If Things Were Different

"Sir, the battalion is formed," the sergeant major said while saluting the CO.

"Very well," he said quietly as he returned the salute then commanding, "Post!"

On his command the company first sergeants went to positions behind their units as the company commanders took their places in front of them while the sergeant major took his new position off to the side.

"At ease!" the CO said before addressing the unit explaining what they'd be doing that weekend as well as the next several months.

When he was finished he turned the battalion back over to the sergeant major who instructed the first sergeants to get their Marines loaded onto the trucks waiting to take them to a firing range where they'd be shooting machine guns as well as other small arms for the next two days.

"You ready to roll, First Sergeant?" Captain Whitaker asked as Marines grabbed their gear and mounted up.

"Yes, sir," she said immediately.

The I&I had his own government-issued vehicle but preferred to ride with the reservists because officers were supposed to share hardships not avoid them. Riding in a truck wasn't exactly a hardship, but driving a sedan while Marines rode in the back of trucks was unacceptable to him even though no one would have cared.

Both of the active-duty Marines talked non-stop with reservists all the way to the range. It was a pleasant change of pace from being in the office five or more days a week doing paperwork or coordinating future training events.

Captain Whitaker smiled but didn't say anything when he heard a corporal quietly say to a sergeant, "Damn, man. The first sergeant is hot!"

It was a private, personal comment and not sexual harassment. It was also true. He took a quick look over at her, and even in her desert camouflage utilities or DCUs, she was still very attractive. The quick look must not have been so quick as she looked back and caught him staring. She smiled and when she did, Whitaker quickly turned away feeling foolish, embarrassed, and unprofessional. Then again, he was a man and she was a very attractive woman so he wasn't going to beat himself up for it. He'd just make sure it didn't happen again.

The two of them spent the day going from one gun location to another observing only, unless they saw a potential safety issue. Even then, unless it was life threatening, they would grab the senior Marine and quietly point it out so he could correct his people. It was all just a part of basic leadership, and both of them had that down pat.

As nightfall came, Captain Whitaker asked if the first sergeant was ready to set up their two-person shelter halves which resembled pup tents in the Boy Scouts except that they were less comfortable and not as roomy.

"Let's get it done, sir," she said with her typical can-do spirit.

They quickly snapped up the canvas sheets, staked them into the ground, and made them rainproof just in case. Few things were worse than waking up in the dark as rainwater filled the tiny little 'tent'.

Being male/female, they couldn't share a shelter half so they set up two of them side by side and perfectly aligned with those in the reserve unit but separated by about 20 feet as they weren't part of the unit.

A little after 0100 or 1am, everything was set for the next day which would start with reveille at 0500, chow at 0530, and first rounds downrange by zero seven thirty.

"Good night, Cap'n," the first sergeant said after they were satisfied everything was locked on for the next day. (The Army says 'laid on'—another term Marines never use.)

"Good night, First Sergeant," he replied.

It was a little after 2am when Whitaker noticed a dim, red light in the shelter half next to his as he lay there wide awake. That meant the first sergeant had her flashlight out and was probably reading a book.

"You still awake?" he said quietly.

"I am. I can't sleep," she said just as quietly.

"You wanna talk?" Captain Whitaker offered.

"That's okay, sir. It's just personal stuff, and I don't air my dirty laundry. Or I should say, I won't air my dirty laundry beyond what I shared with you the first week after you checked in." (The Army says 'in-processed' a term Marines never...okay, by now you get it, right? :-) )

Whitaker sat up, pulled on his sweatshirt then his boots then got out of his shelter half.

He tapped on the canvas of hers and said, "Come on. Out with it."

He heard her rustling then saw her head pop out.

"No, sir. Seriously. It's all just personal stuff."

"Hey, you're the first sergeant, First Sergeant. You have no one to complain to but me. And I don't consider just shootin' the shit at um...0215...complaining. So what's going on on the home front?"

Aimee sat up, turned around then folded her legs 'Indian style' and started talking.

"Damn. That's tough, First Sergeant," he replied after she gave him the gist of it, sticking only to the main theme of not wanting children and the breast cancer scare. Whitaker was smart enough to piece the rest of it together.

"So do you want kids?" he asked.

"Me? Oh, gee, I don't know. I mean, I'm 38 years old, and there's no way I'd have kids unless I had a husband. And a husband who really wanted them, at that."

"So...is that a 'yes'?" he asked with a smile.

"Yeah. I guess so," she finally admitted being slightly less formal for the first time. "I just don't see a guy like that in my life in the foreseeable future, though, so I suppose it's a moot point."

"You never know. Sometimes things have a strange way of working out."

"True statement," she said in typical Marine-speak. "I guess the hell of it is I know this relationship isn't working anymore. But where relationships are concerned, it's pretty easy to find yourself on cruise control, and before you know it, a whole lot of years have flown by. And then you find yourself sitting there scratching your head wondering what the hell went wrong."

"I don't offer unsolicited advice to people so I really have nothing to say about that other than I'm sure you'll make the decision that's right for you."

She looked over at him in the near blackness and was touched by his kindness and respect for her privacy. And no, she most definitely did not need anyone's advice.

"How about you, sir? Anyone special in your life?" she asked wanting to move away from her own personal woes.

"No. Not since college. I got pretty serious my junior year with someone, but I also realized it just wasn't working out."

"Too young to tie the knot?" she offered.

He chuckled quietly then said, "Well, I was. She was almost 40."

"No shit? So you were what? Maybe twenty? And she was...forty? You're a regular MILF Hunter, Captain," she said with a quiet laugh.

She sat there for a moment before saying, "Jesus. I think I just called myself a MILF. Wow. Talking about feeling old."

He chuckled at her comments then said, "You know, it wasn't like that. We met at a bar and we really hit off. The age thing was never an issue. Things got pretty serious pretty fast, and I thought...who knows?"

"Why'd it end? If you don't mind telling me," she added.

"Yeah. Um...that's the embarrassing part," he began.

He took a deep breath then said, "Well, you see...it turns out she was um...married."

"Ah, the plot thickens," Aimee said without judgment.

"I had no clue. Literally and figuratively," he told her in reference not only to her well-kept secret but his youthful ignorance.

She laughed again as he explained.

"She and her husband had an open relationship, and she never wore a ring. We'd never been to her house before, and I never thought to ask why. She just always wanted to hang out at my place. So the first time we went to her house it was pretty late at night, and I wasn't walking around checking out photos or looking into closets for a man's clothes, you know? And then we're um...you know...and this guy walks into the bedroom."

"Holy shit! That must have increased the pucker factor," she said enjoying their conversation.

"I thought he was drunk and somehow walked into the wrong house or maybe he was breaking in until he casually said, 'Hey, honey' to her."

"You're shittin' me!" Aimee said with genuine surprise.

"Oh, no. Gospel truth. Needless to say...things...stopped working immediately, and as I got up to get dressed and leave, she started telling me how it was no big deal, she really liked me, her husband didn't care, blah, blah, blah. But I did care so I walked out and never looked back."

"Damn. Not to minimize what happened, but that may be the best story I've ever heard," she quipped.

"It's funny, but that experience with her taught me a couple of things. The most obvious was to tactfully ask, 'Are you married?' before getting involved."

Aimee laughed again then asked, "And the second?"

"Oh, right. That would be that I most definitely prefer older women to girls my age. Not all older women, of course. But given a choice between two intelligent, attractive women where one is say...40...and the other is maybe 25 or so, I'd gladly take the one who's 40 every time."

"Damn, sir. You're full of surprises," she said with a smile but feeling very...unsettled.

It was a new kind of feeling she'd never experienced before around him. She assumed it was just human nature to feel flattered by a comment that made her feel like she wasn't 'over the hill' or 'washed up' but then again, maybe it was something more than that. It was after now after 3am and she was too tired to give it any more thought and let it pass.

"Yeah, I'm a regular laugh a minute," he said in a self-deprecating kind of way, and that was something else First Sergeant Aimee Carlson found very...appealing. She liked strong, self-confident men, but she didn't like cocky, blowhard, assholes.

Again too tired to think it through, she had a passing thought that this young officer was the kind of guy she wished she'd been able to find ten years ago, although not an officer, of course. Just someone like him. And now, at 38, she felt trapped in a relationship that no longer made sense, and this particular man was not only way too young, he was also her boss.

They said 'goodnight' again but neither of them slept more than hour before getting up at 5am and heading toward one of the dozen or so Port-a-Johns located about 100 yards downwind from them.

They ate chow together but neither of them spoke unless it was official business. Day One had gone off flawlessly and everything was set for Day Two. All they had to do was well, keep things on cruise control until around 1400 or 2pm when Lieutenant Callaghan would call 'cease fire' and the reservists would begin breaking down their weapons and start cleaning them before loading back up on the trucks and heading back to the headquarters building.

Once all of the weapons were securely back in the armory, LtCol Woods left around 2000 or 8pm, and that gave the I&I and his first sergeant some much-needed quiet time to write reports and take care of a ton of other paperwork.

It was around 11 o'clock when they heard someone pounding on the front door of the building. It was locked and anyone who needed to be there would be able to get in.

"What the hell?" Captain Whitaker said as he stood up.

"I'll check it out, sir," she said knowing that was her job even though he was the male.

When she got to the door and saw who it was, she was not happy.

"Gill, what the hell are you doing here?" she asked. He knew better and she knew he knew it.

And then she smelled the alcohol.

"Are you drunk?" she asked with disgust.

"Maybe I am," he said loudly as they stood in the foyer.

"And you drove here like that?" Aimee asked now getting angry.

"So what if I did?" he asked with an attitude. "It's not like you can make me do push-ups...First Sergeant."

The sarcasm was as heavy as the smell of the booze.

"I'm almost done. Go wait in the car and I'll drive us both home, okay?" she said trying to calm him down.

"Like hell I will!" he blared. "What the fuck are you still doing here anyway? And where's that prick...El Capitan?"

Whitaker heard the voices clearly all the way in his office so he strolled out front to see what was going on in a non-threatening way so as not make Aimee feel like she needed his help—even though she might.

"Oh, there he is! The little soldier boy himself!" Gill said as he rendered his version of a salute. "You in there fucking my girlfriend, soldier boy? What? She didn't tell you we ain't fuckin' no more 'cause I gotta wear a...condom?"

Aimee was deeply embarrassed. Gill had only been this drunk a few times in all the years she'd known him, and he'd never done anything like this before.

"Do you wanna come in and have a cup of coffee?" Captain Whitaker offered politely.

"Coffee? I don't want your fucking coffee, soldier boy. I want my girlfriend to come home and fuck me!" he slurred.

"Gill? You're embarrassing me and yourself. Please go wait outside until I'm done...."

"Done what? Done fucking this clown over here?" Gill said pointing to Whitaker.

"Sir? I'm gonna have to ask you to please go outside. We won't be much lon...."

Gill walked toward the much-larger man and stopped right in front of him. He jabbed him in the chest then said, "I don't take orders from anyone, soldier boy. Especially not from you!"

Captain Whitaker took a step back not because he was afraid of a drunk, but to give Gill some space to think things over.

"First Sergeant? If you need to leave...." Whitaker said.

She glared at Gill as she said very firmly, "No, sir. I'm not going anywhere with him."

He staggered toward her then said, "Oh, really? If I tell you you're coming home with me, then you're coming home with me! We haven't done it in like two weeks and that's gonna change right fucking now!"

"Like hell it is," Aimee told him. "Go sober up and we'll talk about it. Tomorrow."

She went to walk away when her boyfriend grabbed her wrist. She turned around, broke the wrist lock, and put her finger in his face just like a Marine Drill Instructor would:

"You get your sorry, drunk ass out of my building right now or I swear to God I'll lay you out right here, Gill."

Captain Whitaker had been ready to step in, but the first sergeant, who was maybe 5'6" and possibly 110 pounds didn't need any help.

"And don't even think about driving. You hear me?" she said in her DI voice.

"Well, yes ma'am!" he said trying to salute again. "Fuck you and your soldier boy very much, ma'am!"

And with that he staggered out.

"Do you want to go with him and make sure he doesn't drive?" the I&I asked.

"He knows better, sir," she said as they watched him fling open the large, glass double doors as he continued ranting and raving.

As they went back inside she said, "My apologies. I did not want you to see that."

"You're not responsible for him, First Sergeant. And nicely done, by the way."

His supportive comment made her laugh, breaking the tension.

"Hell, I'm afraid of you now!" he told her as they sat down to finish up.

When they were finally done, Captain Whitaker asked if she wanted him to walk her out.

She sat there knowing she shouldn't say it, but between the fatigue and the anger and the disgust she said, "Okay. Just not for the reason you're thinking."

He stood there, looked at her, then realized what she was saying as she immediately apologized. She didn't need his help, but she did want him to be with her.

"I'm sorry, sir. I have no idea why I said that. Can we back up a few seconds and forget that happened? Please?"

He waited for a second then said, "If things were different...I'd love to walk you out or even ask you...."

He stopped talking before saying something he'd regret.

Aimee sensed what he meant and cut in by saying politely, "Maybe one day they will be, sir. Different, that is. As someone once told me, life has a funny way of working out sometimes."

"Ah, yes. That guy. I believe he said 'thing's have a way of working out', but I do recall that," he told her finally smiling.

She smiled back then said, "Well. Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, First Sergeant," he told her as she picked up her things and headed out.

"Oh! There's no need to come in until noon on Tuesday," he called out.

The first sergeant stopped, looked over her shoulder, smiled brightly then said, "Aye, aye, sir!"

The way she smiled at him this time was different. Even the way she looked at him was different.

"If...things were different," he said quietly to himself as he watched her leave. "But they're not so...get a grip, Captain."

He stood there for a while trying to remember how long it'd it been since he'd gotten laid. Had it been a month? No, more like six weeks. Six weeks. That was what was insane.

Aimee didn't say a word on the ride home, and Gill was still too drunk to talk intelligently, so he sat there staring straight ahead.

"We'll talk in the morning," Aimee told him as she led him to the coach at their home. "This is your rack tonight. Don't even think about coming into the bedroom or I swear to God...."

"I'm sorry, baby. This no sex thing is just...bullshit!" he said out of the blue.

"I'm not exactly thrilled with it, either, but we're not discussing this until you're sober."

She shut the door, and for the first time in many years, she sat down and cried. It was over almost as quickly as it started, but she'd had it with Gill. She was sick and tired of being the only adult in the relationship and sex or no sex, she wasn't gonna live like this anymore.

Whether she retired or re-enlisted, Gill wasn't going to be a part of her life.

If she stayed in Aimee was 'in zone' for promotion to sergeant major, something she'd aspired to be her entire career. It meant at least two more years on active duty after getting promoted so she was looking at as many as three-to-four more years. For someone who'd started thinking seriously about having a family for the first time, that was a very long time. But to be a sergeant major....

Then again, this weekend had caused her to start thinking thoughts she hadn't allowed herself to think for a very long time. Life...or things...really did have a way of changing, but making those changes was up to her and no one else.

With that, she peeled off her uniform, took a quick shower, and slipped into bed and within two minutes she was out like a light.

Aimee had no idea what time it was when she woke up, but it was well after sunrise. She looked at her phone and saw it was a little after 9am and she was suddenly very hungry. And then she remembered last night.

"Shit," she said quietly as she pulled on her robe and left the bedroom.

"Hey, honey!" Gill called out cheerfully as the smell of bacon wafted her way.

"What's this?" she asked knowing he only cooked when he was in the doghouse.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked just as cheerfully.

She poured herself a cup of coffee then said firmly, "It's not gonna work this time, Gill."

"What's not gonna work? Can't a guy make breakfast for the love of his life?"

She took a sip then sat down.

"We need to talk," she told him, uttering those three words no one wants to hear.

"Yeah. Okay. Sure," he said knowing he'd screwed up royally the night before.

The bacon was cold by the time Aimee got it all out and began summarizing her thoughts.

"So the bottom line is, you don't want kids. Ever. I do. Not right now. Not this year. But I definitely want kids. You don't want to get married. Ever. I do. You think the military is a joke. For me, it's a way of life."

He started to interrupt but she wouldn't let him.

"No. Let me finish," she told him.

"I've never tried to change you in all the years I've known you, and I'm not about to start now. But we are two very different people, Gill, and this just isn't working anymore."