He held up a piece of paper, gingerly, between his thumb and forefinger, a completely blank, expressionless, look on his face."Sir?"As I stood to attention, my eyes were drawn to a photograph on the wall behind him. I'd noticed it last time I was in here, but I now knew a tiny bit more about Major Wilkerson than I did then, and the uniforms of the two men caught my attention. It was a photograph of two men, both in uniform, and obviously very close friends. One was clearly Wilkerson as a much younger man. The uniform of the other had the red and white Canadian maple leaf flag on it. Underneath I spotted the names Donald Wilkerson and Jonathan Whitefeather. Both men were wearing the badges of a parachute-trained soldier. Wilkerson had been in the 82nd Airborne at least thirty years previously: this must have been taken then."I have been ordered to promote you, though heaven knows why I should."Promote me? My heart gave a little jump, and I managed, though with some difficulty, to hold. We weren’t frying turkey this Christmas.In the afternoon, I called each of my girlfriends. Joan and Beca were in Chicago. Nanette, Brittany, and Emily were in Kansas. Donna was visiting cousins in Indianapolis. Livy had gone to Rachel’s house in the afternoon. Desi and her parents were getting ready for Fort Wayne PopCon the next weekend and I had agreed to help at the show on Saturday and Sunday. It was sort of Desi and my anniversary. Sophie, her mother, and her sister were all tipsy. A dozen other people were at their house and they were partying as only Cubans could. I laughed at Sophie’s antics for a bit and then we conferenced Brittany in so she could see the chaos in her home. She and Nanette would be coming home over the weekend.I did something I found I rarely do these days. I played my guitar just to play it. I didn’t perform or rehearse. I just picked it up like an old friend and even played between turns while the family played Monopoly. It felt peaceful.Another thing I.
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