They didn’t talk about the kiss. They pretended it never happened, acting like two ordinary grunts. But in the barracks there was silence between them. They spoke little, short words, just enough to get by. In the mess hall, they never sat together. The others noticed, but didn’t say a word. Nobody dared. And so they ate, pretending everything was fine.
One day, with tacos on the menu, Sunny strolled over to Mark, his tray in hand. He sat down with a sad smile.
–Hola, amigo. How goes the march?
–Hmmph.
–This war never ends, no?
–No.
–Pepe. Please. I’ve been thinking about that night.
–Really, Tequila breath?
–Si! It's eating me up inside. It was... it was...
–A mistake?
–Yeah. I’m sorry, amigo. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.
Mark took a long sip of his Coke. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, crashing against each other like waves in a stormy sea.
–Yeah, well, you sure did, asshole.
Sunny's shoulders sagged as he stared at the table. He pushed the untouched taco around on its plate.
–You always angry, even before this. Why? What happened to you?
–None of your damn business, alright?
–Oye, chill out. But ese… that night...
–Shut up! Just stop. I can't... I... I don't know what to say. Shit happens for no reason sometimes, doesn't mean anything. Look, I'm gonna head out, alright?
He put down his knife and fork. Sunny reached out, their fingers touching for a fleeting second before Mark pulled away.
–Don't!
–Please, let's talk!
–Talk about what? What's there to talk about? So, you got hammered and did some stupid shit. It happens. No biggie. Forget it ever happened, alright?
He pushed back his chair with a screech.
–Miller! Rodriguez!
Sergeant Jackson appeared at the table, clipboard in hand, eyes shifting between the men. Both sprang to attention.
–Sir, yes, sir!
–You two know this isn’t the place or time for personal dramas, right? He gave them a steely glare. –You’re making the whole platoon look bad with your constant bickering!
–Sorry, Sergeant. It won’t happen again.
–Good. Miller, Rodriguez, late watch tonight. Observation post at 2200 hours. No funny business, you hear me?
Mark saw Jackson give a quick, almost invisible salute to Rodriguez as he left. He looked at Sunny who grinned.
–Once a captain, always a captain.
That night they sat in the guard tower, M-16s resting on their laps, eyes scanning the desert for any signs of movement, with the chatter of radios and distant artillery around them. The air smelled of sand, sweat, and cordite. It was a moonless night, a veil of inky darkness cloaking the landscape, perfect for insurgents.
Sunny nudged Mark with his combat boot.
–Oye. You gonna do that all shift, amigo?
–Do what?
–You know what, inspecting your watch all the fucking time. You scared of missing the bus, eh? Haha!
–What’s so funny??
–You, carnal. The way you twitch like a scared mouse whenever it’s just the two of us.
–Shut it, Rodriguez. It’s just... you know... you’re... distracting!
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
–Mhmm?
Sunny scooted closer, their helmets touching in the dark. He pulled out a bottle of tequila from his rucksack.
–One for the road?
–No thanks.
–Alright cabrón. Well I’m 180 proof screwed anyway.
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the occasional clink of the bottle against the canteen. Mark sighed.
–Listen, I didn’t mean to sound so hard before.
–No hay problemas cowboy. I’ve got thicker skin than that.
Another silence. Sunny cleared his throat.
–Pepe?
–Yeah?
–You uh... ever wonder what it’d be like? In another life, I mean.
–Huh?
–Say we weren’t here. No war, no gringos, no Federales. Just two dudes in some borracho bar, you and I dancing the night away, elbows deep in cerveza and conga lines...
His voice had taken on a distant quality as he’d already left the hellhole they were in.
–A soldado can dream, si? Besides, what’s life without a little fantasía eh? Vale, pendejo?
He flicked a spent cigarette butt into the darkness.
–Ever slept with a girl, Pepe?
–Yeah, of course. Many!
–Hah. Liar!
–What?
–Your red cheeks give you away, eh.
Mark swallowed.
–Okay. One girl then.
–Her name?
–Ramona.
Sunny let out a low whoot.
–Lo eres bueno, amigo. You know, I met a guy once.
–Yeah, right.
–No, I’m serious. He was... esé... guapo, like you wouldn’t believe.
Mark felt his cheeks catching fire again.
–Yeah, uh huh. What was his name?
–Pepe. His name was Pepe, ahah! I met him in service. Un Cucharón. A fucking rollercoaster in my pantalones. He was a chamaco, like you. I couldn’t resist. Ya sabes cómo es—shit happens.
Sunny sighed, shaking his head.
–Ya sabes, Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. Next thing you know, I’m packing up my captain stripes. Pero ni modo. No regrets, cabrón. Pepe taught me things, about myself... and ...fondling the rifle.
He punched Mark on the shoulder.
–You know what I mean, eh.
–Sí, I do.
He did. He remembered when he’d met Ramona at El Paso Rodeo, her caramel skin like burnt sugar under his fingers. It was his first lay, and his first kiss too, but he would never admit it to anybody.
A coyote howled, and for a moment, they were just two soldiers staring into the darkness, waiting.
–Pepe?
–Yeah?
–You read about all that star stuff, what’s your fave one?
–Um… Sirius in Canis Major.
–Ay, that sounds like a fucking drug dealer in Tijuana.
–Y tú eres un idiota.
–Sí, probablemente.
They shared a rare moment of understanding.
–Quieres saber una cosa? There’s a shooting star right now. Make a wish kid.
Mark looked up just as the light vanished into the vastness of space.
–This better not be about tetas, Sunny.
–No jodás, payaso. Your wish.
Mark closed his eyes. He could hear the faint sound of gunfire, but for now, on this tower in godforsaken Tikrit, with an idiot named Sunny Rodriguez at his side, he allowed himself a little fantasy, a brief escape from the madness that was their existence in a war-torn desert. He wished for a different life without M16s, IED’s and RPGs.
–Hey, earth to Pepe, did you see your estrella porno or what?
Sunny’s grin returned like a hacienda’s neon sign. His index finger twirled in the air, tracing an imaginary shooting star.
–Vale, vale, cabrón. We’re just two grunts in the desert, stuck in a military loony bin. Someone up there must be fucking with us, eh?
He lifted his helmet, the blonde hair slicked back. The sharp lines of his nose and the high cheekbones stood out against the dark sky. For just a moment, in that ethereal glow, Private Rodriguez looked truly beautiful.
–I’m happy we’re here together, chico.
A hand brushed against the boy’s cheek. This was unfamiliar ground, a step into the unknown.
–Yeah...um, me too.
–Bien. Take off your helmet.
–Why?
–Quiero verte. I wanna see you!
–O... okay.
The helmet landed on the floor with a thud. Slowly, Sunny removed his gloves and leaned forward, like in a dream.
–Wh…whaa…?
–Ssshh, just let it happen.
The war, the protocols, DADT, everything dissolved as Sunny kissed him. Hands fumbled at his gear, opening straps, undoing buckles. Hot lips traveled downwards to their desired destination, finding what they were after.
–Mmm. Big Burrito! I think I must taste this....
Mark felt as if he was drunk on mescal, all thoughts of Ramona long gone. He grabbed the blonde, silky strands.
–GOD. Please slow down!
–Slow down? Sunny stopped and got up, eyes flaming. He opened his pants. –Joder, compadre... You are too delicious for your own good. Now turn around, get on your knees. Yeah, like that!
He bent down and covered the bare back and buttocks with kisses, then spat on his finger, preparing the way.
–You are mine, entiendes?
–Yeah… but be gentle!
–I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.
He pushed inside, not gentle at all — and Mark screamed.
–Ahhh! It hurts!!
–Shhh, they will hear us in Baghdad!
The former captain pulled out and flipped his bunkmate over like a doll, grinding against him instead.
–Better now, soldier?
–Yeah… Shit, I… I can’t hold back!
Sunny was panting and laughing at the same time.
–You horny little puta! I can’t either. But remember ”Shhh.”
And they finished, quietly shaking in each other's arms until it passed.
Afterward, they wiped themselves with bandanas, then put pants and helmets back on. The desert air had cooled, and more stars appeared in the sky. Mark’s heart was pirouetting like a ballet girl in his chest as he sat down on the log. Sunny pulled out two cigarettes.
–Always smoke after sex, man.
–I don’t smoke...but I’ll have one this time.
–Haha! I like you, amigo.
–Yeah…*cough* Fuck!
–Smooth, gringo. Jajajaja.
–Shut up! Why did Jackson send us on night watch together?
–Maybe he hoped it would give us bonding time, eh? Now stop worrying so much, gringo.
Sunny blew a smoke ring. –Besides. You know this is a one-time thing, right? A one-time thing. You understand me? I’m gonna be un papá. I can’t be doing this shit.
–O–okay? But…
A tear ran down Mark’s cheek followed by another, and his lips began to tremble.
–I just…thought— ah, fuck it.
Sunny threw an arm around his shoulders, squeezing hard.
–Why you cry? Listen, I’m shitting you grumpy pants. Don’t you see? I love you, idiota.
–What! You...you... damn faggot!
–I know. Just don’t tell mi esposa, alright? Hahaha!
He planted a kiss on the young man’s mouth. –Mwah! You’re mine now. Nunca más with other cochinos. ?Entiendes?
His smile lingered, but he wasn’t joking.
Mark wiped his face.
–Okay. Nunca más. I won’t. Promise.
–Bien. Sunny bit him in the ear, not hard. –Vámonos, we gotta go before Jackson wakes up and realizes we AWOL. Tomorrow is another day, ese.
They jumped on their dirt bikes and began the long ride back to the base.
Yeah. Tomorrow was another day. He’d take it.
