Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Anisha

Hey, not to be like that lonely, clingy friend, but any chance we could hang out today? Just really tired of listening to the empty spaces in my house.

Tia

Yeah, I'm free after my shift ends at four. What's your drink of choice?

Anisha

A Negroni, sbagliato. Lol, just kidding. Iced latte with coconut milk. Thanks, friend.

Anisha shows up at Cafe 22 right as I clock out. Her iced latte and my iced tea are waiting at the end of the bar for us.

"How's it going?" I say, taking in her oversized gray Navy shirt, blue work-out shorts, and messy bun. She looks cute, but her expression is annoyed.

"Oh, you know, not good. Deployment's kicking my butt, Murphy's Law is hitting today, the usual."

"What's Murphy's Law?"

"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong when your person is gone. Like, our dishwasher flooding the kitchen this morning and my dog splashing through it with mud on his paws. Awesome start to the day."

"Oof. You want something stronger than a latte? We can go down the street to The Seal Pub, if you want, get you that Negroni."

She chuckles. "Nah, some fresh air will do me good."

We grab our drinks, and I wave to the chefs before I leave. They'll lock up for me when they're done shutting down the kitchen. The sun is beating down with unreasonable heat, and I'm sweating in my white tank top and black linen shorts by the time we turn towards the beach.

The faint chop of helicopter rotors sounds from behind us. It grows louder, and Anisha and I both look up to watch two Navy helicopters fly over us and down the beach towards North Island. I wonder if that's Luko. It's crazy to think one of my friends does something as cool as flying Navy helicopters.

There's two women about our age standing on the boulders of the sea wall ahead of us cheering and waving at the helicopters, taking a video with their phones.

"First squadron flight?" Anisha calls out to them.

"Yeah!" They're hugging each other and laughing, and Anisha gives them a thumbs-up as we walk by.

"Oh, to be young and happy like that," she murmurs to me. "That was me waving to Mick like five years ago. I'll tell you what, those moments of pride can carry you a long while in this Navy journey." She sighs, and her exhale is ragged. "Sorry," she says, sniffling. "I might cry. It's been an emotional day."

"That's okay," I reply softly. "You're really strong, but you don't have to be all the time."

"Aww, thanks, girl," she says, giving me a side hug. "Man, it's sweltering today."

"Want to come to my great aunt's house instead of the beach?"

"Sounds good to me."

We make our way to the back patio and it's significantly more comfortable in the cool shade offered by the overhead awning.

"How did you meet Mick?" I ask as we sit opposite each other on the outdoor sectional.

"At a bar in Pensacola when he was in flight school. Have I ever shown you my favorite picture of us?"

I shake my head, and she pulls out her phone. She scrolls a bit, then pauses with a smile, handing the phone over to me to take a look.

Mick is in a black uniform with gold buttons and gold trim on the cuffs of the jacket, standing in front of a giant American flag that hangs from the ceiling. Anisha is pinning gold pilot wings onto his uniform jacket, and they're both laughing as they look into each other's eyes. It's obvious they are overjoyed.

"You look so happy," I say, handing the phone back to her.

She nods, a smile of nostalgia on her face. "It was such a special moment. Mick struggled hardcore in flight school, it was like pulling teeth. Dates turned into study dates pretty quickly, but he hung in there and kept grinding and he made it. Pinning those wings on him was the culmination of all that. Couldn't be more proud of him."

"Where are you from originally?" I ask.

"New York. I was down in Florida for grad school, trying to escape the cold weather for some beach living. Mick's lucky he's Navy—it means we're usually stationed near the water and some semblance of a beach."

"Did you know anything about Navy life? Like, did you already know he would usually be stationed near water?"

She shakes her head. "I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I knew nothing. I only knew I loved Mick."

"Is it dangerous where he is now?" I ask, then cringe. "Sorry, if that's a taboo question. Deployment sounds dangerous, but I don't really know what I'm talking about."

"No, he's not really in danger, but it's still not easy. Nothing can magically make deployment easy."

She looks down at her wedding ring for a second before shaking her head. "Sorry, I did not mean to make this all about me. I haven't had anyone to talk to about Navy life in a long while," she says with a self-deprecating laugh. "But why do you want to know? Is it because there's a certain hot corpsman who's now single?"

Blushing is too gentle a word for how my face instantly heats.

"What? No, definitely not. I don't know what you're talking about." Anisha giggles and points a finger at my blush as I sip my iced tea. "I don't mind you unloading your thoughts a bit though. Tell me about the worst-case scenarios you've been in. Like, what's the ugliest it's gotten for you?"

Anisha arches an eyebrow but chooses to move on. "Well, for one, we hate moving. It really takes its toll on both Mick and me. There's so many logistics, so much paperwork you have to do with the Navy, and so many details—it's overwhelming. And then there's the emotional goodbyes and the starting over. Last time we moved, we fought so bad, I left him at a gas station for an hour. I literally just drove away, and it took me a good thirty minutes to cool down and turn around to go get him."

"Oh my gosh, Anisha," I say, putting my hand over my mouth. "I'm sorry, I know I should not be laughing, it is not funny."

"No, you're fine," she says, chuckling to herself. "I've been known to be a bit of a drama queen. We move as frequently as twice in one year, but it's most common to move every three years."

"That sounds…not fun."

Anisha nods in agreement with a tight smile. "And how about when you PCS to a new duty station and you know no one and your family is hundreds of miles away and your husband says, ‘I'm flying out to meet the carrier in ten days.' And your stuff hasn't even arrived to unpack, so your last few days together are spent on an air mattress in an empty house, and then he leaves and you're all alone in a city where you know no one and there's not even a name to put on a form asking for an emergency contact."

"Yeah, nope. No, I'm out." I sigh and drain my iced tea. I'm never going to be signing myself up for that. "It's a miracle anyone is married in the military."

"It's called love." Anisha smiles, then leans forward. "Look, it sounds bad now, I know. But if you and a certain person whose name starts with ‘C' and ends in ‘O-L-E' were to become…more than friends, my advice to potential Navy girlfriends is always the same. Don't get with someone in the military because it sounds like a good idea or it checks some boxes or you like the uniform. Do it because you can't imagine life without them. You have to be madly in love to make it work."

"Well, I think you're incredible," I say.

She waves off my praise. "I know I trauma-dumped the worst of it on you, but on the flip side, it really does have its days of being amazing. And military spouses carry a lot of pride. I'm freakin' proud of Mick, he's done some really cool things as a helicopter pilot. The Navy does so much that people don't realize—protecting sea lanes, guarding communication lines, anti- piracy, and humanitarian rescue and support. The actual job is very unique from most people's idea of the military."

"And you're going to keep doing this for what, the rest of your life?"

"Oh, no," Anisha says laughing. "That's one silver lining. Most people try to do twenty years active duty so they get full retirement benefits as soon as they get out of the Navy."

"Twenty years is a long time."

"The handful of years we've been in have gone by like a flash. Filled with traumatic life events, but then you look back and only remember the best parts. Like how you and your neighbors sat on your front porch with drinks every night in the summer time and you all went on a giant ski trip in the winter and you made a meal train for every new baby and cried together at every hail and bail. We find the best family wherever we go. Takes time, sometimes, but we love our forever friends. I have a feeling we'll be friends for a long time," she says, drawing out the long and adding a wink.

If I had people like Anisha in my corner, maybe not in the same city as me, but at least on speed dial, I could conquer anything. She's so real and genuine, not shying away from the harsh realities of her life, but not letting them drag her down either.

"I'm so glad I met you," I say.

"Me too," she says with enthusiasm. "Now tell me about you."

She reciprocates all my interest in her life by asking me about my art and listening to me talk through my latest wobble of indecision. She's supportive without being placating, which is exactly what I need.

"I totally see how it would be so intimidating to start a new career with something so subjective," she says, finishing off her coffee. "You're really brave."

"Ha," I say, rolling my eyes. "I am not. I was just backed into a corner and kicked down a wall to make a way out."

"Don't sell yourself short. I think it's hard to recognize bravery in ourselves, so I'm just going to tell you, you're pretty stinkin' brave for ditching a bad life and trying a new one, Tia."

"I'm privileged," I say in protest. "I had savings and a great aunt with a spare bedroom."

"Girl, own your bravery, okay?"

I haven't even started a painting for the gallery, I haven't done the hardest part of conquering a new subject, the only dent I've really made in my new life is playing soccer and working at a coffee shop. Big whoop. We'll see what I'm made of when I finally start painting. My bet is on discovering how little bravery I actually have.