fast as he—or we—would like. So what if he’s a pot-smoking draft dodger and none of the generals respect him. He’s committed to helping gays and lesbians. He knows he wouldn’t be president without our votes.” Seeing Eddie’s continued look of disbelief, Don said, “Have a little bit of hope, man. Clinton’s the man from Hope!”
“I lost my hope on April 4, 1968. I was eight.”
“What happened? I don’t know—”
“Of course you don’t, white boy.” Eddie’s usually gentle tone was tinged with bitterness. “That’s the day they killed Martin Luther King. If they’ll kill a man who preaches peace just ’cause of the color of his skin, things ain’t never gonna get better for gay men or lesbians. Especially not for gay men with a deadly, incurable, infectious disease.”
Don believed his optimism was merited but he respected Eddie’s pessimism. “Want another beer?” Don tossed his can into a trash bin as he walked to his jeep.
“I’m good, but if you have any water, Rocky could use a drink, couldn’t ya, boy.”
Don smiled at the sight of his friend petting his little companion. “Aren’t you glad I talked you into getting a dog? How long has it been, a year?”
“Let’s see now. Ray died in November of ’ninety-one and I rescued Rocky from that nasty shelter four months later, so yeah, almost a year. How could anyone give up a sweet handsome fella like you, Rocky? Their loss is my gain.”
Don returned to the bench as he watched Karl’s team rotate. “No hope? Things aren’t that bad. Saturday afternoon in Balboa Park in the middle of winter. Santa Ana winds blowing the warm desert air down to the ocean. The war is over and everyone we care about made it home. Life couldn’t be better.” He grunted and gulped his beer. “What do we even need Clinton for?”
Eddie knocked on the wooden table. “My bayou superstition must be actin’ up ’cause it scares me when you talk shit like that. Maybe things aren’t that bad but don’t upset the balance by flauntin’ our good luck. We both got five years left to go. Look how many people we know who got screwed out of their pension just before hitting the magic twenty-year mark.”
“They got caught ’cause they got careless. Can’t let down your guard, not for a minute.”
“Who are you talking about?” Eddie asked. “Jeanne? You want to tell her—to her face—that she got careless? If you do, you’re a braver man than me.”
“It’s different for the women, you know that. People assume—”
“It’s not any different for women. Where’d you get that shit? Wanna talk about careless? Look where you’re at. The gayest part of Balboa Park, which is smack dab in the gayest part of San Diego. Hangin’ out with some obvious queens—no, I don’t mean me,” Eddie added, preempting Don’s jab. “Karl rubbin’ sunscreen on your back in broad daylight.”
“Oh come on, straight guys smear lotion on each other’s bare backs all—the—” Don and Eddie broke into laughter before Don could complete his sentence.
“No they don’t, not here in the park. Anyone from your unit could drive by and wonder why Gunny Hawkins is hangin’ out with a bunch of ’mos. We’ve all gotten careless but some of us have been luckier than others. I have hope—hope that your luck and mine lasts until 1998.” Eddie walked toward his car. “Be right back. I’m gonna get Rocky’s rubber ball.”
“You still trying to teach that old dog to fetch?” Don looked around, wondering if Eddie was right. The park was crowded with the usual inhabitants—dogs on leashes and their owners, babies in strollers and a few homeless folks happy for the break from a wet winter. Joggers and roller-bladers—male and female—circled the volleyball area checking out the shirtless players. Nothing looked dangerous but it was very gay. They’d grown comfortable with their lives and perhaps a little careless. Southern California, with its perpetual sunshine and reputation for laissez-faire attitudes, lulled people into the fantasy that life was always easy and grand. But with earthquakes, mudslides or wildfires, paradise was never more than seconds away from purgatory. Likewise, for gay men and lesbians in the military, a slip in an unguarded moment or an ill-timed encounter with the wrong person could send all of their lives into a tailspin.
Eddie untied Rocky from his leash and tossed the ball. “Go get it, boy!” Rocky, refusing to play the game, used his freedom to stretch and lie down in a different patch of grass.
“Give it up!” Don changed the subject by asking, “How’re you holding up?”
Eddie raised his head. “Okay, I guess. My T-cell count is as high as ever.”
“Good. But I meant,” Don said, leaning across the table, “how’re you doing—without Ray?”
Eddie sighed. “It never gets easier, does it.” He stared through his sunglasses into empty space. “I’m gonna wake up one day and the pain won’t be as bad. So far that hasn’t happened.”
“We’re glad you’re going out again. We missed you,” Don said sympathetically. “Besides, don’t you think Ray would want you to get back into life?”
Eddie wiped his shades clean with the tail of his tank top. “Don’t know what that means anymore. All I remember about ‘life’ is Ray getting sick and me taking care of him without the Navy finding out. Then he died. Other than that, I don’t have a fucking clue what ‘life’ is.”
“We’re all here for you—Karl, me, Robbi, Jeanne. Let us know what you need.”
“What I need is to get past this grief.” Eddie’s face projected raw pain. “I was sad when my father died but I didn’t feel physical pain. But now it feels like someone’s swingin’ a crowbar against the inside of my skull, that’s how painful the grief is. I was twenty-two when we met and we spent ten years together. I appreciate that y’all are here for me.” He looked at his pet, who sensed he was experiencing emotional trauma. “I’ve got Rocky—don’t I, boy—even if you won’t fetch. But I don’t know how anyone could help, other than what you’re already doing.”
“I’ve been there.”
“I know.” Eddie’s tone mellowed. “Does a day go by that you don’t—you don’t—?”
“That I don’t think about him?” Don turned his head away from Karl’s volleyball match and stared at Eddie, his closest friend for almost half his life. “When I’m busy, I might go a few hours without thinking about him. But that just makes it more painful when things slow down and I remember his little half-smile, with a corner of his mouth turned up, remember that?”
“Yes, very much.” Eddie nodded and smiled. “You two were quite the pair.”
“And a million other little things about him. I think about those all the time. It gets different. Life goes on. But honestly? I wouldn’t say it gets easier.” They sat, silently losing track of time.
“Don’t you think that he would want you to get back out there?” Eddie finally asked.
A cool breeze blew up the steep hill from the bay, and a salty ocean scent wafted gently across the park. “The wind’s shifting direction. It’ll get chilly again as the sun sets.”
“Quit changing the subject,” Eddie ordered. “Let you get away with that too many times. We both gotta get back into life. This is something we could do together.” Eddie seemed surprised at his switch from emotional paralysis to action, like he’d found a reservoir of strength.
They’d helped each other in rough times. “We’re young—maybe not for the military—but who cares? They would want us out there.” Both men were misty-eyed, sad over their past losses but happy they had each other. They hugged, sealing their agreement to get back into life.
“Your protégé is trying to tell you something.” Eddie pointed over Don’s shoulder.