Free Confessions of a Military Wife by Mollie Gross Page A

insure Jacob’s safety, Michelle held David in her arms. She wanted to avoid one of David’s sneak attacks.
    Off Jacob went—soaring at top speeds down the driveway. We all cheered.
    He yelled: “Look at me! Look, Miss Mollie, look at me!”
    We all cheered some more as he peddled into the street. As we stood there bragging about his accomplishments, my analytical husband asked, “Isn’t there a car parked on the side of the road in the direction he was headed?”
    We stopped talking just in time to hear a loud crash. A second later we heard Jacob’s wail, followed by David’s giggle.
    Crash and burn. Jacob’s first bike ride without training wheels had been only a partial success.
    Michelle and I took much joy in talking about things that made our Catholic husbands very nervous.
    Because we shared a bedroom wall, much of our privacy was sacrificed. Since we were Southerners, we decided to nonchalantly disclose details of our sexuality instead of worrying about being embarrassed.
    Michelle is what you could call hyper-sexual. Where some neighbors would call on their way to the commissary to see if you needed a gallon of milk, Michelle would call whenever she was doing a sex store run to see what I wanted.
    This is just the person I wanted living next door to me if the power goes out. More importantly, I could count on her to have the right supplies when my husband was gone.
    CHRISTA AND THE SCHWANN’S MAN
    I met Christa at a scrapbooking party. I didn’t scrapbook. I just went to meet friends.
    She was a Captain’s wife, younger than me, and had the cutest baby boy named Silas.
    Christa towered over me with three inches of brown curls. Best of all, she cursed like a sailor. If only we had had her at the first Bunco evening to break the ice. I knew this type of higher ranking officer’s wife existed and thanked God I had found her.
    She also lived in a bigger house than everyone, in a newer part of the Del Mar Housing. I asked her if the other Captains’ wives hated her because of it. Her response? “Fuck um!”
    Like Beenie and a few of the other Captains’ wives I had met, I now saw that not all higher-ranking wives were jerks. Nor was I any longer intimidated by them.
    Christa wanted to know if I had met the Schwann’s man yet. I had no idea what she was talking about. That’s when she sat me down for “the talk.”
    According to Christa, you knew you had finally arrived at a level of wifedom when you started ordering dinners from the Schwann’s man. He delivered delicious gourmet ice cream and frozen dinners in his big yellow truck.
    The convenience of pre-made meals was something the new generation of military wife celebrated, Christa told me. It was a way for us to express our independence from making everything from scratch.
    Would my grandmother approve of the Schwann’s man’s unconventional practices?
    Christa promised if I developed a relationship with this man, all my problems with meals and party food would disappear.
    I begged her to enlighten me! I wanted to know “The Way”! She gave me my first Scwhann’s brochure and showed me the pages of bestsellers.
    That Thursday I waited with anticipation as the yellow truck made its way around the neighborhood. Some of the neighbors’ faces appeared in their windows as they saw his truck pull into my “Butter Bar” driveway.
    Yes, folks! The Schwann’s man is coming to my home. I’m breaking free of constant trips to the commissary!
    Over the next four years, my Schwann’s man and I developed a very intense relationship centered on chicken Cordon bleu and orange push-ups.
    Ours was a discreet relationship, though. Josh gave me what I needed (frozen dinners and ice cream) and I left him a check.
    I knew the older generation of wives talked, but I didn’t expect them to understand. The relationship I had with Josh allowed me to become a better wife.
    BUTTER BAR BUNCO
    By the next Bunco party the “butter bar” wives had become tight. Our