it's 12:43 a.m., on 2001-06-30 - post-war BJ.
~
I watched an insane amount of M*A*S*H today; in one episode, BJ slapped Hawkeye's ass as they got back into the jeep. I love that show. Then I watched Kate and Ally-- y'all remember that? Bad eighties hair, two moms in one household with a whack of kids, no bras, bad jokes?
Yeah, them. I got off on middle age divorcees living together. It was cool.
Yeah, basically I was queer old skool today.
Something I totally forgot to tell you: Keith died.
No, I guess none of you know who Keith is. Lemme tell you. Keith was a friend from high school-- big guy, looked like trenchcoat mafia, heart of gold. Sweetest boy you'd ever meet. Really close friends with the most femme boy I've ever met (I had the fun high school crowd, I guess) but Jaimie's a story for another day.
Anyway, I haven't seen him in about three years, not since I gradded and got the fuck out of hicktown high school... but now he's dead, apparently, and he was really nice, and I don't really feel upset. It's sad, yeh, but not in a personal sense.
But anyway, he's dead. The first thing I asked: 'was it suicide?'
When I told my cousin that, she said, 'that's very sad. I don't think so.' I didn't either, really, but it's the first thing that came to mind. And I told her that it came to mind because he's a teenager, and he didn't do drugs... so it was kind of the obvious option.
She said, that was sadder.
~*~
Um, lemme think. I had something else to add. Something-- oh. I was going to talk about my potential trip down south.
I talked to Al today a little bit, mentioned that I might fly to Nashville for ten days, see the south, because flying into Nashville is really really cheap, as compared to Atlanta which is just fairly cheap. But I didn't want her to think that I was asking if she wanted to see stuff with me just because I wanted a ride to and from the airport-- because it's not that big a deal, my ride that is.
I liked her saying, 'see the Greece of the south, then the greece of Europe'. Don't think I ever told her.
Anyway.
I don't know if I made myself perfectly clear, and that was really stupid of me-- but I don't think I do with Al. It's a fatal flaw. The more I think of someone, the less likely I'm going to be able to speak to them as a real person.
And, a few things she's said has stuck with me, and a few things she hasn't-- and one of them is a lingering anger with myself if I talk about myself too much to her. Like, I don't really want to hear about her. But I do. I'm just no good about asking.
Most people, you leave a gap, they'll fill it with talk about themselves.
Maybe that's why I admire her; but it gives me approachment fear as well. And I don't know how to make things right with people; once they fade away, I have very little... courage? to bring them back again.
Look at Monika.
Look at sue.
--this is depressing. I should go back to Kate and Ally. Or Hawk and BJ.
~*~
"Have you heard about Klinger?"
"No, god! Where is he?"
Charles laughs, and BJ grins to hear it. So few times did Charles ever laugh, that the sound has a pavlovian grin attached to it. Charles in a good mood means entertainment, and amusement, and good cheer. He says, "Expecting a baby in March. He's getting to like the wretched country, even."
"Really? I would never have guessed."
"Neither would he."
BJ didn't really expect this call, all the way from Boston, but Charles is good at surprising people in small ways. He asks, breathless, "And you, working away on that career?"
"Ah, no, actually," and there's a hint of ruefulness. "I decided to put it on hold for a few years, and travel, actually."
"Really."
"Yes." BJ can hear the smile. "It's a wonder what things will be put in perspective."
"yeah."
There's a pause. "--and?..."
BJ coughs, and Charles waits politely to not hear anything about Hawkeye.
~*~
It was always agreed-- you get the chance to leave, you just don't look back. That's the rules in war, and in prison too. Any place where they trap you, lock you up with disgusting food, and throw away the key.
Like summer camp. If you got to go home early, you never questioned why.
But even Sydney's called BJ at least once. More than once, actually, since he's living near by, relatively. Portland's a stones throw away. Talked about a visit.
BJ smiled bitter, and asked if it was a professional visit. Sydney didn't smile back.
~*~
"And Margaret? I assume you've talked to her once or twice."
BJ relaxes, seeing that Charles wasn't going to press the issue. "Oh, she's stationed, last I heard, somewhere in Europe for a while. Going for a promotion. Dating a general. The same old hot-lips."
Kindly, "I wouldn't say the same, BJ."
His breath catches. "No."
They both know that Hawk's name just can't come up, that it's a taboo so large and so endless that the skies will close in on themselves before BJ admits that he's hurt Hawk hasn't called, and before Charles forces him to.
Nevertheless, in a gentle tone, Charles asks, "Have you not thought of calling him just once?"
"I. I'm not sure of the number."
Gentle still, insistent. "Directory assistance may be of some use to you."
"He's. It's not. Peg. --it's not fair."
The sentences, stilted, halting, --angry, but BJ doesn't want to get angry just because Hawkeye got free of hell. Charles, voice slow and easy, answers, "She'll understand."
"No she won't."
"And it's not about her."
He doesn't add, 'it's about you two'. BJ sighs. "I know."
"I sat," Charles says, with hard honesty, "in that germ ridden filthy hellhole with you two. I shared the same tent with the two class clowns for longer than I'd care to admit. I *know* you two, I wasn't blind and I saw you look at each other. For everything. I feel that I know some things. About these things." He pauses, for effect, for BJ to absorb what he's said and what he's going to say. "Just call the man."
"But I--"
And then Charles says the magic words. "He wants you to."
~*~
~
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