Chapter 15 - The Reflection Was Still There
Vale was scheduled to leave at six Friday morning.
At 5:41, I was sitting in my car outside the twenty-four-hour café near the main gate.
I had not told him I was coming.
I had not decided whether I was.
His truck was parked two rows over.
Lights off.
So he was inside.
My phone sat in the cup holder.
One message from him at 5:12.
Coffee before I drive. No pressure. If not, take care of yourself.
I had read it three times.
No answer.
At 5:46, another car pulled in.
A young lieutenant got out, hurried inside, and came back four minutes later carrying two coffees.
Normal morning.
I looked toward the base across the highway.
Sixty days.
That was how long before I could enter another certification block.
My old assignment was gone.
A different opening might appear.
Or not.
Mason would move to operations support next month.
Vale might retire.
Or change his mind.
None of those decisions needed me before breakfast.
At 5:51, my phone buzzed.
Not Vale.
Captain Brooks.
NEW COURSE DATE AVAILABLE NOV 3. NEED YES/NO BY MONDAY.
I stared at it.
There it was.
A choice that did not care whether I had healed, learned, forgiven, or understood anything.
Just yes or no.
I put the phone down.
At 5:55, Vale came out of the café.
Coffee in one hand.
Bag over his shoulder.
He saw my car.
Stopped.
For half a second, neither of us moved.
Then he walked toward me.
Not fast.
Not assuming.
He stopped outside the passenger door.
I lowered the window.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
He looked at the empty passenger seat.
Then at me.
“Do you want company?”
I almost laughed.
“You're the one leaving.”
“True.”
He waited.
I unlocked the passenger door.
Vale opened it.
Then stopped.
“You sure?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
He got in anyway.
I looked at him.
“That wasn't permission.”
His hand froze on the door.
Then he started to get back out.
I laughed.
“Sit down.”
“You're exhausting.”
“Drive safely.”
We sat facing the dark café windows.
The stainless-steel trim beneath them reflected the parking lot faintly.
My hands rested on the steering wheel.
Vale noticed.
“Your left is low.”
I looked at him.
He raised both hands in surrender.
“Sorry.”
I almost smiled.
Then:
“Adrian.”
“Yes?”
“Do you still teach it?”
“The stance?”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you call it anything?”
He shook his head.
“Never did.”
I looked at the reflection.
Two silhouettes in the glass.
Not matching now.
“Good.”
Vale drank his coffee.
At 6:03, he said:
“I should go.”
I nodded.
He opened the door.
Then turned back.
“Rachel.”
“What?”
“I don't expect you to answer this now.”
“That’s a dangerous opening.”
“I know.”
He looked toward the base.
“If I retire next year, Monica keeps telling me to open a small training place with her husband.”
I stared.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Nothing.”
He almost smiled.
“Unless one day you want to walk in.”
No job offer.
No promise.
No request to repair eleven years through training.
Just a door.
I looked at him.
“I might hate your coffee.”
“It'll be Monica’s.”
“Still possible.”
He nodded.
Then got out.
I watched him cross to his truck.
He did not look back before getting in.
That helped.
My phone buzzed again.
Brooks.
MONDAY. NO RUSH THIS MORNING.
I smiled slightly.
Then looked toward the café window.
For a second, the glass caught my reflection clearly.
Left hand low.
Shoulders loose.
Vale's stance.
Mine.
Maybe both.
I opened the course message.
Did not answer.
Then I started the car.
Vale’s truck turned toward the highway.
I could follow him to the light and wave.
I could go back through the gate.
I could sit another five minutes.
The traffic signal ahead changed from red to green.
May you like
Vale drove through.
I stayed where I was until the next cycle.
