Fighting for Arielle (11 page)

“That’s awful,” I laugh.  “But I know I have heard worse.”
 

McCrary walks o
ver to us since he and I trade off on who goes to whom, depending on whether he’s in the middle of a set of reps or if I’m folding towels at the desk.  

“That’s not great, but here’s one for you.”
 I turn to McCrary, and, in the most serious voice I can make without laughing, I say, “Do you have a mirror in your pocket?”  

He smirks expectantly.
 

“Because I can see myself in your pants.”
 

McCrary grin
s wider and chuckles as he runs his hand over his dark hair.  

I feel as if I should explain the context of my l
atest ice-breaking statement.  Talking with my hands, like always, I say, “Macy and I were discussing awful pickup lines.  It’s kind of a long story, but you came up at the perfect time for me to unleash my charm on you.”

McCrary looks at me
, and a flash of seriousness moves across his face.  “I consider myself very lucky.”  Lowering his voice, he continues, “Although you unleashed your charm, from which I have been unable to escape or get enough of, a long time ago.”  

What he says
makes my stomach drop, but in a good way.  I liken it to when you find out the success of something for which you’ve worked really hard.  Or to finding out you won two million dollars.  Only this feeling in my stomach is a response to winning something far greater than any measurable sum.

Arielle

I
took the day off from work today because I had some errands to run, including going to the Pass and Badge office to renew my ID and going by the post office.  Late in the afternoon, after my normal shift is over, I hop over to the gym to grab a book I left in the office.  As I am walking to my car, I remember my post office errand and the need to pick up some stamps.   I opt to walk to the post office on base as it is only a block away from the gym.  

As is typical in Hawaii, the sky is blue
, and the temperature is in the 80’s with a nice breeze.  Walking over to the post office, I can see several ships sitting in port, reflecting off of the azure of Pearl Harbor.  Some of them are from other countries as their flags indicate, and they also sport various nautical flags that spell out messages I can’t read.  Regardless, I am beginning to believe that there is not a place on this island that isn’t picturesque in some way.

I
buy my stamps and exit the base post office.  I am rounding the corner of the building to head back toward my car parked at the gym, when I spot none other than McCrary.  Only right now, he’s LCDR Ashby as he is in his working white uniform- hat and all.  I don’t think I’ve seen him fully adorned since military men do not wear hats while inside buildings.   I thought he was perfection in his khaki uniform before, but I was way off.  This man, in his brilliant white uniform, including shiny white shoes and perfectly formed hat, is what romantic heroes in movies are made from.  As always, I cannot help but take in every ounce of him and am stupefied by his presence.  

I know the instant he recognizes me because his thousand watt smile beams far and wide from his countenance.
 I can’t help but return the same smile, although I doubt mine is near as mesmerizing as his.  

We are walking in perpendicular directions, but toward the same angle.
 When we are close enough that I know he can hear me, I open with, “Apparently I’m stalking you now.”

We continue on our respective paths.
 

“Ah...
  I believe Petty Officer Lewis said something about a memo or letter referencing it, but I rarely pay attention to her.”  

He stops right in front of me.
 I open my mouth a little to breathe in both his scent and his very being.  I’ve come to rely on this small sliver of pleasure each day.

Unable to fight the urge, I nudge him playfully in the stomach with my elbow.
 “At least I did my due diligence and gave you fair warning.  I cannot be held responsible for your negligence upon receiving it.”

McCrary curls up the corner of his mouth as he says, “How very lawyerly of you.”

“I have an old friend who happens to be one,” I say, kicking a rock on the sidewalk.  “Where are you headed?”

“Lunch,” McCrary informs me.
 “You?”

I gesture with my thumb and point to the building behind me.
 “I was just at the post office, and I’m heading back over to the gym where my car is parked.  I took the day off to run errands.”

He looks over my shoulder toward the post office, then back to me.
 “That’s good to know.  I thought maybe I had been dumped.”

“Dumped?” I swallow
heavily.

“Yeah
...  Dumped by my gym buddy.  Which is the worst kind of dumped, you know.”  McCrary shakes his slowly.

I look at his collar and at the neckline of the white t-shirt peeking out from underneath his unbuttoned top button and keep my focus there.
 

“I would never dump you.”

“Good.”  

I look back up to meet his eyes gazing
at me and admire their curious shade of dark brown.  

“Join me for lunch, will you?
 I was just going to Subway by the gym.”

I want to take him up on his offer, but I’m not really sure if it would be prudent, considering general protocol.
 

“Are you sure?
 I mean, won’t people see you?  Err...us?  I mean, isn’t it against the rules or something?”  

He smiles at me reassuringly
, and it calms my worries.  More accurately, his smile makes me throw those worries out the window and drive back over them.  

“I’ve studied a lot of law in my life, and I have yet to find the law that says you cannot have a casual lunch with a beautiful woman in public.”
 

I flank left
to walk on the same path as McCrary, which was the route I was planning to take anyway.  

McCrary notices that I blush a little at his words.
 “Why are you blushing?”

Caught off-guard, I feel a little embarrassed.
 “I am?  I didn’t even know.  I guess I’m just not used to being called ‘beautiful.’  Especially not by someone like you.”

We continue walking
on our path next to one another, so I keep looking forward toward our destination.  McCrary turns his head to look at me.  With my being in flat shoes, he’s a good eight inches or so taller than me, so he actually has to look down.  

“You’re kidding, right?
 I would think that you hear it on a daily basis.”

I look over to him out of the side of my eyes, then dart them forward quickly after I see his face.
 

“Yeah...no…”

“That’s just not right.”  He turns his head away from me so that we are both looking forward again, neither of us looking at the other.  “It’s the truth.  Actually, beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe you to me.”

Compliments are not my thing.
 I still can’t figure out how to appropriately respond to them.  I say nothing and continue walking toward Subway.  

As we walk the sidewalk, I note that every time McCrary passes someone along the path, they salute him and he reciprocates.
 

I wonder aloud, “Doesn’t that get old?”
 

McCrary looks over to me and says casually, “You get used to it.”

“Yeah, but, it’s like you always have to pay attention to who is walking toward you, and you can’t take in all of the beauty and scenery around you.”  I gesture my arms in a circular, all-encompassing fashion.  “Can’t you just wear a name tag that says, ‘No salute required?’  Or ‘Off duty?’  Or ‘We cool?’”  

Chuckling, McCrary responds, “I wish, but no name tags to be off duty are allowed.
 I’ve always done it because that’s what’s required and part of being an officer, but I never really thought about it the way you described it.  You know, that you don’t get to fully take in your surroundings.  I guess it just comes with the territory.”

We arrive at Subway
, and I get ham and turkey on wheat, but I doubt I will eat much of it.  McCrary offers to pay, but I decline; however when I go to pay, the cashier informs me it has already been covered.  I shoot McCrary a mean look to which he responds by looking around as if he’s innocent.  I smile to show my appreciation and his eyes sparkle in return.

*****

McCrary

A
rielle is so hard-headed, but in the most endearing of ways.  When she looks at me with what I think she believes is a mean look because I treated her to lunch, my heart melts a little.  She continues to try to show she’s tough both physically and emotionally, but I’ve gotten to know her better than that just through our short, daily interactions.  I see beyond the smile she puts on for the sake of others, including her friend Macy, to the true sadness and uncertainty in her eyes.  I want to make all of that go away and take her away from whatever it is that gives her so much pain.  I think about her every day and am tempted to go over to her house and carry her away, a la the terrible 80’s movies she loves, but I live in reality, and reality does not afford such easy solutions to life’s problems.  

I don’t know exactly what she’s been made to believe
, or how she’s been treated in her life, but I don’t need details to know that her unhappy marriage is primarily to blame.  I find it hard to believe that someone like her could find herself pinned under the thumb of a controlling person, but unfortunately, I’ve seen it happen many times.  In my career, I’ve seen women and men with the same soulless eyes and downtrodden attitude toward life that has been adopted as the result of a bad relationship or marriage.  Arielle’s situation is particularly bothersome to me because I know she has so much to offer others around her.  I’m not the only one who enjoys her company or am uplifted by her; therefore it is amazing to me how she doesn’t see it as well.  

She sits down in the booth across from me
, and I pause to admire her beauty.  She not only has me smitten by her looks, but also by her personality.  She’s delightfully quirky and intelligent.  She retains an appreciation for things in life that I never once gave a second thought to until she showed me.  She makes me want to delight in things that I have long cast aside because I’ve been too busy, or it’s been too difficult.  I only know a limited number of facts about her, but I know her better than I’ve known anyone else.  Each time I learn something new about her, it strengthens my desire to learn even more.

“How does one bec
ome an attorney in the Navy?” she asks as I think about tracing her lips with my thumb.

“It’s kind of a long story,” I respond, assuming she won’t want all of the details.

She settles into her seat and says, “Those are the best kinds of stories.”

I unwrap my sandwich and nonchalantly begin to respond to a simple question with a complex answer.
 

“My father was an officer in the Navy and kind of expected us to follow in his footsteps, only he comman
ded vessels.  He was the Commanding Officer of a submarine and a carrier, and he eventually worked his way up to Admiral.  He led various carrier groups and squadrons all over the world.”

Listening intently, she says, “I take it you have the age-old story of not really being from any one place.”

“Exactly.  We lived all over the world, which was difficult in terms of making and keeping friends, but it wasn’t all bad.  My brothers and I were very fortunate that we had a dedicated and hard-working mother.”

Arielle presses her lips together in an understanding smile.
 

“How many brothers do you have?”

“Two.”

“Older or younger?”

“Older.”

I don’t enjoy
talking about myself or my personal life.  I’ve always assumed that I’m not very interesting, and no one has really asked for many details before.  

“Did they also follow in your father’s footsteps?”

“Yes.  Almost to a tee.”  I let out a sigh.

I watch Arielle play with the bread from her sandwich, noting she hasn’t eaten much of it.
 

“I take it
, you broke the mold,” she asks, looking down but smiling.

Her smile makes me want to ge
t up from my side of the booth and sweep her up in my arms, just to feel her against me again, but I continue my answer.  

“Just a little.
 I always had ambitions of being an attorney.  I wanted to make a difference and work in immigration law.  I wanted to help give a voice to those who did not have much of one.  I attended Dartmouth for both undergrad and law school.  After I passed the Bar, I came very close to accepting a position at a private firm, but I was reminded, not so subtly, that I would be breaking a long standing family tradition.”

She looks up at me with concern, still poking
at her food with her fingers.  “How’s that?”

“My father refused to pay for school if I didn’t apply for a commission.”

“Oh.”  There’s sympathy in her voice, and her eyes focus back on her food.

I as
k and answer the question that I know typically follows that statement.  

“Could I have just taken on the mounds of student loan debt like every other college student?
 Yes.  But this went much deeper than that for me.  I didn’t want to be a disappointment.”  

Arielle looks into my
eyes with genuine affection.  “That’s understandable.”  

I believe she speaks the truth and somehow is empathic.
 I want to share more of my story with her, so I keep talking.  

“I applied for commission as a JAG officer, went to officer training, went to the military JAG training to learn military law, and have focused on nothing but my career ever since.”

I see Arielle take in heaviness in which this short story is weighted.  I know she has more questions, but instead of prying further, she explains, “I love to hear how people got to where they are today.  I truly believe that everyone has a story, and I would listen to every single one, if I could.”

“That would get old really fast.”
 

I mean that in all sincerity.
 To me, that would be torture.