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“Bennett, I don’t know what you got mixed up, but I can tell youdefinitivelywhen you cut things off.”
He folded his arms across his chest. When I didn’t speak, he gestured grandly, sarcastic. “Please, by all means, enlighten me. Tell me why I spent the past twelve years confused and lonely that, apparently, I did to myself.”
Ouch.
I stepped back, bare feet slapping against the linoleum. Eight tiles again. “Zero seven hundred hours, March seventh. My squad was doing routine route clearance when a frag grenade was dropped in the middle of us. Most of us managed to get behind the Humvee in time, but I was the last one out. It fuckingtore through my leg. Air lifted to the infirmary.” I paused to catch my breath.
I thanked my lucky stars every day that I didn’t have PTSD from that grenade like others from my squad. I only came away from it all with physical scars.
Bennett held his tongue. Let me finish.
“I sat in the infirmary fortwo weeks. Drugged outta my fuckin’ gourd because they gave the good shit back then. Do you know what happened?” Bennett didn’t shake his head, not that I gave him the chance to respond. “The nurse had to keep telling me to shut up because all I did was say your name over and over andover. Kept saying how much I needed to tell you, to talk to you. ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ was still active back then, so the nurse figured me outrealquick. Kept having the doc pump me with more shit to keep my mouth shut.
“They only let me talk to my mother since they notified her of my injury. I was still fuckin’cookedwhen I talked to her.” I held out a finger, accusatory, just like Bennett’s. “But goddammit, I still remember telling her that she needed to call Walt. ‘Ma, tell Walt Dubois. Please tell Walt about what happened to me.’ I knew they wouldn’t let me call anyone other than family while I was in there. My mother knew Walt already. That was my way to you. I needed to know that you knew.” I spun in place, tracked a wide circle in his little kitchen. “Somehow knowing that you knew would make me feel better. Better than those drugs.”
I ended my rant closer to Bennett. Back to six tiles. I couldn’t read his face. He was all cop now.
Bennett said, “Connor… I only found out about your leg years after it happened. I saw an interview on one of the late-night shows where you talked about it. That’s how I found out. Felt sick to my stomach, too. I remember doing the math, trying to figure out when it happened and where I was.” He exhaled sharply through his nose. “I don’t know how else to say this, but I don’t think your mother ever told my father.”
I dismissed the notion. “Yes she did. Ma and I have our differences and she didn’t blab to everyone about me being gay, but that’s not something she would withhold. She would have told Walt. Maybe Walt didn’t tell you?”
His hands went up. I saw the phantom of an insult pass over his face. “Are you seriously comparing your mother to my father when it comes to acceptance?”
“What? No. I…”
Was I?
I found myself rapidly blinking, as if Bennett had transferred his tell to me.
No, that couldn’t make sense. Yes, my mother preferred I kept my relationships quiet, but she didn’t outwardlypreventthem. I never explicitly told her what Bennett meant to me, but he was around the house often enough that summer. She had gotten to know Walt through that relationship. Sheknewwhat Bennett meant to me. My own mother would not have held silent after I begged her, from halfway around the world, to tell someone about my situation.
Right?
My mind would snap if I dwelled on that. I needed to push beyond. “Then why are you saying I stopped talking to you? Because clearly as I just told you, it wasn’t on my end.”
“Because I called you, Connor. On March twenty-third. Two weeks after your incident.”
I shook my head. “I never received a call. I would have remembered you calling.”
I watched as Bennett’s eyes unfocused. This close, it was almost as if I could see the memory play in those blues.
“Three days before I called on March twenty-third, I went into the gym to train early because my coach asked me to. He said that despite my old injury, I was showing promise. He wanted to help me through applications for better gymnastics programs at other schools.”
Oh, god. No. No, no, no, no, no, no.
Bennett swallowed. His eyes glistened over. “It was early, before everyone arrived for our usual practice. He had me go into his office. I had been there a thousand times before. He brought me coffee. Extra cream and extra sugar to really sweeten it up.” He licked his lips. “I drank half of it before I started to feel something. The room spun.” Bennett’s eyes snapped to focus. Found me, digging into me. “I was in a state of shock for three days. I really didn’t know what to do. Who to tell.Howto tell. I was ashamed. Embarrassed. Feltguilty. All I wanted to do was tell you. I needed you. More than anything, I needed you. So I fibbed my way through the emergency line they had for you guys. Still used my name, but pretended to be a family member. Then this guy, Lieutenant Car…Car-ee-yo? He came back and said, ‘He said he doesn’t want to talk to you,’ and that was that. That was the last time. ‘He doesn’t want to talk to you.’”
March twenty-third. My mind raced through the time differences between the East Coast and Afghanistan. Recalled the time of day. What had happened in my life that week. But more importantly, that day.
Lieutenant Marcus Carillo.The nurse. I knew that man. Knew him very well.
“Why didn’t you answer my call, Connor? Why did you tell that lieutenant you didn’t want to talk to me?”
I was wobbling on my feet. Losing balance. There was nothing in my stomach, but it felt like everything I ever ate would come up.
“Connor?”
I crashed into the floor. Bennett sank beside me on the balls of his feet. My breathing kicked up a notch as I propped my back against the lower set of cabinetry and buried my face in my hands.
