The “Other Woman” in My Engineer’s Life

After settling in at the hotel, I showered and freshened up.  The excitement of seeing him again, after months of sporadic phone calls, absolutely radiated off of me.  Like a lion in a cage, I paced.  Because he couldn’t tell me when he would be able to see me, I had no idea of when he would call or show up.  At first, the uncertainty was exciting.  But after 2 hours it became tiring.  Then the phone rang!

Thinking that he was calling to say he was heading over, I lunged to pick up the phone.  It was wonderful to hear his voice, knowing that he was physically in the same city.  But my heart dropped when he told me that there was a dinner he had to go to and that he would see me afterwards.  Even though he told me that he didn’t want to go and would rather be with me, the disappointment was so strong that, upon hanging up the phone, I allowed myself a few tears.  That was when I met her for the first time.

The Other Woman.

You see, there was no longer the two of us in our marriage.  It wouldn’t be until years later that I finally identified the persona that the USAF had in our lives.  There are even times when I wonder if I am the “Other Woman” and the USAF is the spouse.  Just as, that very first night, my engineer was having dinner with Her, there would be COUNTLESS occasions in the future when She would, on a whim, “recommend” that he spend his free time with her instead of his family.

Again, I look back on my “young military spouse” self.  I wish that I could wrap my arms around her and tell her that this was just part of the job and recommend that we go out ourselves.  I would tell her that it is ok to be disappointed but that she needed to get used to it, square her shoulders, and find something that she enjoys doing.  After drying her tears, I would smile into her eyes, and tell her that every military spouse must work towards learning to function in a society where Duty comes first.  Love will always be there, but you have to fight for it. 

At first glance, it appears that Duty to Country and Love are opposed to each other.  In American society’s definition of Love, they are.  However, in Military society, they are tightly connected.  A good leader will know that service members cannot perform to their utmost abilities without the support of LOVE at home.  Duty can only take them so far.  An ill-informed leader will ignore the delicate balance needed between Duty and Love.  With that said, a weak or ill informed spouse will do the same.  In a perfect world, both the leader and the spouse will embrace and work toward that sweet spot which is perfect balance.  Alas, that is a dream and we live in a delightfully imperfect world that allows for us all to stumble now and then.  I know that I have on more than a few occasions.

As a young military spouse, I had no idea of the amount of time that the USAF would demand of my engineer.  With his civilian design engineering job, he had his weekends free and his evenings after work were his.  The military was completely different.  Not only was he to be called in after work and on weekends, there were to be countless “highly recommended fun” events to fill his free time as well.  During the first few years of our marriage, this did NOT sit well with the spouse who enjoyed her freedom.  It would have been nice to have a “heads up” about this.  In the beginning, instead of embracing the events as part of the job, I fought it, thinking that the USAF was infringing on our free time as a couple.  I wish, with all my heart, that someone had told that young spouse about the Other Woman.  It would have made those early years so much easier.

So, there, in that hotel room, I waited.  When, late that night, I finally got the call saying that he was there at the hotel, I felt, for the first time, the excitement of seeing him again that I would feel on far too many occasions in the years that followed.  The Other Woman would call my engineer away, but he would always come back to me.  

The 10 Hour Drive South of the Mason Dixon Line

The full reality of our impending move to the Great White North still hadn’t set in by the time I had to drive down to Alabama for my engineer’s commissioning.  I had bought a new dress to wear and felt that I was ready.  Ready for it ALL!!  Not that I had any idea whatsoever what “all” included.  But that didn’t matter.  Whatever it was, my engineer and I could face it together.  Isn’t it wonderful to be completely naïve?  Now, I sit back and think about my “young military spouse” self and shake my head.  If I had any idea of what I would face in the years that followed, I would have dug a hole and buried myself in it.  “Here Lies Laura…the spouse who couldn’t hack it!” is what the marker would have read.  It is a very, very good thing that I did not know what the years would hold. 

I left St. Louis at 4am.  I remember loading my bag into the car, looking around the apartment parking lot, thinking, “this isn’t going to be home much longer.”  It was SO cold, wet, and dark outside.  Snow hadn’t fallen on the city yet, but it was wanting to.  The Missouri winter mists were a sign that the ice storms and snows were just around the corner.  It was just me, NPR, and the truckers on the freeway that early in the morning.  I looked at the clock on the dash when I finally got on the freeway: 04:05.  I remember thinking, “just 10 more hours to go.” 

That long drive was a memorable one for me.  Now, you must understand that I LOVE to drive.  But this drive felt different.  There was a distinct feeling of stepping out of one life and into another.  Just as I was physically driving into a part of the country I had never been, I was emotionally taking a journey into a life I had no real understanding of.  Part of me couldn’t wait for the hours to pass, because, at the end, I would see my engineer again.  But the other part of me was gripping, with white knuckles, the “Welcome to the State of Missouri” sign out of sheer hysteria at the unknown around the corner. 

I had NEVER been to the South before.  Yes, I have been to Texas and Oklahoma, but those are NOT the South.  Just as different countries have different cultures, so do different states.  I had learned this quite harshly living in Missouri.  The minute people heard I was from California, there was an unspoken label attached to my forehead.  Quite a few people were able to see past my “flaw,” but others just couldn’t do it.  As I drove, I was looking forward to seeing places I had never seen and going to places I had never been. 

The sun started cresting the trees by the time I crossed the border into Kentucky.  It was a breathtaking sight.  I remember how the mist softened the lines, as if I had stepped into a watercolor painting.  The beauty was amazing.  With the arrival of the sun came a lifting of my spirits.  The future didn’t seem quite so ominous anymore.  Part of me wanted to park the car, right there, and just watch the sun rise.  However, instead, I pressed onward…further south past the Mason Dixon Line.

That journey brought me closer, physically, to my engineer and closer, mentally, to fully embracing my future as a military spouse.  Just as I made the DECISION to love my spouse, I also made the decision to do whatever had to be done to make our life and marriage a good one.  I am NOT saying our life or our marriage is perfect.  But it is good.  I think it was those hours of complete isolation in that car, driving deeper into unknown territory that caused me to decide to embrace whatever came along, no matter what. There were times when I did it kicking and screaming…but I did it.

Nine hours after leaving St. Louis, I arrived in Alabama.  I have to say that I was very tired and very lost.  After driving around Montgomery for quite some time, I decided to find someone who could help me.  With the address for the hotel in my hand, I stopped at a neighborhood hardware store.  After having lived in Missouri for 3 years, I knew that local hardware stores ALWAYS have the dirt on a town.  I am not talking about the chain hardware stores.  I am talking about the stores with some guy’s first name on it.  I felt very lucky when I found one shortly after deciding to stop for help.

At this point, you have to understand that I was shoving all my pre-conceptions out of my mind concerning the South.  I parked my car, straightened myself (hoping I didn’t look like I had been driving for 9 and a half hours), got out, and plastered a smile on my face.  Hotel address in hand, I cheerfully entered the store.  What I faced upon entering tore apart all my thoughts concerning pre-conceptions.  Ladies and Gentlemen, I had, officially, entered the South.

There were two employees working that day (that I could see).  One was a lady whose hair had stayed in the 60s and the rest of her had been none too kindly treated by time.  I had never seen hair like her’s in person…EV ER!  It was a brassy, Scream at Me, bottle red, that was piled on her head in a beehive that put my grandmother’s black & white photos to shame.  Her shirt was this massive riot of bright colored flowers that looked like it had once been someone’s curtains.  She turned to me, and in a very thick Southern drawl, said, “what can I do you for, honey?”  After making sure my voice wouldn’t crack, I smiled, told her I needed to find my hotel and wondered if she could help. 

After she looked at the address, she shook her head, made a disapproving noise in her throat, and said, “Ya ain’t from around here, are ya?  This hotel is in a bad neighborhood.  You are going to get raped and possibly worse.  Wetbacks own that place.”  After picking myself emotionally up off the floor, for I had NEVER had ANYONE use that word in conversation with me before in my life, I said, “No, as a matter of fact, I am not from around here.  Do you actually now how I can get there, or not??”  That was when I saw her jerk her head toward the other person working in the store.  “That Boy over there can probably help you.  I don’t go in that part of town.”

Looking over to where she had motioned, I saw that the “boy” was a black gentleman of about 45 or 50.  I smiled, said, “thank you very much,” and went over to talk to him.  Walking up, I said, “Excuse me, Sir?  Can you help me?”  The look of surprise on his face was shocking to me.  He said that he would if he could, what did I need?  That was when I showed him my hotel address, and explained that I was lost.  He looked at it, smiled, and gave me the best directions I have ever had.  I could have hugged him!  After saying “Thank you” several times, I followed his directions and soon arrived at the hotel…

….only to find that it was owned by a Hindi family.  For all of her blind, hateful words…she couldn’t even get her racial epithets correct.  

We are going WHERE??????

Part of the "joy" of being in the military is the random drop of where you WILL make your home. Nothing in the world quite compares to that very first discovery that, OBVIOUSLY, you go where the military sends you.  I am a nomad at heart.  My feet start itching after 18 months...so this is a very good situation for me.  However, sometimes those itchy feet of mine have been shocked, and at times downright rebellious, when informed of where they will be heading.  Our very first assignment, to this date, has been the biggest shock so far.

I am a California girl. I thrive in sunshine and saltwater. I had moved to the Midwest on a whim.  Now, there I was, married to my engineer, living in Missouri, waiting to find out where the military was going to send us.  I had, of course, spent time dreaming of "Garden Plot" locations, working to wrap my mind around the fact that there is no way we would arrive at any of them.  Most people will say, "Everyone moves, this is no different!"  But it is.  It is very different.  With the military, you often end up in locations that you would never CHOOSE to move to on your own. 

That is exactly what happened to us.  I will NEVER forget the phone call from my engineer concerning our first assignment.  For a couple weeks, up to this point, we had known that the assignment would be released.  One night, it came.  I remember the phone ringing, rushing to pick it up, knowing it was my engineer.  He did not sound like himself.  Very apologetically, he informed me we were heading to the Canadian Border.  I had NEVER heard of the town before in my life.  "We are going where???  Can you spell that??"  I felt excited and scared all at the same time.

Of course, like anyone who is about to move, I looked it up and discovered some CHILLING facts.  I read that common pastimes include ice fishing and eating Norwegian food.  I also discovered that the average temperature at the moment was -45F...not including windchill.      As I was reading this, I called my mom, in shock.  What else was I to do???  We were heading to some frozen wasteland in the Great White North!  I tried really, really hard to sound "happy" about it.  Honestly, I was panicking! 

I searched high and low for someone to answer my questions.  I had SO MANY!!!  I had so many that I didn't even know how to make any sense of them.  There I was, a young military spouse without any military connections.  I was moving into a world that I didn't even KNOW was a completely different society with its own set of rules and norms.  EVERYTHING that I thought I knew was wrong.  Everything that people had told me...was wrong. At this point, all I could do was close my eyes and jump.  Even though we had service members in our families, they were all from a generation that had not dealt with the changes that now reshaped the military and its climate.  What I desperately needed, at that moment, was another military spouse. 

"What have I gotten myself into?"  Again, that dreaded question coursed through my soul.  This was NOT a situation that I felt like I could handle.  I loved my engineer.  But deadly arctic temperatures?  That is what scared me the most.  

The cold.  

The lack of sun.  

Dead car batteries.

I didn't know enough to understand that what I really should have been scared of were the politics, the yard nazis, the rank whores, squadron drama queens, and the countless other "issues" that are a constant part of military life that you, eventually, just learn to ignore.  I also didn't know that this pressure cooker environment that I was entering would force me to grow in ways that I would have never imagined. Or that it was because of this environment that I would meet strong, gracious, wise women who I am now blessed to call friends.  

So, there I was, with my legs crossed, sitting on the floor of our little apartment, alone, in St. Louis, looking at the USA road atlas.  My engineer was still at OTS.  My mother's response was supportive, but concerned.  I just didn't know what I was doing.  Neither did anyone else.

"You've Gotta Keep'em Separated!"

What had felt like an eternity at the time, came to an abrupt halt in September. I had been working 12-14 hour days, and my engineer had been receiving leads on jobs.  With great frustration, my engineer contacted the recruiter and informed him that either the USAF do something or the deal was off.  Not five days later, my engineer was officially sworn in and sent down to Alabama for Officer Training School (OTS).  Thus began our first separation period of many in the years to follow.

The memory of that day is both vivid and cloudy.  Aspects of it are lost in the emotional chaos that envelopes taking a leap into the unknown.  I remember how we packed for the trip the night before and feeling deeply saddened by the prospect of saying good bye.  Our "Last Supper" had been at our favorite neighborhood Indian restaurant.  While I smiled and worked to remain cheerful, the impending loss of a dear friend and love added a grayness to an otherwise colorful, happy place.

While our courtship had been long distance, we had seen each-other on the weekends. I wasn't too sure how I was going to handle this. No one was stepping forward with wise council.  There were no girlfriends who had done it, understood it, and knew how to support or encourage me.  What I would have given to have my military sisters that I have now back then!  The feeling of isolation was crushing.

5am came too soon.  The blur of events at the Federal Building in St. Louis, though an all day snail crawl back then, are now a high speed whirl culminating in my engineer taking the oath, unloading his bags from the car, and walking to meet the train heading to the St. Louis Airport.  I remember sitting in the car, parked by the side of the road, watching him walk away until I couldn't see him any longer.  All I remember thinking is, "What have I gotten myself into???"

"What had I gotten myself into?"  How many times have I asked myself that over years?  No clue.  No clue whatsoever.  When spouses either marry into the military or "join the military" (like I did when my engineer signed on after we married), there is a mental understanding of what the demands are going to be.  I knew that he would be gone.  I knew that he would go away for training and to fight in wars.  That is all part of the package that comes with the uniform.  However, no amount of mental understanding prepares anyone for the emotional impact that long distance brings to a marriage.  Though I had been content when I was single, saying good bye to my best friend, and knowing that it would be a constant in my life from that point on, tore me apart emotionally.

After he left, I begged for more hours at work.  I worked harder and longer, dreading the return to our quiet apartment.  While my cat was there waiting for me, she was getting older and wasn't as social as she used to be.  To be honest, she was getting downright crabby (I am being very nice...friends have a far more fitting description of her that I will not post here).  I had the distinct feeling, upon entering the apartment, that I was invading her space.  What had once been a place of laughter and quiet comfort, had morphed into the epicenter of loneliness.  Though I loved to cook, meals became simpler and simpler.  All of a sudden, cooking for one just wasn't worth the effort.  NPR became a constant buzz in our home as I desperately tried to fill the void created by my engineer's absence.

Time passed S-L-O-W-L-Y!!!  Due to the fact that my engineer was being "Blued" for the first time, his contact with the outside world was miniscule.  5 Minute conversations once a week were what we had...if that.  All I can say about this situation is that it is NOT the ideal way for newlyweds to spend the early part of their marriage.

Months dragged on.  That time included holidays and his birthday.  When I FINALLY got the call saying that Commissioning was almost here, we were closing in on Christmas.  Around that time I also got the call concerning our very first assignment.  "Welcome to the military....we are sending you to..."

Hurry Up and Wait.....

My introduction to "Hurry Up and Wait" came BEFORE my engineer OFFICIALLY enlisted. When he went in to fill out initial paperwork two days after our wedding, there was a "time sensitive" list that he had to "Hurry Up" and have taken care of YESTERDAY.  Hurry Up we did. 

Then the "Wait" began.  My goodness, did it!  My engineer and I were barely making ends meet working at a bookstore.  After my eight hour shift at the bookstore, I then went to a learning center and taught for four hours.  It is a good thing we loved eachother.  Stress levels were high with the added strain of not knowing when the USAF would FINALLY call.  Despite the upheaval and uncertainty, we made the most of "Wait."

At this time, we lived in St. Louis, MO.  For those of you who are not familiar with this wonderful city, St. Louis is a fairly inexpensive place to live with a lot of FREE STUFF to do and see.  It is a perfect place for a young couple to wait for the military to FINALLY decide what she is going to do with a Design Mechanical Engineer.  We spent countless hours of our free time going to the BEAUTIFUL St. Louis Zoo...free; walking hand in hand down Euclid...free; people watching on Delmare...free; wandering asian grocery stores...mostly free; and enjoying good friends...free.  It was during this waiting period that we truly discovered what we enjoyed most in life:  each other's company.

It is easy for me to forget just how wonderful that waiting period was.  The strain of making ends meet and the uncertainty we both felt often overshadows the simple beauty of that time in our lives as a young couple.  That waiting period is overflowing with stories of a growing love and friendship that has helped us through our darkest storms in the military.  Often, it is reminding each other of a misadventure during that simple time that will bring forth the only smile of the day.  A simple phrase, a little gesture, or a joking comment will transport us both back to "Wait" with the speed of a shooting star.

Our mis-adventures during "Wait" are countless and precious.  They bring on gentle smiles, tears of laughter, and thoughtful conversations.  When the military starts to take too much of a foothold in our marriage, we talk about the time before she became a third member of our union.  I guess it is our way of reminding each other that we came first and when the military is done with my engineer, we will still be.

"Hurry Up and Wait."  Yes, we did wait.  We waited for 4 months before the military FINALLY decided where she wanted to put my engineer.  It was a gentle introduction to the constant "Hurry Up and Wait" that we would do as being a part of the military.  Though we have had countless periods of "Hurry Up and Wait" through the years, not one has been as sweet as that very first.

So it began....

Growing up, I had no REAL intention of marrying.  I would have LIKED to.  But need to??  Nope.  I really just wanted to be happy.  I grew up with the understanding that there were worse things than being single.  Marrying the wrong person and/or jumping into a situation that I did not think I could handle were worse than being alone.

I actually enjoyed being alone.  Not all the time, mind you.  But I had no problem seeing a movie or going out to dinner by myself.  I enjoyed the ritualized routine that came with coming home from a long day at work, greeting the cat (yep...EVERY single gal has a cat, right?), making & eating dinner while I listened to NPR, reading a book, going for a run, and then heading to bed.  Yep, that was the end of my day. There were no entanglements.  No outside demands.  I had my own, little, self-centered  universe.

Then I met my husband.  Oh Lord Almighty, did that turn everything on its head!!!  I had dated other people.  But they had never infiltrated my space the way he did.  All of a sudden, dinner was lonely.  The thought of a "quiet weekend alone" didn't set so well.  This witty, intelligent, quirky engineer had shattered what I had thought was supreme happiness.  All of a sudden, conversations with the cat were not enough in the evening.  So, my journey began.

When we had first started planning our future together, it did NOT include the military.  He was a design engineer with 4 years under his belt and I was heading to Grad School.  Life was good.  He was settling into work, and I was heading toward a life filled with learning and teaching.  The future was bright, peaceful, and filled with "picket fences."

However, the picket fences weren't to be.  Instead, a month before we were to marry, due to swift changes that demanded immediate decisions, the transient lifestyle of a nomad became our lot.  I braced my shoulders and decided that if Ruth could drop everything and go where ever Naomi went, I could do the same.  Two days after we wed, my engineer signed on and became a US Air Force man.  Neither of us had the slightest idea of what this life would hold.  Nor did we have any clue as to the "adventures" we would have.  This young spouse's quiet life was about to be completely disrupted by the US Force.