Two Roads Back Together, page 6
“Nothing is stopping you from traveling north to more populated cities. Maybe Tucson or Phoenix. And they are not under the prying eyes of the base.”
“Wait. Are you suggesting that I sneak around?” Shy smiled in mischievous fashion.
“Absolutely not.” The therapist profusely shook her head. “But, I am saying you need to live authentically. And you can do that with integrity… Shy, when would you say you first noticed the full tilt of Sebastian?”
“That same summer we talked about before, the summer I was thirteen, when everything went bananas.” Shy laughed then trailed off as their eyes grazed over the mauve-colored walls, then to the city line.
“So, there was this… girl from another neighborhood. Her name was Sandra. I would see her from time to time. She had brown eyes and brown skin. Tall, maybe about five-foot-eight with curly hair; she smiled a lot. I don’t think she noticed me. On my way riding my bike home from school, I always spotted her across the street from our corner store. She was usually talking to her friends, but I never could step to her and say hello. I wanted to, though. I’d stand there sometimes and imagine walking to her and seeing her smile up close. To be... in her space, able to smell her strawberry lip gloss and shea butter. I always wondered, if I were a guy, how things would be different between me and her. Of course, I never took the chance to ask her out. To be truthful I assumed she was only into guys. Sometimes I still have dreams about her, the first crush I never had,” Shy chuckled. “Around her, Sebastian felt less like a chore and more like who I was meant to be. He pushed, vied for attention, wanted to step to her and do his thing, but I’d never let him act. Still, you asked when I first felt the full weight of Sebastian—that’s when, when I was around Sandra.”
The therapist’s non-reaction gave a greenlight for Shy to continue their train of thought.
“Like I said, I still have dreams around her sometimes. I had one last night, which is why I really wanted to talk to you today.”
“Tell me about it, then,” Tessa requested.
“It’s abstract in parts, though I remember more of it than usual since I’ve started journaling. In this dream, I’m in my childhood neighborhood, and there’s this girl I step to. It’s funny because, in reality, I would never step to any girl. But in my dream I’m not me in Shy’s body, I’m in Sebastian’s. And as Sebastian, I’m not afraid to approach her at all. In fact, I love the hunt. I’m thinking I got her and I know she wants me.
“When I step to her, my smile is as big as New York City lights. She smiles back, open, appreciative… seductive. The girl likes Sebastian’s swag. He's a catch with the ladies.”
Shy sat a little more upright on the green and taupe-colored sofa, their butt snug on the soft-cushioned edge, hands clasped, with firmly planted feet. Not really relaxed but firm inside their space. Shy’s new posture took up more of the couch than their smaller athletic frame could. Their elbows jutted outward and their legs rested in a man-spread stance. Shy wasn’t in this office with Tessa, not anymore; it was Sebastian who picked up the tale. “As I’m walking over to the girl, she says, Hey Sebastian, and comes closer to me. She smells so sweet, but I keep my cool and ask, Wassup, girl? Are you with your friends or can we go hang out somewhere? She looks at her friends and gives them a wink while they giggle and tell her, Go on, Sis! Tell us the details tomorrow. She turns back to me, tucks her hair behind her ear, and squeezes the English and history books in her arms for dear life. She makes eye contact and says, We can go somewhere. She smiles before blowing out her bubble gum. Pop.
“The dream flashes from outside to a room, a room with an expensive, refined decor. She takes my hand and guides me back to a bedroom. She tryna be grown and I am too; I oblige, follow her lead. As she looks back, biting her lips, I already know what’s about to go down. I have no clue what to do next, but I don’t let her know that. I stay cool and collected. I got this.
“She kisses me and places my arms around the back of her waist as she pulls at my shirt and my pants. I work her shirt off, then pants, then panties as she tickles the back of my neck. As she moves down and kisses me, her hands roll over my chest. I realize once again that it’s not my body, not Shy’s body, I mean. I look like Sebastian, like the body that I see myself in, and as my pants and underwear hit the floor, she draws her hand between my legs and kisses me on the lips before pushing me on the bed.
“She mounts me. I am pure bliss. I feel like me. The real me is being loved, and touched, and savored. But before either of us reach a conclusion, I woke up.”
Shy shifted on the couch. “I had similar dreams before. And I love these dreams. But the blissful feeling always dissipates when I am jolted back to reality. I eventually wake up, and I usually wake with a wetness between and along my legs. The first time I thought it was... you know.” Shy gives a self-deprecating laugh. “But when I woke up from the urge to urinate, it was blood. It took a moment for my mind to transition and reconnect itself to Shy—the body I’ve never come to accept or love.”
The room was quiet as Shy stared out the window of the therapist. As they pushed back, their eyebrows furrowed, and their eyes welled up as their body trembled a little.
“Shy, would you mind letting me know why you’re upset right now?” The therapist paused before asking, “How does it make you feel to be Sebastian, in a male body, in a dream, but wake up clearly in a female body?”
Shy’s eyes dashed back to the therapist before looking away, yet again. Shy shook their head, “I hate it. The moment I entered puberty, I lost all sense of who I was. I guess I’m still lost.” As the soft glow of early evening and city lights flickered in the room, Shy sighed and shifted their position on the couch. “How do I reconcile the two—Shy and Sebastian—and still live a normal life? One where I don’t destroy my career or force my mother to disown me? I don’t see a way. I love everything about soldiering. And I love my mother. If I lost her... I’d break,” Shy’s voice cracked. “Does that make me weak?”
“There is nothing odd about a child wanting their mother’s love and her closeness. That’s part of the bond established during the birth process. However,” Tessa continued, “your dependence on her validation is stifling. That, Shy, is where I’m afraid your sail will sink. The happiness which you are seeking must come from within. You must learn to accept yourself for you and only you. You will learn to accept your mother for who she is as well. She will have her own transformation journey in all of this. Because the Shy she has formed in her mind is not the Shy that actually exists. She will have to reconcile that, and for her it will feel like a loss. That will take time.
“I am thoroughly impressed by you and your accomplishments. You have managed to take a lion’s share of your setbacks on the chin. But in the same vein, you are only human Shy. In spite of all that you have been through, there is still so much possibility in front of you. As complex as our world may feel, sometimes survival starts with just being ourselves. For many of us, that is a great start of a new journey.”
“You asked me what version of myself I want to be, in the last session.” Shy paused. “I thought about it all weekend and couldn’t come up with an answer.”
“You couldn’t come up with an answer or you couldn’t accept the answer?”
Hmph. Shy’s mouth gaped open. “You’re calling me out.”
“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t.”
“In retrospect, I guess I am not ready to accept the answer.”
“Well, then I guess we have some more work to do.” Tessa let the silence linger in the room for a long breath or two before the clock behind Shy clicked and read 6 o' clock in the evening.
“Looks like that’s our time. Let’s pick this up in our next session.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell your secretary. I plan on heading home for leave in a couple days and will have to miss the next one.”
“L.A., right? Okay, that’s fine, we can schedule you once you return.” Tessa stood and approached Shy before escorting them to the door.
“Shy, try to have some fun when you travel home, okay? If, and only if, you feel the time is right, have a meaningful conversation with your mother. All will be what it should be. And as always, I’m just a phone call away if you need me.”
Shy nodded, thanked Tessa, and walked out. They had a lot to reflect on and some choices to make.
Chapter 6
Shy dropped the binder on their desk and let out a sigh. It had been a full day of classes; Wednesdays were always the busiest between platform instruction. This week, students had begun their mid-term capstone projects, which accounted for 25 percent of their final grade. Consequently, Shy was spending more time with students as a senior advisor in role-play, only guiding students to work through their own logic sequences. Aside from the capstone, business seemed to be as usual. Shy noted how level many of the students were after the commander’s briefing last week. Things had calmed down a bit, or maybe the students were more concerned with passing their capstone projects and graduating.
Shy walked over and lightly tapped on Rihannon’s door. “Hey Rihannon, you got a minute?”
“Sure, come in.” Rihannon was twirling an orange highlighter in her spiraling, brown hair and it took a moment for her attention to shift away from the document she was perusing, her eyes repositioning to Shy over the brim of her dark-framed reading glasses. “Any excuse not to read these papers.” She tossed the single stack of student papers and highlighter back onto her desk, then got up and pointed to a small circular table with two leather swivel chairs. “Close the door and have a seat,” she said as she walked to the bookstand and placed a Keurig cup into the fancy coffee machine. “Want a cup?”
Shy declined.
“You sure? This stuff is like crack.”
“Exactly. I’ll pass.”
“You know everyone has their vices—dip, smoking—”
Shy pulled out a 16-ounce Monster energy drink and placed it on the table. “Yep.” They popped open the can and smiled. “That we do.”
Rihannon chuckled. “So what’s going on, Shy?”
“I got a student who is falling a little behind…” Shy held up their hand as Rihannon raised her eyebrows. “You don’t need to do anything yet. I just wanted to give you a heads up. I’ll put in some additional hours to see if she just needs some extra coaching.”
“Shy, you know you have forty other students. You can’t save every underperformer. This is an advanced course. Weaker students need to be weeded out and reassigned to a level more conducive to their success.”
“She has potential. I think she will be fine.” Rihannon gave Shy a look of doubt. “What, you don’t think I can deliver?”
“It’s not that, Shy. I think what you are trying to do is noble. It's just not sustainable, nor is it a good use of your time as a senior instructor in this department, to be focusing so much energy on students who ultimately won’t cut it.”
“Rihannon, this is what I do. I develop. I teach. I build up my students. You might not believe it, but I also performed poorly as a student. As a minority, I didn’t always have the foundation to compete with my peers. And it hurt to know I was undervalued.
“I remember, one day, walking into my instructor’s office and going straight up to his desk.” Shy pointed towards the cubicles across the hall. “I remember him coldly mumbling, ‘Students aren’t allowed in the instructor area.’ I replied back, ‘Sir, I’m struggling to keep up with class. I need help.’ You know what he said to me? He said he didn’t have that kind of time.”
Shy paused, regrouping from the memory. “It took a lot of balls for me to walk in there and ask for help. I don’t think he ever looked up. As I walked away, he never saw my obvious disappointment and embarrassment.
“I eventually got through it and graduated. Now that I’m in this position, if I see a student that is trying, I must help them. That’s why instructing is so important to me.” Shy faced Rihannon while extending their palm out. “I really could use your support.”
Rihannon took a moment to process the emotional rant and looked pleasantly taken aback. “If the student doesn’t pass her mid-term exams, you understand I have to bring it up with the ol’ man.” Rihannon looked squarely at Shy. “Until then, I will keep this under wraps.”
“Deal!” Shy smiled.
Beeeep. Rihannon grabbed her favorite coffee mug from the shelves beneath the Keurig. Above it, her certificates, diplomas, and awards were encased in wooden frames and intentionally hung in a staggered design. Her Penn University diploma hung prominently in the middle of the wall, right next to a postmarked postcard of an ahjumma, a small statured middle-aged woman in front of a storefront with a baby wrapped tightly around the back of her torso.
Above the bookshelf was a large photo of a gray-haired, dark-skinned woman relaxing in a rocking chair, smoking a pipe on the front porch of a simple house. Her deep brown eyes told a story of perseverance and faith. The crow’s feet by her eyes and wrinkles around her forehead and dimpled chin suggested she’d watched near a lifetime of sunsets. It was her plaid-colored head scarf and matching bandana dress that drew Shy’s curiosity.
“Who is this?” Shy asked about the silhouetted Jamaican woman. They must have walked into that office dozens of times, but it never occurred to them to ask Rihannon about the photo. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you before.”
Rihannon came and stood next to Shy—right next to them, so close the arms of their fatigues touched—as they both savored the photo a few inches away. “That’s my Nana. She raised me through grade school when my dad was restationed back in Korea. Nana was tough, but still kind and loving. I miss her dearly.” The distant smile on Rihannon's face made Shy feel a strange urge to embrace her, to wrap her in his arms until the strain in her smile disappeared—
Boom! Shy jerked as the cannons went off and a brass bugle played the song ‘Retreat’ on the loudspeakers. 17:00 hours, time to go home. The two officers remained silent, Rihannon looking at the picture, and Shy looking at her.
Shy had never particularly liked anyone in their personal space, but in that moment, standing that close to Rihannon felt right. It felt good. For once, Shy was simply Shy, living in this moment and not worried about how their actions could be perceived. Without a struggle, Sebastian peeked through. The two officers had laughed and shared an array of happy emotions, and Shy knew that Rihannon liked and respected them; but would Rihannon still feel the same if she knew who Shy really was? If she knew that Shy had once entertained asking her out?
The music stopped.
As Rihannon turned her head, Shy, who was a foot taller, noticed something stuck to her hair. “Um, you have something ... uh... right here.” Shy pointed to their own head, mirroring the approximate spot.
Rihannon leaned toward Shy until they were micro inches apart. “Take it out.”
“There,” Sebastian replied in a soothing timbre, their presence calming, while they lifted the tiny fuzz from Rihannon’s curly crown.
Rihannon didn’t move, except to tilt her head up to look at Shy through her lashes. “I hope that wasn’t there all day and no one bothered to tell me,” she grumbled.
Tick. Tick. Tick. The second hand on the clock kept winding forward as the two officers fell into awkward silence. As Sebastian's impulsive desire crept up inside them, Shy shuddered. There was a feeling of paralysis in Shy's body as the pressure of what to do next pressed their nerves. The room grew smaller.
No, not yet.
What do you mean not yet? Look at her. She is so …beautiful.
No, Sebastian!
A rush of attraction intensified. The waft of Rihannon’s barely-there perfume filled Shy’s nostrils. She looked flawless as the evening sunset lit up the office window in cascading blues and purples. It had been a long time since Shy had connected with someone like Rihannon, making this moment exciting and frightening at the same time. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Rihannon brushed the back of Shy’s elbow and gracefully broke the warm connection Shy felt between them as the more senior officer moved further away. She leaned on the front of her desk, half seated on the edge, crossed her ankles, and took a sip of coffee from the black mug with the setting sun behind her. Shy thought they’d never seen her look more lovely. The mood of it all, her perfume, the smell of her hair, the softness of the late afternoon light permeating inside the office made the moment feel cozy. Even safe.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Rihannon broke the silence. “So when did you know?”
“Say again?”
“When did you know you were gay?” Rihannon took a long sip from her coffee while looking at Shy over the top of her glasses again.
Shit, she got us, Shy.
What should I do?
Say something, quick!
“Wha... What?” Shy blinked and stammered and tried as much as they could to keep up their composure. “Wow, where did that come from?” Shy forced a half-smile and chuckled. Oh no, Shy.
Rihannon set down her mug and stepped over to Shy, almost crowding their space. “Shy, this isn’t my first rodeo.”
Shy shifted awkwardly and folded their hands to keep them still. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Shy, say something.
Oh God, what do I tell her?!
Tell her she’s wrong!
“I’m not gay.” Shy stood and positioned their feet flat on the floor, facing Rihannon. Flushed, they belted, “And you shouldn’t be asking, am I right Rihannon?”
Rihannon reached a hand out to Shy. “I’m not trying to hem you up or put you in a precarious position—”
“But you are!” Shy shot back, side-stepping, creating space. Running.
“Ok, you’re right.” Rihannon dropped her hand. “That was completely inappropriate of me. You’re right, I shouldn’t be asking. But it’s just…” Tick. Tick. Tick. “It’s just that I noticed. Last week. After the commander left the room, you jetted into the hallway. You really seemed upset.” Rihannon ran frustrated fingers through her curls. The same curls Shy ached to touch again. Curls Shy would never touch again. “I admit my curiosity got the best of me... I do want to know if you are okay? Maybe, you might like to talk with someone? The command doesn’t have to know." She shook her head. "I'm worried about you, Shy.”
