All characters are 18 years old or older.
This work is in honor of both Veteran's Day and the U.S.A.'s withdrawal of its last combat troops from Afghanistan, who arrived back home a couple of weeks ago.
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The first step off the airplane was a doozy. Not because it was steep, or because it had been a twelve hour flight. No. It was because of the enormity of what he had left behind.
It had been nine months since he had set foot in American soil. It had been nearly 13 years since the war in Afghanistan had begun and now here they were, the last combat unit to be pulled out from Afghanistan, setting foot on the tarmac.
As he stepped down from the plane, shouldering his seabag with one hand, he looked up at the sky. It was done. He was home. He had survived five combat tours. Two of them in Afghanistan. He'd served twelve whole years in the Marine Corps. Now, in three weeks time, his enlistment was ending.
A high pitched squeal met his ears and he looked back across the tarmac. A little girl, no more than eight, had spotted her daddy. He smiled and stepped aside, getting out of the way of the Marines behind him as their tear-stained and smiling families streamed towards them.
Staff Sergeant Samuel F. Zwolinski had no one waiting for him.
He made his way alone through the terminal and outside once again. A package of Marlboros had somehow found its way into his hands from one of his myriad pockets. He flopped down onto a bench, dropped his bag at his feet, and flipped his cover from his head, lighting up in almost record time. That first inhale calmed him. The following slow exhale, centered him. It was like some sort Oriental breathing ritual. Finding his center and shaking off the cares of the world. Or something.
Passersby stopped to thank him for his service and he would stand to shake their hands and fake a smile for them. Really he just wanted to finish his cigarette before the long bus ride back to base.
More families would be waiting there. Only a few of them ever came out to the airport. He knew the routine. He'd seen it plenty of times. He also knew that his family wouldn't be there.
His mom hated flying. His dad was trying to run a business. His siblings had their own lives. He'd even stopped telling them when he was due back exactly. Just promised that he'd be home in Idaho sometime in the next month. He'd been serving for over a decade now. This sort of thing was routine by now.
No. He'd finish his cigarette. Go back to base. Finish his enlistment and then go home and try to put his life back together.
He took another drag on his cigarette, savoring it for a moment. Closing his eyes and tilting his head back before exhaling upwards, a geyser of smoke.
"Staff Sergeant Zee?" a familiar voice addressed him and he looked up to see a young Lance Corporal standing at parade rest before him.
"Relax Tompkins," Sam said, waving the kid off. They were off base, he didn't have to be so uptight. "What is it?"
The Lance Corporal gratefully adopted a more natural posture. "I didn't mean to interrupt you Staff Sergeant," said Tompkins, "But there's this really cute girl and I think she's looking for you."
Sam sat up a little straighter and knit his brows. What the hell was this kid talking about? No one in his family even knew when he was getting back.
Tompkins saw the look and gestured over near the terminal. "She's right over there," he said.
Sam stood up and looked over where Tompkins was gesturing. Sure enough, there was a young woman, holding a piece of cardboard with his name scrawled across it in big letters. She looked somewhat distraught, turning about and trying to make sure everyone possible saw her sign.
"Thanks Tompkins," said Sam. "I'll take it from here."
"Of course, Staff Sergeant," said Tompkins nodding before backing away and then sprinting off to catch up with his friends.
Sam approached her slowly. He had no idea who this girl was. Her back was to him now as she stood and tried to flag down a couple of Marines walking by. They weren't paying attention and her shoulders slumped in defeat.
She wasn't a typical Californian girl. She was blonde, naturally so, and fair skinned. No tan to speak of. She was thin, but healthy. Plenty of curve to her body, especially where it mattered. She was about five foot four-ish. Her breasts were small, B-cups at best, but they complimented the rest of her figure perfectly. And that ass was amazing. Just the right amount of curve to it.
Yet, she was dressed rather modestly. A pink jacket, zipped up with the sleeves pushed above her elbows. Her jeans weren't too tight, but fit her just right. They weren't low rise either, hitting her hips just perfectly.
She turned, flashing her sign in his direction.
Her face was slightly familiar and yet completely unknown, all at the same time.
She caught sight of him. A smile spread across her lips and she dropped her sign.
"You're home!" She shouted, drawing the attention of several nearby Marines. She sprinted the last few steps towards him and threw her arms around him.
Sam looked up. The Marines were looking at him, some had even paused mid-conversation. Since when had Staff Sergeant Zee ever had anyone waiting for him?
"Um, yes...I am," said Sam doing his best to disentangle himself from her arms. "I uh..." he was lost for words as he pulled her off of him and stepped back slightly. "I'm sorry but, who are you?"
His men were used to him being calm headed, stoic, and cool under-pressure. Right now his face was red with embarrassment.
The girl looked at him. She was startled at first. He got the feeling that he should recognize her. She clearly knew him. Her forehead scrunched in frustration and disappointment as she looked up at him.
That look.
He knew that look. It reminded him of another young woman. Another blonde haired, green-eyed woman. His ex-wife had looked so much like this girl when they'd first met.
Their divorce had been amicable. They'd remained friends and her family still supported him. He'd even given her his blessing when she got remarried.
But this girl.
This girl had been his pen pal for years now. The gangly little sister of his ex-wife. The nerdy-bookworm of a teenager that had been a bridesmaid in their wedding. She'd written him for years now. She'd even asked him when he was going to be home in her last letter. She was the only one he'd told. He'd completely forgotten about it. In his mind she was still the same wispy little teenager that hadn't gotten her driver's license until she was eighteen.
