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Orr was gone.
His things still lied on the bed as if he just left for dinner.
His tools were strewn around the floor. He didn’t manage to clean them up before the mission. He was in hurry, determined to finish repairing the stove by the time of getting on plane. He did it.
‘The damned, fucking stove’ snapped Yossarian, replacing the sadness that flooded him by outburst of anger.
He sat on Orr’s messy bed, placing hands on it’s edge. He remained still. From time to time he unconsciously stroked the bedding with his left hand. In the corner of the eye he saw something white under the pillow. He hesitated for few seconds, but curiosity got the better of him. Without turning, he reached slowly, as if someone could catch him red-handed, and griped it between thumb and index finger. “Envelope” he muttered, resting elbows on the knees and holding the letter in both hands. He opened it and pulled out a folded peace of cheap paper. For few seconds he fought with conscience telling him that he should not read someone’s correspondence, but then he reminded himself that no one here had privacy and they all were the same cannon fodder, so no one really cares what others know and what they don’t. He took a breath and unfolded it.
“Our dear brother!” said childish handwriting.
Yossarian felt tingling around eyes. He gulped, swearing under his breath and continued reading.
“We miss you so much. Ma was a lot happy when last letter come from you.” Man chuckled silently at the mistakes. “She even made a cheesecake! Papa sad said you would eat all of it. But you are not here so we ate it.” Now the handwriting changed. It still was childish, but more smooth and written in green, not pink. “Dad told me to write that you are clever and that he did as you told with car and it works.” A little smile appeared on Yossarian’s face. He felt proud for a moment but shook off this feeling, having no idea why it even appeared. There’s no reason for him, precisely him, to be proud of something Orr said or did. “And you know what! Our Betty has six babies! We have seven dogs now! You will feel like in heaven when you come. We have to finish because pastor is coming for dinner. We all love you. Mom gives you kisses. Loving, Nancy and Teddy.”
Numb, he folded the letter again, put it into envelope and hid under the pillow, where it was before. His position remained the same, beside head that was slightly turned right, where the stove was. He spend like that a good few minutes disrupted by sudden flinch of hectic hope that made him stand up sharply.
He rushed to the stove and successfully tried to make a fire.
“He may come back! He may come back” he muttered. “No one said he’s dead. This bastard! I bet his grinning now with this stupid face, fishing damned cods.”
Yossarian took a can of bean soup out of the box he kept under the bed. He found an old, crooked pot without a handle, poured the soup into it and put it on the stove. He purred with satisfaction and turned, cross-legged, to face the tent entrance.
He was ready to welcome Orr in warm tent, with hot meal and extra blanket.
Every sound of engine made him smile with anticipation. Every lack of Orr brushing aside the entrance sheet made him deeply disappointed.
Soup was too hot and burned his tongue.
Eggs were good but would be better if Orr ate it.
Cheddar just made him feel sick.
Orr was gone.
***
“Woah, buddy! Why are you so grim?”
McWatt noticed Yossarian leaving administration tent furiously when he was returning from kitchen where he tried to convince Milo to bring him some sauerkraut from wherever the hell he could buy it.
“Yossarian, you bastard, slow down.”
The man whined and stopped, turning around to face McWatt.
“I’ve got new ones in my tent! Four of them!” he blurted out, sticking out a hand with four straightened fingers right in front of McWatt’s eyes.
“And? You leave alone. You’ve got plenty of space” said pilot calmly, stepping aside to save his nose from being hit.
“I live with Orr and that deceased and they don’t understand it.” Yossarian flicked his arm in administration’s general direction.
“Well” said confused McWatt. “Aren’t they both dead? Yossarian, Orr is also deceased. Sad as it is. I genuinely liked this nutcase. Ah, it was quite long ago, wasn’t it? Feels like only few weeks. You’ve got that stove thanks to him. It must be nice to have a stove like that now.” He smiled, sighing dreamily.
“It is. And those idiots are going to use it and probably even destroy it.”
Yossarian’s voice sounded unusually and a thought appeared in pilot’s mind, that maybe the man is about to cry. He was really depressed after Orr’s death after all. The worst I’ve seen him, admitted McWatt in his thoughts.
“Why are you so against them?” he asked, deciding not to dig up in Orr related topics.
“They don’t know what’s happening here!” Yelled Yossarian, gripping McWatt’s shirt desperately. “They’re happy and careless, McWatt. They talk about baseball and girls, about school. They are happy to be there and can’t wait to get on the plane! And they dumped the deceased’s things into woods, just like that!” Yossarian snapped his fingers to demonstrate.
“You’re crazy. Crazy!” shouted McWatt, getting out his friend’s grasp. “Let them enjoy their lives and duty! Do you want them to be twisted like you, right from the start?”
“Oh, and what, maybe you’re not twisted?” hissed Yossarian, contorting his face. “Okay, they can live with me. Let’s leave it. But if they damage the stove or touch Orr’s stuff, I’m going to cut their throats open.” He stated and left, grumbling under his nose.
“I had no idea he liked him that much” said McWatt to Flume, who looked at him with mad eyes, spilled out the water from mess kit and ran away to the bush, whining silently.
“Poor guy” whispered pilot, not sure himself if he means Flume, Yossarian or both.
***
“Sweden?”
“Orr!”
“Orr?”
“Sweden!”
***
Sweden. For God’s sake, Sweden.
Yossarian was cold and tired. He felt some happiness under the layers of fatigue and fear. He wanted to feel it more, but more than that, he wanted to finally see Orr, so he wandered from one hotel for interned soldiers to another in a small Swedish town, which name he got to know from postcard that chaplain had send him while on leave in Rome. If bored someone in front office didn’t want to tell him if man named Orr lived there, he made them speak. He didn’t hurt anyone thought. First, he didn’t want to, second – he was too tired.
Praying for the building to be the right place, he approached blonde woman in her fifties who drank coffee behind wooden desk
“Orr. Does any Orr live there?” he rasped, rubbing his eyes with left hand.
Woman looked at him disgusted and started to browse the guests book.
“Last floor. Apartment 33.”
Relief rushed through Yossarian veins. He laughed out loud and almost hugged the startled lady.
“Thank you!” he shouted, taking two steps at a time, his muscles forgetting about days of walking, running, flying and sleeping on cold, uncomfortable ground.
When he saw the right door, he violently came to a stop, breathing fast.
He knocked two times.
Silence.
Shivers went down his spine.
Three times.
Silent steps.
He had a knot instead of stomach now.
Sound of turning key.
Blinding beam of light made his vision go black for few seconds.
“I knew you’ll come.”
Warmness in his chest.
He smiled and lunged on the small grinning man, hiding him completely in arms and folds of worn out coat, feeling drunk on emotions and fever . Then he stood back to take a look at Orr’s petite but firm figure and smiled widely, noticing how healthy the man looks.
Orr rose an eyebrow, reaching out to Yossarian’s stuffed pocket and giggled.
“Why do you have chestnuts in your pocket?”
Yossarian beamed with joy.
“You’re wrong. I don’t have chestnuts in my pocket. I have crabapples in my hand” he said, showing two small fruits lying on his hand.
Orr looked at them and asked: “Why do you have crabapples in your hand?”
“Because they’re better than chestnuts, you bastard. You vile, cold-hearted, brilliant son of a bitch” responded Yossarian. His voice was calm and warm like Orr’s brown goggling eyes.
“You’re right” muttered man and giggled again. “But you should have them in your cheeks. They’re the best then” remarked pilot, drifting his curly head up to look into Yossarian’s eyes. “They used to say you’re the second insane after me, turns out you’re the second sane” he added stepping away and started to fiddle with pots which stood on the shelf. “Take a bath and I’ll make us something to eat. I need to hear how you made it. Because I guess you know already about me” he laughed, shooting a amused stare at his friend.
Yossarian shook his head with disbelief and did as Orr said.
***
Three days later they drank smuggled scotch sitting on the mattress Yossarian found in the attic on the day when Orr had to go to another city and was out for whole evening. Bored Yossarian decided then to wander of the hotel, finding out that a lot of residents scream in their sleep like Hungry Joe. He got scared and ran away, somehow missing the right door and stumbling across the ladder which lead him to spacy room full of treasures like this mattress.
It was around midnight. Dim light from the old-fashioned lamp and alcohol in their veins made everything look cozy and dreamy. On the other side of the room fireplace oozed with warmness. Yossarian couldn’t remember the last time he felt that good. He looked subtly at Orr who was occupied with little clockwork he got from an old soldier living on the second floor. His caramel soft curls drooped freely around slightly pink cheeks, still damp after shower. Only now bombardier noticed how long Orr’s eyelashes were, when light played with them, leaving shadow under eyes squinted in concentration. Pilot bit his lip, trying to fit one small piece between another small pieces and Yossarian did the same to stop the moan forcing it’s way through his throat.
Something weird was happening with him recently. Maybe it was psychological issue after missing Orr so much, making his escape from Pianosa about the man or having no one else around, but he started to see some things in entirely different way than before. The irritating giggle was adorable now, toothed smile made him smile too and goblin figure, as he used to call it, became pretty interesting for his own body and eyes. Yossarian felt hotness spreading over his abdomen every time Orr walked around apartment shirtless. To fight with this sensation, he would open the windows wide, hoping to cool his boiling blood with freezing winter air. Orr would whine and complain whereupon bombardier constantly had the same answer: it is pilot’s fault he’s cold if he walks around half-naked. It wasn’t much better when Orr was wearing simple t-shirt, thought. Maybe he gained few pounds but he didn’t neglect exercising, so white fabric embraced his chest and arms too well in Yossarian’s opinion. He couldn’t understand two things. First, why he feels like that just now, if he saw even naked Orr on every damn day, not so long ago. Second, why the hell he considered him ugly then.
He took a sip of scotch and sighed.
“You were driving me crazy with this tampering with the stove, but when you “died” I couldn’t fall asleep without it for few weeks” confessed Yossarian.
Orr looked at him with half-smile.
“I had to make sure you’ll have it warm and comfortable when I’m gone.”
“I know, but why?”
“What why?”
“Why you had to make sure I’ll have it warm and comfortable?”
“Because I was about to leave.”
Yossarian snorted impatiently.
“Can we break out of this circle? I’m going to think you’re an idiot again” he rolled his eyes.
“Maybe I just don’t want to tell you” said Orr, almost whispering and went back to fixing the clock.
Yossarian remained silent for a while, afraid he hurt friend’s feelings and leaned his back on the side of the bed, looking up at the ceiling. It felt weird to have ceiling instead of rough greenish sheet above the head, so after few seconds he returned to watching Orr.
“Thank you” he muttered. “I was afraid new boys will destroy it though.”
“Did they?”
“No, I threatened them I’ll cut their throats open if I see even a little scratch. They obeyed. It’s handy to be known as a madman sometimes” chuckled bombardier.
“You really cared for that stove.” There was surprise with hint of smile in Orr’s voice.
Yossarian snuffled, ashamed of his sentiments and looked at hands to avoid friend’s observant eyes.
“It’s more like…” he cleared his throat. “Fuck, forget it. This scotch is strong.”
“Don’t blame the alcohol. Finish, please.” Orr seemed more sober than anytime, his eyes were piercing Yossarian’s body and soul.
The man opened his mouthed slightly and mumbled, hiding face in right hand:
“I missed you so much. I don’t know why more after you than after other boys, but I couldn’t stand the thought that you may be dead.”
He felt Orr’s palm on the shoulder.
“And when I got to know you’re here, safe and alive, I was so happy, you can’t imagine. Then I felt so ashamed. You were giving me hints so many times and I ignored all of that, thinking that you’re a terrible pilot!”
“Well, you had full right to think like that. Taking the fact that you were so scared of dying…” justified Orr, getting closer to sit arm to arm with Yossarian.
“And it blinded me! Tell me, how brilliant has to be a pilot who, on every damned mission, manages to get to be shot down exactly in a way that let's him land without anyone getting hurt? You had it all calculated!” yelled Yossarian, kneeling down in front of Orr and gesticulating fiercely.
“That’s true. I told you, I would take care of you” said Orr without any shade of reproach.
“I should’ve believed you.”
“Maybe. But does it matter if you’re here anyway? I still can take care of you.” Man smiled gently as he reached out to hold Yossarian’s hands.
“Why would you?”
“For the same reason you came to Sweden, not to Switzerland, Mallorca or Ireland” whispered Orr, still smiling.
His chocolate brown eyes were shining with affection as he stared, raising head, at Yossarian who felt like his brain is melting in the heat he felt all over the body. He glanced at full, moist lips of Orr and closed the distance between the without thinking.
He stopped suddenly when he realized what he’s doing and opened his eyes widely, terrified of consequences, moving back and apologizing frantically.
Orr giggled, pulling Yossarian closer and holding his face between palms, stroking stubbly cheeks with thumbs.
“You still can’t get any hint” he said and united their lips in a messy long kiss full of moaning, longing and hot tongues which soon got bored with mouth and started to wander down throats and chests.
They ended up on the bed pretty fast, with Orr kneeling over Yossarian. Bombardier haven’t even noticed the moment when they both became naked. He didn’t know how it happened that he’s kissing Orr’s tights and taking him to mouth, but he knew it’s his biggest desire at this very moment. It was a mystery how he ended up under the pilot with legs tangled around his torso, begging for him, flooded by lust he never felt before. There was one thing he remembered very well however: Orr groaning his name, entering him for the last time, wet, pulsating heat inside his abdomen and billions of colors exploding in his mind, most of them resembling brown eyes, caramel hair and cheeks red as crabapples. And Orr’s face speaking of ecstasy and love and happiness. And his strong arm turning them over and a hand caressing Yossarian’s wet hair. And his lips as he kissed the man's forehead and said “Goodnight”.
***
Yossarian opened his eyes and gasped in surprise seeing smiling face snuggled into patterned pillow. He smiled back with realization and reached out to touch Orr’s cheek. Pilot was grinning now.
“Don’t tell me you knew that will happen too?” Yossarian asked suspiciously, turning on the side and upholding head with one hand to have a better look at younger man.
Orr snorted with laughter.
“I only hoped so” he said, laughing at bombardier’s shocked expression. “What?”
Yossarian shook his head and sank into pillows.
“When we lived together…” he started but Orr interrupted him with short: “Yup”.
He was lying silently looking at the ceiling, not knowing what to say or where to start.
“Hey” whispered pilot, moving closer to cuddle into Yossarian’s arm, but ending up with head on the man’s chest as he got hugged tightly.
“Everything’s okay. I admit I started to think more about you only after you left. More means very, very much in this case. You were the second subject of my thoughts after the ways to escape death. When I was out of Italy you became my obsession.”
Orr sighed heavily and kissed his lover’s neck.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you my plan, but…”
“ You don’t have to explain, I understand it. I would do the same if I was clever enough.”
“Thank you.”
After a while Yossarian hummed something into Orr’s hair and yawned loudly.
“Were you saying something?” asked pilot, looking up. He heard a hiss and short laughter.
“You had to ask… I was just thinking that it felt so good. I wasn’t expecting that”
“What felt so good?”
“You. Inside of me. And generally, making love with a man. So different.”
“Yeah. And?” Orr’s voice beamed with interest.
“And… I’m ready to explore” answered Yossarian, trying to sound as blankly as he could.
“Oh yeah? And?” enquired pilot.
“And maybe I’m ready to give up on women for this short freak that shared a tent with me once.”
Orr grinned.
“Shouldn’t be hard. Women don’t like you anyway.”
Yossarian snorted and pretended to choke Orr. After short fight, they went back to lying embraced under thick duvet. They remained silent. Yossarian was giving little kisses to Orr’s head as they played with each other’s hands. Soft light streaming through frosted window revealed every speck of dust that was dancing in the air. Wood on the fireplace was still glowing with remnants of fire. Bottle of scotch stood on the floor, almost empty. Tiny clockwork was hidden somewhere under their clothes that were strewn all around the floor. They could hear someone’s steps above and quiet music playing few floors lower. A car stopped near the hotel. Children were playing outside, their laughter echoing between buildings. No shouting, no planes, no bombs. I can live like that, thought Yossarian, and closed his eyes.