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" Hold on, I'll get her."Putting the phone on mute, I tell Jessie who is on the phone."It's your mom. She wants to talk to you." How does she know that I am here?!" I'm not sure... but I have a feeling she has talked to Melissa." Pick up the other extension and listen in... so you know what she tells me."I un-mute the phone and hand it to Jessie."Hey, mom." Jessie, your sister just left here. I know what happened there earlier today." Mom... it is all a big misunderstanding... " Jessie, fucking your sister's boyfriend is never a good thing... even with what you thought happened today. Melissa is your sister and always will be that. She is very angry right now at you and Mark."Jessie says to her mom, "She was really upset when she left here. I guess she went straight to you." She came home because she didn't know where to go. She didn't want to talk to me. It took some time to get her to open up to me about what happened." I know what I did was not right mom. I was just trying to. Julia justshook her head and walked away, wanting to be rid of the unemployeddrunk who was hitting the booze far more than he was hitting thepavement from the looks of things.The nagging thought she couldn't walk away from was the feeling thatEric could be slowly moving in the same direction, looking to drown hisown sorrows. He'd never drunk alcohol when they were dating, not at all,and very rarely through most of their marriage. After an embarrassingnumber of overly-macho, half-drunk, losers that she'd dated, it was oneof Eric's more endearing traits. But over the last few months, beer hadstarted to make a regular appearance on the weekends and it was slowlycreeping into the evenings too. It just served to underscore where Ericwas and how vulnerable he might be without a job to take pride in,without something to give him focus and purpose everyday. It madetelling him about her success all the harder. She didn't want to hurthim but he had to be told. It was something they needed to.
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It had been our failed covert entry a few minutes earlier that had kicked off this whole gang fuck. “There’s your man.” I recognised the polished private school accent of the Signals Major. It was not unlike my own. “Which one?” the working class voice replied. “The one pissing blood, or the one with the arm?” The Major sighed as the two men in khaki strode up and came to a standstill above us. “The bleeder.” “G’day, Boss,” I chirped up at him from the road, flattering him with the address usually reserved for beret-qualified officers. He bristled, chuffed with my greeting. “As I was saying, we’ve just got him back from the Forward Air Controller Instructor’s course with the US Air Force.” “So what are you wasting him here for?” frowned the other bloke, an operator in sunglasses and a sandy beret. “Scheduling, as always,” replied the Major. “My blokes are scattered from asshole to breakfast. I can’t get a worthwhile group together until next month.” A siren went off behind us,.

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