If Things Were Different

"So how do we move forward? How do I make up for last night? Just tell me, baby. I'll do anything," he said as he reached for her hand.

She let him take it but she didn't offer it or squeeze his back.

"Before this weekend I'd have answered, 'Give me a ring and a date and a promise of children.' But now? There's nothing you can say, Gill. It's over. We want different things and there's no way to reconcile those very important differences."

She'd only seen her boyfriend cry once, and that was when his mother passed away unexpectedly two years ago. But tears were streaming down his face as he spoke.

"Aimee. I love you. I'll do anything. I'll marry you. I'll have a damn kid with you. Just don't leave me, okay?" he begged.

"I believe you do still love me," she told him calmly.

"But you don't really want to get married, and you damn sure don't want a child. Just the way you said it spoke volumes. You said, 'I'll have a damn kid with you'. Sorry, but I want a husband who wants to have a child because he really, truly wants one. You don't and that's okay. You just have to understand it's not okay for me anymore."

She finally squeezed his hand then said, "This is long overdue, and we both know it. It's been a good run, Gill, but you and I...there is no you and I anymore. It's you and it's me. We live together but we're not a team anymore if we ever even were. I want more. You don't. And that's the bottom line."

"So...so we're just gonna throw all these years away?" he said now getting angry.

"No. We're not 'throwing' anything away. We stayed together was long as it made sense. What we're going to do is look back with fondness on our time together while admitting we can't go forward together. We didn't throw anything away, Gill. We gave each other the most valuable thing we have to give—our time. We both stayed because it made sense. Now it doesn't. Moving on is the only thing that does makes sense now."

"I can't believe you're giving up on us," he said shaking his head in disgust as he pulled his hand away.

"Tell me right here, right now, that you really, really want a child. Go ahead, Gill. I'll wait. Just look me in the eye and tell me you do."

Gill Haynes knew his bluff had just been called. Yes, he'd be willing to give her a baby as long as she raised it, but the last thing he wanted was a screaming kid in the house taking up his time with diaper changes and feeding and...all that damn...crying!

"I'll...I'll go pack my things," he said with quiet resignation.

Aimee suddenly wanted to grab him and beg him not to leave, but she knew this had to happen, and were she to give in they'd be in bed together moments later and she might never find the courage to tell him again.

"You're welcome to stay until you figure out where you want to go," she told him. "Just not in the bedroom."

"I already know," he told her without looking at her.

Intuitively, she knew. She wasn't sure he was sleeping with her, but she knew there was another woman waiting in the wings. Gill always hedged his bets, so why would this be any different?

"Oh. Okay. Well, then I suppose this is it," she said now wanting to be angry but unable to feel anything but relief that it was finally over. "Do you love her?"

"Love her? No. No, she's just a port in the storm until I figure what to do with my life. I suppose I'll end up back in North Carolina one day. I haven't seen my dad or my brother much so that seems to make sense long term. But for now, yeah, I'll hang out with her."

By noon, his car was loaded up, and Aimee walked outside with him and hugged him one last time.

"Take care of yourself," was all she could think to say.

"You know I still love you, right?" he told her, a tear welling up in his eye again.

"I do," she said quietly without emotion as she watched him get in and drive away.

Aimee knew she'd done the right thing, but she couldn't ever remember feeling so sad or all alone. The old saying came to mind about 'ripping off the bandaid' and it fit perfectly. It was more like a bikini wax with hot strips being torn off than a bandaid, but it certainly applied.

As she sat alone in their modest house...no, in her modest house...in the city of Spanaway located just to the south of Tacoma, she realized she didn't have a single female friend in the area, and the only men she knew besides Gill were Marines at work.

By noon, she was sick of the pity party and threw on her PT gear and headed out for a very long run. Twelve miles later, she felt a whole lot better and hoped the endorphin rush would last all day. It didn't, but it did get her through the worst part of it, and tomorrow she'd be back at work. Work—her safe place surrounded by the things she most loved and understood.

Not once had she thought about the late-night conversation with Captain Whitaker or the way it had made her feel. For now, at least, she was in too much pain to do any real thinking. Even though she'd been the one ripping off the bandaid, it hurt almost as bad as being the one getting dumped. Then again, she'd never actually been dumped, so she was only speculating. Either way, this sucked.

The last thing she thought of before falling asleep around midnight was another old saw: time heals all wounds having no idea how long this feeling would last.

"Here's to time," she said to herself as she rolled over and felt even more alone when she realized she was laying there all by herself, and that Gill was never coming back.

Aimee put on her game face Tuesday when she went in to work a couple of hours early. She wasn't surprised to see Captain Whitaker's car when she pulled in. She sat there for a moment and tried to remember what they'd talked about so late at night then dismissed it as she headed inside.

Today she was wearing 'Charlies' the name for the Service C uniform which consisted of a short-sleeved shirt and green trousers. 'Pants' was as much of a 'no-no' for Marines as was 'hat'. Marines wore trousers and covers, and First Sergeant Carlson looked very good in hers as the shirtwaist showed off a very tight, narrow waist and the trousers just enough of a butt to look pretty damn good.

"Mornin', sir!" she said cheerfully as she set her purse down.

"Hey, First Sar'nt!" he called back. "How was the time off?"

There were several moments of silence before she said, "Just great," without conviction.

Captain Whitaker got up and went to the adjoining door and asked, "More problems?"

She looked over at him and said, "Not anymore, sir."

"Okay. Fair enough," he said not wanting to pry.

Little was said all day or the following morning until the I&I popped into her office around 1100 and said, "You feel like goin' for a run?"

"Um...sure, sir. You ready to go right now?"

"Gimme about fifteen minutes and I will be. Does that work for you?"

"I'll be ready," she told him.

As he walked away, his words that dark, quiet morning suddenly came flooding back. Two things stood out from everything else he'd said. The first was 'she was 40 years old' and the second was 'if things were different'.

She felt a little foolish for even thinking about it and yet...what if things were different? In one sense they already were. Gill was gone. And she was eligible to retire in just a few more months. So maybe things could be...different.

But even if they were, that would still require someone else to want things to be different in his life, and perhaps she'd misread the whole thing so she tied up her shoes and got ready to go run.

After stretching, Captain Whitaker asked, "So, how far are we going today, First Sergeant?"

"I'll follow you, sir," she said pleasantly.

"Ten?" he suggested.

"Ten it is," she happily agreed.

For the first couple of miles they talked about the reservists and what kind of training they'd received over the weekend as well as little things they could improve on in the future.

They didn't say much the next couple of miles then at the halfway point, Captain Whitaker said, "There was something you wanted to tell me but didn't earlier this morning. It's just you and me out here, so if you feel like talking you've got a captive audience."

He smiled at her and that made her feel like taking a chance so she opened up.

"Gill moved out," she said directly.

"No shit? I didn't think the 'incident' at work was that bad. Was it?"

"It was bad, but it wasn't what caused the breakup. It was more the proverbial straw, you know?" she said as they clipped along at a pretty good pace. "It's been a long time coming, and I guess that finally made me realize things were never going to change."

"You mean with having kids?" he offered recalling a previous discussion.

"That and never wanting to get married. I even gave him the opportunity to tell me that's what he wanted, but I knew he didn't so...."

"I'm still sorry to hear that," he told her.

A few moments later he said, "You know the old saying, right?"

"Which one?" she asked not sure where he was going.

"Leopards don't change their spots."

"Oh, right. Exactly. Gill is the kind of guy who doesn't believe in marriage let alone one who wants children. And no, he never will."

They ran along in silence for a minute or so before Captain Whitaker asked something similar to what he'd asked early that Sunday morning, "Is fair to assume you do want kids?"

"You know, until just recently, I really never gave it much thought. I was happy going along on cruise control like I said, knowing kids and marriage were out of the question."

"What changed your mind or got you thinking about it so much?" he asked.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, okay, sir?" she said prefacing her remarks.

"No, go right ahead."

"Do you recall telling me, 'If things were different'?"

"Oh. That. Yeah, I remember. Now it's my turn to say, 'I hope you didn't take that the wrong way'."

Had her endorphins not just kicked in, Aimee probably would have stopped talking after hearing what he just said, the implication being he hadn't really meant anything by it. But she was feeling great and kept going.

"I wasn't offended, if that's what you meant, sir. I just took it to mean that maybe, you know, if...well...if things were different...maybe I might be able to, you know, find someone who does want a family."

She was feeling good but not good enough to tell him straight up she'd been kind of thinking and maybe even hoping he might possibly be that someone.

"That makes sense," Captain Whitaker told her. "As long as you were living with Gill, there was no chance of that ever happening. Breakups are almost always painful, but when you get to the point that you have irreconcilable differences, something's gotta give, right?"

"Exactly. It's not like I'm 50 or anything, but if I want to start a family, it's high time to get serious about looking."

"I know your boyfriend just left, but do you have any prospects?" he asked.

"Honestly? There is someone I've been thinking about quite a bit recently , but I'm not sure he's even aware I've been doing the thinking," she said with a kind of nervous laugh.

"Again, please don't take this the wrong way, First Sergeant, but unless the guy's blind or maybe gay, there's no way he's not gonna notice you. But with you having been in a relationship, he may not have felt free to let you know he's been doing the same kind of thinking."

"True statement," she said, using one of her favorite pet phrases again.

"Have you thought about dropping a hint or two his way?"

"I have," she told him. "It's just kind of complicated."

"Guys can be pretty dense, sometimes. Maybe you need to be a little more direct, you know?"

"He's not dense by any means. He's actually very smart," she said feeling almost hopeful.

"Yeah, but that may not spill over into the relationship department. Some guys are brilliant when it comes to math or science or maybe work, but they're not quite with it socially speaking. This guy might be book smart and relationship brain dead."

Aimee couldn't help but laugh at the irony. If only he knew who it was she had in mind.

Neither of them spoke again until they were about two miles from the finish when Aimee said, "I think I've decided to retire."

Captain Whitaker turned toward her and said, "Seriously? That's huge, First Sergeant! You're a shoe-in for sergeant major, right?"

"I think I have a really strong record, and I'm pretty sure I'd be selected. But if I stay in that means waiting until I get promoted, and then I'll have to pay the Marine Corps back with two years in grade so we're talking maybe four more years. Three minimum."

"I get it. If you want to settle down and start family, that would be a helluva challenge as a sergeant major deployed to who-knows-where."

"My thoughts exactly. I hit twenty six months, and I can go on terminal leave in three, so I think I'm gonna put in my paperwork sometime this month." (Terminal leave was something anyone leaving active duty could take wherein they used all the leave they'd saved up in order to go home that much earlier. They were still on active duty and subject to recall, but short of a shooting war, that rarely ever happened.)

"Any idea where you'll retire to yet?" he asked her.

"I guess that depends on whether this guy really is 'relationship brain dead' or not," she said with a laugh.

Whitaker laughed loudly then said, "You ready to pour it on?" as they passed the half-mile-to-go point.

"Get some!" she hollered back as they took off as fast as they could go.

Captain Whitaker was more suited for the gym than for running, but he was still pretty darn good at it and pushed her all the way to the finish. She beat him by about ten yards, but she was gasping for air as they walked it off.

"Nice run!" he said offering her a high five.

"You too, sir!" she said as she slapped his hand.

"You must have been hell on wheels back in the day, First Sergeant," the captain said as he tried to catch his breath.

She laughed then said, "Did you just call me 'old', Cap'n?"

"You just kicked my ass, First Sergeant. I don't think I better be calling you anything but maybe 'the winner'," he wheezed at her as he was still unable to talk normally.

As they walked back to the building Whitaker said, "Damn, First Sergeant. I can't imagine things around here without you."

Now feeling extraordinarily good after the run and having announced her sudden decision to retire out loud she said, "I could probably be talked into hanging around."

Whitaker gave her a strange look then said, "So...you're not gonna retire if I ask you to stick around?"

"Oh, no, sir. I think that's pretty much a done deal. I was just thinking I might be willing to hang around here if, you know...."

Not picking up on where she was going, Whitaker asked, "So you like the area enough to retire here?"

She smiled then said, "It's not the area so much, sir."

For the briefest of moments, Whitaker wondered if she could possibly be referring to him before dismissing the thought as ludicrous. And yet he'd found himself thinking about her many times since they had their late-night/early-morning chat out in the field. Were she to leave active duty and stay in the area....

He decided to gently probe and said with a smile, "Oh, right. Your mystery guy. The brain-dead one."

She laughed again then told him, "Pretty much. If he puts two and two together, and more importantly, if he has the same kind of interest in me, then sure, I'd stick around the Pacific Northwest. I'm not a fan of the rain and the gray skies, but it beats six month of snow or 100-degree heat."

Having got very little from his initial probe, he plumbed a little deeper and asked a follow-on question.

"So he's a local guy then, right? Mr. Brain Dead?"

Aimee was now torn between risking being more direct and shot down or remaining subtle and biding her time.

"He's not from here originally," she told him. "But he does live here now."

"Oh, okay," Captain Whitaker said as though that cleared things up when all it did was make him want to know more as everything she'd said so far could apply to him.

"Anyway, good run, sir," she said as she went into her office where she, like the I&I, had her own private shower and wall locker.

"You too, First Sergeant," he told her as he went into his office.

Neither knew the other was standing under the water wondering why they didn't say something rather than beat around the bush. Then again, both of them knew why. Professional Marines just never crossed that line. Some less-professional Marines did but they weren't 'some' and it was so deeply engrained in them not to, that just the thought of 'going there' set off all kinds of warning bells.

By the time they finished showering and got back into uniform, both of them mentally decided to leave things alone, at least for the time being.

Two days later, Aimee did put in for retirement. No actual paperwork was involved. It was a simple entry made electronically on what was called 'the unit diary' wherein an admin clerk entered her name and 'request retirement' along with her requested date of 1 January 2018. She would have 20 years and 9 days of active-duty service, and she'd receive 50% of her base pay as pay-grade E-8 with 20 years of service for life. It wouldn't be a fortune, but it would more than enough to pay for a mortgage, a car payment, and then some. Plus, she'd have healthcare for life, and that was no small deal these days.

The following reserve weekend, the subject of her impending retirement came up, and LtCol Woods asked Captain Whitaker if he'd thought about a retirement ceremony. They were sitting in his Whitaker's office and the door was open just slightly.

First Sergeant Carlson was helping the reserve sergeant major take care of a couple of reservists who were having pay problems, so she was down in 'admin' and out of the office.

"I have, sir. She'll be going on terminal leave in November and that's less than three months down the road, so I've definitely been giving it some thought."

"Why don't you have it at my place?" he suggested.

"That'd be outstanding, sir," Whitaker told him.

"I'll thrown some cash to make it a proper farewell, too."

"Oorah, sir!" the captain said which sounded more appropriate than 'thank you'.

Anytime any officer of staff NCO left a unit, there was a farewell of some kind. Most were handled at regular 'hail and farewell' parties where new Marines were welcomed and those leaving recognized. But for a departing commander or a retiring first sergeant/sergeant major, an individual party was the norm.

He peeked through the opening in the door to make sure she was still out before speaking.

"I hear she finally got rid of that douchebag civilian she'd been living with," the colonel said out of nowhere.

Rolling with it, Captain Whitaker said, "It's true, sir. I guess they didn't see eye to eye about starting a family so...he's gone."

"Good riddance if you ask me. Between us, I've thought about asking her out several times, but until now, the Flower Child was always in the way. Besides, as long as she's on active duty, there's just no way I would even though I'm a reserve puke."

Neither of them heard Aimee quietly walk in and sit down at her desk as Woods kept talking.

"You're too young to see it in someone her age, Dustin, but I gotta tell you, she's a very attractive woman, and from what I've seen, she seems like a really pleasant person. You know, unlike my ex-wife who's neither."

Aimee stopped moving and even breathing as she sat there listening to every word.

Captain Whitaker smiled and laughed politely.

"I can't disagree, sir. First Sergeant Carlson is quite possibly the best-looking female Marine I've ever met. In fact, she's one of the most attractive women I've ever known—period."