Community Three SigmaChapter 29
- 3 years ago
- 26
- 0
Community Three SigmaChapter 8 free porn video
Tara’s turn:
Right up to the end, Dad took care of us. After the car wreck that took Mom away and ultimately caused Dad’s death, I got out of college. I was just beginning my freshman year at Auburn. Dad’s an alumnus. That’s why I went to Auburn instead of something in Georgia. Mom. She died in the wreck. I hope it was from the impact and not the fire. Dad ... He got Derek out. Went back into the fire for Mom. Almost died trying to get her out. Flames and fumes and everything else almost got Dad there, according to the police. He lived, but even after he recovered from the burns, horribly long weeks in the hospital, the damage to his lungs was irreversible. For two years he hung on.
I left Auburn to take care of Dad and Derek.
Derek’s legs and pelvis were badly crushed. Multiple surgeries, long, painful rehab, Derek’s walking well now. You have to look closely and know what you’re looking for to tell he’s been in a bad accident.
Dad was never whole again. The burns left large swatches of scars and bright pink skin. His hair ... just a few patches that I carefully trimmed. Having lungs that function at the same level as a lifetime chain smoker with bad emphysema, that left Dad open for just about any adventurous microbe around. A particularly hardy version of pneumonia finally beat him. I cried at his graveside. I held my little brother, Mom and Dad’s surprise baby, and we both cried.
Dad took care of us.
First, there was a big insurance payout – double indemnity for the accident. Second, we had a big settlement from the insurance of the company that owned the semi truck that hit them. Third, mortgage insurance on the house – mortgage paid off. Fourth, life insurance on the car loan.
And the letter. When we were sitting in the attorney’s office, going over things, our lawyer showed me the letter.
“Your dad wanted us to send this. It’s in his instructions.”
“Auburn. I don’t know how that’s going to work.”
“He says you were a scholarship level student. My thought? Tara, you’d be crazy not to.”
I looked at him, silent.
“I know, I know ... If you invested all the money you’ve got right now, you could bump along and not have to work, but seriously, Tara. He says you NEEDED to go to college.”
Dad was right. He told me that so many times while I was trying to run the house and take care of him and Derek. Dad’s wishes.
“Send it,” I said.
That simple statement started a veritable avalanche of events.
First thing that happened is I got a phone call from Doctor Aneeta Patel. She does recruitment in the Auburn University School of Engineering.
This is no mid-range school functionary, this is a real human being. She asked about my situation, we talked.
“Tara, I have some people who may be of some help.”
Once when I was little, I dreamed of being a princess, and being rescued by a dashing prince on a white horse -- swords flashing, all that. Well, I think I just got rescued, but the “prince” ain’t what I expected. In this case, it was a red-headed girl with a serious ATTITUDE. And her only slightly less astounding partner, a brown-headed Cajun girl.
Cindy called me. There’s something about the timbre of her voice, her confident manner, that draws me in. Next thing I know, she has me packing up, picking up Derek and meeting her at the airport. Actually we met her and Nikki at the airport.
Look, I met her once, about 3 years ago, at Freshman Orientation at Auburn. Umm. And her “horse” was a little Cessna. OK, but the important part was that she caught me in the middle of my own special “pity party”. Poor, pitiful me, right? And she wasn’t having any of it. In part, her words were, “It’s time for you to get off your dead butt and get it in gear, dear. This is your LIFE, and it ain’t no rehearsal.”
Made me want to stand at attention and say, “Yes Ma’am, General.”
I actually remembered talking with Cindy and Nikki and, after my memory was jogged, Susan and Jason at the freshman orientation.
Now, usually when you say ‘I met somebody at the airport’ you mean THEY flew in on a scheduled flight. The departure from that assumption tells me that, to quote Dorothy, “I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.“ Or Georgia. Whatever. We were told to show up at an ‘FBO’. Prior to today, I did not know what an ‘FBO’ was. Now I know. It’s like a service station for private planes.
Private planes, like the neat silver and red one that rolled up with two girls in it. They came in, we got majorly hugged, and began the process of getting me on with life. And Derek.
Derek’s twelve. What in the world ever prepared me to be the big sister/parent to a twelve year old boy? The answer is NOTHING. They don’t come with instructions.
Worse, I have the smart version. Dad and mom used to tell me that they had the brightest kids they knew. For a while, I chalked that up to a proud set of parents, but the further I got into school, the more often I noticed that I caught on to things fast. New set of problems in math? Tara got there first. Truth be known, Tara was usually past that point. Reading? I was reading so far above age level that nobody bothered. I only had to listen to what the teachers wanted us to dig out of the books and I could lay it out for them.
Derek’s like that, too. The difference is that I see it as one who’s experienced it.
I was admitted to Auburn with scholarships. Those sort of went away when Mom and Dad and Derek had the wreck. Now, Dad reached from his grave to push me back into college, and part of that path will be in the seat of this little airplane. With a pixie and her assistant for pilots.
The seats are comfortable. There’s a lot more room than an airline, at least the seats we could afford. We didn’t have to go through that TSA bullshit, to use Dad’s phrasing. We got our pre-flight from Cindy and Nikki, we loaded up and took off.
It vibrates more than a commercial jet.
“Because it has a six-cylinder piston engine,” Nikki told Derek.
I pretty much don’t have to ask questions. Derek’s covering them pretty well.
Cindy is patient. “Hold your questions for a bit, Derek. When I get us out of this airspace, we can talk. This is pretty tightly controlled and I need to pay attention to what’s going on.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
Cindy on the intercom. “Thank you. You’ll get a chance to learn everything you want, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We left the suburbs of Savannah behind us.
“Okay,” Cindy said. “Eighty-five hundred feet. We’re cruising.”
“How fast?” Derek couldn’t wait.
“Hundred and forty knots,” Nikki said.
“What’s that in miles an hour?”
“A knot is one nautical mile an hour,” Nikki replied. “A nautical mile equals one point one five statute miles. Statute miles are for land. Nautical miles are for water and air.”
“So if I multiply knots times one point one five I get miles an hour,” he replied.
I saw Cindy glance back at me, smiling. “That’s right, Derek.”
“Derek,” I said, “Slow down.”
“That’s okay,” Cindy said. “First time I flew, I asked my Dan a million questions.”
“Your husband got you started.”
Nikki giggled. “That’s what husbands are for, here. My Dan got ME started. Of course it’s Cindy’s fault he got started, too.”
“Is it hard to learn?” I asked.
Cindy and Nikki exchanged glances. “Hooked,” Cindy giggled. “Not particularly. Driving, plus another dimension. Well, more than that, but no, it’s not hard. Wait’ll you see the Munchkins.”
“You mentioned the Munchkins before.”
“It’s hard to explain. Nobody expected what we got with the Munchkins. Terri’s the daughter of Alan and Tina. Well, technically, Tina’s her step-mom. Rachel’s the daughter of Sim and Beck. Vicki’s Tim and Kim’s daughter. Kim’s a step-mom, too.”
“How old?” I asked.
“Rachel and Terri are twelve.”
I saw Derek perk up.
Cindy continued, “Vicki’s ten. And they’re VERY precocious. They’ve sold work to Google and to the Department of Defense. Got a lot of money for it. Me ‘n’ Nikki are responsible for them on campus...”
“Campus,” I said. “Like middle school?”
“No, no,” Nikki laughed. “Campus. Like Auburn. Special student status.”
“Seriously?” Derek asked. “I’m that age. I was in my first year of middle school. Don’t they go to regular school?”
“Nope. They were ... when Terri first came to Tennessee from her mom’s, and before the Weismanns moved into the apartments where we used to live. Since then, they’re officially home schooled.”
“Tara,” Derek said to me over the intercom, “I wanna be home-schooled.”
“Yeah, right,” I said. “You have self-restraint issues.”
“Do not,” he retorted.
“They don’t lay around the house all day playing video games,” Cindy said. “Nikki and I kind of corral them and head them in one direction or another.”
“What about high school?” I asked.
“When your reputation gets you invited to special status at a major university, high school status sort of fades away.” Cindy continued, “They’ll probably be awarded baccalaureates by the end of this year and there’s talk...”
Nikki tittered, “Cindy WAS the youngest doctorate in the history of Auburn. Terri may bump her off her pedestal.”
“They’re probably weird,” Derek muttered under his breath. That headset mike is good. We ALL heard it.
“Derek!” I squeaked.
“Derek, you can form a better opinion when you actually meet them,” Cindy said.
“Yeah, buddy. Don’t pre-judge,” I said. “And YOU, of all people ... You know how that hurts.” Derek was subject to bullying for being different, both his educational prowess and his sometimes noticeable limp.
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he whined. “I meant that they prob’ly won’t be stupid and ... Uh, Cindy, are they mean?”
“Sweetest things imaginable,” Cindy said. “They’re part of a home-school consortium. We had to do that with them to comply with Alabama law. They mix with other kids all the time. They help other kids with school subjects and help them with hobbies.”
“They’ll like you, Derek,” Nikki added. “You’re cute and you’re smart. They’ll like you.”
I’m thinking ‘unless you act like an obnoxious brat’. I’m also considering that he’s a twelve year old boy in the middle of a group of girls. How’s that gonna work? I mean, he’s at THAT age. Strange spots occasionally show up on his sheets and he goes through tissues pretty fast for somebody that doesn’t have a head cold.
The whole trip was interesting, both the conversation and this business of flying over the countryside in a small plane. I found that Derek and I have had experience with commercial flight that neither Cindy nor Nikki have had.
“First time I ever flew was in our plane,” Cindy said. “Now I’m a licensed instructor.”
“I am getting ready to go get my commercial and multi-engine licenses,” inserted Nikki. “We can use ‘em for business.”
Ofelia
- 16.04.2022
- 19
- 0
Community Three SigmaChapter 9
- 4 years ago
- 25
- 0
Community Three SigmaChapter 23
- 4 years ago
- 23
- 0
