Cowboy Casanova

1

Annapolis. It was my future. It was everything that I wanted just right there, waiting for me. I had gotten my acceptance letter a while back and had been counting down the days until I could start this new chapter of my life. Grabbing my bags out of the back of the old worn down Bronco, I saw all of the parents saying goodbye to their sons and daughters. Mothers were crying, fathers were patting their sons on the back. But both were proud. My own father couldn't be here today to send me off but I was ok with that, after I got over the initial sting. I took a deep breath.

There were 3 things that my father taught me to prepare me for this day:

There is no singular definition of success.

There is no rulebook.

Never ever leave your wingman.

He could never stress that last one enough. I wasn't nervous. Not really. I smiled as I looked up at the old building. "Bradley Bradshaw, will you hurry up?!" I shouted, barely glancing behind me. I didn't hear a response, just a gruff and the slamming of the car door. Bradley wasn't nervous either. More determined, probably angry and relieved as well. He had a hard time getting here. My phone rang and I dropped my bag to try and answer it. I knew who it was - my dad. "Hey, dad." I moved away from the Bronco.

"Hey, Nik." I tried to listen to figure out where he was, but there was no chance of me figuring it out. "Did you make it safely?" I smiled as I looked back at the beat up truck.

"Yes, we both did." I knew it was a sore subject, but dad still cared about Bradley.

"Good." It was silent again, before he broke the silence. "These are going to be some of the hardest years of your life... are you sure you want this?" I rolled my eyes, turning back to the Bronco, walking back to get my bags. I knew where this conversation would go if we didn't hang up soon. "It's ok to back out..."

"Dad, stop. I'm a Mitchell. There's no way in hell that I am doing anything other than this. I have wanted to be a pilot since the first time you put me in a plane." I heard him chuckle, his way of trying to brush off his worries. He knew I was right. "Plus, I wouldn't have backed out anyways out of pure stubbornness." I saw Bradley lock his truck and start walking towards me. "Alright, I have to go. I love you. Bye." I barely heard him say 'i love you' back before I hung up, sliding my phone back in my pocket.

"Come on, Nicole Mitchell. Hurry up!" Bradley mocked as I grabbed my bags, hurrying to catch up with him. He had long legs. From what I had heard, he was the spitting image of his father. But I had never met his father. I never had the chance to. There was an accident, one that my dad would never let himself forget, that ended with Nick 'Goose' Bradshaw dead, Aunt Carole widowed, and Bradley without a father.

That's why Bradley was here.

I was here for a similar reason. I came from a long line of Naval aviators, some of them didn't have the greatest reputation. From a young age, I watched my dad fly planes and teach me everything that I needed to know. I wanted to be just like him. And he is one of the best.

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The opening ceremony started before any of us had a chance to find our rooms and get situated. Bradley and I stood next to each other as the man in charge, Vice Admiral Sean Buck, gave his yearly speech. He had everyone's attention, his full dress white uniform and his medals and ribbons showing off his accomplishments. "20 months ago, 50,000 young men and women inquired about applying to this Academy. This morning, only 1,207 of you passed through these gates." Bradley and I looked back at each other, smiling. "Some of you have only known success your entire life. But this year, your plebe year, you will know failure. Because failure is a far greater teacher than success. Our standards are both high and uncompromising. Some of you will fail to meet them. We make no apologies for that because the mission we have been interested in, transforming you from civilians into naval officers, is too important." After droning on a little more about the school and their expectations of us, we were separated into smaller groups, each of us going to a different part of the school. I took a good look at the people that were in my group. There were about 20 of us and only 3 were women. I took pride in that. Our drill instructor strides our way, getting my attention. I nudge Bradley, making sure he sees what I see. The drill sergeant strides smartly towards us and then comes to a brisk, hell-clapping halt in front of us, a cane tucked under his arm and the traditional 'Smokey the Bear' type hat on his head.

"Fall in! Form a line, you slimy worms! Heels on that chalk line!" Everyone throws their bags down, urgently trying to get to the chalk line. "Atten-hut!" The twenty or so of us civilians shuffle into a single line. "I am Staff Sergeant Heathcliff. Now when I say 'understand' I want the whole group to say, 'Yes, sir!' Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" The group calls back, raggedly.

"Louder!"

"Yes, sir!!"

"I don't believe what I'm seeing! Where've you been all your lives, at an orgy? Listening to Green Day and bad mouthing your country, bet." He strolls menacingly down the ranks, probing us, plumbing us with his squinty little eyes. He pauses in front of one of the men a couple people down from me.

"Stop eyeballing me, boy! You are not worthy enough to look your superiors in the eye. Use your peripheral vision! Understand?!"

"Yes, sir!" The group shouts back.

"I know why most of you are here. We're not stupid. But before you get to sell what we teach you over at United Airlines, you gotta give the Navy six years of your life, Sweet Pea. Lot of things can happen in six years. Another war could come up in six years." His voice shifts register, becoming almost human as a sudden grin appears on his face. "If you're too peaceful a person to dump napalm on an enemy village where there might be women and children, I'm gonna find that out. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" He pauses in front of Bradley and smiles the friendliest of smiles.

"Hi, son." Out of my peripheral vision, I see Bradley look up at him with a smile, relaxing just a little.

"How're you doing, Sarge?" I want to slap myself. Better yet, I want to slap him. What an idiot. Heathcliff's eyes become instantly crazed.

"What did you call me?" Bradley is slightly taken aback.

"Sorry?"

"What did you call me, boy?"

"I called you Sarge."

"Before that."

"I didn't call you anything before that."

"You said, 'How're you?' I am not a 'ewe', boy! A ewe is a female sheep, boy! Is that what you think I am, boy?" I suppress my laughter, smirking slightly.

"No, sir!"

"Louder, Sweet Pea!"

"No, sir!"

"Where are you from, boy?"

"Charlottesville,Virginia."

"Stop whispering, Sweet Pea, you're giving me a hard on!" I tried my best not to crack a smile but Heathcliff caught me and eyeballs me hard. "Oh, you think that's funny, Barbie?" I raised my eyebrow at the sexist nickname and my smile dropped.

"No, sir!" Healthcliff stares down at me, trying to get me to crack under the pressure but I just stare back.

"You'd better stop eyeballing me, girl. You get dumber by the minute." I continue starting, not swayed by his aggressiveness. "What's your name, girl?"

"Mitchell. Nicole Mitchell." I watch his smile fall just a bit. He recognizes the name. It's hard not to.

"Well, that explains your attitude. What? Did daddy slip you into this program?" I glare back at him.

"My daddy didn't get me in here. I worked my way into this academy and I will work harder than anyone here to prove that." He stared back at me. "Sir." He stared for a minute longer and then moved onto his next victim. Bradley and I glanced at each other, both smirking.