Page 83 of My All American Girl

36

DEAN

The sun was high in the sky as I pulled through the gates back onto base. I spent the morning doing a little shopping in town, a task that had been long overdue. It was time to put down some roots, to create a space that felt like mine. And more importantly, a place that felt like a real home.

I had been living out of a suitcase for too long. After being forced to leave my house, I felt restless. Nowhere felt like home. I had been afraid to put down roots. Granted, it was only military housing and not really mine, but I could make it feel homier.

I bought a few things to make it feel more like I lived there versus a place I crashed. Assuming I didn’t get booted, I was going to be at Columbus for at least the next six months. I had way too much money in the bank. I lived like a monk, surviving on the very basic essentials.

But today, I dropped a lot of cash buying things I used to have that my ex-wife now owned. I was still unsure how that worked.

I carried the many bags from the home goods store into the duplex, nodding at the little boy playing out front. My neighbors were getting ready to PCS out to Fairchild. I hoped my new neighbors were just as nice.

I unpacked the bags, pulling out the new sheets for my bed. Good sheets. Not the scratchy cotton I assumed I had to deal with. Next was a couple of fluffy white towels for the bathroom. I even treated myself to a new Keurig for my morning coffee routine.

I bought myself a set of coffee mugs, too. No more mismatched leftover dishes for me. I was building my life, one mug at a time.

I didn’t purchase any decorations this time around, as I figured I’d slowly accumulate those once I figured out what I liked. Margaret decorated our house and I just kind of went with it. But I did splurge on a new recliner, which was a comfortable addition to the basic furniture I already had. I just needed that one essential piece, the kind of chair where you could bury yourself in its cushions and watch a football game on a lazy Sunday.

After everything was unpacked and settled, I realized what a difference a few items made to the sterile space.

I had also gone grocery shopping—like actual groceries. I stocked the fridge with essentials that I hoped to use to make some secret dinners for Sarah. I wasn’t sure how we were going to swing that, but I was hopeful.

After hours of cleaning and organizing, I finally cracked open a cold beer and sat on the front step. The family next door appeared to have gone. The minivan that was usually in the driveway was nowhere to be seen.

It was part of life in the military. You went where Uncle Sam told you. I honestly couldn’t imagine having a family and doing it, but I knew so many did.

The hot summer afternoon was alive with activity. People ran drills across the lane, following a cadence. Their synchronized movements displayed the discipline and precision characteristic of our armed forces. A group of children, daughters and sons of the soldiers on base, played a rough-and-tumble game of tag near a cluster of trees in the park across the street. Parents milled about, half-watching but feeling comfortable in the security base life provided.

My thoughts returned to Sarah. Her smile and sassy laughter were imprinted in my mind. She was why I was doing all of this. She made me feel like I could find a home again. I didn’t feel like I had to keep running.

A couple of young men jogged by, dripping with sweat. A female pilot lounged under the shade of a tree in the park with a textbook open on her lap.

Watching the next generation filled me with a sense of pride. They were ready to prove themselves, to push their limits just as I had once done. I still did it on occasion, although the only limits I’d been pushing since coming to Mississippi were with Sarah.

I took a sip of my beer, thinking about my future. My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me from my little reverie. I pulled it out and saw Mo’s name on the screen. My stomach dropped. Did he know? Had something happened? I hadn’t talked to him since he hung up on me.

“Mo, hey.”

“Dean,” Mo began, his tone surprisingly calm. “Is this a good time?”

It wasn’t like I could say no. “For you, it’s always a good time. What’s up?”

“I wanted to apologize for taking my frustration out on you the last time we spoke. I’m still beyond irritated with Sarah, but we’re going to sit down this weekend and have a long talk about expectations, standards, and self-control.”

I swallowed the impulse to tell him he had it all wrong, that he should be proud of Sarah for breaking things up without getting a superior officer. Instead, I took a deep breath and accepted his apology. “It’s okay, Mo. I understand. You’re her father. You want what’s best for her. I shouldn’t have ever questioned that. You wanted me to be responsible for her and that’s what I did.”

“Exactly,” Mo said, sounding relieved. “How’s she been doing now that she’s back on base? She keeping her nose clean? Staying out of trouble?”

I tried to sound casual. “She just got back. I haven’t had much time to catch up with her yet.”

“What kind of rumors are circulating?” he asked.

I could deny it, but he’d been on bases most of his life. He knew how this stuff worked.

“Truthfully, Mo, most people don’t really care. They’re too focused on their own lives, their own problems. Sure, a couple of people might have heard something and made a crack or two, but it’s already fading in the rearview. It’s not a scandal or anything,” I said, trying to reassure him. “If anything, it’s made her a hero. People really respect what she did.”

I heard him start to argue.