Green Lake 9

Portia comes into my office, closes the door, "so, read the two-star book?"
"Yep."
"Care to be a little more specific?"
"If another girl-girl fling comes along, why not? Long-term relationship, not on your life. A guy or nobody."
She laughs easily, "how it works, if it were easy, everyone would do it, human race die out. Which leaves you in the same boat as everyone else, lot more girls than guys available. Should get a Black man, say age 45, dignified, religious."
"Any suggestions?"
"All gone, quick, but if any come available, I'll let you know."
"Portia, tonight's menu is boring, I'll buy at Rachel's."
"Sure."

We order, I pay at the counter, our orders will be brought to us. Once we're seated, she grins, "noticed on the way over, now you look at gay couples real resentful."
I blush, "they get alla breaks, none of the jealousy and complications. And look what we hafta put up with."
She starts to laugh.
This offends me, "what was that for?"
"A first, you actually used the pronoun 'we' for women."
I pause, "yeah, guess I did."
"My brother told me how AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) works. Take the body enough times, the mind follows. So, what you gonna do if you turn around and see Prince Charming?"
I laugh.
"Think fast, you got maybe 5 seconds."
It's Rachel, "hello Jamila, Portia, so glad you could come. Good loyal customers like you. Meet my brother Ariel, just returned from several years in the Middle East."
He takes my hand suavely, kisses it, "I'm so glad to meet you. Rachel told me so much about the mission."
I blush hotly, "I'm not quite the hero it seems. Had a very capable Sgt, deserved more than that Bronze Star."
"But I mean the heroism in just plain going, even if you didn't slay dragons. Without you, they'd all still be in prison. You made all the girls rich, free, decorated by taking that step."
I blush hotter.
Rachel smiles, "Ari, quit drooling. Some things are not to be. You know what Afghans think of us."
He protests, "but I haven't seen one iota of it in her eyes. Nor did you say such of her about the training or mission."
I like him, "took a look at my family tree. Lotta the ancestors been Afghan-American 15 generations now. Laid that stuff to rest. Ariel, I'd be delighted if you'd join us."
"Why thank you so much."
We have a pleasant chat, without getting over-serious.
As Portia and I leave, she says, "it was bugging me for a while, now I know where I've seen that face. News story, suicide bombing, lost his family. Don't rush anything."
"Thanks for the warning."

Alas it is not to be. Next morning I'm called to the CO's office, "take an hour to get packed, you're on your way to 318th Para."
My ears prick up, that's Tasmina's.
"Seems their CO is deathly ill, they're about one day away from climbing aboard. Peacekeeping mission, Canada, place called Saskatchewan. Seems the tribes are shooting at each other."
I phone the coffee house, tell Rachel of the news, ask her to pass it on, including my email address.
"I'll give it only on one condition. Promise to be gentle, take your time. He's recently a widower."
"I swear it, much time as he wants."
"All right, I'll give it."

I exit the train, spot Tasmina, my RSM (Regimental Sgt-Major), waiting by a jeep. I chuck in my two bags, cheerfully remark, "so lemme guess, Cree and Saulteaux playing up."
She gasps, then laughs, "I was gonna ask how you knew. But then, you saw it up close and personal a thousand years before my butt saw diapers."
We laugh.
"So," I ask, "Canadian Prime Minister is authorizing this little adventure?"
"Of course, you don't think we'd insult our little brothers. Jamila, you got maybe 30 minutes to think, better have one pi**cutter of a speech. Why? Girls are right freaky. Of course they've never deployed in the good ole USA before, it's peacable. But this is their first trip for real to Canada, other than joint training maneuvers there. They don't mind when idiots 10,000 miles away play bad. Bugs em when their own friends do."
"So, you got figures, such as high murder rate?"
She nods.
"Take those figures and forget em. Native concept of murder is totally different than white. Almost no real murders in there. Two main classes, two friends or spouses stinking drunk, quarrel, it gets violent. Crime of passion yes, premeditated murder no. Rest of it, executions."
She gasps, "you ah mean ah"
"You got it. Don't trust the white man's justice system, got their own. Half of all those deaths are killing the malefactor, what we won't do."
She grins, "well, looks like your speech is ready. Last time, you needed me big time. Now it's reversed, that's what friends are for."