Two roads back together, p.18
Two Roads Back Together, page 18
“The conversation was so surreal. It was like I was talking to my old self. It made me realize that I’ve drunk the Kool-aid for way too long.”
Tessa hummed. “How so? Give me the details.”
“So I met with a student today who told me she was gay and has decided to get out of the Army.”
“Oh. I’ll bet that was hard. Did you know?”
“I had no idea. I mean, I figured she was gay, but I didn’t know she had been wrestling with the decision to resign her commission. So I took the approach to try to convince her to change her mind and stay in.”
“Oh Shy, why would you do that? That’s her decision.”
“I know, I know. I guess I was thinking about what I would want to hear if I were her. But then she told me she has a family and, in essence, can’t take care of them because without the military recognizing them in the benefits system, she is getting paid as a single soldier. And let’s not even talk about taxes…
“And now I feel so horrible for feeding her the same bullshit rationale I was told. I could feel the disingenuousness as I rattled off that it was okay to hide who you are for the sake of something bigger. Of course, my student called me out on it. And then I felt even worse.”
“Well, you should,” Tessa chided gently.
“Tell me how you really feel, Tessa,” Shy grumbled.
Tessa chuckled. “Look Shy. Your student looked up to you and was seeking guidance on how to handle her life. If she can’t take care of her family and feels muzzled by DADT, that is not a good place for anyone to be in.”
“I know. What should I do?”
“I think you leave it alone for now. What’s done is done. Are you going to see her again?”
“Yeah, I have to sign her paperwork. I told her to come by my office on Monday.”
“Shy, I’m not going to pretend I understand everything about your world. But what I will say is that you should take heed of your own struggles with hiding who you are. It’s been tough for you. You are on the cusp of seeing your own amazing self that has been buried for years as you’ve tried to parade around this figment of yourself to your workplace, to your classroom, and to whomever else you interact with from day to day. That’s not a life you want to pass along to someone to mimic. You know firsthand the trauma it creates. So for now, relax. But on Monday, you go apologize. And you help your student get on the path to take care of her family.”
“You’re right, I’ll do that. You have my word.”
Shy stared into the deepening twilight and just listened to the crickets for a moment before Tessa broke the silence. “Shy, why do I sense you want to share something deeper with me? Or am I off?”
“Wow, you are scary. Good, but scary.”
“Thank you. Now tell me what I’m feeling in my spirit.”
Shy hesitated. “I had another one of those dreams the other day.”
“Did you write it down when you woke up?” Tessa asked.
“Yes. I’m not really sure how to describe it.”
“Just talk to me.”
“Ok,” Shy took a deep breath and released it out into the night. “The most vivid part of the dream started when I was standing in an empty hallway of headquarters. At least, I think it was the battalion headquarters. The hallway was longer than usual and as I walked down it, the pictures were different. I recognized some of the faces on the walls but others were people I didn’t know.
“Then I saw my picture. It was me, but it wasn’t. I mean, it looked more like Sebastian than me. The profile had a low buzz haircut and a wide, mischievous grin. I found myself staring at that photo, an answering smile on my face. Sebastian! A voice called from the classroom nearest to me. Cam was at the threshold, a glowing light surrounding her. It made me realize just how dark the hallway was.
“Sebastian! the voice called again. Cam stepped out of the doorway and that’s when I noticed that she was naked, holding her uniform balled up in her arms. She let it drop to the floor, then looked at me somberly and said, We don’t belong here, Sebastian.
“I realized then something felt odd and I looked down to see my fatigue pants and boots but no shirt. My midriff was exposed, my chest was flat with only the scars from surgery. I shivered and replied in a deeper voice, But I do belong.
“No. Cam told me. Look. She pointed down the long hallway that seemed to get brighter. I took a few steps towards it, but the hall shifted and morphed into outdoor stands with hundreds of faceless students crowded in.
“We don’t belong here, a voice echoed behind me, growing louder and louder, and then there was laughter, jeering, and calling. I felt trapped.
“The student silhouettes pointed at me together as one and fear slithered down my spine. I started to run away, down the hallway, cupping my ears from the pitch of the sound that was almost dizzying. The floor was like a moving treadmill I couldn’t get off, and the end of the hallway kept getting further and further away. I tried to run harder as the voices in the stands got louder, all chanting, You lie. You lie. You lie.
“I pushed hard, digging each foot into the moving floor, and willed myself forward past the crowd. And then, there’s Rihannon and the commander, who were oblivious to all the racket in the hallway. Rihannon! I shouted and waved. But Rihannon kept talking to the commander, ignoring me, not seeing or hearing me. The commander gestured to Rihannon and they started laughing. As Rihannon doubled over, the commander pointed to my waist. His lips moved but no words came out. What? Sir, I can’t hear you! I shouted. Again he mimed something and pointed back down the hallway. I could feel my desperation rising as I tried to read his lips, but suddenly everything stopped and I could finally hear his whisper: Turn on your light.
“And then, I woke up.”
Shy ran a hand over their face. Crickets chirped, singing the night into existence. The crisp, December air made their breath foggy. A few lone ducks took to the water and swam across the lake, their long chatter filling the otherwise silent air.
“So, yeah, that was it. What do you think it means?” Shy finally asked Tessa.
“I think it means the real you is finally emerging.”
“The real me?”
“Yes,” Tessa replied. “Sebastian is your light, Shy. He is important to your well-being, and necessary. The fact that you had such a dream before you met with your student today is eye-opening. It says that your subconscious is aware and attuned to your physical world. Shy, it’s okay. He is you and you are him. What is the worst that could happen if you accept that part of yourself?”
“I don’t know--”
“Sebastian, you know, is welcomed here.” Tessa’s soft words echoed in Shy’s mind, filling up their body. They stayed silent as their eyes welled up. As Tessa’s comforting voice filled the ends around the placid lake area and small ripples flowed across the reflecting water surface, Shy relented. A tear struggled to fall as Shy gripped the phone tightly; change was inevitable and Shy needed to make a move.
Chapter 16
The officer, uneasy and guarded, stood awkwardly in the middle of the foyer just below the giant chandelier hoisted twenty feet above. Silhouettes flitted around, behind, and across Shy’s field of view as they managed to not move even an inch, as if their shoes were nailed down into the expensive tiled floor. Casual elegance in fine threads filled the hollow pockets of space in between the fluid moving crowd; the hall was teeming with guests. I’m going to screw up, and in front of all these people. Oh God, what am I even doing here?
Sebastian laughed dismissively. Oh, the pressure. Come on, man, you know that speech backwards and forwards. You stand up in front of crowds of students every day. You’re fine. Stop worrying, we got this.
Shy scrunched their toes inside their shoes, grounding their heels into the marble below them. Their breathing became more labored with each step. Was it too late to escape? Suddenly, a clear voice snapped them out of their head.
“This way, Captain Cole. We will call your name last.” The organizer reviewed the sequence of events with Shy, then said, “Ma’am, do you want me to place your speech on the podium?” Shy handed over their speech, thanked the Master Sergeant, and headed to the foyer.
In the days leading up to the Winter Ball, Shy had felt the typical stress but for different reasons than usual. However, just like in the past, they attempted to make the most of the event. Military balls held a similar place to their counterparts in high society, with their pomp, formality, and ceremony. The night required gentlemen to be gentlemen and ladies to be ladies, complete with the requisite black-tie attire. Shy didn’t particularly enjoy the extra scrutiny their dresswear attracted. They weren’t comfortable wearing the traditional women’s mess dress skirt and blouse—it accented the bust too much in their opinion, even when Shy bound their breasts, and triggered their body dysmorphia. Instead, they elected to wear the dress blues jacket and pants, same as their male colleagues. Luckily, they weren’t the only woman to do so, so no one batted an eye.
As Shy waited, their eyes skimmed the replica nineteenth century antebellum hall, the starch white walls speckled with the portraits of some of the Army’s greatest leadership – Generals MacArthur, Custer, and Sherman. Chiseled plaster pillars shot up to the high ceilings where chandeliers hung suspended with gold-plated ropes. There were tall window panes with luxurious golden drapes falling twelve feet to the ground and Victorian-style chaises and loveseats hidden among tall Areca Palm trees, separating younger fraternity buddies from humble elders standing mere feet from the swelling crowd.
Giddy couples behaved with decorum that evening. Ladies with attractive figures glided in the arms of their men, their dainty gala gowns lightly dusted the floor. The detailed mosaic floors echoed clacking dress heels and loafers, creating a jovial mix of energetic sounds that bubbled over into the foyer where guests gathered in wait. Men in short-waisted jackets, with swirling gold piping embroidered at their wrists, escorted their ladies, who neatly tucked their small purses in the crooks of their arms. Many of the women wore heavy shawls which draped elegantly off their shoulders, twisty curls and hair-sprayed updos, and glossed lips in natural tones. The people looked divine and, despite the air of playful snobbery, civility and camaraderie shined through. This was a night to bring the unit and their families together.
The foyer was buzzing with officers and soldiers of all ranks, some with their spouses or dates, some with their parents, and some going stag. The Honor Band was playing contemporary jazz to create a light-hearted and carefree mood. As was tradition, the band struck two loud chords and the Master Sergeant of Ceremonies called out, “Ladies and Gentlemen, please line up to be received.” The drove of guests moved in unison, led by the adjutant officer. Shy found themselves near the end of the queue but the line moved fairly quickly. Soon, they were near the front and listened to the couple ahead of them being prepped. “Good evening, Colonel Basham. And who is your guest?”
“This is my wife, Carletta Basham.”
“Please to meet you, Mrs. Basham. Sir, please come this way.” The adjunct led the couple to the receiving line. “General and Mr. LaRouix, this is Colonel and Mrs. Carletta Basham.” The couple greeted the general and her husband, then made their way down the line to shake other dignitaries’ hands, pausing to engage in small talk before moving into the ballroom area.
The red-haired, stocky adjutant returned and greeted Shy. “Good evening, Captain Cole.”
“Lieutenant Becker. Good to see you.”
“Ma’am, do you have a spouse or guest you would like me to introduce to General LaRouix?” the adjutant asked, glancing behind Shy.
“No. I’m a party of one tonight.”
The adjutant nodded and promptly executed the introductions for the hundredth time. It wasn’t a task for the faint of heart, but the young, promising officer proudly did his duty.
“Good evening, General,” Shy said, dipping their head. Brigadier General Kerry LaRouix was the newest commanding general of the Military Intelligence Center of Excellence, the higher headquarters of the brigade and battalion Shy was assigned to. Her tenure marked the first time a Creole woman of Black descent held the prestigious position. There were those who’d grumbled, when General LaRouix was announced as the next commander, that the Army had only placed a Black woman in charge as a deliberate mark of change. But Shy knew the general’s quiet and resolute leadership style would eventually win the naysayers over and Shy admired her for that, for being the trailblazer she was. Tonight, the general wore the Army’s mess uniform with an air of regality, strength, and honor. The gold threads of embroidered stars were meticulously stitched in a row along her forearm. The short-waisted jacket held numerous medals. The long mess skirt gave homage to the antebellum years of the Army. Shy had been trained to render the proper courtesies and time-honored calls of respect due an officer. Yet the general’s demeanor and actions commanded more than perfunctory deference from those who served under her; Shy respected the officer as a person, too.
“It’s great to see you, Captain Cole. You have a promotion coming up, if I recall correctly.”
“Yes, ma’am. In January.”
“Ah, the first promotion of the year,” she smiled. “I am very proud of you, you know. Where are you heading next spring? It’s been a true delight to watch you grow and we could use your talent.”
“Thank you, ma’am. My family and I are excited for the promotion. I’ll be heading for a second tour in Korea. I definitely missed homemade bulgogi and soju; and it will be nice to reconnect with old friends.
“I am fond of Korean cuisine myself. You know I expect big things from you, so make sure you keep in touch over there.”
“Yes ma’am, I will,” Shy replied as they moved to greet the next VIP in the line.
Within minutes, that portion of the formalities was done and Shy moved into the ballroom. Laughter and conversation waxed and waned across the gigantic room. Shy dodged more than a few stares in their direction. Perhaps it was merely idle curiosity to see who was entering the room, but Shy still felt singled out. They looked for their table, nervously smiling to passersby, and gave a sigh of relief once they found their nameplate. Their table was up front near the head table and full, all the guests in their seats save Shy.
Shy gave a tight smile as the gentlemen seated to their left stood and gallantly assisted Shy to sit at the table. Then they noticed Rihannon to their right. “You okay?” Rihannon leaned closer to Shy and gently spoke in their ear. “I can’t wait to hear your speech. I know it will be great.”
“Yeah, I hope so.” Rihannon’s delicate scent made Shy breathe deeply. Despite being anything but okay at that moment, Shy felt a slight sense of relief when Rihannon reached out to squeeze their hand under the table.
Shy smiled at the faces around the table and nodded at their colleagues, before Rihannon introduced the senior man and woman next to her. “Shy, these are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Christopher Weston.”
“Hello, Shy. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Rihannon’s father stood up and extended a hand that swallowed Shy’s. He spoke with a distinct Patois accent that gave everyday English words a wonderful ring. Shy knew, through conversations with Rihannon, that he was a distinguished man who held multiple degrees in Architectural History and Structural Engineering, having joined the Army Corps of Engineers just after high school. He easily towered over many in the room, except perhaps Commander McGown. Rihannon’s similar chin and the sweep of her forehead gave away her kinship to this man; they were nearly twins. But it was Rihannon’s smile and cheekbones that bowed to her mother’s genes.
Shy had only had a few afterwork social interactions with Rihannon since returning from their leave in L.A. Shy had not forgotten Rihannon’s overstep and their subsequent anger, but they knew this was not the moment to ignore Rihannon’s gestures of friendliness. Especially now as they tried to declutter their thoughts. Shy quickly lifted their other hand to touch the notecards in their breast pocket. Though they had given the event planner their speech notes, Shy wanted to make sure they had the backup notes. There’d be no hiccups tonight.
“It’s so nice to meet the two of you. Rihannon speaks highly of you both.” Her mother, dressed in a traditional women’s hanbok with a more modern, sleek flair, dipped her head before bashfully turning towards her husband.
Shy caught her eye with a slight bow of their head. “Anyeong haseyo, eo-meo-nim.”
“You speak Korean!” The woman’s eyes flashed brightly as she smiled warmly at Shy.
Shy nodded and repeated a phrase of peace and prosperity. The woman reached out to cup Shy’s face. “You are a beautiful spirit,” she said softly in Korean, and Shy was equally drawn to Mrs. Weston’s endearing warmth. They noticed an uncanny resemblance to the aging lady in the frayed postcard sitting in Rihannon’s office. Shy slightly bowed their head in deference to Rihannon’s mother and suddenly thought of their own mother with a pang of regret; no matter their issues, they should’ve invited her tonight.
Unexpectedly, the bugle player sounded a three-note burst that shot across the room, abruptly cutting short the pleasant exchange between Shy and Rhiannon’s parents. While the receiving party filed in step to the head table, the quartet band accompanied them with March On.
The sea of bodies stood. Uniformed guests held their limbs tight in the position of attention while the receiving party filed in a straight line to the head table. They towered over the audience on an elevated platform, facing back towards the entrance into the hall. The bugle sang a single, piercing note and the audience took lead from those in uniform who executed stiff lock movements in unison until they faced the rear of the hall. All participants froze in anticipation of what was next.
“Color guard, at-TEN-tion! FOR-ward, MARCH!”
Patent leather shoes tapped in percussion on the reflective floors just outside the main ballroom. Shy could hear the detail commander’s quiet commands, “Left… left… left,” as the tip of the flag emerged through the door. The American flag gave its silent commands to every officer and soldier in that ballroom as it glided up the aisle to the time and step of the drill lead.
