Captain Jellisco isn't quite so friendly the next morning when I report to his office at nine o'clock along with First Sergeant Lincoln and my platoon leader, LT Brown. “I gotta say, Specialist Morgan, you know how to make an entrance to a new unit.”
“It wasn't planned, sir,” I tell him. He's at least had me relax and take a seat, but I feel sort of small and puny with Lincoln and Brown still standing, flanking my chair on either side. “Apologies.”
“Don't apologize,” the CO says, shrugging. “I guess congratulations are in order, however. Okay, we can adjust fire on this. It won't take that much. The docs say you'll still need to do your APFT, rifle quals, stuff like that. We'll just have less time to do it before your pregnancy profile starts. Also, if I can ask, has the father been told?”
“No, sir,” I reply, and CPT Jellisco raises an eyebrow. “I'm not planning on telling him, sir.”
“Why not?” Lieutenant Brown asks, and I look up at her. “Seriously, why not?”
“It's complicated, ma'am. The father and I were . . . well, it wouldn't be good for him if he finds out.” Not good is an understatement. There's a simple rule in the Corps of Cadets, one I double checked on my phone last night. Cadets must be single. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Married? Sorry, you can't be in the Corps. Have a child? Nope, can't be in the Corps. Even a female cadet, if she gets pregnant, she has to drop out and then give up legal custody of her child in order to rejoin in a later year group.
So the fact is, Aaron can’t be the legal father of my baby. He'd be tossed out of the Academy, and of course, that would bring our relationship to light, ruining my career too. No, I won't destroy his future out of fear. If I love him, and I do love him . . . he can't find out.
“I see,” Lieutenant Brown says, clearly not understanding at all. She probably thinks the father was married, that I was an affair or something. Ah well, I'll deal with it. “We'll discuss this later.”
“You can discuss it while you work out the Family Care Plan,” Captain Jellisco says. “Okay, Morgan. Like I said, it's one hell of a way to land in the unit, but I have another rule. We support the mobilizations, and we support each other. So, if you want to make that choice, we'll do what we can to support you on it. In the meantime, let's get on with the day. I think Morgan needs a chance to go meet her day-to-day office supervisor and get settled in. Dismissed.”
Outside, First Sergeant Lincoln turns left, leaving me with Brown. His day-to-day job is in supply, while Lieutenant Brown works in the same building I do, although she's in the housing group. While we walk, Brown gives me a look. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead, ma'am,” I reply. “I'll answer if I can.”
She nods and puts her hands behind her back. “I'm not going to ask the details, but you might be interested to know that I'm a West Pointer,” she says. “I graduated four years ago, so I don't know any of the cadets there now. All my Corps have graduated. But . . . well, there are lots of young guys there. Not too many young enlisted though.”
“Perhaps so. Your point, ma'am?”
Brown hums and shakes her head. “Nothing. Your choice, Morgan. Just . . . someday, the father might want to know.”
I'd like nothing better . . . but I can't. “Perhaps, ma'am.”
“I had a friend at West Point,” Brown says, her face grim. “Nice girl, smart as hell, except that one time, she let the guy shag her without protection. She got pregnant, and instead of just coming clean, she went up to Cornwall. They've got a clinic up there, and she had the pregnancy terminated. She ended up getting a reg board, but she graduated on time. Still . . . not a choice I'd like to make, and it’ll probably haunt her for the rest of her days.”
“Nor I, ma'am. I love the father, and I'm going to love this baby,” I tell her, maybe a bit more heatedly than I should. “Sorry.”
“No apologies necessary,” Brown says. We reach our office building, and she leads me inside. “Okay, let me go introduce you to Major Tellis. He'll be your section chief. Good luck, Morgan. And welcome to Fort Lewis.”
Chapter 9
Aaron
It's been a long, strange ride, I think as I pick up my ACUs from the tailor. They look perfect, and I'm impressed at how quick and how cheap the work was.
“Thanks,” I tell the tailor, an old guy whose shop's been around for a long damn time, according to the scuttlebutt. “Perfect work.”
“Eh, no problem,” the guy says, ringing it up. “I wish it was like the old days, the BDU days. The old ones, everything was sewn on, tabs, badges, name tapes, all of it. Back then, three tops like yours would get me thirty bucks easy. Then I had the dry cleaning and starching work on the side. That was even better. These new things, just no money in it.”
“So why do you keep doing it?” I ask, folding my tops and putting them in my bag. “Doing the dry cleaning on dress uniforms can't replace that, can it?”