Date: Sat, 7 Dec 2002 16:19:40 -0800 (PST) From: rimpigfl Subject: MY DAUGHTER'S EX BOYFRIEND 24 Disclaimer: Usual stuff. This is fiction. Didn't happen to my knowledge. Some of the parts I hope never does. This story is dedicated to several people: My friend Bob in Illinois who's constant love and support over the last few years has seen me through some very rough times. Thank you, Bob, for always being there. My friend Geoff in England who's love and concern saw me through some of the very rough patches I went through writing this. My friend Joshua, wherever you are. I promise, Joshua, that I will never forget. And last, but NEVER least - to all Gay and Bi-Sexual members of the United States Marine Corps who continue to serve with bravery and distinction despite the persecution that they risk. To me, they are the true Heros. MY DAUGHTER'S EX BOYFRIEND - ERIC'S STORY 8 Part 24 The Narrator of the story is now Marine Master Sergeant Eric Meadows - Troy's father. By RimPig (c) 2002 I'm in a jungle. The heat, the smell of rotting vegetation, the bugs, all tell me that. But I don't know where I am. I am lost. Somehow, I know that I've been lost for several days. I smell the rancid odor of my own body covered in fear-sweat. I have my rifle, but that's all I have. I can't find my canteen and my mouth and throat are so dry from thirst that I can hardly unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. "Where the fuck am I? " "How did I end up this way?" These questions echo in my head and tear at my mind. Every noise in the jungle frightens me. I am lost, so very lost. I don't know where the drop point was, I don't know where the pick-up point is. I have no knowledge of what direction I am traveling or what direction I should be traveling. I move through the dank, hot, steaming vegetation as quietly as I can. I'm supposed to be trained to deal with this situation. I know that. But, somehow, I can't ever remember being trained for it or what I was taught to do. I know that somewhere inside of me is the knowledge of how to survive but I can't find it. I'm not even really sure that I want to! This surprises me most of all. I try to remember the mission. Nothing comes. I have no goddamned idea what I'm doing in this stinking jungle. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. So I keep moving, silently as I can. Searching. Searching for something. Maybe I'll know it when I see it. Maybe when I find whatever it is that I'm searching for, I will remember the mission, remember my training, figure out what the fuck I'm supposed to be doing here. No! Strike that! What WE'RE supposed to be doing here! I'm not supposed to be alone. I'm part of a team. 'Force Recon' they call us. Matt is part of the team, too. "Where the fuck is Matt?!" "Where is my lover, my partner, my buddy?!" "Why isn't he here?" "Why am I alone?!" Questions, always questions! But no answers! I know there are answers! I'm supposed to know the answers. But I don't know them! All I know is that I am alone and scared. I keep moving, always moving. If I could only find some water. If I could only find Matt. If I could only find somebody to help me get out of here! I'm slithering through the jungle, not making a sound. I don't remember how I know to do this but my body does. I keep moving, hoping to find someone, something familiar. Suddenly, I hear the buzz of voices. Far away. I drop into a crouch. I scan all around me. Nothing. But the buzz continues. I can't hear what they're saying. I can't hear moving in the jungle. But the buzz is there nonetheless. Finally, I move again. In the darkened jungle, I see light up ahead. This means a clearing of some kind. I approach slowly. I think the buzz of voices might be coming from there, but I can tell no direction to the sound. It is like the buzz is all around me in the jungle. Faint, but there. I creep closer and closer to the light of the clearing. I crouch behind some vegetation and try to see through the leaves into the clearing. The clearing is small, just a place where the tree cover of the dense jungle has failed to cover the ground completely. There is no movement in the clearing. I begin to quietly skirt around it. half way around, I see something. Something green but not vegetation. Something the same color of green as the fatigues I am wearing. It appears tied to a tree. I circle around to where it is. I approach cautiously. There is no movement. I finally approach the front of the tree. It is a Marine! He's tied to the tree! His helmeted head is down and I cannot see who it is but the outline of his body is familiar. I creep forward and rise next to him. "Marine!" I whisper harshly. "Marine! Can you hear me?" There is no answer, no movement. I reach up and push up the helmeted head. That's when I see all of the blood covering the front of his body and as I push the head up, I see the deep, wide gash in the throat! I look into the dead eyes of the Marine. "MATT!!!" I scream. Suddenly the scene changes. I am no longer in the jungle. I'm back in our cabin. But I'm still in uniform, I'm still carrying my rifle. I don't know why, but I creep around the cabin as if I"m in enemy territory. I find nothing. I hear no one. But I continue to investigate each area of the cabin. Finally, I quietly climb the circular stairs leading to the loft. I hear the buzz of voices again. They are far away. Outside the cabin. I can just barely hear them. I cannot make out what is being said or by whom. I look out the widows of the cabin but all I see are the lake and the woods. Nothing out of the ordinary. No one around. But still I hear the buzz. I cautiously raise my head as I reach the loft. I see Matt! He's laying on his side, turned away from me. He appears to be asleep. I move slowly and quietly toward the bed. I don't want to wake him. But I notice that he, like me, is in fatigues. This is curious to me. Neither Matt nor I ever wear our uniforms here at the cabin. We hardly ever wear clothes at all, especially when we're alone. I lay my rifle down and slowly crawl into the bed. I move toward Matt and I gently put my hand on his shoulder. He doesn't move. I pull at his shoulder and he rolls onto his back towards me. Again, I see the wide, gaping wound where his throat should be and blood all down the front of his body. Again, I look into his dead eyes. "MATT!!!" Now, there is nothing. I'm in a large open space. Nothing. There is no way to describe it. It seems as if there is something at great distance, but nothing is visible. I hear the buzz again. It is louder this time. I can almost make out what is being said. I turn around. Nothing. No one. I'm completely alone. I'm still wearing my fatigues, but I have lost my rifle. I look down the front of me and I see blood stains covering me. "HELP ME!!!"I scream. All is darkness now. I can see nothing. I'm cold. That's all I can feel. I do not know where I am. I don't know where anybody is. I can't remember what happened. All I can do is feel the cold. It is down deep inside of me. Cold. Right to the bone. Again, I hear the buzz. Louder this time. I can almost make out what is being said. I strain to hear, but cannot. Then it stops. I am left with only darkness. And the cold. Then nothing. I'm aware again. I don't know how long it has been. I'm not cold anymore but I still am in darkness. I hear the buzz of voices only this time, I can barely make out what is being said. "Blood pressure has come up, sir, but there's still been no return to consciousness." one male voice says. "Keep him on the same medications. I look in on him later. Be alert for any sign of him waking up." another male voice says. "Yes, sir." the first male voice again. I try to talk. I try to move my mouth. I try to make sounds but nothing comes. I'm exhausted by the effort and, again, there is nothing. It is all darkness again. I faintly here noises. I cannot see. I don't know where I am. I hear voices again. Far away. I try to move. The effort is monumental but I feel my body begin to respond - slowly, sluggishly. The effort causes pain to stab through me. I groan. I can hear my own voice! Suddenly, there is a presence beside me. It is warm, male. I can smell the scent of him. I freeze. I don't know who this is. Is he the enemy? Have I been captured? "Sergeant? Sergeant Meadows? Can you hear me?" his voice is low, but young. I moan in response. "Sergeant Meadows, can you hear me? Can you move your right arm for me?" the voice asks. I try to move my right arm for him. It is difficult but I finally get my arm to respond to my command. It hurts and I moan again. "That's good, sergeant! Can you open your eyes?" the voice now asks. So that's why I can't see! My eyes are closed! I try to open them. My eyelids feel as if they weigh a ton! Finally small slits of light appear. Their brightness overwhelms me and I close my lids again. "Come on, Sergeant. Open your eyes. Try." the voice comes, pleading this time. I try again. For some reason, I want to please the voice. I want to do what it says. I gradually open my eyes. I can't focus at first and then things begin to become clear. I'm in a hospital room. I'm in a bed. I'm covered in bandages. I look up and there is a young male. He's dressed in green. Not a uniform. Like a surgical suit. A stethoscope hangs around his neck and he's looking at me very intently. Green eyes. Beautiful green eyes. He looks young and beautiful. I try to lift my hand to touch his face but I cannot. He reaches down and takes my hand, gently pushes it back down on the bed, covers it with his own. "There you are! You've been out for a long time, Sergeant. Do you have any idea where you are?" he asks. "Nnnn...nnnooo." I manage to croak. "You're in Ramsdale, Germany. Your in the base hospital. You were flown here after your mission. Do you remember anything about that?" he asked. "Nnnn...nnnooo." I croak again. "Wwwwaaaatttt...rrrrr" I try to ask for water. "Water? You want water?" he asks. I look up into his beautiful green eyes, pleading. He grabs a cup and I see him pour water from a carafe into it. He then puts a drinking straw in it and brings it to the bed. He gently slides his hand under my head and lifts until my lips can reach the straw. I feel the cool liquid fill my mouth. "Easy there, Sergeant. Just take it slow." he says. I do as I am told. I drink the cooling water slowly. My throat feels so dry that even the water at first doesn't help. He continues to hold the cup while I drink it all. He slowly lowers my head back to the pillow and takes his hand away. I'm sorry he does. I liked him touching me. I want him to touch me again. I want someone to touch me again. Yes! That's it! I want someone to touch me but I can't remember who! There is someone I want to hold me and touch me. I just can't remember who it is. All of this effort has been too much for me. I close my eyes and there is darkness again. "Sergeant. Sergeant Meadows." I hear another voice. Male. Older. I open my eyes. He's standing there looking down at me. He's tall. Somewhere in his 30's. Dark hair and a moustache. He's wearing a green surgical suit with a white lab coat. A stethoscope around his neck. "I'm Doctor Anderson, Sergeant. How are you feeling?" he asks. "Ooookkkaaayyy..." I manage to say. "Do you have any pain?" he asks again. There is pain in my chest which I now notice as well as in my legs. I try to nod my head but suddenly I'm dizzy and feel like I'm going to throw up. I stop moving my head and it passes. "Yyyeeesss." I say. "You've been very badly injured, Sergeant. You've been in a coma for several months now. We didn't think you'd ever wake up. Believe me, Sergeant, you're very lucky to be alive at all. Do you remember anything?" he asks. I try to remember. Nothing comes. I remember the dreams but that's all. I don't think they're real. But I have no way of knowing. "Nnnoo." I say finally. "Well, nothing unusual about that. Anyone who's gone through what you've been through probably is better off not remembering." he said. I couldn't understand what he meant. What had I been through? What had happened? Why was I in Germany? I remembered that from what the corpsman (I guessed he was a navy corpsman - the one with the beautiful green eyes - that's who usually tends Marine wounded.) said last night. Or was it last night? I didn't know. "Now that you've come out of the coma, some of your memory will return gradually. I won't lie to you, Sergeant. You've got a long road ahead of you. Your recovery is going to take quite a long time. When you're strong enough, we'll transfer you to a hospital back home." the doctor said. Home. Where was home? Camp Pendelton. Troy. Matt! Where was Matt?! "Mmmaaattt?" I asked. "What was that, Sergeant?" he asked. "Mmmaattt!" I said again. "Matt? Oh, yes! Some of the nurses did record that you mentioned that name several times. I don't know who that is but I'll find out, Sergeant. Don't worry. We going to take care of you." he said and then he left. Where is Matt? What's happened? I was suddenly very afraid. I remembered the dreams. Matt in my arms - dead. What did it mean?! Why couldn't I remember?! These thoughts exhausted me and I went back to sleep. It was several days before I could actually sit up in bed. I was still being fed through tubes but they started me on soft foods. Pudding, Jello, apple sauce, things like that. I was able to talk but barely. I kept asking about Matt and they kept saying they weren't aware of any 'Matt' but would find out for me. A few days later, I was sleeping when I felt a hand touch my shoulder. "Eric. Eric. Are you awake?" the voice asked. It was a voice I finally recognized. I opened my eyes and Capt. Mitchell was leaning over me. "C-c-captain?" I said. "Yes, Eric, it's me. How are you doing?" he asked. I turned over on my back and raised the back of the bed so I could look at him. He looked like hell! He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and wanted to be any place on earth except in this hospital room with me. "Ok, I guess. I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't really know what's wrong with me. I don't remember anything." I told him. "Nothing?" Captain Mitchell asked. "Nothing. I'm told that I went on a mission, but I can't remember it! I don't know where it was or how I ended up here in Germany? Was the mission here?" I asked. "No, Eric. The mission wasn't here. We transported you here because you were so badly injured. It's where all hostages are brought." he said. "Hostages? I was a hostage?" I asked in shock. "You were captured, yes. We almost didn't get to you in time." Capt. Mitchell said. "Captain, where's Matt?" I asked, now afraid of the answer. "That's why I'm here, Eric. The doctors and nurses said you keep asking about him. I know that you two were very close." he said and then paused. "I don't know how to tell you this, Eric..." I looked at him and I knew. "You don't have to. He's dead, isn't he." I said, my voice hollow. "I'm sorry, but, yes, Eric. He was killed. You two were captured together. You were both tortured and they killed Matt. They'd almost killed you by the time we got to you. We didn't really think you were going to make it." Capt. Mitchell said. "I wish I hadn't." I said, my voice flat. "Don't say that! We lost 4 good men on that fucked-up mission! I don't need to lose another one!" he said, his voice harsh. I looked up and I could see the anguish on his face and tears falling down his cheeks. I was shocked. I never thought I'd ever see a Marine officer cry. I could feel the tears running down my own cheeks. I reached out my hand to him and he took me in his arms and held me. We both cried for a long time. When we stopped, I asked him to tell me what happened. He told me that the mission had been a failure almost from the start. Somehow, the drug cartel had gotten word of our intent and were waiting for us. He didn't know a lot of the details because agents from the CIA and the DEA had de-briefed those left but had not allowed any of the men to remain part of the team. The team had been disbanded and everyone was transferred to different units. Everyone but me. I was the only one still in the hospital after all these months. Capt. Mitchell told me that from what he knew, Matt and I had been captured by the drug-lord's personal army and had both been tortured. They had finally killed most of them but the "Big Boss" had been captured3. They had found me in the basement along with the instruments of torture that they had used on Matt and me. I was hanging from pipes running across the ceiling and Matt's body was below me. Capt. Mitchell said that when they cut me down, I collapsed on Matt, sobbing. They had a hard time getting me to let go of the body. When I did, I collapsed and they figured that's when I went into the coma. He told me they had carried me out of the jungle and put me on a plane for Germany. He also told me that Matt's body had been returned to his family and given a military funeral in his home town. I asked him about Janet and Troy. He told me that they were doing ok but had not been brought here to Germany because there didn't seem to be any use while I was so ill. I also got the feeling that there was another reason that he wasn't telling me. "When do I go home?" I asked him. "I have no idea. The doctor's say you're still in pretty rough shape. There are still people who want to question you about what happened as well." he said. Oh! So that was the reason. Well, tough luck, guys! There's nothing I can tell you. "It won't do them any good. I don't remember anything." I said. "I know. They were hoping that me telling you this much would trigger some kind of memory for you." he said. "No. Nothing. All I know is that Matt's dead. That's enough." I said, my voice flat again. "Look, Eric. You've got to get over this. Matt knew the risks going in. You both volunteered the team, remember?" he said. I looked at him as if I could kill him. He jerked back in surprise. "The only reason that Matt and I volunteered for the team was it was the only way we could figure out, at the time, that we could serve together without gettin' split up! Now I wish we had! He'd still been alive!" I said quietly, my voice full of menace. "Look, I know you two guys were close, Eric. I know how it hurts to lose a friend...." he said, trying to calm me. "A friend?! A fuck lot you know about it! Friend?! Matt was everything to me! I wish I'd died with him! There is no life for me without him!" I said, hot tears springing to my eyes again. "Go away. Just get the fuck out of here!" I screamed. He left. I lay there for a long time crying. I wanted to die. I wanted to be with Matt. I didn't want to go home to a life without him. I couldn't face that! Everything would remind me of him. Even Troy. As much as I loved my son, I didn't want anything to do with him. I knew I would look at him and all I would remember would be the times that Matt and I were with him - at home, up at the cabin. I wondered if there was some way I could kill myself, but I was too weak to even get out of bed. That's when the nightmares started. It wasn't like the coma. I could see clearly the basement we had been held in. I could see the face of the men who tortured us. I could hear Matt's cries of agony and I would wake up screaming. The young corpsman with the beautiful green eyes came running in. I reached out and he put his arms around me and held me until I could calm down. As I cried in his arms he held me and stroked my head - so much like Matt used to do. Finally, he got me back to sleep. But it kept happening. Every night I would wake up screaming and every night that same corpsman would hold me and stroke my head until I calmed down enough to again sleep. Even sleeping pills didn't help. Finally, I refused to take them. I tried to just stay awake so that the dreams wouldn't come. Then the young corpsman would come and sit with me, late in the night. We talked. He told me about his home. He was from somewhere in west Texas. He was a Navy corpsman but was studying to become a registered nurse. I told him about my home in Georgia. He asked about my wife and son. I told him about Troy. And then, though I don't know why I did it - maybe just needed to talk to somebody about it, I told him about Matt. All about Matt. I told him the truth that no one but me now knew. How much I loved him. How much he loved me. How much we meant to each other. I told him about us meeting in boot camp and those first 10 months we had together. I told him about us being split up and how much I missed him for that time. I told him about Janet and how I had gotten her pregnant and had married her. I told him how Matt had come back, beaten the shit out of me and nearly left me. I told him about the cabin - about all the wonderful times that he and I had there. I even told him about the picture that Troy had drawn of us asleep in each other arms. I told him all of it. And he listened. I was afraid, after I'd gotten it all out, that he'd report me. I'd find my ass thrown out with a dishonorable discharge - after all, "Don't ask, Don't Tell!". But when I finished, the young corpsman reached out and put his hand on mine, just like he'd done the first night. I looked into his beautiful green eyes and there were tears there. "I only wish, Sergeant, that someday I find a man to love me the way you and Matt loved each other." he said quietly. I looked at him in shock! I wasn't expecting that reaction at all! I don't know why, I guess I was so lost in my own grief that I didn't think about him. Then all of his soft touches, his holding me, came back in a flash and I realized why I had felt so comforted by him. Unconsciously I had reached out to another gay male. But that was not the real shock. That came when he leaned forward and gently kissed me on the lips. "I'm not Matt. No one could ever replace him. But if you need someone, if physical comfort can help you in anyway, I wish you would let me help you, Sergeant." he said gently smiling at me. "I think after that you should call me Eric." I said quietly, suddenly very shy with him. "Ok, Eric, as long as you call me Jeff." he said, his face breaking into a big grin. "Jeff, I don't know if I could even get it up right now but trust me, If I can, you'll be the first to know." I smiled. "I understand. My offer also includes a shoulder to cry on and arms to hold you if you need them as well." he smiled back. "I think right now that would be the most wonderful thing I could think of." I said looking at him. He got up and sat on the bed next to me. He reached out and put his arms around me and I rested my head against his shoulder. His arms were strong around me and I felt myself letting go and before I knew it, I was crying - deep heavy sobs - against him. He held me and rocked me like a little kid, all the while stroking me gently with his hand. I cried for a long time, and he just stayed there with me. Finally, I stopped crying and pulled my head off his shoulder so that I could look at him. Those beautiful green eyes of his were filled with sorrow. I knew that was for me. I leaned forward and gently kissed him. He wasn't Matt, but he was male and he cared. And I needed someone to care about me more than anything right then. That's all that happened that night. He stayed with me until I finally fell asleep, his hand in mine. There were no nightmares that night. It was only in the nightmares that I could really remember what happened. The doctor's assigned a shrink to talk to me, but I didn't have much to say to him. There was no way I was going to tell him much, anyway. I knew that his records were open to the Marine Corps and I wasn't about to tell him anything that would indicate what the real relationship between Matt and me was. So I just claimed I couldn't remember anything - which was pretty much the truth. I didn't want to remember. I repressed everything. It still took several months of hospitalization before I was finally allowed to fly home to Camp Pendelton. Janet and Troy met me there. I was shocked to see how much Troy had grown since I'd left. Janet tried to help me, I'll give her that. But she had never really been able to reach me emotionally and I walled her off completely now. Unfortunately, I found myself doing the same thing with Troy. I found myself blaming him for what had happened. If it hadn't been for him, I would never have married Janet and Matt and I could have gotten out of the Marines after our first hitch was up. He would then be alive and we would be happy somewhere. At least, that's how my warped thinking went at that time. The first weekend I was home, I drove up alone to the cabin. I wanted to be away from everyone and everything. But the memories there were too much for me to handle. I remember I drove to a liquor store and bought two bottles of Wild Turkey and a case of beer. By Sunday night, it was all gone. I spent the entire weekend drunk and miserable. I seem to remember crying through most of it. I don't know if that's true or not, but it's what I remember. That started the pattern. Every weekend, I would go to the cabin and would spend the entire weekend drunk. I wouldn't even wait to get there. I would start drinking on the way up. During the week, I would come home every night and drink myself into insensibility. Only when I would pass out would the nightmares not come. Sometimes, though, even with all the booze, the vision of Matt, dead at my feet, would come and I would find myself screaming in the night. Because of this, and because I didn't want to be near her, Janet and I stopped sleeping together at all. Most of the time, I'd just pass out in my chair or maybe make it to the couch. I also started to have black-outs on a regular basis. During these, I now know, I began to physically abuse Janet and Troy. There were many mornings when I would come to and find myself in the middle of the livingroom floor and Janet and Troy would be showing bruises from where I hit them. I also, despite all the drinking, became a sexual animal. I would cruise the parks, dirty bookstores and gay bars all up and down the coast. Gone were the days of making love. Now it was sex - as brutal, violent and dirty as I could find it. Although I'd never been involved in the S/M scene, it was easy enough to find guys who would beg to be abused by a hunky, active-duty Marine. I even had several guys pay me to beat the shit out of them. Easy money where I was concerned. Funny thing was, I never tried drugs. Booze did it for me. I wasn't interested in the cocaine and all that other shit. For one thing, they catch you with that shit on you and you're bounced out of the Corps in a heartbeat! For another, booze was still a helluva cheaper than other things. Also, by only drinking, I gave myself a denial system. I denied anything to do with my drinking as well. I certainly wasn't an alcoholic. I just liked to get fucked up, beat my wife and son, beat up other guys and fuck the hell out of them! No fucking problem! Well, it was a problem, even if I couldn't admit it. I lied to myself that I was still in control because I could still work, I could still teach guys how to shoot a rifle. But most days, I didn't dare pick up a weapon myself to demonstrate. My hands were too shaky in the morning to handle a weapon. I also found it more and more difficult to get up in the morning and make it to my classes after drinking and fucking all night long. It seemed like no time at all (and like forever!) but it was actually about two years and Janet had had enough of me! She divorced me. I said "good riddance!" and I moved out of the base housing. I moved into a room in one of the barracks and continued my drinking. Janet took Troy and left to go back east somewhere. She never told me where. I was not allowed visitation with Troy. She had a court order issued that didn't allow me to see my son because of the abuse I had heaped on him and his mother. Until I was confronted in court with the medical records of Troy and Janet both being treated for injuries I had caused, I had no knowledge of being an abuser. Now, you might have thought this would have brought me up short and realized that my life was a mess and I had to stop drinking. But you'd be wrong. I went right on, just like I had been, Drinking, fucking, beating guys up. One night, I was in this little dive of a bar. At least that's what the police told me. I ended up in jail having almost killed a guy in a fight. They transferred me over to the base for the Corps' justice system to handle me. Luckily, the JAG I was assigned was a young hotshot who proved that the guy in the bar had attacked me first. I'm glad he figured that out because I didn't know anything until I came to in a jail cell. I got off, but barely. The last thing that the JAG said to me as we left the courtroom where they court-martial was held was that I had been lucky this time, but that if I didn't do something about my drinking, I was going to end up killing someone or dead. I protested that my drinking wasn't a problem! "Don't give me that shit, Sergeant. Maybe you can lie to yourself, but you don't even remember what happened that night because you were too drunk! I've seen you every morning, your hands shaking, you eyes bloodshot and every day after lunch you reek of booze! Straighten your fucking act up or you'll be bounced out of the Corps!" he said and just left me there. I knew everything he said was true. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was a fucking drunk. I looked back over the last few years and didn't like what I saw at all. I'd lost my son because of my drinking - probably for good. I'd lost all respect for myself. I'd become little more than an animal. But I didn't know what to do! I didn't know how to ask for help. I didn't know where to turn. As I left the courtroom, I passed by a bulletin board. Something caught my eye. It was an announcement of AA meetings that were held off base. It had a phone number to call for information. I don't know why I did it, but I pulled the announcement off the bulletin board and shoved it in my pocket. I then, of course, forgot about it. Several days later, I was looking for my keys to the truck. I was always losing them in my drunken state. Then, when I sobered up the next day, I couldn't find them. I was going through a pair of pants when I found, not my keys, but that AA announcement. My realization of my problem with booze came back to me. Without thinking, I picked up the phone and called the number. There was a really nice lady who talked to me. She listened while I haltingly tried to tell her why I was calling. She assured me that I'd called the right place and that AA could help me - if I wanted help. She told me she had quit drinking for over 20 years! I couldn't believe it! I couldn't stop for 20 days! She was so easy to talk to, I started telling her things I hadn't intended to tell anyone. I told her I was a Marine but I didn't want to go to meetings where there were other Marines. When she asked why, I ended up telling her about Matt, our love and his death. She understood then and suggested that since I had my truck, there were meetings far enough away from the base that it was unlikely that any members of the Corps would go there. She also shocked me by telling me that there were AA meetings specifically for people who are Gay! She gave me the address and time for a meeting that night - one that was for Gay people. It was about 20 miles from the base and I figured, that either no other Marines would be there or the one's that were - well, they'd be Gay, too. I didn't wear a uniform that night, of course. Just a black t-shirt and jeans. But with my hair cut in a 'high and tight' and that close to Camp Pendelton, I figured there wouldn't be much chance of anybody not guessing that I was a Marine. I got to the meeting a little early but there were already people there. A lot of them were older guys and there were women there as well. I'd never known any lesbians so this was a new phenomenon for me. I certainly attracted a lot of stares when I walked in. I just figured it had to be that they recognized that I was a Marine. Then this tall, good-looking, muscular blond guy about my age walked up to me and stuck out his hand. "Hi! I'm Brian. What's your name?" he said, his broad smile full of white teeth with bright blue eyes above. "Uh...I'm Eric." I stuttered. "You're first time here?" Brian asked. "Yeah...my first time ever." I admitted. "Never been to an AA meeting before?" he asked. "No...never thought that I needed it." I said. "Well, welcome! If you've got a problem with booze, you're in the right place! 'Course I should tell you, Eric, this is an AA meeting that's open to anybody but it has a special concern for Gay people." Brian said gently but looking at me hard. I guess he expected that I was some fag-bashing Jarhead who'd gotten in the wrong place by mistake or might be there to make trouble. "Then I am in the right place, Brian." I said quietly. "I qualify on both counts." Brian's face lit up in a grin and before I knew it, his arms were around me in a big bear-hug. His arms felt so good around me! I hadn't really had any kind of affection since I'd left the hospital in Germany and that corpsman, Jeff. It hit me hard and before I knew what was happening, there I was, in Brian's arms, holding on to him like he was a life-raft in a gale and crying my eyes out on his shoulder. I was so embarrassed I wanted to sink right through the floor! If Brian hadn't been holding me, I think I would have run out the door and never gone back. But Brian just held me and then he started stroking my head, just like Matt and Jeff did. I got myself under control finally and tried to apologize to Brian. "You have nothing to apologize for! I cried through about my first 5 meetings!" Brian said, smiling at me. He sat me down at a table where he'd been sitting and went and got me a cup of coffee. "Here, drink this. AA coffee will cure just about anything while it eats out your stomach lining!" he grinned. I took a sip of it, he was probably right. "Brian...I...I...I don't know what to do!" I finally got out. "That's ok, Eric. You don't have to know. That's why were all here. We help each other to get sober and stay that way." he said. "How long have you been sober?" I asked him. "Almost seven years now. I got sober finally about a week after they threw me out of the Corps." he said quietly. "You were a Marine!?" I asked, so grateful to have found someone who would understand. Looking at Brian, the way he was built, I should have figured he'd been a Jarhead. He still kept his blond hair cut almost regulation length - not as short as my 'high and tight' but close. "Yes. I was in the Corps. They threw me out. I got drunk and made a pass at another Marine. He didn't mind, but they caught us in the latrine late one night and I was giving him a blow job. That was the end of my career. Of course, I was drunk when I was doing him! He got thrown out, too. We've been lovers for almost the same amount of time I have been sober." he told me. "God! How lucky you were...uh, are to find someone who stand by you like that!" I said. "Yeah, I guess Mick really likes my blowjobs!" he laughed. "I lost my lover." I said quietly. "I'm sorry to hear that. Did he leave you over your drinking?" Brian asked. "No, he was killed while we were on a mission." I said. "Oh, fuck! I'm sorry, Eric. That really sucks!" Brian said, and I knew that he really meant it. About that time the meeting started. They read some stuff and then somebody brought up a topic about drinking. I listened as people around the room spoke. It was weird. People were telling things about their lives that I would never say in a group of strangers. Some of it was really awful, terrible shit they'd been through. But what surprised me most was the laughter. It was like nothing that had happened to them was all that bad. They just laughed it off. I couldn't imagine that. By the time the meeting was just about over, Brian spoke. He told about how he lived without a drink, one day at a time. He said some stuff that really made sense to me. Then they guy who was like chairing the meeting asked Brian to hand out the 'chips'. I didn't know what this was, but Brian stood up and explained them. They were poker chips. Brian said that they represented the fact that if we drink, we're gambling with our lives. He said there were three colors: white, which was the first one and represented from right now until 90 days without a drink; red, which was for ninety days to six months and blue which was from six months to a year. I couldn't imagine a year without a drink but I knew that Brian had almost seven years without one. Brian held up a white chip and asked if there was anyone new who wanted to 'give up the high cost of low living' and get sober. He looked right at me as he said it and I knew he meant me. I felt really embarrassed and shy but I got up and walked to the front of the room where he was standing. They only way I made it up there was I just kept staring into Brian's blue eyes and didn't look at anything or anybody else. He handed me the white poker chip and put his arms around me and hugged me. "Welcome to the Fellowship of Alcoholic's Anonymous, Eric!" he whispered to me and then he introduced me to the rest of the group. "This is Eric, and this is his first AA meeting." Everybody applauded me! I was shocked! Why would people be applauding me? I'd just admitted I was a goddamned drunk! But, I guess, they were, too. The meeting ended with everybody in the room standing in a circle and saying The Lord's Prayer. It was powerful for me. I hadn't prayed for a long time and certainly not with a group of people. But it didn't feel like praying in the church I grew up in. First of all, these were all drunks, just like me. And second, they were all gay, just like me. None of us would have been 'acceptable' in the church I grew up in. But from what I'd listened to some of these people tell tonight about their own lives, they knew a fuck of a lot more about how life really was than anybody back in the 1st Baptist Church back home! After the meeting, Brian took my arm and steered me over to some other guys around our age. They introduced themselves and one of them looked at me and then looked at Brian. "Well, you do always get the best looking pigeons!" he laughed. "That's because I don't fuck around and show up late to meetings just to make an entrance!" Brian retorted. They both laughed about this and I was confused. I didn't know what a 'pigeon' was, so I asked Brian when we walked outside. "A pigeon is a term that's quickly going out of fashion in AA, thank God! I hate the term. What it means is a sponsee - usually a newcomer that somebody with some sober time is 'sponsoring'." he told me. "Sponsoring, like into a club or something?" I asked, still confused. "Kind of like that. A sponsor is someone that you choose for yourself who is there for you. Listens to you and helps you work AA's 12 Steps. You heard those read tonight. That isn't important for now, however. Just you not taking a drink for a while will be all you can handle. Trust me!" Brian said. "I do." I said quietly, looking into his blue eyes. "Something about you makes me trust you completely. Could you be one of those things for me?" "One of those things? Oh! You mean a sponsor! You want me to sponsor you, Eric?" he asked seriously. "Yes. I need help. I don't know how I'm going to make it through this. I haven't been without a drink in a very long time. I don't know if I can quit." I was close to tears again. Brian reached out and gathered me in his arms again. It felt so safe and warm there. When his arms were around me, it felt like nothing bad was ever going to happen again. "We'll get through this together, Eric. None of us got sober alone. None of us could! If I hadn't had my sponsor - and Mick - I don't think I would have made it either. Hey look, why don't you come home with me and we'll have some coffee and talk. Mick's there and I'm sure he'd like to meet you. We don't often see any Jarheads - especially Gay ones! How's about it?" he asked. "Sure! Why not! I definitely don't want to be alone right now." I said honestly. "That's just about what I figured." Brian smiled. "Brian, do you think I can make it?" I asked. "Yes, Eric, I do. You're going to have to work real hard at it, it won't be easy. I won't kid you about that. But you'll have a lot of people pulling for you and willing to help if they can. And you know I'll be there for you. And Mick as well. He's not a drunk, but he sure understands them!" he smiled. "Thank you, Brian." I said humbly. "This is the first time I've felt any hope at all since Matt died." "And I'm sure that lover of yours is up in heaven smiling down on you right now." Brian said. The End of Part 24 of MY DAUGHTER'S EX BOYFRIEND - ERIC'S STORY 8 I hope you enjoyed the story so far. If you did, write me at rimpigfl@yahoo.com. I love to hear from my readers. Also, if you'd like a listing of all my stories on the Nifty Archive, I'll be glad to send you one if you request it. Please don't send plot suggestions. By the time you read this, the entire story is already written. RimPig