Top Gun: Maverick
Love Letters
by Mirwalker
Part 1
"Bob!" the bartender smiled warmly, having already learned the new regulars. "You're in ahead of the crowd today."
"Miss Benjamin," the WSO smiled back with his quiet politeness, looking around to see that he was indeed one of the first to arrive at the favorite base bar this early evening. "I'm actually running a little late meeting someone."
"A sad-eyed civilian with a bit of an accent and a taste for Mr Pibb?" she wondered knowingly.
The lieutenant blinked and cocked his head at how she could possibly know that, before simply accepting the Hard Deck owner's otherworldly insights. He nodded in shy amazement and agreement, and looked around more closely.
She tilted her head toward the beach outside. "He was even earlier. I let him hang on the patio, have a late lunch."
Noticing the figure seated under the outdoor umbrella, Bob took a deep breath. Reaching for his wallet, he requested, "I'll take two Mr Pibbs, please; and put his meal on my tab too."
She shook her hand at his credit card. "He said you'd try, and's already settled up."
"Oh, okay. Well then, I'll just have a beer for myself."
Already pouring, she placed the suds and another soda on the bar. "He said you'd say that too. You're covered. Generous tip too…" she headed off his last attempt.
With an of-course-he-did sigh and blush, Floyd conceded, "Thank you, Miss Benjamin," picked up the drinks, and headed out onto the deck.
"You're welcome. And please call me Penny! I'm not your mom…," she chuckled after him, with a nonetheless motherly head shake.
There was a little chop on the water despite only a light breeze; and the visitor had picked a table whose umbrella provided shade without obstructing the heading-toward-sunset. A messenger bag lay beyond a partially-eaten cheeseburger, leaving open only the bench across from the sea watcher.
Floyd paused a moment to notice the familiar disheveled hair so different from everyone he spent most of his days with. His own bangs had been mocked as the longest of this mission's men and women. Refusing to be baited, he'd reminded Hangman his 'cut was still very much regulation. As hoped, the ever-grinning pilot had simply shaken his head at the deadpan response, and moved on in search of a more reactive target.
Below today's tangle, the guest's posture was certainly not to standard. Turned slightly toward the surf, the shoulders drooped unusually and the back hunched, likely from fatigue, perhaps from more. Combined with the unfinished lunch and larger circumstances, he knew he wasn't meeting the best version of this longtime friend.
"Nico?" the naval officer called as he approached.
Whether the name was lost in the wind, or the listener was lost in the view, he didn't react.
"Monsieur Hebert!" he hailed with a little more volume and a little less distance, setting down the drinks as a physical signal of his arrival.
As it always did, the bright smile shone out first as the guest turned, stood and ducked out from under the canopy. "Robby," the man almost sighed, throwing his arms around the expected drink server.
They embraced until the bespectacled man whispered, "I'm- I'm so sorry. I wish I could've come…"
Nico pulled back enough to notice and fix the now-ruffled collar on his host's squadron polo. The burst of energy quickly passed, he nodded away the sentiment, "Thanks. I know; I wasn't expecting that you could…"
"Still…," Floyd squinted in glare and regret. He stepped back, getting his first full look beyond hair, shoulders, and smile. As he often was, regardless of the weather, the deep Southerner was dressed in cargo shorts, a tee shirt, and an open long-sleeved shirt. Today, it was a dress shirt and crisp shorts given the company and location, but still projected the honest approachability that he, and his folk, were known for. The man was forever tan, but his face was thinner than Floyd recalled, and his eyes carried a novel weariness. For the known and new, Robby shared honestly, "It's really good to see you."
Giving a more Floyd-typical humble shrug, Nico waved them to the shaded seats. "Thanks for making time today; I know work is busy. I'm not long back at the Zoo myself. So when you said you were at North Island for a temp assignment… It just worked out."
"How are your modern-day dinosaurs?" Robby smiled, knowing this preppy look wasn't far afield from his work clothes. He hoped the return to the cold-blooded cares had brought the man some comfort.
"All good. The crew took good care of them while I was… home. And my leadership team was incredibly supportive, letting me connect with a few LSU and other stations so I could count some of the time as field work."
"I'm sure they're all glad you're back. And I can only imagine how hard it was juggling it all."
Nico sipped the fresh soda, if only to keep his hands busy. "I am glad to be back, but wouldn't have traded being there. Not for anything."
Robby reached out and rested his hand on Nico's near arm. "I'll bet she told you—often—how glad she was to have you there. She was never shy about wanting you to move back to the parish." (1)
Nico smiled sadly. "She was opinionated—although she'd insist she was just 'right'—all the way to the… the end."
Robby squeezed his arm, seeing that same family passion bubbling up as grief.
"I'm just grateful that she's not suffering anymore—" Nico's voice quavered and broke, his gaze dropping and his jaw rippling as he regained control. Quickly, he looked back up, eyes watery, but voice clear again as he reassured, "And she's with papa now. And that's all good."
Floyd reflected the sad, sure smile, controlling the urge to do or say more. "How are you?"
The adult orphan glanced out toward the ocean, as a bit more of his native lower Louisiana slipped through. "It's not like it was a surprise—long time comin' fuh shore." He pulled his arm free, cleared his throat, and wiped an eye. "So, I guess we all had time to prepare, best we could. Since the funeral, it's just been wrapping up her affairs, selling the car and house..."
"That can't have been—"
"Mama wanted you to have something," Nico interrupted before the well-wishing could make him well up again. He reached into his bag and pushed a plain envelope across the table. "She left notes for a few folks. Her instructions for yours were very specific…"
Noting the change of focus, but nonetheless intrigued, Robby picked up the paper rectangle. His full name was written across it in a beautiful, if slightly shaky, cursive handwriting.
"I was to deliver it to you. In person. As soon as possible. And wait while you read it."
Robby looked up in slight disbelief.
Nico nodded him to go ahead, perhaps to get on with it.
Running his finger under the flap and carefully along the top, Robby smiled as a sweet scent tickled up, "Smells like her…"
A flash of knowing sorrow rippled across the witness' face.
"Aloud?"
Nico shrugged in deference, leaning back to observe as apparently intended.
Pulling out two pages of ruled paper, Floyd adjusted his perch on the wooden bench. Opening the folds, the perfume and deliberate ink swirls became his entire focus. In his mind, he could see the writer's rosy, chubby cheeks and hear her slow, familiar Cajun drawl as he read silently:
Ça va,Robért? (2)
Nico say you still on your ship, in Arabia.
The officer smiled at how the Hebert matriarch continued to boil down his job in her own, endearing way, before her continued charming bluntness drained that mirth from his face.
So I'm sorry I won't get to say goodbye in person.
Facin' my Saviour as I am, I must ask you to forgive my speakin' so plainly here. But life is short, and can be sweet –much like me, non? I'm Nico's mere after all. And you know I ain't honte to look after my own. Especially now. At the end.
See, I ain't afraid for me. Praise the good Lord! But I do worry for my Nico. He's gave up so much to look after me, these last months especially. I don't deserve it. And he deserve better, I know. But we'll both soon be free, and he'll have time and need for his own livin' then. Lisette is busy with her family in Caroline. And he'll say he has his cocodrils and other critters. But that ain't enough for nobody, fuh shore.
And so I'm stickin' my neck out, and my nose in, and askin' whether you and he… might be y'all again.
to be continued...
NOTES
1. Governmental administrative divisions below the state level are "counties" in 48 other states; but in Louisiana, these are called "parishes." (Also unique in USA, Alaska has "boroughs.")
2. A few Cajun phrases used:
Ça va? ("sah vah") = How (are) you?
mere ("mare") = mother
honte ("haunt") = ashamed/embarrassed
cocodrils = alligators
