The Wall Crossers

Then it is December - Leida Redux - Olivia's Perspective

It is the Thursday after Anja and I had been at the Cozy Club, and I am in the barracks talking with Bill in our room. I am wearing a white natural muslin chemise renaissance shift, the kind all hippies girls love to wear now, with long sleeves and gathered in a pretty way all along the large neck—so large it almost goes to the edge of my smallish shoulders. It is beautiful and soft and can be worn as a dress, or as a gown. I wear it as a gown in the evening. I have on pink rose ballet flats that, even though my feet are small compared to an average boy body, are almost too small for me. However, they are not for heavy walking, but for the joy of wearing and seeing. For underwear, I have no bra on, being in my room for the night, but I am wearing a nearly-sheer matching pair of muslin panties that are high rise, and have the same gathering covering the elastic waist and leg bands, which causes bad panty-lines for most dresses and for the chemise.

Bill and I are sitting sideways on his bunk with our legs over the edge, my legs crossed and Bill's long lanky legs spread apart, our backs leaning against the wall, so we are both facing, not toward each other, but across the room. He is wearing his combat green t-shirt and boxers, as he loves to do.

I am on his right side and he has his right arm around my shoulder and my head is leaning over against him as we talk. Bill is a close friend, and he is comforting me because it has been difficult lately with Anja, and especially since my relationship with her seems stalled, plus there is the specter of Niels ruining everything, and Horst is coming soon. So I have been upset tonight about this and Bill is rubbing his right hand up and down my upper right arm so that I feel the heat of it through the chemise. And he has been saying soft words of comfort so that I lean sideways into him.

Bill and I always have had some underlying confusion in our relationship. We are both queer, but where he loves only boys, I love only girls. For Bill, it is about sex, and he struggles with my claim of identity as a girl, even though he tries. His tendency is to see me as a "girly boy" and thus within range of mutual affections. I have explained many times I am like a lesbian and would he feel amorous to one like that? And his reply is always No.

So he is rubbing my arm and I am snuffling a little and he is saying, "... there are a lot of fish in the sea, right on? I mean, look, Reary, you have a lot going for you. Why get uptight about this one person who is taken anyway. Huh?" He turns his head to me so that I move my head back from his and look at him, and wipe my wet eyes with the back of my left hand.

Just at that moment, we hear the turn of our door handle and the scrape of the latch and the door flings open so fast that it bangs against the wall. (barracks doors cannot be locked but courtesy demands a knock and there is no knock in this case!)

Standing in the doorway and wearing a garrison cap is Specialist Fifth Class Lewis, an imposing man of bad breath, bad manners, and sweaty disposition. He keeps his head closely shaven of hair. His most notable features are: large full rounded nose, big face, heavy breathing always, brown eyes somehow with a perpetual hint of red in the irises like a bad photograph, and lots of curly black hair on his fingers, hands, below his throat peeking above his t-shirt, and eyebrows, as well as big puffy lips the upper seeming perpetually to sweat.

As a response to the sudden fright of his entry into our room unannounced, I cross my chest with my arms. Bill drops his hand from my upper arm but places it against my right hip instead. I suck air in. Bill says, "Damn, Lewis, don't you know how to knock?"

Lewis looks at us from one to the other and says, "This is all Army property, and you must always be available and presentable!" He says this in a bit of a loud voice, so that I hear it echo down the hall.

Then Lewis, who is obviously on CQ duty for our barracks tonight, looks at me and puts on his Army face and shouts, "Reary!"

I shout back, "Lewis!" having recovered and moved forward to the edge of the bunk, as Bill's right hand begins lightly rubbing the small of my back.