Just So Precious (+audio)

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“Well, isn’t that just so precious.”
Captain Ellen Norris looked down from her Black Hawk helicopter to see who her copilot TB had heaped her sarcasm upon. Nobody could lay down an insult, without being at all indecent, like a woman of the South.
The pre-sunrise dusk made for the worst visibility. But it was impossible to miss the sporty red muscle car parked in exactly the spot she’d been told would be her helicopter’s during their week in Puerto Rico. The only vehicles that were supposed to be on this corner of the Army National Guard’s airfield were helos and service trucks. Space here at SIG, San Juan Isla Grande Airport, wasn’t at a premium. In fact, every one of the PRARNG’s helos were tucked out of the typical day’s grinding heat into the one large hangar, leaving the wide parking area for visiting forces like herself. But its rudeness rankled.
She pulled up to a hover to make sure that the next landing spot over was clear and no other durned turkeys were sliding through her helicopter’s place.
“Clear left,” TB announced after scanning her side of the aircraft. “That boy did have himself some serious testosterone this morning.”
“I s’pose he did.” She agreed with TB’s insult—arrogantly male. Not that she’d ever say it aloud that way; TB was such a card sometimes. Though Ellen couldn’t resist looking at the car again.
It was a Poppy Red 1965 Mustang Fastback in mint condition. Mama always told the story of first meeting Daddy because of that exact car—and staying around long enough to fall in love because of his great laugh. She’d kept Mama’s framed photo of it upon the mantle though they were both no longer walking this Earth. All three were gone, if she counted the car. She retained only the vaguest memory of it.
So misty that she sometimes wondered if it came from that photograph and her wanting so hard to remember the two people with arms about each other’s waists as they leaned against the hood. As the third sister of three, Daddy had to upgrade to an Oldsmobile to fit them all and the dog in the back seat once she grew much past toddlerhood. There was always a dog or two about in addition to Daddy’s pointer dogs, though his working dogs were never pets.
“We landing anytime soon or are we going to be admiring the view now until we run plumb out of fuel?” TB was watching her watch the car.
It took a blink, a couple of hard ones to restart her breathing. That car sat upon the tarmac like either an old friend or a ghost. But this was not 1965. Back then there hadn’t been women Army combat pilots, nor the 160th Night Stalkers Regiment, or even a Special Operations Command.
No, this was the present. Ellen managed to focus on her helo and shifted aside to hover above her new chosen landing spot. “Must be tuckered out some.”
“Sure,” TB agreed dragging out the word, shu-uah, “from a whole night of carrying all those pretty boys aloft.” Terminally Boy-mad was a fine fit for TB’s initials, even though she’d long since been married to her high school sweetheart. Boys get to look at us plenty, so why not us girls lookin’ at them? Everyone, including TB herself, was always finding some new acronym for her initials. Ellen liked flying with her because the one thing she never was? A Total Bi— Well, not that. More Totally Bubbly.
They’d come to Puerto Rico to run a week-long exercise, working with Delta Force, which also hadn’t existed when that Mustang was built. Once heavily fortified, the US military in Puerto Rico had been reduced to a quiet Army National Guard base and a busy Coast Guard one. To backfill that lack, other forces’ training exercises were often run here. Though their current one was a curious one by Night Stalker standards.

Initial Publication: August 1, 2024
Print pages: 62
Audio length (h:mm): 0:59
Narrator: Read by Author