her almond eyes but knows they’re locked onto him “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought I was using my Ninja stealth,” he answers. “You know, Jim, I hear it when the kids roll over in bed upstairs,” his wife replies, with a gentle rub to his arm. “Anyway, yes, everything is fine. Good night, babe.”
Jim’s not an unattractive man; he has some leftover muscle from a few years of weightlifting, and tries to exercise regularly. He’s on the short side, measuring five feet and eight inches, an inch taller than his wife. His blue eyes, mixed with his wife’s almond-brown, combined to give their children's eyes their hazel color.
A few hours later, with the sun beginning to rise, Jim and Arzu struggle to get their seven-year-old son and five-year-old daughter ready for school. Their son, Berk, with his light-brown hair sticking up in the back from a serious case of bedhead, becomes deaf and his hazel eyes are blind to all but whatever cartoon is on TV and he has to be constantly reminded to take a bite of his breakfast.
Kayra, their daughter, is not much of a morning person; the only thing she’s agreeable with this time of the day is allowing her mom or dad to brush her long, straight dark-brown hair. Her beautiful hazel eyes are normally in a scowl most mornings. Instead of putting on the clothes she herself picked out the night before, she regularly declines numerous proposed substitutes before finally agreeing to one, sometimes the original.
Jim takes the children to school when he’s not working offshore for the twenty-eight day on and off rotation. Today, he has a telephone interview scheduled between 8:00am and 9:00am for a contract job in northern Africa, so Arzu is dropping them off this morning.
After giving Berk and Kayra hugs and kisses goodbye, he walks towards the doorway that leads back to the house from the attached garage as he watches their Nissan Pathfinder back out of the garage and then head to school not far from their neighborhood in Katy, a suburb of Houston, Texas. Moving to Katy meant the cost of housing was a bit more, but the school system and class sizes for their children were worth it. Jim has two other children; well, they are actually young men now. Jim’s previous marriage ended twelve years ago, and from it he gained two sons, Chris and Jeremy. The two older sons live in Houston, about twelve miles away in an apartment they share. Both boys work for the same construction company, mainly building homes.
Jim left to work in Iraq as a contractor right after the US invasion of 2003. With his background as a police officer and paramedic, he soon found a position as a security team medic. Most of his time was spent escorting convoys of U.S. Department of Defense supplies to various bases and outposts throughout the country. Since then, Jim has worked in the oil and gas industry as an offshore or remote land-based paramedic.
Pulling up his résumé on his laptop and retrieving his notepad with the questions he plans to ask about the position, he then pours a cup of black coffee. A few moments pass and his cell phone rings. The caller ID shows that the number is from the state of Virginia, where the interviewer is to be calling from. Jim answers the phone, and the interview process begins. During the interview, Arzu returns home and listens to Jim’s answers and his questions about the position. After about thirty minutes, Jim thanks the caller and tells him he looks forward to hearing more in the near future.
Arzu looks at her husband and asks, “ So, what exactly is this job, Jim?” “ Well, it’s in Libya and for a security team leader position,” Jim answers. “The team is made up of local nationals, and is assigned to provide security for a company restoring electricity,” Jim finishes detailing the job. “No. No. No way! You know how I feel about that kind of work,” Arzu says with both anger and worry in her voice.
“I know, honey, but I
Jim’s not an unattractive man; he has some leftover muscle from a few years of weightlifting, and tries to exercise regularly. He’s on the short side, measuring five feet and eight inches, an inch taller than his wife. His blue eyes, mixed with his wife’s almond-brown, combined to give their children's eyes their hazel color.
A few hours later, with the sun beginning to rise, Jim and Arzu struggle to get their seven-year-old son and five-year-old daughter ready for school. Their son, Berk, with his light-brown hair sticking up in the back from a serious case of bedhead, becomes deaf and his hazel eyes are blind to all but whatever cartoon is on TV and he has to be constantly reminded to take a bite of his breakfast.
Kayra, their daughter, is not much of a morning person; the only thing she’s agreeable with this time of the day is allowing her mom or dad to brush her long, straight dark-brown hair. Her beautiful hazel eyes are normally in a scowl most mornings. Instead of putting on the clothes she herself picked out the night before, she regularly declines numerous proposed substitutes before finally agreeing to one, sometimes the original.
Jim takes the children to school when he’s not working offshore for the twenty-eight day on and off rotation. Today, he has a telephone interview scheduled between 8:00am and 9:00am for a contract job in northern Africa, so Arzu is dropping them off this morning.
After giving Berk and Kayra hugs and kisses goodbye, he walks towards the doorway that leads back to the house from the attached garage as he watches their Nissan Pathfinder back out of the garage and then head to school not far from their neighborhood in Katy, a suburb of Houston, Texas. Moving to Katy meant the cost of housing was a bit more, but the school system and class sizes for their children were worth it. Jim has two other children; well, they are actually young men now. Jim’s previous marriage ended twelve years ago, and from it he gained two sons, Chris and Jeremy. The two older sons live in Houston, about twelve miles away in an apartment they share. Both boys work for the same construction company, mainly building homes.
Jim left to work in Iraq as a contractor right after the US invasion of 2003. With his background as a police officer and paramedic, he soon found a position as a security team medic. Most of his time was spent escorting convoys of U.S. Department of Defense supplies to various bases and outposts throughout the country. Since then, Jim has worked in the oil and gas industry as an offshore or remote land-based paramedic.
Pulling up his résumé on his laptop and retrieving his notepad with the questions he plans to ask about the position, he then pours a cup of black coffee. A few moments pass and his cell phone rings. The caller ID shows that the number is from the state of Virginia, where the interviewer is to be calling from. Jim answers the phone, and the interview process begins. During the interview, Arzu returns home and listens to Jim’s answers and his questions about the position. After about thirty minutes, Jim thanks the caller and tells him he looks forward to hearing more in the near future.
Arzu looks at her husband and asks, “ So, what exactly is this job, Jim?” “ Well, it’s in Libya and for a security team leader position,” Jim answers. “The team is made up of local nationals, and is assigned to provide security for a company restoring electricity,” Jim finishes detailing the job. “No. No. No way! You know how I feel about that kind of work,” Arzu says with both anger and worry in her voice.
“I know, honey, but I
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