Disclaimer and general explanations: see first chapter.
Thanks so much to Mariel3, Yury, Teresa and dolphinology for your kind reviews. I seem to be feeling very creative at the moment, so here's another one of these as well...
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The Luckiest
I
don't get many things right the first time,
In fact, I am told
that a lot.
Now I know all the wrong turns and stumbles and
falls
Brought me here.
And where was I before the day
That I
first saw your lovely face?
Now I see it every day.
And I know
That
I am,
I am,
I am
The luckiest.
It was dark when the cab finally pulled up to the front door. Bridger struggled out into the rain, wondering where the fabulous Hawaii weather that everyone always raved about was. Maybe it was only sunny when he was fifty fathoms beneath the ocean.
The cab driver helped him with his bag, although to tell the truth he didn't need it; he wasn't carrying much stuff with him, and he was probably much more equipped to carry it than the overweight driver. He thanked him nonetheless, and tipped him generously, then stood for a moment watching as the cab drove off into the downpour. He felt a strange reluctance to go inside. He knew Carol would be upset that he was so late, even more so when she found out his furlough was going to be shorter than he'd promised. Again. He knew it must be lonely for her, to be left literally holding the baby. He wanted to see her, see them both, God, he wanted it, but he wasn't sure he could bear his homecoming to be marred by an argument.
Standing in the rain wasn't going to do him any good though. He was soaked through by now, and his uniform pants were getting heavy. Sighing, he fumbled in his pocket for the keys, and opened the heavy glass door into the lobby. The doorman nodded at him calmly, though he probably looked a fright in his dripping uniform and with his stitched-up cheek. Honestly, who would join the Navy?
He licked his lips, tasting salt, and was reminded that he had already been soaked once today, standing on the deck of the ship that had brought them back, he and his close friend Manilow Crocker. Are you looking forward to seeing your wife, Crocker? he had asked, and Crocker had grinned. Not as much as I'm looking forward to getting back to the sea, he had laughed, slapping Bridger on the back, and the ship had swayed, a wave of spray drenching the two of them where they stood by the rail. Both had gasped with the shock of the cold water, and then Crocker had wiped his eyes and spread his arms wide. Nothing can beat this, he had cried into the stormy wind. Nothing can beat this! And Bridger, feeling the savage joy that the sea always brought to him, had silently agreed. And yet now, here he stood on dry land, in a nondescript lobby.
By the time the elevator doors opened onto the hallway that was both familiar and alien, he was mentally prepared for what was to come. It was past midnight, and he hadn't called. He deserved everything that was coming to him. As the key turned in the lock he braced himself and stepped forwards.
Into silence.
He lowered his bag to the ground cautiously, closing the door gently behind him. He was about to call out, but remembered that the baby would be asleep, and so instead he stepped quietly into the living room. Carol was sitting on the sofa, little Robert in her arms; both were fast asleep. The baby had grown so much that Bridger almost didn't recognise him, and he felt a shiver run through his insides. My son. My family.
Moving as quietly as he could, he crossed the room to sit on the sofa beside his wife. His uniform squelched slightly as he sat down, and Carol shifted and opened her eyes.
"Nathan," she smiled sleepily.
Bridger reached a hand over and brushed a stray hair from her face. "Shhh," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."
Carol's eyelids fluttered closed, and she changed position so that her head was against Bridger's shoulder. He put his arm round her gently, and she shivered slightly. "You're wet."
Bridger nodded. "It's raining."
But Carol was already asleep once again, snuggled up against him with the baby wrapped protectively in her arms. Bridger folded his own arms around the two of them and sat as still as he could, feeling their warm weight against his chest and the baby's breathing stirring the hairs on the back of his hand. He felt a slow, steady glow spread through his body. It was nothing like the wild euphoria the sea brought to him; he remembered Crocker howling into the storm once more: Nothing can beat this!, and he tightened his embrace around his family. "You're wrong, my friend," he murmured. "You are so, so wrong."
I
don't get many things right the first time,
In fact, I am told
that a lot.
Now I know all the wrong turns and stumbles and
falls
Brought me here.
And where was I before the day
That I
first saw your lovely face?
Now I see it every day.
And I know
That
I am,
I am,
I am
The luckiest.
What
if I'd been born fifty years before you
In a house on the
street
Where you lived?
Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on
your bike,
Would I know?
And in a wide sea of eyes,
I see
one pair that I
Recognise.
And I know
That
I am,
I am,
I am
The luckiest.
I
love you more than I have
Ever found a way to say
To you.
Next
door there's an old man
Who lived to his nineties,
Then one day
passed away
In his sleep.
And his wife, she stayed for a couple
of days
And passed away.
I'm sorry, I know that's a
Strange
way to tell you
That I know we belong.
That I know
That
I am,
I am,
I am
The luckiest.