The Uniform And The Scrubs

Approaching the posted paper listing final grades, imitating a swing dancer checking out audition results, Ann Gail Kelly searched for her social security number, needing formal conformation before planning weekend festivities.

“I passed,” the white uniform bearing a student nurse patch, expressed wiping nervous late spring South Florida sweat from her brow, “I am now a registered nurse.”

A short walk away, Knight Farrell knelt, peering up towards the cross featuring the spiritual torture image of a crucified individual.

“What should I do?” He asked underneath his breath, “my academic commitments, all successfully concluded, graduation is set, then,”

Like a spirited ghost answering the personal inquiry, wooden doors flew opened, presenting a guardian angel glowing in the late afternoon spring sunshine.

“Ann Gail?” Knight questioned.

“Knight, I am officially an RN,” Ann Gail paused, “that is after I fill out the form and send the license fee check to the state.”

“And I am a business school graduate,”

“Which means?” Ann Gail increased the dialogue value.

Turning his head back, glancing one more time understanding the Roman Catholic message, Knight revealed a ring, while proceeding to get on one knee, “Miss Ann Gail Kelly, I would like to be your official knight in shining armor,” he pitched as she stared down.

“And I want to be your guardian angel, protecting you in sickness and health,” Ann Gail replied, agreeing to the informal long verbal contract whose witnesses remain unseen.

Giving her the token, Knight continued, “then this will make it official.”

“Until we sign the paperwork and write the check to the state.”

Not noticing the rough edges forming Knight attended the nursing school pinning ceremony, clapping when the formalities finished, then the following day cap and gowns were worn honoring the tassels moving right to left noting achievement earned.

Later that evening, unlike four years ago surviving freshman move in day, the Kelly’s were not seated inside the twenty-four-hour diner, instead a dimly lit restaurant set the stage.

“Ann Gail, it looks like you have news to share,” Mrs. Kelly showed her motherly instincts.

“If you need a good obstetrician name,”

“Daddy,” Ann Gail squealed, “it’s nothing like that.”

“Then, honey, what is it?” Mrs. Kelly investigated.

Agreeing not to wear her commitment jewelry until higher authority was informed, Ann Gail pulled out the engagement case.

“Knight, asked me to marry him,”

Releasing a thrilled appreciative response Mrs. Kelly applauded while her husband wished the best. “Knight Ann Gail has a healthy ring to it”.

“So, when’s the date?”

Only a few miles away, docked boats played a tranquil tune ringing a marina style melody, when Mr. Farrell joined his son, “well here is a chilled one,”

“Thanks, Dad,” Knight accepted the token drink award.

“Congratulations,” Mr. Farrell acknowledged, “on today’s accomplishment, now what?”

“Marriage,” Knight burst out with the answer, “Ann Gail and I are getting hitched,”

“The nurse?”

“That is right, Dad,” Knight confirmed reading the name, connected to the slip resident, the family owned, “why is our boat named HOF?”

“Son, isn’t it obvious,” Mr. Farrell responded explaining the alphabet soup notation, “’Hull Of A Farrell’,”

Taking a sip, “where’s the ‘A?’”

“On your report card,” the parental guider stood up, “I want to honor your achievement tonight my son, let’s take a ride around the Bay, I will be your Captain.”

Getting sentimental, Knight had one closing inquiry, boarding the vessel, “Captain when you were in the Navy, were the lady officers dressed in uniforms or bathing suits, when travelling?”

“Son,” Mr. Farrell started offering advice, “you are off the market, you shouldn’t think like that.”