Larry Bond - Exit Plan

In November 2006, at the victory celebration for Lowell Hardy’s election to the House of Representatives, the tectonic plates of their relationship suffered a major quake. Jerry told her that he had submitted a request for his next set of orders. He planned to skip the traditional shore tour and go straight to the Submarine Officers Advanced Course, and then back to sea. This would allow him to completely catch up with his peers and put his career back on a proper course. He added that his first choice was a Seawolf- class attack submarine, so he would hopefully be staying in the New London area. Emily seemed to take the news well, and said she was happy for him. But thereafter things never seemed to be quite the same.

By February 2007, the relationship was strained to the breaking point. Emily wanted everything. Jerry just couldn’t see how that was possible. He believed he had an obligation to the Navy leadership to pay them back for their investment, even if it had been forced. Emily had attractive offers from academic institutions across the country, none of which were near a submarine base. Jerry saw their situation as a classic design problem; you have three parameters to maximize, choose two.

The vexing part of it all was that he truly loved Emily, and wanted to make her happy. He analyzed the “data” and concluded that her career seemed to be more important at the time. Jerry was fine with the idea, they could wait until she had established herself academically, and he encouraged her accordingly. Unfortunately, Emily interpreted his willingness to put her career ahead of their relationship as a sign that he was no longer interested in a relationship. Frustrated, confused, and angry, Jerry lost his temper and suggested that they both might be better off with some time apart. His bad choice of words, coupled with unbelievably poor timing, Valentine’s Day, reinforced Emily’s belief that Jerry wanted to move on. They broke up a couple of days later; and while the parting was amicable, that didn’t do anything to soothe the pain.

Now, two-and-a-half-years later, Emily Davis had suddenly popped back into his life. It was clear from their collision that morning that she still had strong feelings for him — the enthusiastically spoken word date echoed in his head.

With a deep, resigned sigh, Jerry reached for the phone and called his sister, Clarice. For fifteen minutes she listened to her younger brother as he poured out his heart. When he finally asked what he should do, she encouraged him to not try and solve the problems, but to just listen. And, she added, to listen to the voice behind the words, as much as the words themselves. With his confidence shored up by his elder sibling’s wise counsel, Jerry quickly ran a brush through his hair and grabbed his jacket.

He paced impatiently back and forth at the foot of the wharf; stopping only to look at his watch, it read 6:43. She was late — again. Jerry took an odd solace from the fact that Emily’s lack of punctuality hadn’t been affected by the years. Or had he been stood up? He quickly dismissed the thought, ashamed that he had even considered Emily was capable of such cruelty. He had just purged his brain of that notion, when he heard her call out to him.

“Jerry!”

He turned to see her almost running down to him. She was modestly dressed, almost business casual, but it didn’t hide any of her physical charms. He had forgotten how beautiful she was.

“I am so sorry to be late,” she gasped. “The staff meeting went on forever, all we talked about was the budget and the impact the continuing resolution would have on our department. It just dragged on and on. I thought I’d never get out of there.”

Sounds just like my classes, thought Jerry. But there was no way he would say that. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with the fiscal planning process of our government,” Jerry remarked cynically. “It’s pure frickin’ magic as far as I’m concerned, and requires a bubbling cauldron and a pointy black hat to even begin to understand it.” He offered her his arm; she gladly took it.

“I don’t want to understand it. I just want those politicians to do their job, that’s all.”

“Be careful, now. You know one of those politicians personally,” admonished Jerry as he mimicked her tone.

“True,” Emily agreed tersely. But before she could say another word, an audible grumbling sound came from her midsection. She blushed with embarrassment.

Jerry laughed as they walked up to the restaurant’s entrance. “Now, that problem I do know how to take care of. And the solution is right here.” He opened the door and gestured for her to enter first.

They took a table by the large windows that overlooked the harbor. The view was impressive. A group of sea otters were frolicking in the water right in front of them, while on a nearby dock, sea lions were napping between expensive yachts. The tide was coming in, bringing with it the heady aroma of the sea.

Jerry ordered a bottle of white wine and two cups of Crabby Jim’s world-renowned clam chowder as an appetizer. He then lost himself in the menu. Like most of the restaurants on Fisherman’s Wharf, there was an abundance of choices. So much food, so little time.

“So what are you going to have?” inquired Emily. She was starting with the obvious small talk.

“I think I’m going to go with the chicken piccata tonight.”

“What!?! Chicken!?!” Emily appeared shocked. “Jerry, this is one of the best seafood restaurants in town, and you’re going to have chicken?”

“Emily,” Jerry replied defensively, “my household goods only arrived this last weekend. I’ve been eating out ever since I reported to NPS and I’m up to here,” he put his hand up to his neck, then moved it over his head. “Correction, up to here with seafood. I’ve got a serious hankerin’ for a terrestrial critter, okay?”

“Heathen,” she said playfully.

A waitress took their entree orders, while another delivered the wine and clam chowder. Both sipped at their soup in awkward silence.

“What field of study are you pursuing at the postgraduate school, Jerry?” Emily finally asked.

“Huh? Oh, I’m in the engineering acoustics track,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Acoustics? I would’ve thought someone with your experience would be more interested in the unmanned systems curriculum.” Was that hurt in her voice? Or just disappointment?

Jerry wiped his lips with his napkin, giving him time to think of how to word his response. “I seriously thought about it, Emily. I admit that I have more experience than most in the submarine force with unmanned underwater vehicles, but I also lack the equivalent experience in more traditional submarine missions and systems. The postgraduate school’s Undersea Warfare Curriculum seemed like an excellent way to bridge that gap, and the acoustics track will give me a better understanding of a submarine’s main sensor.”

“I hadn’t looked at it that way,” she responded thoughtfully. “From a big picture career perspective, it sounds very reasonable.”

It was also a lie. He had originally intended to pursue an emphasis on autonomous systems, but after his first class he went straight to the chair of the undersea warfare group and explained his concerns over an earlier relationship with a current faculty member in his chosen curriculum. Jerry then requested that he be moved to the acoustics track. It was his second choice when he applied to the postgraduate school, and this would preclude any perception of impropriety by moving Jerry out of Dr. Davis’s academic chain of command. He wanted to protect Emily, as well as himself, from any unpleasant investigation that could seriously impact their careers once their prior relationship became known.