Don't Ask, Don't Tell - Short Story

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

It’s nearly impossible to fall for someone in Basic Training. You’re too busy getting your ass chewed and your mind fucked to notice that every muscle in your body is on fire, let alone that the trainee suffering next to you has amazing curves and eyes that pierce your soul if you let them.

But I did.

##

Danni’s top bunk was opposite mine. More than once I caught her looking in the middle of the night. Or she caught me. Soon it was hard to tell the difference.

Week Six, I woke up every hour in pain. I walked around the head to quell my muscle aches. One night, Danni followed me.

“BEAST got you down, Nonie?” she whispered.

I spun around, only her vague profile visible in the dark. “I’m fine,” I muttered, digging my fingers in my knotted thighs.

“Sit.”

“What?”

Danni pushed down on my shoulders until I was seated against the wall, legs out in front of me. She looked quickly to the doorway then straddled my shins.

“Wait – what are you doing?”

“Making sure I don’t kick your ass by default tomorrow.” Competitive. Determined. The military was in her blood.

She kneaded mercilessly, moving her hands up my thighs. The pain was unbelievable.

“You okay?”

I nodded. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the doorway, straining to hear any movement. If anyone sees this…

Her hands slowed; her breath steady on my cheek. I stopped breathing.

“Still okay?”

I said nothing.

“Please stop me if you don’t want me to…”

The warmth of her breath continued over my cheek and stopped at my lips.

Stop, I thought. But I said nothing; didn’t move. My mind swam. My temples pulsed.

Bracing herself on my thighs, she leaned forward, kissing me, and my resolve dissolved. My hands tangled in her hair and nothing else mattered.

##

Danni and I were the only two in our company to stay at Lackland AFB for tech school. During the week, she was Airman Cook and I was Airman Reckers – colleagues who spoke only when necessary.

Weekends, when we could take them, were ours.

##

When Danni looked at the water, I watched her. The hot breeze blew her hair in waves around her face. It was vacant.

I tucked her hair behind her ear. “Where are you?”

“What if…” She paused. “I’ve always wanted to be an MP. I can’t not be an MP.”

“It’ll be okay.” I touched her arm. “We’re being careful. No one knows.”

The thought lines in her forehead softened, but she didn’t look at me. “Do you love me?”

I didn’t have to think. “Yes.”

“No matter what?”

“No matter what.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

A week later, two officers knocked on my door. They told me they were there to search my room for proof of my illegal homosexual activity. If they found it, I would be dishonorably discharged. But, I knew it didn’t matter what they found. Someone had accused me. I was as good as gone.

##

I sit in the small courtroom next to my attorney as he addresses the board. Their faces scrunch into disfigured prunes as he speaks. They aren’t listening. Their opinions are already formed. I’m a dyke. A disgrace. Unworthy.

But this is the military, where formalities and policy are religion. They will listen to my accuser and give my attorney the opportunity to question them before they destroy my career.

I know it’s Danni before they call her name.

Tears fall through her entire speech. She swears that I pursued her. Followed her into the bathroom at basic and relentlessly pushed her through tech school until I forced myself on her. She is ashamed, she says. She is sorry that she didn’t come forward sooner. That she was afraid and begs for their lenience.

Dyke. Disgrace. Unworthy. Rapist, the faces above me say.

My attorney questions her motives. “Why now?”

I don’t hear her responses as the legs of my chair scrape against the wood floor.

I stand. At least now I'll have time to paint.