Fifty
Shiloh, thank you for the fudge. It’s delicious. I’m not going to share it with anyone.
And thank you for the photo—that duck costume is genius.
How are you?
***
You’re welcome! It took almost three weeks for that fudge to get to you. I hope it’s still good. I wanted to send cookies,
but the Internet was very discouraging on the matter.
Did you recognize any of the ducklings?
***
Cookies are hit and miss. I used to have a roommate whose mom would send snickerdoodles. Sometimes they’d mold or get crushed
in the mail—but sometimes they were great.
This was really kind of you. Thank you. And it’s great fudge. One of the people on my team commented on how smooth it is.
(I did share some.) Apparently that’s tricky?
Is that Juniper ?!
***
It is tricky, but I’ve been practicing.
Do you have a roommate now? Your room looked so small.
It IS Junie! The director wanted a few actual ducklings to play ducklings. (Most of the ducks will be a type of puppet.) Junie’s
over the moon about it. Ready for her close-up, etc.
How’s your mom doing? Will she be going home soon?
***
My current assignment means I have my own room.
Congratulations to Junie. I’m sure she’ll be wonderful. She made such an impression on my mom... who I have great news
about.
I’ve been colluding with the family affairs person at the rehab center. We’ve talked Mom into moving into their assisted living
wing for a few months—we pitched it to her as extended rehab. My hope is that it will be permanent, but Mom’s agreed to at
least three months.
Angel has stopped fighting the idea. I think she likes having Mom’s house to herself. That’s a problem for another day.
How are you?
***
This is FANTASTIC news! You must be so relieved! I’m so happy for you, Cary. Good work!
***
Cary, one of our donors saw your photo on my desk and told me that you are a lieutenant commander, and that it’s extremely
impressive for someone your age.
I told him I wasn’t surprised to hear this because you’ve always been talented and diligent. But actually I was surprised to hear this—Cary, why didn’t you tell me that you’re impressive?!
I’m even more proud of you than usual!
Our donor is a veteran and a conservative, and I think he was happy to see the photo, because he thinks we’re all a bunch
of pinkos who his wife gives money to. (He is correct.) So thank you for softening him up.
I was proud of you even when we weren’t talking, by the way. Mikey would tell me small things.
I’m glad I can be proud of you directly again.
***
Thank you, Shiloh.
***
Cary, I’ve sent you something to congratulate you on all the promotions I missed. Tell me if it shows up moldy and crawling with worms. I’m experimenting.
***
You don’t have to send me anything.
***
Are you asking me not to?
***
No.
***
Okay. Good. Tell me if it’s gross.
***
Hey, Shiloh, today when I was supervising the watch, I realized that I’ve asked you twice how you were doing, and you haven’t
answered.
How are you?
***
What were you watching for?
I’m okay.
I’m arguing with Ryan about whether he can take his girlfriend with him on vacation with the kids. They’re going to Lake Okoboji
and I’m already nervous enough about the water. (A 3-year-old doesn’t need to be on a lake!) I don’t want Ryan to be distracted.
Plus if I say yes to this girlfriend and this vacation, it’s like saying yes to all of them. It’s pushing past a boundary.
Ryan’s whole family will be there. They go every year. They have a cabin. I used to go, too, and I hated it.
I was just going to say that I don’t see the point of boats, but that’s a stupid thing to say to you!
How about... I don’t see the point of recreational boats. People literally just sit on the water and drink, and then some
of them drown. I told Ryan I don’t want him to drink when the kids are with him, and it turned into a big fight—even though
I don’t think he will drink much. Why couldn’t he just say, “No problem”?
Also, my boss hates me.
Are you sorry you asked?
***
No.
Why does your boss hate you?
I also hate recreational boats.
***
He hates me because I hated him first.
***
Why?
And when do your kids leave? What’d you decide on the girlfriend?
***
I think my boss is bad at his job, and that he gets in my way. I don’t hate him as a person—he’s a kidney donor!—but I do
hate him as a boss.
The kids left for Okoboji today. I said I’d relent on the girlfriend if Ryan promised he wouldn’t drink. Ryan said that he
never has more than two beers when he has the kids, and that I owe him more trust than this.
I’m just sad, I think. The kids will be gone for ten days. It’s the worst part of summer.
***
I’m sorry, Shy.
What will you do while the kids are gone? Does this mean you get to take a vacation with them, too?
***
I’ll work. Maybe paint the dining room, if I can get my mom to help.
I usually spread my vacation days over the whole year. Ryan has summers off, so he has big chunks of time to play with.
How are you?
***
Tired. We’ve been out here four months, which means everyone is in a groove—but also missing home. It’s like the Wednesday
of the deployment; we’re past the halfway point, but the weekend is still pretty far away.
You should take your kids on a vacation.
***
You sure like to tell me what to do, Cary.
***
Do you ever listen, Shiloh?
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Yes. I went on a date.
***
You did ? How was that?
***
It was with a woman I work with. It was fine. I think she would have liked to do it again, but I wasn’t interested.
***
Is that a new direction for you?
***
I guess so. I mean, I’ve only really dated Ryan. So anything is new.
***
Is this something you’re interested in, generally speaking?
***
Are you asking me if I’m a lesbian now?
***
I’m not sure what I’m asking. I’m surprised.
***
I don’t think I’m a lesbian—I might be bisexual. A nonpracticing bisexual. Not even an Easter-Christmas bisexual. It just
really all feels theoretical at this point: I’m tired, and I don’t like anyone.
Don’t tell me to date again, Cary. It’s none of your business.
Are you dating?
***
I’m on a ship with people I’m explicitly not allowed to date.
***
Me too. It’s called Spaceship Earth .
***
Shiloh, I got your shortbread. Thank you. There are no worms, and only a few pieces got crushed. It’s really, really good, but I can’t figure out the flavor...
***
Earl Grey tea. Did the shortbread get stale? I vacuum-sealed it.
***
It’s crispy and delicious. I’ve been dipping it in coffee, and this time I really haven’t shared any. You’re good at this.
***
Hey, Shiloh, I never should have told you to start dating. You’re right, it wasn’t my business. And I can see now that it
was an especially messed-up thing for me to say, considering our history. I’m sorry.
***
It’s okay, Cary. I knew what you meant—and you were probably right. I just don’t have the heart for dating right now.
***
I ate the last of the shortbread today. Thank you again.
***
That wasn’t me angling for more shortbread, Shiloh. I just wanted you to know that I ate every crumb, and I appreciate it.
***
Too late, Cary, I already sent you something different. Junie helped. She’s fascinated by the fact that you live on a ship—I
showed her the photos. She wanted to send you a decoration for your desk, like “a nice lamp or some flowers,” but I told her
it would fall off when the ship hit a wave.
Instead she drew you a picture.
I’m also sending you photos of Mikey and Otis. We brought Mike and Janine dinner, and my kids ogled the baby. Now Gus keeps telling me that he’s NOT a baby, and I think I might have an opportunity to push this potty-training concept all the way home. Pray to your gods for me. Drop something into the sea for Neptune.
You never told me what you guys were watching, and I refuse to google it.
***
The watch is sort of a shift. It’s how we organize ourselves and our time. But it does involve a lot of actual watching and
monitoring—of the ocean and the ship.
My job is to supervise and oversee the larger choreography of the ship, to make sure all the different jobs are getting done.
You don’t have to bake for me, but I’m grateful. I wish I had something I could send you.
I’ll put Junie’s drawing on my desk next to my Mother Duck photo.
***
Does your mom write to you, Cary?
***
No, but I can call her sometimes from the satellite phone. It’s better now than it was when I enlisted—no e-mail back then
and no cell phones, and my mom was never good at writing letters.
Shiloh—today while I was waiting for a meeting to end, I was thinking that you always wait for me to ask how you’re doing
before you tell me.
You can just tell me. I want you to just tell me.
I can’t see your face to know when you’re feeling down or bothered.
Just assume I want to know.
***
You sure do a lot of thinking.
***
Comes with the job.
* * *
Hey, Cary, you should assume I want to know how you’re doing and what you’re feeling, whether or not I ask.
It’s hard to ask you about your feelings, for some reason. You have an intimidating face, even when I can’t see it.