Date: Thu, 11 Mar 2010 03:39:08 +0000
From: rich h <palouse1@hotmail.com>
Subject: Seal Rocks part 27
Here, embarrassingly delayed, is the next part of the story. Thanks to
those who've asked about it, and I hope it still has some people
interested in it. The usual disclaimers apply - if it's illegal or
improper for you to be reading this wherever you are, or if your eyes
will rot out or something, don't read it. This is total, utter fiction,
so nobody start saying, "Hey, I know that guy!!", because you don't.
Other than that, havbe fun, and i hope you like it.
Seal Rocks Part 27
Jesse could see how angry Uncle Booth was as soon as he walked into
the living room. He was standing across from the couch, the pictures and
other documents in hand, impatiently watching their entrance. "Mike, good
to see you again." His greetings were terse, more an inventory than a real
salutation. "You must be Erick, the one Jesse was concerned about last
night. I remember you from the other evening up at Jesse's place, good to
see you in one piece. Sit down, all of you." There was no question of
disobeying his order. They sat on the couch, Jesse in the middle, and
folded their hands in their laps like repentant schoolboys (which, of
course, they were).
Uncle Booth stood a long moment before them, his head down. "I
can't tell you how disappointed I am to see this," he said quietly, tipping
the papers in his hand. "I'm especially disappointed in you, Jesse. I
thought you knew better. I thought you were too disturbed by what you'd
fallen into to start - start recruiting other boys, into this sort of
thing."
Jesse half rose from his seat. "No, Uncle Booth, it's not like
that - "
"Jesse, when I want to hear from you, I'll ask for it." Jesse
recognized the cadence; he'd heard it so often from his father. The Marine
colonel was in full command, and the memory of the tight rage that had
always brought with it made him shrink inwardly.
"You boys are acting incredibly irresponsibly here - like children,
and this isn't kid stuff. This isn't like getting some extra cookies from
the jar on top of the refrigerator, this is your life and your sexuality
and your very public reputation that's at stake here. Having sex isn't a
casual thing - or it shouldn't be, anyway - and there's a reason for that.
You're talking about the most profound intimacy and connection to another
human being, and I will not sit still and let you - especially you, Jesse -
turn it into some sort of sleazy game. I thought you said you loved this
boy," indicating Mike, "and that he was important to you."
"He is. I do," Jesse croaked.
"And I thought this boy," waving at Erick, "was your friend."
Again, Jesse nodded. "Then you owe both of them a lot more than you've
given them - not just the getting involved in the pornography - I
understand that, even if you were both God damned fools to fall for such a
lame maneuver as this sleazeball pulled on you. But to pull your friend
into it, or even to allow him to get involved, I cannot understand and I
will not accept. What the hell are you thinking, allowing such a thing to
happen?"
A voice came from Jesse's right - strong, even, oddly mature.
"Sir, may I speak?" Erick was standing. Jesse quailed a little more- you
didn't interrupt one of these lactures.
"I have a lot more to say to all three of you first," Uncle Booth
snapped, and the glint in his eyes made Jesse quail.
"Save it," Erick snapped back, "because you've jumped to a lot of
conclusions, and they're all wrong." He stepped around the coffee table
and took the photos and papers from Uncle Booth's hands. "First of all,
these are mine. I don't remember saying you could look at them. Second,
Jesse and Mike had nothing to do with any of this. I did it, on my own.
You've got a lot of nerve telling me, or them, off when you don't know jack
about what's going on."
Jesse couldn't look up. He knew the sort of rage that type of
challenge would bring. Several seconds passed in electric silence.
"All right, son, suppose you tell me what's really going on. I'll
listen." Uncle Booth's voice was suddenly calm; Jesse blinked and darted
his eyes upward to see him sitting in the wingback chair across from them.
He crossed his legs and eased back, his eyes glinting, but now with less
anger and more - what, amusement?
Erick seemed a bit undone by this turn of events - he'd obviously
been expecting more of a shouting match. "OK," he said quietly, swallowing
hard. "First, uh - well, I, I know about Jes, and Mike - their, y'know,
relationship, and all. And the porn. I don' know how you know this stuff,
but you're not gonna beat up my buds about any of it. And you Goddam well
better not tell Jesse's mom or anybody, because I - I'll like kick your
ass, OK?" Uncle Booth's eyes were dancing now; Jesse almost laughed
himself at the idea of Erick trying to take Uncle Booth on. Erick himself
seemed to be reconsidering the threat, but he pressed on. "I mean - they -
Jes and Mike - they're cool as far as I'm concerned, and if you're pissed
or in some kinda macho Marine guy froth about that, well, you can get the
fuck out, OK?"
Uncle Booth smiled, to Jesse's astonishment. "I'm not upset about
any of that, son, believe me. I'm not going to be angry about anything
like that. It's Jesse's allowing you to get involved in all this that -"
"I told you, Jesse didn't allow me, or make me, or let me do
anything. I did it on my own, and for a damn good reason."
"What the hell kind of a God damned reason can there be for that?"
Uncle Booth demanded, his anger flaring again.
Erick smiled crookedly. "Wanna hear how?"
He took about ten minutes to explain it all to Uncle Booth -
Taylor, the surf camp, the sponsorship, the pictures, the previous day's
events. Uncle Booth listened, silent, his eyes never leaving Erick. Erick
showed Uncle Booth a couple of the pictures, and the contract, as he made
his points. Booth made a visible effort not to look at any of them too
closely - Jesse was surprised to see his face redden a bit. He was
embarrassed by it, Jesse realized - was he offended, uncomfortable,
secretly aroused? He noticed that Erick's cheeks were flaming red as well,
but he could understand that - waving pictures of yourself getting fucked
in the face of a strange adult would be more than anyone could bear. But
Erick's voice remained steady, calm, almost clinical. It was the most
adult tone Jesse had ever heard from Erick.
When he finished, Erick seemed unsure what else to do, or say. His
shoulder slumped a little; he glanced at the boys as if seeking some
prompt. "So, so, that's all that happened. And it's good I did it, cuz
it's gonna work, and it's gonna get me and - and Jes, and Mike - it's like
gonna get us out of all of it, and I'm not sorry or ashamed or anything,
OK? I - I did a good thing, and I'm gonna go through with this and like
end it all, and you can just shut up and - and stay out of the way." He
was fully deflated now, his words lacked conviction. "OK?" he ended,
almost plaintively.
Uncle Booth looked at Erick for a long moment, then down at his
knee. "And you expect this plan to work?"
Erick swayed visibly on his feet. "Ya," he croaked. "I do." He
swallowed. "It's gotta."
"Well," Uncle Booth asked, looking back at Erick with piercing
eyes, "would it help if you had an adult -a person in a position of
authority - making the play, instead of just you?"
Jesse couldn't hold back his relieved smile, even as Erick
struggled momentarily to wrap his brain around the concept. "Well, sure, I
mean, ideally it'd be cool to have like a grown up to . . . wait, like,
what - are you -" He turned to Jesse. "Dude, what the hell?"
Jesse wanted to leap over the coffee table and hug Uncle Booth, the
way he had when he was little - openly, unashamedly, with a child's
unconditional love. He knew that wasn't appropriate, though - perhaps ever
again. But the fondness showed in his choked voice. "Could you? Could
you help?"
Uncle Booth looked at Jesse, all traces of his anger gone, the
smile now open. "God damn it, Jesse, do you really think I'm going to let
you guys try to pull off this sort of half-assed stunt alone after all the
screwups you've gotten yourselves into? What would you say," he continued,
leaning forward now, "if this Taylor guy, or Ernie, went off on you for
extorting them - threatened to turn you in to the police for it?" The
boys, blinked. "No clue, right? No, you guys have been total God damned
screw-up's in this thing from the beginning. It's about time someone did
this right." He looked at Erick. "And don't get feeling too heroic about
yourself either - your little stunt yesterday was so God damned dangerous I
won't even start to tell you how dumb it was."
Erick tried to look defiant. "B - but it'll work, right?"
"It might. It just might. But that doesn't mean it was smart, or
that the way you went about it was smart. You say this guy abused you last
year, and you went right back to him and let him do it again. After not
even bringing anything up for over a year? Did it ever occur to you that
your doing that after so long might be a clue to him that you were pulling
exactly what you did pull - and that he might react, well, badly? And look
at how things developed - you got roaring drunk, you had no idea where you
were. Let me guess - your parents didn't know you had gone with him, did
you?" Erick shook his head, his cheeks reddening further. "Did anyone?"
Erick looked bleak.
Jesse tried to ride to the rescue. "I - we knew. Well, sort of.
I mean, Erick showed for lunch yesterday in Taylor's van, which kind of
freaked us out, because - well, because, y'know . . . And, and you were
talking about bait before. I didn't get that, when you said it . . . " He
realized that his 'help' was only making things worse for them all. He
glanced sidelong at Erick, embarrassed, and saw the "thanks a lot, asshole"
look on his face. He turned quickly to Mike for support, only to see him
trying vainly to suppress a giggle.
Uncle Booth seemed amused as well, though more grimly. "Well, you
sure as God damned hell did make yourself bait, that's for sure. And
you're lucky you didn't get swallowed up whole." He glanced at his watch.
"All right, look, I need to be heading out for a little while here. I have
a meeting. Jesse, I was looking for you because I wanted to have you help
me out on a little thing, but that's not necessary now." Jesse started to
ask, but Uncle Booth waved him off. "We can talk about it later, no big
deal. What you boys need to do - all three of you - is to be as low key as
possible. Go do all the usual things you do - surf, hang out, whatever.
It's Friday, we can address this with people tomorrow. I want to look at a
few things here myself first. The lesson," he added, looking at Erick with
a smile, "is to prepare before you act. Work out contingencies, plan.
Never go off half cocked or without a thorough plan. Because things go
wrong. They always do."
Erick was almost resentful. "I had a plan."
Uncle Booth laughed. "You sure as hell did. I've seen a lot of
plans like that, they mostly wind up with bodies scattered around." He
rose and pulled Erick into a crushing embrace. "You should be proud of
yourself, son, but not too proud. You did a damn brave thing, and you did
it for other people - your friends. That's damned honorable. But you did
it recklessly, and you risked yourself needlessly. Like a damn boot
Marine, all bluster and no thought. Don't just jump next time. Plan.
Think." He stepped back and looked at them all. "No one knows about this,
right?" They nodded. "Good. Keep it that way. Stow this, this crap,
somewhere safe. We should talk tonight. I'll be at Jesse's place around
seven. Why don't you talk to your mother about inviting these two for
dinner, Jesse?"
Jesse nodded - what else could he do? Uncle Booth clapped him on the
shoulder, ruffled Mike's hair a little, and strode out, his gait looking
oddly bouncy for so heavy set a figure.
The boys stood breathless for about half a minute. "OK," Erick
finally burst out, "what the fuck was all that??"
Jesse started laughing, falling against Mike, who held him up. Mike
was smiling as well, but not laughing by any means. He obviously didn't
feel the rush of warm relief that Jesse did. Jesse felt safe, for the
first time in he didn't know how long. "That," he coughed out after
several seconds, "was my Uncle Booth. He's the best damn Marine you'll
ever want to know."
Erick was unmoved. "Well who the hell does he think he is, comin' in
here and like ordering us around like he owns the place and all? How's he
know about you guys? Or me for that matter? I mean what the hell is goin'
on??"
Mike pushed Jesse away, down on to the couch. "Jes, is this really a
good idea? I mean can he really help?"
Jesse's eyes were alight. "Of course he can, and he will. Who
better, Mike? We can trust him, really. I know."
Erick flopped down next to Jesse; he seemed drained. "OK, Jes, I
need like a briefing here. Who is this guy, really? I mean I'm supposed
to trust him and all, and you're like setting off fireworks, but what's the
deal here?"
Jesse glanced at Mike for a second. "Uncle Booth and my dad, um,
they were like really close. From the Corps and all. They, um, were,
like, involved, it turns out."
Erick frowned. "Involved, what's that? I mean, . . . ." The light
went on; Jesse watched Erick straighten, his eyes widening. "Holy shit,
you mean . . . like him, and your dad, they were like, um, . . . ." He
couldn't bring himself to say it.
"I think they were in love, Erick. At least I'm pretty sure Booth
loved my dad; I can't like ask dad for his side very well, y'know?"
"Shit," Erick muttered. "But he's all ripped and stuff and like a
major jarhead, and all, and - how the fuck did you find out about this
stuff? And how's he know about you guys?"
"That's not important now. The point is that he can help. He's
right, it's better for an adult to go after these guys - all of them.
Taylor, Ernie, Falcone if he has to -"
"Who's Falcone?"
"Never mind, long story," Mike interjected. "Jes, I don't see it.
How's it help for him to take the lead here? Doesn't it put him at risk
and all? I mean this stuff fucked up your dad's career already, won't it
fuck his up too? Can't they get to him just like they did to us? I mean
he's got a lot more to lose than a couple of kids, right?"
Jesse paused. That idea hadn't occurred to him, Uncle Booth was, or
had become over the past day, a father figure, a knight in shining armour
who could make everything right, the improved and open version of his dad
in surrogate form. The notion that he might have risk - to himself, his
career - hadn't entered his mind. "He - I mean it's - he's not gonna,
like, rat us out or anything - I know that."
"That's not what I said, Jes," Mike answered. "I asked isn't this
gonna fuck him up with people if he does this?"
Jesse blinked. He couldn't take responsibility for hurting Uncle
Booth's career. His dad had already sacrificed his career, and look what
that had left him with. He fought to think of something, anything, to say.
"I - I dunno . . . I mean, he - he's got to have like thought of all that,
right/ I mean he's like an adult and he's a Marine and - and an officer,
and all . . . He - he's gtot to have a plan, like." He looked at the
other two boys. "He has to. Doesn't he?"
Mike stared at Jesse a long minute, then looked down. "I dunno," he
muttered. "I hope so."
Erick shifted forward. "I don't need his help. I can bust up Taylor
on my own. I wanna do it on my own, I wanna see that motherfucker's face
when I'm the one with the Goddam pictures for a change, huh? I wanna see
him squirm." He smiled grimly and tucked the pictures back into the
envelope. "You guys deal with that Ernie guy and whoever any way you want,
but I'm gonna get my own jollies with Taylor." He handed Mike the Voyuer
contract. "Time to jet, dudes. Laterz."
"Don't be stupid, Erick," Jesse snapped, with an intensity that
surprised even him. "We've all been doing this shit on our own and what
the fuck has it gotten us? There's no need to go running off like now and
do something. It can wait - at least a little while. A day, an afternoon.
I mean what, is Taylor gonna go running off with his dirty pictures of you
today to do something you won't be able to fix? Sit down, relax, and just
see - for a little while."
Erick looked at Jesse a moment, then down to the ground. "You mean
you guys aren't pissed about the new stuff on you?"
Jesse's stomach tightened. "What new stuff?"
Erick gestured vaguely. "On that site. I thought you saw it
already. It - it's, like, pretty nasty, and all."
Mike's eyes were as wide as Jesse's. Their glances met, and without
another word they walked back to Mike's room and booted up his computer.
"Ron Gantry and Jamie Haller Get Used!!!" the headline on the Voyeur site
read, in a huge typeface. "See the newest Voyeur boiz take it from our
classic couple, Julian and Kevin!! ALL HOT TWINK ACTION!!!" A series of
stills faded in and out, all of Jesse or Mike in some position of
discomfort or submission. They don't even show Julian or Kevin's faces,
Jesse thought to himself. They're just the meat to use on us. Mike
clicked into the site, and they watched the clip that had been cut together
of their encounter. It was frankly brutal, seeming to linger over the
forced aspects of the pounding they had gotten at Julian's and Kevin's
hands. Mike's vomiting after getting throat fucked by Kevin was shown, as
was Jesse's getting come all over his face and chest from Julian and Mike
at the end of the fucking. There was no hint of the tender romantic
atrmosphere that Ernie had fostered in the earlier clips. This was pure
raw sex, sex as an act of power, of debasing the passive partner, of
sneering lechery. Jesse felt ill watching it.
The clip went for almost half an hour. When it was done, Mike rubbed
his face - his eyes were moist. "Th- that wasn't us, like. It - it was
some other people, who had that done to them." He looked up at Jesse and
Erick pleadingly. "Wasn't it?"
Jesse put his head on Mike's shoulder and pulled him close. "No,
Mike, It was us. They did that to us. And they're showing it. To
everybody." Jesse had never felt the sense of shame, of being dirty, that
he felt at that moment - not during the whole time they'd been doing stuff
for Ernie. He blinked. "That - that was Falcone, who did that. Not
Ernie. You can tell, the way it was done, the way Julian and Kevin are
like the stars and the - the guys who do everything. To us, and all."
Erick shook his head slightly. "What, like this Ernie guy is all
caring about you?"
Jesse stared at him. He was right. In a twisted way, he'd come to
trust Ernie, to believe that Ernie in some way cared about Mike and him.
Ernie hadn't been really part of exploiting him, it was Falcone, and the
website, and all the dirty peering guys out there huddled over their
laptops in some back corner of a Starbucks somewhere - but, somehow, not
Ernie. Christ, what an idiot I am, he thought. Ernie's played us like a
fucking violin. He felt anger rising in him - anger at Ernie, at Falcone,
at the people who'd paid to watch him get fucked and humiliated and who
were making him money, at the money, at himself for being fucking stupid
enough to buy into it all. He glanced at Mike, suddenly afraid that Mike
felt the same, and that his anger would extend to him, Don't be mad at me,
Mike, please. Don't be pissed, don't dump me. I thought it would be OK, I
really did. Please.
Then Mike looked at him, smiled ruefully, and said, "I still love
you, Jes, relax." And he kissed him, and the fear and the anger all melted
away, and they were crying as they kissed, mashing their lips together
ferally and pawing at each other's faces. Jesse heard himself saying, "I'm
sorry, I'm sorry,' over and over, and Mike was shushing him, and Erick's
hand was rubbing his back, and despite his humiliation glowing before him
on the screen, he felt safe again, and protected, and loved.
"OK," he whispered into Mike's hair, "we'll get them all." He looked
up at Erick. "Every last one of 'em. But just wait, like a day, OK? I -
I dunno how, but I do think Uncle Booth can help. All of us. Just trust
me on this, OK?"
"Why wait?" Erick demanded. "What good does it do?"
Mike was staring at the screen, where the clip had begun replaying.
"I dunno," he muttered, "but it doesn't hurt, either, right?" He turned to
look at Erick, "I mean, maybe Jes' uncle can help us out, maybe not. But
I'll like hear him out, and so should you. One day, right?"
Erick scowled. "I just wanna get back at Taylor."
"I know. Same with us. But Mike's right, it can hold a day. I
think it'll be better to do that. Please, dude, just do it, OK?"
Erick didn't appear convinced, but shrugged. "One day," he repeated.
"OK." Mike squeezed Jesse's hand under the computer table; they smiled at
each other. "But it better be good."
Jesse bounced to his feet. "It will be - I promise." He grinned,
perhaps too broadly, to mask the nagging worry he felt. "OK, it's what,
almost noon? Let's hit Pedro's and maybe Rivvy. Act like normal, right?"
Mike laughed. "If we act normal, we'll just stay here and fuck.
Let's do what they expect us to do for a change."
"What, you think you're not supposed to be fucking all the time?"
Erick couldn't help needling. "It'll be news when you guys go outside."
"Like you didn't just have a fun time 'indoors' this morning?"
Jersse shot back, laughing.
"Hey, totally against my will, dude. Statutory rape."
"Thought I the one that got raped."
Mike giggled. "I saw it, I can testify." He reached for Jesse's
butt. "Only I want to get proper compensation."
Jesse squirmed away, laughing. "God, the whole fuckin' world wants
my ass!" He turned around and wiggled it a little at Mike, who lunged for
him, bringing them both to the floor with a thud as Mike tried to tickle
him. Erick leapt into the fray as well, and they spent the next minute or
two wrestling across the room and back, laughing. They eventually grew
quiet, tired, in a massive tangle of long slender limbs.
They looked at each other, all conscious that they were growing
tumescent again. Erick started blushing, which only elicited a new round
of groping as Mike and Jesse went for their friend's crotch. For his part,
Erick, though laughing and protesting, did little to move away or stop the
other two boys' grabbing. Mike soon had him in his hand and began
stroking. "Shit, dude," Erick groaned, "how do you guys survive?"
They left the house together about ten minutes later - Erick with
sunglasses firmly in place against the sunlight, a loopy grin on his face,
and Mike and Jesse giggling as they licked their lips and rubbed their
still moist hands over their still moist cheeks. "You guys deserve each
other," Erick said over his shoulder. "You're both fuckin' nuts."
Pedro's was crowded. They sat at a table overflowing with about ten
other guys, friends from school and volleyball, some of whom they hadn't
seen all summer. The conversation was loud, filled with laughter,
innocuous. Jesse found himself sitting back against the cinder block wall,
listening, filled with a joy whose source he couldn't pinpoint and whose
extent he couldn't express. The sun was blazing, Mike's leg was pressed
innocently against his own beneath the table, and Erick was regaling the
group with an exaggerated story about surfing a wave up north that, in the
course of the telling, seemed to grow to skyscraper-like proportions. The
volume of catcalling from the others at the table grew in direct proportion
to the extent of Erick's embellishing, until he was shouted down from
continuing his tale of derring-do.
The conversation drifted on to other subjects. Jesse found himself
fading in and out, in need of a nap. Mike nudged him a couple of times to
keep him awake, and he thanked Mike with a silent smile. Without thinking,
he put his cheek on Mike's shoulder, not recognizing the hush that brought
over the group. He blinked and looked up to see why things were suddenly
so quiet, still not realizing what the problem was, only to see Mike
staring at him in alarm.
"What? What's wrong?"
"Dude," Eddie Boynton said quietly, "you're like cuddling with him.
I mean what th' fuck?"
Jesse jerked up straight, eyes wide. "I, I, um, I just - y'know,
sleepy, and all. How sun and shit. I - what, like is there a problem? I
mean, . . . " His voice faded as sheer terror overtook him.
Eddie's face slowly split open in a broad smile. He extended his
fist to Jesse. "It's OK, dude, we all got yer backs." Jesse returned the
bump nervously, and watched as Mike did the same. "I mean you guys been
pretty obvious for like a month now - ever since, y'know, your dad and all.
It's cool, we all been talking about it, and it's cool, OK?"
Jesse looked around the sea of familiar faces, all grinning but all
looking directly at him and Mike. "Ya, besides, it's good t' know that
you're not trying to boink Kate instead of me, right?" Mitch Huff, of all
people, was leaning back against the wall, his mouth half filled with fish
taco (you could tell because telltale bits flew out as he spoke), and
wiggling his eyebrows.
"Dude, that's me you got to worry about then," Erick interjected.
The other boys began hooting and demanding details, while Mitch's sunny
mood faded. Erick held his arms out in an exaggerated shrug. "What can I
say, Mitch? You like really pissed her off coming on so strong."
Mitch was blushing deeply, caught between anger and severe
embarrassment. From his posture, Jesse figured the embarrassment was
winning in a rout. "B - but she - dude, she doesn't even like you!!" he
protested.
"Didn't. Ya, true. Things change. We kind of talked a lot, and,
well, it changed, OK?"
"Mister stud!!" Ethan Tolliver, a very short fireplug of a kid who
was the best skaterboy among them, grabbed Erick be the back of his
shoulders and shook him vigorously. "Tell, dude, we need the whole lowdown
on this!"
Erick demurred to the request, and to the many other insistent
questions that followed. "I'm not saying I did anything with her, OK? I'm
just saying we're sort of seeing each other. Y'know, casually, and all.
OK? I'm not like gossiping about her or any of that shit." The others, of
course, were not about to accept that at face value, and their questioning
only grew more heated - and teasingly explicit. Jesse and Mike sat quietly
and listened, stunned by the revelation that apparently all their friends
knew about them, and that they took it all so casually the Erick's news was
of so much greater interest to them. Jesse had hoped they would accept his
status with Mike, but the notion that it would be so matter of face stunned
him - and moved him deeply. He wiped his eyes, as casually and
unobtrusively as he could, and looked at Mike, who beamed back at him and
just took his hand. "Dude," Eddie scolded, "don't get all mushy here, OK?
Old guys around, they might like freak or something." He winked, and
rejoined the others in badgering Erick some more.
Mike slid their joined hands beneath the table, where they gripped
each other tightly. "I can't believe it," Mike whispered. "They know, and
they don't care." His voice caught slightly. "Is - is that cool, or
what?" Jesse nodded, fighting to retain his composure, and turned his
attention furiously to the rest of his burrito to distract him from the
bursting joy he felt.
They biked as a massive group down to Rivvy after that, and the
afternoon surf was the best Jesse had ever experienced.
Booth Palmer sat in the reception area at NevaCal, waiting, and
daydreaming. He had replayed the scene so many times in his mind, it
unfolded almost automatically, in meticulous detail.
August, 1984, Perris Island, South Carolina. Basic training. The
dense humid air, the violent thunderstorms, Sergeant Major Kappelman's
harsh voice, the exhaustion at the end of each day. And Walt, who he had
struck up a friendship with from the first day.
Why he awoke that particular night, needing to urinate, he never
could figure out. Fate, or something. But he did awake in the pitch dark
night, and slid silently out of his bunk to pad, barefoot, down the
barracks and into the lavatory at the south end, through twin swinging
doors.
"Ouch! Shit!"
"Be quiet, Booth, you'll wake the whole God-damned platoon."
"Walt? What the hell are you doing in here?"
"Practicing. Field stripping my weapon."
"In the dark? In here?"
"Can't do it out there, too noisy. We need to be able to do it in
the dark, Kappelman said so. He's gonna test us. And I've been too
God-damned slow."
"You're crazy, Walt, you're the fastest - ow, what the he'll was
that?"
The God-damned trigger housing. Will you please get off my
God-damned rifle parts before you break something?"
"They're all over the place!"
"Of course they are, I can't just line them up like a God damned
assembly line, I have to mix them up, move them around. It's not supposed
to be easy."
"Jesus Christ, Walt, you're amazing. You're so damn gung ho it's
psychotic."
Thanks, I like you too."
"OK, I need to piss here, watch out."
"You watch out, you're the one stepping all over my parts."
"OK, better now. Where are the parts?"
"Done."
"Already/"
Already? Christ, that took me almost 2 minutes."
"Yeah, but you're not just field stripping to clear a jam, you're
taking the whole damn thing apart and reassembling it."
"No excuse, I have to do better."
"Push over, let me sit here too. I need to try this."
"OK, here, see how you can do. I'll time it."
"Shit, where's the damn magazine?"
"Better find that, buddy, it's kind of important."
"Oh shut up."
"Ow, what was that for?"
"For being the most stupid assed boot in this whole Goddamed camp,
sitting here in the middle of the damn night doing this shit. You know how
hard Kap is gonna push us tomorrow, and you're not sleeping?"
"I'll be fine. You're wasting time."
"OK, there."
"Three and a half. That better than my first try."
"You're down to 2 now? Damn, Walt."
"Hey Booth?"
"Yeah"
"I'm glad it's you that came in here, not some asshole like
Mansfield. You're about the only guy who doesn't think I'm a maniac."
"Walt, you're already the best Goddam Marine in this platoon -
probably the whole camp. The other guys don't think you're nuts, they're
in awe of you. I think you scare them a little."
"But not you?"
"I'm pretty much in awe, especially catching you doing crap like this
in the middle of the night. But - but no, I'm not scared."
"Thanks, Booth"
"C'mere."
"What?"
Ju - just c'mere, OK?"
"That - that felt good. Um, thanks."
"Yeah, um, it did. Good, uh, solid hug between jarheads, right?"
"Right."
"Yeah."
"Booth?"
"Yeah?"
"Um, is it weird to ask you to do it again?"
"Uh - no. No, I guess not. Just, you know, a hug."
"Thanks."
"No problem. I, uh, . . . "
"Yeah, me too. I, uh, I think I better try this again I want to get
it under a minute."
Right. Mind if I stay and try a couple of time, too?'
"No, that's fine. I, um, I'd like that."
"Great. Thanks."
It was perhaps twenty minutes later when Sergeant Major Kappelman
stormed into the lavatory, and accosted the two recruits, who were sitting
on either side of a small pile of weapons parts for an AR-15. Blinking in
the sudden light, they shot up to attention. Walt did all the talking,
explaining how he and Booth had decided to take extra time to practice
field stripping. Kappelman inspected the rifle, dismantled it, mixed the
parts, and ordered them each in turn to reassemble the weapon within one
minute. Walt went first. After each time, Kappelman inspected the weapon
silently. When Booth finished, he marched the two out to the range to test
fire it to see if they'd done their job properly. Booth, the better shot,
placed six rounds squarely in the center of a target 100 meters away,
without light.
Kappelman marched them back to the barracks, which by now was of
course buzzing. He dressed both down furiously in front of the platoon for
being up after lights out. "I do not condone this conduct. Lights out
means something, and if I'm not riding you hard enough that you can
dispense with sleep then maybe I should ride you harder. Would you prefer
that?" Both indicated they did not. "I didn't think so." He took a
breath. "I know of no other recruits in my memory who have successfully
field stripped and reassembled a weapon under those conditions, so quickly
and so successfully. I frankly expected that damned rifle to either
misfire or take off part of your face, Palmer. But you did the job
correctly, and well." He turned his back to them, and began walking out.
"You two are excused from morning conditioning tomorrow. You will join the
platoon for breakfast and lunch, you will remain in quarters and clean
quarters, and you will join the platoon for classwork beginning at 1500
hours and for the rest of the day. Am I clear?"
"Sir, yes sir!" Walt and Booth caught each other's eyes as Kappelman
strode out and snapped the lights off, and they grinned. The barracks was
already essentially spotless, they'd been inspected that evening. Their
orders meant they could sleep in, alone, and quiet, in air conditioning no
less, and miss a morning of physical training that promised to be the
merest torture. They had lucked out.
And that next morning, alone in the cool of the empty barracks, was
when it all began.
So long ago now. Two idiot kids. Two scared idiot kids. And look
how it all turned out. I'm so sorry, Walt. I kept pushing for more. And
then I ran away. I've been a lousy friend, Walt. But God, I so treasure
the memory of that morning, Walt. It was the greatest day of my life.
The receptionist strode up to him. "Colonel Palmer?"
Booth stood. "Ma'am?"
"I was asked to deliver this to you, and then to ask you to please
leave."
Booth took the envelope, opened it, and scanned the contents. A wire
transfer through a Cayman Islands account,. Of course. No trace."
The receptionist stood before him, visibly nervous over the charge
she'd been given. "I have to ask you to leave, sir."
Booth slid the papers back into the envelope and smiled. "I
understand. I'll be going now, you can relax." This is for you, Walt, he
thought as he strode out into the blasting heat. This is all I can do to
make it up to you - in this world, anyway.
Jesse got back home around 5, and found the house empty. He took a
joyful Poche out onto the back lawn, and was idly throwing a tennis ball
for her when Ben and Brent stepped out from the sliding door to join him,
each carrying a Corona. Jesse licked his lips nervously at the prospect of
seeing Brent again. But if Brent had made any sort of connection, he
didn't show it. They talked idly and kept Poche on the run for a good long
while, until even her puppy energy was sapped and she simply laid down when
Ben threw the ball one time too many. He laughed and brought the poor
panting animal a full dish of water. "We're gonna hit the Jacuzzi, Jes.
Want to join?"
Jesse couldn't help smiling as he answered. "No, thanks. I think
you guys need to be alone there."
Ben threw the tennis ball at him, grinning. "Pervert. Peeping Tom."
Brent joined in the laughter. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with being
a voyeur, some of . . ." And it clicked, finally and fully. Jesse watched
it happen. Brent's eyes widened, he stared at Jesse openmouthed. Jesse
shrank inside. He returned Brent's stare, silently pleading for him to keep
quiet.
"What?" Ben was puzzled by Brent's sudden silence.
"Uh," Brent stuttered, blinking a few times. "Just - just that some
of my best friends are, you know, voyeurs. Like to watch, and all. Bad
joke, sorry."
Ben shrugged and turned to the pump controls for the Jacuzzi. Brent
motioned for Jesse to leave. Jesse, mouthing a silent thank you, did just
that.
He showered for a long time, more than half wishing he could hide
there and never come out. None of the possible scenarios he could think of
were especially pleasant. OK, he probably won't say anything to Mom,
because that'd mean he'd have to explain how he knew - and that would
involve a lot more revelations. But what about Ben - would he tell him,
and how might Ben react? And if Brent was as slutty as Ben had said he
was, would he just want to hook up with Jesse himself, for the thrill of
dong it with an internet porn star, or something? He felt the vibration
beneath him as the garage door opened, and knew his mother was home. Just
great, he thought.
Poche nosed her way into his room as he dried himself, pulled on some
A&F briefs and cargo shorts, with a Hurley T over that, and prepared
himself to go back downstairs. "OK, girl, time to face all the shit. You
gonna still like me whatever happens?" He bent down, and for an answer
received a thorough face licking.
His mother was moving around the kitchen at warp speed. "I
understand Mike is coming?" Jesse nodded. "Wonderful,. Booth is, too - he
called about four. Said he has some news. I do hope it's not that he's
redeploying again - not so soon. He's done that after his last three tours
over there, you know - home for perhaps a week, two or three at most, then
right back out with another unit. It's just not good for him." She came
to a momentary halt and sighed. "It used to worry your father something
fierce. He used to insist that Booth take some real time between tours,
that it wasn't just unhealthy but dangerous - to himself and the unit.
They used to go out back after you boys were asleep and have some very
strong discussions" - her euphemism for 'heated arguments' - "about it.
I'm glad I didn't sit in on those - Booth is maybe the only man I ever knew
who could give it right back to your father." She was absently polishing a
pair of barbecue tongs. "It's not as if he wasn't always welcome here -
we're part of his family, after all, after all these years." She sighed
again, set the tongs down, and resumed her bustling. "Peel the potatoes,
will you, dear?"
Jesse nodded and set himself to the task, making detailed inquiries
about the menu to get his mother's mind off the subject. He could imagine
the real text of those arguments - Uncle Booth's pain at seeing Dad, Dad's
pain and worry about Uncle Booth. How they must both have been torn.
Ben and Brent padded through a minute or two later, on their way
upstairs to clean up. Jesse watched Brent closely, and in vain, for some
sign of what he might have said to Ben, or his intentions. He watched so
closely, in fact, that he peeled a thin bloody layer off the pad on his
index finger. Ben teased him about being a spazz as he leaned past Jesse
to grab another Corona from the fridge. "We may be awhile, Mom - we, um,
we both have to get cleaned up, and all." Jesse suppressed a smile.
"Well, watch out - I think your brother already used up most of the
hot water. You'll need to save some."
Jesse fought to keep his self control. Don't worry, Mom, I bet they
have lots of ideas on how to save on the hot water. He noted the way the
two casually bumped shoulders as they strode up the stairs together.
Mike arrived about the time Jesse finished peeling (working with a
Band-Aid on his finger significantly slowed the process). He was wearing a
faded aloha shirt of his dad's with a Stussy T beneath, and boardshorts.
His hair was, for once, actually combed. Jesse couldn't help grinning
widely as they bumped fists, resisting the urge to embrace. Jesse's mother
watched with a mixture of wariness and tolerance. Boys, her expression
seemed to say. Such boys.
Mike, of course, immediately seconded Ben's teasing of Jesse for
cutting his finger. Jesse 's mother scolded him for that cheerily. "I've
seen you trip over your own two feet, Michael, so you have very little to
tease Jesse about." She handed him the tongs and some newspaper. "Here,
light the coals, if you can do it without setting yourself on fire. Jesse,
can you help me with the table?" The westering sun threw dazzling orange
light into the kitchen now; they were squinting to see properly.
Jesse set the table quickly and wandered outside, to where Mike was
stacking charcoal in the barbecue chimney. "Sup," he said quietly, a smile
playing about the corners of his mouth. A telltale groan came to them from
the open bathroom window above. Jesse started laughing. "Ben's old
roommate from Berkeley is here, did I tell you? The one he, um, . . . "
Another, very audible, "Oh, fuck" floated out. The boys started laughing
hard, leaning easily against each other.
The newspaper, in the lower compartment of the chimney, caught
quickly, sending a brief plume of blue smoke out on the breeze from the
ocean. "Is this really a cleaner way to light the coals than fluid?" Mike
asked. "I mean, look at the smoke, dude."
Jesse shrugged. "It only lasts a minute. And my dad always said you
could never get the smell of the lighter fluid out of the grill or whatever
you cooked on it, so he used this." He remembered his dad standing just as
he was now, watching over the coals slowly catching fire, wispy smoke
swirling around him in the late afternoon light. I'll never use anything
else to light my coals, Dad. Promise. He looked at Mike and smiled.
"Glad you're here, dude." Poche shoved her nose at his hand, demanding
that he play with her.
Ben and Brent wandered down a little while later, pink from their
shower and grinning stupidly. They grabbed two more Coronas for themselves
and flopped onto recliners, talking about little or nothing. Jesse and
Mike joined them, and the conversation drifted to that day's surfing (the
older boys had gone down to Trestles and gotten some nice long rolling
sets, of the type Trestles was famous for). Brent was apparently catching
on quickly as a surfer, as Ben noted with visible pride. He leaned toward
Brent, whispering. "Mike is Jesse's bud - the one I told you about."
Brent looked at Mike for a moment, and to Jesse's horror saw the same shock
of recognition. He wanted to run, but was as if paralyzed. Brent looked
at Jesse a long minute before turning up the corners of his mouth in a warm
smile. "Well, I bet you guys are tight, then, from all I've, um, heard,
and all. That's really, really cool." His eyes lingered on Jesse for a
minute before he looked back at Ben. "So I assume they both know about you
and all?" Ben briefly explained how he'd come out to Jesse and Mike, while
Brent's gaze wandered from Ben to jesse, then to Mike, and back to Ben
again. Jesse prayed he wasn't planning anything.
Poche's shrill barking announced Uncle Booth's arrival, several
minutes later. He called Ben and Jesse into the front study, where he'd
gone through their father's papers the previous night. "All right, I need
you two boys to just go with the flow tonight. I'm going to tell your mom
a few things - nothing shocking about either of you, relax - and they'll be
close enough to true that it should work out fine. Ben, I need a minite
with Jesse, all right?' ben nodded and exited.
Uncle Booth looked at Jesse for a long second, a slight smile playing
about his face. "You doing all right now? You look, well, a little less
worse for wear than you were this morning."
Jesse blushed violently. "I - I'm fine. Look, I - is this going to
be OK for you, and al?/ I mean helping us and Erick out. I - I don't want
you to, like, make any problems for yourself or anything. Y'know, with the
Corps. And, um, and all."
Uncle Booth's smile broke wide open. "Has that been worrying you?"
Jesse nodded, embarrassed to have asked. "That's very considerate of you,
Jesse, but it's not much of an issue. You see, I resigned my commission
this afternoon. It appears that NevaCal is going to have a vacant position
for its CFO, and I'm going to take that job."
Jesse blinked. "A - at NevaCal? But - but they - no, don't, Uncle
Booth those bastards fired my dad and - I hate them, you can't do that!"
"It'll be all right, son," Uncle Booth said soothingly. "They were,
well, being poorly managed, let's say, and I brought a few things to the
owner's attention, and things will work out just fine there. Jesse started
to protest further. "Believe me, Jesse, OK? The guy who - who mistreated
your dad is gone, I've made sure of that."
Jesse blinked. "He - was he, like stealing, or something?"
"Not your worry. Let's just say that the way he dealt with your dad
wasn't the only improper thing he did, and he's been called to account.
Things will be run very differently there now, believe me. The CFO
essentially runs the company day to day, and that's going to be me. And
the best part is that I'll be able to settle down around here and pester
you more frequently than ever." He grinned at Jesse for a second, then
looked down at his hands. "I have a lot of debts to pay, Jesse. And most
of them are to your father. I'll never pay them all, but one thing I can
do is for you - be the closest thing I can be to what your father was. You
may think you're very grown up now, especially after what you've been
through this summer, but you're really still a child, in a lot of ways." He
looked up. "Your dad would always make me promise, whenever we'd deploy,
that if anything happened to him I'd help your mother raise you and Ben
properly. Well, Ben's pretty much on his way already, but you still need
some looking after. Am I right?" Jesse nodded mutely. "I owe him that,
at the very least, Jesse - if you'll let me do that for you. I know I'm
not your dad, and I can never replace him, but I hope you'll let me try to
at least be - I guess, an acceptable substitute." He smiled thinly.
Jesse was welling up. "How - how can you even, like, ask that- how
can you think I'd be anything less then, then, thrilled, and like honored,
and - oh Godt, Uncle Booth . . ." And he threw himself into the big man's
arms, and cried into his chest, and Uncle Booth stroked his hair softly and
whispered, "It's OK, it's OK," for several minutes before Jesse could calm
himself.
Uncle Booth lifted him back to his feet finally. "You need to go
clean up, I don't want your mother to see you looking like you've been
crying." He wiped Jesse's cheek with a thumb. "It's going to be all
right, not, Jesse, believe me."
Jesse hurried out back after splashing water on his face, to avoid
any direct contact with his mother. Uncle Booth took her aside, into the
study, after that, and Jesse saw when she emerged several minutes later
that she, too, went quickly into the downstairs washroom.
Dinner was even more boisterous than usual. Ben and Brent had enough
beer in them to be relatively obnoxious, and Uncle Booth was in fine form
telling mildly ribald stories about various incidents in his and their
father's past. Mike and Jesse were allowed some wine with dinnere, which
quickly went to their heads and caused them to join in with Ben and Brent's
carousing tone. Jesse's mother alone was quiet, smiling tolerantly at them
all, and occasionally covering her mouth to laugh at one of Uncle Booth's
stories.
They were finishing up dessert when Uncle Booth shushed them, with
some difficulty. "All right now, we need to announce a few things here.
First of all, I'm going to be leaving the Corps. It seems that Karl
LeTourneau is not going to be with NevaCal any more, and they've asked me
to take over as CFO there." Ben hadn't heard this, and glanced sharply at
Jesse. Uncle Booth noticed. "I think there's been some dissatisfaction
there with Karl, and the way he ran the shop, but things are going to be
very different there from now on. NevaCal also completed their fiscal year
end accounting this week, and they had me deliver to your mother a check
for your of father's partnership equity stake in the company." Both boys
blinked; Brent and Mike had no idea and merely listened respectfully.
Jesse's mother was crimson, her eyes brimming. "It was only a small share
from the company's point of view, but it gives your mother a good nest egg,
especially with survivor's benefits kicking in next month. The company
also wanted me to let your mother know," he continued, looking at jesse,
"that they wouldn't be forwarding any more payments on family bills and so
on given that they'd disbursed the equity share now. They'd apparently
been doing that on their own since Walt's death as a good faith gesture.
So I think we all need to raise a glass to NevaCal, for doing all the right
things today." They toasted. Jesse noticed how his mother's hand shook as
she held her glass.
Mike by now was catching on. He poked Jesse under the table with his
foot, a questioning look on his face. Jesse made a subtle gesture, telling
him to relax. They cpould talk later. Jesse's mom was talking now,
tremblingly, about how grateful she was to NevaCal, and to Uncle Booth, and
how hard things had been, but how nice it was that Uncle Booth would be
around now. "I - I think Walt, . . . " she swallowed hard before
continuing, "I think Walt would have been very happy."
"He is happy, Ellen. He doing one of his stupid victory dances right
now for us. Can't you see him?" the two of them dissolved into teary
laughter, and the four boys, suddenly conscious of being intruders on a
private moment, stood as if ordered to collect the plates and remove them
to the kitchen.
Ben was scowling as he and Jesse rinsed things off at the sink. "I
don't get it, I thought NevaCal had been real pricks to Dad - especially
that Le Tourneau guy."
Jesse shook his head. "I don't know." He paused for a long minute,
then added, "Well, at least now we know who was paying those bills and
stuff - what you and Mom were wondering about."
Mike nodded absently. "I guess so. Doesn't make sense, though -
they were really adamant about it not being them. I called that Le
Tourneau guy to ask, he was pretty rude about it, really." He looked at
Jesse. "What did Uncle Booth want to talk to you about?"
Jesse blushed. "He, um . . . . I guess Mom told him, about me and
Mike and all. He, um, he was asking me about that."
"Oh shit, is everything cool?"
"Oh yeah, Ben it's cool. He - he really, um, seemed to understand.
I - I was like scared, and all, but he was really cool."
Ben put a soapy hand on Jesse's back and rubbed. "Good. I didn't
know how to tell him." He stared absently out the window. "Or what to say
about me and Brent."
"Well, what is there to say about you and Brent? Are you like
boyfriends now or something?"
Ben smiled ruefully. "Not really. I mean he's going back up north
Monday night, for school and stuff, so I won't see him for a while unless I
do a road trip or something. I'm still gonna take the semester off, to
help Mom out and stuff."
"But she doesn't need you here now, she - she's got money, and
stuff."
"We don't know how much."
"It seemed like a lot, the way Uncle Booth was talking."
"Dunno," Ben said, again absently. "Besides," he sighed, "I feel
like I need to be here - for you. I mean school and stuff is not gonna be
easy for you and Mike now. People will find out, and some guys can be real
assholes, you know that."
Jesse smiled a little. "Yeah, some will. But like Mitch and the
Boyntons, and Ethan - and Erick - they know, and they're cool. They said
they got our backs and stuff. It - it was really cool to find that out -
that they aren't like put off or anything, that they still want to hang and
be buds and all." He was beaming by now, proud of his friends. "And, um,
Kate knows, too. So we have like a group, y'know, to support us and stuff.
Keep us from getting ganged up on. And it's not like I'm gonna go holding
hands with Mike and making out in front of the lockers or anything."
Ben laughed. "The way you two look at each other sometimes, you
might as well be. That's good to hear, Jes, but you're not gettin' rid of
me that fast. One semester, that's all."
"Will that mess you up for ROTC?"
Mike looked down. "I don't think I can do ROTC now."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not gonna lie, or hide, what I feel. I mean it's not
like I only like guys - Jeanine wasn't just some bullshit hiding thing -
but if I like Brent like I do, I'm probably gonna like some other guy, or
guys, down the road. This whole "Don't Ask" bullshit is crap - it's just a
way to keep you terrified and quiet. It - it's not honorable, I think Dad
would say. You know how he meant it, when he used that word. It's not
honorable. I - I can't serve and not be honorable. I'd hate it, the whole
time."
Mike and Brent pushed through the kitchen door. Jesse's stomach
tightened - he hadn't had a chance to tell Mike that Brent might have
recognized them - but the two seemed to be getting along fine. Mike smiled
at them, extending his arm to Brent. "What a twisted little group of
perverts,' he said softly, nuzzling into Brent's blond hair.
Mike, seeing their casual intimacy, pulled Jesse into an easy embrace
from behind and set his chin on Jesse's shoulder. "We should all hit the
Jacuzzi later and grope," he giggled. Brent's eyes widened a little, Jesse
stiffened. "Just joking guys, relax." He pulled Jesse in a little
tighter. "I'm happy right here."
At that remark, Jesse felt his tension melt away. He was safe, he
was home, his big brother and Uncle Booth were there. And Mike was there,
his chest against his back, the faint smell of his hair wafting over the
food odors of the kitchen - could anyone else smell Mike's smell the way he
could? - and his arms around Jesse's stomach. Jesse found himself
grinning, and turned his head to peck Mike awkwardly on the lips.
The boys, and their friends, soon retired to their respective rooms
upstairs. Jesse's nervousness returned once he and Mike were alone. "Did
Brent say anything to you?"
Mike looked up from perusing some DVDs. "What, like what?"
"I dunno," Jesse lied, shrugging his shoulders nervously. "Just
stuff."
"Well, he asked how we got together and all, and how serious we were
,and I told him - I told him I loved you, and I thought you loved me. He
thought that was cool."
Jesse blinked. "OK," he said absently.
"What? Am I missing something?"
Jesse turned away. "Dunno. It's just - I just get the feeling that
maybe he's been watching Internet porn, OK?"
Mike stood up, the color draining from his face. "Did he say
anything to you?"
Jesse shook his head. "No. Just - just the way he's looked at me a
couple of times. Like he knows something." He bent over and started idly
picking up dirty laundry. "Maybe I'm just like paranoid."
Mike's hand on his back brought him to a halt. "If he cares about
Ben, then even if he does realize, he'll be cool. I like him." Jesse
turned with a sly smile. "Not like that! God!! Asshole!" he shoved Jesse
away, and they began wrestling, laughing shrilly as they half grappled,
half groped their way to the floor, and a long lingering kiss.
Downstairs, Uncle Booth and Jesse's mother were sitting on the back
patio, snifters in hand, listening to the night breeze. She leaned
forward, head up, and inhaled deeply. "Walt loved the smell of the iar
here. He used to come out here at night and just drink it in. When he was
feeling happy about things, of course," she added, dropping her head back
down. "The last couple of years, he didn't come out here very often."
Uncle Booth patted her hand. "You were the best thing ever to happen
to him, Ellen, you know that. He was a damn lucky guy to find you."
"Oh, Booth," she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand for a
second, "please don't. I know I'm not that smart - selling houses seems to
be something I can't quite the knack of - but I'm not blind." She looked
steadily at him. "Did you ever really forgive me, for taking him from
you?"
Uncle Booth was seldom at a loss for words, but this was one of those
moments. He stared at her, jaw open, for a long second before stuttering,
"Well - well Ellen, we were - you know, we were just Corps buddies. I mean
we were very close friends, and all that, but - but you were his life."
She smiled back at him, shaking her head slightly. "Neither of you
are good liars. Walt certainly wasn't - not that I ever was so foolish as
to ask him, of course. But it showed, Booth. It showed." Uncle Booth was
blinking rapidly. "And, then, he did talk in his sleep, at times."
"Ellen, I - "
"Hush. It's all over now. It's in the past, forever. It's as
resolved as it ever can be. I just wonder," she said, swallowing hard, "if
he'd ever have gotten so desperate, if he'd been with you, and not me."
Uncle Booth passed a hand over his face. "Ellen, you can never think
like that. He loved you to the stars."
"I know. And he loved you the same way. It was like there was two
of him, and I tried to make them come together - or at least, well,
co-exist. I really, really tried, Booth. But it wasn't enough, was it?"
She blinked here eyes dry.
Uncle Booth took her hand. "You did a great job, Ellen. You were
his rock. I - I was very selfish, for a long time. I was angry, hurt. I
took a lot out on him over that, and I should never have done that. He
chose you, Ellen, and you made him happy. You made him so very, very
happy. You of all people shouldn't feel guilty. If anyone should, I
should. And I do. I will for the rest of my life."
She sniffed, inhaling again deeply, and let the breath out in a long
sigh. "That man at NevaCal - Karl - he knew, didn't he?"
Uncle Booth took a deep breath himself. "Yes."
She nodded. "And he blackmailed Walt?"
"Yes."
"You got him fired for it?"
"That, and a few other things I found out about."
She nodded grimly. "Is the money from NevaCal or from him?"
Uncle Booth shook his head. "He did so many shady things with the
books, Ellen, it'll be weeks before I know. But basically it's from him,
Ellen. I made him pay for all of it."
She took a long sip of her cognac. "Good." Her hand took Uncle
Booth's. "I suppose we both have our share of guilt that we'll bear, no
matter how much we may console each other, Booth. But I'm glad I can share
that, at least, with you." She frowned. "That didn't sound cruel, did it?
I didn't mean for it to sound cruel."
"It sounded fine, Ellie girl, just fine." He squeezed her hand, and
they sat back, watching the stars slowly fade into the gathering coastal
haze, breathing in the night air as Walt had, and confronting their
respective ghosts.