“Hey, what’s up York?” I asked when I arrived at their conversation. I had met Airman York before, it only made sense to start the introductions there.
“Hart!” he responded. “Have you met Sergeant Morey? She’s new to our shift.”
“I’ve seen her around, but I don’t think we’ve ever actually been introduced.” I said, shifting my attention toward her. “Hey, I’m Airman Hart.” I said, as I extended my arm inviting an introductory hand-shake.
“Stacy Morey.” She said with a smile and reached her hand out to meet mine. Those two simple words changed our relationship from strangers to acquaintances. Our hands clasped met with the same pressure as an ordinary hand shake, but her touch was soft and warm. The exchange only lasted a few seconds, but was all at once comforting and inviting, putting at ease the awkwardness of walking unsolicited into someone’s conversation.
From there, I don’t remember the exact what was said. I know we talked about relationships and each of us unloaded some of our frustration or dissatisfaction with our respective significant others, but that’s about all I remember of the spoken conversation. The emotion however, I will never forget. Being in her welcome presence removed the distraction of everything around us. I no longer heard the side conversations of the people chatting away at the smoke pit or the passing of other airman as they loaded and unloaded their tools from the bread trucks. When I met eyes with her as she told us about her boyfriend Chris (confirming that she was actually dating Airman Bollard) , it put me in a mental and emotional bubble that could not be penetrated from any angle. In that conversation, I learned that everything I had assumed about her was true…and so much more.
She was intelligent. Just the way she spoke with confidence and listened with intention put off a natural peace and charisma. She was funny too and loved to laugh. Her smile was contagious. From the outside looking in I probably looked I was copying her the way I’d smile when she smiled and laugh when she laughed. She was not only beautiful (I already knew that), but she also put off a beautiful energy. Each time her eye contact came my way my soul became alive. It sent a vitality that once rested in the deepest corner of my heart racing throughout my body. It was like a delicate rush of adrenaline beat through my blood stream and flowed through me with the power of a tidal wave, but the peace of a backyard stream.
Eventually the blue bread truck came to pick up Sergeant Marx, Sergeant Fox (Bobby) and I to take us out to the airplanes that were broken for our specialty. Sergeant Fox and I were dropped off at a plane with an autopilot problem. We spent some time troubleshooting and eventually called for the replacement part to be delivered to the plane. Sergeant Fox left for the center line to take a smoke break while I waited on the plane for the part to be delivered. Alone on the plane, I thought back to my conversation with Sergeant Morey. It was special…the feelings were so intense and real. I couldn’t believe how it temporarily broke me from the jaded, numb, day-to-day routine I’d found myself in for months. I couldn’t help but to think about Melissa and the predictability of our relationship. She was far too nice to break up with and in her eyes I could do no wrong, but I had to wonder; if she was the one I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with, then why didn’t I feel like she brought me to life?
I tried desperately to justify my position. “The grass is always greener on the other side Steve.” I thought to myself. “You always want what you can’t have.” That’s a good one. “It’s because it’s a competition out here. Every other guy on this flightline wants to be with her… You just want her because that would mean that you won.” Yeah, maybe. “It’s because someone else already has her.” All of these reasons made perfect sense in my mind, but conflicted with what I felt in my heart.
For the rest of the night, Sergeant Fox and I went from plane to plane fixing our respective problems. Each time we arrived at a new plane I hoped Sergeant Morey would be there just so I might get a fraction of what I had felt at the beginning of the shift with her that day. To my disappointment, I didn’t see Sergeant Morey again that night, but I did see Airman Bollard.
The shifts at the tool crib gave turn-over an hour earlier than the people who worked on the flightline. This was done to put the day shift people at the turn-in counters before the morning rush. This put Airman Bollard, who was on dayshift, at the tool crib counter as I came in from the flightline to turn in my tools. As I set my toolbox on the counter, I looked Airman Bollard over as he inventoried my toolbox to make sure I hadn’t left any of them out on an aircraft.
Chris Bollard looked like the kind of guy Sergeant Morey deserved to be with. He had blond hair that must have been just long enough to barely remain within military regulation. It was combed over to one side kind of like Zack Morris, but a little more put together and not quite as extreme. His face was tan with a model like build and green eyes that were both engaging and sincere. He spoke with a smooth confident accent that I would have sworn was from California, but later found out he was actually from Texas. Yep, I’m confident enough in my man hood to admit that he was the flightline heart throb and (odds and all) he was the guy that the other girls in our squadron gossiped about and were jealous of Sergeant Morey for being with him.
After I cleared my tools, I drove home that morning with a lot to think about. I had finally came down from whatever it was that came upon me during my conversation with Sergeant Morey. The excitement of possibly seeing her again throughout the night had worn off and I knew I’d be seeing Melissa soon which meant I needed to flush whatever lingering character I still had hanging around.
When I pulled into my house, I put my car in park, turned off the ignition and just sat in the driveway. I wasn’t sure what had happened to me that night, but I decided I wouldn’t be hurting anyone to talk to continue to talk to Sergeant Morey and try to become her friend. Maybe, over time, what I felt while I was around her would wear off. If it didn’t, well, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
Melissa’s car was in the drive way and I could see that she was still up from the grave shift she had put in at the casino. With a long exhale and final effort to return myself to normal, I got out of my car and walked into the house.
“Hey you! How was your night?” She asked, washing some dishes in the kitchen.
“Good…just good.” I said before turning into the bedroom to change out of my uniform.
+ COMMENTS
add a comment