B.J. was off work for the day, so after the two of them washed the breakfast dishes, they headed out onto the front porch. Hawkeye stood at the railing, looking out at B.J.'s suburban paradise—there was an actual white picket fence at the front edge of the lawn—and listening to the birds singing. He felt calm… for the first time in a long time, he felt content.
B.J. was sitting on the top porch step, watching the occasional car go by. After a long moment, Hawkeye moved to take a seat on the second step, directly in front of B.J., and leaned back into B.J.'s chest. Neither spoke as B.J. reached over Hawkeye's shoulder and took hold of his right hand, lacing their fingers together.
Hawkeye closed his eyes as he felt the steady rise and fall of B.J.'s breathing. Content was absolutely the right word.
B.J.'s voice was soft from directly above. "So, 10 full days. Is there anything special you want to do?"
Nah, 10 days of doing exactly this would be fine with me…
"…because I'll see if I can arrange time off work, Hawk."
"No, Beej, don't go out of your way for me. I'll just hang around and pester you and have fun with Erin. I just needed to get away from home for a little while."
"Well OK, but if you change your mind…"
"Sure Beej, I know."
They fell into another extended silence. A gentle breeze was blowing and the sun was warm on Hawkeye's uplifted face. He loved the security and familiarity of B.J.'s body, and he found himself wondering, if Peg were home, would he and Beej be sitting like this? Probably not.
Who was he kidding? Definitely not.
But if B.J. thought it was inappropriate, he wasn't giving any indication. The two of them were close… beyond close, and having the war in their rearview mirror by almost three years wasn't going to change that.
Hawkeye came out to Mill Valley at least a couple times a year; B.J. had been to Crabapple Cove even more often. The rocks that B.J. had used to spell out "goodbye" back in Korea should have actually said "see ya soon," though neither of them had known that at the time. Best-friendship didn't stop just because the war did. So they had an entire country between them, so what. That was why the good Lord and the Wright Brothers had invented flight.
This time, Hawkeye knew he was in California seeing his friend because he'd screwed up back home—he didn't deny it. But sitting here with B.J. had him feeling downright serene. Why was this moment the happiest one he'd had in ages? Why did being in the company of B.J. Hunnicutt seem to magically center him as nothing else could? Hawkeye didn't understand his own life. He wondered if B.J. ever had these same kinds of thoughts.
No, probably not. B.J. was a rock… stalwart and sane. No wonder Hawkeye was leaning on him, literally and figuratively.
"Push me higher, Hawkeye!" Erin called to him as she soared in the swing. He did as she asked, putting just a bit more strength behind his push, sending her higher. She giggled and sailed back and forth, back and forth.
B.J. was standing off to the side of the swing set, watching them and grinning. He had Waggle on the leash, and when Hawkeye looked at him at times like this, he saw the quintessential family man… wife, kid, dog, house and picket fence. His younger friend was far more grown-up than he was, with responsibilities and a mortgage and mouths to feed, both human and canine. It made Hawkeye feel inadequate.
"I wanna get down now," Erin was saying. "I wanna go on the slide."
Hawkeye caught her swing and brought it to a stop, helping her jump off safely. She looked at her dad questioningly and he nodded yes, she could go on the slide. She scampered ahead of them to the slide and climbed the ladder as they followed at a stroll.
They pretty much had the park to themselves. A couple of guys were playing basketball at the hoops, but otherwise there wasn't much going on. Hawkeye and B.J. walked in step, Waggle sniffing the ground every now and then, taking inventory of dogs who had peed their way around the park before him.
"Peg wants to have another baby," B.J. said then, breaking the silence.
Weirdly, Hawkeye's stomach dropped at that news. No reason why such a statement should mean anything to him, and yet it did. "Do you want another kid?"
"I love kids, you know that. We used to always say we wanted two. The problem is I can tell you exactly how it would go. We'd have another and Peg would still accuse me of working too much, of not being around to help enough, of putting all the parental responsibility on her shoulders. It's the same thing she's been saying since I got home from Korea."
Hawkeye had never heard this before. "Wait—what? She doesn't think you help out enough? With Erin?"
B.J. sort of shrugged. Erin had taken her first ride down the slide and she circled back to climb the ladder again. They stood and supervised her, but kept their distance so she wouldn't hear their conversation. "Well, you're here now, so I've cut back on my hours during your visit, but the truth is she's right. I do keep long hours at work, normally. I love my job—I'm not working to spite her or to shirk my family responsibilities, but I think sometimes she sees it that way." He waved the hand not holding Waggle's leash. "It's a conversation that has already gotten old, if you ask me… 'be home more, help me out more.' I don't think having another kid is a good idea—it's not going to help the situation."
"Shit, Beej, I didn't realize there was any trouble at all in Hunnicutt paradise. You never said anything before."
"I don't want to make it sound like a big problem. I don't think it is. Sometimes I look at Erin and I do wish she had a baby brother or sister. It would be good for her." His expression became wistful as he perhaps thought about having a son. Then he shook his head as if to dismiss the whole thing. "Never mind, I'm running off at the mouth, sorry."
Hawkeye wasn't entirely sure what to say, and it took a moment for him to reply. "You have a level head, B.J. Hunnicutt, and I know you'll make the right decision. For yourself and for your family."
"Daddy, daddy! Can I go on the swings again?"
B.J. rolled his eyes. "No, Erin, we have to head home now. You've been on the swings twice, and you've done the slide, and you rode the merry-go-round. That's enough for today."
She came running up to them and looked at Hawkeye, perhaps hoping he'd take her side and overrule Daddy. But Hawkeye shook his head, "I agree, it's time we head back home."
Giving in with a disheartened "OK," Erin grabbed Hawkeye's hand for the walk back home, and his heart swelled. She'd held her daddy's hand coming over here, but now she wanted to hold Hawkeye's. It was such a small gesture, but he found it touching.
I love your family, Hawkeye wanted to tell B.J., but it got caught in his throat. It was the truth and it wasn't the truth… there was a piece of something in that very simple sentence that wanted to come to the surface, but he couldn't articulate it.
He'd had a wife, however briefly, and if they had worked at their relationship, maybe they could have lasted. If they had lasted, they could have had a child or two, and they'd already had the house, and certainly they could have gotten a dog. It was all there for Hawkeye but he hadn't wanted it, or at least not enough to put any effort into it.
Tears came to his eyes and he swiped at them, not wanting B.J. or Erin to see. Perhaps she sensed a change in his mood, because she leaned over and picked a random dandelion from the grass and handed it to him. "Here Hawkeye, this is for you."
And he smiled through his tears, taking the flower-that-was-actually-just-a-weed and saying, "Thank you, Erin. That's very sweet of you."
She beamed back at him and they kept on walking hand-in-hand toward the Hunnicutt home, and this time when the thought came to Hawkeye, it was altered a bit: I love your family, and I wish I were part of it.