Afternoon of November 6, 1863
In his dream, Eli stood in an elegantly furnished ballroom crowded with gentleman and ladies dressed in the most expensive clothing he had ever seen. He wore a uniform, not his ragged stained uniform but a bright clean new one, freshly pressed and studded with polished brass buttons. The room shimmered with laughter. He laughed too, but he did not know at what. They all held crystal glasses full of amber champagne fizzing columns of bubbles.
All eyes were on him and he said something so witty the room erupted with laughter and applause. The laughter grew as he continued speaking, rising in volume and intensity into a roar, men and women doubled over pointing at him, mouths held open and food dropping from their wet lips.
The intensity of the laughter scared and angered Eli. They were no longer laughing at what he said, they were laughing at him. “What’s so funny?” he demanded, the contorted faces swirling around him.
“You’re white,” sputtered a voice. The cry was taken up by a chorus of faces. “You’re white, white, white.”
“No, I’m not,” Eli shouted back, furious. “I’m a Negro.”
The crowd laughed harder. “A white Negro,” several shouted. “What’s next, a colored white man?”
“I’m black on the inside,” shouted Eli.
“Mister, we’re all black on the inside,” someone shouted back.
Eli felt a tap on his shoulder and swung around to find a black serving man holding a polished silver tray of delicate white sandwiches.
“Would Massa care to par-take?” the man said.
Eli looked into the man’s eyes, shocked to find he was William.
“William,” he choked. “It’s me. It’s your Ellie.”
William grinned fearfully. “Don’t be shucking me, Massa. I doan knows you. I’s jus a poor ol colored boy doan mean no one no harm. Doan makes trouble for me.”
Eli dropped his glass and it fell soundlessly to the floor. He was so happy he batted away the tray and embraced a startled William, kissing him full on the lips.
The laughter snapped off and Eli felt the atmosphere grow tense. Dark murmurings of “sodomites” and “unnatural” echoed around him.
William forcibly pushed Eli back. “Stops you play’en wid me, Massa, cause it ain’t funny. Jus leaves poor Willie be. I doan wants no trouble.”
“It’s me, Will,” said Eli, devastated by William’s rejection. “Don’t you know me?”
“No sir,” sputtered William, backing away. “I doan knows no white folks.”
“You don’t understand” said Eli desperately. “I’m not a man. I’m just dressed like one.” He pulled off his hat and Ellie’s suddenly long black mane of hair cascaded down around her shoulders. “You see,” she said. “I’m not a man. I’m your wife. It’s me, it’s Ellie.”
William stopped dead in his tracks and gazed at her, amazed. “Ellie, is that you?”
Ellie nodded vigorously, tears in her eyes.
William rushed to her, throwing his arms tight around her. It felt so good. God, she thought, how long had it been? How much she missed him. It was heaven to be in his strong embrace again.
The crowd erupted with angry shouts of, “Amalgamation of the races! Get that nigger off that white woman. Lynch him! How dare he?”
“I’m a Negro!” Ellie cried back at them. She found she had a pistol in her hand and she stood away from William swinging it in all directions at the hostile mob. “I swear I’ll shoot any man who lays a hand on him.”
“You’re not man enough for it,” snarled a gentleman confidently striding toward her.
Ellie turned on him and fired the gun, only it made no sound. The man collapsed and disappeared as the faces in the room whirled around her, their eyes steely cold. Slowly, they dissolved into a white mist. Ellie stared into it, her heart racing.
“Ellie,” said a voice behind her. Something touched her shoulder.
She spun around, gun raised, gazing into William’s dark brown eyes. William smiled and gently said, “You aren’t going to shoot me, are you Ellie?”
The gun dropped from her hand as she fell into his arms again. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d lost myself. You don’t know.” She kissed him and felt on fire. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him as if to push her body into his. Eyes closed she kissed his face, moaning between kisses, “I don’t even know myself anymore. You don’t know what I’ve had to do to get back to you. I don’t know if I’m even the same woman you married. I’m terrified you won’t love me.”
“Hush,” he breathed back into her ear. “I’m here now. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Ellie opened her eyes and stared into Big Joe’s face. He kissed her forehead. She started, eyes wide, horrified. “Joe,” she gasped, “what are you doing?”
“I love you,” said William’s face again.
Ellie stared at him. The fire of the moment made her tremble, even in her confusion. It was so very long since she felt this passion, her lust like a wagon rolling out of control down a steep hill with nothing to stop it.
“I love you,” she stammered back, kissing him again.
“You’re my life,” said Joe, holding her tight and kissing her back.
She did not want to, but she could not stop kissing him. He was William, he was Joe, he was William, he was Joe. She realized with horror it did not matter, she wanted them so desperately it was an ache.
The other faces were back, frowning at her. She did not care. “Go away,” she mumbled. “I don’t care about any of you. Just go away.”
Joe held her tight. “Eli?” she heard him say.
“No,” she said, “not Eli. I’m Ellie. I’m Ellie.”
“Eli?” Joe said louder.
She awoke with a start and no idea where she was. She sat bolt upright.
“Eli, you all right?” said Joe, sitting next to her in the dark.
She looked into his eyes. She had never really seen them before. They were deep grey, and right that instant carried a worried expression.
“Eli, you all right?” he repeated.
“Am I all right?” she said, touching her face and glancing around.
It came back to him with a rush.
I am Eli. I am in the 125th Ohio volunteers in Chattanooga. I am a soldier in the Union army.
A deep despair gripped him by the stomach so powerful he felt like weeping, but knew he must not.
“You’re acting kinda funny,” said Al sitting on the other side of him. “Even for you.”
“I fell asleep,” said Eli, more to himself.
“You sure did,” laughed Al. “We was all set’en here on guard duty when you just plopped right over into Joe’s lap sound asleep.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” Eli said to Joe, angry.
Joe shrugged. “You didn’t seem to sleep much last night. I figured you needed it.”
“If Sergeant Hays caught me sleeping on duty he’d flay me alive,” said Eli.
“Ain’t nothing going on. I’d a got you up if we’d seen something.”
Eli felt hung over, still reeling from the discomfort of his dream. At this moment he was two people living in one body, and he was having trouble shrugging off the passion he experienced in the dream. It made him feel vulnerable and angry.
“Well don’t let me do it again,” he snarled. “You can be shot for sleeping on duty.”
Big Joe rolled his eyes. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought we was doing you a good turn.”
“Who asked you to? Don’t do me any favors,” snapped Eli.
“The thing was,” said Al, “you was sleeping like a baby and then, sweet Jesus, you commenced to tossing like a cat shut up in a hot stove. Looked like you was having one hell of a nightmare. Joe here finally woke you up. You kept talking ‘bout someone named Willie, I think.”
Eli jumped up, looking out into the dark toward Missionary Ridge.
“That name mean anything to you?” said Al.
“Not off the top of my head,” said Eli, gazing beyond the mountain toward Georgia.