Two Roads Back Together, page 19
“Left… left… left.”
With each command the audience slowly shifted, keeping face with the flag, all the way until it was front and center.
“Left turn, march… Counter column, march,” the drill lead commanded the team who executed a shift positional change before all, facing front towards the general and the head table. The drill lead snapped a crisped salute. “The flag is present, ma’am.”
Once salutes were rendered, the Honor Band beautifully began to play The Star-Spangled Banner. On the first key, the officers and soldiers across the ballroom saluted and stood quietly as one body.
Shy had attended many formal military balls. They recognized the battle-worn traditions which continued to be passed through generations of soldiers. The formalities and the rituals were a beautiful reminder of why they served. It was an honor to don the uniform and all that it represented. It was an honor to serve their country and the American people. It was an honor to protect the idealism and hope and freedoms these symbols inspired. But even while Shy stood there, basking in the warm feelings of patriotism, a tiny part of them observed, detached from it all. It had become increasingly difficult to stand up for the ideals and freedoms of others without being able to enjoy those same freedoms for themselves. Should they even continue to serve?
FINALLY, THE MOMENT had arrived.
As the applause quieted, Shy stepped up to the microphone. “Thank you. It is an honor to win Instructor of the Year and to be blessed with this acknowledgement twice in a row, well, I’m truly thankful. But this award is only a testament to my students, who are the reason I work so hard. They are my inspiration…”
Yawn. You are really going to give this boring speech, aren’t you Shy?
Sebastian, I’m not doing this with you today. Shy looked at the large printed words on their paper, each line carefully spaced to avoid losing their place in the speech. Despite the internal commentary, the speech went smoothly until Shy’s eyes drifted to the next part.
“As officers, we are held to a higher standard. We are expected to be accountable to ourselves but, more importantly, to the ones who serve under our charge. We must live with integrity and expect nothing less from those we ask the most of — our soldiers…”
Yeah, Shy, how about we live our life with integrity and be who we are? Can you even do that?
Shy’s voice started to shake. They reached for the glass of water on the podium and gulped it down. Shy wanted to stick to the script, just as they’d rehearsed over and over in their living room. They needed a moment, just a moment, to hush Sebastian, a moment to think, before they continued. “...It’s sometimes hard to know what ‘the right thing’ is, but I like to think it’s as simple as being true to yourself and your values. Being upfront even when things are not going well.”
You are such a coward. The right thing. Pfft. Are you even capable of living your own words, Shy? This is just what Pops, and Jay, and Tessa have been talking about. Fucking coward. Sweat poured across Shy’s face. They stammered a bit and clutched the sides of the lectern. Yeah, I’m not the only one that smells your bullshit. Look at them. They know you’re all talk and no action.
The words of Shy’s speech swam in front of their eyes as their throat closed up. Whispers of concern drifted across the audience. Shy was overcome by the cognitive dissonance playing in their heads while their right index finger froze to the inked words on the pages before them. Shy’s vocal cords struggled to release the knot of truth and they swallowed it whole. This sweeping panic attack left Shy standing there blinking, desperate to find their way out. Seconds of pause grew into a minute, then two, then three. The commander attempted to stand but Shy preempted him with their palm and gave a look that read, I’m okay.
Then an epiphany struck them as they spotted Captain Johnson in the crowd.
Shy heard a clear voice of strength, coaching them in the pause, and hushing the pressure that was Sebastian: It will never be a perfect time. These words never rang clearer than now, under the hot and piercing glare of the spotlight. Shy needed to demonstrate that they were living those affirming words they had spoken to every student who had ever sat in their classroom. Though they bristled at the uncertainty of their future should they speak up, Shy could feel their heart urging them to act. They knew they had to fight their way out of the seat of fear. There was no turning back. There, indeed, was no perfect time.
They took a deep breath, then another, ignoring the awkward shuffling silence in the room. Shy left the security of the lectern, grabbed the microphone, and took a position squarely in front of the audience.
“Can I be honest with you this evening?” Shy took in the faces around the room of friends and colleagues, subordinates and superiors. “I want to speak freely with you. As I look around, I see the students I am so proud of, the colleagues who offer friendship and push to make me better, and the senior leaders who provide mentorship and guidance. I, admittedly, am struggling this evening to finish the speech I had written,” Shy said, pointing to their heart, “they aren’t the words I need to share right now.
“Look, I haven’t been truthful. Not to my country. Not to this flag. Not to you. Not to myself. I am not who you think I am.” Shy looked over at their table and to Captain Johnson.
“Two months ago, Commander McGown addressed us and asked what we have to lose if Don’t Ask Don’t Tell were rescinded. At the time, I froze. I couldn’t formulate an answer. But my students were so eloquently able to stand up and assert their beliefs. And I remember thinking to myself that I wished I were as brave as them. To stand up and state, with conviction, what I believe.
“Reading my speech just now, I realize that I need to follow their example. Each day that I walk out my front door without being one hundred percent honest regarding my beliefs, well, I’m not fit to lead our Nation’s finest. Sure I may have proved my abilities as an instructor and as an officer, but I haven’t been a leader. Not really. I’ve been afraid to speak my mind and share my convictions honestly with you. And for that I am sorry. But I can promise you that will not happen again.
“I am no longer willing to bring just a part of myself out in the world, for the sake of respecting the rules. By not living to my own set of values and truth, I have lost so much already. By taking a stand for my values, I know I could lose everything I’ve worked for in my career. But I want to be clear, here and now: I support the repeal of DADT, without hesitation. No one should have to live in fear of being who they are. No one should have to worry that they’ll lose their job because of being outed.
“Many of you may disagree with me and think that Don’t Ask Don’t Tell should remain as policy. And you have the right to have your own opinion about this. But I am unwilling to compromise my integrity, honesty, and conviction in my values. It is my regret that I was not brave enough to speak up earlier and show you a better example of leadership. This is why I cannot accept this award tonight.”
Shy turned to the commander and head table. “Ma’am, sir, I thank you for the recognition. But as you can see, I do not fully live up to the words and purpose of this award. Accepting it would not be right, when I know in my heart that I have fallen short in truly living the life and values this award represents. As I tell my students, I want to earn my keep and the honor that comes with being an officer charged with America’s most precious assets—its sons and daughters.”
They looked back out over the audience. “To my students, I am sorry to disappoint you by not living to the high standards I demand of you. I have only expected the best from you and pushed you because, in my eyes, you are the best. And I know that, with or without me, you’ll continue to get even better.”
Shy turned around and returned the microphone to the lectern. They could hear muted conversation behind them but their eyes were focused on the aide whispering in the General’s ear. Reality slammed into their brain. That just happened. The thoughts. The decision to speak off the cuff. In the moment, Shy had felt relieved, a rush of euphoria and adrenaline. But as the last word of their speech hung in the air, Shy could only hold on and wait for the audience’s reaction.
Shit, I really just put my career on the line, didn’t I?
Maybe, but that took balls, Shy.
As Shy clipped the mic back into place, Cam stood up and began clapping. Then another student stood and clapped. And another. The room of people stood en masse and offered their appreciation for Shy’s unrehearsed authenticity. Wait.
Would you look at that? Sebastian’s voice was gleeful. Maybe this is just what your career needed.
The commander met Shy at the podium and extended his hand. “That was the most impressive act I’ve ever witnessed from a young and promising officer, Shy. I am honored to be your commander. And no, we’re not taking this award back from you,” he said, pushing it into Shy’s hands. “Without a doubt, you exhibit everything this award stands for.”
Shy walked back to their table in a daze and took a seat. Filled with a new strength and sense of purpose, they smiled at the congratulations pouring in, chin up, eyes bright. They now knew, with cautious clarity, the path they would walk going forward. Brighter days shone ahead.
Chapter 17
A new dawn of possibilities speckled generously across the placid skies above. As Shy got out of the car they were preoccupied with last night’s affairs and harboring a pinch of regret. No one liked change. Certainly not the bold kind, anyway. The choice to chase one’s own happiness and sense of being could be lonely, at first, if you were the only one taking that risk. But it was necessary. Still, Shy hadn't really thought through their actions before speaking last night and they were now mired in self-doubt. Could they really live authentically, merge their public, professional Shy self with their inner Sebastian?
Sweat beaded along their temples while Shy laced up their running shoes. They bolted into a medium pace. With each escape of controlled breath from Shy’s lungs, the pounding intensified. Dew-covered branches and leaf litter gave way to the asphalt under Shy’s heel-to-toe strikes. The hardest part of the climb was in front of them.
A dull ache formed under Shy’s ribcage. Now on their fourth mile, Shy struggled with the physical aches and tensions, as well as the mental anguish, of a long run. The approaching incline only heightened their doubts.
You got this.
No, I don’t. The hill—
You’ve done this before.
I can’t breathe.
Yes, you can. Breathe, Shy. Count with me, One...
“One.” Shy vocalized each breath to drown out their restless mind. They just wanted to disappear into the flow state, that cloud of nothingness where their body felt effortless. But today, it wasn’t happening.
“Two.” Heel strike.
“Three.” Heel strike.
Silence. Heel strike.
“Fourrrrrrr.” Heel strike.
“One.” As the oxygen drew into their lungs, Shy kept chanting. “Two... Three… Four.”
As much as the first few miles were always a struggle, Shy had learned to push through until their second wind took over. Shy used a certain technique to distract them from their chatty conscience. Usually, they focused on the micro-mechanics of each step: breath control, full arm swings, muscle relaxation throughout the full rotation, and pulling their knees forward. Their mind and feet were in step, a rhythmic exchange between the two.
But today, it wasn’t happening.
The slight incline pushed against Shy’s feet and the exertion changed their breathing rhythm to short, quick breaths. As the incline grew, Shy’s stride contracted and they worked to make their arms pull them forward. The frigid, early morning air made their breath fog. Shy coughed as their throbbing lungs struggled to fill thin airways in the stinging cold. As their body worked harder, Shy sharpened their focus again. “One.” Heel strike.
You can do this, Shy. You are strong.
As Shy jogged up the hill, their legs felt like they had swollen with sand and their arms flopped to the side like dead weight. The chilling breeze grazed their neck like cold metal coils. Shy wiped the beaded sweat pooling under their black beanie as their breath visibly clouded the air around them. They knew they were nowhere near the halfway point of the run; another two miles of incline still lay in front of them. Even worse, the sun, now fully risen, only added a few more degrees. It still felt uncomfortably cool along the mountain peaks. It would take grit to finish this morning’s run.
The cool pavement slowly curved back and forth, the scenery changing little as Shy scaled forward at a moderate pace. Pit pat, pit pat, pit pat. They tried to focus on the run, just the run, but Sebastian wouldn’t let up. “Two.” Heel strike.
Shy, I know it’s a lot. The ball, your mom, your career. But don’t give up on me. You promised!
I need more time.
I’m not gonna let you lock me back up, Shy. You promised you’d work on this.
What will people think of me?
Why is it always about other people, Shy? What about us? What about doing what’s best for us, huh?
You realized I probably lost my job, right? There’s no way those people didn’t get what I was really saying about support the repeal. Ugh, why did I do that last night?
Shy’s drenched shirt chafed the back of their neck. Despite the chill it was more of a nuisance, so Shy ripped off the shirt, wiped their face, and knotted the shirt through the waist loop in the back of their jogging pants. The wet desert floor stuck to Shy’s back with every step. An occasional breeze zipped across their back and shoulder, making them shudder and worsening the throbbing reverberations pulsing in their joints. The incline felt like a wall, giving Shy every reason to just stop and stand still. But Shy would not give in. Pushing through the last three and a half miles of the trail would not be for nothing; they knew the reward was worth it.
Thud, thud, thud. Shy whipped their head back to the noise. It was an approaching runner who was zipping up the hill like a train. The clearly seasoned runner floated up the hill and passed Shy. They kept their eyes on the man and picked up their pace, letting the runner guide them home.
Finally, they slogged past a sun-battered, splintered sign that proclaimed 1/4 MILE TO END. The excitement of having a only little left to finish propelled Shy to increase their pace. They took one last swish of water, placed the bottle back on their belt, and lengthened their stride as wide as they could comfortably go. At last, Shy’s mind quieted. At last, they got into the flow. The anger, long-standing shame, and powerful grip of feeling trapped—all of it flushed away and evaporated into the passing wind. They were locked in, knowing the top of the hill was meters away. “Three.” Heel strike. “Fourrrrrrrr.”
Shy blew out a labored breath that seemed to anchor their footing into the frozen tar-topped pavement. Their ballooning thighs pulled like pistons as they pump their arms, working to not give in to the gravity pulling them backward. The last 30 meters felt like 3,000. The biting air gave no mercy. But finally—finally!— Shy stood inches from the top, the sweat pouring from under their hat. They yanked it off to release the trapped heat and took a few gulping, bracing breaths. As they walked in slow circles, they allowed themselves to think of the weeks of advice and support they had received:
Just be yourself.
Shy, you are hiding an amazing person.
Don't let anyone repaint your masterpiece.
Sebastian, is welcomed here.
Be the lotus.
Shy sat on a rock atop the best panorama view of Sierra Vista Canyon. They admired the striking beauty of the southeastern landscape while condors zipped and squawked across the lightening skies; the tops of the sun peaked above the skyline. A pair of condors flew elegantly side by side, a mirror of each other, soaring in a rich dance high above the settling life below. Shy could not help but appreciate the freeness of the birds’ dance as they, too, sat high above the world. The same sort of freeness they craved so deeply inside and were finally on the verge of capturing.
The warm rays seemed to penetrate the crisp air hovering about the hilltop. They ignored their fingers throbbing from the chilly wind, simply watched the birds just be. The longer Shy focused on the sun and the sky, they reached their arms high above their heads. Stretching as tall as their tendons and fingertips would go, Shy closed their eyes and reached toward the sunlight. A memory triggered: Reach up, young blood. Reach up for the sunlight. Shy smiled at Pops’ voice in their head as they scanned the top of the city.
Shy could only reflect on all of the stakes they stared down the silver barrel of life. That feeling that one wrong move would erase all they’d come to know made the proposition of starting over, in their newfound perspective, even scarier. The thought of losing their commission and being granted other than honorable discharge, or forever being estranged from their mother, or the alternate choice of living perpetually in a state of fear, too afraid to even smile—there were so many possibilities that could result from Shy’s choices. Was Shy truly ready to take action and face the consequences, no matter what?
As the silence of the valley was broken by the occasional squawks of giant birds, the final voice came: I am.
MUCH LATER, AS the sky changed from orange to purple, as the cooler desert winds picked up and tousled tumbleweeds across the flat desert floor of southeast Arizona, Shy sat at their home office desk finishing up a few emails when their phone buzzed with a reminder. They quickly looked up the right phone number and dialed. “Yes, hi. I’d like to order an airport shuttle from Tucson Airport to a private residence. 1234 Black Ranch Drive, just off Fry Boulevard… about a week from now on Saturday, December eighteenth… Just one passenger… Yes, Southwest Flight 1215, arriving at 5:24 pm… Yep, I just received the confirmation email and receipt. Thank you very much.”
