A Man Named Dave

me.”
    I surprised myself by responding, “How can I love you when we live like this? I want to get close to you, but how can I if you don’t tell me what’s eating at you?”
    My only hope was if I dug deep enough, or approached the subject in a different way, Patsy and I could find the answers to our problems. I became driven to make things right. Unfortunately, our arguments usually ended with her fleeing from the apartment. At times, late at night, I would still be wide awake when Patsy came in. She would slip into bed beside me and wrap her arms around my chest. Acting as if I were asleep, I’d shrug Patsy off, then roll over to the far side of the bed in the fetal position. I didn’t know why, but whenever she’d reach out to defuse the situation, I always seemed to push her away.
    From the bits and pieces Patsy revealed to me, I could relate to her difficult childhood. I truly believed our unfortunate experiences would make us closer; our past would make us appreciate our future. I knew Patsy was in pain, and as much as I was affected, I knew she was battling herself.
    For the most part it was Patsy who tried to make amends. At times when flying at twenty-nine thousand feet, I’d open my lunch to find a note she had taken hours to say on paper what she could not tell me in person. Or I’d come home to find the apartment immaculate and an elaborate dinner waiting for me. When things were smooth between us, no one was kinder or sweeter than Patsy. I doubted if she even realized her own potential. Just as Patsy was there for me, during the rough times with Harold, I owed it to her to stick it out. I believed working through the little bumps on the road was exactly what a relationship was all about. I had thought for many years of being alone that I was not good enough to be with anyone, and now I had a chance. If these were the dues I had to pay, then so be it.
    When I next saw Alice, I kept replaying everything Patsy and I had been through in my head. Since I had become an air crew member, I had lost my focus. I began to live a little too much. I went out to bars, and I spent, for the first time in my life, rather than saved for my future. I began to throw away years of self-discipline. But I thought that whatever my problems, I should have known better; I had brought them upon myself.
    Sadly enough, I also knew I could not leave Patsy.
    “Things are fine with you and Patsy?” Alice probed.
    Turning away to avoid looking at my foster mother, I paused before nodding yes. “Mind if I spend the night?” I yawned. “It’s a long drive and … I just wanted to spend some time together.”
    Alice nodded. By the look in her eyes, I sensed she understood.
    A weekend with my foster mother gave me a chance to catch up on some badly needed sleep and time to clear my head. But within days of returning home, another problem between Patsy and me surfaced. After living together for nearly a year, the money that had taken me years to save was nearly depleted. Ever since Patsy had moved in, I was spending more than the air force paid me, and I had to draw from my savings to get by. Patsy always claimed she’d help out. I knew she meant it at the time, but the funds never materialized. After wrestling in my mind whether to bring up the subject or not, finally I did, and hell followed. I was not trying to seem like a miser, for I wanted to make Patsy happy, and would have gladly given her anything I could, but even with only rent, groceries, the very basics of utilities, and a car payment, I couldn’t hold out much longer. Once we even squabbled because I could not afford to buy Patsy a television set, let alone cable to keep her company while I was either flying for the day or out of the country for weeks at a time.
    By the end of the summer of 1985, when I finally sat her down to thoroughly explain my situation, Patsy became upset. “What’s the deal?” she fumed. “I know you fly boys make a ton of dough.”
    “Say again?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Was Patsy totally clueless about how hard it was for me to bring up the subject, let alone, support her for as long as I had? “What are you talking about?” I shook my head. “A ton of money? I’m enlisted! I make seventy-five, maybe one hundred bucks extra a month!”
    Confused, Patsy shook her head. “Enlisted, what’s that?”
    It was then that I understood the misconception. Patsy must have assumed because I flew for the air force, I was an officer who was paid three to four times