Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MEMPHIS

Noah was heartily sick of being on the carrier and ready for a break. The last few weeks had been full of erratic text messages when his phone picked up a signal, combined with the frustration of messages sent and failed to go through. He was tired of the smell of salt water, body odor, jet fuel, and the attempts made to lift spirits when all everyone wanted was to return home.

He was disappointed that he didn't get Madeline's text request to do a FaceTime video chat until the sailors were pulling the mooring lines, and the tugboats were helping guide them out of port. When he saw that text message, Noah had left berthing to race up toward the flight deck in the hopes of getting signal for just a little bit longer and saw there was no cell service.

He tried to keep upbeat, tried to keep from dumping his thoughts, hopes, and frustrations on her – because she was completely new to military life. It certainly didn't help to hear other sailors sharing their own frustrations.

"Man, I swear… my girlfriend never answers the phone or emails."

"Mine is pregnant – and the math doesn't add up. I can't believe I'm going to admit this, but I don't think it's my baby."

"Ouch. What are you going to do?"

"I don't even know… I'm just in shock right now."

"My son broke his arm last week, and they had to go to the emergency room."

"Are you okay? Is he?"

"Not really, I mean… he's my little guy. I'm sure he was scared, and this was just another case of ‘Daddy is gone' that really hits a nerve."

"I hear ya…"

"My wife miscarried while we were in Naples. I hate that she's having to handle it by herself. She said she's okay, but I know she isn't. I'm sure she's crying a river right now."

"The darn car broke down again…"

It was story after story, frustrations compounding on each other and feeding a powerful wave of helplessness that was nearly suffocating. He couldn't imagine what being in the Navy was like for his father when there were no cell phones, no computers to send emails, and you had to wait for a letter to be flown out to the ship. It was hard to complain to his mom because he knew that they had gone through so many tougher moments than what he was experiencing on his own.

"I think I'm going to go email my wife again," Noah muttered, getting up from the table in the mess hall.

"At least you've got one!" Trophy called out, taunting Orion, who flung a spoonful of baked beans at the other man.

"Dude, you couldn't land a woman to marry you unless she was incapacitated."

"Uh, hello?" Trophy retorted, standing up at the table and kissing his biceps. "Have you seen this body? This is what six months of diet, exercise, and prepping to get laid looks like. I am hitting the clubs when we get home until I can't see straight."

Noah chuckled, shaking his head, and walked off. The man talked a big game, but he was a good guy deep down inside. He had witnessed Trophy give a woman money for a cab so she could get away from a drunk boyfriend before at a bar – more than once.

The other aviator might act like he would use a woman, but that wasn't his mode of operation in the slightest. Nope, they had all been looking for someone at one point – and he was glad to be off that roster, hoping to stay there in the ‘happily married' column that Orion had been bumped from three years ago.

Walking quietly down the narrow walkways that were lined with pipes and other pieces of equipment, metal cabinets fastened to the walls, as well as fire extinguishers, lockers, and other things, Noah made his way to the communication room. That was one thing about being assigned to a carrier; even the smallest spaces were assigned a duty, just like the sailors.

Everyone had a job to do – and for things to run right, you had to perform it to the best of your ability. Whether you were serving coffee during your duty rotation or inspecting the massive chains on the anchor – everyone worked hard. Being an aviator was a treat, something he was privileged enough to do, but when they weren't flying – Noah did an obscene amount of paperwork, filing, filling out forms, and other administrative duties. Some of the guys were assigned to mechanical, which meant they usually were stuck using a needle gun to remove rust from places, while others helped in the post office, clinic, or ran the film projector in the ‘theater.'

Taking a seat, Noah made quick work of opening his email and sending her a message.

Dear Madeline,

I hope all is well – and I'm sorry I couldn't FaceTime you. By the time I got your message, we were already pulling out of port, and I'd lost signal. We are bound for home with a few more exercises to perform.

When the ship pulls in after deployment, we are usually home for a little while – but I found out today that we are participating in Fleet Week in New York City. So maybe we could manage two dates, if you needed to head straight there to get your apartment set up. The offer for Jacksonville is always open – just FYI, but I suppose that is probably a conversation best had in person.

It's hard to think we've only known each other for a little while when it's so easy to talk to you. Maybe I'm more na?ve than I thought? People are getting frustrated aboard ship – including me.

I don't mean to vent, but I'm about sick of looking at gray metal walls and tiny bunks. I think when I get to port, I'm going to seriously go eat the biggest darn steak I can find – and get a hotel room just so I can sleep in a king-sized bed with no one snoring around me.

Yours ,

Noah

Clicking ‘send,' Noah sank his fingers into his hair, letting his head hang in frustration. It was true. He wanted privacy, dreamed of seeing Madeline, and craved some company that wasn't one of his teammates. Oh, he got along great with the other fellas, which is why this was tolerable, but even at that – they were getting on each other's nerves.

"Memphis? Are you okay?"

Noah looked up to see Orion standing there, looking concerned. He hesitated and then sighed heavily, slumping his shoulders as he sank further into his chair.

"I don't know. Yeah… maybe?" Noah admitted. "Have you ever felt completely trapped, cornered, or desperate for something to change?"

"Actually, yeah," Orion said silently, looking at his hands. "I'm kinda there now and trying to figure out what to do next."

"I'm really sorry about your ex-wife and…"

"It's not that," Orion chuckled nervously and then looked around. "I've backed myself into a corner that worked for a little while, but now I'm not quite sure what to do. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place – and well, now, come to find out, that hard place is a mountain range."

"That bad?"

"Yeah."

"How's your son?"

"Fantastic according to…" Orion paused, and that slight hesitation was enough to cause Noah to look at him curiously. "Nothing."

"Is your mom keeping your son?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Orion growled angrily. "Things happen, life happens, and people make decisions in a split second that change the course of your world. My son is happy and healthy – and being watched carefully. That's all you or anyone else needs to know."

Noah held up his hands in mock surrender, looking at the quiet man. It wasn't like Orion to be so defensive or irate. The man was usually pretty calm and collected. The only other time he'd seen him react like this was when his ex-wife met him on the pier.

"If you need to talk, I'm here."

"I appreciate that – but I've got to figure out my mess on my own," he muttered under his breath. "Or I'll just have to live with the consequences and see what happens."

Memphis got up and left the man there, giving him a few moments alone before heading up to watch the waves out of the aft lookout near the smoke deck. A lot of sailors hung out there, and while he didn't smoke, he did want some fresh air, a breeze, and to look at the stars, imagining and wondering what Madeline was up to.