A Man Named Dave

more than enlisted personnel, as they rightly deserved for the fact that officers graduated college and had more extensive technical training. But how, I wondered, could she be so naive about such a simple issue, especially since she lived near the air base all her life? How could she not know?
    As I began to think this through, I questioned myself. Was I being taken advantage of? Nearly two years ago, when I had first in-processed into the air base, one of the lectures I’d attended warned about the possibility of women in the local community latching on to air force personnel, particularly air crew members. I had actually laughed out loud in total disbelief. But now, as I gazed at Patsy’s hardened stance …
    I knew she was not that kind of person. She was simply upset because she must have thought I had unlimited funds. Besides, Patsy had mentioned to me before how bad off she and her family had been ever since her father’s death. From our time together, I understood Patsy was an emotional person and had a hard edge whenever she felt backed into a corner. I also knew Patsy was a wonderful woman, and I was grateful for all the kindness she’d shown me, especially during Harold’s illness. So, I surmised, if I could relieve whatever strain that had surfaced, we would be that much better off. I wanted, as Patsy did, to work things out. At times I knew it was I, not Patsy, who could be overly petty. I breathed with relief when Patsy assured me she would indeed pitch in. Without hesitation, I accepted her word.
    Because we lived in a cramped apartment, with her mother so close by driving Patsy crazy, we decided to move a few miles to a nicer, roomier house. I felt like a heel, but I had to have Patsy’s absolute assurance that she would indeed help with the rent and utilities, since I was now financially way over my head. For a couple of months everything seemed fine. When I was not flying in Asia or Europe, Patsy’s stress evaporated, her drinking stopped, and our arguments were a thing of the past. She landed a job as a waitress, making her feel needed and appreciated, which in turn made her esteem flourish. To top everything, Patsy loved being out from under her mother’s thumb.
    But upon returning home from another overseas assignment, I discovered, after nearly interrogating Patsy to get some answer, not one but several bills now months overdue. “What happened to the money?”
    “Well …” Patsy hesitated. “I spent some of it.”
    “Some of it? That money was specifically for –”
    Patsy deflected, “Take a chill pill, I’ll pay you back. What’s the deal? Everyone gets a few months behind.”
    “No,” I exploded, “not me, not now, not ever! I gave my word!”
    “Words … ? You can’t even say it!” Patsy huffed while raising her eyebrows as if giving me a message.
    What? I said to myself. My feelings toward her had nothing to do with our latest crisis.
    “I really don’t see why you’re having such a shit fit. What’s the big deal, just take care of it. You always do. I know you’ve got the money, just make a withdrawal. I bet lots of your air force buddies get behind. Get over it, it’s a fact of life.”
    “It’s called financial obligations. ‘They’ can get drummed out of the service, and if I don’t meet my obligations, I can lose my clearance. Without my clearance, I can’t fly, which means I can be kicked out. I don’t care what happens to they, them, or anybody else. Don’t you get it? I meet my commitments. Always have, always will.”
    “Really? We’ll just see about that.”
    I felt I was being led down another twisted path rather than dealing with the root of the problem … again. My brain was spinning with emotions. I had to constantly pry everything from Patsy, figure out what had happened to our funds. I felt manipulated, as if my trust was a welcome mat she could stomp on whenever she felt the need.
    Patsy continued to stand with her hands on her hips. “You’re too hard. You think you’re so perfect. You’re … you’re not my father!”
    I knew that last statement was coming. Whenever she became irate, she always seemed to bring up her father. I tried to calm myself and her down. “Listen, please, I’m not trying to be your father. I’m not trying to boss you around or control you. If I have, I’m wrong. I’m sorry. I truly am. All I’m trying to do is –”
    “You act as if I’m some, some leech … I give, too! I’m here for you. I take care of your things, feed your stupid little turtle. I cook for