A Marine Called Jason
(Revised)
by: Peter

(© 2007-2015 by the Author)
 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 113
Kyle and Devon Return to Saigon 

As Told by Devon 

I was deeply disappointed that I didn’t get to spend any time with Jake, barely fifteen minutes after all the time and distance that had separated us.  It was as if I’d been struck dumb when I saw him, so big and proud and strong in his uniform.  He didn’t move either for the first full moment we laid eyes on each other.  I didn’t know who moved first then, but the next instant we were in a tight bear hug. It was like hugging warm stone, his body was so hard under his uniform, I could almost feel the outline of every muscle. 

“Godd, I wanta kiss you so bad,” he whispered as he pressed himself hard against me so we could feel each other’s manhood.

But we parted within an appropriate length of time and he stepped over to give a Kyle a hug, and that’s when he said we couldn’t spend any time together, that he was going out on patrol in just a few minutes.  I was crushed.  It was all I could do to keep from crying. 

“But we’ll have some time when you come back,” he said.

“Will we?”

“I promise.  Even if I have to go AWOL.”

And that was all we had before he was called.  I stood helpless as he trotted off to join the other men.  Kyle had a sad look on his face that I knew was for me. 

“We’ll be back in a few days,” he said.

We took a shuttle back to the airport and were lucky enough to catch the next flight to Vietnam that was leaving in an hour.  It was a long flight. I was torn between disappointment over Jake and anticipation over the adventure that lay ahead for Kyle and me, returning to our home country.

We traveled light, with everything we had in back packs. Our first jolt to reality was at the airport when we landed; it wasn’t the Saigon airport anymore.  It was Ho Chi Minh City airport.  All we had ever heard was Saigon.  I didn’t remember much about leaving as a little boy but I did recognize that it was armed Vietnamese troops patrolling the airport now instead of Americans.  

We made a bee line for the orphanage, the only home we’d known in Vietnam.  We told the cab to wait.

“What’re you feeling right now,” Kyle asked as we slowly walked up to the gate. 

“Gratitude,” I said.  “For Sister Mary Margaret, and for Brad and Jason. And our mothers for bringing us here.”

“Well said.  Do you have the money?” he asked.

“Yes.  I’m still surprised we got it through all the checkpoints.” He rang the bell. “But for Brad and Jason, we would’ve grown up here,” he said as we waited.

Moments later a youngish nun swung open the gate.  A little boy was at her skirts.  He bore no semblance of American blood.  We asked to see Sister Mary Margaret, both of us wondering if she was still alive.  She was taking her nap. 

“We’ve come from America to see her,” I said.

Her face lit up and she ushered us in, saying, “I am sure she would want to be awakened, come with me.”

“It hasn’t changed all that much, has it,” Kyle said as we waited in the courtyard under the curious stares of dozens of kids of all ages, from four or five up to mid-teens.

Sister Mary Margaret came out onto the porch, older but still with the complexion of a teenager. She was using a cane and we both moved up to the bottom step to greet her with a handshake.  We told her who we were.  She didn’t say anything and it took a moment for a smile to come across her face as she nodded.

“And how are my two Marine saints?” she asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

“They are fine.  They send their love,” I said.

“Come in, come in,” she said, tapping her cane and waving toward the house. She rattled off something to the younger nun, sending her scurrying off. I was a little surprised that I didn’t understand what she said. 

“It’s barely changed at all,” I said quietly as we were escorted into the kitchen where the younger nun was busy making tea.

Sister Mary Margaret sat at one side of the table and motioned for us to take the bench on the other side.

“I do not recognize you, you are older, but I remember you well,” she said.  “I still have the pictures you drew for me,” she said, nodding to the wall behind us.

We both turned to look.

“I’d forgotten all about those,” I said, wondering how she remembered Jason and Brad and not us.

“You kept them all these years,” Kyle said.

“We remember you well, Sister.  You have not changed,” Kyle said. 

“My bones would argue that,” she said, laughing.  “Now tell me about yourselves, and my two Marine saints.  Tell me about your life.”

We spent nearly two hours reminiscing and listening to her tell us stories about us, about things that we didn’t remember, being so young.  Mostly, though, she wanted to hear about us and our fathers and our life in the United States. 

She smiled and said, “You call them your fathers; they adopted you, then.”

“Yes.”

“Good,” she said, nodding. “That is good.  I knew they were honorable men.”

Our visit spilled over into lunchtime and we shared lunch with the good sister. 

When it was time for us to go I took out the envelope and laid it in front of her. “From your two Marine saints, along with their love.” I said.

She picked up the envelope with a steady hand and opened it.  She didn’t take the money out but I could see she was flipping the bills.

“Oh, my!” she exclaimed quietly, trying not to tear up.  “They have sent money all these years, and now this.” 

We looked at each other.  We never knew they had sent money in the past.

As we were leaving she granted our request to see the room where we slept as little boys.  It was a poignant moment for us that left us welled up with emotions.  Neither of us said anything, and we have never spoken of it.

We found the military base, no longer American, and there was the park, just like they said.

“That’s gotta be Toby’s,” I said, pointing past the park.

“This is weird,” Devon said, “walking in the footsteps of our dads when they were our age.”

We walked to the park and Toby’s was only a stone’s throw away, but we lingered in the park.

“I wonder how many times they met here, and sat and watched the fish,” Devon said.

“I wish they had come with us,” I said. “They could tell us so much.” 

“Would they, though.  Hell, I never heard Toby’s mentioned more than a couple of times, it just sounded like a hangout.”

I laughed.  “Probably not.  Who knows what secrets linger in those two handsome heads.”  I sat down on the bench and leaned forward with my arms on my knees and gazed at the fish in the pond. Kyle sat beside me.

“It’s a funny feeling, sitting here,” I said quietly.  “Like we’ve been here before.”

“Like we’re them,” Kyle said.

“Yes.” 

We walked on to Toby’s.  We were excited and both a little nervous.  It was like we were walking into our dads’ past, and who could know what of those secrets we might uncover.  We’d never seen pictures of Toby, but there he was behind the bar, unmistakably as they had described him, along with a younger version of himself.  They were dressed in matching black T-shirts with TOBY’S printed across the chest.  They looked like they’d been poured into the shirts. The bar was dimly lit. Up closer we could see they wore matching, light khaki shorts that fit them like gloves.

“Holy shit!” Devon whispered and I knew it was over the way the guys were built. 

We took two of empty stools at the bar, shucked the back packs and laid them on the floor.  It was early evening and there were only a handful of patrons in the place.   Two men sitting at a table by the window eyed us warily as we walked in, then downed their beers and got up and left.  I wondered if we had offended them by our mere presence.  The rest barely paid us any attention.

The younger bartender stepped up and we ordered the beer Dad and Jason had told us to order; Bia Saigon. The bartender gave Toby a funny look and Toby gave us a funny look.

“That beer’s no longer available,” he said quietly.

“It’s Ho Chi Minh City now,” the younger bartender said.

“Well, we were told it used to be the best beer in the city.  Is it sold under another name?” I asked.

“No,” the young bartender replied.

Toby was standing with his hands on the edge of the bar, displaying his impressive arms. A thin, tight smile came across his equally handsome face.  Then the smile widened and he pointed.

“Devon….and Kyle.  Son-of-a-bitch.”

We were stunned that he knew us! But how? Unless they had sent him pictures of us.

“How did you know us?” I asked.

“I didn’t. Only a handful of American GIs ever ordered Bia Saigon beer and I remember every one of them. You two fit the circumstances of two of the best Marines I ever met who used to order that beer.”  He put his hand across the counter.  “Which one are you?” he asked, putting out his hand.

“I’m Devon.  That’s Kyle,” I said.

He shook our hands then introduced us to his bartender.  “This is Josh, my right hand man.”

The name seemed almost not to fit the youth’s features, although he did have American blood from somewhere in his lineage. I saw how Kyle’s eyes raked over the muscular arm. But this couldn’t be the bartender my dad had mentioned.  He was much too young to have been there when our fathers were. 

“How do you know these guys, Toby?” Josh asked as he set two bottles on the bar.  “This is the new Bai Saigon; Biere Larue,” he said.

We both laid our money on the bar. 

“I don’t know ‘em personally,” Toby said as he shoved the money back. Then he told our story for us.

“That’s pretty amazing,” Josh said

“How long are you here for?” Toby asked.

“Just a few days,” Kyle replied. “He’s just back from training after being stationed in Germany. He has to report in to his new duty station.”

Toby smiled. “I thought you looked military.  Marines, I’m guessing.”

“What else?” I said.

“Which one of you belongs to who?” Toby asked.

“I belong to Jason.  Brad is his dad,” I said.

“So, what do you wanta see? Where do you wanta go?” Toby asked.

“Well, we’ve already been to the orphanage. They told us to find Toby’s and then check out a bar called the Dragon Fly if it’s still there.”

“Oh, shit, that’s trouble in the making,” Toby said, laughing.

“The nuns told you to check out the Dragon Fly?”  Josh asked, surprised.

“No, no, our dads told us to check it out.  So it’s still there, huh.” 

“Yes,” Toby said.

“There’s a chapel we’re supposed to find,” I said.

“I know it,” Toby said.

“They never told us, but we thought maybe we might find some places where they were stationed.  Base camps, or anything that might be left.”

“I don’t know but I can find out for you,” Toby’s said.

“Oh, and a place called the Trent Hotel,” I said.

Toby broke out in that incredible smile again. “It’s still standing,” he said. “It was closed for a long time but then the soldiers started using it as a flop house and a place to take their women, so they opened it back up again. Not exactly four-star but it serves the purpose.”

“They told us to check it out.  Apparently it’s where they used to meet up.”

“Where are you staying, by the way?” Toby asked.

“We don’t have a place yet.  We came right here. Maybe you can recommend a place.” Kyle said.

“I can, but if you’re not choosey, you’re more than welcome to stay here. It’s nothing fancy……”

“You think?” Josh put in dryly.

“Shut the fuck up,” Toby said jokingly.  “It’s not fancy….a cot, sleeping bags and a twin bed….but you’re welcome to it.” 

I looked at Kyle and we tacitly agreed; we couldn’t turn down an offer to be in such close company with these two studs.

“If we won’t be in the way,” I said.

“It’s settled, then,” Toby said.

I pushed my money back across the bar again to pay for the beer.  Toby pushed it back.

“Your money’s no good here. They changed currency.”

“We just got our money exchanged,” I said.

“Your money’s good, he’s just not gonna take it,” Josh said.

We spent a couple of hours talking about the two men who Toby obviously knew so well.  We weren’t sure how well; he wasn’t giving away any secrets about Jason or Brad.  As the place began to fill up, with nearly all Vietnamese soldiers and some older business men types, we decided to go find the Dragon Fly. Josh offered to take our back packs for safekeeping.

“Good luck. Have fun. And for God’s sake, use condoms,” he said.  “Oh, the chapel is on the way.”

We passed by the chapel but decided to put that on the back burner.

“Let’s wait and see what kind of trouble we get into, we might have to light more than one big candle,” I joked.

The Dragon Fly was everything we expected, not from anything our dads had told us but based on movies we’d seen about the war, except it wasn’t filled with American GIs.  It was mostly Vietnamese soldiers, and businessmen besides the several female hostesses.  It was packed, there were no tables so we took seats at the bar and ordered San Miguels.  Before we’d taken the first sips two hot girls in tight, bright red dresses came up to us.  I could tell Kyle was ready. He didn’t even need the beer. It was a bit awkward when the girls came on to both of us, Kyle knowing I wasn’t interested.  He knew I would probably take one of them for show but he decided to bail me out, I was sure because he’d seen me eyeing a youngish Vietnamese sailor in the mirror, sitting a few stools down from us.

He shoved his beer over to me.  “I don’t mean to be selfish but I think I’m going to go double or nothing, you’re gonna have to find your own girl,” he said.  “Watch my beer.”

“Hell, it’ll be pee warm by the time you get back,” I said.

“Then drink it. Or give it to that sailor down the bar.”

I smiled, a little embarrassed, but relieved and thankful that he understood. He took the girls by their arms as he slid off the stool.

“He come?” one of them asked, nodding to me.

“No.  Just me.”

“Just you?  Both?”

“Yes, I want both of you,” he said.

“Ah, so. I see.  Stud.”

“Yeah, stud,” he said.

I watched him walk away with his arms around both of the girls. Moments like that I envied my brother.  But I quickly shrugged it off and glanced in the mirror and connected with the sailor’s eyes.  He looked like he was holding back a smile.  I picked up Kyle’s beer, held it out in a salute and nodded for him to come join me. He left his empty on the bar and came down and slid onto the stool beside me. 

“My buddy was in a hurry, he said to give you his beer,” I said, pushing the beer in front of him.  I noticed how small his hands were when he took hold of the beer.

“Thank him,” he said.  “You are Americans,” he said.

“Yes, we are American citizens, but as you can see, we have Vietnamese blood.  I’m Devon,” I said, putting out my hand.

“Long,” he said.  My hand dwarfed his. I didn’t know if Long was his first name or last but it didn’t matter.

He wanted to know why we were there in Ho Chi Mhin City and while I told him our story, our knees got acquainted. 

“I am glad we are friends again, not enemies,” he said as he   rubbed his knee against mine.

“Yes, it was a stupid war,” I said. 

Our beers were soon gone and I asked him if he wanted another one.

“I’m fine.  I don’t want to be drunk,” he said. Then he asked,  “Would you like to take a room?”

“Yes, if you would,” I said. 

He went over to talk to one of the women in red and came back. “There are no rooms right now, she will tell us when there is one.”

“How much will it cost?” I asked.

“It’s taken care of,” he said.

“No, it isn’t,” I said sternly.  “How much?” I asked, taking the roll of money out of my pocket. 

“This will be enough,” he said, taking a twenty out of the roll.  “It’s more because we are not paying a prostitute,” he said.

It was a half hour and two nursed beers later when the woman came to get us.  She led us to the beaded entrance and told Long the room number.  I suddenly began to have misgivings, wondering if it was a setup. Long was much smaller than me, I could handle him, but if he had cohorts that would come charging in….it was foolish, showing him my money.

He opened the door and bowed for me to go in first.  I was relieved when he locked the door behind him.  He immediately began tugging my shirt out of my pants.  I reciprocated, pulling his white navy T-shirt up.  He lifted his arms for me to take it off.  He was slender built but tight as a drum. There wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere to be seen.  He finished unbuttoning my shirt and pushed it off my shoulders.

“You are very big from American blood,” he said as he ran his hands across my chest. He stepped back and undid his white pants as he stepped out of his shoes.  He shoved them down, taking his white shorts with them, and stood naked before me. He was hard already.  He was small in stature, even there, but almost beautiful and perfectly shaped.  His skin was flawless.  He didn’t look old enough to be in the navy.   Except for his eyes he looked like he should be still in high school. He took hold of my belt buckle and undid it, then unzipped my pants.  He left me like that while he knelt down and took off my shoes and socks.

“Your feet are big,” he said, as he took one in his hand and caressed it.

“Yes,” I said.  “Size forty-eight.”

He reached up and tugged on my pants.  I let him pull them down and take them off of me.  I held onto my shorts.  Something made me want to save that till last, as a surprise.  He rested back on his haunches and looked up at me, his snappy eyes raking over my body.  Then he reached out and put his hands around my thighs. 

“You are like a stallion,” he said.

“Thanks.”

He ran his hands up and down my thighs, squeezing the hard muscles, and on down to my calves.  When he came back up, it was on the inside of my thighs and he went right up to the pouch of my shorts.  I wasn’t hard yet but I was fluffed up.  The pouch was heavy. He cupped both hands around it, and it took both of his hands to cover it.  I could see his eyes beginning to well up and I didn‘t understand the emotions.

He pulled my shorts down slowly, as if he were unveiling a precious piece of art.  When my cock fell free, he gasped.  I was twice his size.  I wondered if he’d ever seen an American cock before. 

“You should be named Long,” he said.

“Yes, I’m pretty big,” I said.

He seemed afraid to touch it; he just gazed at it.  I was swelling up, my cock lifting out with each pulsation.  He seemed to be waiting on it.  When the head brushed his lips he said, “I am not sure I can get it in my mouth.”

“You can,” I assured him.

“I have never had an American before.  I always heard they were big.  You are beautiful.”

“So are you, Long,” I said, laying my hand on his head.  Then I cupped my hands under his arms and brought him to his feet.  He was so light, I thought he couldn’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds.

“You are so much bigger than me,” he said.

“Yes, but you have a perfect body.  I like your body.”

“And my cock?  Do you like my small cock?”

I reached down for it.  It was dwarfed in my hand but I truly did like it.  It was perfectly shaped, with a slight upward curve, and hard as steel.  I would fit perfectly in my ass as well as my throat.

“Your cock is not small,” I said as I stroked it.  “It fills my hand nicely.  This is a small cock,” I said, holding out my thumb.

“I wish I had one as big as you.”

“No.  It would look awkward on you.  Your cock is perfect for your body, your body is perfect for your cock.”  I was running my hands up and down his sides, feeling how smooth and solid he was.  I ran my hands around to take hold of his butt.  The twin muscles fit perfectly in my hands and they were as solid as the rest of him.  “I especially like your butt,” I said.

“I’m glad.  You want to fuck me, I think.”

“You think right,” I said.  “And I want you to fuck me.”

He blinked with surprise.  “You would let me do that?”

“Of course.  I’m not going to let you have all the fun.  Have you been fucked before?”

“Only a few times, but never with anyone as big as you.”

I wondered if he might be a prostitute, servicing the businessmen that now frequented the place.  He read my mind.

“I not a prostitute,” he said.  I am very careful.”

“I won’t hurt you,” I said.  “I’ll get you ready. I just want you to know, Long, that this is not all about me just because I am bigger and an American.  I want to do everything you want to do.  We’ll do it together.  Starting with this.”  I picked him up, easily, and laid him on the bed, then straddled him in a sixty nine position.  I felt him take hold of my cock with both hands and pull it to his mouth, then I felt the heat of his mouth engulfing what he could handle.  I pulled his cock up from his belly and took it all the way to his balls in one oral stroke.  His outcry was muffled by my cock.

I wanted to rim his cute little ass but thought better of it; I had no idea how many or few cocks had been shoved inside him without condoms.  I had great fun, though, with my fingers, getting him ready for my cock.  He was truly a sexual treat, eager in bed and so supple to handle.  I was able to toss him around like a rag doll when I fucked him.  I had the thought that I was possibly fucking the son whose father had fought my father.  He was gratefully happy that I let him fuck me in return.  He gave me a good fuck and he was big enough to reach my prostate so left me satisfied.  As a final tribute, he said, he lapped up my cum from my stomach and chest and told me it was delicious American cum.  He was well worth the price of the room.

Kyle told me later it was the first time he’d ever been with a prostitute, let alone two.  This is how he told it. 

As Told By Kyle 

The girls had to “report in” to the madam standing at the doorway leading back to the rooms.

“You take both?” she asked me, sounding impressed.

“Yes,” I replied.

“You pay both.  You pay double,” she said.

“Yes, I understand.”

The madam pulled back the beads and the girls led me down a dimly lit hallway to a room.  I have to say they were very eager and attentive. They had worked as a team before.  They undressed me then started kissing me all over.  Then one of them sucked my cock while the other one rimmed me.  They said American GIs loved for them to do that.  They had incredible tongues, and their constant kitten-like purrs of pleasure turned me on.

Then one of them said, “We fuck, now?  How you want us?”

“Any way you wanta do it, ladies.”

They put the condom on me. They did me every which way to Tuesday. They put me through the wringer. The best part was the finish.  I was fucking one of them while the other one was licking and tonguing my ass.  The one I was fucking sensed my buildup and said, “You close?”

“Yess!  Fuck, yess, I’m close!” 

Suddenly she eased me away and my cock pulled out of her pussy.  I wondered what the fuck she was doing as I backed off the cot.  Then two of them scurried to their knees in front of me, tearing off the condom.  Then they tilted their flawlessly pretty faces with their mouths opened around the sides of my cock. I fucked through them to the finish, spurting cum all over their faces and tits. It was an awesome sight.  It was an awesome cum.  It wasn’t what I’d expected but it was worth the money.

When we were coming back out into the bar the madam stopped me.  “Your friend, he say have beer, he be out soon.”

Okay, I thought.  So he’d scored with the sailor. He came out about twenty minutes after I did, looking flushed and pleased and content. The cute sailor was behind him. They exchanged some words and parted ways. I ordered another beer as Devon took the stool next to me.

“So, how’d it go?” I asked.

“Great.  You?”

“Great.”

We sipped our beer as we listened to the band and watched a handful of soldiers dancing with the girls. 

“I’m sitting here imaging our dads out there with a couple of chicks,” he said, nodding to the dance floor.

“I was imaging them back there,” I said, nodding to the beaded door leading back to the rooms.

Just then a girl came up to me and asked if I wanted to dance. 

“Trust me, you do not want to dance with me,” I said, laughing.

“You not dance?  Come, I teach.”

“No, no.”

She turned then to Devon.  “You like dance.  You good dancer, I can tell.”

Suddenly he looked like he was seeing a ghost. “No. No, thanks,” he said and quickly guzzled the rest of his beer. He set the bottle on the bar and slid off the stool.  “Let’s go,” he said.

“Hey, dude, what’s the matter?” I asked as I chugged down the rest of my beer.

“I don’t wanta be here anymore,” he said. He was starting to sweat.

On the way out I asked if he was okay.

“Did you notice, they’re all wearing fuckin’ red dresses,” I said.

I had noticed but I hadn’t made the connection.  I did now.

“You gotta wonder, Kyle, if any of those women might be…..”

“No, man!” I cut in.  “I don’t even wanta think I might have fucked my sister.”

On the way back we stopped in at the chapel.  It was dingy inside, and a little eerie with the dozens of flickering candles offering the only light.  The walls and ceiling were darkened from the years of smoke from the candles. We crossed ourselves and made our way to the grotto.  I didn’t know who the saint was there; Jason nor Brad hadn’t told us.  The large candles cost five dollars.  I took out a ten dollar bill, folded it and stuffed it in the slot.  Devon lit two of the bamboo sticks and handed one to me.  We lit a large candle together, then without a word, we each lit one of the smaller candles.

“They never told us what we were supposed to pray for,” I whispered.

“They know, Jason and Brad and him,” he said, nodding at the towering statue of the saint.  We knelt together.  I didn’t know what Devon was praying for, or if he was, but I thanked God for the two men who had taken us out of here and given us a life.  And I thanked Him for my brother beside me.  I felt Devon’s hand brush mine and I took it.  He squeezed my hand and held it.  I thought he was praying the same prayer I was.

We were walking back, looking for a place to eat when Devon suddenly stopped in front of a small shop.  We’d passed by it before but neither us had taken much note of it.  I didn’t this time and I wondered what had attracted Devon’s attention.

“Let’s go in here,” he said.

I followed him inside.  It looked like an army surplus store and I thought that was the attraction but he went to look at a display of jewelry in the window.

An old, stooped man came through the beaded door in back.

“Something you are interested in?” he asked in near perfect English.

“I would like to look at the ring,” Devon said.

The man lifted the display out of the window and took it back to the counter where there was more jewelry on display.  He took out another display and set it on the counter.

“Do you know the rings our dad’s wear?  This has to be where they bought them,” Devon said.

“Your fathers were here? I make many rings for American GIs,” the old man said.  

Devon picked out two rings to examine them more closely.  “What is the birthstone for October?” he asked.

“Opal.  I can put opal in these rings,” the man replied. 

“Can you show us the stones?”

He brought out a tray with loose stones on it and picked out several and laid them on a velvet cloth.

“These are all opals?” Devon asked.  “They’re all different colors.”

“This one is most rare; black opal.”

“Can you replace these stones with black opals?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, and engrave if you like.”

Devon looked at me.  “I want to get these rings for us.  What shall we have engraved?”

I was deeply touched but I had other ideas.  “No, Dev. Those rings our dads wear aren’t brother rings. Those rings signify the tight bond between soldiers. Get the rings for you and Jake.”

“But I….”

“I like that bracelet,” I cut in, pointing to a heavy silver ID bracelet.  The man quickly took it out and handed it to me.  “We can get matching bracelets and have them engraved.”

“I like the rings,” Devon said, his voice a little weak and far off.

I smiled. “I know you do.  I also know you’re thinking of Jake right now.”

“I wasn’t, till you……

“Get the rings for you and Jake,” I said again.

I’d thrown him a curve and he had to start all over again, picking out military rings.  The old man was following along and he quickly brought out a tray of military rings.

Devon right away picked out a silver ring with the Eagle Globe and Anchor set in a blood-red stone.

“Solid silver, ruby setting; ruby red for Marines,” the man said.

“Heft this,” he said, handing it to me.

I felt the weight of the ring, nodding.  It was engraved on one side with USMC and Semper Fidelis and Marine 1st Div on the other.

“Do you have two of these?” Devon asked.

“Yes, yes,” the man replied rather excitedly.

“Good, I would like JAKE on the band on one ring and DEVON on the other.”

“Yes, of course, anything you want. Here, write down names,” he said, pushing a pad and pen across the counter.”

“Do you want engraved inside?” the man asked.

“Yes, thanks.”  He wrote down a date followed by the words Football Camp.   Then he quickly scratched out the date and wrote it following the words.

“I need size,” the man said, bringing out a set of ring sizers. He sized Devon’s finger.  “Very big fingers,” he said.  “Both rings same size?”

“Yes.”

You pick up tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, but wait.”  He picked up the bracelet. “This the one you like?”

“Yes, do you?”

“Very much. It’s heavy.” 

“Solid silver,” the man said.

“Put this name on one and this name on the other one,” Devon said as he wrote down KYLE COURTER and DEVON SEABORNE.

The old man laid out a card with samples of typefaces. I picked out a classic old style; Devon selected bold block letters.

“You want something on back?” the man asked.               

“Yes,” I said before Devon could answer.  I took the pad and printed KYLE, My Real Brother and laid it with Devon’s name.  Then I printed DEVON, My Real Brother and laid it with my name.  “You always doubted we were real brothers….this makes it official.”

“I like it,” Devon said.                                                

The old man excused himself to go to the back. He returned minutes later with a slip showing the prices of the rings and bracelets. I nearly choked. I was stunned at the prices. The old man noticed.

“Too much?” he said and quickly began redoing the prices.

“No, no,” we both said at the same time.

“Not too high,” I said.

“Cheap at twice the price,” Devon added.

The old man smiled with relief.  “Pick up tomorrow then.”

We stopped off at a hole-in-the wall café that served the best chicken and rice I’d ever eaten.

“Are we staying with Toby?” I asked.

“I sure wouldn’t mind,” Devon said. “Our dads never told us much about Toby but fuck, I would sure like to get to know him better.  A lot better.”

“I wonder if Josh lives there with him.”

“We can only hope,” he said.

To be continued...

Posted: 06/05/15 rp