Chapter Nineteen
-- November, 1972
The Main Ingredient – “Everybody plays the Fool”
On a cold and sunny late afternoon, there was a knock on the Benson’s front door. Janet opened it to find a young man with a patchy beard in a dusty, field jacket.
“Hi, are the Bensons here?” he asked. “I used to make it with their daughter.”
When Janet realized who it was, she threw her arms around Matt Learner. “Oh my God, you’re here! When did you get in?!” she said, finally letting him up for air.
“Last night--” he began, but Janet punched him in the arm.
“And you didn’t come right over?!”
“It was four in the morning, you psycho!” Matt rubbed his bruised bicep, smiling.
“I was awake!”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
Janet looked around the neighborhood, suspiciously. “You better get inside. The others will want to see you.”
**
A half-hour later, Matt was safely ensconced in the basement of Janet’s house. He sat in the middle of the couch surrounded by old friends. Maggie leaned in to feel his pecks. “He’s skinnier, I think...” She asked him, directly. “Are you skinnier?”
Matt smiled. “They run us a lot.”
Cody was on his other side. “They don’t feed you over there?”
“Oh, they feed us, just not really the kind of food you want to eat--”
Janet swatted them away. “Give him some room. He just got back!”
Sitting on the floor, J.B. tore his eyes away from the returns coming in for the ’72 election. “It’s good to have you back, man. Place hasn’t been the same without you.”
Matt nodded. “Thanks, pal.”
On the T.V. screen in front of them, Tom Pettit was reporting: “...early state losses do not bode well for McGovern who ran on a platform of stopping the bombing in Southeast Asia and bringing an end to the war. His message was expected to carry extra weight as the Senator served as a pilot in World War Two and saw first-hand the effects long-term bombing can have on a country and its people...”
J.B. pointed to the screen, as if Matt had asked. “No question the bungling of the running mate cost him. I mean no one’s gonna vote for a head case, but I at least thought Shriver would bring some of that Kennedy fairy dust to the campaign...”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Across the room by the bumper pool table, Glen Tonche watched the attention Matt was getting. It didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t understand why it was such a big deal that Matt went off to war. He could have done the same, he just didn’t.
J.B. went on and on to Matt. “He can still pull this one out. No one can be this ignorant. Kissinger can say “peace is at hand” all he wants but we’re still bombing Cambodia! I tell you Mattie, I am so goddamn ashamed of this country sometimes...”
Matt shrugged. “Don’t hate it on my account...”
“What do you mean?”
“J.B., I don’t need you to stop the war.”
“Oh, so everything’s just hunky dory over there?!”
Matt thought about it. “I mean, the guns they make us use, they’re no good in the jungle. They jam up. Got to the point where we’re taking AKs off of dead bodies we find.”
Glen laughed, inadvertently. “Dead bodies? You mean you’ve been killing people over there?!” He glanced about the room, looking for a sympathetic face, but found none.
Matt stared him down; a humorless, thousand-yard stare. “What a stupid thing to say.”
The conversations in the room petered off. Everyone waited to hear what Glen would say. He took in their judgmental faces and responded in kind. “Whatever you say, baby killer...”
Matt smiled. He was on his feet before anyone else noticed, wrapping his dominant hand around Glen’s throat. He slammed him hard against the wall as the girls screamed. Glen sputtered, unable to breathe. It took Bill and J.B. working together to tear Matt off of him.
Once Glen was free, he lunged for Matt, screaming, “How dare you put your fucking hands on me! No one puts their hands on me! Do you even know who my father is?!”
Matt was manic. “No, but neither does your mother--”
If possible, Glen’s face went redder than before. He frothed at the mouth, trying to find the right words before suddenly blurting, “Oh yeah?! Well, while you were gone - I fucked your girlfriend on the hood of my car!”
Janet’s eyes went wide. The room went cold. She looked from Glen to Matt, her face betraying her. Matt said nothing, no one did. They were dumbfounded.
Finally, Janet’s ex headed out the back door.
The second Matt was gone, Janet wheeled around and pelted Glen Tonche, over and over again. He took it, wincing.
“How could you?!” she screamed, until it hurt to punch him anymore.
She ran out after Matt. The rest of them were left to pick up the pieces of the room. No one knew what else to do.
With the tables and chairs righted, J.B. slowly revolved back around to face the television. Walter Cronkite had cut into the previous reporter’s breakdown. “With the lowest reported voter turnout since 1948, a little over half of the possible electorate voting, CBS Evening News is ready to call the 1972 Presidential Election a landslide victory for President Richard Nixon--”
J.B. sank onto the couch, his mouth slack. “It’s the entire fucking country. I don’t understand. I knew he would take California, but... how could anyone vote for him?”
**
Matt had reached the front yard by the time Janet caught up with him. She was breathless. “Mattie, you can’t listen to what Glen says, he’s an idiot--”
He shook her off. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it matters to me. I’m sorry you had to hear it like that--”
But before Janet could get into her explanation, Matt spun around on her. “No, you don’t understand, Janet. I’m re-upping...”
She stared at him, not comprehending. “You’re... what?”
“Jan, you know me. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters growing up. Those guys over there? That’s my family.”
Janet had sudden, hot tears in her eyes. “I thought we were your family...”
He shook his head as he walked away. “Not anymore.”