At boot camp, you can't look at the opposite sex.  Can't talk to
them, smell them, rub up against them.  That was okay, because I had a
boyfriend back home: Billy.  After boot camp, I went to my "A" school to
learn about taking weather observations.  That's where I met John. John
wasn't like the other pop-eyed, tongue wagging drunk ex-booters.  John had
silver ribbons wrapped around his clean black eyes.  John was beautifully
smart, rebellious, weird and not Billy.
      Billy was a musician.  At one point, he was my god.  I thought he'd
always be my god, even when I joined the military.  He had morning-sky
eyes, a thin muscular body, big hands, and a quiet love for me. No one else
ever loved me, so maybe that's why I loved him.  That, and well, he played
the guitar for me on the beach while other much cuter girls watched him
sink his chin on to the guitar, rest his eyes on me and sing songs that had
my name in the title. The only thing I didn't like about Billy was the fact
that I never thought he loved me as much as I worshipped him.  After living
in our baked potato of a trailer for two years, I thought that if he loved
me he'd ask me to marry him.  So I joined the Navy.  He drove me to the
processing center in his nine-teen sixty nine Volkswagen Beetle, kissed me
and off I floated.
      So I am now "Mrs. John Some-other-guy", and Billy is now somewhere,
or nowhere, but not here. John wasn't John when we got married.  His clean
black eyes turned swampy green and because of that, I had enough tears to
flood Florida.  I didn't want John to marry me, I wanted Billy to marry me,
but because of the stench of my own heart, I couldn't smell my true desire.
  John and I married with the supposition that we really liked each-other
and we can grow to love each other.  We should get married before we never
see each other again.  Secretly, or maybe unconsciously, I knew I really
couldn't be with Billy and be in the military, so I married the first guy
who asked.  John, the swampy green eyed fool, was weirdly jealous of any
guy I talked to.  He didn't bother with my concerns over my school
problems.  Soon I realized that no guy in this world was as understanding,
soft and musical in voice as Billy.  So I said so.  Unfortunately, John was
on some ship and was frustrated
  so he threw his wedding ring to the bottom of the sea.  When I took leave back home, John did too.  That's how my life became what it is now.
      While on leave, I stayed at my parents house.  I called Billy. 
When he answered the phone I said, "I need to talk to you." There was a
thousand slices of silent use's crammed between the moment I said that and
when he finally responded.
"What do you wanna talk about?"
      "I don't love John," I said.
  "Then you shouldn't have married him."
      "I love you."
 "What do you want me do do about it?"
      "I'm sorry, Billy."
    Me too.  Come here."
    So I smoked a cigarette, grabbed my car keys off the small desk and
that's when the phone rang again.  I stopped and looked at the phone as if
it were a foreigner who was gargling some exotic language at me.  My
mother, who happened to be drunk, yelled, "It's your darling husband."  I
grabbed the phone.  I didn't say anything.  I just listened.  John asked
how I was doing.  I said I was fine and asked why he called.  "You know
we're over, right?"  I said.
    "I'm in Jacksonville," he said.
      "You're coming here?"
"No, I just drove a friend of mind down here to be with his
girlfriend."
      "Right," I said.
      "I do love you."
      "I just talked to Billy."

"We're still married.  I'll find that bastard if you cheat on me."
   "Where are you staying?"
      "At the Loyal Oak."
      "Leave me alone," I said and hung up the phone.
      I got in my car while the night creatures of the Floridian trees
hissed and croaked and chirped bitter sounds at me.  Billy was waiting. 
While I was driving down the main highway, going north to get to Billy's, I
remembered the strange feeling I had when I joined the military; how I
really never ever even gave joining the military a second thought, but I
did it.  I did it without turning back; back to Billy; back to my job at
the portrait studio; back to any kind of normal life.  While I was thinking
about that, I drove right past the exit to get to Billy's.  I drove past
the Denny's that Billy and I used to go to at two AM after playing
basketball with a tennis shoe instead of a basket ball.  I drove toward
that same moon that watched me and Billy clumsily make love under a blanket
at the beach.  After about an hour and a half, I parked the car at the
Loyal Oak hotel in Jacksonville. I found John's room.  We made campaign
out of diet cola, tears and sweat.
   Six years, a baby, and a couple of ranks in the military later, I'm
still married to John.  I guess you can say we were right when we thought
we'd grow to love each other, but even now, I can't help but wonder what
the night creatures sang to the beautiful Billy that night I kept on
driving.