Seth looked nothing like his dad. At twelve, he was a strange and gawky kid, with a pronounced case of acne, eyes that seemed just a little too big for his narrow face, and jet-black hair that fell almost to the middle of his back. Today he was wearing tight Levi’s （everyone knew that baggy pants were “in”） and a huge Nine Inch Nails tee shirt that accentuated the thinness of his arms.
Tami got out of the car at her husband’s approach, taking a foil-covered casserole dish with her.
“And here’s the love of my life,” Carl said, opening his arms. Tami grinned and handed him the dish. No doubt it was her famous seven-layer dip.
“Happy belated birthday,” Carl said to Jolene when she got out of the car.
“Thanks, Carl.” She opened the back door and unhooked Lulu’s car seat. It was like loosing the Kraken. Lulu skipped off, squealing in delight, looking for someone to play with.
Betsy stepped out of the car slowly, her earbuds still in place. When she saw Seth, her eyes widened in shock at what he was wearing; her mouth compressed. Jolene knew her daughter was terrified to be seen talking to her childhood best friend. So she gave her a little push.
Betsy stumbled forward, almost fell into Seth. He reached out, steadied her, saying, “Whoa…” The single word cracked, came in two volumes.
“I hope no one saw that,” Betsy said, pulling away from him, walking off. Seth stared after her for a long moment, then shrugged and headed over to a place in the grass. There, he sat down cross-legged and played some electronic game.
Jolene made a mental note to talk to Betsy again about being nice to Seth. Honestly, she didn’t understand how her daughter could be so mean.
Carrying the foil-covered glass bowl full of coleslaw she’d made, Jolene followed Carl and Tami into the backyard. They stepped around the corner of the house, and there they were: the flight crew—her friends. They gathered together often, this group that had trained together for so many years. In the “outside” world, they were from all different walks of life—dentists and loggers and teachers and mechanics. But for one weekend a month and two weeks a summer, they were soldiers, training side by side, serving their country with pride. Although Michael would roll his eyes at it, the truth was that Jolene loved these people. They were like her; they’d joined the military because they believed in serving their country, in being patriots, in keeping America safe. They believed. There wasn’t a member of this crew who wouldn’t give his life for Jolene’s, and vice versa.
At her arrival, everyone started singing “Happy Birthday.”
Jolene laughed, feeling a rush of pure, sweet joy. There was only the smallest of nicks in her happiness; she wished Michael were here with her. She would have loved to turn to him right now and tell him how much these friendships meant to her. How much this moment meant to her. God knew, her birthdays had never mattered to her parents.
When the song ended, she made the rounds, thanking everyone, talking. As she put her coleslaw down on a table already groaning under the weight of salads, casseroles, desserts, and condiments, Owen “Smitty” Smith offered her a glass of lemonade. He was the newest member of their crew—a freckle-faced twenty-year-old kid who had joined the Guard to pay for college.
“Thanks, Smitty,” she said.
He grinned, showing off a full set of braces. “Happy birthday, Chief,” he said. “You’re the same age as my mom.”
“Thanks,” she said, laughing, and then he was gone, hurrying off to catch up with his latest girlfriend.
“Warrant Officer Zarkades,” Jamie Hix said, sidling up to her at the table, tilting a Corona at her. He was the other gunner on her crew. Twenty-nine and newly divorced, Jamie was trying to get joint custody of his eight-year-old son from his ex-wife, Gina. Their recent divorce was becoming increasingly contentious. “Forty-one, huh?”
She plucked a raw carrot from the vegetable tray in front of her, swiping it in ranch dressing. “Hard to believe.”
“Too bad Michael couldn’t make it today.”
She wasn’t surprised by the sentiment; she knew that most of her friends here wondered why Michael rarely made an appearance at their functions. They were protective of her. They’d all drilled together so long there weren’t many secrets between them. “He works hard, and his job is important.”
“Yeah. Gina didn’t come around much either.”
She didn’t like the comparison between their spouses, however subtle. She was going to say so, but the compassion in Jamie’s eyes made her feel suddenly lonely. Saying something—she wasn’t quite sure what—she moved away, made her way past the barbecue, where everyone seemed to be laughing, and came to the captain’s rose garden. She looked down at the bright, tightly coiled pink buds. Pink. Her favorite was red. Michael used to know that.