Comprehensive exams arrive with more dread than fanfare. The whole class came in on the weekend at some point and I had four hours that Saturday that I made available to answer folk’s last minute questions. Many had to be reminded that there would be last minute cramming would be available after the exams on Monday through Wednesday. Thursday was the last exam and Friday was an admin day.
I was told that due to the ongoing investigation that my choice for prototype training would be restricted to Charleston. Not that I wanted to spend winter in upstate New York, but having the choice would have been nice. I was quickly reminded by Alvarez, who was hoping to stay n Charleston to keep his family from having to move again so quickly, that neither prototype would help her learn on the gear on the Copernicus class vessels.
“You ready for this Mercer?” I scoff at his question.
“Not even a little. I’m shaking in my patent leather pumps.”
He chuckles, “There’s a wager going around over how many points you’ll miss.”
I look up at him with a quirked eyebrow, betrayed at not being able to wager on my own performance. “A few at least. I always miss a few for skipping steps or missing a word here or there. Rote memorization is crap. What am I, an English major?”
It’s a long-running joke in the officer program that the only major that hadn’t failed out of power school was English. Not that most of us enlisted folk have degrees, but I still thought it was a funny joke.
Chemistry was first, and honestly the most brutal for me. It’s nearly all settings and tolerances and all those number ranges are maddening. Some of the reactor design from the first test is included, but all in all, primary and secondary chemistry isn’t too ridiculous. I don’t stay too long after the end of the day. I mostly wait for Miss Peters to leave.
“Soo, since I’m staying in Charleston, want to meet up for coffee next week?”
“Mmm?” She looks over and focuses, “Oh, sure. I have new class stuff to take care of and some family issues to manage, but I should be able to find something.”
“Huh, for as excited as you were a few months ago, you sure seem distracted. Should I be worried?” I try to make my statement flirty, but the look on her face reads confused.
“Sorry, I really do have a lot on my mind right now. I’ll talk to you next week.” She continues into the parking lot while I stand staring at her back, considering the odd exchange.
Next week? Will I not be seeing you tomorrow?
Her statement proved true. While she was at school for the remainder of exam week, and I did see her, not a word was exchanged nor a gesture of recognition reciprocated. Super odd. Now I’m kind of worried about her.
One of the good things about exam week is that people are generally too tired to be a pain in the ass. Sure, you get some redundant questions or a few more growls than normal, but this kind of behavior was common in a research lab full of PhD candidates finishing their theses. Unlike the lab scenario, this stress would die down in a few days and I wouldn’t have to interact with many of these people ever again.
Miss Peters posted the last exam results Thursday around 4pm along with the tabulated class results. Big no surprise that my name is at the top of the latter, but what has Alvarez bouncing off the walls is he finished in the top half of the class, practically confirming that he’d be staying in Charleston with his family. It’s hard not to smile seeing the dedicated husband and father so happy to prevent additional hardship for his loved ones. You’re a good man Juan Alvarez.
I congratulate him with a punch in the shoulder. “So we taking the fam out to dinner or are you planning a night in?”
“Come on Penny, you know we’re having a few drinks downtown in a few hours. Though I do have a dinner date at 7:30. Marisol said we could adopt you for the evening if there were any nerdy orphans wandering about.”
“Is this your way of convincing me to sing ‘Tomorrow’?”
A brief flash of panic focuses his irises. “I was being nice, no need for threats.”
I chuckle at that and shove him with my shoulder, both of us knowing the truth: I couldn’t carry a tune with a synthesizer. “Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt family time.”
“Pfft, you’re just considering that because it might get you more of Mari’s cooking later.” Oops, I’ve been caught, defensive measures for embarrassment response. I turn my head and cough out ‘asshole’. “Plus, she likes watching you interact with Humans, saying ‘it’s like watching a nature documentary mashed up with ‘Ancient Aliens’.”
Oh god, my face has got to be red now. I wander too close to people displaying curious behavior a few times and suddenly I’m an alien. Okay, so I poked a dude that was so stunned after a loud breakup to determine how badly his brain shut down. The answer was hard reboot, operating files corrupted, restarting in safety mode. Watching a grown man relearn language in five minutes was fascinating. Later I found out that Marisol had been snorting and squealing in restrained laughter the whole time, doubly so when their daughter Lucia came over to poke him too. Irresponsible parenting if you ask me, but no one in their right mind would.
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“I feel I would either be the worst or the best person to first contact, but my lack of tact eliminates any middle ground.”
“Hah! Imagine those spindly grey men noping-out because they thought you were an average Human.”
“Is that before or after I open my mouth?” I smirk and he loses it in a howl of laughter.
Our class chats the last few minutes of the day, mostly waiting for Senior to come in and tell us more about tomorrow, our last day and now with administrative fun times! Predictably, the man comes in with five minutes left so that no one can ask any questions. He tells us to be in at the normal time tomorrow and reminds us that any flights scheduled before 2pm are subject to interruption. Senior dismisses us and is followed down the hall by a brief period of raucous whoops as our victorious classmates remember the rolling enrollment and that classes behind us are probably studying.
The bar the class is headed to is a typical country affair where dark blue jeans and a black tank top would fit right in. It’s summer, but to hell if I’m wearing shorts around a bunch of drunken Sailors. You could wear a dress you big dummy, if there were any in my closet. The flowey loose ones I like are impractical for a lab environment so I didn’t keep any in my last move. Ah well, not like I’m trying to impress anyone that is going to show up.
“Ho-ly-shit. Guys! Stuffy science nerd actually shows her face in town.” A skinny-fit Sailor from my class shouts.
“Hahah, Baker. You made the top 5 so you’re squarely in the nerd zone yourself.”
“Gasp! She knows my name! I can die happy now that . . .” not sure where he was going with that, but it takes a rare person to maintain their composure after being flicked in the nose.
“Don’t be a goon. I’m out mostly because Alvarez promised to protect me from you hooligans.” Baker smirks at that and makes space for me at the bar. I order an Irish Mule and as soon as I get my drink the questions start again. At least the boys are being polite.
“What’s with you and Alvarez anyway?” One of Baker’s satellites asks, Martin maybe?
“He basically pulled me through boot camp. Fat white girl with more brains than sense? I would have dropped if his go-get-‘em attitude hadn’t propped me up. And no, we’ve never slept together. Marisol is a doll, but she would murder me in my sleep.”
“I’ve heard that they have a close Hispanic family. Good to hear Daniel’s rumors die in the wind.” Ugh, those rumors are so last week.
“The other side of those rumors though. You ever angle at Miss Peters?” I snort my drink at Baker’s implication. Shit that burns.
“I’m not opposed, but I was pretty radioactive for most of the last six months, so nothing happened.”
“Shame, it would have been easier for my ego to handle that you were sleeping your way to number one instead of just being better than me.” The bite in that comment seems superficial when weighed against his smile and chuckle.
“Considering we were born in different decades, and the difference saw me studying physics and astronautics, I think you have everything to be proud about.” Ugh, that hurts a little to acknowledge, but it truly is unrealistic for them to compare themselves against me.
“Huh, well, I guess that does make me feel better. Thanks for that.” I look around at the high-top tables we’ve gathered around and see a smattering of our graduating classmates around, chatting about their hopes for orders tomorrow morning and something about the scene niggles the edge of my mind.
I casually respond with social grunts ‘yeah’s and ‘I know how that is’ statements when Juan walks up with a beer in his hand when it finally occurs to me that most of these kids aren’t 21.
“Okay, what’s with all the kids drinking beer?”
“Are you serious Penny? Most southern states have two different drinking ages to go with the different licenses that establishments need. Beer and wine is 18 and up in South Carolina. It’s been that way for like five years.”
“Yeah, it’s part of the States Rights kick that legislators have been on since the widespread legalization of pot fifty years ago. Feds have been trying to crack down on different areas, withholding infrastructure improvement money, but then Nevada, Jersey, and a couple other reservation-casino heavy states started testing the waters with setting their drinking ages back and letting 18-20 year olds drink beer if they had a state regulated pass or they had to buy a wristband at the door each time. It’s not viable in every state, but it has worked out in a lot of them.” Martin informs.
“I was not expecting a civics lesson, but I apparently needed one. Did I accidentally miss the advent of universal healthcare while living in my cave?”
“Hah, no. But you’re in the military, your healthcare is part of the deal. Did you read anything about what you were getting into?”
“I stopped paying attention when the recruiter said my rating can go to space and I saw the video with a couple of lesbians I would gladly call daddy.” I purred the last part. And got half the table to choke on their beers. Ahh, the distractible teen brain. Beer hurts in the sinuses kids. Learning is fun!
“I feel ya Mercer, I have not once been propositioned by a man saying ‘Howdy Sailor’.”
“Right!? But hey, if you do find that gay cowboy, tell him you know someone that needs a flannel-wearing ranch woman in her life.”
“Gaaaaaayyeeeee!” Had no idea Reynolds was gay, but he’s got a comfortable attitude about it. The last comment has me giggling.
“Like half a dozen people’s ears perked up at that. Maybe we can finally end your dry spell, Penny.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time. But then I’d miss time with Lucia, and she’s my people.”
“I’m not sure how I should feel about a head-in-the-sand introverted, science nerd, lesbian calling my two-year old ‘her people’.”
“Aww, ‘come on Juan, everyone deserves a crazy aunty. It just so happens that I identify as a sentient algorithm that likes boobs. My cousins work for porn websites, I’m very proud.”
“Well, at least my little princess won’t have trouble finding a STEM tutor.” I nod my head vigorously. He didn’t say I couldn’t be her crazy aunty, heck, he practically acknowledged it as part of the plan! MUAHAHAHAHA.
A drink or two later of chatting about moves, exes and hobbies, Alvarez and I walk over to the restaurant we are meeting his wife and daughter. I’m greeted by an excited toddler squeal and a warm smile from Marisol. Aww, these are such good folk. Makes me tear up a little that they’re so accepting, especially of me. God, I’ve been kicked by the Universe so many times in the last five years, that my self-worth has definitely taken a hit, or seventeen and this simple act of acceptance makes me tear up.