The Wall Crossers

First Night in Confinement

From Anja's flat to my ultimate destination takes two hours or more. The MPs have other actions they must first carry out and so I ride along.

Finally, around 4pm, we arrive at the compound of the Provost Marshal, where Army judicial matters are decided.

The MPs pull their jeep up in front, and escort me into what must be the compound's orderly room, which is where records, operations, orders and clerical activities are developed and executed. There are two male soldiers and one female, and they all stop what they are doing as I enter and regard me quietly, as though they have been expecting me.

One of the male soldiers, a Sergeant steps over and converses quietly with the lead MP while the female walks over to me and introduces herself. "Hi Olivia, I am Specialist Alvarez... Clarita Alvarez. You can call me Rita, most people do, or Clar, or even Clarence."

As she tells me this, she quirks her mouth to the right and raises her right eyebrow, which I soon learn is a trademark expression of hers to mean What do you think of that? Or Oh, Really? Kind of a way of communicating disbelief or challenge. She also grabs her right elbow with her left hand at the same time.

I set down my satchel and duffle bag and realize she called me Olivia. "How did you know that is my name?" I ask her.

She drops her brow and holds out her hand to shake mine saying, "We were expecting you. News travels fast in the Army."

I look at her hand but do not shake it. I am not in the mood. The MPs and Sgt continue to talk softly, ignoring us, as I say to her, "Girls don't take a man's hand if offered, Clarence, but the girl decides first if she wants to shake."

At this, Clarence drops her hand, quirks her mouth to the side, and raises both eyebrows which I learn is her trademark for shock or surprise—either given or received.

I say this to her because I quickly regard her as male-leaning, maybe queer: probably five feet ten inches, wearing fatigues like any male soldier, jet black hair medium length but pulled back and tied into a tight low bun, dark dark brown eyes, strong chin, ears each with a small gold stud, thin eyebrows but also penciled to show better, cheeks between thin and round, no makeup, thick dark lashes, light brown skin (that plus name equals, Puerto Rico maybe?), chest flatter than mine if I wear the B cups, or maybe about the same but probably intentionally mashed flat with a corseting undershirt, for the desired masculine effect. Girl basketball player's slender (but solid) body, fingers and hands, boyish hips, but definitely girlish too. Lithe and roundish in those places where I would prefer to be rounder, yet clearly strong in arms and legs. Probably size 8 men's regulation issue black Army boots—so a bit on the small size for a man, but then, she is after all Clarita. I guess she about the same weight as me—one hundred sixty pounds, or probably a bit less. I'm two or three inches taller.

She pauses to process what I just said, gets it, and laughs a sort of sweet happy giggle that ends in an abrupt cough and says, "I have power here. Beware." Her third trademark expression appears: quirking mouth to the side and narrowing the eyes—sending a warning (or sometimes means Watch it or I don't believe you.)

Then she adds, "I like you already. She said... I... I mean, I hoped I would." Now she looks shy and I can tell a blush is tinting her beautiful skin.

The MPs leave and the male soldier steps away, ignoring me for now. It is obvious Clarence will take me from here. Already I regret being rude to her, but she does not appear to have taken it that way.

She says in a professional tone, "I will help you to sign in. Then we will go to supply to get what you need. I will take you after to your room."

When she says the room part, it appears she is blushing again. She knows it and knows I know it, so she leans in close to my ear and whispers, "Now shake my hand or I will snap your fingers off one by one."