Taking Flight: Departure

by Donna Faye

  She’d always admired utility knives, so she bought the best one she could find and vowed to keep it in her pocket at all times. The thing was bound to come in handy – it had everything she never knew she needed, including scissors and both types of screwdrivers as well as needle-nose pliers and a saw.

  The cooking gadgets had been an unexpected bonus. She grabbed a few that seemed handy, and left there determined to do some more homework online about food that would store well before returning for more.

  There was a cool cast-iron cauldron that called to her, but she hadn’t the first clue about what to cook in there other than chili. Stella did not want to be surrounded by a bunch of boys loaded up with beans – especially next to open flames.

  Instead, she selected a camp griddle that used little propane tanks for fuel. She might just set that bad boy up in her dorm…she missed cooking – chow hall food and microwaving frozen meals wasn’t nearly as satisfying. She also purchased a small cast iron hibachi, all-natural charcoal, a cool grilling utensil kit with extra-long handles, and oven mitts.

  She wondered about mess kits for the boys, and sent a text to Lucy about that.

  Stella wanted to avoid using paper plates and plastic forks. It seemed contrary to the point of enjoying nature. To her it was like, “Hey look at that tree. The plate company cut down one like that so you could eat your hot dogs from paper plates tonight.” It didn’t seem appropriate. Not that she uniformly hated paper items, it just seemed like an oxymoron in that situation.

  Lucy replied to Stella’s text that the boys had their own mess kits, but Stella still picked up a few extras, just in case. She nabbed a bin and soap for washing dishes and whatever else she thought might be helpful, then added a few heavy-duty storage bins to hold all her gear. Fortunately her dorm room was still sparse enough to stack some bins in the corner.

  Thrilled to have all her new stuff, Stella hauled it up to her room. It took several trips to get everything from Betty Lou, but it was totally worth a little extra workout. As she surveyed the mountain of gear, she realized she’d better watch her spending. Having that extra money from her ex could go to her head if she wasn’t careful.

  She snapped a photo of the bounty piled up on her bed and sent it to Lucy, who replied with a picture of her own face in an exaggerated surprised expression. It was so fun to have someone who would be goofy with her.

  Her phone rang with Lucy’s immediate call.

  “Girl, did you buy the whole store out or what?”

  “What? No ‘Hi, Stella,’ you just jump right in, huh? Yep, I did buy the whole store, and it fit right on my little bed. I wasn’t sure what to get, but the dude at the store helped a lot. I hope he gets a commission or a promotion ‘cause I spent a boatload of money.”

  “Can I bunk with you and let the guys use my stepdad’s tent?” Lucy asked.

  “No problemo, I figured that’d happen, so I got a huge air mattress and even bigger tent.”

  “Nice,” Lucy replied. “Just keep your hands to yourself, missy. I know the military dropped the ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy but I don’t swing that way.”

  “Lucy, if I was a man or a lesbian, I’d marry you,” Stella countered.

  They melted into guffaws. That’d quickly become their inside joke after Lucy had loudly declared her undying affection, during their night at the bar. It’d garnered a lot of male attention.

  “I bet we’d turn a lot more heads that way,” had been Stella’s reply. Why did men want the unattainable women most of all?

  “Anyway...do you have all the gear you need?” Stella asked.

  “Mostly, I’ll need to go grocery shopping. Obviously, that will wait until just before, but I’m saving up. The den doesn’t have much extra money for stuff like that.”

  “Don’t sweat it. This is my treat. You know I have the ex’s money burning holes through my pockets.”

  “Stella, you’re already helping too much. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Pshaw. Please let me do this. I never get to go grocery shopping any more. Plus I love to cook. If you want, assign the kids to bring certain things and I’ll handle the rest.”

  “Alright, I’ll have the guys bring the napkins, bug spray and sunblock; that kind of stuff. Thanks. Really, you’ve been such a huge help.”

  “No problem. Now, I have to figure out where I can shove all this stuff so I can sleep in my bed tonight.” Stella warily eyed the daunting mountain of camping gear on her bed. “If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, send a search party. If this stuff shifts, it seriously might bury me alive.”

  Once out of the packages, things took up a lot less room. The tent fit nicely above the camp stove and the small bin that now held the cooking accessories tucked inside as well. Her sleeping bag rolled up neatly, and everything else squished inside the gigantic bins. When all was said and done, Stella had two monster storage containers, with her sleeping bag on top, stacked in the corner of her room. She was practically asleep before she hit the bed that night, where she had pleasant dreams of campfires and gooey S’mores.

  Chapter 16: “CND”

  – An anagram meaning Could Not Duplicate.

  “Congratulations, Airman Tobias,” Sgt. Compton called out as she entered Stella’s tiny office. “You’re now officially deployable.”

  She let out a whoop of joy. The timing couldn’t be more perfect with fall semester starting at the end of the month. She could finally finish her degree.

  “I’m proud of you,” Sgt. Compton added. “I know how hard you work.” Then in a harsher voice, she tacked on, “Don’t start slacking now – finish your degree!”

  Stella felt telltale sting of tears behind her eyes. It was as if her mentor just knew what she needed to hear.

  “You don’t have to tell me that twice,” Stella replied. “I’ll be signing up after work today!”

  Later, to celebrate, Sgt. Compton treated Stella to Pad Tai for lunch, and even let her leave early with implicit instructions to head directly to the education center to enroll in the marketing course she’d selected there. It was an intense program with classes held every other weekend, all weekend long for a single year.

  With school to look forward to, Stella amped things up at work – she doubled down on her articles so there’d be a stockpile when classes started, base tour requests poured in from schools returning to session, and civic groups requested speakers when they prepared for their fall meetings after a summer of slacking. She’d pushed hard in preparation for the Dam Trip, when word came in about a possible tour for their honorary commanders and their counterparts. She was determined to make it all run as smoothly as possible.

  Article suggestions for her column continued to swamp her inbox. Some were excellent suggestions like what happened to the leftover food from the chow hall – she’d promptly forwarded that one to Liz – while others were fairly lame, at least on the surface.

  Take writing about the finance office – which she had to admit sounded like a horrible job. The thought of shuffling papers in a cramped office while angry airmen yelled about pay issues made her cringe and thinking of how to insert some humor into that story.

  The problem with levity was that some people had absolutely no sense of humor, and took offense immediately. Before enlisting, she’d had no clue how entirely politically correct everything had to be in the military, at least on official business.

  With such a diverse crowd, it seemed that most anything was bound to offend someone. It bent her mind to think about all the people from so many different backgrounds, be they geographical, socio-economic, race, religion, sexual orientation, or simply circumstances of their upbringing. All these factors made writing with any humor a treacherous road to travel, even with the best editors backing her up.

  She shook off the thought, and brought her mind into focus – their camping trip was almost at hand. Excitement and anticipation bubbled up inside her as she headed to the conference room to prep it for the special cla
ss they’d host the following morning. As far as Stella knew, it wasn’t every day that SERE trained youth groups.

  The giant wooden table gleamed as the light from the windows reflected off its spotless surface. It stood in the middle of the enormous room, surrounded by plush leather office chairs all pushed into place. The projector and laptop sat ready to go beneath the extended screen.

  Time had passed quickly with her tied up in work and preparations. Stella had enjoyed scouring the web for camping tips and recipes.

  That night, she returned to the sporting goods store to pick up two enormous coolers for the food and drinks before grocery shopping at the Commissary.

  The prices there were unreal! When she compared them to civilian grocery stores, Stella was glad she’d volunteered for that duty. Since it was a military only facility – one of the perks of membership she supposed – it meant a huge savings that Lucy wouldn’t have been able to access. Just being there sent a pang of longing to her heart – she missed having a real kitchen.

  Later, as she stood at the tiny counter in the kitchenette in her room, Stella hummed as she let the comforting sensation of prepping food envelop her. Dancing in place to the music blaring through her little portable speaker, she washed all the fruits and veggies, assembled some dishes, and then put everything into baggies, taking time to double-bag them to prevent waterlogging in the coolers – one of the excellent tips she’d found online. Her first stop the following morning would be to buy more ice.

  It felt great to have busy work, because all the anticipation pumping through her would make sleeping difficult.

  The following morning, with everything already packed, Stella enjoyed a leisurely shower before dressing for their adventure. She opted for a tank top, jeans, and her combat boots because they were comfy and had a great tread for hiking.

  As she finished dressing, realization dawned and her heart jumped into her throat before it sank to her stomach. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t move the fully loaded coolers alone!

  “Think Stella.” she said to the empty room.

  Then it occurred to her – she was surrounded by people in the dorms. She grabbed her keys and bolted for the common areas to search for anyone who was awake at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning and willing to lend a hand. Luck was on her side as Stella nabbed a few big guys to help her haul the gear and coolers down to her truck. Everything fit snugly inside Betty Lou’s bed and backseat.

  If someone needed a ride there was always the passenger seat, but she was leery of being alone with a kid, not that anything inappropriate would happen. Stella refused to put herself in a position of being accused of wrongdoing. Lucy had stressed that point to Stella. In an effort to avoid the threat of scandal and to protect children from predators, they were never to be alone with a child.

  Stella hated that the world had come to that, but she could see the merit in simply being preemptive in keeping extra adults present. She’d warned Gabe about it, too. That’d been an awkward e-mail volley.

  When he replied with “Do I seem like I like little boys?” Stella had choked on her tongue. His message that immediately followed had been, “Gotcha!” He explained that he had a million nephews back home and they’d added the same policy at their church and group activities as well.

  When she realized he was busting her chops, Stella had returned volley with, “I was worried about keeping you safe from predators. I mean you act like such a juvenile, somebody has to have your back.”

  After that, their e-mail banter had become the highlight of her days. There was no doubt that if anyone pulled their e-mails and took them out of context, the two would be stuck in Equal Opportunity Training, aka remedial political correctness classes. It might be worth it if they could sit together to snicker through the class.

  Stella ate a quick breakfast at the chow hall, and made a brief stop at the shoppette to fuel up and top off the coolers with ice – thank goodness for the little plugs for draining water from the coolers. Then she made her way to the wing headquarters where she double-checked the ancient audio/visual cart setup.

  Someone, probably the cleaning crew, had unplugged it overnight, so she bent over in front of the cart and reached for the elusive cord. She finally captured it then plugged it into the power strip.

  A throat clearing behind Stella startled her so much that she fell and landed, hard, on her bottom.

  “Oh for the love of …” Stella’s blurted sentence died off as her eyes met the source of the sound. The sight before her sent shock cascading through her. All she could manage was a whispered, “Running Man?”

  Acknowledgements

  First, thank you so much for reading my story. I hope you’ve enjoyed the first leg of Stella’s journey. Be sure to check out Taking Flight: Turbulence to see what happens next.

  If you’re so inclined, please take a moment to give feedback where you purchased it.

  So many people helped make this book happen that you might say it took a village…but really it took an army. My veteran family stood by me, cheering me on, challenging and encouraging the whole way.

  Robert Maynard, thank you for the beautiful cover you designed. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, yet somehow you captured a hundred thousand with yours.

  John, without your faith in me and gentle nudging for more chapters (and for calling me out on weak points) I’d still be taxiing along the tarmac instead of soaring. Joey, your encouragement and expertise kept me at altitude through turbulent topics. Rob, Dan, Tyronica, Don, Cobb, and Top, your friendship and steadfast enthusiasm lifted me when things dragged.

  This flight couldn’t have been logged without the generosity of two very dear friends. Robert and Christine Pettiti, I could never thank you enough for gifting me your late father’s laptop when I couldn’t afford one of my own. You believed in me when I needed it most.

  My dear friend, editor, and fellow author, Lisa Kumar, fate surely intervened that day that we both happened upon the same playground with our wild and unruly children. You’ve marshalled me through this process, and without you this flight would’ve been grounded. Thank you.

  My sister Maureen, cousin Candi, nieces Kaya, Ciara and Jessica, and other family members served as my jet stream, pushing me further and higher, believing in me even when I was just telling myself stories to stave off boredom. Thank you for encouraging me. I love you so much.

  Most of all, I need to thank my children for being my compass, altimeter, and tower through this journey – especially my oldest daughter, Erin Michaela. There were times in the early days of this adventure where my engine surely would’ve stalled had you not been my crew chief. Many times you shooed me away to write. By freely gifting your babysitting services, I was able to eventually reach liftoff. I’m so thankful to have such wonderful children.

  About the Author

  Having watched her father build every inch of his forty-two foot steel sailboat in his Chicagoland backyard for some twenty odd years, Donna Faye learned a thing or two about perseverance. When the boat began to take form, her mantra became, “If he can do that, I can do this.”

  And that approach carried her through life’s challenges – from college classes to her years served the Air Force; to raising her four children as a stay-at-home mom; through numerous pet projects, acquired hobbies, charitable endeavors, and subsequent return to the workforce.

  After her father’s untimely death, his example lent her the courage to string sentences together to create this story that, much like his boat, took many years to take form.

 

 

 
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