her composure and was about to take her seat when she heard a familiar voice behind her, “Krissie!”
Kristen turned and saw her dearest friend in the world rushing up to her from a few tables away. Kristen was caught completely off guard but held out her arms automatically. “Trish!” Kristen said with joy as they embraced, ignoring the crowd around them.
Lieutenant Junior Grade Patricia Young was a hair shorter than Kristen, had a wild side she never tried to reign in, and had—during her Naval Academy days—a wicked backstroke. Patricia and Kristen had met during their Plebe year, were both on the varsity swim team all four years, and had roomed together. But despite their mutual love of swimming and choice of college hinting they were of similar personalities, there’d seldom been more incompatible friends than Kristen and Patricia.
Whereas Kristen was fastidious in her cleanliness and neatness, Patricia was a self-proclaimed slob. Kristen had entered the Academy with the unstated goal of graduating at the top of her class, whereas Patricia had broken every rule in the book and had almost been expelled for too many demerits. Kristen had wanted nothing more than to be in a submarine diving to the deepest depths, and Patricia had wanted to fly the fastest and highest soaring jet the Navy had. Kristen had been the consummate workaholic staying up late virtually every night in her dorm room studying, while Patricia had stayed up late planning pranks, sneaking off campus to visit the local bars, and having a good time. Although their personalities seemed to clash, inexplicably, they’d become the closest of friends.
Patricia had accepted Kristen’s relentless drive for excellence and had always gone out of her way to make certain Kristen felt welcome at any of the parties Patricia was always attending or organizing. Then, when Kristen started the relentless pursuit of her goal to serve on a submarine and the rest of her—so called—friends deserted her, Patricia had kept in touch and maintained their friendship even as their careers took them down two different paths.
Kristen loved Patricia for everything Kristen felt she’d never been strong enough to be. While Kristen had spent countless hours with her nose in a book, Patricia and the rest of the “Black Ns”—as the Naval Academy appropriately nicknamed a select group of the truly rebellious midshipmen who routinely maxed out their demerits—had sneaked out of the dorms to pull a prank or head into Annapolis for a party. Each time Patricia had invited Kristen to go on one of her adventures and Kristen had refused, there’d been a secret, rebellious voice within, prodding her to go. But Kristen had squelched the radical within her, knowing as a woman, she could never reach her goal if she let the secret rebel within herself out. So while Patricia had lived for every moment, Kristen had forsaken everything else for her goal.
“I was assigned to the Nimitz last month,” Patricia replied proudly as she thrust her ample bosom out to show off her golden aviator wings. “Check it out,” Patricia said proudly. “And what are you doing here?” she asked, hardly pausing to catch a breath as she slipped her arm through Kristen’s and led her back to Patricia’s table. “I heard you finally got on board one of those disgusting little sewage pipes.” Patricia rearranged a few place cards and repositioned Kristen next to her. Then, as usual, the fiery redhead immediately started talking, pummeling Kristen with a barrage of questions about life on board a submarine. “We heard rumors your boat was involved in an incident off the coast of North Korea,” Patricia whispered.
“I can’t really talk about where we’ve been,” Kristen responded with a soft whisper.
But the fact Kristen couldn’t talk about where they’d been or what she’d done wasn’t a problem, since Patricia’s favorite topic was herself. It was just another of the differences
Kristen turned and saw her dearest friend in the world rushing up to her from a few tables away. Kristen was caught completely off guard but held out her arms automatically. “Trish!” Kristen said with joy as they embraced, ignoring the crowd around them.
Lieutenant Junior Grade Patricia Young was a hair shorter than Kristen, had a wild side she never tried to reign in, and had—during her Naval Academy days—a wicked backstroke. Patricia and Kristen had met during their Plebe year, were both on the varsity swim team all four years, and had roomed together. But despite their mutual love of swimming and choice of college hinting they were of similar personalities, there’d seldom been more incompatible friends than Kristen and Patricia.
Whereas Kristen was fastidious in her cleanliness and neatness, Patricia was a self-proclaimed slob. Kristen had entered the Academy with the unstated goal of graduating at the top of her class, whereas Patricia had broken every rule in the book and had almost been expelled for too many demerits. Kristen had wanted nothing more than to be in a submarine diving to the deepest depths, and Patricia had wanted to fly the fastest and highest soaring jet the Navy had. Kristen had been the consummate workaholic staying up late virtually every night in her dorm room studying, while Patricia had stayed up late planning pranks, sneaking off campus to visit the local bars, and having a good time. Although their personalities seemed to clash, inexplicably, they’d become the closest of friends.
Patricia had accepted Kristen’s relentless drive for excellence and had always gone out of her way to make certain Kristen felt welcome at any of the parties Patricia was always attending or organizing. Then, when Kristen started the relentless pursuit of her goal to serve on a submarine and the rest of her—so called—friends deserted her, Patricia had kept in touch and maintained their friendship even as their careers took them down two different paths.
Kristen loved Patricia for everything Kristen felt she’d never been strong enough to be. While Kristen had spent countless hours with her nose in a book, Patricia and the rest of the “Black Ns”—as the Naval Academy appropriately nicknamed a select group of the truly rebellious midshipmen who routinely maxed out their demerits—had sneaked out of the dorms to pull a prank or head into Annapolis for a party. Each time Patricia had invited Kristen to go on one of her adventures and Kristen had refused, there’d been a secret, rebellious voice within, prodding her to go. But Kristen had squelched the radical within her, knowing as a woman, she could never reach her goal if she let the secret rebel within herself out. So while Patricia had lived for every moment, Kristen had forsaken everything else for her goal.
“I was assigned to the Nimitz last month,” Patricia replied proudly as she thrust her ample bosom out to show off her golden aviator wings. “Check it out,” Patricia said proudly. “And what are you doing here?” she asked, hardly pausing to catch a breath as she slipped her arm through Kristen’s and led her back to Patricia’s table. “I heard you finally got on board one of those disgusting little sewage pipes.” Patricia rearranged a few place cards and repositioned Kristen next to her. Then, as usual, the fiery redhead immediately started talking, pummeling Kristen with a barrage of questions about life on board a submarine. “We heard rumors your boat was involved in an incident off the coast of North Korea,” Patricia whispered.
“I can’t really talk about where we’ve been,” Kristen responded with a soft whisper.
But the fact Kristen couldn’t talk about where they’d been or what she’d done wasn’t a problem, since Patricia’s favorite topic was herself. It was just another of the differences
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