The Next Day

  My phone buzzed on the table, and I saw it was a call from my dad. I picked it up with a smile.

  “Hey, Macaroni! How have you been?” he asked, his voice warm and familiar.

  “I’m doing well, Dad,” I replied. “I hung out with Mitchell and Cadence the other day. Yesterday was pretty intense, though. We had to respond to a collapsed crane at work. A few workers got hurt. I still can’t figure out why they were working in the rain.”

  “Sounds like they were behind schedule,” Dad said thoughtfully. “My friends in construction never work in the rain unless they’re really pressed for time or working indoors.”

  I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, that makes sense. It’s just frustrating to see people get hurt because of deadlines.”

  “So what happened?” my father asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

  “One of the supports sank into the mud, and the crane toppled over onto an apartment building under construction,” I explained.

  “Yeah, mud can be a real problem,” Dad said, chuckling. “It’s like how it tries to pull your shoes off when you walk through it. You’d think they’d find firmer ground or add extra support.”

  I sighed. “I don’t know much about construction or cranes, especially tower cranes like the one we dealt with. But they’re working for the city, and it all ties back to that housing scam from 2007. Remember? The city started buying up old tenement buildings, offering money to the residents. Only about 1% took the offer, so they resorted to arson to force the rest out. It was a huge scandal when the radio stations picked it up, and then it went national. The whole country of Little Bird was watching the city of Empire like the Eye of Sauron.”

  Dad nodded. “I remember that because you told me. The government of Little Bird stepped in and made the city of Empire pay for the rebuilding, right?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “What the city and Echelon Enterprises did was illegal. They were trying to buy up old buildings and burn out those who refused to sell, planning to replace them with cheap, poorly constructed apartments. But the government forced them to pay for proper construction with strict oversight. Even minor infractions result in hefty fines—five thousand Little Bird Dollars, which is about forty thousand US Dollars minimum. That’s the average income for the middle class here.”

  Dad whistled. “That’s some serious oversight. Hopefully, it means better safety standards now.”

  “Yeah, let’s hope so,” I agreed. “It’s just frustrating to see people get hurt because of past mistakes and tight deadlines.”

  I took a sip of coffee, letting the warmth settle me.

  “Yeah, I remember that,” I said. “Twice I went with my girlfriend to fight those fires, even though I was just a college student at the time. Seeing entire streets ablaze, with flames on both sides, was surreal. It was so hot that the paint on the fire apparatus started to chip off.”

  I paused, and I could imagine seeing him shaking his head at the memory. “My girlfriend, whom you and Martha know well, was from one of the three districts targeted. She told her Battalion and Deputy Division Chief, ‘Listen up, people! Let me tell you what’s north of us; just more homes. If we turn and run now, they’re going to be defenseless! You don’t like my plan? That’s good. Give me another plan, but don’t tell me we’re leaving them defenseless.’ She had just lost the tenement building she grew up in a couple of nights before that.”

  I continued. “The fires were so intense that even the mightiest streams from the fire department’s arsenal were no match. It got so bad that they had to authorize the use of air tankers—both helicopters and planes designed for wildland firefighting, but using water instead of chemicals. During those nights, the Fire Department issued a Level 4 Mobilization. That meant everyone off duty had to come back, no matter what they were doing. They even called back retired firefighters because they needed all the manpower they could get.”

  “What about those fire suits that y’all wear?” my dad asked.

  I replied, “Those silver suits, also known as fire proximity suits, come in three types: Approach suits, Proximity suits, and Entry suits. Only specialized companies get them because they deal with high-heat situations. My squad company has the Entry type of the Proximity suit. But if you’re talking about Firehouse Eighteen and Sixty-Eight, they’re in the city’s industrial district with factories, so they have all three types.”

  Dad nodded, intrigued. “So, what’s the difference between them?”

  “Well,” I began, “Approach suits are designed for short-term entry into flaming environments and are used for rescue operations. Proximity suits are for situations where firefighters need to get close to intense heat and flames, like aircraft firefighting. Entry suits, which we use, are for direct entry into extreme heat and are often used in industrial settings. They’re made of multiple layers of heat-resistant materials, including aluminized fabric to reflect radiant heat.”

  “That’s fascinating,” Dad said. “I never realized there were so many types.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty specialized,” I agreed. “And it’s not just the suits. We also have different breathing apparatuses and tools depending on the situation. It’s all about being prepared for anything.”

  Dad smiled. “Sounds like you’ve got a handle on it. Just be careful out there, okay?”

  “Always, Dad,” I assured him. “Safety first.”

  My dad then asked me about my arm, and I told him that my cybernetic arm is doing fine. He then joked about how I was a cyborg because of my cybernetic arm. Of course, I chose that arm because it looks so realistic and like a human arm from a distance.

  “Oh, Martha wants to speak to you,” my dad said.

  I rolled my eyes so hard that it felt like they were about to fall out. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to my stepmother, but while she and my mother are the same, at least Martha took a step back and knew what she was doing was wrong. She gave up on that without driving me away because both she and my mom want me to marry a guy, have kids, and be a ‘50s housewife.

  But while my mother started to double down, Martha, on the other hand, gave up on being a step grandmother. She stepped back and realized what she was doing was wrong and found out that if she continued her path, then I would’ve cut her off in a New York second. At least Martha came to her senses. Unlike my mother, who tried to double down but already alienated everybody in her family because she's an addict, a manipulator, and a gaslighter. If the Olympics had a section for manipulation and gaslighting, then my mother would've won gold.

  Martha changed. She started by asking how I was doing and all that jazz. I was bracing myself, thinking she was going to ask when I was going to have kids. But nope, it turned back on me. She actually apologized for wanting me to leave the woman I love and be with a guy I don’t know. She said she had been thinking for a couple of months and realized that if she kept forcing her way, I wouldn’t be there for her and my stepbrothers.

  It was a surprising and heartfelt moment. Martha admitted that she had been wrong and that her insistence on me getting married and having kids was misguided. She understood now that her actions were pushing me away, and she didn’t want to lose me or the bond we had. It was better than having people constantly pressuring me to marry some guy I don’t know and have kids. At least she came to her senses.

  I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. It was a relief to hear her acknowledge her mistakes and genuinely apologize. It made me hopeful that we could move forward with a better understanding and respect for each other’s choices.

  Of course, while I’m on the fence about having kids, at least Martha respects that. But my mother, on the other hand, is relentless. She started setting me up on blind dates the moment I turned eighteen with guys I didn’t know. Some of these guys admitted they were pressured by their families to find a girlfriend, but they respected my decision when I said I wasn’t interested. They understood.

  Then there were the manchildren—guys who had clearly never been told "no" in their lives. They’d throw hissy fits and talk about how they imagined our future together, with me as an obedient housewife and a few kids. My response to their fantasy was always, “Yeah, if this was the 1800s.”

  One time, my granduncle Charlie actually scared one of those guys away. I was with him, showing him Call of Duty when it first came out. One of those guys who couldn’t take no for an answer showed up at his house. Charlie, being the no-nonsense WWII and Korean War vet he is, showed him his M1A1 Carbine and said, “I haven’t fired this at another person since Korea… 1953.” That guy ran off and never came back. Charlie told me he wasn’t going to add to his kill count unless necessary, but the way he said it, you knew he meant it. If he got arrested for it, people would probably say, “So you arrested an eighty-year-old man for defending his grandniece from a guy who couldn’t take no for an answer?”

  After scaring away that guy, Charlie said people used to be much more civilized back then. I reminded him that he and millions of others fought against a guy who had seventeen million people killed for being different.

  Despite all this, my mother kept setting me up on blind dates, not realizing how uninterested I was. I just went to tell the guy I wasn’t interested in dating. It was exhausting, but I had to stand my ground.

  Of course, my family is supportive of me being on the fence about being a parent. They understand that I would have to give up what I like doing and that it’s not all about myself anymore. Many of my family members have kids of their own, and some don’t. They know that it’s a decision for the individual to make, and they respect that. To me, that’s true because the first thing about being a parent is that you can’t go out and do whatever you wish anymore.

  I have family members with spouses who have kids but don’t want to take care of them. For us Watersons, once we become parents, we know we can’t just go out willy-nilly like we could when we were younger. We’re sick of the whole ‘keep the peace’ mentality that sacrifices one person to placate another. Saying you want to keep the peace is just saying you want a victim to suffer in silence because you don’t want to deal with it.

  For us Watersons who are parents, whether the kids were planned or unplanned, we believe it’s the parents’ responsibility to take care of them. We say, “You chose to have kids; they’re your responsibility, not anyone else’s.” My family’s overall stance is, “If you can’t handle kids 24/7, don’t have kids to begin with.”

  Not to mention, I help my girlfriend with her seven daughters, so I have some experience around kids. Her kids are both in the sixth and fifth grades, so I’m pretty familiar with the challenges and joys of raising children. It’s a lot of work, but it’s also incredibly rewarding.

  Of course, while some of my girlfriend's daughters call me “Aunt Macaroni,” others call me “Mama” because of my relationship with Lusty. I don’t mind either way, even though her kids are related to me through their father, my cousin Dave. Lusty wanted to experience motherhood and didn’t have many male friends alive and those who are still alive well the military won’t grant them a furlough so they can help their female friend have a kid, so she chose Dave. Honestly, I don’t care if they call me Aunt Macaroni or Mama because I’m like a second mother to them. I buy them gifts and help them with schoolwork if Lusty is busy or if I’m over at her penthouse.

  Lusty doesn’t ask for help unless she really needs it. The only time she did was when her daughters were infants. She asked one of her old neighbors to watch them and compensated them for their time. Lusty says it was a nightmare for her, being away from her babies for 96 hours every other week. She would spend an hour at the firehouse talking to the neighbors who were watching her babies until they got old enough for her to feel confident they could take care of themselves.

  Martha respects me being on the fence about having kids because she understands it’s a big decision. If I do have kids, it’s a decision that takes away my free time. The only free time I’d get would be in the shower and sleeping, and even that would be a roll of the dice. It’s a huge commitment, and I appreciate that Martha gets that.

  My dad, on the other hand, doesn’t care if I have kids or not. He understands that I’m a woman and respects my perspective.

  I wish my biological mother could see things the same way, but she insists on me having kids and marrying some guy I don’t even know. I had one guy who couldn’t take no for an answer and stalked me during my Navy training. He followed me to Germany, England, and a few other NATO countries. I filed police reports in Germany, France, and England, but he managed to get out each time. I’m not sure how, but I guess he made bail. I don’t know the laws in those countries, but here in Little Bird, what he did was a felony. They found those other reports, and felony stalking here means having a record of stalking but still doing it. He got locked up for that.

  At least Martha is different. Yes, she’s my stepmother and a few years older than me, and she’s fourteen years younger than my dad. But my dad hasn’t forced me into a daughter-mother relationship with her. Martha knows that while I’m an adult, she can’t force me into that kind of relationship. She respects my boundaries, and that makes a big difference.

  When Martha asked how her sons, Alex and Jake, were doing, I told her that I didn’t know because I’m not their mother or babysitter. They’re in university now and have to take care of themselves. I work 96 hours every other week with 24-hour shifts, so I have a life of my own. Martha mentioned that they haven’t called her and she couldn’t get a hold of them. I pointed out that university students have a lot of schoolwork and many have part-time jobs. They’re busy with their studies and responsibilities.

  I explained that being at Arcane University is giving them a preview of real life. They have deadlines, professors who won’t let them borrow a pencil, and no extensions on projects. It’s a taste of how many employers won’t grant extensions and how unpredictable real life can be. It’s all part of growing up and learning to manage their time and responsibilities.

  Martha seemed to understand, but I could tell she was still worried. I reassured her that Alex and Jake are probably just caught up in the life of university life. They’ll reach out when they can. It’s a big adjustment for everyone, but they’ll find their way.

  I could hear my dad in the background saying how Jake is probably being himself, keeping his nose to the grindstone, studying, and doing schoolwork. He probably hits the sack early to adjust to different time zones and realizes that there’s no more doing normal schoolwork, some studying, and having free time. While Alex is probably out partying because he’s the type who doesn’t take any responsibility and passes his failures onto others instead of taking the rap for his misdeeds.

  I then asked if they put me on speakerphone, and they said in unison, “Yes.”

  I chuckled. “Well, that explains why I can hear both of you so clearly. Look, Martha, I’m sure Alex and Jake are just busy with their own lives right now. University is a big adjustment, and they’re figuring things out. Jake’s probably buried in his books, and Alex... Well, he’ll have to learn responsibility sooner or later. It’s part of growing up.”

  Martha sighed. “I know, it’s just hard not hearing from them. I worry, you know?”

  “Of course you do,” I said gently. “But they’ll be okay. They’ve got good heads on their shoulders, even if Alex needs a bit more time to figure things out. Just give them some space, and they’ll come around.”

  Dad chimed in, “Macaroni’s right. They’re young and finding their way. We just have to trust that we’ve raised them well enough to handle it.”

  Martha seemed to relax a bit. “Thanks, both of you. It helps to hear that.”

  “No problem,” I replied. “And hey, if you need anything, you know where to find me. Just don’t expect me to keep tabs on them—I’ve got my hands full with my own life and work.”

  We all laughed, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics. It felt good to connect and reassure Martha, even if just a little.

  “So how’s life for you two?” I asked.

  My dad didn’t beat around the bush. He started telling me about one of Martha’s friends who had a birthday recently. Martha gave her a $250 dress, which she thought was a better gift than what my dad had in mind—a fifty-dollar gift card.

  Then things got a bit weird. Martha’s friend told them to give her a baby for her next birthday. My dad and Martha shut down that idea real quick. They explained that they have no control over the baby’s gender and that Martha’s friend is the type who wants a kid but doesn’t want to take care of it. She said she’d give the baby back to them whenever it cried, needed feeding, or a diaper change. My dad and Martha made it clear they’re not having a baby for someone who would treat it like a living doll.

  However, my dad and Martha have been talking about having a kid together. With Martha’s twin sons in university and me living my own life, they feel they have a good twenty years before my dad reaches retirement age and Martha gets close to it. They think it might be the right time to consider expanding their family.

  I was a bit surprised but also happy for them. “Wow, that’s a big decision. But if it’s what you both want, then go for it. Just make sure you’re ready for all the sleepless nights and diaper changes.”

  Martha laughed. “We know it’s a lot of work, but we’ve been thinking about it seriously. We’ll see how things go.”

  “Just make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons,” I added. “And remember, I’m here to support you both, whatever you decide.”

  It was a good conversation, and it felt nice to be included in their plans and thoughts. It’s moments like these that remind me how important family is, especially with family who are there for you no matter what and not there when it’s convenient for them.

  Of course, since I’m Martha’s stepdaughter, Jake and Alex are my father’s stepsons. They decided to have a child together so they could raise one together, even though my dad raised me for eighteen years by himself because my mom was an addict who just laid on the couch watching TV, not helping. Martha raised her twin sons for seventeen years by herself after her then-boyfriend walked out, not wanting to be a parent. He did try to come back when they were seventeen, claiming he was going to take them and raise them his way. But he backed out because Martha would’ve proved in court how he walked out and never saw his sons for seventeen years, never sent birthday or holiday cards.

  I wish Martha was my birth mother because she raised Jake and Alex by herself, just like my dad raised me. They had something in common—having partners who didn’t help raise their kids. But they didn’t meet until I had already moved out.

  It’s funny how life works out sometimes. Despite all the challenges, they found each other and built a new life together. They’ve both shown incredible strength, and I admire them for that. It’s comforting to know that they’re considering having a child together, not just to fill a void but to share the experience of raising a child with someone who truly understands and supports them.

  I heard my dad say he hopes if they do have a child, it’s a son, while Martha said she hopes it’s a daughter. I couldn’t help but chuckle and say, “Dad, don’t jinx yourself. According to my family on both your side and my mother’s side, you wanted a son but got a daughter instead.”

  My dad replied, “Yeah, and I love you for being you and not a carbon copy of your mother.”

  That made me smile. “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate that.”

  Martha chimed in, “Well, whatever we have, boy or girl, we’ll love them just the same.”

  “Absolutely,” I agreed. “And they’ll be lucky to have you both as parents.”

  We talked a bit more about their plans and how they’re preparing for the possibility of a new addition to the family. It was nice to hear them so excited and hopeful. It reminded me of how important it is to have supportive and loving people in your life, no matter what challenges come your way.

  As we wrapped up the call, I felt a sense of warmth and connection. Family can be complicated, but moments like these make it all worthwhile.

  Of course while I’m thinking about it after I hung up the call I just thought of how when something goes wrong or if we get something later than expected we say “Well Goddamnit and here it is today a day late and a dollar short.”

  _______

  Lusty’s apartment

  I knocked on the door, and Lusty opened her apartment door, inviting me in.

  “Hey there, Macaroni,” said Lusty. “What’s going on?”

  I replied without missing a beat, “My dad and stepmom plan on having a child together.”

  “So you’re going to be a sister,” Lusty said with a smile.

  “Yeah, it looks like it,” I said, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity. “It’s kind of surreal to think about, but I’m happy for them.”

  Lusty nodded. “That’s great news. They must be really excited.”

  “They are,” I agreed. “They’ve been talking about it a lot. It’s nice to see them so hopeful and planning for the future.”

  Lusty led me to the living room, where her daughters were busy with their homework. “Girls, Aunt Macaroni is here!” she called out.

  The girls looked up and greeted me with smiles and waves. “Hi, Aunt Macaroni!” they chorused.

  I waved back. “Hey, girls! How’s the homework going?”

  “Good,” they replied in unison, then went back to their work.

  Lusty and I sat down on the couch. “So, how do you feel about becoming a sister?” she asked.

  “I think it’ll be interesting,” I said thoughtfully. “It’s a big change, but I’m looking forward to it. Plus, it’ll be nice to have a little one around again.”

  Lusty smiled. “You’ll be a great sister. And who knows, maybe you’ll get some practice for when you decide if you want kids of your own.”

  I laughed. “Maybe. For now, I’m just taking it one day at a time.”

  I then noticed a letter on the table in which it’s in Lusty’s handwriting in which she wrote:

  Dear Assholes,

  To all of you who have declined my father’s love of a Native woman. You will not be missed. And to my dad’s parents, congratulations, you will NEVER meet your great-grandchildren and please go to Hell and fuck off.

  Hate, Claire Johnson.

  I know that when Lusty puts hate instead of love in a letter you know when you fucked up.

  “At least you might become a sister if your dad and stepmom have a child,” Lusty said. “You’re going to be something I always wanted to be—a big sister. But at least if they do have a child, you can be that cool big sis.”

  I smiled at the thought. “Yeah, it’s kind of exciting. I never really thought about it before, but I guess I could be a pretty cool big sister. I mean, I’ve had plenty of practice with your girls.”

  Lusty laughed. “You’re already a great role model for them. Any sibling of yours would be lucky to have you.”

  “Thanks, Lusty,” I said, feeling a warm glow of appreciation. “It’s nice to think about. And who knows, maybe it’ll be fun to have a little one around again.”

  We chatted a bit more about the possibilities and what it might be like to have a new baby in the family. It was comforting to share these thoughts with Lusty, knowing she understood and supported me.

  Lusty looked at me with those eyes that always seem to see right through me. "Why do I have a feeling there's something nagging at you?" she asked. "Is it because everyone around us is starting their own families?"

  I sighed, feeling the weight of her words. "Yeah, it's been on my mind. It's just... so many of my old friends, the ones I had to let go, are now dating or engaged to my family members. They're finding their happily ever after. My family took them in, taught them to help those in need, to spread a little love in the world. It's something I really admire about my family. We're not perfect, but we're always ready to defend others, especially those who are struggling. We might come off as gruff, but we don't tolerate people being assholes to those who are down. We can't stand glory hounds, but we also won't let anyone kick a man while he's down."

  I paused, looking at Lusty. "It's just a lot to process, you know?"

  Lusty replied, “Yeah I do know. But remember to carve out your own life. Just because your friends are getting dates or getting engaged or getting wed. But that’s their life that they carved out because they had a support system to build them up and give them the self esteem they needed because their toxic family who disowned them spent fourteen or fifteen years tearing them down. But once their parents disowned them and your extended family took them in and gave them the support to build them up and give them the nudge in the right direction. But what you want to do it’s your life.”

  I nodded, taking in Lusty's words. "You're right. It's just hard sometimes, you know? Seeing everyone else moving forward with their lives while I'm still figuring things out."

  Lusty smiled gently. "It's okay to feel that way. But remember, your path is unique. You've got your own journey to follow, and it's okay if it looks different from everyone else's. You've got a lot of love and support around you, and that's what matters."

  I smiled back, feeling a bit lighter. "Thanks, Lusty. I guess I just needed to hear that."

  She nodded. "Anytime, Macaroni. Just keep being you, and everything will fall into place."

  “I just do know that I’m glad my parents made me get a part time job when I was in 9th grade,” Lusty said after taking a sip of water.

  I replied, “Yeah I know what you mean but for me it’s different.”

  “Yeah because getting everything handed to you isn’t always the best option. My parents told me how me getting a part time job will give me ‘the tools I’ll need later in life’ and that’s true,” Lusty said. “And my parents always said how there’s a difference between giving your kids freedom and giving them too much freedom are two different things.”

  I replied after taking a sip from Lusty’s bottled water, “Yeah I know because my disowned friends and their siblings who lied about them to get them disowned they got too much freedom from their parents and that led them into the kind of trouble there’s no walking away from. And from me working as a waitress I learned the value of hard work and how hard it is to earn money but quick it goes.”

  Lusty nodded thoughtfully. "Exactly. My parents always emphasized that balance. They wanted me to have freedom, but also to understand responsibility. It's a tough line to walk, but it's so important."

  I leaned back, reflecting on her words. "Yeah, I get that. My disowned friends, their siblings who lied about them to get them disowned—they had too much freedom. It led them into trouble they couldn't escape from. Working as a waitress taught me a lot about hard work and the value of money. It's crazy how fast it goes once you start earning it."

  Lusty smiled. "It's those lessons that shape us, though. They make us stronger and more resilient. You've got a good head on your shoulders, Macaroni. Just keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be fine."

  I smiled back, feeling a sense of camaraderie. "Thanks, Lusty. I appreciate that. It's good to know I'm not alone in this."

  She raised her bottle in a mock toast. "To figuring it out, one step at a time."

  I clinked my imaginary glass with hers. "One step at a time."

  Lusty leaned back, her eyes thoughtful. "After all, Macaroni, you're living in a country where tomorrow isn't here yet and yesterday is in the past. Just focus on today because today is here. Tomorrow hasn't arrived yet, and yesterday is just today in the past. Unless you're talking about those people who say we should forget about traumatic events that happened a long time ago. Those people I can't stand."

  I nodded, feeling a surge of agreement. "Yeah, me too. I told Linda a while back that it's not about forgetting traumatic events. It's about not living like they happened yesterday. Remembering and admitting what happened is one thing, but using it to push others away is another. Take my cousin Dave, for example. His wife, Linda, takes her traumatic events to the next level to alienate herself from her family. Dave went through the same tragedy that killed his father and uncle, but he handles it differently. He doesn't sit around crying about it every day. He goes to work, helps others on the worst days of their lives, and remembers his dad's words. 'We can't sit around crying about it. Cry when you're not working because people count on us when they need help."

  I paused, taking a sip from Lusty's bottled water. "Linda, on the other hand, uses her trauma as an excuse to neglect her family. It's like she's stuck in that moment, while Dave honors his father's memory by moving forward and helping others. It's a tough balance, but it's important."

  Lusty nodded, her expression serious. "It's all about how we choose to handle our past. We can let it define us or we can use it to grow stronger. You're doing great, Macaroni. Just keep focusing on today and the rest will follow."

  Lusty even admitted how when she lost her parents back in 1996 when she was seventeen how she was broken on the inside but she admits that even fourteen years later she still misses them. She said how she still has a lot of things she still wanted to talk about with her parents and show them their grandkids but that never and still won’t ever happen because of their untimely deaths. But it made her to be a better mother and how it’s just how they would’ve wanted her to be and how she can do what they couldn’t because of her father being a low wage janitor earning pennies on the dollar and her mother being a temp worker who was paid pennies on the dollar and didn’t get any benefits for those who hired her for temp work. But even though they didn’t like the work they had to do because of both of them coming from a middle class family but having to work in low paying jobs with bosses who couldn’t care less about them. They did the work with a smile because it made them keep a roof over their head and to take care of their daughter even with limited income but Lusty was raised with appreciation for what she had.

  Lusty shook her head, a mix of frustration and sadness in her eyes. "It's funny how 'family comes first' only seems to apply when it benefits the villains, losers, or jerks, and not the victims. That's why I don't even invite my father's side of the family to anything. They never realized how they drove him away. They wanted to reconnect eleven years after his death, but I told them, 'Too late. Twenty-six years too late.'"

  I nodded, feeling the weight of her words. "Yeah, I get that. Your dad cut them out of his life after they called you a 'thing.' That was the final straw. And then, twenty-three years later, they wanted to reconnect? It's just too much."

  Lusty sighed. "On Christmas Day of 1984, they called me a 'thing,' and my dad had a huge fight with his parents and siblings. They said I wasn't their granddaughter, but another child born months after me was their first grandchild. That was it for my mom too. She didn't try to placate them. She stood by my dad, especially after he came back from Vietnam. His own family turned their backs on him, but his girlfriend—my mom—was there for him. Her college friends told her to break up with him, but she never did. They got married in '75, and I was born in '79."

  I felt a lump in my throat. "That story gets harder to hear every time. Families who say 'family comes first' but only apply it to those who are troubled or manipulative... it's just wrong."

  Lusty nodded. "It's about who truly stands by you, not just when it's convenient for them. Your family, Macaroni, they stand by you. And that's what matters."

  I smiled, feeling a sense of solidarity. "Thanks, Lusty. It's good to know we're not alone in this."

  She raised her bottle once more. "To the real family—the ones who stand by us no matter what."

  I clinked my imaginary glass with hers. "To the real family."

  “Have your father’s side of the family tried to reconnect with you?” I asked.

  Lusty sighed. “Yup.”

  “And your response?” I pressed.

  “Either slamming the door in their face or just hanging up the phone,” Lusty replied. “It’s gotten to the point where I told the switchboard operators not to connect calls from certain people because it’s just a waste of time.”

  “Have they tried getting between you and your daughters?” I asked, concerned.

  “Damn straight. Twice,” Lusty said, her eyes narrowing. “And I did what any sane mother would do. They nearly got the same reaction a mama bear gives when someone gets too close to her cubs. I told them that if they ever got between me and my daughters again, what I’d do would be considered a felony, and they’d end up in a trauma center. I guess they finally learned I want nothing to do with them. I made my bed and chose to lay in it without regret. They even threatened to take one of my daughters, but I told them that’s a line they can’t uncross. When I’m at work, my old neighbors watch my kids. They’re like your granduncle Charlie who says, ‘I’m not willing to add to the kill count unless I have to.’ My neighbors were in combat roles in the military and have weapons loaded with match grade or subsonic ammo, or double-ought buckshot if they have shotguns.”

  “And don’t forget about Dave because he’s the father of your daughters,” I added.

  Lusty nodded. “I told them their father has connections. The kind of connection that if any of my daughters is missing a single hair, Dave can use his connections to have them placed in front of a firing squad.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What’s with this country’s obsession with firing squads?”

  Lusty shrugged. “It’s considered the only humane option. People on death row can choose execution by hanging, electric chair, or firing squad because here, lethal injection is considered too humane. People on death row aren’t seen as humane because many on death row aren’t humane.”

  Lusty took a sip of water, gathering her thoughts.

  “But I find it hypocritical of my dad’s family,” she began. “When my mother lost her therapy license due to a fake lawsuit, my dad, even though he was a grown adult, swallowed his pride and asked his parents for help with college tuition in 1980. They agreed, but only if he broke up with my mom, left us, and married a woman they approved of. My dad said he’d think about it, which meant he’d talk to my mom. You’d think she’d say, ‘Not a chance in hell,’ but instead, she told him to play along and go No Contact once he finished college. In the end, my dad just said, ‘Thanks but no thanks.’”

  “Didn’t your father get money from the Marines?” I asked.

  “He did, but his benefits, including money for school, expired on October 26th, 1979, and this was in 1980. Funny thing, his friends said he wasn’t really a man because my mom, who was a therapist, made more money. But my dad didn’t care about who made the most money. To him, money is replaceable, but a partner who loves you and sticks by you is irreplaceable. He didn’t use his military benefits for advanced education because he was fine with my mom paying for it. When she was sued for bogus reasons, they weren’t prepared for the downgrade from middle class to working class. But they were glad they raised me in a working poor class rather than an entitled middle class.”

  “When your parents died, did they leave you any money?” I asked.

  “They did,” Lusty said. “But I used that money, which they had planned for retirement, on baby care—diapers, clothing—and what I didn’t spend, I put into my savings account.”

  I nodded, absorbing her story. “It’s amazing how they managed to keep everything together despite all that.”

  Lusty smiled. “Yeah, they were tough. And they taught me to be tough too.”

  “Couldn’t your dad ask his in-laws to help him with his college funds?” I asked.

  Lusty shook her head. “Macaroni, my mom’s side of the family, doesn't believe in advanced education. They come from the Nightingale tribe, which has two kinds of people: People of War and People of Production. The warriors protect the tribe and engage in battles, while the producers make healing powders, farm, and create weapons. They have teachers, but advanced education isn’t in their vocabulary. Plus, they were saving for their own retirement. My dad had a job lined up that required a college education, but he decided to face the music, drop out, and take a low-paying janitorial job.”

  “Why do I have a feeling that your dad’s family tried different ways to get him to break up with your mom?” I asked.

  Lusty sighed. “They did. They called my mom a ‘golden wife’ he didn’t want to upset. My dad told them he favored her because she was there for him at his lowest. His family turned him away, but she let him in. They hadn’t seen each other since 1967, and this was in 1975. He knew the saying ‘A happy wife equals a happy life.’ She tried to make them like her, but they never accepted her. They always held money over his head, but he didn’t jump. He was going to marry the woman who stood by him, even after an eight-year gap. On Christmas Day of ’84, he announced he was going no contact with his family. They’ve been trying to find him for almost thirty years but refused to check Eastside, Westside, and Anderson because they view those districts as dangerous ghettos. They’re the type who’d never park their car there nor walk through them. Golden wife is a play on Golden child but instead of parents favoring one child it’s a person who favors their wife.”

  “Why don’t some people in your dad’s side of the family just divorce those who are in your dad’s side of the family by marriage?” I asked.

  “That depends on the state,” Lusty replied. “Some states like Cascade, Starfish, and Blueberry have strict divorce laws, while others like Mountain and Strawberry have more lenient ones. My dad’s family is very controlling, using manipulation, gaslighting, and tugging at heartstrings to get what they want. They tried to use their children’s puppy eyes on me, but I wasn’t moved. I told them I’m always there for my daughters and won’t force them to choose family over love.”

  “They should take a playbook out of my family,” I said. “We have our own version of the Commission. If we have disagreements, we get together and abide by some rules. We have extended family members act as third parties to make a peaceful solution. If someone wants a fight, we have a rule: the first one to cry or hit the ground loses.”

  Lusty chuckled. “That sounds like a solid plan. Maybe I should suggest that to my family.”

  I smiled. “It’s worth a shot. Sometimes, a little structure can make all the difference.”

  After Lusty and I shared the same bottle of water, I asked, “And your mother’s brothers couldn’t help your dad with financial means for college?”

  Lusty shook her head. “My mother’s brothers, or my uncles, are the type who bum rush a minefield, take out a machine gun nest, kill the enemy, knock out a few tanks and armored vehicles in forty-five minutes, personally carry injured allies to safety, and then say, ‘This is just another day for me.’ They won’t retire until they’re hurt enough that they can’t be soldiers anymore. And the type who when they get old enough and close enough to retirement age they will continue working even if it means training new recruits or working in an office and not retire even when they hit 65 they won’t retire until they die.”

  I chuckled. “I think my granduncles would like your uncles.”

  Lusty looked intrigued. “How’s that?”

  “If the Hungarians, Bulgarians, Romanians, Finnish, Croatians, Italians, Japanese, and Germans and other people who sided with the Axis Powers with machine guns couldn’t stop them from flying the American flag in the 1940s, what do you think anyone is going to do to stop them now? They’d gladly charge those machine gun nests if it meant planting Old Glory,” I said with a grin.

  Lusty laughed. “Sounds like they’d get along just fine. It’s that kind of determination and loyalty that makes all the difference.”

  I nodded. “It’s about standing up for what you believe in and protecting those you care about, no matter the cost.”

  Lusty raised her bottle in a toast. “To family and the ones who fight for us.”

  I clinked my imaginary glass with hers. “To family.”

  “No wait I take that back because I had two family members in the USN and another family member in the USAAF in World War 2 but the same but different problems but the same that they did what they thought they thought needed to be done. But well my granduncles they were the kind who were prone of fighting of course having rules though of when it comes to fighting well while they never fought a woman because how they fought women that if a woman bullied them then they would retaliate by going for that woman’s brother or boyfriend, fiance’ or husband. Talk about getting hurt by proxy.” I said

  Lusty chuckled. “That’s quite a strategy. It’s like they had their own code of honor, even in the chaos of war.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, they believed in standing up for themselves, but they had their limits. They wouldn’t hit a woman, but they’d make sure her brother or boyfriend got the message. It’s a different kind of justice, I guess.”

  Lusty took another sip of water. “It’s interesting how different families handle things. Your granduncles had their way, and my uncles had theirs. But in the end, it’s all about protecting the ones you love and doing what you think is right.”

  “Exactly,” I agreed. “It’s that sense of loyalty and duty that keeps us going, no matter what.”

  Lusty smiled. “And that’s something we can both be proud of. Our families might have their flaws, but they taught us to be strong and to stand up for what we believe in.”

  I raised my imaginary glass once more. “To our families and the lessons they’ve taught us.”

  Lusty sighed. “At least your family is brave. My dad’s family talks the talk but won’t put their money where their mouth is.”

  “Well, some of my granduncles who were both World War II and Korean War vets might have thought fourteen years in the military was enough and settled down. But others stayed until the late '60s or '70s, serving as advisors in Vietnam. Even though many of them thought the war in Vietnam was pointless, my Granduncle Charlie wrote in 1966 about how U.S. draftees were sent to fight a hopeless conflict. He said if Vietnam fell to the communists, no one would care, but the soldiers would return home to suffer from PTSD or see their lives change for the worse. They were fighting impoverished farmers, most of whom didn’t even have shoes.”

  Lusty nodded, listening intently.

  “Charlie came from a time when PTSD wasn’t fully understood,” I continued. “He fought two wars and didn’t fully support Vietnam, even though he and Mia’s sons went there. Most of them didn’t come back, and a couple came back severely traumatized. The harsh thing is, Charlie’s generation was welcomed as heroes, while his son’s generation was ostracized and scapegoated for an unwinnable war. Charlie and his generation got government support, education benefits, and a monthly living stipend under the GI Bill. But his sons had a hard time getting enough compensation to cover their living and education expenses. Bureaucracy, red tape, and cutbacks led them to avoid the VA. Charlie wrote in his journal about the difference between fighting a justified war and fighting a war because of politics—Democracy vs. Communism. He knew because he fought in Korea.”

  Lusty shook her head. “It’s heartbreaking. The sacrifices they made, only to be treated so differently.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s a stark reminder of how much we owe to those who serve, regardless of the politics behind the wars they fight.”

  “To those who serve,” Lusty said, raising her bottle.

  “To those who serve,” I echoed, clinking my imaginary glass with hers.

  “So he actually wrote that in a journal?” Lusty asked, intrigued.

  I nodded. “Yeah, the entry was dated March 1966, right when the escalation for more soldiers started. He talked about how his generation had to fight the enemy to push them back home. He fought the Germans in Italy, France, the Netherlands, and Belgium before getting into Germany. He pointed out the difference between being attacked, which unites a country, and sending soldiers to fight an enemy on their own turf. When you’re fighting on someone else’s homeland, you won’t push them back because they’re already home. Defenders will fight tooth and nail to protect their home, doing whatever it takes to drive out invaders.”

  Lusty nodded thoughtfully. “That makes a lot of sense.”

  “He wasn’t popular with those who thought the war was justified because of the Domino theory,” I continued. “Even though his wife, a religious woman, opposed the war too. She shared his mindset about fighting a justified war versus fighting as invaders. Another entry from September 1957 talked about how wars are shaped by public opinion. If people support a war, they’ll do whatever it takes to fight. If they oppose it, they’ll do whatever it takes to end it. This was written when people trusted the government without question, believing authority figures were always right.”

  “Wow, that’s deep,” Lusty said.

  “It stemmed from his and his twin brother Stanley’s experience in Operation Market Garden. They were told they’d be fighting third-rate outfits—old men and young boys—when in reality, they were up against the SS. Charlie was in Nijmegen, and Stanley landed near Best. That’s when they started distrusting the higher-ups, who knew the truth but didn’t tell the soldiers on the ground.”

  Lusty shook her head. “It’s amazing how much they went through and how it shaped their views.”

  Lusty and I then changed the subject but still talking about family.

  “How’s Midnight?” Lusty asked

  I replied, “She still loves being a ranger. After all the Army Rangers are given missions that are normal infantrymen. One story that Midnight told me how they were suppose to take an objective well the air force dropped a lot of bombs and it was so loud where they couldn’t hear themselves think and how one ranger yelled into her ear and shouted ‘I wonder if they know we’re coming.’ And well no shit when the air force multirole jets and dropping 1000 pound bombs and those laser-guided bombs I have a feeling the enemy will know that you’re coming unless they're deaf and deep underground and can’t feel the explosions.”

  I also told Lusty about Midnight's friend who worked in her family restaurant since she was fourteen. When her father retired, he named his novice son as the successor instead of her, despite her being fully trained and respected. Here’s what happened:

  1. He chose a complete novice to take over a legacy business instead of a fully-trained and respected staff member.

  2. Publicly declared his intent to support the novice in front of the staff and family.

  3. Publicly shamed and humiliated his daughter by declaring she would need to be her younger brother's minder instead of running the business herself.

  4. Threw his son under the bus when the kid screwed up and caused a legal backlash.

  5. Tried to gaslight his daughter into returning by "offering" her the position he had carelessly handed over to a complete idiot.

  He had the nerve to say she was asking for too much when she demanded an apology in front of the same people he had humiliated her in front of, as well as admitting his mistake in choosing his son over her.

  “Well, that’s her father’s mistake,” Lusty said.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Midnight said her friend’s father made a huge mistake.”

  Lusty shook her head. “It’s unbelievable how some people can’t see the value in their own family members. It’s his loss, really.”

  “Absolutely,” I agreed. “Midnight’s friend deserves better. It’s a tough situation, but she’s strong. She’ll find her way.”

  Lusty nodded thoughtfully. “Do you think Midnight enjoys being in the Rangers, taking on commando roles for special operations or acting as shock troops against specific targets? Elite commandos and infantry whose jobs are to clear out objectives and handle specialist operations before the main army arrives. They’re versatile and can be called upon reliably.”

  “It’s more of a challenge than the Marines,” I said. “So yeah, she enjoys it. The intensity and the variety of missions keep her engaged and motivated.”

  Lusty smiled. “That’s great to hear. It’s important to find a role that not only challenges you but also brings a sense of fulfillment.”

  “Absolutely,” I agreed. “Midnight thrives on the challenge and the sense of purpose it gives her. It’s inspiring to see her so dedicated and passionate about her work.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  After taking a sip, I continued, “Yeah, Midnight really enjoys being a Ranger. She told me about her first mission where they had to destroy enemy artillery. After completing the task, she radioed for reinforcements and more ammo but was told to ‘deal with it’ because Rangers have to make do with what they have. The enemy launched a probing attack to find the weakest point, and their only support was naval fire with guns so big that the Rangers had to keep their heads down to avoid being blown off the face of the earth.”

  Lusty’s eyes widened. “That sounds intense. It must have been a real test of their skills and resilience.”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “Midnight thrives in those high-pressure situations. It’s what makes her so good at what she does. She’s always ready to face whatever comes her way, no matter how tough it gets.”

  Lusty replied, “What tough battles did she partake in?”

  I smiled, knowing how proud Midnight would be if she heard this. “Lusty, Midnight is a Ranger. Every battle they get sent into is considered impossible for the average soldier. Imagine a town surrounded by machine gun nests, anti-armor emplacements, and anti-air fortifications. It’s a vital position, and sending in an infantry division would be a disaster. But send in a Ranger battalion, and they’ll take their objective. So every battle she partakes in is a tough one. Choosing just one is like looking for a needle in a haystack. Every mission she and the 1st Ranger Battalion get called into is a tough battle, so picking one is impossible.”

  Lusty nodded, clearly impressed. “That’s incredible. It takes a special kind of person to handle those kinds of missions.”

  “Of course, they’re put through hellish training,” I continued. “From wilderness to urban environments and everything in between, they’re tough. The military isn’t corporate and doesn’t do corporate-style headhunting or make corporate-style salary offers. While Army Rangers are paid slightly more for being elite commandos, Midnight says she was scouted by a Ranger officer. She was offered a spot in the Rangers while she was just an enlisted Marine. If she completed Ranger training, she’d become an NCO. She took the offer, and now she’s a high-ranking officer—a Lieutenant Colonel.”

  Lusty’s eyes widened. “That’s impressive. It’s not every day you hear about someone rising through the ranks like that.”

  “Yeah,” I said, pride evident in my voice. “She’s worked incredibly hard to get where she is. It’s due to her dedication and skill.”

  I even told Lusty how the First Ranger Battalion’s motto is “Swift, Silent, and Relentless.” They’re taught not to trust plans too much because of the old saying, “The best laid plans.” Even the most detailed plans can fall apart.

  Then I mentioned Midnight’s short-lived boyfriend. Us female Watersons don’t mind dating mama’s boys, but we draw the line at those who need their mother to dictate every aspect of their life. When her then-boyfriend called Midnight “cocky” and “unruly,” it was no surprise. She had a strict mother and a relaxed father, and in the Rangers, they’re deployed behind enemy lines with carte blanche to do what’s necessary. You can’t make an omelet without cracking a few eggs.

  Her boyfriend and his mother didn’t like it when Midnight gave her opinion. He didn’t want her to voice her thoughts, insisting that his mom’s word was final. When they moved in together, he expected her to get up early every morning to make breakfast for his mother, clean the house spotless, and buy whatever his mom wanted on the spot. Midnight, being a Waterson, just said no.

  The final straw was when he took her credit card to take his mother on a vacation. Midnight, using her brains and common sense, had her card frozen and reported the transactions as fraudulent. That’s several felonies right there—taking someone’s card and money without permission is treated the same as a bank robbery. Midnight had planned to use that money to take her adult daughters on a vacation and had enough points for a couple of free airfare tickets. The guy got mad, claiming he was the breadwinner, even though they weren’t sharing a roof, engaged, or married. Midnight, who saves what she doesn’t spend, wasn’t having it.

  He wanted to fight her—not a verbal fight, but a fistfight. He backed out at the last minute because he was nervous. Midnight’s look said, “Another fight? Bring it on. Fighting is my life. You’re just somebody who’s going to end up on the ground within five seconds.”

  The guy didn’t like Midnight because she uses a fork to cut food instead of a knife. In the field, rations only come with a fork, and if something needs cutting, they’d use a fighting knife or bayonet, but they don’t due to sanitary reasons.

  Lusty shook her head, clearly impressed. “Midnight’s got some serious backbone. It’s no wonder she’s such a great Ranger.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “She’s tough, smart, and doesn’t take any nonsense. It’s what makes her so good at what she does.”

  After taking another sip.

  “Not to mention,” I continued, “her eldest daughter visited that guy and basically told him that if a tank doesn’t scare her mother, he doesn’t pose a threat. She explained that what her mother did was the right thing to do—she wasn’t going to approve any transaction from a stolen card. Only the cardholder is allowed to use it.”

  Lusty nodded. “Some married couples do share their cards, but that’s different. It’s usually done with permission. Even if he tried to fight her mother, he’d lose. Bringing friends as backup would only make things worse. Even if they got her arrested for assault and battery, the charges wouldn’t stick. The military and government have her back. Midnight is not just a female officer but an influential one. She inspires other women to think, ‘If she’s a high-ranking officer, maybe I can be one too.’ If she goes, a majority of the women might follow. The Little Bird Military has had women since 1910 in clerical roles, and in 1937, they allowed women in combat roles to fill vacancies from the First World War. The Rangers were the last to allow women in the 1990s because they want soldiers who can fight for a minimum of three days with very little ammo, no food, no water, and no sleep, and still give 110%.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “Midnight is the type of leader who gives 100% if you give her 100%. When her Rangers complained about the terrible food, she sent the cooks back to culinary school. When the food still wasn’t good, she sent them back again. One Ranger mentioned he didn’t have a watch, so Midnight gave him hers from the Marines. She’s a visionary. She knows there will be battles where they’ll have to use enemy weapons. The military denied her request to train with foreign weapons, so she used the black market to get them and trained her Rangers on how to use them. She knows they might run out of ammo and need to use enemy weapons.”

  I paused, letting it all sink in. “Midnight has several medals—the Little Bird equivalent of the Medal of Honor, Distinguished Service Cross, two Bronze Stars, and three Silver Stars. Her ex-boyfriend wanting to fight her wouldn’t have ended well. According to Midnight, she wasn’t even trying to earn those medals. She was just doing her duty.”

  After I thought about it for a bit, I said, “I think the toughest battle she partook in was the Battle of Shadowfen Forest.”

  Lusty looked intrigued. “How’s that?”

  “Because the Shadowfen Forest in Northern Little Bird is a dark and impenetrable place. Even off-road vehicles get stuck there. The terrain is characterized by plunging valleys and broad plateaus, thickly forested with trees that can trap even tanks with bulldozers to knock over trees. Fighting in it means you can forget about air and artillery support due to the high canopy. Defenders inside the forest can turn it into a meat grinder, slowing down an attacking army’s advance. Artillery shells have a 98/2 chance of hitting the treetops instead of the ground, and air support is almost useless because JDAM missiles and laser-guided bombs mostly hit trees. The only way to give attackers a fighting chance is to firebomb the forest, but that destroys its defensive advantage. The forest is a double-edged sword. Attackers have to fight without support, not knowing where the enemy is, while defenders can wait until the attackers are right in front of them before opening fire. And if it rains, the mud gets so thick it can literally pull your boots off.”

  Lusty’s eyes widened. “That sounds like an absolute nightmare to fight in.”

  I said. “Midnight and her battalion had to navigate all of that. It was one of the toughest battles because of the terrain and the lack of support. But they managed to push through and complete their mission.”

  Lusty replied, “What unit did Midnight and her battalion face?”

  “The Soviet 1382nd Rifle Regiment,” I said. “They also had a hill under their command with some artillery guns on it. The 1st Ranger Battalion went in directly, while the rest of the 1st Ranger Regiment—2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 7th Ranger Battalions—encircled the hill. The 1st Battalion went in at 10:01 AM, the 2nd at 10:02, and so on. The 2nd Ranger Regiment, consisting of the 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th, and 14th Ranger Battalions, were held in reserve. If one battalion got battered, they could retreat and be replaced by a battalion from the 2nd Regiment. The 8th Battalion backed the 1st, and so on.”

  “This was when the Rangers were first deployed to fight the Soviets in Little Bird. They wore dark olive green armor with built-in gas masks and red lenses. The battle took three days to drive the Soviets up the hill. All seven battalions took the hill, but then the 2nd Ranger Regiment was ordered to pull out and go elsewhere for whatever Godforsaken reason. The 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 7th Battalions moved out, and the 2nd Battalion formed a perimeter. Another Soviet regiment came and fought the 1st Ranger Battalion for an entire week. On days 5, 6, and 7, only Midnight and 17 other Rangers remained because the rest were injured and had to be MEDEVACed out. They had almost no ammo but held off an entire regiment until relieved by friendly artillery and air support.”

  Lusty replied, “Well, Macaroni, this country is a mix of the United States and Axis powers of World War II—making a ton of armor but also relying on accuracy by volume.”

  “At least you had a family member who made a mistake,” I said.

  Lusty nodded. “I had a granduncle from my dad’s side who was in the Little Bird Navy in World War II. In early 1942, the 2nd Fleet had the President of Little Bird and other high-ranking officials onboard CV-03. During a torpedo drill, a torpedo that didn’t have its primer removed was accidentally fired. They used a signal lamp to warn the carrier and BB-03 Constellation, but the message was confusing. The ship’s captain broke radio silence to warn them, causing other destroyers to think there was a submarine in the area. After the torpedo passed, the Constellation and Flurry turned their guns on the destroyer in which for the Constellation is’s 12x 20in/50 cal guns and ten dual 5in/55 cal guns while the Flurry it’s dual purpose 5in/55 cal guns. They were ordered back to port for an investigation into an attempted assassination of the President and other officials. The crew was pardoned by the high-ranking officials onboard, who said, ‘We shouldn’t punish people because we couldn’t properly train them.’ The destroyer was reassigned to ASW for the rest of the war. Of course at the time the war was still going in the Axis favor.”

  “Sometimes you’ve gotta fight fuck ups with fuck ups,” I said, “But now I’m wondering why this country, when numbering down for both military and civilian stuff, goes from 12 to 14 and skips from 665 to 667, 667.5, and so on.”

  Lusty shot back instantly, “Because of people’s superstitions about thirteen being an unlucky number. And I thought you were a religious woman?”

  “I am, but I’m a non-practicing one,” I said.

  Lusty nodded. “Why they skip 666 is because many people see that number as a sign of the Devil. In the military, they don’t want to be in a vehicle or use a weapon with the serial number 666, fearing it’ll bring bad luck.”

  I chuckled. “Makes sense. Superstitions can be pretty powerful, even in modern times.”

  Lusty smiled. “Yeah, it’s funny how some things never change. People will go to great lengths to avoid what they believe brings bad luck. After all Dave, Linda and their kids live on the thirteenth floor of an apartment building but it’s actually marked as fourteen with the actual fourteenth floor marked as 14A.”

  I replied, “Well, I do appreciate how this country has a system in place to prevent non-compatible people from being in positions they’re not qualified for. It’s like having a third grader on a factory floor telling guys who’ve been doing it for ten years what to do. By having people who know what they’re doing, they can lead more effectively than bringing in somebody who doesn’t know their ass from their elbow.”

  Lusty nodded. “Back in the 1930s, many blue-collar laborers hired managers on the factory floor to help and micromanage the workers. But the problem was, these managers didn’t have the experience they needed. Many of them were college or high school students with no experience, making a lot of avoidable mistakes. Companies preferred hiring inexperienced people at minimum wage over promoting experienced workers because promotions came with a slight pay increase. Why pay a guy or gal who’s been working there for ten years more when you can hire someone fresh out of school for the same pay as a floor worker, even if they don’t have the experience?”

  I shook my head. “It’s frustrating how short-sighted that approach is. Experience and knowledge are invaluable, especially in roles that require leadership and decision-making. It’s good to see that there are systems in place now to ensure the right people are in the right positions.”

  Lusty smiled. “Absolutely. It’s all about recognizing and valuing the skills and experience that people bring to the table. It makes a huge difference in the efficiency and morale of any team.”

  Lusty and I took a sip together.

  “Actually, once a steel factory here got a contract because of the war,” Lusty started.

  I cut her off, “Let me guess, something bad happened and I want to say a lot of labor law violations.”

  “You know it,” Lusty said. “The factory’s owners and stockholders broke nearly every labor law in the books. They made workers go from eight-hour to fourteen-hour days but only paid them for eight. They cut benefits—no more PTO, dental and healthcare plans, maternity leave, disability income protection, retirement benefits, sick leave, vacation. They even removed breaks—no lunch, coffee, smoke, or bathroom breaks. Just fourteen hours of work. Predictably, people got hurt, and some even got killed. The company blamed the workers, saying ‘It was his mistake,’ or ‘her mistake’ if the worker was female. Eventually, the workers had enough and launched a boycott and strike against the company. They said, ‘If we’re not working, the government will pull their contract, and the stockholders won’t like that because they’re not getting money.’”

  Lusty continued, “Some stockholders and higher-ups knew people in the government and pressured the police to fight the strikers. They even had the militia come in on the side of the steel company. When the President of Little Bird and the Military Council ordered the City of Empire Militia to be federalized, the Militia commander refused. The militia can’t say no to the President and the Military Council without expecting consequences. Refusing meant they were rebelling, and Little Bird had strict orders to quell mutineers.”

  I shook my head. “That’s intense. It’s amazing how far people will go to protect their interests, even at the expense of others.”

  Lusty nodded. “Yeah, it’s a harsh reminder of the lengths people will go to for power and money. But it also shows the strength of those who stand up against injustice.”

  After a moment, I said, “Kinda reminds me of the 1995 miner strike when a few mining companies started replacing human labor with automation. They were like, ‘We need to make money faster,’ and fired many workers faster than automation could replace them. The striking miners got the last laugh because the machines overheated quickly and had long cooldown periods, so the companies weren’t making as much money. They used threats to get the miners back to work, but the miners held out until they were promised job security. The companies refused to make those promises and wouldn’t come to the negotiating table, preferring to keep their pride and act like everything was fine.”

  Lusty nodded. “Some of them used their influence to have the police crack down hard on the striking miners, like the police and anti-war protesters in the late ’60s during the Vietnam War. They tried to get the military involved but were denied because the military answers to the country, not corporations. The President and the War Department refused to mobilize federal troops to attack peaceful protesters. The military is used when the police can’t maintain law and order, and when they’re called out for riot control, they’re given live ammo to fire a short volley over the protesters’ heads to scare them into going home. The government preferred to sit on the sidelines rather than intervene and make things worse. The companies lobbied the government to send in active military troops, but those who could authorize it shut it down because they didn’t have command over troop movements.”

  Lusty continued, “The companies didn’t realize the striking miners were willing to fight back. When it was broadcast live nationwide, showing the militias and police as the provocateurs, people saw the miners fighting back in self-defense. The government eventually deployed federal troops domestically to keep the peace and acted as a barrier, protecting the miners. Some miners who caused trouble and riots were fair game for the police, militia, and military. Those in riots who threw stuff at the fire department learned the hard way how painful 290 PSI of water from a firehose can be. But peaceful protesters were protected by the government, and any harm to them would result in treason charges.”

  Lusty sighed. “I was a high school senior when it was happening. It was an everyday battle. On my way to and from school, I’d pass a store with TVs in the front window, so people could watch the news. I didn’t partake in the protests because my parents, being impoverished, said if I got arrested, they wouldn’t bail me out. They’d say, ‘It’s easy to get in there; it’s hard to get out,’ and ‘You got yourself in there, you get yourself out.’ By November 1995, over 485,000 battle-hardened soldiers and marines were protecting peaceful protesters.”

  I chimed in, “At least my cousin once removed, Christopher, and his wife, Vivian, a fifth-generation Austrian-Little Birden, did something positive. Vivian owns her own mining company, passed down to those most eligible for running it. She offered many of those striking miners jobs at her company with better benefits than their former employers. She provided employer-furnished housing with free utilities, group insurance (health, dental, life, etc.), disability income protection, retirement benefits, daycare, Social Security, and a pension. Retirees get a monthly stipend, and those injured on the job who can’t work again still receive a monthly stipend. They live in a company town but don’t have to pay for rent or utilities because a portion of their earnings covers those costs. Vivian’s company branches out into new markets and makes enough money to cover all of that and still have some cash left over.”

  Lusty smiled. “That’s incredible. It’s great to hear about companies that actually care about their workers and provide for them. It’s a stark contrast to those other companies that only care about profits.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Vivian’s approach shows that it’s possible to run a successful business while taking care of your employees. It’s all about finding the right balance and valuing the people who make the company thrive.”

  “To companies that value their workers and do the right thing,” Lusty said, raising her bottle.

  I replied, “Yeah, and what I know from the business world is that many businesses will do whatever it takes to keep employees, especially those with experience and knowledge. Once they’re gone, it’s hard to replace them. Some of those mining companies rehired their striking miners but made their lives a living hell. According to Vivian, she either got calls in the middle of the night asking if her offer was still on the table, or people called her up asking for job interviews because they needed the money to provide for their families. They were getting paid next to nothing and couldn’t make ends meet. The other three companies were doing things that were technically illegal. They charged for rent and utilities, forced workers to pay for heating and AC based on usage, and made them pay rent daily instead of monthly. If they missed a day, they had to pay double the next day plus a late fee.”

  “That is illegal,” Lusty said. “Heating and AC fall under the electric bill. Forcing someone to pay for both and threatening to cut it off if they don’t pay is illegal.”

  “At least they found someone willing to take them in and work for a boss who values their worth,” I said. “Vivian’s company takes some money out of their checks to pay for rent and utilities, so they can have a work-life balance and not worry about paying bills. Her company has a lot of miners, so they don’t have to work long hours and can spend time with their families.”

  Lusty and I spent hours talking, and before I left, we shared a kiss. As I walked out, my mind wandered to the era we're in, post-Cold War. Despite the peace, we still conduct joint drills with the Police, Medical, Technical, Homeland Defense, Civil Defense, and Military teams. These drills cover scenarios like Nuclear Detonation, Biological Disease, Biological Attack, Chemical Attack, Radiological Attack, and Nerve Agent Attack.

  The most unsettling part is when some units are "taken out" during drills to simulate casualties within the affected area. It drives home the reality that in a real attack, those in the immediate zone would be unrecognizable.

  Everyone has a role: Firefighters battle blazes and rescue people, Police and Military maintain order, Medics provide care, and technical services handle the tech side of things. Only specialized units like Squad Companies, Rescue Companies, and HAZMAT teams can enter the "Hot Zone" where the strike occurred. The realism of these drills is intense, especially with the Air Force's specialized aircraft supporting military units to prevent follow-up attacks. It’s a stark reminder of the importance of being prepared for anything.

  The government documents detailing these scenarios are chillingly precise. They outline every possible detail, ensuring we're prepared for anything. When a Level 4 mobilization is issued, it's all hands on deck. It doesn't matter if you're in the middle of getting married; everyone from the fire department, police, medical, technical, and military must report back immediately. It's a serious event, and everything else gets put on hold.

  Civil servants have specific roles, but the Fire Department's task is not just to help people but also to locate and rescue government personnel until the military arrives with specialized units. These units assist the police in maintaining law and order, help medics provide aid, and support the fire department in search and rescue operations.

  The drills are incredibly realistic, using mannequins to simulate victims with fourth-degree burns from a nuclear blast or blisters from chemical or biological emergencies. You name it, they have it for the drills.

  Plans vary from city to city and town to town, but they generally follow the same framework. However, in the capital, the plans are more detailed, considering the presence of the President, Civilian Congress, Military Congress, and other branches of government. There's always an element of the unknown, especially since the Cold War, with threats from those who might go to great lengths to harm a country they dislike. Humans are adept at securing what they don't want others to take.

  Protocols are in place to get outside resources for help, but the unknowns can complicate things. If outside resources are far away, they need to be flown in, but weather conditions can ground planes. Other factors, like blocked roads or the local airport being in the path of the wind, also come into play. Designated points are set for outside resources to distribute additional manpower and equipment if needed. AEMR forces, for instance, are directed to medical facilities like hospitals and clinics, and police stations, which are considered hotspots. Firehouses aren't on the list because they'll be empty and lack the necessary space.

  The Agency of Emergency Management Response (AEMR) is another Civil Defense agency. Unlike Civil Defense volunteers, who are everyday people not getting paid, AEMR workers are paid professionals, similar to a FEMA. Each city and town has an AEMR responsible for creating the detailed documents and instruction booklets we review. These plans ensure everyone knows their role and is prepared for any situation.

  Of course each AEMR unit is organized like a Little Bird Military Infantry Squad of ten soldiers with members, one with a rifle with grenade launcher, one anti-tank soldier who’s armed with both an semiautomatic rifle and an light anti-armor weapon, another one armed with a submachine gun also a automatic rifle, a machine gunner who lays down suppressive fire on enemies, and a medic, and another five with automatic rifles. Of course that’s because if they have to go into dangerous areas with unruly people who would attack or shoot at them either out of fear or thriving in chaos. Why they are armed with automatic weapons is just because sometimes they would have to go into areas without police or military support. Of course they are also trained not to go into areas without support though because of how people can quickly form raider gangs and take advantage of the chaos while the police, military and government having bigger fish to fry and how their firearms training is primarily defense only of self defense and to protect those who cannot defend themselves not offensive.

  _______________

  Clearlake, Little Bird

  I decided to visit Cadence today, though I’m not entirely sure why.

  As I drove, my thoughts drifted to my mother. She was the kind of person who should never have been a parent. To me, she’s as good as dead. She never supported me, always tearing me down. When I came out as bi, she dismissed it as a phase and still does. I’ve cut off most of my mom’s side of the family without a second thought. Some of them even thought I was possessed by demons. Thankfully, my dad stood up for me. He told them to fuck off and, “If you don’t like her for who she is, don’t expect her to help you when you need it.”

  Honestly, that’s true. You can’t change how people see you, and those who try to change you are just trying to mold you into someone you’re not. Women like my mom, who exploit their husbands and take them for granted, deserve to be miserable. People who cheat on those who truly love them often end up surrounded by fake friends who only pretend to care. They push you to do things you’d never normally do, and eventually, you realize how good you had it before you messed up. Some people crave loving relationships, while others just want to drain their partners dry and then leave them.

  But Cadence and Mitchell are different. They’ve found a way to make their relationship work despite their differences. Cadence hates guns, but Mitchell loves them. Cadence wants a big family, while Mitchell doesn’t want kids. They’ve made compromises: Cadence allows Mitchell to keep guns in the house as long as they’re out of sight, and Mitchell has agreed to have kids with Cadence. They’ve managed to balance their dislikes and find a way to make it work.

  When I got to their house, Cadence let me in.

  “Hey, Cadence,” I said. “Where’s Mitchell?”

  “At work,” she replied. “Since the '90s, the country of Little Bird has required all government workers to be audited, no matter who they are. An independent third party comes in and reviews their finances. There’s no way out of it. If you skip it, you lose pay and other benefits because you need to explain any anomalies in your finances. It’s a way to see who’s making more money than they should. Some people have two jobs, which is fine, but others, like some of Mitchell and Starlight’s coworkers, are making two or three times what a cop should make. Of course, many corrupt people come up with believable excuses to keep their jobs. But I know Mitchell will get through it because he only has two jobs and he’s honest about his money. It’s not that hard to explain your finances if you’re not corrupt.”

  Cadence also mentioned that Mitchell doesn’t mind the audits. “After all,” she said, “if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to worry about. And Mitchell has nothing to worry about.”

  Cadence also shared a story about Mitchell’s visit to a school for Public Safety Day. Being Mitchell, he ended up telling the elementary school kids that confronting strangers isn’t always the best idea. He explained that people can be aggressive or on narcotics and behave unpredictably. He even mentioned that the police might not always be helpful and could turn on you for reporting altercations, possibly arresting you for self-defense.

  Mitchell isn’t exactly the best person for PR. Someone else should have been sent to talk to the first through fifth graders. Even Francis' adoptive father told Mitchell’s boss that sending him was a bad idea. Sure, Mitchell and Cadence’s eldest three kids, who are triplets, are in First Grade, but Mitchell lets Cadence handle the kids because she’s better at it. Cadence took home economics throughout high school and middle school, only taking shop class once in sixth grade to get it out of the way. Mitchell, on the other hand, took home economics in sixth grade but spent the rest of middle school and high school in shop class.

  Cadence also mentioned how Mitchell’s boss’s daughter couldn’t keep her mouth shut and ended up talking herself into getting a ticket. She went on to describe Captain Jack Sheridan’s daughter as naive, more concerned with superficial things like personal appearance and materialism than with intellectual or personal accomplishments. If she worked for a company that provided corporate cards, she’d likely use them for personal expenses. Mitchell considers that fraud—using someone else’s money for personal gain without intending to pay it back.

  Cadence also shared how Mitchell told her that many people in corporate jobs have corporate credit cards and use them for personal gain. Some pay it back before the company finds out, while others don’t. When companies discover this, they might scold the employee if they repay the money, but those who don’t often lose their card privileges and see their paychecks docked to cover the expenses.

  “Do you think Mitchell will become a detective?” I asked.

  “Nope, he likes it here,” Cadence replied. “If he were to become a detective, he’d be transferred to either Las Adventure or Empire. But Mitchell likes it here in Clearlake. It’s a peaceful town, and the only detectives here are Traffic and Bunco detectives.”

  “Do you even know what kind of detectives those are?” I asked.

  “Nope,” she admitted.

  “Traffic detectives handle hit-and-runs, felony driving, and car burglaries. They also investigate vehicular manslaughter and murder cases, and serious injury or fatality collisions involving cars,” I explained. “Bunco, also known as the Fraud Division, investigates fraud and other white-collar crimes.”

  I glanced at some of the photos on the living room wall.

  “And judging by the look on Mitchell’s face on your wedding day, he doesn’t seem entirely happy wearing a suit while his face is saying how he’s happy to be with the woman he loves,” I said with a smile.

  “He’s not a suit person,” Cadence admitted. “If you see him on his days off, he’s usually in a short-sleeve button-up shirt with a white T-shirt underneath, blue jeans, and black dress shoes, with the shirt tucked in.”

  “Yeah, just fitting into what he finds comfortable,” I replied, “wearing socially acceptable clothes that aren’t a suit or combat fatigues.”

  “And you’re never going to see Mitchell wear shorts,” Cadence added. “Not even in gym class did he wear gym shorts, and I highly doubt he wears shorts in the military for PT.”

  I shot back, “And you’re never going to see me in a dress unless it’s for something formal. I’m more inclined to wear a casual suit over a dress. The only time I wore a dress was for picture days at school, and that was only because my dad asked me nicely, unlike my mother who demanded it. But you, you love wearing dresses, and that’s fine. We all have our favorite outfits. I know some people who wear baggy clothing even though it doesn’t look good on them.”

  “Yeah, well, everyone is different in how they want to dress,” Cadence said. “Some people wear casual suits on their days off instead of casual clothes meant for around the house or running errands, not the office. My mom never wore a dress either. She always wears a short-sleeved button-up shirt, slacks, and penny loafers. Or wears anything to make herself blend in with the crowd.”

  “So, what do you think about Mitchell?” I asked.

  Cadence replied, “Besides being my husband and us being friends since Kindergarten, I love how he values loyalty and the past. I think it’s because of his military background. He values the men and women he served with and the bonds they formed. They faced dangerous, often combat-related circumstances together, which created a deep loyalty and bond. Mitchell always says you have to rely on the guy on your right and the guy on your left. All that stuff about pie and home is nonsense; you go because you want to be with your buddies. That’s according to Mitchell. And if my aunt ever gets promoted, she’d probably make Mitchell her platoon’s new leader or keep him as her XO, whatever that means.”

  “Executive Officer,” I explained. “An XO is the second-in-command, reporting to the commanding officer. The XO manages day-to-day activities, freeing the commander to focus on strategy and planning the unit’s next move.”

  I then asked about her mother. Cadence explained that Star and Luna’s mother favored Star because she was the eldest, which led to a rocky relationship between the sisters. If Star accused Luna of something, their mother believed it without question and punished Luna. But if Luna accused Star of something, even with undeniable evidence, their mother wouldn’t believe it. The worst punishment Star ever got was a slap on the wrist, followed by their mother scolding Luna.

  Their mother loved to boast about Star’s achievements while pointing out Luna’s flaws. Star didn’t have any friends because she was socially awkward and didn’t really want any. Luna, on the other hand, had several friends, but their mother forced Luna to have her friends hang out with Star. When her friends refused, their mother said Luna couldn’t hang out with them anymore.

  Cadence also mentioned that her aunt Luna has third-degree burns on her back. Back in 1989, after Star graduated high school and got pregnant—hence Cadence is here—Luna wanted to drop out of school and avoid a few more years of education. During an argument in the kitchen, their mother grabbed Luna, lifted the back of her shirt and poured hot cooking grease down her back in retaliation for her talking back and Cadence said how even her mother says that was extreme and was a disproportionate retribution.

  I told Cadence how I admired the infrastructure here in Little Bird, which is in much better shape than what we have back in the United States. Infrastructure is so intrinsic to society. Cadence hand waved it, saying it’s because they need the roads for mass military mobilization. If the roads aren’t good, it slows down the military response.

  That didn’t really answer my question since she only talked about roads. But she added that, according to Mitchell and her friends, most of the work is done at night. My girlfriend also mentioned that infrastructure maintenance—roads, electrical grids, water pipelines, and more—is done at night to avoid disrupting people. Roadwork is done at night because there are fewer drivers, and the same goes for railroads since trains don’t run at night. It’s all about minimizing inconvenience since most people are asleep and not using the infrastructure.

  I then asked Cadence if she likes it here. She said she does but recalled how, when she and Mitchell got married and moved into this house, her fake friends were quick to comment on how she wasn’t living in a big, fancy house but a farmhouse. When she told Mitchell about their comments, his response was to grab a baseball bat. He also told Cadence not to let them get to her because not everyone can live in a mansion. That made Cadence feel a lot better.

  Mitchell basically told her to ignore what they said because not everyone can afford luxury. Cadence said she’d rather live in a farmhouse built in the early years of the Cold War than in a mansion with unused space. Their farmhouse has four bedrooms, three of which are used by their kids, making them appreciate the space they have without cluttering it with luxury items. Cadence isn’t a gold digger—she’s happy with a middle-class life and a family who loves her for who she is, not what she is.

  Cadence even laughed at her fake friends' struggles. They found people they thought could support them forever, but either couldn’t or broke up with them because they spent more money than they had. Her fake friends are entitled, taking everything for granted. Their breakups often stem from living unsustainable lifestyles. Some of Cadence’s fake friends are the type who, despite the average income in Little Bird being $5,500 a year, can blow through that money in half an hour and then complain about being broke.

  I told Cadence that $5,500 is equivalent to forty thousand US dollars, which is a lot of cash. Blowing through it recklessly is their fault. Cadence said she’s careful with the money Mitchell gives her to provide for the family.

  Cadence also mentioned that some of her fake friends, regardless of gender, buy lottery tickets out of desperation after becoming broke. Sometimes, they win, whether through divine intervention or sheer luck. When they win, even if it’s just a few hundred bucks, their exes want to come back because they have money again. When they refuse, the exes file motions with the courts, claiming they have a right to half of the lottery winnings. Cadence’s ex-friends are also petty; when they break up over money issues, they go the extra mile to cancel credit cards and close joint accounts out of spite. They claim that if they were married, they wouldn’t be entitled to any assets. This shows where Cadence’s fake friends' true intentions lie—prioritizing money over love.

  Cadence said she’d rather marry into a strict religious family than be with someone who values money over love. With Mitchell, they prioritize love over money. If they lose something, they don’t snap at each other because they know they can just buy it again. Mitchell might sigh, but it’s more of a “Those were my things too. Why do you think I work? So we can buy things” kind of sigh. He’s a DIY guy, always trying to fix things before throwing them away. If he can’t fix it, then they’ll buy something new.

  I can see Mitchell not wanting to waste money on something that can be fixed, while Cadence would rather just throw it away and buy something new. She usually sets it aside for Mitchell to look at first. If he can fix it, they save money, which they can use for groceries or buy a coloring book or crayons for the kids. Rose loves to draw, and the fridge is cluttered with drawings from Platinum, Rose, and McKinney from their kindergarten days.

  I wasn’t going to ask Cadence why she named their eldest triplet after a precious metal. It’s not my place to question what people name their kids. Names often come from spur-of-the-moment decisions, and maybe Cadence and Mitchell were expecting one child or twins, not triplets. So, I kept my thoughts to myself.

  “So how are they doing in first grade?” I asked.

  “It’s an adjustment for them,” Cadence replied. “They have to read and write more, but they still have nap time. It’s more about reading and doing actual schoolwork now, rather than just sleeping, drawing, and learning the basics.”

  “How’s Mitchell and his boss?” I asked.

  Cadence sighed. “Captain Jack Sheridan calls Mitchell and Starlight incompetent because they don’t listen to him. Well, no duh, when you tell cops not to give people tickets, ignore calls, and not to give the Captain’s daughter a traffic citation. Mitchell and Starlight see traffic tickets as scams to get more money for the government. When they pulled over their boss’s daughter for almost running someone over by running a red light, they were going to give her another verbal warning. But she ran her mouth and talked herself into getting a ticket by offering to sleep with Mitchell or by giving him a blowjob on the spot. It’s partly Mitchell’s fault because he doesn’t wear his wedding ring on his left finger; he keeps it on his dog tags under his shirt.

  "When they got back to the precinct, their boss chewed them out and said he was going to void the ticket. Mitchell told him, ‘If you do that, the Bureau of Law will find it interesting that your daughter gets a ticket and her dad, a police captain, voids it. They’ll have questions for you.’ And that’s true because the ACT (Anti-Corruption Team), IAC (Integrity and Accountability Commission), and Bureau of Law (Little Bird’s version of the Department of Justice) will have questions that you can’t dodge. Captain Sheridan asked if they do ticket fixing for friends and family, but they bluntly told him no. They give verbal warnings to friends and family, and if necessary, they issue citations.”

  I told Cadence that the reason Mitchell doesn’t wear his wedding ring is because it’s a golden ring passed down through generations. He keeps it on his dog tags to avoid getting it dirty or misplacing it. Plus, being in the military, he worries about the sunlight reflecting off it since gold is highly reflective.

  I then asked about their cars. Mitchell drives a 2-door convertible ‘57 Azure blue T-Bird with a 312 cu in (5.1 L) engine and a three-speed manual transmission. I’ve seen it, and it’s nice. Cadence showed me her car, a four-door sedan with a 430 cu in (7.0 L) engine and a three-speed automatic transmission.

  I can see why Cadence has a four-door sedan. As a mother, she needs the flexibility for grocery shopping, paying bills, getting the kids to school, making meals, and more. She’s a housewife by choice and helps around the orchard. Her mother always said it’s her choice to do what she wants, and Cadence has a mother and husband who support her 100%. Cadence chose to be a stay-at-home mom because her own mother, who worked for the Little Bird Office of Intelligence and Strategic Actions, missed many of Cadence’s milestones. Cadence wants to be there for every milestone, raising four kids—well, technically three, since the fourth is still an infant. Mitchell’s car is for his independence and for him and Cadence, while Cadence’s car has room for all the kids.

  Cadence is happy where she’s at, unlike some of her fake friends who have important careers but try to control everything about their companies. They fire employees for not using pre-approved words when talking to the press, bug the entire building, and blame everyone else for their problems. Cadence admits she makes mistakes, but Mitchell doesn’t care because he knows mistakes happen.

  Like the time Cadence burnt one of Mitchell’s ties while ironing his police uniform. She thought he’d be upset, but he just said, “Accidents happen.” In contrast, Cadence’s fake friends would sue a dry cleaner for an honest mistake, even though the court would dismiss the case without evidence of intentional wrongdoing. Because you can’t just sue somebody without evidence because stuff like that the courts would see it as a mistake that happened and the plaintiff is being a baby over a mistake.

  In a town like Clearlake, the court system is quite different from a city’s. There’s only one court handling both civil and criminal cases, with just two judges—one for civil cases and one for criminal cases. This means any case has to be worth the court’s time since they don’t have the luxury of multiple courts and judges.

  I mentioned that if Mitchell’s boss’s daughter wants to get her ticket voided, she’d have to go to a traffic court, which is only in cities. She’d need to find the nearest one and put in a request. If the ticket was issued for running a red light and almost running someone over, there would likely be photographic or video evidence. No judge would void the ticket just because her father is a boy in blue.

  I had to explain to Cadence that “boy in blue” is a term for the police.

  Cadence told me her fake friends are toxic people who change their behavior when a breakup or divorce is on the table. They love bomb their partner to stop the breakup, then revert to their old ways. Her fake friends want good people to stay with them despite treating them badly for so long. Cadence and Mitchell, on the other hand, are big on family values. Mitchell helps around the house and doesn’t take Cadence for granted. Her fake friends claim to value family but don’t show it.

  When Cadence was pregnant with Flurry, Mitchell picked up many of her chores to avoid stressing her and their unborn baby. Her fake friends called him controlling, but Cadence knew he was just looking out for their well-being. Cadence’s mother, Star, worked and did chores while pregnant with Cadence because she wanted to stay active. Cadence did some things but not a lot during her pregnancies. It’s funny because her fake friends accused Mitchell of trying to isolate her from her family, but Star was sitting in the living room. Mitchell even suggested Cadence live with Star during her second pregnancy so her mother could help her.

  Cadence said she was happy that Mitchell let her stay with her mother and take the kids to see her. He trusts Cadence completely and believes their kids should have a healthy relationship with their grandmother. From my perspective, Mitchell and Cadence’s relationship is built on trust, understanding, and being there for each other. Even though it’s a traditional monogamous marriage, they love each other and make decisions together. They’re like yin and yang—Cadence is a pacifist, while Mitchell is a fighter. Mitchell is the type who brings an automatic shotgun or a flamethrower to a knife fight while Cadence is the type who runs away to call the cops.

  Cadence also mentioned that they agreed their kids will get part-time jobs as teenagers to understand the value of hard work. They don’t want to spoil their kids and make them entitled. Earning their own money will teach them the importance of hard work and make them better, more empathetic people. Cadence’s fake friends and Mitchell’s bully had everything handed to them on a golden platter. Their parents gave them designer clothes, luxury cars at fifteen, and credit cards at sixteen. No wonder they turned out the way they did.

  Mitchell and Cadence value hard-earned money. Mitchell had a part-time job that paid him $529 every three months. He used that money to take Cadence out on dates and saved most of it in a bank account his Uncle Orange co-signed for him. His aunt and uncle helped him open the account because they knew he trusted Cadence and her mother more. Aunt Orange gave him his car as an apology, and Mitchell spent sixteen hours getting it into working order.

  When I asked Cadence if she was bullied in school, she said she had a short-lived bully. She told her mother, and Star put a stop to it by confronting the bully’s parents. Star wasn’t going to hurt a minor but warned the bully that if she harmed Cadence again, her parents would face worse consequences. The case was thrown out because the judge saw it as a mother protecting her daughter. It was just another case of a parent protecting their child. The jury most likely would’ve been men and women who are parents themselves who would be on Star’s side from the start.

  I noticed Cadence was wearing a Diamond Orchid earring. She mentioned that she loves orchids and that Mitchell is the kind of guy who pays attention to the small details. Many guys only notice the big things, but Mitchell is different. Cadence’s female friends often tell their boyfriends what flowers they like, only to receive the wrong ones. If they prefer milk chocolate over dark chocolate, their boyfriends still get them dark chocolate.

  I respect that Mitchell pays attention to the small things. It’s about having a partner who appreciates the beauty of everyday life rather than just focusing on the big things. It reminds me of the saying, “You’ve got to learn how to walk before you run.”

  Cadence even mentioned how her mother, Star, would go with them on dates. Despite being a spy, Star could have changed her hair color to blend in, but she didn’t. She’s the only woman in Clearlake with auburn hair, while most other women have some shade of brown, black, or blonde hair. In diners, Mitchell and Cadence always knew she was there because she’d sit at the counter or the farthest booth. They never confronted her because, in Little Birden society, it’s traditional for a female family member to supervise dates. This tradition dates back to the First World War when many men were drafted, and families needed someone to watch over their sisters or daughters.

  Even though women were allowed to join the military in combat roles in 1937, the tradition persisted. Family members would go on dates to ensure nothing inappropriate happened, like kissing without permission. In Little Bird, it’s generally socially acceptable for couples to ask for a kiss, whether to give or receive one.

  I know the history of Little Bird well. One reason women were allowed in combat roles is because many were country gals used to shooting weapons. They didn’t have the luxury of nearby stores, and many farmers only had horse and buggy for transportation. Ammo was expensive, but they needed to hunt for food, harvest crops, and feed animals. Back then, the military had snipers described as “the best shots in the company, devastating to enemy officers and machine gun teams.”

  Many military officers and soldiers doubted women’s abilities, but those who got to show their skills often outshot the best male snipers. Women had to learn shooting on their own after losing fathers and brothers in the First World War, with no immediate male family members to teach them. Phones in homes were rare, and people had to find payphones or go to stores to make calls. Phones in homes didn’t become popular until after World War II, as materials were needed for military radio telephones.

  Talking to Cadence, it’s clear she abhors fighting and wars because she’s a pacifist. She understands that no matter how civil humans are, we all have a violent side, and many people choose to fight rather than seek peaceful solutions.

  I even told Cadence about the 21st Airborne Division, whose first motto was “All Female Division.” Depending on the source, it’s said that for every five female paratroopers, there was one male paratrooper, a ratio of 5:1. Out of that ratio, 16,666 were females while 3,334 were males. Cadence mentioned that they were all motivated volunteers, some driven by the higher pay—$100 a month for paratrooper privates compared to $50 for regular privates—while others were excited by the new kind of combat.

  Many of them got hurt because they wore their rifles on their torsos, with the stock close to their jaws—solid wood and jaws don’t mix well. Sometimes their leg bags would come undone and fall, leaving them dependent on their knives. Pistols were only issued to pilots, officers, and scouts and weren’t mass-produced for the entire army until after Vietnam.

  Many soldiers, both male and female, bought handguns from gun stores. The Phoenix pistol (licensed M1911) cost $97.99, while other pistols ranged from $97 to $110. Each division issued rifles to 90% of its soldiers, costing $249 each, while the remaining 10% received submachine guns and automatic rifles, costing $470 each and a division is 20000 soldiers and that quickly adds up and you’re talking about an army that’s five million strong.

  Cadence said her aunt Luna would make a great drill instructor. According to Mitchell, when Luna drills her platoon, she tells them, “The tickle fights and pillow fights stop now,” even though most of Third Platoon are seasoned vets, not greenhorn recruits. Luna doesn’t sugarcoat war. When she meets recruits, she says, “You will see things you won’t like to see. You will see fellow men killed in ways you never imagined.”

  I told Cadence that I’ve met her aunt, and she’s a nice gal but not a pushover. Luna is a no-nonsense Lieutenant who will shoot first and ask questions later. She got to her position through battlefield promotions, not by going to OCS. She believes that battle-hardened soldiers prefer to take orders from officers who have seen combat and know what they’re doing. Luna started her military career as a submachine gunner and worked her way up to Lieutenant, gaining leadership experience as a Sergeant.

  I also told Cadence about the drills that happen every three months involving the Fire Department, Police Department, Medical Services, Technical Services, Civil Defense, and AEMR (Agency Emergency Management Response). They conduct mock scenarios with high-tech mannequins that talk. For nuclear attack drills, the mannequins say things like they’re blind and feel nothing but heat over most of their body. The Chemical, Biological, and Nerve Agent mannequins are also creepy, with blisters to simulate exposure. These mannequins represent all stages of life, not just adults. Having areas set to different scenarios and the nuclear one being looked like an enemy strategic bomber flew overhead and dropped it’s payload but said mock place for the nuclear one represents a nuclear blast even though with all of the rubble and ruin looks like if enemy bombers bombed a place instead.

  Cadence just said, “Thanks but no thanks.”

  But for me that’s not an option because since October of this year I’m a Firefighter/Certified First Responder so even I have to do so drills with them and how we’re trained to be undersupplied and mostly understaffed to simulate how we would either be understaffed after said attacks and also to simulate that they would have to deal with the influx of the injured and having to label mannequins in four colors of Green, Yellow, Red, and Black by using triage tags with Green meaning walking injured aka minor injuries, Yellow means injured, Red means need immediate medical help and needs help right now, and finally being Black means that person is dead or that if given help they’re still going to die. But I told Cadence that the most painful thing is that how the mannequins are all walks of life from all stages and you have to label them and have to accept the fact that it might be a reality one day and have to face and accept the fact that the youth and elderly won’t be spared and that many people who have to do this training are slightly more hesitant when using triage tags on people and that many people are hesitant because of their own families. Not adding that some of the mock towns have audio speaker things to play sound effects from wind to building crumblings and gunfire and well the mannequins are very creepy.

  As we walked back into the house, we heard Flurry start to cry. Cadence went to take care of her and Mitchell’s daughter. When she came back holding Flurry, she mentioned that Flurry doesn’t cry much—only when she’s hungry or needs a change. Otherwise, she’s either sleeping or cooing at the mobile attached to her crib.

  “I can see her working at a convenience store,” I said.

  “Yeah, I can see her being a cashier or working in retail,” Cadence replied.

  “If she does work in a convenience store, I’d hate for her to have to work the morning shift, arriving at 7:00 AM. That’s zero hour because at 8:00 AM, everyone’s heading to work, stopping in for gas, coffee, and maybe a breakfast sandwich. Convenience stores are a gauntlet of temptation, with freezers at the back and everything else in between, making people buy things on impulse,” I said.

  “That doesn’t work,” Cadence replied.

  “Supermarkets do it all the time,” I said. “Convenience stores and supermarkets get people to buy more by making them think they’re getting a bargain. Instead of pricing a breakfast sandwich at a dollar, they price it at $0.99. They also play calming music to put people at ease. Before checking out, customers are hit with the final enticement—hot food like hot dogs, pizza slices, and sandwiches, along with chips or candy. They place items strategically, from the height of the product to what it’s next to, and have sales to make people feel like they’re getting more for less.”

  I even told Cadence how convenience stores sell what supermarkets won’t or offer the same items but faster and cheaper. Convenience stores cater to people heading to and from work and those on road trips since many are also gas stations. Across all five commonwealths of Little Bird, gas stations are full service, meaning an attendant pumps the gas, wipes the windshield, checks the oil and tire pressure, collects payment, and sometimes gets a small tip. If you need something, you tell the attendant, who fetches it for you. Many people just go inside to get what they need, and by the time they come back out, the attendant has already taken care of everything.

  I told Cadence that when I first came to Little Bird, it felt like I was Marty McFly going back to 1955 in the movie Back to the Future. I then spent the next ten minutes explaining the movie to Cadence.

  Soon, Mitchell’s sister Twilight came down the stairs and casually said, “I wonder if a combat helmet can stop a hollow point 7.62mm bullet.” I explained that hollow-point rounds expand on impact, making them great at wounding fleshy bits but very ineffective against armor.

  I told Cadence how back in 2003, when I first came to Little Bird for my college tour and orientation, I was surprised by what I saw at Empire International Airport. The taxi cabs outside were from the '60s and even some from the late '50s. Men were wearing short-sleeve button-down shirts, jeans or slacks, brown belts, and shoes. Others wore tailored three-piece suits or casual suits, and many women wore similar outfits or random-colored laundered dresses with heels.

  At the airport, the cops wore dark blue uniforms, helmets with grey goggles, black balaclavas, knee pads, and tactical vests with "POLICE" decals. Soldiers were also present, wearing white undershirts, dark olive green uniforms, body armor, webbing, and dark olive drab combat helmets. Some had their weapons drawn, while others had them holstered but were still at attention.

  I had to show my papers twice—once to a customs agent and later to an army officer. I handed over my passport, access permit, education visa, and work visa. Both times, I was told my bags needed to be checked. I agreed because I wasn’t going to argue with someone carrying an M16A1 and another soldier with a shotgun. Some people who refused to let their bags be thoroughly searched were detained.

  At the time, I didn’t know that Little Bird was at Alert Stage Orange, meaning a high risk of an attack. Many people might see this as a violation of civil liberties, but Little Bird prioritizes stopping attacks over informing the public, which can cause panic and allow attackers to adjust their plans to strike when there’s people trying to flee. I just agreed to the searches and went through a metal detector and body scan because I had nothing to hide, unlike those who refused and were detained.

  I told Cadence how I had to go through four metal detectors and three body scanning machines before even talking to the custom’s agent and another set of metal detectors and body scanning machines before having to talk to that army officer guy. I just had to answer a series of questions to see what I said matched up with my access permit, education visa and my right to work visa and for my access permit it said:

  Name: Mackenzie Nova Waterson

  Purpose: Education and Work

  Duration of stay: four years

  Height: 5’10.5

  Weight: 220 lbs

  Physical appearance: Caucasian, female, dark brown hair, green eyes

  Expiration date: November 1st, 2007

  Nationality: American

  I then asked Cadence about her aunt Luna. She said Luna could be a division commander if she wanted, but she’s happy where she is. Luna believes her platoon is the best in the 39th Airborne Regiment, even though their company has had a series of incompetent leaders. These leaders suffer enormous losses without achieving any objectives and blame others for their failures, claiming they faced more enemies and only managed to push them back a couple of miles without securing the sector.

  Out of the blue, Cadence mentioned my cousin Midnight. She leads a battalion of Rangers, elite commandos and infantry whose job is to clear objectives and conduct specialist operations before the main army arrives. They are versatile and reliable.

  Third Platoon’s company has incompetent officers who blame others for their mess-ups and lack of progress in war. But Cadence said officers like Midnight can push the enemy back a hundred miles with minimal losses.

  I added that if the Little Bird Army Rangers are in a fight, don’t expect them to play bait and hide-and-seek tactics. When the Rangers are called into battle, they go from bait to prey. They get first priority for any fire support, whether bombers or artillery, especially in tough terrains like mountains. Leaders like Midnight know how to get the most out of their troops and tell them that if they give 100%, the officer will do everything to support them.

  I told Cadence that, according to Midnight, Special Forces always get their fire support prioritized. Rangers, Marine Commandos, Marines, and Paratroopers are usually placed in strategic and vital locations because they are better trained. Even if they are being mass-attacked along the entire front, they get top priority for support. These units are often put in crucial positions, so they receive priority even though they operate as independent Intelligence and Recon (I&R) teams. Mitchell mentioned that they are all trained in Intelligence and Recon because they can’t always rely on their S2s (Battalion Intelligence Officers). The intel from S2s can become obsolete quickly or be heard through radio deception or deliberate leaks. The one thing about war it’s about deception of deception of the enemy to make them make decisions that would turn them against them.

  I told Cadence that there are two kinds of families: those who are there for you and those who aren’t.

  Cadence shared that the Watersons are the supportive kind. After she and Mitchell got married, those who couldn’t attend the wedding sent checks or thoughtful gifts, usually requiring a signature from either her or Mitchell.

  However, her father’s side of the family yelled at her for not inviting them to the wedding, even though they had called her a mistake. This really got to her, so she told Mitchell. His response was, “Nobody who makes my wife cry is going to get away with it.” Mitchell and his friends, Jack, Sam, and others, were raised to treat women with respect and be gentlemen, a reflection of Little Bird’s own version of chivalry. They grabbed baseball bats, ready to play “Batter up,” because they all played baseball in middle school. That “Batter up” is their term for beating people with a bat.

  Twilight, who was in the kitchen, mentioned that she doesn’t like Cadence for “stealing” her brother but at least respects her as family. She doesn’t do anything to harm Cadence because she knows Mitchell would tell her off, reminding her that fighting someone who didn’t do anything to you isn’t an option.

  I told Cadence how many of my disowned friends have families that want to come back into their lives after ten to twelve years of no contact. These families kicked them out over a lie, but now that their disowned children are successful and starting families, it’s convenient for them to swoop back in. Some of my friends were even on national news for their success, and their parents want to be credited for it. However, their disowned kids give credit where it’s due and openly share on national television or radio how their parents beat them down and discouraged them from having fun or trying new things. When they were disowned, my extended family took them in, encouraged them to explore, and try new things, proving their parents wrong.

  After seeing their success, their toxic families want back in because of the money and prestige. They even had the gall to call my family, who took them in, trying to talk sense into them. But the Watersons told them, “You made your bed, now lie in it.” I told Cadence how we Watersons believe, “If they’re not with you at your lowest, they shouldn’t be with you at your best.”

  It’s obvious why their toxic families want back in—it’s convenient for them. Some of my disowned friends are dating or engaged to my family members, planning or starting families. Their toxic families want to meet them at OB/GYN appointments, see ultrasounds, and know the baby’s gender to buy clothes and toys. But many female Watersons prefer to be surprised by the baby’s gender.

  Some toxic families even offer to pay for their disowned child’s wedding to get back in their good graces, hoping they’ll forget the past. But my friends don’t fall for it and say, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  They know what their toxic families want and keep them at arm’s length. They hate when their toxic families pull the “We’re family” and “Family forgives family” cards because their entire family believed a lie without hearing their side. They’re living proof of how one lie can ruin someone’s life.

  Twilight chimed in, “People like them should rot in Hell for all eternity.”

  I even told Cadence how their toxic extended family has apologized for their way of throwing them under the bus without hearing them out but they just say “Too late. Eleven years too late” or ten years but it’s the same. But they can’t fight their disowned kids significant other if it’s a Waterson because when their toxic family says how they respect their significant other well that’s a lie because the male or female Waterson says “You respect me because I’m a threat” and make it worse the female Waterson’s are twice as more dangerous than their male counterpart. To make it worse that us Waterson’s tell my disowned friends how everybody is apologizing except for their parents and sibling who lied.

  My disowned friends learned how my family is willing to protect them and my friends learned how my family are living embodiments of two of the Seven Deadly Sins which are:

  Pride: We think about others but we compete in sports to boost our pride because our pride makes us compete for achievements like in sports we compete and our pride makes us want to do so and earn medals and trophies.

  Wrath: We are the last people you want to fight because many of us were either in the military, are in the military or loves to fight. We’re the type of people who brings a gun to a knife fight.

  I also told Cadence how some of my disowned friends have reconnected with their family but on their terms and conditions and tell them to meet up for dinner but not to bring the sibling who lied about them to said dinner and no other family member… only for their toxic family to bring other family members including said sibling who lied about them. When they try to leave they get blocked by said family who tries to gaslight them into staying but if it’s one of my disowned male friends who is dating or engaged to a female Waterson and they call said female Waterson that they’re dating or engaged to well saying “All Hell broke loose” would be a understatement.

  I also told Cadence about how some of my disowned friends, who have done well for themselves, take the Watersons who took them in on luxury vacations. They treat them like family because that's what they are. These friends learned the hard way that family isn't just who you're born into—it's those who stand by you and love you.

  Some of my friends tried reconnecting with their toxic families by inviting them on luxury vacations. But their toxic families excluded them from everything, saying they weren't really family because they had been disowned. My friends got the last laugh by canceling their toxic family's plane tickets and separating the hotel bill. Their toxic families ended up with a huge bill they couldn't pay, or their credit cards maxed out. Some friends even downgraded their toxic family's plane tickets from business class to economy while upgrading their own to first class.

  Cadence said, “Well, that’s what happens when you bite the hand that feeds you.” She explained that her mother taught her this saying, meaning you shouldn't be ungrateful or harmful to those who help you. Some people think it's harsh to separate the hotel bill or cancel return flights, but we Watersons don't placate to keep the peace. We're not doormats. If you treat us terribly, don't cry when we do the same in return. People who say it's harsh have never been in that position before.

  I also told Cadence about some of my disowned friends who work minimum wage part-time jobs, with some even working forty-hour weeks. When their disowned kids leave them with the hotel bill and cancel the flight in retaliation for excluding them, their wives tell their husbands to get a second or third job to improve their financial situation. They end up degrading each other for not having an income level that matches their taste for luxury, wanting their significant other to work over 50 hours a week, even though they don’t want to work more hours themselves. After experiencing luxury, they want to live that way all the time.

  The Watersons who went on these vacations didn’t care about the luxury; they just wanted to have a good time. For my family, sitting in a motel room watching a sports game, either live or a rerun, or going out to play a round of golf and then grabbing a bite to eat is better than staying at a hotel with a spa and all the extras. Many of my family members were born and raised in big families where having food on the table every night was a luxury they often didn’t have.

  We Watersons have a strong sense of fairness and can’t stand hypocrites. Many of us have seen just about everything and have a cynical outlook on the world and life in general. But we know what truly matters: loyalty, trust, and being there for each other.

  We definitely hate people who say, “Family helps family,” but turn their backs when you need them. My girlfriend’s father knows this all too well. His family wanted him back from Vietnam, but when he returned after eight years, they abandoned him. At least he had a supportive girlfriend, despite her friends trying to convince her to break up with him because of the unpopular war.

  I told Cadence how my disowned friends’ parents believed their lying child without any evidence but refused to believe the truth, even with undeniable proof. Their minds were already made up. Many of my disowned friends had part-time jobs and needed prescribed medication, but their siblings accused them of being addicts. If they saved money, their siblings claimed they were involved in shady dealings, even though they had legal jobs at bookstores, grocery stores, or mowing lawns. They were just saving up for things like a new CD player, a bike, or a used car.

  Cadence understood, especially after hearing how my disowned friends were taken in by my extended family and raised. Now that these friends are successful, their toxic families want back in, drawn by the money and connections to influential people in various states. But Twilight and Cadence both agreed that people like that will abandon you in a heartbeat and come back only when it’s convenient.

  Many of my disowned friends told their parents there’s no chance of reconciliation, while some are open to it but only on their terms. If any condition is broken, they’re gone. Those dating or engaged to my family members tell their toxic families to back off, especially when it comes to OB/GYN appointments or knowing the baby’s gender. Many female Watersons prefer to be surprised, and my disowned female friends keep the baby’s gender to themselves, sharing only with those they trust.

  Twilight mentioned she’s about to start school to become an actress. She knows that if she becomes famous, people will come wanting handouts or to be friends. She plans to hire lawyers to protect herself from slander and those who might drag her name through the mud. She reiterated that parents like those can rot in Hell for all eternity.

  Twilight strolled out of the kitchen, a frosty bottle of root beer in hand, the condensation glistening in the light. She took a sip and then looked at me with curiosity.

  "What's the difference between Scouts and Recon?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.

  I leaned back, thinking about how to explain it in a way that made sense. "Well, Twilight, Scouts and Recon are pretty much two sides of the same coin. Scouts are the ones who gather Recon. Think of them as the eyes and ears of the army. These soldiers aren't meant to get into heavy fights. Instead, they engage in minor skirmishes, just enough to get a feel for the land and spot any potential threats or opportunities."

  I paused, making sure she was following along. "An army that doesn't know what's happening around it is like a blindfolded boxer—vulnerable and missing out on chances. Scouts aren't really there to attack; their main job is to gather intel on the enemy and report back. If they come across important looking documents, they grab those too. Battalion Intel then analyzes this information, helping the Division or Regiment to make informed plans based on what the Scouts have discovered."

  Twilight nodded, taking another sip of her root beer. "Got it. So, they're like the detectives of the battlefield."

  "More or less," I said, smiling. "Without them, we'd be stumbling around in the dark."

  Twilight asked, “So what they see and report back that’s how objectives for the main army to do?”

  “Yup,” I said, “They report back and any objectives are created by the operations officers who label what needs to be done. Like what needs to be taken and held, what needs to be destroyed and what not.”

  Twilight's eyes lit up with a mix of nostalgia and intensity as she began recounting one of her experiences. "Like one battle I was in, our objectives were to secure a town hall, destroy three SAM sites, and then assist another unit pinned down by well-trained combatants. That was one of the few battles I fought in before the Army found out I was underage. I was in the 2nd Infantry Division, 7th Infantry Regiment, 4th Battalion, 2nd Company. Basic training for PT was brutal as hell."

  "How brutal?" I asked, genuinely curious.

  Twilight took a deep breath, as if reliving the exhaustion. "The 2nd Infantry Division is garrisoned in a place where we had to run up and down a mountain—three miles up, three miles down. The Drill Instructors and Company officers are impossible to please. Even a minor infraction could get your weekend pass revoked. They made it clear that mutiny was considered treason, punishable by death. They'd threaten court-martial for the smallest things, but it often backfired when trainees called their bluff, demanding a trial. The DI would then have to prove the charges, which wasn't always easy unless it was a serious offense."

  Twilight smiled, a hint of pride in her eyes. "Yeah, but it made me stronger. And it taught me the importance of discipline and loyalty. Those are lessons I'll never forget."

  Cadence found it amusing that my disowned friends' parents and families now want to rejoin their lives because they’re successful. She said it’s funny how they’re “regretting” their decision. I explained that it’s all about money and public recognition. Since 2008 or 2009, these toxic families have been calling up my friends, saying how proud they are. Some even had the gall to ask when my friends would publicly credit their families for their success and when they could expect the first check or money order.

  Twilight pointed out that public recognition is a double-edged sword. She said it’s hypocritical for these families to expect everything to go back to normal as if nothing happened. The world doesn’t work like that. They’re crawling back now because of the money, not because they genuinely care.

  I told them both that some of my disowned friends' families even threatened lawsuits for money. But these threats rarely materialize because they either know they don’t have a legal leg to stand on or they’re just trying to see if my friends will cave in and send money. Of course, my friends just send back a letter that basically tells them to bite it. Many of my disowned friends have the resources to hire the best lawyers and tear their families apart in court. Plus, legally, their parents signed away their parental rights, disowning them on paper. Some were almost sent to military school, but my extended family took them in before that could happen.

  These ex-families hate my friends because they can’t control them anymore. My friends are smart enough to create a paper trail to hold their families accountable. If they do send money, it’s clearly documented as a loan that needs to be paid back. But their toxic families don’t want loans—they just want free money.

  I also mentioned how their ex-families use money to buy flashy things, while my disowned friends invest their money, save for a rainy day, or put it into savings accounts. My friends drive old cars that need a kick to open the door, cross the wires to start up, or a flathead screwdriver to start because the ignition is broken. They know the value of money and how to make it work for them.

  I shared a story about my great-granduncle Jimmy “James” Richard Waterson 1st. After his first dogfight, he got shot at by a kid on the carrier he was assigned to. James 1st just said to the guy, “Hey kid, if a plane has its landing gear down and you’re on an aircraft carrier, it means that plane is coming in to land. It’s not an enemy. Why would you shoot at it?” don't know why I shared that.

  Twilight said that it’s smart to create a paper trail so if my friend’s ex-family pulls the “We never agreed to that” or “We were told that it was a gift not a loan” well having it written down and having it say clear as day of if it’s some kind of loan they expect to be paid back with interest or just being paid back without interest.

  I told them how some of my friends started their own businesses and make a good salary but live modestly to avoid gold diggers or people who want to be with them for money. Their ex-toxic families claim their other siblings are starting similar businesses, boasting about their business school education. But clients prefer businesses with experienced employees, not ones where staff need to watch a YouTube video to change a tire. So nobody is going to hire a Real Estate Agent or a HVAC Tech or a Gas & Plumbing person if they need to watch a Youtube video on how to do their job.

  Twilight asked what kinds of businesses my disowned friends run. I told her it varies, but some examples include Real Estate, HVAC, Renovation/Painting, and Gas & Plumbing. They’re all accredited, licensed, and experienced, thanks to my extended family encouraging them to pursue careers they love.

  Those who started businesses often lived with the Watersons who took them in, paying rent like roommates. They thanked my family for pushing them in the right direction, learning from their mistakes, and understanding that success comes from trial and error. I mentioned how Steve Jobs started Apple in a garage, emphasizing that success doesn’t come overnight—it’s an uphill battle that requires perseverance that many people give up on while some people keep going.

  I also shared how some of my disowned friends had significant others who betrayed them by sharing business plans and investor lists with their toxic families. Any sane person would end a relationship over such betrayal, and they did. But my friends dating Waterson family members face bribes from their ex-toxic families for business information. We Watersons see how wrong that is and refuse, standing by our partners no matter what.

  I also told them how some of my friends have credit cards with no spending limit, which shocked Cadence and Twilight. In Little Bird, credit cards have a limit up to $35k, so the idea of an unlimited card was surprising. I explained how some of my disowned friends' parents got ahold of their credit card details—either through a significant other sending the card info, taking a photo, or outright stealing the card and mailing it. But my friends aren’t stupid. They have alerts set up for every transaction, so they get notified immediately if their card is used. Any sane person would report the transaction as fraudulent, cancel the card, and get a new one.

  My friends say they’re not responsible for their ex-families' poor financial decisions. Their toxic families would rather buy a brand-new $120,000 car than a used $4,000 car. My friends know better and protect themselves from such financial recklessness.

  Twilight mentioned how easy it is for the wrong person to get ahold of someone else’s finances and mess them up. She also shared stories about her friends whose parents are financially irresponsible. These parents emptied their savings accounts, took out loans, remortgaged their houses, and even cashed out their retirement funds, all to give their kids the best education money could buy. Despite everyone warning them about the financial consequences, they wouldn’t listen, insisting their kids deserved the best.

  I find it laughable because parents who do that often end up with kids who fail university or college. Why should the kids care if their parents are paying for everything? They’ll do whatever they want on their parents' dime until they either drop out, get expelled, or kicked out. It’s ironic because many of my classmates at Arcane University lived off ramen noodles and worked multiple jobs just to cover tuition, determined to make their own way. Some had parents who paid for tuition but still had to get part-time jobs for spending money. I told Twilight that I can see those friends failing and blaming the school instead of looking in the mirror.

  Heck, I told them that while my dad paid for my tuition, he only covered that. If I wanted to eat out or do something fun, I had to get off my butt and get a job to earn spending money. That’s what many parents do when their kids go off to university—they tell them to get a job. But I had classmates who were entitled and never worked a day in their lives because their parents spoiled them with designer clothes, a credit card at fifteen, and a car at sixteen. Now, giving a kid a car isn’t entirely spoiling them if it’s a rundown used car from the classifieds. But these spoiled kids had the latest luxury cars with all the bells and whistles.

  Some of them who dropped out were so entitled they were willing to lie, manipulate, and even break the law to get what they wanted. Meanwhile, their siblings worked multiple jobs to put themselves through college, and their hard work paid off. They own their homes because the average cost of a house in Little Bird is quite affordable for the middle class $90 down and $58 a month for a two-bedroom, one-bath house with modern amenities. A two bedroom one bath house here in Little Bird varies between $5140-11000. Many people save their money for a year and use their salary to buy a house.

  But those entitled students who dropped out would show up at their siblings’ doors, wanting help. Their parents would suggest that the successful sibling take in their loser sibling or sign the house over to them, thinking they could just get a new house. They don’t realize that many people save every penny for a year to buy a house. In Little Bird, people are taught to have a rainy day fund and only tap into savings for emergencies, so they don’t have to use their main income for things like a blown head gasket or if a tree fell on their house.

  Their parents are quick to consult lawyers for legal options to force their successful child to share the house or sign it over. They claim they want to look out for all their children equally, bution Little Bird, that’s an uphill battle. In court, it’s a “they said-they said” situation without evidence. The homeowner can just bring the deed and paperwork to prove they own the house 100%. Entitled parents and siblings think they can move in and claim squatter rights, but Little Bird doesn’t have squatter rights. The police can evict people on the spot, court-ordered or not.

  Many of my entitled classmates would say, “Losers work to put themselves through school,” but a lot of people believe in earning things through hard work.

  We all agreed that people’s true colors show sooner or later. Some entitled students drop out and ruin their parents financially. In Little Bird, colleges and universities refund tuition for any semester not attended, but once a semester is started, the tuition isn’t refunded. Courts have upheld this policy because it’s clearly stated in the terms.

  Entitled classmates who dropped out often wear thin their extended family’s patience, especially when they repeatedly ask for money or loans to pay bills, promising to pay back but never do. They even show up uninvited to family events like weddings, making scenes and asking for job opportunities. They go to job interviews but decline positions they deem beneath their qualifications, despite not having a degree. The irony of someone without a degree being picky about jobs isn’t lost on us.

  Some of these entitled kids’ extended families try to guilt trip the successful ones into loaning money or helping their siblings find jobs. But the successful ones refuse, not wanting to risk their reputation. Their families pull the “Family is family” and “Family helps family” cards, but when asked where they were when help was needed, they make excuses or get cold feet and hang up.

  I even told Cadence and Twilight about my orientation and first day at Arcane University. They emphasized that while a college degree can be a golden ticket, we need to be open-minded. Not all jobs require a degree, and we might have to take modest, hardworking jobs that don’t need one. Many companies won’t hold a spot for someone to get a degree; they operate on a “first come, first serve” basis. They interview candidates with degrees or experience and hire the most qualified. Many corporate jobs start at the bottom, like sorting mail or being a coffee courier, before moving up to more important positions. Twilight said, “You have to learn to walk before you can run,” which is true—you have to start somewhere.

  I find it funny how many people expect their college degree to guarantee them a job without realizing that companies also value experience. Many students I knew had to take any job they could get, even if it meant being a street sweeper or a garbage collector. It’s not what they wanted, but they understood the saying, “Beggars can’t be choosers.” They’d rather work and make a living while waiting for an opportunity that matches their degree, even if it’s rare. Some just wait for that perfect opportunity, but most know they have to start somewhere.

  I told them how I have friends who weren’t disowned but are approaching thirty and working at fast food joints or jobs typically for teenagers. They were laid off during the recession and had to take any job they could find, even if it meant working longer hours for less pay. Instead of cushy desk jobs, they’re now cashiers or making fries at McDonald’s, earning $7.25 an hour instead of $15. They knew the bills wouldn’t stop, so they took what they could get.

  Twilight mentioned that many people have to take whatever job is available because they need to put food on the table and pay the bills. Cadence agreed, saying that people often don’t have much choice and will take what’s available, while others wait for opportunities that might not come for months or years. High turnover jobs are uncommon, so many people end up waiting in vain.

  Twilight also pointed out that some people are lucky if their family has a business, but giving a novice a position can sink the business. She mentioned our cousin Midnight, whose friend’s family owned a restaurant. Midnight’s friend was a capable leader who knew the business inside and out. But when the reins were passed to a novice who made poor decisions, like getting rid of vegan options and dairy alternatives, it backfired. People with dietary restrictions were left without options, leading to a lawsuit. The father fired the novice son and offered the position to his daughter, but she told him he got himself into the mess and could get himself out.

  Cadence said that’s a perfect example of a family ignoring their own child’s worth and giving a position to someone who can’t handle it, messing everything up. It’s like throwing someone who can’t swim into the deep end of the pool and expecting them to figure it out. She pointed out that if people can’t see someone’s worth, others will. Midnight’s friend’s father came crawling back, offering her the position because he knew she was the better candidate, needing a lifeline after realizing his mistake.

  Twilight mentioned that, according to our cousin Midnight, her friend was told the father was securing the son’s future, even though the son had no idea what he wanted to do. Cadence added, “The son was in way over his head, making risky business decisions no owner would make, and now the family is paying the price.”

  Midnight’s friend’s brother was out of his depth, making impulsive decisions, cutting corners, and alienating customers. Cadence also noted that vegans won’t eat a steak, and giving a vegan a steak will end badly, resulting in bad reviews. In a society with word-of-mouth and newspaper reviews, alienating one type of customer to save a few bucks won’t work in the long run. Businesses need to make money, and losing potential income by alienating customers is a big mistake.

  Cadence mentioned that her and Mitchell’s friend, Samuel (aka Sam), has a father who owns a restaurant in town. He took his experience as an Army Battalion Mess Officer, cooking and running a battalion mess in the '70s and '80s, and applied it to his business. Mitchell always says, “The one thing about the military is to never make mad the people who are in charge of your food,” and Twilight agreed, noting that those in food service can make you regret it if you cross them.

  Twilight explained that Sam’s father’s military experience involved feeding eight hundred soldiers, which is no easy task. According to Sam’s father, they would get up at 0300 hours (3:00 AM) to start preparing breakfast, which typically included scrambled eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and omelet bars. In the military, meals are often repetitive, but they learn to adapt and get creative. Every other day, they served oatmeal, ready by 0500 hours (5:00 AM), because soldiers would get up at 4:00 AM for physical training and be hungry by 5:00 AM. By 6:00 AM, they would clean up and start preparing for lunch. Unlike a fast food joint, burgers were rare, served only once every three months.

  Sam’s father took his military experience and applied it to running a restaurant, understanding the importance of breaking even, paying bills, and managing employees. In the military, he was paid monthly, but in the civilian world, he had to ensure the business earned enough to cover expenses and make a profit. This transition from military to civilian business operations taught him valuable lessons in efficiency and resource management.