April 1943
Rey could think of a million places she'd rather be, and a million things she'd rather be doing, than accompanying Jessa to a bar. She tucked a loose piece of hair that kept stubbornly sliding from behind her ear into her eye back once more and stared into the cocktail she was nursing. It tasted like death, and it reminded her of her uncle's breath when he'd come home late at night and wake her and the younger cousins accidentally stumbling around their ramshackle farmhouse. The bar was smoky and crowded, and while Jessa had already danced with several young men, Rey had not been approached.
She was fine with this, in truth. She leaned back with her elbows on the bar and hooked her heel into the footrail of the bar, surveying the scene. Jessa's long, straight black hair swung around her as her current partner, a tall, slight ginger with a petulant smile, swung her in an approximation of an Irish jig. Jessa threw her head back and laughed like he'd just told her the funniest joke in the world.
How she envied her roommate: her easy confidence, her brash attitude and outgoing personality. Jessa had grown up somewhere near here, and the sudden influx of strangers looking for work made her giddy with excitement. The musicians wound down the music and struck up a moody, slow number. The floor cleared except for a few couples clinging to each other in displays of barely-concealed lust.
Jessa was still chuckling as she skipped back to Rey, taking a long drag on her own drink before proclaiming, "That boy has a friend you should meet!"
Rey opened her mouth to protest but Jessa cut her off. "Rey, you've been standing here scowling all evening, but that apparently works on some men because Brendan's friend-" she rolled her almond eyes dramatically to their left where Hux had returned to his table- "has been staring at you like a starving man looks at food since we walked in here. So, why don't you live a little, and go introduce yourself to him?"
Rey glanced at the corner where the men stood. She had noticed the tall man in a dark suit standing by himself, but had not paid him any attention. Just as she looked, he glanced up and met her gaze for a long second before looking away. Despite herself, her stomach tightened and she had to admit she found him oddly attractive. He had the kind of face one might pass over several times before noticing its reluctant handsomeness. Rey blushed and turned towards the bar, spinning her glass in the ring of condensate as she considered.
"Listen," Jessa leaned over shoulder-to-shoulder with her. "He's not… my type, but he's not bad-looking, and he's a pilot. They're shipping out soon, what can it hurt to have a little fun?"
"I just…." Rey didn't know what she just. She just needed to work, just wanted to be alone, just didn't want to get tied down with entanglements that would keep her in this place. She needed to get back to her family when this was all over. They were counting on her.
"Well, you better just decide because I'm going to powder my nose, and he's coming over now!" Jessa grabbed her pocketbook with a self-satisfied smile and a wink. "Have fun!"
"Jessa, please don't-"
"Hello," a deep voice said behind her back. "May I keep you company while your friend is away?"
Rey closed her eyes momentarily, gathering her composure before turning to him. She noticed how he hunched slightly in the way tall men often do, and how he was nervously clenching and unclenching his fist at his side. He wore an expression like he was daring her to turn him down so he could sulk back to his table and have the exact same conversation with his friend as she'd just had with Jessa.
She tipped her chin defiantly up at him. "I'm Reynata. Buy me a drink?"
"What would you like instead," he eyed her whisky. "You've been working on that one for awhile."
"I'd like to know your name, and perhaps something a bit lighter?"
"I'm Ben," he replied, lifting a finger at the bartender. "And you're getting an Old Pal - have you ever had one?"
She shook her head wordlessly. It sounded like a fancy cocktail from a city. She didn't know about such things. Where she came from, people drank things that weren't meant for human consumption, just to get through the daily wreck of life.
They stood in silence, sipping their drinks. The Old Pal was a light pinkish color, and had a sweet, bitter taste. It was certainly better than the Manhattan she had been choking down.
"It's good," she finally pronounced. "What was the red liquor, I've never seen it before."
"Campari," he replied. "It's Italian, I'm a little surprised they still stock it with the war on. It's a similar drink to a negroni, or a boulevardier. They all have Campari and vermouth."
"I've never had any of those," she admitted. "So, you're a pilot?"
He nodded and rested his foot on the bar rail. "We're deploying on a carrier in a couple of weeks. This is just a stop-over for us on the way to the front."
She nodded in acknowledgement and didn't say anything. Just then she noticed Jessa slipping out the side door with his redhead friend. Ben followed her gaze and the corner of his mouth quirked downwards in a thinly-veiled smirk.
"Well, I'm glad to see those two getting on so well," he cleared his throat and swirled his drink around the ice cube. "Your friend said you two work in the shipyards? How's that?"
She was incensed at Jessa for leaving her with a stranger, but she bit her tongue. "It's fine, and I'm good with mechanical things. I need the money to send to my family at home."
"Your family…?" Ben repeated carefully, and she could tell he was craning slightly to see if she had a ring on her finger. "Where do they live?"
"Bakersfield-via-Oklahoma," she said testily and hid her hand in the folds of her skirt, away from his prying eyes. "And where do you come from? It seems like maybe you're running away from something yourself."
He looked hurt momentarily, and she regretted it. Why had she said that? No, she knew why she said it: she was sick of people judging her by where she was from, by how she dressed, because she was a woman. So what if he was tall and had a nice suit and bought her a fancy drink? He had no right to pry.
"I didn't mean anything by that," he raised his palms to her in apology. "I'm from Indianapolis, and I enlisted because I thought it was the right thing to do, okay? It's not what my family wanted for me."
"I know you didn't mean anything, no one ever does," Rey said so quietly he had to lean a little closer in to hear her. "Sorry," she mumbled.
He stood quietly beside her for a moment, then drained the rest of his drink. "Look, do you want to get out of here? I'll make sure you get home safely, do you gals live over in the Albany Village?"
She hesitated. What did it mean, to get out of this place with him? The smoke was giving her a headache. "We live here in the city," she admitted, "But, I think it might be better if I stayed out a bit longer." She lifted an eyebrow at him, wondering if he would catch her meaning.
He chuckled knowingly. "C'mon."
The breeze was stiff off the water, and she shivered slightly under her lightweight coat as they strolled silently along the bay shore. The western span of the Bay Bridge loomed over them, its beacons pulsing in the fog. They needed to at least reach the Ferry Building before she could catch a streetcar. He tucked his long hands in his trouser pockets and bent his head against the wind, only removing one to occasionally flick the ash from his cigarette. He'd offered her a smoke but she'd declined.
The silence finally got to her and she blurted out, "How'd you learn to fly?"
He glanced at her sideways and took a deep drag before replying, "My father and Uncle Luke taught me. They were both pilots in the Great War, and our family had a couple planes back in Indiana."
Rey raised one eyebrow without comment. A couple planes? He said it so nonchalantly, as though this were normal. Airplanes. His family had airplanes.
"Just small ones," he clarified as though he could tell what she was thinking. "Two-seaters, the kind you'd use for crop-dusting or barn-storming."
"Oh right, of course," she said teasingly. "That kind."
He huffed and flicked his cigarette butt on the sidewalk. "Now you're making fun of me," he grumbled, but she could tell he was amused by her. "How'd you learn to fix things?"
She shrugged and slowed her gait even further. The Ferry building was approaching more quickly than she wanted it to. "You have to be able to fix things on a farm," she said. "My dad disappeared when we arrived in California, and my mom died. My uncle is kind of a drunk, so that left me to take care of our family."
He nodded. "That sounds hard," he offered. She knew he didn't know what to say. No one ever did.
"You just get along as best you can," she said. "What is Indianapolis like?"
"Ah, it's... green," he judged. "It's a green place, and very flat. No hills or water or anything interesting nearby. Good for aviation, though."
"Greener than San Francisco?" Rey could scarcely believe it. The city was already like a paradise with the expanse of water separating it from the East Bay, with its transplant palm trees, bougainvillea flowers spilling over fences and the intoxicating smell of the flowering jasmine trees at night. And the ocean - the endless ocean stretching to the west, towards places whose names she'd only seen on maps.
Ben laughed heartily at her, and the sound of his laugh made her giddy in a way she fought to ignore. "I would say, less exotic than here, but yes, greener."
She shook her head in silent disbelief. It was too much.
"Reynata," he stopped walking. "I would like to make time with you, if you'd like."
She stopped and turned back to him. The wind was blowing his longish mop of black hair away from his forehead, and she could see he'd straightened up for a moment, steeling himself for whatever her judgement towards him would be. She crossed one leg over the other drunkenly and swayed in the breeze.
"I'd like that, very much," she admitted, and she stepped towards him expectantly. "Where would you like to go?"
He smiled then, a real smile, and her heart thudded in her chest. She felt like they already knew each other. It was a strange sensation, like running into someone she knew from home.
"Well, that would ruin the surprise if I told you," he said obliquely. "I promise not to kidnap you, alright? Why don't I ring you tomorrow and we'll make plans."
"I'd like that," she said softly and took another half-step towards him. She looked up at him out of the tops of her eyes and wondered if he would-
He closed the distance between them and cupped her face in his broad, warm palms, looking down at her for a moment. She closed her eyes, but could feel the heat of his face as he leaned into her and their lips met. And…. oh, it felt good. Rey felt her knees going a touch soft and he wrapped one arm around her back to keep her upright as he cupped her chin and took his time. She opened her lips in anticipation, but this was nothing like the feverish, sloppy kisses of the boys she'd known at home; he lingered on her mouth like they had all the time in the world and only withdrew after the barest sweep of his tongue against her lower lip. She could feel her heartbeat between her legs as he drew away from her.
"I don't want you to miss the last trolley," he said, as if he hadn't just set her aflame. "We might have to hurry a little."
True to his word, he didn't abduct her. Instead, he arrived at their apartment promptly, and refused to give her any hints as to where he was taking her out.
"I can't read your mind, but I think you'll enjoy it," he said. "This place is a bit... different."
Rey tucked her pocket book higher under her arm and hurried to keep pace with his long strides. They were headed northwest out of her neighborhood, towards the Western Addition. She had heard some of the colored women she worked with lived in those parts, but had never visited. She wasn't entirely sure they would be welcome.
Jessa's grandparents had lived in this neighborhood as well until quite recently. But her grandfather was Japanese, and he had fled the city with Jessa's grandmother after hearing the stirrings against immigrant citizens. Her own father had changed the family's name to Pava from Kavaguchi when Jessa was a baby. She shrugged it off when Rey asked about it.
"I tell people I'm part Mexican," she said with a flip of her long hair. "It's California, you know? Everyone's part something else."
The door for the Painted Lady Nightclub on Fillmore was marked only by a stencil of a stylized winking woman's eyes, the lids heavy with makeup. He paid their entrance fees and they were shown to a table. Rey was struck by how many men were already in the club, and she noticed several of them staring their direction as they maneuvered through the tight tables.
Except…. They weren't staring at them, or even at Rey. They were staring at Ben. She wasn't sure what this meant; she certainly judged her looks to be quite plain, but it seemed to her that these men were openly admiring her companion. There were a few soldiers in the audience in uniform.
As they took their seats she noticed the young man seated at the upright piano, his teeth brilliantly white against his dark skin. He waved to someone in the audience in greeting before cracking his fingers inside-out and striking up a light tune.
The show was a variety act, a mixture of performers ranging from a young, scantily-clad woman doing a seductive dance with a live snake, to a mildly funny comedian performing jokes with a pencil, to a pair of Russian contortionists.
The lights went down completely for the main act, and a single shaft of white light shone down on the small stage. The audience shifted around her, restless with anticipation.
The tallest woman Rey had ever seen stepped slowly into the spotlight, up to the microphone stand. Her silver, floor-length gown was covered in sequins.
"Good evening, my lovelies," she addressed them, adjusting the microphone's height with a satin gloved hand.
"Go ON, Phasma!" Someone yelled from behind them.
"That's Miss Phasma to you, darling," the woman purred in her smoky voice. It was low for a woman's, but high for a man's, a mix of contralto and high tenor. Rey was transfixed by the vision of glamour this woman presented: her towering height, sculpted white-blonde hair, the perfect bow of her blood-red lips. She reminded Rey of the black-and-white photos Maz had tucked around the edge of her dressing-table mirror in her master bedroom.
"A little beauty goes a long way to making the world tolerable," Maz had said mysteriously, caressing Greta Garbo's luminous cheek.
Miss Phasma nodded at the piano player, and he began playing the opening chords to her song. Rey recognized it immediately as a Gershwin tune, and she thought Miss Phasma was the handsomest woman she might have ever seen.
Rey glanced at Ben and caught him looking at her, his expression unreadable in the dark.
The singer gently drew the microphone from its stand and began circulating amongst the tables, touching some of the men on their shoulders or even ruffling their hair as she sang. Rey could not help but stare when she stopped at the table next to theirs, and sat one admirer's lap for a verse:
Oh, do it again
I may cry no, no, no, no, no, but do it again
My lips just ache to have you take
The kiss that's waiting for you
You know if you do, you won't regret it
Come and get it
It made her feel silly, but Rey loved the aching romance of this song, she always had. Phasma's sequins rustled as she stood once more and wound her way back to the stage. It was as she stood that Rey noticed the faint stubble on her cheek, underneath the layers of her stage makeup.
She sat up very straight in her chair for a moment as the observation sunk in and she tried to process it. Phasma was either a very handsome woman…. or perhaps…. a very pretty man. Realization dawned on her as she glanced furtively at the men at the tables around her.
Rey looked at Ben again, a question quirking her lips into a half-smile. Were these men…?
She knew he knew what she was thinking the second he smiled and winked at her before turning his attention back to Phasma. She felt herself blush at the gesture and was glad of the dark.
"What did you think?" he asked later as they strolled arm-in-arm to a restaurant.
"It was," she paused, "Not like any show I've ever seen before."
His laughter echoed off the buildings they passed, and he slipped his hand into hers.
They were married at City Hall a week after they visited Playland-at-the-Beach and shared an It's It, a treat consisting of vanilla ice cream sandwiched between two oatmeal cookies. He had stalked her through the hall of mirrors in the Fun House, with Rey twisting and turning away from distorted images of him thinking she'd escaped him, until she'd walked straight into his embrace unwittingly and he'd scooped her up with her body against his.
"Marry me," he whispered in the shell of her ear. "I feel like I've known you all my life."
She daydreamed through work the following week, feeling like an automaton in the hours they were forced to spend apart. Jessa gave her a pitying but knowing smile as Rey had dozed off in the sunshine at lunch that Thursday.
"When does Ben ship out," Jessa asked again.
"Saturday afternoon," Rey replied without opening her eyes. "He'll be on the Finalizer."
"And... things are alright?" her friend asked, her amusement coloring her voice. Rey could tell she was genuinely interested and not just poking fun as she so often did. Jessa's cousin was visiting elsewhere and it had been arranged for them to housesit so they could have some privacy, away from the curious ears of their boarding house roommates.
"Yes, things are better than alright," Rey confirmed.
Jessa sighed happily. "Thank the stars, I could never forgive myself if I had set you up with a monster."
Quite the opposite was the truth, Rey had discovered. She shivered in the sunshine thinking back over the last four nights. Their marital bed had been thoroughly warmed, along with the couch, an armchair, and once, the dining table. They barely spoke, but they learned the language of each other's bodies with the eagerness of refugees who had abandoned their homelands and wished to assimilate as fast as possible.
It had surprised her when he'd insisted on using a rubber, pausing in the heat of the moment to make sure she would not become pregnant yet. Her beating heart swelled up in her chest as if to choke her to think he was trying to take care of her long-term. She had played roulette this way with a few suitors before, and realized just how lucky she'd been. She had looked out for herself for so long, she found his simple gesture heartbreaking in its sincerity.
And this… this was nothing like those quick, rough gropes with farm boys she'd grown up with. Despite his hulking size, her husband possessed a languid grace but a determined nature as a lover. He became her teacher without her asking, and she found herself a more-than-willing pupil. Rey hadn't had much formal schooling, but she suspected this was what it felt like to be the teacher's pet.
One night as they lay entwined, she'd asked, "Do you ever have recurring dreams?"
"Mmmmmpf," Ben shook his head against her neck. "Not really, do you?"
"Just one," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "I used to have trouble sleeping, I guess from hunger, and I would always dream of an island. A tiny, green island surrounded by a huge ocean."
He lifted his head to peer at her in the dark. The bedroom window faced the street and the streetlight illuminated half his angular face.
"Are you ever afraid," he asked suddenly.
"Of….what? Are you?"
"Of not living up to expectations, I guess," he seemed at a loss to explain himself. "That I'm not going to be as good at this as my father and my uncle were. What if I disappoint our family."
She didn't know what to say, so she pulled him into a kiss to make him forget this talk.
Saturday finally dawned and they lingered in bed until well after the sun had risen. The sky remained overcast, but they could see spots of blue to the east where the marine cloud layer was breaking up.
They dressed reluctantly, Ben in his uniform and Rey in a navy blue dress with large white buttons that had ropes and anchors engraved on them. They lugged his giant duffel bag to Fort Mason, which was a scene of chaos as the crew of the Finalizer reported for deployment. Families of all types thronged around them, hugging and crying and fussing at their departing menfolk. Some of the women dabbed their eyes gracefully with embroidered handkerchiefs, while others wept openly and still others remained stoic, their eyes pinched with the strain of holding their emotions in check. Rey wasn't sure which model of grief would overcome her when she had to let go of his hand.
Through the crowd, Rey noticed a young man standing alone, off to the side with his hands stuffed in his trouser pockets. He wore a leather jacket like the ones the pilots had, but it was a little big for his frame, and he didn't seem to have a bag with him as though he was deploying himself. He turned their way, craning to see over the crowd as though he was looking for someone.
A jolt of recognition shot through her and she slowed their forward progress with her hand on his arm. "Ben, isn't that the piano player from the Painted Lady over there?"
Ben followed her gaze to where the man stood, then looked down at her. "I believe you're right," he confirmed. "Looks like he's got someone leaving today as well."
"Someone leaving? Oh…." Rey said softly, catching his meaning. "You think?"
Ben shrugged. "It takes all kinds, Rey. We've all got to pitch in if we want to win this." They were nearing the point in the intake line where they'd be forced to separate, and he stiffened his arm in her embrace to slow their progress. Rey felt a lump begin to form in her throat and she bowed her head, tilting it against his upper arm beside her.
"It'll be alright," he said, his voice low. "You'll write me, won't you?"
"You know I will," she choked out. "And you'd better write, too."
"Tell Jessa and Jack goodbye for me," he said as he put his arm around her shoulders. "You gals need to take care of each other."
She nodded, no longer trusting her voice not to crack. The tears were welling up in her eyes and she refused to look at him like this, lest he remember her this way. It was too cruel after the unexpected joy of the past few weeks. She felt him glance down at her and she turned her head away to thumb away a tear on the offside.
"Rey," he said, guiding them to the side so others could pass. "I have to go, it's my duty. But, I know you're going to be fine here, alright? Give me a kiss?" He curled a finger under her chin and gently forced her face upwards. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together in a trembling line to keep from sobbing audibly. So she was that kind of crier, she learned.
His lips met her forehead first before he moved down to her mouth, and she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down as near to her as he would bend. A sarcastic soldier behind them in line hooted and clapped, and a few others tossed out lewd taunts at them.
"Get a room!"
"I'm for women's suffrage- can she stow away in my bunk?"
Rey ignored them and opened her eyes to memorize his face when he pulled away.
"I love you," he said quietly.
She traced her fingers over his cheek and down to the point of his chin before dropping her hand to his chest.
"I know," she replied.
With that, he released her, shouldered his bag, and turned away from her back into the line. He was past the checkpoint and striding away to the ship in an instant, not looking back for her.
"You got a kiss for me too, sweetheart?" The seaman who had started the ruckus behind them was at her shoulder now. Out of the corner of her eye she caught his wandering gaze and the obscene hand gesture he was making at her.
She backed away a few steps and shot him daggers. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, you animal? That's my husband!"
A howl of laughter went up from his companions as they teased him. "You just got told, young man! She ain't your missus, you best step off!"
"Sorry," the seaman muttered. "I didn't know you were married."
Rey simply shook her head, but she saw him for what he was: a young, stupid kid who was scared, one who'd never been away from home and one who talked big to cover up his fear and ignorance in front of his friends. She knew exactly his type. It rankled her to have to toss out Ben's existence as a reason for this lunk to leave her in peace, but some men only respected women as other men's property.
Turning away from the fray, she walked away a few strides to see if she could still see Ben. She caught sight of him waiting in line for the gangway that lead up to the deck of the ship, already talking and introducing himself to the men around him. He was easy to spot, towering over the others and still hunching ever so slightly. She waited until he was up the gangway and onto the ship, disappearing from her view, before she wrapped her sweater tighter around her and turned for home.
She noticed the piano player was still keeping vigil as she hiked up the hill towards the streetcar stop. He saw her looking as she passed him, and he gave her a wistful smile before looking back towards the ship once more.
They all had to make sacrifices, she reminded herself.
