The Only Constant Is Change

Author's Note:

As promised, this is the final chapter of this phase in Jeremy's life. As such, it's a bit of an epilogue. Fear not, faithful readers. Jeremy's story is not done. Soon, we'll tug a different thread in the tapestry of his life and see what unravels.

As always, I'm grateful to those of you who have stayed with me thus far. It's incredibly gratifying that my first literary efforts have been well-received. I'm also grateful for those that rated the chapters of my story, but I especially want to thank those that have taken the time to comment. I can't improve as a writer without constructive criticism.

Of particular note is

Harddaysknight

, who has offered tremendously useful comments on just about every chapter. I could blame him for the delay in getting this chapter out, since I rewrote or excised for use later, much of what I'd put together after reading his comment on my last chapter.

But I won't do that, because he was right. So, this chapter's dedicated to him. I hope you like it.

- MB

As always, any sexual activity takes place between adults.

*****

It looked like Jeremy had some time to kill. Starting bright and early this morning, he'd spent the last several hours at the MEPS, or Military Entrance Processing Station. There he'd been poked and prodded, tested and measured, signed his contract and taken his oath of enlistment, and finally, received his orders to report for basic training. Now, he was sitting in an airplane on a runway, waiting for a heavy thunderstorm to pass so that he and his fellow enlistees could wing their way towards their collective future, beginning in "Great Mistakes," the tongue-in-cheek moniker for the navy's recruit training facility in Great Lakes, IL.

Growing up a military brat, Jeremy at least had some idea what to expect. His father had been happy to provide as much information as he could about how basic training progressed, the schooling that would follow, and what life was like as a member of the

military

, not just a

military family

. As he looked at the faces around him, he saw a wide variety of expressions on display. He saw some excited, some fearful, some that just seemed to be dazed, and a few that had already embraced the military tradition of sleeping whenever and wherever you can.

In many settings, you might think a bunch of 18- to 20-year old men and women would get a little rowdy. Not this one; this was a quiet group. Apparently, the magnitude of the adventure they'd each agreed to join weighed heavily on their hearts and minds. Despite having been trapped together on an airplane for the past hour with no real end in sight, the passengers remained subdued; the atmosphere was charged with an undercurrent of nervous tension.

Jeremy had been looking forward to joining up for just about as far back as he could remember. The initial plan had been to follow his father's footsteps into the army. However, while he admired his father and his 26 years of service, Jeremy now had designs on a different path. Speaking with the navy recruiter at the school's college and career fair early this spring had sparked an interest in joining the Cryptologic Technician community. Like most recruiters, Jeremy's had worked hard to sell him on the high points: security clearances, important and exciting work in the Global War on Terror, and computer training in network security and intelligence analysis. That pretty much sealed the deal for Jeremy. He wasn't naïve enough to buy everything that was being sold, but he liked it enough to want to pursue it.

After agreeing to join and entering the delayed entry program, Jeremy had begun plotting the course for his future. One thing that his father had counseled immediately was to have a plan going in that extended throughout his time in the service. "With the needs of the military dictating so much of your life," he said, "it's important that you know just how the decisions get made and how to work the system to your advantage. Use

them

while they're using you." So, now his plan was to begin his enlistment and gain his rate, but then apply for a commissioning program to work his way into the officer ranks. Obviously, it was a longer path than going to Annapolis or joining an NROTC program. On the flip side, he'd have some marketable skills ahead of time, and gain the advantage of having someone else not only pay for his schooling, but to pay him to go to school. And after he completed his degree and follow on service, he figured he'd be about 30 years old and ready to parlay his military experience and connections into a lucrative career in the private sector.

He wasn't all that tired, despite beginning his day at about 5:30 am when his recruiter collected him for delivery to the MEPS. His parents had seen him off with hugs and kisses, and in his mother's case, a few tears. He'd promised to write at least weekly from basic training and told them that he expected to see them in a couple of months for recruit graduation.

For want of other distractions as they waited to depart, his thoughts turned to the past few months of his life and the love he was leaving behind. Pondering the odd twists and turns his life had taken recently, he mused that life would be so much simpler if there were a map that he could consult, showing the best and most direct way to get to where he wanted to go. Any sort of map like that, though, would probably have to carry warnings like those of medieval times, when the unexplored areas warned of monsters. His life would be much simpler if, when he began to assume

anything

about women, he saw a reminder that said, "Here be dragons."

Reality had sunk in over the summer. And, really, how could it not? It was a fanciful dream to think that an 18-year old, recently virgin, high school graduate with plans to leave the area in a few months, could hope to maintain not 1 or 2, but 4 different romantic relationships simultaneously. Maybe it would work in some polyamorous groups or something. But from what little Jeremy knew about that, he assumed that it usually involved a more intimate, tighter connection developed over time between a group of like-minded individuals who were all at a point in their lives where they could focus on maintaining those relationships. That simply wasn't where Jeremy, or any of the girls in his life, were.

True, you might say that for a little while at least, Jeremy had a harem. A week into the summer, Jeremy had two girlfriends that he'd been seeing for a while, Ava and Serena; he also began dating Hannah and attempted to date Lanie. It wouldn't have been Jeremy's life, however, if things had been straightforward and simple. Whether it was fortunate or not was debatable, but over the course of about two and a half months his "harem" whittled itself down from three or four girlfriends, to one committed relationship. It wasn't a conscious process that he undertook, but in hindsight, he was a little relieved that things worked out as they had. Well, except for reversing himself on his decision not to get serious about anyone before he left. He was still a little apprehensive about that.

The first domino in the chain was Lanie. Jeremy had spent most of the summer replaying the events of his "date" with Lanie in his head. He might not ever know if he'd taken the correct path, but that's life. At some point, he assumed he'd get an update. Once more, he thought about that night and its aftermath.

It began when he was helping his mother with some weeding in her flowerbeds on the Wednesday morning after Ava and Serena departed on their respective trips. His phone rang, and he saw Lanie's name on the screen.

"Good morning, Lanie."

"Good morning, Jeremy. How are you?"

"I'm doing good. How about you?"

"I'm good. Listen, I was wondering what you were doing for dinner tonight."

"I don't have any plans," he said. "What did you have in mind?"

"Can you come to our house around 5:30?" she asked. "I want to cook for you."

He smiled to himself. As if he was going to pass up a chance to have dinner with Lanie. "I can do that. How about this? You make dinner and I'll take you to a movie afterwards."

She protested. "Jeremy, this is my way of saying thank you. You don't need to do anything else for me."

Obviously, she couldn't see his shrug, but he did it out of habit. "If you don't want to go out, we don't have to."

Quickly, she modified her response. "That's not it at all. I would love to go to a movie with you. I just don't want you to think I'm not grateful, that's all."

"Lanie," he said. "I told you before that you don't owe me anything. I did what I did because it was the right thing to do, and I hope that a lot of guys would've done the same thing. But if it makes you feel better, let's just plan on dinner and go from there, okay?"

"Great. I'll see you at 5:30. Oh!" she exclaimed. "I almost forgot. What's your favorite kind of pie?"

Now, Jeremy considered himself a kind of aficionado when it came to pies. Asking that question was a bit like asking a sommelier to name his favorite wine and cheese pairing or something. He hissed through his teeth and said, "Ooooo, I don't know if you want to go there. I'm kind of picky about pies."

"Come on," she chided. "It can't be that big a deal."

"Au contraire, mon ami," he said. "Take your standard cherry pie, for example. Seems simple, right? After all, it's just a pie filling and a couple of crusts. But if you don't get the crust right first, the whole thing fails. And, in my opinion, you can't just pick up a great pie crust in the frozen section at the supermarket. So, you've got to take the time to cut in the fat and refrigerate it, treating it as delicately as possible while you roll it out if you want a great, flaky pie crust."

He was just getting started, much to her dismay. "But then you've got to figure out how to keep that delicate, flaky crust from turning into wet cardboard. Really, the best way is to pre-bake the bottom crust on a pre-heated baking sheet to make a waterproof barrier. That takes time and attention to detail. Once you've got the perfect pie crust figured out, are you going to put some store-bought cherry pie filling from a can in there? If so, then what was the point of all that work on the crust? The correct answer is, 'of course not,'" he said indignantly.

"So, you've got to put some work into the filling. That means pitting a bunch of dark, sweet cherries, and mixing them up with some lemon juice, sugar, corn starch, and maybe a little vanilla or almond extract, until you've got a nicely syrupy bunch of pitted cherries instead of red-tinted wallpaper paste with cherry lumps. And we haven't even talked about whether to use a lattice-top or solid top..."

She had to put a halt to this train. "Jeremy!"

He'd almost forgotten that he was talking to someone else. He was passionate about pies. "Sorry. I got carried away there. What were you about to ask?"

"What's your favorite kind of cake?" she asked as she giggled.

He laughed out loud. "I guess I deserved that. Listen, if you want to make a dessert for me, and you really don't have to, then I will very grateful and it doesn't matter what it is. Surprise me. Although," he conceded, "I'm not much for mincemeat. I know it's not the same as what's in fruitcake, but it's close enough, and certainly no better in pie form."

"I'll try and keep that in mind," she said soberly. "So, I'll see you at 5:30?"

"See you then."

As Jeremy returned to his chores, he couldn't help but think about Lanie and their dinner date that evening. Surprisingly, he was conflicted. There was no denying that she was the sexiest girl he knew. As a devout member of the Universal Church of Large Breasts, he certainly viewed her with a degree of reverence. And, the few times they'd interacted with each other since his first date with Jess had been enjoyable. But, truthfully, there was something about her that faintly tickled an alarm bell for him. He hadn't spent a whole lot of time thinking about it, but it was certainly there.

There had been a time, very recently even, when he'd have been so overwhelmed by her physical beauty that he wouldn't have given his unease a second thought. In fact, he'd probably have chalked his unease up to being intimidated by her appearance. His ego had apparently been stroked sufficiently by the other girls that he wasn't

as

intimidated by her nowadays.

Still, the more he thought about it, the more he recognized that a problem existed. It wasn't growing in magnitude; he simply was more aware of it. With that recognition, he began to ponder its source. He spent some time examining the issue from different angles but made no headway. In the end, he decided that he'd have a friendly dinner with her, but that there wasn't much else there to pursue. That conclusion was bittersweet; there was a part of him, apparently the part that does a little too much thinking for young men sometimes, that really wanted to see her naked and was probably going to go unfulfilled.

Unsure what the evening had in store, Jeremy chose a middle path when he dressed for dinner. He wore his favorite pair of dark gray cargo shorts, a golf polo in a medium green, heathered with white, and black strips inset at the shoulders. In the heat of the summer, Jeremy rarely wore anything on his feet but sandals, but it was still only late spring, so he chose a nice pair of cross-trainers with no-show socks.

He reached for the doorbell precisely at 5:30, but before he could press it, the door swung open wide. Jeremy caught his breath. While the differences between the dresses and the women wearing them were significant, he was immediately reminded of the dress worn by Marilyn Monroe for the famous subway scene in

The Seven Year Itch

. Lanie was brunette, not blonde. Her dress was a sunny yellow, not white; the skirt was a little shorter and without ruffles. Nevertheless, with the gathered and sleeveless bodice that reached up to wrap around her neck, that's the image that popped into Jeremy's mind.

"Hey Jeremy, come on in," she said as she stepped back.

As he stepped inside, he said, "Wow, Lanie, you look amazing. I'm not surprised, of course; every time I come to this house I feel underdressed." Winking as he handed her a colorful bouquet of Gerbera daisies, he said, "I thought you might like to have some flowers all your own," he said.

"Ohhhh, thank you," she said. "For both the compliment and the flowers. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Why don't you have a seat while I put these in water, and I'll bring you some lemonade?"

When she returned, she handed him a tumbler of lemonade, and then prominently positioned her flowers in a bulbous, green glass vase that accented their colors particularly well, on a small side table below the front window. She stepped back and mumbled to herself, "Perfect," while holding her hands up slightly. As Jeremy watched her, he was struck by the oddness of the gesture. It almost looked like she was staging a scene for a play, or maybe a portrait.

She turned to him, her hands clasped to her chest, and opened her mouth, "Ding!" The kitchen timer went off just before she spoke, so she smiled and said, "Shall we?" She took him by the arm and guided him to the head of the dining room table and bade him sit. Already on the table was a fresh garden salad, and a loaf of what smelled like garlic bread. Moments later, she returned from the kitchen with a pan of lasagna in her hands, fresh from the oven. It smelled divine, and Jeremy's mouth watered in anticipation.

She caught him off-guard when she dimmed the lights and lit the pair of white tapered candles standing on the table in crystal holders. His expression must have showed his surprise, because she giggled lightly when she looked his way.

He went to fix his plate and almost got his hand smacked. "No! Let me do it. I want tonight to be all about you," she said. It was a little out of his comfort zone, and kind of made him feel silly just sitting there. But he figured, it's her show, so why not sit back and enjoy it?

Everything was fantastic. It was clear that Lanie had gone to a lot of trouble to make everything from scratch, short of rolling out her own lasagna noodles. Her lasagna was a wonderful marriage of sweet Italian sausage, tangy tomato sauce, and the salty creaminess added by the ricotta and mozzarella cheeses. The garlic bread was made the way Jeremy liked it, using thick slices of halved Italian loaf instead of the smaller, crustier French variety. The bread had been spread with a combination of softened butter, parsley, and minced garlic before baking, coming out toasted without being soggy, and finished with a light sprinkling of salt and grated parmesan cheese. Even the salad had a personal touch, with carrots cut on the bias, little cherry tomatoes sliced in half, and a homemade Italian vinaigrette. Jeremy was very impressed.

Sitting back, stuffed after his second helping of the lasagna, he wiped his mouth and said, "I've got to tell you. That was the best Italian meal I've had in a long time, maybe ever. I could tell you put a lot of effort into making it. Where'd you learn to cook like that?"

She beamed at his compliment. "I'm so glad you liked it. When I was a little girl, I used to love helping my mom in the kitchen, and my grandma when we'd visit her. She's the one with the Italian heritage to pass along." A cloud came over her face as she softly said, "We don't cook at home as much since my dad left. We're all so busy, and I guess it doesn't seem worth the trouble when it's just us women in the house. Call it old-fashioned or sexist or whatever, but it seems to me that it's satisfying in a different way when you cook for a man and he appreciates it." She paused. "I never really thought about it, but that's probably why they say, 'the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.'

Anyway, I've been taking some cooking classes at the community college. I don't want to be a chef or anything, but I want to be able to put together a nice meal for people I care about. Besides, someday I'll be a wife and mother, and I plan on making sure my family is well fed." Jeremy recognized a determination in her eyes that was at odds with the image he'd developed of her as surprisingly timid and lacking in self-confidence, given how beautiful she was. It was a nice change to see.

Her words put him in a thoughtful mood. He found it interesting that this young woman who was less than two years older than him was so focused on her future family. Jeremy had always taken it for granted that 'someday' he'd be married and have kids. Truth be told, though, he hadn't put much thought into what that would look like, or what he wanted in a mate. He wasn't in a hurry to get married, but for the first time, he realized that he'd be in the navy for maybe the next ten years, if his plans all worked out. During that time, a lot of his peers would be heading to college and meet the man or woman they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with; some would settle down into serious relationships right away. What were his options going to be when he got out or along the way? Should he maybe revisit his thoughts about trying to maintain a relationship with one of his girlfriends when he left? He'd already recognized that he felt something different with Ava than Serena; was he falling in love with her? Was she what he wanted in a wife? Did he even know what he wanted in a wife?

Jeremy was busy chasing the rabbit down the rabbit hole when he heard his voice. "Jeremy?" He looked up and saw a bemused Lanie watching him. "You okay?" she asked.