"We lived many lives during those swirling campaigns," is the start to a quote by T. E. Laurence, the one of Arabia. Interesting guy, about whom this story is not.
But, my old shipmate and buddy, Dale, and I did indeed live through some swirling campaigns. We were young sailors together, deployed to the Indian Ocean for the First Gulf War, and together we worked the flight deck, helping to launch hundreds of sorties - hell, thousands. Eighteen hour days were considered easy, and when we did get back into port, we did the usual sailor thing as guys in their early twenties tend to do. Dale was a couple of years older and outranked me, and I appreciated his taking me under his wing, both on and off the ship. Those details aren't germane here, except to say that men in the same unit in a military conflict do form special bonds, and Dale and I felt that way then, and still do.
Life after my uniformed days pretty naturally got less exciting but more materially rewarding. I married the high school sweetheart who'd waited while I went overseas. We had some kids, then in the space of a year, the last kid got launched and my wife died, suddenly and peacefully, thank goodness. I was adrift for a bit from the surprise of it all, but knew she'd have wanted me to live on, and so I did, pretty well adjusting to a series of not too serious relationships, all of which lasted for months but not years. I was doing well at work, the kids were in touch regularly but not compulsively, and life was again good, if a bit bittersweet during some alone times.
Thanks to Facebook, I managed to reconnect with Dale through a military page, and was happy to find my old shipmate again. We exchanged years of catch-up through emails, and the occasional phone call, but Dale was a man of few words, a real country boy who'd gone back to the country after he'd put in 20 years in the service. Retired, with his 50 or so acres that were split between woodlands and pasture that he rented out to a neighbor for dairy cows, he had his needs met and seemed fine. Except, I sensed a loneliness in some of his remarks and so invited myself to go visit him. He hadn't really invited me, but when I leaned on it, he seemed appreciative and really looking forward to having some beers with me on his back deck.
Accordingly, on a late summer Saturday, I donned camp shorts, a polo shirt and hiking sandals and drove the couple of hours out into the countryside to a town that was just a crossroads. My cell phone is smarter than any paper map, and it found his place for me easily.. I pulled up late one Saturday morning, expecting to spend the day and drive back in the afternoon.
The driveway led around to the back, so I followed it, and as I pulled up, his black lab bounded out, barking and wagging, while Dale came out onto the deck, looking down at the parking area, yelling at the dog to be quiet. I got out, greeted Maggie the dog, was rewarded with more wags and that wonderful happy dog face that you get as a blessing when you're accepted by one. Looking up, I was surprised that Dale had put on weight, lots of it! He'd been maybe 150 pounds of lean energy when I'd last seen him, years before, back in the service. Now he was over 200, and if I hadn't known him personally, I'd never have recognized him from a photo. He was also slightly limping, but seemed happy and as robustly full of energy as ever.
"Steve, damn it, you haven't changed - not fair!" he chortled as we hugged that awkward man-hug thing that we've had to learn as adults, since we sure as hell never did it as kids. He handed me a light beer long neck, and I took it, not mentioning it being a bit early for beer, nor my having never really cared for the light stuff, but whatever. Over the next hour, we caught up.
Dale had stayed in the service, got married to a girl he met overseas (I never inquired the details of that - you service guys may relate), and was very happy, moving around, just the two of them, until she died as well, a couple of years before my widowerhood started. Dale, however, took it hard. He admitted he still missed her like hell, and stayed down a lot, not even enjoying hunting (which was virtually a religion with him, as was fishing), never really getting back into enjoying life, until a couple of months previous.
He continued, that he'd put on a lot of weight over the years (he carried it like some guys do, all up front, sort of like he was sporting a pony keg in his belly, rather than having lots on the side or in the legs). Then, in the course of getting diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes, had also found a heart problem, which the docs had him on medication for.
But his eyes lit up a bit as he described running into an old childhood friend, now a widow of some years, who lived a half hour away and who gravitated to him at a high school reunion, them both being there solo. What started as a casual "I remember you," turned into her finding out about his health problems and taking him on as a special case, coming by to fix him meals more frequently than he needed, pressing him (successfully) to finally quit smoking (something the doctors' threats hadn't been able to do), sharing time with him, and sort of segueing into being his girlfriend or lover or maybe on the way to becoming fiancée? I just listened, happy for him and relieved that he was back on track, psychologically at least if not health-wise quite yet.
By then, Dale was on his 3rd long neck, as I was nursing my second. I told him I was glad he was doing so well and said I'd like to meet his girl, named Kathy, sometime. He said that was good, since she was due there any time now and was going to have lunch with us! And soon after, another car pulled up, a convertible with a lady driving it, her hair wind-blown, and her smile lighting up the day and certainly lighting up Dale!
He sort of hobbled down the stairs and hugged her as she got out of the car, then they kissed - like lovers do, not just a hello thing. I was half way between enjoying seeing two late middle agers so in love, as they clearly were, and being embarrassed that I was intruding on a private moment. Again, Dale was jubilant, helping her grab a sack of groceries and introducing us as he climbed the stairs after her.
I could see his attraction to her immediately (and never have been able to figure out why women are attracted to men, so didn't try to figure why a gorgeous woman like her was enthralled by an overweight pot-bellied good old boy). To make it quick, she reminded me immediately of Angelica Huston - all woman, with eyes that knew pain but were ready to take on whatever life brought and had a definite twinkle to them, as if she were in on the joke of life and was finding it a good story! She was a couple inches taller than Dale, and one or two shorter than I am, with dark hair, brown eyes, and breasts that were notably larger than the rest of her fine womanly body would lead you to expect. She wasn't skinny, but her legs were fit, her hips generous but trim for our similar ages, and her tan healthy. But, oh, those breasts!
More to the point, there are women and men who, when they meet, have a chemistry or a bolt of hormones coinciding or something - I can physically feel it when a woman just hits me, exuding sexuality in a way that's not a come-on but that is a hint of something vaguely erotic. People talk about it hitting them in the gut - it hits me right above the balls, and I physically feel it. And, I felt it with her, having no idea if she felt the same way, but holding her eyes longer than a first meeting would usually lend to - one of those time slows down things, where I was just basking in the erotic glow of this stranger with the big breasts and the camp shorts and the button-down oxford cloth shirt unbuttoned just one button below the expected, with the cleavage, oh, the cleavage, just starting to peek out. Whew!! I wrenched myself back to the present, remembering that this was Dale's girl, and gave her a hello hug and we laughed at something Dale said, and we all moved into the kitchen with the groceries.
Lunch turned out to be burgers that Dale did on the grill on the back porch deck, a bit of an exception for her, as he told me she'd been on a kick to get him eating healthier fare than he would on his own. He overcooked them, but they were fine with the obviously not store-bought baked beans and slaw that Kathy had brought along. We talked, or more like it, Dale talked, telling old sea stories about our escapades, some stretched way past my recollection of their antics, some I'd completely forgotten - all accompanied by Dale's ready laughter and Kathy's attention both to the stories and to Maggie the Lab's pretty unlimited desire to be petted. More beer flowed, and the afternoon passed pleasantly. I finally got up at about 3 and announced I'd better get back on the road. I'd stopped drinking a good bit before, switching to a soda that had gone flat by then in the regale of storytelling.
Dale countered, "No! No way - you've got to spend the night at least! I've got some fine Maker's Mark that I'm counting on your sharing - c'mon, Steve - I didn't have any idea you were planning on leaving! There's plenty of sleeping room here, there's a new tooth brush and towels in the second bedroom bath, and we can get up before dawn and walk on down to the lake from here - there's always deer to see (but it ain't hunting season, so we'll let 'em be) and the morning's the best time of day anyway!"
I was about to gracefully decline his offer, but Kathy intervened, "He's right, Steve. You get so much of that city life - take a break, kick back, let yourself soak in this wondrous country side of things." Saying this, she had reached over, and with a move that I thought no doubt wasn't sexual but that my imagination had made it to be, she'd put her hand on my knee, her fingers spread, the index pointing toward my groin. Her leaning and bending just a bit opened that cleavage just a bit more, and I caught the edge of a transparently thin material bra. I figured that with her buxom figure, she'd need some engineering help, but the transparent style spoke to a self-aware sexuality. I envied Dale for having caught the affections of such a woman.
The hand on the knee seemed innocent enough, but could have been otherwise. I knew there was nothing I really had to get back for; and even if it were just some innocent flirting, I was drawn to sticking around if only to be around Kathy. She definitely stoked my fires, and while I knew nothing would come of it, I did like getting the fires stoked with the flirting and occasional cleavage glimpse. "OK, ok. Note I'm not fighting all that hard - it's so great being way out here, so away from everything, I'll stay 'til tomorrow morning then, and thanks, shipmate - you're a prince!
