Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Solcar - 6. San Francisco 1990
Tag – First Line
“That is the last time I am telling you anything!”
“That is the last time I am telling you anything!” said Tony as they walked into their apartment. The warm March afternoon had turned into a chilly evening, and they were both ready to take a hot shower and jump into bed.
“He should have known better than to invite you out after Prime closed.”
“For goodness sake, babe, he’s just a kid! Getting all up in his face, threatening to cut off his dick before you shoved it up his ass, all in front of everyone, was a bit much.”
“Hey, you won’t let me brand you or put a collar on you, so I’ve gotta mark my territory somehow. Now, do your nightly business on the computer while I read for a bit. Half an hour, and then it’s shower time.”
Still smiling, Colton sat on his favorite chair, grabbed the small leather-bound book lying on the coffee table, opened it to a random page, and began reading again.
•••
Marine Corps Staff Sergeant Roy Michaels stood in front of San Francisco General Hospital on Potrero Avenue and shivered. It was due as much to the chilly March weather as to the fear he felt at the moment. Looking somewhat lost, he approached the information desk to the right of the entrance to ask for directions. An older lady looked with understanding and kindness in her expression while directing him to Ward 5A.
Yesterday’s unexpected phone call turned his comfortable, organized world upside down. The caller had a pleasant voice and broke the news gently, taking his time to introduce himself, explain the reason for the call, and suggested the marine should head up to San Francisco as soon as possible. There wasn’t a lot of time left.
His Commanding Officer at Pendleton was understanding, granted him a three-day Emergency Leave indicating if more time was necessary, he should call and request it. Back at the barracks, he packed a small bag, pressed his Dress Blues, and made reservations on the first flight leaving the following morning.
He barely recognized the person lying in the hospital bed. A sob escaped him, and his eyes quickly filled with tears as he turned away from the painful sight. A strong arm grabbed him around the shoulders and steered him outside into the hallway.
“Thank you for coming, Sergeant. Why don’t we grab a cup of coffee in the waiting room? I’ll try to answer any questions you may have.”
Unable to verbalize his agreement, Roy nodded. The gentle baritone addressing him was the same voice he had heard over the phone yesterday. The man behind it exuded calm and that somehow made the marine feel safe.
“I’m so, so sorry I didn’t contact you before; I was under the impression there were no living relatives. I discovered your existence last week while reviewing a box full of documents.”
Roy finally looked at the man next to him and was faced with piercing green eyes and a tired-looking face. The man was his height, and they appeared to have similar builds, but the stranger was quite a few years older. His curly black hair was sprinkled with white, as was his neat beard.
“You would think after five years living together as partners, I would have found out there was more to the family than a hateful, bigoted father and an indifferent, uncaring mother.”
The words were not uttered with malice or cruelly, yet they jolted the young marine. The couple referred to was everything the man said and more; a pair of self-absorbed individuals, their parental feelings corrupted by a vile religion and hateful priests.
“There was a Polaroid—must have been taken about a dozen years ago—the two of you stood by an ice cream truck, with your arms around each other, and smiles on your faces.”
It was too much for Roy, the quiet sobs became loud, and the tears streamed down his face. When the older man put his arms around him and drew him close, the marine hugged back, put his head on the solid shoulder in front of him, and cried as he had not done in years.
“I brought the picture with me that evening and finally heard about you, Sergeant. And about how he stayed away in order to protect you from the vicious parents. Wasn’t easy finding you.”
For as long as he could remember, Roy had been in love with the Marine Corps. His parents felt joining the military was not proper for someone of their social standing; he saw it as a way of escaping their clutches, The day after his High School graduation, he enlisted.
“We met almost six years ago; I fell in love for the first time in my life. When we found out about the infection, I promised to be there until the end. I think it’ll be over soon.”
Retired Staff Sergeant Roy Michaels drove out of Camp Pendleton in Oceanside, California, and headed north toward San Francisco. A deep sadness clouded his expression. He was leaving his beloved Marine Corps. His future as an activist precluded any further association with the military.
His Commanding Officer had been extremely surprised by the young man’s decision not to re-up when his enlistment was over. The CO pointed out Roy’s rapid advance was a prelude to future success and a bright future. Why throw away such a promising career in the military? Realizing there was no way to convince his subordinate to reconsider, he asked for an honest answer as to why he was taking this step.
As much as he loved the Corps, and as much as making a career out of it had always been his dream, Roy could not in good conscience continue to serve an organization that deemed certain citizens less worthy than others. Individuals such as his older, gay sibling who had just died of complications related to AIDS. He had a new direction to follow now, a new goal to focus on; he promised at his brother’s deathbed to spend the remainder of his life fighting on behalf of others similarly afflicted.
•••
That was enough reading for the night. Colton did not want to end up in tears as he did most times he opened the book.
“Antonio, shower time!”
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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