Chapter 3

Two days later, they were ready to roll my wheelchair onto a military hospital flight back to Germany. I had my duffle bag full of stuff, my discharge papers, dated four weeks in the future, and my iPad. And my Purple Heart and the notice that I would be receiving a Bronze Star for my heroism. I still think the heroes were the guys who shot the S.O.B., not me.

I couldn't even walk yet. That would take the better part of six months to work through the therapy. So I was wheeled onto the plane. They had tie-downs for the chair, and several beds for the guys who hadn't made wheelchair status yet.

The Army hadn't called my next of kin – in this case, my wife. They didn't want her to know anything about what happened, 'cause we weren't supposed to be in action, let alone in Pak. Even that I had been wounded. I didn't even want to tell her that I'd be coming home. I wanted my homecoming to be a surprise. I could just bet what kind of surprise it would be. I hoped that there wouldn't be any strange cars in the driveway. That I could get her between – well between whatever the hell she'd been doing.

On the flight back to the U.S., I looked at the happy face of my wife on the iPad. And wondered again what kind of reception I'd get.

She decided to walk home with me after the basketball gang-bang. We walked. After a while we started to talk.

She wanted to know a lot about me. Where had I found out all that stuff about her? Okay, so it wasn't about me. The Internet, I told her. I promised to get her all the addresses where that stuff came from. But really, was she surprised that all the basic info about an heiress was on the scandal sheets?

And then it was about me. Where was I from? Tennessee, I told her. Just down the road from the University. Why was I in the Army? Everybody had to be somewhere while they grew up from a boy to a man.

I didn't, she said. I'm still slutting around like a teenage sex-crazed girl. We came back to the slut issue again. She did it, she claimed, because she didn't know what else to do. And she had to get away from her Daddy.

I thought that was a bit strange, and shoddy thinking. There were thousands of girls on this campus and only a handful of sluts. What did she think the other girls did? Didn't they want to get away from Daddy, too?

We got back to her room. No roommate, it seemed, for a Montrose. She pushed me back against the corner of the wall and the bed. She wanted to neck. I reminded her of the mouthwash.

I would never take sloppy seconds. And I wouldn't put up with her slutting around after we got serious. I told her again. If we got serious, one time with one guy would be one time too many for me. I'd trust her until I couldn't trust her anymore. And if the day ever came that I couldn't trust her, that was it.

She got up from the bed and stormed into the bathroom. I could her her gargle and spit. She took another swig from the bottle, and swished, then gargled and spit again. I heard the toilet flush, the rustle of clothing, and she came out wearing just the electric blue g-string on. Oh, she was wearing a U.S. Army green XL t-shirt, too.

"Do I pass muster, general sir?" She stood at a parody of attention, with her breasts sticking out and her ass barely covered by electric blue dental floss.

"Yeah you do," I said and gathered her into my arms.

Her head rested on my chest and we talked and talked some more. I gently fondled her breasts. She said that was one thing wrong with gang-bangs: everybody ignored her boobs.

We talked for a long time and fell asleep just like that. Her half naked, sprawled out over my chest. Me leaning on her wall, one hand on her boobs.

I woke with a start, the next morning. She startled awake, too.

"What time is it?" I asked her.

"'bout 9:20. You got somewhere to be?"

"No, but my mother will be worried."

"Weally? My big Wanger Wob has to be woweed about his mommy?"

"Not funny. I'm what she's got. And it's bad enough I went and joined the Army. Now I disappeared ... Where's the phone?"

She pointed. I got up and dialed.

"Hi mom. It's me ... No, I'm all right ... No I didn't get arrested ... No I'm not drunk ... Well, there's this girl and we were talking all night and I – we fell asleep ... No mom. Asleep, like, as in sleeping. With snoring and stuff ... Yes, she snores a bit... 'Cause we were sleeping... Well, I'll ask her ... Yes, I'm still in her room. I called as soon as I woke up ... Yes I know ... wait a minute.

"Lyn, are you free for a command performance ... I mean, for coming over to my house this evening?"

"Um. Well, I have an ... no. I mean yes. I can be free. I just have to make a phone call."

I knew what that meant. She had scheduled another gang-bang. I got back on the phone to Mom.

"Yeah, she can make it ... Okay. 5:00 is fine ... Yes, I'll be home before that ... Okay, bye."

Then she got on the phone.

"Hi. It's Carolyn ... Well, I'm not going to be able to make it tonight ... No, it's not ... Not them either ... It's not anybody... Listen, I'll make it up to you guys ... All right, then how about Saturday. I can come over all day ... Sure, ten it is ... See ya then ... All right, I will."

I listened to the whole thing. I heard her setting up yet another gang-bang. I knew that I still wanted her, but I didn't know if I could stand this. This wasn't just a gang-bang, it was more like a gang-machine-gun-blast.

I grabbed my windbreaker and headed for the door. "I'm going home to change and stuff. I'll see ya back at about 4:30 ... You know," I said, pulling the door shut behind me, "you could have waited to make that phone call until I was gone."

...

At 4:30 I was knocking on her door again. It was opened promptly. She looked good, excellent, superb. I could go on. She wore a red silk (or something like it, but with her money, I'd bet on silk) blouse that had a Chinesey kind of collar (you know, like Mao always wore), a loose schoolgirl-style skirt that was about knee length, and simple heels – they looked to be about two inches. She set it off with a single strand of pearls and matching earrings. She wore no makeup (or so it seemed to me anyway) and pale caramel rose lipstick (What do I know about colors? I'm a guy. I believe in the eight basic colors of the Windows palette.)

Anyway, she looked great. I took a snapshot (which I still have on my iPad). She looked great. So naturally, I insulted her. I didn't mean to, it just came out.

"Wow. You look great. Really wonderful. I haven't seen you look this good with your clothes on, ever."

I meant it as a compliment.

The smile was wiped off her face as she apparently was reminded of the gang-bangs I'd seen. She said, "Oh. Good. Let's go then. We don't want to be late."

I was wearing a navy blue blazer, chinos and a pale blue dress shirt. (I still have that shirt, six years later. Never did want to give up that link to that first 'date.') Typical semi-formal gear for a GI – what did I know?

I'd had to undergo the third degree from Mom all morning and afternoon. By now, she knew that Lyn had money. ("Don't you take a penny from that girl. No matter what. You'll make your own way. It'll poison things if you do. Mark my words.") Although I didn't tell her how much money. She'd have been floored.

Mom also knew that I met her at a fraternity party. That she seemed to be somewhat promiscuous. Mom said, "So what. She's a college girl. She wants to have fun." I didn't go into details about how extreme a definition of 'fun' Carolyn had.

She knew that I had just met her a few days ago. ("And you already had a sleep-over!") Most importantly, I had never brought any woman, girl, or female of any description home for Mom to meet. She asked me if I was serious about her. I said I could be, but I was a one-woman man, and I didn't know if she could settle down. Plus, I pointed out, I was going in the Rangers, so I wasn't sure it'd be right for me to ask it of anybody. ("You'll know if it's right. If it's right, it's right. Don't let the Rangers scare you from finding out.")

We had a nice roasted chicken for dinner, and I won't bore you with the details. After dinner Mom got out the scrapbooks. She had been waiting for ever to embarrass me with baby pictures and growing up pictures. Me naked in a bathtub. Me on my first bike. Me and Dad with a red wagon. He had died of a stroke when I was only eleven. That was a sad time, said Mom. An ultra scrawny me in a swim suit. Me in a cub scout uniform. Et cetera.

I stayed in the room and didn't begrudge her a moment of showing off how nice her Robbie had turned out. It was a Mom moment. I smiled at her doing all of it. I thought for a moment what Lyn's scrapbook would be like. Pictures of her winning prizes in horse jumping shows, no doubt.

I excused myself at some point to use the loo, and paused to eavesdrop before coming back.

Mom was saying, "You know, he's never brought a girl – a woman, home before. He's been on plenty of dates, you know. So he must think you're something special. You seem to be a nice girl – excuse me, a woman. Everybody seems to be so young from my point of view."

"That's all right. I'm more girl than woman, I think," said Carolyn.

"Well okay then. Maybe you're not ready to settle down with one guy just yet. But maybe you are. I just don't want to see my Robbie get hurt. Please, don't take him as just another plaything. If you hurt him, I'll hurt you. I swear I will."

That was enough of that! I made some noise in the hallway and interrupted that little pow-wow.

Mom was pushing fifty now. Wonder what she'd do with the situation I expected to find at home. Sigh.

...

I dropped Carolyn off at her dorm, and intentionally didn't see her the next day. I did call and thank her for being so nice when we were at Mom's house, and all. We talked for nearly an hour. But I didn't see her at all.

I went over to the same frat house at nine the next day. This was supposed to be Lyn's "all day-er" at the frat house, scheduled for ten a.m. I grabbed Will, my bud at the frat, and asked him to do me a favor. Just something special I wanted to do as they kicked things off today.

He seemed to be surprised that I even knew about it, but when I asked for it and explained, he agreed. It seemed that he was the 'contact' for this and was in charge of arranging things.