My ship pulled back into Pearl Harbor at the end of May. The deployment had been largely uneventful but, once again, we visited some intriguing ports around the Pacific Rim.
Because of mission requirements, I had limited access to the internet so e-mails with Holly were sporadic. Hers were newsy and funny. Mine seemed dull by comparison.
After a week or so of heavy pressure to get me to reenlist, everyone gave up and accepted my decision. My Division Officer even took the time to write a letter recommendation on my behalf. In the letter, he summarized my electrical skills and declared me to be an exceptional young man in every respect. I was pleased and thanked him profusely, knowing the letter might carry considerable weight when I went looking for work back home.
The night before I left, my shipmates threw a going away party for me at our favorite watering hole ashore. I had already sold my car rather than ship it home, so several of the guys took me to the airport in the morning where I boarded my flight with a monumental hangover.
This trip home was courtesy of Uncle Sam since he had an obligation to return me to my point of entry into the Navy. He did not, however, feel any need to make it easy on me. My first flight was by uncomfortable military transport to Travis Air Force Base. Then a bus ride to Sacramento Airport for a layover of several hours. After that, my flight across the country was a redeye. Fortunately, my hangover had abated by then and I slept most of the way, arriving in Columbia reasonably refreshed at mid-morning on a Friday.
On the ride home, my folks made it clear that I was to stay with them until I figured out what I was going to do with myself. I would have the guest room, which had been my old room years before, and one of the bathrooms for my exclusive use. I was grateful and said so.
It took only minutes to put away my meager belongings and then I joined my parents in the kitchen. My father had to go back to work, so Mom and I settled down at the dinette with mugs of coffee.
"Why don't you give Holly a call," my mother prompted. "I know she's anxious to see you."
"I've only been home a half hour. And just how do you know she wants to see me?"
"Ever since the holidays, Holly has dropped by a couple of times each week to chat. Mostly about you."
"Mom, she just turned eighteen. Stop matchmaking. She's just a kid."
"Dusty, normally I would agree that there is a big difference between a recent high school graduate and a young man like you with lots of experience gained by gallivanting about the Pacific Ocean. This is different."
"How so?"
"Holly is eighteen going on thirty. You are twenty-two going on twenty-three," she replied with a smile.
"Okay, okay, okay," I responded with a chuckle. "I'll call her this evening when she gets off work."
"She has the day off and she's waiting for your call."
"I'm not even going to ask how you know her schedule," I replied. "Can I at least finish my coffee?"
"Of course, dear."
****
Holly was indeed awaiting my call. Picking up on the first ring, I heard her voice for the first time in more than six months.
"Hi Dusty," she said, obviously looking at caller ID. "When did you get home?"
"About an hour ago," I replied, knowing full well that my mother had given her my flight information from Sacramento.
"Can you come over?" she asked. "Like right now?" she added, sounding hopeful.
"I'll be there in five." Mom was grinning as I left the house.
It was late morning and the temperature was in the eighties as I walked the block and a half to my destination. By the time I got to Holly's house, I had worked up a mild sweat even though I was only wearing shorts, flip-flops, and a tee shirt.
Holly was seated on her porch swing when I arrived. I couldn't help but notice that she was wearing short shorts that displayed perfect legs and one of those sleeveless blouses that tied under her breasts, leaving her midriff bare. Her hair was longer than the last time I saw her, now falling well below her shoulders.
As I climbed the steps to her porch, she ran to meet me and gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"It's so good to see you again Dusty!" she exclaimed. "How was your trip?"
"Better than last time and I slept most of the way across the country so I don't feel jet lagged."
"Come sit on the swing with me and tell me all about your adventures since I saw you last," she ordered, taking my hand in hers.
We spent a pleasant hour talking. I had concluded months before that she was bright, witty, and good looking. This time around I had to amend the list, substituting 'beautiful' for good looking and adding 'sexy' into the mix, mostly due to the generous amount of skin that was visible in the warm weather. Trying hard not to stare, I kept up my end of the conversation as best as I could.
"I've decided to go ahead and enter the University this fall," she announced. "I don't have to declare a major right away, but I love math and I think I'd like to teach someday so I'll take courses that lead in that direction. What are your plans?"
"On Monday, I'm going over to the admissions office at the University just to check things out. If I enroll, I'd like to put my Navy experience to good use, maybe majoring in electrical engineering. I also need to find a job," I answered.
"I think the school gives some sort of veteran's preference," Holly offered.
"That's what my Dad says. They should be happy to have my GI Bill money, and I'll be happy to give it to them, if they'll take me on as a student. My high school record isn't going to impress them very much."
"Yeah, but you're an old man now so they'll probably make an exception in your case," she said with a grin, poking a finger into my ribs for emphasis.
Just then my cell phone chirped. It was my mother.
"What's up Mom?" I asked, rolling my eyes in Holly's direction.
"Why don't you invite Holly to dinner tonight?"
"What a nice idea. I'll ask her."
Holly did not seem to be the least bit surprised when I repeated my mother's invitation, accepting immediately and informing me that her mother was not going to be home for dinner anyway. She would be eating alone if she didn't come to our house.
