Page 2 of Legacy
She gives me a stern, bitch face. “No. We’re not college kids anymore. This is real life.”
“Fine. I didn’t need one at the Academy and didn’t in London. It’s just a lot to sort out all at once on top of the life storm happening right now. We were never normal college kids, either. In case you forgot.” Most everything was in walking distance in England and on a rare occasion when the distance was farther, I would Uber.
“It’s a car. It’s not a lot to sort out. Plus, you’ve basically been on paid vacation for a year. Why don’t you have shit sorted already? You can’t live here with me forever. Time to leave the nest.”
I’ve stayed with her since I returned from London. Not because my parents wouldn’t have me, mostly so I didn’t have to see their ‘I told you so’ expressions at mealtimes or when I passed them in the hall. I knew better than to go off and fall for a boy all willy-nilly-no-holds-barred. Marissa drains her glass of wine and flips on the television to an anime show—her favorite.
“Wanna binge?”
Sighing, I agree, “Yes. I’ll look for a car and my own place this weekend. Thanks for letting me crash here, Marissa. I can always count on you.” There’s something about best friends that put you at ease. They are the only people who can tell you ugly truths and get away with it.
She’s giving me a patronizing speech on becoming the person she always knew I’d be when my handbag starts vibrating. The alert for a new email. I pull it out and slink back to recline next to my friend, bending my knees so I’m not on top of her. I read the email three times in a bubble of disbelief, mostly because I thought my heart rate might calm down if I kept my eyes occupied. It didn’t.
“I got it. I’m in.” Even though everyone said it would happen, part of me didn’t think it would come to fruition, that my goals were too big for the world I was born into. It took a solid year for this process. Twelve months of decisions, and going back on decisions, and ups and downs so wild they gave me whiplash. They tried to push me in different directions, but I stayed steadfast. “Oh, my God. It’s finally happening.”
My friend sits up straighter and looks over at me. “You got the assignment email? Right now? Sitting in my house on my couch?” Marissa squeals, stands and claps her hands wildly. Her laughter is contagious and a smile slides across my face replacing the slack-jawed shock. “I can’t believe it. This is amazing. Epic. Ground breaking! I can’t believe it,” she hisses once more.
Neither can I. Not because I don’t think I’m capable of what is being asked of me, but because no one has done it before. This puts my stupid breakup in jarring perspective. It puts the whole entire world into a new, more progressive perspective. I like to think I inherited it from my dad, Liam, the desire to save the world from a coveted spot in the shadows. Or it could be in my blood, Aaron, my biological father also chose this path. Maybe it’s just who I am. Who I’m going to be. Who I decided to form myself into and hold tight to my resolve to never settle for anything less.
Marissa takes the phone from my hand and reads the email out loud while shrieking in between paragraphs. “BUD/S class 1030,” she says out loud. “Aarabelle.”
I nod twice to acknowledge her, and she continues freaking out, telling me how she needs to call our mutual friend Sarah to come over. Some girls dream about growing up to marry a prince. They’ll wear a pretty gown and watch as the strong, handsome man slides gold onto their left ring finger. My dreams have never resembled anything normal. I want gold, don’t get me wrong. I don’t want it on my finger gifted from a man. I want it pinned on my chest. Over my heart. Because I earned it. I want the trident. “I’m going to be a Navy SEAL.”
