Shy was only a few minutes late to work. Mornings were always a struggle, and the shorter October days didn’t help; waking up in the dark was a lot harder. The hangover from last night’s surreal dream only compounded Shy’s irregular sleep patterns. Their mind, that morning, felt like it was paddling through molasses. They’d jotted down what they could remember of it, the important bits and pieces, and done their usual morning reflection. Shy also made a mental note to discuss it with Tessa at their session scheduled at the end of the week. The habit had gotten easier over the past two months, and Shy enjoyed organizing their thoughts on the page. But that didn’t mean they loved waking up earlier to get in the journaling time, and the brisk morning air only served to make Shy wish they’d chosen a career where they could sleep in a little as they jogged up the steps and made their way to their office.
Shy worked in an open floor office, which the troops affectionately called “the bullpen.” It was a unique mix of organized symmetry and chaos, with 42-inch high padded blue mock walls aligned in a somewhat makeshift maze in the middle of the room. Behind each angular wall, there was a one-person cubicle only big enough to fit a desk, chair, and a few office accessories. Along the perimeter of the wall, the workspace and views were much more desirable, so those were kept for the senior instructors. Shy’s work desk was positioned along this wall, directly across from the training director’s office.
Shy was one of two senior officers in the training department; Rihannon was the other. A much more polished leader, Rihannon was a better fit for the training director position. Shy gladly took the senior instructor’s reins where their talent truly shined—the instruction platform—and taught junior military officers the unique craft of becoming a thinking warrior. Since Shy had assumed this position, they had won multiple academic and training unit awards for innovative training and curriculum design.
Most instructors proudly displayed their prestigious awards and certificates on their shelves, alongside happy pictures of their families and other personalized paraphernalia. But Shy was not most people. Anyone who came to Shy’s cubicle was struck by the lack of warmth, the aesthetically sanitized workspace. No family pictures. No dogs or cats. No swag. Only a single nameplate was affixed to their cabinet reading CPT (Promotable) Shy Cole, Senior Instructor. Perhaps, too impersonal. Rihannon often joked Shy was biding time until they left the unit. But Shy liked a minimalist workspace; they never had a reason to clutter it up with personal items. It certainly wasn’t home.
In Shy’s line of sight from their desk, was the Instructor Wall of Fame, positioned along the exterior wall near the entrance to Rihannon’s office. Here was each instructor’s photo, prominently displayed. Every one of Shy’s instructor cadre smiled in their picture. But in Shy’s picture, they seemed distant, only a slight upward pull of their lips. Maybe if one stared long enough, they could make out a grin. The giveaway was in Shy’s eyes—they gazed emotionlessly at the camera. One would not notice at a quick glance. One would say Shy exuded professionalism and confidence. Shy certainly learned over the years to wear the facade well. But upon closer inspection, one just might realize how uncomfortable Shy really was.
Rihannon walked out of her office and over to Shy, placing a folder with a signed leave form inside. “A little late again this morning, huh?” she jabbed, resting her hip against Shy’s desk.
Shy whipped their eyes up to Rihannon, catching briefly on her recently promoted Major rank, the gold oak leaf, signaling she now outranked Shy. “Yeah. I had a long night last night. I didn’t really sleep well.”
“Everything alright?” Rihannon pointed to her open office door. “We can talk about it over some coffee if you’d like.”
Shy keyed in their login password and pulled out a white binder that read: LEAD INSTRUCTOR, CLASS 10-11. They shook their head. “Nah, I’ll muscle through. I need to get ready for class.”
“Understood.” She walked a few steps away before lightly warning Shy. “Oh, if you’re going to be late, make sure you call and give me a head’s up. I can’t look out for you if you don't give me an alibi.”
“Thanks, Rihannon. I appreciate it,” Shy genuinely responded.
Rihannon winked at Shy, then went back to her office. Shy returned an awkward smile before bashfully looking away at their computer screen. They tried not to breathe too deeply as the soft perfume slowly disappeared.
You think she knows?
Man, you are so obvious.
I can’t. You are trouble and you know it.
But you said you were going to do things differently.
Yeah, but I can’t do things that will lose me my job, trying to be free and all.
You mean, being me. I deserve better than this. Let me out of here, Shy. Let. Me. Out!
Shy peeked at their watch. Five minutes until class. I’m not having this conversation right now. They hopped up, grabbed their binder, and pulled their access card from the computer before rushing to the classroom.
Shy dropped the binder on their desk, and let out a sigh. It had been a full day of classes, as Wednesdays were always the busiest between platform instruction. A new week, students had begun their mid-term capstone project, which accounted for 25% of their final grade. Shy consequently was spending more time with students as a senior advisor in role-play; only guiding students to work through their own logic sequences. Besides the capstone, business seemed to be usual. Shy could not help but notice how level many of the students were after the commander’s brief from last week. It appeared things calmed down a bit or at least the students were more concerned with passing their capstone project and graduating.
Shy walked over and lightly tapped their hand on Rihannon’s door. “Hey Rihannon, you got a minute?”
“Sure, come in.” Rihannon was twirling an orange highlighter in her dark spiraled 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 this dry mess of a paper.” She tossed the 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 shook their head.
“You sure? This stuff is like crack.”
“Exactly. I’ll pass.”
“You know everyone has their vices—dip, smoking, energy drinks. I’m not knocking you at all.”
Shy pulled out a 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 head’s up. I’ll put in some additional hours to see if they just need some extra coaching.”
“Shy, you know you have forty students. You can’t keep trying to save underperformers. This is an advanced course. Weaker students need to be weeded out and reassigned to a level more conducive to their success.”
“I know. But I feel like this one has potential, she just needs to be encouraged. Look, I got it, ok?”
Rihannon gave Shy a look of doubt.
“What, you don’t think I can do it?”
“It’s not that, Shy. I think what you are trying to do is noble. It just is 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 my students. You won’t believe it, but, I was once that officer and student who was lackluster. As a minority, I didn’t always have the foundation to compete with my peers. And it hurt to know I was undervalued. I was so hungry to prove everyone wrong.
“One day, I walked into the instructor’s office and went straight to his desk.” Shy pointed towards the cubicles across the hall. “He never looked up from his monitor and said, ‘Lieutenant Cole, students aren’t allowed in the instructor area.’ I then told him, ‘Sir, I need your help. I’m struggling a little and I could use a tutor.’ You know what he said to me? He said he didn’t have that kind of time.”
Shy paused, regrouped 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, so he never saw the raw disappointment and embarrassment on my face. And, so, I left.”
“Even though everyone relishes me with accolades and holds me as an example now, it wasn’t easy. Now that I’m in this position, if I see someone who is trying, I’m going to help. That’s why I instruct.”
Shy faced Rihannon. “I could really use your support with this one?”
Rihannon took a moment to process the emotional rant and looked pleasantly taken aback. “You have until mid-exams. If the student doesn’t pass, we have a talk with the ol’ man to cycle them out of the course.” Rihannon looked squarely at Shy, “And I don’t really want to have to bring this up to the Commander, so you’d better do what you gotta do to help this kid pass.”
“Deal!” Shy smiled.
Beep. Rihannon grabbed her favorite coffee mug from beneath the Keurig along the wall nearest to Shy. Above it, her certificates, diplomas, and awards were encased in wooden frames and hung with a strategically staggered design. She had placed her Penn University diploma in the middle, right next to a postcard of an ahjumma, a small statured-middle aged woman, sweeping the sidewalk in front of a rich storefront with a baby wrapped around her back. 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 watched near a lifetime of sunsets. It was her plaid-colored headscarf and matching bandana dress that drew Shy’s curiosity. They were not sure who this impressionable matriarch was.
“Who is this?” Shy walked over to the black woman on the wall. They must have walked in that office dozens of times before. 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 Shy, 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 when my dad was restationed back in Korea.” Rihannon’s smile was distant, and Shy had the strangest urge to embrace her, to just wrap her in their embrace until that false smile went away—
Boom! Shy jerked as the cannons went off and a brass bugle played the song ‘Retreat’ on the loudspeakers. 1700, time to go home. The two officers remained silent, Rihannon looking at the picture, 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 office colleagues 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 once entertained asking her out?
The music stopped.
Rihannon turned her head and Shy, who was a foot taller, noticed a piece of lint on the top of Rihannon’s hair. “Um, you have something in your hair... uh... right here.” Shy pointed to their own head, mirroring the approximate spot.
Rihannon leaned toward Shy until they were micro inches apart. “Well, take it out.”
“I got it,” Sebastian replied in a soothing timbre, their presence calming, while they pulled the lint from Rihannon's hair.
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. Shy could feel Sebastian’s impulsive desire bubbling inside them. The room seemed to shrink as the pressure of what to do next consumed Shy’s thoughts.
No, not yet.
What do you mean not yet? Look at her. She wants us, Shy. Let’s have a little fun.
No, Sebastian!
Shy felt a growing attraction building. The waft of Rihannon’s barely-there perfume filled Shy’s nostrils. The way the evening sunset lights filled the office window with cascading blues and purples on the horizon complimented her smooth skin. It had been a long time since Shy had connected with anyone like Rihannon, making this moment titillating and scary. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Rihannon brushed the back of Shy’s elbow and gracefully broke the warm connection Shy felt between them. She repositioned herself in front of her desk. She leaned, 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.
She got you, Shy.
Sh*t. Uh, should I act like I didn’t hear her?
Well, you have to say something, quick!
“Wha... What?” Shy blinked and stammered and tried as much as they could to keep up the front. “Wow, where did that come from?” Shy forced a half-smile and chuckled. God, you are a horrible liar. Keep it together, Shy.
Rihannon stepped over to Shy. She set down her mug and approached Shy, almost crowding their space. “Shy, this isn’t my first rodeo. I see the signs.”
Shy shifted awkwardly, folded their hands, leaned towards the door. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Shy, you have to say something.
I don’t know what to say. Oh God, what do I tell her?!
Tell her she’s wrong.
“I’m not gay.” Shy faced Rihannon with their lips pursed and positioned their feet flat on the floor. “And you shouldn’t be asking, am I right Rihannon? DADT isn’t repealed yet, after all.”
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 it, the last week. After the Commander left the room, you jetted into the hallway. You really seemed upset. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why.” Rihannon ran frustrated fingers through her curls, curls Shy ached to touch again, curls Shy would not touch again. “I don’t have some nefarious agenda here. I just want to know if you are okay. Would you like to talk with someone that can help? The command doesn’t have to know. As someone who has close access to the Commander, I can tell you, Shy, you can talk to him. He, better than anyone, can relate to what you are going through. You are holding on to so much and it’s stressful and difficult. Look, you’re literally shaking. Whatever it is, whether it’s this secret or something else, I see it. And I worry about you.”
She put her hand gently on Shy’s arm. “This last hour was the most open and balanced I’ve ever seen you. I feel like I actually met Shy for the first time in the two years we’ve known each other. That Shy,” she pointed over to the spot they both stood earlier, “is beautiful. You’re compassionate. You have a way of connecting with people, which is clear by how you love your surrogate family and how much you care for your students. Shy, you are hiding an amazing person. I don’t know what you think of me or the command, but this command is safe. We care about our people, Shy, even those we know are hiding who they really are.” She rubbed Shy’s arm in a comforting caress. Tick. Tick. Tick. When was the last time someone had touched Shy with such warmth? Shy felt their eyes begin to sting and the heat rising from their collar.
No, this is a trap. Don’t tell her anything.
Too late, she already knows, Shy. Why run?
Wiping their eyes, Shy bolted for the door. They quickly retrieved their book bag, car keys, and turned the office lights off.
“Shy! Shy, come back!” Rihannon called as she rushed from her office.
No. Shy would not turn around, no matter how much a part of them wanted to. They needed to run, run back to their safe place, far away from prying, disingenuous co-workers. What did Rihannon know? Shy was being who they really were. This is who they really were! Shy walked briskly down the dark hallways with only the sound of their boots tapping the buffed reflected floors.
Shy, we were so close. Wait, please! Shy, look. Please don't lock me back in there again! Shy!
Inside, Shy mentally closed the window.
The voice faded as Shy slammed the exit door behind them.
END OF CHAPTER.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. TWO ROADS BACK TOGETHER (draft version). Copyright © 2022 Shay D. Potter. Written by Shay D. Potter.
Thank you for reading! Share your critiques and feedback by leaving a comment below or emailing me at bebettermediallc@gmail.com.