Sailor Proof (Shore Leave 1)

“I thought you were done with navy personnel.” Now that we were here and the tension in my spine was ebbing, I could tease more.

“I’m feeling a change of heart coming on.” She laughed wickedly as she finished parking. “Now let’s run.”

“You’re in heels,” I reminded her as I grabbed my stuff and she fluffed out her hair.

“If I fall, that nice petty officer will be obligated to pick me up,” she huffed as we trotted across the parking lot.

“True that.” I lugged my sign under one arm and readjusted the balloons.

“We made it,” she crowed as we managed to be the last two on board before the bus doors closed.

“Arthur, over here!” a familiar voice called. “We saved you a seat.”

“Mom?” I had to blink and blink again. But sure enough, she and Dad were there near the front, having saved seats. “What are you doing here?”

I sank down next to her while Sabrina ended up beside my befuddled father.

“We love Derrick too,” my mom said brightly and squeezed my arm. “I didn’t want you waiting alone.”

“I’m not alone,” I said, still slightly dazed.

“I didn’t know you were bringing Sabrina,” Mom said apologetically as the bus started to move. “I still would have come, but—”

“No, I mean, I haven’t been alone this whole time.” I spoke slowly, puzzling deep thoughts out, same as when a music composition finally started to come together on paper for me, moving from vague awareness to deeper understanding.

“Of course not.” My mom shook her head like she might check my temperature next. And maybe she needed to, because it was only now hitting me that I hadn’t been alone this whole time. I’d had Liam and Craig distracting me with the game they were beta testing, Sabrina bringing me coffee, Mom calling to check on me, Stacey sending me cookies, Roger’s wife spamming me cat memes, and the rest of the Euler clan pinging me on social media. I’d been lonely, but not alone. Like at Dad’s party when I’d realized I was part of some new club, but now I actually understood that club had been there all along. It was part of what defined us as a family, the teamwork that went into the service at the heart of our identity. I’d always been a part of it. Even when I’d stood out, I’d still belonged.

I hadn’t been alone, but more importantly neither was Derrick. Maybe this right here was one of the things I could bring him.

“We’re family.” My voice was still woozy, like I was recovering from a gut punch.

“We are,” Mom assured me.

“I’m ride or die with you, bestie.” Sabrina reached across the aisle to touch my arm. “Silly sign and all. Which if he doesn’t appreciate, he’s an idiot.”

“Oh, let me see.” Mom peered around me. I BET ON LOVE my sign read. Frowning, Mom tilted her head. “But you hate bets and wagers.”

“I also hate long-distance relationships and yet here I am, going all-in on one.” My voice was way less cranky than it had been at Dad’s party. The long distance was less a roadblock and more a fact, like the weather, something we’d have to deal with but not insurmountable.

“I’m proud of you.” Putting an arm around me, Mom squeezed me tight. “But not because you chose this particular outcome. Because you figured out what you wanted and you’re going for it.”

“Derrick’s a lucky guy,” my dad added, making my throat go winter-sweater thick.

“Thanks.” Glancing away from all that parental approval, I tapped my sign. “I’d be here regardless but he sent me a message, so I’m sending one back.”

“Oh? Do tell! What did it say? Was it deeply romantic?” Sabrina leaned forward, eyes flashing and thick eyelashes fluttering.

“More like highly private,” I countered, then softened my tone. “But yes, romantic.”

I’d long since memorized every word. I love you. Maybe we can tie? I’m betting on us.

I had already known deep inside that I’d be here today, but his message had sealed the deal and ensured that I was filled with so much hope that it was a wonder I hadn’t floated through the remaining separation. Of course, I hadn’t had a good way to get Derrick a non-emergency message, but my fondest wish was that he knew and was similarly hope-filled instead of as despondent as we had both been when we parted.

This was better, so much better, and this was the part that was a choice. I was choosing hope.

As we exited the bus, that buoyant emotion lifted me even higher. My anticipation was so different this time, new nerves that had nothing to do with creating a public spectacle, and my focus was way more inward. Fuck going viral or an audience. All I needed was that ship to appear.

And then it did, at first a distant shadow, then closer, personnel on deck in gleaming uniforms, flag flapping in the breeze. Sabrina had learned from our last outing and brought opera glasses.