Semper Fi (17 page)

“I never wanted this to happen. I never told you how I felt because I knew it would ruin everything. But it’s already ruined.” Cal shook his head. “After the war, I made sure to stay away. I thought it would help. I fooled myself into thinking it had, but the minute I came here—the minute I saw you again—I knew I still wanted you just as much. Maybe more.”

The words were molasses on Jim’s thick tongue. “You…want me?
Me
?”

Cal nodded as he wrapped his arms around himself. “That’s why I have to go. I know you don’t feel the same. That you think it’s wrong, what I am. Who I am. And I understand. But that’s why I can’t stay.” He squared his shoulders. “I’ll go pack my things.” Then he was walking away.

Jim’s head spun. His skin felt too tight, and he trembled. The way Cal was talking, it sounded as if Cal’s feelings were about more than physical acts. That he cared for Jim the way men and women did for each other. Was it possible? Jim knew there were homosexuals in the world, but had thought it was only about base desires. Could it be more?

When Jim was able to make his feet move, Cal was out of sight over the next rise. Jim called his name, racing through the orchard. Ahead, he glimpsed Cal disappearing into the house, and he sped up, arms pumping as he ran faster. Cal couldn’t leave. Not like this.

In the house he shouted Cal’s name, thankful it was market day and Mrs. O’Brien and Adam had gone into town with Mrs. Turner from the next farm. Cal didn’t answer, and Jim took the stairs two at a time before bursting into the guest room.
Cal’s
room.

Cal’s suitcase was open on the bed, and he didn’t look up from where he folded his shirts. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you find someone to replace me.”

At those words, the panic and fear subsided like a wave receding from shore, and Jim could only stare, his chest heaving. Scattered pieces snapped into place in his mind—snatches of memory and images.

Cal’s smile as he passe
d him the bottle on the train.

T
he warmth of his breath on Jim’s neck as the
y
huddled together during
the c
old
, miserable
nights.

Cal’s
arm around Jim’s shoulders too
many times to count.

H
is body protecting Jim as fire and death rained down.

Always there. Strong and steadfast.

Jim took a shuddering breath. “I could never replace you.” In that moment, he saw things for how they really were.
How they’d always been
. He spoke that truth aloud for the first time. “I want you too.”

Cal gaped. Finally he shook his head. “You don’t mean it.” He scooped up his clothes and tossed them in the suitcase, barely latching it shut before he brushed by Jim out the door. Jim made a grab for his arm, but Cal shook him off and pounded down the stairs, running now.

Jim gave chase. Outside, Cal slammed the door of his Cadillac, revving the engine. Not knowing what else to do, Jim stood in front of it, blocking the way since the car was backed up to the house. “Stop.”

Muttering, Cal swore, his voice muffled inside the car. He shouted, “Move, Jim. You can’t do this to me.”

Frustration lanced through Jim, and he didn’t budge. “You can’t say those things and then leave. You can’t just run away.”

“Yes I can!” Cal gripped the steering wheel. “It’s finished. You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t mean any of it.”

“Don’t tell me what I mean.” His heart thumped, and he smacked the Cadillac’s hood with his palm. “I know what I’m saying. I want you.”

Cal kicked open the door and stalked around the front of the car, keeping out of arm’s reach. “No. Don’t say that just to make me stay.”

“I dream about you,” Jim blurted, his breath shallow. “About…being with you. I can’t stop thinking about it. About what it would be like.”

Mouth opening and closing, Cal blinked. “Is that true?” His voice was soft, his question ending with a hopeful lilt.

“That’s why I haven’t been able to look at you since we…” He swallowed hard. “Since we kissed. Since I kissed you. It’s not because I think badly of you. I could never. You have to know that.”

Cal was very still. When he spoke, it was only a whisper. “Do you really mean it?”

“Yes.” Jim moved toward him slowly, one foot in front of the other. He stopped a few inches away, his heart beating double-time. He reached for Cal. “I don’t understand why I feel this way, but I do. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Please don’t go.”

With a rush of breath and hands, they clutched each other, mouths together, kissing desperately. They were outside in broad daylight, but Jim couldn’t stop. The dam burst, and they stumbled to the grass, Jim pressing his thigh between Cal’s. Cal arched up, gripping Jim’s ass as their tongues met and stroked.

They were both hard in their jeans, and Jim wanted desperately to feel the heat of Cal’s skin against his own. But they were too far gone already, panting and rocking against each other, kissing with a need that Jim could hardly believe he’d kept tamped down. He realized the low grunts and moans filling the air were his, and Cal muttered against Jim’s lips.

“Want you so much. God, Jim.
God
.”

The handkerchief tore free from Jim’s hand as he scrabbled at Cal’s shirt, unable to undo the buttons. Finally he just tugged it up and gripped Cal’s bare waist as they rutted together, his blunt nails digging into Cal’s skin. The pressure in Jim’s balls intensified, his cock almost painfully hard as they clutched each other, mouths open as they gasped.

With a shout, Cal bucked up, head thrown back as he came. Jim was so close, and he buried his face in Cal’s neck as he thrust against him, inhaling the scent of Cal’s sweat. It was salty on his tongue as Cal wrapped his legs around Jim’s, locking him in.

He held Jim’s face in his hands and their eyes met. “Come for me.”

With a final push, the ecstasy overtook Jim as he pulsed with his release, crying out. Nothing had ever felt so good in his life, and they still had all their clothes on. He sank over Cal, boneless, pressing his face to Cal’s salty neck again.

Cal caressed Jim’s hair softly. “It’s always been you.”

Lifting his head, Jim stared down at him. No words would come.

Cal froze, his fingers tight in Jim’s hair. “Don’t run this time. Promise me.”

Nodding, Jim rested his head against Cal’s chest, listening to the steady
thump-thump-thump
as Cal wrapped his arms around him.

He was finished running.

“Where are we at tonight?”

“A hundred and seven.”

They all groaned as Speedy slipped the thermometer back into his pack at the foot of his rack. They slept on canvas bunks strung up five high in the belly of the hulking metal ship powering its way across the Pacific. Cal was opposite Speedy on the bottom, and they shared a longsuffering glance as Cal wiped sweat from his brow.

Reaching up, Cal poked at Jim’s back through the canvas. Only two feet separated each bunk, and in the sweltering, fetid heat, the claustrophobia made his skin crawl. At least he hoped it was the claustrophobia, and not some unseen vermin. “Are you almost done with that book?”

“I will be if you stop pestering me. And if I could see to read properly.”

The hold of the ship was murky, lit only from weak bulbs high in the ceiling. Cal smiled to himself. The truth was, he’d read the Kipling tale years ago at prep school. “I can just tell you how it ends if you want. So, Mowgli—”

“Cal, I swear…”

From above came Sully’s voice. “You two are as bad as my folks.”

This garnered several guffaws and agreement from the rest of the squad. Jim was silent as usual, and Cal kept his tone light. “Ah, but we have a distinct advantage over your parents.”

“And what’s that, Hollywood?”

“We don’t have to suffer the indignity of such a little pipsqueak for a son.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll have you know I’m the pride of Mudforks, Mississippi.”

“Remind me never to visit,” Pistol Pete muttered.

Soon the conversation turned, as it usually did, to the war or women. In this case, it was both, as Speedy wondered aloud how long they’d go in the Pacific islands without encountering local girls.

“I bet you we’re going to be tripping over buxom little beauties in hula skirts just dying to show their gratitude to the conquering heroes,” Joe drawled.

“You really think there’ll be natives there?” Sully asked.

“Unless we’re fightin’ over a whole bunch of empty piles of sand, there must be some natives somewhere,” Speedy said.

Sully whined, “I can’t sleep in this goddamned heat. Why can’t they let us bring our bedrolls up top?”

“I guess the sailors don’t want to be tripping over Marines all night,” Cal answered.

“That’s fair enough but at least there’s a breeze up there. We’re cookin’ in this oven.”

“Would you all just shut the fuck up and go to sleep?” Pete barked.

From farther down the hold, another Marine called back. “I second that fucking motion!”

Closing his eyes, Cal willed it to be morning.

The ever-present stench of smoke, paint and grease that permeated the ship made Cal’s stomach roil several hours later as he wavered in the chow line after a quick shave. Holding onto the wall of the gangway, he closed his eyes. He hadn’t been seasick since he was five years old and he wasn’t going to start now.

“You okay?” Jim stood behind him in line outside the galley.

Wiping his forehead with his sleeve, Cal nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. Just want to eat so I can get topside. Need some fresh air.”

“Don’t we all,” big Joe noted, dragging the words out in his customary way.

Jim frowned. “You’re drenched.”

“Situation normal down here.” They all dripped with sweat, adding to the constant stench.

“I know, but you look pale.” Jim put his hand to Cal’s forehead.

“Boys, we got our own Florence Nightingale here!” Pete snickered. “Johnny’s gonna jump ship and join the Red Cross if we’re not careful.”

Jim pressed his lips together, shoving his hands in his pockets.

They were next into the galley, which was even hotter than the rest of the ship, if possible. Picking up metal trays with small compartments to theoretically keep different foods separated, they moved along the chow line as navy messmen haphazardly slopped a breakfast of dehydrated potatoes onto their trays.

Cal wanted more than anything to be able to eat topside, but it was strictly against the rules. So he took his place at one of the long folding tables where they ate standing up to keep the assembly line of men moving. Today it was fine by Cal, since he could only stomach a few ghastly bites before giving up.

“At least have some joe. That’ll do you good.” Jim nudged Cal’s cup of steaming black coffee toward him.

Of all the smells in the squalid belly of the ship, this was the one that pushed Cal over the edge. He turned away from the table and puked, much to the vocal disgust of every man in the galley. Every man but Jim, who held Cal’s shoulder with one hand and patted his back with the other.

“It’s okay. Let’s get you some air.”

Letting Jim lead the way, Cal stumbled along, breathing deeply when they climbed up to the deck. He gulped in the clean air, which felt a million degrees cooler. Sailors and Marines milled around enjoying the breeze, and Jim navigated Cal through the crowd until they reached the railing at the stern. Cal gripped it, shaking.

“You’ve never been seasick before.” Jim peered at him closely.

“And I’m not seasick now. This is something else. I don’t know what, but I feel like my skin’s on fire and my stomach’s inside out.”

Jim pressed the back of his hand to Cal’s forehead again, and then his own. “You’ve got a fever.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know, Florence.” Cal tried to smile.

“Come on. You’ve got to lie down.”

“Oh Jesus, I can’t go back down there.”

“You’re going to have to.”

But as they soon discovered, the bug spread like wildfire, and before long their quarters were half full of fevered, nauseated men. Buckets were distributed throughout the hold. Cal heaved into his, thankful that at least his rack was closest to the floor.