"You put heaps on the dish rack again!" Ken didn't even turn to face me as he spat out his criticism.
"Well, if you don't like the way I do dishes you can do them yourself from now on," I flung back at him with as much venom as I could manage.
"Well, you don't have to put heaps on. Now I can't even get my tea mug out," he was not going to let me off easy.
"It's always the same old thing, isn't it. Can't you just learn to do it right the first time?" He was determined to not get along and I was more than happy to accommodate him.
"Don't be such a jerk!" that last really rankled. "And what, is this so-called 'right way?'" I demanded. I think I recalled asking this question before in our 27 years.
"Do them like I do. I don't put heaps on there," his tone was demeaning.
"It doesn't matter what I do, does it? You're never going to be satisfied. If I spent the whole day cleaning and cooking and doing laundry, you'd just find something else to criticize. I might as well not do anything. That way you won't expect so much." I was getting defensive and my voice had definitely reached a level even I would call "shouting."
"Keep your voice down," Ken admonished me, "do you want the whole neighborhood to hear you?" It was just fine for him to get angry and yell, but me?
"Don't you dare shush me like a child! What in the hell do . . . you . . . . want . . . . . from . . . . . . . . . me . . ."
Aaack! Aaack! Where did that come from? The siren blasts sounded loud in my ears.
"Dive! Dive!" the Commander's voice echoed in my head. The whole sub lurched and all motors seemed to hesitate before kicking into gear again and the sub began its descent. People seemed to be yelling everywhere and confusion was barely controlled by normal protocol. I blocked out everything and concentrated on the Commander's voice.
"Sonar! What was that?!"
"I . . . I . . . I'm not sure, Sir. Nothing appeared on the screen. Nothing."
"Sonar, this is your Commander! Who's this?"
"Ensign Bodie, Sir!"
"Well, Ensign, I want the Lieutenant. Now!"
"Commander, this is Briggs. We've been hit, Sir!"
"I could tell that, Briggs. Give me a damage report, on the double. What's the best depth you can give me, Skipper?"
"Commander, this is sonar, Lt. Kneely, Sir."
"Well, Lieutenant, WHAT WAS THAT?"
"Sir, we don't know, Sir. Nothing appeared on the screen."
"Where in the hell did it come from?"
"Sir, I don't know, sir."
"Well, Kneely, you'd better damn well find out. We're running a ship here. There are a lot of lives at stake. Do you understand that? Find out WHERE THAT CAME FROM!"
"Sir, this is Briggs. We got a hull breach, Sir. We're taking on water fast. I've got some ensigns down there trying to assess further, but we've got to pull out and close off the hatch."
"See if you can determine what it is that hit us, Briggs. Maybe that will give us a clue as to where it came from. But don't risk your men. Get them out of there and get that hatch closed!"
"Yes, Sir!"
I looked at my family. Ken was standing slack-jawed. Seven year old Brian was pointing his finger directly at me with an accusing look on his face. Ten year old Elizabeth's eyes were round with disbelief and she had both hands clamped over her mouth. Four year old Garrett was calmly running his Brio train around the track as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
I opened my mouth to say something.
"Briggs, you got that hatch closed off yet?"
"No Sir, but we're working on it."
"Were you able to determine what it was?"
"No, Sir, but they're just closing down the hatch now. Yes, it's closed. I'll check with the men to see if they could identify it."
"Sonar, what's your report?"
"Sir, we still cannot determine what it was or where it came from. We've made radio contact with the other ships and there's nothing unusual out there. In fact, there's nothing out there at all!"
"So, are we to assume that it was an explosion?"
"I don't think so, sir. It felt more like a direct hit. Briggs reported a hull breach."
"Sir, this is Briggs, Sir. It was definitely a hull breach. Clear inside. Right to the center. Looks pretty bad down here but we didn't lose anyone. No one recognized the mass, but it's pretty ugly. Damn ugly. Makes your hair stand on end, Sir. Glad we were able to close off that hatch!"
"Damage in any other sections? . . . "
"None reported, Sir."
"I'm afraid we cannot assume that this was an isolated incident. Everyone back to your stations and be on your guard. Sonar, you especially!"
"Sir, yes Sir!"
"Take us topside, Skipper. Let's appraise the situation in daylight and start damage control till we can get it into dock and have it repaired."
"Aye, aye, Sir."
Slowly the sub resurfaces for damage assessment. Opening the hatch and stepping out gingerly, the officers survey the point of impact. There is no hole. Not even a scratch. Perhaps it was not as bad as we had initially thought. But an unexpected development was lurking just over the horizon.
Garrett looked up from the floor full of exasperation. "How in the hell can I get this track to stay together?" he demanded.
