Stepping down onto the cement walkway, at the insistence of the doorman, I leave the marble steps and warm glow of the hotel lobby behind. I’m not quite ready to resume my journey but have little choice.
The crisp night air makes itself known to my cheeks, the tips of my ears, and in the depth of my knuckles. Gripping tightly, I pull the sides of my mother’s old coat closer to my flesh, attempting to hold on to what little heat remains.
Just ahead of me, a group of well-dressed college students – three guys and two girls – leave Conversations, a local high-brow club. The music spills out the door and into the street. Having held the door on their exit, the bouncer wishes them a safe evening before heading back into the warmth of his job.
Flowing together like a school of fish, they dance forward and back as the waves of emotion spin them around. Coming to rest beneath a streetlight, one of the guys, dark-haired with a medium build and classic Hollywood looks, steps out from the others and leans against a burgundy BMW sedan. He pulls back the sleeve of his leather coat, looks at his watch, then puts his hands deep into his pockets.
I feel the warmth of their smiles as I approach. The grip on my coat relaxes slightly. The bitter wind strikes at me as a pair of eyes meet mine. They belong to a girl, blonde and pretty, in that classic cheerleader way. Her high heels raise her to just below the shoulders of her six-foot-four-inch football player boyfriend. I see a look of disgust come over her, then she turns away and reaches up to tap her boyfriend’s shoulder as he lights a cigarette.
I slow down, fearing what is to come.
“Jim… Jim…” she says, attempting to gain his attention, but Jim is fully committed to the task at hand. Putting his back to the wind, he turns away from me, now directly facing the girl. Cupping his hands, he looks down, trying again to light the cigarette. Stepping in front of him, her eyes grow wide. She speaks loudly under her breath, “JIM! Look.” Her head bobbing in my direction.
A puff of smoke escapes his lips as he snaps. “What?!” He and the rest of the group look over toward me, then back to the girl. “What?”
Her eyes growing disproportionately large, she grits her teeth and responds. “Look… over… there.” Again she nods in my direction. Pointing a finger behind her other hand as if she were actually attempting to hide her rudeness. “It’s an IT.”
‘An IT?’ I think, ‘What is that supposed to…’ I stop. My legs turn to jelly. I can do nothing but stand there, shaking in the cold, as the realization hits me. My long hair, pajama pants, mom’s coat, and white tennis shoes… ‘they think I’m trans.’
“Jacqueline quit acting so weird. It’s just a homeless person.” Jim turns toward me, takes another puff of his cigarette, and leaving it dangling from his lips, reaches into his jacket to pull out his wallet. “Hey, ummm…” he says, momentarily losing his confident air. Removing a single bill, he walks over to me. Returning the wallet to the inner breast pocket of his heavy woolen overcoat, he speaks with contempt. “Here’s a twenty. Just make sure you don’t spend it on drugs, okay?”
Holding the bill in front of my face, he begins waving it around as if he thinks I am completely oblivious. I am far from ignorant of the situation. They’re drunk, and I haven’t the words to express how I’m feeling right now.
“Helloooo…?”
The smell of cigarettes and alcohol reaches my nose. I can’t help but grimace.
“Fine. Be that way.” He flicks the ash off his cigarette onto my chest, then turns back to his friends, stuffing the bill in his pants pocket.
“I told you it was a freak.” The cheerleader proudly announces. Her blonde hair bounces in a self-satisfied way that mirrors her voice. Two others in the group begin to chuckle, while the third just stands there stern-faced, arms at his side.
“I can’t believe you actually talked to it.” Jacqueline shutters dramatically, to everyone’s amusement.
“I know, right?” Jim says, laughing.
Jacqueline shakes her head. “What is with these people? Do they actually think they can just blend in with ‘normal’ pe-“
“CUT IT OUT!” yells the shortest of the guys. Enflamed, he steps out of the group. Hollywood steps away from the car. Interested in this latest development, he takes his place in the group and removes his hands from his pockets.
“What’s with you?!” questions Jim, confused.
“Just leave her alone. She’s not bothering you.” says the much smaller, bearded man, displaying an inner strength more sizable than his frame.
“You got a problem with me, Chuck?” Jim’s tone, along with his demeanor, becomes more imposing as he steps into Chuck, forcing him back a few steps. The girl who, until a moment ago, had been hanging on Chuck looks to Hollywood and, eyes wide raises her shoulders as if to ask him what is going on. He responds in kind.
Drawing on Chuck’s strength of character and sizable diversion, I try to pass the group, walking as close to the buildings as possible.
Noticing my attempted escape, Jacqueline jumps into my path. “Where you going?” She pauses for a second, then grabs my coat by the collar. “The more important question is where you got that coat? I didn’t know the 80s were back in. Have you been shopping at the thrift store, honey? ‘Cause I can tell you that look just isn’t working for you.”
Her words are the equivalent of a sucker punch to the gut, and right now, I would rather have taken the punch. My eyes begin to tear as I am reminded of all that mom had given up for me. All that I tried not to admit, my selfishness and her loving sacrifice, was being thrown in my face.
“What’s the matter?” Jacqueline says, her crooked smile growing deviously intentional. “Does the truth hurt?”
“Come on, Jim, you know this is wrong, man.” Chuck’s voice calms in an attempt to ease the tension now emanating from his friends.
As I turn back toward the hotel, the wind kicks up, striking me in the face. Struggling against it, I force the initial steps. Though they are right behind me, the voices of the group are softened by the howl of the wind as it beats my ears. A shiver rocks my body.
“You saying I’m wrong?” Jim’s voice arches above the wind.
“You’ve been wrong for a lo-“
“Why do you suddenly care about a low-life tranny, Chuck?”
I turn to see Jim pushing Chuck backward into the side of the BMW.
“Hey man, that’s my car!” yells Hollywood, arms flailing.
“That’s my date!” says the smaller of the two girls as she steps back in fear.
“Shut it, Tom! Unless you want some of this.” Jim holds Chuck against the car with one hand while threateningly shaking the other at Tom.
“Don’t you EVER use that word again, you-” Jim’s hand wraps around Chuck’s neck, halting the words in his throat.
“You what, Chuck? What are you gonna do, huh?”
The arrogance is more than I can take. For the first time in hours, my thoughts are about someone else, their pain, not mine. I know I’m probably going to regret this, but what is one more regret to add to the mountain in my heart?
“Let him go.” My voice comes out quiet at first.
Jim pauses, “…are you one of them Chuck? You a faggot?!”
Lowering the pitch of my voice, I yell as loud as I can. “Leave him alone!”
Releasing his grip on Chuck’s neck, Jim pushes him hard against the car, then turns to face me.
Tom steps up next to Jim. “Come on; he didn’t mean anything by it, man.”
Chuck’s date chimes in. “What’s your deal, Jim? You can be such a jerk sometimes.”
Jim turns to her. “What?”
“You can be a mean drunk, dude,” Tom interjects.
“Yeah, I know… right? Haha.” The pride in his perceived power shows all over Jim’s face as he chuckles.
Tom laughs. “You’re a madman.” Jim puts his hand up for a high-five, and Tom obliges.
Chuck, holding his neck with one hand, leaning on the car with the other, speaks up. “You have a lot to learn about life.”
“Who me?” asks Jim.
“All of you,” Chuck responds, getting a bit bolder.
Jim raises his head and tilts it just a little. Taking a deep breath, he raises his hand. The tension is thick as Chuck braces himself for the hit.
“C’mon, Chuck. It was just a joke! Get a sense of humor.” comes Jacqueline’s voice from behind Jim’s sizable shoulders.
Jim softens a bit, placing his hands on his hips. “Yeah, what’s your deal, man?”
I wonder why I am still standing there, but I can’t leave until I know Chuck will be okay. My heart pounds in my neck in expectation of what may come.
Chuck breaks the silence. “Why do you think it’s acceptable to treat people like that?”
Jim’s hand comes off his hip as a stiff gust of wind cuts through the group, causing Chuck to recoil.
“What a wuss.” Jim smiles at Tom before turning back to Chuck. “If you are going to grow a beard and talk all tough, you better be able to back it up, Charlotte.”
I watch as the color falls from Chuck’s face.
Jim bends down toward Chuck, their faces almost touching. “Yeah, I know all about you.”
The seriousness of his words digs a hole into Chuck’s spirit. “Scott was my roommate freshman year. We talk.”
Jacqueline wraps around Jim, her face peeking out from beside his shoulder. As Jim stands straight, she slinks around to face the two. “What’s going on, Jim?”
“Chuck’s not a guy.” Jim proclaims.
“What are you talking about?” questions the other girl.
“He’s like a tranny… but… a guy, err… A girl… whatever. He’s a chick.”
“What?! How long have you known this?” Jacqueline steps back from Jim, hitting his arm. “Did you let me set Simone up with him, knowing…”
“Sorry, Babe.” Jim gives her the ‘Who me?’ look, shoulders raised, palms up.
Visibly upset, Simone steps forward. “Is that true?”
Chuck is surrounded. I didn’t mean for this to happen. He stood up for me, and now he’s the target.
“Well, Chuck? Is it true?! Are you a girl?” Simone becomes more furious with each word spoken.
Chuck looks her in the eye and tries to explain. “I was misgendered at bir-” SMACK!
“Oh my God! I can’t believe this. How could you?” Simone paces in front of Chuck, her arms flailing with emotion. “When were you gonna tell me? Well…? What the hell?!”
“I’m sorry. I just thought we were just going to hang out together. If it was going to go any farther, I would have tol-” SMACK!
“That’s for letting me like you!” Simone walks out from the group and down the street. “Augh! What the hell?!”
Jacqueline, now smiling ear to ear, laughs. “Can you believe that just happened? If I hadn’t seen it… Unbelievable!”
Tom, having stood blank-faced since the revelation, finally speaks up. “You okay, Chuck?”
“Charlotte. HER name is Charlotte, or did you miss that part?” Jacqueline chimes in.
“Shut up, Jacqueline.” Tom barks, then turns back to Chuck. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know.”
Chuck manages to force out a couple of words. “It’s okay.”
Stepping toward the front of the car, Tom grabs the keys out of his pocket. “If you want, I’ll take you home.”
The hurt showing on his face, Chuck nods And steps away from the car. “That would be great, thanks.” Tom pushes a button on his key fob, unlocking the doors.
“Ummm… What about us?” Jacqueline says, shivering for effect.
Tom opens the door, inviting them in. “If you want a ride, get in.”
Having returned, Simone jumps into the conversation, contempt dripping from her eyes. “I’m not riding in back with THAT.”
Jim, who had been standing with his arms crossed and a smug look on his face, interjects. “Sounds like you’ve got a choice, Tom. The freak or us.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Tom replies. “What is with you tonight?”
Showing her claws, Jacqueline’s intensity increases. “I’m totally serious. If you choose HER over us, we’ll make your life a-“
“Don’t worry about it, Tom. I’ll walk.” Chuck’s head drops in defeat.
Glaring at his three friends, Tom shakes his head. “You don’t have to.”
“It’s okay. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble than I already have. Thanks, man. You’re a good guy.” Chuck reaches over, patting Tom on the shoulder.
“See, she knows when she’s not wanted.” Jacqueline taunts.
Motioning to the car, Chuck asks Tom, “Can you do me a favor and grab my books outta the back seat?”
“Sure.” Tom bends over, reaching into the back seat. Then emerging, he hands Chuck a couple of textbooks and a small paperback novel. “Sorry.”
“Thanks.” Chuck turns toward me. His face morphing between defeat, confusion and finally ending in a smile. Walking past the others, he joins me. “If you don’t have a place to stay, you can stay at my place tonight. If the busses are still running, I think I have enough cash to get us there.”
I find it hard to fathom that he still wants to help me after going through all that. “I don’t live far from here. If you want, I can grab my mom’s car keys and drive you home.” I reply, hoping that somehow, maybe I can pay him back for what he just did for me.
Behind Chuck, I see the girls piling into the back seat. I know they have to be quite chilled by this point, and being inside a car sounds really good to me right about now.
Tom steps over to the driver’s side and calls over to Chuck. “I’m sorry, man. I hope you understand.”
Jim, quite pleased, lowers himself into the passenger seat. “SHE chose… poorly.” Turning to Tom, he says, “You have chosen… wisely.” The car starts as Jim closes his door. The passenger window opens, and as they pull away Jim’s voice can be heard echoing through a nearby alley. “Enjoy your evening, ladies!”
“Roll up the window, you idiot!” comes Jaqueline’s voice, screaming from the back seat, as the car turns the corner. The roar of the engine is heard, and then they are gone. Chuck and I stand there for a moment, silently taking in all that just happened.
At this point, I am emotionally numb. Unable to process anything more, I stare toward the corner. Walking over to me, Chuck regains his confidence. “I know you probably already know this, but… my name is Chuck. What’s yours?”
“I’m Chris” I reach out my hand, and Chuck shakes it.
“Short for Christine?”, he says more unsure of me than himself.
“Christopher,” I reply.
“I’m sorry, man. I just assumed.” Embarrassed, he withdraws his hand.
“It’s okay. You didn’t-” A cold wind makes me shake to my core.
“Well, I should have. I mean… Well, I should have been the last person to make an assumption about another person’s presentation.” His earnest demeanor sets me at ease.
“Don’t worry about it.” I start walking down the sidewalk, wanting to get home as soon as possible. “I know I’m not exactly dressed normally.” Chuck follows, stepping quickly at first, then slowing to match my pace.
“It’s not about what you wear, it’s about the person inside… and being true to that, right?” At this point, it’s obvious that Chuck is trying very hard to show his acceptance. Although I appreciate it, I know that I have to speak up. This has already gone on too long.
“My mom just died.”
Chuck stops mid-step. “Oh, man. I am so sorry. When did that happen? Has it been long?”
I stop for a second, waiting for him to catch up. “Can we keep walking? My toes and fingers are getting numb.”
“Umm… yeah, sure. Sorry.” He replies as we start on our way again.
“I was coming home from the hospital when I ran into your friends,” I say with a bit of snark in my voice. He definitely picks up on it.
I see him go into defensive mode. “They’re not my friends.” Then all at once, his face softens. “Well, I guess they were, or at least I wanted them to be. I’m sorry. What they did to you was just so wrong.”
“No. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” I lower my head, watching my feet as I walk.
A minute later, Chuck breaks the silence. “What happened to your mom?”
I swallow hard. At this point, I had told this story to 911, the EMT people, the check-in lady at the hospital, and to the doctor when he told me there was nothing more they could do for her. Oh, and the police officers. I realize that I will be telling this story at least a thousand more times. This night will resonate through the rest of my life, and when I look back on it years from now, running into Chuck and the others will probably not even be worthy of bringing up. The pain they caused me is nothing when compared to what I went through tonight.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Chuck snaps me out of my thoughts.
“It’s been a long night.” I pull a hand out of my pocket and breathe into it. A sad attempt to warm my soul.
“I understand. Sorry.” I look over and clearly see the compassion in Chuck’s eyes before he turns his attention to the books he is carrying. “Figures. The day I don’t bring my gloves…”
“When my mom came up from work, I was playing Halo in my room with my headphones on. She knocked on my door…” I take a deep breath, hoping it will force the words out. “She said something, but I couldn’t hear her over the gunfire and my teammates. I muted the mic and yelled, ‘I’ll do the dishes in a few Ma! I’m in the middle of something.’ I heard her hit the door one more time before heading back to the kitchen; at least, that’s what I thought.”
“She was having a heart attack right there on the other side of the door, and I didn’t have a clue. A little while later, I got up and opened the door. She was lying on the other side. I tried to help her but I didn’t know what to do, so I got her to the couch and called 911.”
The concern and empathy evident on Chuck’s face are amplified by his now drooping posture. “Oh my…”
“I didn’t think about what I was wearing. I just grabbed my shoes and Mom’s coat as I left the house with the EMTs. The coat was for her. I never thought I’d be walking home, much less doing it alone. This is crazy! What the hell?” My vision gets blurry as the tears come again.
“I’m so sorry, Chris.” Chuck reaches over, placing his hand on my arm. “It’s gonna be okay.”
The lights of an approaching car point directly at us for a moment, then it pulls up behind a parked car on the side of the road ahead. The passenger side window lowers. “Hey! You need a cab?”
“Yeah!” Chuck runs up ahead, calling back to me. “Where do you live?”
“Fourth and State… but I don’t have any cash on me,” I shout back.
He pokes his head into the cab. “Fourth and State. How much?”
“Ten bucks plus tip. Give or take.” The cab driver has a gruff but kind voice.
Chuck turns back to me, smiling. “No worries. This one’s on me.”
As I approach the cab, the driver looks at me with a crooked expression. It seems he wants to say something but holds his tongue.
Chuck opens the back door and gallantly motions for me to get in. “After you.”
The warmth of the cab hits me as I hop in and slide over. Although it is almost stifling and has the aroma of Old Spice and burritos, I am thankful to be out of the cold. Chuck closes the door, and we are off. The driver does a u-turn right out of the parking spot, a bold move considering the traffic on Grant Street at this time of night. A horn blasts nearby, and we are on our way.
We ride in silence for a few blocks; then, I feel my hands, ears, and nose begin to itch. “It’s colder out than I thought it was.”
“Are you okay?” Chuck says, genuine concern in his voice.
“My hands are tingling like crazy.” I begin rubbing them together in a desperate attempt to warm them up.
“You have frostbite, Hun.” He reaches over and takes my hands in his. “Let me help warm them up for you.” His hands are not soft like I expected. His grip is solid. As he massages my fingers, it feels as if life is being restored to me.
“That feels so good. Thanks.”
No sooner had I said that than the cab pulled to the curb. The driver turns around and, pointing to the door, yells forcefully. “Get out!”
“What?” Chuck’s expression changes to one of disgust. “Why?”
“I don’t want YOUR kind in MY cab. Just get out. NOW!” His face turns red as the tendons on his neck tighten, pulling his mouth into an unnatural scowl.
“What the heck?! Chuck, what’s going on.” My words still hanging in the air, I suddenly get a clue. A moment later, the driver confirms it.
“I don’t want faggalots in my cab. OUT! NOW!” Chuck opens the door and steps out onto the sidewalk.
“Hey, Chuck, what’re you doing?” It’s not that I don’t know what is going on; I just don’t relish the thought of leaving the warmth of the cab.
The driver points to the open door. “Out.” Then, without hesitation, he turns from me to Chuck, who is holding the door open. “Six-fifty.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Judging from the look on his face, it’s obvious he isn’t. Chuck takes his wallet out of his back pocket and pulls out two fives. “Seriously? You’re not going to pay this guy, are you?”
With that, he turns to me, glaring. “You. Out. Before I have to make you.” I scoot across the seat toward the door.
Chuck, reaching through the passenger side window, hands him a five. “For the inconvenience.”
“Six-fifty or I call the cops. I’m sure they won’t have any problem finding you two pansies.” He grins like a poker player, laying down his bet. The problem is, we don’t know if he is bluffing. I step out of the cab as Chuck hands him another five. The driver puts the car in gear.
“What about my change?” Chuck asks forcefully.
“Consider it my tip.” He says, smiling ear to ear.
I grab the rear door and slam it closed to avoid hitting Chuck as the driver quickly pulls away. “Jerk! Aaugh!”
The wind from the cab hits me, making me shudder. Chuck turns to face me. He looks beaten, more so than when he had to deal with Jim and his friends. I don’t know what to say. “Does this happen often?”
“Yeah.” His eyes look down for a moment. “Well… not a lot, but yeah, it happens. Usually to trans-women, but it happens to us too.” Chuck notices me shiver again, which makes him start walking. I join him.
I feel bad. Everything that happened to him tonight was because of me. “I’m sorry, man. I keep getting you in trouble.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault that people are A-holes.”
I try to explain. “But everybody thinks I’m trans because of what I’m wearing, and that’s affecting you.”
He plants his next step firmly in place and turns to face me directly. “Shit. Not you too.” He leans in and speaks very strong and concisely, so I don’t miss a word of what he’s saying. “It doesn’t matter how somebody dresses. Nobody deserves to be treated that way. People have no f-ing clue what it is like to live with this. Hell, they just want us all to go away, so they can go back to living their perfect little Christian lives. Well, the world isn’t perfect, and I will dress how I want and do WHAT I want whenever the hell I want! You got that?!”
“I… ah… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He lets out a huff, shakes his head, and speaks. ”It’s okay. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It’s just been a bad week.” He turns away. “Let’s get going before you start losing toes.”
At this point, I don’t know what to say. As we walk the next block in silence, my mind is anything but quiet. So much has happened to me today, but all that is pushed aside as I try to find a way to help Chuck. Every once in a while, he shakes his head as if questioning why he chose to speak up for me in the first place. “Chuck?”
“Yeah?” His response seems detached, distant.
“Why did you do that?”
“I’m sorry, Chris.” Chuck draws his books up to his chest and pulls his right hand out of his pocket, placing it over his left. “Ummm… You did say Chris, right?”
“Yeah.”
Moving his books from one hand to the other, he breathes into his now cold hand before placing it deep into his pocket. “Sorry. Sometimes I have a problem with names.”
“It’s okay. I know how that goes.”
“I’m sorry for blowing up on you like that, but I’m a little… well… like I said, I’ve had a shitty week.”
“That’s not what I was talking about. I was wondering why you stuck up for me.”
“Oh. I guess I understood what you were going through. Well, at least what I thought you were going through. I guess I thought you were trans too, or maybe gender non-conforming. Anyway, they were being jerks, and I couldn’t just stand there.”
We continue toward the next corner, walking side by side. The confidence no longer evident in his stride. “Thanks.”
He looks me in the eyes and gently nods. “You’re welcome.” His lips come together a little tighter than they were before, his brow furling with significant burden.
I point my arm toward a darkened corner ahead while trying to keep my hand safe inside. ”Turn left up here. I know a shortcut where the wind isn’t so bad.”
“Good. I could use a break.” I turn into the alley, and Chuck stops. “Wait.”
I turn around to see more than just uncertainty on his face. It’s fear. “Hey, don’t worry. I do this all the time.”
He takes a pensive step forward. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
It is only now that I realize. I only see Chuck, the guy, but he lived as a girl for years and probably had to be a bit more careful about things like this. He hadn’t always been so muscular. He may have even been a target himself, like I was earlier tonight.
That is why he stood up for me. He knew exactly what I was going through. “Yeah, it’s okay. This is my neighborhood. My mom’s shop is only a couple blocks over from here.”
I watch as he lets go of his past and walks into the alley without any baggage. “Okay. But if you get yourself in trouble here, I may not be able to save your ass again.”
I crack the first real smile of the night. “Gotcha.”
“I mean it, twice in one night is my max. Third time, you’re on your own.”
“Okay. Right up here.” We turn the corner into my favorite alley. It is between two old brick buildings, only about ten to twelve feet wide, and is well lit by crisscrossing strands of golden Christmas lights suspended the full length of the alley between the second-floor windows.
Chuck looks around, taking it all in. “Wow, cool alley.”
“Yeah, I know, right?”
“Yeah.”
“The lights were donated by the owner of Nathan’s Hardware & Hobby across the street. He said it brought life to the alley. I think he just wanted to keep an eye on Frank.”
“Frank?” By the look on his face, Chuck seems to have had enough surprises tonight. “Who is—?”
“Hey, Chris. That you?” Frank’s muffled voice emanates from a wooden box a little ways down from us. The box, only about double the height of a casket and about as wide and long, is mounted on an old, kid’s wagon frame. My wagon frame. A pair of broken bricks are the only thing keeping it from rolling down the slight decline into the street.
“Yeah, it’s me.” As we approach the box, a panel slides open on the side. “How are you doing in there?”
“Toasty warm. By the way, thanks for getting them to turn the outlet back on for me.”
“Glad I could help.”
Frank cranes his neck outside the box. “So, who’s your friend?”
“This is Chuck. He-“
“He looks cold. Both of you look like you’re chilled to the bone. Wanna put your hands in here, warm ’em up a bit? I got the blanket turned up all the way.”
Chuck looks at me like, ‘Is he serious?’
“Uh, no thanks. We have to get home.”
“Yeah, okay. See you around.” And with that, the panel closes again. A muffled “Brrrrr” is heard behind us as we walk to the other end of the alley.
“You do NOT want to put your hand under his blanket.”
Chuck looks at me with one brow raised, lets out a nervous laugh, and nods. As we approach the street, he turns around and jogs back to Frank’s box home. Placing his books on top of the box, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet.
“What’s all the ruckus out there?”
“It’s okay. It’s me, Chuck.” And with that, the panel slides open.
Frank lifts a section of the blue electric blanket. “Change your mind about warming up?”
“No. I… ah… here.” Chuck grabs the last five dollars from his wallet, hands it to Frank, grabs his books, and jogs over to me.
Frank peeks out and waves the bill in the air. “Thanks!” Seconds later, the box is once again sealed tight.
“Hey, thanks. That was really cool of you.” We cross the street into a matching alley on the other side.
Chuck motions back toward the box. “How long has he been here? I mean, in the alley?”
“Only about ah… like a couple months or so. Frank’s a local. He’s a little ummm… ‘different.’ His sister had taken care of him since their folks passed. Last year she took him and moved to Indiana. A month or two later, he just walked back into town, all by himself. I guess he didn’t like it there. I don’t really know what happened to him, but he’s not quite all there.” I point ahead. “Left up here. Don’t get me wrong; he’s a really nice guy. Not a perv or anything. It’s just… well, he’s kinda like a kid.”
We turn the corner, and I swear I can feel the warmth of the light shining above our apartment door from here. “Home at last.”
“You live in an alley?” Chuck asks loudly.
I stop at the side door, which is beneath our fire escape. While fumbling with the keys, in a low voice, I try to explain, “There are apartments upstairs. Try to be quiet, okay? Mrs. Fletcher is a light sleeper, and I don’t want to be getting another lecture from Mr. Fletcher tomorrow.” I reach my hand up above my head, indicating Mr. Fletcher’s substantial size. Reaching back down, I turn the key and open the door. “Ohhhh, that feels sooo good.” I take a deep breath and feel my whole body quake.” Chuck steps in behind me. “Can you lock the door behind you?”
“Sure.” Chuck shuts and carefully locks the door before following me up the flight of stairs. “So you live above the shops on State?”
I unlock the door at the top and open it. “Yeah, my Mom’s store is right below here. That’s where the other door goes.” I look inside and see Mom’s purse still lying on the floor where she dropped it, the contents spilling out onto the carpet. My bedroom door hangs open, and the faint sound of a video game theme song can be heard coming from my headphones within. I walk over to the couch and collapse.
Chuck closes the door behind him, then just stands there, unsure of what to do.
“Sorry, it’s gonna take me a few to get warmed up before I can take you home. Have a seat.”
Chuck looks around the room, finally settling his eyes on the purse. “I don’t feel like I should be here.”
“What do you mean?“ My cheeks start burning and itching real bad, so I begin rubbing them with my hands.
“Hey, you shouldn’t do that.” Chuck walks over to me and pulls my hands from my face. “You’ve got a pretty bad case of windburn. Do you have any burn cream, or maybe some aloe gel?”
By the look on his face, I can tell he knows I’m clueless. “Where’s your medicine cabinet?”
“Ummm… she keeps her makeup and stuff in the bathroom. The lotions and stuff are in the linen closet.” Still lying down, I reach a hand over my head to point at the hall behind me. A slight moan escapes my lips.
Chuck walks down the hallway toward the bathroom. It is at this point that my ears start burning. A minute later, I hear him call down the hallway, “I don’t see anything.”
“The shelf above the towels.” I sit up and take off the coat—my mom’s coat.
“I know that. These are not the right kind of creams. They’ll only make it worse.” Chuck walks back into the family room. Where does she keep the band-aids?”
“In the kitchen next to the fridge.” I lay Mom’s coat over the arm of the couch, then reach down and pick up her purse. I begin picking items from the floor and dropping them inside: lipstick, a roll of mints, her compact, some spare change, and a small brush. The rest is mostly crumpled-up receipts, pieces of foil (from a hundred other mints), tissues, and a few gobs of purse lint.
“Nothing in there. Mind if I look in the pantry?”
I don’t look up. If I did, he’d surely see the tears running down my cheeks. “No, go ahead. Knock yourself out.”
The video game music flowing from my room reminds me of all the time I could have spent with her but didn’t. It starts to really piss me off. I get up and walk into my room.
The screen is covered with PMs.
DrawSukr: “Chris?”
DrawSukr: “You missed it! Champ headshotted you just as you spawned.
DrawSukr: “It was glorious!”
LV-426: “You there?”
BigHog608: “tired of blowing you up. going to bed.”
[ Please reconnect controller ]
Agent Windex: I guess it’s just you and me again.
Apache N4SIR: “Where’d everybody go dude?”
[ You have been kicked from the game ]
I want to rip the console out of the desk and throw it across the room. Instead, I push the power button on the unit and walk away. As I turn, a hand comes at me.
“Here. This’ll work.” Knowing I’m cornered, Chuck starts spreading goop on my face. “It’s coconut oil. Food grade, so it shouldn’t have any other ingredients in it.” He looks me in the eyes. “Well, except some added salt.”
I’m a bit embarrassed that he caught me crying. I guess it shows. “Sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” Chuck grabs another glob of the oil. “Turn your face.” He begins applying it to the other cheek, then my forehead, gently rubbing it in.
“So, your mom teach you how to do this?”
“Actually, it was my dad.” He lightly dips his fingers in the jug then reaches for my ear.
“Oh.” I watch him for a second and realize the way he is applying it is more no-nonsense, not the way Mom would have done it at all.
“We used to go camping together. My sisters weren’t really into that. They were too much like my mom. A cheap motel was as close to roughing it as they ever got.” He smiled and shook his head. “Other ear.”
“You used to? Did you lose your dad too?”
Focusing all his attention on my ear, Chuck never flinches. “No. He’s still around. My mom told him he couldn’t take me anymore. She said it was encouraging me to act like a boy.”
“Did it? You know… did it make you want to be a guy?”
He stopped and gave the same look as the last time I put my foot in my mouth. “No. I’ve always been a guy, as long as I can remember. Everybody thinks it’s because we envy men or just want to act like them—like we’re pretending. Or, maybe we’re confused. It’s the same with trans-women; everybody thinks they just want to play dress-up. It isn’t so much how you want to see yourself, or what kind of clothes you want to wear. It’s about who you already are. Who you’ve always been.” He puts a finger to my chest, tapping it hard. “You wear that Superman shirt because that’s what you like, right?”
“Well, yeah…”
“Other than the people who are trying to fit in with a certain group, what people wear is an outward expression of who they are and what they like, not the other way around, right?”
“Sorry, I guess I never thought about it that way.” I take a second look at Chuck. He’s wearing a brown leather jacket with a gray flannel shirt beneath it. His black jeans cover the top of his well-worn work boots.
“You’ve got to stop saying you’re sorry. It’s okay. I get it. It’s nice that you want to be polite, but we’re just talking here, okay?”
“Okay.”
“How are your hands?”
“They still ache a bit. My feet too. But I’m starting to feel better now that I’m home. Speaking of which…” I grab my coat from behind my bedroom door. “’scuze me.” I squeeze between Chuck and the door jam. “I should go get the car started, so it can warm up.”
I swing the coat around and pull my arms through the sleeves, grabbing the keys from the pocket in one deft motion.
“Uh, Chris?” I can see in Chuck’s eyes that something isn’t right. “Is it okay if I crash here tonight?”
I squint a little, trying to see what he’s thinking.
“I won’t be any trouble. I can sleep here on the couch. That way, you don’t have to go back out in the cold.” I can tell there’s more to this story, but I don’t think it’s a good time to ask those questions.
“Yeah, sure. It’s a pull-out. But if you ask me, it’s more comfortable the way it is.”
His relief is instant. “Thanks. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”
“No problem. I’ll go get you some blankets. We’ve got pop in the fridge, and the glasses are next to the sink. Oh, and as you probably know, the water isn’t so good here. Be sure to use the filter next to the tap.”
“Do you have any decaf tea or soup?”
“Uh, yeah… I think there’s some in the cupboard next to the stove.”
I take off my coat and throw it on my bed. Returning to the hall, I hear pans clanging together and the water running. I walk to the bathroom and grab a fresh toothbrush and Mom’s toothpaste from the cabinet, followed by an arm full of blankets and an extra pillow from the linen closet. When I return, he is just sitting there in the chair, waiting.
“You’re a Christian?” It’s obvious he’s pretty nervous. I’m not sure why.
“Ummm… yeah?” I toss the blankets and pillow on the couch and stand there, holding the toothbrush and paste.
“I am so sorry.” He fidgets a bit, shifting his weight in the seat.
“Excuse me?” Now I am totally confused. Does he want to run? “Do you want me to take you home?”
“No. I’m sorry for what I said earlier about ‘judgy Christians who think they’re all perfect’. I guess I have a bit of a problem with people who judge me without getting to know me.”
“Not a problem. I know how that feels, especially after what happened tonight.” I hand him the toothbrush and paste. “This is for you. The toothbrush is new, the paste… not so much.”
He takes them from me and looks at the crumpled tube. “Thanks.” Placing them on the coffee table, he moves around to the opposite end of the couch.
I grab a cushion from the back and toss it on the floor behind it. Chuck follows suit.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I lay out the sheet, and together we begin tucking in the edges.
“About being a Christian?”
“Yeah?” He stops tucking but continues to look at the couch.
“Would it have made a difference?” Putting my hand in front of his face, I hand him the bottom of the blanket.
“What do you mean?”
“Let me put it this way, would you have stood up for me if you knew I was a Christian?” Chuck tucks in the blanket as I grab his pillow.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?” We stand there looking at each other for a moment as he tries to figure out where this is going.
“You asked why I didn’t say I was Christian, but what you really want to know is why I stood up for you, right?”
“Yeah. …So why did you help me?”
“I suppose part of it was because you stood up for me, but mostly it was because you matter.” I toss the pillow down and reach for the comforter.
Reaching his hand forward to take the comforter, his focus lands directly on my eyes. “Thanks.” I hand him the end, and together we lay it across the couch, making a tent over the back. Chuck reaches over and pushes the comforter down onto the seat of the couch. “Nobody’s told me that in a very long time.”
“No problem. Well, I’m going to hit the hay. The bathroom is at the end of the hall, on the right. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Just remember to knock before opening my door.” I turn toward my bedroom. I can’t wait for the moment when my head hits my pillow.
“Duly noted. Ah, Chris…?”
I turn to face him. “Would you mind knocking before you come out of your room? Just in case. I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure. I’ll try to remember.”
“Cool.” He smiles a little.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, man.” The kettle starts whistling. Chuck hurries into the kitchen, calling back to me, “Hey, hold on a sec.” A minute later, he walks back with a mug and hands it to me. “Drink this before you go to sleep.”
I’m not much for tea, but the warmth feels really good in my hands. “Thanks.”
“It’s decaf, so it shouldn’t keep you awake. I just thought it might help warm you up.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” I blow on the tea as I walk into my room. “Nite.”
“G’nite.” Comes the voice from the other side of the door.
I take a sip. There’s an itchy burning feeling on my lips, but it feels so good going down. I sit on the bed, put the tea on my nightstand, flip the shoes off my feet, and fall backward.
I wake to the sound of Mom making breakfast. The faint smell of bacon wafts under my door. My light is still on, and I’m lying sideways across the bed.
It hits me, ‘That’s not Mom.’ Yesterday’s events come back into my mind in waves; finding Mom, the hospital, walking home, Chuck.
She’s really gone.
I roll over and look at the time, eight-thirty-six. The bacon calls out to my stomach, which responds by grumbling. Sitting up, I see myself in the mirror above my dresser. My hair makes a large wave on the left, while the right side is firmly pasted to my head.
Grabbing a baseball hat, on the way out, I join Chuck in the kitchen. He flips the bacon and stirs the eggs with a spatula.”Wow, that smells good.”
“Oh, hey! Good morning.” He continues to work as he talks, removing a second plate from the cupboard. “Sorry if I woke you. I was getting pretty hungry… and you said it was okay. Even so, I’ll pay you back when I can.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He lifts the skillet. “Do you want some? I can make more.”
“Sure, that sounds good.”
He puts some bacon and the eggs on a plate and hands it to me. “Here.”
I didn’t expect him to do that, but I am ravenous, so I take it back to the table and immediately begin devouring the food.
The lack of conversation feels a little uncomfortable. The only sound is the cracking of eggs and the sizzle of the food in the pan. Chuck turns to look at me, then takes a piece of bacon from his plate and pops it in his mouth. “Hey, Chris?”
My mouth is full of egg, so all he gets is, “Mmhm?”
“What time does your store open?”
“Mmm, hadn thot ’bout tha… mmm…” I swallow the food in my mouth, “It’s Saturday, right?”
“Yep.”
“The hours are ten till eight today.” I shove another piece of bacon in my mouth.
“You have employees? If not, you should probably put a sign on the door. To let people know you’ll be closed.” He reaches over and turns off the burner.
“Yeah, I didn’t think about that. Thanks.”
Chuck turns to face me. It’s obvious he’s worried about something. “Do you know what you need to do, as far as… uh… funeral stuff?” Putting his eggs on a plate, along with what’s left of the bacon, he joins me at the table.
“Damn, dude, did you inhale that?” He puts his plate and silverware on the table and grabs the back of the chair.
My mind is all over the place. So much has happened, and I have no idea what to do next. “I have a question for you.”
Chuck sits across the table from me. “Yeah?”
“What did you mean, you’d pay me back ‘when you can’?”
“Well, I… ummm… I just thought that… this is costing you money, and you’ve already done a lot for me, so I want to make sure I pay you back.”
“You don’t have to pay me back. You pretty much saved me from, well… your friends.”
Dropping his fork full of eggs on the plate, pieces of egg flip up and onto his lap as he glares at me. “They aren’t my friends.”
A little embarrassed, he picks the bits of egg off his pants, growling his discontent. Placing the egg on the side of the plate, he looks at me, shakes his head, and sighs. “Sorry, man. I thought they were, but…” He nervously scoops up some of the eggs that had splattered across the plate and shoves them in his mouth, looking at the table all the while.
“Thanks for the cab. …and for helping me when we got back here. You pretty much saved my life, man.”
A slight chuckle comes from his egg-filled mouth. He takes a second to swallow then smiles. “No, I don’t think it was that bad. But thanks.”
I stand up and grab Mom’s cell phone out of her purse. “I need to call Aunt Joan. Would you mind making the sign?”
“Yeah, sure. …uh, where’s the stuff to-“
“There are markers in the drawer next to the register and paper under it.” I reach in and grab the keys. “Here.” Chuck looks up. “Catch.” I toss the keys to him, grab Mom’s phone, and head to my room. “It’s the gold key with ‘FoF’ written on it.”
I call Aunt Joan, knowing that I’m going to have to explain once again the events of the previous night. After I explain everything, her initial sobbing turns to concern for me.
“I’ll come up and help as soon as I can get a flight. I’ll take a cab, so you won’t have to pick me up. When I get there, we can start the arrangements.” She talks so fast it’s hard to get a word in edge-wise. That’s why I called Aunt Joan. She’s the organizer of the family, the smart one. “I’ll call the others Mitch, Fran, and Grandma Nell on the way, then we ca-“
“No.” I finally get a word out of my mouth, which makes her pause, but only for a moment, then she’s off again.
“What do you mean, ‘No’? Do you really want to call them all yourself? Because, if you do, I could-“
“No. I can pick you up at the airport. I don’t want you to have to take a cab. The cabbies in this city aren’t exactly the nicest people.”
“Oh. Okay. If you’re sure you can handle it, I will call you back later with the flight information. How are you holding up? If you want to talk more about this, I can stay on the line.”
‘Yeah, you can talk all right.’ I think to myself. “No, I’m okay. I have a friend here.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that. Your mom was worried about you, not going out, always playing your video games in your room. …Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s okay. No worries. If it’s okay with you, I am going to go check on Frank. Make sure he gets some breakfast.”
“Frank? Frank, the homeless guy?! Is that the friend you were talking about? I know you want to help him, but I don’t know if I like the thought of him in the apartment with you. You know he’s got issues and… well, I just don’t think it’s wise.”
“You can stop worrying. He’s not in the house. Frank has his own place now.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good. I hate to see someone out on the streets. Especially someone like him. He doesn’t know any better.” I can hear, by her voice, that she’s genuinely concerned, but I don’t think it’s Frank she’s really worried about.
I decide to have a little fun, at her expense. “Besides, he wouldn’t move in with us no matter how much Mom begged him.”
“What?!” If she could jump through the phone, I swear at that moment, she would have. That felt as good as a headshot. I suppose, in a way, it was.
“Well, I have to get going.” Now I’m just being mean. It feels wrong to be smiling so big after what has happened, but Mom would have been snickering in the background if she was here. The second I hung up, I would get ‘the talk’ again. I think I’m actually going to miss ‘the talk.’ I wish Mom was here to tell me what to do.
“You mean to say that your Mom was going to let a bum move in with her?”
“He’s not a bum.” Mom was constantly correcting Aunt Joan. Mom was an advocate for politically-correct speech, as Aunt Joan put it. She just called it ‘treating others how you’d want to be treated.’ Aunt Joan, on the other hand, remained true to her time. They grew up in an era when people thought it was okay to call people whatever they wanted, and they were justified in their own minds.
“Sorry. A ‘homeless person.’” The sarcasm is so thick you can feel it. “I swear, you and your mother… Well, you need to be more careful. Not everyone’s your friend, you know.”
“Don’t worry, Aunt Joan. He’s happier out there. I have to let you go now. If I don’t bring him something soon, he’ll get in trouble at 7-11 again.”
“Okay. Be careful, Sweetie. I’ll give you a call in a little bit. …when I have the flight information.” …aaand, she’s back to her usual self. I’ve always been amazed at how quickly she could change gears.
“Cool.” I knew I could count on her. In a way, she’s the closest thing to a mom that I’m going to have going forward.
“Make sure you have your phone on,” she says in that oh-so parental way.
“Yep. Talk with you later.”
“Okay, Chris. Love you, buh-bye.”
“Bye.” I hang up, turn around and walk out into the family room.
Chuck is standing there, facing me, keys in hand. “Thanks.”
“Huh?”
“For calling me a ‘friend.'”
“No problem, man.”
“…and for treating me… like you do. Even though…ah…well, you know.”
“Dude. Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, I kind of do. That’s the point. I can’t take anything for granted. I’m always looking over my shoulder, always worried about how people will react.” He stands there just looking down at his feet. I can tell this really bothers him.
“Does that happen a lot?”
“What? People wanting to hurt me?”
“Yeah, like that Jim guy and his friends.”
“No. Not since I transitioned. When I was a kid, I got bullied a bit, but that was mostly by girls. Now I usually have passing privilege, so people treat me like a guy unless I have to pull out my I.D., then all bets are off.”
“Doesn’t your I.D. have your name on it yet?”
“Yeah, I got that changed, but it’s not as easy to get rid of the ‘F’.”
“Oh.” I think about the bar he and the others had been at last night and the enormous size of the bouncer. There is no way he could have stood up to that guy. I guess the person who carded him didn’t say anything; otherwise, everyone in the place would have known. “That’s harsh.”
“Yeah.” He shifts his weight to his left leg. “By the way, I put a sign on the door. Um, I didn’t know your mom owned ‘Fact or Fiction’.”
“Yeah. My dad bought it before he died; she didn’t have an income, and he thought it would bring a little extra money in, plus Mom was going stir-crazy. He never knew what a gift it would become. He ended up leaving us a place to stay and a flexible job for mom. I don’t know how we would have made it without the store. there was no way we could have afforded our house anymore.”
Chuck’s eyes grow tight. “Your mom’s name’s Janet, right?”
“Janice. You’ve been here before?”
“Yeah. When I first moved here, I stopped in looking for cheap course books. I didn’t get those, but we talked for a while about writing and poetry groups and stuff.”
“Sounds like mom. I’m surprised she ever sold anything. I think she took after Aunt Joan.”
“Actually, I bought that book from her.” He points to the small pile of books he had brought with him. “..and a few others.” Remembering that day brings a smile to his face. “Your mom’s really nice. Was really nice. …I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“So… It was just you and your mom here then?”
“Yeah.”
He sputters a little, trying to get the words out. “If you need help …running the store… at least until you get settled… ummm… I could help you.
“No. I wouldn’t do that to you, man.”
“Well… actually, I do need a job. If you could pay me.”
I can tell he really needs this but is afraid that he just stepped over a very wide line. Shifting his weight back and forth, from leg to leg, he continues. “I got kicked out of the house I was living in, so I’ve been living at the little motel over by the freeway, at least until I figure out what to do.”
“Is that what Jim was talking about?”
Head cocked, he looks away. “Yeah.”
“You weren’t staying in the dorms?”
“No, I was sharing a room in one of the houses. The thing that sucks is that I was paid up for the rest of the year, which means I don’t have any cash left to rent another room. I’m down to my last hundred dollars.”
“Can’t your parents help you out?”
“Well, that’s not as easy as it sounds. If I ask for anything from her, it always comes with a cost.”
“You can stay here if you need to. Well, until something better comes along.”
“Really?” His eyes immediately light up.
“Yeah. Maybe you can help me with the store when you’re not in classes.”
“That would be huge! You don’t know how much this means to me. Thanks, Chris!” He grabs me and gives me a bear hug, then nervously jumps back. “I’m sorry, I hope That didn’t weird you out.”
“Damn, dude. You got some muscle there.”
“Sorry. I use the weight room at the U whenever I get a chance. I’m not exactly Schwarzenegger, but I’m getting there.” He smiles. Behind the pride, I can see a hint of nervousness. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No, you didn’t hurt me,” I respond with a manufactured chuckle, meant to mask the fact that I can still feel where his arms pretty much crushed my own. ‘Maybe I should hit the gym sometime.’
Other than the occasional box full of books and taking the garbage out, I pretty much spent all my time playing first-person shooters. I guess that part of my life just changed too. I didn’t think about it when I told Chuck he could stay and help with the store, but I need him as much as he needs me.
“You okay?” The long silence and faraway look in my eyes are obviously making him nervous.
“Uh… yeah. Just thinking.” I look over and see Mom’s old coat draped over the chair, and it hits me. It’s like she was with me last night. Like the wind, she changed my direction, led me to Chuck, knowing we needed each other.
“About your mom?”
I guess I was staring into space again. “Yeah.”
Chuck reaches over, placing his hand on my shoulder. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” I grab my leather and head to the door. “I need to make sure Frank is okay. Wanna come with?”
“Yeah.”
I open the door and hold it for Chuck. He grabs his jacket and smiles as he walks past. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” I close the door behind me. “Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“I think we’re gonna be okay.”
Chuck looks deep into my eyes, then nods. “Yeah, I think so.”
~ elr
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