//------------------------------//
// 12. Two Hops and a Skip - Part I 
// Story: A Sailor's Notes 
// by Thunderblast 
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Throughout the late summer months of the following year, following the end of the school day, I took up a part-time job at a fishing and outdoor store in town, named Harbor Bait & Tackle. After strolling the main street one afternoon, a 'help needed' poster stuck up on the Salty Lion snatched my attention faster than the day Dad asked me to come to work with him.

Less so a high-traffic establishment, my line of work primarily involved maintaining cleanliness and keeping shelves stocked to the max with cans of bait, wide-brim hats, high-quality fishing rods, and other necessities for spending a day out on a dock or boat.

Standard uniform was merely a brown apron with the shop's front sign sewed on, but for the sake of professionalism I made the purchase of a blue and white plaid button-up shirt that I rolled the sleeves of up to just above my elbows. Better yet, it matched the other employees' attire.

Buckridge was the name of the store owner, a middle-aged elk notorious for providing the town's predominantly marine-based economy with the finest goods on the market for a remarkably affordable price while still retaining steady finances for the heir-passed business.

His twelve-year-old son Bronco worked alongside his father for three years, but it was after this time that the elk decided his help would not be enough with so few of their large family willing or able to step up to the plate due to their own matters, and it was brought to my attention that in the long line of bucks and elk in their tree, I was the first outside the boundaries of their family to work here, let alone a pony.

For being a solid five years younger than I, the fawn had a firm understanding of the world and how things worked. No complaints, few jokes around his father, and overall was rather well disciplined for his age. I held respect for him, and the two of us got along quite nicely right off the bat. 

We shared our stories, exchanged life goals, even discussed hobbies such as how I took pleasure with anything pertaining to boats and ships, and how he closely followed two of his favorite hockey teams every Saturday evening. Not long after I found myself tuning into a game or two at home or the small television in the shop's stockroom that Buckridge occasionally puts on when there is little else to do.

I'll say, Bronco's presence did help cope with my feelings much more than I anticipated. Not just caused by my father being gone, either. About two months ago, Vixen emotionally relocated with his parents back to his birthplace of Marewaukee. Word sprung about Azeruth moving on as well following his mother's soon-to-be discharge from the Navy, though there had to be some distance from truth there seeing how close his parents held this town to their hearts.

Then there's Misty, who also took up a job in her free time to support in paying bills after a rather frightening incident involving her father and a wrongly-armed harpoon on a fishing excursion in the bay, to which it caused an empty crab trap to fall and break his hoof. Being out of work until it can fully heal, they need all the money they can scrape together to get by. The struggle was mutual, although Mom and I had fewer worries. The house was paid off from Dad's bonuses over the years, so no concerns over mortgages or other overly stressful expenses.

About once a month did I have to loan money for groceries and the occasional electric bill. Despite having its own grid and power generator, it still costs a pretty bit on this island. According to Mom, however, that has everything to do with greed on behalf of the big energy companies and taking advantage of us otherwise helpless folk inhabiting this little town. But, despite this, it did allow some spending money for myself and a bit more freedom in terms of my day-to-day routine.

With an income came a negative, though. Gradually I noticed myself to be eating more than the norm, and a recent annual check-up at the clinic confirmed I had put on a whopping fifteen pounds since my last visit—which was six weeks ago, to deal with a rather persisting not-so-common strain of the common cold, defeated in mere days by some new strong trial antibiotics.

The news brought much concern to Mom, having taken notice of my newly developed habits, and suggested methods to chop some numbers off my weight. Frankly, it was beyond me as to why my activities at work failed to affect that, considering how often I carried boxes around and moved about the store.

My customer relations training always kicks in at the ringing of the simple little bell positioned above the door every time someone enters, and can sometimes interrupt my current duties, what ever they may be. In this case it was the cleaning up part of stocking some shelves when the bell chimed, prompting me to greet the customer. Already being in the main passageway through the center of the shop, all it took was a swivel of my body to face the entrance... and be met with a sight for sore eyes.

A butter-yellow earth mare stood just past the entry mat, her form silhouetted some by the natural light shining through the large storefront windows and the tall pane that consisted the majority of the door's surface area. She let off an exhale, flipping some of her grey wool scarf's length around the back of her neck before her orange gaze lifted and set on me.

"What brings a fine brunette mare like yourself in here?" I queried jokingly on approach with a slightly smug grin, leaning against one of the wooden pillars that suspended the upper floor of the shop. Okay, perhaps some of that was real flirting.

Acknowledging my comment on her new mane color, a faint blush appeared on Misty's cheeks, but lasted no more than a few seconds as she continued with her response. "Came in here to look for some things to give my father for his birthday. It's next week, after all."

I nodded in acknowledgement, smiling. "Right. How is he doin', by the way?"

"He is better. Should be getting out of that cast just in time for his sixty-first, then he begins rehabilitation to walk on it again," she smiled back. "Turns out the amount we owed to the clinic was much lower, so, I have my entire paycheck to blow on him for his special day."

If only I could say the same, and it left a small stinging pain in my chest having to realize that even months later. Sure, it took quite a bit of time to accept the fact, but it hurt no less thinking about it now. That doesn't mean I should rain on her parade, though.

"That's good, I'm glad to hear. The struggle isn't fun," I said with a sigh.

That garnered a shake of Misty's head. "No, it is not. But hey, we should be back on our hooves soon, give or take another month or two."

In the back of my field of hearing, I picked up on the signature clicking of small hooves approaching from behind. Turning over my shoulder, I spotted Bronco, pulling up short and wiggling his little tail. "You know this mare?" he queried with a bright beam.

"As a matter of fact, I do." I turned adjacent to the both of them so either were within a ninety-degree turn of my head. "Long time school friend since about the time I moved here from the mainland."

"Ooooh." Bronco's bronze eyes twinkled with wonder. "Is she your marefriend?"

"Bronco!" I yelped loud enough to reverberate off the store's wooden architecture, my face exploding with heat. Misty cackled at my reaction, followed shortly after by the young soul. God damn it, I grunted mentally, and began contemplating ways to successfully get away with slapping him and not have a buck's antlers subsequently impaled up my rear.

The laughing carried on for a good couple of minutes, all while I just stood there with my face in my hoof, shaking my head in utter embarrassment and overall annoyance.

At long last, he said, "I'll uh... I'll leave y'all alone, to uh..." but continued the humiliating presence by replicating rather realistic smooching noises with his lips and the gesture of his forehoof as if it was gripping one's chin in the act of making out, all while he made his exit to find something to do.

Turning her attention to me, Misty let out a final chortle as I grimaced. In hopes of dropping this topic, I straightened my posture and focused on something else. "What were you thinking about picking out for your father?"

"Well, you know he likes his fishing supplies," she swiped her hoof along the wood floor. "He has a surplus that he keeps for the company trawler, but never a whole lot for when he goes out with his friend on some weekends. Pondered on a bigger tackle box and a vest to replace the one he's had for almost a decade, maybe some new hooks, too."

"You're in luck," I smirked, jokingly trying to act smart as recovery. "We just so happen to carry those items here."

Misty slugged me in the shoulder mildly. "You'd better! Or else the 'Bait and Tackle' in Harbor Bait and Tackle is false advertising!"

Rubbing the point of impact with a chuckle, I began to loop around the end of a shelf to show her the way. Heck, it wouldn't be hard to find to begin with. Large signs in flashy lettering advertising certain departments hung from hooks hammered into the thick spruce planks that consisted of the second half-floor.

The fishing section included just about every crucial item one would need for a long, boring day staring at the idle surf as it washed in. Rods stood vertically on tall racks, neatly organized by brand and color. Cans of bait were, for the most part, tidily stacked on the shelves, as were the larger boxes for those who burn through it in the blink of an eye.

Then came the hooks region, as Buckridge referred partitioned item sections to, and my overall least favorite of them all. Jig hooks, treble hooks, buzz bait hooks... why are there so many damn types of fishing hooks? Whose bright idea was it to patent them and make thousands of variants in the process?! Only makes my job so much more difficult.

"Well, here you are." I moved aside for her to inspect our selection. "Anything else I can help you with?"

Misty tapped her chin contemplatively. "Hmm... I am interested, but not completely sold. I could use some information, maybe... an explanation?"

"What... kind of explanation?" I smiled sheepishly, ears folding slightly.

"Well, I could use their specs, plus a brief, or not-so-brief history of each kind you sell, where they are manufactured, who invented them, everything!" Misty smirked. Ha ha, so funny.

I stood there, stammering over my words to the point where nothing coherent left my mouth. Of course, she got a kick out of this, too, and laughed at my attempt at a response.

"You know I'm pulling your leg, right?" she remarked with a sly grin from ear to ear.

With my ears halfway pinned to my head, I chuckled in a moderately relieved manner. "I-I would hope so, 'cause... any of that information is beyond me!"

Misty giggled. "That makes two of us. One would think, 'Hey, Misty! Your dad's a fisherpony, you probably know everything there is about catching fish, why don't you give me some pointers for a newbie?', but in all actuality, I don't care all that much about it other than knowing what my dad likes and what he tends to avoid."

I ran a hoof through the back of my mane, nodding. "Right. It's like me with the Navy, ponies ask me if I'm a know-it-all because my father was a captain. I mean, I tried to learn all there was to know so I have an idea of what to say, and... I have a pretty firm grasp on how it all functions, the ranks, who does what, the ship classifications and their purposes..." I paused myself, realizing my topic was no longer in line with her's. 

At my realization of me rambling, Misty simpered and ruffled her hoof through my dark blue mane. "You're a nerd, you know that?"

My heart skipped a beat. In a good way. "I-I am?"

"Of course," she replied, subconsciously plucking a plastic package of simple worm hooks off the shelf. "The boys and I would always refer to you as the Navy Nerd when you weren't around. Kind of became a thing when you shipped off to Alderneigh, and it just stuck with us. Grew onto a few others around town, too."

I smiled warmly at that. "Better nickname than the colt whose respected sailor of a father killed himself while he was away," I remarked grimly, but as I had hoped, Misty nodded in solemn agreement. No one has called me such so far, though it would not surprise me if like name flashed in someone's mind one time or another.

Then I adjusted my posture back to a playful customer service demeanor. "Now, what else can I help you find this afternoon, Ma'am?"


⚓


It was the end of my shift for the week when Misty completed her shopping, and for the sake of offering my employee discount, I accompanied her to the register where Bronco eagerly rang her up while I punched out behind the counter. In the time it took to get her items in the bag and the money in the register, it was clear he had something to say about the two of us, but chose to engage restraint.

As the two of us left the store, her attention caught directly across the street, halting her in her tracks short of the curb. "Huh."

"What is it?" I looked at her, then forward to what she was fixated on. 

Above the doorway of a two-story building that was once a bakery some years ago, a pegasus stallion in heavy tan overalls and thick work clothes underneath floated his way down to the ground at a distance where he could observe his work for the afternoon; a red-lettered sign advertising the recent addition of a naval recruiting center.

I marveled some at the sight, eyes growing wide. That is new, my conscience said. "Gander Cove's never had one of those before," I uttered to Misty, and immediately found myself in a contemplative muse.

"Yeah, wonder what it took to put it in finally?" she replied. After a moment, she took notice of my silence and glanced over to see me, zoned out, with my sights still set on the newly-opened office. Judging by the sudden change of demeanor, her heart dropped. "Anchorage, you're not—"

"I am," was my response, sudden but curt. My attitude shifted gears then, as well. "I can't escape it, Misty. Just when I thought that phase might be over, this..." I gestured toward the building in question, peering over at her. "It follows me everywhere I go and appears whenever I least expect it. It means somethin', Misty, like it's my calling."

I read the semi-heartbreak in her eyes as they thinly glassed over, and as her ears folded back part way. She swallowed heavily as if to shove down a lump preventing speech. "Then follow it," she answered firmly, one that threw me off some. Maybe I was thinking of my mother and expected her to contradict it with genuine parental concern.

"But should I?" I countered out of my own worry. "My mind tells me I want it, but... do I really?"

Misty's hoof raised, placing itself over my chest to feel the soft beating of my heart beneath my shirt. "What does your soul say?"

"It... says..." I paused to draw in a breath, taking the moment to concentrate on more than just one voice in my mind for once. In her touch, my muscles notably tightened. "It says I belong... in the sea, on a ship... watching the sea, the sky, and the air for threats to our home."

A small, proud smile worked its way to curving her lips. "The least you can do for right now is talk to them, see what you are up against. If you are still set on going after they give you the facts, then what's stopping you?"

A simple glance into her eyes answered that question, washing the smile from her mien. She knew as well as I did what I meant without having to say a word.

"Anchorage, you are almost of age. Only a few more months of her standing in your way before, well... before she has no choice but to acknowledge you are no longer a little colt, that she can't wrap her metaphorical wings around you anymore. After that, you will be free."

My chin lowered, frowning on the muzzle. Misty's hoof began to rub along my chest between the buttons on my flannel in gentle circular motions.

The butter soon-to-be mare sighed lowly. "Hazy is a nice mare, Anchorage, I don't mean to defy what she thinks. But as what every parent must come to accept sooner or later, you will have to help her find her way there. Let's face it, no mother or father ever wants to face the reality that is their foal moving out of the house to take on the world alone. You will have to stand up for yourself, because no one else will, and then nothing will progress."

"I know, I..." I exhaled sharply. "What if I'm not ready for that?"

Misty backstepped some, gesturing her hoof out toward me. "Look at you. You're standing here in the street, wholeheartedly ready to march into the Navy's recruitment office and get yourself squared away to ship off for a life-changing experience. I'd say you are ready."

I looked deep into her core for a solid moment, delving deeper into her words. Perhaps it was a bit of over-analyzing, but ensuring not to misinterpret her argument in support of me going forward would never hurt.

Inhaling deeply and rolling my shoulders to relax them, I raised myself and faced ahead. "All right."

Without another word spoken, I crossed the street, aiming straight for the door. At each step taken, my heart pounded harder at my chest. Only when my hoof took hold of the metal handle did I turn over my shoulder to glance back. The motions of her lips as she spoke in mouth read 'you got this'.

I trusted her.