Goodnight, My Angel - Georgeotown Book IV - 1. GMA I

For a friend with an understanding heart is worth no less than a brother.

On Saturday, July 7, 2018, Richard Leonard Peterson turned sixteen. Claiming CJ and Owen’s wedding two weeks before was enough of a celebration to last him a while, Ritchie asked there be no big party to celebrate. Now that he was old enough, he was more interested in getting ready for his maiden solo flight as a student pilot on Monday.

“So Ozzie and I have kind of a present for you.” César Marcos Abelló, Jr. was in the kitchen of the old Georgetown Theatre apartment he and Owen Zachary Liston moved into the week before their wedding. While his brother sat on a stool watching, CJ whisked batter in a stainless steel bowl for the Elvis pancakes Ritchie always enjoyed. Breakfast was CJ’s favorite meal of the day, and he liked cooking the peanut butter and bananas concoction for others.

“It’s not like a real pressie, mate. More like a long-term loan.” The blond, Australian-born surfer grinned at his brother-in-law. The newlyweds had taken the kid to dinner the previous evening and then to a late showing of the new Jurassic Park movie. They had invited him to spend the night in the guest room.

Ten years younger than Owen—with CJ in the middle of the age span—the teen spent as much time with his peers as with the couple’s older group of friends. Still a kid in many ways, Ritchie’s comportment molded itself to the age bracket of whoever his companions were at the time.

“I don’t need a present from you guys. You do enough for me already. Plus, with all the grandparents still in town, and Aba and Abuela cooking dinner for us tonight, I’m sure I’ll get something from them and the dads.” Ritchie paused as his lips twisted into an evil grin. “Although I’ll take Gal Gadot’s phone number. I’m sure you and Ozzie got it.”

They met the Israeli actress during the filming of the second Wonder Woman movie; several scenes shot along the street in front of their apartment used the neon GEORGETOWN sign out front as a backdrop.

Owen tried to suppress a chuckle but failed. He and CJ had discussed how the horny boy had become a horny teen right before their eyes. He still tried to emulate his older brother, but was not as outgoing as CJ around strangers. “Sorry, mate. We didn’t bother. Your brother and I were more interested in meeting Chris Pine.”

CJ turned on the stove to heat the griddle pan, and retrieved a small, gift-wrapped box from the pocket of the apron he wore over boxers. “Too bad. You’re still getting a semi-present. Happy birthday, bro.”

Ritchie took the package and ripped off the wrapping. He may have not wanted a present, but his expression showed delight. “A key?” Recognition made his jaw drop. “Defiant? You’re giving me Defiant as a present?” The kid jumped off the stool and wrapped his arms first around Owen and then his brother. “Fucking A! This is awesome. You’re still taking me to get my license, right? And I can drive it home afterward?”

“Yes… And maybe.” CJ chuckled at his brother’s somewhat confused look. “We’ll go get your license Tuesday after you do your solo flight on Monday. If you pass the test, you can drive it home.”

Owen waited until the teen calmed down before breaking the news. “Hey! Remember I said it’s not a real present. Consider it a loan without a firm due date.”

“What do you mean?” Without doubt, confusion was Ritchie’s expression of the day. “That sounds like legal double-talk. Can’t you forget you’re an attorney for a bit and speak plain English?”

“Asshole! Ozzie means we want the Jeep back when you get tired of it or buy something else.”

“How come?”

CJ’s chuckling intensified when he noticed Owen roll his eyes. “There’s a short story I read online a while back. Melvyn Ford. This great author I really, really like wrote it. It’s what gave me the idea. Ozzie thinks I’m nuts but what the heck.

“Anyway, the story’s about a Ford bought by a man in the late 1920s. His young son named the car, Melvyn. When his father died in the war, he inherited it. The car gets passed down through generations, and I want to pass Defiant on to our first kid when he or she’s old enough to drive.”

“And I keep telling him he’s nuts. By then all cars will be electric. If we even have cars by then. But it’s a nice thought, so I’m going along for the ride.” Owen’s smirk earned him a stuck-out-tongue from CJ.

“I love you guys! I promise I’ll take good care of it. But I’m changing the spare tire cover. I want an Air Force one instead of the Marine Corps one you have on it.”

A month after the wedding and their honeymoon trip to California, CJ and Owen were once again in an airplane. They did not travel alone.

Strong fuselage vibrations accompanied the landing gear’s noisy deployment as the plane approached Milwaukee’s General Mitchell International Airport. Lightning flashed outside the aircraft and lit the cabin’s interior making a startled Owen peel his face away from the window. The raging storm had been with them for the past thirty minutes or so, and did not show signs of abating.

The tires made contact with the runway’s surface for a moment before the Boeing 737 lurched, and began rising again. “Bloody hell!” Owen’s curse was not loud enough to hear above the rattling, except by those next to him.

“Relax.” Ritchie patted his brother-in-law’s thigh in a comforting way. “The pilot’s pulling up and going around for another attempt. I thought he was coming in a little fast and in this weather—”

“Listen to you!” CJ leaned across the aisle and gave his brother a punch in the arm. “You’re not even licensed yet and you’re critiquing the pilot’s performance?”

Sitting next to him, Harley chuckled. “Bruh, I can’t fricking wait ’til he’s a pilot. He can fly us all over in his own plane.” Although CJ’s affection for the group of friends his brother nicknamed The Squad was equal, his fondness for Harley Oshkosh Wilkinson was a tad more pronounced. The dark haired man was the first fellow student he met at School Without Walls High School.

“Don’t hold your breath, bud. The dads discussed buying or leasing a plane before. I don’t think they’re interested. Some of that’s prolly because Papa Brett’s parents died in a small plane crash.” CJ recalled the conversation they had about airplanes the first time he flew to Miami with his fathers. He had come a long way from the brash boy who challenged his mother after she stood by when her husband threw him out of their home. The best thing ever to happen to him as far as he was concerned. Even if he could not see it at the time.

A syzygy of events found the newlyweds and their companions traveling to Wisconsin at a time CJ and Owen thought they would spend most of the summer’s remainder getting used to living on their own. CJ had two years left at Georgetown University’s Edmund A. Walsh School of Foreign Service. Owen, already a graduate of the University of Sydney and the Antonin Scalia Law School at George Mason University, would enter his final year at George Washington University in the fall pursuing a master’s degree in business administration.

Their life was not typical for men as young as they were. Family wealth allowed them to travel frequently, and they grasped every opportunity to do so. The Wilkinson family’s gift of an engraved rivet from the Harley-Davidson Museum left the twosome yearning to see it and touch it.

Harley revealed his mother and father hesitated after he suggested it as a wedding present from all of them, and it took a call from Mr. Wilkinson to César and Brett to convince them. CJ’s fathers thought it a great idea.

Borrowing the concept from people he watched tracing the engraved names of loved ones at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, Owen visited an art supply store prior to leaving Washington. He left armed with a pad of archival quality paper and several charcoal sticks.

“Photos will be great. However, I think this would be more organic. For lack of a better word.” Owen’s explanation satisfied CJ’s curiosity as his husband packed the supplies in his backpack. “If they turn out the way I think they will, we can frame one together with a picture of the rivet.”

Having flown overnight after their time in California, CJ and Owen arrived in Washington early in the morning. On the way home from the airport, they texted the family to let them know of their return and promised to come for dinner that night. Within a half hour, Ritchie was at their door, his skateboard held with one hand, his panting dog’s leash with the other. Wingnut made himself at home, curling up on the floor by the large front window after lapping up the water Owen laid out for him.

“So how was it?” Ritchie poured a mug of coffee, doctored it with an inordinate amount of milk and sugar, and watched as CJ and Owen emptied their luggage and sorted laundry into piles.

“Mate, it was fantastic.” Owen rummaged through his backpack, looking for a trinket they had bought for the youngster. “You would have loved the balloon flight.”

CJ opened the door to the closet with the washing machine and dryer stack, and started throwing clothes in. “What have you been up to, little brother?”

“Not a lot. I’m looking forward to my solo flight and my driver’s test. I’ve been studying for them a lot. And I got to hang out with Lucy and some of her friends at the mall one day before she left town.”

Ritchie and Lucy Wilkinson had known each other for a few years. Spending time together was inevitable since their older brothers were best friends. Over the past months, their relationship had grown. While Ritchie attended the private Sidwell Friends School, Lucy was a student at the same charter school from which her brother and CJ graduated. Both pestered their siblings to take them along when they visited each other, and Lucy was always invited to any gathering organized at the Prospect Street town house.

During CJ and Owen’s wedding reception, Ritchie asked Lucy to be his girlfriend; she said yes and invited him to spend part of the summer at the dairy farm owned by her grandparents in Wisconsin. The evolution of the friendship did not surprise anyone.

Ripple Farm was where Harley, Lucy, and their younger sister Charlotte spent summer vacations since the family moved to Washington. Following the invitation, the parents conferred once again and consented to the visit. The timing was set to coincide with the annual, world-famous Oshkosh Air Show after Mr. and Mrs. Wilkinson found out Ritchie was taking flying lessons.

Harley’s presence on the flight was due to his job’s start date. He had several employment offers when he completed his motorcycle technician training, but all were in Florida and Georgia. Returning to Washington, he approached the Harley-Davidson dealerships in the area and was able to land a position at the one in Fairfax, Virginia. His dad’s friendship with the general manager helped ease his way in. The caveat was the position was not open until September, when one of their current techs would be retiring. Since he had three months of leisure ahead, Harley decided to accompany his friends and visit his grandparents.

“Slow down, CJ. It’s bucketing out there. I’m struggling to see out.” Rain still fell when they landed, retrieved their luggage, and collected the rental car. They reserved a convertible as they had in California, but the inclement weather precluded lowering the top. Or allowing Ritchie to put his learner’s permit to use. CJ was behind the wheel with Owen in the passenger seat, both trying to decipher street signs, afraid of missing a turn on the way to the hotel. Harley guided them, but the driver still had to ensure they took the correct road.

“We’re gonna get so fucking soaked when we get out of the car.” CJ squinted as the windshield fogged. “Oz, give me something to wipe the inside of the glass with. I can’t see shit right now.”

“Here, use my t-shirt.” Ritchie slipped it off and handed it to his brother. “The weather better get better or the air show’s gonna suck.”

“Bruh!” Harley’s exclamation made CJ tear his eyes away from the road for a moment and glance in the rearview mirror. His friend was staring at his brother and not at him. “You been lifting? You’re getting some muscles on you.”

“Yeah… The dads gave me a membership to the gym at GU as one of my Christmas presents last year. I’ve been trying to go a few times a week after school. And since classes ended, I’ve been there in the mornings almost every day.”

The Iron Horse Hotel had a canopy above the main entrance; it protected them and their luggage from the downpour once they arrived. The car came to a stop under it and Owen sent Harley inside to borrow an umbrella; CJ used it to keep dry as he sprinted back after parking the Mustang.

“Welcome back to Milwaukee and the Iron Horse, Mr. Abelló.” The man behind the registration desk glanced up from the computer screen as he slid CJ’s credit card and driver’s license back across the polished surface. “I’m sorry the weather’s lousy today. The forecast calls for less rain this coming week. You should be able to enjoy our city without getting soaked.”

Ritchie stared at him and smirked. “So, do you know my brother too? Or is this like when we went to Australia and the hotel had records of him staying there before?”

“The latter, young man.” The hotel employee’s benevolent smile was infectious; CJ and Owen looked at each other and grinned. “The Iron Horse values returning guests. The system flagged your brother’s reservation showing he stayed with us four years ago. A Mr. Wilkinson accompanied him at the time. Is that you?” he asked Owen.

Owen did not get a chance to reply. “Nah. I’m Harley Wilkinson. The blonde dude’s Owen. He’s CJ’s husband.”

Conditions improved by the following morning. Graphite clouds prevented sunshine from reaching them, but a light drizzle replaced the previous day’s sheets of rain. “Let’s go find our rivet on the wall first.” CJ led the way as they walked across the grassy fields separating the hotel from the Harley-Davidson Museum; he had contacted them prior to the trip to ascertain it was installed and the exact location. “We’ll have time to take pictures before we catch the bus to the factory.”

Harley had toured the Pilgrim Road Powertrain Operations facility in Menomonee Falls several times. He and CJ visited it during their previous trip to Milwaukee, but it was a new experience for Owen and Ritchie. Both raved about it and about the time spent browsing through the museum afterward.

Lined up three wide and nose-to-tail, the Motorcycle Gallery featured a different bike for each model year, with those from the late 1940s to the present displayed on the main floor. All four men posed for pictures next to the bike representing their year of birth.

“Bruh, you decide yet what model you want when you get one?” Harley had promised Ritchie the opportunity to learn how to ride a motorcycle while on the farm—much the same as he did with CJ.

The kid shook his head gazing up at the taller man. “Nah… I wanna learn how to ride and get the motorcycle endorsement, but I don’t think I’ll get one for a long time.”

“Hey! CJ got his when he graduated from high school. Maybe your dads will get you one then too.”

“We’ll see… If I get into the Air Force Academy, it’d be a waste. You’re not allowed to have a vehicle until you become a C2C.”

Owen grinned and slapped Harley’s back. “Don’t look so confused, mate. A C2C’s a Cadet Second Class. It’s what we call juniors in the real world.”

“Hey!” Ritchie looked aggrieved. “The Academy’s the real world too.”

“How do you know all this?” Harley appeared even more confused.

As often happened with the group, CJ thought he would have the last word. “Because my brother’s memorized the rules already. He’s not even accepted and he already knows what’s expected of new cadets. Of course, that means the dads, Ozzie, and I have to listen to him talk about this stuff all the time. You have no idea how boring it can be.”

The playful tone did not deter Ritchie from flashing him the finger. “No worse than all those architectural lessons.”

Unlike his usual approach to mornings, CJ dawdled over coffee the next day. Ritchie was impatient, inquiring about the delay until his brother mentioned he wanted to make a stop at the Milwaukee Art Museum to check out the building before heading north.

“Why do we have to wait? The weather’s nice. We can even put the top down if you want me to drive by it on the way to Oshkosh.”

“You drive by it?” CJ gave his brother a doubtful stare. “And what makes you think we’ll let you drive? Anyway, that’s not it, bro. You remember the last time we watched the Transformer movies? In the third one, I told you the house the bad guy lived in was a museum in real life.”

“Oh, yeah! Is this the one?”

“Yep. The building’s a masterpiece by Santiago Calatrava. That’s the Spaniard who also designed the new, ground-zero station back in New York. This one has the same metal ribs but they move. They look like wings and I want to see them spread open again. That happens at ten. We’ll take pictures and we’ll be on our way. Maybe take a short video to post on YouTube later. The drive to Oshkosh’s less than two hours. We’ll be there around lunch.”

A barking black and brown monster pushed the screen door open and ran at them as Ritchie turned off the car’s engine. It vaulted over the side, landed atop Harley, and tried to eat the man’s face. “Get off me, you mutt. Get off me!”

Ritchie and Owen had never met the Rottweiler; they exited the car and kept their distance while laughing. CJ knew the pooch was a friendly brute not worth fearing. “Come on, Jerry, get off him. Come on, boy. Let’s get you a treat.” Treat was the magic word; the dog turned his head toward the man calling him and jumped out. “Meet Jerry Garcia, guys. He may look mean but he’s a”—CJ was about to say pussy but changed his mind when he saw Harley’s sisters approach them—“sweetheart. Really! Hi, Lucy. Hi, Charlotte.”

“Hello…” Lucy Wilkinson waved and smiled at them but her gaze remained fixed on CJ’s younger brother. “Hi, Ritchie. Welcome to Ripple.” Her grandparents were Grateful Dead fans and named the dairy after one of the band’s songs. “I’m glad you’re here.”

CJ leaned over the side of the car and whispered to Harley still inside. “Dude. Whiskey, tango, foxtrot. She didn’t even look at us and she’s already flirting with my brother.”

“Whatever. Who cares? I’m not getting involved in my sister’s life. Ever! Let’s get inside and find out what’s for lunch. We can get the luggage later. Oh, and I figure afterward, we can give Ritchie and Owen a tour of the milking room. Maybe we’ll take the ATVs out and ride through the pasture. It’s getting dark later, so we have plenty of time. Since Ritchie’s staying another week after you return to DC, I’ll put him on a scooter then. I think he’s sharing a room with me so you and Owen can have your own. At least that’s what Grandma told me they were doing. Oh, and you’ll get to meet my aunt this trip. She said…”

CJ shook his head, smirked, and approached the two girls, intent on hugging them as a proper greeting. Harley was still talking when they entered the large farmhouse.

The Oshkosh Air Show was an annual gathering of aviation enthusiasts held each summer at Wittman Regional Airport in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Thousands of aircraft, hundreds of thousands of visitors, and a multitude of exhibitors created the perfect atmosphere for anyone infatuated with flying. The largest gathering of its kind in the world made the airport's control tower the busiest on the planet during the week of the show.

This was Ritchie’s candy shop; he seemed unable to decide where to look. The grin plastered on his face left no doubt he was thrilled. “Can we check out some of the planes first? We have a couple of hours before the T’birds go up.”

The Thunderbirds—the United States Air Force flight demonstration squadron—was based out of Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada but toured the country, performing aerobatic formations and solo flying stunts. Their aerial, death-defying configurations elicited gasps and cheers from spectators. CJ had seen them before and eagerly anticipated the day’s flights. “Whatever you want, bro. This is your birthday trip. You call the shots, we’ll tag along. If we get bored, we’ll let you know.”

Later in the day, CJ elbowed Owen while they strolled through the exhibitions by flight-related companies. “Hey, check that out. You wanna try it?”

Owen looked doubtful. “I don’t know, CJ. It seems dangerous.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be a pussy.”

“Asshole. Don’t try and goad me. You know that works with the others but not with me.” Owen shook his head and grinned. “Fine, I’ll do it. What about your brother and the rest of them?”

“Let’s check at the booth. But I think I read somewhere you have to be eighteen to do it.”

“You’ve thought about this before?”

“A long time ago. It was something I wanted to do, so I looked into it.”

CJ, Owen, Ritchie, and Lucy returned the following day while Harley and Charlotte remained at the farm. When Harley’s father first suggested the trip, Ritchie went online and joined the airshow’s sponsoring organization so he could take advantage of certain events. He booked himself seats for a ride on a Ford Tri-Motor.

Lucy held Ritchie’s hand as they walked through the airfield. “So there’s one of these planes at the Air and Space Museum back home?” The girl hung to Ritchie’s arm and stared at his face with adoration, paying attention to every word he said.

“Yeah! Wait until you see it. It’s such a cool plane. They built them for just a few years ending in the early 1930s.” The kid turned his head and spoke to his brother and brother-in-law who followed close behind. “I’m sorry I only bought the two seats and you guys can’t ride with. I didn’t know you were coming on the trip. And it was all sold out when I tried to get more.”

“It’s okay, mate. Your brother and I will entertain ourselves while the two of you go up.” Owen’s disappointed expression became Machiavellian. “But you better remember this next time CJ and I do something you don’t get to join in.”

While the young couple walked ahead holding hands, Owen sang softly. “Watching every motion, in my foolish lover’s—”

“Really, Oz?” CJ chuckled while shoulder bumping his husband. “The theme from Top Gun?”

“Mate, how many times have we sat through the damn movie with your brother? I have the soundtrack and chunks of dialogue memorized by now. And you have to admit they look cute together. All lovey-dovey and stuff. We were never like that.”

“Yeah, well, I think the movie’s opening song might be more appropriate. I still shake my head he likes that flick so much. After all, it’s about Navy pilots, not Air Force ones. I see how he struts around, all confident and shit, and all I hear is Kenny Loggins’ Danger Zone instead.” CJ and Owen had slowed down, allowing a little distance to form between them and the younger couple. “Can you believe how much he’s grown in the past year? He’s just a couple of inches shorter than me now.”

“You think he’s going to get any taller?”

“Not sure about that. He’s about the same height his father was.” CJ tried not to think too much about his deceased stepfather. The man had thrown him out of his home when he found out CJ was gay. “Oh, and as for us never being that lovey-dovey, you know I’m not into the mushy stuff. Plus, we were older when we met.” CJ stared at the ground as he put one foot in front of the other. He sounded apologetic. “And I had my head stuck up my ass at first.”

“That, you definitely did. I was older, but you were the same age he is now. At least you came to your senses and realized I was a good catch.” This time, Owen initiated the shoulder bump.

“Asshole! I hate it when you’re right.”

Later that night, the visitors sat around the large farm table with their hosts. Wade Wilkinson, Harley’s grandfather, served dessert while his wife, Vanessa, brought out a bottle of wine. “I thought you might like to sample one of our local wines, Owen.”

“Definitely. I’m always interested in tasting new ones.”

CJ watched while the woman poured a small amount of Door Peninsula blackberry wine into clear, juice glasses. He hesitated, wet his lips, and tried not to make a face after the first taste.

“Blackberries…” Owen swirled the dark liquid and took a second sip. “Very sweet. This is a dessert wine for sure.”

CJ was surprised when his husband helped himself to more; this was not even close to their usual fare and he wondered if Owen was simply being polite.

“It’s not what we drink most of the time, but it goes well with the blackberry pie.” Owen forked another chunk of dessert in his mouth. “This is very good, Wade. I love that you used the fruit your granddaughters picked yesterday to bake it.”

After a couple of days spent around the farm and its surroundings, the four males in the group were back at the show on Saturday morning and Ritchie was not happy. “I hate you right now. Both of you. You too, Harley. This isn’t fair.”

While CJ and Harley laughed, Owen attempted to placate the kid. “I told you not to complain when you rode that plane and we couldn’t, mate. And that was because you thought exclusively of yourself and your girlfriend when you bought tickets. You didn’t think of anyone else. This isn’t our doing. You have to be eighteen.” The Aussie sneaked in the dig about the plane ride tickets seamlessly.

“I did think of you! But I was too late. It’s still not fair. And why couldn’t Lucy come with us?”

“Bruh, she wanted to stay behind. This is CJ and Owen’s last day here and she wanted to help fix tonight’s dinner. I can’t wait!” Leave it to Harley to enthuse about food before embarking on a dangerous adventure.

“Fine. But I ain’t sitting around all day waiting for you. I’m gonna go find me some planes I can explore.”

CJ stopped his brother with a hand on the shoulder before Ritchie could wander away. “Try not to get into trouble, okay? You need money?”

“Nah, I still have most of the cash I came here with. And I have my new credit card just in case.” He glanced at his companions for a moment. “Do you guys want me to buy you show t-shirts?”

“I’m good.” Harley seldom wore non-motorcycle inspired garments.

“Get one for us.” Owen unsnapped the leather wristband he used as a wallet and took a fifty out of the zippered compartment. “Here’s some money anyway. CJ and I can share t-shirts so one will be enough.”

The training, admittedly advertised as brief, lasted less than five minutes. Then the waiting began. “You do realize it’s just string that’s gonna keep us from crashing to the ground at terminal velocity, right? Whatever that speed is.” Although he had agreed to do it, Owen continued to sound hesitant.

“Bruh, I’m so glad you thought of me. This is gonna be sick. Don’t worry, Ozzie. I’m sure the guy jumping with you wants to live, so he’ll make sure you do too.”

“Buk, buk, buk… Chicken!” CJ had relentlessly tormented his husband since signing up. “What the hell are you so worried about? We’ve climbed the Harbour Bridge and you weren’t scared then.”

“Not the same, mate. That was a few hundred feet. This is thousands. Not to mention on the bridge we were attached to the railing. Why am I jumping out of a plane again?”

“Because you love me, you trust me, and you know it’s going to be insane. One thing bothering me is the harness attaching us to our jump partner. Did you hear that guy say how his nuts hurt like a mother the first time he jumped? Oh, and these outfits are dorky as fuck.”

They were advised to wear sneakers, comfortable shorts for ease of movement, and a not-too-loose shirt. After signing the final waiver—which Owen pointed out described death-by-falling too many damn times in too many different ways—they were issued jump suits with a wild orange print over a dark shade of blue. Told the attire would help with drag while falling, CJ thought it was an excuse to share pictures of the jumpers looking like fashion victims.

The roar of the airplane’s engine and the wind blowing through the open door made conversation nearly unfeasible once they took off. Owen remained apprehensive, Harley could not sit still, and CJ smiled at both of them. He was ready for the new experience, and ready to tick off one more item off his bucket list.

“Bend your knees.” The shout from the instructor attached to his back was almost impossible to hear over the ambient noise. The man adjusted the straps connecting them so tight CJ thought he was about to lose circulation to his legs. He folded his arms across his chest and prepared himself to jump while giving his companions a thumbs-up, Owen and Harley would follow him. “Don’t forget to smile for the camera,” the man shouted as he pushed them out the opening.

The photographer hung halfway out the door and then he was out of sight. CJ’s lips curled back and he was uncertain if it was because of the wind or because of the elation. Aware there were sixty seconds of free-fall before deployment, he extended his arms as if about to be crucified, and glanced downward. He knew he was falling but that was not what it felt like. The impression was he was floating still and the ground was moving upwards, trying to collide with him. The wind buffeting the falling pair and the snapping of the jumpsuit’s fabric added to the sensory overload. A peek upwards told him his husband and best friend were out of the plane and plunging to certain death if the parachutes failed to deploy.

Too soon for his taste, it was over. The instructor did whatever he was meant to do, the fabric canopy deployed, there was a sudden jerk upwards, and they were gently floating toward the touchdown zone. “FUCKING AWESOME!” CJ shouted as loud as he could; all he heard was the wind rushing over him. He did little to land; the instructor brought them down and after a couple of steps and a short slide, they stood and disengaged from each other.

CJ ripped the goggles off, shielded his eyes against the sun with his hand, and stared upwards. Harley landed a few dozen feet away; his goofy grin hinted at how much he enjoyed the experience. CJ shifted his attention to Owen. The instructor appeared to stumble. Instead of taking a few running steps, he came to a sudden stop. Owen put his hands out to break the fall as his diving companion pushed him toward the ground and landed atop him with a thud. They rolled on the field for a moment and then remained still while the parachute floated and settled over them.

“FUCK! Fuck! Fuck.” CJ ran to his husband, the other instructors and Harley followed a few steps behind. The parachute covered both men and CJ ignored the admonition to stay away and let company personnel handle it. He pulled at the material until the two men were visible. “Ozzie? OZZIE!”