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We'll Always Have Newport: Chapter 7-Reporting For Duty


My first official act as a significant other is to scare up breakfast for us.  Blueberry Pop-Tarts and two bottles of water will have to fill the bill.

I envisioned our first breakfast together to be a fresh from the oven frittata filled with chopped bacon, red onions, mushrooms, cracked black pepper, and mozzarella cheese. A thermos filled with steaming coffee for him and a cup of green tea for me. 

In my fantasy, we are holding hands across the table and lovingly gaze into one another's eyes.

 However, the reality of my first morning in Newport resembles us stiffly attempting to rise from the makeshift pallet which sits atop a beautifully crafted yet nonetheless uncomfortable hardwood floor.

In addition, the Sailor is running late for work. He jumps into the shower like he's on fire. A short time later he is dressed and in the kitchen. I wrap up the microwaved Pop-Tarts and hand him a bottle of water. He kisses me hurriedly on the mouth and he rushes out the door.

 There was no early morning puttering or idle chit chat. But, hey this is what I signed up for. 

 With the Sailor at work, I turn my attention to my job-hunting. 

Back in New Meixco, I managed to ace two phone interviews and the third face to face one is scheduled for next week. Alas, this company is located 45 minutes away in Warwick. 

For the past seven years, I have had the privilege of living less than a mile away from my job. Newport is small and I know that my chances of landing a short commute here is next to impossible.  

The most important thing is to just land a decent paycheck and let everything else fall into place.
My next objective is getting the cable and Internet turned on and making the apartment more of a home. 

The Sailor and I have agreed to hold off on major furniture purchases for at least a week or so whilst we measure the apartment and get used to the space. 

I focus on the  smaller items which will go a long way to adding homey touches. We need an air mattress, seating to watch television, food, and cookery. 


I remember that there is a Walmart and TJ Maxx located nearby and I head off in that direction. Of course, it was dark and foggy when I rolled into town. So, once again, I have to stop into a nearby gas station to get directions.

Two hours and hundreds of dollars later, I have the makings to add a bit more civility to the apartment. I am in the midst of cleaning and putting items away when the Sailor calls to check in.

“How is everything?”

“Things are great,” I give him a brief overview of the morning’s highlights.

“Good. I am glad that you are settling in. So, I want to take you lunch today,”

“Okay. What time?” I ask glancing about furtively to the multiple items which still need to be put away.

“I’ll swing by in about 45 minutes,” He replies.

I gulp inwardly. My  crazy wavy hair is still adjusting to the humidity and my clothes need to be ironed. I do not have an ironing board at all. I am tempted to call him back to postpone but, I remember the whole gotta roll with the punches/be flexible/life in the military mantra.

“Sounds good,” I chirp weakly.

I take another shower because the temperature is at least 95 degrees and the cross breeze is non-existent on the 2nd floor.

I grab a cute red tank top that doesn’t need ironing, a knee-length black skirt, and cute flip flops that will totally work for a casual lunch. 

My hair is a bit more of a challenge but, I let it do its thing and it works. It falls in waves and somewhat frizzy curls to top of my chest.

Makeup is a bit of lip gloss and a slathering of sun screen.  

On cue, the Sailor rings the doorbell and I head down the stairs to answer it. He leans in for a kiss. A real one this time. Then, he takes my hand and leads me to his car.

We dine at a cute Mediterranean café. Of course, we run into some the Sailor’s buddies and I have fun listening to their stories and we promise to have them over to the apartment sometime in the future.

All too quickly it is time for the Sailor to return back to work. He drops me off and then reminds me that he has class tonight until around 9:30 pm.

I am relieved because this will give me the opportunity to set the house up some more. I want to surprise him when he comes home this evening.

A majority of the boxes and other purchases are put away. The only thing to do is put together the air mattress and I discover that that I forgot to buy batteries for the pump. I send a quick text to the Sailor asking that he stop by the store and buy a pack of Double Batteries and hope that he received it.

I shudder to think about what another night of sleeping on the hardwood floor will do to my body. My phone vibrates and the Sailor has responded to my text with the phrase “Rog that,”.

How can it be possible that I am over the moon excited at the prospect of sleeping on an air mattress?

When the Sailor comes home he immediately opens the pack of batteries and slips them into the air pump. The air mattress is out of the box and lying on the bedroom floor.

The apartment is clean and things are put away. I pull out a plate of  deli turkey, chopped cucumbers and a few slices of Vermont Cheese from the refrigerator onto the dining room table. The Sailor comes out of the bedroom with a triumphant look upon his face.

He stops short when he sees the food and then he looks around to take in the more homey touches of the apartment. His face breaks out into a grin and he sweeps me into his arms for a dramatic embrace.

“I take it this means that you are hungry?” I ask.

“Starving.” He replies as he leans down for a kiss.

In this moment as his lips brush against mine, I make an important realization.


No matter how hectic my day has been, my primary role as a military significant other is to make sure that the home front runs in an orderly and peaceful fashion. 

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