Gray Girl (27 page)

“What?
 
How so?”
 

“Well, men want women.
 
They want to have sex of course, but
they also want a woman to love, respect and need them.
 
The great fear of men is that women will
reject them.
 
And since women can
read emotions better than men, they can detect our fears and weaknesses, and
that scares us even more.
 
So women
have the real power because men live in fear of losing their attention and
affection.
 
Do you see?”

“No, but go on,” Jan said,
fascinated.

“Also, men compete for women.
 
A man might kill his own brother over a
woman.
  
Sometimes, men will
act like they don’t want a certain woman, either because they don’t think they
can get her or they are trying to get her to want him first.
 
He will act like he doesn’t need or want
her, hoping she will want him.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I never said men were the smartest
creatures around.
 
But in your case,
guys are intimidated because you look pissed off all the time.”

“I AM pissed off all the time.”

“Maybe if you smiled, or seemed less
angry, guys would seem more friendly to you,” he said.

“Well, what am I suppose to do?
 
Walk around like this?”
 
Jan made a fake grin.
 
“I’d rather be real.
 
When I smile, it’s real.”

“All I’m saying is that may be why
guys seem to avoid you.
 
If
they really are
avoiding you.
 
It could just
be in your imagination.”
 

“No, they definitely avoid me.”
 
She paused before
asking,
“You don’t think it’s the uniform then?”
 

“Jan, guys can see beyond the
uniform.”

“Well, if they can see beyond the
uniform, why can’t they see beyond my pissed-off face?”

“Now you’re asking too much.
 
We
aren’t
that
deep
.”
 

He confirmed what she had long
suspected.
 
Guys are shallow.
 

“Okay, but what about you, Drew?
 
Why aren’t you attracted to me?
 
Are you playing hard to get with
me?”
 
She decided to just come out
with it.

“No, Darling.
 
I love you, and you are very
attractive.
 
I just prefer a
different type.”

“Oh, thank goodness.
 
I prefer a different type, too.
 
But I do adore you; I want you to
know.”
 

“We make a good pair, don’t we?”
 
Drew asked.

“Yes, we do my friend.
 
Yes, we do,” she confirmed.

27

Friday,
May 7, 1982

2230 Hours

“Sir, have you heard anything yet from a possible new witness?”
 
Jan stood at Cadet Trane’s door, hoping
he had SKIP’s statement already in hand.
 
She had been to his room three times that night, but he had been out
until now.

“I’ve just returned from talking to him, in fact.
 
He is finishing up his statement now,”
Trane said.
 
“He doesn’t want me to
tell you who he is.
 
Apparently he
wants to surprise you at the board tomorrow.
 
Won’t that be exciting?”
 
He winked at Jan.
 

“Sir, I’m willing to let him handle this however he wants given that he
might just save my ass.”
 

“Yeah, you really gotta give him credit, coming forth at the last
minute.”
 
Trane walked over to his
sink and began washing his hands.
 
He looked in his mirror while talking to her, “I’d like to know how you
knew he could be a witness when you don’t even know who he is?”

“Well, Sir, it’s a bit…irregular.”
  
She didn’t want to explain.

He began drying his hands on a towel.
 
“Wishart,
you
are irregular.
 
And I mean that in the best possible
way.”

“Thank you, Sir.”
  

Jan hurried to the latrine for a shower and made it back to her room
just as Taps played at 2300 hours.
 
All overhead lights had to go out, but cadets could study in their room
or in a common area.
 
Jan had always
made it her personal goal to go to bed at Taps, and except for the last week,
she had been successful.
  
She
hadn’t been able to fall asleep or stay asleep in the last five days, and she knew
sleep would elude her again.
 
Angel
and Kristi were awake, too, both trying to prepare for exam week.

“Hey, guys, I’m going to take a little jaunt around the neighborhood,
”
 
Jan
said.
 
“I figure I can’t get in any worse
trouble.”
 
If these were her last
few nights at West Point, she might as well go exploring.
  
She felt a hankering to spin the
“lucky spurs” on Sedgwick, stroll down Flirtation Walk, and maybe even navigate
the bowels of Washington Hall.
  
“I may never get another chance to see the sights around Post if I don’t
go now.”

“I’m game,
”
 
Kristi
said.
 

“No, Kissy, you don’t need to get in trouble on my account.”
 
Jan had caused enough problems for her
friend.
 

“Where we going?”
 
Kristi
said without hesitating.

“First stop, Flirtation Walk.”
 
Jan knew Kristi would not stay behind.
 
“Angel, don’t wait up for us.”
 

“Have fun.
 
I will pray your
safe return.”
 
No one realized how
important Angel’s prayer would be.

28

Q:
What is the largest piece of granite turned in the Western Hemisphere?

A:
The shaft of Battle Monument, Sir.

Heritage, Bugle Notes, 81, p.244

“Beanheads,
halt!”

They had gotten lost backstage after
attending the post-show party hosted by the Cadet Activities Club.
 
Jan and Drew had had several beers each
before trying to find their way out of Eisenhower Hall.
 
They ended up emerging through a side
door where a firstie and his date just happened to be located.
 

Oh, for cryin-out-loud, just leave
us alone.

But the firstie would not leave them
alone.
 
“You two reek of beer.
 
What are two beanheads doing at Ike
Hall?”
   

“Sir,” Drew began, “we were ushing
the show.”

“You were USHING, were you?”
 

“Sir, we were USH-ER-ING,
”
 
Jan
corrected.

The firstie looked at Drew.
 
“Where's your hat, Beanhead?”
 
Drew instinctively lifted a hand to his
head.

“Sir, may I make a statement?”
 
Jan hoped to change the subject,
somehow.

“No, you may not.
 
What are your names and companies?”

“Cadet Hambin, Sir, Company G-3,
Sir.”
 

“Cadet Wishart, Company H-3, Sir.”

“You’re both drunk!
 
You’re off limits!
 
You’re missing your goddamn hat!
 
What the hell were you two doing in
there?
 
Screwing around?”

They both answered simultaneously.

“Yes, Sir!”
 
“No, Sir!”

The plebes looked at each other,
wondering who had answered correctly.
 
Drew’s mouth twitched at the corners, and Jan could tell he was about to
lose it.
 
And if he went over the
fence, she would follow.
 
She
quickly turned back to the firstie.
 

“Sir, we are a little drunk, and he’s
missing his hat, but no Sir, we were not screwing around.
 
Sir.”

“Oh, really?”
 
The firstie took a step closer.
 

“Yes, Sir, I think I would remember
that,” Drew stated.

Silence.
 

“I think I would, too, Sir,” Jan
loved this aspect of drinking.
 
She
became bolder and unafraid of repercussions.

The firstie continued to stare at
them in silence.
 
This
isn’t rocket science
,
buddy
…
When he still didn’t say anything, Jan
began to wonder what he was thinking.
 
Is he picturing us screwing?
 
Is he wondering if he could get away with
it in Ike Hall, too?
 

Drew began to snicker.
  
Uh-oh.
 
Jan couldn't
contain it either.
 
They were both
too tipsy to care about the consequences.
  
Drew made a snorkeling noise.
 
Then Jan snickered through her nose,
desperately trying to maintain some decorum.
 
We’re
screwed.

The plebes started laughing in
earnest.
 
The firstie’s date began
laughing, also.
 
He turned to her
and said, “Not you, too.”
 
Then with
a wave of his hand, he said,
 
“Get
outta here, you two.
  
And
don't let me catch you screwing around here anymore.”

Jan and Drew scurried away,
continuing to snorkel-snicker until they reached the safety of Trophy
Point.
 
On the steps of Battle
Monument, facing the Hudson River, they fell out in full-on laughter.

The moonlight floating on the river
looked like a white ribbon strung from the banks of the Hudson to some magical
destination.
 
Their laughter echoing
off the cannons and granite seemed to follow the ribbon road and then return
again like voices from heaven.
 

They sat down on the sacred steps
where 2,230 names of the Civil War dead are inscribed and “Fame” perpetually
blows her trumpet atop the massive granite shaft.
 
Jan wished they could stay there till
dawn, soaking up the beauty and peace of the moonlit night.
 
She didn't care if they missed TAPS, the
signal when all cadets had to be back in their rooms.
 
I'll risk the demerits for this.

 
They both stared at the Hudson River
in silence, not as plebes, not even as cadets—but as young college kids,
enjoying a moment alone on a beautifully clear evening with the quiet souls of
the past.

Dear
Jan,

I
will admit to being in your battalion.
 
But I will neither confirm, nor deny any other assumptions you
have.
 
To do so would be to
jeopardize our organization.
 
You
know I can’t do that.

I
am a little afraid of you finding out who I am.
 
In some ways, being anonymous makes it
easier to talk to you (Okay, write to you).
 
On the other hand, I can’t wait for you
to know.
 

It
saddens me to hear that you are unhappy.
 
I know it’s hard, especially plebe year.
 
I wish I could say or do something to
help you feel better.
 
But all I can
do is try to cheer you up with these little notes.
 

SKIP

SKIP,
 

Even
though I don’t know who you are, you have been a real friend—one of only
two guys here I actually like. So don’t be afraid when I discover your
identity.
 
Notice I wrote “when” not
“if.”

Jan

Jan attended a religious retreat in
early March.
 
Getting away from West
Point, even if it meant praying and going to church, was always better than
staying.
 
So she went with a couple
of Team Handball teammates and pretended to be slightly interested in
Christianity.
 
The retreat, as it
turned out, was a wonderful, peaceful, relaxing, even joyful experience.
 
Jan began to believe that her life might
change for the better as a result.
 
But upon her return, as the bus drew closer to West Point, she could
feel the lightness from the weekend dimming, dimming and dimming until it
turned back to gray.
 

Jan found Angel studying at her desk
when she entered the room late Sunday afternoon.
 
Angel had been issued an academic
warning in
Calculus which
prevented her form going to
the retreat.
 
Jan put her bag on the
bed and began unpacking.
 
“How was
it?” Angel asked.

“Great!
 
We ate at round tables—without any
pecking order,” Jan replied.
 
“I
hope you get to go sometime; it was a lot of fun—I mean as much fun as
you can have without drinking!”
 

“I hope so, too,” Angel said.
 

“Where's Kissy?”
 
Jan asked.

“She had to go home.
 
Her brother died.”

“WHAT?”
 
Jan stood in the middle of the room,
stunned.
 
“What happened?”
 

“Her brother was killed in a car
accident.”

“Oh, GOD!
 
How did she find out?
 
Who told her?”
 
Jan could not even imagine hearing that
kind of news—especially during plebe year.

“The TAC came to the room yesterday
and told her to come to his office to call her mother.
 
Her mother told her on the phone.
 
She came back to the room then packed
and left.”
 
Angel seemed to be
rattling off a list of supplies.

“Oh, God!
 
Poor Kissy!”
 
Jan sat down on her bed.
 
Losing a brother, losing anyone in her
family, was incomprehensible to Jan.
 
She stared at the floor contemplating Kristi's new tragedy—a
brother now gone along with her father.
 
Jan's shoulders began to shake; she felt her face crinkle, and then the
sobbing came.
 
She put her hands to
her face and bent over until her head came down to her lap.
 
She cried for Kristi, for the dead
brother, and for Kristi's mom, sisters and stepfather.
 
She cried for the loss of childhood, the
loss of innocence, and the loss of all that was once easy.
 

She cried until she felt a pencil hit
her head.
 
Jan lifted her head and
said, “What did you do that for?”

“Dammit, Jan!
 
Why can't I cry like that?”
 

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, forget it. It’s just that I
feel sorry for Kristi, too.”
 

Kristi returned the following
Sunday.
 
Jan gave her a hug and
asked if there was anything she could do.
 
“No, there's nothing anyone can do.”
 
After dinner that night, Kristi's Squad
Leader came to the room.
 

“Cadet McCarron, I am sorry to hear
what happened,” he said.

“Thank you, Sir,” she replied.

“It's going to be hard, but you can
do it.
 
Just focus on your studies
and plebe duties and try not to let this setback keep you from your
goals.”
 

Setback?
 
Is that what losing a brother is???
 
A setback?
 
God!
 
What's wrong with some people?

“Yes, Sir,” Kristi said with a
sigh.
 

Her Squad Leader left.
 
Jan closed the door and turned to
Kristi, “I think he just offered his condolences, don't you?”

“I think so; it sure sounded like
it,” Kristi agreed.

“Well, Kissy, I guess it's better
than what Dogety would have said.”
 
Then mimicking Dogety's voice, Jan said, “McCarron, just because your
brother dies, doesn't mean you get to slack off.
 
Now go get my laundry from the
dayroom!”
 

Jan immediately wished she hadn't
said it.
 
She was about to apologize
profusely for being so insensitive when Kristi grabbed her M-14 rifle from the
rack and pointed it at the door.

“If he comes here tonight, I'm going
to shoot his balls off!!”
 

That’s how Jan knew Kristi was going
to be okay.

They soon fell into their normal,
daily routine of classes followed by either parade drill or athletics, along
with three meal formations, studying, polishing shoes and memorizing poop every
night.
 
Rallies didn't happen nearly
as often post football season.
 
That
was a good thing as plebes were getting fed up with the whole mandatory fun
thing.
  

Dear
Jan,

I
am really sorry to hear about your roommate's loss.
 
I hope she will be okay, and that you
will be able to help her through this difficult time.
 
I'm sure you are a good friend to
her.
 

Also,
I hear you went on the Sabbath Rest retreat!
 
What did you think?
 
I went last semester and loved it.
 
It was so great to get away and spend
some quality time with God.
 
Anyway,
I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.
 

Hope
to hear from you soon,

SKIP
      

SKIP,

My
roommate is doing okay, although I cannot imagine what it must be like for
her.
 
She not only has to deal with
her grief, she has to do it during plebe year at Woo Poo U.
 
That can't be good.
 
Thanks for asking about her.
 
We are doing our best to help her get
through it.

I
enjoyed the retreat very much, mostly because I got away from here for a few
days.
 
But I’m not sure I understand
all that Bible stuff.
 
It sounds
good.
 
Almost too
good.
 
But I don’t think God
is that involved with us, IF there is a God.
 
I mean, don’t you think
He/
She would have bigger issues to worry about than our
little lives?
 
Anyway, everyone was
really nice and I loved eating meals at round tables.

Jan