"Is it becoming your habit to run away from me?", he says as he has caught up to me and is now walking next to me on my left. I stop and he does the same. Again, I look at him and shake my head.
"Lieutenant Commander Johnson with all due respect, bu...
"You have to be joking!", I hiss as I open the door with such a force that the knob slams against the wall probably leaving a dent in it. I am fuming with rage and anger. How dare he interfere in my career? What makes him think that I would comply with the order without resistance? I hold the letter clenched in my left hand and breath heavily through my nostrils.
The piece of paper that made me as angry as I am now. The piece of paper that made me cry only an hour ago. The piece of paper that more or less orders me to get back into a fighter jet.
"I am sorry Admiral Jefferson, I tried to stop her!", the officer says who sat behind the desk outside a few moments ago. He looked like a scared puppy when I rushed past him. Maybe that's what I should call that junior commissioned officer from now on: Puppy.
"It's fine. You can resume your post outside. I was expecting Captain Wilson as she and I have a few things to discuss.", Admiral Jefferson dismisses the puppy.
The way Puppy looks back and forth between the Admiral and me is not lost on either of us. But I give two fucks about that right now. As soon as the door is closed behind me almost hesitantly – as if Puppy is afraid that I would rip the admirals head off – the old man turns to me.
"I thought, you would be here sooner.", he says in a neutral tone, but I know it is meant as an insult.
If there is one thing, I can say with complete certainty about Admiral Jefferson, it is that he hates tardiness. But I wasn't late. I didn't have a meeting with him. I barged in here, to give him two pieces of my mind. As I know him, he knows me – well more the old me. The young me. The kid that I was almost twelve years ago.
I know he has followed my career in the Air Force. I know that he never wanted me to be in the military to start with. I know that he would have been able to pull my papers from the Academy, but he didn't. I still don't know why...
"And I thought that you wouldn't go to these kinds of lengths.", I spit back at him. It is the most decent thing that I am able to say to him. Things like go fuck yourself or I would rather die than going are the ones that I would love to throw at him, but I bite my tongue. After all he is a rear admiral. I might not be a member of the U.S. Navy; however, he is still superior to me.
"Since you are here, I assume you accept the invitation.", he continues undeterred and walks to his desk to sit down. All I can do is huff.
Invitation? Fuck me. That wasn't an invitation. It was a fucking order. An "eat or die" order one of his friends in the Air Force made. It has his handwriting all over it. I don't know why he wants me back in the air. He doesn't have anything to gain from it, or does he?
"It is a good opportunity-", he starts and leans back in his chair. He is not even concerned about my outbreak or about the way I talk to him. It makes me even more furious.
"I don't give a shit if I disobey an order. But I am not going", I interrupt him between clenched teeth as I slap the letter onto his desk with such a force that my palm aches. For a short moment he raises his eyebrows in surprise, but the familiar neutral expression quickly returns to his face.
Oh, how well I know it, since it accompanied me through my childhood and youth. Rarely was there any kind of emotion to be detected in his features, and when there was, I had done something that was not right for him and his standards.
"I may be your father, but right now I am standing in front of you as an admiral of the U.S. Navy and you will show me due respect.", he says coolly as he gets up from his chair and leans with both his hands against the surface of the desk. Here we go again... Pulling rank... Classic... "I hope you already started to pack as your plane is scheduled to leave in" quickly he looks on the expensive watch that he wears "exactly two hours."
He gives me no room for discussion. He gives me no room to complain. He gives me no room to tell him to go fuck himself.
"I am not stepping onto that airplane, and I am definitely not getting back into a jet.", I tell him trying to stand my ground.
"The decision has been made. If you aren't on it in two hours, you can add an OTH Discharge to your CV." He wouldn't dare to do let them discharge me with other than honorable conditions. He wouldn't do something like that to his own flesh and blood. To his own daughter. But that glint in his eyes tells me otherwise. This fucking asshole.
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