Random Acts of Kindness

"It's not for sure, and while I could tell she was genuinely thankful for the help, I really don't know if she'll ever call."

"Either way, you did the right thing."

"Yes. Yes we did, Mom," her son agreed, making sure to add her in.

Again, he could tell his mom wanted to say something else and waited.

"I don't mean to meddle, but have you thought about calling her?"

Phil couldn't help chuckling and told his mom he had.

"Sorry. It's none of my business."

"Mom? You're the one and only person who's allowed to...inquire...about my business."

Now she laughed then told her son she loved him.

"And I love you, too, Mom."

*****

Two Weeks Later

"All right. Listen up," Captain Sexton said as he addressed the entire NROTC contingent on campus at zero six thirty in the morning.

"All of you, except for our freshmen, have run the obstacle course. And a couple of you are prior enlisted Marines, so you've done this before, too."

Everyone was gathered around in what was called a 'school circle' as the cadets stood silent, listening to every word.

"At OCS, you'll run the obstacle course for time. Here, you're running it for familiarity. There'll be plenty of opportunity to run it for time over the course of the academic year, but for today, learning proper form is more important than speed."

Phil had the cadets, who were seniors and knew all the tricks, divide up and take one obstacle each. They, in turn, would show the underclassmen and women, how to get over each obstacle as quickly and efficiently as possible.

The first obstacle was a high bar. There were two ways to get over it. The first was to jump into it on the run and continue swinging one's entire body around it in giant circle, hit the ground, and take off running. The second involved something called a 'chicken wing' in which one pulled oneself up to chin height, threw one arm over the bar to grasp it forming a kind of chicken wing, throw up a leg, then pull the rest of the body up and over.

Two cadets took turns showing each of the options before moving on to the next obstacle.

By the end of the PT session, Marine-speak for physical training, everyone had negotiated every obstacle, and it was now time to let the cadets run the entire course.

"Remember. Technique over speed. We don't need anyone getting hurt out here today," the captain told them as the seniors formed up in front with juniors, sophomores, and freshmen filling in behind them.

"How about you, sir? Are you running?" one of the seniors asked.

Phil was wearing PT gear just like his cadets, as was the Marine Gunnery Sergeant who was his assistant MOI.

"You want to run it with me, Guns?" the captain asked, knowing the former Marine drill instructor was in superb condition.

"Oorah, sir!" the gunny told him.

"Okay. I believe the old timers will give it a go," Captain Sexton said, even though he was 27 and the gunny was 33.

The cadets went wild as the only two Marines in the group moved to the front.

"Cadet Jacobson. You say when," the captain told him.

"Stand by, gentlemen," the class leader said as he looked at his watch.

"Go!" he called out.

Both Marines used option 1 and spun themselves over the bar. They then navigated a wooden obstacle, several vaults, an eight-foot wall, more vaults, and ended up climbing a 20-foot rope where they would touch the top of the wooden beam to end their time.

Phil Sexton was in superb shape himself, and although the gunny was more experienced, Phil could have easily beaten him. But in a show of solidarity, he slowed down near the end and made sure both of them grabbed the rope at the same time.

Phil watched as the gunny climbed, matching him foot for foot. They both slapped the beam at the same time and called out, "Oorah! Semper Fi!" before sliding back down to a still-cheering group of cadets.

But halfway back down the rope, Phil got his feet tangled up in the rope for the first time ever and to his extreme embarrassment, fell the last ten feet or so, landing on his left foot in a way that caused the ankle to roll.

He knew it was sprained but couldn't bear to show any weakness as he immediately got up and tried to laugh it off. The gunny knew better and after ordering the first two cadets to go, walked over and asked if his boss was okay.

"I rolled my ankle."

"Can you walk on it, Cap'n?"

He took a step and winced then shook his head.

"You really need to get that wrapped, sir."

"I can't believe I did that," Phil said as he looked back at the rope as though it had somehow sabotaged him.

"I broke mine when I was a corporal going through NCO school, so no need to feel bad," the gunny told him as the first pair got close.

"I still feel like a rookie."

"No one else needs to know, sir. Just hang out here encouraging the cadets, and I'll finish up the PT session. Once everyone is gone, you can make your exit unobserved. And don't worry, I'll cover for your first class."

"Thanks, Gunny," the still-embarrassed captain told him.

"Not a problem, Skipper," the Marine staff NCO told his boss, using the term Marines often called captains—especially those in command. This captain wasn't his CO, but it was still appropriate.

The gunny kept everyone near the rope so that the captain wouldn't have to walk back to the start of the course, gave everyone their instructions then dismissed the group.Two minutes later there wasn't a cadet to be seen.

"What's your plan, sir?" the gunny asked just so he'd know in case the big captain, as in Navy type, wanted to know.

"I guess I'll limp over to the infirmary and get some ice on it and a wrap."

"Aye, aye, sir. Take your time."

The gunny took off at a trot so he could get a shower, change into a uniform, and be ready for class at 0830 which was said 'zero eight thirty' and never 'oh eight thirty' as the Army did.

Phil got to his car then drove it as close to the infirmary as he could and went inside. He'd thought about Jessica many times, but when she didn't call, he assumed she wasn't interested in seeing him again and never stopped by.

But the moment he walked in he saw her. She was treating a student and didn't see him as he signed in and waited for her to finish. When she did, she looked around and started to ask who was next when she saw him.

"Phil?"

"Hello Nurse Logan," he replied with a smile.

"What are you...are you okay?"

"I twisted my ankle pretty bad, but it's no big deal. I can sit here as long as need be."

"There are a few people ahead of you, but let's get some ice on the ankle while you wait."

She brought an icepack over and handed it to him then quietly said, "I'm sorry I haven't called. It's been crazy getting a place, starting the job, Tim's in a new school, and...."

"I understand. No need to apologize."

She smiled then told him she'd be back as soon as she could.

It took nearly an hour to clear out the five other students ahead of Phil who was gently rotating the ankle which felt a lot better after icing it.

"Okay. If you can follow me, we'll take a look and see how bad this is," Jessica told him.

She was wearing a white lab coat and looked very professional, and yet Phil thought she was as beautiful as he remembered her.

"How's the job going?" he asked as he sat on the exam table.

"Great. I couldn't be happier. This has been perfect," Jessica told him as before very carefully raising his calf to take a look.

"We have an x-ray machine and I'm gonna need you to have one taken to make sure this isn't broken," she told him as he showed her the range of motion he had. "It'll only take a couple of minutes, and when you come back you won't have to wait again."

Phil hobbled to the other end of the little clinic where the x-ray tech was waiting, lined up the ankle, then went behind a door to operate the machine. Two minutes later he was back on the same exam table.

As they both suspected, it wasn't broken, so Jessica wrapped it up for him and gave him some Ibuprofen for the swelling.

After she handed him the two 400mg tablets, Phil said he wanted to ask her a question.

"I know you've been busy. I was just kind of wondering if that's the only reason you didn't call."

"Yes and no," she began. "I've wanted to. I guess I really wanted to. But even though I had a very nice time talking to you, I just couldn't get past the difference in our ages, and I think at some point I realized you were just a really nice guy who was being polite rather than...."

"I wasn't," Phil said when she left the sentence unfinished. "Just being polite. I genuinely wanted to see you again, Jessica."

"I'm very flattered, Phil. You have no idea how flattered. But..."

Several more people were waiting, and Jessica told him she really had to get back to work. Phil told her he understood but before he left he again mentioned that he was serious about seeing her again.

He smiled at her then asked, "You didn't lose my number, did you?"

Jessica tried not to smile back but couldn't keep from doing so.

"No. I definitely have your number."

"Okay. Then I very much hope you'll call me," he told her before thanking her.

She was so busy the rest of the day that she ate the sandwich she brought with her in between seeing students. But after she got home she found herself thinking once again about the very handsome, much-younger man who'd made her feel things she hadn't felt since her husband was alive.

She saw his personal information in the school's automated database when he signed in and now knew how old he was, and that number was stuck in brain. It wasn't sitting there, though. It was flashing in a bright, neon red as though it was some kind of ominous warning. But she also couldn't stop thinking about his kindness or the time they'd spent together. And after seeing him again in next to nothing it made her body ache.

There hadn't been anyone in her life...like that...since her husband, and just being around him caused the embers still burning somewhere deep inside her to flare up.

Jessica knew she shouldn't mention seeing him today, but there was some hidden part of her brain that needed to. It needed to see her son's reaction in order to help it decide whether or not she should call him.

So during dinner, she casually asked, "Guess who came into the clinic today?"

"Um...someone famous?" Tim guessed as he ate the macaroni and cheese his mom made for the third time that week.

"No. Not really."

"Then I don't know."

"Phil. From...."

"Phil? The Marine?"

Jessica smiled and said, "Yes. The Marine."

"Awesome! Is he coming over?"

Her son's excitement only surprised her a little bit as she knew he'd taken to the man who'd been so helpful to them and so good to him.

"Um, I don't know. Would you like him to?"

"Yes! Can he, Mom? Please?"

"We still have a lot of boxes and stuff to put away. If we can get them taken care I supposed I could give him a call."

"May I be excused?" Tim asked, as he shoveled the last of the mac and cheese into his mouth in one huge bite.

"As soon as you swallow that truckload of food without choking!" his mom replied, secretly happy that her son was so enthusiastic about seeing Phil again.

"Which boxes have my stuff in them?" he asked after the last of the food was in his stomach.

"The three by your bedroom, remember?" Jessica told him even though she'd mentioned them several times.

He'd unpacked the one box that had things he it he wanted and left the others. She had no room to talk, though, as she'd left at least a half dozen untouched herself. So once she finished eating and cleaning up, she began opening boxes and listened as Tim sang some song she couldn't place and did the same.

The small, cozy, two-bedroom apartment wasn't large, but the new job allowed Jessica to get a reasonably nice place. They'd only been in it for a week after staying at a motel before that, but it really was time to get things put away.

It took them a couple of hours to get everything shipshape, and by the time they finished, it was time for Tim to take a shower and get ready for bed. Once he was asleep, Jessica looked at the clock and saw that it was almost 9:30. Calling after 9pm had always been a kind of guide for being too late to call, but she was pretty sure it would be okay to give Phil a quick buzz.

But before she hit 'dial', she thought that he might be asleep early because of the ankle and decided to text him instead.

"Hi. Tim and I just finished emptying the rest of the boxes from our move, and the apartment is at least...presentable," she began. "I was going to call you, but it's late, and I didn't want to bother you in case you were asleep. I decided to send you a text instead and see if you wanted to join us for dinner on Saturday."

She thought about saying more, but everything else involved feelings, and talking about feelings seemed wholly inappropriate, so she hit 'send' and set her phone down. By the time she sat back in her chair and closed her eyes to relax, the phone rang. She looked at it and saw Phil's name and felt her heart skip a beat.

"Hello?" she said, as though she didn't know who was calling.

"I'm not keeping you up, am I?" he asked playfully.

"Oh, my. Bringing up my advanced age already, huh?" she teased back.

"Advanced age. Yeah, right."

His voice was still playful, and Jessica almost told him how old she was, but her brain told her not to. It needed to see if there was even a remote chance that someone this attractive and this young could actually be interested in her that way. And more importantly, could she be interested in anyone that young.

"Let's just say I won't allow candles on my birthday cake anymore. Just the two numbers."

Phil laughed then said, "I'm really glad you texted me, Jessica."

The way he said it sent it a tingle through her.

"And I'm glad you called," she said quietly and sincerely.

"I had no idea I'd have to twist my ankle to get your attention," Phil said in that same playful, joking way.

"That wasn't necessary, but I'm kind of glad you did."

She realized what she'd just said and quickly changed her tune.

"No. Wait. I'm not glad you got hurt. I was only trying to say that...."

"I'm glad, too," Phil said in his deep, quiet voice that sent another wave of something through her body.

"Is it hurting?"

"It feels a lot better," he told her. "Now, anyway."

A third salvo hit her as she smiled and told him she was happy to hear that.

"You looked great in your lab coat, by the way."

Jessica laughed and told him it was what all the chic people were wearing this year.

Phil also laughed then said, "The truth is, you'd look great no matter what you were wearing. The white coat just made you look very...professional."

"Speaking of wearing, I still haven't seen you in your uniform. Do you wear it on campus?"

"Yes. Every day, as a matter of fact," he told her.

"Then I guess I have something to look forward to," she heard herself say before cringing in horror.

"Why Nurse Logan. Are you flirting with me?" the younger man asked, clearly smiling as he did.

The cringe turned to panic welling up inside her as she said, "No. I...I only meant that, you know, people in uniform look...sharp. That's all."

She cringed again for feeling so inept at making conversation, but Phil's laugh helped her relax a little.

"I am sharp," he said. "But that's only because my head's pointed."

It was so corny it made her laugh and groan at the same time and also released a huge amount of built-up pressure.

"Yeah, don't quit your day job," she told him, still laughing.

"I love hearing you laugh," Phil told her. "It reminds me of how amazing you look when you smile."

The crash of emotion that hit her this time stunned her into silence making Phil think he'd said too much too soon.

"I was being honest, but that probably wasn't the best thing to say," he told her apologetically.

"I...I thought it was very nice," she told him, as her heart pounded in her chest.

"Whew," came the reply before he told her that Saturday sounded perfect. "What time? And can I bring anything?"

"Oh. Um...maybe 7 o'clock? And a bottle of wine if you drink?"

"Check and check."

"And I believe I invited your mom, if memory serves me."

"Is that an age joke?" Phil said very seriously making her laugh.

"Oh, boy. I really set myself up for that one, didn't I?" Jessica said with a little laugh that made him smile.

This time, Phil felt confident he could say what he was thinking and just said it.

"Jessica? Can we forget the age difference? Please? The truth is, you're not that old. You're...well, you're...beautiful."

Another mini-tsunami slammed into her causing a severe and immediate case of dry mouth.

All she could croak out was, "Okay," and that was so quiet Phil barely heard her, causing him to wonder if he'd completely misread things.

"So I'll...or rather...we...will see you on Saturday then?"

"Yes. That'll be great, Phil. And please tell your mom I'm really looking forward to seeing her again."

"I will, and we're both looking forward to seeing you, too."

"And I know a nine-year old boy who will be thrilled."

Phil laughed and told her he was excited about seeing 'the big guy' again, too.

"Okay, well...I'll see Saturday, okay?" she said very sweetly.

"You will. Goodnight, Jessica."

"Goodnight, Phil. And thank you for calling."

The phone went dead and she sat there looking at it as her mind tried to understand everything it had just experienced and the way that experience was making her feel. But after an hour of thoughts roiling around in her brain, she kept coming to the same conclusion.

"He's still 27. And you're...41," Jessica told herself out loud with an audible sigh after giving up trying to make sense of it and again closing her eyes as she tried to relax.

It was 6am when the alarm went off in her bedroom, and it took Jessica several seconds to figure out what was going on. She'd fallen asleep in the reclining chair and crashed so hard she didn't even know where she was until she forced an eye open.

Unable to hit the snooze button, she got up and stumbled to the bedroom to silence the noise then went to make herself some coffee. As she took a first sip Jessica realized she hadn't thought about Phil until just then. But from that moment on she found it impossible not to think about him. And for some reason she found herself not wanting to stop thinking about him no matter how absurd the whole thing seemed.

Phil was able to jam his wrapped foot into a dress shoe the following morning, but the fit was bad enough to be uncomfortable. However, the pain of walking on it was so much worse that he was thankful each time he was able to sit down.

Just before leaving for work he took a look at himself in the mirror. As always he noticed the Bronze Star medal at the top of ten-ribbon rack he wore. It didn't have the 'V' device attached to it meaning it was't awarded for heroism under fire.

In fact, the Bronze Star had become more of an end-of-tour award for officers in command than for anything heroic. It started in the Gulf War when the Air Force awarded crews at Whiteman Air Force Base the Bronze Star for things like loading ordnance on aircraft 20 hours a day. The Army followed, and eventually, the Marine Corps capitulated and started handing them out like candy, too.

However, those with the 'V' on it still meant something, and while the young captain was justifiably proud of his honorable service, he felt unworthy to wear such a prestigious award for just having done his job. But he wasn't in charge of the awards process, and his only choice was to either wear the ribbons or not wear them on any given day.

But he had earned the Combat Action Ribbon he also wore which reminded him of the months he spent in the most god-forsaken place on earth called Afghanistan as well as the incredible Marines with whom he'd served.