"Why are you leaving? I still don't understand." She had tears in her eyes now. The clock showed us that we were running out of time. Her traditional mother would only let her stay out so late - even if she knew it was because I would be leaving tomorrow for the Navy.
"I can't explain. I just have to." It was a lame excuse then. Its a lame excuse now. I'm still not sure I have a better answer.
There were a hundred reasons I had joined the Navy, but the shortest explanation is that I had to. I was floundering, really, and I had panicked. Unable to deal with the new found freedom of college, I had let my grades plunge and had effectively washed out of film school. It wasn't that the subjects hadn't been interesting - it was more that a case of lethargy had seized me and wouldn't let go. My brain just didn't want to function any more. I had enjoyed three very productive writing years in High School, had written nearly ten full length stories, and had thought myself ready to transition to film. I was going to be the next great movie mogul. But when I finally achieved film school, finally sat down in the class, finally opened a notebook - I became soul wearily bored. I wanted the fantasy of film school. I wanted the fantasy of freedom. Reality was a drag.
There was more, really. Ron had passed a note to me in Script Writing Class - "I'm joining the Navy." The bombshell had nearly shaken me out of my seat. For the next thirty minutes I scribbled madly notes back to him telling him why he was an idiot. I continued after class for another hour and then left him for work at my Dad's shop - but I didn't leave the argument. It raced in my head, exploded in insane rants that I couldn't keep locked up in my head. Talking to myself, I addressed all the hundreds of reasons why joining the Navy was a monumentally bad idea. But somewhere along the line, I convinced myself to join with him.
It wasn't a dramatic schizophrenic moment, but more of a subtle shift in logic. As I named off all the reasons he shouldn't join, I realized that the arguments for joining the Navy overcame a lot of the obstacles I currently faced. It was a job - a paying job. It was an adventure - a real adventure. I would have time to write and things to write about. And, perhaps, I could get into a real college at some point and become a real film maker. The Navy could pave my way into UCLA or USC. I was a patriot. My Dad and Grandfather had both served. And it wasn't like there was going to be a war any time soon.
I informed my family that night - then I called Ron and told him I would join him. He seemed relieved. The next day we went down to the recruiting station and I watched as the recruiter's eyes got about three sizes too big when he saw my ASVAB test scores. He knew he'd just landed a big fish. We tried to get into the Navy's film program, but they couldn't gurantee anything until after Boot Camp. Without hesitition in my heart, we signed on the dotted line and our fates were sealed.
I saw Chelsea that night and as we sat on a bench waiting for her bus, I broke the news to her. She took it really well. She was confused, sad, shocked, but she said she understood.
Our remaining days together - about three months - before Boot Camp were unusually tense. We had been seeing each other for nearly three years at this point and I didn't think we could possibly get any closer to each other. There was nothing we hadn't done together as boyfriend and girlfriend. Though we both knew we were too young to get married, have kids, and start a life together, I was under the assumption that it wasn't age that was keeping us apart so much as a lack of will. When we were ready to take that next step, I knew we would. I had no doubt about it. I loved Chelsea with all my heart - our lives together were inevitable.
On my final night in the real world, Ron and his date and Chelsea and I had gone out together. We went to see Crocodile Dundee 2. I was too nervous to enjoy the broad comedy. Sitting in the dark with Chelsea at my side, I couldn't help but contemplate the immediate future. After the movie, we went to dinner at Mel's Diner. It was forgettable - even if it was cliche for someone heading off to the military the next day. We ate without joy only to stave off the inevitable parting. We drove away from Mel's and crossed the Golden Gate Bridge to Marin, taking the first exit on the other side and heading down to the base of the bridge. It was dark and almost private.
Chelsea and I made our way to the end of the path, under the bridge, and sat with other couples watching San Francisco twinkle across the bay. We snuggled tight for warmth and kissed gently. But the anticipation was too great. It was a dark cloud on the very near horizon. We walked slowly back to the car - tried to create some sort of lasting memories to tide us over through the time to come - but, all too quickly, we were back at the car.
Chelsea dried her tears before we got to the car. Ron and his date were waiting for us. The dread spread from that moment, spread like a disease. I tried to be cheerful, tried to sound normal, but my heart was beating in my chest and tears were just underneath my heavy eyelids. We reached Chelsea's house and for what could have been the last time, I got out and walked her to the door. We kissed quickly. I wanted more, something more. But her mother was there, mad that we were out so late, and Chelsea had to go. She gave me a limp, "Goodbye," and went inside.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Ron and I stayed up til late in the morning and then I headed home. I climbed into bed with my dog. Said my silent goodbyes to my brother and sister. And when the early morning alarm woke me not a half hour later, I grabbed my bag and said goodbye to my parents and headed off to seek my fortune.
For the next three years, I regreted ever leaving that house.
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