My Aunt Sneered: “No Medals? You’re Just A Desk Secretary.” I Sipped My Wine. “I Don’t Answer Phones.” She Laughed. “Oh? Then Who Are You?” I Said, “Oracle 9.” Her Son, A Navy Seal, Went Pale. “Mom… Stop Talking.

“You need your strength, baby,” she cooed. “After everything you’ve done for this country, fighting in the desert, protecting us.”

When the platter reached me, it was mostly picked over. Marjorie reached across, grabbed the serving spoon, and dropped a single dry wing and a scoop of lukewarm green bean casserole onto my china.

“Eat up, Collins,” she said, her voice dropping to that patronizing register she used for children and service staff. “Although, be careful with the carbs. When you sit in an office chair for twelve hours a day, the weight just sticks to you, doesn’t it?

You don’t burn calories like Nathan does. He’s out there in the field.”

I looked at the dry turkey wing. I hadn’t eaten a real meal in thirty-six hours.

The irony was rich. While Nathan was indeed a SEAL, and a damn good one, his last deployment had been a training rotation in Germany. My office chair had recently been inside a dusty Humvee coordinating drone strikes.

“The food looks delicious, Aunt Marjorie,” I said. It was the lie that kept the peace. She took a long sip of her Napa Valley Cabernet, leaving a lipstick stain on the rim of the crystal.

“You know,” she started, and I felt the muscles in my neck tighten. The preamble always signaled an attack. “I heard on Fox News that the Pentagon is looking to cut administrative staff.

Are you worried, honey?”

I cut a piece of the dry meat, chewing slowly. “My department is stable. Thank you.”

“Oh, ‘stable,’” she mocked gently.

“That’s code for boring, isn’t it? Look, if you get laid off, I’m sure Nathan could pull some strings. Nathan, couldn’t you get her a job at the base?

Maybe answering phones or processing payroll. At least then she’d be near real soldiers. It might rub off on her.”

The table went quiet.

The sound of silverware scraping against china seemed amplified. Nathan stopped chewing. He looked at his mother, then at me.

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