Wounded

“Wounded”

Bright tracer trails and the crackling roar of violent intentions interrupt my listless reverie.

Whoa. What’s happening in the village? I can’t see diddly from back here, but I think that’s where 3^rd squad’s supposed to be.

I drop to a prone position and search for a target while frantic voices screech in my helmet’s com-set. Sergeant Harris and PFC Martinez hit the dirt to my left and my right.

Two seconds later, explosions rock a nearby compound, then a derelict panel van bursts into flames fifty yards in front of us.

Was that an arm spinning through the air? Holy Crap!

Panic almost overwhelms me. I’m almost home!

I nearly piss myself when a bullet kicks up dust not a foot from my left elbow. Three quick heartbeats later, another one splits the difference.

Aw fudge.

I roll to my left. The next round caroms off my helmet regardless. Instantly, my com-set goes silent and stays that way.

I’ve gotta find some cover.

I shake my ringing head, then I scramble to my feet and run, staying low, zigzagging across a vacant lot, dodging debris and passing two down soldiers; Ritter and Johnson.

Oooh. They’re not going anywhere.

Twenty yards later, just inside the village proper, I come to an intersection with an alley.

Which way did everybody else go? Left, or right?

Man, I’m really missing my com-set about now.

Heavy fire breaks out up the alley to my left.

Eleven days and a wake-up. I’m going right.

I trot for twenty-five yards, then, frowning, I stop and look around for a second.

Uh-oh. I think I screwed up. I went the wrong way. This is a dead end.

Well, that’s just peachy. What now, genius? It’s way too quiet here and I’m nervous enough already. I feel like a filly turned loose in the stud yard. One wrong move and I’m gonna get nailed, hard.

Meanwhile, crouched and tense, I back toward the intersection, my head on a swivel.

I’ve gone maybe a dozen feet when several automatic weapons cut loose from a house in the alley’s cul-de-sac. Rounds strike the ground near my feet. A ricochet smacks my canteen and burns my hip.

I hope that’s water running down my leg.

I fire off a full clip at the house, then, chased by a cacophonous volley, I sprint back the other way until a rocket-propelled grenade explodes not twenty feet in front of me. I’m blown backwards and land sprawled on my back. The impact leaves me breathless and disoriented, but I manage to roll over and crawl behind a low, crumbling wall.

I don’t know where my helmet is, but I’ve still got my rifle.

I load a fresh clip, then I squint into the darkness. I don’t see anything up the alley but the occasional twinkling flashes of automatic weapons fire. Small firefights rage all around me, but they’re not really close.

I lower my head and shut my eyes for a second. I wish I could just lie here, but this position is too exposed.

I sling my rifle across my back, then I belly-crawl toward a rusty water tank 30 yards away. It looks like better cover as long as I stay low.

‘I’m a ghost,’ I tell myself. ‘I’m invisible and bulletproof.’

Breathing hard, I make it to my goal without incident. When I catch my wind a minute later, I peek around the tank. Damn it, where the hell’s everybody else?

Small arms fire erupts further up the alley, then it escalates. A grenade explodes. Somebody won’t stop screaming.

They’re closer than I thought, but I gotta know what I’m up against here before I can get to there.

I unsling my rifle, raise it as high as I can without exposing myself, and blindly fire a five-round burst at the windows of the nearest building.

Immediately, heavy counterfire rips the air over my head.

I pull back and cringe. A dozen rounds strike the half-filled tank. Ding! Dong! Ping! Pong! Tink! Tonk! Clang!

Whoa. It sounds like a hail storm in a belfry. I wish I hadn’t poked that hornet’s nest. There must be a dozen insurgents over there and every one of them knows where I am now. I’m toast if I stay here.

Adios assholes. 1-2-3 Go!

I push up from the ground and fire a dozen rounds at the windows, then I stumble toward a lightless, windowless, mud-brick hut twenty feet away. Bullets whizz by my head and follow my steps. I crash through the hut’s flimsy plywood door.

Panting like a winded hound, I crawl behind a wooden barrel. I check myself for shrapnel wounds, load another clip, and then I hear choppers in the distance.

Are they too late?

Please, God, I pray they’re not. It’s hell on Earth out there and I lost my freaking helmet. I’m staying right here. Either I die, or I don’t. It’s up to You.

I hold my rifle tight and curl up in a ball. I close my eyes even tighter, then I recite the 23^rd Psalm: ‘Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…’

Simultaneously, Apache gunships pummel the insurgents in the nearest building.

The ground shakes. The blasts draw nearer. I cover my head with my arms.

Forgive my sins, Lord, and keep Dee safe, plea...

KA-BOOM!

Fade to black.

Hands on my wounds, I open my eyes and groan, yet fragments of the recurring flashback/dream quickly fade from my mind. Dee is 15 feet in front of me, nude, poised seductively on a low flat boulder amidst blooming cholla, torch aloe and prickly pear. Long, wavy, indigo-black hair rustles in a mild breeze while she gazes at the three-quarters moon, her many Dia de los muertos tattoos just colorful blurs in its limpid lambency.

She looks like a stoner’s dark fantasy queen standing there with a bong in hand, crowned with heavenly gems and wreathed in reefer smoke.

Once she glances back and notices I’m conscious and watching her, she smiles and gives me the finger, then she steps down off the boulder and puts the bong and lighter on a folding camp table. She throws a few fags in the fire pit, then she grabs a water bottle off the table and joins me in the cattle tank.

Man, she looks good. That fitness boot camp thing is really working for her, and moonlight makes her skin glow like well-polished pecan wood. I like her hair long like that, too, and I’ve always liked seeing her with some well-trimmed grass on the lawn, not barren or wooly.

She hands me the bottle. “Drink that. All of it. You need to stay hydrated, especially in the hot tub.”

I take it from her. “Okay. I’m not arguing with you.”

I drain the bottle’s contents while she splashes water on her face. When she’s done, she gives me an evil grin.

“You got the cannibal stew pot just right, tonight. Good job, bro. This missionary needs to assume the position.”

“Yeah, 103 degrees is perfect. I’m digging it.”

Dee kisses my cheek, then presents hers. I kiss her back, then I toss the empty bottle in the general direction of the table and check her out for a second.

Mmmmm…

“Girl, I know I’ve said it before, but you look amazing. You’re one of those rare women who just gets better-looking with age.”

She punches my shoulder, but not hard.

“I’m pushing thirty, dude. You know that. I’ve birthed two babies, the younger one a big-headed, eight-and-a-half-pound bulldozer. He’s teething and off the teat, mostly, but these bloated, beat-up things still look like raw hamburger meat, and just look at all these horrid stretch marks!”

She holds her heavy, lactating breasts up for inspection like I’ve never seen them before.

“Ugh,” she continues as they flop back down with an audible smack. “Amazing my fat ass. At least let me sit on your face before you tell me that lie, Pinocchio.”

Okay.

“I don’t care about your huge ugly teats,” I say with a cheesy smile. “And you can sit your fat ass on my wooden face anytime, and I’ll tell you flattering lies all night. If I tell enough of them, I might even sneeze.”

Dee laughs, but she stops abruptly, looking all serious. “As long as I don’t get pregnant again, dude, whether it’s a wood-head baby or a real baby. I can’t pin the next one on Eric right now. We haven’t been ‘together’ together in nearly two years, not since shortly after he planted Quinn in me. I gained a lot of weight during that pregnancy. When I got too hefty for him, he found himself an anorexic teenage skank to take my place. Hell, if Pinocchio’s little wooden nose even sniffed my vagina, I’d be getting more action than I’ve gotten since.”

Hmmm… I was wondering.

“I’m glad you cleared that up. I don’t much like ambiguity. I guess I’m becoming obtuse in my dotage.”

“Tell me about it. I can’t keep on smiling at Eric while I’m wading through his lying-ass bullshit. I’m done. I’m tired of hoping and praying he’ll change.”

And I’m hoping and praying he never does. “Life is short, Dee. Get an attorney. It’s time for a divorce. I’ll loan you the money. You deserve better.”

She frowns down at the steaming water. “It’s not supposed to be like this, bro. We’re in the prime of our lives and it’s just slipping away.”

“There you go. What are you waiting for? You’ve got grounds enough.”

She sighs gustily and stares at me until I meet her gaze.

“I know that,” she says after some intense eye contact. “But the custody battle will be epic, and I don’t really like being alone. My mind wanders back to times and places it shouldn’t go.”

“You know you can stay here.” Please God, if You never do another thing…

“I know,” she says back and brushes my cheek with a kiss. “I don’t want you to be stressed because of what I’m going through. You have a hard time dealing with your own issues, and from what I’ve seen, you aren’t easy to live with. Imagine having to deal with my crap, too, plus two little kids.”

“Plus you’re weird,” she adds before I can respond, though a faint smile tugs at the corners of her mouth when she says it.

“Just know you’ve got a safety net, okay?”

Dee’s right, damn it, but still, I’d like to try. I don’t want to push it, though. It has to be on her.

Yet, that’s a troubled frown if I ever saw one.

“I know you’re here for me,” she says so quietly I can barely hear her. “No one’s ever had my back. You don’t know how badly I’ve needed that. It’s always been just me when the chips were down, you know?”

I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “I know. Just remember I’m here and I love you. That’s all I ask.”

After that exchange, we just sit a while. Her head rests comfortably against my arm while we hold hands like an old married couple and watch the night sky.

We’re not like that long, though, before my thoughts turn dark.

“We’ve been friends forever, have we not?”

Dee nods and squeezes my hand. “Twelve years, more or less, since we worked at the grocery together.”

I glance at her, then look away. “You know I love you, no matter what, right?”

“I’ve always known that, silly. You know I love you, too. I thought I’d die while you were gone.”

My free hand drifts to the livid, jagged scars scattered across my pelvis and lower torso.

“I thought I would, too,” I say, frowning.

“But you didn’t,” she says quickly. “You did your duty. You fought and bled and nearly died. Now it’s over. You’re home. You’re safe.”

“Yeah, and you’re somebody else’s baby-mama. That’s the icing on the cake. Hooray the hero, home from the war.”

Dee sits up straight, then she turns toward me. Frown lines crease her dark-freckled brow. She places a finger over my lips and slowly shakes her head, then she sinks back down in the water without saying a word.

I let out a long sigh, then I watch the moon’s steamy, rippling reflection on the water’s surface while I count down from one hundred.

Resentment slowly seeps out of me.

My therapist will be so proud when I tell her.

When I’m done with the count, I glance sideways at Dee. I wish I was like her. She seems content to just be. My little outburst didn’t faze her. Her eyes are closed. There’s a sweet half-smile on her face.

She does love to smoke and soak.

I can’t turn myself on and off like that.

“I’m sorry, honey,” I say eventually. “You’re so patient with me. PTSD sucks. I look in the mirror every morning and ask, ‘Who the hell are you? Where did you come from? Why are you here? What happened to that other dude, the cool one?”

Dee sighs softly and pats my arm. “The cool dude is still there, bro, but those evil twins, Pain and Anger, won’t let him out of his cage. Just keep working on it. Go to therapy. Stay busy. Take your meds. Smoke weed when you’re freaking out. That’s what I do.”

“As for patience,” she adds after a momentary pause, “That’s the wrong word. What I have for you is more like tolerance. As long as you’ve got killer mmj and a cowboy hot tub, I’ll tolerate your occasional abusive outbursts and bouts of depression.”

I give her a brief, rueful smile. “Ugh… is it still that bad?”

Dee shrugs. “Not really. You’re getting better. I’m mostly just giving you a hard time. What you’ve been through would mess up anybody’s head. I admire your determination, the way you deal with pain, the daily struggle you go through to do the stuff you need to do. You’re kinda my hero these days.”

I shake my head and stare down at the water. “Hero? I’m no hero, honey. We lost the war, and nobody will admit it except those of us who paid for it with our blood, our sanity, and our suffering. Where’s the victory parade, huh? I haven’t seen any flags waving or heard anybody cheering. I don’t get free beer in the pub and I don’t get kisses from pretty girls on the street, or anywhere else for that matter… uh… present company excepted, of course.”

“I was talking about now, not then,” Dee chimes in. “I can understand why you feel the way you do, but I can’t know what you went through. I can only know how you deal with the aftermath.”

“Yeah, well, my apologies. I was just venting my bitterness.”

She shrugs and stares at me for a second, then she frowns and looks away.  

“I know. It’s okay,” she says. “Venting is good for you, in moderation. You gotta get that weight off your chest or it’ll crush the life out of you. God knows, nobody knows that better than me.”

I nod slowly. “Yeah, I can appreciate that now, when I really couldn’t before.”

Damn. I’m squeezing her hand too hard. I can’t believe she didn’t say something. I loosen my grip, then I stare at nothing for a second before I continue.

“Look, Dee, most of the time, I feel like I don’t belong anywhere, or with anybody, except you. When I go to town, people stare at me like I’m an alien with a bad skin rash, or they look the other way, even people I’ve known all my life. I feel like I’m nameless and faceless, a nobody from nowhere.”

I hang my head. “Maybe I should’ve died that night, too.”

Dee shushes me, kisses my cheek, and lets go my hand, then she explores my tense neck muscles with probing fingers.

“God left you here for a reason, my dear. You said it yourself the first time I saw you after you got back.”

I frown down at my upturned palms. “I think I’m pretty much useless. I don’t know what it could be.”

“Chill, dude. Be patient. Pray on it. You’ll see a sign.”

“Yeah, well, my faith has been a little shaky lately. I don’t know if I’ve been blessed or cursed or both.”

“It’ll come, I promise. Just be positive.”

“Mind over matter, huh?”

“Yep.”

I heave a big sigh. “I’m trying. It’s hard.”

I add a little prayer. I’m sure Dee’s doing the same. In the meantime, she continues to knead my sore muscles, and soon, I’m feeling a little better.

“You know what I’ve noticed?” she says a while later. “You hold your anxiety in your neck and your shoulders. Try to let it go from the inside while I work on the outside.”

She’s right. When is she ever not?

“I’ll give it a shot. You know my body language. We’ve done this what, seven, eight Friday nights in a row since I got home from rehab?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Aren’t you supposed to put out on or after the third date?”

“Shut up,” she says and smacks my bald, scar-pocked head. “This isn’t a date. Did you buy me dinner? Did you arrange my transportation?”

“Uh…”

“If you wanted more, you should’ve negotiated that from the beginning. All we talked about was hot tub massages. Anything else requires re-negotiation.”

“Can we do that now?”

“What can you offer me?”

“Offer you? I… um…”

Dee smacks my head again and laughs. “That’s what I thought. You’re never getting laid.”

“Well… if I don’t, you don’t!”

Her thick eyebrows rise. “That’s what you think? I can’t get laid?”

“What I think is this water suddenly got dangerously deep and way-too-hot… oh, wait. What’s this brown stuff floating here? Eeek, it’s bullshit!”

She laughs. “Hard to say which one of us it came from, huh.”

“You got that right!”

I can’t see Dee’s smile, but I know it’s there.

After a minute or so, I relax a little more, slump a little further.

“You’ve got the touch of a clever, insidious angel, woman. The more you hurt me, the easier it is to let go of my pain.”

“I can feel it. When one muscle turns loose, another soon follows. It’s like a domino effect.”

“You’re good at this, Dee, and this whole scene is just so… therapeutic with you in it.”

“I know. It’s good for me, too. I wouldn’t be here, otherwise.”

Dee’s hands stop moving, then she uses my shoulder as a prop and stands.

“Scootch forward,” she says. “Let me slide in behind you.”

I scootch and she slides her sandstone slab in behind mine. She straddles it, then she presses her bent knees to my sides and rests her bare feet on top of my thighs.

Hmmm… she’s never done that before.

I use my elbows to hold her knees in place. Right away, her hands go to work on my neck. Her heels dig into my ever-spastic quadriceps.

“Oh, that feels sooo good.”

“Cool. It came to me last night right before I fell asleep. I never met a muscle I couldn’t conquer.”

My eyelids flutter. I groan a little and slump back against those nice, pillowy breasts. I love the way they feel, all soft and squishy, and I love the way the swell of her belly presses against the small of my back. Oh man, I think I could live right here, just like this, for the rest of my days.

“Hey, dude, I was wondering something,” Dee says. “I know you said cannabis products help with your PTSD, and I totally agree, but what about the spasticity in your legs? Does it help at all?”

“I can’t really tell one way or the other, so I’m gonna say no. Right now, my arms feel like they weigh a ton and I haven’t used much today.”

“Huh. Why do you think people say it helps?”

I shrug as best I can with two hands squeezing my neck. “Either their spasticity isn’t as bad as mine, or they just get so stoned they think it helps whether it actually does or not. I have no idea, otherwise.”

Should I tell her what I’ve really been thinking?

Yeah. We’ve gotta be honest with each other. Secrets give you cancer.

“The truth is, Dee, I’m thinking about giving it up. I can put more checks in ‘reasons not to’ boxes than I can in ‘reasons to’ boxes.”

“Okay. Like what?”

“Well, as usual, I won’t be able to walk when I get out of the tub. I’m still shaky and my balance sucks, especially on uneven ground in the dark, and after a long simmer in this hot water, my legs’ll be like rubber bands. Mmj makes all that worse. It never gets better or easier. It’s like I gain 40 pounds every single time I use. I can’t move.”

“That kinda sucks dude. I’m sorry. I hope you find ways to compensate.”

“Me, too. I’m tired enough all the time as it is, so I don’t handle the added stoner fatigue very well. I don’t particularly like being dull and lazy, either, and this new hybrid strain gives me the munchies something fierce. I’ve gotta fight it, Dee. I’m gaining weight, and that’s not good for a cripple with hardware issues.”

“You do what’s best for you,” she says calmly, her strong hands still kneading away. “I like the way I feel when I smoke, so I probably won’t be quitting anytime soon.”

“I don’t care one way or the other. I just want you to be content and happy with your life. Like you said, ‘You do what’s best for you.’”

“Why thank you sir, I believe I’ll do just that.”

She gives me a wet, lingering kiss on the back of my neck, then another at the base of my skull.

My shoulders hunch involuntarily, and I shiver. Good googly-moogly, that used to make me…

Whoa… What’s this? Can it be? I pass my hand over my nearly-numb crotch. Son-of-a-gun. I’ve grown half a boner! That’s new, too. Is it the testosterone shots? The weed?

Maybe both.

Hallelujah!

Then Dee’s kisses cover the back of my head again… again… and again. I squirm and wiggle. My toes curl. I cover my mouth with my hands while I giggle like a thoroughly tickled little girl.

Oh, man, it’s like I’ve had Jack’s magic beans in my pocket for two years and somebody doused me with a bucket of water.

“Hey, no fair, you wicked little tease,” I mock-grumble. “You know what that does to me.”

 “Awww… you know you love it,” she whispers back. “One of these days, we’re gonna get results.”

Shoulders hunched up to my neck, I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it. I think the results are in, but for some reason, I don’t want to tell her, yet. And she’s right. I do love what she’s doing, but I’d love it even more if she’d just bang me. It’s been a long time since the last time she did. Would that be too much to ask?

In the meantime, Dee’s hands squeeze and rub until she finds a knot in the muscles between my scapulae.

My jaw muscles clench. My back arches.

“Ouch, that freakin’ hurts,” I mutter.

“Be still and quit whining,” she says, then she squeezes even harder. “Be glad you’ve got a massage therapist for a BFF. I usually get paid for hurting people like this.”

“Yeah, well, you’re smoking my weed and using my tub, sooo…”

Dee laughs softly and continues her work. Eventually, she knuckles that unhappy muscle into submission and moves on.

I bend forward at the waist, so she can go lower.

“You know,” she says a minute later, “Every time you do physical therapy or work out, your paraspinals knot up. They’re still twitchy now. It must be aggravating. If you had some lidocaine…”

“I’ve got some, but I’ve usually got worse hurts than spasms to deal with. I think the vial and syringes are in the closet by the shower, though.”

“Do you want me to get it? I can inject the worst spots, like these knots. It doesn’t seem hard. I’m sure I can do it. I could even do acupuncture. I’ve seen some videos on YouTube. It should be easy for a competent masseuse.”

“You just wanna stick me with needles.”

 “Don’t need to,” she says immediately. “I’m a voodoo chile. Got a life-sized voodoo doll that looks just like you. It’s stuck full of needles already. If you hurt anywhere, it’s because of that.”

She bites the back of my neck, hard.

“See?” she says, laughing. “That’s my voodoo working right there.”

She starts humming Jimi’s guitar solo from Voodoo Chile.

I laugh and shake my head. “You’re a nut.”

“And you’re a big fat squirrel,” she shoots back. “Which explains why you love me.”

I shake my head. “Uh-uh. You’re wrong. It explains why I have this strange urge to fondle you and eat you, or else bury you in the yard and save you for later, because, you know, winter is coming… my Precious.”

Dee laughs as her fingers prod the scar tissue over the rods and screws holding my spine and pelvis together.

“And you say I’m a nut,” she says. “Can you feel that?”

I shrug. “Maybe a little.”

“More or less than the last time I was here?”

“About the same.”

“Do you think this is as good as it’ll get?”

I shrug again. “I can’t say. It probably is, but I hope not.”

I might not be able to take a decent piss, but by God I’ve got a boner, baby. It’s all good right now.

Her hands move lower, to the small of my back. “How about here?”

I shake my head. “Still numb. I can almost feel your fingernail scraping when you scratch hard, but there’s no definable sensation; no pain, no pleasure, no pressure.”

Her hands move down to my buttocks. She gropes and squeezes one, then the other.

“You’re right cheek feels good, nice and firm now, and you’ve got a little muscle tone in your left cheek, too. Where did that come from?”

“I’ve been doing knee bends. Have you ever seen a Tru-Stretch cage?”

“What? I didn’t think you could squat.”

“I was wrong.”

“So what’s a Tru-Stretch cage?”

“You know those jungle gyms at the playground? It’s like one of those, except it’s square, like a cage. One side is open. You get inside, hang on to the bars and stretch. I can exercise and not worry about losing my balance because I can steady myself with a hand on a bar. It’s awesome. I wish I had one here, but a used one costs two grand on eBay.”

“Yikes!”

Now Dee’s fingers gently explore the scar on my right hip. One finger traces the hole through the iliac crest.

It hurts so bad I hold my breath. My boner goes limp.

What a bummer.

Dee pats my back. “Come on, breathe, baby, breathe. You know the drill.”

I do know it. I take deep breaths and blow them out slowly, and I focus on pleasant memories.

It’s not easy. I don’t have that many anymore. I have to reach back to childhood, and those memories grow dimmer every day.

However, after a dozen breaths, the tension in my neck and shoulders eases. So does the pain in my side.

When my breathing returns to normal, Dee gently kisses my neck. “Sorry, baby. I didn’t realize you were still so tender there.”

Her hands move back to my shoulders. Her heels dig into the outsides of my thighs.

“It’s not as bad as it was,” I say. “I’m over it. Keep going.”

And she does, with vigor. Man, she’s got strong legs. If she had on spurs and a cowgirl hat, and she was saying ‘giddy-up’, I might be in trouble.

“I don’t know how you can walk,” she says. “Your quads are so tight I could bounce a marble off them. They’re like steel cables. I thought this might work, but I can’t loosen them up. It must be painful.”

“Yeah, they hurt all the time. Some days I think my knees are being ripped apart. The tightness gets better after I stretch for half an hour, though. That’s the only thing that relieves it, but what you’re doing with your feet feels gooood. Please don’t stop.”

And please God, may I have another boner? I swear I’ll put it to good use.

“I’ll go til my legs get tired,” Dee says, “After that, I’m relaxing while you give me a massage.”

“Okay by me.”

“Say, that cage-thingy at the gym sounds like it’s good for you. You know how much I like to stretch. There’s really nothing better for keeping a body youthful. Can you get me a guest pass, so I can join you some time?”

Say what? We haven’t been together in public since that night six years ago when we…

“I’m sure I can work something out,” I say back. “I go three days a week, now, instead of two; Monday, Wednesday and Friday from ten to twelve. Just show up. When we’re done, you can take me to lunch on Eric’s dime, maybe a green chile cheeseburger, some greasy fries and a beer at the Buckhorn or the Owl Bar.”

“Okay, I’ll stop by the gym. Next week. I promise.”

I wince as her right heel works down a muscle as taut as a drawn bow string.

“Is your goal to work out more than three days a week?” she asks.

“I’m shooting for four right now. That’s probably all I can handle.”

Her heel hits that muscle’s overstretched tendon just above my knee. My hands clench white-knuckle tight and I gasp, then I bend forward at the waist and twist away from the pain, and Dee.

“Okay, that’s enough for now,” I say through gritted teeth.

“I’m so sorry!”

A tear rolls down my cheek as I stand in crotch-deep water and face her. My shoulders slump. God, I’m tired of hurting and I’m tired of being tired of it. Times like this, I could kick myself for turning down that morphine scrip, but maybe this cool night breeze will help.

I remember to breathe, then I focus on the moon, it’s mountains and craters. Meanwhile, the breeze does indeed feel good and it’ll feel even better after midnight. The high desert cools off fast in late May.

Dee stands half a minute later. She’s right in front of me. I can’t help staring. Moonlight glistens on those full, wet breasts. Sparkling little rivulets stream from their well-gnawed nipples, which press against my belly a heartbeat later when she slithers into my arms and lays her face against my chest.

Man, she feels good like this, all warm and wet, and all woman.

In response, my penis tingles and flinches faintly against her deep, pierced navel.

Do I dare hope?

My hands are shaking, so I clasp them in the small of her back while her fingernails lightly scratch my shoulders.

“Oh, that’s the spot,” I mumble a short time later.

“I know,” she purrs back.

Damn man, how can two words sound so sexy?

Half a minute later, my breath catches in my throat. With every little move she makes, with every breath she takes, smooth slick skin slides against my re-awakening penis.

It’s growing, little by little. I can’t stop it--- wouldn’t even if I could--- and Dee gasps when she finally notices. She presses hard up against it, then she tilts her head back and searches my eyes. A smile wavers on her lips. Moonlit tears trickle down her dimpled cheeks.

“I can’t believe it. I’m so happy right now. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Her hands move to my face. She pulls it down close to hers and kisses my lips, still staring into my eyes. Her arms go back around me and hold me tight. Her body trembles slightly, and that’s all it takes. I’ve got a full-blown erection again!

I’m reluctant to move any time soon.

She must be, too, ‘cause she’s not moving either.

“What do we do now?” I ask a little later. “We can’t stay like this all night. This breeze is a mite chilly.”

“You’re right.”

She kisses my nearest nipple, then backs out of my arms.

“I’ll be back shortly,” she says and turns away.

She climbs out of the tub, slips on her sandals, then hurries off, striding purposefully up the trail to the house.

My erection points the way for her, but it’s like me. As soon as Dee leaves, it shrivels up like an overcooked chicken liver.

And that reminds me…

“Bring back some munchies!” I yell after her.

She waves a silent acknowledgement.

I watch her until she’s out of sight. I don’t care what she says. She was way too thin when she was younger. She didn’t have breasts, she had boobies. She didn’t have a booty, she had a butt. Now, she’s definitely got breasts. They look magnificent, and the sway of those sweet, padded hips and the bounce in that bodacious booty are the most tantalizing things I’ve ever seen.

I have to say, two kids and the twenty-five or thirty pounds she’s gained over the past ten years have done her body good, in my opinion. Grandpa Sanchez would’ve called her ‘good breeding stock’, or maybe ‘a healthy little heifer’, and he would’ve been right, being the practical old cabo that he was. Of course, he would’ve made a wise-ass comment about ropes and whips and branding irons, too.

I would’ve told him she’s like a Cadillac. She’s built for a comfortable road trip, a three-hour tour, not a frantic, five-minute run to the grocery store in after-school traffic.

I don’t know why, but I’ve always been comfortable around her, like I’ve known her all my life, like she was family, yet there’s something about her that just sets my jaded soul on fire.

Maybe it’s pheromones.

Damn, man, I thought I was smitten before I joined the Army six years ago. It’s even worse now, but what can I do about it? I’m so frustrated. It’s driving me crazy. I mean, come on, it’s not like I’m asking for the moon and stars, or even a new truck.

Is my karma tank not closer to full than empty?

I take a deep breath and noisily huff it out, then I sink down in the water and kick back on my stone.

What could Dee be up to? I don’t have a clue, but I bet I’m gonna like it.

In the meantime, I’ll just do what I always do when she’s not around. I’ll sit here and brood about all the things I lost, and all the things I can’t have, and if she’s not here by the time I’m finished, I’ll confess all my impure thoughts about her to the mute, don’t-give-a-hoot moon.

Whoa, man. Staring at it stirs up a vague memory. Hmmmm… I think it was part of that weird raven’s rap in one of my more Poe-ish morphine dreams. How did it go again? It was certainly pertinent at the time. Man, they’re right about weed. I can’t remember squat anymore. It was stuck in my head for weeks. Wait a second… oh yeah, I’ve got it:

‘They say time heals all wounds, but they lie. Believe me, I’ve seen it before. Broken hearts won’t mend on their own, boy, and wounded souls bleed evermore… more… more… more…’

Well, thanks to various therapies, therapists and pharmaceuticals, I’m armed with a stack of fresh bandages, Raven, and soon, God willing, I’ll have somebody helping me change them.

***

Dee comes back down the trail ten minutes later. She’s wearing one of my extra-large white tee shirts and a frilly pink apron with big red hearts on it. I didn’t know I had an apron. Must’ve been Granny’s. Grandpa Sanchez wouldn’t’ve been caught dead wearing it.

Neither would I, but it looks kinda cute on Dee.

On the other hand, she’s carrying my raggedy robe over her arm, too. Bath-time for Bonzo must be over.

Damn, man.

“Hey,” she says. “You’ve gotta get out. I don’t know what time you got in, but I didn’t get here ‘til after ten o’clock and it’s nearly midnight now. You’ve only had one bottle of water. You’re dehydrated.”

“But…”

“But nothing. Look at the moon. Do you plan on spending the night in there?”

“Do you?”

“Nope.” She points back up the trail. “I’m sleeping in your bed. You coming?”

My mouth hangs open. My eyes must be bugging ‘cause I’m totally dumbfounded!

I look up at the heavens and mouth a silent “Thank You”, then I grin at Dee.

“Well, alrighty, then!” I say. “Help me outta this thing!”

I sit on the edge of the galvanized tub. Dee helps me swing my legs over the side. I get my prunish, wrinkled feet on the hard-packed caliche, then she puts my walker right in front of me.

“Thanks,” I say as I make sure everything is copacetic with my legs.

She raises her eyebrows at me. “Chop, chop, dude. I left stuff cooking on the stove.”

“Cool, I’m starving,” I say with a big grin, then I almost lose it when my legs turn to gelatin. I barely catch myself with shoulder strength before I drop like a rock.

Dee empties the bong water on the fire pit coals. She sticks it, the lighter, and the empty bottle in my robe pockets, then she holds it out to me. “Let’s get this on you, okay? You don’t need a chill. You’ll stiffen up if you catch one, and we have plans for later.”

“We do?” I ask as I shrug into it.

She reaches around me and ties the belt.

“We do,” she whispers in my ear. Her hands linger on my hips as she pulls them back.

I knew I was gonna like this.

She fetches my slippers and drops them in front of me.

I step into them, then start up the trail. Dee walks beside me as I shuffle along.

A minute and 30 feet later, she glances at me. Her brow wrinkles, then she looks away.

“I need to tell you something,” she says as we poke along. “I missed your attention and friendship when you left more than you’ll ever know. I felt ungrounded. It discombobulated me something awful. I realized that it’s always been you I love and that I don’t even like Eric very much. He’s pretty much useless and a burr under my saddle.”

I leave that one alone. I’ve put my foot in my mouth once already tonight.

“I called him,” she adds.

“Like, just now?”

She nods and gives me a tentative smile. “Yeah, just now. I told him I wouldn’t be home tonight, and that Vanessa was cool with me picking up the kids in the morning.”

“What did he say?”

She laughs bittersweetly and shakes her head. “I don’t know if they were at her place or ours, but he was with his little bitch. I could hear her whining in the background and telling him to hurry up or she was starting without him. They deserve each other. I hope he knocks her up hard, like with triplets.”

“Come on. What did Eric say?”

“He said he could care less if I spend the night. You’re welcome to my fat ass and my brats. Come get my personal stuff and their stuff tomorrow, then get the hell out and stay out.”

“Wait… what? You’re moving in? You said…”

She holds up a hand and shakes her head. “‘When the nitty gets gritty, you throw caution to the dogs. You do what you gotta do.’ Do you remember telling me that?”

I nod. “I do. That was a long time ago, before you broke my heart. The action I took after I said it didn’t end all that well. Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

She shrugs and pokes out her bottom lip, then she huffs out a sigh through her nose. “Carpe diem, dude. It’s too late to bail. Are you okay with it?”

Suddenly, I can’t breathe. My gut feels like a thousand butterflies just swarmed in to mate, but I nod a silent affirmation anyway.

Dee frowns down at the trail for half a minute, then she raises her head. I know that look in her eyes. It’s infinite sadness. I’ve seen it in my own eyes before, and I’ve seen it in the eyes of others like me.

“Listen, bro, I’m sorry--- I really am,” she says in a rough whisper. “I should’ve said so way before now. I made the wrong choice and it’s my fault you nearly died. It’s my fault you… you…”

She stops and breaks down, then, sobbing and moaning. Moonlit tears stream down her face. A gossamer snot thread hangs from her aquiline Aztec nose.

I move close enough to put an arm around her shoulders. I’ve been waiting for it. I’m not the only one around here with some serious issues.

I cup her chin and wipe her nose with my robe’s sleeve, then I gently turn her head until she’s forced to look me in the eyes. She needs some schooling.

“Hey, I made the decision to join the Army on my own and with a fair amount of deliberation. I was 23 years old, old enough to have some idea of possible negative outcomes. Yes, I was hurt you chose Eric two days after we spent our last night together. You told me you loved me, but you’re not the only reason I enlisted. I was unruly and bored and restless--- you know it’s true. I had a bad rep with everybody, especially anybody who mattered.

Before my grandpa died, he told me that’s what I should do, join the military, learn a skill, go to school, get the hell out of this ass-hump county before some bad juju went down like it did with my parents and my stupid brothers.”

I put a hand over my heart. “That’s the truth. Te lo juro. I swear it.”

She shakes her head and stares at her feet. “I love you for saying all that, but I can’t help the way I feel. You didn’t deserve what I did to you. You’ve never been anything but kind and gentle with me. I didn’t know that’s what I really needed from a man until you were gone and I was stuck here alone with Eric.”

“Oh, honey,” I say, battling tears of my own, “I love you so much I’ll forgive you almost anything. Just don’t screw my dog, and don’t steal my truck, my guns, or my hat. We’ll have a serious problem if you do.”

Just as I finish thanking Jesus for answered prayers, a fiery meteor streaks across the sky directly above us. I’ll take that as a good sign rather than make a wish, because at this point, one is pretty much the same as the other.

Meanwhile, Dee has a near-hysterical laughing fit and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. When she’s done and left with nothing but a light case of hiccups, we just stare at each other.

She looks so serious, but those hiccups aren’t going away. It’s not long before I’m grinning, and not long after that, I’m chuckling.

“What?” (hic)

“Nothing.”

“No. Seriously. (hic) What’s with the stupid grin and the cackles, bro? You look like a retard.” (hic)

“Me the retard? I’m not the one with incurable hiccups.”

Dee rolls her eyes, then she heads up the trail.

Yeah girl, wag that tail.

I follow behind, but I can’t keep pace.

“Hey. Don’t run away…”

“Oh, I’m not running away,” she says. “I live here now and I’m cooking us steaks, so take your time, Speedy. You’re doing great.”

You heard her, Raven. What quoth thee to that?