Chapter 10 -- Making Peace, and preparing for War
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Sunday we had Mr. and Mrs. Richardson over for dinner. It was August, the height of monsoon season in southern Arizona, our summer thunderstorm season. The cloud cover keeps things cooler, and an early afternoon rain had the temperature pleasantly cool, so we set things up on the wood deck out back. We sat around the large picnic table talking, as Steve grilled the ribeyes. I got Fred to talk about his deployments. "Okinawa was nice, but you had to be on good manners all the time. We kicked their ass in World War II, but now they're important allies. We're now guests in their country, and we have to behave like guests. While I was stationed there some young jackass got drunk in a bar and raped one of their women, and there was holy hell to pay. A lot of protests, and rightfully so, in my book. Any son of a bitch that mistreats a woman, let alone rapes one, needs a damn hard whipping, and thrown in the brig for a very long time". I nodded. "And what's your least favorite deployment?". Oh, that would be Guam, that place can be a hellhole. Always very hot, always very humid, and rarely a breeze. And a strange place. There are nice tropical forests, and when you go hiking out in them you notice right away how silent it is. There are almost no birds on the island, and you notice right away the absence of birds chirping, singing, and flying around. I read that brown tree snakes got on the island, stowaways on cargo ships. They feasted on bird eggs in nests, and decimated the native bird population". I nodded.
"Steaks are almost ready!" Steve called out. "Paul? Can you get the baked potatoes out of the oven and put them on a platter and bring them out? And don't forget the butter and sour cream? And Sarah? Can you get the bowl of salad in the fridge, and bottles of salad dressings?". The kids scrambled to get things ready. Fred looked at Rick. "Son, I can't believe how well-mannered your kids have become. The couple times we came over for dinner at your and Ellen's place they just bickered and argued with each other". Rick smiled. "Thanks. Now that they're happy is a big factor. And Dave has been a real positive influence". Fred glanced at me and nodded approvingly.
We started eating with enthusiasm. "Steve?" Fred began, "this ribeye is just perfect!". "Thanks". "I hear that you want to be a chef?". "Yeah, I do, um, well I did. But Dave told me to always aim high, and shoot for the stars. I've been working over at the Longbranch Cafe. The owner, Mr. Fleming, is a really nice guy. He's already taught me how to cook all the dishes on the menu. Now he's teaching me how to do inventory and order supplies. He told me doing the other employee's timecards is next. He's in his 60s I guess, and he's dropped a hint a couple of times that he wants to retire in a year or two. To be honest, I'd sure like to figure out a way to buy the place from him, and have my own restaurant". Fred nodded approvingly. "Well, that's certainly very ambitious of you!" "Thanks. He even mentioned that he could make terms for me, he doesn't need all the money upfront. He just wants more time to travel and visit his kids and grandkids". Fred nodded. "Interesting. Well, your grandmother and I have a few nickels saved up in the bank. When the time comes, maybe we can help you out with that". "Really?". Fred nodded. "And Paul thinks he wants to get into computer networking" I spoke up. "So, we already told him to start finding out which community colleges in the area have a good program for that. Rick and I can afford to get him at least a two-year degree, to give him a good start with a good company". Fred and Hellen nodded approving. "And Sarah?" Helen spoke up. "I don't want to embarrass you, but you're a very pretty young lady. In a couple of years, you're going to have a bunch of young fellas come a-callin'. Your father and Dave are going to have their hands full making sure their intentions are honorable". "Oh, grandma!" Sarah sighed embarrassedly. Rick and I looked at Helen and nodded.
We finished dinner, and the kids began to clear up the dishes. "You know, Dave" Fred began, "I've been thinking. I'm thinking I that I could probably get used to having you as my son-in-law". I cocked my eye at him. "Oh yeah? Well, I'm thinking I could probably get used to having you as my father-in-law". We smiled at one another. I looked at Hellen. "Oh, I'm already used to you, Dave" she began. "Anyone who makes my son so happy, and my grandchildren so happy is someone I'm proud to call my son-in-law".
Rick and I sat out on the back deck, smoking a bowl, and enjoying the sunset. The kids were inside watching TV. Rick put his arm around me. "That's a really nice sunset". "Yeah, it is I agreed. "It's so great you and my father are getting along". "Well, I've always prided myself on being able to get along with just about anyone. It's just that with some folks you have to dig a little bit deeper, find what interests them, and use that as a common ground to get along with them". Rick hugged me tighter. "Oh, and by the way, I'm working at the local trash station this week". "What!". Yeah, the regular guy is taking a week off, vacation time". "But why the hell do you have to do it?". The county is really shorthanded in this tight labor market, they have a lot of positions open. And I don't really mind it, change of scenery, shorter drive time. And it's really simple, you have a rate sheet and tell them so much for one bag or can of trash, so much for a carload, and so much for a pickup load. And with the shorter drive time you get the week off for the kids. I can drop them off at school, and pick them up after school". "Fine, I guess".
I opened up right at 8 o'clock. There's always a rush when you open, folks want to get rid of their trash before going to work or running other errands before the day got hot. There was a small shed used as an office, the county called it a fee shed. It had electricity and an AC. I preferred to have the door propped open, I could better see folks coming in, and I've never cared for small, enclosed spaces. About mid-morning a silver Dodge Ram pickup came speeding in and skidded to a stop in front of the fee shed. Asshole, I thought to myself, must be in a big hurry for some reason. I nodded to the driver, a big burly looking guy, as I walked to the pickup bed to see how much trash he had. It was empty, so I walked to the pickup door. "Um, do you have any trash?". He shook his head. "No, I use a trash service in town". "Then what can I do for you?". "You're not the regular guy, are you?" "No, I'm filling in for him this week, he's taking the week off, vacation time". "You government workers have things so easy, I'm surprised you don't have a couple of supervisors out here, watching you work". I sighed in exasperation. "What's your name?". "Dave". He nodded. "Then you must be the guy who's shacked up with that fella who loves getting his shit packed". "Excuse me?" He laughed. "Ellen Richardson's ex-husband. She told me he shacked up with some guy named Dave, and that he admitted to her that he loves getting boned".
He spat out on the ground, narrowly missing my foot. "I think that's about as low as a fella can get, letting another guy bone him in the ass". I shrugged. "Different strokes for different folks". "Yeah, right!" he snorted. He cupped his crotch with his right hand. "Bet you'd love to chow down on my big baby maker". I shook my head. "Um, no thanks, I'll take a hard pass on that". "Yeah, right! All you faggots can't get enough dick. You say you don't want it? I don't buy it, but maybe I'll just make you suck my dick, at a right place, right time". I glared at him with intense hatred and anger.
"You don't know who I am, do you?". He did look familiar, my mind raced to try to place where I'd seen him. Ah yes, the hardware store. Oh shit, Vanderyackt! "Carl Vanderyackt?" I asked. He nodded. "Yep. I had a pretty good thing goin' with Ellen, once that faggot of a husband left her. She did have a bad habit of runnin' her mouth off too much. I was there for an easy piece of ass, not some goddammed lecture. Real shame what happened to her, she must have run her mouth off once too often. That bitch sure did have a mouth on her. But you fellas made a big mistake, pointin' the sheriff's deputies my way, I don't take kindly to that". "We didn't" I bluffed. "Yeah? If you didn't then who did?". "You'll have to ask the sheriff's office about that. We told them we had no idea who might have done it. They suspected Rick at first, but the kids confirmed he picked them up at 4 o'clock, and we were all at my place at the time of the murder". "Yeah, well I have an alibi too. And yes, those poor kids, stuck with two faggots, spoonin' and likely kissin' in front of them. Glad the state had the good sense to take them away from you". "Oh, we have our kids back with us". "WHAT? How the hell did that happen?". I held up my hand for him to see my wedding ring. "Rick and I are married. As a married couple, and with no question about the children's safety and welfare, that state had to return them to us". Vanderyackt spat out again, this time hitting my boot. "Well if that isn't the most disgusting thing I've ever heard, two faggots marrying each other". Another car came in and pulled up behind Vanderyackt. "Well, I have another customer, move along now. Nice to meet you" I added, with sarcasm. "You won't think so after my buddies and I get done with you. We're God's Patriots, and we don't take kindly to librul snowflakes, negroes, Jews living around us. And we especially don't like any faggots livin' anywhere near us". He shifted his truck into drive and sped off, tires spinning in the gravel.
I considered my encounter with Vanderyackt. I was more convinced than ever that he had murdered Ellen, with his comments about her running off her mouth too much, and him being with her just for a piece of ass, not a lecture. But I also realized I'd probably made a mistake telling him Rick and I were married. He was just the type who would go around telling anyone who will listen those two gay guys were married to each other and lived in the area. And by late afternoon I got my first customer who had heard the news. "Um, two cans of trash? That will be four dollars, please". He looked at me curiously. "Did I hear right? That you're married to some other guy?". "Uh, yeah, as a matter of fact, I am. Four dollars please". "I think that's disgusting". I shrugged my shoulders. "Well, it's the law. Two men or two women have the same right to marry one another as do a man and a woman. Four dollars, please". "The law don't always make something right, just like murdering babies with that abortion shit". He shoved the money at me and took off.
I thought long and hard if I should tell Rick about my encounter with Vanderyackt. As much as I didn't want to tell him because I knew he would get worried about me, I knew I had to tell him. Because it affected his safety and our children's safety. It wouldn't be that hard for someone to search public records and find out where we lived. I waited until after dinner and we went out to sit on the back porch to tell him exactly what had transpired with Vanderyackt. Rick didn't say a word. He got up and went inside, and came back out carrying the holster and 9mm Glock. "From this moment on you are not leaving this house without this gun". I immediately began to protest. "Shut up!" he commanded firmly. "I don't want to hear it. I refuse to lose you, I forbid it! You're my everything in life, and I am NOT going to allow you to get hurt, or in any way be in danger. Got it?". I nodded. "Good! End of discussion. Now, I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself with a gun, and you're going to learn it. Now, you just fasten the buckle of the holster onto your belt, like this". Then he started fishing around the trash barrel. "What are you looking for?". "Some cans, you and I are going to have some target practice". We walked out into the backyard. Rick placed two soup cans on a fence post, and then walked back about 25 feet and motioned me over. "Ok, now first we're going to practice drawing your gun. Now, drop your arms down to your side. Yeah, like that. Now, DRAW!". I looked down to see where the gun was, and awkwardly pulled it out and pointed it at the cans. "No!" Rick sighed in exasperation. "If you have to look to see where your gun is, you'll get shot before you ever find your gun. You have to know exactly where your gun is. Look straight ahead, off to the horizon. Now, lower your hands to your side, yeah, like that. Now feel where your gun is. That's it, do you know exactly where your gun is now?". I nodded. "Ok, now when I say "Reach' you just reach for your gun, grabbing it by the pistol grip. Now, drop your hands by your side, and . . .Reach!". I quickly reached for the gun and grabbed it by the pistol grip. "Very good. Now again, drop your hands to your side and . . . Reach!". I grabbed the gun in an instant. "Very good, very good. You're a fast learner. Now we're going to practice drawing your gun and aiming at your target, the cans. But don't fire yet, we'll get to that".
"Now, hands to your side, and . . .Draw!". I swiftly drew the gun and aimed at a can. "Very good. Now put the gun back in the holster, hands at your side. Yeah, like that, now . . . Draw!. Excellent! Now, for firing the gun, you really need to use both hands. That holding a gun with one hand is just for Western or Action movies. When you fire a handgun the recoil lifts the end of the barrel up, which can cause you to miss your target. When you hold a handgun firmly with both hands it can't do that. So, hold the gun with both hands and aim at a can. Rick came up behind me and put his arms around me, helping me hold the gun. Now, you see that notch at the back of the barrel? And that tip at the end of the barrel? That's how you aim a handgun. You align them so that the tip on the end of the barrel is aligned perfectly in the notch, just barely above it. Yes, like that. Now . . . Fire!". I squeezed off a round and the can jumped off the fence post and fell to the ground with a clatter. "Excellent! Really good. The only thing is that when you're firing a gun in self-defense you don't get all the time in the world to aim, you get a fraction of a second. So, you have to get a sense that the notch and tip are aligned to where you want the round to go and memorize what it looks like. So, put the gun back in your holster, and lower both hands to your side. Yep, just like that. Now when I say Fire you draw your gun, aim the gun at the other can, hold it with both hands, and shoot as fast as you can. Ready?. Fire!". Instantly I drew my gun, held it in both hands, and fired; the can jumped off the fence post. "Damn! You're good!". Rick walked over and picked up both cans and put them back on the fence post. "Hey! What's all the shooting about?" Paul yelled from the back porch. "Dave and I are just having a little target practice" Rick yelled back. "Nothing to worry about. "Now, put the gun back in the holster, and hands at your side. Now, when I say Fire, draw your gun and shoot both cans. Ok . . . Fire!". I drew the gun, holding it firmly with both hands, and shot the first can, sending it flying, and a fraction of a second later did the same to the other can. "Damn!" Rick said admiringly. "They could have used your help at the OK Corral!". "Very funny". "Oh, nothing is funny about this at all. But now I feel confident you can defend yourself, and that makes me feel much better". "What are you going to do for a handgun?". "Oh, I'm going to buy another one tomorrow, and always have it with me".