A Man Named Dave

know she did a lot for us when we were kids and all, but I just can’t help but think that when it comes to dealing with Mom, she doesn’t help the situation any.”
    “Man, you’re not there to see it,” Russell broke it. “I’m not pointing fingers, but it’s like they feed off each other. The more miserable one can make the other, the happier they think their world will be.”
    Clutching my Coke, I nodded in agreement.
    “So, you gonna see her?” Russell again asked.
    Feeling gutless, I said, “It ain’t worth it, maybe next time. …” My voice trailed off.
    “Yeah,” Russell replied, “I understand, maybe next time.”
    We drifted to other matters, until I dropped Russell off hours later. Back at Grandmother’s, she gave me the cold shoulder. The next day I aggravated our situation further when I told Grandmother that I had invited Russell on the trip Grandmother and I had planned to the border of Idaho. Hours later, I again made her upset when I was shopping at a bookstore, buying a novel for Kevin. Grandmother became impatient, announcing she had had enough and stormed out of the mall. Part of me felt bad for her – she had driven Russell and me to Idaho and fed us a nice picnic lunch – but yet I felt I was somehow being manipulated again. No matter what anyone was doing, if Grandmother wanted to go, everyone had to leave at once.
    All I could do was continue to wait in line, make my purchase, and sprint after her, for I felt she would leave without me. But in a small sense I was giving Grandmother a message: I would respect her and be polite, but I was not a child whom she could snap her fingers at whenever it pleased her. As I entered Grandmother’s two-door sedan – with the engine running and her clutching the steering wheel – I proudly held Kevin’s book in my hand.
    My last afternoon at Grandmother’s, I phoned the air force office that was handling my cross training request of becoming an air crew member. As hectic as my military leave had been, at least I felt that I stood a good chance of fulfilling my lifelong dream. When the sergeant recognized my name, his tone seemed positive. “Ah, yes, Sergeant Pelzer. I saw your file. I got it right here somewhere, hang on.… Yep, ah, give me a second.” I could feel my excitement grow. “You’ve been at my heels for a while now, haven’t you? All righty now, here it is …” he triumphantly announced. “Everything seems to be in order … uh … um … hang on a second.”
    My heart sank. “I don’t know how to say this,” the sergeant’s tone softened, “but it seems there’s been a mistake. Somehow your paperwork went to ground refueling, not midair refueling. Not to worry, this happens all the time –”
    “Excuse me, sir,” I interrupted. “What does this mean? It’s fixable, right? I mean, you can correct it, especially since it’s not my fault?”
    “I’m sorry,” he answered. “I know how bad you wanted it, but by the time I received your paperwork, it was too late; the slots had been filled. You just missed the cutoff. Don’t sweat it. If this is any consolation, I know in about eight, maybe nine months or so, we’ll have another batch of slots to fill. I can’t make any promises, but as much as you check in, I can advise you when to resubmit directly to my office. I have to be fair to everyone who applies, but I can guarantee you’ll get a fair shot.”
    “But, Sergeant!” I pleaded, “I don’t have eight months! My enlistment is up in six, seven weeks! I don’t understand; I did everything. I took math, even trig. I studied planes inside and out. I’ve got good annual progress reports. I’ve got medals. I graduated jump school. I even got a letter from Kelly Johnson.” I was yammering like an idiot. “I’ve wanted this forever. What else can I do?”
    “Your package is not being questioned. It’s sound. If there was a slot open, I’d give it to you. But right now that’s not the issue. I am sorry. I feel for you, but there is nothing, nothing I can do.”
    I stood in a frozen state, still clutching the phone. I had strongly believed I had a chance. I thought this time my hard work and determination would pay off. Ever since Father passed away, I had found something I could focus my efforts toward, a longtime dream that I could achieve for myself. For months, in the barracks on Friday and Saturday evenings, while the other guys would party outside on the building’s ledge, I’d dangle my legs over the same ledge and absorb my latest mathematical equation. Around