In the Company of Women

by Kate Christie

  “Hi CJ. Looking for Brady?”

  “I am. Is she here?”

  “She’s asleep. But I can let her know you stopped by.”

  Apparently, Marjory was not going to allow her inside Company A’s barracks. Would she even tell Brady about this conversation? She seemed almost friendly, which was a switch. In fact, the hostility that Janice and her cronies had habitually leveled at her appeared to have faded in recent weeks. Was that a good sign or bad?

  “All right,” she said finally. “Thanks.”

  It wasn’t like she didn’t have plenty to keep her busy, CJ told herself as she headed back to her own barracks. Letters, laundry, gossip and a recently published slave narrative her mother had sent a few days earlier were all clamoring for her attention. She would gladly focus on something other than her absentee girlfriend.

  Shortly before noon, she stepped into a shower stall in the barracks bathroom. The day was half over, and she had already finished her weekly laundry and area detail, written three letters to friends and family and smoked a cigarette with Reggie and Sarah on the back stoop. Still there had been no sign of Brady. Maybe she would be at noon mess. Just in case, CJ took extra time with her shower routine. Toby had convinced her to cut her hair shorter and style it a little differently. The upsweep was more difficult to maintain than her old-fashioned bob, but she had to admit, it made her look more sophisticated. As a plus, Brady said she loved it.

  At the mess hall, she scanned the room without luck—Brady wasn’t there. Had something happened at the engagement dinner? Stomach rumbling uneasily, she joined the line to wait for a plate of chicken mushroom casserole. She doubted she’d be able to finish the overly generous portion. Serving sizes were based on the average height and weight of male soldiers. As a result, most of the Wacs she knew had gained ten pounds since joining. Fortunately, PT, drill and the strenuous nature of airplane maintenance kept CJ lean and strong. In fact, she had noticed her body slimming down, as if any baby fat that had managed to survive the farm had finally given up the ghost. She’d even paid Brady’s tailor in El Paso to take in her uniform slightly, so that now everything fit nearly perfectly.

  She had almost reached her table when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Brady.

  “There you are.” CJ paused, taking in the sight before her. Brady’s hair was in disarray, her skin pale, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. “Wow. Are you okay?”

  “How can you look so sparkly?” Brady asked, squinting. “And no, for the record, I am not okay. In fact, I don’t care if I ever see a bottle of tequila again.”

  “You got drunk last night?”

  “Gee, your powers of deduction are amazing.”

  CJ felt herself bristle. “You don’t have to be nasty.”

  “No, I know. I’m sorry.” Brady bit her lip. “My head is splitting and I haven’t been able to find any place quiet enough to sleep.”

  Military housing wasn’t exactly easy even when you felt healthy. But add in nausea and a headache—not to mention other alcohol-related ailments—and CJ could imagine a squad room in a crowded barracks might be nightmarish.

  “Look,” Brady added, “I only stopped by to find you. You look great, by the way. Fresh out of the shower?”

  She nodded, feeling a little less silly for taking such pains with her appearance.

  “I wish I had the energy to say something about joining you, but I really need to go back and lie down. I’m sorry again.”

  “It’s fine. Is there anything I can do?”

  “No, but it’s sweet of you to ask. Marjory said you stopped by this morning.”

  “She told you?”

  “She did.”

  They shared a look, and CJ thought she read in Brady’s eyes a similar sense of cautious optimism toward the shifting attitudes of the Admin Wacs.

  “Do you think they know?” CJ asked, her voice low.

  Brady nodded, and the look on her face became grim again. “I have no doubt some of them know. I’ll have to tell you about it. Are you up for dinner at the club?”

  “Um, sure.” CJ quelled the urge to shake the mystery out of her. Engaging Brady in vigorous motion of any kind probably wasn’t the best idea right now.

  “Swell.” She started to turn away. Then she paused and asked, “How was your night, by the way?”

  “Great.”

  “Good, I’m glad. How’s five for dinner?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Okay, see you then.” Brady started to lean toward her but caught herself. “Sorry,” she said, flustered, and backed away.

  “It’s okay,” CJ assured her, even though her pulse said otherwise. Brady had been about to kiss her, there in the middle of the crowded mess. Such a brazen violation of military law would have to be punished by more than a transfer, wouldn’t it?

  Looking even paler than before, Brady gave her a half-wave and headed for the exit. CJ resumed her trek to the corner the D-lites favored. She’d been so looking forward to seeing Brady, but now she almost wished she hadn’t. The fact that Brady had somehow felt the need to drink herself into near oblivion the night before with her supposed friends, combined with the cryptic comment about those friends, raised so many red flags CJ wasn’t sure which worry to chew on first.

  Remember, she told herself, hearing her father’s calm, familiar tone, better to focus on what you can control than what you can’t. At that moment, she was having trouble determining what might be under her control as opposed to the long list of things that categorically weren’t.

  “Everything okay?” Toby asked as she slid onto the bench beside her.

  “Honestly? I’m not sure.”

  “I hear you. Women.” Toby gave her a knowing look.

  “I hear you too,” Kate commented. “Because I’m sitting right next to you.”

  “I didn’t mean you, sweetie,” Toby said, offering her girlfriend a gallant smile. “You know that.”

  Kate rolled her eyes, but she smiled back at Toby. “Whatever you say, hon.”

  Later, as they walked back to the barracks, Toby slowed to wait for CJ. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I don’t know if there’s anything to talk about.”

  “Okay. Well, you know my door is always open.”

  “That’s because squad rooms don’t have doors.”

  “Don’t be so literal, Jamieson.” Toby shoved her mid-stride.

  “Hey,” CJ said, laughing, and shoved her back.

  They jostled a bit, then straightened their garrison caps. As CJ walked on with her friends, some of the day’s luster returned. Whatever had happened, Brady still loved her, judging from the almost-kiss; and even looking like something the cat dragged in, Brady was still as appealing as ever. In fact, possibly more so, for here was evidence that Brady was no more perfect than she was. Here also was proof that their relationship was strong enough to withstand instances when one or the other of them wasn’t at her finest. With Sean, she’d always felt like she had to be on her best behavior. He never wanted to see her when she was sick or stressed over exams. Talk about a red flag—she’d missed so much in their relationship.

  Thank God they hadn’t married, she thought now, shivering in the cool December sunshine. What a disaster that would have been, especially if she’d gotten pregnant. Raising children took a sense of humor and a certain amount of irreverence, or at least that was what she’d gleaned from watching her parents with her younger siblings. In hindsight she could see that with Sean, she had experienced neither. Meanwhile, with Brady there had been both from the start. Too bad having children together was not an option.

  Brady wanted kids, that much CJ knew. She had always assumed that she would have a family too. But in her case, even if Brady were to vanish from her life tomorrow, she wouldn’t go back to dating men. Was the same true for Brady?

  Probably, CJ realized as she followed her squad mates into their home away from home, she should find out.

  * * *

  The
walk to the EW club, located not far from the gate to the main post, took longer than usual. Brady was a tad less pale than she’d been at lunch, but the smudges beneath her eyes were nearly as dark. She had cleaned up nicely, though, and now looked as if she were about to go on a date. Which, CJ supposed, they were.

  “In my mind I’m holding your hand,” Brady said, smiling sideways at her.

  “Same here.” CJ returned the smile. “You look like you’re feeling better.”

  “Toast and a Bloody Mary work wonders.”

  “You had a Bloody Mary?”

  “Minus the booze. I don’t think hair of the dog works, do you?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been drunk enough to need it.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Brady’s voice held a note of fondness. “You’re so good, CJ.”

  “Am not.”

  “Yes, you are. It’s good to be good. I know I can trust you no matter what.”

  Chewing her lip, CJ remembered her own doubts. Were they about Brady, or were they more about herself? Being in love was supposed to be all flowers and romantic music, not constant worry. Oh, well. She’d get the hang of it. She just needed practice.

  Brady slowed even more. “I can trust you, right?”

  “Of course. Now move it. We want to get there before they run out of food, don’t we?”

  At the club, they picked a table in the corner of the sparsely occupied dining room. Sunday was hardly a popular night to go out at Bliss. Most soldiers, male and female alike, were busy recovering from Saturday night and getting ready for the six-day work week. The jukebox in the opposite corner played a rotation of recent hits. After they ordered—chicken noodle soup for Brady and turkey and mashed potatoes for CJ—the opening chords of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” sounded from the speakers.

  Brady expelled a breath. “And here I was starting to feel better.”

  “I don’t know, I kind of like it.”

  “So did I, the first hundred and forty-two times I heard it.”

  CJ waited a minute and then said, as she’d wanted to do ever since lunch mess, “Do you want to tell me what happened last night?”

  “Not particularly, but I think I have to.” Still she sat there playing with the napkin on her lap.

  “It’s okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  “I know.” Brady sighed. “Your friends are so great about everything. I wish mine could be. I’ve been spending all this time with them this week, trying to convince myself that nothing has changed, but it’s not true. I’m different, whether they know it or not.”

  “Did somebody say something?”

  Brady nodded.

  Their food arrived then, and CJ waited impatiently for the server to move away again. Then, “Janice?” she asked, a heat borne of anger rising in her chest.

  Brady leaned back. “No, of course not. It was Charlie. I overheard him make a comment about my missing engagement ring and how he’d heard…” She stopped, shook her head, took a sip of ice water. “God, I don’t even want to repeat it.”

  On one level, CJ didn’t want her to repeat it, either. But at least with Charlie, whatever nonsense he spouted came from jealousy.

  “Maybe it’s not that bad,” Brady tried. “I’ll just say it, okay? Okay, here it is: He told Mick that I should transfer to Company D since everyone knows D stands for dyke and I obviously like”—she paused to grimace, lowering her voice almost to a whisper—“pussy so much.”

  CJ felt her mouth form an actual O. “He said what?” But as Brady stared at her, eyes wide, she shook her head quickly. “I meant that rhetorically. Please don’t say it again. Not ever.”

  Brady bit her lip and then suddenly she giggled.

  “Is this you laughing inappropriately now?” CJ asked, but she felt her own lips begin to curve.

  Brady nodded, trying to hold the laughter in, but it was no use. After several seconds, it burst out of her, overwhelming Bing Crosby’s smooth tones.

  “I mean,” she said, trying to catch her breath, “he’s right, isn’t he?”

  “That’s not the point.” CJ was smiling now. “Although it is great. I mean, I’m a big fan myself.”

  Brady gazed at her across the table. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Even if it means you feel like you don’t belong with your friends anymore?”

  Her smile slipped. “Especially because of that. It’s too late—the genie’s not going back in the bottle now. Besides, it isn’t all of my friends or even most of them. You should have seen Janice. When I hinted around at the kind of comment Charlie made, she grabbed him and hustled him out of the restaurant. One of the other girls said she saw her slap him. Can you believe it?”

  In fact, she couldn’t. Clearly, Brady had been right about Janice all along.

  “Well, I’m glad to know there are some women in your squad on our side.” She raised her beer glass. “A toast: To the Wacs of Company A. May they continue to broaden their horizons. And also, may they not get us kicked out.”

  “I’ll drink water to that.”

  As they ate, CJ’s gaze kept finding its way back to Brady’s face, lit by the candle at the center of the table. The flickering light reminded her of their first weekend together at the Hilton. As more Christmas music serenaded them, she thought of the bet they’d made that first night. Now seemed like as good a time as any to call it in.

  “You know,” she commented, “Reggie most definitely did not sleep with Sam over Thanksgiving weekend.”

  Brady’s brow rose. “And you mention this because…?”

  “Because we had a wager.”

  “Oh, that,” Brady said airily.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t remember.”

  “You didn’t set any terms, as I recall.”

  “I thought I’d borrow yours.” CJ paused. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. This was Brady, after all. “I put in for a three-day pass for Christmas, and I’m hoping you’ll do the same.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “A trip to the Grand Canyon, actually. There’s a hotel on the South Rim, the El Tovar, that sets aside a certain number of rooms for active duty servicemen. One of the rooms is ours if we want it.”

  “The Grand Canyon?” Brady asked, a slow smile breaking across her face. “But we only have a few days. How would we get there?”

  “There’s an airfield near the South Rim, and I happen to know a pilot or two who might be willing to give us a lift. Even if they’re not, as an Air Wac I can tag along on any military flight that has the space.”

  “Really?” Brady’s eyes got a little brighter. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be here with your friends?”

  “Of course not.” CJ longed to reach across the table and take Brady’s hand. She lowered her voice. “I love you, and I would love to spend Christmas with you holed up in a hotel room at the Grand Canyon.”

  “I love you too.” Brady brushed away an errant tear. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m being so emotional.”

  “Probably because you haven’t slept much, and you didn’t know I had a romantic bone in my body.”

  “I think you’re very romantic. And it’s not your bones I’m interested in, anyway.”

  CJ paused. “I don’t suppose you feel up to a trip to the Jeep lot?”

  “No.” Brady sighed. “I wish I did. Rain check?”

  “Anytime.”

  As the music played on, they discussed holiday traditions. Each year, CJ’s family went for a walk the week after Thanksgiving to pick out a tree, usually a small evergreen from a crowded grove in need of thinning. They would cut it down, bring it back to the house and spend a day or two adorning it with family heirlooms and homemade decorations. Brady’s mother, on the other hand, hired someone to pick out their tree and, what was more, to decorate it with rented ornaments.

  “You rent ornaments?” CJ repeated. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

  “I
always wanted a Christmas like yours, with carols and pie and hot apple cider. I always said that when I had my own family, we would make new traditions.”

  “You can be part of mine. Next year, or the year after, whenever the war ends, we’ll have Christmas in Kalamazoo. It’ll be great.”

  “You think so?”

  “I do,” she said with considerably more certainty than she felt.

  She wanted the future she’d offered up. More than anything, she wanted her parents and siblings to open their hearts to Brady. Would it happen? She wasn’t sure. But as Toby had pointed out, not everyone was prejudiced against gay people. Until proven wrong, she would hold out hope that her parents were as open-minded as they had always professed.

  “In the meantime,” Brady said, “we’ll have the Grand Canyon. It can be our tradition.”

  “For now,” CJ conceded. She raised her nearly empty glass to Brady. “To Fort Bliss. May we be so lucky to call it home for the duration.”

  “Plus six.” Brady clinked her glass.

  As she drank, CJ felt her heart swell and settle, a little fuller now. She and Brady were in this for the long haul, both of them. If only the Charlies of the world would let them alone, not to mention the Army and their COs and anyone else who had a problem with two women in love…

  “Tell me about last night,” Brady said. “Is BOQ as swell as everyone says?”

  “Better,” CJ said, and filled in the details of her evening out. For some reason, she started to leave off the bit about Nell walking her home, but then she backtracked. It wasn’t like she had anything to hide.

  Brady’s head tilted. “She walked you all the way back?”

  “It isn’t that far. BOQ is right near the men’s OC.”

  “I know where it is. Isn’t she the one who took you up on that hop?”

  “Yes.”

  “Huh.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  She wasn’t jealous, was she? Admittedly CJ had been spending time with Nell, who could be something of a flirt. But Brady had nothing to worry about. Who in their right mind would think of ditching her for someone else?