Monday - storytime
<<------------------------------------------------->>
The Recruiter PT 4
By Julian Obedient
When's the last time you've lain in bed and held someone?
Lain? Mason repeated laughing.
Lain! When the last time you've lain in bed and held somebody close to
you? Michael said.
That's not a fair question.
What's not fair about it?
It's personal.
So?
So it's personal. People don't go around asking each other things like that.
Oh, no. Right. But they do go around asking each other to go and kill
somebody else or get killed themselves.
Scott Mason stared quietly at the ceiling as Michael lashed into him.
What are you getting at Michael?
No, it's what are you getting at Scott? And how long is it going to
take you to get there?
Why are you turning everything back on me? It's the same thing that
Derek kid did. It makes me dizzy. I like things clear, plain, and
simple."
I wonder, Michael said. But still the real question is what are you
getting at? Where will this whole misadventure take you? Can you get
yourself to the point where you can at least wonder that you were
selling death to kids and then ask yourself how a decent guy like you
could do a thing like that?
But Mason blocked the question. Turning on his side, he said with a
show of mild exasperation, You still have the same left-wing slant you
always have.
It's not a left-wing slant. Michael glared. If he did not get through
to him now, he never would and Mason would remain hopelessly broken,
lost to himself, with no foundation.
People with immense power and tremendous financial interest, he said
with slow emphasis, fight with each other for the control and
ownership of this or that and they get one group of people scared of
or angry at another group of people so that they're willing to bring
death and grief to each other. That's what's really going on. No
left-wing slant. The president lies. The secretary of defense lies.
Cheney's got a dirty hand in everything. There's been a fucking coup
d'etat in the United States. And it's still going on. And there's a
plague Everything is being consumed by war and brutality, death and
injury..
People are scared of each other and are harming each other. And
they're made to think and feel it's noble. Everybody has a good
reason. And there's you out there in some suburb of Chicago trying to
convince the kids to go to war, to become seriously maimed, to kill or
to die for these people and their interests, wow. Meanwhile,
coincidentally, the whole infrastructure of the United States is
falling apart, bigotry is being written into a constitutional
amendment, major rights and freedoms are being threatened in the name
of defending freedom, there's fucking torture, for Christ's sake, and
the mainstream culture is getting stupider by the minute.
Mike stopped.
Slowly Scott drew in a breath. It was hot in the room. He was
stretched out on his bed. Michael was in the arm-chair across from
him. He knew what he was talking about. It was beating inside him like
a caged animal he was frightened of.
Scott sat up. He pulled off his shirt.
Go easy on me, Michael, he said pressing his palms into his eyes.
Sure, Scotty. I understand, Michael said. I don't want to make it
tough for you. But it's time you see things you haven't been able to.
Then Scott did a strange thing for him. He reached out his arm and
offered his hand.
Michael took hold of it. Mason drew him to his bedside.
Sit down, he said.
Michael sat beside Mason and Scott pressed his hand inside his own
fist and brought it to his bare chest.
I know, Michael. But you got to understand it isn't easy changing who you are.
You don't have to change anything. You just have to accept^?and
everything will fall into place.
To accept that I wanted those boys, especially Derek. And it excited me to^?
Michael waited.
You're queer for me? Mason said.
I have always been, Michael responded quietly.
But you never said anything.
What's to say?
How you felt.
I didn't have the right to do that.
But what if I needed it?
You say that now after things have begun to be clear to you. But then,
you would have run so fast. I wasn't interested in freaking you out
but in keeping you steady.
You were always so proper. I mean you were upfront about what you
thought, but you were, I don't know, cold, like you had no feelings. I
could not make it out. If you were friendly or what your motive was.
I had no motive. Or if I did, it was to keep boys like you, decent
kids but misguided, from signing away their souls and their bodies to
the military. I wanted to make sure kids I taught got a sense that
there were better things that they could do. That was my motive. With
you, at the time, I failed. You were bull-headed, and you wanted
something you could believe in and give yourself to.
Instead of saying you were queer upfront, you insinuated yourself as a
caring guru, but in the back of your mind, you were a seducer. You
wanted us to think like you. It was your way of getting the feeling
that you'd made a sexual conquest, that you existed, that you were
important.
Michael looked at him quietly. Mason knew what he was thinking. It was
true. He was talking about himself. It fit as perfectly as
Cinderella's shoe.
Seducer. Recruiter. What's the difference? Scott muttered.
He held Michael's hand tighter and pressed it harder to his chest.
Do you know what I did when I got home the day I met Derek?
Michael looked waiting for him to tell him.
I took off my uniform, looked at myself in the mirror, and jacked off
thinking about Derek standing at attention in front of me saying, yes,
sir to me.
At that point Mason broke down, but even in his softened condition he
would not want us to watch him crying.
But we may talk about him when we are out of his presence and tell
what discretion prevents us from showing.
It was not clear if Mason was crying at not being able to caress Derek
or at realizing that he wanted to or, most likely, a ridiculous
combination of the two.
Michael rocked him in his arms and put his cheek against his temple.
It made him sob more powerfully.
Michael held him tighter and felt Mason's tears on his own cheeks. He
kissed his eyes gently. Mason tightened his grip on Michael and kissed
the bend of his neck in response until their mouths slid together and
met in kisses that began tenderly and consolingly but soon became
passionate.
Mason got lost in a sensation that was nothing like what he had known before.
What have I been doing with my life? he said, still crying, but
softly, when he looked at Michael.
What you had to do. That's all. Welcome home.
