Chapter 36 #2
About halfway through the show, Aberlour got up to use the bathroom.
Quietly excusing himself, he worked his way through the dense crowd.
As he approached the door to the men’s room, a large man walked out and then pressed himself back against the wall to allow Aberlour to pass.
Aberlour froze, recognition instantly dawning on him.
“Aberlour?” The man’s voice expressed the same level of shock that Aberlour was feeling as he stood there staring at him.
“Jesus Christ!” Abe exclaimed in patent disbelief.
“Major Shawn O’Reilly will do just fine,” he replied, laughing at Abe’s expression.
“What happened to call me Shawn?” Abe teased, because he hadn’t forgotten their long-ago conversation.
“Hell, it’s been ages! Are you still—”
Abe shook his head before Shawn could finish.
“Got out after—” he broke off abruptly, then tried again. “Didn’t feel right without—them.” He swallowed audibly and took a deep, calming breath.
Shawn looked down at his feet and stuffed his hands in his pockets, shifting uncomfortably.
“Of course. Understandable,” he said, his own voice tight. “I’m sorry I didn’t check in after the funeral but—”
The hallway felt like a conveyer belt then. Like their words dropped onto it and were whisked away before they could quite get to the end of a sentence.
“I wanted to thank you—” Abe said, shaking his head, hoping to properly convey his apology. “I should have written but I just—”
Again, he felt as if many things in their shared pasts were unspoken, unfinished. Aberlour’s men had died. He’d been incapable of saving them. That was the simple truth of the matter. He took a deep breath and forced himself to own up to what he should have acknowledged long before now.
“You did a lot more than most did back then. I should have called and thanked you, but I was too lost—too fucked up—to get my head out of my ass.”
“I figured you wouldn’t contact me afterward—God knows I wouldn’t have been able to.” His empathy was obviously deeply felt.
Aberlour nodded and took a good look at Shawn.
He had certainly aged well, despite how his crow’s feet and lines around his mouth had gotten deeper.
He wasn’t as muscle bound and intimidating as he’d once been when they’d first met, making him look far more approachable now.
He’d even let his hair grow beyond regulation length, his light red hair curling slightly above his collar.
It wasn’t anywhere near as long as Oli’s, but it was still very unruly by military standards.
“Are you still in?” Aberlour asked, dragging his attention away from Shawn’s appearance to resume their conversation. He wondered whether the Major had noticed his scrutiny of him. That trademark smirk said he probably had.
Shawn’s expression changed, becoming more serious. “Deploying for eight months next week.”
“Ah—certainly explains why you’re at a drag show today, then,” Abe said, ruthlessly suppressing a smile that wanted to burst free. “Getting your fill of good old fashioned American entertainment while you still can.”
Shawn snorted and nodded agreeably.
“Got to keep myself busy—I keep giving out my number to hot Marines hoping they’ll call me to go out for a beer—but nothing ever comes of it.” He sighed dramatically.
“Therein lies your first mistake, my friend.”
“Flirting with Marines?” Shawn guessed.
“Assuming they know how to read numbers,” he corrected.
They both chuckled, sharing a strong sense of camaraderie that Abe hadn’t felt in a long time.
Shawn cleared his throat. “Lieutenant Darling here with you?”
While Aberlour didn’t think he was all that clever, he knew a test when he heard one.
Aberlour shook his head.
“Married with kids, I think,” he said offhandedly. Playing it off as no big deal was his best defense, as this clearcut reminder was like having an icepick jabbed directly into his heart.
Shawn tilted his head inquiringly, his brows arched in surprise.
“Really? I always figured you two were—” he stopped, waiting for Aberlour to fill in the rest.
He didn’t.
“Do you live around here?” It wasn’t an unusual question to ask since there were several naval installations along South Carolina’s coastline.
Shawn shook his head. “Just visiting with some friends from the service. Helped me set up an LGBT support group a couple of years ago,” he said, shrugging like it was nothing.
“Really?” Abe questioned. He’d never heard of such a thing.
“Sure, don’t ask, don’t tell is over. Why not?”
And those were the echoes of a similar conversation they’d had a long time ago. Aberlour fell silent, unable to come up with a good answer.
“I should probably get back to them—they’re bound to wonder what’s taking me so long.”
“Sure—I can see the headline from here—Navy SEAL Major assaulted by drag queen!”
Shawn snorted and rolled his eyes. Then, he dropped a large hand onto Aberlour’s shoulder and squeezed. His grasp was strong, and it felt—good to have a man’s hand on him again. It calmed and excited him at the same time.
“I’ll see you around, Abe,” he said, shooting him a brilliant smile. “Use the number—I know you know how to read it—and it hasn’t changed,” he promised, as he began walking backwards, his hand releasing Aberlour’s shoulder with obvious reluctance.
Aberlour watched him go, an unfamiliar feeling tightening his gut. Part of him wanted to follow—to put a hand on Shawn’s shoulder in return—to make a quick joke about owing him a beer, but his feet did not listen. They were firmly nailed to the floor, held back by something.
The drag queens were fabulous to use Bart’s favorite description. By the time the show was over, and he was headed back to his truck, he was startled to realize that he felt—lighter than he had in months.
These guys really weren’t his people. And it wasn’t like he’d suddenly, irrevocably, fallen in love with them and was now whole again, but the energy shared by everyone there had been hauntingly familiar.
It had been a long time since he’d been with people who loved each other quite so genuinely and thoroughly.
All of Bart’s friends were so different from the ones Aberlour had loved so dearly, and yet, they were similar.
So close, so tightly knit. Their bond was easy and natural.
He’d sorely missed that part of his former life.
Missed it more than he could possibly describe.
But even if he hadn’t been a part of the group’s special bond that day, just being there to witness it had felt as if something inside of him had healed, albeit temporarily.
Driving home, grief still sat in his backseat, but in the sunlight, it held hope’s hand.