Arms filled with groceries, CC struggled to pull her key from the lock and push the door shut behind her with her foot. Automatically, she glanced up at the clock in the foyer of her spacious apartment. Seven-thirty already. It had taken her an eternity to finish things up at the Communication Center and then stop by the package store and the commissary. After that, fighting the traffic from Tinker Air Force Base had been like driving through axle-deep mud. To add to her frustration, she had tried to take a shortcut home and had ended up taking a wrong turn. Soon she was hopelessly lost. A kind soul at a Quick Trip had given her directions, and she had felt compelled to explain to him that she was lost only because she had been stationed at Tinker for just three months, and she hadn't had time to learn her way around yet.
The man had patted her shoulder like a she was a puppy and asked, "What is a young little thing like you doing in the air force?" CC had treated the question rhetorically, thanked him and driven away, face hot with embarrassment.
Understandably, her already harried nerves jumped at the insistent sound of her ringing phone.
"Hang on! I'm coming!" she yelled and rushed into the kitchen, plopping the bags unceremoniously onto the spotless counter and lunging for the phone.
"Hello," she panted into the dead sound of a dial tone that was broken only by the rhythmic bleat of her answering machine. "Well, at least they left a message." CC sighed and carried the phone with her back to the kitchen, punching in her message retrieval code. With one hand she held the phone to her ear, and with the other, she extracted twin bottles of champagne from one of the bags.
"You have two new messages," the mechanical voice proclaimed. "First new message, sent at five-thirty p.m."
CC listened attentively as she picked at the metallic casing that covered the wire-imprisoned champagne cork.
"Hello, Christine, it's your parents!" Her mom's recorded voice, sounding a little unnatural and tinny, chirped through the phone.
"Hi there, Christine!" More distant, but similarly cheerful, Dad's voice echoed from an extension.
CC smiled indulgently. Of course it was her parents—they were the only two people on this earth who still insisted on calling her by her given name.
"Just wanted to say we didn't actually forget your big day."
Here her mom paused, and she could hear her dad chuckling in the background. Forget her birthday? She hadn't thought they had—until then.
Her mom's breathy voice continued. "We've just been running ourselves ragged getting ready for our next cruise! You know how long it takes your father to pack." This said in a conspiratorial whisper. "But don't worry, honey, even though we didn't get your box off, we did manage to fix up a little surprise for our favorite twenty-five year old. "
"Twenty-five?" Her dad sounded honestly surprised. "Well, good Lord. I thought she was only twenty-two. "
"Time sure flies, dear, " Mom said sagely.
"Damn straight, honey," Dad agreed. "That's one reason I told you we should spend more time traveling—but only one reason." Dad chuckled suggestively.
"You certainly were right about that reason, dear." Mom kidded back breathlessly, suddenly sounding decades younger.
"They're flirting with each other on my message," CC sputtered. "And they really did forget my birthday!"
"Anyway, we're getting ready to leave for the airport—"
Dad's voice, even more distant, broke in. "Elinor! Say good-bye, the airport limo is here. "
"Well, have to go, Birthday Girl! Oh, and you have a nice time on your little air force trip. Aren't you leaving in a couple of days?"
Her little air force trip?! CC rolled her eyes. Her ninety-day deployment as noncommissioned officer in charge of Quality Control at the Communications Center at Riyadh Air Base in Saudi Arabia to support the war on terrorism was just a "little air force trip?"
"And, honey, don't you worry about flying wherever it is you're going. You're old enough to be over that silly fear by now. And, my goodness, you did join the air force!"
CC shuddered, wishing her mother hadn't mentioned her phobia—airplanes—since she would soon be flying halfway around the world over oceans of water. It was the only part of the air force she didn't like.
"We love you! Bye now. "
The message ended and CC, still shaking her head, hit the Off button and put the phone on the counter.
"I can't believe you guys forgot my birthday! You've always said that it's impossible to forget my birthday because I was born right before midnight on Halloween." She berated the phone while she reached into a cabinet for a champagne flute. "You didn't even remember my box." She continued to glare at the phone as she wrestled with the champagne cork.
For the seven years CC had been on active duty service in the United States Air Force, her parents had never forgotten her birthday box. Until now. Her twenty-fifth birthday—she had lived one-fourth a century. It really was a landmark year, and she was going to celebrate it with no birthday box from home.
"It's a family tradition!" she sputtered, popping the cork and holding the foaming bottle over the sink.
CC sighed and felt an unexpected twinge of homesickness.
No, she reminded herself sternly, she liked her life in the air force and had never been sorry for her impetuous decision to join the service right out of high school. After all, it had certainly gotten her away from her nice, ordinary, quiet, small town life. No, she hadn't exactly "seen the world," as the ads had promised. But she had lived in Texas, Mississippi, Nebraska, Colorado and now Oklahoma, which were five states more than the majority of the complacent people in her hometown of Homer, Illinois, would ever live in, or even visit.
"Apparently that doesn't include my parents!" CC poured the glass of champagne, sipped it and tapped her foot—still glaring at the phone. It seemed that during the past year her parents had gone on more Silver Adventure Tours than was humanly possible. "They must be trying to set some sort of record." CC remembered the flirty banter in their voices and closed her eyes quickly at that particular visual image.
Her eyes snapped back open, and her gaze fastened again on the phone.
"But Mom, none of your homemade chocolate chip cookies?" She sipped the champagne and discovered she needed a refill. "How am I supposed to cover all the food groups without my birthday box?" She reached into the other bag and pulled out the bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken, original recipe, of course. Pointing from the chicken to the champagne, she continued her one-sided discourse. "I have the meat group—KFC—mixed with the all important grease group for proper digestion. Then I have the fruit group, champagne, my personal favorite. How am I supposed to complete the culinary birthday ensemble without the dairy/chocolate/sugar group?" She gestured in disgust at the phone.
Lifting the lid off the KFC, she snagged a drumstick and bit into it. Then, using it to punctuate her hand gestures, she continued.
"You know that you guys always send something totally useless that makes me laugh and remember home. No mat-ter where I am. Like the year before last when you sent me the frog rain gauge. And I don't have a yard! And how about the God Bless this House stepping stone, which I have to hang on the wall of my apartment, because I have no house!" CC's disgruntled look was broken by a smile as she recounted her parents' silly gifts.
"I suppose you're trying to tell me to get married, or at the very least, to become a homeowner."
She chewed thoughtfully and sighed again, a little annoyed to realize that she probably sounded fifteen instead of twenty-five. Then she brightened.
"Hey! I forgot about my other message," she told the phone as she scooped it back up, dialed her messages, and skipped past her parents' voices.
"Next new message. Sent at 6:32 p.m."
CC grinned around a mouth full of chicken. It was probably Sandy, her oldest friend—actually she was the only high school friend CC still kept in touch with. Sandy had known her since first grade, and she rarely forgot anything, let alone a birthday. The two of them loved to laugh long distance about how they had managed to "escape" small town Homer. Sandy had landed an excellent job working for a large hospital in the fun and fabulous city of Chicago. Her official title was Physician Affairs Liaison, which actually meant she was in charge of recruiting new doctors for the hospital, but she and Sandy loved the totally unrealistic, risque-sounding title. It was especially amusing because Sandy had been happily and faithfully married for three years.
"Hi there, CC. Long time no call, girl!"
Instead of Sandy's familiar midwestern accent, the voice had a long, fluid Southern drawl. "It's me, Halley. Your favorite Georgia peach! Oh, my—I had such a hard time getting your new phone number. Naughty you forgot to give it to me when you shipped out."
CC's grin slipped off her face like wax from a candle. Halley was one of the few things she hadn't missed about her last duty station.
"Just have a quick second to talk. I'm calling to remind you that my thirtieth birthday is just a month and a half
away—December fifteenth, to be exact—and I want you to mark your little ol' calendar. "
CC listened with disbelief. "This is like a train wreck. It just keeps getting worse and worse."
"I'm having the Party to End All Parties, and I expect your attendance. So put in for leave ASAP. I'll send the formal invite in a week or so. And, yes, presents are acceptable. " Halley giggled like a Southern Barbie doll. "See y 'all soon. Bye-bye for now!"
"I don't believe it." CC punched the Off button with decidedly more force than was strictly necessary. "First my parents forget my birthday. Then not only does it look like my oldest friend has forgotten it too, but I get a call from an annoying non-friend inviting me to her party!" She dropped the phone back on the counter. "A month and a half in advance!"
CC shoved the unopened bottle of champagne into the fridge.