He never used to stand by anxiously for his wife to come home, but it was the envelope that came in the mail which urged him to steal glimpses out the window. Around six, her light blue Camry pulled into the driveway, coming to a sharp stop inches from the bumper of his red Titan. Instead of flinching, he fidgeted with the envelope in a casual manner.
Tracy Rose watched as his wife entered their home; he didn’t say a word. Lindsay tossed her work shoes by the closet and dumped her keys into the beige woven basket on the partial wall. Tracy paid slight attention to what she said; more than likely, it regarded how awful her day went. A customer service rep for the post office, Lindsay had her equal share of disgruntled customers, which made Tracy thankful that her only interaction with them was over the phone!
The woman wasted no time shredding her clothes while making her way to the bedroom; he stopped for a moment to appreciate her. Lindsay was no longer the rail thin young lady he had come across in the chow hall nine years ago; her light brown skin body filled in admirably over time. What he wished to do, without a doubt was follow her into their room but he put aside that desire until the two got to the bottom of what was in that envelope!
Still ranting, Lindsay came back into the living room wearing a white A-shirt and orange short shorts; Tracy wondered why she even bothered: both garments covered little to nothing! The woman's dreadlocks had escaped their bun, the deep chocolate locks with honey blonde tips flowed well beyond her shoulders.
“... And that was a fucking waste of my gaddamn time! Anyway...,” her deep brown eyes gazed at him. She leaned in to give him her usual greeting, a kiss on the lips before she noticed how he watched her. “What? Hey... what's that?” she moved her attention to the manila envelope in his hands. Tracy came out of his daze as he gave her a lingering kiss.
“Something came in the mail for you.” he handed the envelope to her. Her eyes widened as she recognized the presidential seal.
“Wait... is that...?”
“Yep. Presidential seal! You know I always open your mail but that-”
“Huh; your nosy ass finally admits it!” she threw him a smirk as she opened her letter.
“Shut up!” Tracy playfully shoved his wife. He looked on as she took the contents out: three sheets of paper and an airline ticket.
To Mrs. Lindsay Rochelle Rose:
With great enthusiasm, I inform you that our government requires your participation in a top-secret training program. As president of the United States, it was my personal duty to notify you of this decision.
I am not obligated to discuss anything in depth until we meet in person. Yet, a reliable source chose you due to your dedicated service in the United States Marine Corps. Included with this letter are further instructions along with a liable mean of transportation. Please advise that participation in this program is mandatory.
I look forward to meeting with you to discuss the subject at hand extensively. I extend my gratitude for treating this matter with utmost concern. If you have any questions beforehand, feel free to contact the number provided. Semper Fidelis and may God bless you.
Virgil Abraham
Lindsay gave out a shaky laugh as she glanced at her husband.
“It's... it's a joke. Yeah...”
“I don't know, Linds. If this was emailed then... maybe. But... that seal is the real thing!” Tracy took the letter and ran his fingers over the stamp.
“But it's so... vague. Top-secret training? For what? And... why,” she mumbled as she skimmed over the other sheet of paper. As the first letter described, the second page listed further details but vaguer than the letter. Two things Lindsay took away from it: her departure date in two weeks from the Phoenix Sky Harbor to Dulles, and the year-long training set up in New Mexico. “Whoa... what?! A year?! Fuck that; I ain't going!” she shook her head. Tracy looked on in bewilderment.
“Well... that isn't fair... but if this is real... you don't have a choice...”
“But... you see how crazy this all is, right? I just got a two-week notice to pack my shit for D.C. for God knows how long and then a year away in New Mexico?! Bullshit! I was picked cuz I was a Marine? The only good I did there was fire from a tank!”
“Yeah but... not a lot of women can say that, you know...,” her husband reasoned out. “Here's that number he mentioned. Call and see if this is for real, at least!”
“You know... I'll do just that!”
ns 15.158.61.51da2
