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On the Monday morning of what Tony would be calling Major Anthony Nelson’s Horribly Awful Week by Tuesday, Tony had no idea the day would be anything but normal. His only concern had been that his wife, Jeannie, had looked a little peaked when she slid out of bed that morning, showing none of her usual energy as she got ready.
He worried that he may have been too demanding this past weekend, which they had spent mostly ensconced in their bed. His plan had been to go out Saturday night for dinner, dancing and a moonlight drive, but Jeannie had seduced him Friday night just as he finished drying the last supper dish and seemed insatiable for the rest of the weekend. Seeing her pale face in the breaking light of dawn, he told himself that he should have said no to a few of her demands.
But by the time he showered and dressed, he found her sitting at their dining room table looking her usual beautiful self. In fact, she jumped up as he passed, wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss that he was surprised didn’t knock his socks off in the literal sense. He laughed in relief as he sank down into his chair. She obviously needed to replenish her energy. Jeannie had a large pile of scrambled eggs with two pieces of toast instead of her usual one, and she was eating with a gusto he seldom saw from her.
A nice breeze came through the patio doors, having none of the humidity that had smothered the air since March. October was turning into a beautiful month, at least where the weather was concerned. He liked the cooler temperature, but the old Yankee in him did miss the changing of the leaves. Not that he didn’t see an occasional tree or bush around Cocoa Beach but nothing like he saw during his childhood where entire hills and mountains were covered in vibrant colors. Maybe he and Jeannie could take a drive up the coast during the fall next year. He knew his wife would appreciate the beauty of it even more than he would.
Holding out her hand across the table, Jeannie smiled at him. He took her hand in his and again wondered why he had resisted this for so long. He knew in his head that eating breakfast with her married or not shouldn’t make a difference, but his heart said it did. Being married felt wonderful.
“Anthony?”
He loved how often she used his name now. Master was starting to become more of a memory than a word she used often. She hadn’t called him that once all weekend. And she was slowly starting to spend less time in her bottle and in her harem costume.
“Yes, darling?”
She grinned at him. “I know you are busy this week, but do you think we could have a picnic after you get home from work on Friday?”
Due to the testing of some new modules, Tony’s work hours had been shifted for the last two months. Which meant he spent longer scheduled hours at NASA Monday through Thursday but was allowed to leave a few hours earlier on Friday. With testing winding down, Tony assumed his hours would be shifted back to normal soon, but hadn’t been, yet.
Picnicking with his wife was always fun. She usually made some incredible finger food to enjoy, and their conversation always seemed different on the blanket than at the dinner table. Something about sitting outdoors on the ground seemed to bring out a sense of nostalgia for both of them. Their childhood memories were often talked about, and they sometimes played games they grew up playing. While the materials used to make the toys might be different, the gameplay was remarkably similar, even though separated by thousands of years.
A little over two months ago, he was glad they’d been far off the beaten path when they “battled” with wooden swords. Something about matching Jeannie stroke for stroke warmed his blood in more ways than one, and the sword fighting transformed into playful wrestling on their blanket. Wrestling that ended up with both of them quickly removing pieces of clothing in between moves. He would always remember a nude Jeannie sitting astride him, her hair tumbling down around her glowing face, trying to regain her breath while declaring them both the winner that day.
“That sounds wonderful,” he told her and was rewarded with a large smile. “What are you planning on doing today?”
She looked down at her few remaining bites of eggs. “Oooh, I thought I might go window shopping and visit Mama for a little while.”
Tony hated how his stomach always soured when his mother-in-law was mentioned. Both of his parents had great relationships with their in-laws when he was growing up. He knew his wife loved her mother dearly, loved all of her family, but her mother would never ever like her husband, like him. He would never like her, either, if he were honest. But it wasn’t just his dislike that soured his stomach.
It was guilt. He was an honest man. And he knew that he was mostly responsible for their animosity. He still remembered how he’d overreacted to hearing Jeannie’s mother was in his home. It had been after a long day at work, but he should have taken a moment to breathe, to remember that the intruder was the woman who birthed the genie he cared for a great deal, even if he hadn’t been willing to admit how much he cared then. Maybe they could have started with a little less hostility if he’d gritted his teeth and welcomed her, even if he’d been unwilling to marry her daughter then.
“Well,” he said, standing up and wiping his mouth with his napkin. “I hope you have a great visit.”
He loved his wife’s smile. She jumped up from her seat, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. “Have a good day, Anthony,” she said, leaning forward, one leg bent up in the air. She then kissed the tip of his nose and blinked away, leaving his arms empty.
To his surprise, the table was still covered with the breakfast dishes. He thought about calling for her to return and then remembered her peaked face that morning. He had a few extra minutes before he had to leave for his early meeting, and he’d done his own dishes for years. He took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves and began gathering the plates, utensils and glasses.
It was five minutes past the time he needed to leave when he tossed the used napkins on top of the little pile of towels Jeannie left sitting on top of the dryer to wash later. He should have just rinsed and put the dirty plates in the sink. Instead, his fingers found one soapy plate a little too hard to handle, and he dropped it on the floor, shattering it into a thousand pieces. It seemed to take forever for the broom to finally sweep up all the bits, leaving him running behind instead of ahead of schedule.
He nearly walked into the fireplace as he was putting his coat back on, and he almost forgot his cover, forcing him to take the time to unlock the door he just locked to get his cap from the foyer closet. He should talk to Jeannie about putting the table and the bust back near the door; it made it so much more convenient to grab his cap if he forgot it.
As he slid into his car, he hoped the traffic would be better than most Monday mornings. He was going to have to hoof it to get to his meeting on time. He put the key in the ignition and….
Nothing. The car didn’t make a sound.
Ignoring the impulse to bang his head on the steering wheel, he hopped out of the car and wished Jeannie was there to help. He pushed in the release, lifted the hood and picked up the hood prop rod and jammed it into the hole to hold up the hood. The battery was new, so he suspected it was okay. However, looking at the motor, there were not any obvious problems, at least to his eye. He wished Roger were home instead of at his parents’ this week celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Tony understood the physics behind the motor better than he understood the physical parts; Roger was the one who understood the parts and how they all interacted better. His ability to troubleshoot engines was so good that he was often teased about his magic touch.
Tony gently tapped his finger on a close rubber hose; to his horror, he saw a small crack form and a shot of engine oil landed smack-dab on the center of his uniform. Feeling the wetness on his chest, he had little doubt he would need to change both his coat and his shirt. Fighting the urge to crawl underneath the car and hide, Tony lifted the hood, pulled the hood prop rod down and put it in place before letting the hood fall with a satisfying thud.
He turned to walk back into the house. Stopped. Walked back to the car to get his briefcase. After patting down every pocket, he pulled out his key and let himself back into his home. He again thought about calling for Jeannie, but she seldom took time for herself. He walked over to the kitchen counter and dialed the phone, asking if an airman could come pick him up. After he was informed one was on his way, he went into this bathroom and dabbed at the oil staining his coat, shirt and tie. Reminding himself that he was already going to be extremely late for the meeting, he pulled off his ribbons, name tag and rank insignias and hung the coat over the shower road, even though he doubted the dry cleaner would be able to get out the stain, before putting the shirt and tie in the bathtub to soak. He was standing outside and ready to jump into the jeep when the airman pulled beside the curb.
Unfortunately, he missed the entire meeting. General Schaeffer was in fine form for a Monday morning. The fact Dr. Bellows was sitting on the corner of the General’s desk, his left leg off the floor, told him that while he was getting a verbal dressing down, he would receive no official reprimand in his record. Tony stood rim-rod straight as the general expressed ideas and beliefs about being on time that Tony completely agreed with; he had almost tuned out the lecture when he realized what the general was saying about the meeting.
“Sir?”
The old man sighed, and the anger drained from his shoulders. “The top brass has decided that all the astronauts will be assigned to Houston. It’s the best central location for all the training you take part in.”
Tony swallowed the protest that jumped to his lips. He was a military officer; he agreed to go where the Air Force chose to send him. Not protesting this change in duty station was hard though; before, it always seemed like his assignments took him towards where he wanted to be. Now, he was already exactly where he wanted to be. And living with his wife, when before he had no one but himself to consider.
“When?” he asked before swallowing. Now that he was looking, he noticed signs of Dr. Bellows’ sorrow.
“Everything will be transferred to Houston by February 1,” the general informed him. Tony couldn’t hide his dismay at the short timeframe, but he tried. The general picked up a folder from his desk and handed it to Tony. “You will find all the necessary information inside.”
Tony took the folder. “All astronauts—?”
“Major Healey will also be transferred,” Dr. Bellows answered with a smile, understanding why Tony was asking. While most of the astronauts were Air Force or Navy officers, Roger was the only astronaut who served in the Army.
The general dismissed him, and Tony finally made his way into his office. He put his cap on the hat stand. He didn’t bother pulling out the forms he brought from home as he sank down in the office chair. Putting the folder down in the middle of his desk, he stared at it, feeling as if the information it contained was weighing down on him. He was going to have to tell Jeannie that they would soon be moving, that the holidays she was already planning would have to be stripped down to the basics as they prepared to move half-way across the country to a new home.
He knew Roger also loved the Space Coast and would hate to hear about the move when he returned. Tony sighed and shook his head. He had work to do, and sitting and brooding was not helping him, Jeannie or Roger. He started emptying his briefcase. He would worry about telling Jeannie the news tonight.
It was almost dark when Captain Bob Johnson dropped Tony off at his house. When he heard about Tony’s plight earlier, he volunteered, not only to take him home that evening, but to take him to the Western Auto to get the rubber hose and oil he needed. Tony went straight into the garage to gather the necessary tools. Jeannie came out with a flashlight almost as soon as he raised the hood.
She pointed the light exactly where he needed it. “I saw the oil on your uniform.”
He sighed. “I don’t think the stains will come out.”
She laughed. “If you only had a wife, perhaps not. But you have a genie.”
Her laugh made the day feel not as bad. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
The wise man inside him said he should go inside and change clothes, but the tired man said it should be safe to remove that hose. The wise man was right. Tony looked down in dismay as his uniform was covered in the same amount of oil that his earlier uniform had been drenched in. He looked at Jeannie, and she was biting her lip, not even showing a hint of laughter. Knowing her sense of humor, he must be showing his feelings on his face for her not to find his mishap amusing.
Sighing, he cut the new hose to size and carefully pushed it into place before putting the new clamps on it. He then checked the oil and topped it off. Sitting behind the wheel, he paused before trying to start the car. His luck today said it wouldn’t start; actually, his luck today said the engine would blow up. He asked Jeannie to move closer to him, away from the motor, and then turned the key.
Nothing. He put his forehead against the steering wheel and resisted the urge to start banging it. “Oh, Anthony,” Jeannie said.
“I need Roger,” he said. Jeannie nodded, braced herself and crossed her arms. “No, no, no. Don’t blink him here. He deserves time with his family.”
Jeannie frowned. “He did not seem happy to be on his way to visit them before he left.”
“He loves them; he just doesn’t like them much.”
Jeannie frowned her confusion, but Tony didn’t have the strength to explain. He closed the hood and gathered everything to carry inside. As soon as they walked through the front door, Jeannie blinked and the oil stain on his uniform disappeared. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
She started to walk towards the kitchen. “Dinner is warming in the oven.”
Tony realized he wasn’t hungry. He also didn’t have the energy to share the news with his wife that their lives were about to be turned upside down at the whim of the US government. He swore the few pages in the file that General Schaeffer gave him earlier had added pounds of weight to his briefcase. “I’m sorry, darling. Can we eat it tomorrow? I just want to go to bed.”
Jeannie readily agreed, fixed herself a plate and put up the rest as he called Pat Howard to ask for a ride in the morning. When she carefully joined him in bed later that night, he partially awoke and drew her close. Her sigh spoke of contentment, and her hand covered his that rested on her middle. He slept much better with her in his arms.
Tony barely had time to gulp down his breakfast before rushing outside to meet Major Howard on Tuesday morning. Pat was the type of man that if he was less than a half-hour early, he was late. Which suited Tony that morning, since he needed time to prepare for the final test of the last module they were assessing. He’d already put it through the paces four times, and it was his least favorite out of all the options they were exploring.
He forced himself to smile and give a friendly greeting when Lieutenant Simpson bounced up to the control center. The 6’2” blond haired and blue-eyed man gave the appearance of a large puppy with his energy and bootlicking attitude, but something about the man was off-putting to Tony. Not because he was a sycophant, since he’d met many of those in the military. It was the hint of resentment he saw flashes of that left Tony uneasy. He suspected Simpson was the kind of small man who took out his frustrations at having to answer to superior officers by harassing those below him in rank.
Again, he wished Roger’s parents had chosen another day to get married fifty years ago. This module’s controls were extremely finicky with little room for margin of error. Even on a different machine, Tony would have preferred Roger. His friend, having done so many of these tests with Tony, knew his limits almost as well as Tony did. It was as if he could hear Tony’s stress levels in his voice and adjust accordingly with little input from Tony.
When Dr. Bellows arrived, Tony headed up the platform to the module. Even though it was still years away, Tony was looking forward to flying the next generation of space vehicles. Roger always just shook his head when he saw the plans. “It’s a tank with wings, Tone!”
The test started normally. It was near the end that everything went out of control. Suddenly, the module began to rock back and forth violently. As he closed his eyes, he could hear Dr. Bellows yelling at Lieutenant Simpson to pull back on the controls. While Tony was known for his cast iron stomach, even cast iron could break under enough pressure. He promptly lost his breakfast.
Sergeant Harrison met him on the platform with a large towel. Tony apologized as he wiped his face and flight suit. He started to turn towards the module, but Sergeant Harrison stopped him. “We will take care of the clean-up, Sir. Are you all right?”
Tony smiled his appreciation and reassured the man he was okay, even though his stomach still felt like a troll was having a temper tantrum in it. When he got back down to the ground, he was met by Dr. Bellows and Lieutenant Simpson. Dr. Bellows, his nose twisted by the smell, ordered him to the showers and then to medical. Tony started to protest he was uninjured, ignoring the tight neck muscles that told him he would soon have a headache. Dr. Bellows lifted an eyebrow causing Tony to stand at attention and just say, “Yes, Sir.”
The doctor shot a look at the lieutenant before storming away. Tony saw a small smirk play on the young man’s lips, and if he’d had any respect for Simpson, he would have lost it then. Not only was Simpson a cruel man, he was also a stupid one. Besides underestimating Dr. Bellows’ intelligence, he was also underestimating that man’s dedication to the mission. The colonel hadn’t called him out on his “mistake” because he was heading to the general’s office right now to take care of the problem. Lieutenant Simpson would be surprised at how dismal his prospects as an officer were after today.
Because mistakes could be forgiven, but Lieutenant Simpson overplayed his hand. While he saw an Air Force officer like himself, albeit one of higher rank, when he looked at Tony, the brass at NASA saw a commodity. A very expensive commodity that they dedicated hours to, as well as more money than what many small countries spent on their annual budgets. Space suits that were custom built and cost $100,000 were a small cost when compared to the training and instruction Tony had gone through. Taking the chance on losing that investment for an arrogant lieutenant’s stupidity was something that NASA would not accept. Possibly causing injury to that commodity so some lieutenant’s need to feel dominant could be satisfied? NASA would be raining down hellfire on that lieutenant in short order.
He barely kept in his snort of disbelief when Simpson oozed out his fake apology. Tony had never been afraid of confrontation, even back in high school, but being an officer taught him that some battles were not worth fighting. He didn’t bother to tell the man he was a fool, or that he knew he deliberately messed up the test, but he did tell him that he was apologizing to the wrong man. He should be apologizing to Sergeant Harrison, who was cleaning up the mess he caused. After all, it was the enlisted men who made up the backbone of the military. He saw the flash of anger in the other man’s eyes at his praise of the men Simpson believed were below him. Tony didn’t care and turned and walked away.
His fellow astronaut, Gene, warned him that something was wrong with the water heaters as he entered the locker room. Tony quickly stripped and bagged his flight suit before heading into the shower bay. Ice disguised as water spit out at his bits and made his neck tighten even more as his teeth started to chatter.
As he quickly washed himself with soap, he imagined what Roger’s response would be to his last two days of misery and today was only getting started. “You know what this is, Tone? This is Major Anthony Nelson’s Horribly Awful Week. Have you checked your horoscope?”
Briefly, Tony was glad Roger’s parents chose this week to get married fifty years ago. He was afraid he would ask Roger to look at that horoscope if he were there, and he could just imagine Roger’s response. As he dressed, he told himself that his passing thought to ask Jeannie later if he was carrying a cursed object was just a passing thought. He hoped.
Michael, the physical therapist, carefully massaged and stretched his neck before Tony saw Dr. Bellows. The head of the medical department was still spitting mad. He could hear the pen drilling down on the clip board as the doctor made notes after checking Tony’s range of motion and pupil reflexes. He handed Tony a list of symptoms he wanted him to keep an eye out for as well as giving him orders to report every two hours until the end of the day. Seeing how hard Dr. Bellows jaw was clenched, he only gave a verbal acknowledgement and left.
The worst part about puking so early in the morning was that Tony swore the smell of vomit followed him all day. But no one else acted as if they could smell it, including Commander Fleming, who took him home in his Fiat 850 Spider Convertible with the top up. However, his wife was unable to hide her response. She bound out of the house as he was walking up the drive. When she got close to him, her eyes suddenly grew big, and she grabbed her stomach with one hand while slapping the palm of the other over her mouth. She turned and ran back inside.
He raced after her, tossing his cap and briefcase onto the chair by the door. He heard her as he entered their bedroom. He ripped off his coat and threw it in the general direction of the bed. He held her hair as she finished losing her lunch, and then he helped her stand and wipe her face. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to be reacting anymore to his scent as she brushed her teeth.
Seeing her pale face and hating the fact he was the one who made her feel ill, he picked her up and carried her into the living room and laid her down on the couch. He told her to stay there and relax while he took a shower, and then he would reheat the dinner she fixed the night before. She gave a half-hearted protest as he went back into their bedroom. He dug in the back of his closet and pulled out a bar of his grandmother’s lye soap, guaranteed to strip off any smell along with a layer or two of skin.
It told him how sad the state of his life was that he was so happy that warm water was pouring out of his shower head. He almost cried as the warmth caressed sore muscles. However, his wife was waiting patiently for him to reheat dinner, so he quickly scrubbed himself clean. His nose turned as the smell of lard from the soap permeated the air, but it was better than the smell of sick. He just threw on his housecoat after drying off, not feeling up to getting dressed.
As the food heated, he set up the dinner trays so they could sit on the couch instead of at the table. He hated seeing how pale Jeannie still looked. He explained to her that he’d gotten sick during the module training. “Roger always says you have a cast-iron stomach,” she said softly.
“I usually do,” he answered as he sat down their plates on their trays. He sank down on the couch and pulled his tray closer. He wouldn’t tell her anything about Lieutenant Simpson, and he would make sure Roger didn’t either when he returned. NASA had been buzzing about it all day; Fleming told him on the way home that Simpson had been in the General’s office for over an hour and was still in there when Fleming left. Tony doubted the young man would be at NASA tomorrow.
When he apologized for making her sick, she looked over at him in surprise and then down at her plate. “Do not be silly, Anthony. I did not smell you. It must have been something I ate.”
He smiled his appreciation for her sweet denial before returning to his dinner. He thought he should be hungry, but he wasn’t. Neither he nor Jeannie ate more than half their meals. When his wife started to push herself up off the couch, he said, “Oh, no, you don’t.”
“But, Anthony—”
“I’ll wash the dishes. You relax.” The fact she barely protested told him how badly she was still feeling.
After he managed to get all the dishes dried and put up, without breaking a single one, he headed back out to the living room only to find Jeannie asleep on the couch. He almost reached out to shake her awake before stopping himself. He sank down on his knees and studied his genie. At least her color seemed to be returning. He looked over at his shoulder where his briefcase remained on the chair. Not tonight. Jeannie was not well, and he was still sore from today’s earlier misadventure. He would tell her tomorrow night.
Hopefully Major Anthony Nelson’s Horribly Awful Week could only get better from here.
He picked her up gently, wishing he could blink her into different clothes, but thankful she was in soft, stretchy fabrics. He put her in bed and joined her after tossing his housecoat over a chair. As he wrapped his arm around her middle, she moaned and moved her head. The polyester feel beneath his hands changed into the silkiness of her pajamas. She brought both her hands back to put over his left hand that was lying on her stomach. He smiled as he fell asleep.
Since Pat agreed to also pick Tony up on Wednesday, he again had to quickly eat his breakfast, kiss his wife, and run out the door to jump into his ride. Fortunately, his morning was just completing paperwork, so he was able to call the shop to have someone go check out his car. If it was something they couldn’t quickly fix, they would tow it in.
His morning went so well, and his afternoon tour started out so well, that he thought that Major Anthony Nelson’s Horribly Awful Week was finished. Instead, with less than two minutes to go, the tour ended with a disaster. Not for the politicians who were part of the tour, but for Anthony’s relationship with the engineers who helped support him.
He stood in front of one of the giant chalkboards where the engineers worked on equations. Like the others, it was almost fifteen feet tall with giant ladders on both sides. It went almost to the floor, the bottom of it being below Tony’s knees. Written on the board, covering almost every inch, was an equation he knew the group was excited to finally finish, and he was looking forward to talking about it with them after the Public Affairs Office took the tour over after this room.
The tour group was gathered around him tighter than usual. He introduced the engineers by name and spoke of the importance of their role in getting to space. It was during his final two-minute statement that the “assistant” to one of the Senators, who had worn high heels instead of the recommended shoes and almost tumbled a few times, twisted around to look at the other giant chalkboards in the room and had her high-heel snap. She tumbled right into Tony who fell back.
It felt as if the NASA side of the room froze in horror. Tony couldn’t move a muscle, as if by not moving he could save the hard work behind him. The engineers were all looking at him with large wide eyes. The “assistant” giggled and pushed away from Tony before leaning on her “boss”, and Frank from Public Affairs, realizing the seriousness of what just happened, stepped forward and took over, thanking Tony before leading them all away.
Tony carefully took two steps forward and then turned around. The bottom left corner of the board was now mostly streaks of chalk powder with hints of numbers sprinkled throughout. “I am sorry,” Tony said, knowing that words were not enough. Edmister looked like he wanted to cry, while Smith was still staring at the board with his mouth open. Bacon, the leader of the group, walked to Tony’s side. “We know, Tony,” he said as he patted Tony’s back. Chalk dust swirled in the air causing both men to cough.
He excused himself, knowing there was nothing he could do to help, and that they all probably wanted him out of their sight. He would invite them and their families over in a couple of weeks for a meal as an apology, and he knew they all would accept it. Because honest mistakes could be forgiven because everyone would make mistakes; it was the attitude you had about those mistakes that made you at NASA.
A few minutes later, the phone rang as he entered his office. It was the garage calling to let him know that the new battery he bought last week had been a lemon, so they replaced it with a new one. He promised to drop in to pay them on Friday and tried not to choke when they said the cost of the battery plus labor. As he hung up the phone, he could imagine Roger’s response. “Seriously, Tone, have you checked your horoscope?”
Tony was glad that he had to get a ride home on the Wednesday of Major Anthony Nelson’s Horribly Awful Week because he feared that, if he could have driven himself, he may have stopped somewhere to buy one of those magazines Roger always had squirreled away. And that horoscope might tell him that this was going to be a bad year instead of a bad week.
Jeannie lost her smile when she yanked open the door to greet him. “Another bad day?”
He nodded, putting his briefcase and cap down on the chair. He knew he really needed to talk to her about the change in duty stations, but he couldn’t do it tonight. In fact, he didn’t think he could even make it through dinner. “Would you mind if I had dinner in bed tonight?”
She nodded, and he started walking past her. “Oh, Anthony,” she said as she started to dust a spot on his back. “You have—”
“I know,” he said as he inched into their bedroom.
Thirty minutes later, he handed her back his dinner tray and thanked her for the wonderful meal even though he couldn’t remember what it was he ate. He laid down and reminded himself that there were only two more working days this week. Hopefully, whatever bad star he was under would shift by the weekend. He groaned, glad that Roger wasn’t around to know that he had that crazy thought, before he tossed the covers over his head. He eventually fell asleep.
Later, Jeannie slipped into his arms. He smiled as she curled up on her side and laid her head on his shoulder. He slid his right arm beneath hers, and she sighed as she placed her hand over his. He fell into a much more restful sleep.
Thursday started much better since Tony could take the time to eat his breakfast and enjoy talking to his wife. She gave him a letter from his sister that arrived in the mail the day before. His sister, a journalist for the local paper in Bridgeport, wrote a wonderfully detailed description of the two-week vacation to Europe her husband surprised her with. Jeannie sat entranced as he read it to her.
When he stood up, Jeannie rushed into the kitchen to grab the brown-bag lunch he asked her to make earlier. He put it in his briefcase and then took the time to kiss his wife the way he wanted to kiss her all week. She followed him out to the front porch where she watched as he slid into his car seat. He hesitated for a moment and then turned the key in the ignition. Vrooom! the motor said to him. Jeannie clapped and waved.
He carefully backed out of the drive. By the time he was almost at NASA, he was feeling good. The wind coming in through the window was the perfect temperature. The sun was shining, and even the birds seemed to be dancing overhead. After he pulled into the parking lot, he walked into the front door and checked in at the security desk. He kept looking over his shoulder as he walked through the corridors, but no one bothered him.
Relief flooded him when he stepped foot into his office, a place he planned to only leave for bathroom breaks today. Finally, Major Anthony Nelson’s Horribly Awful Week seemed to be over. He put his lunch into his desk drawer before putting his briefcase into the back of the top filing cabinet drawer. He opened the matching one next to it and pulled out three rolled sheets of bond paper. Tony had been working on this equation for weeks, and he was almost finished. He was at least two weeks ahead of schedule, and his calendar was remarkably clear for the next two days. Hopefully, he would finish it by tomorrow afternoon, so Roger could help check his work next week.
He sat down at his drafting table and rolled out the sheets, putting a straight edge down to keep the pages flat. Picking up his pencil, he started to whistle. Realizing he had the wrong sheet on top, he started to lift it up, and his eyes were drawn to the corner his hand was reaching towards. He blinked. He must be seeing things. There was no way he made such an absurd math error at the beginning of the equation.
But no matter how many times he blinked, he saw his handwriting, in parentheses, stating that one plus three equaled five. It only took him seconds of scanning for him to realize that the one mistake near the beginning had thrown off the rest of his work. He tossed his pencil in the air, not caring where it landed. He laid his head on his drafting table and imagined Dr. Bellows walking into the room to find Tony sitting under his desk sucking his thumb.
The headache he managed to not have on Tuesday roared into his frontal lobe. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples with his fingers while gently stretching his neck. He stood up, knowing he needed to go to medical for headache medicine. He would take his time returning to give himself time to relax, but he needed to start work on the equation soon to have time to complete it, and that would only happen if Roger had time to help him over the next two weeks.
Major Anthony Nelson’s Horribly Awful Week was now four for four. As Tony bent down to pick up his pencil, he told himself that he would not be stopping to pick up a horoscope magazine on the way home. But the next time Roger took leave, Tony was taking it, too. Jeannie could blink him into a cabin in the middle of nowhere! Just to be safe.
His house was lit by candlelight when he got home. He put down his briefcase and cap and walked towards the kitchen. The table was beautifully set. Jeannie came through the kitchen door holding a gorgeous roast surrounded by potatoes and carrots. Her smile left her face when she saw him. “Oh, I can blink away the candles—”
“Don’t,” he said. He wished he could say it was because he was in the mood for romance with his wife. “The softer light is good for my headache.”
She put down the platter. “Oh, Anthony.” He gave her a gentle kiss and then sat down at the table. “I will not talk.”
He tried to smile but thought he winced more instead. “Talk softly but I love hearing your voice,” he said. He felt the tension ease from between his shoulder blades as Jeannie started telling him about how she no longer liked the character Ronald on her favorite soap opera since he dumped Cynthia for her evil twin sister. She went on a mini rant about how Food City was trying to commit highway robbery charging twelve cents a pound for potatoes. Then she talked about seeing a lovely man painting a seascape at Canaveral Pier. “He says he is usually there on Thursday afternoons, so if you are ever off, we should go see if he is there. His paintings are beautiful, Anthony.” Tony made a note to soon go to the pier and see if he could find the man and perhaps purchase some of his work. Maybe having a few of his paintings would help them both with the homesickness in Houston.
He winced at the reminder that he still had not talked to his wife about the move that was inching ever closer. Jeannie patted his hand and stood. “Go lay down on the couch, darling. I will get this cleaned up and join you.”
Jeannie blinked herself beneath him before he could even attempt to sit up after she finished. She started stroking his hair, and then he felt her nod her head as she usually did when she blinked. He opened his eyes and saw the poetry book he expected to see floating in the air. Soon Jeannie’s melodic words eased away the remainder of the headache that had stayed with him almost all day. Occasionally, he would crack open his eyelids and catch Jeannie giving him a soft smile as she looked down at him, which was odd since she usually never took her eyes off the page when she read to him.
Later, she went to bed at the same time he did. He pulled her to him, his front to her back and put his hand on her middle. She laced their fingers together again, and Tony found himself falling into a dreamless sleep.
On Friday, Tony moaned in satisfaction as he pulled into the driveway. Major Anthony Nelson’s Horribly Awful Week was officially over. At least the work week part of it. He managed to complete a lot of work on his equation today, having not one person drop into his office to talk. He forgot his checkbook, but that had been an easy fix with a quick phone call to his wife asking her to blink it to him. However, he was amazed that checkbook hadn’t sobbed as he wrote the check to the garage for one battery plus labor.
He shuffled towards his front door with the aim to get inside and go to bed, which he planned to not leave for the entire weekend. Just like last weekend but without the fun, he thought, as he opened the door and found his smiling wife standing in the middle of their living room with her picnic basket floating beside her.
Her smile disappeared. “You forgot.”
He wanted to explain it had been a miserable week, and a lot had happened since he promised to go but he hated disappointing her. “Well, it looks like rain.” And it did. He expected the gray clouds to open up on him as he drove home. In fact, he mentally planned on a torrential downpour to start forcing him to race into the house.
Jeannie shook her head. “The weatherman said the rain would hold off until tomorrow morning.”
He wanted to argue; he wanted to hide away. But his wife asked so little of him. He sighed. “Give me time to change—”
Jeannie blinked and his uniform was replaced with a blue button-up shirt with blue jeans and tennis shoes. He tried to smile, but he was afraid it might be more of a grimace with the way Jeannie’s smile failed to return. Reaching for the picnic basket, he asked, “Are you ready to go?”
Her smile was strained. “Oh, yes. I was thinking we might go to where we went a couple of months ago?”
He hated to disappoint her. “Not with it so overcast, darling. We don’t want to be so far from the car during a rainstorm if the weatherman ends up being wrong.” With his luck this week, he would be hit by lightning. Twice.
She looked away from him and nodded. He was surprised by how disappointed she appeared to be. Perhaps, if he were feeling better on Sunday, he would suggest another picnic and take her. They did have a lot of fun there the last time they went, and he really did hate to let her down.
He drove them to the nearest park, desperately wanting this excursion over. Jeannie took his hand as they walked from the graveled parking lot to where the picnic shelter was. He didn’t bother trying to sit at one of the tables; he knew Jeannie liked a blanket on the ground and the tables under the shelter looked like the weight of two or three sparrows would be enough to collapse them. He never understood why the city even had these shelters. They never maintained them, and the bathrooms were always locked.
Jeannie was nibbling on her bottom lip as he spread out the blanket. Tony ordered himself to start acting happy and made sure to complement all the food as she pulled it out of the basket. Of course, as usual, she brought enough food to feed a small battalion. She smiled at him as he picked up a piece of her fried chicken. After taking a bite, he did feel a little better. Her chicken was always so wonderfully crispy and juicy, even the breasts. He noticed she only picked up one of her cucumber sandwiches.
She remained seated on her knees, her bottom sitting back on her shoes. He noticed she seemed almost nervous, and he got aggravated at himself again. She wanted a simple picnic; surely, he could fake being happy to be here for a little while. How many dinners with politicians had he been subjected to over the years, where he pretended to enjoy their company?
“Anthony,” she said before he could think of anything to say. “Has you mother—Has Mom ever told you about your birth?”
His mother had been her usual bulldozer of a self during his wedding. Fortunately, she had declared Jeannie a lovely girl as soon as she met her, but she also insisted that Jeannie call her “Mom” and, of course, Anthony’s father was to be called “Dad”. He pulled Jeannie to the side soon after and asked if she wanted him to talk to his mother, but Jeannie only smiled and shook her head.
“Sure,” Tony said, wiping his hands. “Old Doc Macdouglas—he was the doctor who helped bring Mother and all her siblings into the world—rode his horse out to the farm, and I showed up about an hour later. It was a Wednesday morning, because she took me to church that evening to show me off.” Even as a child, he thought he would’ve used childbirth as an excuse to miss church. Knowing what he did now about childbirth, he didn’t think there would be enough money in the world to get him to even step foot out of his house for days afterwards.
An old nursery rhyme started dancing through his memory. “Wednesday's child is full of woe,” he said with a chuckle. “Well, that has been me this week.”
When he looked up at Jeannie, he was shocked by the look on her face. He would expect to see that look if he kicked a puppy in front of her. He managed to hurt his wife’s feelings deeply. Major Anthony Nelson’s Horribly Awful Week needs to be over now! he thought. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he started.
Was that a tear on Jeannie’s cheek? He leaned forward when he felt a raindrop hit the back of his neck. “Oh, no!” Jeannie said as she started stuffing the food into their picnic basket. Tony helped, before grabbing the blanket and racing behind Jeannie to the shelter.
Jeannie took the blanket from his hand and sat the picnic basket down on the table. She folded it without saying a word and put it on top of the food after she rearranged everything. As Tony stared out at the rain, he laughed. He just wished he found it amusing. His wife, basket in hand, moved to stand beside him.
“I am not leaving the bed tomorrow!” he declared, daring the world to challenge him.
His wife, her eyes wide, turned to look at him. “Oh, you cannot!”
“We don’t have anything planned.”
Jeannie looked down. “I invited Mama and Papa over for lunch. And Roger!”
Now he felt like Jeannie had punched him in the stomach. “What? Why? W-why w-would you do something like-like that?” She’d never invited them all together. And while he would be happy to see his friend after his return late tonight, he had no desire to see his in-laws. He really did need Roger to read his horoscope.
Jeannie looked down, her shoulders slumped. “I thought we could tell them all together.”
He lifted his hands in the air. “Tell them what?”
The picnic basket drooped lower as if it suddenly weighed too much for Jeannie to carry. She lifted her eyes for a moment before looking back down. “Well, I-I am pregnant.” Her voice was so soft and uncertain.
Pregnant? That was the last thing they needed right now. They had to plan for a move, and Jeannie would be too pregnant to help when the movers showed up. Not that being pregnant would stop her. He would have to follow her around to make sure she didn’t overexert herself, which would be even more stressful for him.
And while he was still getting used to a new duty station with a new command, they would have a crying baby at home. He could just see it now….
Big blue eyes like its mother’s…
With chubby little cheeks that seemed to grow as she…
Smiled like her mother…
Or giggled like her.
Jeannie’s eyes were scanning his face, as if she was trying to commit it to memory, as her own smile grew. “You are happy,” she said.
Happy wasn’t the right word, but Tony couldn’t think of a single better one. A thousand thoughts, ideas and feelings raced through him. He felt as if he were floating. But he couldn’t say a single word. He put a hand on each side of her face, leaned in and kissed her. He didn’t know how long he kissed her, but he loved the soft, dreamy look on her face when he pulled away.
Looking over his shoulder at the rain, he took the basket from Jeannie’s hands and put it on one of the tables. He then took her hand and led her out of the shelter. “Anthony!” she squealed before she started laughing.
The warm rain quickly soaked them as he put his cheek next to hers and started dancing. Jeannie continued to laugh as Tony felt all the bad that had happened this week start to wash away. Joy sang through his veins.
He knows they won’t stay here long. They will grab the basket and race to the car holding hands. Jeannie will blink them and the car dry after they quickly shut the door. When they get home, they will do the reverse, still holding hands. And after Tony shuts the door, and turns around, he will see their abandoned picnic laid out in their living room in front of the fire.
After they eat and Jeannie blinks away the remains of their meal, he will oh so gently make love to her. Afterwards, she will tell him that he doesn’t have to treat her as if she’s made from spun glass, but her soft smile will tell him she likes it.
Then, tomorrow, after her parents celebrate the wonderful news with them and leaves, he will ask Roger to stay and share the sad news of the new duty station with them both. He will mourn the change with them but then tell them that he’s realized that the best parts of Cocoa Beach are going to Houston with them.
But right now, dancing cheek to cheek, with the sound of the rain mixing with the sound of his wife’s joy, all Tony can think is that this is a wonderful beginning to the end of Major Anthony Nelson’s Honestly Amazing Week.
Thank you for reading!