Chapter Sixteen

Frederick

 

Same day. Hotel. One hour later.

Smart or not, I decide not to leave the hotel when Captain Gibson does. In fact, I decide to stay there for the rest of the afternoon and evening when I’m notified by the front desk that my “roommate” paid for an extra night. I decide to use the extra hours whether or not we see each other again. Whether or not he still loves me, or was just fucking with me like all the other boyfriends and pseudo-boyfriends I’ve had.

I can’t think of anything to do for most of the afternoon and evening. It passes me by with too little to do and too much on my mind.

I’m angry. I’m sad and confused. Twisted up in Captain Gibson’s warm embrace, generous hips and cock, and simultaneously knifed by his cruel mouth and cold, unyielding eyes. Eyes that question my loyalty to him before his mouth does.

Arrogant, selfish bastard! I think, willing myself to be angry at him yet grieving for him like my heart wants to. I knew he was too arrogant and self-serving for me! I knew I shouldn’t have gotten involved with him. Shouldn’t have let him get in my pants, or anywhere else sensitive on me. I’m just paying for it like I always do with every other man who says he loves, needs and desires me.

Even with these thoughts raging through my mind, I can’t help but long for him. His touch. His kisses. The way his strong arms and rough fingers make me forget about all the evil in the world and all the Captain Sterns ready and waiting to abuse me. Intimidate and hurt me because they can. Because they think I’m easy. That I won’t or can’t fight them.

Captain Gibson made me feel like I didn’t have to fight. That I didn’t have to always rely on myself for protection, and now here I am again, all alone. No one to hold me. No one to watch my back, or to walk with me into danger. I’m on my own, all alone. Yet again.

Just when I’m about to feel sad and sorry for myself, for the way Gibson and I left things — for all the trouble I’ve caused him — my phone pings at me, vibrating with urgency. I pick it up, feeling my heart quickly leap.

The notification is for a text. From Captain Gibson.

I tap into the app and read eagerly. Frederick — my dearest boy, it reads (like an old-time love letter — nobody writes like that anymore!), I’m sorry for how I left you yesterday morning. I’m sorry for the things I said to you, after forcing you to talk to me about the case. The origin of the charges. And after I told you I loved you, needing and wanted to be with you. After all that, I treated you worse than a dog, and I’m truly sorry. I’m just angry and frustrated. For you. For myself. And confused. I’ve never been in love with another man the way I am with you, Frederick. I’ve never felt so inexplicably and helplessly drawn to you. Your soul. Your heart. Your body. And I’ve never wanted so much for all of this to go away. To be able to see you legitimately. As a boyfriend. As a lover. A life partner, and yet all of this craziness forces us to hide and pretend we have no connection other than these sorted accusations. But I don’t blame you for them. I can’t.

I begin to cry, but not like I wanted to. Not tears of sorrow but now tears of happiness.

A follow-up text comes in, continuing the thread. I don’t blame you for the way everything’s gone down. Not really. I’m just frustrated by the situation. By how much I can’t make our situation better. But that’s no excuse for me to abandon or to turn on you like I did.

There is a pause. On my screen, there is nothing but the icon that lets me know Gibson is typing something. It stops and starts again, as if he’s trying to choose his next words carefully. More thoughtfully than the words he chose this morning.

When I finally read the text that follows, it says what I can already feel building in my heart. A desire to protect him. To be a better man for him than I’ve been. Less cowardly. His text reads, I just wish there was some way that you could help me feel protected. Loved. Cherished, the same way I’ve tried to do for you so far. I don’t mean to be cruel or arrogant, demanding or heartless. But I’ve always had to be relied upon, and for once it would be nice for me to have someone to rely on. At my age and after all that I’ve been through.

I swallow down tears, typing the first response to him since he decided to write me a novel in text form. I understand, Captain. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. For how weak and childish I guess I’ve been about everything. I don’t know what I’ll be able to do for you yet, but I’m going to at least try to do something. Something more than just sit and tell you a few more times how sorry I am, or how I wish things were different. I wipe at my eyes, feeling overwhelmed, confused and numb. We both know if I continue doing what I have been doing it will accomplish nothing.

I hit “send” on this, and wait for his response.

Almost immediately, a notification chimes on my phone. But it’s not from Gibson. It’s not in response to my text.

It’s from that hated unknown blocked number, Captain Stern. Somehow — like he’s lucifer incarnate — he seems to know exactly when I’m just about to feel good about myself, just about to decide to move out from under his controlling, asphyxiating shadow. I know you’re hiding from me, Freddie. I know you’re boning Captain Gibson. I’ve heard some pretty tasty and salacious rumors from a few of my officers about you and him being seen together. About him letting you into his house, and you two ending up in some hotel or another.

My blood goes cold. So cold I don’t even notice the text from Gibson. All I can see are Stern’s, like he’s a virus on my phone.

We’ve noticed your absence here on base, he continues. Even though it’s just words, I swear I can hear his cold, mocking voice. See his plump, cruel face and greedy, greasy lips and chin. I know you’re hiding out with him hoping he’ll protect you. Playing the ‘weak and helpless card’ with him, which he’s fallen prey to, no doubt. But he’s got this to learn about you — as much as you want and need protection and love — you’re not worth it. And he’s going to find that out much too late, isn’t he?

My stomach curdles under this. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to swallow the bile I can feel rising in my throat, but drum up the courage to respond anyway. Whether I’m worth his love and protection in the end or not doesn’t matter, Stern. You can’t just keep doing this to us. You can’t keep threatening me, and you can’t keep forcing me and the other officers under your command to put crimes you committed on Captain Gibson’s shoulders!

I jam the send button but continue on bravely. If I don’t, I may never get up the courage to do or say anything to him again. What you’re doing is wrong. What you’re doing is not only a violation of your various oaths and expected codes of conduct, but it’s morally reprehensible. And I’m not going to stand for it. I’m going to get Captain Gibson off the hook for these charges. I’m going to finally do something about it, Stern.

I hit send again, but it’s just as a reply comes in, making the bling sound distorted and disturbed. Like the phone itself is being corrupted by Stern’s influence.

I read the text that comes in immediately after mine, not surprised, but still frightened by its implications. It’s tone. Oh, found our balls have we? Let me guess. Fucking Captain Gibson, king of the sissy boys, made them drop, eh? I blush angrily, reading this. But the blush quickly pales under the words I read next.

Listen, brat. You drop those charges. You try to implicate me in any way, I will make sure you go to court for making false statements against not only Gibson, but me. I will make sure you get double, triple — even quadruple counts on these charges — and then, I’ll make sure you get sent away to a military prison. I’ll make sure you are stripped of every bit of pride you have. Every bit of dignity. You and Gibson are going down. You’re going to be made an example to the rest of the community, state and country. I don’t care.

Reading this, I can barely breathe. I almost pass out and hit my head on the corner of the nightstand. Luckily my hand comes up to brace me as I shake off the dizziness. The queasy tumble in my stomach and cold, clammy sweat on my numb-feeling fingers.

While taking a breath that feels as if I’m falling headlong into a dark and smoky tunnel (and shadows flitting around my eyes), I type my response. My final one to this cock-sucking mother fucker! Fine. Just try to ruin my life. Just try and ruin Captain Gibson’s. Try to stop me from dropping these charges. All I have to do is show my lawyer these conversations, and she’ll have all the evidence she needs to charge you with intimidation. Stalking. Conspiracy to press false charges. Conspiracy to do harm to a witness. Coercion of other possible witnesses. As I type these powerful words, I finally understand what it means to be unafraid. What it means to put myself on the line for the person I love.

The more you harass me like this, the more you dig your own grave. I’m going to undo the damage I’ve done, and then I’m going to make sure you have your day in court. I pause, seeing and feeling Captain Gibson around me. Imagining his consoling arms cradle me. With these images and sensations flooding me, I add, It doesn’t matter what you do. It doesn’t matter what you’ve threatened me with any more. I’m not going to be bullied by you anymore!

With that, I put my phone on silent, lock it and head for the door. I race for the elevator, and my car in the parking lot beyond.

From here, I go straight to my lawyer’s office. I’m going to tell her to drop the charges against Captain Gibson. I’m going to tell her that they were false, but then show her these text messages.

I love you, Captain. I’ve never loved anyone more than I’ve loved you. And you’ve shown me more love and compassion than anyone in my family, my unit or in society at large has ever shown me.

 I shout out to the front desk to check me out of the room, but don’t lose my goal or momentum. If anyone is worthy of my bravery, my willingness to take a risk, it’s you Gibson. You deserve someone to rely on. And I’ve finally decided that that “someone” is me.