Chapter 7 - WALKING AWAYAdmiral Vance extended his hand to me.
"Lieutenant," he said softly, his voice full of warmth. "Will you do me the honor of leaving this place? My car is waiting downstairs, and I know a small, quiet diner down by the docks that serves the best coffee in New York. You can tell me everything you've been through."
I looked down at my left arm, at the jagged scars that my family had spent all evening trying to hide. For the first time in three years, I didn't pull my sleeve down. I didn't reach for my napkin.
I slid my fork onto the table, stood up from my chair, and placed my hand in the admiral's firm, steady grip.
May you like
"I'd love that, Admiral," I said.
As we walked toward the double doors, my mother burst into hysterical sobs, and my father sat frozen in his chair like a statue of a fallen king. Not once did I look back. The past six years of my life had been defined by what I lost in the dark waters of the Gulf of Aden, but as the heavy oak doors closed behind us, I realized I hadn't lost my future at all. I had simply shed the weight of people who never knew how to fly.
