Date: Wed, 29 Mar 2006 13:29:59 -0800
From: Jimmy TenEyes <j10eyes@hotmail.com>
Subject: To the Airport

"This really sucks, Les.  I still can't believe you talked me into doing
this."

"What are you saying?  Is it really such a big deal for you to drive me to
the airport?"

"That's not it, and you know it."  Donnie Franks took his eyes off the road
long enough to glare at his friend in the passenger seat of the 68 Chevy.
It was Donnie's mother's car -- almost new -- and she'd let him borrow it
that Sunday night to drive his best friend to Hollywood/Burbank airport,
some 30 miles east of their home in the western San Fernando Valley.  "It's
like I'm participating in the process.  I hate this fucking war, and yet I'm
delivering my best friend to go and fight in it."

"Hah!" It wasn't exactly a laugh, "At least you'll be sleeping in your own
little bed tonight," Les answered.  "But you damn well know you're not doing
anything wrong.  You're not driving me because you're a warmonger, but
because you're my friend."  Les smiled at Donnie, and there was no
bitterness in it.  "It's all just dumb luck.  If things had been just a
little different, it could be me driving you to catch a plane to Seattle."

"No way, Les!  I wouldn't have gone.  How many times do I have to tell you
that?"

Les sighed and rolled his eyes.  He and Donnie had been best friends since
elementary school. After graduating from high school, both had started as
freshmen at Cal Lutheran College.  Donnie had always been the better
student, and took to college like he'd been born to it.  Les, if the truth
were known, only enrolled because Donnie did, and after a single disastrous
semester, Les dropped out to take a job at the UPS distribution center.
Throwing packages around for eight or ten hours every night wasn't much of a
career, but for a guy fresh out of high school, the money was fantastic.

"Yeah, you and Muhammad Ali.  That guy's got balls."

Les looked down at his uniform.  It was only about six months since the day
he'd received the dreaded "Greeting" letter from his local draft board.
Since then, things had happened so fast he could hardly take it all in.
Induction, the physical, basic training at Ft. Polk, Advanced Infantry
Training at Ft. Bliss.  Now he was on his way to Fort Lewis, near Seattle,
and in a matter of days he'd be on another plane to join an infantry unit in
Nam with a couple of hundred other replacements.

Les had always been an optimist, and it wasn't like he had any premonitions
of doom, but Nam was a dangerous place.  Like the instructors in AIT had
stressed, "Charlie's got real guns and he shoots real bullets."  Anything
could happen to anybody, and you'd have to be a goddamned fool -- or an
officer, maybe -- not to be scared.  Donnie had got off the freeway and the
cut-rate rent-a-car agencies and airline billboards made it obvious that
they were close to the airport.  If he was ever going to say anything, now
was the time.  "Hold up, Donnie.  Just pull in here and park for a minute."
Les indicated the darkened parking lot of a strip mall.

Donnie looked puzzled, but cranked the wheel and nosed the car into a space
in front of a closed real-estate office.  "What's this all about?"

"Nothing much, I guess.  We're just a couple of blocks from the airport and
I didn't want to have to say goodbye and just bail out of the car.  Can we
just talk for a minute?"

"Uh, sure." Donnie turned off the ignition and the darkness and silence in
the car pressed on both boys like a gentle, but palpable pressure.  As cars
passed on the busy boulevard, the glare from their headlights reflected
dully off the matte metal US pinned to Les's collar.

"Donnie, I'm, uh." Les started to speak, but something was making his voice
vibrate.  He swallowed and began again. "This is really embarrassing.
Everything I can think of to say sounds like something out of a really bad
old movie."

"Aw, man..."

"No, it's okay.  I haven't told this to anybody, but man, this is some scary
stuff.  If things were to turn to shit, there's a good chance I might not
come back from this."

"It doesn't have to be this way, Les.  You could just split.  Go to Canada.
There's a Quaker group in West LA that helps guys in your situation if --"

"Oh, Stop!" Les was shaking his head.  "That might be okay for some guys,
but I'm not put together that way. If I did that, it wouldn't be because of
any big principle, but just because I'm afraid.  I can handle being afraid,
but I couldn't handle being ashamed for the rest of my life."

"So you'd rather die?"

"I don't know.  Maybe.  Look, I didn't bring this up to talk politics or
philosophy. It's just that this might be the last chance I ever get to -- to
tell you this.  Donnie, I love you.  I want you to know that, and I want you
to know that I told you so."

Donnie was suddenly aware of a slightly bitter taste in his mouth and
something was making his salivary glands work overtime.  It suddenly seemed
hard to breathe.  "I know, man.  I love you, too."

"Well, there's something else."

"Les, you don't have to say anything.  Okay?"

"Yeah, I do.  Listen, I'm not sayin' I'm queer or anything, but when I tell
you -- I mean, when I ask you, you'll probably think I am."

"Ask me what?"  Donnie's face made plain his confusion and apprehension.

"Ask you if...if I could...kiss you goodbye."

"You...you want to kiss me? What for?" Donnie's voice was barely audible and
he seemed to be having trouble catching his breath.

"I'm not sure.  I guess it's because I'm afraid I might not see you again. I
want to feel you close to me...so I can remember how close we are -- and
what it was like."

"Don't go Les.  You can go to Canada. I swear to God, I'll help you. I--"

"I can't, man.  I just can't.  But look, I'm not trying to freak you out."

"You're not.  Freaking me out, I mean.  It just makes me sad that you think
you have to do this.  You wanna kiss me?  Go ahead.  I know we're not
queer."

"Right."

Les took a deep breath and moved closer to his friend. He started to put his
arms around Donnie in a hug but stopped to brush Donnie's long blond hair
off his face.  "Fuckin' hippie."  It was enough to ease the tension just a
little bit, and bring a slight smile to the faces of both the boys.

This time Les slipped both arms around Donnie and pulled him closer.
Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against Donnie's and held them there.
Donnie stiffened and, for an agonizing second, froze.  Then, exhaling
slowly, he relaxed.

The kiss lasted maybe ten seconds -- it seemed longer -- before Les slowly
pulled back, his face a mixture of tenderness and regret.  "Jesus." His
voice rattled like the speaker in a cheap car radio.

Then it was Donnie's turn.  He pulled Les close, their chests pressing
together, starched broadcloth of Les' green Class A uniform shirt meeting
the worn jersey of Donnie's faded Canned Heat t-shirt.  Moistening his lips,
Donnie covered Les' mouth with his own, and began to probe with his tongue.
With a surprised gasp, Les opened and met Donnie's tongue with his own.
Neither boy moaned, exactly, but both were breathing heavily, and neither
could suppress the little vocal noises that flowed from their excitement.
As the kiss went on and on, both boys twisted, held and stroked each other,
trying to find a position that would bring their bodies even closer
together.    The thrusting and sucking of two tongues and two sets of lips
filled the car with sounds that could only be described as wet and slurpy,
and that seemed to combine to heighten the intense arousal that both felt
and that neither would have dared to admit.  Finally, both boys gasping for
breath, and each looking at the other with anxious wonder, the kiss was
over.

"Let's go, Donnie.  I miss my plane, I'm fucked."

"You're fucked if you catch it," Donnie answered, but at the same time, he
turned the key and started the Chevy.  In the few minutes they'd been
stopped, the windows had fogged up, so Donnie turned the defroster to high,
and used his hand to clear the side window.  Seconds later, Donnie's Mom's
Chevy was turning back onto San Fernando Road.

Neither boy said anything in the three minutes it took to reach the airport.
But Donnie had to do all the driving with his left hand, as Les had a firm
grip on his right.  He only let go when Donnie brought the car to a stop
under the bright lights of the departure lane at the terminal.  With a tired
groan, Les slid out of the car, retrieved his jacket and cap from the back
seat, and was instantly changed back into a soldier.  Meanwhile, Donnie
retrieved Les' duffel bag from the trunk and set it down on the sidewalk.

"Well, I guess this is it, man," Les said softly.

"Yeah.  Guess so," Donnie said.  "Good luck, okay?"

"So, Donnie..." Les blinked several times, but his voice was steady.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks.  You know. For back there."

"It's cool.  I mean don't thank me.  You gave me something that's gonna stay
with me forever. Okay?"

Les reached out and hugged Donnie.  It was a quick, goodbye hug of the kind
that any two men might share at an airport.  It only lasted a second or two,
but it was long enough for Les to murmur into Donnie's ear, "Bye Donnie.  I
love you."

Donnie didn't -- couldn't answer aloud; just gave two quick nods as he
turned back toward the car.