Sailor Proof by Annabeth Albert
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Derrick
It would have been easy to say that I was the most eager sailor on the sub for homecoming day, but the truth was that I had been a late arrival and most of the hundred-plus souls on board had been deployed far longer than me. Many like Weiss were parents and as the day approached, I’d learned names and ages and seen cherished photographs. So, the truth was that we were alleager, not simply me.
A young nuke won first-kiss honors, and Gomez’s choked-up reaction had my own eyes smarting. That morning, as we approached base, the sub was a flurry of activity, mirrored by my rapidly spinning brain and the rising hope in my heart. After weeks of not being sure what to hope for, I’d turned a corner after getting Weiss to send my message, and now I knew precisely what I wanted and what I was willing to do to get it.
But wanting and hoping weren’t the same as getting, and as I did a submarine shave and donned my dress uniform, my spine tingled, nerves causing weird pins and needles because I kept holding my breath.
Please,I asked the universe. Please. I hadn’t asked it for so much in a very long time, hadn’t thought my own needs that significant. Be selfish, Arthur had urged me at family camp. Be selfish. Want something solely for my own benefit. Because damn it I was worth it. We were worth it. I didn’t have to prove anything or earn it. I finally believed I deserved Arthur, but that didn’t mean he’d be waiting.
“Fox.” The CO stopped me in the passageway. “You went above and beyond, filling in on this tour. You want to be on deck?”
Be selfish. My pulse galloped, even my ankles wobbling. Yeah, I wanted to be up there, be among the first to see the crowd.
“Yes, sir.” I nodded at him. “I’d be honored.”
I joined the others heading on deck in getting into safety gear and rigging. My heart rate increased more with each buckle and tightening of straps until I felt ready to run a 10K. Finally, we got the go-ahead, and the harbor was gloriously in sight on a sunny fall day with a warm breeze ruffling our hair and rustling the big flag we unfurled. As we rose up, my footing had never been more sure. No way was I slipping now, not when we’d come so far, and we were so close. As we neared the pier, I caught a glimpse of the crowd, still too far off to hear, but getting closer, the signs and clumps of families coming into view.
Red hair. I started scanning the murky shapes. Come on, red. Holding my posture, I continued to search. And hope. So much hope my heart hurt from holding it all, and the rest of me ached from keeping my other emotions in check. I understood now why a lot of sailors cried at homecoming, and I felt the symbolism of the first-kiss ritual on a whole new level. Having someone waiting meant that damn much.
We were close enough now to hear the clapping and cheers, our able crew navigating us into our berth as we waved to the waiting crowd. Still no red hair. As usual the crowd was held back by a barricade, and it was hard to make out faces, but still I looked.
A sign. Show me a sign, I asked the universe. Please.
And then as those on deck started getting antsy to disembark, restless chatter as we waited for Gomez to get his first kiss, and right as my hope started to flag for the first time all day, I saw my sign. And I knew exactly what was waiting for me.
