Although the cat video amused him, Oliver Talbot could not relieve himself of thoughts about Ivan. He loved his brother. Sure, in his youth, he had not shown it. In high school, impressing his friends became more important than standing up for his strange sibling. He longed for popularity.
His friends called Ivan a ‘fag’ or a ‘queer.’ The unpleasant teasing rose to high levels, particularly in the gym locker room. The older Talbot wore dresses and made up his face in the mirror before attending the rest of his classes. Desperately, he petitioned the high school principal with a request to dress in the girls' locker room. The school adamantly denied permission.
Protocol demanded Ivan shower with the rest of the boys. Covertly, he ogled their 'junk.' Basil Mumford claimed the elder Talbot attempted to 'massage his member.' A fight broke out, leaving Ivan on the losing end.
Ollie pushed his way through the crowd. Kneeling between the wooden benches, he cradled his brother’s head in his lap. Then, leaping to his feet, he offered to fight Basil. Ivan tugged on the tail of his khaki ‘Go Army’ tee shirt and begged him to stop. In his brother’s defense, Oliver keened for a fight.
The far away days panged at Lt. Col. Talbot's brain. Although he stood up for Ivan when necessary, he felt embarrassed. His brother played with Barbies until he reached the age of sixteen. He raided his mother's closet for clothes and shoes. Then, he fell head over heels for Tulliver Cabot, the latest heartthrob singing idol.
"Gross," young Ollie muttered. Entering Ivan's bedroom, many posters depicting the singer decorated the walls. A huge one peered down from the ceiling over the double bed. His brother sprawled on the quilt, gazing at the sweaty blonde entertainer. "Man, you're crazy."
“You do things your way,” Ivan coolly responded. “I’ll do it my way.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Oliver backed from the room and stood framed in the doorway. “Mom has dinner ready. Will you grace us with your presence, princess?”
The pillow flew across the room. Before it could hit him in the face, Oliver grabbed it and held it against his chest. Then, he threw it back. Spinning on his heels, he marched downstairs. Ivan passed him on the way down. Resembling an overgrown child, he skipped through the dining room. Plunking into his seat, he widely grinned up at his brother.
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Sensitivity training changed Oliver Talbot's outlook. Many, but not all, of the outdated military stances on gays altered opinions. Some still took a negative view on the subject, but Ollie was not one of them. With his experience, he encouraged others to think differently.
He wished he had been more understanding of Ivan. Instead, he'd treated his brother like a pariah. Hanging his head in shame, he understood he had been part of the problem. His parents' stance on the subject caused Ivan's sudden disappearance. Perhaps the outcome would have been different if they'd taken the time to talk about it. Instead they brushed it under the table.
Ivan faded out of their lives without a word. Leaving the family to worry, he dropped out of college and drifted away. No one knew where he was or whether he was dead or alive. The plague virus caused a great deal of worry. Ivan was vulnerable.
Oliver longed to do his best to find him. Occasionally, he would sit up late at night searching the internet for signs of Ivan. Pride sites and parade photos caught his attention. Eagerly, he scanned them looking for the familiar Talbot features. No one popped out at him. He utilized every search engine he came across. Although he tracked down every possibility, they always dead-ended.
Someone had to know Ivan Talbot. Possibly, he drifted from place to place.
In his nightmares, Ollie saw his brother hanging out at highway truck stops or in bus terminals. Strung out on heroin, Ivan sold himself to any passerby. Ragged and skinny, he slumped in open doorways or slept in abandoned buildings. Waking up covered in sweat, Oliver called his brother's name and rolled over.
Liz provided minimal comfort. Although she had never met Ivan, she seemed to know all about him. Referring to him as 'your fag brother,' her prejudices rose to the surface. Ollie held his tongue in full knowledge of her affair with Gayle Martin. Elizabeth Talbot was no better off than Ivan.
“You’re not going to find him,” Liz wearily whined. Reaching out, she yanked Ollie’s tablet away and turned it off. “The glow is keeping me awake.”
“He’s my brother, Liz,” Ollie remarked, lowering himself onto his pillow. “My mother asked me to do another search.”
“Let your mother search.” His wife yawned loudly.
“Imagine how frantic you’d be if it were Hank,” he countered. He thought he could use his son to make his point.
Liz's snore provided all the response he required. If it did not happen to her directly, she could care less. Distressed, Oliver considered his wife's cold, hard heart. It was all one for one and one for none, in her opinion. She would not get out of her own way in a crisis.
Liz had too many crises going on in her life to worry about anyone else. She exploited her drama to the nth extreme. She would blow her tragedies out of the water if anything happened to Hank. It would be all about her, not about their son. It seemed Liz was the one in need of sensitivity training.
After a bout with his wife, Oliver Talbot decided he would trade her for his brother any day.
“Any news?” Major Gonzalez asked, re-entering the office.
"Huh? What?" Lt. Col. Talbot sat up straight behind his desk. The Major interrupted his thoughts. It took him a moment to return to reality. "Sorry, no." He used a short answer.
“What are we waiting for?” Alberto questioned, full of impatience.
“President.” Talbot sternly pursed his lips.
"Still? What's the tie-up?"
"Apparently, the Ayatollah claims it's not them,” the Lt. Col informed. “Morton’s taking their word for it.”
“Well, la-de-da.” Major Gonzalez flung himself uninvited into the chair facing the desk. “It is them, right?”
“Right.”
“So?”
“So, usually when it is them, they claim it, right?”
“Right.”
“Not this time.” Oliver paused, allowing his words to sink in. “All intelligence points toward Iran. The President utilized diplomatic channels to ascertain the facts. Iran adamantly denies it. Why? In most cases, they announce their involvement, right? Not on this one.
"Even when we prove the virus originated in the Takht-e-Soleiman mountain range, they reject it," Talbot continued. "They claim they have a guard outpost there but nothing else. No one other than the guards have been near the region. Nothing in, nothing out. Morton, as I said, believe them."
Gonzalez silently weighed the information.
“Are we going in or going home?” he finally questioned.
“Up to the Pentagon,” Talbot answered. “In the meantime, we wait.”
“Jesus Christ.” Gonzalez’s favored oath. After a pause, he stated, “Might be a lone wolf.”
“Might be,” Oliver grimly conceded. “Guess it's up to the Iranians to check it out."
"Yeah, waiting for them is like waiting for it to rain in the Sahara."
Alberto Gonzalez rose and departed without leave. After a few minutes, Lt. Col. Talbot followed him out. He wanted to address his team, although he knew the Major had already informed them.
Standing in the midst of a rough circle, Talbot addressed his men. He laid out the details in the same manner he'd laid them out for Gonzalez. Moans ran around the group. Many wished to return to their homes to check on their families. The plague worried them.
The men were, after all, still human. They had their worries and dilemmas, the same as he did. Oliver invited each to contact their wives, mothers, and children to ensure all remained safe and sound stateside.
Oliver Talbot sent out one text message when he assured himself they were busy on their smartphones.
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