[January 2004 Home]

DINO

By the time the new year rolled around, I was drowning again.  And this time?  I didn't think my mermaid was going to save me with her kiss.  Especially not after she found the book of matches in my pocket from this sleazy little strip club I'd been to.  I'd have been able to explain that away, and in point of fact had before....  but not after she found the smears of body glitter the dancer had left on my shirt. 

After Halloween, just when I thought things were looking up for us, they somehow wound up taking a nosedive again.  And after one too many cold shoulders, cold showers and cold nights on the couch, I started stopping at titty bars on the way home again.  At first I told myself it was just to light my fire so I could get it up when stud service was required of me, but the simple truth is, I missed feeling like a man.  So far, I hadn't done anything more than watch.... but I knew if nothing changed at home, it was only a matter of time before I slipped.

Watching would become a lap dance.  A lap dance would become a blow.  A blow would become a fuck.  I knew it.  I was dancing with danger and yet, I couldn't stop.  It really wasn't about the girls at all.  It wasn't the sleazy parody of sex that I was drawn to, it was more how I felt when I was there.  Like a man.  Like I could go to this place where I wasn't a failure.  Where nobody was looking for me to knock them up.  Where there was no pressure to do anything more than have a drink, watch a dance and tip well.  It was a place where I could just be a mystery.  A nameless face to people who weren't intimately acquainted with my every flaw. 

And strangely, even as it made me feel better about myself in some ways, it made me feel worse in others.  Made me so sad that this thing that should be the greatest joy with my wife had reduced us to this.  She still cried when she thought I wouldn't find out.  I sat in smoky, seedy strip clubs, wishing things were the way they used to be....  and still wishing I could give her a baby, too.  Both of us were miserable.  I think in part because both of us are stubborn.  Not just with each other... but there was almost this camaraderie in our suffering.  We both bore this because in our secret hearts, neither of us was willing to give up hope.

It didn't make our home life any easier, though.  Especially not with a Family wedding looming on the horizon.  With my own marriage so strained, the last fucking thing I wanted was to have to put on a happy face and play nice while we watched another couple take the plunge.  I wasn't too keen on the bride anyway... she was a real piece of work.  The background check we ran didn't turn up anything... but I read people for a living and what I read in her just screamed bad news. 

And if that wasn't enough- there was always the lovely thought of my wife dancing with Curry.  Jesus.  And no doubt his progeny would be running about underfoot.  Yet another reminder of my failure.

Making nicey-nice with everyone was the fucking last thing I wanted to do.  But hey, I guess every wedding just isn't complete without one drunken Irishman.  And somehow, this time, I didn't think finding one was going to be much of a problem.

Heather, Andy and I flew in early.  I had a stack of security details to hammer out beforehand.  It's funny, you know?  You'd think being the red haired, blue eyed, odd man out, I'd be the one to attract attention... but it actually worked better for the Family if I was the one to liaise with the locals for these gatherings.  The less they saw of Terry and Max's face, the better.  Sometimes, I think the rest of the Family seems to forget that little detail, but it suits me to exist on the edges.  I've always preferred the shadows to the limelight, and this occasion was no exception.

Heather and I had a good couple of days.  I think it's always that way at the beginning of a trip- before you realize that you haven't really left all your problems behind, after all.  The flight over was good.  Getting settled in our rooms at the private estate we'd engaged for this little shindig was even better.  Heather and I?  We are suffering this strain because we want to make a baby together.  We are not falling out of love- we're just two people in love who are under a massive amount of stress, and whose normal outlet for that- lovemaking- has been curtailed because we're trying to optimize our chances of making a baby.

It was hardly a death knell, it just made us.... fragile.  We still liked spending time together... talking, playing with Andy, just being affectionate.... but little things could and did set us off.  I hated lying there in bed next to her at night- harder than a rock but unable to make love to her because it was the wrong time.  I hated how when she reached for me, I'd roll away because she was just too big a temptation.  I hated how that would make her feel and how in the morning, she'd pull away from me in return when I wanted to hold her while we were showering or dressing.  It was like this big shitty chain of dominos that I just couldn't stop from crashing over... one after the next- after the next.

Getting away helped some... so did throwing myself into my work- but still, we both never really let any of it go.  It was always there, simmering... just under the surface.

[January 2004.  Kent, England.  Pre-wedding dinner]

LACHLAN     

For as trying as it can be getting my young family to these gatherings, I really do enjoy them.  Not so much the bit where I spend the evenings wondering if (and when) my lads will act up... but I do enjoy getting to act up myself with the older 'boys'.  You know- flirting with the girls...raising a pint or two with the boys.... and, of course, the ever important footy.  Tonight, I ache a bit from the match we played earlier.  Bloody good fun, but I'm not as young as I used to be.

Still, it's a good ache.  My arm hurts where it connected with Hando's face and I have a similar ache in my leg from where he connected with me.... but what's not to love?  All of us gave it as good as we got it and there isn't much I enjoy more than a good match with my Brothers.  Reminds me of home.  That feeling of family.

My boys were there, playing nearby under the watchful eye of their Mum while the rest of us played a rougher version of the same game.  I saw Cort out for a walk and even saw O'Leary and his young wife talking a walk under the trees.  Well, he was walking.  She was climbing the trees and tossing acorns at him.  I thought at first she must have been going up after her son- he's a cheeky little bugger- but no, it was just her up the tree.  It made me laugh. 

She's an odd girl.  Quiet but not subdued.  Unpredictable.  A real class act.... polite... bit standoffish.  She's got this peace about her that I like, but under that she's got this mischievousness that draws me just as much.  I've seen it.  Her eyes sparkle naughtily and then she does something crazy.  Like climb a tree and throw acorns or dragging her husband off by his tie, eyes flashing while blushing a gorgeous shade of pink.... hell, once I even found her in a fort my boys had made, playing soldier with all the kids.

Hard to imagine she's the same girl I see out on the dance floor now, swaying in her husband's arms.  Fine looking couple- and flaming hell, can they move.  It's not flashy- just sensual.  Good job I've got my boys at my side here to distract me.  I just don't know what it is about her.  She's so different from Darce.  Where she is sweet and soft, all peaches and cream like a bouquet of delicate apricot tulips, Heather's more like one of those climbing roses, a wild tangle of vines.  The blooms are just as delicate but the canes are hardy and dotted with thorns.  There's a wildness in her that I find incredibly compelling.   

It's different than the Pull, deeper and less physical.  I can't really explain it.  And for the life of me, I can't quite figure her out.  I'm not sure what I've done to put her off, but even though she's always impeccably polite when we meet, she's also standoffish.  Distant.  Watching her dance tonight, I realized I've never once taken a turn on the floor with her.  Never once had a conversation alone with her.  Never once been alone in her presence.  Odd... especially considering my propensity for flirting with pretty girls- to say nothing of the fact that images of her occasionally float through my mind.

Not so much prurient images- though I admit having had a few of those... but to be fair, she's not the only sister-in-law I've had the odd fantasy about.  I rather fancy Uma, too... and strangely enough, Hando's wife Jody does make the odd appearance in my dreamscape as well... but Heather's the only one who randomly pops into my mind.... like when I'm roughhousing with my boys- I remember that time I saw her playing footy on her knees with the kids or when I'm having a pint with Terry, I remember the way I once saw her laugh and touch his arm at something clever he said.  That sort of thing. 

Riding herd over my boys tonight, I had some time to really think about it and I realized that it hurt my feelings a bit to see her being so warm and friendly with the others and so cool and reserved with me, especially when I couldn't think of a single thing I'd ever done to deserve it.  Maybe I'd wronged her in another life, hey?  Somehow, that thought left me with an unpleasant tingle of.... awareness?  Hell, I don't know.  Maybe it was just my suspicions about Darce and Bud fucking White fueling my melancholy tonight. 

Brother or not, I'd still like to put one in his kidneys.  And I might yet.  Fucking dirtbag.  I'm not nearly the dupe they think I am.  I might be prone to popping off- but I'm not stupid enough to tip my hand.  So, for now... I just smile... play the happy husband... and wonder if the rope I've given them both is enough for them to hang themselves.  We'll see.  And there's always the slim chance I might be wrong.... wouldn't be the first time.... but a man always knows when another man's interested in his woman and that sleazy cunt White had been sniffing around her skirt a long fucking time. 

Then again, gossip in the Family has it that he's none too particular about whose skirt he's got his hand up.  Reckon he's none too particular about his vows, either, if that gossip is true.  Bastard.  I know we all got a raw deal with this Pull crap but that's a hell of a lot different than putting it every bit of cheap tail he can get his fucking hands on.  Pretty hypocritical thing to think considering I once lay with another man's wife.... and I'm not excusing it... but that was war and I did love her with every fiber in my body.  I still do.  Somehow, I have a hard time imagining what White feels is hardly so fine.          

My internal musings were cut off as I was summoned to be a witness for the signing of Jack's Contract.  Benefits of age, hey?  It was one duty I could have done without, especially considering Max and Terry had summoned White along with Hando and me.... but I was never one to shirk my duties, personal or otherwise.  I may cover a lot with a cheerful smile, but I didn't miss the look Terry shot Dino... nor how he took up a watchful stance, in view of all the exits, while we retired to the study to get down to it. 

Figures it wouldn't go smoothly.  Max and Terry had concerns about Jack's intended.  Bloody gorgeous girl- but I know a tart when I see one.  Jack seemed oblivious, but then again, men in love are often blind to what is before their eyes.  Max urged caution.  Jack blew.  And what a surprise- fucking White backed the good Captain's right to bring a little tramp like her into our protective little fold. 

Struck me as funny.  The sleaze defends the whore.  I bit my tongue and smiled into my drink.  Reckon he was probably the best judge of tarts around, seeing as how he was so bloody familiar with them.  To be honest, I didn't really care- just so long as he kept his slimy mitts off my woman and Isobel kept her poison the fuck away from my family.                 

I was in a strange mood, coming out of that little conference.  A bit on edge.  A bit amused with my own dark humor.  A bit iffy with this strange feeling niggling at me.  Still, it seemed a toast was in order considering the wedding had just gotten the green light.  I smiled to myself, imagining the scene I'd have made if they'd tried to pull that contract shit with me.  Fair dinkum, I'd have shoved that bloody contract right up his arse and married my girl anyway. 

Champagne was passed around.  Terry grinned and then went on to toast the new couple and welcome them into the Family.  It was met by the cheers and well wishes of most everyone.  Max was less than joyous, though he's not really one for public displays of emotion... and then there was Dino who raised his glass but looked like he'd rather be chewing his own arm off than welcoming this newest addition to the fold.... Still, it was Heather's reaction that amused me the most.  She raised her glass and inclined her head but didn't take so much as a single sip.  Bloody brilliant, love.  Our eyes met and I all but saluted her with my glass.  Dino spoke into her ear, no doubt chiding her for her obvious cut and I saw that wild sparkle in her eyes that I'm so fond of.

Funny isn't it, how some women take an immediate dislike to each other?  It amused me.  They were both exceedingly polite, of course... but Heather avoided her even more than she avoided me and every time she cut her dead, Isobel's eyes would shoot daggers at her back.  Women!  Why can't they just be like men?  Pound the flaming crap out of each other and be done with it.  I had a sudden little fantasy... relived that moment during flight school where Zeke dropped that little pissant Dipper with a swift hard knee to the groin... only it was me and White playing the parts of Zeke and Dip.  Ahh, so sue me.  I may be getting older but sometimes, I'm not all together sure I'm actually growing up.

Jack raised his glass in return to Terry's eloquent toast to the new couple and thanked him before he saluted us all and tossed back his drink in one gulp.  Isobel was at his side smiling- but it did absolutely nothing to hide the venomous hatred in her eyes.  If looks could kill, hey?  She was no doubt cursing us all... or at least those involved in the background check... Terry, Dino, Max... 

Like Jack, she too raised her glass and drank deeply.  I damn near crushed the flute in my fingers as that itchy, uneasy little niggle inside me became a dull roar.  It was like I'd been living without sound and someone suddenly turned the volume knob up to an ear bleeding decibel.  It felt like when you rip away a scab, revealing flesh that's too new underneath.  I felt raw.  Exposed.     

Across the small circle of well-wishers, my eyes met Heather's.  Memory slammed into me.  My crossing.  Hyde park.  Red poppies..... a dark haired girl.... a night of solace and wild passion....  coming in her arms.... crying in them, too.  Comprehension.  My God!  It was her.

HEATHER        

Even before the well wishes faded away, my skin had prickled with an uneasy heat, fueling a warm rush inside me that felt like a cross between a fever and the adrenaline spike presaging the flight-or-fight response.  I felt the weight of a heavy gaze and shifted uncomfortably.  My eyes met Lachlan's and I swallowed a gasp.  One look at his face... and I knew. 

He had remembered. 

Oh, God.  I saw it all pass over his expressive face in a matter of moments.  Shock.  Horror.  Comprehension.  Suspicion.  'Why had she lied to me?'  Shame.  'All this time... why hadn't I remembered?'  Unease.  'Oh, fuck... what if someone notices my reaction....'  Concern.  'Jesus.... who else knows about this?'   Ever the quick thinker, his eyes darted around the room.  

I was mortified.  What on earth could I possibly say to explain my silence?  I felt rooted to the spot, unable to make my body obey the most simple command.  Go.  Now!  He tossed back the entire contents of his glass in one swallow and his face closed off as he turned away.  I swayed, unsteadied and unnerved by his sudden recollection.  Why now?  Why this moment?  What would trigger a memory that had been so deeply buried for years?  It made me uneasy. 

I swallowed hard around the lump of nerves in my throat.  God, I hope Lach kept his mouth shut.  He was hardly the sort to go blabbing about the personal, intimate details of his life... but things were already so strained between Dino and I, I couldn't help but worry this revelation would somehow upset the delicate balance between us right now.            

"You all right, honey?"  I felt Dino's hand at my elbow.  It got less reassuring as he realized where my attention had been fixed.  Can't say I blame him but, God, I needed to get out of here. 

I nodded but knew he wasn't buying it.  Still, I was rattled.  More than I thought I would be, honestly.  I thought I'd made my peace with this long ago... but knowing he now remembered the many intimacies we exchanged that night and seeing the hurt and mistrust and question in his eyes was just such a devastating blow.  I just needed a moment to regroup, to compose myself before I said or did something stupid.  I mumbled some excuse about needing the powder room and beat a hasty retreat.

I made a brief stop in the sitting room portion of the elegant bathroom suite, but facing a wall of mirrors was the last thing I wanted to do.  It was too bright in there.  Too easy to see the two spots of color high on my pale cheeks.  Too easy to see how shaken I was.  I thought about slipping outside- but January in England?  My filmy crepe dress and light blue shawl would do nothing to ward off the evening's chill. 

Desperate for some peace and quiet, I ducked into one of beautifully manicured atriums that adorned each wing of this old estate.  It was dark inside and the scent of rich fecund earth hung heavy in the air, no doubt due to the profusion of orchids and lush tropical foliage adorning the unique space.  Tucked among the numerous planters and hanging baskets were several comfortable places to sit.... a pair of old wingback chairs, a small chaise... a delicate settee was nestled in the corner.  It looked a bit like some gentleman's study had lost ground to his lady's green thumb and love of exotic flowers.  It was the perfect place to hide. 

I tried to sit down but couldn't.  I had too much on my mind to keep still.  I wound up standing in front of the wall of glass, my arms wrapped around myself, just staring out at the night.... lost in memories of a different night.  There aren't too many times in a person's life where they can look back and say- that one moment changed the course of my life forever.  For me, that night with Lachlan was a watershed.  And it was so very much more than a simple awakening to passion. 

It hadn't been soft- or romantic.  It had been tender and wild, underscored by sadness and loss.... and yet sharpened by some kernel of hope, buried deep within each of us.  Lachlan was the first man to treat me like a woman.  He was the first touch of sun that began to ripen a girl still green on the vine.  He was...lover....  Teacher....  Friend.... Confessor.  And he was also simply a man with burdens of his own.

In the years since then, I have come to understand it was in the sharing of those burdens, as much as the sharing of our bodies, that made that night one of the most treasured of my life.  Lachlan didn't try to shield me from his pain or from the harsh realities of life.  We live.  We love.  We hurt.  We grow.  We move on.  Not always with grace- but still, we move forward as best we can. 

He judged me strong enough to share both his unrestrained passion and his heavy burden- and he helped me understand the consequences of doing so.  He taught me how to walk with my own heart.  How to savor the good and how to shoulder the bad.  How to see them both as moments that should be embraced equally.  He taught me that hiding from hurt cheapens the experience because you're not allowing it to touch you as deeply as it should. 

I have never forgotten the lesson.    

Since that night, I have recalled his words many times, often at the lowest points in my life when I just didn't know how I'd ever find the strength to play the hand I'd been dealt, much less move on with anything approaching grace.  And until I'd come to understand he had no memory of me- I'd often wondered how he remembered that night.  With regret?  With fondness?  With peace?  Had he ever known how important it had been to me?  Had he ever remembered it and smiled?  Had he ever wondered about my life as I'd wondered about his? 

All those old feelings came rushing back, only they had a harder edge to them this time around.  He would know I lied to him about Oz.  What would he think of me now?  What would he think of that night?  What had prompted his sudden recall?  What would it mean for the future? 

I took a deep breath and pulled my shawl tighter around my shoulders; bent my head and closed my eyes.  I thought of the little gold button I'd kept.  I thought of Gen's dogtags.  I thought of my old Dean and of Andy... and of Dino and the baby we were trying so hard to make.... and I thought of Lachlan, too.  When did life get to be so complicated?

LACHLAN

Shock.  Confusion.  Anger.  Embarrassment.... Shame.    

The realization left me reeling.  Aside from my Crossing, I hadn't felt this raw since Lil spurned my love at her brother's funeral.  I am a man who knows who he is and what he wants.  I rarely falter.  Tend to go right after what I want.  Case in point- my family.  I know better than most to grab hold of the good things while you can, and it's not often I encounter a situation that makes me question myself.  Generally, pilots aren't particularly adept at self-doubt.  Too much of that and you get your arse blown out of the sky.   

I was having to take a hard look at myself now, though.  How the fuck had I missed something so bloody huge?  Why hadn't my mind ever made the connection?  The fact that I hadn't done so made me unsettled and uncomfortable.  Worse, Heather had seen my reaction, had seen my utter shock as comprehension dawned and I stood there with my mouth hanging open like some callow boy.  Even worse still, she'd gone pale and fled.  Fucking perfect.  I can only imagine what she thinks of me.  Probably isn't nearly as bad as what I think of myself, however.  Christ.  Is it any wonder she's been distant?  Knowing what I do of women, I'm bloody lucky I didn't get slapped.  God knows I deserved it.    

Angry and disturbed on a number of levels, I left moments later, claiming the need for a smoke.  Wasn't that the fucking truth?  I could have killed for a fag just then.  And a drink.  Heather went one way and I made sure I went the other.  I did not want to run into her.  I needed a moment to collect myself.  Maybe more than a moment. 

I went outside and lit up.  The night was cold and dark and I just breathed it in, taking a measure of peace in the familiar routine.  Pull out a fag.  Tap it on the packet.  Feel the friction of the little metal wheel of my Zippo under the rough pad of my thumb.  See the little flame glow.  Taste the tobacco on my tongue as I inhaled.  Feel the tension slowly start to dissipate with each slow exhale. 

I leaned against the wall and rubbed my face, trying to make sense of it all.  The more I thought about it, the more confused I got.  For years, my memories of that night had been hazy at best.  It was just after I Crossed.  My world was in utter chaos.  I'd just lost everyone and everything I'd ever loved.  I was alone and afraid.  Lost.  I felt anchorless, adrift in a strange new world.  I got drunk... met a girl in a pub.  I hardly remember her save for a few precious details.  She had dark hair, smelled of lavender... and felt of peace. 

We spent the night together.  She was gone when I woke.  The hangover I had was bad but the sense of loss I felt was worse.  I can't tell you her name or describe to you her face... but I can tell you she saved me.  I know it in my heart.  I needed someone and she was there for me.  That night was a watershed for me.  I was barely clinging to my sanity, feeling caught between my old life and this new one... and what passed between us that night helped center me.  Helped me find the way forward- with grace. 

I still have the note she left me.  Three little words.  

I won't forget. 

Ironic, isn't it?  Though to be fair, I didn't really forget either.  Not the things that really mattered.  She was lost to me, but the feeling of peace she engendered in me remained behind.  And I still carry it inside me, even after all this time.  But I am a man, and to be honest, I don't dwell much on the past.  I am ashamed to admit I have had many hazy one-night-stands in my life- but the night I spent with her is the only one that has ever had the power to move me.   

I don't relive the memory often- but shadowy glimpses of that night have occasionally come to me in my dreams when my life is in emotional turmoil.  I dreamed of that night off and on for weeks after she left me.  I dreamed of it the night I made the decision to leave Oz and head out for America.  I dreamed of it the night before I told Darce about my Crossing and again the two times Bud had sent flowers to my wife.... I can go months- sometimes years at a time without dreaming of it... but the truth is, they've been coming more frequently as my suspicions about Bud and Darce grew more pointed.

Pulling out my flask, I took a sip and brushed my finger over the raised Celtic knotwork decorating the surface.  It was my only other tangible memory from that night.  It had to be hers.  I'd found it tucked into my things shortly after she'd left.  I might not have been able to remember her face- but I have carried a reminder of that precious night with me each and every day since then.  It suddenly struck me hard.  Jesus.  It's been nearly twelve years now. 

That drew me up short.  Twelve years?  The thought twisted my guts as I recalled Heather's youthful face... and counted backwards by twelve.  Christ, how old had she been?!  Had I fucked a little girl?  Where my memories of that night had been hazy before, now they were almost too sharp- as if I was remembering with unusual clarity something that had only happened this morning...not a night of passion that had passed into hazy memory more than a decade ago. 

Now I could remember everything.  Every word.  Every touch given and received.  Every bite.  Every gasp.  Every taste and scent.  It made me hard.  It made me ashamed, too.  In the private anonymity of the darkness, I replayed the entire night in my mind in a way I was unprepared to do earlier.  Jesus.  She'd been an innocent and I'd been.... well, I'd been a man with her.  Uninhibited and unapologetic.  I did everything a man dreams of doing with a woman- but typically doesn't because of some unspoken boundary that society tells us not to cross.  I did them all with her... and more.  I gave of my body and my heart that night.  I let her see my soul.  And she gave of herself in equal measure to me.     

I'm not sure if it was the Pull or just something about her that allowed me to be so free that night.... but now I felt like the biggest bastard alive to have taken so much peace from a night that not only tread along the boundary of acceptable behavior- but one I'd made abundantly clear to her I'd forgotten.  How that must have cut her.  She'd given the most precious gift of herself.  Not just her body- but the essence of what makes her the person that she is... and even though I'd treasured what that night brought to me in my own way, she would be sure to think that because I hadn't remembered her face that the night had meant nothing to me. 

I wished with all my heart that I could make her understand.  It was never about her looks at all.  It was about the part of her that had touched me inside.  It was about the things she'd given me that still lived on in my breast even now.  It just killed me to know I'd hurt someone who'd brought me such peace.  Taking one last drag for courage, I flicked the butt away into night and stepped back inside.  I knew what I needed to do.  Hard as it was, I needed to talk to her.  To put this right.  And to thank her for one of the most meaningful nights of my life.