Always Ever

"You need anything before I go in the back," Tasha asked. 

"No. I'm just about finished," I said. "Maybe we can have a little fun before I fall asleep."

"No maybes. That's what I enjoy doing," she said. And, it seems you enjoy it too."

I don't know what I'd do without Tasha. She was my partner, my friend and my lover. If had known it could be like this, I would have brought her into my life a lot sooner. She was highly intelligent, personable and beautiful. 

I often wondered if she stayed around me because I was an easy touch or because she felt obligated. Whatever the case, she made me extremely happy and I was pleased. 

The next morning I awoke refreshed and pleasantly energized. Of course, Tasha was already in the kitchen with breakfast ready. She was amazing. Sexually, she did things I only read about, not that I cared as I was the beneficiary. 

She was extraordinary. She got things done and helped me with my research. She never slowed down, but that was fine with me because I operated pretty much the same way except I always ran out of steam. 

"So, what's on the menu today," I asked. 

"I thought you might want to see the Great Pyramids," Tasha said. 

"I've been there, but never with the tools I have now to examine it," I said. 

It didn't take us long to prepare and get to our travel ports. If there is an invention that came just in time for me, it was port technology. Being able to get from here to there in seconds changed my life and those of so many others. 

"Tony, do you want me to pack something for lunch," she asked. “You know how you are once we arrive.”

"Yeah," I said. 

Travel ports always made me hungry. I'd no sooner arrive and I'd be starving to death. So, I'd eat as soon I got my feet my feet beneath me. It didn't seem to bother Tasha, but she'd eat too, just not as much as me. 

"Do you know where we are," I asked.

"We're about two miles away by taxi," she said. "We could go by camel."

Tasha had a wicked sense of humor. Sometimes, it slipped past me in its subtlety, but it was always a killer when I figured it out. 

When we finally arrived, the pyramids seemed even grander than I remembered. We stayed all day admiring the workmanship that we could only guess. After a pleasant day, we hit the ports and went home. 

"You getting in the shower," Tasha answered. 

"Yeah. I got dessert sand in my ass," I said and laughed. 

"I bet. You want some company," she asked. 

Of course, I wanted her in the shower. First, it was fun. Secondly, it was fun and third, it was highly sexual. It wasn't just sexual, we had romance. True romance. My feelings for Tasha ran deep, much deeper than I ever planned. 

We dried off together and rubbed bodies intimately. It would have been difficult for me not to do so. From her hair to her toes and everything in between, she was made just for me. 

I wasn't ready for the evening to end so I asked, “Do you want to get some dinner and maybe go dancing later?"

"I'm a bit run down right now," she said. "Just let me switch into something and I'll be ready to go."

I put on my tuxedo, poured myself a drink and parked myself in front of the 120" screen. I don't think I'd been setting there more than five minutes when I noticed my bow tie didn't match my cummerbund. No big deal, I'd just go back to the bedroom and get the right one.

When I came in Tasha stood there in a carmine gown with diamonds about her neck. As always, she took my breath away. 

"What's your rush," she asked. 

"I got the wrong bow tie," I said. 

"Third drawer on the left in the second cabinet," she said. 

I'd lose my ass if I didn't have Tasha. As I pulled my tie from the drawer, I couldn't help but look at my Tasha's lined neatly along the wall being rejuvenated. 

As I stepped from the walk-in closet I asked, "Are you ready."

Ain’t it a Bitch

by Don Barbera, ã1999

Derrick McGee was a genuine tough guy and had the credentials to prove it. He had a short temper and was a brawler by nature. Standing over six feet tall and weighing a solid 220 pounds, not many people wanted to fight with him.

He was the worst type of bully. It wasn’t enough to intimidate and belittle; he needed to hurt physically. He had a record with the police that was a mile long but he had no convictions. His parents put him out of the house at 16-years-old. With no place to stay and no money, he stayed alive by strong-arming people on the streets.

It was enough to keep him in candy bars, beer and potato chips. Robbing convenience stores didn’t make him happy. In fact, robbing a store was a blow to his enormous ego. Derrick McGee was meaner than a boot-stepped snake but he wasn’t a real criminal. He was just a kid who grew up doing whatever he wanted simply because he was bigger than most people.

Out of frustration, Derrick gave up his criminal activities and joined the Army. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to do but it beat running from the police and sleeping on the street at night.

His first day in boot camp was uneventful. Stand in line. Get out of line. Hurry up. Wait. Eat. Stand up. Sit down. Derrick thought he had made a big mistake if this was a preview of military life. It was boring and uninteresting. Just the type of thing he despised. He had a drastic change of opinion later that evening when he slipped outside the barracks for a smoke.

Before he could draw two puffs into his lungs he felt himself levitate from the trash can on which he was sitting, fly through the air and land roughly on his back, kicking up dust in all directions. All the air rushed from his body like a rat leaving a sinking ship. Instantly, his temper flared. There was going to be an ass-kicking and Derrick McGee planned on handing it out. As he struggled to get his feet under him the heel of an Army combat boot landed solidly against his throat cutting off his air.

“I suppose you want to get your ignorant ass up and do something about it,” a voice said.

McGee wanted to answer but all he could manage was an indecipherable croak. Suddenly, the boot was off his throat but before he could raise himself the ebony face of Sergeant First-Class Maceo Parker appeared about two inches from his nose.

“Boy. I catch you out here again and it‘s going to be me and you. I don’t fuck around soldier. You want to get yourself killed, then go somewhere else to do it, but if you stay here, your ass and everything else belongs to me. Do you understand?”

McGee said nothing.

“I don’t hear you son. Do you fucking understand me?”

McGee nodded.

“Does that mean something or does your chin itch. You answer me, ‘Yes drill sergeant’. Now, what did you say?”

“Yes, drill sergeant.”

“Again!”

“Yes drill sergeant,” McGee shouted.

Sergeant Parker stepped back and turned to walk away. McGee scrambled to his feet and attacked, but Sgt. Parker easily sidestepped the wild rush and buried a nerve paralyzing blow under McGee’s ribs which sent him to the ground gasping for air.

“I told you boy, do not, I repeat, do not fuck with me. I will flatten you before you have time to stink. I make my living putting tough guys like you out of the service and if you ever attack me again, I will take you to within an inch of your life before you can spell no.”

With that, he walked away turning his back on McGee. McGee didn’t move. He thought about getting up but he was afraid to do it. Finally, he got up and staggered back to the barracks. Nobody had whipped his ass since he was a little boy. No one dared challenge him once his growth spurt hit. When he reached the barracks, he was crying tears of anger and shame. Still, he went to sleep easily.

At 4:30 AM the sound of rattling trash can woke the entire barracks. For the next 20 minutes, it was a mad scramble of assholes and elbows as the new soldiers prepared for reveille. In those few moments, all the men shaved, showered and dressed in freshly starched fatigues standing at the ready. “Fall in,” came the command. “Attention.” You could hear the stomp of boots and the swish of starched fatigues as they stood to attention.

There were six drill instructors positioned strategically around the platoon. Standing on the rostrum was Sergeant First-Class, Maceo Parker, all five feet seven inches of him. His boots glowed and his fatigues looked custom-made as they hugged his body in neat military fashion. His drill instructor hat sat at a perfect rakish angle that was far enough down to be intimidating but not far enough to look foolish.

“Gentlemen. I’m Sergeant First-Class, Maceo Parker. I am,” he paused, “the head drill instructor. I have served two tours in Vietnam. I have been shot, stabbed and tortured. I have escaped from two prison camps, eaten snakes and killed three men with nothing but my hands. However, of the more than 900 men I’ve had the privilege of leading, only nine were wounded and three were killed. You people are my responsibility now. I won’t be going with you but I’ll do my damndest to make you people keep my good record intact.

I will do everything I can to push you to your limits. Then I will push you even further. You will hate me if you survive this training, but those of you who survive will have a good chance of seeing me again. Now, we’ve already had two attempted AWOL’s and an attack on a drill instructor. Those people are still part of this unit. However, as of this moment if it ever happens again—you will be gone.

Today is your first day. Some of you will be leaders but most of you will be followers. More importantly, you will know how to work as a team when you leave here. The man standing next to you or any of these men in this platoon could be the difference between staying alive or coming home in a body bag. That’s all I have to say this morning, but we’ll have these cozy little chats every day until you leave. Now each squad, prepare to fall out to your drill instructor. Attention! Dismissed!”

If McGee didn’t know he was in the Army last night, he knew it this morning. To McGee, all the DI’s hollered at the top of their lungs and directly into your face. McGee didn’t mind. He found the hustle and bustle to his satisfaction. This morning after seeing SFC Parker for the first time, he was embarrassed that such a small man had taken him out so easily, but after hearing of Parker’s military exploits he felt the tension drain. That man probably had more medals and awards than he could put on his chest, McGee thought. After thinking about it all, he considered himself lucky that he survived his first day.

McGee graduated at the top of his platoon and left for Vietnam about a month later. Unfortunately, he didn’t keep Sgt. Parker’s string going. He received a field promotion to sergeant after displaying his bravery and intelligence on the battlefield. He received the Silver Star, Purple Heart, and a Bronze Star for his performance. Still, after enlisting for a second tour in Vietnam, his luck ran out. Now he was on Sgt. Parker’s casualty list. Although two men died on hill 117 and four were wounded, including himself, McGee’s actions saved at least 40 men and helped the infantry grab a crucial foothold. It also won McGee another Silver Star.

As he rode the plane back to Hawaii for a little rest and relaxation, he thought of Sgt. Parker. It was the letters he and Sgt. Parker had exchanged during his time in Vietnam that had kept him going. As the plane started its final approach, McGee looked out the window and chuckled aloud,

“Life is really a bitch sometime.”

Looking Back

It’s been 20 years now, but the weight remains on my shoulders and, if nothing else, it has increased with each passing year. I don’t know if there are others with similar stories and, frankly, I don’t care. This story belongs to me and I take full ownership. This is the story that haunts me to this day.

I knew Delores liked me and I liked her. With straight black hair and dark eyes, I thought she and I would become boyfriend and girlfriend and we did. It lasted as long as it could because I got a greetings letter from Uncle Sam letting me know I was to report for duty to serve in the United States Army. I knew then the relationship was done and I said so.

“It doesn’t have to be over,” Delores said. I’ll write you every day. I love you.”

“Sugar, these things just don’t work out. I’m not trying to be mean, but the chances of this continuing are almost none. I love you too, but I have to be real. Your life is just starting and mine may be taken away. Either way, I have to say goodbye.”

Saying goodbye was one of the hardest things, I had to do in my life. I remember her dark eyes looking at me in pain, but I couldn’t go back. As I walked away, I held back the tears that would later release themselves as anger in combat.

I thought of Delores often and just as she promised the letters came every day, but soon they began to trickle away until they stopped. When I got out of the Army and returned home, she was gone. Her family moved and of course, she went with them. I was hurt but pleased in that I didn’t have to dig up old emotions that held me captive for a year of my life.

I saw her about 15 years later at a café. She was sitting next to a man, which I assumed to be her boyfriend or husband because the way they laughed, held hands, hugged and smiled that secret smile that only lovers know. I didn’t acknowledge my presence. Instead, I Ieft quickly and before I could be seen or recognized.

Strange enough, five years later she and I were at the same business meeting. This time, she saw me before I saw her. I was standing talking to other attendees from my company when I felt a pair of arms around my chest from behind. I figured it was one of my friends from the office, but when I turned about, it was Delores.

“Where have you been all this time,” she asked with a smile.

I looked into those dark eyes and felt the same feeling I felt when we first started seeing each other.

“I’ve been on the road with this company almost from the day I got out of the Army,” I said.

“Why didn’t you call, she asked."

I thought long and hard before I answered. “Because I didn’t want to see you. I thought to see you would only make me hurt more. When the letters stopped coming, I knew we were done and I didn’t blame you for it and still don't. I just knew it that's what would happen.”

“I guess I knew it in a way too, I but I never stopped loving you,” she said. “I still love you.”

That caught me totally off guard. Of all the things, I expected her to say that was the last one. I had plenty of relationships since Delores, but I never married as all of my love affairs never seemed to work out.

“About five years ago, I saw you in Kansas City with a man at a café downtown. You looked as if he was special to you, so I decided to leave before you saw me," I said.

"You were really there," she asked. “Where? 

I described the cafe and immediately she recognized it from my description.

"When?”

"Like I said, it was about five years ago, but I don't know anything other than it was summer time. That's it," I said. I just remember seeing you and you looked so happy.”

“You should have come over and said hello,” she said.

“That would have been rude,” I said.

“I guess so,” she answered.

“Is that your husband,” I asked.

“Almost,” she said. He was my fiancé, but I found out he had outside interests.”

“So, he was a skirt chaser,” I said.

“In a way,” she said. “He chased men. I was nothing but a cover for his business.”

Well, Delores and I married and have three children, two boys and a girl. Family life agrees with me and I love Delores more than ever. She fills those gaps in my spirit that had been open for so many years. Now, that’s a happy ending, but there’s more to the story. As I mentioned earlier, a weight still sits on my shoulders and with good reason. Though I married Delores, I didn’t mention when we were boyfriend and girlfriend I was 21-years-old and she was 14. Having sexual relations with a 14-year-old girl still bothers me even though we wound up marrying.

When we started seeing each other I knew she already liked me and used that to my advantage to lure her into a sexual relationship. Even though it later turned to love, I have never let it slip from my moral memory and I don’t know if I ever will. Delores and I have spoken about it and she says she is just as much to blame as me, but what does a 14-year-old girl know about a grown man’s lusts? I can only say that Delores is the love of my life and I so glad to have her love.