to be deep in thought, but gave me no answer. A few more minutes passed, and I waited. His silence was deafening. I could not have felt any more awkward had I been standing naked at a train station. To save face, I pushed the bag of bagels aside, and ran to the bathroom.
“Nai, wait,” he called after me, but I closed the door behind me. I did not want him to see my tears. I did not want him to see how much I was hurting, because deep down inside, I knew that I had no right to feel this way; especially after the heartache, I had already put him through.
~TONY~
“Hot sauce?” I offered, twisting the bottle top open, and then pouring it onto my plate first.
“Sure.” Alana replied, sitting across the table from me on the mess deck. I poured a generous amount onto her plate, before replacing the top, and then setting the bottle down.
“My, aren't you quite the gentlemen.” She said with a smile.
“I wish my wife could hear you say that.” I joked.
“How long have you two been married?” She asked me.
“Four years.” I replied, picking up a piece of chicken from my plate, and popping it into my mouth.
“You love her, don't you?” Alana said, sounding as though that were more of a statement, than a question. Between chews, I looked at her untouched plate, and smiled, shaking my head at her. She was obviously too into me, to act like a normal human being, and eat. Why do women always act as if they are not hungry in front of men? That was just silly. We all know you shit, fart, and stuff your face. So why pretend? In any case, watching her was very entertaining, so I decided to humor her.
“Yes, of course I love my wife. What kind of question is that?” Then, she smiled again, appearing delighted to have struck up a conversation with me. I had been ignoring her advances towards me for months, until now.
“An honest one,” she replied. Then, I sat back and crossed my arms, curious at her open line of questioning.
“If I didn’t love her, she wouldn't be my wife, now would she?” I gauged. Alana then leaned forward, breasts pushed tightly together underneath her dress white uniform.
“Yeah that's true,” she said, “but this is the Navy we're talking about, where you get highly compensated, just for having a fucking marriage license. You wouldn't believe how many counterfeit marriages there are out there, especially in the military.” She now sat back, and crossed her arms at me. Then, I relaxed a little, intrigued, no less. She did make an excellent point after all. With the hefty amount Sailors get, in the basic allowance for housing, it would not be far-fetched to say that some tend to ‘marry,’ for that financial boost in income. So, I conceded.
“Yeah I know, but it's not like that with us. This is the real thing.” I assured her.
“I hope so.” She said with a wink. I started to defend my marriage again, but stopped, when I realized the hidden context behind her response. Her smirk was so telling.
“What are you doing?” I questioned. She was bold, I’ll give her that.
“What do you want me to do?” She flirted. I found her confidence unbelievably sexy, but still, I had to rein it in.
“Look, you need to chill out cause I’m spoken for honey.” I joked, mocking the annoying cat-like voice of one of our superiors. Alana laughed, undeniably more smitten with me. On that last note, I polished the rest of the food off my plate, and stood up. “Hey, you're cute and all, but I love my wife. And I won't do anything to jeopardize what she and I have.” I said, before turning to leave.
“Is that so?” Alana challenged.
“Yes. It is.” I said sternly, but then smiled again. I could not help playing with her.
“I know I’m irresistible.” I joked again, before leaving the table.
Later that night, lying in my rack with my hands behind my head, I stared up at the pictures of Nena’s beautiful face, posted above me. I wanted her to be the