Judging 13
fireflywatcher_ford
Friday the thirteenth was a day Acer always dreaded no matter what
month it fell in. He didn't really have any other superstitions but
fate and several life changing events had occurred on a Friday the
thirteenth and most were the day of the full moon to boot. If he was
given a choice he'd never get out of bed on a day it fell. This time
he had that option.
Acer began the day by adding a little Irish Cream to his coffee. Four
cups later he took a beer in one hand and a bottle of Old Weller in
the other and went back to bed feeling pretty confident that drinking
enough of both would blot out whatever fate planned for the day. He'd
pass through it in safety and the fourteenth would be a brighter day.
Blue noticed something wasn't right when Acer poured his second cup of
coffee and added the liquor. He decided instead to leave the alcohol
alone that day. Someone had to stay sober and he chose the role. When
he asked Acer about his drinking, Acer replied, "My dad died on Friday
the thirteenth." He asked again later and was answered with, "I broke
my leg before a roping contest I was sure to win on Friday the
Thirteenth." Later still he got, "My dog died," followed by, "I nearly
got killed riding a bull," and more reasons followed each time he
asked until Blue stopped asking. When Acer passed out Blue took the
bottle of Weller back to the cabinet and replaced it with a glass of
water and a bottle of Advil. The Weller was nearly empty by then and
it had been full, a whole fifth.
"I ain't ever going to try and drink Acer under the table," Blue told
Carl and Paulie. The three of them were watching TV in the living
room.
"Oh hell no," Carl and Paulie said in agreement, shaking their heads.
Pal and Sissy looked up from where they lay on the floor and groaned
in what Blue took for agreement, too. Acer slept through the day and
woke some time after sunset, going for the water and Advil as soon as
he lifted his head from the pillow. The he took a piss and started
looking for something to eat that he though might speed his recovery
from the binge.
Acer thought he'd made it through the dreaded day safely until the
phone rang at eleven thirty. It was Logan and it was bad news. He and
Cotton had been down to Fort Hood for a roping contest to entertain
some of the servicemen there.
"I'm at Scott and White in Temple," Logan told him. "The truck and
trailer are totaled and the horses had to be put down. Cotton is in
intensive care and I'm busted up pretty bad." Acer gave him a few
words of comfort and told him he and Blue were on their way. It was a
four or five hour drive. "You know how they put down asphalt every
year on the main roads and it make a hump where you turn onto one,"
Logan told him. "Cotton guns it in those spots because you can't
always see oncoming traffic. He gunned it and hit a deer. It was a big
ass twelve point buck. Then we got smacked in the ass by a semi.
Cotton hit the windshield and busted ribs on the steering wheel, and
who knows what else. I got a couple of casts out of the deal myself,
but I'm free to go. I can't leave him here alone though. I need a ride
to get a rental and a motel room for the duration."
"You'll need more than that," Acer answered. "You can't fucking drive
with your leg and your arm in a cast."
Blue threw some clothes for Acer and himself in a bag and got it in
the truck. Acer grabbed a gallon jug of store bought sweet tea, an
empty jug to piss in, and some Lasix from the fridge. He figured there
wasn't enough time to get the alcohol metabolized or breathe it out
and that left pissing to get rid of it. He'd had the Lasix from using
it on race horses to get their weight down before a race and knew it
was used for people, too. It was a diuretic and so was tea. "You'll
have to drive bud, I'm over the legal limit," Acer told Blue. He
crawled in the back seat with his jugs. "Make sure to wake me up in
Lampasas and I'll take over for the last leg."
Walking up to the nurses station in intensive care, Acer lied and said
he was Cotton's brother to get access and information. A guy in desert
fatigues stepped up to the desk, answering him, "If you'll follow me
sir I'll take you to Logan."
Acer agreed but this guy was what Acer guessed to be five or more
years his senior and being addressed as sir disturbed him. When they
exited the hospital, Acer flipped open his cell phone and called
Logan.
Logan's explanation was, "In the words of Blanche DuBois in 'Streetcar
Named Desire', I have always relied on the kindness of strangers."
"Sir, my vehicle is at the house. I'll need to ride with you to meet
Logan," the man informed him. Blue took the back seat and they climbed
into the crew cab, following directions and pulling into the driveway
of a large old house there in Temple. "We have a bud at intensive care
keeping an eye on Cotton. He'll let us know if anything changes," The
soldier told him.
"Will he be allright?" Acer asked.
"Enshallah, like they say in Iraq, God willing," was the answer. They
stepped through the door and there sat Logan with his leg propped up,
leaned back in a chair. Logan was clearly feeling no pain.
"By the by, I'm Masters and that guy there is Lucas. Maselli should
pop up in a minute and Wharton is back waiting where we met. We caught
the roping and shot the shit with both these cowboys for a while
after. When we heard about the wreck on the radio, well, you got to
take care of family, right?"
"My rescuers," Logan exclaimed. "Got me out of that disinfectant
stinky hallway and left someone to watch over Cotton. You can't beat
that with a stick. Cotton won't wake up until tomorrow afternoon
anyway."
"It is tomorrow," Acer replied. "I really appreciate you guys helping
out my buds," Acer told Masters. "I got here as soon as I could. I'm
Acer."
"I'm Blue," Blue told them. He looked around. It was an old house from
the turn of the nineteenth to the twentieth century, and at least in
this room, the front parlor, it was minimally furnished and not done
in a style that fit comfortably with the surrounding room. It was also
way too much house for four men. "Nice place," Acer commented
politely.
"If either of you need some sack time, there are a few vacant beds,"
Masters offered. Acer was well rested and Logan was beyond feeling
pain or fatigue but Blue took him up on his offer. It appeared that
there were extra rooms on the first floor but Blue followed Masters up
the stairs into the first room on the left. "The bath is down the
hall. If you need a change of clothes, the ones in here should fit
you. The top drawer has some that aren't clean though. It all belonged
to a fallen brother and you're welcome to use what you need," Masters
explained.
Blue kicked off his boots. He went down the hall for a quick piss and
when he returned curiosity got the better of him. He opened the top
drawer. On top was a jock strap. He lifted it to his nose and it still
held the musky scent of a man. He replaced it and shut the drawer. He
adjusted the pillows to his liking and was out when he shut his eyes.
Acer sat across from Logan listening to him blabbler from the pain
killers. Masters rejoined him there after showing Blue to a bedroom.
Logan would giggle and laugh and continue his monologue. "He sure is
talking like a sissy," Acer commented.
"You should see guys lined up for the showers at the barracks every
morning," Masters replied. "They learn pretty quick that they'll be
showing off their butt hole picking up the towel if they try tying it
around their waist. It goes over their shoulder and they can't spend
the time staring at the ceiling or the floor with their hands cupped
over their goods, either. Fucking music will be blaring and they'll
all be dancing in the line. They start acting like a bitch dancing at
a tit bar going for all the bills she can collect. Big macho guys will
wiggle their butt and shake their dick at everyone else. If they get
hard by the time they hit the water, they might have time to pump out
a load in the two minutes while they soap up and rinse off. The next
guy will fake scooping up some jizz with his fingers and identifying
the donor by the taste and none will complain about walking through it
on the floor. They say it will soften the calluses on their feet they
got from all the damn marching. Every damn one of them will be talking
like sissies. Logan's full of pain killers. He has an excuse," Masters
concluded. "He didn't ask for pink silk panties with lace when we got
him out of that hospital gown. The scrubs pleased him just fine."
"Do you think he had too much meds," Acer asked.
"He was knocked out when I went back to wait for you," Masters told
Acer. "I'm not sure if he's had too much pain meds or not enough."
Masters went on to explain about the house. Seven of them had bought
it together. Four were KIA, two of them with no family who left their
insurance to their friends. That money had been used to pay off the
house. Others had joined in and two were deployed. Maselli had been
injured and was getting full disability. The house was in his name
legally because as a civilian he kept the MPs from walking in at their
pleasure.
Lucas brought in coffee and returned to the depths of the house. "Hey
hey," Logan protested, "Can't you fucking hear me? I need to go to the
bathroom!"
"Do you need to piss or use the can?" Masters asked him. Logan told
him he needed to piss so Master grabbed one of those hospital urine
bottles, unsnapped the scrubs Logan had on, and helped him aim into
the jug. "These scrubs snap down both legs, up the inseam, and the
fly," Masters said. "They were Maselli's. He lost a leg below the knee
and had the other one in a cast." He took the jug to a bathroom and
the sound of running water said he rinsed it out after dumping the
contents in the toilet. Then a toilet flushed.
By eight that morning Logan's phone began to ring. Wharton came in
saying Cotton woke up, was moved to a room, and sedated again. Logan's
parents agreed to let Acer bring him home. Cotton's dad called saying
he would arrive soon. He had to tend to the insurance matters and
would stay until he could drive Cotton home. When the time arrived for
Logan to take more pain killers, though he was still babbling, that
dose knocked him out and silenced him.
"Damn, I'm glad he finally shut up," Acer exclaimed. "Being drugged up
sure brought out the filly in Logan. It didn't look good on a big old
cowboy like him." Acer was still bothered in spite of what Masters had
said before. He wondered if he acted a little bit sissy if he was
drunk or drugged up and how people would take it if he did.
"When you love someone, you love what that person is on the inside,
not the mask they put on for the world to see," Masters answered Acer.
"Life in the military teaches you how to wear a lot of different
masks. If Logan was an actor, you wouldn't love the character he
plays. You'd still love the guy playing the character. Oh well, I
guess I've gotten good at filtering out all the crap. I try to take
things for what they are and see people that way, too. Not being
judgmental works for me."
"I'll put some thought in on that," Acer replied. "Cowboys are pretty
much what you see is what you get. You say, 'Show me', and either they
can do it or they can't." Thoughts were clicking away through Acer's
mind. He sat silently for a few minutes. "I'm going to have to drink a
beer if I think about shit like this so early in the morning."
"What's your pleasure?" Masters asked. "Buying beer at the PX, we stay
pretty well stocked. I might even have some brands you never tried."
"I'll have whatever you're having," Acer answered.
"Beck goes good with eggs," Masters replied. "Let's go in the kitchen
and see what we can throw together."
Masters put Acer to making omelets even though he'd never done it
before, "Maybe you don't see the mask with cowboys much," He conceded.
"I'm thirty-eight and after nearly twenty years in the military, I've
seen damn near every kind of mask you could find."
"Damn, I thought you were about thirty from looking at you," Acer told
him. "I'd say the mask cowboys wear most is the one that hides when
they're hurt. They don't ever want anyone feeling sorry for them."
"I ain't looking younger from good living, I assure you," Masters
replied. "This body has seen plenty of damage that don't meet the eye.
On a captain's retirement pay plus all I've socked back over the
years, I should be sitting pretty. I'm just hoping that damn 'Stop
Loss' doesn't get me before I get out. That should be plenty of
omelets. Grab a couple of plates and let's chow down," Masters said,
reaching over to turn off the burner. Lucas and Wharton jumped in line
to get omelets, too. Blue stuck his head in, done sleeping, and got at
the rear of the line.
Maselli came through the door then and before getting a plate he
introduced himself with just a simple, "I'm Maselli. Beer, coffee,
milk, who wants what?" he asked. He looked at Blue and pronounced, "I
got just the ticket to start your day off right, big guy." He fixed
two Bloody Marys and set one in front of Blue before filling his
plate.
"I went to the impound lot and cleaned out the truck and the trailer,"
Maselli said between bites. "I know, I know. You pick up a few tricks
in the military. One of mine is being able to copy a signature. The
secret is to hold the image in your mind and repeat the strokes in one
smooth motion. It's the hesitation points that give a forgery away. I
printed two powers of attorneys and they let me take the shit, no
questions asked." He took a sip of the Bloody Mary and a few bites of
the omelet. "If Cotton wants to salvage them, it would be best if the
adjuster saw them ASAP and we got them hauled back to his home before
too many days fees get tacked onto what he owes now."
This guy thought like Cotton. He'd squeeze the most he could get out
of what he had before he'd give up anything. Acer called Cotton's dad
and got the task in motion. "Thanks Maselli," Acer told him. "Cotton's
dad is at the hospital now and said he'd get right on it. He said they
think Cotton will wake up around four when they change the IV. He got
a room across from the hospital for the duration."
Lucas and Wharton weren't very talkative. They did the dishes and took
off to bed afterward, having been up all night. Masters was the first
to notice Logan using his free hand to put pressure on his groin. He
nudged Logan awake asking if he needed to piss. Getting a mumbled
reply to the affirmative, he opened Logan's fly and moved his dick
into the urinal jug. "Let her rip," Masters told him and the piss
stream gushed into the jug. He snapped the scrubs back in place and
went to dump the jug's contents.
Masters returned to his monologue on masks, occasionally animated by
gestures and expressions from Maselli who was clearly agitated by the
topic. All kinds of masks were discussed. He told of one southern
redneck boy whose walk and stance gave the impression he thought he
could kick King Kong's ass and would happily demonstrate the ability
with no provocation. Masters has seen him smoldering, behind his eyes,
when the boy's sergeant or some officer gave him orders. Masters was
certain that one day the mask would shatter and all hell would be
unleashed. He had no idea what became of him.
Masters told stories of several soldiers who married on their furlough
home after basic training. One married in order to have someone at
home that he thought cared about him. Several married to cover their
sexuality. All were shocked to find most of their pay sent to the
wives. Divorce was frowned upon. One got permission to divorce. For
two months after the divorce was final and his pay was still going to
the now ex-wife, he bore it stoically. The third month, when paperwork
hadn't corrected the error his mask shattered and he sat sobbing with
his face in his hands outside the PX. Masters favorite mask, which
he'd seen a lot, was guys who saw through the army crap they were
forced to endure. He'd see the grin behind these guy's eyes. They'd be
holding back on laughing to the point of busting a gut.
Masters and Maselli both went to sack out for a while, having been up
all night. "I ain't seen one sign of affection between these men,"
Blue commented. "I don't even know if any of them sleep in the same
rooms."
"You could have followed them down the hall and taken a piss," Acer
answered. "I don't think they'd have cared. All that talk about masks
and here it looks like Masters wears a mask, too."
"I got nosey and found a jock in one of the drawers Masters told me
to leave alone. It smelled like the guy just came from the gym and
took them off. I've kept some of your underwear and smelled it myself
when you're gone a long time. You only keep something like that when
you love someone."
Acer took Blue in his arms, saying, "If I'd know you liked my stink, I
could have stunk up something special just for you to smell." They
kissed and rocked in one another's arms until Logan let out a groan.
Acer walked over to Logan and checked his forehead for fever. "I swear
I can't hide from shit that happens on Friday the thirteenth. Bad luck
hunts me down. It don't happen to other people, just to me."
"I don't believe in bad luck," Blue answered. "It's just coincidence.
Meeting the army guys was a lucky turn. It balances out the bad."
"They say the best part of the journey is who you meet along the way,"
Acer answered.
Acer took his turn in the bed upstairs while Blue kept watch over
Logan. Near four Logan was lucent enough to carry on a conversation
and they all went to see Cotton, Logan riding in a wheelchair to the
truck and again into the hospital. They spent the night at Masters and
Maselli's house and drove home the next morning after thanking their
hosts.
"Cotton's house had wide doors installed before his granddad died and
should work for him and Logan," Acer told Blue. Logan was asleep
stretched out in the back seat. "His dad said the insurance would
cover help to take care of them, too."
"Will we need to look after their places for them for a while?" Blue asked.
"No, I think family will see to that. They both raise cattle and don't
run feeders in the summer," Acer replied. "Not many calves are born
this time of year, either."
Logan's mom was easily convinced that her son was too old to be
comfortable with his mom helping him wipe his ass. After a short visit
they drove on to Acer's until help was hired to help care for Logan
and Cotton. There was not going to be another Friday the thirteenth
that year.