limited vocabulary was almost impossible. If it had not been for Ibrahim, he would not have known what to do. But slowly, very slowly, he began to learn. He had no alternative and neither did most of the students. Those first few days saw about ten students drop out. All of them harbored that attitude that English was enough. Any other language was a waste of time and learning. How they ever got picked for this school was a mystery. Thank god that the history and customs classes were conducted in English, but here, too, he began to notice that more and more Arabic was being introduced. The weekend finally came and the students were looking forward to a little time off.

Joseph and Rich had spoken by phone every night. They had set up plans for the coming weekend. Corporal Williams had gotten the “okay” for him to stay overnight in town, and Joseph had given him the cell phone number that Richard had given to him.

"Is that girl you met in the city coming up to see you?" Williams had teased him. "Does she have a friend for me? If she does, then we could make it a foursome and do it every week."

"I wish she was coming," Joseph said, and with a sad face continued, "It's just a long lost relative that I have been trying to meet," he lied. "You see, I was adopted and have been searching for my birth relatives all my life. You know, trying to find my roots. This guy's name came to me from someone back home and he thinks we might be related. Hey, if he has a sister, I'll try to set you up for next time." Well, not all of that was a lie. Like most adopted children, he had always been curious about his “real family.” The “meeting a relative” part was just something he thought up on the spot. This way, in case he and Richard were spotted in town together, he would have a cover story.

Saturday afternoon finally arrived, and right after inspection, dressed in his civilian clothes and trying to act real cool, he picked up his overnight pass and headed for the main gate. Showing his pass to the guard, he started walking toward town. A red Ford Mustang convertible with its ragtop up pulled over to the curb, and a smiling Richard leaned over, opened the door, and said, "Can I give you a lift soldier boy? You are Private Joseph Benson aren't you? It’s been so long and I almost didn't recognize you in your civvies."

"Hey! This is some old Ford you have here. It's a collector's item," he said, throwing his overnight bag in the rear and seating himself as close to Richard as he could without sitting on his lap. "Where are we going first? I leave it up to you, whatever you want to do. Do we go for a drive first or right to that motel?"

"We are not going to that motel. It was not fit for us baby," Richard said as he pulled away from the curb. As his fingers squeezed Joseph's thigh, he said, "When I went home to pick up the car, my folks questioned me about why I needed it. One question