Clay rushes through the isles of the store. He has exactly fifteen minutes to get home from the store before Holly, his wife, has to leave, and he promised her he'd make it.
"Pads, wipes, tissues, pads, wipes, tissues" the big burly man keeps repeating to himself.
Clay is 6 foot 2 and built like a truck. Broad shoulders, like any former high school football player and army man, with a full beard and bulging biceps out his tight shirt and a calve to crush melons with. He lost the other one in a bomb explosion on tour. But it never stopped him, nor did it diminish his chances on the market. Clay enjoys women of all sizes and shapes giggling at him, other men moving out of his way or looking admirably at his physique. He feels like a king knowing even at 34, with one leg, he can pull any chick he wants.
Clay grabs what Holly ordered and makes his way to the counter. It might be cliche, but he is good at fixing the porch, changing tires, etc. Fixing things, he can do, Clay thinks to hemself. He even made his daughter Nila a den in the yard for the hamster. But lists, organizing, planning? That's Holly's department. Which is why he forgot to buy the essentials he promised her and is now rushing to make it before she has to leave.
In a frenzy, the family man rushes out, towering over the other customers, not even noticing the girl at the counter batting her eyes at this ripped, bearded giant.
"Holy fuck, Rex?" Clay stops in his tracks when he rushes across the parking lot to his car.
A couple of feet away a guy in dirty clothes with an untrimmed beard is hanging around the garbage bins, pretending not to sift through them. Clay, however, is so excited to see his old friend again, he doesn't register this at all. Nor the clothes or the dirty face.
"Rex, my old boy, what is up?" Clay grins from ear to ear and raises his hand for the special high five they used to do. But Rex doesn't respond to it.
Rex blinks against the sun and only when Clay is up close, does a natural smile light up his face.
"Clay?" He says, hopeful, with a raspy voice.
"Bro this is insane, where have you been? We haven't talked in ages!" Clay wraps himself around Rex for a bear hug and presses the shocked man against him.
"Holy shit, you look-" Clay wants to indulge in familiar pleasantries but it is only now that he actually sees Rex that he reckons the state his friend is actually in. And the stench coming from his clothes. "...Amazing," Clay finishes, unconvincing.
Clay notices the once beautiful blonde locks on Rex' head are shaven off. The apple cheeks hollow and grey. The sparkling light in his eyes has faded.
Rex feigns a smile and nods. "Yeah, been doing real good man, how- how about you?"
Clay searches for words but can find none. Rex helps him out. He's probably used to these awkward run ins by now, Clay thinks.
"Fell a bit off as you can see. But I've been doing better. Trying to get a job. It's been good seeing you," Rex nods and prepares to walk off, saving both himself and Clay from further embarrassment. But Clay reaches his big hand out and grabs what little bicep Rex has and pulls him back. Clay can't help but notice the arm flexes and that old army strength gives him some resistance before Rex surrenders.
"Ain't no way I'm letting you walk off like this, dude," Clay says commanding, with an anger in him he can't quite place. "You're coming with me."
The car ride is silent. Clay doesn't know how to broach the topic hanging in the air: How could their lives have gone so different?
Clay feels an immense guilt when he drives his big family truck up a drive way in a perfect cul-du-sac. His house is by no means the biggest on the block, but with 5 bedrooms and bathrooms, 2 living rooms and an island kitchen, Clay has done pretty well for himself working at an insurance company. He has always been proud a dumb, no college diploma, jock like him made his way up in the world. Until now.
"You mother fucker, we're gonna miss the fucking plane because of you!" Holly bursts through the front door, baby on her hip, already dressed for travel, bags in hand. "Don't put that thing in front of my car, I need to GO!" She continues until Clay nods to the man sitting in the passenger seat.
"Just one moment," Clay says apologetic to Rex, rushing out.
Holly softens immediately when Clay tells her this is Rex. His buddy from the army. THE buddy from the army. Clay and Rex have been to hell and back together and were inseparable. The guys always jokingly referred to them as a married couple, that's how little one went without the other. They were glued together, always joking and hanging out together. Clay has boasted about their adventures to Holly for years, not giving a single thought to where Rex was now and if he might need him. Holly understands.
Together Holly and Clay load the kids and bags in the car. Holly passes a polite smile to Rex, but can't hide her concernment. When her car turns the corner, Rex finally dares to get out.
"I don't mean to put you out," he says apologetic, looking up at the stately white manor.
"How could you? I insist. Holly said it was fine. You're staying." Clay says, not being able to look Rex in the eye. Or more specifically; his own failing. How could he have let this happen?
Rex walks into the house almost like a thief. Not daring to make any footprints, gazing up in wonder at the chandelier in the hallway and the round stairs up to a balcony of the second floor. Clay walks to the kitchen and gets out a bottle of water and gives it to Rex, who happily takes it and immediately gulps it down.
It reminds Clay of when they were in the desert and they had only one bottle left to drink. Rex had given it all to him. No questions. And suffered the heat for the remainder of the day.
"There's a bathroom down the hall, the door in front of you, can't miss. Go take a shower, or a bath, take as long as you need, and I'll make us some dinner. We can relive some of the old days, huh?," Clay says, feeling awkward and stupid.
The guest simply nods gratefully and lightly treads down the hall. Clay turns to the kitchen to whip up some food. He is no great chef, but he plans on making Rex gain at least six pounds by midnight. He hauls everything from the freezer. Chicken, fish, fries, maybe they'd barbecue? Then Clay hears a sound and stopped frizzling with iced packages.
"Clay? Excuse me?" Rex says softly, almost indecipherable. Clay rushes to the bathroom, where Rex is still dressed, save for his shoes, which he politely placed outside of the door.
"I can't get the..." Rex looks on the verge of crying, pointing at the modern rainforest shower Clay loves.
"Ha, no worry man. Holly picked it out but I'm fighting with that thing every day," he lies. He points to a digital screen and with a few taps, he turns on the shower and makes sure it is a nice temperature.
Rex, however, doesn't move, avoiding eye contact.
"Don't start being shy with me now, ain't nothing I haven't seen before," Clay jokes to keep the spirits up. He hits Rex teasingly in his side, only to feel bone. Rex recoils, but it works, sort of. Rex smiles, halfhearted.
"Thank you for doing this man. This is my first shower in... in weeks," Rex tears up and looks away.
Again, an anger Clay didn't know he had wells up inside him. He wants to punch a hole in the wall and scream from the top of his lunges. Likely there is no one person, but if he finds whoever did this to his best friend he would go to jail for the most messed up bare knuckle murder in history. And he would do so proudly.
"Let me get your clothes, I'll put them in the washer," is all Clay says.
Rex nods and finally starts to undress. For some reason, though they'd been naked around each other every single day of deployment, Clay feels a shame wash over him. and allows Rex some privacy by looking away. Instead, he picks up every piece of clothing Rex takes off.
Only by glimpses does Clay see the damage. Rex still has his trained army muscle definition, but the meat is all gone. Ribs poke out of his skin. The once full tummy, reduced to a slender waist. Scars and dirt covered the skin where once abs and pecs were.
Clay's stomach turns. He knows that body. He's touched it, held it, hugged it, a thousand times. In the army there's a liberal approach to friendship, with most dudes even going further. And though Clay and Rex had never felt the urge to go there, they'd been comfortable in their masculinity. They often shared mattresses when there weren't enough, hugged sitting down when it was cold at night, leaned on each other when times got tough. Clay knows this body as well as his own and yet he can scarcely recognize it. And that hurts.
When he closes the bathroom door he glimpsed one last time at Rex, now fully naked. From behind, he looks more like the friend he remembered; broad shoulders, hairless back and two perky round ass cheeks, firm and tight. Applebum, he always said to Rex before slapping it hard and making it jiggle. Now, Rex lowers his head and cries. Clay closes the door.
***
Clay is bopping his head to some new tracks and throwing everything on the barbecue in his yard when Rex finally comes outside.
"Aaah, some Kendrick, I feel you!" Rex yells.
Clay looks perplexed. It's like a time machine. Rex, clean shaven, smiles cheeky, like he always used to do, bopping his head and showing the worst dance moves in history as he walks out on the grass. He has one of Clay's clean wide shirts on, which hides his body transformation, and one of his new jeans. His skin looks soft and rosy, and that sparkle in his eyes is back, however faint.
"Took some of your clothes, dickhead. You really need to leave the 90s behind man," Rex jokes. And Clay wants to kiss him, so happy he is to have his friend back.
"You can't just take my clothes," Clay says serious. Rex looks as if hit by lightning, a deep fear in his eyes. "I put out Holly's nightgown for you to wear. Papa needs some sugar for that shower," Clay says dirty and grins devilish.
Rex bursts out into laughing and that fills Clay up with relief. They are mates again.
The barbecue is a hit and Rex eats everything Clay grills up and more. For hours the two laugh about silly shit. Pranks from their army days, annoying sergeants, and Clay shows Rex every recent meme possible. It isn't until their bellies are full and they are sipping beers in the hot tub in their underwear that Clay dares to broach the subject.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Rex nods casually, but his demeanor shifts.
"What's to say? I got depressed after we came home. Couldn't hold a job. Applied for benefits. Got rejected. Sued their asses. Lost. And been on the street ever since."
"But what about Susan? What about Pacho?" Pacho was the dog Rex couldn't shut up about during employment. He was Rex' childhood dog and somehow he had survived all their years abroad. Rex had given him to his fiancé Susan when his mom passed away during their third tour.
It was the stupidest thing Clay had said thus far.
