Down Pad 5
Flash Party / Realizations
Flash Party
Denny started spending Friday evenings at the Down Pad with Jake and Yael and Sammy and whoever else showed up. Saturday mornings, he went on a five mile run with Jake and Budd. And this Saturday, he was riding with Budd again. They’d rented a bike for Denny, as usual, and Budd rode his Harley instead of the Ural.
“Ranch hand,” said Budd, sitting on a boulder where they’d stopped for lunch. “We’ve been ranchers or ranch hands in my family, both sides, black and white, since forever. Cowboys were what they called the ranch hands you couldn’t really trust.”
“Like trailer trash?” asked Denny. His motorcycle helmet was stowed on the motorcycle and he’d taken out the black stetson. Sammy had punched gray studs into the black leather band of the hat – to bring out his gray eyes, she’d said. He’d always thought his eyes were blue, but she said they were gray.
Budd looked at Denny, who practically looked like the definition of white trailer trash, and wondered if he knew what he was saying.
“Yes, I know that includes me,” said Denny. “And I’ve got a black sheep uncle somewhere who really was. White trailer trash. So I shouldn’t call this a cowboy hat? It’s a ranch hand hat?”
“Denny, I have relatives that still live in trailer parks. They’re really cheap and they can be kept up nice, you know. And it’s better than apartments. You get your own place, that you actually own.”
“Except for the land. You don’t own that, do you?”
“No, I guess not,” Budd conceded.
It was a hot day, but they’d found a place with shade to eat their lunch. Denny liked riding. There was a feeling of peace and space on the road. It was almost as good as being alone, without the pressure of people all around. And going off road meant there weren’t even a lot of other vehicles around. At least where they were right now in Texas.
Budd had turned out to be a very good teacher. Sometimes Denny felt like Budd could read his mind and tell what he was going to do on the bike before he did it. Budd had already brought Jake up to speed on all the vehicles they used in his Recovery Ops team.
“So there really were black cowboys, I mean, ranch hands?”
Budd laughed. “Just about a quarter of the ranch hands after the Civil War were black. You didn’t know that?
“The black side rounded up horses in the east when they were slaves, and then after the Civil War, they went out west. A lot of them raised their stake as railroad workers on the Union Pacific on the western side. Then they settled in Texas after they got paid, the ones that survived, and started ranches.
“All the white ancestors we know came from Ireland during the famine. They worked on the railroads in Texas, and ended up in that same town in Texas, and well, let’s just say I’m not the only black guy with red freckles where I come from. Some of us even have red hair. I’m at least as much European white as I am sub-Saharan black.”
“The earliest immigrants in my family just date to the end of the last century,” said Denny. “Dad’s grandparents came from England and Mom’s from Germany. And nobody tells any stories at all. Neither of them like to talk about the old country.”
“Maybe you got Nazis in your background. Late 1900’s from Germany?”
“I can’t say you’re wrong,” said Tanner. “That would be a reason Mom’s side won’t talk about it. Dad, when I ask him about the English side, just says, ‘let sleeping dogs lie.’”
“You’re not the people you come from, Denny,” said Budd. “Sins of the fathers affect the sons. But guilt isn’t passed down. There’s something like that in the Bible, isn’t there?”
“You don’t know your Bible? I thought you were Baptist?”
Budd shrugged his shoulders. “I learned the verses they make you memorize long enough to make everyone happy. And I know what to do at services. I figure it’s true, more or less, but I don’t think about it much. When I get married, I’ll probably just follow whatever my wife wants.”
“So what’s Jordan?” asked Denny, smirking.
“Falun Gong,” said Budd.
“Fal – what? I never heard of that.”
“Falun Gong. Most people haven’t. It’s recent. Chinese.”
“You sleeping with her?” asked Denny.
“Shit, man,” said Budd. “You’re nosy.”
Denny lowered his head. “Sorry,” he said. “I just thought….”
Budd laughed again. “Okay, here’s the rule about talking about sex. Only if the lady brings it up in front of others, and only to those same others, and to the same degree, no more.”
Denny’s mouth dropped open. “What is that, a law somewhere?”
“A gentleman never talks,” said Budd. “Especially if he ever wants to be laid by his current lady, or any other female ever in the future. Unless, of course, you’re like Bill Gates or Elon Musk.”
“What? I never heard anything about –. Oh, ha ha. That was a joke.”
“Yeah, but the part about not talking isn’t. Women get really, really mad if you do.”
“They talk about us, though,” said Denny. “Why can’t we talk about them?”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that, Den,” said Budd. “You’re a good boy. You’re waiting.”
Denny’s eyes went down to slits and he pressed his lips tightly together.
Budd saw. “I’m sorry, that was kind of a dig. There’s nothing wrong with a guy saving it….”
Denny shook his head. “Isn’t there?” he asked. “Well, I don’t have to worry anyway because I didn’t. That’s why I got religion. I didn’t grow up with it.”
“And she let you talk about it?” asked Budd, surprised.
“You could say so,” Denny said. “She put me on her OnlyFans.”
“Yeah?” said Budd. “I’m impressed….”
Before he could continue, Denny punched him in the face, and he stumbled back.
“What the fuck?!”
Denny’s eyes went wide. For all their training, he’d never actually punched someone in anger before. “Are you okay? I’m sorry.”
Budd just lowered himself to the ground, shocked as much by the whiplash in Denny’s mood as by the strike itself. “What’s with you?” he asked. “Sammy’s really getting to you, isn’t she?”
Now Denny was blindsided. “Sammy? What does Sammy have to do with this?” Then a thought occurred to him. “She doesn’t have an OnlyFans, you know.”
“Okay,” said Budd, totally confused. “Restart. Why did you hit me?”
“Because….” And then he couldn’t go on. He was flushing with shame and couldn’t make the words come out. “Look,” he said, quietly. “Do we need to get you looked at?”
Budd checked his face. “I’m going to have a shiner, but I’ll be all right.”
Denny nodded. “Okay. Then, I guess I better get this bike back to the rental place.” He started gathering the things up from their lunch.
Budd put a hand on his arm. “So we’re just going back early? That’s it? No explanations?” Denny just shrugged his hand off.
When they got back to the base, Budd went straight back to the barracks, but Denny stopped at a store to get a bottle of whiskey before he dropped off his rental, and walked back to the barracks.
Jake was already there when Denny made it back to the room.
“We can have this in the room,” Denny said harshly, getting the bottle open.
“Did I say we couldn’t?” said Jake, getting out the styrofoam cups. “You do realize you gotta share?”
Denny had been planning to drink straight from the bottle, but ended up pouring a couple of fingers of whiskey in a cup instead.
“Hey, everyone,” came a voice from the hall, “Tanner’s got whiskey!”
Budd stuck his head in for a moment. “No ice?” he said. “We need ice.” Then back out in the hallway, “So who’s got ice? And there’s not enough for everyone. I got a six-pack of Lone Star. Anyone else?”
“Is this a party? What are we celebrating? I don’t have any booze, but I got chips.”
“I don’t know. I just know Denny’s got whiskey.”
“Cool, dude. Why don’t we go to the common room? I got a jar of salsa.”
Denny made it down to the common room with Jake, the styrofoam cups, and his bottle of whiskey. He poured whiskey into more of the cups. Someone had taken the ice cube bin out of the common room refrigerator/freezer and some people were adding ice to the cups. Someone else had a liter bottle of Mountain Dew and was adding it to the whiskey.
The whole whiskey bottle was poured out in less than half an hour, and Denny hadn’t even gotten a second drink.
Budd came up to him then, with a can of beer. “Here,” he said. “You like this, don’t you?”
Denny couldn’t move. He just stared at the dark purple bruise under Budd’s eye. Budd opened the beer, then took Denny’s right hand and closed it around the can.
“So what happened to your eye?” asked one of the guys.
“Denny finally landed one,” said Budd, laughing. “He’s not as easy a target as he looks.”
“Yeah?” the other guy answered. “Thanks for the heads up.” Then he lifted his styrofoam cup of whiskey to Denny. “Thanks, man. This was a great idea.”
Denny just nodded his head.
The flash party only lasted about an hour, total, before the drinks and food were gone, and everyone went back to their rooms or whatever else they had planned for the rest of the afternoon.
Denny was starting to relax a little. Apparently, Budd wasn’t mad at him, or going to report him. He sat down at his desk and brought up his programming course, while Jake sat on his bed with his Notepad. It was almost as good as being completely alone, and he was feeling jittery from all the unexpected socializing. He lost himself in the module, and then his video game – not the one he was programming, but the one he was playing.
He was calm again when Jake finally got up from his bed. “So Denny, I’m guessing you’re eating in today?”
“Yeah,” said Denny. “It’s been a weird day.”
“Okay,” said Jake. “I’m going to see Yael. Are you okay?”
“Sure,” said Denny. “Why not?”
Jake had a serious look on his face. “Budd told me what happened.”
Denny flushed and looked down. Suddenly, he felt the same way he had when he’d gotten back to the barracks determined to drink a whole bottle of whiskey. But not exactly. Budd and Jake had both known and turned it into a party.
“I – I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.
Jake nodded. “That’s cool. But you know what isn’t cool? Hiding. Forever. It doesn’t have to be now, but you’re going to have to come out with it.”
“What?” said Denny. “You think I’m gay?” And for once, he was actually joking.
“I don’t think it’s that easy,” said Jake. “But whatever it is, you can handle it. Maybe not alone, but you can handle it. And you got friends.”
Realizations
“What do you mean, we can’t get married in the Church?” Jake was sitting in the priest’s office. “I’m a parishioner and Yael’s getting baptized and joining. So, no, we can’t have kids. We’re both sterile. Me, well you know why, and Yael from that illness. I thought that didn’t matter.”
“Jake, I’m really sorry, but we can’t. It’s not about infertility. You can’t consummate the marriage.”
“But look, there’s Josephite marriages. Protestants don’t have that, but Catholics do. So we’d just be like that.”
“Jake, in a Josephite marriage, the couple agree not to consummate. And the marriage can be dissolved if either party changes their mind. Even in a Josephite marriage, both parties must be able to consummate. They just choose not to.”
“Well, that sucks,” said Jake, standing up. “If I could, I could get married, but since I can’t, I can’t?”
“There has to be at least the possibility of consummation for it to be a marriage. That’s the difference between marriage and other relationships.”
“Well, maybe we got it backwards, then. I should convert to Yael’s religion instead of she to mine. Muslims allow the woman to waive her right to consummation.”
“They’re right about one thing, there,” said the priest. “It is Yael’s right.”
“But, Father,” said Jake. “She’s kind of like… me. Female Genital Mutilation. Excision. She doesn’t… like… feel much.”
“Even if she doesn’t feel anything at all,” he said, “she still has the right. And it still must be possible to call it a marriage. I’m sorry, Jake, we just can’t do it.”
“So,” he said. “A civil ceremony? Would that be okay?”
“It would be a lie, Jake,” said the priest.
“Then… just some legal forms. So we could have each other’s Power of Attorney and stuff like that. What they used to call domestic partnerships before they legalized same sex marriage?”
“You could do that,” he said. “But you can’t call Yael your wife.”
“And it doesn’t get us married housing, but that wasn’t the point anyway. Yael works. She doesn’t need my money. And we can live together? That won’t cause scandal?”
“Generally, that isn’t allowed, but I think this is something we could work with. You’re committed to maintaining a non-sexual relationship. I’ll see what we can do.”
Later that night, it happened again. One of the new guys thought he’d made the earth-shattering discovery that Jake didn’t shave. It was a 2 am drill to make sure everyone who was supposed to be in the barracks was in the barracks. Everyone had stubble except Jake.
“Why does he always look like he just shaved?” said the new guy.
“Park is pretty smooth, too,” said someone else.
“Yeah, but he’s East Asian,” he responded. “And he’s still not that clean. I bet it’s low T. That’s an epidemic these days.”
The sergeant running the drill finished his inspection and signaled everyone to go back to their rooms. As the new guy passed Jake, he said, “When does puberty hit you exactly?”
Jake was tired and just wanted to go back to bed. “Never,” he said tersely. “I was castrated.”
Everyone went silent. Then someone elbowed him and said, “Idiot. You’re the only one who didn’t know?”
“But I was right,” he said. “Low T was right.”
At that, Jake had to chuckle. “Ain’t that the truth,” he said.
It broke the tension and he got back to his room. But instead of lying down and going to sleep, he just sat there on the lower bunk, elbows on thighs, face in hands. Denny had never seen him like that before.
“Something wrong?” Denny asked.
“Just the usual,” he said. “Gets to me, sometimes.”
“What?” and Denny’s face was so clueless as he asked the question that Jake had to laugh despite himself.
“What do you think? Explaining I got no balls, one more time.”
“I didn’t think it bothered you,” said Denny.
“Of course it bothers me,” said Jake. “Everything about it bothers me. Talking about it, being this way. Sometimes it bothers me so much I want to scream. Or hit someone.”
Then suddenly, Jake made a connection. “Is that what happened that weekend you hit Budd? What was it that bothered you that much? Stop hiding. Tell me.”
“You want to hit someone?” Denny asked.
Jake nodded. “You don’t think I see everyone else? I watch you looking at Sammy and wonder what it would be like to be so whatever-it-is that you can’t think straight. So much that even when she’s covered up, you’re rooted to the floor. That’s not just love. I love Yael. What you feel is different. And you get that and love.”
Denny was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “I told Budd I’m on some girl’s OnlyFans page, and he was impressed. That’s why I hit him. I said I was sorry but at the time….”
Jake blew out a breath with a whistle. “So you’re embarrassed?”
“Embarrassed?” said Denny. “Embarrassed is standing naked on the parade grounds in front of the whole base. This was… humiliating. And it’s still out there, somewhere, for all I know.”
Jake just nodded. He understood humiliation. “I’m sorry.”
“She… she… I didn’t know she was doing that,” said Denny. “I did whatever she wanted. And then she… she narrated it, you know? It was a ‘how not to.’ And people posted their reactions and….”
When he could speak again, Denny said, “So that stuff you have to put up with, that bothers you?”
“Yeah,” said Jake. “But you know, you can get through it. You just accept – this part of my life is screwed, and go on. And see what I got? Yael. The Space Force. Not everything’s screwed up.”
“But what if Sammy finds out? You won’t tell her, will you?”
Jake shook his head, but added, “You tell her.”