by Donna Faye
Stella giggled. Nina was barely five feet tall and such a gentle soul. It was amusing to hear her threaten to murder Calista.
“Put the claws away, Mama Bear. I wasn’t looking forward to confronting her, but it obviously had to happen. At least this way, I can get on with my life and leave her drama in the past where it belongs.” She took a deep breath. “Plus, it felt really good to tell her off. She imagined I’d be all alone and crying my eyes out. She never expected me to grow a backbone or to find me surrounded by a real family. I won’t have to put up with her ever again.”
Saying goodbye to George, Nina, Max and Tommy should’ve become easier with how often they’d said it over the past few months. But in many ways, Stella felt like she’d just got them, and she honestly had no idea when she’d return again. Plus, she’d miss them terribly. They were the only ones back home she would keep in her life. As to the others, she’d never speak to them again – in person, on the phone, via e-mail, smoke signals, or even carrier pigeon. She was a free woman ready to spread her wings and fly.
Chapter 13: “Chair Force”
–A derogatory term for the Air Force, often given by members of other military branches. This is in reference to the perception that many Air Force personnel spend their time "flying a desk," i.e. doing office work of various sorts.
It was late in the evening when she first spied the bright lights of the runway at her new base. Stella felt her skin buzz and her tummy flutter as she pulled up to the main gate. She blinked away the brightness as her eyes focused on the airman standing sentry when she stopped Betty Lou and lowered her window, eager to enter the real Air Force!
She gave her information to the guard and the butterflies in her stomach turned to lead as he informed her that there’d been no prior notice or plans made for her to check in. After parking and discussing her options with security forces, she learned that there was no way for her to gain access to her new dorm, or even temporary housing, as there was an event on base that had their resources tapped.
Crap.
They directed her back toward Spokane, where there were plenty of hotel options. Exhausted from having driven almost straight through from Chicago, having only stopped to sleep and eat, she was disappointed at the inconvenience. Stella followed their directions and soon found herself crawling into bed at a chain hotel. She said a little prayer of thanks for arriving safely, and for her hope of her new home making a better impression the following morning, before sleep claimed her.
The following morning, Stella reported to the gate bright and early, and, received a second-hand greeting and instructions to arrive at 0730 the following morning relayed through the gate guard from her new office. The reception was cold as a January morning, but she shook it off. She’d use the day to settle in to her new home. The guards marked a map with instructions to divert to the Security Forces Squadron for a vehicle sticker to obtain her vehicle sticker for easier access of the base. They also marked the best route to her new quarters and other points of interest.
Once she pulled up to the dorms, she easily found the sergeant in charge of the building. He was pleasant enough as he offered a tour of the common rooms as he led her toward her room on the second floor.
Stella hadn’t ever seen how airmen lived outside of training, and was surprised and impressed by the state of her dorm upon first glimpse. It was a fairly large room with a twin-sized bed, wall locker, dresser, desk, and door leading toward the kitchenette and bathroom she’d share with the room next to hers.
She had no roommate, and it turned out the dorm room that connected to hers was vacant, so Stella had no worry about someone else’s mess, an unexpected perk. She’d spent her whole life picking up after other people, first Calista then Fabian. Not having to take care of another person would be a novel experience, to say the least.
The furniture and walls were extremely neutral in style and color, but everything was in good working order.
The bathroom had a shower, toilet, and sink, but no shower curtain.
She thanked the sergeant as he handed over the keys, then secured her room. It took only a couple trips up with her stuff, as some kind airmen offered assistance, then she was off to get her paperwork in order and find the Base Exchange, or BX as it was known.
After procuring a shower curtain, and other basic supplies, she returned to settle in.
After months of sharing bathrooms, and even showers for a time, that evening as she washed up, loneliness crept back into Stella’s world.
The following morning, the frosty reception at the office reinforced the dreadful feeling that’d settled over Stella since her arrival the day before.
She exchanged a few handshakes and lukewarm welcomes from the non-commissioned officer in charge, or NCOIC as the role was called, Master Sgt. Brendan Pearson – “call me Brendan” – along with a few of his staff, namely the editor, Staff Sgt. Elizabeth Vernon, aka Liz, and media representative, Tech. Sgt. Cynthia Nichols. Then, the editor cackled like a witch as she pointed Stella toward a workstation and directed her to edit some of the articles slated for that week’s newspaper.
And that’s pretty much all she did for the next few months of her life. The editor, high on having her very own minion, ran Stella ragged as the staff writer for the newspaper. It would’ve been decent had Liz Vernon, or Varmint as Stella had begun to call her in her mind, and her cohort, Cynthia, simply left her alone to do her work.
Instead, they set Stella’s nerves on edge. Separately they were tolerable, but together their passive-aggressive behavior was reminiscent of Calista and made her want to vomit with the way they belittled her every move. The two seemed to forget that she’d just finished her training and had zero experience in the field or even the Air Force.
Finding no companionship or compassion in the office, Stella simply kept her head down with her nose in work.
Unfortunately, her supervisors were no help. The PA officer, Captain Hallie Maris, was unapproachable, despite her insistence that her door was always open, and the NCOIC seldom poked his head outside his office. She’d wonder what he did all day, but had no extra time to waste on that line of thought.
Stella finally understood why the Air Force no longer sent new airmen into her career field – that kind of stress, combined with the isolation she felt, could wholly consume a person.
But Stella refused to let the situation get her down. Regular weekly web chats with Audrey saved her sanity. Her sisterly advice to hang in there, that it wouldn’t always be like that helped a lot. She’d explained that some duty stations were just difficult, and it wasn’t necessarily the Air Force’s fault – it was just a bad mix of personalities.
Having lived through far worse, Stella decided to make the best of the situation. She doubled-down on her efforts at work and spent her free time running off her stress at the base gym.
During her nightly jogs, Stella’s mind often wandered back to Running Man. She’d spent more time than she’d ever admit in thoughts of his vanishing act, pondering where he’d gone and how he was doing. Too bad she never caught his name.
On the many days when getting out of bed seemed out of reach, one thought of the illusive Running Man prodded Stella to seize her day. His obvious strength and courage continued to inspire her to stay the course at work. Why would she allow two sergeants with bad attitudes to bring her down? That man clearly had been through hell not to only walk again, but also run like the wind – what was dealing with a few nasty egos compared to that? It was just stupid to give others that kind of power over her world.
About six months after Stella first laid eyes on Fairchild, and just over a year from her date of service, aka anniversary of her enlistment, whispers about changes reached her ears. She dared to hope for a positive change…and Air Mobility Command answered her prayers in the form of staff changes.
Michelle Compton, a no-holds-barred senior master sergeant took the office by storm. Not only was she physically impressive, towering at
six feet tall, with gorgeous mocha skin, brown eyes so dark they appeared black, and a head full of long braids that she’d pinned up in an elaborate, yet professional, twist. Professionally, she intimidated everyone around her in that textbook example of the old expression, “been there, done that.”
Stella had heard how hard it was to make rank in PA, and it spoke volumes of the woman’s wealth of knowledge and ability that she’d earned such a high rank.
Like a fresh breeze drifting through the window, Sgt. Compton breathed new vitality into the office. It was especially evident in the attitude around the office. The former supervisor suddenly contributed to the newspaper and other areas of the office work, and the other two immediately adjusted their treatment of Stella.
First Lt. Noah Gorman transferred in and brought humor and knowledge, adding his off-color jokes to the drab landscape that had proceeded. He not only knew the job but he was happy to lend a hand in other departments.
An enthusiastic new public affairs officer soon arrived as well. Captain Hannah Tegan was a delightful bundle of energy, and her hands-on approach to leadership meant actual contributions to the newspaper and management of staff duties. She wrote and edited alongside the lowly airmen, winning over her subordinates instantaneously. She was a force of nature, and Stella liked her immediately.
With a much lighter workload and actual leadership, Stella spoke up for the first time during their weekly meeting. She explained her love of writing human interest stories and shared an idea that’d been brewing since she’d arrived on base.
“I know we already sort of do this, but I’d like to create a weekly segment where we highlight the worst jobs at Fairchild,” Stella’s voice shook as she spoke. “You remember that show Dirty Jobs? I mean, I remember at DINFOS they said our job was to improve morale, and I think people with difficult jobs might get a kick out of being in the spotlight.”
“Okay, Tobias.” Sergeant Compton replied with a grin. “Show me what you can do.”
Stella all but danced in her chair from the excitement of having a new challenge. She tamped that down as she listened to the rest of the appointment – apparently Sgt. Compton was restructuring the office so she directly supervised all enlisted people and would be reassigning them according to their abilities and interests. She’d be meeting with each person that day for their performance reviews and to establish her expectations.
Was it Stella’s imagination or was the sun shining brighter all of a sudden?
…
Like a sucker punch to the gut, Liz’s underhandedness struck from nowhere. During her first formal review with Sgt. Compton, they opened Stella’s official personnel file to find scads of negative Memos for Record secretly stashed there. From her chats with Audrey, Stella had learned the military’s name for traitors like that; blue falcon. Liz was the worst version Audrey had ever heard of – and she’d not even learned about this new treachery – yet.
With disgust etched across her face, Sgt. Compton calmly explained that this file served as an official account of an airman’s performance, and the negative memos would prevent promotions down the line.
As Sgt. Compton skimmed the notes her expression grew more incredulous with each line she read. Eventually she looked up from the memos as she held up the pile and spoke, “You know what I think of these?”
Stella’s gut filled with dread as she shook her head no.
When Sgt. Compton ripped the memos in half and tossed them in the trash shock and elation short circuited Stella’s nervous system.
“This is a bunch of bullshit. You and I are starting from scratch.”
With those words of mercy, relief washed over Stella. She’d be eternally grateful for the opportunity to start anew.
“Thank you,” was her heartfelt response. The relief was so intense, Stella feared she might cry. Someone was finally on her side.
“Alright, I can see there’s more going on, but we won’t go into that now. I expect you to give me your best effort. I love your idea about the features and still want you to do that, but I’m transferring you into Community Relations.”
Stella clamped down on her military bearing, battling the urge to leap in joy. ComRel was her favorite part of the job. And that meant she would have her own office away from the two harpies, and near Lt. Gorman’s office.
“But, I still expect you to submit the features to me each week. We’ll start in a month so you have time to learn the ropes in your new job and get a head start on the features. If you find yourself falling behind in any way, let me know before it becomes a problem.”
Stella nodded. “Thank you.” She tried not to squeal her response but an overwhelming relief and excitement at being paroled from the newspaper surged from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair.
“Now, here’s the deal…I expect you to come to me if there are any more issues with Liz or Cynthia. I won’t tolerate that kind of behavior,” the other woman said as she gestured toward the discarded memos. Then the two got down to their regular review.
Sergeant Compton expected Stella to start working on her upgrade training sometime in the next two months, citing that Stella needed a little more time to learn her way around the career field first. She stressed that she needed to do that quickly so she could finish her degree. She also emphasized that Stella should continue the quality of work that she’d seen around the office.
With an internal sigh of relief, Stella breathed freely for the first time in months. She’d impressed her NCOIC, who would soon clip the blue falcon’s wings. And she’d finally be able to return to college!
When they finished, Sgt. Compton treated Stella to lunch at a nearby Korean restaurant she’d discovered along Airway Heights Rd. The two chatted throughout lunch, and Stella came away with nothing but respect and admiration for the woman.
After lunch Sgt. Compton gave Stella the afternoon off after telling her she’d be able to move offices Monday morning, bright and early. The whole experience had been like a shot of adrenaline to Stella’s weary soul. Her first few months on base had been rough with the isolation. The opportunity to start her weekend a little early, however, was just what she needed.
Stella floated back to her dorm room, intent to change and go for a run. But when she walked in, it was as if she saw the room with new eyes. It was positively gloomy with its lack of color and personality.
Rather than hit the gym, Stella changed into civvies and did something that she’d been putting off since she’d arrived…she set out to turn her little room into a home.
In need of pretty much everything, Stella drove into nearby Spokane. She’d left all her household goods when she fled her old life. Tired of using standard-issue bedding and disposable plates and utensils in her dorm, among other little inconveniences, she stocked up.
Her fingers itched to touch the flannel sheets she’d bought. Fabian had hated them because he was always warm, so she’d never bought them for their bed. Stella loved how the material felt on her skin, so warm, soft and cozy like a well-worn shirt, so she got two sets, one in a soft floral pattern, the other a gingham check in her favorite shade of periwinkle. With the fluffy, white down comforter added to the growing pile in her cart, she’d never be cold at night again. She tossed in a few duvet covers to coordinate with the sheets, and anything else that caught her eye.
She took special pleasure in the fact that Fabian would’ve hated most of what she selected. She didn’t buy them for that specific reason, but it gave her great joy to decorate for her tastes, and to not answer to anyone else.
She chose her favorite colors, taking joy in the femininity and comfort of her selections. There would be no one to complain about anything being too flowery or girly. There was a greater luxury to this though. After a lifetime of scrimping and making-do she could finally buy the best items available with no worry about cost.
By the time Stella finished her spree, it seemed as though she’d bought out the entire mall.
Back
at the dorm, Stella laid out the spoils from her marathon-shopping trip, glad to be alone in her room – she probably looked like a madwoman as she giggled to herself. She shifted into nesting mode as she took all the linens and her dirty laundry, along with her necessary detergents to the laundry area near the building’s common room. She smiled all the way there and back, saying hello to all the neighbors she encountered along the way.
Unfortunately, her job had kept her super busy, so she didn’t really know any of the surrounding airmen, a fact she planned to change. She desperately needed friends and a life of her own.
Back at her room, Stella linked her new speaker to her phone, cranked up the tunes, and deep-cleaned the room, scouring everything she could reach. She moved furniture and hung her new curtains on suspension rods over the ugly blinds.
She put up her new shower curtain and laid out the massive bath mat next to the shower, as well as the various area rugs for her room. By the time her laundry finished drying, Stella felt giddy from the peace of being home...at long last.
With a jolt to her system, a sudden realization struck her – it’d been just over a year since that awful day. The dreaded anniversary had come and gone without her even realizing it, and that felt amazing. There was no need to dwell in the past when her future was so bright.
Chapter 14: “ASVAB Waiver”
– An insult insinuating that someone is slow or stupid. The phrase refers to the military entrance exam, and alleges that their results were waived to allow their enlistment despite questionable intellect.
The workload in ComRel, though heavy, lacked the constant deadlines, immediacy of action, and tediousness of tending the minute details of newspaper work. Stella relished the new pace and personable nature of working in her dream job.
In this role, she served as liaison to the civilian world. When people sought a tour, someone from the base to speak at an event, or general information, they called Stella. She worked with other base agencies to plan big events like the annual air show, and community outreach events like Special Olympics meets.