had wanted to tell her that but had been too drunk, so he kissed her instead, not getting the slap he'd anticipated but instead her arms around his neck. Something had shifted between them that night, the way things kept shifting between them. Shifting and growing.
"Hey!" He got a playful slap on his arm. "Where did you go just now? I was wondering if you are going to the festival. It's next weekend, you know."
"Yeah, I know, I know. I don't know, I might have to work. Or there is this... thing… out of town I might have to go to. I don't know."
He scratched his neck, suddenly very aware of the collar of his shirt and where it met his skin. Something was definitely moving under there.
"Well, I was thinking we could go together." The molasses kept dripping.
"It would be fun. You took my sister one year, remember? And from what she told me, you two had a very good time. A great time, in fact."
She smiled again, looking almost like a shark. She stepped closer, and he could smell her perfume. A strong, heavy scent that made his nose itch. He could feel sweat trickling from his armpits, thanks to his stupid fancy shirt, and suddenly he couldn't stand the thought of making contact with another body.
"Yeah, you know what, we'll keep in touch, okay? Thank you for tonight, I had a great time."
He took her hand, shook it, and quickly made his way off the porch and down the street.
He felt sweaty and out of breath. Jesus, a handshake? Why couldn't he just kiss her and promise a second date? She was pretty and funny, but it was the wrong kind of pretty and funny, and besides – he had only agreed to this date to please his father. Again. Daniel Pierce was many things, but not a good actor, and not even the lightest of jokes or the widest of smiles could hide the look of worry that always lingered in his eyes. And being the good son he was, Hawkeye did his best to pretend to be normal.
He scratched his neck and kept to the streets, mines were suddenly very present in his mind. Maybe things would have been better if he had stepped on one, a long time ago. That would have saved a lot of people a lot of trouble. Like that nurse, Millie Carpenter. He had stood there at her memorial service and talked about how important it was to tell the people you love how much they mean to you. Big pompous words, soon forgotten, because had he? Had he even told his dad he loved him since he came back? He must have, but he couldn't remember. His father didn't need to have those worried eyes, though. If it hadn't been for him, Hawkeye would be home right now, sitting on the porch, not wearing this stupid, sweaty shirt and with a damn piece of popcorn stuck in his teeth.
It felt like he was breathing water. He stopped, leaned forward, and supported his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. The August night was warm around him, the sound of voices and laughter drifted through the silky darkness.
He breathed in through his nose and could smell barbeque smoke and the ocean, why the hell didn't that calm him down? Somehow his mind had been warped so it could only respond to burning garbage and unwashed socks marinating in a Korean heatwave.
He looked up and saw his house, the lights still on. Of course they were, it wasn't very late. His father would be waiting, full of questions and concern, and Hawkeye couldn't deal with that.
He stayed off the driveway, careful not to walk in the gravel and make too much noise, and took the narrow trail down to the beach.
The ocean was black and endless, the moon above made a path of light. Somewhere along that path was Korea and the former 4077th, now just a field of dust and a cement floor.
Suddenly all he wanted was to be on that moonlit path. His skin sighed with relief when he pulled his sweaty shirt and the rest of his clothes off and waded into the water.
Floating on his back in the velvety blackness, he felt like he could breathe again. His skin didn't itch, and when he got home, he would tell his dad that he loved him. But for a while, he needed to float in silence. Untethered from the world, on the moonlit path that led back to the place where a part of him still dwelled. Maybe the current would take him there if he went under. Maybe he would wash up like a pebble, and they would all be there.
Maybe he should call Sidney in the morning, that hack had obviously connected some of the wires wrong, making Hawkeye Pierce – the Lothario of Korea – leave a pretty girl with nothing but a handshake to go float in the ocean alone, with his thoughts a thousand miles away. Maybe the ocean, the moon, and his father were just the broken synapses of a lobotomized brain. He could feel panic starting to rise, and his breath quickened again. No. Hell no, that wasn't true. He slammed his fist down in the calm darkness surrounding him and the water that splashed on his face was real. The real moon was full over Crabapple Cove, his real father was waiting for him up at the house. Maybe later, they could sit on the porch together for a while. Have a beer and talk.
But for a little while longer he needed to float alone in the dark.
To look up at the sky and see the stars.
