Chapter 7
7
ORION
“Well, look who’s moving back in with the rest of us suckers! How’s it going, Big Daddy?” Shellac crowed in delight the moment Orion walked into the room to drop off his rucksack and unpack his things.
His bunk was there, empty except for his picture of him holding Jeremy when he was born. There was such raw joy on his face, tears streaming from his eyes, as he beamed to the nurse who was taking the photo for them. Kristie had been so detached from the whole event, and looking back, it made him wonder if something was wrong from the very beginning.
Kristie never really reached out with that maternal instinct, and Evan didn’t want to judge, but there was a distinct difference between Kristie and Cherry. Kristie had given birth to Jeremy and then gave him up when he was a toddler – whereas Cherry had dropped into their life.
Cherry was already stepping forward to care for his son within forty-eight hours of meeting Jeremy simply because he needed love and attention. His son needed a person like that in his world, and because of her big heart, accepting him so easily, he would do anything for Cherry because of how she cared for Jeremy.
If Cherry decided she wanted a Maserati, I’d just sell a kidney. It was as simple as that, Evan thought solemnly and unpacked his bag, ignoring the ribbing around him.
“Y’all behave, Big Daddy is back…”
“Man, shut up, Shellac. He left his kid today.”
“Speaking of, who is Jeremy staying with?”
“Dude, you have the worst luck. I know you’ve been through a mess, but how are you handling all of this?”
“A friend is staying with Jeremy,” Pasteur interrupted, walking into the room and patting Evan on the shoulder, looking at him. “He’ll be fine – have faith, my friend.”
“You never wonder or question, do you?” Evan whispered, looking at him curiously and seeing the quiet resolve in Pasteur’s eyes. The man was as solid as a granite mountain and just as unshakable. Even when he got tipsy, it only took a split-second for him to pull himself together.
“Never,” Pasteur murmured, patting his shoulder once more. “If I question, it’s only because my journey has come to a fork in the road I wasn’t expecting, but you keep moving forward. The scenery might be different, but it’s just as beautiful.”
“Scenery, roads, all a bunch of hooey…”
“You know what’s beautiful?” Trophy interrupted, grinning. “Girls – and you know where we’re off to this round?”
“Mallorca…”
“Naples…”
“Cairo…”
“Seychelles…”
“It’s gonna be a great trip. Just think of it,” Trophy sighed dramatically, closing his eyes and causing a ripple of laughter around the room as Evan shook his head. “Accents, tan lines – or lack of – and soooo many women. You know what else there are in foreign countries?”
“Topless beaches!”
The three men chimed in, laughing and high-fiving each other; only for Evan, Pasteur, and Memphis to share a flat look. The trio was calm and not nearly as wild or crazy as the others. Shellac, Ohio, and Trophy were in an unspoken race to see who ended up with liver failure first or a sexually transmitted disease they couldn’t shake.
“Are you going to tell the nitwits – or shall I?” Memphis smirked wryly.
“Oh, please do,” Evan chuckled as Pasteur waved a hand, ‘giving’ him the room as a sign of respect.
“You aren’t going to find what you are looking for at a topless beach,” Memphis began, chuckling. “You’ll see a lot of men, older men, looking for the same things you are – oh, and older women who simply don’t care anymore.”
“Nuh-uh,” Trophy grinned. “You’re lying, bro…”
“It’s your eyes,” Memphis shrugged simply and turned away. Trophy looked at Shellac and Ohio mutely before both men hesitated.
“Memphis, are you serious?”
“Oh, I’m lying … remember, Trophy?”
“Trophy was just joking…”
“Memphis was kidding, right? You were kidding, weren’t you?”
“Have you been to a topless beach, Memphis?”
“Memphis… hey man, you were joking – right?”
The quiet man closed his eyes with this indeterminable smirk on his face, and Evan grinned, turning back to his bunk to keep from snorting in laughter. He and Memphis had been to a topless beach years ago for the exact same reason. They had been young and stupid, looking for adventure and wanting to tour the countryside during their very first deployment on the carrier, and were at the beach less than five minutes before they both opted to go get a stiff drink somewhere else.
“Guess you’ll find out,” Memphis finally said quietly.
You could have heard a pin drop as Orion choked, covering it with a cough – just before the announcements came on overhead. They were gearing up to pull out of the basin, and there would be the onboard pep-rally given by the higher-ups to start off the excursion with high morale.
“Let’s go,” Pasteur announced as they all started emptying their racks and filing out of the room. Evan put his things down on his bunk, yanking the curtain shut to hide the debris, and moved toward the doorway where the halls were already growing crowded. It would be like this for the next six months.
The noises, the smells, and the lack of privacy.
Silence was a thing of the past on deployment, and something you didn’t really recognize was missing until you spent time away from the ship. Some of the guys who lived onboard might not even realize just how still and peaceful the evening hours could be.
On the carrier, there was a constant drone in the background that made you wonder if your ears were ringing. During flight-ops, there was a variety of sounds, some of which you would never forget. It wasn’t just the jet engines, but the sound of the steam catapult would reverberate through the ship with a massive whoosh as it released and shoved the jet down the length of the track, launching the fighter – followed by a bone-jarring thud when it slammed home at the end of the runway.
Then, there were the arresting wires to stop the jets when they landed. All of that force being snagged by a few wires strewn across the deck, that catch, the sound of all that power being harnessed, was what he would imagine a rubber band would make if you could truly hear it just as loudly in comparison. That unholy recoil that decided if the jet landed safely or if you took off again in a rush.
Even in the library of the carrier, there was no silence. You could still hear the catapults below deck, and if that wasn’t enough in the background, there was the ship’s movement. You can’t move that much tonnage, that much steel, without some sort of massive amount of force. That much friction and force from the engines creates a vibration, which also creates yet another hum in the background. Oh, and let’s not forget the ‘song’ of the needle guns below decks, he thought and chuckled.
And the smells?
Oh, the smell was an interesting one. At home, if something reeked, you could open a window, toss out the offending item, spray some air freshener, or light a candle. Once, he found a curdled sippy cup in Jeremy’s toybox when he was younger and made the mistake of unscrewing the lid – something he would never do again. But aboard the carrier, there was no escaping it.
At first, those scents were a mixture of cologne, seawater, diesel fumes, and food cooking. As time wore on, there would be another scent that was indescribable. Bodily scents, jet fuel, a staleness that permeated everything, along with a funk that seemed to seep into your skin and clothing no matter how many times you showered. It was palpable, and you became immune to it after a while – until you left the ship again.
Then there were the people and the lines. For the next six months, Evan was going to stand in line for everything and anything you could imagine because it was a part of life. He would stand in line for the showers, to get his meals, to go to the bathroom, to get off the carrier when they pulled into port. You name it, there would be a line, and the only place that there wouldn’t be one would be climbing into his bunk – and walking to his jet to prep for take-off.
For six months, he would be tethered to his job, and he loved it.
Evan swallowed at that thought as he numbly listened to the commanding officer speak over them where they were lined up on the flight deck. He hated leaving Jeremy, but being a Navy pilot was his life. He might gripe about things, but the excitement of touring the world and seeing new places was what drew them. The bonds they made while on board, the friends and family they found within these steel walls were ones that would last a lifetime.
No one could ever explain what it was like to work a twelve-hour shift, walk down to berthing, and see four guys sitting around a milk crate playing spades at three in the morning cause they were bored. The candid talks they had about everything and anything were the glue that held them together.
Every time one of his buddies left the ship or came back, someone always brought a four-pack of toilet paper. They had a locker full of the precious rolls hidden in their room. When supplies got tight aboard the ship, the six of them vowed that they would never run out of essentials. They had a few extras stashed; it was simply a matter of asking. Floss, toothpaste, a roll of stamps, deodorant, you never knew what the ship would run out of during deployment before you restocked – and his team took it seriously. Where else could you go and live where there was a communal stash of toilet paper between friends?
Evan looked out at the lift elevator where the supplies and planes were raised to the flight deck – and swallowed. He could see land in the distance as they made their way slowly away from the coastline. Everything in him wondered how Jeremy was doing, and if he had made a terrible mistake despite everything.
Evan was in line later that evening to get his dinner, standing there in the hallway waiting to simply get into the mess hall. The lines seemed to be longer this year, or maybe it was his imagination, or maybe I just ended up at the very end because I’m rusty when it comes to lining up? he mused, only to feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. Yanking his phone out of his pocket, he saw the text message from Cherry along with a photograph.
Jeremy’s little feet were stuck in the sand next to another pair that had to be Cherry’s. She had painted pink toenails, and the surf was washing over them, leaving sandy debris over both, and there in the distance was his ship against the sky on the horizon. It was actually a good picture, a welcoming one, that made him let out his breath in relief – especially with her text below it.
Jeremy’s okay, and I’m keeping his mind off of things. I hope you got settled in and are doing all right, too. Thought I would send this picture to you. Take care, and I’ll email you soon.
If they were at the beach together, she was keeping his son distracted. That was good – and for them to be sitting that close together with their feet in the sand, it meant they were cozy. He really hoped that was the case because it was going to be a long six months for all of them.
Evan looked at his phone and saw the signal showed only one bar. He was honestly surprised that this text came through because down in the hold, most times, they didn’t get any reception until they were close to land. He quickly typed out a text to her and clicked send, crossing his fingers and his toes.
I’m about to lose signal, so I’m not sure if this will go through or not – but I cannot tell you what this means to me. I’m beyond grateful for you, Cherry.
And he was.
Evan was grateful to have someone like Cherry fall into his lap. Sure, he thought she was pretty, but it was that inner glow, that personality on the inside, that turned ‘pretty’ into spectacularly attractive. He’d let it slip once that he thought she was gorgeous when he’d made that crass statement about breaking the headboard with her and had practically run from the room, expecting her to tell him ‘Forget it’ and toss her hands up in the air.
Instead, Cherry amazed him again, wanting them to go on a date. Those stolen kisses between them were more than he ever expected. The dynamics they were finding themselves in seemed to be constantly swirling, changing, and evolving, and he liked it.
Evan really liked the feeling that he truly belonged. Instead of feeling like he was about to drown in a maelstrom like with Kristie, there was a sensation of easy awareness with Cherry, like he could ride the waves if he chose to, and she would back him up. There was no way the woman could know just how appealing the feeling of belonging was to him – or how lonely he had been, hiding it from everyone.
He stared at his phone, hoping for another text, and sighed when he saw nothing else coming and the bar in the corner of the screen dropped off completely.
No signal.
Slipping the phone into his pocket, he crossed his arms over his chest protectively and swallowed, trying not to let his loneliness show as he wished with everything in him that he could be a fly on the wall in his home right now.
Just to see them both again.