Decker's Dilemma by Jack Ambraw Page A

I haven’t told her this, but she’s always been old to me.”
    â€œI hear it’s the opposite with parents,” Piper said. “I’m sure you’re still a little boy to her.”
    Decker, a faraway look on his face, stared at the picture of the happy couple posing next to the aircraft.
    â€œA peso for your thoughts,” Piper said.
    Decker smiled. “At least that makes them worth more than a penny.” They both laughed and turned to face each other.
    â€œThank you for your help today,” she said.
    Decker set his glass on the coffee table and extended his hands until they rested gently on her waist. “I was happy to help.” He drew her a few inches closer.
    She looked up at him and started to say something. A glance downward. Awkward hesitation. “Don’t,” she whispered, slowly removing his hands. “You’d better go.”
    Decker closed his eyes. Thoughts of Vega, and then of Commander Doerr walking through the door vanquished any natural instinct he had to argue. “Alright,” he exhaled.
    â€œFinish your tea and I’ll take you to the gate.”
    â€œThanks, I’m done.”
    Piper pulled into a parking lot behind a row of taxis. She put the car in park and pushed up her sunglasses. “Thanks again for the help. I get depressed living out there at times. You were good company.”
    â€œSo were you,” Decker said. “Sorry for the … you know.”
    She smiled and put the car in gear. “Hey, don’t worry about it.”
    â€œGoodbye,” was all Decker could think of to say as he climbed out of the car. Piper waved. Decker started to raise his hand, but she was already speeding away.
    He walked across the Shit River Bridge, numb to the familiar sights, sounds, and smells of Olongapo. He decided to stop at Cal Jam to have lunch and get his mind off Commander Doerr’s wife. As he sat in the club, his mind drifted to Kippen and the black market. He pulled out his Book of Dates, added his run-in with Piper, and inserted the note he had found in the car. A waitress took his order, pancit noodles, lumpia, and a beer. He waved at Pong behind the bar and settled into his chair, contemplating what his next move should be.

CHAPTER NINE
    0720, Saturday, January 4

    The three sailors had few opportunities to tak about Kippen the following week. Decker had duty Friday, so Hack spent the night with Lee, having dinner at the Sampaguita Club and going to a movie at the base theater. Despite only a few hours sleep, he awakened early Saturday morning and lay in bed listening to Lee’s rhythmic breathing as she slept. He thought about the previous week and the two things that he had done that he hoped he’d never have to do again. On Monday, he had helped Commander Doerr inventory Kippen’s personal affects before shipping them to his parents in some small town in Indiana. Everything the man owned—clothes, souvenirs from port visits, letters from home, socks, boots, and books—was sent packing to his relatives.
    On Wednesday, he had attended a memorial service for Kippen at the base chapel. Captain Girard said a few nice words, and Commander Doerr spoke eloquently of Kippen’s life, a story gleaned from Kippen’s personal effects; details of a man that few sailors had known well. The last speaker, the Harvey ’s chaplain, droned on for way too long and came dangerously close to putting the crew to sleep. Midway through the monologue, Hack heard a sailor in front of him whisper to a friend, “Kippen’s the lucky one. He doesn’t have to sit through this.” Hack frowned at the comment, but twenty minutes later, with no end to the oration in sight, he was in complete agreement with his shipmate.
    By Thursday life began to get back to normal in the supply department. The commander mentioned the ship had received orders for a new guy, Petty Officer Swischer, who would