Commandants Own

CHAPTER 3 ~ NICKNAMES

I awoke before the alarm had a chance to wail at me. That happened a lot lately. I climbed out of my sleeping bag, lying flat on the floor to pop my back. I stretched and welcomed the crackling of my joints that were beginning to show signs of my Marine Corps age. It was different from civilian age. The wear and tear from years of training add up quickly. The Corps had a way of obtaining maximum mileage from its Marines. That, and a little too much wine made me feel roughly a hundred and twenty. Once I was up and had my first cup of black coffee down, the aches subsided and I was out the door for my run.

The fog was thicker closer to the beach, its melancholy hues were a match for my mood.

I veered off the walkway at the beach and ran a mile or so in the wet sand, dodging the mounds of seaweed abandoned by low tide. It wasn't teeming with the activity as it was last night. Most everyone seemed to be here for the open space to run or watching the sea lions sprawled out along the shore.

Before heading back towards the condo, I hit up Mia's rock. I climbed the small formation, still breathing hard from my sprint down the beach. I sat and stared out at the ocean, not able to see more than a hundred yards, so I leaned back on my shoulders and closed my eyes. I listened to the tide lap lightly at the shore and to the squall of seagulls in search of a decent meal. I breathed in deeply letting the salty air fill my lungs and ease the burn in them.

"This should be you sitting here, Birdy," I whispered.

I smiled at the sound of her nickname.

Mia Wren Holly is what I announced to my kindergarten class while holding up a framed photo of her during show and tell. "Wren," my teacher announced excitedly, "is a small and rather loud birdy." Mrs. Wizoreck was big on vocabulary. Mia was both of those, loud and incredibly small. Since I I had a hard time pronouncing Wren, Birdy it was.

The ring of my cell phone broke through the peace of the moment. I sighed with moderate irritation for the interruption before answering.

"Hello?"

I listened to a man named Jeff on the other end advise me that he and his moving crew were waiting in front of my condo. They apparently rang the doorbell but received no reply.

I shot to my feet and started climbing down the rocks.

"You're early. I wasn't scheduled until Saturday," I said confused.

Jeff politely told me, after a pause and some paper shuffling in the background, that a very persistent woman by the name of Anne Holly made arrangements for an earlier delivery. He also made sure to note in a less polite manner, that his crew was on a tight schedule due to the addition to their delivery route.

Mom. Of course.

"I understand. I can be there in twenty minutes," I said, grateful that he was willing to wait that long. I was over three miles out, so I was fairly certain my timetable was slightly exaggerated.

Their truck was running when I finally turned the corner onto my street. Wheezing and panting, I took the stairs to my porch two at a time and unlocked the door. I got out of the way for the movers and laid flat on the sidewalk, exhausted. I closed my eyes and crossed my arms over my face trying to slow my breathing when a familiar, deep voice spoke.

"Well this is a fun addition to my morning routine."

I moved an arm and opened my eyes. Standing directly over me holding a travel coffee mug and grinning like he had dirt on me, was my neighbor Vic.