Praise for

Stone Butch Blues

“Reading this book changed my life. The narrator of

Stone Butch Blues

both walks achingly alone and tells the sweet story of connecting to a society in which agency becomes possible. Feinberg’s Jess witnesses the vast criminality of homophobia, the tenderness and the wildness of love, and the tiny, massive vitalities of friendship, work, and political community. Everyone needs to know

Stone Butch Blues

and pass it around. It’s history out loud.”

—Eileen Myles, author of

Cool for You

“In a world of polarities, where all we’re taught is black and white,

Stone Butch Blues

added to what we know' is really a rainbow. How we choose to live in our bodies and our hearts is much more than a Dick-and-Jane reality. This book opened our eyes to a transgendered hue now' recognized among our many colors.”

—Jew'elle Gomez, author of

Don’t Explain

“Stone Butch Blues

is a unique take on the universal theme of self-love and identity...written with a compelling passion that has its very own sound.”

—Emanuel Xavier, author of

Americano

and

Christ-Like “Stone Butch Blues

is a masterpiece of U.S. fiction and should be required reading in high school and college classes across the country. This novel takes its place not onl|^ within a long tradition of queer narratives of alienation and opposition, but, in form and content, it also hearkens back to radical proletarian U.S. literature from the 1930s. By weaving the story of Jess Goldberg, a working-class gender warrior, through the narratives of 1960s and ’70s social movements, Feinberg insistently reminds us that our individual struggles are always part of a larger fabric of resistance.

Stone Butch Blues

will be read for years to come!

11

—Judith Halberstam, author of

Female Masculinity

“Stone Butch Blues

is a must-read for hutches, femmes, and those who care about them.”

—Leslea Newman, author of

The Little Butch Book

“Stone Butch Blues

is the queer great American novel—it will be read, loved, studied, and denounced for a long, long time.”

—Holly Hughes performance artist and author of

Clit Notes:

A

Sapphic Sampler

"Stone Butch Blues

is wrenching, compelling, provocative. Feinberg examines the straitjacket of the gender binary and the price it exacts.”

—Zsa Zsa Gershick, author of

Gay Old Girls

“In this revolutionary novel, Feinberg explodes the myth of the binary gender system and the feminist notion that butchness is apolitical. The scenes of early queer society are brought to vivacious life—I laughed, I cried, and felt right at home.”

—Chrystos, author of

Fire Power

and

Fugitive Colors

“Leslie Feinberg is one of the coolest hot people around, and

Stone Butch Blues

is both extraordinary and required reading if you want to know what being queer is really about in the U.S.”

—Felice Picano, author of

Onyx

and

The Book of Lies

“Leslie Feinberg has written a poignant, multilayered story involving class, race, religion, politics, and gender that touches the hearts and souls of anyone that has lived outside the purported norms imposed by mainstream society.”

—Michael M. Hernandez, transgender writer/activist

"Stone Butch Blues

has probably touched your life even if you haven’t read it yet. It’s a movement classic, one of those books that spilled right out of its binding and into the world, changing the landscape irrevocably.”

—Alison Bechdel, creator of “Dykes to Watch Out For”

"Stone Butch Blues

is a powerful novel written by a founder of the contemporary transgender movement. It is also an important historical text documenting the profound shift in how we all came to think about gender at the end of the last century.”

—Susan Stryker, executive director, GLBT Historical Society

STONE BUTCH

BLUES

STONE BUTCH

BLUES

A NOVEL

LESLIE FEINBERG

a

alyson books

1 o s angeles

All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to

REAL INDIVIDUALS—EITHER LIVING OR DEAD—IS STRICTLY COINCIDENTAL.

© 1993

by Leslie Feinberg. Acknowledgments and Afterword©

2003

by Leslie Feinberg. All rights reserved.

Manufactured in the United States of America.

This trade paperback is published by Alyson Books,

P.O. Box 1253,

Old Chelsea Station, New York

10113-1251.

First published by Firebrand Books:

1993

First Alyson Books edition: November

2003

09 0 10 9 8 7

ISBN 1-55583-853-7

ISBN-13 978-155583-853-9

(Previously published with

ISBN 1-56341-030-3

by Firebrand Books.)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Feinberg, Leslie,

1949-

STONE BUTCH BLUES: A NOVEL/ LESLIE FEINBERG.— 1ST ALYSON

Books ed.

1.

Coming out (Sexual orientation)—Fiction.

2.

Transsexuals—Fiction.

3.

Lesbians—Fiction.

I.

Title.

PS3 556.E427S76 2004

813'.54 — DC22

Credits

Cover photography by Marilyn Humphries.

Cover design by Matt Sams.

Dedicated to the memory

of trans warrior Sylvia Rivera:

Long live the spirit of Stonewall!

A Decade Later: Thanks

To each reader who has taken the time and caring to convey to me the impact of

Stone Butch Blues

on your heart and mind and viewpoint, I extend my heartfelt gratitude. You have widened my world of human interaction.

To the crew at Alyson Publications, and particularly editor in chief Angela Brown, thank you for the work each of you put into this beautiful new edition of

Stone Butch Blues

and for being a pleasure to work with. My appreciation goes out to my literary agent, Laurie Liss, and the staff at Sterling Lord Literistic for your labor and for your support.

Much belated but very earnest thanks to dear friend Beverly Hiestand. Dissatisfied with my original manuscript at the eleventh hour when the novel was almost due at the publisher’s, I tore up the ending and set out to create a new character: Ruth. I traveled to Buffalo to cull from Bev memories

about the tiny rural community of Vine Valley where she was raised. We took a trip there to meet and talk with people whose lives are rooted in the vineyards. As a result, I was able to write Ruth, not as an idea birthed in the womb of creativity, but from the immersion pool of memory, the dark and rich organic soil, the bouquet of concord grape, the basin lake that mirrors a changing sky, and the hardscrabble lives of Vine Valley.

I also want to thank Beverly and Linda Shamrock—as friends and as hardworking registered nurses—from the bottom of my defibrillated heart. When I was in the grip of grave illness, abruptly left without a primary care doctor, you both created an emergency trans health network of care, patient advocacy, and partner support in Buffalo. Your tireless efforts helped me live to see this novel take on new life.

An adult lifetime of thanks to teamster Milt Neidenberg— Duffy to my Jess. When I was a child in Buffalo, if I was lucky enough to find a penny, I made my way into the nearby woods, summer hot or winter cold, to place the precious copper coin on the train tracks. Moments later, the massive engine would hurtle past. I can’t recall ever finding the flattened penny after the train passed over it, flipping it into the dense weeds that grew up in and around the rails. The great thrill was that the engineer who drove this powerful locomotive along the tracks would blow the steam whistle for me, waving as he passed. Milt, you are that engineer for me. Thank you for taking me aboard for the ride of a lifetime.

And to my beloved warrior Minnie Bruce Pratt: Thank you for teaching me that happiness is not overrated. We came into each other’s lives just as I was putting the last tinkering touches on this manuscript. The dirt from your garden is still smudged on my blues. Oh, my love, haven’t we written a chapter together since!

CHAPTER

1

Theresa,

I’m lying on my bed tonight missing you, my eyes all

ecswollen, hot tears running down my face. There’s a fierce

summer lightning storm raging outside.

Tonight I walked down streets looking for you in every woman’s face,

as I have each night of this lonely exile. I’m afraid I’ll never see your

laughing, teasing eyes again.

I had coffee in Greenwich Village earlier with a woman. A mutual

friend fixed us up, sure we’d have a lot in common since we’re both ' 'into

politics.” Well, we sat in a coffee shop and she talked about Democratic

politics and seminars and photography and problems with her co-op and

how she’s so opposed to rent control. Small wonder—Daddy is a real es-

tate developer.

I was looking at her while she was talking, thinking to myself that

I’m a stranger in this woman's eyes. She’s looking at me but she doesn’t

see me. Then she finally said how she hates this society fa what it’s done

to “women like me’ ’ who hate themselves so much they have to look and

5

6

act like men. I felt myself getting flushed and my face twitched a little and I started telling her, all cool and calm, about how women like me existed since the dawn of time, before there was oppression, and how those societies respected them, and she got her very interested expression on— and besides it was time to leave.

So we walked by a comer where these cops were laying into a homeless man and I stopped and mouthed cff to the cops and they started coming at me with their clubs raised and she tugged my belt to pull me back. I just looked at her, and suddenly I felt things well

up

in me I thought I had buried. I stood there remembering you like I didn’t see cops about to hit me, like I was falling back into another world, a place I wanted to go again.

And suddenly my heart hurt so bad and I realized how long it’s been since my heart felt—anything.

I need to go home to you tonight Theresa leant. So I’m writing you this letter.

I remember years ago, the day I started working at the cannery in Buffalo and you had already been there a few months, and how your eyes caught mine and played with me before you set me free. I was supposed to be following the foreman to fill out some forms but I was so busy wondering what color your hair was under that white paper net and how it would look and fed in my fingers, down loose and free. And I remember how you laughed gently when the foreman came back and said, ‘You cornin’ or not?"

All of us he-shes were mad as hell when we heard you got fired because you wouldn’t let the Superintendent touch your breasts. I still unloaded on the docks fa another couple cf days, but I was kind of mopey. It just wasn’t the same after your light went out.

I couldn’t believe it the night I went to that new club on the West Side There you were, leaning up against the bar, your jeans too tight fa words and your hair, your hair all loose and free.

And I remember that look in your eyes again. You didn’t just know me, you liked what you saw. And this time, ooh woman, we were on our own turf. I could move the way you wanted me too, and I was glad I’d gotten all dressed up.

Our own turf .... “Would you dance with me?“

You didn’t say yes or no, just teased me with your eyes, straightened my tie, smoothed my collar, and took me by the hand. You had my heart before you moved against me like you did. Tammy was singing “Stand By Your Man," and we were changing all the

he’s

to

she’s

inside our heads to make it fit right. After you moved that way, you had more than my heart.

STONE BUTCH BLUES 7

You made me ache and you liked that. So did I.

The older hutches warned me: if you wanted to keep your marriage, don’t go to the bars. But I ’ve always been a one-woman butch. Besides, this was our community, the only one we belonged to, so we went every weekend.

There were two kinds of fights in the bars. Most weekends had one kind or the other, some weekends both. There were the fist fights between the butch women—full of booze, shame, jealous insecurity. Sometimes the fights were awful and spread like a web to trap everyone in the bar, like the night Heddy lost her eye when she got hit upside the head with a bar stool.

I was real proud that in all those years I never hit another butch woman. See, I loved them too, and I understood their pain and their shame because I was so much like them. I loved the lines etched in their faces and hands and the curves of their work-weary shoulders. Sometimes I looked in the mirror and wondered what I would look like when I was their age. Now I know!

In their own way, they loved me too. They protected me because they knew I wasn’t a “Saturday-night butch.“ The weekend hutches were scared of me because I was a stone he-she. If only they had known how powerless I really felt inside! But the older hutches, they knew the whole road that lay ahead of me and they wished I didn’t have to go down it because it hurt so much.

'

When I came into the bar in drag, kind of hunched over, they told me, “Be proud of what you are," and then they adjusted my tie sort of like you did. I was like them, they knew I didn’t have a choice. So I never fought them with my fists. We clapped each other on the back in the bars and watched each other’s backs at the factory.

Bit then there were the times our real enemies came in the front door: drunken gangs of sailors, Klan-type thugs, sociopaths and cops. You always knew when they walked in because someone thought to pull the plug on the jukebox. No matter how many times it happened, we all still went “Aw.. .’’when the music stopped and then realized it was time to get down to business.

When the bigots came in it was time to fight, and fight we did. Fought hard—femme and butch, women and men together.

If the music stopped and it was the cops at the door, someone plugged the music back in and we switched dance partners. Us in our suits and ties paired off with our drag queen sisters in their dresses and pumps. Hard to remember that it was illegal then for two women or two men to sway to music together. When the music ended, the hutches bowed, our

8

femme partners curtsied, and we returned to our seats, our lovers, and our drinks to await our fates.

That’s when I remember your hand on my belt, up under my suit jacket. That’s where your hand .stayed the whole time the cops were there. ‘Take it easy, honey. Stay with me baby, cool off,” you’d be cooing in my ear like a special lover’s song sung to warriors who need to pick and choose their battles in order to survive.

We learned fast that the cops always pulled the police van right up to the bar door and left snarling dogs inside so we couldn’t get out. We were trapped alright.

Remember the night you stayed home with me when I was so sick? That was the night—you remember. The cops picked out the most stone butch of them all to destroy with humiliation, a woman everyone said "wore a raincoat in the shower? ’ We heard they stripped her, slow, in front of everyone in the bar, and laughed at her trying to cover up her nakedness. Later she went mad, they said. Later she hung herself.

What would I have done if I had been there that night?

I’m remembering the busts in the bars in Canada Packed in the police vans, all the Saturday-night hutches giggled and tried to fluff up their hair and switch clothing so they could get thrown in the tank with the femme women—said it would be like “dyiri and goiri. to heaven.” The law said we had to be wearing three pieces of women’s clotlung.

We never switched clothing. Neither did our drag queen sisters. We knew, and so did you, what was coming. We needed our sleeves rolled up, our hair slicked back, in order to live through it. Our hands were cuffed tight behind our backs. Yours were cuffed in front. You loosened my tie, unbuttoned my collar, and touched my face. I saw the pain and fear fa me in your face, and I whispered it would be alright. We knew it wouldn’t be.

I never told you what they did to us down there—queens in one tank, stone hutches in the next—but you knew. One at a time they would drag our brothers out of the cells, slapping and punching them, locking the bars behind them fast in case we lost control and tried to stop them, as if we could. They’d handcuff a brother’s wrists to his ankles or chain him, face against the bars. They made us watch Sometimes we’d catch the eyes of the terrorized victim, or the soon-to-be, caught in the vise of torture, and we’d say gently, “I’m with you honey, look at me, it’s OK, well take you home.”

We never cried in front of the cops. We knew we were next.

The next time the cell door opens it will be me they drag out and chain spread-eagle to the bars.

STONE BUTCH BLUES 9

Did I survive? I guess I did. But only because I knew I might get home to you.

They let us out last, one at a time, on Monday morning. No charges, loo late to call in sick to work, no money, hitch-hiking, crossing the border on foot, rumpled clothes, bloody, needing a shower, hurt, scared.

I knew you d be home if I could get there.

Ycu ran a bath fa me with sweet-smelling bubbles. You laid out a fresh pair of white BVD ’sand a T-shirt fa me and left me alone to wash off the first layer of shame.

I remember, it was always the same. 1 would put on the briefs, and then I’d just get the T-shirt over my head and you would find some reason to come into the bathroom, to get something or put something away. In a glance you would memorize the wounds on my body like a road map—the gashes, bruises, cigarette bums.

Later, in bed, you held me gently, caressing me everywhere, the ten- derest touches reserved fa the places I was hurt, knowing each and every sore place—inside and out. You didn’t flirt with me right away, knowing I wasn’t confident enough to fed sexy. But slowly you coaxed my pride back out again by showing me how much you wanted me. You knew it would take you weeks again to melt the stone.

Lately I’ve read these stories by women who are so angry with stone lovers, even mocking their passion when they finally give way to trust, to being touched. And I’m wondering: did it hurt you the times I couldn’t let you touch me? I hope it didn’t. You never showed it if it did. I think you knew it wasn’t you I was keeping myself safe from. Ycu treated my stone self as a wound that needed loving healing. Thank you. No one’s ever done that since. If you were here tonight.. .well, it’s hypothetical, isn’t it?

I never said these things to you.

Tonight I remember the time I got busted alone, on strange turf. You 're probably wincing already, but I have to say this to you. It was the night we drove ninety miles to a bar to meet friends who never showed up. When the police raided the club we were “alone’, ’ and the cop with gold bars on his uniform came right over to me and told me to stand up. No wonder, I was the only he-she in the place that night.

He put his hands all over me, pulled up the band of my Jockeys and told his men to atff me—I didn’t have three pieces of women’s clothing on. I wanted to fight right then and there because I knew the chance would be lost in a moment. But I also knew that everyone would be beaten that night if I fought back, so Ijust stood there. I saw they had pinned your arms behind your back and cuffed your hands. One cop had his arm

across your throat. I remember the look in your eyes. It hurts me even now.

They cuffed my hands so tight behind my back 1 almost cried out. Then the cop unzipped his pants real slow, with a smirk on his face, and ordered me down on my knees. First I thought to myself,

I can’t!

Then 1 said out loud to myself and to you and to him,

"I won’t!"

I never told you this before, but something changed inside cf me at that moment. I learned the difference between what 1 can't do and what 1 refuse to do.

I paid the price for that lesson. Do I have to tell you every detail? Of course not.

When I got ait of the tank the next morning you were there. Ycu bailed me out. No charges, they just kept your money. You had waited all night long in that police station. Only I know how hard it was for you to withstand their leers, their taunts, their threats. I knew you cringed with every sound you strained to hear from back in the cells. You prayed you wouldn’t hear me scream. 1 didn’t.

I remember when we got outside to the parking lot you stopped and put your hands lightly on my shoulders and avoided my eyes. Ycu gently rubbed the bloody places on my shirt and said, ‘ ‘I’ll never get these stains out.”

Damn anyone who thinks that means you were relegated in life to worrying about my ring-around-the-collar.

I knew exactly what you meant. It was such an oddly sweet way of saying, or not saying, what you were feeling. Sort cfthe way I shut down emotionally when I fed scared and hurt and helpless and say fanny little things that seem so out cf context.

Ycu drove us home with my head in your lap all the way, stroking my face. Ycu ran the bath. Set out my fresh underwear. Put me to bed. Caressed me care fatly. Held me gently.

Later that night I woke up and found myself alone in bed. You were drinking at the kitchen table, head in your hands. You were crying. I took you firmly in my arms and held you, and you struggled and hit my chest with your fists because the enemy wasn’t there to fight. Moments later you recalled the bruises on my chest and cried even harder, sobbing, “It's my fault, 1 couldn’t stop them."

I’ve always wanted to tell you this. In that one moment I knew you really did understand how I felt in life. Choking on anger, feeling so powerless, unable to protect myself or those I loved most, yet fighting back again and again, unwilling to give up. I didn't have the words to tell you this then. I just said, “It’ll be OK, it’ll be alright. ’’And then we smiled ironically at what I’d said, and I took you back to our bed and made the best love to you I could, considering the shape I was in. You knew not to try

STONE BUTCH BLUES U

to touch me that night. You just ran your fingers through nty hair and cried and cried.

When did

we

get separated in life, sweet warrior woman? We thought wdd won the war of liberation when we embraced the word

gay.

Then suddenly there were professors and doctors and lawyers coming out of the woodwork telling us that meetings should be run with

Robert’s Rules of Order.

(Who died and left Robert god?)

They drove us out, made us feel ashamed of how we looked. They said we were male chauvinist pigs, the enemy. It was women’s hearts they broke. We were not hard to send away, we went quietly.

The plants closed. Something we never could have imagined.

That’s when I began passing as a man. Strange to be exiled from your own sex to borders that will never be home.

Ycu were banished too, to another land with your own sex, and yet forcibly apart from the women you loved as much as you tried to love yourself.

For more than twenty years I have lived on this lonely shore, wondering what became of you. Did you wash off your Saturday night makeup in shame? Did you bum in anger when women said, “If I wanted a man Td be with a real one?”

Are you turning tricks today? Are you waiting tables or learning Word Perfect 5.1?

Are you in a lesbian bar looking out of the comer of your eye for the butchest woman in the room? Do the women there talk about Democratic politics and seminars and co-ops? Are you with women who only bleed monthly on their cycles?

Or are you married in another blue-collar town, lying with an unemployed auto worker who is much more like me than they are, listening fa the even breathing of your sleeping children? Do you bind his emotional wounds the way you tried to heal mine?

Do you ever think of me in the cool night?

I’ve been writing this letter to you fa hours. My ribs hurt bad from a recent beating. You know.

I never could have survived this long if I’d never known your love. Yet still I ache with missing you and need you so.

Only you could melt this stone. Are you ever coming back?

The storm has passed now. There is a pink glow of light on the horizon outside my window. Iam remembering the nights I fucked you deep and slow until the sky was just this color.

Ican't think about you anymore, the pain is swallowing me up. I have to put your memory away, like a precious sepia photograph. There are

12

still so many things I want to tell you, to share with you.

Since I can’t mail you this letter, I’ll send it to a place where they keep women’s memories safe Maybe someday, passing through this big city, you will stop and read it. Maybe you won’t.

Good night, my love.

CHAPTER

2

( want to be different. I longed to be everything grownups wanted, so they

would love me. I followed all their rules, tried my best to please. But there was

something about me that made them knit their eyebrows and frown. No one lidnter offered a name for what was wrong with me. That’s what made me afraid

it was really bad. I only came to recognize its melody through this constant refrain: “Is that a boy or a girl?“

I was one more bad card life had dealt my parents. They were already bitterly disappointed people. My father had grown up determined he wasn’t going to be stuck in a factory like his old man; my mother had no intention of being trapped in a marriage.

When they met, they dreamed they were going on an exciting adventure together. When they awoke, my father was working in a factory and my mother had become a housewife. When my mother discovered she was pregnant with me, she told my dad she di In’t want to be tied down with a kid. My father insisted she’d be happy once she had the baby. Nature would see to that.

My mother had me to prove him wrong.

My parents were enraged that life had cheated them. They were furious that marriage blocked their last opportunity to escape. Then I came along and I was different.

13

14

Now they were furious with me. I could hear it in the way they retold the story of my birth.

Rain and wind had lashed the desert while my mother was in labor. That’s why she gave birth to me at home. The storm was too violent to be forded. My father was at work, and we had no phone. My mother said she wept so loudly in fear when she realized I was on the way that the Dineh grandmother from across the hall knocked on the door to see what was wrong, and then, realizing my birth was imminent, brought three more women to help.

The Dineh women sang as I was bom. That’s what my mother told me. They washed me, fanned smoke across my tiny body, and offered me to my mother.

“Put the baby over there,” she told them, pointing to a bassinet near the sink.

Put the baby over there.

The words chilled the Indian women. My mother could see that. The story was retold many times as I was growing up, as though the frost that bearded those words could be melted by repeating them in a humorous, ironic way.

Days after I was bom the grandmother knocked on our door again, this time because my cries alarmed her. She found me in the bassinet, unwashed. My mother admitted she was afraid to touch me, except to pin on a diaper or stick a bottle in my mouth. The next day the grandmother sent over her daughter, who agreed to keep me during the day while her children were at school, if that was alright. It was and it wasn’t. My mother was relieved, I’m sure, although at the same time it was an indictment of her. But she let me go.

And so I grew in two worlds, immersed in the music of two languages. One world was Wheaties and Milton Berle. The other was fry bread and sage. One was cold, but it was mine; the other was warm, but it wasn’t.

My parents finally stopped letting me travel across the hall when I was four. They came to pick me up before dinner one night. A number of the women had cooked a big meal and brought all the children together for the feast. They asked my parents if I could stay. My father grew alarmed when he heard one of the women say something to me in a language he didn’t understand, and I answered her with words he’d never heard before. He said later he couldn’t stand by and watch his own flesh and blood be kidnapped by Indians.

I’ve only heard bits and pieces about that evening, so I don’t know everything that went on. I wish I did. But this part I’ve heard over and over again: one of the women told my parents I was going to walk a difficult path in life. The exact wording changed in the retelling. Sometimes my mother would pretend to be a fortuneteller, close her eyes, cover her forehead with her fingertips, and say, “I see a difficult life for this child.” Other times my father would bellow like the Wizard of Oz, “This child will walk a hard road!”

In any case, my parents yanked me out of there. Before they left, though, the grandmother gave my mother a ring and said it would help to protect me in life. The ring frightened my parents, but they figured all that turquoise and silver must be worth some-

STONE BUTCH BLUES 15

thing, so they took it.

That night there was another terrible desert storm, my parents told me, terrifying in its power. The thunder crashed and the lightning illuminated everything.

“Jess Goldberg?” the teacher asked.

“Present,“ I answered.

The teacher narrowed her eyes at me. “What kind of name is that? Is it short for Jessica?

1

I shook my head. “No, ma’am.”

“Jess,” she repeated. “That’s not a girl’s name.” I dropped my head. Kids around me covered their mouths with their hands to stifle their giggles.

Miss Sanders glared at them until they fell silent. “Is that a Jewish name?” she asked. I nodded, hoping that she was finished. She was not.

“Class, Jess is from the Jewish persuasion. Jess, tell the class where you’re from.

11

I squirmed in my seat. “The desert.

11

“What? Speak up, Jess.”

“I’m from the desert.

11

1 could see the kids mugging and rolling their eyes at each other.

“What desert? What state?

11

She pushed her glasses higher up on her nose.

I froze with fear. I didn’t know. “The desert,

11

1 shrugged.

Miss Sanders grew visibly impatient. “What made your family decide to come to Buffalo?’

How should I know? Did she think parents told six-year-old kids why they made huge decisions that would impact on their lives? ‘We drove,” I said. Miss Sanders shook her head. I hadn’t made a very good first impression.

Sirens screamed. It was the Wednesday morning air raid drill. We crouched down under our desks and covered our heads with our arms. were warned to treat The Bomb like strangers: don’t make eye contact. If you can’t see The Bomb, it can’t see you.

There was no bomb—this was only practice for the real thing. But I was saved by the siren.

I was sorry we’d moved from the warmth of the desert to this cold, cold city. Nothing could have prepared me for getting out of bed on a winter morning in an unheated apartment in Buffalo. Even warming our clothes in the oven before we put them on didn’t help much. After all, we still had to take our pajamas off first. Outside the cold was so fierce that the wind carved up my nose and sliced into my brain. Tears froze in my eyes.

My sister Rachel was still a toddler. I just remember a round snowsuit swaddled with scarves and mittens and hat. No kid, just clothes.

Even when I was bundled up in the dead of winter, with only a couple of inches of my face peeking out from my snowsuit hood and scarf, adults would stop me and

16

ask, “Are you a boy or a girl?” I’d drop my eyes in shame, never questioning their right to ask.

During the summer there wasn’t much to do in the projects, but there was plenty of time to do it.

The projects, former Army barracks, now housed the military-contracted aircraft workers and their families. All our fathers went to work in the same plant; all our mothers stayed home.

Old Man Martin was retired. He sat in a lawn chair on his porch listening to the McCarthy hearings on his radio. It was turned up so loud you could hear it all the way down the block. “Gotta watch outhe’d tell me as I passed his house, “communists could be anywhere. Anywhere.

4

* I’d nod solemnly and run off to play.

But Old Man Martin and I shared something in common. The radio was my best friend, too. “The Jack Benny Show“ and “Fibber McGee and Molly** made me laugh, even when I didn’t know what was so funny. “The Shadow** and “The Whistler

11

chilled me.

Perhaps outside these projects working families already had televisions, but not us. The streets of the project weren’t even paved—just gravel and giant Lincoln Logs to mark the parking. Very few new things came down our road. Ponies pulled the carts of the ice man and the knife sharpener. On Saturday they brought the ponies without the carts and sold rides for a penny. A penny also bought a chunk from the ice manchipped off with his ice pick. The ice was dense and slick and sparkled like a cold dia- ; mond that might never melt.

When a television set first appeared in the projects, it was in the living room of the McKensies. All the children in the neighborhood begged our parents to let us go watch “Captain Midnight

11

on the McKensies’ new television. But most of us were not > allowed in their home. Although it was 1955, the neighborhood still had some invisi

ble war zones from a fierce strike that had been settled in 1949, the year I was bom. ; “Mac

11

McKensie had been a scab. Just the word itself was enough to make me shy

away from their house. You could still see traces of that word on the front of their coal ' bin, even though it had been painted over in a slightly different shade of green.

;

Years later, fathers still argued about the strike over kitchen tables and backyard

j barbecue grills. I overheard descriptions of such bloody strike battles, I thought WWII

t had been fought at the plant. At night when we’d drive my father to his shift, I used

to crouch down on the back seat of the car and peek past the plant gates out over the now quiet fields of combat.

; There were also gangs in the project, and the kids whose parents had scabbed during

!'

the strike made up a small but feared pack. “Hey pansy! Are you a boy or a girl?” There

( was no way to avoid them in the small planet of the projects. Their sing-song taunts stayed

j.

with me long after I’d passed by.

V

The world judged me harshly and so I moved, or was pushed, toward solitude.

? The highway sliced between our projects and a huge field. It was against the rules

p"'"

STONE BUTCH BLUES 17

to cross that road. There wasn’t much traffic on it. You’d have to stand in the middle of a lane for a long time in order to get hit. But I wasn’t supposed to cross that road. I did though, and no one seemed to notice.

I parted the long brown grass that bordered the road. Once I passed through it I was in my own world.

On the way to the pond I stopped to visit the puppies and dogs in the outside kennels connected to the back of the ASPCA building. The dogs barked and stood on their hind legs as I approached the fence. “Shhh!“ I warned them. I knew no one was supposed to be back here.

A spaniel pushed his nose through the chain-link fence. I rubbed his head. I looked around for the terrier I loved. He had only come to the fence once to greet me, sniffing cautiously. Usually, no matter how I coaxed, he’d lay with his head on his paws, looking at me with mournful eyes. I wished I could take him home. I hoped he went to a kid who loved him.

“Are you a boy or a girl?” I asked the mongrel.

“Ruff, ruff!”

I didn’t see the ASPCA man until it was too late. “Hey, kid. What you doing there?” Caught. ’’Nothing,” I said. “I wasn’t doing anything bad. I was just talking to the dogs.“

He smiled a little. “Don’t put your fingers inside the fence, son. Some of ’em bite.”

I felt the tips of my ears grow hot. I nodded. “I was looking for that little one with the black ears. Did a nice family take him?“

The man frowned for a moment. ”Yes,” he said quietly. ”He’s real happy now.“

I hurried out to the pond to catch polywogs in a jar. I leaned on my elbow and looked up close at the little frogs that climbed up on the sun-baked rocks.

“Caw, caw!” A huge black crow circled above me in the air and landed on a rock nearby We looked at each other in silence.

“Crow, are you a boy or a girl?“

”Caw, caw!“

I laughed and rolled over on my back. The sky was crayon blue. I pretended I was lying on the white cotton clouds. The earth was damp against my back. The sun was hot, the breeze was cool. I felt happy. Nature held me close and seemed to find no fault with me.

On my way back from the fields I passed the Scabbie gang. They had found an unlocked truck parked on an incline. One of the older boys disengaged the emergency brake and made two of the younger boys from my side of the projects run under the truck as it rolled.

“Jessy, Jessy!” they taunted as they rushed toward me.

“Brian says you’re a girl, but I think you’re a sissy boy,” one of them said.

I didn’t speak.

18

“Well, what are you?“ he mocked me.

I flapped my arms, “Caw, caw!“ I laughed.

One of the boys knocked the jar filled with polywogs from my hand and it smashed

on the gravel. I kicked and bit them but they held me and tied my hands behind my

back with a piece of clothesline.

“Let’s see how you tinkle,“ one of the boys said as he knocked me down and two

of the others struggled to pull off my pants and my underpants. I was filled with hor-

ror. I couldn’t make them stop. The shame of being half -naked before them—the im-

portant half—took all the steam out of me.

They pushed and carried me to old Mrs. Jefferson’s house and locked me in the

coal bin. It was dark in the bin. The coal was sharp and cut like knives. It hurt too much

to lie still, but the more I moved the worse I made the wounds. I was af raid I’d never

get out.

It took hours before I heard Mrs. Jefferson in the kitchen. I don’t know what she

thought when she heard all the thumping and kicking in her coal bin. But when she

opened the little trap door on the coal bin and I squirmed out onto her kitchen floor,

she looked scared enough to fall down dead. There I stood, covered with coal soot and

blood, tied up and half-naked in her kitchen. She mumbled curses under her breath

as she untied me and sent me home wrapped in a towel. I had to walk a block and knock

on my parents’ door before I found refuge.

They were really angry when they saw me. I never understood why. My father

spanked me over and over again until my mother restrained his arm with a whisper and

her hand.

A week later I caught up with one of the boys from the Scabbie gang. He made

the mistake of wandering alone too near our house. I made a muscle and told him to

feel it. Then I punched him in the nose. He ran away crying; I felt great, for the first

time in days.

My mother called me into our house fa dinner. “Who was that boy you were play-

ing with?

11

1 shrugged.

“You were showing him your muscle?

11

I froze, wondering how much she had seen.

She smiled. “Sometimes it’s better to let boys think they’re stronger,

11

she told me.

I figured she was just plain crazy if she really believed that.

The phone rang. “I’ll get it,

11

my father called out. It was the parent of the kid whose

nose I bloodied; I could tell by the way my father glowered at me as he listened.

“I was so ashamed,

11

my mother told my father. He glared at me in the rearview mir-

ror. All I could see were his thick black eyebrows. My mother had been informed that

I could no longer attend temple unless I wore a dress, something I fought tooth and nail.

At the moment I was wearing a Roy Rogers outfit—without my guns. It was hard enough

being the only Jewish family in the projects without being in trouble at the temple. We

STONE BUTCH BLUES 19

had to drive a long time to go to the nearest synagogue. My father prayed downstairs. My mother and sister and I had to watch from the balcony, like at the movies.

It seemed Eke there weren’t many Jews in the world. There were some on the radio, but none in my school. Jews weren’t allowed on the playground. That’s what the older kids told me, and they enforced it.

We were nearing home. My mother shook her head. “Why can’t she be like Rachel?”

Rachel looked at me sheepishly. I shrugged. Rachel’s dream was a felt skirt with an applique poodle and rhinestone-studded plastic shoes.

My father pulled our car to a stop in front of our house. ‘You go straight to your room, young lady. And stay there." I was bad. I was going to be punished. My head ached with fear. I wished I could find a way to be good. Shame suffocated me.

It was almost sundown. I heard my parents call Rachel to join them in their bedroom to light the Shabbas candles. I knew the shades were drawn. A month before, we’d heard laughter and shouting outside the living room windows while my father was lighting the candles. We raced to the windows and peered out into the dusk. Two teenagers pulled down their pants and mooned us. “Kikes!” they shouted. My father didn’t chase them away; he closed the drapes. After that, we started praying in their bedroom with the shades pulled down.

Everyone in my family knew about shame.

Soon afterward my Roy Rogers outfit disappeared from the dirty clothes hamper. My father bought me an Annie Oakley outfit instead.

“No!" I shouted, “I don’t want to. I don’t want to wear it. I’ll feel stupid!"

My father yanked me by the arm. “Young lady, I spent $4.90 for this Annie Oakley outfit and you’re going to wear it.”

I tried to shake off his hand, but it was clamped painfully on my upper arm. Tears dripped down my cheeks. “I want a Davy Crockett hat.”

My father tightened his grip. “I said no.”

“But why?" I cried. “Everybody has one except me. Why not?”

His answer was inexplicable. “Because you’re a girl."

“I’m sick of people asking me if she’s a boy or a girl," I overheard my mother complain to my father. “Everywhere I take her, people ask me.”

I was ten years old. I was no longer a little kid and I didn’t have a sliver of cuteness to hide behind. The world’s patience with me was fraying, and it panicked me.

When I was really small I thought I’d do anything to change whatever was wrong with me. Now I didn’t want to change, I just wanted people to stop being mad at me all the time.

One day my parents took my sister and me shopping downtown. As we drove down Allen Street I noticed a grownup whose sex I couldn’t figure out.

“Mom, is that a he-she?” I asked out loud.

20

My parents exchanged amused glances and burst out laughing. My father stared at me in the rearview mirror. “Where did you hear that word?

4

*

I shrugged, not sure I’d ever really heard the word before it had escaped from my mouth.

“What’s a he-she?“ my sister demanded to know. I was interested in the answer too.

“It’s a weirdo,“ my father laughed. “Like a beatnik.**

Rachel and I nodded without understanding.

Suddenly a wave of foreboding swept over me. Ifelt nauseous and dizzy. But whatever it was that triggered the fear, it was too scary to think about. The feeling ebbed as quickly as it had swelled.

I gently pushed open the door to my parents’ bedroom and looked around. I knew they

were both at work, but entering their bedroom was forbidden. So I peeked around the

room first, just to make sure.

I went directly to my father’s closet door. His blue suit was there. That meant he

must be wearing the grey one today. A blue suit and a grey suit—that’s all any man

needed, my father always said. His ties hung neatly on a rack.

It took even more nerve to open my father’s dresser drawer. His white shirts were

folded and starched stiff as a board. Each one was wrapped around with tissue paper

and banded like a gift. The moment I tore off the paper band, I knew I was in trouble.

I had no hiding places for garbage that my mother wouldn’t find right away. And I realized

my father probably knew the precise number of shirts he owned. Even though all of

them were white, he probably could tell exactly which one was missing.

But it was too late. Too late. I stripped down to my cotton panties and T-shirt and

slid on his shirt. It was so starched my eleven-year-old fingers could hardly get the collar

buttoned. I pulled down a tie from the rack. For years I had watched my father deftly

twist and flop his ties in a complicated series of moves, but I couldn’t figure out the

puzzle. I tied it in a clumsy knot. I climbed up on a footstool to lift the suit from the

hangar. Its weight surprised me. It fell in a heap. I put on the suit coat and looked in

the mirror. A sound came from my throat, sort of a gasp. I liked the little girl looking

back at me.

Something was still missing: the ring. I opened my mother’s jewelry box. The ring

was huge. The silver and turquoise formed a dancing figure. I couldn’t tell if the fig-

ure was a woman or a man. The ring no longer fit across three of my fingers; now it

fit snugly on two.

I stared in the big mirror over my mother’s dresser, trying to see far in the future

when the clothing would fit, to catch a glimpse of the woman I would become.

I didn’t look like any of the girls or women I’d seen in the Sears catalog. The cata-

log arrived as the seasons changed, fd be the first in the house to go through it, page

by page. All the girls and women looked pretty much the same, so did all the boys and

men. I couldn’t find myself among the girls. I had never seen any adult woman who

STONE BUTCH BLUES 21

looked like I thought I would when I grew up. There were no women on television like the small woman reflected in this mirror, none on the streets. I knew. I was always searching.

For a moment in that mirror I saw the woman I was growing up to be staring back at me. She looked scared and sad. I wondered if I was brave enough to grow up and be her.

I never heard the bedroom door open. By the time I saw my parents it was already too late. Each of them thought they were supposed to pick up my sister at the orthodontist. So they all got home unexpectedly early.

My parents’ expressions froze. I was so frightened my face felt numb.

Storm clouds were gathering on my horizon.

My parents didn’t talk about finding me in their bedroom in my father’s clothes. I prayed I was off the hook.

But one day shortly afterward, my mother and father unexpectedly took me for a ride. They said they were bringing me to the hospital for a blood test. We rode up in an elevator to the floor where the test was supposed to be done. Two huge men in white uniforms took me off the elevator. My parents stayed on. Then the men turned and locked the gate, barring the elevator. I reached for my parents, but they wouldn’t even look at me as the elevator door closed.

Terror sat on my chest like an elephant. I could hardly breathe.

A nurse explained the rules of my stay: I must get up in the morning and stay out on the ward all day. I must wear a dress, sit with my knees crossed, be polite, and smile when I was spoken to. I nodded as though I understood. I was still in shock.

I was the only kid on the ward. They put me in a room with two women. One was a very old woman who they kept tied to the bed. She keened and called out names of people who weren’t there. The other woman was younger. “I’m Paula,” she said, extending her hand. “Nice to meetcha.“ Her wrists were bandaged. She explained to me that her parents forbid her to ever see her boyfriend again because he was Negro. She slit her wrists in grief, and so they put her in this place.

We played ping-pong together fa

-

the rest of the day. Paula taught me the words to “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” She laughed and applauded as I dropped my voice low like Elvis’. “Make trivets and moccasins,” Paula advised me. “Make lots of ’em. The more the better. They like that.” I didn’t know what a trivet was.

That night I had trouble sleeping. I heard men whispering and laughing as they came into my room. I wrapped the sheets tightly around my body and lay very still in silence. I heard the sound of a zipper opening. The smell of urine filled my nostrils. More laughter, and then the sounds of footsteps getting further and further away. My sheets were soaked. I was afraid I might be blamed and punished. Who had done this to me, and why? I’d ask Paula in the morning.

Nurses and orderlies came into our room when the light was still gray behind the

22

barred windows. “Rise and shine,” they shouted.

The old woman began calling out names.

Paula fought the orderlies, bit their hands. They cursed her, strapped her down, and wheeled her out of the room.

One nurse approached my bed. I could still smell the faint scent of urine on the sheets even after they’d dried. Would she take me away if she smelled it too? She studied her clipboard. “Goldberg, Jess." It frightened me to hear her say my name. “I don’t have a signature on this one," she told the orderlies. They all left the room.

“Goldberg, Jess,” the old woman shouted over and over again.

After lunch I snuck back into my room to get my yo-yo. Paula was sitting on her bed, staring at her slippers. She looked at me and cocked her head. She extended her hand to me. “I’m Paula,” she said. “Nice to meetcha.”

A nurse came into the room. “You,” she said, pointing at me. I followed her back to the nurse’s station. She held out two paper cups. Beautiful colored pills rolled around in one, the other was filled with water. I stared at both cups.

‘Take them,” the nurse ordered. “Don’t give me a hard time." I already sensed that giving the staff a hard time might mean never getting out of there, so I took the pills. Soon after I swallowed them the floor began to tilt as I walked. They made me feel like I was moving through glue.

Every day I turned out more trivets and moccasins. I began to care about a woman who talked to ghosts I couldn’t see.

And I discovered Norton’s anthology of poetry in the patients’ library—it changed my life. I read the poems over and over again before I began to grasp their meanings. It wasn’t just that the words were musical notes my eyes could sing. It was the discovery that women and men, long dead, had left me messages about their feelings, emotions I could compare to my own. I had finally found others who were as lonely as I was. In an odd way, that knowledge comforted me.

Three weeks after I’d been brought to this ward, a nurse took me to an office. A man with a beard sat behind a big desk smoking his pipe. He told me he was my doctor. He said I seemed to be making progress, that being young was difficult, that I was going through an awkward stage..

“Do you know why you’re here?

1

he asked me.

I had learned a lot in three weeks. I realized that the world could do more than just judge me, it wielded tremendous power over me. I didn’t care anymore if my parents didn’t love me. I had accepted that fact in the three weeks I’d survived alone in this hospital. But now I didn’t care. I hated them. And I didn’t trust them. I didn’t trust anyone. My mind was focused on escape. I wanted to get out of this place and run away from home.

I told the doctor I was afraid of the grownup male patients onthe ward. I said I was sure my parents were disappointed in me, but I wanted to make them happy and proud of me. I told him I didn’t know what I was doing wrong, but if I could just go

STONE BUTCH BLUES 23

home, Fd do whatever he thought I should. I didn’t mean it, but I said it. He nodded, but he seemed more interested in keeping his pipe lit than in me.

Two days later, my parents appeared on the ward and took me home. We didn’t speak about what had happened. I concentrated on running away, waiting for the right moment. I had to agree to see the shrink once a week. I hoped I wouldn’t have to see him for long, but the appointments continued for several years.

I remember the exact day the shrink dropped the bombshell: he and my parents had agreed charm school would help me a lot. The date is etched in my mind. November 23,1963.1 walked out of his office in a daze. The humiliation of charm school seemed more than I could bear. I might have killed myself if I could have figured out a painless route.

Everyone else seemed to be walking around equally as stunned. When I got home my parents had the television turned up loud and an announcer reported that the president had been shot in Dallas. It was the first time I’d ever seen my father cry. The whole world was out of control. I closed my bedroom door and fell asleep in order to escape.

I didn’t think I could survive the spotlight of charm school illuminating my shameful differences. But somehow I got through it. My face burned with humiliation and anger each time I had to pivot on the runway in front of the whole class, over and over again.

Charm school finally taught me once and for all that I wasn’t pretty, wasn’t feminine, and would never be graceful. The motto of the school was

Every girl who enters leaves a lady.

I was the exception.

Just when it seemed like it couldn’t get worse I noticed my breasts were growing. Menstruation didn’t bother me. Unless I bled all over myself it was a private thing between me and my body. But breasts! Boys hung out of car windows and yelled vulgar things at me. Mr. Singer at the pharmacy stared at my breasts as he rang up my candy purchases. I quit the volleyball and track teams because I hated how my breasts hurt when I jumped or ran. I liked how my body was before puberty. Somehow I thought it would never change, not like this!

Whatever the world thought was wrong with me, I finally began to agree they were right. Guilt burned like vomit in my throat. The only time it receded is when I went back to The Land Where They Don’t Mind. That’s how I remembered the desert.

A Dineh woman came to me one night in a dream. She used to come to me almost every night, but not since I had been in the psychiatric ward several years earlier. She held me on her lap and told me to find my ancestors and be proud of who I was. She told me to remember the ring.

When I woke up it was still dark outside. I curled up on the foot of my bed and listened to the rain storm outside my window. Lightning bolts lit up the night sky. I waited until my parents got dressed before I snuck in their bedroom and took the ring. During the day at school I hid in a bathroom stall and looked at it, wondering about its power.

24

When would it protect me? I figured it was Eke the Captain Midnight Decoder Ring—you had to figure out how it worked.

That night at dinner my mother laughed at me. ‘You were talking Martian in your sleep again last night when we went to bed.“

I slammed my fork down. “It’s not Martian.

41

“Young lady,” my father shouted, “you can go to your room.

44

As I walked through the high school corridor a group of girls squealed as I passed, “Is

it animal, mineral, or vegetable?

44

1 didn’t fit any of their categories.

I had a new secret, something so terrible I knew I could never tell anyone. I dis-

covered it about myself during the Saturday matinee at the Colvin Theater. One after-

noon I stayed in the bathroom at the theater for a long time. I wasn’t ready to go home

yet. When I came out the adult movie was showing. I snuck in and watched. I melted

as Sophia Loren moved her body against her leading man. Her hand cupped the back

of his neck as they kissed, her long red nails trailed against his skin. I shivered with

pleasure.

Every Saturday after that I hid in the bathroom so I could sneak out and watch the

adult movies. A new hunger gnawed at me. It frightened me, but I knew better than

to confide in a single soul.

I was drowning in my own loneliness.

One day my high school English teacher, Mrs. Noble, gave us a homework assign-

ment: bring in eight lines of our faverite poem and read them in front of the class. Some

of the kids moaned and groaned that they didn’t have a favorite poem and it sounded

“bor-ring “ But I panicked. If I read a poem I loved, it would leave me vulnerable and

exposed. And yet, to read eight lines I didn’t care about felt like self-betrayal.

When it was my turn to read the next day, I brought my math book with me up

to the front of the room. At the beginning of the semester rd made a cover for the text-

book out of a brown grocery bag and copied a poem by Poe across the inside flap.

I cleared my throat and looked at Mrs. Noble. She smiled and nodded at me. I read

the first eight lines:

From childhood’s hour I have not been

As others were—I have not seen

Xs

others saw—I could not bring

My passions from a common spring.

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow; I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone;

And all I lov’d, I lov’d alone.

I tried to read the words in a flat sing-song tone without feeling, so none of the

STONE BUTCH BLUES 25

kids would understand what his poem meant to me, but their eyes were already glazed with boredom. I dropped my gaze and walked back to my seat. Mrs. Noble squeezed my arm as I passed, and when I looked up I saw she had tears in her eyes. The way she looked at me made me want to cry, too. It was as though she could really see me, and there was no criticism of me in her eyes.

The whole world was in motion, but you’d never have known it from my life. The only way I heard about the Civil Rights movement was from the copies of

UFE

magazine that came to our house. Every week I was the first one in the family to read the newest issue.

The image burned into my mind was one of two water fountains labeled

Colored

and

White.

Other photos let me see brave people—dark-skinned and light—try to change that. I read their picket signs. I saw them bloodied at lunch counters, facing down steely- faced troops in Birmingham. I saw their clothes ripped from their bodies by fire hoses and police dogs. I wondered if I could ever be that brave.

I saw a picture from Washington, D.C of more people than I ever could have imagined coming together in one place. Martin Luther King told them about his dream. I wished I could be part of it.

I studied my parents’ faces as they calmly read the same magazines. They never said a word about it. The world was turning upside down and they quietly leafed through the pages as though they were skimming a Sears catalog.

“I wish I could go down South on a Freedom Ride,” I said out loud one night at dinner. I watched my parents exchange a complex series of looks across the table. They continued to eat in silence.

My father put down his fork. “That has nothing to do with us,“ he firmly closed the subject.

My mother looked back and forth from his face to mine. I could tell she wanted to avoid the impending explosion at any cost. She smiled. “You know what I can’t figure out?”

We all turned to look at her. “You know that song by Peter, Paul, and Mary?

The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind?”

I nodded, eager to hear her question.

“I don’t understand what good blowing in the wind would do.“ Both my parents collapsed in guffaws.

When I was fifteen years old I got an after-school job. That changed everything. I had to convince the shrink it would be good for me before my parents would give me permission. I convinced him.

I worked setting type by hand in a print shop. I had told Barbara, one of my only friends in homeroom class, that if I didn’t get a job I’d just die, and her older sister got this one for me by lying and swearing I was sixteen.

Nobody at work cared if I wore jeans and T-shirts. They paid me a stack of cash

26

at the end of each week, and my coworkers were nice to me. It wasn’t that they didn’t notice I was different, they just didn’t seem to care as much as the high school kids did. After school I hurriedly changed out cf my skirt and raced to work My coworkers asked me how my day was and they told me about how it was when they were in high school. A kid could forget sometimes that adults were ever teenagers unless they remind you.

One day a printer from another floor asked Eddie, my foreman, “Who’s the butch?

4

Eddie just laughed, and they walked off talking. The two women who worked on either side of me glanced over to see if I was hurt. I was more confused than anything.

That night, on dinner break, my friend Gloria ate her meal next to me. Out of the blue she told me about her brother—how he’s a pansy and wears women’s dresses but she loves him anyway and how she hates to see the way people treat him cause after all it’s not his fault he’s that way. She told me she even went with him once to a bar where he hung out with his friends and all these mannish women were coming on to her. She shuddered when she said that.

I wondered why she was telling me this. “What place was that?” I asked her.

“What?“ She looked sorry she had opened up the subject.

“Where’s the place where those people are?’

Gloria sighed.

“Please,

44

1 asked her. My voice was trembling.

She looked around before she spoke. “It’s in Niagara Falls,

44

she dropped her voice “Why do you want to know?

44

I shrugged. “What’s the name of it?

4

1 tried to sound real casual.

Gloria sighed deeply. “Tifka’s.

44

That’s all she said.

c

CHAPTER

3

was almost a year before I got up the nerve to call telephone information for the

address of Tifka’s. Finally I stood on the street in front of the bar, scared to death. M I wondered what made me think this was the place I could fit. And what if I

didn’t?

I wore my blue-and-red striped shirt, a navy bluejacket to hide my breasts, black pressed chinos, and black Keds high-tops, because I had no dress shoes.

When I stepped inside, it was just a bar. Through the haze of smoke I saw faces glance over and look me up and down. There was no turning back, and I didn’t want to. For the first time I might have found my people. I just didn’t know how to penetrate this society.

I bellied up to the bar and ordered a Genny.

“How old are you?” the bartender asked.

“Old enough,“ I countered and put my money down. A round of smirks rolled around the bar. I sipped the beer and tried to act cool. An older drag queen studied me carefully. I picked up my beer and walked toward the smoke-filled backroom.

What I saw there released tears Td held back for years: strong, burly women, wearing ties and suit coats. Their hair was slicked back in perfect DA’s. They were the hand-

27

28

somest women I’d ever seen. Some of them were wrapped in slow motion dances with women in tight dresses and high heels who touched them tenderly. Just watching made me ache with need.

This was everything I could have hoped for in life.

‘You ever been in a bar like this before?” the drag queen asked me.

“Lots of times,” I answered quickly. She smiled.

Then I wanted to ask her something so badly I forgot to keep up my lie. “Can I really buy a woman a drink or ask her to dance?”

’’Sure, honey," she said, ’’but only the femmes.” She laughed and told me her name was Mona.

I focused on a woman sitting at a table alone. God, she was beautiful. I wanted to dance with her. The Four Tops were singing,

Baby, I need your loving.

I wasn’t sure I knew how to slow dance, but I made a beeline for her before I lost my nerve.

“Would you dance with me?” I asked.

Mona and the bouncer picked me up and practically carried me into the front bar and set me on a stool. Mona put her hand on my shoulder and looked me dead in the eyes. “Kid, there’s a few things I should tell you. It’s my fault. I told you it was OK to ask a woman to dance. But the first thing you should know is—don’t ask Butch Al’s woman!"

I was making a mental note of this when Butch Al’s shadow fell across me. The bouncer stood between us and the drag queens shooed her into the backroom. It happened in a flash, but a glimpse of this woman had floored me. Butch Al was a glance at power, a memory I was afraid to hang onto and afraid to let go of.

I sat trembling at the bar long after the momentary excitement had died down for everyone else. I felt exiled to the front of the bar, more lonely than before I came in, because now I knew what I wasn’t a part of.

A red light flashed over the bar. Mona grabbed my hand and dragged me through the backroom into the women’s bathroom. She flipped the toilet seat down and told me to climb up on it. She closed the stall door part way and said to stay there and be quiet. The cops were here. So there I crouched. For a long time. It wasn’t until I frightened a femme half to death when she opened the stall door that I discovered the police had W \on% ago vAVrv then payoff from fix owner. No one remembered that the kid was hidden in the bathroom.

As I emerged from the john, everyone in the backroom had a good laugh at my; expense. I retreated to the front bar again and nursed a beer.

Later I felt a hand on my arm. Here was that beautiful woman I had asked to dance This was Butch Al’s femme

“C’mon honey, come sit with us,” she offered.

“No, I’m OK out here,” I said as bravely as I could. But she put her arm around me gently and guided me off the bar stool.

“C’mon, join us. It’s OK. Al won’t hurt you,” she reassured me. “Her bark is worse

STONE BUTCH BLUES 29

than her bite.” I doubted that. Especially when Butch Al stood up as I approached their table.

She was a big woman. I don’t know how tall she really was. I was only a kid. But she towered over me in height and stature.

I immediately loved the strength in her face. The way her jaw set. The anger in her eyes. The way she carried her body. Her body both emerged from her sports coat and was hidden. Curves and creases. Broad back, wide neck. Large breasts bound tight. Folds of white shirt and tie and jacket. Hips concealed.

She looked me up and down. I widened my stance. She took that in. Her mouth refused to smile, but it seemed her eyes did. She extended a beefy hand. I took it. The solidness of her handshake caught me by surprise. She strengthened her grip, I responded in kind. I was relieved I wasn’t wearing a ring. Her clasp tightened, so did mine. Finally she smiled.

“There’s hope for you,” she said. I flushed at how I gratefully I embraced her words.

I guess you could explain away that handshake by calling it bravado. But it meant more than that to me then, and it still does. It’s not just a way of measuring strength. A handshake like that is a challenge. It seeks out power through incremental encouragement. At the point of maximum strength, once equity is established, then you have really met.

I had really met Butch Al. I was so excited. And scared. I needn’t have been: no one was ever kinder to me. She was gruff with me alright. But she peppered it with scruffing my hair, hugging my shoulders, and giving my face something more than a pat and less than a slap. It felt good. I liked the affection in her voice when she called me

kid,

which she did frequently. She took me under her wing and taught me all the things she thought were most important for a baby butch like me to know before embarking on such a dangerous and painful journey. In her own way, she was very patient about it.

hi those days the bars in the Tenderloin district were gay by percentage. Tifka’s was about 25 perceit gay. That jmeaint we had a quarter of the ta bfesand dance floor. The other three-quarters were always pushing against ou

r

space. She taught me how we held our territory.

, . I learned to fear the cops as a mortal enemy and to hate the pimps who controlled

the lives of so many of the women we loved. And I learned to laugh. That summer, Friday and Saturday nights were full of laughter and mostly gentle teasing.

1

[he drag queens would sit on my lap and we’d pose fa

-

Polaroid pictures. We didn’t find out till much later that the guy who took them for us was an undercover cop. I could look at the old bulldaggers and see my own future. And I learned what I wanted from another woman by watching Butch Al and her lover Jacqueline.

® They let me hang with the two of them all summer long. I had told my parents I was working double shifts on Friday and Saturday nights, “to save up for college,” and was staying overnight with a friend from school who lived near my job. They chose

30

to believe my alibi. All week long I counted the hours till Friday night when I could punch out of work early and head for Niagara Falls.

After the bar closed we’d walk down the street, pretty tipsy, one of us on each of Jacqueline’s arms. She’d throw her head up to the heavens and say, “Thank you God for these two good-looking butches.” Al and I would lean forward and wink at each other and we’d all laugh for the sheer joy of being who we were, and being it together.

They let me sleep over weekends on their soft old couch. Jacqueline cooked eggs at 4:00

a.m.

while Al taught me. It was always the same lesson: toughen up. Al never said exactly what was coming. It was never spelled out. But I got the feeling it was awful. I knew she was worried about my surviving it. I wondered ifl was ready. Al’s message was:

You ’re not!

That was not encouraging. But I knew it was the urgency Al felt to prepare me for such a difficult life that gave her lessons a sharp edge. She never meant to cut me. She nurtured my butch strength the best way she knew how. And, she reminded me frequently, no one had ever done that when she was a baby butch, and she had survived. That was strangely reassuring. I had Butch Al for a mentor.

Al and Jackie groomed me. Literally. Jacqueline gave me haircuts in their kitchen. They took me to get my first sports coat and tie at the secondhand stores. Al combed the racks, pulling out sports coats, one after another. I tried on each one. Jackie would tilt her head, then shake it. Finally, Jackie smoothed my lapels and nodded in approval Al gave a low whistle of appreciation. I had died and gone to butch heaven!

Then came the tie. Al picked it out for me. A narrow black silk tie. ‘You can’t go wrong with a black tie,“ she informed me solemnly. And, of course, she was right.

It was fun alright. But the issue of sex was pressing on me from within and without, and Al knew it. One night at the kitchen table Al pulled out a cardboard box and handed it over to me to open. Inside was a rubber dildo. I was shocked.

‘You know what that is?“ she asked me.

“Sure,” I said.

‘You know what to do with it?“

“Sure,” I lied.

Jacqueline rattled the dishes. “Al, for Christsakes. Give the kid a break, will you?”

”A butch has gotta know these things,” Al insisted.

Jackie threw down her dishtowel and left the kitchen in exasperation.

This was to be our butch ’’father to son” talk. Al talked, I listened. ”Do you understand?” she pressed.

’’Sure,” I said, ’’sure.”

Al was satisfied she had imparted enough information by the time Jackie returned to the kitchen.

“One more thing, kid,“ Al added, ’’don’t be like those bulldaggers who put this on and strut their stuff. Use a little decorum, you know what I mean?“

“Sure,” I said. I didn’t.

STONE BUTCH BLUES 31

Al left the room to take a shower before bed. Jacqueline dried the dishes long enough hat the blush drained from my face and my temples stopped pounding. She sat down Dn a kitchen chair next to me. “Did you understand what Al was telling you, honey?”

“Sure,” I said, and vowed to never say that again.

“Is there anything you don’t understand?

11

’’Well,” I started slowly, “it sounds like it takes a little practice, but I get the general idea. I mean that noon and midnight stuff sounds, well, like you got to practice it to get it right.”

Jacqueline looked confused. Then she laughed till tears streamed down her cheeks. “Honey,” she’d start, but she was laughing too hard to continue. ’’Honey. You can’t learn to fuck from reading

Popular Mechanics.

That isn’t what makes a butch a good lover.”

This was exactly what I needed to know! “Well, what does make a butch a good lover?

11

1 asked, trying to sound like the answer didn’t mean all that much to me.

Her face softened. ’’That’s kinda hard to explain. I guess being a good lover means respecting a femme It means listening to her body. And even if the sex gets a little rough, or whatever, that it’s what she wants too, and inside you’re still coming from a gentle place. Does that make sense?”

It did not. It was less information than I wanted. It turned out, however, to be the information I needed. It just took thinking about it for the rest of my life.

Jacqueline took the rubber cock from my hands. Had I been holding it all this time? S fenced itcaetulyon rrythigh. ] MybodytemperaiUEro se Shebe gan totomch it :gatl y, likeitwaissanethiig really beaitiful.

fo u knowyo upculd mkea wo manfed real good v «th t hs thing. f 4 ayb id>e tter thans h ever ltfrln hr lfe.”Sh e stcgsed stroking the dtb. “0 r you could real ly h urt her, and remind her of all the ways she’s ever been hurt in her life. You got to think about

that

every

time you strap this on. Then you’ll be a good lover.”

I waited, hoping there was more. There was not. Jackie got up and

puttered around

the kitchen. I went to bed. I tried to memorize every word that had been

said to me

before I fell asleep.

When Monique began to flirt with me, everyone at the bar was watching. Monique scared me to death. Jacqueline once said that Monique used sex like a weapon. Did Monique really want me? The butches said it was true, so it must be. Somehow everyone knew at once that I would lose my butch virginity with Monique.

'

On Friday night the butches punched my shoulders, clapped me on the back, adjusted my tie, and sent me over to her table. As Monique and I left together I noticed none

d

die other femmes were encouraging me. Why wouldn’t Jacqueline look at me? She just tapped her long painted nails on that whiskey glass and stared at it like it was the only thing in the room. Did she sense the impending tragedy before I did?

The next evening I came to the bar late, hoping that Monique and her crowd would not be there waiting. They were. I slunk over to our table and sat down. No one knew

. ■

■ ■

4® •'

32

exactly what had or had not happened the night before. But everyone knew something was very wrong.

I sat drowning in my own shame, remembering our date. I was scared by the time I had gotten to Monique’s house. It occurred to me that I didn’t really know what sex was. When and how did it begin? What was I supposed to do? And Monique frightened the hell out of me. All of a sudden I’d changed my mind. I didn’t want to go through with it. I chattered nervously. Monique smirked. As I moved from couch to chair, she followed. “Whatsa matter?’ she mocked me. ’’Don’t you like me, honey? Whatsa matter, huh?” I made small talk until Monique finally stood up in exasperation. ’’Get the hell out of here!

1

* She sounded disgusted with me. I mumbled relieved excuses and ran from her house.

But back at the bar, I couldn’t escape the consequences. I sat at a table across from Monique and rubbed my forehead with my hands, as though I could wipe away the memory. I wondered how long this evening could possibly last. A long time. A very long time.

Monique whispered something to a butch sitting near her. The butch crossed the room and approached our table. ”Hey,” she called to me. I didn’t look up. ”Hey, femme, you wanna dance with a real butch?”

I twisted in my seat. Al whispered something to this butch I couldn’t hear.

“Oh, I’m sorry Al, I didn’t know she was your femme.”

Al stood up and hit the butch before any of us knew what had happened. Then Al looked at me expectantly. ’’Well?’ she said. She was holding up the butch who was doubled over. Al wanted me to hit the woman, to defend my honor. I couldn’t think of anyone in the room I would want to hit, except maybe myself. I had no honor to defend.

The butches nearest Monique stood, ready to cross the room. Al and the other butches in our crowd lined up in front of the table to defend me. Jacqueline put her hand on my thigh to reassure me that I didn’t have to fight. She needn’t have. Mona came up behind me and put her hands on my shoulders. The femmes were closing ranks with me, too. I sat with my face in my hands, shaking my head, wanting it all to stop. But it wouldn’t.

Monique’s crowd finally backed down. But none of us could leave the bar until they did, otherwise we’d get jumped. It was going to be a

long

night.

Al was furious with me. “You gonna let that bulldagger talk to you that way?’ She thumped the table for emphasis.

“Shut up, Al,” Jacqueline snapped. It surprised me enough that I raised my face to look at her. She was glowering at Al. ’’Just leave the kid alone, will ya please?'

Al stopped yelling at me, but she turned her back to me to watch the couples dancing. Her body language said she was still pretty disgusted with me. Jacqueline just kept tapping her nails on her whiskey glass like the evening before. It took me a long time to learn femme Morse code.

After a while the bar crowd started thinning out Yvette came in. Jacqueline watched her with obvious concern.

STONE BUTCH HUES 33

“What’s the matter?” I asked, roused from my self-pity.

Jackie studied my face. ”You tell me,” she said.

I looked at Yvette. Like Jacqueline, she had worked the streets since she had been i teenager. Al made Jackie stop turning tricks. Al could support them both on the money he earned at her union job in the auto plant.

Yvette didn’t have a butch who worked in the factories. Yvette didn’t have anyone >ut the other working girls.

“She looks like she had a hard night,“ I offered.

Jacqueline nodded. “Those are mean streets. We get real hurt out there."

I marveled at the intimacy suggested in this information. Then she seemed to change he subject. “What do you think she wants right now?” Jacqueline asked me.

‘To be left alone,” I said, thinking of my own need.

She smiled. “Yeah, she wants to be left alone. She doesn’t want one more person n this goddamn world to ask anything from her tonight. But she sure could use some jomfort, you know what I mean?

1

Maybe I did. “She might really like it if a butch like /ou went over and just asked her to dance, you know? Not hit on her.“

I thought maybe I could do that. Anything to take the sting out of my own shame.

Jacqueline pulled my sleeve. ”Do it gently, understand?”

I nodded and walked slowly across the room to Yvette. She held her head in her iiands. I cleared my throat. She looked at me wearily and sipped from her drink. “What do you want?” she asked me.

’‘Ah, I thought, would you dance with me?”

She shook her head. “Maybe later, baby. OK?“

Maybe it was the way I just stood there. There was no going back across the room in front of Monique’s group or mine without having danced. I hadn’t thought of that. Had Jackie? Or maybe Jacqueline’s eyes connected with Yvette’s from across the room. But finally Yvette said, “Yeah, why not,“ and stood up to dance with me.

I waited for her in the middle of the dance floor. Roy Orbison’s voice was smooth and dreamy. I stood still, with her hand in mine until she relaxed and moved toward me. After we’d danced for a few moments, Yvette told me, “It’s OK to breathe, you know.” We laughed real hard, together.

Then I felt her body move closer and we kind of melted together. I discovered all the sweet surprises a femme can give a butch: her hand on the back of my neck, open on my shoulder, or balled up like a fist. The feel of her belly and thighs against mine. Her lips almost touching my ear.

The music stopped and she started to pull away. I held her hand gently. “Please?"

I

asked.

“Honey,” she laughed, “you just said the magic word.”

We danced a few slow songs in a row. Our bodies swung effortlessly in the circle of dance. The slightest shift in the pressure of my hand on her back changed the motion of her body. I never ground my thigh into her pelvis. I knew she had been wounded

34

there. Even as a young butch that was the place I protected myself. I felt her pain, she

;

knew mine. I felt her desire, she aroused mine.

Finally the music stopped and I let her go. I kissed her on the cheek and thanked

;

her. I crossed the dance floor to my table. I was forever changed.

j

Jacqueline patted my thigh and flashed me a sweet smile. The other femmes—

?

male and female—looked at me differently. As the world beat the stuffing out of us,

■ they tried in every way to protect and nurture our tenderness. My capacity for tender-

;

ness was what they’d seen.

[

The other butches had to recognize me as sexual now, a competitor. Even Al looked

•

at me differently.

i

As painful as this whole ritual had been, it was nothing less than a rite of passage.

\

I didn’t fed cocky. It taught me that humility was exactly the correct emotion when seek-

;

ing to unleash the power of a woman’s passion.

; Strong to my enemies, tender to those I loved and respected. That’s what I wanted

i

to be. Soon I would have to put these qualities to the test. But for the moment, I was

?

happy.

I-

f

The next Friday night at the bar was boisterous. We all laughed and danced. Out of the

? I

comer of my eye I looked for Yvette. Jacqueline must have known it because she ex-

plained to me that Yvette’s pimp wouldn’t let her have a steady butch. My stomach tight-

ened in rage. I still kept an eye out for her. After all, a pimp can’t know everything that’s

going on, right?

When the red light flashed over the bar, I took myself to the women’s bathroom

and assumed my post on the toilet. A long time passed. I heard thumping and several

shouts. Then it was quiet.

I peeked outside the bathroom. All the stone butches and drag queens were lined

up facing the wall, hands cuffed behind their backs. Several of the femmes who the cops

knew were prostitutes were getting roughed up and separated from the rest. I knew by

now it would take at least a blow job to get them out of jail tonight.

A cop spotted me and grabbed me by the collar. He handcuffed me and threw me

across the room. I looked for Al but they had already started taking people to the po-

lice vans outside.

Jacqueline rushed up to me. ‘Take care of each other,” she said. “Be careful, honey,”

she added. I nodded. My wrists were painfully pinned behind my back. I was scared.

I would try to be very careful. I hoped Al and I could take care of each other.

By the time they had nabbed me, the butch van was full. I rode in the police wagon

with Mona and the other drag queens. I was glad. Mona kissed my cheek and told me

not to be afraid. She said I’d be alright. If that was true though, I wondered why all

the drag queens looked as scared as I felt

At the precinct I saw Yvette and Monique, already arrested on a street sweep. Yvette

flashed me a smile for courage, I gave her a wink. A cop shoved me from behind into

STONE BUTCH BLUES 35

ie belly of the precinct. I was headed for the bulls’ tank. They were taking Al out of le cell as they were bringing me in. I called her name. She didn’t seem to hear me.

The cops locked me up. At least now my wrists were free from the handcuffs. I moked a cigarette. What was going to happen? Through a grated window I saw some laturday-night butches getting booked. They had taken Butch Al in the opposite irection.

The drag queens were in the large cell next to ours. Mona and I smiled at each ither. At that moment three cops ordered her out of the cell. Her body pulled back lightly. She had tears in her eyes. Then she walked forward with them, rather than be [ragged out.

I waited. What was happening?

About an hour later the cops brought Mona back. My heart broke when I saw her. rwo cops were dragging her; she could barely stand. Her hair was wet and stuck to ter face. Her makeup was smeared. There was blood running down the back of her ieamless stockings. They threw her into the cell next to mine. She stayed where she 'ell. I could hardly breathe. I spoke to her in a whisper. “Honey, you want a cigarette? Want to smoke? C’mere, over here by me.“

She looked dazed, unwilling to move. Finally she slid over to the bars beside me. [ lit a cigarette and handed it to her. As she smoked, I slid my arm through the bars and touched her hair gently, then rested my hand on her shoulder. I spoke to her quietly. She didn’t seem to hear me for a long time. Finally, she leaned her forehead against the bars and I put both my arms around her.

“It changes you,“ she said. “What they do to you in here, the shit you take every day on the streets—it changes you, you know?“ I listened. She smiled. “I can’t remember ifl was ever as sweet as you are when I was your age.“ Her smile faded. “I don’t want to see you change. I don’t want to see you after you’ve hardened up.“

I sort of understood. But I was really worried about Al and I didn’t know what was going to happen to me. This sounded like a philosophical discussion. I didn’t know if I was going to live to an age where experience would change me. I just wanted to live through tonight. I wanted to know where Al was.

The cops told Mona she’d been bailed out. “I must look a mess,“ she said.

“You look beautiful,“ I told her, and I meant it. I looked at her face for a last moment, wondering if the men she gave herself to loved her as much as I did.

‘You really are a sweet butch,“ Mona said before she left. That felt good.

The cops dragged Al in just after Mona left. She was in pretty bad shape. Her shirt was partly open and her pants zipper was down. Her binder was gone, leaving her large breasts free. Her hair was wet. There was blood running from her mouth and nose. She looked dazed, like Mona.

The cops pushed her into the cell. Then they approached me. I backed up until I was up against the bars. They stopped and smiled. One cop rubbed his crotch. The other put his hands under my armpits and lifted me up, a couple inches off the floor,

36

and slammed me against the bars. He pressed his thumbs deep into my breasts and jammed his knee between my legs.

‘You should be this tall soon, tall enough your feet would reach the ground. That’s when we’ll take care of you like we did your pussy friend Allison,” he taunted me. Then they left.

Allison.

I grabbed my pack of cigarettes and Zippo lighter and slid over to where Al was slumped on the floor. I was shaking. “Al,“ I said, extending the pack. She didn’t look up. I put my hand on her arm. She sloughed it off. Her head was down. I could just see the expanse of her wide back, the curves of her shoulders. I touched them without thinking twice. She let me.

I smoked with one hand and touched her back with the other. She began to tremble. I put my arms around her. Her body softened against me.She was hurt. The parent had become the child for this moment. I felt strong. There was comfort to be found in my arms.

“Hey, look at this,“ one cop yelled to another. “Allison found herself a baby butch. They look like two faggots.” The cops laughed.

My arms took more of her into my circle to protect her, as though I could ward off their jeers and keep her safe in my embrace. I had always marveled at her strength. Now I felt the muscles in her back and shoulders and arms. I experienced the power of this stone butch, even as she slumped wearily in my arms.

The cops announced Jacqueline had posted our bail. The last words I heard from the cops were, “You’ll be back. Remember what we did to your buddy.”

What did they do? The questions came back again. Jacqueline looked from Al’s face to mine asking the same. I had no answers. Al offered none. In the car Jacqueline held Al in a way that made it look at first glance like Al was comforting her. I sat quietly in the front seat needing comfort, too. I didn’t know the gay man who drove us. ’‘Are you OK?” he asked me.

“Sure,” I answered without thinking.

He dropped us off at Al and Jackie’s house. Al ate her eggs like she couldn’t taste them. She didn’t speak. Jacqueline looked nervously from Al to me and back again. I ate and then did the dishes. Al went into the bathroom.

’’She’ll be in there a long time,” Jacqueline said.

How did she know? Had this happened many times before? I dried the dishes. Jacqueline turned to focus on me. ’‘Are you OK?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” I lied.

She came closer to me. “Did they hurt you, baby?”

“No,” I lied. I was mortaring a brick wall inside myself. The wall didn’t protect me, and yet I watched as though it wasn’t my hands placing each brick. I turned away from her to signal that I had something important to ask. “Jacqueline, am I strong enough?”

STONE BUTCH BLUES 37

She came up behind me and turned me around by the shoulder. She pulled my face against her cheek. “Who is, honey?” she whispered. ’’Nobody’s strong enough. You just get through it the best you can. Butches like you and Al don’t have a choice. It’s gonna happen to you. Ycu just gotta try to live through it.“

I was already burning with another question. “Al wants me to be tough. You and Mona and the other femmes are always telling me to stay sweet, stay tender. How can I be both?”

Jacqueline touched my cheek. “Al’s right, really. It’s selfish of us girls, I guess. Wb want you to be strong enough to survive the shit you take. We love how strong you are. But butches get the shit kicked out of their hearts too. And I guess we just sometimes wish there was a way to protect your hearts and keep you all tender for us, you know?”

I didn’t. I really didn’t. “Is Al tender?”

Jacqueline’s face tightened. The question threatened to reveal something that could pierce Butch Al’s armor. Then Jacqueline saw I really needed the answer. ’’She’s been hurt real bad. It’s hard for Al to say everything she feels. But, yeah. I don’t think I could be with her if she wasn’t tender with me.”

We both heard Al unlock the bathroom door. Jacqueline looked apologetic. I signaled that I understood. She left the kitchen. I was alone. I had a lot to think about.

I lay down on the couch. After a while, Jackie brought me bedding. She sat down beside me and stroked my face. It felt good. She looked at me for a long time with a pained expression. I didn’t know why but it scared me. I guess I figured she could see what was coming and I couldn’t.

’Are you really OK, honey?” she asked.

I smiled. “Yeah.”

“Do you need anything?”

Yeah. I needed a femme who loved me like she loved Al. I needed Al to tell me exactly what they were going to do to me next time and how to live through it. And I needed Jacqueline’s breast. Almost as soon as the thought crossed my mind, she put my hand on her breast. She turned her head in the direction of the bedroom as though she was listening for Al. ’Are you sure you’re OK?” she asked one last time.

“Yeah, I’m OK,” I said.

Her face softened. She touched my cheek and pulled my hand away from her breast. “You’re a real butch,” she said, shaking her head. I felt proud when she said that.

In the morning I woke up early and left quietly.

Butch Al and Jacqueline weren’t at the bar after that. Their phone was disconnected. I heard some stories about what happened to Al. I didn’t choose to believe any of them.

The summer passed. It was time for my junior year of high school to begin. As summer turned to fall I stopped going to Niagara Falls on the weekends. Just before Christmas I went back to Tifka’s to see the old crowd. Yvette wasn’t there. I heard she died alone in an alley way, her throat slashed from ear to ear. Mona overdosed, pur-

38

posely. No one had seen Al. Jackie was working the streets again.

I walked against a bitter wind from bar to bar along the Tenderloin strip. I heard her laughter before I saw her. There was Jacqueline in the shadow of an alley, sharing an ironic laugh with other working girls. She saw me.

Jacqueline came to me readily, smiling. I saw the glaze of heroin across her eyes. She was thin, very thin. She faced me. She opened the collar of my overcoat in order to straighten my tie. She turned my collar up against the cold. I stood with my hands buried deep in my pockets. I felt like I did the night I danced with Yvette.

We were asking each other a lot of questions with our eyes and answering them. It all happened real fast. I saw the tears just start spilling from her eyes and then she turned to go.

By the time I found my voice to speak, Jacqueline was gone.

I-

i I-

CHAPTER

T 1 '

he note sailed across my desk and glided onto the floor. I kept an eye on Mrs. ■ Rotondo while I bent over and picked it up. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice.

W

DANGER!! My parents want to know why your parents call our house looking for you. I can’t cover fa you any more. PLEASE FORGIVE MEH Love until eternity—your enduring friend, Barbara.

I looked up and caught Barbara’s eyes. She wrung her hands and made a face that begged forgiveness. I smiled and nodded. I mimed smoking a cigarette. Barbara nodded and smiled. She made me feel warm inside. Barbara—the girl I’d sat next to in home room for two years. Barbara—the girl who told me if I were a guy she’d be in love with me.

Wfe met in the girl’s bathroom. Two of the juniors who were smoking had already opened the windows. “Where’ve you been lately?” Barbara demanded to know.

“Working like crazy. I’ve got to get out of my parents’ house or I’m gonna die. They act like they hate my guts.” I took a deep drag on my cigarette. “I think they wish I was never bom.”

Barbara looked frightened. “Don’t say thatshe told me, then glanced around as if someone might hear. She took a drag of smoke into her mouth and let it trickle out

39

40

as she inhaled it up her nose. “Isn’t that wild? It’s called a French Curl. Kevin showed

me.”

“Oh, shit!” someone hissed.

“Alright girls, line up!” It was Mrs. Antoinette, the scourge of girls who long for

nicotine. She ordered us to line up so she could smell our breath. Since she hadn’t ac-

tually seen me, I took a chance and slipped out the door. The halls were deserted. Within

minutes a maddening bell would ring and the halls would be jammed with kids using

their notebooks in front of them like shields in battle.

I guess the summer had changed me. Otherwise I would never have snapped the

iron bands of habit and left the building during school hours. I wanted to run around

the track as fast as I could, to sweat out the sticky sensation of imprisonment. But the

boys were in football practice in the middle of the field, and a group of girls were try-

ing out for cheerleading. So I climbed up into the bleachers and walked to the far end.

A red-tailed hawk glided above the trees, an unusual sight in the city. There was

no place to go; there was nothing to do. Whatever was going to happen in my life I wanted

it to hurry up. I wished I could play quarterback on the football team. I could imagine

the weight of the equipment and the uniform tight across my chest. I put my hand against

my large breasts.

I noticed that five of the eight girls trying out as cheerleaders were blonde. I didn’t

know there were five blondes in the whole school. Almost half the school was white,

Jewish, and middle class. The other half was Negro and working class. My family was

Jewish and working class. I fell into a lonely social abyss. The few friends I had in the

school were from families who worked to make ends meet.

I watched the cheerleaders leave the field. They looked over their shoulders to see

if the boys noticed.

Football practice ended. Some of the white boys stayed on the field. One of them,

Bobby, nodded toward me with his head. I got up to leave. “Where you goiri, Jess?“

he mocked me, then headed toward me. 'Several boys followed him.

I started to hurry across the bleachers.

“Where’re you going, lezzie? I mean, Jezzie.“ They followed me as I rushed to

get away. He indicated for one of' the boys to climb the bleachers in front of me. He

and the other boys came directly at me. I leaped over the bleachers and ran onto the

field. Bobby tackled me; I hit the dirt hard. It all mushroomed so quickly. I couldn’t

make it stop.

’’What’sa matter, Jess? Don’t you like us?” Bobby was pushing his hand up under

my dress, between my legs. I punched and kicked, but he and the other boys pinned

me down. ”1 saw you watching us. Come on, you want it, don’t you, Jezzy?”

I bit the hand nearest my mouth. “Ouch, shit, fuck!” The boy yelled and back-

handed me across my face I could taste my own blood. The expressions on their faces

scared me. These were not kids anymore.

I punched Bobby’s chest as hard as I could. I must have hit his equipment because

STONE BUTCH BLUES 41

I skinned my knuckles and Bobby just laughed. He pressed his forearm against my throat. One of the boys stepped on my ankle with his cleats. I struggled and cursed them. They laughed as though this were a game.

Bobby unlaced his uniform pants and jammed his penis into my vagina. The pain traveled up to my belly, scaring the hell out of me. It felt like something ripped deep inside of me. I counted the attackers. There were six.

The one I was angriest at was Bill Turley. Everyone knew he tried out for the team because the kids teased him about being a sissy. He scuffed the grass with his cleats and waited for his turn.

: Part of the nightmare was that it all seemed so matter of fact. I couldn’t make it

i stop, I couldn’t escape it, and so I pretended it wasn’t happening. I looked at the sky,

at how pale and placid it was. I imagined it was the ocean and the clouds were white- I capped waves.

i Another bey was huffing and puffing on top of me. I recognized him—Jeffrey Dar

ling, an arrogant bully. Jeffrey grabbed my hair and yanked it back so hard I gasped. He wanted me to pay attention to the rape. He fucked me harder. ‘You dirty Kike bitch, you fucking bulldagger.” All my crimes were listed. I was guilty as charged.

Is this how men and women have sex?

I knew this wasn’t making love; this was more like making hate. But was this mechanical motion what all the jokes and dirty magazines and whispers were about? This was it?

I giggled, not because what was happening was funny, but because all the fuss about sex suddenly seemed so ridiculous. Jeffrey pulled his cock out of me and slapped my face, back and forth ”It’s not funny,” he shouted. “It’s not funny, you crazy bitch.”

I heard the sound of a whistle. ’’Shit, it’s the coach,“ Frank Humphrey warned the other guys. Jeffrey jumped up and pulled up his pants. All the boys scattered toward the gym.

I was alone on the field. The coach stood a distance away from me, staring. I wobbled as I tried to stand. There were grass stains on my skirt and blood and slimy stuff running down my legs. ’’Get out of here, you little whore,” Coach Moriarty ordered.

I had to walk the long distance home since my bus pass wasn’t valid this late. I didn’t fed like this was my life I was living anymore. It felt more like a movie. A ’57 Chevy full of boys slowed down. “See you tomorrow, lesbo,” I heard Bobby yell as they passed.

r

as I their property now? If I wasn’t strong enough to stop them once, could I ever hope to defend myself again?

h

I ran to the bathroom as soon as I got home and threw up in the toilet. Between

my legs felt like chopped meat and the shooting pains frightened me. I took a long, long bubble bath. I asked my sister to tell my parents I was sick and went to bed. When I : woke up it was time to go to school. But I couldn’t, I wasn’t ready!

c “Now!” My mother ordered me out of bed. My whole body hurt. I tried not to

think about the pain between my legs. My parents didn’t seem to notice my split lip t or the way I was limping a little on my ankle. I moved slow as molasses. I couldn’t think

I clearly. “Hurry up,“ my mother scolded. “You’re going to be late for school.

44

i

I purposely missed my bus so I could walk to school. At least if I was late I wouldn’t

|

have to face the kids before the bell rang. I forgot everything as I walked. The wind

;

whispered in the trees. Dogs barked and birds chirped. I walked slowly, as though I

['

wasn’t on my way to any place in particular.

I

Then the school building loomed over me like a medieval castle, and all the mem-

(

ories flooded back in a sickening rush. Did the kids already know? The way they

I

whispered behind their hands as I passed in the hallway after first-period class made

me think they did. I thought maybe I was being paranoid until one of the girls called out, “Jess, Bobby and Jeffrey are looking for you.

44

They all laughed. I felt like what happened was my fault.

I ducked into my history class just as the bell rang. Mrs. Duncan spoke the dreaded

i

words: ’“All right, class, tear off a half sheet of paper and number from one to ten. This

‘ is a test. Question number one: what year was the Magna Carta signed?”

I

I tried to remember if she’d ever taught us what the hell the Magna Carta even was.

J

Ten facts floating in a vacuum. I chewed my pencil and stared at the blank piece of pa

per in front of me. I raised my hand and asked for a bathroom pass. ‘You can go as soon as you finish the test, Miss Goldberg.

14

“Um, please Mrs. Duncan. It’s an emergency.

14

|

“Yeah,

44

said Kevin Manley, “she has to go find Bobby.”

f

I heard the guffaws behind me as I left the classroom in a panic. I ran through the

, halls looking for someone to help me. I had to talk to someone. I ran upstairs to the

;

cafeteria, looking for my friend Karla from gym class. When the bell rang I saw Karla

: in the crush of kids going in and out of the double doors. “Karla,” I yelled, “I have *

L to talk to you

44

t

“What’s up?

44

“I’ve gotta talk to you.” We made our way to the lunch line.

“What are they serving today?” Karla asked me. “Can you see?

44

; “Dreck on rice and shit on a shingle.

44

“Yum! Same as yesterday.

44

“And the day before.

44

It was such a relief to laugh with her.

We got our trays and winced as the school dietitian dumped a glop of something on each of our plates. We picked up cartons of milk and paid for our lunches. “Can :' we talk?

44

1 asked her.

“Sure,” she said. “How about after lunch?”

“Why not now?

44

Karla looked at me blankly. “Can I sit with you?

44

1 pressed.

She continued to stare at me. “Girl, have you gone out of your cotton-pickin’ mind?”

.

I looked confused. “There’s a seating arrangement here. Or haven’t you noticed?”

The moment she said it I realized it was true. I looked around the lunchroom like I’d never really seen it before. The cafeteria was absolutely, right down the middle,

STONE BUTCH BLUES 43

segregated. “Get the picture, honey? Where you been?”

“Can I sit with you anyway?”

Karla tilted her head back and narrowed her eyes at me. “It’s a free country” she said as she turned on her heel and walked away.

“Hello, white girl! You new in town?” Darnell teased as he moved over to let me sit down next to Karla.

I laughed. There was no other sound in the huge room. You could’ve heard a pin drop. My stomach tightened, and the food on my plate looked more disgusting than usual.

“Karla,“ I sat down next to her. “I really need to talk to you, really bad.”

“Uh oh,” someone whispered at our table.

Mrs. Benson was racing toward our table. “Young lady, what are you doing?”

I took a deep breath. “I’m eating lunch, Mrs. Benson.”

Everyone at the table tried to stifle giggles, but when milk sprayed out of Darnell’s nose, well, it just couldn’t be controlled.

“Come with me, young lady,” Mrs. Benson told me.

“Why?“ I wanted to know. “I didn’t do anything." She stormed away.

“That was easy," Darnell said.

‘Too easy,” Karla answered.

“Karla, I really need to talk to you.” I told her.

“Uh-oh,“ Darryl said, “here comes Jim Crow." Actually, his name was Moriarty. The coach was headed right for me.

I was waiting for him to say something to me, but he didn’t. He grabbed me by the arms, digging his fingers into my flesh. Moriarty half dragged me to the door of the cafeteria. ’You little slut," he whispered.

“I’ll take care of this, Coach," Miss Moore, the assistant principal, intervened. She put her arm around me and led me out into the hall. “Child,” she said, “you are in a whole lot of trouble. What the hell were you doing?"

’’Nothing, Miss Moore. I didn’t do anything. I was just trying to talk to Karla.” She smiled at me. “Sometimes you don’t have to do anything wrong to be in hot water.”

All of my panic and fear welled up in my eyes. I wanted so badly to open up to Miss Moore.

“Honey, it’s not all that bad,” she reassured me. I couldn’t speak. ’‘Are you OK, Jess? Are you in trouble?" She looked at my swollen lip; no one else had noticed. ”Do you want to talk, Jess?”

I did want to talk. But my mouth wouldn’t move.

“Here’s the other troublemaker,” Moriarty said. He had Karla in his grip.

Miss Moore pulled Karla close to her. “I’ll take care of this, Coach. You go back to being lunch monitor."

He looked at her with open hatred. I could see what a racist he was.

44

“C’mon girls.” Miss Moore put her arm around each of us. ”1’11 explain to the principal that you didn’t mean any harm.”

Karla and I leaned forward and looked at each other. “I’m sorry,“ I told her, “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.

4

*

Miss Moore stopped walking. “You girls didn’t do anything wrong. You came up against an unspoken rule that needs changing. I just want you both to survive it.“

When the principal, Mr. Donatto, finally called me into his office, Miss Moore asked if she could come in too. He knitted his thick eyebrows together. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t, Suzanne.”

Mr. Donatto shut the door and motioned for me to sit down. I felt alone in a hostile world. He slumped in his chair and pressed his fingertips together. Hooked at the painting of George Washington on the wall and wondered whether he was wearing a white sheepskin coat or the painting was never finished. Mr. Donatto cleared his throat I knew he was ready.

“I’ve been told you made some trouble in the lunchroom today, young lady. Would you care to explain yourself?

44

I shrugged my shoulders. ”1 didn’t do anything.

44

Donatto leaned back in his chair. “The world is a very complicated place. More complex than you kids realize.

44

Oh god, I thought. Here comes die lecture. “In some schools there are fights between the colored children and the white students. Did you know that?’

I shook my head.

“I’m proud that we have good relations between the races at this school. That’s not been easy since the school district changed. We want to keep things calm, do you understand?

44

“I don’t know why I can’t eat lunch with my friends. We’re not fighting.

44

Donnato’s jaw clenched. “The cafeteria is the way it is because the students are most comfortable with the arrangement.

44

“Well, I’m not.

44

1 wondered who was controlling my mouth. Donnato slammed his palm on the desk.

Miss Moore opened the door. “Can I be of help, sir?*

“Get out and shut the door,

44

he shouted at her. He turned back to me and took a deep breath. “I want you to understand that what we want is good relations between the students.

44

“Then why can’t I eat lunch with my friends?

4

Dannato came over to me and leaned so close I could fed his breath on my face. ’’Young lady, you listen to me and you listen to me good. I’m trying to hold this school together and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a little troublemaker like you undo all my hard work Do you understand me?’ I blinked as little bits of spit hit my face. “You are suspended for one week.

44

Suspended? For what? “I wanted to quit anyway,

44

1 told him.

STONE BUTCH BLUES 45

He smirked, “You can’t quit until you’re sixteen.”

“I can’t quit but you can suspend me?”

“That’s right, young lady. Miss Moore," Donatto yelled, “this student has been suspended. See that she leaves the building immediately."

Miss Moore was standing outside the door. She smiled at me and put her hand on my shoulder. “You OK?” she asked.

’’Sure,” I said.

“This will blow over,” she assured me.

I made a pleading face. ’’Let me just see Mrs. Noble and Miss Candi, please? Then I’ll go,” Miss Moore nodded.

I wanted to talk to her so badly, but I felt as though I was standing in a boat that was drifting away from everyone. I said goodbye and walked away,

Mrs, Noble was marking test papers. She looked up as I came into the classroom, “I heard,” she said, and continued to correct papers.

I sat on top of a desk in front of hers, “I came to say goodbye.”

Mrs. Noble looked up and took off her glasses. “You’re quitting school over this?’

I shrugged. "They suspended me, but I’m not coming back,”

“They suspended you? Over the lunchroom incident?’ Mrs. Noble rubbed her eyes and slipped her glasses back on,

”Do you think I did something wrong?”

She sat back in her chair. ’’When you do something out of conviction, my dear, it should be because you believe it’s the right thing to do. If you look for approval from everyone, you’ll never be able to act”

I felt criticized. ”I’m not asking everybody, I was just asking you,” I sulked.

Mrs, Noble shook her head. ’’Just think about coming back. You must go to college.”

I shrugged. ”I’m never gonna finish high school. I’m going into the factories.”

’You need skills, even to be a laborer.”

I shrugged, “I can’t afford college, that’s one thing. My parents aren’t going to spend a dime on me or co-sign a loan either.”

She ran her hands through her hair. I noticed for the first time how gray it was. “What do you want to do with your life?” she asked me,

I thought about it. “I want a good job, a union job. Fd really like to get into the steel plant, or Chevy.”

“I guess it wasn’t fair of me to want you to want more,”

“Like what?” I said, angry that I was now a disappointment to her, too.

“I could see you becoming a great American poet, or a fiery labor leader, or discovering the cure for cancer.” She took off her glasses and wiped them with a Kleenex. “I wanted you to help change the world.”

I laughed. She had no idea how powerless I really was. ”1 can’t change anything," I told her. I toyed with telling her what had happened on the football field, but I just

46

couldn’t find the words to begin.

“Do you know what it takes to change the world, Jess?” I shook my head. “You

have to figure out what you really believe in and then find other people who feel the

same way. The only thing you have to do alone is to decide what’s important to you.“

I nodded and slid off the desk. “I’d better be going, Mrs. Noble, before they send

a posse to eject me from the school grounds."

I

She stood up and took my face in her hands. She kissed me on the forehead. For

some reason it made me think about how it felt in jail with Al and Mona—about mo-

ments when you’re being tom away from people you love and you fed real close to them.

“Come back and visit,” Mrs. Noble said.

“Sure," I lied.

I headed toward the gym to say goodbye to Miss Candi. Miss Johnson stopped me

in the hallway. “Where’s your hall pass, young lady?“

“I don’t need one anymore. I’m suspended." I sounded cheerful.

Only hours before I had felt imprisoned in these halls. Now that I was leaving, the

school felt smaller. I wandered through the corridors like an alumna. I could hear the

off-key strains of John Philip Sousa coming from the auditorium. I had forgotten there

was an assembly last period. I guessed I didn’t need to go. As the bell rang, doors flew

open and students flowed into the corridors. I waited for the crowd to thin out before

I tried to struggle upstream to the gym.

There was no one in the girls’ gym when I got there. I took my sneakers and shorts

out of my locker and put them on. I started playing on the monkey ropes, climbing up

one and then across the others. When I shinnied down, I felt so pent-up I was afraid

j

I’d explode. I ran around the indoor track until I almost dropped.

I

As I stopped I saw Miss Candi looking at me. She had come back to the gym of-

fice for something and saw me running. ”How long have you been watching me?”

f

She shrugged. “I heard you’ve been suspended.”

“Do you think I did something wrong, Miss Candi?“ Even as I said it I remem-

bered what Mrs. Noble explained about needing approval.

“I just don’t believe in rocking the boat, that’s all,“ she said, looking away.

‘Wow,” I sighed in disappointment ’Well, Miss Candi, I just came to say goodbye.”

I walked past the auto shop—that’s the class I wanted. Instead they’d had me making

popovers with lemon sauce in cooking class. How did Mrs. Noble think I could ever

change this world by making popovers?

Over the main entrance to the school the words

Optima four a

were carved in stone.

The best is yet to be.

I hoped that was true. .

”Hey,” Darnell yelled from the second-floor detention room. ‘Way to go!” I waved

to him. “Meet us later,“ he yelled. A teacher pulled him inside and shut the window.

“Jess!“ I heard Karla call my name. “Jess, wait up!“

‘They suspended me,” I told her.

“Me too," she said. ’’For two weeks."

STONE BUTCH BLUES 47

“Two weeks? They only suspended me for one! I’m quittin’, though.”

Karla whistled through her teeth. “Shit, are you sure about that?”

I nodded. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Jess,” Karla said, ’’with all the shit that went down I forgot to ask you what’s up. You said you needed to talk.”

That moment was a turning point in my life. I felt like a dam ready to burst but I heard myself say, ”Aw, it wasn’t that important.”

Karla looked concerned. “Are you sure?”

I nodded, feeling the last brick of the wall go up inside of me that might never come down again.

“We’re going down to Jefferson,” Karla said. “Wanna come?” I shook my head and hugged her goodbye.

I didn’t want to face my parents. I knew they wouldn’t be home from work yet, if I hurried.

As soon as I got home I took two pillowcases and stuffed all my pants and shirts into them. I reached deep into my closet and pulled out the backpack that contained the tie and jacket Al and Jacqueline had bought me.

The ring! I took it out of my mother’s jewelry case and slipped it on my left hand.

I hurried, afraid my parents would come home and catch me. I found a piece of paper and a pencil. I was sweating and my hand shook.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I wrote.

’’Whatcha doing?” Rachel asked me.

“Shhh!” I continued to write.

I got kicked out of school. It’s not my fault, in case you care. I’m almost sixteen. I was going to quit anyway. I have a job and money. I’m leaving. Please don’t come after me. I don’t want to live here anymore.

I didn’t know what else to write. They could find me at my job if they wanted to, but there was a chance that they’d be as happy to be rid of me as Fd be relieved to be gone.

’’Whatcha doing?” Rachel asked me again. Her lip trembled.

”Shhh, don’t cry,” I told her. I gave her a hug. ’‘I’m running away from home.” She shook her head. “You can’t,” she said.

I nodded my head. “I gotta try. I’m going crazy here.”

”1’11 tell,” Rachel threatened.

I rushed out the door, afraid to be caught by my parents at the last moment. They could use force to bring me back, have me arrested or commit me to an institution. Or they could let me go. It was up to them—I’d learned that. I ran down the street until my lungs ached. When I was blocks away I leaned up against a lamppost and caught my breath. I felt free. Free to explore what freedom meant. I looked at my watch. It was time to go to work. I was almost sixteen years old. I had thirty-seven dollars in my pocket.

“You’re late,” my foreman told me as I punched in.

48

“Sorry,“ I said, and started the machine up right away.

“Damn kid," he told Gloria.

She kept her head down until he walked away. Then she looked up and smiled. ‘Tough day, Jess?“

I laughed. “I got kicked out of school and ran away from home."

She whistled and shook her head. ‘Td take you home with me, but my husband keeps trying to give away the kids we already got.“

I asked Eddie if I could work a double. “I’ll let you know later,“ he said. At 11:00

p.m.

the work ran out and he sent me home. I tried to sleep sitting up at the bus station, but the cops kept coming by and asking me to show them my ticket. I bought a ticket for Niagara Falls, but they woke me every time a bus left for the Falls and wanted to know why I wasn’t on it. I walked around and ate breakfast and drank coffee and walked around some more. At noon I went to a movie matinee. When I woke up, I was late for work.

Eddie warned me not to be late again.

“You look like hell," Gloria whispered.

“Thanks a lot.“ I started thinking. “Hey, Gloria, remember when you told me about that bar your brother went to in the Falls?'

Gloria tensed. “Yeah, so?'

“So does he know of any bars like that here in town?' She shrugged. “It’s important, Gloria. Honest to god, I really need to know."

Gloria looked nervous. She cleaned her inky hands on her apron as though she wanted to wipe her hands of the whole topic. At lunchtime she pressed a piece of paper into my hand.

“What’s this?" The slip of paper had the word

Abba’s

written on it.

“I called my brother. I asked him where he goes. He said he used to go there."

I smiled from ear to ear. “Do you know where it is?'

“What do I have to do, drive you there?'

“OK." I put up my hands in surrender. “Just asking."

I called information and got the address. After my shift I washed up in the bathroom and changed into clean clothes. I looked at the ring on my finger. It fit snugly. I pledged to never take it off. Maybe now it was time for the ring to reveal to me the secrets of surviving my own life. I raced downtown to Abba’s and then stood outside, pacing and smoking. I was just as scared to go into this bar as I’d been to enter Tifka’s. Only this time I was carrying everything I owned in two pillowcases. Where would I go if I was rejected here?

I took a deep breath and walked into Abba’s. It was real crowded inside, which made me feel anonymous and safe. I squeezed in at the bar. “A Genny," I called out to the bartender.

She nanowed her eyes. “Let’s see some ID."

“They never asked me at Tifka’s," I protested.

STONE BUTCH BLUES 49

She shrugged. “So go get a beer at Tifka’s,” she said as she walked away. I hit the bar with my fist.

“Havin’ a hard day, kid?* one of the butches at the bar asked me.

“A hard day?’ My laughter sounded shrill. ”1 got kicked out of school, got no place to live, and I’m gonna lose my goddamn job if I can’t find a place to sleep so I can be on time.**

She pursed her lips, nodded, and took a swig of her beer. “You can stay at our place for a while if you want,” she said casually.

’‘Are you fucking with me?’ I demanded.

She shook her head. “You need a place to stay? My girlfriend and I have an apartment over our garage. You can stay there if you want, it’s up to you.** She signaled to the bartender. ”Meg, get the kid a beer, on me, OK?’

We introduced ourselves. ”Jes’ what?” she asked.

“Jess, that’s my name. Just Jess.”

Toni snorted, “Jes’ Jess, huh?*

Meg slammed a bottle of beer in front of me. "Thanks for the beer, Toni** I saluted her with the bottle. ’’Can I move in tonight?**

Toni laughed. “Yeah, I guess so. If I’m not too drunk to get the key in the door. Hey, Betty!”

Toni’s girlfriend came out of the bathroom and stood beside her. “Hey, Betty, meet Dondi. This kid’s an orphan. Parents died in a flaming car wreck, you know?” Toni laughed and took a swig of beer.

Betty pulled away from Toni. ’’That’s not funny.”

I intervened. “Toni said you got a place I could stay. I really need a place to sleep, I mean real bad.** Betty looked at Toni, shrugged, and walked away.

”It’s OK with her,” Toni said. “I’m going back to sit with Betty. I’ll find you before we leave.**

I finished my beer and put my head down on the bar. The room was spinning and I wanted to sleep so badly. Meg rapped her knuckles on the bar near my head. “You drunk or something?”

”No, I’m just working round the clock,” I told her. I didn’t think she liked me. Then she brought me another beer.

”1 didn’t order one.”

”It’s on the house,** she said. Go figure.

As the crowd started thinning out I found an empty chair near the noisy backroom, leaned my head against the wall, and fell asleep. When I awoke, Betty was tugging on my sleeve, telling me it was time to go home. Toni sang “Roll Me Over in the Clover** as Betty tried to get her into the car. I lay down on the back seat and immediately fell asleep again.

’’C’mon, wake up,“ Betty urged me. We were in their driveway. Betty struggled to prop Toni up against the car. “Don’t give me two problems to deal with,” Betty told

50

me curtly. I got out of the car and helped her get Toni upstairs.

‘You can sleep on the couch tonight,“ Betty said.

“Who’s the ki d? T onifdeman ded to know. “What’s this, y one wbutch?“

“You invited theki do ive in h e garage apartment, remember?’Be tty snapped.

I curled up on the couch and tried to disappear. After a while Betty came out and threw a blanket over me.

“If I could just get some sleep tonight, I’ll be out of here,“ I told her.

“It’s OK,” she said wearily. ’’Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.

11

1 clung to that little bit of ieassuran ce.

Lying tl teie in the dark I started realizing I was on my own: no more school, no more parents—unless they came after me. I gagged on shame as I recalled what happened to me on the football field. I was afraid I was going to throw up and I hadn’t asked where their bathroom was. I wished this was Al and Jackie’s couch. I wanted to wake up in their home. Then I could tell Jacqueline what had happened to me on the football field. Would I have told her? I realized I might not have told Jackie or Al what the boys did to me. I felt too ashamed.

I made a vo

w

to myself before I fell asleep. I promised myself I would never wear a dress again, and I’d never let anyone rape me ever again, no matter what.

As it turned out, I could only keep one of those promises.

CHAPTER

■ e kid, what’s up?” Meg called out as she wiped down the bar. Familiar faces softened as they welcomed me. I had become a regular at Abba’s.

* ”Hey, Meg. Gimme a beer, will ya?’

^"y “Sure, kid, coming right up.”

I sat down next to Edwina. “Hey, Ed, can I buy you a beer?”

“Yeah,” she laughed, ’’why would I say no?”

It was Friday night. I had money in my pocket and I was feeling fine.

“Hey, what about me?” Butch Jan laughed.

“And a beer far my elder, Meg.”

“Hey, watch that elder shit,” Jan said.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Judging from the length of the red-painted nails, it had to be Peaches. ”Hi, honey,” she kissed me gently on the ear.

I sighed with pleasure. “And a drink for Peaches," I called out to Meg.

“Child, you’re in one damn good mood tonight,” Peaches said. ”You get lucky with some girl or something?”

I blushed. She had hit a sore spot “I just fed so damn good. I got a job and a motorcycle and friends.”

si

■■

52

■-

■

f-

*

Ed whistled. “You got a bike?“

“Yes,” I shouted, “yes, yes! Toni sold me her old Norton. We went out to the supermarket parking lot Sunday, and I practiced till she got mad and went home without me.”

Ed smiled. “Wow. Big bike.“ She slapped my open palm.

“Jesus, Ed, you know what I did after I registered it downtown yesterday? I mean when I actually realized it was mine? I got on that bike and I rode it two hundred miles out and two hundred miles back.

11

Everyone roared. I nodded. “Something happened to me. I finally felt really free. I’m so excited. I love that bike. I mean, I actually love it. I love that bike so fucking much I can’t even explain it.” All the butches who rode motorcycles nodded to themselves. Jan and Edwin clapped me on my shoulders.

“Things are lookin up for you, kid. I’m happy for you,” Jan said. “Meg, set up another one for young Marlon Brando, here.”

The ring must be working! “‘The Avengers* on yet?” I asked.

Meg shook her head. “Fifteen more minutes. God, I can’t wait to see what Diana Rigg's wearing this time.**

I sighed. “I hope it’s that leather jumpsuit again. I think I’m falling in love with her.”

Meg laughed. ’’Get in line.”

The place was starting to fill up. A young guy we’d never seen before came in and ordered a gin and tonic. Meg had just placed the glass in front of him when an older guy came in and flipped open a badge. Uniformed cops rushed in behind him. The young guy was a plant.

“You’ve just served a minor. Alright ladies, gentlemen, leave your drinks on the bar and take out some ID, this is a bust.”

Jan and Edwin each grabbed a handful of my shirt and dragged me out the back door. “Out of here, now, get out of here,” they were yelling as I fumbled with my motorcycle. A couple of cops fanned out around the parking lot. My legs felt like jelly. I couldn’t kick-start the bike.

“Get the fuck out of here,** they shouted at me.

Two uniformed cops headed toward me. One reached for his gun. “Off that bike,” he ordered.

“C’mon, c’mon,” I crooned to myself.

One good kick and the bike roared to life. I popped the clutch and did an unintentional wheelie out of the parking lot. As soon as I got to Toni and Betty’s house I banged on their kitchen door. Betty looked alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“The bar, everybody, they’re busted.”

“Calm down,** Toni put her hand on my shoulder. “Calm down and tell us what happened.” I sputtered as I described the bust. “How can we find out what happened to everybody?” I asked them.

“We’ll find out soon enough, when that phone rings,“ Betty said. The phone rang.

STONE BUTCH BLUES 53

Betty listened quietly. “Nobody got busted except Meg,“ she told us. “Butch Jan and Ed got roughed up a little.

14

I rubbed my forehead with my hand. “Are they hurt bad?“ She shrugged. I felt guilty. “I think they got it worse because they got me out of there.“

Betty leaned on the kitchen table and held her head in both hands. Toni went to the refrigerator. “Want a beer, kid?

44

“Naw, thanks,

44

I told Taii.

“Suit yourself.“

Fear nagged at me as I fell asleep that evening. But the real tenor didn’t surface until I woke up in the middle of the night. I sat bolt upright, soaking wet, remembering the bust at Tifka’s. I had grown an inch or two since then. The next time the police got their hands on me, my age wouldn’t save me. Fear boiled in the back of my throat. It was going to happen to me. I knew that. But I couldn’t change the way I was. It felt like driving toward the edge of a cliff and seeing what’s coming but not being able to brake.

I wished Al was around. I wished Jacqueline would tuck me in on their couch, kiss my forehead, and tell me everything would be alright.

The owner of Abba’s had been so deeply in debt a couple cf years ago that he had to hand carry beer in by the case—the Mob wouldn’t allow deliveries until he paid up. So he put out the word that the bar was going gay. He made money hand over fist off us. were a lucrative and captive market. Usually only one club was open to us at a time. Other owners wanted our business for a while. But Abba’s owner got greedy, so the Mob had him busted and shut down.

The new bar was closer to the Tenderloin strip in downtown Buffalo. It was called the Malibou—a jazz bar that would welcome us after the 1:00

a.m.

show ended. Organized crime owned the Malibou, too. But a lesbian ran it. We figured that would make a difference. Her name was Gert. She wanted us to call her Aunt Gertie, but it made us fed like a Girl Scout troop—so we called her Cookie.

The new club had a bigger dance floor, but it only had one exit. It did have a pool table, though, and Edwin and I played for hours till the sun came up.

Ed waited for her girlfriend, Darlene, until dawn. Darlene danced nearby at a bar on Chippewa Street. Just down the block from the Malibou was a hotel where a lot of the pros—female and male—used to take their tricks. At dawn all the working girls got off their shift and filled the Malibou, which never seemed to close, or went to a restaurant near the bus station for breakfast.

I began to notice sometimes Ed didn’t come in on weekends. What else was there in life besides the plants and the bars?

“Hey, Ed,” I asked her one morning. “Where were you last weekend?

4

She looked up from the pool shot she was lining up. “At a different club.

44

Her answer surprised me. There was only one club open at a time, as far as I knew.

54

“Yeah?” I asked her. “Where?”

“On the East Side,” she said, chalking up.

’’You mean it’s a Negro club?“

“Black,“ she said as she whacked a high ball and sunk it. “It’s a Black club.”

I took in all of this new information as Ed lined up her next shot. “Shit,” she said as she missed it.

“Is it different from this club?” I asked as I surveyed the table.

“Yes and no.” Ed wasn’t giving up much this morning.

I shrugged and indicated the far comer. I missed the shot. Ed smiled and patted me on the back. I had a lot of questions, but I didn’t know how to ask.

Edwin sunk the eight ball by mistake. “Shit,” she hissed, ”shit.“ She looked me up and down. ’’What?” she demanded. I shrugged.

“Look,” she said. ”1 work all day with these old bulls at the plant. I like coming in here and spending some time with y’all. But I like being with my own people too, you understand? Besides, Darlene and I wouldn’t last a month if I hung out on the East Side.” I shook my head. I didn’t understand.

“Darlene doesn’t worry about me being here. If I spent this much time at my own clubs, well, let’s just say there’d be too much temptation.”

‘You hungry?” I asked her.

“Naw, man, I’m just human.” She sounded defensive.

I laughed. “No, I mean you wanna get some breakfast?”

She slapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

We met Darlene and the other girls at the restaurant. They were all excited, something about a fight with a customer that all the girls jumped into.

“Hey, Ed,” I asked her over coffee as Darlene reenacted her role in the brawl, ’’you think I could go with you some time? I mean, I don’t know if it’s OK to ask or not.“

Ed looked taken aback. “Why? Why you want to go to my club?“

“I don’t know, Ed. You’re my friend, you know?

1

*

She shrugged. “So?”

”So this morning I realized how much of you I don’t know, that's all. I guess Fd like to meet you on your own turf.”

Darlene tugged on Ed’s sleeve, “Baby, you should have been there. We kicked this guy’s ass all the way to kingdom come! He was beggin’ us for mercy.”

“I’ve got to think about it. I don’t know,” Ed said.

“Fair enough. Just asking.

11

Ed stopped coming to the Malibou soon afterward. I asked Grant what was up, but all she said was that Ed “had a chip on her shoulder” ever since Malcolm X was killed in New York City. I wanted to call Ed and talk to her, but Meg told me not to. She told me the butches at the auto plant said Ed was real angry and it was best to just leave her alone. That didn’t feel right to me, but the advice had come down from the old bulls,

STONE BUTCH BLUES 55

so I listened.

It was springtime when I finally ran into Ed at the diner. I was so happy to see her I reached out my arms to hug her. She eyed me guardedly, as though examining me for the first time. I feared she wouldn’t like what she saw. After a moment she opened her arms to me. Hugging her felt like coming home.

Ed started coming back to the Malibou. Out of the blue one morning she said, “I thought about it.”

Funny how I knew exactly what she meant—about me going to the club with her.

“I didn’t know how I’d fed about taking you, you know? But next Saturday night is an anniversary party fa

-

two women. One of them is white. I don’t know, I thought if you wanted to go...“

I did. We decided to take Ed’s car.

On Saturday night Ed picked me up late. We rode in silence.

“You nervous?

4

* she asked me.

I nodded. She snorted and shook her head. “Maybe this was a mistake.**

“No,“ I told her. “Not for the reasons you think. I’m always scared before I go to a new club, any club. You ever feel that way?*

“No,“ Edwin said. “Well, yes, maybe. I don’t know.**

“You nervous, Ed? About going to the club with a white butch, I mean.**

“Yeah, maybe a little,“ she said as she checked the rearview minor. Ed stopped at a ied light and offered me a cigarette. “I like you though, you know.**

I looked out the car window and smiled. “I like you too, Ed. A lot.**

I realized I’d hung out on the edges of the Black community with friends after school, but Td never been deep in the heart of the East Side. “Buffalo is like two cities,” I said. “I’ll bet a lot of white people have never even been to this city.**

Ed laughed bitterly and nodded. “Segregation is alive and well in Buffalo. That’s it,

4

* Ed added, pointing to a building.

“Where?**

“You’ll see.** Ed parked the car on a nearby side street.

We approached the door. Ed knocked hard. An eye appeared at the peep hole. As the door opened, waves of loud music flowed over us. The joint was packed wall-to- wall. A lot of butches immediately came over to welcome Ed and shook her hand or hugged her shoulders. She gestured toward me and shouted something in their ears, but it was too loud to hear much. Several women beckoned us to share their table and each shook my hand as I sat down. Ed ordered us beers and sat down next to me.

“Daisy’s already got her eye on you,** Ed yelled in my ear. “The woman sitting directly across the dance floor from us, in the blue dress. She’s checking you out.**

I smiled at Daisy. She dropped her eyes and then boldly met mine. After a few minutes she whispered something to her girlfriend and stood up. She was wearing blue spike heels that matched her dress. With a steady step, she made her way directly to our table.

56

“Lord have mercy on your soul, girl,“ Ed shouted at me as I rose to meet Daisy. Daisy put out her hand and tugged me toward the dance floor. Edwin grabbed my other hand and pulled me down near her ear. “Are you still uptight?" she yelled.

“I’m adjustingI shouted back over my shoulder.

“I don’t believe youback thereEd said to me hours later as we left the club.

“I’m adjusting''

she mimicked me with a laugh and punched my shoulder. “Girl, you’re just lucky that Daisy’s ex wasn’t there. She would have kicked your mutherfuckin’ white ass.“

She was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder that spun her around. I was pushed hard from behind. When I turned I caught a glimpse of a cop car with both doors open. Two cops were pushing us with their nightsticks. “Up against the wall, girls.“ They pushed us into an alley. Ed put her hand on the back of my shoulder as reassurance.

“Keep your hands to yourself, bulldagger,’ one cop yelled as he slammed her against the wall.

Even as I was shoved against the brick wall I could still fed the comfort of her hand as it had briefly touched my shoulder.

“Spread your legs, girls. Wider.

41

One of the cops grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked my head backward as he kicked my legs apart with his boot. He took my wallet out of my back pocket and opened it.

I looked over at Ed. The cop was patting her down and running his hands up her thighs. He pulled her wallet out of her pocket, took out the money, and stuffed it in his own pocket

“Eyes straight ahead,” the cop behind me had his mouth close to my ear.

The other cop began shouting at Ed. “You think you’re a guy, huh? You think you can take it like a guy? We’ll see. What’s these?

44

he said. He yanked up her shirt and pulled her binder down around her waist. He grabbed her breasts so hard she gasped.

“Leave her alone,

44

1 yelled.

“Shut up, you fuckin’ pervert,

44

the cop behind me shouted and bashed my face against the wall. I saw a kaleidoscope of colors.

Ed and I spun around and looked at each other for a split second. Funny, it seemed as though we had plenty of time to consult. There are times, the old bulls told me, when it’s best to take your beating and hope the cops will leave you on the ground when they’re done with you. Other times your life may be in danger, or your sanity, and it’s worth it to try to fight back. It’s a tough call.

In the blink of an eye, Ed and I decided to fight. We each punched and kicked the nearest cop. For just a moment things started looking up for us. I kicked the cop in front of me in the shins over and over again. Ed got the other cop in the groin and was hitting him on the head with both her fists.

As one cop lunged at me, the point of his nightstick caught me squarely in the solar plexus. I crashed against the wall, unable to breath. Then I heard a sickening thud as a nightstick connected with Ed’s skull. I vomited. The cops beat us until I found myself

STONE BUTCH BLUES 57

wondering through the pain why they weren’t exhausted from the effort Suddenly we heard voices shouting nearby.

“C’mon,” one cop said to the other.

Ed and I were on die ground. I could see the boot of the cop standing over me pull back. ‘You fuckin’ traitor," he spat, as his boot cracked my rib for punctuation.

The next thing I remember was light glowing in the sky beyond the alley. The pavement felt cold and hard against my cheek. Ed was lying next to me, her face turned away. I stretched out my fingers to touch her, but I couldn’t reach. My hand rested in the pool of blood around her head.

“Ed,“ I whispered, “Ed, please wake up. Oh god, please don’t be dead."

“What," she moaned.

"We got to get out of here, Ed.“

“OK," she said, “you pull the car up."

“Don’t make me laugh," I told her. “I can hardly breathe.” I passed out again,

Darlene told us later that a family on their way to church found us. They got some people to help get us to their home nearby. They didn’t take us to the hospital because they didn’t know if we were in trouble with the law or not. When Edwin came to, she gave them Darlene’s number. Darlene and her friends came and got us. Darlene took care of both of us at their apartment for a week before Ed or I were really coherent.

“Where’s Ed, is she OK?” was the first thing I remember asking Darlene.

“That’s the first thing she asked me—how you were," Darlene answered. “Alive. You’re both alive, you stupid motherfuckers."

Neither of us ever saw an emergency room doctor for fear they’d call the cops to see if we were in any trouble. When Ed and I could sit up and even walk a little, we began recuperating in the living room together during the days while Darlene slept. The couch opened up as a bed.

Ed gave me

The Ballot and the Bullet

by Malcolm X. She encouraged me to read W.E.B. Du Bois and James Baldwin. But we each had aheadache so bad we could hardly read the newspaper. All day long we lay next to each other and watched television: “Get Smart," “The Beverly Hillbillies," “Green Acres." We healed in spite of it.

Ed got disability pay during her absence. I lost my job as a printer.

When Ed and I finally showed up at the Malibou a month later, someone pulled the plug on the jukebox and everyone rushed up to hug us. “No, wait, gently," we shouted, both backing up toward the door. “Notice the resemblance?” I asked, as Ed id I put our faces near each other. We had matching gashes over our right eyebrows.

Speaking for myself, I lost a lot of confidence after that beating. The pain in my rib cage reminded me with every breath how vulnerable I really was.

I propped myself up at a back table and watched all my friends dancing together. It felt good to be back home. Peaches sat down next to me, draped her arm around my shoulders, and planted a long sweet kiss on my cheek.

Cookie offered me a job as bouncer on the weekends. I held my ribs and winced.

58

She said I could wait on tables until I healed, if I wanted to. I sure needed the money. I watched Justine, a stunning drag queen, going from table to table with an empty Maxwell House coffee can, collecting money.

She came over to the table where Peaches and I were sitting and began counting out the bills. “You don’t have to contribute, darlin’.”

I

“What’s it for?“ I asked.

“For your new suit? she answered, and continued counting the bills.

“Whose new suit?”

’Your new suit, honey. You can’t expect to be Master of Ceremonies of the Monte Carlo Night Drag Show Extravaganza in that tacky old outfit, do you?“ I looked bewildered.

“We’re taking you out and buying you a new suit,” Peaches explained. ’You’re going to emcee the drag show next month.“

r

“That’s what I just told you,” Justine sounded annoyed.

£

“I don’t know how to be an emcee.“

“Don’t worry, darlin’ “Justine laughed, “you’re not the star?

t

Peaches threw her head back. ‘We are!”

j

’’But you are going to look divine,“ Justine said, waving a wad of bills.

I had heard horror stories about butches and their femmes trying to shop for a suit at Kleinhan’s clothing store. But this time Kleinhan’s was in for some discomfort as three

]

powerful queens in lull drag helped me pick it out.

“No,” Justine shook her head emphatically. “She’s an emcee, not a lucking un

i

dertaker.”

“Earth tones,” Georgetta turned my face in her hands, ’’because of her coloring? “No, no, no? Peaches said, ’’this is it? She held up a dark blue gabardine suit. “Yes? Justine sighed as I came out of the dressing room. “Yes?

“Ooh, honey, I just might swing for you? Georgetta exclaimed. Peaches fussed with my lapels. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“We’ll take it? Georgetta told the salesman, who looked visibly annoyed. "Tailor it for the child. And make it look nice!”

The salesman pulled the tape measure from around his neck and tried to chalk the trousers and jacket without touching me. Finally he straightened up. ‘You can pick it up in one week,” he announced.

‘We can pick it up today? Georgetta declared. ‘We’ll just walk around the store trying things on till it’s ready.

“No? the salesman blurted. “Come back in two hours. Just leave now. Just leave.” “We’ll be back in an hour, darlin’? Justine said over her shoulder.

“See you? Georgetta blew him a kiss.

’’C’mon.” Peaches waved for me to follow. “It’s our turn? They steered me toward the store next door. We were headed for the lingerie department.

STONE BUTCH BLUES 59

I shook my head. “I gotta use the bathroom. God, I wish I could wait, but I can’t.” Justine touched my cheek. “Sorry, darlin’.”

Peaches drew herself up to her full height. “C’mon. We’ll all go in together with her.“

”No,” I held up both hands. “I’m afraid well all get busted.

44

My bladder ached. I wished I hadn’t waited so long. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the women’s bathroom.

Two women were freshening their makeup in front of the mirror. One glanced at the other and finished applying her lipstick. “Is that a man or a woman?

44

she said to her friend as I passed them.

The other woman turned to me. “This is the women’s bathroom,” she informed me.

I nodded. “I know.

44

I locked the stall door behind me. Their laughter cut me to the bone. “You don’t really know if that’s a man or not,” one woman said to the other.

4

We should call security and make sure.”

I flushed the toilet and fumbled with my zipper in fear. Maybe it was just an idle threat. Maybe they really would call security. I hurried out of the bathroom as soon as I heard both women leave.

“You OK, darlin’?

44

Justine asked. I nodded. She smiled. “You took ten years off those girls’ lives.

44

I faced myself to smile. “Naw. They never would have made fun of a guy like that. I was afraid they might call the cops on me. They took ten years off my life.

44

“C’mon.” Peaches impatiently tugged on my sleeve. “It’s high femme time.

44

She dragged me toward the lingerie department.

“What do you think?

44

Georgetta held up a red silk nightie.

“Black,

44

1 told her. “That black lace one.”

’’Lord, this boy’s got taste,

44

she said.

Peaches sighed. “It’s funny, seeing you trying on that suit, all excited and everything. I remember my father making me buy a suit for Sunday service. When I dreamed of dressing up, child, it wasn’t no suit. I’ll tell you that much. I dreamt about something, you know, tasteful—with spaghetti straps. Kinda low cut,” she drew a finger across her bodice. “I felt like a ballerina in a three-piece suit.”

Georgetta snorted. ’’More like a fairy.

44

Peaches threw back her head and dragged me away.

We went back to Kleinhan’s an hour later. The suit was ready.

’We have enough money left over to pick out a shirt and tie,” Georgetta announced.

Justine held up a powder blue dress shirt. It was more beautiful than any shirt my father ever owned. The buttons were sky blue with white swirls, like clouds. Peaches and Georgetta settled on a burgundy silk tie.

The salesmen held their heads in their hands as though they all had headaches. Well, better them than us.

60

“I can’t thank you all enough,“ I told them.

“Yes you can, honey. You best pick me as the winner of that drag show.

11

“She can see I’m the fairest of them all.

11

“Oh, please child, don’t make me laugh.

11

I held up both my hands. “Wait,

11

1 protested, “you never told me I was going to judge the drag show.

11

“Well, darlin’,“ Justine smiled, “it’s a month away. Don’t you worry your handsome little head about it.“

The month passed quickly. I tried to avoid all the squabbles between contestants over how the show should be run. I arrived at the Malibou a little late the night of the show. I took off my helmet and sat on my Norton in the back parking lot, smoking a cigarette.

“Child, where have you been?

11

Peaches demanded as she rocked from side to side in her high heels on the gravel.

“I’m coming,

11

1 shouted, grinding out my cigarette. “I’ll be right there.

11

Everyone stopped and stared as I walked in the door. “You look good enough to eat,

11

Peaches said, smoothing my lapels.

Georgetta clasped her hands in front of her. “I think I’m falling in love.

11

“Yeah, she says that after every blow job,” Justine muttered.

Cookie went over the program with me. I chewed at my thumbnail as she spoke. I’d spent my whole life wishing I could be invisible. How was I going to climb up on a stage, with a spotlight on me? When I got up on the runway it was dark in the club. After the spotlight hit me, I could hardly see the crowd.

“Sing something,

11

one of the butches shouted out.

“What do I look like, fucking Bert Parks?” I yelled back. “OK,” I began to sing, “Here she comes, Mis-cell-an-eous.“

“Boo!

11

“Listen up now,

11

1 pleaded, “this is serious.”

“This ain’t serious, this is a drag show,

11

someone yelled.

“Yeah,

11

1 said. “This is serious.

11

1 realized what I wanted to say. ‘You know, all our lives they’ve told us the way we are isn’t right”

I heard some murmurs, “Yeah!”

“Well, this is our home. We’re family.”

There was a ripple of applause from the audience. “You’re goddamn right,

11

one of the drag queens behind me shouted.

“So tonight we’re going to celebrate the way we are. It’s not only OK, it’s beautiful. And I want you all to make our gorgeous sisters in this show fed how much we love and respect them.

11

The crowd roared in approval. Justine and Peaches ran out and kissed me and then ran backstage to await their cues.

I flipped through the index cards Cookie had given me. ‘Will you please welcome tonight, Miss Diana Ross, singing ’Stop in the Name of Love.’ ” The music swelled,

STONE BUTCH BLUES 61

and I stepped aside.

Peaches’ dress shimmered as the spotlight illuminated her. What a breath-takingly beautiful human being.

“Stop in the name of love,” she grabbed a fistful of my tie as she sang, “before you break my heart.” Her lips were close to mine. I gasped, caught up in the power of her performance.

The applause was thunderous.

“Get the kid a towel,” someone yelled as I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand.

“Will you please welcome Miss Barbara Lewis, singing ’Hello Stranger.’ “

Justine walked straight toward me—slow, absolutely steady on her spike heels as the music rose. “Hello stranger,” she draped one arm over my shoulder, “it seems like a mighty long time.” I could get to like this.

The next performer was Georgetta’s boyfriend, Booker. I’d never seen Booker try on drag before. Even in a dress I still thought of Booker as

he.

Booker was also doing “Stop in the Name of Love.” Georgetta peeked out from behind the stage wall to watch. “Wouldn’t you just know it,” she whispered to me. “You think you married a real man and you find out you’ve got a sister who borrows your lipstick and won’t return it.” I chuckled.

“Lord have mercy,“ she said, “that girl’s in trouble.” The strap on Booker’s dress slipped down every time he lifted his arm to sing “Stop!” It could have been very sexy, but he was so nervous he kept trying to hike up the strap.

“Help her,“ Georgetta said to me.

I handed Georgetta the mike and walked out on stage in front of Booker. I got down on one knee in front of him and pretended he was singing to me. Then I circled behind him and pulled down his strap seductively. “Leave it,” I whispered, as I kissed his shoulder. Booker pushed me away dramatically, singing,

Before you break my heart.

The crowd roared its approval. Everybody was really enjoying the way Booker was pulling off this act.

None of us saw the red light flashing.

The music died and everyone groaned. Then the police flooded into the club. I held my hand up to shield my eyes from the spotlight, but I still I couldn’t see what was happening. I heard shouting and tables and chairs overturning. I remembered there was only one door—there was no escape this time. At sixteen years old I was still underage.

I slowly took off my new blue suit coat, folded it neatly, and put it on the piano at the back of the stage. For a moment I considered taking off my tie, thinking somehow it might go easier for me if I did. But, of course, it wouldn’t have. In fact, the tie made me fed stronger in order to face whatever lay ahead of me. I rolled up my sleeves and stepped off the stage. A cop grabbed me and cuffed my hands tightly behind my back. Another cop was smacking Booker, who was sobbing.

I

i

62

The police van was backed right up to the door of the club. The cops roughed us up as they shoved us in. Some of the drag queens bantered nervously on the way to the precinct, making jokes to relieve the tension. I rode in silence.

We were all put together in one huge holding cell. My cuffed hands felt swollen ; and cold from lack of circulation. I waited in the cell, qwo cops opened the door. They ' were laughing and talking to themselves. I wasn’t listening. “What do you want, a fucking

;

invitation? Now!” one of them commanded.

;

“C’mon, Jesse,“ a cop taunted me, “let’s have a pretty smile fa the camera. You’re

:

such a pretty girl. Isn’t she pretty, guys?” They snapped my mug shot. One of the cops loosened my tie. As he ripped open my new dress shirt, the sky blue buttons bounced and rolled across the floor. He pulled up my T-shirt, exposing my breasts. My hands were cuffed behind my back. I was flat up against a wall.

;

“I don’t think she likes you, Gary,” another cop said. “Maybe she’d like me bet

!

ter.“ He crossed the room. My knees were wobbling.

Lt. Mulroney,

that’s what his badge

!.

read. He saw me looking at it and slapped me hard across the face. His hand clamped

\

on my face like a vise. ’’Suck my cock,” he said quietly.

• There wasn’t a sound in the room. I didn’t move. No one said anything. I almost

; got the feeling it could stay that way, all action frozen, but it didn’t. Mulroney was fin

gering his crotch. “Suck my cock, bulldagger.” Someone hit the side of my knee with

a nightstick. My knees buckled more from fear than pain. Mulroney grabbed me by the collar and dragged me several feet away to a steel toilet. There was a piece of un

' flushed shit floating in the water. ’’Either eat me or eat my shit, bulldagger. It’s up to

you.” I was too frightened to think or move.

I held my breath the first time he shoved my head in the toilet. The second time

?

he held me under so long I sucked in water and felt the hard shape of the shit against

; my tongue. When Mulroney pulled my head back out of the toilet I spewed vomit all

over him. I gagged and retched over and over again.

*Aw shit, fuck, get her out of here,” the cops yelled to each other as I lay heaving.

; “No,“ Mulroney said, “handcuff her over there, on top of the desk.”

, They lifted me and threw me on my back across the desk and handcuffed my hands

;

over my head. As one cop pulled off my trousers I tried to calm the spasms in my stomach

. so I wouldn’t choke to death on my own vomit.

“Aw, ain’t that cute, BVD’s,” one cop called out to another. “Fuckin’ pervert.”

: I looked at the light on the ceiling, a large yellow bulb burning behind a metal mesh.

■: The light reminded me of the endless stream of television westerns I saw after we moved

up north. Whenever anyone was lost in the desert the only image shown was a glaring

: sun—all the beauty of the desert reduced to that one impression. Staring at that jail light

i

;

bulb rescued me from watching my own degradation: I just went away.

I found myself standing in the desert. The sky was streaked with color. Every shift

'

of light cast a different hue across the wilderness: salmon, rose, lavender. The scent

: of sage was overpowering. Even before I saw the golden eagle gliding in the updraft

STONE BUTCH BLUES 63

bove me, I heard it scream, as clearly as if it had come from my own throat. I longed ) soar in flight with the eagle, but I felt rooted to the earth. The mountains rose to meet tie. I walked toward them, seeking sanctuary, but something held me back

“Fuck it,” Mulroney spat. “Turn her over, her cunt’s too fuckin’ loose."

“JeezLieutenant, how come these fuckin’ bulldaggers don’t fuck men and they ;ot such bigcunls?”

“Ask your wife,” Mulroney said. The other cops laughed.

I panicked. I tried to return to the desert but I couldn’t find that floating opening letween the dimensions I’d passed through before. An explosion of pain in my body catapulted me back

I was standing on the desert floor again, but this time the sands had cooled. The sky was overcast, threatening to storm. The air pressure was unbearable. It was hard o breathe. From a distance I heard the eagle scream again. The sky was growing as lark as the mountains. Wind blew through my hair.

I closed my eyes and turned my face up to the desert sky. And then, finally, it released—the welcome relief of warm rain down my cheeks.

CHAFER

T ■ ’ he ring was gone. The only tangible proof it had ever existed were the blood

blisters on my ring finger; the cops must have pried it off while my hands

were cuffed and swollen. The ring was gone. I sat in my apartment and

1

stared out the window. I couldn’t tell how long I’d been awake.

Justine and Peaches had bailed me out I recalled they told me there were no charges filed against any of us. Justine wanted to come upstairs with me when I got home, but I was adamant: I wanted to be alone.

The first thing I did was take a bath. I put my head back and tried to luxuriate in the tub. Then I noticed the water turning deeper shades of pink and a current of red water between my legs. I instantly recalled the feel of the hard piece of shit against my tongue and I climbed out of the bathtub in a panic, just making it to the toilet in time.

Now I was tranquil. I didn’t feel much of anything at all. But even through this blessed serenity I grieved for the ring that would have protected me, or at least offered me its wisdom. The ring was gone. There was nothing to hope for now. The ring was gone.

Betty knocked on the door and let herself in. She noticed the plate of fried chicken she’d brought me last night was untouched. The chicken looked like human limbs, and

65

I couldn’t bring myself to bite into flesh. The thought had sent me flying into the bathroom, retching.

;

“I brought you some apple pie,“ Betty said. She had bright yellow calico in her

;

hands. “I thought I’d make some curtains for this window, if that’s OK?“ I’d lived without

curtains since I’d moved in more than six months ago. I nodded. Betty began to sew. From time to time she glanced up at me. I knew she had probably been sewing in my room for several hours when she stood to iron the curtains, but it seemed like seconds.

The curtains were real pretty, but my face wouldn’t move, even to smile. Betty came over and sat down near me. “You should eat something,” she said. I looked up to acknowledge I’d heard her. She moved toward the front door to leave and then stopped. “I know,” she said. ”You don’t think anyone knows. You can’t believe anyone would understand. But I do know.” I shook my head slowly—she didn’t know.

Betty knelt down in front of me. As we made eye contact I felt a sudden jolt of emotional electricity. I saw everything I was feeling in Betty’s eyes, as though I were look

;

ing at my own reflection. I looked away in horror, Betty nodded and squeezed my knee.

“I do know,” she said, getting up to leave ”1 do understand.”

I didn’t move from the couch. Darkness settled over the room. There was another knock at the door. I wished everyone would go away and leave me alone.

Peaches came in, dressed to kill. ”My date was a dud,” she said, and went into the kitchen. A moment later she brought out two pints of vanilla ice cream with a spoon sticking out of each. She sat down next to me on the couch and offered me one. The

,

ice cream tasted so sweet and cool going down my throat it made my eyes sting with tears.

;

Peaches stroked my hair. I was thinking about how the world looks when it’s bu

ried in deep snow drifts—every twig and telephone line outlined with inches of snow,

:

sparkling in the moonlight. Silent and still. Muffled. That’s how the world seemed to

: me now. I wished I could tell Peaches or Betty how peaceful I felt, but I couldn’t speak.

:

‘You’re afraid to sleep, aren’t you child?” Peaches’ voice was so soft. ’’But Miss

Peaches is here with you now. You gonna sleep safe in her arms tonight. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

She disappeared into the bedroom. A moment later she came out and led me to = my bed. She’d changed the sheets; they were fresh and clean. She put me down like

a child and lay next to me. I could taste vomit rise in my throat, but she gently pulled • me to her body. My lips found the curve of her breast. ’’That’s hormones made them

swell up like that, but they’re mine now.” She kissed my hair.

She sang a song in a voice so satiny smooth that I trusted the sound and followed it right into sleep.

; Edwin brought over my blue suit coat. She found the matching trousers in a pile by

my bathroom door and took them both to the dry cleaners for me.

When I didn’t show up at the Malibou the next Friday, Ed and Geoigetta and Peaches came by and picked me up. Cookie threw me a towel when I arrived and told me to

STONE BUTCH BLUES 67

start waiting on tables. I moved in numbness for several weeks, unable to feel the sensation of temperature, hot or cold. The world seemed distant.

One night at work a guy beckoned me over to his table and told me to take the french fries back to the kitchen. He said they were cold. I took them to Cookie, but she said she was too busy. I brought the french fries back to the guy and apologized. He picked up a glass of water and poured its contents all over the french fries. “They’re cold,“ he said.

He opened a traveling case, pulled out a huge snake, and coiled it around his neck. And then he bit off a chunk of the water glass and chewed it. “The french fries are cold,” he repeated.

“Cookie,“ I yelled as I skidded into the kitchen. “Give me some hot french fries, and I mean now!" She started to protest. “Now, goddamn it. I want them now!”

The guy left me a great tip.

‘You didn’t know who that guy was?" Booker doubled over laughing. Everyone chuckled. “That was Razor Man. He performs at a club near here."

I threw down my towel “This job is fucked up,“ I protested, but even I started to smile.

“What’s so funny?" Toni said behind me. I turned around to explain, but her face was all twisted up in anger. “I said, what’s so goddamn funny?” she demanded.

One of the hutches tried to pull her back, “Come on Toni, blow it off.”

She yanked free and staggered toward me. ‘You think you’re funny?” “What the hell, Toni,” I said, flustered.

A group of pros came in the door and I started to walk over to say hello, but Toni spun me around. ‘You think I don’t know what’s going on with you and my femme?“

Everyone sucked in their breath. I felt stunned. “Toni, what the hell are you talking about?”

‘You think I don’t know, don’t you?"

Betty started toward Toni, but Angie, one of the pros who had just walked in, held her back.

’’Step outside you chickenshit bastard.” Toni spat on the floor.

I sure as hell didn’t want to fight Toni, so I went outside to talk to her. Everyone followed me out to listen. “Toni,” I appealed to her.

“Shut up and fight, you fuckin’ bastard. Come on, you chickenshit son-of-a-bitch.“ “Look, Toni,” I said, “if you want to hit me, you go ahead. If it’ll make you feel better, I won’t stop you. But why would I want to hit you? You helped me out when I needed it. You know damn well I’d never disrespect you or Betty.” .

I caught Betty’s eye and she looked at me apologetically. “Don’t you be looking at my femme, you motherfucker!” Toni sputtered.

“Toni, I’m telling you I wouldn’t do anything, ever, to disrespect you.”

; “Get out of my fiicking house,” she yelled at me. She was reeling. “Get out!“

( Angie was behind me. “C’mon, baby." She tugged on my arm. “It’s only gonna

I

68

get worse out here. C’mon,” she said, pulling me back into the bar.

Grant and Edwin offered to help me pack up my stuff and bring it back. “Hell,”

I told them, ”1 still only need a couple of pillowcases for all my stuff. I can bring it

back on the bike.”

When I got back to the club with my things, I found a stool at the end of the bar

and nursed a beer. Angie sat down next to me. ‘You got a place to stay tonight?” She

stubbed out her cigarette. I shook my head. “Look,” she patted my arm. “I’m tired,

I want to go home and to bed—to sleep. You need a place to sack out for the night, fine.

Just don’t get any funny ideas.”

‘You been turning tricks all night?” I asked her.

Angie eyed me distrustfully. ’’Yeah.”

“Then why on earth would I think you were dying for someone to take you home

and fuck you?”

Angie tossed back her whiskey and laughed. “C’mon, baby, I’ll buy you break-

fast for that one.”

“Tell me the truth,” Angie said as she buttered her toast. “No bullshit. How come you

didn’t fight her? Was it really cause she’s your friend or were you scared?”

I shook my head. “She’s not like my best friend or anything, but she helped me

out a lot. I don’t want to hit her, that’s all. She was drunk.”

Angie smirked at me. ”So were you fuckin’ around with Betty?”

I shook my head. “I don’t play that game.”

She watched my face as she poked her eggs with a fork. “How old are you, baby?”

“How old were you when you were my age?” I felt annoyed.

She leaned back against the booth. “I guess the streets made us old before our time,

huh, kid?”

“I’m not a kid.” My voice sounded hard.

“I’m sorry,” she sounded like she meant it. “You’re right, you aren’t a kid.”

I yawned and rubbed my eyes. She laughed. “Am I keeping you up?”

Angie glanced over at an older pro who was paying her check at the register. ’You

know,” she told me, “when I was a little girl I remember being in a restaurant with my

mother and stepfather and I saw a woman who looked something like her.”

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” I said.

Angie looked at me and cocked her head. ‘You like tough women, don’t you,

butch?” I smiled and stabbed my eggs with my fork.

“I remember,” Angie continued, ”my stepfather said, ‘Dirty, filthy whore,’ right

out loud as the woman paid her bill. Everyone in the restaurant heard him say it. But

that woman just paid her bill and took a toothpick and walked out real slow, like she

never heard him at all.

That’s gonna be me when I grow up’’

I thought.

I nodded. “That’s like the time I was about fourteen and I saw this he-she.” Angie

rested her chin on the heel of her hand as she listened. ”I’d forgotten about this. My

STONE BUTCH BLUES 69

parents dragged me along while they shopped. You know how crowded and loud the stores are before Christmas? All of a sudden, everything got real quiet. The cash registers stopped ringing and nobody moved. Everybody was staring at the jewelry department. There’s this couple—a he-she and a femme. All they were doing was looking at rings, you know?’ Angie sat back and exhaled slowly. ’’Everyone was glaring at them. The pressure just popped those two women out the door like corks. I wanted to run out after them and beg them to take me with them. And all the while I was thinking,

Oh shit, that’s gonna be me.”

Angie shook her head. ”It’s tough when you see it coming, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” I said, ”it’s like driving on a single-lane highway and seeing an eighteenwheeler heading right for you.“

She winced. ”C’mon,“ she told me, “I got to get some sleep.”

Angie’s apartment was more like a home than mine had been. “I like that kind of material you got for curtains in the kitchen.” I asked her, “What do you call that?”

’’Muslin,” she said. She got two bottles out of the refrigerator. “Listen, if you need a place, this apartment might be available—very, very soon, if you know what I mean.”

I cocked my head. “Like tomorrow?'

She laughed. “Maybe sooner, who knows?’

I drank my beer and lit a cigarette. I threw the pack on the kitchen table. Angie took one and sat down across from me. “I’m gonna be in a little trouble soon, you know?” I nodded. “So, if you want this place, it’s cheap."

‘You know,” I told her, ”1 don’t even know how to pay bills, or how any of that works. I never lived any place except for Toni and Betty’s.”

Angie rested her hand on my arm. ”I’m gonna give you a piece of advice—you don’t have to take it Get yourself a factory job so you don’t end up spending your whole life in the bars. Life in the Tenderloin’s like lickin’ a razor blade, you know what I mean? I’m not saying the plants are heaven, or anything, but maybe you can get into a plant with the other butches, pay your bills, settle down with a girl.”

I shrugged. ”1 know I got some growing up to do.”

Angie smiled and shook her head. ”No, baby. I’m talking about staying young. I don’t want you to have to grow up too fast I got old the night I first got busted—I was thirteen. The cop kept yelling at me to give him a blow job and he beat the shit out of me when I didn’t. I just didn’t know what he meant by a blow job. It wasn’t like rd never had to do it before”

I got up and walked over to the sink. I felt like I was going to throw up. Angie got upand put her hands on my shoulders, ”I’m sorry, that was a stupid story to tell anybody.” I couldn’t turn around and face her. “C’mon, baby, come sit down,” she tugged onme gently. “You’re OK,” she said as she turned me around. ’‘Are you OK?‘ I smiled at her, but it wasn’t convincing. She ran her fingers through my hair. “You’re not OK, re you?’

I was so relieved she said it out loud that I started to cry. She held me against her

70

shoulder and rocked me. She pushed me back against the sink and looked at my face,

“You want to talk?

11

1 shook my head. “OK,” she whispered, “it’s OK. It’s just, some-

times it’s good to talk about stuff.” She held my chin in her hand. I tried to pull my

face away, but she wouldn’t let me. “You know,

11

she said, “maybe it’s a little bit easier

for femmes to talk to each other about this stuff than it is for butches, what do you think?”

I shrugged my shoulders. I felt trapped and sick.

“Who hurt you, baby? The cops?“ She watched my face. “Who else?” she con-

cluded out loud. “Aw, baby, you’re already old, too,” she crooned as she held me tightly

against her. I buried my face in the safety of her neck. “C’mere baby, sit down.” She

pulled a kitchen chair up next to me.

“I’m OK,“ I said.

“Uh-uh. You’re not talking to the butches now. Do you open up to your girlfriend?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,“ I reluctantly admitted.

Angie looked surprised, which made me fed flattered. Then she smiled coyly.

“Have you ever opened up to a girlfriend?”

I felt like a pinned down butterfly. “I..

She shook her head and looked me in the eye. “You never had a girlfriend?” I looked

down at my lap in embarrassment. “How did a good-looking young butch like you ever

escape all those hungry femmes out there?

11

she teased me, lifting my chin. “How many

times you been busted, baby?“

I shrugged. “A couple.

11

She nodded, “It gets harder when you know what’s coming, doesn’t it?“ I let her

see into my eyes. “Baby,” she sat on my lap. She pulled my face against her breasts.

’’Baby, I’m sorry they hurt you. But more than anything, I’m sorry you got no place

to gp with it. Bring it to me now. It’s OK.“ She held me inside her warmth. Without

words I told her everything I felt Without saying anything she let me know she un-

derstood.

Then my lips brushed against her breast and a sound escaped her throat We looked

at each other, startled. She had a frightened, frozen look on her face, like a deer caught

in headlights. That’s when I realized sex is very powerful.

Angie took a handful of my hair in her fist and pulled my head back slowly. She

brought her mouth close to mine, until I could fed the warmth of her breath. A grunt-

ing sound came from my throat. Angie smiled. She pulled my head back further and

ran her fingernails lightly down my throat. I ached from my waist to my knees.

She kissed me with her whole mouth. I used to think it was disgusting that adults

licked each other’s tongues. I figured it might not even be true. But what Angie’s tongue

was doing to mine set my whole body on fire I strained to take more of her tongue with

mine.

Suddenly she pulled my head back again and looked at me with a strange, wild

look on her face. I felt scared, and she must have realized it because she smiled and

pulled me closer. My hands kneaded her waist and my lips found her hardened nipple.

STONE BUTCH BLUES 71

Without a word she stood up and took me by the hand. In her bedroom she kissed me, pushed me away, looked at me, and kissed me again.

Her hand slid down my waist to my crotch and I pulled away. “You’re not packing?” she asked. I didn’t know what that meant. “It’s OK,” she said, going to her dresser drawer. She muttered to herself, “If I don’t have a harness in here, I’m going to kill myself.“

I realized she was looking for a dildo. I couldn’t remember anything Al had taught me—not a word. All I remembered was Jacqueline’s warning:

You could make a woman fed real good with it or you could make her remember all the ways she’s ever been hurt.

;

“What’s the matter, baby?

4

Angie asked. We both looked down at the dildo and

the harness in her hands. Angie’s face passed through a series of expressions I couldn’t

i

read. “It’s OK,

44

she said as I started to turn away. ’’C’mere, baby,” she coaxed me. Angie

turned me around, “I’ll show you how.”

Those were the most comforting words I ever heard.

She went over to the radio and turned the dial until she heard Nat King Cole’s silky voice singing “Unforgettable.

44

She came into my arms. ’’Dance with me, baby. You know how to make me feel good. Feel how I’m following you?

44

she whispered in my ear. ’’That’s what I want you to do fcr me when we fuck. I want you to slow dance with me. I want you to follow me like I’m following you. C’mere.

44

She tossed the dildo aside, lay down on the mattress, and pulled me on top of her. “Listen to the music. Feel how I’m moving? Move with me,

44

she said. I did. She taught me a new dance. When that song ended another slow song came on, the one from the movie with Humphrey

Bogart—Casablanca.

When it got to the part where the man

'

sang,

Woman needs man and man must have his mate,

we laughed together.

‘

Angie rolled me over and began unbuttoning my shirt, leaving my T-shirt on. She

got up on her knees and slowly fingered the button on my pants. She slid my pants off

;

but left on my BVD’s. I struggled to slip on the harness and the dildo. Angie pushed me back on the pillow and took the rubber cock in both her hands. The way she touched

■

it mesmerized me. “Feel how I’m touching you?

4

she whispered with a smile. She ran

;

her nails down the sides of my T-shirt and up my thighs. Her mouth was very near my

cock. “If you’re going to fuck me with this,

44

she said, stroking it, “then I want you

j

to feel it. This is an act of sweet imagination.

44

She took the head of the cock in her lips and began to move her mouth up and down the length of it.

When she finally spoke,

Now

was all she said.

Angie rolled over on her back as I fumbled with her clothing. I touched her with an adolescent’s lack cf grace. At first I thought she was being very patient about it. Then I wondered if my clumsiness allowed her to be more excited with me than she could have been if I was experienced. When I was fearful or unsure, she became more present in our lovemaking, encouraging me. When I got excited like a colt, she guided me back under control.

No amount of advice I’d ever received from the older butches, however, prepared

72

me for the moment when I knelt between Angie’s legs and had no idea of what to do. “Wait,” she said, pressing her fingertips against my thighs, “let me.“ She gently guided the cock inside of herself. ’’Wait,“ she repeated, ’’don’t push. Be gentle. Let me get used to you inside of me before you move.”

I carefully lay on top of Angie. After a moment her body relaxed against me. “Yes,” Angie said as I moved with her, following her lead. I found ifl tried to think about what I was doing, I lost the rhythm of her body. So I stopped thinking. “Yes.** She grew more excited. Angie became wilder in my arms. It scared me, I didn’t know what was happening. Suddenly she started to cry out and yanked my hair. I stopped moving. There was a long pause. Her body slumped beneath me. One of her arms flopped over her head against the pillow in annoyance. ’’Why did you stop?” she asked quietly.

”1 thought I was hurting you.”

“Hurting me?* Her voice rose a bit. “Haven’t you ever?* She stopped mid-sentence. ’’Sweetheart,“ she said to me, searching my face for the truth, “have you ever been with . a woman before?”

So much blood pumped into my face that the room spun around. I turned away from her, but I was still inside of her. “Wait,*

1

she said putting her hands firmly on my ass. “Pull out of me gently, careful, ah, OK.”

Angie got up slowly and brought back a pack of cigarettes, matches, an ashtray, and a bottle of whiskey. “I’m sorry,” she said. I turned away from her. ’’Listen to me, Jess. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d never been with a woman before. The first time should be special. It’s sort of a big responsibility, you know? C’mere, baby,** she pulled me against her. I lay quietly in her arms. Billie Holiday was singing on the radio. We both felt how close my mouth was to her breast at the same moment, and something flared between us.

’’Roll over,“ she told me. I did. ’’Relax. I won’t hurt you.” She straddled my waist and began to massage my shoulders through my T-shirt. I could feel the strength of the muscles in her thighs. I rolled over and she stayed over me. I reached up for her face and pulled her down to kiss me.

She gave me another chance. I did better that time.

We held each other for a long time without speaking. Then she laughed. ’’That,“ she said, “was great. That was really wonderful.” It was so nice of her to say that. She guided me out of her slowly, then kissed me all over my face and made me laugh. “You’re really very sweet,” she told me, “you know that?**

I blushed, which made her laugh and kiss me all over my flushed face again.

’’You really are pretty,” I told her. She made a face and leaned over for a cigarette. I shook my head. “How come you make your living from your looks and you don’t know how beautiful you are?**

“That’s why,** she laughed bitterly. ’’Whatever it is they find attractive, you figure it must be pretty ugly. You know?” I didn’t, but I nodded.

“Will you respect me in the morning?** she demanded.

STONE BUTCH BLUES 73

“Will you marry me?’ I asked her.

We both laughed and hugged each other, but the sad thing is, I think we were each kind of serious.

Angie looked at me long and hard. ’’What?” I was worried. “What?”

She ran her hands through my hair. ”1 just wish I could make you fed that good. You’re stone already, aren’t you?’ I dropped my eyes. She lifted my chin up and looked me in the eyes. “Don’t be ashamed of being stone with a pro, honey. We’re in a stone profession. It’s just that you don’t have to get stuck in being stone, either. It’s OK if you find a femme you can trust in bed and you want to say that you need something, or you want to be touched. Do you know what I mean?”

I shrugged. She kept talking. “I remember when I was a little kid, I saw a bunch of the older kids in a circle in the playground. I went over to see what they were doing.” I got up on one elbow to listen. “There was this big beetle. The kids were poking it with a stick. The bug just kind of curled up to protect itself.“ She snorted, “God knows I been poked with enough sticks.

11

1 kissed her on the forehead.

“God,” she said, ”by the time we’re old enough to have sex, we’re already too ashamed to be touched. Ain’t that a crime?” I shrugged.

‘Will you trust me a little?

1

she asked. I tensed. “I won’t touch you any place you’ve been hurt, I promise. Turn over, baby,“ she whispered.

She lifted the back of my T-shirt. ”God, your back looks like raw hamburger. Did I do that to you?” I laughed. “God, it’s bleeding a little. Did I hurt you?” I shook my head. ’’What a butch,” she laughed. Angie’s hands rubbed all the soreness out of my shoulders and lower back. She slid her nails down my back and sides, and soon her mouth followed the same trail. I clenched the pillowcase in my fists. I knew it pleased her that I writhed under her touch.

As her hand ran up my thigh, I froze. “I’m sorry, baby, it’s OK,“ she reassured me. Trolled over and she came into my arms. ’’Usually it’s me that reacts like that,

11

she said. ”It’s strange. It’s like being on the other side of the looking glass, you know?” I didn’t, but I could feel myself drift irresistibly toward sleep.

“Sleep now, baby,” Angie cooed in my ear. “You’re safe here.”

“Angie,“ I asked her as I slipped into sleep, “will you be here when I wake up?” ’’Sleep now, baby,” she answered.

CHAPTER

■ t was time to find a factory job. The hutches urged me to try to get into steel or W auto. Of course I already knew that. I wasn’t a damn fool. The strength of the * unions in those heavy industries had won liveable wages and decent benefits.

But Edwin said there was more to it than that. The trade unions safeguarded job security. She told me that unlike a nonunion shop if she had a run-in with a jerk on the plant floor, it didn’t signal her last day on the job. You couldn’t be fired just because some foreman didn’t like your face. With union protection, all the hutches agreed, a he-she could carve out a niche, and begin earning valuable seniority.

In the meantime, while I was waiting for an opening, I had to work through the temporary labor agencies at minimum wage. In early autumn the agency sent me to a one-day job on the loading docks of a frozen food plant. My heart leaped when I saw Grant walking into the factory ahead of me. I caught up to her and shook her hand.

Unloading trucks on the docks was male turf. It meant a lot to have another butch watch your back. Grant dug her gloved hands deep inside the pockets of her blue Navy coat. “Bur,” she shivered. “I’m freeziri my ass off out here, let’s get inside." Then she sauntered very slowly towaid the loading docks. She never hurried. She was so cool.

One of the truckers shouted, “He-shes at high noon!” Several guys peered out from

75

k--

f

i'

76

f

L

1

inside the plant and shook their heads in disgust. It was going to be a long shift. I was

s

glad we walked slowly, like we owned the god damn parking lot.

We climbed up on the dock. The foreman came out to look us over. Grant took

s

off her glove and extended her hand. At first the foreman looked like he wasn’t going

(

to shake her hand, but he did. What little respect Grant got, she earned.

f

The afternoon was waning. The sun dipped low in the winter sky. A brutal wind

blew off the frozen lake. The huge semi we were unloading served to block the wind,

but not the cold. I shivered. Wfe were told we would unload two of these long, long trucks

1

during the shift. We both nodded. Personally, I had my doubts.

<

We worked in silence with two guys. Neither of the men spoke a word to us. They

!

hardly spoke to each other. When Grant and I had to get around the men, we all dropped

our eyes. It was harder to bear than a storm of insults.

The cartons of frozen food weren’t as heavy as I thought, not fa

-

the first three or

four hours. After that, they felt like they were filled with cold steel. My muscles ached

and burned. I felt elated as the truck load emptied. I worked faster. Grant slowed me

down with a well-intentioned glare. I had forgotten another semi was coming until I

saw it parked, waiting in the lot.

We had a ten-minute breather as one truck pulled away and the other backed in.

Then we began unloading the endless rows of cartons in its trailer.

Sweat ran in rivulets between my breasts. But my head was frozen and my ears

burned like fire That’s when I noticed with horror that both of the men we were working

with were missing pieces of their ears. Frostbite.

In some plants the men were missing a finger down to the second joint, or a thumb.

Out here on the docks, which butt up against the frozen lake, the men gave up little ex-

posed pieces of their bodies. It frightened me. I wondered what I would be forced to

sacrifice in order to survive.

I shuddered. Grant gave me a slight push that made me focus again on the task

at hand. She looked me up and down to make sure I was alright. She wouldn’t ask out

loud. In order to be safe on men’s terrain it was necessary to work with dignity, as though

the job was effortless. I also didn’t want Grant to see me cold and scared and tir ed. She

seemed fine. She wasn’t even breathing hard.

When the shift finally ended we got the night foreman to sign our timecards and

hightailed it out to the parking lot. We sat in Grant’s car smoking cigarettes in silence.

My arms trembled with exhaustion. It was the first real break we’d had in eight hours.

Our smoky breath formed ice crystals on the windshield. Grant revved up the engine

and turned the radio on low as we waited fa

-

the car to warm up.

“Wasn’t too bad,“ I said casually, “huh?“

’‘Are you kidding?" she asked me incredulously. “Halfway through I thought Fd

die.“

I registered shock. “For real? You made it look so easy!”

She laughed. ‘You must be joking. The only thii^ that got me through was it looked

STONE BUTCH BLUES 77

like it wasn’t bothering you much. I figured I had to show you an old butch like me could still keep up with a young punk like you!”

For a moment I felt uneasy. If she relied on me, she had no idea what a thin reed she leaned on. Then I flushed with gratitude as I realized how she was holding me up, even at this moment. “You pulled it off, kid,” she punched my shoulder lightly. “Jesus,” she added, as a look of fear crossed her face. “Did you see the ears on those guys?”

We finished our cigarettes in silence, lost in similar thoughts.

It was always hard the first day I started working at a new factory, it wasn’t easy for anyone. It took a while far a new person to be accepted into the community of a plant. Before coworkers invested their caring in you they wanted to know if you were staying. Many workers never came back after the first day, or couldn’t make quota. Others made it almost to the eve of the ninety days required to join the union, only to be laid off.

I planned to stay at this bindery, if I could. I easily made quota the first day, feeding machines and packing skids. By day two I slowed down. If quota was made too effortlessly, the foreman would raise it.

I was being watched and I knew it. The first day I wore sunglasses, defensively, all day long. I didn’t take off my denim jacket and kept it buttoned up over my black T-shirt.

This was a small sweatshop with a company union and I was the only he-she in the plant. If this were a big plant, I would be one of many he-shes, so many we would have our own baseball or bowling teams within the factory complex. There I would probably have bound my breasts at work, worn a white T-shirt with no jacket, and found my place among our own smaller societal structure within the life of the plant.

But despite the fact that I hadn’t yet been initiated into this society, kindnesses were not withheld. At lunch I bought a bottle of pop from the machine near the time clock and sat down on a skid to eat my baloney sandwich. Muriel, one of the older Native women who worked near me on the line, offered me half her apple. I stood and thanked tier. I ate it appreciatively. Each morning for the next week Muriel offered me coffee from her thermos. Everyone watched us, weighing everything they could observe.

Those moments before the whistle blew in the morning were precious because they were ours. Only the

kerchunk

of the time clock stole the last one from us. We all dragged ourselves out of bed a little earlier in the mornings to be at the plant a quarter hour before we had to punch in. We drank coffee and ate rolls, talked and laughed.

Vfe talked all day long too. The owners only rented our hands, not our brains. But even talking had to be negotiated when it was on the bosses’ time. If we seemed to be having too much fun, laughing and enjoying ourselves too much, the foreman would come up behind us and hit the solid wooden worktables with a lead pipe while he growled, “Get to work.” Then we’d all look at our hands as we worked and press our lips together in silent anger. I think the foreman sometimes got nervous after he’d done that, sensing the murderous glances he received moments after he turned his back. But

78

he was assigned to keep us under control. That required keeping us divided.

Wfe came from many different nationalities and backgrounds. About half the women on the line were from the Six Nations. Most were Mohawk or Seneca. What we shared in common was that we worked cooperatively, day in and day out. So we remembered to ask about each other’s back or foot pains, family crises. We shared small bits of our culture, favorite foods, or revealed an embarrassingmoment. It was just this potential for solidarity the foreman was always looking to sabotage. It was done in little ways, all the time: a whisper ed lie, a cruel suggestion, a vulgar joke. But it was hard to split us up. The conveyor belt held us together.

Within weeks I was welcomed into the circle, teased, pelted with questions. My differences were taken into account, my sameness sought out. AVb worked together, we talked, we listened.

And then there were songs. When the whistle first blew in the mornings there was a shared physical letdown among all the women and men who worked between its imperative commands. AVb lumbered to our feet, stood silently in line to punch in, and took our places on the assembly line—next to each other, facing each other. AVb worked the first few moments in heavy silence. Then the weight was lifted by the voice of one of tlie Native women. They were social songs, happy songs that made you fed real good to hear them, even if you had no idea what the words meant.

I listened to the songs, trying to hear the boundaries of each word, the patterns and repetitions. Sometimes one of the women would explain to us later what the song meant, or for which occasion or time of year it was sung.

There was one song I loved the best. I found myself humming it after I punched out in the afternoons. One day, without thinking, I sang along. The women pretended not to notice, but they smiled at each other with their eyes, and sang a little louder to allow me to raise my own voice a bit. After that I started looking forward to the songs

I

in the morning. Some of the other non-Native women learned songs, too. It felt good

1

to sing together.

One wintry Friday night, before we punched out, Muriel invited me to go to an

i

indoor pow-wow on Sunday. I said yes, of course. I felt honored.

i

There woe a few other Black and white workers at the social—friendships too valu

able to explore solely on company time. I began to go regularly and got strung out on

1

fry bread and com soup.

(

Once or twice I was cajoled to get up and join a round dance. I must say that al-

s

though the pounding of the drum resounded in my heart, it never got as far down as

I

my feet I felt awkward dancing and self-conscious about being so butch.

Of course, Muriel’s daughter Yvonne being there made me self-conscious too. I

’

had a fierce crush on Yvonne. She worked in the front office of the same factory. Every-

\

one knew she was the girlfriend of a local organized crime boss. That didn’t stop us

ti

from knowing where each other was in the room during those socials. I think all the

s

women noticed right away.

STONE BUTCH BLUES 79

I’d already decided I wasn’t even going to think about approaching Yvonne, even

though she seemed to like me. Some of the older butches had warned me that some-

times on a job the guys would pressure one of the women to sleep with a he-she, as

a joke, and then come back and tell everyone about it. That was the last day on the job

for the butch, who usually left in shame. But sooner or later the stigma also came back

around and stuck on the woman who slept with one of us, and she had to leave too.

I was afraid erf this at first with Yvonne, but she wasn’t like that at all. One night

when a group of us went out after work and got drunk, she told me her boyfriend had

suggested he wanted to watch us make love and she had told him to fuck off. Once that

had been said out loud, however, it was hard not to think about making love with Yvonne

Just before Christmas the crew from work went to a bar near the plant fa

-

a few

beers. There was a heavy snowstorm outside. Inside, we drank and laughed. By the

time we left, the snow had nearly covered the cars. I heated the car door key to Muriel’s

old Dodge with my lighter to defrost it. When I finally got the car door open, Yvonne

kissed me right on the mouth. She left me in that parking lot, stunned and excited.

The next night I went to the Malibou and wondered the whole time what it would

be like to bring Yvonne there.

I was happy at the plant, flirting with Yvonne, listening to Muriel’s stories, wait-

ing for the next social. Chi Friday nights we drank at the bar where we cashed our checks.

Saturday nights I spent at the gay bar. I was feeling just fine.

Then one day, when the plant whistle blew, silence hung heavy in the air. I looked

from face to face. Something was up. Muriel spoke first. ‘Today you start the song,”

she suggested casually, “any song you want.” I looked around in disbelief, but she was

serious. I felt the blood rise in my face. I didn’t want to call attention to myself. I didn’t

want to hear my voice rise alone, even fa a minute, above the sounds erf

-

the machines

and the other women. In fact, I realized I felt ashamed erf

-

my own voice. ”1 can’t,“ I

protested. I fat near tears. No one said a word. They just kept working in silence. By

lunchtime I realized there would be no songs until I began one.

Why?

I wondered.

Why are the women doing this to me? Are they making fun of

me?l

knew it wasn’t true. They noticed how quietly I mouthed the words to songs. They

were inviting my voice to join theirs. They were honoring me again.

That night I lay awake in panic. The daily routine wouldn’t resume until I sang alone.

My throat clenched at the very idea. I thought about calling in sick, but it was too

cowardly and it wouldn’t change anything. No one was going to forget I was asked to

start the first song. Besides, the next day was Christmas Eve. I would lose my holiday

pay if I called in sick. And immediately after the holiday I was eligible to join the union.

In the morning I tried to act normal at work. I was welcomed as usual. When

Yvonne came in, I wondered if she had heard. Her smile let me know she had. The

whistle blew. Each of us punched in. We took our places on the line. The tension was

thick. I cleared my throat several times. Muriel watched her hands while she worked;

she smiled gently.

80

This was it. I would try to find my voice and be proud of it. After several false starts my voice began to rise, singing the song I loved most—the first song I’d learned. Almost immediately the other women lifted their voices up with mine to spare me any

j

pain. We all smiled at each other and sang with tears in our eyes.

After lunch the foreman called me into his office and handed me a pink slip.

•

“Sorry,“ he said. He escorted me to my locker to get my things. I wasn’t allowed to

say goodbye to anyone.

I actually felt embarrassed about being fired. I knew it was because I was so close

r

to getting into the union. And I knew management had been watching the growing

solidarity with great trepidation. But my shame rekindled as I realized the foremen probably heard my voice rising alone in song.

I walked home in the snow. The deep drifts muffled all the sounds of the city. I felt pretty low. Immediately after the holiday I’d have to begin job-hunting all over again. When I got home I hoped the phone would ring. It didn’t. I had nothing to look for-

f

ward to except watching the “Perry Como Christmas Special? That made me fed much

J

worse. Drinking didn’t help either, not that it ever did.

L

I was thinking about going out to the Malibou when I heard footsteps thumping

up the stairs. I opened the door. There was Muriel, Yvonne, and some of die other Native women from the plant. They brought me food and a few wrapped presents. They ' were on their way to a social. I was invited. Muriel watched my face with mock solemnity as she said, “Now you learn to dance.”

i

CHAPTER

8

ou made Grade Five?’ A butch cheer went up in the plant cafeteria. “Al-

right! Way to go!” All the butches clapped me on the back and shook my

hand. I felt euphoric. .

Butch Jan put an arm around me. ‘You done good, kid,” she said.

I blushed.

“How’d you do it?’ Frankie wanted to know. Actually, I didn’t know why I’d been selected for the job. Maybe it was for the same reason a lot of factory jobs were opening to us: all the young guys were getting drafted left and right.

rd been at this bindery for six months. It was a huge factory. Grant and I both got jobs around the same time. Two months later, when the educational materials division opened, seven more butches had been among those hired. Nine of us. Almost the whole team Td played softball with last summer. Nine of us—it was heaven.

Since I’d been in the plant for a while, I knew the ropes and was already in the union. So occasionally the other butches came to me for advice about problems on their floor or about the union. I enjoyed the unprecedented reversal of roles.

I worked with Jan in the trimming and folding division. Giant machines folded huge pieces of paper stock that were then trimmed into pages. Stacks of pages were

81

82

I

loaded on skids near the massive collating machine. Women ran from the skids to feed

I

fresh pages into the pockets of the collator. The pages dropped onto a moving belt. The

women at the end added cover sheets and stapled them. I stacked the finished booklets

onto skids.

tf Every once in a while I got pulled from this work to help unload the trucks bring-

a ing in skids of fresh paper. I looked forward to it because it meant driving a forklift.

The only part I didn’t like was feeling a little distanced from the other women. Not one

of my coworkers was ever taken off the line for any other task.

One morning the foreman replaced me on the line. “Goldberg, come on,” Jack

commanded. I followed him into the shipping department. “Wait here,” he said.

Tommy made a face behind Jack’s back. “I hate that guy,“ he told me after Jack

left. “He reminds me of this officer I had in the Navy, always ragging me. I hated his

guts.“

I nodded, but I didn’t speak. Tommy was OK, but I didn’t know if he’d repeat any-

I

thing I said.

Tommy looked at the clock. “Almost break time,“ he said. “God, I hated the Navy.

Two years of my life they stole from me. I used to watch the clock all day. They could

j

force me to do anything, but they couldn’t stop time. Sooner or later they had to let me

1

out.“

s

I shrugged. “So why’d you join?”

’‘Are you kidding?" he asked me. “So I wouldn’t get drafted into the Army. LBJ’s

1

sending any guy who can walk over to Nam.”

Jack came around the comer with Kevin, his assistant, and Jim Boney. Damn, I

hated Jim Boney.

[

“Hey, Tommy, you makiri a real woman out of Jess?

1

Boney taunted. Tommy leered

1

and grabbed his own crotch.

“C’mon,“ Jack ordered me to follow him.

I looked back at Tommy. He mouthed the words,

I’m sorry.

i I mouthed the words,

Fick you.

Jack led me to a giant folding machine that was idle. I watched as he took out his

i

tools. “Now watch,“ he ordered as he began to set the machine for a different-size fold.

I couldn’t believe it. This was an apprentice job. No one else was allowed to learn the

i

mysteries of setting up a job or repairing the machines. Apprenticing led to a journey-

man’s card. My hopes fluttered.

“You set the vertical, same way,“ Jack said. He grabbed a rag and wiped oil off

his hands as I tried to set the vertical folds. “No, like this,” he corrected. The lunch

whistle interrupted us. ’‘After lunch,“ he said. I flew up to the cafeteria.

Why do triumphant moments have to be so fleeting? Just when all the congratula-

tions had died down, Duffy, the chief shop steward, approached our table. “Goldberg,

can I talk to you a minute?"

I motioned to the chair next to me, “Sure."

STONE BUTCH BLUES 83

He gestured toward the door. By the time we got out in the hall, I had a feeling I knew what this was about. “Duffy, don’t tell me there’s some fucking reason why I can’t bust the barrier to a number five grade.

41

He folded his arms and looked at the floor. “Listen, Goldberg, I know you want that grade, and you deserve it. No woman in this plant has ever gone higher than a four, and none of the guys, except one, have ever worked lower than a five. It ain’t right?

1

I narrowed my eyes. “So?“

He sighed. “So fd be willing to file a grievance to get you or any of the other women a Grade Five job. Just not that job.“

I wanted to punch him out. “Why the fuck not, Duffy?

11

He put his arm lightly on my shoulder. I shook it off. My fists were balled up at my sides.

“Listen, Goldberg, Jack and Boney are setting you up.“

I was confused. “What’s Jim Boney got to do with this?

11

Duffy pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered me one. I took it. “You know Leroy? Well, he’s a Grade Four. Most of the time they have him sweeping up.“

I exhaled slowly. “Shit, I didn’t know that?

1

Duffy nodded. “He’s been bidding for that Grade Five job now for more than a year. When Freddie got drafted last month, Leroy told Jack he wanted the job. Jack kept stalling him. Leroy finally came to me and asked me to help him fight for the job, so we filed a grievance?

1

The picture was coming into focus.

“Jack is using you. Boney’s a union man, but he’s such a fucking racist he’d rather block with Jack than work with a Black guy. Leroy deserves that job,“ Duffy added.

“Well so do 1,

11

I argued, but I said it without much steam.

Duffy could see me wrestling with what he said. “Yeah, you do. And I’ll help you push to get a higher grade job if you want to fight for it, just not this job. Stick with me on this one, Goldberg. It’s really important for the union right now.“

“Why now?“ I asked.

“Our contract’s up at the end of October. The company will do anything to split us up right now to make it harder for us to strike if we have to. We need to stick together?

1

I sulked. “Look, Duffy, I’m for the union, you know that. But butches can’t even come to union meetings?

1

Duffy looked confused. I explained to him that we were allowed to drink downstairs at the union hall, but we weren’t allowed to go upstairs to the meeting.

“Who says?“ he wanted to know.

“That’s the way it is. That’s the way it’s always been, as far as I’ve heard?

1

Duf fy put his arm around my shoulder . “Look, help Leroy win this one. As soon as the strike’s over, you get the butches together, and I’ll get as many of the stewards as possible, and we’ll all go into the ratification meeting as a group and insist on your right to be there?

1

It sounded like change. “I guess,“ I told him. “But how come we have to wait till after the strike?

11

84

He knitted his eyebrows. “Well, we don’t. It’s just that there’s gonna be an explo- ; sion about Leroy, one way or the other. I’m trying to hold things together this summer, : so that we’re strong if we need to strike, you know?”

i

I shrugged and nodded. The lunch whistle blew. I panicked. ’’What do I tell Jack

now?“

r Jack came around the comer as I spoke. ”You ready?” he asked me.

I took a deep breath. “I don’t feel good, Jack. I’m punching out and going home.”

I

Jack glared at Duffy. ’’Suit yourself.”

Duffy whistled as Jack left. ”You’re alright, Goldberg.”

I smiled grudgingly. “Call me Jess.”

The next morning when the whistle blew I took my place at the collating machine,

■

ready to feed the pockets. I could see Duffy and Leroy talking to Jack Duffy was waving

; his arms and yelling over the din of the machinery. Jack had his hands on his hips and

j his face was all red and blustery.

j When I looked over a few minutes later, Leroy was working on a machine with

j

Jack’s assistant. I had to hand it to Leroy, these guys weren’t going to make life easy

f

for him. As it turned out, they weren’t too pleased with me, either.

'

”You son-of -a-bitch,” Jack yelled in my ear as he walked past me. Jim Boney was

! glaring at me from across the room. Jan was on the other end of the collating line, watch-

■■ ing everything.

The hardest part was telling the butches at lunchtime that I was back to Grade Four,

r

“It ain’t right,” Grant said sullenly. Johnny and Frankie glanced at each other and shook

s their heads. Jan just watched the situation unfolding. I told everybody about the prom-

“ ise Duffy made to get all the butches into the union meetings.

’’Big deal,” Grant laughed. ’’This kid’s like Jack and the Beanstalk, you know?

She trades a cow for a magic bean. Fuck that shit. I don’t want to be part of no union ? that doesn’t want me.”

My face burned. ’We can’t just say ‘fuck the union,’ we’re in it. The contract’s i up in October. What are we gonna do, go into the plant manager’s office one at a time

J

and negotiate? We don’t have a choice. We’ve gotta make the guys see that they need

|

us too.”

■£'

Grant thumped her fist on the table. ’I got a choice,“ she said. “I don’t want no

'

part of this union. You sold out, kid. Fuck you.”

■■

The whistle blew. Lunch was over. Everyone got up and went back to work. I stayed

a

at the table for a moment, trying to remember what it was like to feel so good the day ’ before. I would have done almost anything to get back the respect I lost. Jan was still

V.

at the table. She stood up and put her hand on my shoulder, ’’C’mon, kid, we’re late."

;■ I stood up and sighed. I felt defeated and raw. Jan looked me in the face. ’’Life’s

I

complicated, ain’t it, kid?” I nodded, unable to look her in the eye. She gently touched

i

c

my

cheek with her calloused hand. ”1 think you didthe right thing.”

;

I remembered something my English teacher told me about not looking for ap

STONE BUTCH BLUES 85

proval for doing what you think is right. But I needed Jan’s approval so much at the moment that my eyes welled up with tears of gratitude.

From that day forward, Jim Boney began to bait me mercilessly. “Hey, suck this,” he’d shout at me across the shop floor. Nobody wanted to take him on, partly because he held sway as a bully and partly because he was so tight with the foreman.

’’What am I gonna do, Jan?” I moaned over a beer.

“You’ve gotta fight him,” Jan told me. I didn’t want to fight Jim Boney. I was afraid of him. "There’s no other way to stop him,” Jan said. I knew she was right.

Two weeks later, Jim Boney pushed me too far. I was bending over to grab some sheets off the skid and I felt something on the back of my thigh. I swatted behind me and touched flesh. Tim Boney had pulled his cock out of his pants and rubbed it up against my jeans. I felt dizzy with fear and nausea. The worst part was that Jim Boney saw the look and recognized it. He and Jack laughed at me.

All the women were watching, instead of working, so the booklets spilled off the end of the line and scattered on the floor. Jack shut the machine down. It got real quiet.

Leroy called Jim Boney an asshole and told him to put his little dick back in his pants. Boney pushed Leroy, and they squared off to fight.

‘Your fight’s with me, Jim Boney,” I shouted. This burst of bravado startled me as much as it did everyone else. They were brave words, bom of fear. ’’C’mon, you want a fight? Let’s go.”

Everybody looked at Boney. He smirked at me in such a smarmy way that I knew he wanted to reduce me to the same helplessness I’d felt minutes before, but I refused. “C’mon,“ I told him. “What are you afraid of, huh? Getting your ass whipped by a bulldagger?”

Duffy came running up and then stopped in his tracks. He watched the standoff. Jim Boney lunged forward, and Jack and Kevin held him back. But I could tell Boney wasn’t struggling too hard to get to me. I didn’t know why Boney wasn’t eager to fight me, but it emboldened me. ”I’ve had it up to here with your shit, Boney. We all have. Do your fucking job and leave me alone or else I’m gonna pound the shit out of you.”

Jack and Kevin looked at Boney to see what he’d do. They let go of his arms. Boney waved his arm at me as though he were disgusted and turned away. ’’She ain’t worth it,” he told them. “She ain’t worth shit.”

As Boney walked away, Duffy shouted at him, “She’s a better union man than you are, Boney!”

Jan shook my hand. Duffy clapped me on the back.

“Atta girl.” Sammy, the truck driver, patted my shoulder. “He’s a jerk.”

Walter, the repairman, caught my eye and nodded his head once in my direction.

“Alright,” Jack yelled as he turned die machinery back on, ’’get back to work, all of you.”

86

i i None of us would have attended the union picnic if it wasn’t for Duffy, ft was his idea

that I should organize all the hutches to come. “And you can bring all your girlfriends,”

1

he added. ’’Jess, do you have a girlfriend?” The look on my face answered him. I knew he was just trying to get to know me better, but that was not a great place to start.

: * “Jess,” he said, “did I say it right?

Girlfriends,

I mean.”

I

I laughed. “You’re alright, Duffy.”

; The other hutches weren’t all that wild about coming, but Jan understood it would

be a breakthrough and she promised her lover Edna would come as well. Once Jan said yes, the other hutches agreed.

; We brought our baseball equipment. Once Abba’s reopened in the spring we had

formed the Abba Dabba Do’s softball team.

Jan and Edna and I sat under a tree. Duffy brought us bottles of beer. ”1 like him,” . Edna said, after he left.

; I smiled. ”1 do too.”

Jan patted my shoulder and told Edna, “The kid’s becoming a real union organizer” “Aw, I am not,” I demurred.

”Hey, kid,” Jan told me. “We can use all the unity we can get. You been doing real good on this job trying to hold everything together. Take a few bows, OK?” I swelled with pride.

j Edna stood up. “I need a cup,” she said.

J

I studied Jan as she watched Edna walk away. Her face was filled with pain. I’d

I

unconsciously noticed the weight of Jan’s sadness lately, but I hadn’t realty thought about

;

it. Jan looked at me, and she let me see a little farther into her eyes than usual. I tried

:

to show her how much I cared about her before I spoke. ‘You OK?” I asked her.

: Jan shook her head slowly. “I think I’m losing her,” she said.

!

My stomach clenched. Jan slapped my thigh. “I’m gonna get another beer, you

want one?”

I stood up with her. “No, but,” I rested my hand on her arm, “if you ever need

;

to talk, you know... ’’Jan smiled and walked away.

' Duffy sat down next to me. “Hey, Jess, you’re the only one I know who I could

: ask this question.” I felt flattered.

;

”1 wanted to ask you about Ethel and Laverne,” Duffy said.

I looked around. “Are they here?” Duffy shook his head. ’Too bad,” I told him, ”1 always wanted to meet their husbands.”

Duffy spoke carefully. “What’s the story with Ethel and Laverne? Are they lovers?’ “Naw, they’re both married. You know that.”

f,„

Duffy fumbled for words. “Yeah, but aren’t they butches?”

I understood what he was driving at. “Well, they’re he-shes, but they’re not butches.”

i

Duffy laughed and shook his head. ”1 don’t get it.”

=• I shrugged. “There’s not much to get, really. I mean they look like Spencer Tracy

STONE BUTCH BLUES 87

and Montgomery Clift, but they really seem to love the guys they married.”

Duffy shook his head. ’’But they’re inseparable. Don’t you think maybe they’re lovers and they’re afraid to let people know?”

I thought about it for a moment. “Jeez, Duffy, it’s not like they’re getting off much easier by being married—they’re still he-shes. They’ve gotta deal with the same shit butches do. Imagine Laverne going into the ladies room at the movies. Or Ethel at a bridal shower. I don’t think people who give them a rough time give a fuck who they sleep with. It’s probably harder for them, too,” I added. ”They don’t have a place to go like we do—I mean like the bars. All they got is their husbands and each other.”

Duffy smiled and shook his head. “The way Ethel and Laverne are with each other, I was sure they were lovers.”

“Oh, they love each other alright. You can see that. But it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re hot and bothered for each other. They really understand each other. Maybe each of diem just likes looking in the other’s mirror and seeing a reflection that smiles back.“

Duffy put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me. ’’You’re very smart about people,” he said.

I blushed with pride and pulled away in embarrassment “I’m gonna get some food"

I heard Grant’s voice rising before I saw the confrontation. She was shouting, nose to nose, with Jim Boney. ’’What do you mean you don’t want no fucking girls on your team?” she yelled.

Boney shouted in the direction of the other guys, “Cause we want to win, don’t we guys?” He smacked his fist into his first base mitt.

“Hey, Boney,” I called out as I strode toward them, “you talking about softball? We’ll kick your ass!”

A silence fell over the picnic. For one thing, everyone knew this was about a lot more than a softball game. On the other hand, baseball was sacred to these guys. The thought of playing against girls bordered on heresy. If they won, where was the victory? If they lost... it was too humiliating for them to consider.

Even the butches stared at me with a horrified look on their faces. But it was too late, my boast hung in the air. “C’mon, Boney,” I said. “We’ll challenge you to three innings, and we’ll whip you, too.”

Boney sneered. “Bet you won’t,

Goldberg.”

The way he said my name made me realize how much he also hated me as a Jew.

I smiled. “Bet you your glove we will.” The grin melted off Boney’s face. He loved his first base mitt the way most people love their puppy dogs. He kept it in his locker at work every day, even in the wintertime.

“And if you lose?’ he countered. All eyes turned toward me. The smile grew back on Boney’s face. ”If you lose, Goldberg, you gotta kiss me.”

“Ewww, yecch," everyone moaned. Some of them spit on the ground for emphasis.

“C’mon,” I told the other butches, ’’let’s get our equipment."

Jan shook her head as we gathered on the field in a huddle.

88

“I don’t know about this,” Grant muttered.

“Look,“ I admitted, “I made a mistake, OK? I knew it the minute the words were

out of my damn mouth. I’m sorry. All we can do is play our best game and I’ll take

the consequences.

41

Grant threw her glove down and put her hands on her hips. “We’ll all pay if we

lose, that’s what’s so fucked up about it.”

Frankie intervened. “She said she was sorry. So let’s win, OK?“

That was easier said than done. The men’s team scored two runs in the first in-

ning. We couldn’t seem to handle the field at all. I wondered why we were playing so

poorly. After all, most of the guys weren’t in great shape.

We

played every week. Maybe

we were intimidated because we believed they were better than us. I suddenly got a sick

feeling in my stomach when I realized three innings might not be enough for a team

of he-shes to overcome our fear.

“C’mon,” I said as we huddled between innings. “Can’t we show them we got

power?”

We scored two runs, but the guys scored two also. We were two runs down. Be-

tween innings, Frankie asked what would happen if we tied. Jan exploded. “Listen to

this shit,“ she growled. “Why don’t we just admit we lost the game now, huh? Why

even play another inning?” Her voice got real low and menacing. “This is no fucking

joke. You just think what it’d be like to have to watch Jess kiss Jim Boney. I’m not gonna

stand by and let that happen.”

That was my friend, Butch Jan.

We took our positions to play, and play we did. We scored three runs—five to four,

our favor. But when Frankie headed into home plate, Jim Boney smacked her on the

back so hard with the ball she hit the dirt.

We all charged Boney, ready to kill him. Jack and his assistant closed ranks with

Boney. No one could tell if all the men were squared off against the he-shes, or if it

was just those three guys against us. Duffy rushed up between the butches and the men.

“Jack, you took Frankie out, you fucking bastard. If they’re down one man, so’s your

team. You’re out of the game.

11

“Bullshit,” Boney waved his arms around. “It was a fucking accident, that’s all.”

We wanted to kill him.

’’The bet’s off,

11

Grant shouted.

“You fucking cowards,

11

Boney said. The bet was back on.

Duffy paced. “This is a mistake,

11

he muttered.

“Yeah?” I asked him angrily. ’’Who’re you rooting for?

1

“The union,” he shot back at me.

“Then you better hope that our team wins, not Boney’s and Jack’s,” I told him,

Duffy mulled that over for a second and then smiled. “You’re right” Duffy clapped

his hands and shouted, “C’mon, Jan,” as she headed to the plate.

Jan hit the ball up high in the air. We all poised and watched it fall—right into Jack’s

STONE BUTCH BLUES 89

glove. It was our third out. were up one run, but our opponents had another inning. Sammy was up to bat first. He hit the ball smack into Grant’s glove. Before he dropped the bat, he gave me a wink I could see all the way from my position on first base.

Tommy was up next. He hit a weak grounder that Grant scooped up at third base, but he made it to first.

“I’m sorry,“ he whispered.

“Fuck you.“ I was still mad at him.

Jack drove a low grounder into our weak spot in center field and loped toward my base. “After Boney gets done with you, I want sloppy seconds,“ Jack sneered. I tried to keep ray mind on the game.

Walter was up next. He stepped up to the plate, tapped the dirt off his shoes with the bat, and wiggled his butt into position. He hit a pop-fly high into the air. We all pushed our caps back and watched it fall easily into Jan’s glove. Walter pulled the brim of his cap and walked away from home plate with a spring in his step.

Boney stepped up to the plate. Wb directed every bit of our hatred toward him, but he seemed unscathed. He swung at the first pitch with power and missed.

“Strike one,” we all yelled.

He swung angrily at the second pitch and missed.

“Strike two,” we called out in elation. began to heckle him for all we were worth.

The crack of Boney’s bat against the third pitch silenced us. We all looked up in the sky as the ball seemed to float in midair. Tommy hovered around third base, as mesmerized as we were. Jack ran toward third and shouted at Tommy to run. Jim Boney slid toward first base.

The ball fell with a plop, right into Grant’s glove. It was the third out, so there was no reason to throw the ball to first base—but she did. The ball landed in ray glove with a whack. I braced my arms as I extended the ball and the glove towards Boney’s nose, which was rapidly approaching me. There was a little snapping sound as his nose hit the ball. The game was officially over. We’d won. I didn’t have to kiss Jim Boney, who was now bleeding all over first base. I would’ve claimed it was an accident, but no one asked.

I caught sight of Jack glaring at me—always the foreman, even at a picnic. His menacing look chilled me. But I let it go because almost all the guys from the other team came over and slapped us on the back and said they were glad we won. I realized these guys had just lost to a team of he-shes—right in front of their wives and girlfriends—but they didn’t seem sore about it.

The hutches were happy about winning, but they hung back a bit. I knew they were kind of peeved at me. It was a cocky challenge I had hurled at Jim Boney. It could’ve turned into a defeat for all the butches on the job, and they knew it. It was Jan who broke the ice. ’‘All’s well that ends well, right kid?“ She put her arm around me. “I think I’d have died before I’d let you kiss that guy.“

I looked shocked. “You didn’t think I would’ve kissed him if we’d lost do you?”

90

Tommy ran up, out of breath. “Good game,“ he extended his hand. My expres-

sion was frozen, but I shook his hand. “Look, I’m sorry, OK?“ he told me.

I shrugged. “You’re not a bad guy, Tommy. But in front of the other guys you sink

like a stone. I just don’t trust you.” He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Jan and I walked away. ‘You were pretty hard on him,“ she said, “but I’m sure

you had a good reason."

’‘Attention everyone! Can I have your attention!” It was Tommy, on top of a picnic

table. Wfe all came closer. He had Jim Boney’s prized baseball mitt in his hands. “On

behalf of the losing team, I’d like to award the winning team this first baseman’s mitt.

Well," he stammered, “first base mitt.” He tossed the glove to me. ‘You all won it fair

and square."

Edna waited till Jan walked away from me before she came over. I saw the same

deep pain in her eyes as she watched Jan from a distance. I wished a woman loved me

that much. As Edna approached me, her mouth twisted into a teasing smile. She held

my face lightly in both of her hands. “Good game, butch.”

I shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot ”Aw, Edna, you know.”

She nodded to silence me. “Yes, I do know, but it came out just fine."

Wfe both noticed Duffy standing nearby, waiting to congratulate me. ‘You were

right, Jess,” he told me, as he pumped my hand. “The union did win the game. My

first instincts were wrong, I’m sorry."

I got myself an ice-cold beer and a piece of fried chicken and sat down alone un-

der a tree. The air was hot, the breeze was cool. I felt on top of the world.

CHAPTER

9

im Boney didn’t show up for work on Monday. I was glad. I wouldn’t have ad-

mitted this to anyone, but I was still scared of him. So when he called in sick

Monday morning I walk zed around the plant feeling a liittle smug

Jack pulled me off the lineandledme to adie cutter, which punched

school flashcards into the shape of decks. Normally one of the guys used a powerful

lir hose to blow away the trim before it jammed the machine. “The air hose is being fixed,” Jack shouted over the roar of the machinery. ’You assist Jan when she needs help loading her skids. Every once in a while, you brush the shit off the press, like this.” He ran his hand across the face of the die cutter in the split second between punches. “Don’t let it jam,” he warned me, before he walked away.

Jan looked at the machine and back at me. “Be careful," she cautioned.

I watched the die cutter punch the decks, trying to learn its rhythm like a song. My hand darted out and quickly brushed some of the trim away. I got most of it. My hands were trembling When you work around machines you grow to respect their mesmerizing power. I tried to stay in sync with the punch press. Just once my hand was slow. Just once was all it took.

It happened so fast One moment my fingers were all connected to me. The next

91

92

J

£

moment I could feel my ring finger lying against my palm. My blood spurted in an arc across the machine, the decks of cards stacked on skids, and the wall in front of me.

I tried not to look at my left hand, but I did. My stomach heaved before my mind could even understand what my eyes saw. I couldn’t have been heard ova- the thunder of the machines, but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t make a sound. Everything took place in slow motion. Jan waved her arms and shouted. People came near but froze in horror.

It occurred to me I should go to a hospital. I knew I couldn’t drive my motorcycle. As I walked to the door I wondered if I had enough bus fore. Walter and Duffy ran after me.

The next thing I remember was being in a car. Walter had his arm around me. Duffy was driving and he kept turning around to look for a sign from Walter. My whole hand was bound up in a red-soaked cloth. I felt so sorry for my finger that hot tears of grief ran down my face. I was thinking maybe I should bury it. I wondered who I should invite.

Walter lifted my injured hand up high with one of his large, gentle hands, and held me tightly against him with the other. I shook violently. “It’s gonna be OK, honey,” he crooned. “I seen a lot of these things happen. It’s gonna be alright.”

The next thing I knew I was lying on an operating table. I panicked. What if they took my clothes off? There was no one around. A fly buzzed around me and landed on my hand. My body lurched. The fly circled and landed again. This time as my injured hand jerked, noy finger seemed to move in a different direction. I passed out.

It was Duffy’s face I saw as I drifted back to consciousness. He was smiling, but he looked upset, too. ”Duffy,” I whispered, “where’s my finger?”

He winced. ”It’s OK, Jess. They saved your finger."

I didn’t think it was true. I’d seen lots of movies where they lie to injured people like that. I lifted noy head slightly to look at my hand. It was covered in layers of gauze and there was some kind of metal device running from noy forearm into the gauze and then emerging at the tip of where noy finger would be. Duffy nodded. “Your finger’s OK, Jess. The bone wasn’t completely severed.” He turned away as he said it. I thought maybe he was going to throw up.

I was still dressed in my bloody work clothes. “Get me out of here, Duffy.“

He stopped at the pharmacy to fill my prescriptions and drove me home. When I awoke he was gone. There was a note on the nightstand explaining when I should take the pills. He also left his phone number and said I should call when I woke up. I was relieved to find I was still in my work clothes.

I called him later that night and he raced over. “Jack set you up, Jess.” Duffy paced around my kitchen. “Just before he put you on that machine one of the guys saw Kevin removing the safety device. Jack could claim he took it off because the hose was on the blink, but ordering someone to put their hand in it was an out-and-out contract violation.”

I had trouble following what Duffy was saying. It wasn’t just that my mind was hazy with painkillers, I didn’t want to understand.

STONE BUTCH BLUES 93

“But get this, Jess,” Duffy bent over the kitchen table and pounded it. “After we took you to the hospital Jack reinstalled the safety device and swears it was on all the time. The bastard set you up, Jess.”

I felt woozy with fear. It reminded me of when my parents had me committed, or the cops opened my cell door. So many people in the world had so much power to control and hurt me. I shrugged as though it wasn’t important to me. “Look, Duffy, it’s over. Besides, the contract's up in two months. We got other things to worry about."

Duffy looked at me like I was crazy, but when he spoke his voice was calm. “No, Jess. We’re going to worry a lot about this. We’re going to prove what Jack did to you and we're going to tell management either he’s out or we all walk out." I marveled at the idea that straight people would stand up fa

-

me, or fa

-

any he-she.

“You know,” Duffy added, “I don’t think I really realized how hard it is for you. I know what jerks the guys at work can be sometimes.” He leaned up against the sink and folded his arms. “But when I went to the hospital with you, I saw how they treated you, how they talked about you," he rubbed his face. When he looked back up at me, I saw tears in his eyes. “I felt so helpless, you know? I kept yelling at them that you were a human being, that you mattered, and it was like they weren’t even listening to me. I couldn’t do anything to help you and I couldn't make them take care of you the way I wanted, you know?"

I nodded. I did know. And now I knew that Duffy did too.

Jan drove me to Abba’s on Friday night. Everyone cheered when I walked in. They hung a sign on the wall in the backroom that read:

Get Well, Jess!

Frankie and Grant and Johnny told me Duffy organized a union investigation of the “accident.”

I was watching Jan. She looked so sad. “Where’s Edna?" I whispered to Grant. Grant drew an index finger across her throat. I waited till I saw Jan sitting alone in the back. I brought over two beers. “Can I sit with you?" She gestured towards an empty chair.

“You’re my friend, Jan,” I told her, “and I love you." She looked surprised when I said that. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s OK with me. But I can't pretend I don’t know you’re hurting."

Jan leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. "I lost her. I love her and I lost her. What else is there to say?'

I shrugged. "I know you both loved each other a lot."

Jan took a swig of her beer. "Sometimes love just isn’t enough,” she said. I hoped she was wrong. She sighed. "The worst part is, it’s my fault I knew she was going to leave me and I just couldn't change fast enough to stop her. Who knows, maybe I’m just too old to change at all."

I didn’t know what she was talking about, but I kept my mouth shut. Jan slumped. “If I tell you why she broke up with me, you promise me you’ll never tell another soul?”

I thought about it before I answered her. “You can trust me," I said.

94

“You took long enough to answershe said, warily.

“First I had to make sure I meant it.“

Jan’s voice grew hoarse. “I just couldn’t let her touch me. We never talked about it. I don’t even know how to talk about it. At first it was OK with her, she understood. But later she told me she prided herself on always having been able to seduce her stone lovers. That scared the shit out of me, you know?“

I was thinking how nice that would be to have a femme lover who cared enough to try.

“Anyway," Jan said, “I couldn’t, and she finally left me. After all these years. Can you believe that?" She laughed ironically. “The only woman I ever loved so goddamn much it makes my teeth ache and she left me.“

Jan gripped my arm. “I’d do anything to get her back." She had tears in her eyes as she spoke. “I’d get down on my godamn knees in front of the whole bar. I’d do anything. I just can’t change the way I am. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just can’t, you know?"

I did. I leaned forward and put my arm around her. She leaned her head against my shoulder. If Jan hadn’t been drunk she might have been embarrassed.

Deep down, my insides seethed. I knew I was stone, too. It was a home alarm system that didn’t seem to have an on-off switch. Once installed, the sirens went off and the gates shut, even if the intruder was loving. Would I finally find a woman who loved me and lose her because of that? If that was true, life seemed too hard to bear.

I obsessed about one thing Jan had told me: Edna prided herself on being able to seduce her stone butch lovers. I wondered how she did it. I wondered how it would fed to be touched and not be afraid. I thought about Edna a lot.

I hung out at Abba’s almost every evening while I recuperated on compensation. Jan stopped going to the bar, afraid to run into Edna. Edna came to the bar on Saturdays. I looked forward to that night, all week long. When she walked through the door that Saturday night, she was all I could see. Everyone else was in black and white; only Edna was in full, living color.

She headed right toward me. I got off the bar stool as she approached. Edna reached down for my injured hand. She lightly supported the metal contraption and looked up at my face.

I shrugged. “It’s better. The doctor says I’ll have feeling in it," I reassured her. “How long do you have to wear this?" she asked.

“I don’t know. They’ll tell me in a month." I saw concern in her eyes. I felt honored. W; both sat down and I gestured to Meg fa

-

two drinks. I reached for my wallet.

Edna rested her hand on my arm. “I’m working," she said. “Let me pay."

Edna took a sip of her drink. “You’re really brave," she told me.

I felt ashamed; it wasn’t true. “I’m not, really," I told her honestly. “I’m scared all the time, Edna."

STONE BUTCH BLUES

95

Her face softened. “What a brave thing to say to me.“

I blushed. She put her hand over mine. Her nails shined with fresh red polish. ‘You know what I think?

1

she asked me. I leaned forward to hear. “I think eveiybody’s scared. But if you don’t let your fears stop you, that’s bravery." I decided she was the wisest person I’d ever met.

Edna ran her fingers through her own hair. It was such an intimate gesture. She saw the look on my face; she dropped her eyes and smiled. Someone put a quarter in the jukebox.

You ’re my soul and my heart’s inspiration,

the Righteous Brothers sang.

Without you, baby, what good am I?

I wondered if I had the courage to ask her to dance. “EdnaI mumbled, “wanna dance?“

At that moment the bar door opened and everyone fell silent. Standing in the doorway was a mountain of a woman. She wore a black leather jacket unzipped. Her chest was flat, and it was clear she wasn’t wearing a binder. Her jeans were low slung, unbelted. She carried her riding gloves and her helmet in one hand. Rocco. Her legend preceded her.

I glanced over at Edna. She was lost in a memory I couldn’t see. I watched their faces as they saw each other for the first time in years. I looked back and forth as though this was a tennis match and I didn’t want to miss a stroke. I could feel how much they loved each other.

“Hello, Rocky," Edna said quietly. It sounded like a line from a movie.

“Hello, Edna," Rocco answered in a deep timbre. Their faces were close to each other and to mine. I could see the beard stubble on Rocco’s chin and cheeks.

Jan once told me that Rocco had been beaten up so many times nobody could count. The last time the cops beat her she came close to dying. Jan heard that Rocco had taken hormones and had breast surgery. Now she worked as a man on a construction gang. Jan said Rocco wasn’t the only he-she who’d done that. It was a fantastic tale. I’d only half believed it, but it haunted me. No matter how painful it was to be a he-she, I wondered what kind of courage was required to leave the sex you’d always known, or to live so alone.

I wanted to know Rocco. I wanted to ask her a million questions. I wanted to see the world through her eyes. But most of all, I wanted her to be different than me. I was afraid to see myself in Rocco.

I watched Edna’s face. She held herself with such strength and dignity it made the pain she tried to conceal all the more obvious. I couldn’t tell if she was reaching to touch Rocco’s cheek or if I was just reading Edna’s mind. I trembled at my nearness to two such powerful women.

Rocco touched Edna’s elbow. Edna rose and led Rocco to a table in the backroom. I sat alone, shaken. I felt left out, jealous. I hungered for the attention of both women. As I stole a glance back at Edna, I longed for her to look at me that way. I wished I was so powerful that a glimpse of me could shake the leaves from her branches. And I wanted Rocco to be my friend, to reveal all the secrets of the universe we revolved

96

in. I wanted her as a home to come to when I wasn’t strong.

I strained to read their body language as they talked.

Rocco stood up. Edna held onto Rocco’s leather lapels. Their lips touched briefly, then Rocco turned to go. I wished Rocco could have seen the look on Edna’s face after her back was

turned..It

might have meant a lot to her.

Rocco was headed toward me to go out the door. I searched my brain to think of something to say to make her stop and talk. Maybe the pained look on my face made her pause in front of me. She asked me a question with her eyebrows. I couldn’t find words to say what I wanted; I’m not sure I even knew.

For just a moment, doubt flickered across Rocco’s face. I saw her guard begin to go up. I couldn’t think of what to do, so I extended my hand to her. She looked at it, then she glanced at my other hand, all bandaged and looking like part of a robot. As she shook my hand she nodded—I’ll never know why. And then she left the bar.

The sound level rose again after she’d gone. I felt empty and hollow with loss. If I ached, I knew Edna must be bleeding. I waited a decent amount of time before I went back to her. “Can I buy you a drink?“ I asked her.

She looked startled. “What?” She hesitated. “Yes, thank you.“

We drank in silence. I felt connected to her grief. I watched the couples dancing in the smoky darkness. Out of the blue Edna looked over at me and whispered, “I hurt.” She said it so calmly and quietly I was afraid I’d misunderstood her. But I saw the pain in her eyes so I moved my chair near hers. Edna curled up against me, softly exploring my body with hers. Holding her was such a simple joy. She sighed once and then her body shook with sobs.

At first I felt embarrassed, worried what people might think. But then I gave myself to Edna, concerned only with her comfort She trusted me enough to bring her sorrow to my arms. I kissed her hair. The scent made me lightheaded. She looked up at me. I longed to lift her chin with my hand and kiss her mouth, deeply and slowly. She saw the look in my eyes. There was no point in hiding it.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. Edna was in the bathroom fa

-

a long time. When she returned I offered her a cigarette and lit it for her. Edna shook her head slowly. “Just when I thought I couldn’t hurt anymore, guess who walks in the door?

1

I exhaled smoke and watched her face. “What did she want?“ I couldn’t believe Td asked her such a personal question.

Edna blinked in surprise at my directness: “She heard Jan and I broke up. She waited a month or so and came to ask me if there was a chance we could get back together.”

I lightly tapped my Zippo lighter against the whiskey glass: butch Morse code. “Is there? A chance, I mean.“

Edna sighed. “People have seasons, you know? Cycles. I’ve just left an eight-year marriage. Rocco’s been alone a long time.” It hurt me to think of Rocco being lonely.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman like Rocco before," I told her.

I could see that Edna wasn’t quite sure what I meant and I realized she’d fight to

STONE BUTCH BLUES 97

the death to defend Rocco. “I wish she were my friend,“ I said quickly, to make her understand.

She smiled warmly and reached out to touch my arm. “Rocco would love you,” Edna said.

I brightened. “You really think so?”

Edna nodded and shook her head. ‘You remind me of her in many ways. You’re a lot like she was when she was younger." I wanted to ask her what she meant, but part of me was afraid to hear her answer.

“One time," I told her, “it was the first night I found one of our bars, that’s the night I met Al.“

Edna nodded. ’’You were a friend of Al’s?” she said. A misty look clouded her eyes.

‘You knew Al?” I asked her. I meant

knew

in the biblical sense. She understood the question.

”This is a small world," she answered. “This circle cf people stays pretty much the same.“ She touched my arm. ’’Whatever you do now, make sure you can live with it for the rest cf your life.“ I knew I’d better give that a lot of thought. “Anyway," she said, ”1 interrupted you.“

I leaned forward. “When I first laid eyes on Al, it was like love at first sight, you know?“ Edna’s face softened.

”1 mean, there’s different kinds of love,” I said. ”1 can’t explain how it feels to me, but it’s love. That’s how I felt tonight when I saw Rocco.”

Edna touched my face with her fingertips. “The more I get to know you,” she said, “the more I like you.“ She leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the lips. I blushed from head to toe. Edna smiled.

”I’ve got to go home and sleep,” Edna told me. “Do you want a ride?”

I shook my head. “I think I’m gonna stay for a while, thanks.“

After Edna left, I replayed the whole night in my mind, over and over again.

“Scabs!" we all screamed as the cops tried to help them cross our lines and take our jobs away. Hundreds of us strained at the barricades, and the cops held the scabs back.

“Faggots!” some of our guys yelled at the strikebreakers. All the butches pulled back from the police barricades. The word seared like burning metal.

’’Duffy,“ I pulled his arm. “What’s

fhisfaggct

shit?“

Duffy appeared tom in ten directions. “Alright,“ he said. “Listen up you guys. Stop with the faggot stuff. They’re scabs.“ The men looked confused.

A light bulb lit up over Walter’s head. *Aw, shit.” He extended his hand to me. ‘We didn’t mean you guys.”

I shook his hand. “Listen,” I said, “call them whatever you want, but don’t call them faggots.“

Walter nodded. “Agreed?

’You cocksuckers! You motherfuckers!” they shouted instead.

98

■

I

‘l

I pushed forward at the barricade. “You fucking scabs,” I yelled. ‘You all have sex with other men.“

The guys looked baffled. “What’s she talking about?** Sammy wanted to know.

‘You have intercourse with your own mother,“ I screamed.

“That’s disgusting,” Walter said.

Duffy intervened. “OK, they’re scabs and strikebreakers. Let’s call ’em what they are, alright?” Duffy glared at me, but there was a smile underneath it.

Grant pulled me aside and motioned towards Duffy. ‘You know that guy’s a communist?"

I was stunned. “He is not,” I told her.

“Oh yeah?” she asked me. “How do you know?"

Jan looked worried. “Is that true?"

“It’s bullshit,“ I told them both. When they went back to yelling at the scabs and the cops, I stood next to Duffy. “What’s up?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Are you a communist?”

.

I was hoping he’d laugh, or at least look startled, but instead he had a sad look in his eyes. “Do we need to talk about it now?” he asked.

“I told them it was bullshit,” I said. “It is bullshit, isn’t it?“

“Can we talk about it later?“ he asked me again. I nodded, but I wished we could have worked it out right there. I just wanted to hear him say it wasn’t true.

The cops suddenly put on their riot helmets and took out their clubs. We all tensed and gathered in front of the barricades. They were ready to bring the scabs in past us. We roared so loud that people from the nearby projects came out to watch. We rattled the barricades to remind the cops and scabs how frail the wood was and held up our signs, loosely stapled to two-by-fours.

As the scabs moved closer, one of them pulled out a blackjack and hit Frankie’s fingers which were resting on the barricade. Jan got so mad when she saw that happen she cracked the scab over the head with her picket sign. The cops grabbed Jan and pulled her right over the barricades. They threw her up against the police van and roughed her up. Three strikers tried to jump the barricades to help Jan, but the cops nabbed them and handcuffed them. All four were thrown into the back of the police van.

“Duffy,“ I yelled, over the confusion. “Duffy, we got to get her out of there. Help her!“

Duffy worked his way through the crowd. “Jess, we got four union people in that van.“

“Duffy, you don’t understand. Think about it. It’s different for her to get busted. Please listen.**1 didn’t have time to explain. Duffy took my arm and looked into face for the answer. I let him see the fear and the shame in a way I’d never voluntarily let a man see before. Duffy nodded. He understood.

Duffy pushed his way to the barricade, lifted his work boot, and kicked it over. “C’mon,“ he signaled the strikers.

STONE BUTCH BLUES 99

The cops were caught off-guard as we surged past them. There were skirmishes, but most of us made it to the police wagon and surrounded it. People from the projects formed an outer circle around us. “Let them go,“ we rocked the van. “Let them go! Let them go!” An ashen-faced cop wearing gold bars whispered to the officers nearby. Wfe closed in around them. Quickly they opened the van. Four sets of handcuffs were unlocked. Just as fast as they’d been busted, the four were free.

We all turned toward the group of scabs who were near the plant door. Without a cordon of police for protection they scurried like rats. Several of them ran inside the factory and attempted to hold the door shut. Some of the strikers pulled at the door, struggling to get at them. Others chased scabs down the street. The police pulled back across the street.

We set up a picket line right in front of the plant doors. ’’Contract! Contract!" We all cheered ourselves.

’We won," I shouted to Duffy. ‘We won!”

He shook his head. ‘We won this battle. Tomorrow will be even rougher.” What a spoilsport, I thought.

I saw Jan trembling. I signaled to Duffy that I was going to get her out of there. Jan and I walked a block away to her parked car. She leaned against the car door and heaved her guts up. Her hands were shaking so bad she almost couldn’t light her cigarette. I pulled out my Zippo. “I was scared back there," she said.

I nodded. “Me too."

“No,” she grabbed me by the shoulder. "I mean I didn’t think I could take it—not alone, not without Edna to go home to.“

I flushed at the thought of going home to Edna. I pushed the thought back down. "I know, Jan,” I whispered. “When you got busted, I suddenly remembered things I didn’t want to think about, like they were happening to me all over again.”

She looked up at me and smiled gratefully. “You understand,” she said. I nodded and dropped my eyes.

1

Jan crowed. “I can’t believe you guys got me out. It was unbelievable. I thought I was a goner and you guys got me out! Unfucking believable!" We laughed until tears streamed down our faces.

“I’ve gotta go back now,” I told her. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest." Jan nodded. “Tomorrow morning? 7:00

a.m.?”

I smiled and turned to go.

Jan called to me, “You’re a real friend, you know that?"

If she only knew how I felt about Edna, she’d understand what a traitor I really was.

I was sound asleep that night when Duffy called. “You were right," he shouted. ‘We won it at the table tonight! And we got management to agree that Jack is out!”

I tried to climb from the depth of sleep. “What? What did you say?“

"Jess, we won!" he laughed. “The ratification meeting is tomorrow night. I want you to organize all the butches to come to the union meeting to vote, you got that?"

100

“Sure,” I mumbled and hung up.

The next morning I called up all the butches from the plant so we could go to the meeting Tuesday night as a group. When I called Grant, she had big news. “The steel plant has to hire fifty women,” she told me. “They’re accepting applications Wednesday morning. I don’t know about you, but I’ll be camping out on the line Tuesday night. By late that night the line will stretch from Lackawanna to Tonawanda.

1

* It was a slight exaggeration, but her point was well taken.

I called Jan. “I don’t know,** she said. “What do you think we should do?*

“I was kind of hoping you’d tell me what we should do,“ I told her.

I called Duffy on Tuesday afternoon. I told him all the butches wanted the chance to get into the steel plant. There was a long silence on the line. “It’s a mistake,“ he said.

**You don’t understand,” I shouted. ”You don’t know what it means to us to get into a big plant like that.”

He tried to argue with me. ”If the vote passes, at least punch in Wednesday morning or else you’ll be automatically fired.”

He didn’t seem to realize I was already gone. ”You don’t understand what it would mean to work in the steel mill, do you?*

He shouted back at me. “What the hell is this about, looking tough?*

“Yeah,** I yelled, “in a way. But not like you’re saying it. All we got is the clothes we wear, the bikes we ride, and where we work, you know? You can ride a Honda and work in a bindery or you can ride a Harley and work at the steel plant. The other butches are gonna leave sooner or later, and I don’t want to get stuck in that sweatshop with that rinky-dink union.**

I knew fd hurt him, but I couldn’t find a way to retreat. “If you don’t understand that, I can’t explain it to you,” I told him.

“Well, I think it’s stupid.** He sounded like a kid. That’s when I knew I had really hurt him. “The company was ordered to hire fifty women, but they don’t have to keep them. If five of you last the ninety days to get into the union I’ll eat Jim Boney’s baseball mitt.”

I was riled. ”It’s my baseball mitt,” I reminded him and hung up the phone.

Tuesday night was bitter cold.’ We huddled around the flames leaping out of metal barrels. It was a long, long night. My stomach tightened every time I thought about the contract ratification meeting.

’You think we made a mistake?” Jan asked me. I didn’t answer.

Fuck Duffy, I

thought to myself.

He doesn’t understand us.

The first fifty of us filled out applications and were told to return the next night at midnight. There was a snow squall during the day while we slept, but Jan and I were determined to get to work anyway.

We wandered through the plant as though we had just landed on this rusty corrugated planet. Sounds, muffled and loud, startled us. The blast furnace lit up the sky orange and red.

SIWE BUTCH BLUES 101

gave the foreman our work assignment slips. He looked us up and down. “Come with me,” he said, and led us outside.

The wind whipped the top layer of powdery snow into tiny tornadoes. The foreman took one of two shovels and he dug until we heard a clank of metal against metal. “Hear that? Railroad tracks.” He handed us each a shovel. “Clear ’em of:f.“

He looked at my left hand. I had wrapped a scarf around my injured hand. The cold made the metal brace bum against my skin. ‘You gonna be able to work?” he nodded toward my hand.

“Sure,” I said. “Hey, how far down do the tracks go?”

He answered over his shoulder, ‘You can shovel all night long and never get to the end.”

Jan and I stared at the snowdrifts. Jan threw her shovel down. It thumped softly in the snow. I braced myself, but she spoke quietly. ”I’m too old for this horseshit,” she said. “They’re gonna make it hell fa

-

us until we quit.” I knew she was right.

“C’mon,” she told me. ”1’11 drive you home.”

I sat up until dawn watching the snow fell. I knew rd been fired the day before when I didn’t punch in for the first shift after the strike officially ended. When light glowed on the horizon I walked to the bindery so Pd be there when Duffy arrived. I came out from behind the gate as soon as his car pulled in. I couldn’t read the look on his face when he saw me. ’’What do you want?” He asked it gently, but the words were cold.

‘You were right.” I nearly choked on the words.

He shook his head. ”I’m not glad I was right.”

I shrugged. ”It doesn’t matter, really. I just came to tell you I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”

He put his arm around me. ”1 made a mistake, too. I’ve thought a lot about it. You remember when you were bidding on the same job as Leroy?” I nodded. “Well," Duffy continued, “you were willing to step aside to make sure Leroy got that job. And you told me the butches weren’t welcome at the union meeting. I asked you to wait till after the strike to deal with it. It wasn’t that I thought your grievance wasn’t as important. I only had so much energy to deal with everything. But maybe that’s how it seemed to you. I’m sorry, Jess. If I could do it again, Pd bring Leroy and all of the butches to that next meeting and say to the guys, ’Here we all are, we’re the union!’ I think I made a mistake too.”

Tommy and Duffy were the only two men who had ever apologized to me. ”1 gotta go,“ I told him. ’You’re gonna be late.”

“Wait!” he held up a gloved hand. ”1 have something fa

-

you.” He unlocked his car door and handed me a wrapped present. ’‘After I found out we won the strike, I got this for you.” Duffy looked embarrassed as he handed it to me. He took off his glove and shook my hand. “Goodbye, Jess. Thanks.”

“Thanks for what?”

He smiled. ’’Thanks for teaching me so much.” He turned and walked away.

102

I walked home in the snow, trying not to think about anything. When I got home I realized I was still carrying the package. It was wrapped up in an AFL-CIO newsletter and it had a gold bow that looked left over from Christmas. It was a book, an autobiography of a woman labor organizer named Mother Jones. Inside the front cover, Duffy had written:

To Jess, with great expectations.

I went to the window and looked out over the mounds of snow, wishing I could do everything in my life once as practice and then go back and do it again.

I sat at the bar and smoked nervously, waiting for Edna to arrive. Justine raised one eyebrow. “She’s not here yet?”

“Who?” I asked innocently.

Justine smiled and raised her glass in a toast. ”To love,” she said, “or is it lust?”

My defenses crumbled. “I just know that I wait all week to see her and when I do...”

“Uh-oh,” Justine laughed. “Does she feel the same way?

1

I shrugged. “I think she likes me.”

Justine leaned forward. “So what’s the problem, darlin’?”

“I don’t know. She’s single, I’m single. There’s no law against it, right?” Justine didn’t answer. “I don’t know, Justine, it just doesn’t feel right. I mean, Jan’s my friend. She’s told me stuff, confided in me. It would never be right again with me and Jan. But then when I see Edna, I want her so much it hurts.“ Justine didn’t say a word.

“Say something,” I pleaded.

Justine shrugged. ’’This one you’ve got to figure out on your own.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Edna walked in the door. We couldn’t pretend to be casual. She held my eyes as she walked over to me. She smoothed my lapels and kissed me lightly on the lips. My heart was thumping. Edna led me by the hand into the backroom. I put my drink down on the table and started to sit down, but Edna pulled me toward the dance floor. This was a moment I’d dreamed of.

The pleasure of the dance was so exquisite, I almost couldn’t stand it. I only opened my eyes once while the music was playing. I saw Jan watching us. Although she was only silhouetted, I recognized her jealous rage. In an instant, she was gone.

Edna pulled back and looked at me. ’’What’s wrong?” she asked. My eyes brimmed with tears. She put her fingertips on my cheek and drew me closer. ’’Did I do something wrong?“ I couldn’t explain that I was afraid rd just lost Jan, too.

Edna led me back to the table. ’’Edna,” I began.

She shook her head. ”1 don’t like the sound of that. You don’t have to explain,” she said as she gathered her purse and coat in her arms.

“Wait,” I told her. ‘You don’t understand.” She dropped her coat wearily. ”1 want you so much, it’s driving me crazy. It’s just doesn’t feel right” Edna didn’t say a word. This was my job to try to explain.

STONE BUTCH BLUES 103

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” She leaned forward and rested her hand on my uninjured arm, but she still didn’t speak.

“Remember something you told me, about people having seasons? You just broke up with Jan and you’re hurting. I love Jan, too—she’s my friend.”

Edna dropped her head and then raised it. Her eyes were filled with sadness. “I thought you were going to tell me I was too old for you.”

“I don’t think you’re old at all, Edna. I think I’m a little too young for you. I’m not really talking about age, so much, as about being grown-up. Sometimes I imagine walking into the bar with you and being an instant elder because you’re on my arm.” Edna still didn’t speak. She sure wasn’t making this any easier for me. “And sometimes when I get so confused about what to do, I think you could make sense of the world to me.“ Edna smiled gently.

’’But I can’t be an instant elder. I can’t jump over all the things I’ve got to learn and I can’t get it all from you. I guess I’m saying that the first time I take you into my arms as a lover—and I will someday—I want to be more grown-up than I am now.” I sucked in my breath. “And second of all, I love Jan, she’s my friend. You told me that what I do now, I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life.”

“I did say that,” Edna sighed wistfully. She sat back in her chair, just at a moment when I wished she’d move closer. “I’m not ready to settle down with any butch,” she told me. “But if I were, I’d be honored to walk into the bar on your arm. If anyone had told me I could hurt as much as I do and still be so attracted to you, I’d have thought they were crazy.”

I blushed. These were the words rd waited to hear. She smiled. “And I am very flattered that a young butch like you would pay me such attention. You made me feel beautiful at a time when I didn’t think I was. But I don’t think I really realized what you were made of until I just heard what you said. I love hutches,” she squeezed my arm. Her words were like a fire I warmed my hands in front of.

“I love Rocco and Jan for being willing to take on the whole world rather than make a lie out of their lives. And somehow they still manage to be honorable women. They were loyal to me and to their friends.” I nodded and dropped my eyes.

“I respect them for it,” she told me. “It’s part of why I love them so much. And I see that in you.”

I was afraid if we kept talking I would forget my decision and bury myself in her arms. I wanted to ask her to teach me how to let myself be touched, but I couldn’t violate Jan’s confidence.

Edna spoke first. ”I’ve got to go home now.”

I sighed in relief. I stood and held her coat fa

-

her. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and turned to me. She kissed me lightly on the lips. I took her waist in my hands. Her mouth opened for me and I discovered all the pleasure I’d hoped to find in its warmth.

She pulled back. So did I. She lifted my injured hand and kissed my fingertips,

104

and then she was gone. I stood in the same spot for a long time, unable to move. Peaches appeared at my side. “C’mon child,” she said, leading me to the bar. “Set ’em up, Meg, and keep ’em coming.”

Justine lifted her glass in the air to salute me. “I wouldn’t have said you were wrong, but in my book you did the right thing.”

I slumped on the bar. ’’Jan’s mad at me anyway,” I told them. “She saw us dancing together.“

Justine stroked my hair. “She’s still your friend.

11

“I’m afraid I’ve lost them both,” I sighed.

Justine shook her head. “Jan will be back. And Edna was crying and smiling when she walked out of here. You must have done something right.”

I shook my head. ”1 don’t know, it doesn’t fed like I’m doing anything right.

11

Peaches laughed, ‘You wait and see. The right girl is coming down the road, headed in your direction.”

If that was true, I sure wished she’d hurry.

w

ar

Wl

D( po

Th

she

CHAPTER

10

V

f it wasn’t for Edwin I might never have met Milli. Ed was on her way to have

breakfast with Darlene one morning. “Come with?” she asked.

When Ed and I walked into that sleazy diner I was glad Td come. The res-

■ taurant was filled with working girls—male and female. We were welcomed

with a boisterous roar. I got kissed and teased. Darlene pulled Edwin down on her knee

and feigned threats to all the other femmes to leave her butch alone. It was fun when

we all played like that.

Darlene told me about the last television episode of “The Fugitive": the real killer

is caught and David Janssen gets vindicated and can stop running.

Ed was arguing with a woman sitting across from us about the riots in Newark and

Detroit. “Violence is as American as cherry pie. That’s what Rap Brown says.” Ed

pounded her fist on the tabletop. “They’re a dress rehearsal for revolution."

The woman raised both her hands in surrender. ”OK, alright. Don’t blow your

cool.”

Everyone was trying to shout over the jukebox, which was turned up real loud.

The Beatles were singing ’’Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.” I tapped Darlene on the

shoulder. “What‘s that song mean, anyhow?"

105

106

She laughed. “How the hell should I know?

11

My eyes burned from exhaustion. I asked Edwin to come outside with meand listen

while I kick-started my Norton. It wouldn’t kick over whenever it was chilly and damp.

I didn’t know why.

It was over Ed’s shoulder that I really saw Milli for the first time. She was stand-

ing there just looking at me. Ed glanced at Milli and then, like a good friend, Ed walked

away.

I have a few mental photographs I can see in my mind’s eye. One of them is Milli,

hands on her hips, looking me up and down as if the bike and I were one lean machine.

Her body language, the gleam in her eyes, the tease in her smile, all combined into an

erotic femme challenge. Milli set the action into irresistible motion by lifting one

eyebrow.

Without a word I took off my brown leather jacket and offered it to her. Neither

of us were in any hurry. Once this dance began there was no reason to rush and every

reason to take it deliciously slow. I helped her on with my jacket.

I think I fell in love with her the moment she swung her leg over the bike and set-

tled in behind me. The way two women relate on a motorcycle is part of their sex

together—and she was very, very good on a bike.

I didn’t realize until she waved as we roared off that all her friends were watching

us from the restaurant window, smiling those sweet, secret kind of smiles at her.

From that moment on I was her butch and she was my femme. Everybody knew

it. So did we. Wfe just fit and the sparks flew. We were both a couple of tough cookies,

and together we felt unbeatable.

It wasn’t just bravado. We matched each other in nerve. For a stone butch and a

stone pro to survive, they have to tough it out with the world. V^e walked our talk and

we appreciated it in each other. Slow dancing at dawn, making fierce love, leaning to-

gether as one with the motorcycle into a deep curve—it just got better and better.

One morning Milli didn’t come to the bar after work as usual. Neither did Darlene or

her friends. All of us were worried. Darlene finally pulled up in a car. Milli was bleeding

in the back seat. Her face was all busted up. I got in and held her head on my lap. Wb

had to take her to a goddamn veterinarian to get her arm set in a cast. We were afraid

emergency room staff might have called the cops. It was an off-duty cop who beat her.

It took Milli a long, long time to get her confidence back. It changed her. Every

beating changes you.

I got a day-shift job at a plastic pipe factory. Milli worked as a temp at a bindery.

Everything was OK, it was just different Then I got pink-slipped and Milli told me

casually that she was thinking of going back to dancing in the clubs to get us through.

“No, no, no, no, no!” I thought that made my position perfectly clear. But the way

Milli was coming around the kitchen table after me in response made me retreat

She backed me up against the sink and came right up under my nose. “Nobody,”

r

STONE BUTCH BLUES 107

she sputtered in rage, “nobody tells me how to run my life, not you, not anybody. You got that?’ I conceded she had a point. “And when did you get so goddamn morally righteous all of a sudden?” She paced around the kitchen.

“Fuck you,” I yelled. She knew it wasn’t true. ‘You just said that to hurt me.“ She conceded I had a point.

“It’s just so fucking dangerous for you to go back to the life,“ I argued. “Don’t you remember why you quit?” That last thing I said was a big mistake. I realized it when she picked up the nearest dish and sent it sailing across the room in my direction. I i ducked.

: ‘You condescending, motherfucking son-of-a-bitch,” she shouted. ’’Don’t you think

|

I know the life better than you do, you bastard?”

We were both quiet for a moment I decided to do the dishes. Milli leaned up against the kitchen counter with her arms folded across her breasts watching me.

“I just can’t stand the thought of any guy, anybody hurting you.” I said it as quietly as I could.

Milli grabbed a dishtowel and started drying the dishes. It was a good sign. ”How doyou think I feel,” she asked, ’’when you’re bouncer at the bar on the weekends and there’s a fight?” She got herself all worked up again. “For christsakes what’s the fucking difference between you being a bouncer and me working as a hostess?”

”A

dancer”

I clarified. ‘You know I’d be worried every fucking minute you were ; late from your shift.”

"Well, fuck you then. That’s your problem, baby, not mine.” Milli did a double take at me and dropped her gaze. I thought maybe she was sorry she had said that.

“I’m sorry,” she told me. “It’s just I can’t stand it when someone does this moral thing with me.”

“Goddamn you!” Now I was yelling. “Ever since you met me you’ve been waiting for me to make one fucking mistake, say one wrong thing about you being a pro.”

“An ex-pro,” she said sarcastically.

I

“It’s no goddamn joke. I never laid any bullshit on you about it. You know that.

But every time we have a fight you’re lying in wait, just hoping you’ll make me so mad

I’ll make a mistake. Then you could leave.”

Milli smiled for the first time since I came home and told her I’d been laid off.

“What’s so funny?” I asked sullenly.

“I like you,” she said softly.

I turned back to the sink and shook my head so she could see that I was exasper-

ated. She turned me around. There was a really warm look on her face. She kissed me

| on the mouth. I kissed her back. Then I turned around to finish the dishes.

She turned me around again. ”We have to pay the rent. It’s just for a while. I don’t

like it any better than you do.”

[' I laughed. “Bullshit!”

She raised one eyebrow, daring me to pursue it.

108

“There’s parts of the life you like a lot,” I told her. ”1 know that.”

Milli looked amazed. ”Do you really know that?

11

1 nodded. She put her arms around me. “We fit perfectly,“ she ran her hands up and down my back. “Remember those old spy movies where they cut a playing card into two jagged pieces? Then when the spies meet they put the two pieces together. That’s how pros and stone butches are. We just fit, you know?

11

She kissed me again. She was a great kisser. Then she grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back and really looked at me before she spoke again. “You’re the only women in the world who hurt almost the same way I do, you know?”

I did.

“And another thing,

11

she kissed my throat. “You’re the tenderest lovers in the world.” She unbuttoned my shirt as she spoke. The talking was over. The conversation had just begun. We conducted electricity between our bodies.

Later, in bed, I held her in my arms and remembered our fight as if it had been

.

a dream.

“When will you start?” I asked her.

;

Her body tensed. “I’ll call Darlene tomorrow.

11

!

I spent all week in a panic putting in applications at the plants. If I could just get

a job before the end of the week.

;

Thursday Milli told me real casually at dinner she was going to start work with

Darlene the next night at the Pink Pussy Kat. I poked my meat loaf with a fork

“Don’t start,” she warned me.

”1 didn’t say anything.

11

Wfe ate in silence. On Friday I left for the bar in the early evening while she was

i

still sleeping. I packed a lunch for her and stuck little red paste-on hearts on the brown

paper bag.

Everybody at the bar knew I was upset. The butches patted me on the back and told me to cheer up. The femmes just kind of smoothed the lapels of my suit coat and

;

held me in their gaze for a moment—a more complicated message. Then Justine called

j

me across the room by curling her index finger. She grabbed me firmly by my tie and

- wouldn’t let go. “Cut it out,” she ordered.

1

’’What?”

“I said,” she gripped my tie more firmly, “cut out all this drama. She doesn’t need it, honey. And if you want to lose her, this is just the way to do it.“

‘

I felt stunned. “I don’t get it,” I answered honestly.

*

“Grow up,” she concluded, and let go of me.

,

By the time the sun came up I was excited about seeing Milli. When she arrived

I

with the other dancers from the club, I was anxious to leave together. But they all spent

s a long time in the bathroom together.

Finally, each of the women came out, hesitantly leaving the camaraderie of their

; group and joined us, one-on-one.

STONE BUTCH BLUES 109

Midi’s head rested on my back the whole ride home. I was afraid she was asleep and might fall off on a curve.

Once we got home I ran her a hot bubble bath. I went into the bedroom to tell her it was ready, but she’d already fallen asleep. I wasn’t tired.

I woke her up around 6:00

p.m.

to eat dinner. I’d made her favorite meal, but she just kind of picked at it with her fork “You OK?‘ I asked her.

“Yeah, sure," she answered, just like I would have.

‘You coming to the bar after work?’

She was quiet for a minute. “Can I meet you at home? I’m just so tired."

I instantly grew sullen because I was scared. “What’s wrong with meeting me at the bar?"

“Can we talk about this another time?" she asked me.

“Yeah, sure,“ I said.

That night I packed her a lunch with the little red hearts on the bag. She picked it up and smiled—at the bag, not at me.

I felt strange the next morning when the other women came to work to meet their butches. As each person asked me where Milli was I grew more defensive and angry.

Millie and I fought about it that morning. “Did it ever occur to you that I might be uncomfortable at the bar?" Milli shouted.

That had never occurred to me at all. “Why?" I asked puzzled.

“Because there’s attitude toward us.“

“What are you talking about? Lots of the women at the bar are pros." I was aware I was shouting and I wished I would stop.

“They’re hometown girls who turn tricks to pay the rent. They’re ashamed of what they do. They aren’t into the life in the same way as the rest of us. We’re different?

I had never thought about it. I was reeling.

“Get it, baby? That’s your people, not mine.“ Her ice-cold tone chilled me. “My people are the women I dance with. That’s who watches my back? Milli always was a pro’s pro.

I grabbed my leather jacket and took the bike far outside the city limits before I pulled off the road and sat down to think.

The rest of the week we were super-polite to each other around the apartment. I couldn’t get Milli to respond to me. She wouldn’t play. “I don’t know? I told Edwin. “I’m used to being the one who shuts down."

“Give her time? Ed said. “You both just need time."

Sunday morning I was almost asleep when Milli came in. She was in the bathroom for a long time before I realized something was wrong. She turned her face away when I came to the bathroom door. I sat down on the tile floor. ‘You OK?“ I asked her.

“Yeah, baby. Go to sleep."

After a few minutes I got her to look at me. Her face was swollen on one side. A little trickle of blood was leaking from her split lip. I got a washcloth and ran cold wa-

110

ter. I stood in front of her until she let me know it was alright to touch her face. She wrapped her arms tight around my waist. I dropped to my knees and held her. Then she pulled away and got up and ran a bath.

I got the message. I went to bed. I was awake when she got undressed and lay down, but I didn’t show it. She knew. I think it surprised me more than her when I started to cry. She could deal with me crying about as well as I could deal with her tears. She went into the kitchen and made coffee. I stayed in bed.

She brought a cup of coffee to share and sat down on the bed. Her tone was gentler than I expected. ‘You remember the time I got beat up real bad and I stopped working the clubs? You know, after we met?”

“Yeah, sure.“ I wondered what the point was.

“Remember when you held me and told me you would protect me, you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me?“ I winced. Milli put her hand reassuringly on my back. “What you said wasn’t wrong, baby. That’s what everyone wants to hear when they’ve been ; hurt. The only problem was, you believed it yourself. You can’t protect me, sweetheart

t

I can’t protect you. I think you’re having trouble dealing with that lately."

(

I didn’t deny it. I didn’t say anything. After a while I drifted to sleep. When I got

up to go to work, Milli was sleeping on the couch. I covered her with an afghan. I loved

i

her so damn much. What she said was true. I wanted to protect Milli and I knew I

<

couldn’t. I couldn’t even defend myself very well. I was losing my nerve. I was scared,

;

even at work.

(

The night before, just after closing time, young Sal had staggered into the bar co

vered with so much of his own blood we almost didn’t recognize him. He was a victim

I

of a Marine who was tying young femme gay men to lampposts and slicing them with razor blades—hundreds of small cuts. Then the Marine would go sit in the restaurant across the street from the bar, waiting to see if anyone would dare stop him.

Everyone knew he’d be skulking around, but none of us expected him to walk right

r

into the bar on a crowded Saturday night. I hardly realized what was happening at first.

The pay phone rang. Justine yelled it was for me and told me to hustle up, it was Milli. I put one finger in my ear to hear her better over the noise of the juke box when I saw

the Marine cutting right through the crowd toward me. He pointed his index finger at me and mumbled.

“Take it easy," I soothed him.

Booker smashed the guy on the head with a bottle of ketchup. He said later it was

“

the only thing he could grab in such a hurry. It did a fine job. I think itgave everyone a lift to see the Marine out cold, covered in ketchup. The following weekend we heard the Marine had been found dead. No one knew who did it.

When I got home that morning I reenacted the whole scene for Milli. Deep down I wanted so much to make love to her. I had wanted her all week. But we went to sleep still talking about what a hero Booker had been.

It was the next Friday night that we fought so bitterly. I don’t even remember what

STONE BUTCH BLUES 111

started it. It doesn’t really matter. What mattered was that it was the kind of fight that’s so painful it takes the top layer of skin off your heart.

I tried to go for a ride. My bike wouldn’t kick over. I stormed off for a walk around the block. When I came back, Milli was gone. I sat in the apartment fa- a long time in the dark. I was really upset. My brain wasn’t working too clearly, I remember that.

That’s when I realized how we were running off the rails. I suddenly felt I had to apologize to her, to explain, or Fd lose her forever. So I went down to the Pink Pussy Kat. I don’t know what I was thinking.

I paced outside the club smoking a cigarette. You couldn’t see inside the bar because the windows and doors were papered with shiny foil.

As I opened the door Darlene saw me immediately. She had her arm around a sailor’s neck. She looked up at Milli, who was dancing in a little cage just above the bar. Milli had seen me too.

Maybe I thought Milli wore an outfit when she danced. It wasn’t that it mattered, I just realized I had never wondered about it. I took in the sights and sounds and smells of the world in which she worked. I listened to the music she danced to:

I never loved a man the way that I, I loved you.

I had been in so many sleazy bars there was something sort of familiar and commonplace about it all. I could see immediately who was working in the room. It was, of course, the women. But you could tell more by their attitude than their sex. This was, after all, a job. It paid well for women who could take care of themselves. And Milli could take care of herself.

But I knew I had made a fatal error walking in the door—the last mistake I would be allowed to make. I realized in that moment it was too late for us.

I went back to our apartment to wait for her.

Milli came home within hours. She left the apartment door open as she stormed up to me. I must have sensed what was coming because I buried my hands deep inside my pockets. She slapped me hard across my face.

“I’m sorry,” was all I could say. I really, really meant it.

“I’ll bet you are,“ Milli said. Her voice was cruel and cold because she was hurting too. “Did you get to see everything you wanted?

44

“I’m sorry, baby,” I tried to explain. ”1 didn’t go there to hurt you. I wanted to start over. I made a mistake.”

‘You sure did,

44

she said, but her voice was quieter. She looked at me quizzically. “What were you thinking of?” Then she stopped being angry for a moment. “How did you fed when you walked in there, Jess? Did it hurt you?”

”It’s funny,” I said. “I sort of felt closer to you right then. And I was thinking about how brave you all are.

44

“Brave?” Milli narrowed her eyes.

“Yeah. I don’t think I could be strong enough to fight without my clothes on.

44

Milli stood and looked at me without speaking. Then she went into our bedroom

112

and started throwing clothing into a suitcase. I didn’t move from where I stood. When she came out, she acted like she was looking around for whatever else she wanted to take, but I knew she was stalling.

“Is there anything I can say?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Milli softened her expression and came closer.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I told her as the tears streamed down my face. She came into my arms for the last time.

”1 know I made a big mistake tonight, Milli. I’m sorry I hurt you.“

She shook her head and took my face in her hands. ”It was a mistake. But that’s all it was. I’ve made some pretty big ones with you. That’s not why I’m leaving.” She went over to her suitcase and took out the porcelain kitten she’d left home with fifteen years before and put it down on the coffee table near me. She came back and put one hand on my cheek. “I just don’t think it’s going to be much different than it is, not for now anyway,” she explained. “I want to leave before we break everything.”

Milli brushed my cheek with her lips, and then she walked through that open door. She was gone.

I sat down on the couch and cried because I just didn’t know what else to do. I jumped up and ran downstairs and outside, but she was already gone. Besides, I didn’t know how to change everything back to the way it was.

I went back upstairs, opened a bottle of beer, and sat on the edge of the bed. That’s when I recalled the weekend before when Milli had called me on the pay phone at work Just at the moment when I realized the Marine was coming toward me, I forgot—it sounded like she was crying. I just didn’t remember, with all the excitement, to ask her later why she had called. Now I’d give anything to know.

The telephone rang. I ran to pick up the receiver. It was Edwin. Of course she knew. Darlene had been waiting downstairs with the car while Milli came upstairs to pack. Darlene wanted Ed to tell me how sorry she was and how much she loved me, too.

”You OK?’ Edwin asked me.

“I don’t think so,” I told her.

There was a long silence.

‘You were great together,“ Ed said.

“Yeah, we were, weren’t we?’ ’

“She really loved you,” Ed reminded me. “Remember when you used to pack those lunches for Milli in the brown paper bags with those little red hearts on them?”

“How did you know that?’ I asked. “Did the other girls tease her about it?’

“Hell no,“ Edwin said. “They were jealous. You made it hard on the rest of us butches. We all had to start packing love lunches.’ Anyway, promise you won’t tell Darlene this?” I promised.

“Milli told Darlene that she thought she might have been loved once or twice in her life, but nobody had ever cared about her as good as you did.”

I took a deep breath. “Did she say that a long time ago?“

STONE BUTCH BLUES 113

“Nah,” Ed said, catching my drift, “recently.*

4

“Ed, I hurt.”

“I know,

44

Ed said gently. “I’m sort of in the same boat. Things are kind of rough right now with me and Darlene.

44

“Why is it so hard?

4

1 felt confused.

“I don’t know,” Ed sighed. “I guess love’s never easy. But it’s different between a butch and a pro.” Ed sounded lost in her own thoughts. ”It’s love with no illusions.

44

There was a long silence. We both took a deep breath.

“My bike isn’t running.

44

“Go to work tonight,” Edwin advised. ”1’11 meet you there in the morning and we’ll take a look at it.

44

“Ed,” I said, “I really fucked up this time.

44

“Nah,

44

she reassured me, “you just got a little more growing up to do.

44

“I don’t know if I can do it,” I told her.

My friend laughed. “You got no choice.

44

CHAPTElf!

11

T

stopped

going c the bar for a few weeks. Id heard Milli left town,

but I

just

didn’t

B

fed

like seeing anybody.

I

get

two temp jobs

m order io pa/ for some major

*

repairs

on

my Norton and

to keep

me busy. My life felt so hollow

after I

tost

>>

Milli.

During the da/1

packed cartons

cf

rrulk a the dairy on Niagara Street.

At

night

1

worked 1

the plastic

pipe

factory

in South Buffalo.

Vfe’d dump

huge

twenty-five-pound bags filled with powder into extrusion machines,

and plastic pipe would push

out the other end. The first

da/1

started there my pocket watch stopped ten

minutes

after the shift started—it was jammed with powder,

1

gei

coated from head o foot

with that

dust.

After a couple cf weeks

1

was exhausted from working doubles.

I

saved

up

more

than enough

to fix

my

take and

1

coddnT think

cf

anything else

1

needed. So

1

gave notice

Friday night

a

the

pipe

factory.

When 1

got home Saturday morning,

I

found

Ed

sitting on my front porch.

She

was

wearhg dress parts and a

starched white shirt with nby cuff links.

Ed

was a sight for sore eyes. She

stared

at

me like

she’d

seen

a ghost.

"What’s that green

shit all over you?"

Only try eyes

showed under the coat cf powder. 'You better get

cleaned up,”

its

IM

Ed

told

me. “Don't

you know about the funeral today? Old

Butch

Ro

died."

Butch

Ro was very

much

bved

by

all the old

bulk.

She was

the

ciders’

elder

She had worked

in

the Chevy plant longer tian anybody cotid

remember. I

could hardly imagine tie depth of grief

the

older

butches were

feeling. They had loved each other

so

long and

shared

so

much

together.

Ro

and her lover almost never

went

otM to the bars to only seen

item

once in Niagara Fails

at

Tifka's. But whether I had known her or not, it was important for me to

attend

her funeral AH

the

butches would be

there. It

was a sign of respect for the rote the

played it oir community

I

showered while Ed made coffee.

She

shouted omething about dressing ip as

I

was drying off. “What?"

I

called

from the bathroom.

“We’re

supposed to dress

up,"

Ed yelled.

“Yeah of course.”

“No,” she shouted. ‘You know, like girls,”

I

put at

a

iobe and came

nto

the kitchen to

make

sure

Id

heard her right. "Says who?"

‘The dd bulls said so.” Ed shrugged. "But

I

don’t put on a dress

for

nobody!"

She

told me we were going to a funeral home to sec

a

body, not knocking on heaven’s

gate

io get

let

in.

1

coiidnl put on

a

dress

1

shuddered ;1 the thought Besides,

t

was

a

moot pokit—1 didn’t

cwn one But if the wad had come down from the older bitches, something must

be up

“Cmon, hurry up and get

dressed,”

Ed urged

me.

"Everybody’s probably

akeady

thereby now”

It

was

too late

to call

up

anyone

fix

advice.

I

pu

on my blue suit a white shirt,

and dark tie.

Ed

drove her car to the

funeral

home.

1

followed on ny motorcycle.

Once we ar

rived,

I

si on my bike

n

the parking lot. I wanted to show my respect

fir

Butch

Rq

but I

wished

1

didn’t have

to

go

ire "What's

with you, Jess?’ Ed asked me in exasperation

‘I don't knew," I

tdd

her.

1

felt

a

sense of dread.

When

we got inside, it took a minute to

find the

right room Then

I knew

we hal found it.

There

around

the

opot casket, were

Butch

Ro's lifelong friends. All of them

were

wearing dresses.

That’s

how

much

they loved her.

These

were

burly. big-shouldered be-shes who carried

their wemanhood

inwort- roughened hands. They could playfully slap you on the backand send you halfway across

the

room.

Their

forearms and biceps

were covered

with tattoosi These

powerful

butch

women

were comfortable

in

work chinos. Their spin! roared

to

life

when

they wore double-breasted suits

Wearing dresses was an excruciating humiliation for them. Many of

their

dresses

were

old,

from

another

era when occasional retreats

were still nece sary.

The

dresses wree

outdated, white,

frilly, lace, towHxit,

phi; The

shoes

were

oldorbonowed: paten

leather, loafers, sandals. This clothing

degraded (heir

spirit,

ridiculed who

they were.

Yd

a was in this painful drag they

were

forced to sty their last goodbye D the friend they loved

so

much.

Ros femme, Alice,

greeted

each one

of them. Ycu could see haw much she lotted

to filt against their solid bodies, to fad the genttc strength of their arms. Instead

she respcctfutty refused to acknowledge the

pain

they all shared

together. She

held

it

her own.

Ro—

the butch Alice had

bved

fly

almost

thirty

years—tay

in the

casket next

id

her, laid out

in a

pink dress and holding a bunch

of pink-and-whitc flowers.

Whit

cruet

hand

controlled

this

scene?

I

saw them just as

they

saw

Ed and me t was Ro’s family—father, mother, and brothers. They saw

ik

the moment we waked in and whispered in the funeral

director’s ear.

In a

flash,

the director announced the funeral home was closing and

we

aB had

to teavc.

Just

Ske

that.

Ed and I wait to the local diner fcr

coffee. We were

sitting there when all the otder

hutches came filing in

past

us. Each of

them had

four.d

a

ptace to change

clothes, even

ifit

mean crouching down in the backseat of a

car,

When lhe> sav

us,

they

all

headed straight fcr the opposite side

of

the

diner.

Jan charged at

me

with murder in

her eyes,

bu

the other

women restrained her. Butch Jan—the elder 1 wanted to turn

to

for advice. Butch Jan—my finend.

Jan had

beat coo! to

me

fcr a tong

time, ever since

the night she saw me dancing

with

Edna.

Now

she really hated me

A few minutes later Alice came in,

supported by a butch m

each side.

Ed and 1 were

completely

isolated. 1

wanted

o

lease. It

was too

painf til. After

a few

minutes Alice

came

ova-

to

us, tike an emissary. I fett bad that

she

had to play diplo

mat

a

a time

when

her grief was so unbearable, but I knew the hutches

were too angry

iospeak

to

us. I stood

as

she approached ourtable. 1

lock her hand; she

kissed

my check

“The

old

hutches are pretty mad a you two,’’ she explained gently. “Some cf them

fed like you

spoiled

i. See,

they figured

if

they

could make such

a

sacrifice to say good- tyeto

Rp you youtg Cries could, too

Jt’s

not you

fault, really. But you

two better

keep a few

profile for a white, if

you

know what I

mean.’’

Alice’s anguish was so discernible

that

1

adied to

reach

ou and

hotd her, but she wouldn’t have

tet me I understood. It was easy

for

me to

feet

strong, to give

cf

myself,

dressed the

way I

was.

Fcr

the

hutches who woe

watching

us

from across die diner,

h

had been painfd and

hard. Alee

kissed my cheek lightly.

“It'll

blow over, youll see" she

whispered I hoped she was right.

1

figured

I’d take A

bee’s advice and Uy tow for a week

or

two,

until 1

got

some

sign

t

was alright

to appear at die ba

again. Bur

weeks

of exile passed

without

a single

phone call that would signal the

ice

had thawed.

Mornings

grew chilly.

Autumn was

in

the

air. Thee weren’t

mary jobs.

The

temp agency

sent

me

to the cannery

st

Four Comers It was an urpaid two-hour

nde

each way.

I boarded the

company

bus

at

4:45

a.m.

It

was cold

and

damp.

Someone passed

a bottle

of whiskey

around. 1

reached

forthebottle

and drank as

I

lookedout the window.

118

“Hey,” I heard Butch Jan's voice growl, “are you gonna share that,

er

what?” She was kneel mg cn the seat in front of me I held my breath. Jan leaned firward and grdabed a handful cf try jacket. “Do you get it yet?” she demanded. Her face contorted with shifting emotions.

I nodded “Yes, I think I understood right away. I just didn’t know whatto do, Fm sorry I'm so serry I messed it ip fcr al cf you to s^ goodbye to Ro."

Jan let go cf ny jacket and smoothed the leather. “Ah, it wasn't your fault,” she said. “The next day at the bunal the family made us stay me hundred yards away frem the grave. That wasn't your fault either.”

I leaned closer io her. “Listen, Jan,” I whispered, “I’m serry about everything, you knw what I mean?’ Vfc both knew I had shifted the conversation to the nightJan saw Edna and I dancing together. “It wasn't Eke you think, really.”

Jan looked out the window like she was daydreaming, I waited, Jan smiled and reached for the bottle cf whiskey. “It’s OK” She took a slug and shivered. “No harm done. Yiu ever work at the cannery before?’ I shook try head.

She smiled and patted ny cheek roughly. 'Til show you the ropes” With these kind words she welcomed me back b the only real family Fd ever known.

CHAPTER

12

still remember the moment Jan and

1

walked

into the

cannery

and

1

saw

Theresa,

standing right there

in

frort of

me. She

was working

on

a

madtine,

coring

apples.

1

was

trying to get a better

look at

her, wondering what color

her hair

was

under that white paper

net

‘You

coming

a not?'

the foreman

asked me.

I

hung

back fi a moment. Her

smile told me she

already

knew she

had my

complete

attention.

Even

when we were filling out

forms in the fbreman'safficc,

I

still

fdt floored

and flustered. Theresa never stopped affecting

me

just

that much. The fireman noticed, but he must

not

have cared because he assigned me b work at

the

line near her.

I

watched as

each

woman

put

an

apple on

a

spindle and pressed a fixX

pedal. The applesspun around and were peeled

and

cored in the process.

All

of it landed on a con

veyor

belt headed toward me iist past me, the

conveyor

split into

two

belts.

The foreman handed me astick.

I

lookedat it stupidly. He told me

toltit

the

cores

and peels one way. the apples another “That’s

it?”

I

asked. He

snorted and walked

away.

This began my short-lived career

as

an apple-hitter.

I

knew Theresa was watching

so

I

wanted

io do

i

suavely.,

but that was land

cf

stretching it, considering the

task.

119

131

“What ait you doing?” she asked me

I shr

ugge

d.

“I’m inspecing the apples—you

know, quality of the fruit, warm holes, efficiency'of

the

coring

and

peeling

operation.”

She threw her head back and smiled. “You

mean

you’re an apple-bopper?”

'Yeah,”

I laughed.

“Something

like

that”

“Hey you,

asshole!" someone al the aid of the

conveyor

belts yelled. OK,

so I hai

let a few peels go

down the apple belt. Big

deal!

Theresa

laughed softly and

went back ID her

work. She was

playing

with me This

flirtation was aie

of

life’s unexpected pleasures. Almost

as

soon as i

started, £ ended.

The foreman announced he was moving me. “I

could doa

better

job

hilting'these ptpies,”

1

insisted.

I followed

him to another part cf the plant where the

actual canning was done.

The

noise terrified me

The

foreman pointed toa

Y-shaped

conveyor belt running parallel B

the ceiling. I

saw a

guy up

there straddling

a

giant

pipe near the point where the

ccn- veyor

belt split

into two. Every few seconds

a carton

came down the single

belt. He diverted them alternately one way or another.

I

was

replacing him.

The

foreman diowed

me a metal pde

with footholds.

I

waited -for the

guy

whowas already up there toclimbdown,

but

he swung down from pipe ID pipe, brushed

cff

his hands,

and

walked

away-

I assumed he had been doing this

job

f>r a while.

1

had hoped I could dimb above

the din, but both the height

and

the roar

made

me nameous. This job lookedlike it regt ired

all

the skill and judgment of apple-bopping But

although £

wasn’t a

complex task,

it sure

wasn’t as

easy as

t

first appeared. The cartons were packed with heavy

cans of

applesauce. They hurtled at me with

tremendous velocity,

and 1 had »

hit

thern ID divert them,

1

nearly fell

off.

I

learned

D

lit

the boxes

from an

angle, not

head-on.

After

I

got

the tang

<f

it I realized what an interesting

vantage point

I

had fd

never seen foe I

fe

of

a factory fran a bird’s-eye

view. Thearrangementofthe machines,

the sequence and interrelatedness

of

tasks, the organized scurrying of workers,

[

noticed a ruckus near the

women’s

bathroom—Butch Jan squared

off with two women

and a man.

Il

was a fight I’d engaged in rmny times, but never watched

safety

as a third party Jan Sood with hands on hips and her mouth moving like she was shouting.

I

could see how defensive

and' embarrassed she felt

by

watching her body.

I

never would have

heard

the foreman

yelling for me

below.

He

banged

a

hammer against

a

metal pipe

connected D

the one

I

was sitting

on

The

vibration startled met

and foe next bes almost took me

over and down, ffc pointed to his

watch. It must be lunchtime.

I met ip with Jhn in

the

cafeteria. She

was

upset because

some

women n the

bathroom

claimed they thought she was a man They

said

Grid didn’t

create women to look

like men. “Then explain me;” Jan

answered them.

I

laughed as she told the story

but

it really wasn't

funny.

I saw

thatgood-looking

frame

come

in,

bit

Jan was sputtering mad

and

I

wanted

to hear her out ‘They said they thought

I

was

a

man when they saw my tattoos’' Jan hit the

lunch table.

‘I said,

‘If

you

really

thought I was a man yotfd cf run out of the

bathroom

yelling.

1

“ I

nodded.

She

was

right.

The woman

sat at a table

with

her friends.

I swore

she was

checking

me out Jan glanced over her shoulder to see what

I

was looking

it.

"See something you

Ske

on the menu?" Jan laughed.

I

squirmed in my seat. ”Aw, you know She’s probably just playing with me.“

“Like hell the is,*’ Jan sounded

in

the know

“Whaddya

mean?” I shot back

‘I

heard she

asked

someone what your

name

was”

‘You’re

kidding me. I don’t

believe it."

Jan

looked

wounded. “No, really.”

I

got my

hopes up.

Then they sank “Oh,

it probably

doesn’t mean a thing,”

I

concluded.

Jan smiled

like

there

was something else. “Well, die did ask if you were single.”

My jaw dropped. I couldn’t

recover my composure. "For

Christsake,

be cool.” Jan pited

my

arm.

“Jan. what’s her

name?”

"Theresa.”

I

savored her name, repeating it over m

uy

mind. When you

do

that, it’s a sign something big

is

happening

in

your

heart.

At the aid

of the day I looked

frr

Theresa at the time clock,

ba

she was hidden

in

the wave of hundreds cf workers

leaving and

hundreds more entering

frr

the

next

shift

I

didn’t talk

much tn

the bus ride home.

I

just dared

on

the window. Jan laughed softly and

shook her

head.

The

next

day I

could

hardly wait io

gpt

to

work.

Jan

and

t

were assigned

io

load trucks. It was heavy work. 1 was

leaning ip

against a pole smoking a cigarette when Thffesa walked by to go io the bathroom. Actually, the bathroom was

in

the

opposite

direction.

I

felt embarrassed because

I

was dnpping

with

sweat and iny white T-shirt was filthy. Theresa smiled. "I like sweaty hutches,” she said, as though she’d read my mind.

Man,

those

boxes sailed

out of

my hands all

day as

though they were filed

with feathers

Fcr the next

week I didn’t sleep

much. I leaped

oa

tf

bed

as

soon

as

the

alarm rang and rode the long distance oii to the cannery in excited anticipation.

1

saw Theresa

a

least twice

a

shift.

I

was floating a fool eff the ground.

Then, are day,

Jan pulled

me aside after

a

break. "Got some bad news far you, Idd" Theresa had been fired The General Superintendent called her irao his

office to

go

over

her

six-month

review.

That’s when he

grabbed her

breasts. Jan

said Theresa kicked him

in

the shin, yelled

at him,

and then kicked

him in

the other shin. Good for her.

Anyway, he fired her,

I crashed from the summit of euphoria.

Itwas

just ajob after that Worse, really, because 1 Ind been so much fun.

I

knew it

was

time to ask

the temp agency

fcr

an-

122

other assignment.

The

following Friday night I showered and dressed up. When

1

got to the bat I was

^ad

I

had.

Theresa walked

ii

the door.

I had never expected io see her again

She

had

cajoled some

friends

into driving

her to

Buffalo to look for

me

Lucky

for

me there was

only

one

bar

a a

time.

Hie hueef Theresa’s

hair reminded me of

the lustrous

colas of a chestnut. It was well

wath

waiting

to

see Her eyes

didn’t

hide how h^ipy she was to sec me

I

think die

would have

liked to

hug me, butshe restrained herself. So did

1.1

kissed thecheek

die offiired me

I

saw Gant near

the jukebox. A moment later

1

heard

“Stand

Dy Your Man" paying,

Thanks,

Gant.

I

asked Theresa to dance She took her time smoothing my collar

and adjusting ny tie before

she led me » the dance fbor.

We

moved beautifully to gether.

Meg

told

me

later we looked as good as Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire.

All the

while we were

dancing, Theresa traced th: back of my neck above my

cellar

with her fingernails.

She was

driving me mad.

I

guess that was thepoint.

1

knew

]

was driving her

crazy toq bu ]

was being very, very careful doing it Sometimes when you

just move a

little, carefully., it’s a whole lot more powerful than grinding.

When

the

song

fnidied

I

let goof

ha, tai

Theresa pulled me back. “1 wasn't try

ing to be mean

d

you

at the plant. Did you think 1 was?*

“No,

it

fdt

good.”

She

smiled.

“J

don’t

think

I

was very nice to you. I was justteasing

you,

to get your

attention.

I

liked

you."

I

blushed. “Nobody

ever flirted with me outside a bar before—I mean in the real

world,

you

know?

It

made me feel normal.” She nodded like she really' understood.

VWtalked

fora

whileaboutour

lives. She was a rural girl from Appleton. Shecame

riglc oil and

told me she got friends to drive ha to this bar just to look fa ma

Thai somanc

tapped Theresa cn the

shoulder.

The women she rock to Buffalo

with were

leaving. She

took

my face in both ha hands and kissed my mouth. I blushed

from head

to

toe.

9k

stood

back and grinned at my cola, proud of herwork. “1’11 make

you

dinner a my

baise next

Saturday night if you want,” she offered.

“You’re

on,”

I

said,

still blushing.

She scribbled her phone

number down on a cocktail napkin. "Call me;’’ she shouted

ova

her

shoulder.

*¥xj

can bet

cn

it,"

I

answered

I

was still blushing.

Yhj

would have

thought I’d won the Kentucky Derby the way evoybody n

ame

over

to

congratulate me.

1

fidt

ike a

million bucks.

I

just wandered ifl’d eva sop

blushing.

i

took meall day

Saturday toget ready-pick out

the

rightclothes, bathe, shower; shower

again. Then

there wae questions like which tie, cologne ar

id

cologne? Something

so sweet lock a

lot

ofcae.

1

brought

Theresa daffodils. When

I

handed them to ha, ha eyes

filled

with

tears.

SItWt HUTU BUIS

121

I

bad

a feeling nobody had treated her like someone

special

before,

1 silently vowed to always make her

fed that way,

“I’ll just be a minute,” she called out

from the

kitchen. I was

glad

for the time

to nose around her living

room

aid

get a

sense

of

her. One thing

I

couki tell fa sure— she

loveddried wildfloorers “Ready,” she

called out moments

later.

“Do you mind

eating hue

in

the kitchen?” I'd

never eaten

anyplace

else.

She made

me

a

steak and

masted potatoes with gravy, God,

t looked

delicious.

Then she put a mound of soft,

green

stuff at

ny

plate.

“What’s that?" 1 asked

as

politely

as

I

could.

"Spinach,”

she

said, locking me into her gaze

I

circled 1

with

my fork. "Is something wrong?”

she

asked.

‘1

just never

ex

vegetables, that’s alt."

Theresa took irff her oven glove.

She

sat

down

at a kitchen

chair

next

to

me and took both ny hands

h

her

hands.

“Never

say never,” she said.

“We’re

too young to close

the

door to anything

in

our lives."

I discovered I

was

already

it

love with her. Actually, I found

out

spinach isn’t all that

bad

either, if

you put lots cf butter

and

salt at it

After dinner I helped hs

wash

the

dishes

and

dean

tp

Then, by the sink, we moved dose to

each

other

1

felt shy. That turned on

to be alnght.

Gently,

we kissed

each

other.

Our tongues discovered a silent

language to

express

orr

needs

Once

we started, we

never wanted in stop. That’S how i began.

Within a morth

we

reded a U-Haul trailer

and owed into a new

apartment together in Buffalo,

Theresa

negotiated

with

the

landlord. He lived

it

Kenmore, so

we

heped he’d never actually see

me.

We got

real

furniture. I

mean,

i

was Salvation Anuy, bu

i was

real.

Our

names

woe printed

inside

a heart cn

the

dish

towel that hung

at the refrigerator

door

handle.

We

got

it

made

at Crystal Beach. I was a

brave thing

to do But later

we

spilled loganberry

juke at it, so we used it

for

dishes because we couldnf bring ourselves to throw

itout. And there were marigolds m amber glasses cn the windowsill, daisies ma green

cut-glass vase on

the kitchen table, fresh mintand basil growing

ma

flciwer

be* cn the

porch.

It was a home.

I

gew up in leaps and bounds.

1

learned to

reduce

the anxieties of life by

paying

bills

on time, keeping receipts

and

promises, doing laundry before I ran out

of

under

weal picking

ip

after myself. Most importantly, 1

learned to say I’m sorry.

This rela

tionship

was

too vital Kt

let

dust accumulate in its comers.

I began

io

realize how emotionally wounded I was, how damaged. But Theresa

coiid

always sense

when

1

was

about to

petrify

like

stone. She could see it coming

by the w^ I heid my

body

as I

walked

in

the door. She could

hear it

building up ji the stories

cf

life’s

daily abuses—

on

the

job,

si

the

comer

store, on the street. Those were

the times she would tdl roestones

it bed—

wonderful, sensuous, tactile fantasies about

121

how your body feds when

you’re lying

on said in the sun aid

the ocean’s

waves are lapping near your toes Or climbing warn wooden stairs to visit a quaint sunlit room where

a

lover awaits. The stories were relaxation therapy and

sexual fantasy combined, meant

b simultaneously calm and arouse me. They did both. Theresa

could always melt try stone.

1 was

1968.

Revolution

seemed to

glimmer on the

horizon.

Millions took to the streets in protest. Hie

world

was exploding with change. Everywhere,

that

is,

except

in the factories where

1

worked.

Every

morning at dawn we punched in as usual We only dreamed at night.

It wasn’tthat

we didn't know

there

was a war raging. There were hardly any draftage

guys

in the

plants anymore. Coworkers who were absent fcr several d^s were

as

sumed to have lost

a husband,

son,

or

brother. The ashen grief on their frees

when

they returned

to wxk confirmed

the

fact.

I

kiew

there was a war I wasn't stupid.

1

just

didn't knew wha on earth 1 codd do about

it.

k

was Theresa's

job

as a secretary

a

the university tha opened a window,

alrnv-

ing me

to

fed

the

hurricane

face if

change;

She

brought home

leaflets, pamphlets,

aid

underground newspapers.

I

read

about Black Pbwa

and Women’s Liberation.

I

began

to

understand that oarage against the war was

much

deeper and more organized

than

Fd realized. “Thcre'scampus rallies and protests almost every day now,* she told met “not just

against

the war but

to

open ip the schools to

everybody.

1

*

When Theresa learned Td

never

read anything

h

a newspaper except the

comics,

die

ordered

home

subscriptions

to the morning and

evenhg

papers. One day she

left

a copy of

The Ladder

on

the

couch.

It

was a

magazine

put out by a group called

the

Daughters

of

Hlitis.

1

didn't know who

Bilitis

was III never seen anything about women like us h print

before;

“Where’d you

get this?*

I

shouted lo her.

She called badr

from

the kitchen, “In

the

mafl.”

"You got this sent

to

our address in the mail? Wks

i

wrapped? What if someone

h

the budding saw

it?’

After

a

long alence, Theresa came

in

with

a

haid mirror and held it

ip

u

my face. “Did ya

think

you

were a secret?”

Theresa reeded

a

root canal, but

die

couldn't get any overtime at the

University. So

when

the

tar

p

agency offered me

a

triple shift at the electronics plant,

1

jumped at the chance. Th resa wcndcred

if

the emergency production at the factory had something

to

do with

the

war.

In

any

case,

we needed the mcney so

1

took it.

I

darted foe triple on Thursday evening. Wha a killer. By foe aid cf foe third shift

1

could

scarcely fad

the wires as

i so

dered.

I

kept burning my

index

finger with foe red-hot iron.

Theresa was out when I apt home Friday night. I left her a note, stumbled trto bed, aid lest consciousness. When I woke up, she was lying next to me, smoking one of my cigarettes-1 knew something was up She didn’t smoke. Theresa left the room and came back with ointment and bandaids fcr w finger. “Did you hear Dr. Kmg was killed?’ die asked me.

I lit a cigarette and lay back down ‘Yeah, I heard about 1 Thursday night at work. What day is today, anyway?’’

"It’s Saturday afternoon,” die said “There’s been rioting all over the place. And Jess,' Theresa sighed, “there was real trouble at the bar last night.’’

I felt a pang cf jealousy. ‘You went without me?’

Theresa smoothed my hair. “Ft was Grant’s birthday, remember?’’

I smacked m,

r

forehead “Fuck, I forgot How was the party?”

Theresa reached fa another one cf my cigarettes. I grabbed her hand. “Whoa! Whafs going cn?”

“There was a big fight last night. A fist fight,“ die said.

I frowned. ’“Are you OK?’ Theresa nodded. “Cops?” I asked. She shook her head “Well, what happened?"

Theresa tock a deep breath. “The Army notified Grant’s family Thursday mght that her brother get killed. Grant was already drunk when she showed up © the party. At fist everyone was consoling her. Then some cf the older butches who did hitches

n

the service started talking about die war. Some of the thmgs they were say mg didn’t sit right with everyone.” I hstened quietly.

“Grant said we ought D drop an Abomb cn Vietnam She sad no one would miss them. Ed told Grant she was a racist and said we should bring all the soldiers home. Ed said she felt like Muhammad Ali, that she didn’t have any beef with the people over there- Grant called her a communist.“

I shock my head and Parted © speak. Theresa put her finger against my lips. “It got mudi worse, honey,“ die said. ’’Grant said some terrible thmgs about King being killed, about the riots. She wouldn’t stop. So Ed hit her"

I crushed out my cigarette. “Oh shit.“

“Anyway" Theresa continued, “Grant got Ed tp against the bar, choking her. Peaches hauled off and pounded Grant cn the head with her high heel. Other people got involved just because they were drunk. Ed’s face got cut up. Grant git a concussion. And now Meg E saying no Blacks will be allowed back at Abba’s fa a while.”

I couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Shit, Theresa, what did you do?’

Theresa looked me dead in the eyes. “When Grant toed B hit Peaches over the head with a bar stool, I cracked Grant over the head with a bea bottle and knocked her out. I’m barred from Abba’s, toa“

I leaned forward and kissed her cn the lips. “It sounds like a mess.“ I si up. “I’d better cal! Ed and see if she’s OK,“ I said.

Theresa tugged ny arm. “C’mere, baby Don’t call yet.”

12*

“Why not?”

Theresa shrugged. “What are you going to to Ed?’

“I

don't know

I

want b know if she’s OK.

I

just

think we al

shouldn't be fighting each other. Wfe need

d

stick together." Theresa nodded as though I’d confirmed something die already knew She pulled me aga nst her body, A wave cf exhaustion rolled ewer me

"Be

careful,”

Theresa

whispered. "Think first before you call Ed.”

I

pulled hack my tead and studied her face I never could read that woman’s mind.

"Let’s go somewhere,’ she said.

I

moaned. “I’m too tired.”

Theresa grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back. ‘Too tired to neck with me behind a sand

dune at

Beaver Island?"

I

knew enough to surrender early. ”OK, alright. Should we tale the car?”

Theresa shook her head- "Get the bike out of the garage.”

“Areyou crazy?”

1

laughed

“It’s cold!"

Theresa slid her hands around rry waist. "It’s April, honey. Let’s live like it’s ai ready spring."

’

The moment we Swung our legs overite Norton I knew it was a good decision

S

felt so good to turn into the curves together. Che of Theresa’s hands slid down tomy

f

thigh.

I

revved the engine in response. The cold wind nicked the laughter from our mouths.

We

rode slowly past the island marsh, Theresa pointed to a

flock

of wild geese headed north. The beach tself was almost deserted. A couple of mothers meandered along

tie

boardwalk

with

their todders.

flopped down on the sand in

front

Cf the boardwalk. The sin wiis strong and warm.

Wc

could hear a radio playing faintly

n

thedistance.

This guy's n !me with you

Herb Ak>en sang,

I

leaned

qi

against a dine aid spread my legs. Theresa curled up between my thighs and leaned back against me

I

wrapped rry arms

around her

and dosed my eyes The sound cf app ng water and cawing gulls soothed all the tightness from

my

musdes.

“Honey.” she said. Something in her tone made my muscles tense again ’You and

1 never really talk about the war. I don’t even know how you fed about it." My lips were lose to her cheek. *1 read those leaflets you bring home,” Theresa turned to

look

a

me. "But what do you think?"

I shrugged. “What db you mead? I hate wars. But

JFK

didn't a& me if

I

wanted to start one.

They're

gonna do what they want to da Why are you asking me this?"

Theresa pulled rry knees again; t her sides with

her

elbows,

’!

hate

this war,

fess. It's got to stop. There’s protest rallies tn campus almost every day. If anyone from the ■ staff gets jotted

a

one; we can gel fired.

But

I'm thinkingabout going

to lhebigtaliy - next

week anyway,"

I whistled. ‘You could get fired for going?”

.

Theresa nodded. “I

can’t sit by

and watch, Jess. It’s

gotten to the point where

1 feel like I’ve

got

to tb something.’’

I

lay

down cn my belly in

the

cod sand. “It's

funny to

hear you talk

like this.

You

know; [didn't resize

befixehowdiff

erent

otr

jobs are.

AU

this

stuffs going on where you work.

It

doesn’t

touch us at the factory, except when

cnc of

the

guys gets drafted tr

killed.”

Theresa nodded. “I kness

honey.

This

e

the

first time in ray

life

I’ve

had

a

job

where 1 can see what’s going

on

ii

the

world.

All day

long I

hear people

arguing abotl things tha

are

happening I used

© just

listen. But now I

care.

Now I’ve gpt feelings iout what’s

going on aid

I wart

©

help try ©

change things."

1 held up me hand to

stop

her.

’’Slow

down,

honey.”

I fbpped

over

cn ny back. I wondered why her words scared

me so

much. “Is that why

you

brought ine out here today? To talk to me

about

this?’ I

shielded try eyes from the sun © watch

her

face,

She shook

her

head.

“I

brought you out here so you

wouldn’t call

Ed

nghi

way— not

nil

we

talked

first."

I frowned. “Why?”

Theresa smiled aid

lay so

dose

I

could ficd

her breath

on my

ear

‘You

know one

of

the things I iked best about you when 1 first

gx

© knew

you?’

I was being handled,

but

gently,

so

I didn't mind much. “Tell me,” I smiled.

Theresa

laughed.

‘You

were

always

the peacemaker, Whenever

the

butches

got tanked up and

hot

under

the

collar, you

bund

a

waf

to

step

in

and

defuse

things.

I

even

noticed

dial

sometimes

when

twoof

theolder

butches

would gpt mad

at each

other

they

would drift

over

© you

one

at a

time

and you’d talk

d

each cf

them and there wasn’t

a

fist

fight."

I

turned

my head to

look

rt

her, “There’s

a

point here, 1’11

bet"

Theresa squeezed try ami

“Thai's

one

of your

strengths. The wa,

1

you

soothe peo

ple

when they’re mad

at each

other, Sticking

together

e

really important

sometimes.

Bit not always.”

1

sat

up. “What

do you

mean?’’

Theresa

sat up

next to me. “Sometimes

you

have to take sides.”

I

reached

for my

cigarettes and

lit

one Theresa took it from rry hand,

I

Is another for myself

.

“Sides

on

what?”

I asked her.

Theresa ran her

fingers through

iry hair. “Where you stand cn the war, ftr

one

thing. If

you

come out

against

the war, you'll

have to

take

on some

of

the old butches And

I

think

that’s

goiig to be

very hard for

you."

I

sighed. “Of course

Tm

against war. Who’s

far

war?"

Theresa sighed.

“Some of

the butches are

fcr

the war, honey And are you

sure you’re really against all wars? Are there any wars

yoi

fed

different about?”

J did

a double take. “Like what?"

Theresa lock a long drag on ha

cigarette.

"Ed feels like

She's

in a war hoc

a

home.

You haven’t seen the

news

yer

Cities

are burning. There’s troops in

the streets.”

U8

I

shrugged 'That’s

different.”

Theresa nodded.

“Yeah,

1 is. Ybu hare to figure ou where you stand."

1

exhaled Smoke

and

watched the wind lift it up and away

Theresa watched my face with

otwious concent ‘Tm jus saying

be careful,

honey Tlunk first before you talk to Ed a anybody else about what happened last night”

I listened to the seagulls’ caws Theresa tugged on my arm, demanding try response. “I’m

listening.

I’m

ghd

youdidn’t

let

me

call Ed all half-cocked. Everything

changing so fast. Sometimes 1 understand

what’s

going on and then

I

lose the

thread ^ain

111 think abou it

I just don’t

knew what I think.”

Theresa kissed my

lips.

“That's a great

answer

You 11 figure i out

You

always try to do

what's

right

.”

I

chopped my eyes. Theresa lifted my dun with her hand. She asked roe with ha eyes what I was feeling.

“I’m jist scared,” 1 told her. "Al

this stuff hasn't

realty hi

me

until now But all

of a sudden Tm realizing how much you’ve been changing, and r scares me to death. I’m afraid you're changing and I'm not.”

Theresa

pulled

roe down

on top

erf”

her. I glanced around to

see

if anyone was around

We were alone.

“Jess,”

Theresa whispered,

"don't be afraid to let me change We're all changing.

Who

knows*

You

ootid end

up changing

so

much

you'd leave roe

behind.”

1 latghed d

her

words. ‘Tlever,”

I

promised. ‘‘That’ll never happen."

Before I

could

turn the

apartment door key

in our

lode

Thaesa opened it “How .did

it go?' she asked me.

I

shrugged.

"It

was hard

I

talked to

Jan first. She

sad pretty much the same

thi^

1

did to

you—we

shouldn't be fighting

each

other. Bitt

she agreed Grant could be

a

real pain.”

Theresa Jed me to the couch. “Did you talk to Meg?”

'Yeah,

fan came

with me

We talked to Meg

before everyone else diowed

ip

to the meeting.

I

told Mcg even if she barred the

Black

botches and queens that

wasnt

gccina keep the peace because

I

would have jumped in Grant’s face over the shit she said,

toa

Jan

backed me up?

Theresa smiled • “ Did you mettkxi mef

I

laughed. “Not at that point

I

told Megby the time she excludes everyone who

might be

offended by Grant when she's

drank

she may

as

well shut down the

bar 1

said i would

make more sense to bar Grant when she’s plowed ■

Theresa nodded.

I

lit a cigarette. “So?’ she urged. "Then what?”

I sighed. 7 said

it

wasnt

just

about me and Ed being friends. 1

rdd Meg

I

didn't think she handled r right

Sk

said she's got a business to

ran. I

said

I

know

that, bd

I wouldn't go to an all-white bar.'"

Theresa

slapped

ny

shoulder.

“Good

fcr

you, goddamn it.

Right on!”

“Anyway, when Grant got there she apologized fx taking out her anger at

her

ST&NE BUTCH B LUES

129

brother’s death on everybody else.”

Theresa nodded. “Good.”

1 shook ny head. “Well, it wasn’t enough, really. She wouldn’t sy she w® serry for the racist shit die said. Grant shook Ed’s hand. Ed told me to let it go fu now.”

Theresa jiggled ny arm. “Did you and Ed

talk

?”

I smiled. ‘Yeah, we went over io her house afterward. 1 told Edwin I love her— she’s ny friend. I said the world was changing fester than I am and I needed to do some catching ip in order to understand. Ed talked to me for a couple of hours.”

Theresa began kneading my shoulders. It felt so damn good “What did she talk about?”

1 tried to remember. “So much stuff that it’s hard fcr me to put it all together and tell you. Yiu know I always fell back an assuming that what Ed aid I deal with every day as butches is pretty much the same, you know? Ed reminded me about what she feces every day thi I don’t.”

Theresa smiled and nodded. “What did you say?”

I shook ny head. ‘T didn’t Sty anything I listened as hard as I could. Lock what Ed gave me“ I showed Theresa the copy of

The Sods ofEfaek Rdkty

W.E.B. Du Bois. Theresa read the inscription: 2?

my friend, Jess—Love, Edwin.

Ed dotted th;

i

in her name with a little heart.

When Theresa looked up I saw tears in her eyes. She pulled try head down and kissed me all over ny fece "I love you, too, Jess,’’ she whispered in try ear.

Theresa and I both heard the commotion outside the bar a once. She put down ha

-

beer bottle and ran outside. I grabbed our bottles in case we needed to break them to use as weapons. We both stopped dead in our tracks outside. Justine was cn ha- knees, A cop stood over her. His club hung loosely

i

his side. I saw the blood streaming down the side of Justine’s fece.

1 was a sultry hot evening inJuly. A numberofpeople had drifted outside tte bar in order to drink their beers. Two cop cars were parked in front cf tte bar. Four cops faced us. “Get inside, al cf you,” aie of ths cops barked None of us moved.

The cop standing over Justine grabbed a handful of her hair. “On your feet,” te ordered. She stumbled as she tried to nse and fell hack onto the concrete.

Theresa dipped off her high heels. 'Take your hands eff her,” Theresa told tie cop. Her voice was bw and calm. “Leave her alone.” Theresa walked slowly toward the cop with the high heels at her sides. I held ny breath. Georgetta took off both her stilettos and held cne in each hand. 9ie walked over to Theresa. They exchanged a look I couldn’t see and stood side by side.

The cop pu his hand cn his gm butt Somehow we all knew instinctively that none of the butches should move

I heard Peaches’ voice “What’s goiri cn oJ here?’ We glanced at each other. “Uh- oh,“ she said.

LW

Theresa's voice was low like a moan. “Leave her alone." She and Georgetta inched forward until they flanked Justine. Theresa’s arm draped across Justine's hunched shoulders. Justine grabbed Thoesa and Georgetta's arms and pulled herself to her feet When Justine wobbled, Theresa wrapped one arm around her waist to steady her

The cop unholstered his gun. ‘You fucking slut," he sputtered at Theresa. “You fucking perverts," he shouted at all of us.

Another cop pulled cn his arm, “C’mon, let's get out cf here” Slowly, the

four cops retreated.

I

exhaled

as the cops drove away. Theresa and Georgetta held Justine in their arms as she cried. I started to rush to Theresa but Jteaches wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “Give 'em a minute, honey," she advised.

V£ formed a larger circle around them. Theresa turned and fell into try arms I could feel her body trembling. “Oh god, are you OK?’ I whispered into her hair.

She buried her face it try neck. “I'm not sure yet. 111 let you know in a fe*v minutes.”

“I thought he was gonna dioot you," I told her.

Theresa nodded.

T

was so scared, Jess.”

I smiled. ‘Tm so proud

cf

you."

Theresa studied try face “Really? I was afraid you'd think it was a really stupid thing to do.”

1 shook ny head. ‘You were really brave.”

“I was very scared," die sighed. .

I

smiled. "Somebody once told me that being brave means doing what you gotta do

even

though you're scared.”

Theresa looked ip at me “Do you get scared, Jess?’

Her question stunned me “Are you kidding? Fm scared aS tie time.”

She nodded.

‘I thought you must bey but this

is the first time you've ever said

i

tome.”

“Really? Don't I talk to you about how I feel?* Theresa bit her lower lip and shook her head.

My

face burned. ‘I thought you knew.”

She nodded. “I do know—sometimes, most of the time Bu you never talk about it”

I sighed. "I don't have any words, honey.

I

don't know how io talk about what

I

feel. I don't know if I even fid things like other people do.”

Peaches gently pulled Theresa away from me “C’mon

y’all.

We’re gonna buy Georgetta and Theresa drinks till they

can't stand up”

Ed arrived

a

the bar twenty minutes later. “I missed it?” die shouted. “Oh, shit. Why couldn't I have been here?”

I laughed. "Be glad you weren't. It could have gone another

way.

It was right on the edge”

Jan clapped me cn the shoulder. “Yeah, but the femmes showed them tonight—

smiim.WEs u

don’t mess with us. It was fike what happened in Greenwich Vtfiage a

couple of weeks ago”

I frowned. "What happened?”

“Stonewall!” Gant shouted. I

looked

at Ed and

shrugged.

Jan

grinned.

‘The cops tried

to

raid

a

bar

in

Greenwich

Village,

but they

ga a

fight instead.

The

drag queens and

he-shes

really kicked ass"

Grant laughed.

“I heard they tried

to bim the bar down with the

oops barricaded inside."

I

sighed.

“Shit, I wish I had beet there”

‘Yeah,” Ed dumped

her

fist

on the bar. “that’show I fed

about

missing

what

hap

pened tonight.”

My friends converged

on

me

the

moment I

set

fx>t inside Abba’s Ed looked

as

exdied as I

was “Let’s see

the

ring!”

die

said.

I

looked

around.

“Is Theresa here yet?”

Ed shook her head. “Not yet C’mon, hurry up.“

I

pulled the silk handkerchief

out cf my

inside jacket pocket and opened it The

gold band was studded

wifi a

tiny

diamond and

two small

ruby chips.

Everyone made

the same

sound at once.

Oooh!

Ed patted me on the shoulder. “How fang you

two

been

together?"

“Close

to

two

years."

Ed laughed

.

‘

‘And how long you

had

tha ring

on layaway?"

I

smiled and

shrugged.

‘A long damn

time.

Is everybody ready?”

Edwin

nodded.

"Jan and Hankie

are

h the bathroom getting ready. They

couldn’t get

white dinner jackets so we all gpt cream color.

Is tha OK?”

I

beamed "It’s

alright with me ifthey al

look as

good as

you da"

Ed

cuffed my shoulder.

I

fretted

“Does everyone know their part?*

Ed laughed. Tve been

practicing

“Blue Moon"

so much

around

the house

Darlene

sad

her

Valentine present could be to never hear that song again.”

Frankie

and fan came out of the

bathroom.

“Holy

cw"

I

calfcd wertothem.

“Tou

guys look

great!" It

was the

truth They beamed.

Peaches pushed

her

way through thecrowd. “Look!’* shesmiled proudly

She held

up a

huge cardboard full moon

painted blue.

Peaches

flipped

i

over—

the

other

side

was gold.

I

cfid

a

double take "Howcome

the face

ofthe man in the moon

looks so much

like you.

Peaches?”

Peaches drew herself tp

b

her full height

“Where

db

you see

a damn mar? The

moon is femme,

child—high- in-the-sky femme—

and don’t you

forget it"

I

checked my watch.

“Damn.

Theresa will be

here any minute.”

Jan

and

Meg headed straight

for

me. They locked upset.

Meg spoke

first. “Oh, Jess.

I

fed awful about this."

My stomach clenched. “What?”

132

Meg rubbed

ha

1

forehead. ‘1 set

ip

the phonograph in the

back. Jan was gonna rehearse that

dip-di-dip

tiling

J

the beginning. The needle slid across the record. At first we thought it was OK, but it’s not”

I looked at Ed. “What's die saying?”

“Um,“ Ed winced, “I think she’s saying

we

don’t have music.”

“What!” I panicked. “Oh man, this is ail fucked

ip

now”

Jan lock ms by the shoulders and turned me to face her. “Jess, take a deep breath.” I did. "This is Valentine’s Day, That’s a high femme holy holiday. ¥>u been planning this thing for a long time now. Are you gonna let it all gp down the drain?’

I pouted. “What the fuck can I do?

1

Jan smiled. ‘You can sing to your girl.”

‘You mean really sing? In try own voice?”

Ed nodded emphatically. “Yeah! W can give you a nice

do-wakdo

backup.”

“Jan,” I pleaded, ‘J can’t

sing worth a damn.”

Jhn smiled. *1 know Bii this whole thing is about having the

guts to tell Theresa how much you love her. Edna once told me there’s nothing a butch can do to prove her love more than to risk looking foolish I’m not saying I can do it, but fm passing that along.”

What scared me was I knew Jhn was right and I knew I was going to do it.

Justme kissed me on the cheek. “Theresa’s here,

11

she whispered m ny ear

Frankie, Jan, and Ed took their positions in front cf the bar. I hid bdiind it. Meg knelt down next to me. “I’m sorry, kid,” she said.

I waved try hand. “Forget about it Ifl live through this, I could care less.”

After a long silence, Jan’s voice boomed out. She remembered every

dip-di-dip

and

dinga-dong-ding

before she slid into a deep bass

Blue Moooonnn.

I emerged from behind the bar. It was the took on Theresa’s face that gate me

the

courage to raise my voice. “Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone, without a dream in rrty heart, without a love

cf

rrty own.

11

My voice cracked and pitched with embarrassment and emotion. Theresa chewed her lower lip and cried.

Do-wah-do,

try friends backed me up

Peaches stood behind me, waving the painted blue moot back and forth m a wide arc over try head.

I extended rrw hand toward Theresa.

Bui then ycu suddenly appeared before me, the only one my heart would ever hold.

I had a feeling M gotten tie words wrong.

I suddenly whispered fl ease adore me,' and vdien Hooked the moat had turned io gold!

Peaches flipped the moon to the gold side. Everyone cheered. Peaches curtsied and continued swaying with the moon.

Theresa readied for me I finished the song dancing m her arms

Blue Moon, now I'm no longer alone, I've got a dream in my heart, I’ve got a love (f my own

Doovah-do,

the chorus was soft and smooth.

I pulled tie handkerchief from ny breast pocket and opened it carefully. Theresa

lost i when she saw

the ring. I

cried, too. The moment

realty was perfect. I

slid the rhg on her finger. 1 had a speech all prepared about how much she mean to me but

1 couldn’t

remember

the

words.

“I

love you,"

I aid

her.

"I

kwe you so damn much.

1

’ “You’re the best

thing that’s

ever happened to me," Theresa

whispered.

She took my left hand inhere and ran

her

thumb lightly over the scar on my ring fmger “I want you

to wear a band, too."

1 shook my head sadly, “1 thought about it, but

Fd

be too scared.

1

think if the cops ever look that ring from me

Fd

just go berserk.’’

Theresa touched her cheek.

"If

you’re

afraid

to lose what you kwe you’ll never be able to let go and fed it.

I'll

pu all my kwe for you

h a

ring if you’ll wear it. And

if

someone

ever

takes

it

from you all they’ll be

able to

steal is a metal band.

Then I'll

go out and get you another nng and pa all rry love in tha one

That

way you’ll

never

bse it. Jess. OKF

I nodded and buried

my fere

in her

neck.

Do-wah-do,

everyone

in the

whole

bar

sang to us as we swayed to their music.

k

was the sweetest moment of my life.

■

I

I

f

i i

i

i

CHAPTER

13

scribbled

down

our license plate numbers and photographed us

as

we entered

the

bars. We bdd regular dances

a

a

gay-owned bar; using police ra

tios to alert everyone when theccps were abort to raid us, Vte heard dbout weekly gay liberation and radical women's meetings at the

university, but

Theresa

was

the only cne in our

auwd who knew her way around campus.

It was

dill another world to the rest of

us Everything was changing

so

las. I wendered

if

this was the

revolution.

Oneday

I

came home from werk and

found

Theresa stewing in anger at the kitchen table.

Some of the lesbians from a newly

formed group on

campus had mocked her

for

being a femme They told her

she

was brainwashed. ‘Tm so mad," Theresa thumped the table ‘They

told

me that butches were male

chauvinist pigs!"

I knew what male chauvinist meant,

bull

couldn't figure out

what

t

had

todc

with

ua “Dcn’t they know we

don’t dad the

shit, we ga

shit on?"

“They don’t

care honey. They’re not going to let

us

in."

"Should Jhn and

Grant and Edwin

aid I go

d

one

of

these meetings and try to

explain?”

Theresa pit

her hand ai

my arm. “It wen’t help, honey. They’re very angry

a

IM

butches?

“Why?”

She thought about the question “I think it’s because they draw a line—women on one side and men on the other. So women they think look like men are the enemy. And women who look like me are sleeping with the enemy. We’re too feminine for their taste”

“Wait a minute,” I stopped her. “We’re too masculine and you’re too feminine? Whatdya have to do, put your index fingers in a meter and test in the middle?”

Theresa patted ny arm. “Things are changing,” she said.

“Yeah,” I told her, “but sooner

er

later they’ll change back.”

“Things don’t change back,” die sighed, "drey just keep changing.”

I slapped the table. “Then fuck those people. Who needs them, anyway?”

Theresa frowned and played with ny hair. ‘1 need the movement, Jess. And so do you. Remember you onoe told me about a factory you worked where the guys didn’t want the butches to come to the union meetings?"

I nodded. “Yeah, so?’

She smiled. “You told ire Grant said to hell with the union. Butyouknewtheun- ion was a grod thing. Yru said what was wrong was keeping out the butches. you tried to organize to get the butches into the union, remember?”

Theresa lield me tight against the warmth cf her bod/ and kissed ny hair. She gave me time to think about what she’d said, instead of shooting off ny mouth. I felt scared, ro I got

ip aid

started making dinner. Theresa just sat at the kitchen table looking oil over our backyard.

1 wish we hadn’t traveled to med friends a the bar in Rochester that weekend. If wed just stayed home, I wouldn’t have gotten busted. But that was wishful thinking.

I lay at a precinct cell floor, alone ina strange city, ny mouth pressed against the cold concrete. 1 wondered if I was close to death because I seemed r> be drifting away from he world Only two things tethered me to life—one was the fed tf cold stone agamst ny lips, die other was the feint strains of a Beaties tune coming from a radio somewhere tn the jail.

She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah.

I drifted in and out cf consciousness. I remember Theresa propping me

tp

against a brick wall in the precinct parking bt snd assessing the damage with her eyes. She chewed her lower hp and fingered the bloody places on ny shirt. ‘Til never get these stains out.” Indirect messages cut through ny fqg much more clearly than direct ones.

She held ny head cn her lap all the way back. Her fingertips stroked try hair as die drove, pulled ny head gently into her lap as she braked.

And then I found myself in our home again. Theresa was in the next room. I settled into the warm, soapy bath water and leaned ny head against the porcelain. Only ny head existed, above the bubbles. The comfort softened me, but I could fed panic grew irg in ny gut. Every time I came near

is

borders I was hurled back. Fear dioked me. I needed Theresa to come aid help me, but I couldn’t call out to her—my throat

constricted, strangling me

My teeth ached. When

I

pushed against one of them with my tongue, it pouted oil and lay in my palm like a Chicklet inatiny pink puddle of my own blood Idimbed oti cf the tub

quickly,

sloshing water over the sides. I slipped on die tile, lifted the toi- tet lid, and vomited.

As

I

looked ri the mirror I felt sorry fir the reflection—bloody, bruised, bmpy I rinsed out try mouth with toothpaste and a handful of water. My legs quivered.

Theresa had left clean white underwear on tcp tf the toilet tank. 1 dried off and slipped on a pair ofBVD’s. Tdjust pulled the T-shirt

<mt

my head when Theresaopened the bathroom door

“I,

urn, just warted to see if we have bandaids,

1

’ die saiiL And then the terrifying image

I

had held back came flooding into the front of my mind: the memory of Theresa’s face when

I

was arrested. In

her

eyes I had seen the pain of being overpowered and helpless, k was the way I felt almost every da/ of my life.

I pushed the memory back down as Theresa stood in the bathroom, searching my face witfi her gaze Her eyes were red-rimmed and moist. My own eyes felt dry as dust My breath came slow and easy as though I was inhaling and exhaling molasses, not air Thoesa touched try face with her hand, turning my head slightly to study the swelling around my mouth.

I had no words. If I could have

possibly found

them,

I

would Slave brought them fo her. But 1 couldn’t find wonk I watched the pattern

of

emotions on Theresa'

s

face shift ike sand chines in the wind. She couldn’t find words other, What would her wads sound like, resonating in the air?

Theresa’s bit her lower lip and squeezed her eyes shut,

f

sat down on the toilet seat. Theresa cleaned the wound on my mouth with peroxide. “I'm going to use two bandaids,’’ she told me. “Just io be safe. It might need stitches.

1

’ I shock try head slowly. No hospital. I needed gentleness and safety Theresa gave me both She took me to bed, held me, caressed me, ran her fingers through

uy

hair and cried.

I awoke later and realized Thaesa wasn't next to me K was still dark outside. I staggered to the kitchen My body hurt, bn I knew the werst stiffness and pain would come a day later

Theresa sa at the kitchen table, with her head in her hands I noticed the levd of whiskey left in the bottle.

I

pulled her head against my belly and stroked her hair. “I’m sorry,’’ she kept repeating. “I’m so sorry.” She lurched to her feet and fell heavily

again

st me. I fek the frustration building in her body like a storm. I heard it in the small strangulated sounds from her throat Ste pounded me with her fists. “1 couldn’t stop them. They cuffed me so fest. I jist couldn’t do anything," she cried.

That's exactly how

I

felt. We really were in ths life together, We might not have the words, but we both knew exactly what we were choking

on.

There were so many things

I

wanted to tell

her

in that moment. Feelings worked themselves tp to my throat and then stuck there, clenched like a fist,

I

kissed Theresa’s sweaty forehead, 'K’s OK,

1

’ I whispered. “If 11 be alright." We

138

both smiled a the irony of ny words. I took her hand and fed her back toair bed. The sheets were cool. The night dry was filfed with stars. Theresa looked upat me, her face soft with caring.

For a moment I almost told Theresa I was afraid I couldn’t go on much longer- even with ho- love. Emotions moved from ny throat to ny mouth; tie wads banged against the back cf ny teeth. And then they ebbed. Theresa asked ire a question

with ha eyes. I had no answers. I could find nothing to say. Since

I had ro words to bring the woman I loved so much, I gave her aJ ny tenderness.

I found Theresa in the bathroom splashing her face with cold water. Her eyes were red and swollen from teargas. 1 tried to hold her tight, bit she was excited. She pulled away aid started b tell me about what had happened co campus. All tit words tumbled out cn bp of each other.

“The students called a strike. They took

over

the campus and Main Street. Tte cops were everywhere in riot gear. I stuck around but the tearjps got so bad I couldn’t

see My friend Irma found me and drove me home Locks like I’m not going to work fi a while.”

I shook my head o amazement. “Worn you get in trouble

if you don’t punch in?” Theresa smiled and patted my cheek. “Would you cross a picket line?

1

.'

she

asked me “Come into the kitchen, I want to diow you something.”

I made coffee while Theresa unrolled something she’d brought home “Which cf these posters do you like better?” Theresa asked me

1

held one ip. “Do you know what this looks like?”

Theresa nodded. ’That’s what a is,”

I did a double take. ’‘Aren’t there laws against that?”

Theresa laughed gently, "What a prude! What about this one?” It was a picture cf a two naked women wrapped ii each others arms. I read the words oil loud:

“Sisterhood-make it red.

What does that mean?”

Theresa smiled. ‘Think about it, Jess It means women reed to stick together. Chn we put

i tp

on the wall?”

I

shrugged. “Sure, I guess. You’re really getting into this women’s lib stuff, aren’t you'?'’

Theresa sat me on a kitchen chair and plopped down on ny lap. Site pushed the hair out cf ny eyes. “Yeah," die said, “I am. I’m realizing a lot cf thii^ about my own life—about being a woman—that I never even thought about until the women’s movement.”

I

listened to her.

‘1

don’t fed

i

so much,"

I

told her.

“Maybe cause

Tm

a butch,” She kissed ny forehead. “Butches reed women’s

liberation, too.“

I

laughed. ‘We do?”

There.sa

nodded. “Yes, you do. Anything that’s good fix

women is good fcr hutches.”

“Oh yeah?"

“Yeah." she said. “And another thing.”

I

sighed wearily.

“Uh-oh."

Theresa smiled.

“When a woman tells me,

‘If I warted

a

man fd

be

with a rei one;’ I tell

her,

Tmnot wilhafakeman, l‘m with a real

butch?

”1 beamed with pride. “But." Theresa

added,

“that doesn’t mean that hutches can’t leant a thing

ar two f'om the women’s

movement about how co respect femmes"

I slid Theresa off my lap. ‘Hey. what are you lalkhg about?" I

got

ip

and started

washing dishes.

She turned me around by my shoulder,

”1

mean,"

die continued,

“that

it’s

(me fcr women tostart looking at how we treat each other. Rjmmes need to work on

it with each

other, too."

k

was a momentary reprieve, but

I

took it. “What do femmes need

o

learn?”

Theresa thought for a moment. "How

to stick together,

How to be loyal to

each GuVer'

“Hmm." I weighed the information. “OK, what do hutches need to learn?”

Thaesa pushed me bad: against the sink. “The nest time all you hutches are

sit

ting around talking at the bar listen to how many times

you

hear the wads

chicks

ar

broads

or

hooters

or

headlights"

Theresa leaned her body against me "Honey? Yiu know how sometimes you

say

I'll

never understand women?

Well, think about it, sweetheart—you area woman.

So

what are you really saying? It’s son of like a gun with a barrel that’s open on both

ends.

When you

shoot it, you

end tp wounding yourself at the same time."

I turned and washed dishes m

silence Theresa wrapped her

arms arotnd me. “Honey?” she nudged.

“I’m

listening.

I’ll think about it.” I paused far

a

long moment. “Hey, wait a minute" I turned around and faced her, “I’m

not the one who says

111 never understand women.

I

say I’ll never understand femmes?’

Theresa

smiled and booked her finjpr

through the bet loop ai my

jeans

and pulled my pelvis against hers.

“Oh, baby?’ die

whispered

seductively, “you’re nght about that.“

Surprise!

Our living rocm

was

filed with friends

“Happy birthday, hcney?’ Theresa beamed. The smile faded from

her face.

She held my head gently andnmed it. Thecutwer myeyeboked worse than it

really

was.

Theresa calmly took

mety the hand.

“C’mon, let'sclean that up” I sat an the toilet seat. She dabbed rt the cut. “What happened?”

I shrugged. “Three guys outside the 7-11. They were drunk."

“Are you OK?"

she asked.

I

smiled. ‘Yes and

na"

She taped over the cii with two bandaids.

“Maybe

this pany wasn’t

such a

good

1«

idea," she

sighed,

I grabbed her hand. "What? Al

the people I love in cne rocm when I need them?’’ Theresa kissed try forehead. She lifted m/ hand and turned it over. My knuckles were bloody and swollen. She smiled. “Right on, honey! I hope you fucked ’em

ip

good."

I shrugged. “It was three against one, but they were

really, really drunk. I did the best I could."

Theresa pulled rry face gently against her belly. Sie kissed ny hair and smoothed it with her fingertips. ‘You do real good, baby.

It was a great party. The mood was no longer boisterous, but we could each taste and fed how much we meant to each other.

fen leaned against the side cf the refrigerator, I got out

two beers and offered her one- ‘You alright?" she asked.

I warted to tdl her thrtl didn’t think I was alright at all. It was so hard to be different. TTe pressure never let up for a minute. I felt all messed up inside and bone weary That’s what I warted to tell her. But the words wouldn’t come,

I shrugged. “I’m twenty-one toefay and I fed old.“

I

could see the sadness in Jan’s smile. “You’ve been through a lot There’s some age you can’t

count by years- Yau know how they cut a slice from a tree and count the rings? Ycu grt a lot of rings inside that trunk of yours. Yau know what?I think

it’s time

I

stopped calling you

kid.

Yu stopped being a kid a long time ago.”

I nodded. Ed came tp behind me and slid her arm across ny shoulder. “Happy birthday, buddy.” I wrapped

ny

arm around her waist and pulled her close.

“Hey," Grant shouted at us. “You’re all standing in front cf the refrigerator. What do I have to do to get a beer around here?”

‘You have to give me a hug,” I demanded.

“Oh, c’mere,” she laughed and prt her arm around me "Now gimme a beer.”

1 could hear th: sound cf Tammy Wynette’s voice singing “Stand By Your Man.” I found Theresa in the living rocm and reached oii ny hand to her. Her body settled

agains

t mine. v>e moved together to the music. She ran her fingers through the back cf rry hair, I pulled her close, asking her botty fcr comfort. She

gave

it to me Her arms felt like the only safe haven cn earth. “Babydie whispered, ‘fare you OK?”

‘Yeah," I answered. "I’m alright."

“Hi, honey,” Theresa stood in the kitchen door.

I crossed try arms, “Dinner’s ruined.” Theresa came toward me with ho- arms extended- I ducked them. “Where was you?”

“Oh, baby,” Theresa kissed irty

r

neck. ‘You forgot I was going to that meeting tonight after work, didn’t you?"

“What meeting?" I pouted. ‘You still trying to fight your way into feminist meetings?" That hit home, as was intended.

"No, it was to raise support fcr the Indians

a.

Wounded Knee 1 would have thought you’d be sympathetic to that." Theresa scored a direct hit. She softened her tone “Still no work, baby?”

1 shook my head.

“Nothing.

1 never thought the jobs would dry qp for this long. My unemployment runs out in five more weeks.”

Theresa nodded and stroked my hair. “Well manage"

"Not if you keep ruining the dinners

l‘m codking you See

if

I

slave

overa hot stnse for you any more”

“ Don’t worry sweetheart she whispered '‘it’ll be OK. You’ll get a job soon, you’ll see.”

She was wrong. By 1973 i seemed as

though everyone we knew was laid off.

Theresa lost her job a the university. Tha dashed our hopes of taking a vacation together—and we sure needed it. The months of me scouring for work and money getting tighter were taking their toll on us.

Ub

had to get away, but all our escape routes seemed blocked.

“I don t even want to go on vacation," I told Theresa.

“Are

you crazy?”

she shouted "We’re gonna go nuts

if

we don’t

get

out of here Wte never go out, we never do anything."

1 dumped at the kitchen table. “It’s getting too scary

out

there, Theresa It feels ike it’s getting worse I hae

to even go outside ary more”

Theresa sa

down at foe kitchen table.

“

You’re depressed, that’s all That’s jist another reason why we need to get away from here"

1 wasn’t sire what she meant by that “I’m telling you,

its

getting worscout there." Theresa dapped the tabletop

“It’s always been hard When has itever been easier?”

“I don’t fucking believe it!” I

shouted.

"I’m trying to tell you 1 can’t take it anymore, and

you’re saying I’m gang under?”

Theresa leaned back in her chair and searched my face with her eyes “Jess, 1 didn’t say you were going under

”

The wwds echoed in the silence

of

the kitchen 1 stood qp and walked toward the bedroom.

“Jess,

wai a minute. Where are you

going?”

‘To bed,” I told her. “I’m really tired.

When 1 arrived at the temp agency at dawn, I saw two

men leaning up against the entrance

to the labor office un Chippewa Street

“Hey, buildagger" the dark-haired man called to me His friend laughed. They were both drunk. There must not

be

any jobs inside again.

The blond man squeezed his crotch. “I get some work here for you, bulldagger. It’s a bjg job, you

think you

can handle

if?”

I pushed past

their

laughter.

“Hi, Sammy." [ called out to the dispatcher.

He smiled apologetically. ‘You want

to

wait around,

Jess?

Maybeby

10:30

we’ll need a couple of guys.” I wondered if I fit into that work category—one of the

guys.

I looked around at foe moi who were waiting fcr work. Some stared into space.

M2

their nonfilter cigarettes burning dangerously close to their tobacco-stained fingers. Others glared

a

me with heavy-lidded anger, I had done nothing to them, bit

a

doe moment I was the nearest person to hate.

"Naw, Sammy. Cali me later if you got anything. OK?”

Sammy nodded and waved. "Maybe tomorrow, Jess."

“Yeah, maybe tomorrow.”

I began to shore myself

ip

to walk past the two men who 1 knew were waiting for me outside. As I passed them, the dark-haired man hurled an empty pint bottle of rum at rry feet. I fdl backward, against the brick wall, startled.

“You fucking he-shes. Yai stole our jobs,” he shouted as I hurried away. I

wondered who I could blame.

That night I awcke from a dream. Moonlight illuminated our bedroom. I warted to go back to the dream, but I was wide awake I was still immersed in the fed of it

h the dream I was

waf

king through a town AIL tie windows were shuttered. There

war no

sign cf life'

I couldn’t find people. No dogs barked. Everything was

silent.

The town was surrounded by fields and woods.

I followed a trail wispy smoke in the dry above die forest. I found abut in a small clearing. A

small fire burned inside. I crawled inside the hut cn all fours, {pressed my cheek to the warm earth floor near the fire aid waited.

.

All the drag queens were there:

Justine and Peaches and Georgetta. Butch AL

hus

there, and Ed There were afewother people nearby, but shadows covered their faces. 1 discovered Rocco sitting next to me. Sie reached forward aid stroked my cheek I touched my own face If A tie rough stubble cf beard. I ran my hand across the flat plain tf my chest. I felt happy in my body, comfortable among friends.

‘ ‘Where’s the others? ’ I asked

Justine nodded ‘ ‘ Everyone! s going in different directions.

”

A sense if loss washed over me "Well never frtd each other again.”

Peadies laughed gently, "tfi'll find each other, child. Dorit you worry.”

I leaned forward aid squeezed Peaches' hard tn mine. "Please don't forget me. Please don’t any tf ycu forget me. I dorit want to disappear

Peaches put her arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer. “You ‘re one of us, child.

Km

always will be"

Ifdt panicky, “Do I redly belong here with you?’’ Affectionate laughter rose to answer my question One by one each person tn the hut hugged me Ifdt safe and loved in their arms.

I looked up. The hut had no rocf The stars winked on aid off like fireflies. The air was cool aid scented with eucalyptus. I crossed my legs

n

front cf the fire aid warmed myself in pleasure.

“Where’s Theresa?’’ I asked.

1 woke ip without hearing the answer.

“Honey, wake up. Please.” I shook Theresa gently.

She lifted her head

<ff

the pillow “What

is it, Jess? Whafs wrong?”

‘1 just

had this really amazing dream.'

1

Theresa nbbed her eyes. ‘I was

in a place

that felt

very old, out

ri the woods. I

was

with Peaches and Justine and Georgetta. And Rocco was sitting next to me” I didn’t know tow to describe the feefog

of the dream to

Theresa. “1 felt like I belonged with them,

you know?"

I

could fieef Theresa's

hand sweep

once

gently

across the

back

of

myT-shirt, then

she

began to drift back to sleep “Theresa," I shock her,

insistently.

Sic

moaned.

“1 forgot

to

tell

you

this part

In the dream I had

a

beard and

my

chest was flat.

It trade

me so

happy. It was like a pan

of

me that

I

can’t

explain,

you know?”

Theresa shook her head.

"What’s it mean, honey?"

I crushed

ou

my

cigarette.

“It was about something old in me It was about

growing ip different.

AH my life

1

didn’t wart to

fed

different.

But in

the dream I liked it and I was with other people who were different like me.”

Theresa

nodded. “Buiyoutold me that’s haw

you

fdt

when you

fxind the bars.

11

I thought about it

for a moment. “That'S

true, It was like tha. But

in the dream

it wasn't

shout being gay

It was about

being a

man

or

a woman.

Do

you know what I meat!? I always firel lifee

I

have to

prove

I’m likeother women, but

in

the dream

I

didn't fed that way Tin not

even sire I felt like a woman.”

The moonlight

illuminated Theresa’s frowa “Did you

fed

like

a man?”

I

shook

my head. “No. That’s the strange pan I didn’t feel like a womanor a man. and

I

Kked tow

I

was different.”

Theresa didn’t

respond

right away.

“YouYe

going

through

a

Jot

of

changes right now,

Jess.”

“Yeah but what

do

think

about my dream?"

Theresa tossed

a piilow at me. *1 think we should

go back to sleep"

Whatever khd of

respense

Id wanted

from

Theresa, that wasn’t it. But the

stfc- ject

wasn’t put

to

rest

so

easily

Towad

the

aid

of

the

summer Edwin and

Gant

came

over to our house. Jan

(topped by

later

with sane shopping bags. Jan and her new

lover,

Katie,

looked real uncomfortable,

like they’d

been

fighting.

“This

s a real crisis,

11

Grant

stressed. “VW either got

to change how we

look cr

we’re gonna starve

to

death! Katie got some wigs and some makeup. There’s a few jobs, ike in the department

stores. Jesus,

1 don’t know about

you,

but

1

need work. It’s

only

fcr

a while,

until

the plants reopen.

11

Katie and Theresa

retreaed to

the kitchen.

Four

stone

botches trying

on fashion wigs.

It was

like

Halloween,

onfy it

was

creepy and

painful. The wigs made

us lock like

we

were making

fun

of

ourselves.

Grant

tdd me,

*1

put oneon,

now

it’s your turn, Jess.” Edwin shook

her head while die

held up a mirror

for me to

see

I

threw the

wig on the

floor. ‘1

look more

like

a

he-she with

the

wig

on than

with a

goddam DA”

“Well have

it

your own damn way.” Grant

yelled.

144

“Leave me alone, Grant,” I shouted back at her. ‘You think you’re the only one who’s scared?”

Grant feed me nose to nose. “What the fuck am I gonna do if I get evicted, huh?"

I didn’t wan to fight with her. “Look, Grant, if it works fa- you then do it But nobody’s gonna hire me with that fucking wig on. And makeup’s nd gonnfl do it, either. I need a bushel basket to hide who I am."

Jan got ip and left,just like that. Ed went into the kitchen to tell Katie that Jan had left. Grart and I grudgingly shock hands-

“Honey," I said to Theresa, “if youdon’t mind, Ed and Grant and I are gpnna look far Jan and maybe grab a couple of beers, OK?“ I knew Theresa wanted me to stay, but Katie was real upset, too, so Theresa just nodded.

The four of us sat in silence around tfe table in the backroom cf a neighborhood baron the V£st Side, It was pretty empty. Jan, Grant, Edwin, and I didn’t look at each other. We stared

it

our bea- bottles as though the answers we searched for could be fouid there.

“I’ve been dreaming a lot lately," I said. “I had this nightmare last night that I was bang chased by something to the edge of a cliff, I’m scared of what’s coming bdiind me; I don’t know whaf s ahead of me. And suddenly I decide I'd rather jump than wait for it to catch qp io ma”

“What’s

i

mean?” Grant asked me

“You know,” I told her.

Grart shrugged. “I knew how i feels. I don't know what i means.”

I looked at Ed. She knew what I was talking about. I knew she did. ‘Tve been thinking about Rocco," I said.

Jan sighed and nodded. She med her thumbnail to scrape the label eff her beer bottle, ‘f knew that’s what you were talking about."

I nodded. ‘I can’t help thinking maybe I’d be safe, you knew?” Ed still wouldn’t look at me

Grant nodded. ‘God help me, I’ve been thinking about it, too You know Ginni? She get cn a sex-change program, now she calls herself Jimmy.”

Edwin glared

a

Grant. “He asked us to call him he—remember? We ought to do it”

Jan

pit

her beer bottle down on the table “Yeah, but I’m not like Jimmy. T

immy

told me be knew he was a giy even when he was little. I’m not a guy.”

Grant leaned forward. “How do you know that? Hew do you know we aren’t? aren’t real women are we?’’

Edwin shook her head. “I don’t know what tte hell I am."

I leaned over and put my arm around her shoulder. “You’re my friend."

Ed laughed sardonically. “Oh, great. Like I can really pay ny rent with that.”

I smacked her at the shoulder. “Fuck you."

Grant went to the bar to get another round of drinks; Jan went to the bathroom. I watched as she opened the doo- marked Ladies. No women ran out, and no men ran

in io drag her

out, so

I figured she was OK.

Ed punched me cn the shoulder. “I’m sorry,” ite said.

“How long we been friends, Ed?’ Shedopped her

eyes. ‘So bow come you can’t tell me

what's going cn with you? You know I've figured it out, but you won’t talk to me”

Ed shrugged. "I fed ashamed.”

‘Ashamed you’re doing it, or

just

ashamed?’

Grant came back to the table balancing four beers. Jan returned a moment later. Ed nbbed her

eyes

wer and over again.

“What’s

gang

on?” Grant asked.

I looked a Ed.

“It's

no

shame,”

I

told het

Ed nodded. “Y'eah, 1 know”

“We’re all a this same crossroads, not just you,” I reminded het “If you can't open up to your friend, who the hel can you talk to?*

Ed

sighed.

“I know I’ve got to talk about it.”

“Will somebody tell me what the helps

going on

around here?" Grant waded. Ed

sighed.

‘I

started on male hormones. I got them fran this

creepy

quack” “Holy shit." Grant said. “Wow. Hey, hew the hell did you know Jess?”

I

shrugged, Your voice is changing, Ed. Just a little bit. I can hear

it.

Besides, 1 ouglia know, I’m wrestling with the same shit myself.”

Grant rapped the table with her fist in time to the muse playing on the jukebox. “Hey, Ed. Canyougivemethe name of that doctor? I'mnotsayingl’mgonnado anything. I wouldn't mind having some options, though. You know what I mean?’ Ed nodded.

I thumped the table in frustration. ‘I wish I could talk to Rocco. Does anybody know where she is?’’ Heads took no. ‘What happens? Does it just last fora little whie?

1

mean can you go back to being a butch later, when it's safe to come out?"

Gran smiled sadly. ‘1 saw ttis movie once, k was about this guy with a disease there was no cure

for. So

these scientists froze him. Later in the future they found a cure for the disease so these other doctors brought him back and cured him. The only thing was, he was fran the past. He didn’t fl anymore."

1

fought back tears. “Yeah, hut

were

not

sick?

Ian nodded her head. “Yeah, and what makes you think it’ll ever be sie again? 6 may be over br people Eke us We

may

be stock cwt here forever."

Jarfs head d-opped low "My sister

sa^s I can move out to

Olean with her and her husband. They run a little dairy The thing is, they said it’s Only OK if I move out there alone, without Katie. They said they don’t wan ther daughters to see anything perverted." Jan banged her fist cn the table. “I’m forty-four flicking years old and ny little sister’s treating me like she’s my mother. It’s not right None of this is right”

I nodded.

“What are you

genna do?*

She shrugged.

“I

don’t know yet.” She pu her arm amend ny shoulder. “Fm supposed to be the old bull. But now I wish

I

had someone older to talk to. I wish Butch

B6

Ro wffi still alive. She’d know what we should do.”

I smiled sadly. “I don’t thnk so, Jan. I don’t think any cf us knows what to da” Grant stood up “I’m going to buy a case of beer and go home to watch TV. ¥>u guys wanna come over?” I shook my head. Grail aid Jan left together.

Ed prt on her jacket. “Hey, Ed,“ I told her. “We gotta talk, man. If you don’t talk you’ll explode. And I really got to talk to you I’m scared, Ed.”

Ed chewed her lower lp and dared at the floor, “Remember that book I gave you?”

I hoped die wouldn’t quiz me on it Fd appreciated the gift, but I hadn’t read it. ‘Yeah. The book by Du Bess?”

Ed nodded “There’s this paragraph I marked fcr you I carry it in my wallet. Read it. That’s how I feel I couldn’t say it any better.”

I stood so close to ho-1 could smell the delicate scent of her iin and her hair. “Ed,“ I whispered. “I don’t wart to lose you You’re ny friend. I love you so much."

Ed ffimly pushed me away. “I gotta go," she said. “I’ll call you”

“Ed, urn, what about the name cf thrt doctor?”

Ed sighed and jetted his name and address cn a bar napkin ‘tjood luck," die said.

I punched her shoulder lightly. “Thanks. I need il“

It wasn’t right, how long I had stayed out. I came home tanked up, not expecting Theresa to be waiting for me She sat so quietly cn the couch in the dark I nearly went through the roef when she spoke. “Where have you been?

1

Something in her voice frightened me.

I srt cn the couch near her. I warted io touch her but I began to realize how angry she wffi with me After a while she reached ou and brought rry full weight against her. She was more upset than mad.

‘Tm sorry, baby, really,” I told her. ‘I was only thinking abort myself and I’m sony.“

She nodded. “Where have you been?

1

I didn’t answrt fcr a long time I was drink and confused. ‘I know where I’ve been, I just don’t know where I’m going.

11

It ws all I could think to say.

She looked at ny face, trying to read all ny thoughts and feelings. I don’t know if she found what she was looking fa, brt afterward she stroked my head.

‘You remember I told you about Butch Al and Jacqueline?

11

She winced, “Theresa, I’m beginning to fed like I’m going under, too.”

Theresa looked at me. She seemed calm and worried at the same time

“Jan and Grant and Ed and I talked most cf the night,

11

I explained.

“Seems like it,” Theresa smiled. “What’d you talk about?

1

“Honey, I can’t survive as a he-she much longer. I can’t keep taking the system head-on this way I’m not gonna make it

11

Theresa held me tighter. Sie didn’t say a word. ‘We were talking about maybe starting cn hormones, male hormones. I was thinking I might tty to pass as a guy.“

I waited fcr Theresa to speak. I could hear her breathing, deep and even. I stroked her shoulder and arm with ny hand, feeling the definition cf each muscle. “Honey,

we've got to talk about it,”

I

said She sat in silence with me fx a long time. Then die got qj without a word and went to bed

For weds we didn’t talk about it. We didn't talk much a all. But we found little things to argue about, small explosions tha threatened co ignite big ones.

When

I

shut down sexually, Thaesa could akvtiys meh my stone.

But

when I turned into ate bg emotional ruck, when

1

completely shut down like a slab of granite and needed her to

chip

away until I was free, die railed against me k didn't work

I

was still trapped in stone.

"Talk to

me;” she shouted.

“Hit watching TV!” 1 lied.

,

She got ip and Stood in

Enoot

of

the

television. “YouYe not talking to me!’

I

exhaled dramatically h exasperation. ‘‘Fine. Now you want to talk. Great. Let's talk” My tone was flat and closed like a

door

stilt sianwned shut.

“Never mjid,” Theresa stcrmed out of the room.

I continued to stare at the television. She banged the bedroom door Now both our dorrs were shut

I snapped off the television and smoked in silence. The stone walk around me melted, leaving me feeling vulnerable and raw Now that Theresa had retreated from her frontal assault,

I

remembered how much 1 needed her

Suddenly I panicked. Maybe

Id

akeady lost her, bit

1 just

didn't realize it.

I

got q) and waited slowly toward the bedroom. Theresa opened the bedroom door and walked toward me. Ufe embraced each other fwerishiy "I’m sorry baby”

1

dd her, ‘When I get like

that I

don’t know how to get out of it.”

Theresa squeezed me in her arms “I know, Jess. I’m sorry too”

1

could hear the feint strums of Marvin Gaye on someone's radio outside. “You know what I wish?” 1 asked her. ‘1 wish there was still a

gay

bar where we could go dancing

like we

used to”

Theresa sighed. “They have lesbian dances on campus I wishwe could go there. I wish we codd go somewhere and be welcome.”

We held each other and swayed to ths sound. Thaesa pulled slightly away from me. She boked me tp and down wih a anile and hooted her finger in my belt, Sie gently

pulled

me toward otr bedroom. “Let's get it on.” she sang quietly.

We fought and we made bve in order to make up.

It

became an alarming partem.

‘You’re awoman!” Theresa shouted at breakfast. pushed her plate away

Her

parttime temp work had put that meal on the table.

“No I’m not,” I yelled back a her. "I’m a he-she. That’s different."

Theresa slapped the table in anger. "That’s a terrible word. They call you that to

hurt

you.'

1

I leaned forward "But I’ve listened. They don’t call the Saturday-night hutches

»*S

he-shes. B means something. It’s

a

way we’re different.

It doesn’t

just mean we’re.

..

lesbians.”

Theresa

frowned.

“What’s

the

matter?"

I

shrugged. “Nothing,

I

just never said tha word before,

k

sarnds 50

easy

when you

sty it. But

t> me it

sounds too

much like iezzie and lesbo. That’s

a

tough word

for me to wrap ray tongue around.”

Theresa and

E

smiled

at each other

in

spite of ourselves

“Honey," my tone had changed, “I've got to do something. I've been

fighting

tc defend

who

I am

all

my

life. I’m

tired.

I

just don’t

know how

to go

cn

anymore.

This

is the

only

wty

I

can think of I can still be me

and

survive.

I just

don’t know any other way"

Theresa sa back in her

chair.

“I'm

a

woman, Jess.

I

love you

because

you’re a woman,

too. I made up

my mind when

I

was growing tp

tha

1

was not gang to betray rry desire by resigning myself to marrying a

dirt

fanner or the boy

a

the service station. Do yat

understand?” ’

I

shook

my head sadly.

“Do you wish

I

wasn’t a butch?"

She smiled. “No.

1 love

your butchness.

I

just don’t want to

be

some

man’s wife,

even if

that man’s

a woman.”

I

turned up

my palms. “Then what should I

do?”

She shook her head. ‘1 just don't

know.”

Theresa asked me to

pick up our dry

cleaning and

to

gp

grocery

shopping

while shs was at

work.

But the moment she left the house,

I

felt lost

I

wandered intothe backyard and knelt down beside Theresa’s garden.

By

the

time the

sun

was

directly

overhead I

was sitting between th: raws tf squash

blossoms and tomato vines. This garden was

a part

of

Theresa 1

didn’t

know And 1

began to realize

this

little

patch

of

ground was a

postage-stamp memory of the country soil

in which she’d

grown.

Where was I when

Theresa

had

planted ths garden in de spring? Now it was overrun.

I

thought about the way

dungs grow in their

seasons and how much takes place

underground. I thought about the things a gardener can’t

control, like

weather

anc critters.

The sound of Theresa’s footsteps in

the grass

behind me was familiar,

but

it startled

me

nonetheless.

I

hadn’t realized it was

late afternoon.

1 remembered

earlier

in

the summer Fd found her working in

her

garden, sweaty and

flushed with

heat.

I

laid her down

in

the grass nearby and pressed her botty into the

din

with my hips and kissed mouth

until

she

made

small

sounds

cf

desire 1 recognized.

“Jess?" Theresa’s voice

interrupted the memory.

“What are you doing

in

my garden?”

1

sighed.

“Just

thinking.”

“Did you pick tp lhedry cleaning?"

she asked.

"Or

the groceries?"

1

shook mj

head “Have

you been sitting

there aS

day?"

I

nodded

STONE BUTCH

BLUES ML

“Damn it. Jess.** Theresa muttered angrily as she

waited away. “I could use a little help around here."

Ed and I kept an eye cn the guys near us at the bar, “What’s it like, Ed?’ I pressed. She shnigged. “It’s not much different. Not yet, anyway." Her

voice had deepened.

She had wispy facial hair.

“Can you pass?

1

1 asted her,

Ed shook her head “It’s like I’m not taken fx a man <x a woman anymore. They see me as something h between. That’s scary. ! wish I could hurry ip and get D the part where they just think Tm a man.*

1

“But Ed, people always act like we’re half -woman, half-man."

‘It’s true. But now they don’t know what I am and it drives them nuts.

I’m telling you, Jess, if it doesn’t change soon, I can’t take it much longer. I’m doubling the shots of hormones just 0 try to mate it work faster.”

I put ny hand cn her shoulder, Two men turned and looked a us. I dropped ny hand. “How’s Darlene dealing with it?”

Ed slowly turned her facetward me The sadness h her eyes frightened me

"We don’t tak about it," Ed said.

I shook my head n disbelief.

“Ycu don’t talkabout it? How can

you

ignore

some

thing that big? Wait a minute, what am I talking about? Theresa and I aren’t exactly communicating either."

Ed and I sat h silence, nursing our beers. I felt comforted by her presence. The bar began filling ip with men. It was time to leave.

‘You know the worst pan tf not talking b Theresa.” I said to Ed as we parted, ‘1 really don’t even know what it is I want 0 say.“

Theresa was already asleep when I got home that night. I crawled into bed and curled ip

again

st her. “Theresa," I whispered, “there’s so many things I’ve been trying to tell you, but I don’t know how?

She sighed in her sleep. “I get this feeling thst the

next

fight will tale me down andlll die and my life won’t have meant anything. Some days when

you

kiss me goodbye at the door I get so mad at you because you act like Pm coming home for sure aid I wart you to say goodbye to me like we might never see eadi other again."

I fat my lower lip. T don’t fed like I’m worth anything. It’s only when you love me that I fed wcrth anything at all. And I’m afraid I’m losing you, What would I do if you left me?*

I tried to cry quietly, so I wouldn’t wake her. "I’m so sorry for the times Pve been such a jerk. But I love you so much. Maybe too much.

Please

don’t leave me, baby, Please don’t go**

Theresa rolled over and touched ny face. I wiped away ny tears. “Jess, did you sy something?” Theresa’s voice was hoarse with sleep.

“No, honey," I stroked her hair aid kissed her cheek. “Go back to sleep."

150

Theresa

watched

me from the

kitehen

doorway as I repotted the spider plant. ‘There's

a

bigger

pot under

the

sink." she reminded me.

I shook my head. “This one does better when

it's

rootbound. The

more pressure on

is

roots

the

more

it

thrives.”

Theresa came

ip

behind me and wrapped

her arms

around my waist. “Is that like

us,

honey?” I didn’t

answer.

Theresa turned

me

around to free her. I

couldn't look

ha in the

eyes.

“What

is

it,

baby?”

she pressed.

I shrugged. ‘T don't think I have feelings like otha people do Sometimes you wart

me to

talk to

you

about how 1 bid and I cant

figure out

if I’m likeother people inside. Maybe I

dont

have real

feelings."

Theresa didn't answer at first She lay her

head

on my shoulder and pultd me

close. “Sildown,

baby,"

she sighed

She pulled a kitchen

chair dose »

mine. “Oh, you have f eelings,

honey.

I think

you can

fed love, maybe more than other people."

Sie

took

ny hatd in

hers.

“There's so much going ai in

your

heart it

scares me sometimes

because I*m

afraid

youll

explode

if

you

don't have

some

sot

of safety valve.

I think anger is real hard for you. Maybe your own rage scares you. And I think humiliation

is a

rough fixhng for

anyone

todeal with, uid I think

you

fed that

way a lot.”

1

almost couldn’t

stand

d

listen

to

her words. My temperature rose

and

I feltdizzy. Theresa pulled me closer

and brushed

ny

cheek with

her lips. ‘Take x

easy, heney," she

whispered.

I pulled back. “But maybe I don't have f

eelings

like other people Maybe the way (

grew

ip

changed me

inside. Maybe fin like the plant:

my

feelings

got so

choked

ip

tha I grew in a different

way."

Theresa smiled as

she

weighed the thought. “Yeah maybe t’s what makes you

$0

sensitive to

other peoples’

feelings

Sometimes you see so

much

about

people that

t used

d

make

me fed naked arouid

you."

I sighed. “Why do feelings have to be

such

a big deal?”

Theresasmiled. “You mean your

feelings,

honey.

Ymi

always

treat other

peep ,e‘< feelings

like they’re a big

deal.

It’s a hard place fa

you,

sweetheart. But don't leave

me

out

here

alone."

I

frowned.

"What do

you mean?"

‘I mean,” Theresa said gently, “that I have feelings about what happens to

us,

too

And you’re

the

only

person 1

can

really go

toabout

them, and sometimes you're no home.

Remember

last

year

when

we

went

to buy'

you a new

suit?"

die

asked.

I winced

m

pain and turned away from the memory. “Jess," Theresa summoned me back. “Ii

was a

nightmare. I

was there too

remember? Vfe both fdt humiliated. When we

go home there

was

nobody

in the world

fa

me

to

turn » about i

except

you. But you tad

already shut down, and

I knew

it would

be

days

ar

weeks before

ou relaxed

again. ' needed you.”

I stared at ny hands, clasped

loosely

on try lap. ‘You know how I

fed

sometimes

Theresa? Like

1

don’t have anything to give you.

I

would give you anything that was in my power, but

I

don’t fed Eke I have gifts fcr you. I mean that You’re the strong one, you’re the one who bolds everything together, you get us through. Al I can do is make love to you.”

Theresa separated my hands. "Just kwe me, Jess. And please, pleasetry »let me in sometimes.”

*Tve been trying to tdl you what I’ve wresting with lately,,

but

you haven’t wanted to talk about it"

I

shrugged "I can’t go an much longer without something changing.” _> Theresa sighed. Tm a femme. Jess,

i

want to be with

a

butch. And I’m starling to fed Eke pan

cf

the women’s movement, even though I can’t be all the parts of who I am at the same time. My world’s expanding.”

“Great,”

I

snorted. “Mine’sshrinking. But the hormones are Eke the lookingglass for me. If I pass through it, my world could opal up, too.”

Theresa shook her head. ‘1 don't warn to be with a man, Jess.

1

won’t do it.”

“I’d still be a butch,”

I

protested. “Even on hormones." Thai 1 sad something

I

really feared, but regretted having spoken out bud. “ Maybe yoifd lik e t ifl was a guy k would be easier to be with me"

Theresa leaned back against the chair, the warmthin her face cooled. ‘1 put m lipstick and higb heels and walk down the street arm in arm with you, Jess. This is my life, and Fm damn brave to Iwe who Hove. Don’t try to take who I am away from me”

My chin trembled. “Well, what do think’s being taken away from me? Wha the fuck am

I

going to do, Theresa? Tell me; what can I do?"

I sat stiffly as she wrapped her arms around me

“I

don’t know Jess” she whispered. T just don't know anymore.”

Theresa and

I

sat on the couch together fcr

a

long time without talking. We were both worn down and weary from months of low-level arguing and distance.

“You’ve made up ytw

mind,

haven’t you?" die asked.

I

knew her lone was colder than die mean it to sound.

t

nodded. “Yeah, I sorted through hundreds of options."

I

hadn't meant io sound so sarcastic. ‘‘God, Theresa, I‘m so scared. I don’t want D die and I don’t know tow to live. I’m really afraid.”

Thaesa pulled ire dose. She sqieczed me so tight 1 could hardly breathe. "I’d do anything to be strong enough to protect you,” she said “Fd do anything if

I

could only keep you safe with me.” She pa her fingers on

ny

lips

D

silence me "Maybe

I

do understand what you're saying I just don’t want to admit that [ (tank you’re right.”

1

was relieved.

1

tried to hug her, bui her body was limp.

I

pulled back » examine her face. She wasn’t done talking yet

“I’m scared, loo," she continued. “If Tm not with a butcheveryone just assumes

I’m

straight- It’s like I’m passing too, against my will. Fm sick

cf

the world thinking Fm straight. I’ve worked hand to be discriminated agahst as a lesbian” Vfe both smiled

“You’ve made your decision" die said, “I know you have. I’m not really surprised. I’ve been so damned afraid for you** The tears began to flew down her face. I tried to wipe them, but she pushed ny hands back and held them tightly in her own. “But 1 can’t do it, Jess- I can’t g) oil with you in the world and pretend that you’re a man. I can’t pass as a straight woman and be happy. I cant live as the scared couple in apartment 3G who can’t trust people

enough to have friends. I cant live

like a fugitive with you. I wouldn’t be able to survive it, Jess. Please try to understand, sweetheart.**

I pulled away fom her. "What are you saying?” She just shook her head. I stood up slowly. “What are you saying? You won’t stay with md? Why? That’S how much you love me?’

Theresa stood ip and moved toward me.

"Plea/E,

honey. I can’t. I just can’t stay with you if you (to this.”

Rage boiled m my throat. “If you loved me -

Theresa’s face was cold and angry, “Don’t you ever say that to me again."

My eyes filled with angry tears.

“Well its

true; isn’t it?”

All the steam leaked oit of me when Theresa started to cry. She buried her face in ny neck. “It doesn’t meai I don't love you I love you so much I don’t know wliat to do. I just can’t with you I’m trying to understand you. Cairt you try to understand me?** ■

I shook ny head. "How cane nobody ever gives me aiy choices in life? I cant go cn living the way bit you won’t ga through theonly door that’s open for me Thanks a lot.**

Theresa punched me hard in the shoulder. I grabbed her wrists. TO struggled until we fell wearily against

each other.

TO sat down

next to each other ai the coucli. ‘I don’t know tow else you’ll

survive,” Theresa said. “I just cairt do it." My throat tightened. 1 hoped 1 could change her mind. “Don’t try » change iny mind,” die added. She always could read mine.

“And I won’t try to change yours, CK?”

I looked at her incredulously. “Please, honey, don’t leave me now. I’m scared It’s

too liard. Please!”

Theresa jumped to her feet. “Stop it," she demanded. It hurt ha- too much I pulled myself back in.

I went over to her and gently turned her to fare me. “What do you wart me to do?” I asked tier.

She said t simply: “You'd better leave."

k was strarge the way I loved her so much and

yet

felt so far away. “Youre serious?”

She nodded and walked over to the window, as if die could see oil irto the darkness. ”1’11 pack up the things you need. Ycur friends will help you"

I kept feeling this couldn’t be happening. “Please," I said. “Can’t we try? I need you!"

‘I don’t know what to do either," Theresa told me. ‘1 just have to find my own way now. I feel like I’m going under, too This time we can’t

rescue

each

other."

1

looked a be floor ‘‘What if

I

don’t take the hormones aid pas£”

“Then yotfll probably be killed on the street or take your awn fife on of machess, I don’t know" Vfe stood h silence,

“When do you want me

t>

leave?"

“Tbnight" Theresa said, and she broke down and sobbed. I held her tightly h my arms, for the last time.

She was right. Once we both understood tha we couldn’t continue,

I

had »leave. The pain was already unbearable. Tberesastroked ny free and repeated,

“I

tove you so much.”

1

nodded as tears streamed down try face

I

knew it was true, but part of me raged against her for not lowing me enou^t to stay together.

I

went h the bedroom and stuffed somecloliiing

h

a backpack.

I

knew she would pack up my other things with

care.

Theresa talked me toour doot Wecouldn't hdd back our tears bu we were trying nottosob. “Partofme wants to go with you," she said.

“But

ifldid,

fd

be living you life, not mine. Td end up resenthg you for my decision." fhe stroked my face as she spoke. Her t’ngertips

M

so good against my skin.

I

looked down at the floor. “There’s so many things

I

wish

I

had told you I never could find the words”

She smied and nodded. “Write me a letter someday.”

“1 won’t know where to send it”

“Write

it

anyway,’’ she said.

“Is this really i?”

I

asked her. She nodded.

We kissed each other as deeply as we could. Then we parted physically.

1

walked outside the door and timed to look back at her. She smiled, almost apologetically.

I

nodded. She closed the door

Suddenly

I

thought of things

I

needed to say to het; but I knew she didn't need to bear them justthen. I sat on the landing for a while. But

it

occurred tome Theresa

night

cal a friend to console her and

1 didn't

want to be an our stairs.

I

went downstairs and oil irto the backyard. I overturned a wooden milk crate and sat down on iL The &y was black and strewn with stars.

I

fdt atone on the planet.

I

was so scared

1

could hardly breathe.

I

didn’t know where

I

was headed

1

didn't knew what to do with my life.

1

couldn't even figure ou what direction to begin walking.

1

salon

that

crate all night long looking ip into the iy. Sometimes I cried, sometimes I just sat

I

strained to look into my future, trying to picture the road ahead of me, searching for a glimpse of

who I

would become

All

I

coid see was the night sky and the stars above me

■

CHAPTER

be night

sky

lightened from black to indigo. 1 was

still sitting

on the

crate

in our

backyard. Soon the sun would rise. I didn't want to be there when

Theresa and the rest of the world began their day.

I swung my leg over fry Norton and kick-started it. As the engine

roared to lifebetween my legs, I fastened my

helmet

and flipped down the visor. Now

this was the place I found my mobility and ny safety—on this trike, under (his helmet.

As dawn streaked the sky 1 rode through a mazeof

silent

city

streets. Mist

clung

to

theasphalt, suspended like

Smoke.

A light rain began to fell.

I

rode into my own fir tire as though it was only a dream. Rain fell harder, petting me Water beaded on

ny

helmet, ran in little rivulets

down the

back cf my

neck, and

soaked my shirt beneath my leather jacket. Wa denim

stretched taut

and

cold across

my thighs.

Every street corner was

a

new crisis.

Tim

left? Turn right? Go straight?

Hunger finally pulled me off the street and into Loblaw’s

supermarket.

I called Jan’s house. No answer. I didn't wart to

call

Ed tins early because Darlene would be sleeping.

I fifed a plastic bag with bing

cherries

and walked up and down the

aisles

eating them. My jeans stuck to my

legs

as I moved. I followed women who pushed

shopping

is

156

carts filled with cereals and children.

Those who stared at me made sure I registered their disgust befiie they timed away I did.

“Jess?” The voice startled me. I timed aid faced a woman who looked familiar, Che child wound around ha- legs. The other held her hand and stared at me. “It’s me— Gloria. Remember? V£ worked together a the print shop. Yai used to work there after school.”

1 nodded, bu m,' mind fdt swaddled in gauz.e. I tried io follow her words as they shot past me: Gloria was divorced, the foreman put the moves on her, die (pit. Wha was happening with me?

Her last question startled me. I shrugged. “Ito locking for a place to stay so I can try to find some

wok

and get an apartment By the way’’ I told her, “Tve always wanted to thank you fcr giving me the names of those bars. It changed my life.”

Gloria glanced nervously at her children. “This is Scctty and this is Kim. Shy hello io Jess. Jess and Mommy used io work together.”

Scotty hid behind Gloria’s legs. Kim maintained her slack-jaw stare Her gaze unnerved me, but there wasn’t the slightest hostility in it. Kim’s face was filled with wonder, as though I was a shower if fireworks exploding in a dark sky,

‘You can stay with us tonight, if you have no place io go On the couch, J mean.” Gloria gave me her address. “After 7:30;’ she said, “after I pit the kids D bed.” That left a long time to kill.

I stopped for gas. The line if cars snaked down the block. Newspaper headlines blaring about a gas shortage had panicked everyone ‘Yen must be joking,” I complained to the attendant when I saw how much a tankful cost.

“Don’t blame me/’ he said. “Blame the Arabs. They got us by the balls.”

”Oh, c’mon,’’ I told him, pointing to the river. “There’s tankas full of al anchored out there just waiting fir the prices io dioot sky high.” I knew—Pd tried to get the temp agency to send me out thereto clean the ballast holds,

bit

the agency said it was a man’s job

Once I got on 1-190 headed

noth I

really opened

ip

the throttle, hearing everything I was feeling in the engine's growl.

Lae

in the afternoon I headed back io the city. I stopped at a West Side pizzeria for chicken wmgs. I stood at the counter growing impatient, but the man behind it wouldn't wait on me I turned around io see what to was looking at. I saw a table filled with jocks staring

a

me.

I rapped m the counter. ’’Excuse me”

“What do we have here?” I heard a marts voice behind me say k was time to leave.

Gne rf the guys blocked the only exit. I pushed past him real hard and ran outside to the parking lot. I jumped on try bike,

bii t

was too late. They were almost on lop of me My bike toppled as I Leaped eff it I left it lying on the asphalt and ran. My lungs ached as though they might explode, but I didn't stop ruining for several blocks.

I fi

nally sat down under a tree, gaspmg for air, I wondered when i would be safe to return fa my bike.

It

was

akiwst

dusk when

I

wert back.

I

stood across the street from the restau

rant

1 couldn't see anyone inside except the guy behind the counter 1 fouxt my NorKn in the parking

lot There

wasn’t

much

on the bike that wasn’t smashed or

twisted. They trust

have waked

i

over with a tire iron

cr

a baseball bat. I wondered how they had

shredded the thick rubber tires.

I

knew

i

was only a motorcycle, but

I

felt like a gho® looking down at my own mutilated body on the asphalt.

I

walkedaway from (hewreck^e.

Itwas beyondsaiwtion.

k

took me forever to get out to Gloria’s house. Ytu could de before a bus comes in Buffalo. I didn't tell her what happened, it wes already awkward between us

I

asked

ifl could

use her phone. She said yes,

if!

wasn’t

cn

too long. She was expecting a call

I rang up Edwin. Her voice sounded hollow and distant. Darlene ted packed her

Elings and rawed out.

"Oh god,

Tm

so sorry,” I told

Ed.

"Me and Theresa broke up, too ”Wj sa in silence.

I

had no wheels

t>

get to her. “Can you pick me up, Ed?’

"Darlene took the car”

Ed

said

"She took the car?

k

was that had

7

”

Ed

sounded

the same

way

I

fell. Numb and detached. “No,

I

gave her the car to take.” Gioia caught my eye aid looked at her watch.

"Ed

1

got no bike.

I’ll

tell you what happened later

Hi

call you, OK?

Hang on. Are

you

alright?’ I’m

not sure what she answered.

Gloria called her girlf riend.

I

could hear her crying softly

in

die

kitchen

as they talked.

1

down on the couch,

rd

spent a

lot of

my life on other peoples' couches.

I

hadn’t

really

let

myself fed anything

about

breaking tp with Theresa until that moment.

I

almost cried out toud, but

I

clamped my emotions like a tourniquet

I

ted no privacy here, no space anywhere

in

the world where it was safe to grieve, so

I

pished i down and found the only escape route open to me sleep.

I

awote to

the slam-bam sounds of cartoons. My

eyes burned. They felt swollen shut. Kim and Scotty si on the floor, leaning up against the couch I slept on. Kim glanced oxer her shoulder

st

me

‘Is be awake?' Scotty asked.

“Yeah," Kim answered, *she is”

“You’re better off without her, kid,” Grant told me.

“

9k

was a fucking communist”

I

sucked

n

a deep breath

of air. “Grant, don’t.

1

love

Theresa.

I'm

real

ipset and sore right now Be very careful where you push.’’

Gant shrugged. "Ufell, it’s timeto get overher

and

nweon."

The

whistle

blasted. Grant and

I

headed fa the lunchroom through skids stacked so high with boxes they reminded me of desert butts.

153

I vas glad » have a job. The recession was deepening. Ford, Chrysler, and General Motors had just announced massive layoffs.

Grant tipped me off about this steady temp work at the bat factory. punch-cut oo rrugated cardboard, pizza boxes—all kinds cf boxes. My head hurt from the endless staccato cf the jackhammers used 10 chisel away the trim.

“So did you get your own place yet?” Grant asked.

I nodded. “Yeah I ended

ip

at Gloria’s

fcr

a month before I saved

up

enough money,”

Grant smiled. “She let you stay that long? Maybe she likes you.”

I shook my head. “Naw, it just worked out fcr her, too She works nights 1 drove the kids to school in ha

-

car and picked then

tp

so she could sleep when die gpt hoot. Then I worked second shift. It was perfect I like her kids. I still take the kids out on the weekend sometimes.”

Grant grinned. “Sounds teal homey.”

*Aw, Grant Change the subject. Hey, have you heard from Ed?’ We both looked

tp

at each other, startled. I had forgotten for a moment about the bar fight, when Grant had lashed out at Ed in misdirected rage I loathed the part of Grant that was so mean- spirited and hateful

Grant watched me remember. “Ed never liked me,” she said. “She doesn’t like me cause I'm white.”

I shook my head. “Oh, that’s not true, Grant. She’s mad at you

fir

the things you said to her the night you fought her in the bar."

Grant dropped her eyes. ’’Jesus, I said I was 9orry.“

“C’mon, Grant!" I slapped the tabletop. “What if some guy called you a pervert

cr

a freak and then later he told you he was sorry he raised his voice? I don’t get it, Grant I’ve watched you

a

work; you’re friendly with everybody”

Grant rubbed her eyes. “Well, sometimes ny mouth just doesn’t know as much as the rest cf me, especially when I’ve had a few too many.” She shrugged. “I’m a real fuck-up sometimes.” I wondered who Grant was under all those layers of hurt and anger.

Grant leaned back in her chair, “Are you going through with it?’

I knew what she meant—hormones. “Yeah. I don’t know what else to do."

Grant poured me ccffee from her thermos. “It would be a lot easier if we went to the sex-change clinic. They give you hormones fcr free The only thing is you haw to take all these tests and they interview your family and everything,"

I shrugged. ‘Yeah, bit I just want the hormones. And the surgery."

Grant widened her eyes. “What kind cf surgery?”

I made a face. ’’What kind do you think? I don’t want to have breasts like this anymore.”

Grart whistled lew. “Hew do you know you’re not a transsexual? Maybe you shotid gp to the program and find out.”

I shook ny head. “I’ve seen about it cn TV 1 don’t feel like a man trapped in a

t

i

?

s

|

wman’s body,

[

just fed trapped,”

J Grant shaped her coffee.

“I don’t

know

Maybe I am really a

guy and I was just Iborn

wrong. That might

explain a

lot of stuff,”

“So why don’t you

go to

the program?"

I

aied her,

She

snried wistfully.

“Because wha if I’m not?

What if it turned

out

I’m something even wcrse than I though? Maybe it’s better

not

to know.”

I smiled and put my hand on top

of

hers. She looked

around and puled her

hand

away,

I sighed.

*1

don’t know what

the

flick

1

am. I

just

don’t want

to be different any more.

There’s no place

to

hide. I

just wait everything to stop hurting so

tuuch.”

The whistle blew again, Grant stood up to

go

back to work

'1

almost got enough mcney

together fcr the hormones. Haw about you?"

1 shrugged. “If we can

gl

h a few doubles, 1’1) hare the

money soon."

"I’ll wai foryou,” Grant said For

just a

moment her hand rested on rry shoulder.

‘Will you help me put togetbermy Texaco

station?” Scotty held

ip

a bag

full cf

colorful plastic

pieces. I sprawled on

cn the rug

and spread

out the parts.

‘‘How do

you knew where the pieces

gc?”

Scotty asked.

1

held if the instructions

.

“I’ve got this.

It’s

like

a

map. It tells

me

this

is

A

and

this

is

B and these two

go

together." They didn’t, “I mean this is Aand maybe this is B.” They weren’t. I worked h silence.

A commercial for pet rocks flashed

across

the television

screen. Scotty looked mournful.

‘1

wish J had a pet rock.”

"A pet rock?" I laughed. “What’s

that?” He pointed

at the

TV I stroked his head.

“Don’t worry.

I'll y t

you

a really good rock.”

Scotty roliedarer on his belly and watched me

very closely. ’’You’re notsupposed to glue

than

together until you

know where they

go and you

g^tta put a

newspaper on the rug,’ he advised me

“You know what I’m

gonna be when I grow tp?”

I held up

a

tiny gas pimp and something uraecognizablc. For

sane

reason

they

ft together,

“What?"

"I’m gonna be the wind."

Kim tolled her eyes ‘Tie's

really weird

He

sits outside and waits to

fed the

wind.”

1 smiled at Scotty "That’s not weird. If

you grow up

and become the wind, I’ll take off

my

helmet

while

I'm riding a motorcycle and you can blow through

my

hair.”

Kim

shook her head.

“That’s dangerous.”

1

nodded.

“Yeah,

you’re right. Why

don’t you become

the sunshine, Scotty? Then you could feep me warm.”

Scotty shook his head emphatiealty from

side to

side.

“No, the

wind.”

Kim looked far

away

“Hey, Kim?'

1

asked her. “Whal do you

want

to be

when you growup?

"I

don’t know," she

answered

“That’s alright,"

I

told ho-.

‘You don’t

have to know now"

36V

Kin looked worried. “My mote says I should be somethin special when Igrow up“

I cupped her head with my hand. ‘You already are," I said.

Her expression flickered as die watched try face. Then her smile began to grow like a dry sea sponge in water until it filed her whole face.

Gloria came home fran work early, gripped with a stomach flu. She asked me to stay overnight and drop the kids off at schod in the morning She locked green aro

und

the gills. When I urged her to go to bed, she didn’t argue.

Scotty emerged from sleep the next morning as though he was stuck in glue. Kim opened her eyes, sat bolt upright, and hugged me

I cooked pancakes for breakfast I tried to make smiling faces on than with raisins, but when I flipped them over the raisins sank into the batter.

‘I think I found his smile,“ Kim announced, picking at her pancake with a fork

Scotty looked over at Kim’s plate. “That’s her eye,” he said. I heard my own laughter. It reminded me

<f

spring water bubbling from the earth.

“Are you married?” Kim asked me

L looked a the gold band cn my finger. Nfy throat tightened. “Not ary mote.”

Scotty nodded. “My mcmmy and daddy are diborced.**

“Di-vorced,” Kim corrected him. “Who were you married to?"

If I spoke openly with the kids would Gloria forbid me lo see than? I tock a deep breath. “Her name is Theresa.**

Kim weighed the information. “Was she pretty?’

I

smiled. “Very pretty.”

Kim frowned. “Wait a minute, girls can’t get married to girls.”

Syrup drpped slowly down Scotty’s chin. “Yes they can,” he said I wiped his diin with my thumb.

“No they can’t, stupid.** Kim told him. She looked back at me “My teacher says beys and girls get married when they grow up“

I checked my watch. It was almost time to drive them school. “Well, Kim, teachers know a lot of things, bit they don’t knew everything. Finish yoir b

reakfas

t" Kim stabbed her pancake, angty because 1 hadn’t really answered her.

I sighed. ‘You know, anyone can fell in love with anyone," I told her. “If a boy and a girl fell in love, everybody’s real nice

id

them. But when a girl faff in love with a girl cr a boy fells in love with a bey some people make

fin

of them er try to bea them up. And you’re right, Kim They’re not allowed

id

get married the

same,

way a man and a woman can. But they really love each other. “

Kim’s forehead furrowed. I could see ha mind working as die chewed. “Did you ever kiss her?”

Warning lights flashed behind my eyes “Um, sure,” 1 said, as casually as I

could

“Ewww!” Kim dropped her fork. “With yourtongue?I saw Daddy stick his tongue in Mommy’s mouth once. Yuck, it was disgusting.”

I

laughed.

*

Yni don’t ever have to

kiss

somebody that way

if

you don’t want

to."

“I’ll never do that,” Kim declared,

"Me either/ Sooty added.

Kim ate

in silence.

When she locked up

I

could feel the question before she

asked

it. “Did you love her?’’

My

chin trembled. "Yes,

1

da’’

“Then why did you get divorced?”

That qiestion king in the air i don’t know/ 1 told

her

honestly. ‘1 can’t explain it."

On the

ride to school Scotty calledout

the name of every brand

of

car tha passed. Kim watched me as

1

ckove. 'Was

she nice?"

Kim pressed. I nodded. "Do you think she misses you?"

I smiled. "I hqpe

sol"

It

was a relief

to

pull up in front of their

school aid

kiss and hug them goodbye As soon

as

I was

sure

they weresafely

inside,

I

pressed

my

forehead

against

die steer

ing wheel and cried.

1

had a car and the whole day to

kill.

Scotty’s pet rock!

1

warted to see if the Science Museum had a souvenir

shop that

sold

rocks

and

crystals. I’d never been to the Museum before. A giant stuffed buffalo stared

a

me as

I

walked in. The space fde still and

quiet

inside the building. I found exactly what I was iooking for at the gift counter

.

I picked out a fist-sized rode for

Scotty

It was

cut in half. Inade was a

small care Sudded

with purple and milky white

crys

tals

K

was a rode you could get lost ri if you wanted to

1

figured he

would.

Kun’s gift wasn’t hard to choose:

a

flat green polished stone the size

of

try hand, swirled with white, Ske currents in a fest-moving river.

“Do you know what these are?”

I

asked the young woman behind the counter.

She shrugged. “1 just work here."

I warted to spend the day

there.

Each room off the huge center hall was devoted to

a different

brandi

of science.

One was named the Hail of Man—it turned

out to

include women, too. There were rooms that revealed the secrets of atoms, of universes.

I

wished

1

could stay and devour all that knowledge.

1

hoped

somehow

it would make sense ofthe wcrld to me But I could fed my bladder begin to ache, and the two bathrooms were in plain

sight cf

the woman behind the souvenir counter, I

just coukkii

deal with it.

1

left tie

secrets

of the universe behind,

got

badc in the car, and drove to Gloria’s

house to

use the bathroom in privacy.

Grant and

I

sat in the

car outside

the doctors office. “I’m scared."

she

admitted.

“Me too When I was a kid,” I told het; “I felt like there was no place in the world Sx me to fit That’s how 1 fed now"

Grant nodded and exhaled cigarette

smoke

through her teeth. "I tell you, kid, 1 don’t know what's

worse

Never knowing what it’s like to be accepted <r having what little

bi

you had taken away

you know?’

I sure did. “C'mon, let’s go” I urged her.

The doctor’s name was stenciled

cn

the translucent glass door. It looked dark inside. “Maybe he’s not here,’’ Grant said.

I grabbed her arm. “I'm not pushing you,”

I

told her, “but I’ve run out df options.’’

Chant sucked in her breath. I tried the door—it was open. The doctor was in. Dr, Monroe led us to his inner office and gestured far us to st down. I declined. I looked around his office walls. “Where are all your diplomas?” Grant glared at me

She addressed Dr. Monroe. ‘You remember I

called

you.”

He looked me up and down God, he hates us, I thought

b myself. He licked his lips. ‘I believe it was concerning a hormone imbalance you both hare.” What did this guy think, that we had t^e recorders wired to our bodies? “Did you bring the money?” he asked. As we pulled out our wallets, Monroe pulled out his prescription pad. “I assume you’ve given this a great deal of thought,” he said,

like he was really concerned. % bcth nodded.

He diowed us how b daw one cc of male hormones into a syringe and stick

i

into the thigh muscle. ‘You give yourself one shot every two weeks. Any questions?”

“I’ve git some questions,’’ I said. Grant and the doctor both looked startled. “Like how long btfore it works and are there any side effects?”

“Well,” the doctor rolled a pencil between his index finger and his thumb, “that’s hard b say.”

“Why is that?" I warted to know:

“Because this is rather," he hesitated,

“experimental. fbu may experience side tf- fects: hair loss, weight gain, acne" Great, I thought,

just great.

“Is it dangerous?” I asked. Grant leaned toward to hear his answer

Dr. Monroe npped the script

df

the pad. ‘It’s just hormones. ¥>ur bod/ pnodices hormones naturally. Do you wart this or not?” he asked, as he waved it back and forth. I nodded and took it. He ripped off a second and handed it b Grant. She looked insure, but she put it in her pocket. Dr. Monroe counted our money, slipped it into his desk drawer, and bid us adieu.

“One more thing,’’ I said. The doctor sighed heavily. “I need a referral for breast surgery.”

He scribbled cn a piece rf paper ‘Two thousand dollars," he told me, handing me a name and phone number.

It was over and we were back

tn

the street.

“C’mon.” I slapped Giart on the shoulder. “Well g) to the pharmacy, then I’ll buy you a beer." She reluctantly agreed.

sat at the bar in the middle of the day. The bartender seemed to barely tolerate us. Vifc each put our big brown paper bag

filled with

botes of syringes and vials of hormones cn the bar in front of us.

“Well have

two

beers and two shots," I told the bartender. “No pun intended,” I added as an

aside

b Gnint, but she wasn’t listening. “What’s up, Grant?”

"My

whole fucking

life

is

turning upsidedown," she said. I could

sure relate to

that

"It's a big deal, what we’re doing," I agreed. She nodded, bit there was

something

else on her mind.

Wfe

ordered another

round, and

then another.

Grant started to open up a little. “How’s it going to be with wcmen? I mean, who would

ever go oct with uS"

I wished die liadn't said that otf loud,

‘Tm fcny-one years old," she told me

"My life

is so fucked up There’s no place left fcr us. I just don’t know what to do." Her tears plopped

On the

bar. We both looked around to see if any cf the gig’s noticed she was crying. We picked

Jp our packages

and quickly

moved ova-

to a

booth. Grant broke into

silent sobs. It scared me to see her cry that way

I leaned across the taWe and strok ed Grant’s hai “It’s gonna be OK,” I reassured her.

“Oh yeah?’

she said angrily.

“Bullshit. It’s diffident

fcr you”

“Are you kidding? Why’s it any different

fcr me?”

Grant blew her

nose on a bar napkin. “There’s things about me you

don’t know. Things I

can't

tell anybody ."

[ tossed back a shot of whiskey. It burned

my

throat and warmed

me

all over. “Grant," try

voice

sounded gentle, “there’s nothing you can't tell me”

She studied rty face. ’Tm not a real

butch,” &e said.

I looked

at

her blankly.

“What?”

‘Tm not really butch.”

I laughed incredulously. “Well,

you

could have foded me”

She shook her head. “\bu don’t really know me."

The booze lilt try brain like

a

ton of bricks. I wished I liadn't had so many drinks. The barrendercame over and began wiping the table we were

sitting at.

Time

r>

go,” he

sad Wfe recognized the hatred on

the fares

of

men who were

blocking the door

we would have gone

out

of. The bartender nodded toward the back door. ‘Tune

to

go."

We grabbed

otr bags

and raced

out the back

door and into Grant's

car.

1 locked the doors as she started the

engine.

Several cf the men fanned Out

across the parking lot.

One cf them had a tire iron. Grant peeled rubber. She drove riglit over the curb and in front

of

a oncoming

car tha swerved and hit

a parked

car.

Grant look off

a

full speed until

we were safely away.

We

stopped

in front cf ny liouse Each of us lit

a

cigarette. My hands trembled. "Jeez, Grant, lou gota shot a the Indy 5007 Shedidn’t smile, I knew

she

wastoodrunk

to be behind ihe

wheel.

“C’mon upstairs with me/

I told het

‘You can drive home later."

Grant shook her head.

"Where

you going?” I asked her.

She shook her head

‘1 don’t

know”

“C’mon upstairs with

me? I urged again, but

1 knew it was no

tse.

Grant flicked her cigarette out the car window and stared ip the

engine

Before I closed the car door I told her, “Hey. Giant Try telling those

guys

back

J64

there you’re not butch."

Grant looked at me. It was hard not Io turn away from the sadness in her eyes. 1 pointed Io the rearview mirror. ‘You bok at yourself and tell me you’re net butch. Y>u are what you are, Grant. Ycu don’t need to prove it.”

Grant handed me her package cf hormones. “Ate you sure?* I asked her.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure of anything right now”

When I gpt upstairs I called Edwin’s house and fa the phone ring a long, long time I drank a beer before I took oil the syringes and looked rt them. Needles scared me so much I couldn’t believe I was about to 9ab myself with one I examiiied the vials of hormones as though their mysteries would reveal themselves to me right there

1

tte kitchen table. They didn’t.

I went irto the bathroom, took off my chinos, and hung them on the bathroom door I sat down the toilet seat aid prepared the syringe. Was I really going to do this?

I thought about one cf Giant’s questions that hit too close to home. Would I ever lie in a woman’s arms again? For just a moment I remembered the sheer pleasure of Theresa’s arms around me It made me fed even mere alone. I flashed with anger at Theresa. She didn’t love me enough to stay when it was hard.

My life ran through ny head like a movie I didn’t wart to see again, I remembered how it felt to grow up different. I thought about the time rry parents caught me dressed in ny father’s clothes.

Wtrm memories flooded over me: butch friends, drag queen confidants, femme lovers. I couldn’t find them now. 1 was alone at this crossroads.

1 couldn’t brrig myself io sink the needle into my thigh. Then I pictured my Norton, all smashed to smithereens in the pizzeria parking lot I stabbed ny thigh with the needle and injected the hormone. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be

I felt a wave <f excitement—the possibility that something was going

d

change, that an enormous weight might be lifted from me. Maybe now I could finally be myself and jrnt live. I dosed ny eyes and leaned ny head against the tile wail.

After a while 1 stood rp and pit ny chinos back on. 1 looked at ny reflection in the bathroom mirror. Still me, looking back rt me.

Nothing happened fcr the first two months. My voice hadn’t deepened-1 knew that fcr a fact because every day I called telephone information and the operators still called me ma’am. The only changes I could notice were not what rd hoped fcr. My skin broke out. My boefy plumpened. My moods swung. Whatever was going to emerge wasn’t here yet, but it was coming.

Fd have io say goodbye K) Kim and Scotty soon. Gloria would never let me see the kids cnce I started to change.

On a wintry Saturday I arranged to tale them to the zoo It wis snowing so hard that the bus ride to Gloria’s house seemed b take forever.

“I’m gong away,“ 1 told Gloria.

“You want more coffee?’ she asked.

I

covered my cup

with one hand and

&ook my head.

Gloria sat down next to me. ‘You tdl the kids yet?” I shock my head. “Those kids think the sun

rises aid sets with you—I

don't get it.”

t

,

Her

words wounded me.

“I’m

loveable,

Gloria,

what can

I

tell you?”

Sheshook her head. "Be careful when you tell them,

OK?They’re still shook

up about their father and

me” I

nodded.

Scotty

aid

Kim

practically knocked each other over running into the kitchen to greet me They were both so bundled ip

I could

only see their eyes between their hats and their scarves.

Gloria tossed me the keys to her car 9ie looted upset. “Be

careful,

driving in the snow"

I didn’t think

that’s

what

she was concerned about

“Don’t worry about us,” I told her.

By the time we got

to

the zoo

the

snow was deep and

fat flakes

continued to fail. There weren't many people out, just a few parents with their kids.

“Let’s

mate

sdow

angels," Kim suggested-

"Not yet,"

I

tdd

her. “Let’s not

get

wet till

we’re ready to leave"

I

could see the profile

of

a

golden eagle on her perch When we got closer, I realized there were two eagles—a male and female sitting next to

each other

The female hopped down into the snow and unfolded her powerful wings. She leaped and twirled

ri

the snow.

I

remembered the newspaper reported her egg had hatched last week, bu the eaglet had

died. I

wondered if she danced

h

bitter grief,

“What’s

he doing?” Kim asked me.

“She’s playing

in thesnow.”

I figured

it wat as good an answer

as

any. ’’That’s the

girl eagle.”

“How do you know?"

she asked.

“Because the

girls

are bigger

than the

boys."

Both kids spotted

the

polar beats before

I

dki and ranabead. The mother bear was cxi with her cub. According to the newspaper, the cub was bom

three months ago

and hadit been seen outside of the care yet

“Aw“ the kids cooed as the cub toppled ova- into a Snow bank. The mother bear sa back cn her haunches. The

little

bear

rooted for

her breast and

suckled.

"I’m

hungry,"

Scotty announced

The concession stand was almost deserted inside; two zoo maintenance men sipped hot coffee

in the

comer.

I

ordered

hot dogs and

hot chocolates.

Ate need peanuts,”

Kim

remrided me, “for the animals."

‘1

don’t thiik weYe sipposed to feed them,” I told her.

“Then

we

need

peanuts for us,”

she said.

“And

tiree

of peanuts,' I added to the man behind the counter

He

glared

a

me in open disgust.

Oh,

please,

I thought,

not

m

front efthe

kills.

I

got my money

ready—

the fester the

transaction the better

>66

H came back with the food and drinks in a canboard container. “Thafll be $980, sir,” he Smirked

I threw a ten dollar bill on the counter and picked up the container. “Keep Lbs change, ma’am,” I tdd him

J

*Cmcn kids Wfrrt to eat outside on a park bench?" ft was OK with Scotty; Kim didn’t seem so sure.

I brushed the snow off a bench. “Why did you cal him ma’am?” Kim asked.

I shrugged. “He was being mean to me.”

She wouldn’t let it go. “He didn’t like you?" I shock my head. “Why not? How does he knew he doesrit

like

you?”

1 don’t know,” I told her. "Dont you ever meet bullies at school who are mean io you for no reason?”

She nodded. "Why did he call you sr? Doesn’t he know you’re a girt? ’’

I sighed and pH my hotdogbackinthecartfboani container The last bite Fd thewed was stuck like a knot in my throat. I sipped some hot chocolate before 1 answered. “He knew 1 was a girl. He was picking cn me cause Fm different.” 1 anticiplcd her next question. “I don’t

look like

your mom.

I

look different from a lotof other girls. Some people don't like that, they don't think it's right”

Kim knitted her eyebrows. “Then why don’t you wear desses and let

your hair

grow long, like other girls?’ ’

I smiled. ‘'Don’t you like me the way 1 am?*

Scotty looked up al me and beamed 1 wiped the ketchup affhis nose with my glare. ”1 don't want to change,” I told bet '1 think girls and bays should be able to be arty way they want to be without getting picked on."

Kim kodt on the bench, feeing me. Sie took off her gloves and stroked my cheeks I wondered if foe cotid scebeard growth already. “Whatdo yousee?” I asked her. She shrugged and put her gloves back on.

"You know what we’re getting you for Christmas? A radio!’’ Scotty told me excitedly.

“Scotty!” Kinis voice rose inanger. “Ybu're weren’t supposed to tell ruined

Scotty’s eyes filed with tears.

“It’s OK," I lugged him. "It's OK. Listen you guys—you kids—I have to tell you something.’’ Kim sat down heavily , as though foe had been expecting this. I put my arm around bath of diem. ’1 have to go away before Christmas. 1 have to find a job”

There was a lang silence. Scotty wrapped his arms around me and cried. “No! Don’t go away," he pleaded. ’Please?

Hl be good.

Please don’t go away!'

I kissed the top cf his snowsuit hood “Oh, Scotty you’re not bad Both cf you are voy, voy good It’s not your fruit Tm going sway 1 kwe you both so much. I’ve just got to get a job."

Kim sd with her hands on her tap, looking straight ahead

“I

love you a lot,” 1 fold them again. ‘Tm really gonna miss the two of you."

‘Then why are you

goingaway?"

Kim’s

voice

pounded with

rage.

"Why can’(you get a job here?”

She needed more of an

explanation. ‘‘Kim,

it’s not

safe

fi me here, because I’m different.” Her face

softened,

which alkwed

the

tears to

well up. “I’m going

somewhee Hl be

safe.”

“Can I come too?’ she asked I pulled Scotty closer to me and

extended my

anti to Kim. She didn’t move closer, but I could tdl she wanted to

‘It’s not really a place I’m gomg

to.”

1 wondered how much the unwritten laws allowed me to tel a child. “Imagine that

you’re

looking for me in

a

room. Yiu

look

everywhere—in the closet, under the bed, behind the

door—

but I'm not there."

Scotty

looked up “Where

are

you?” he asked.

“I’m somewhere safe where no one wxid lock. I’m ip rear the ceiling.

Imagine

you’re looking for me here—behind the trees, under the

benches, behind

the elephant house. Where would I be that’s

safe?”

Both

kids looked

a

each

other and

shock their

heads. "Up

in

the sky, where

the wind

Hows,”

I told them. ‘I’d be safe in the

4y,

where

no one

would look for me But

rm

still around I’ll still be watching over you”

Scotty wiped the tears from his eyes with his mittens. “When I’m the wind I

could

be in the $ky wih you’

I

nodded and pulled him

closer.

Teats dripped down Kim’S chin, ba her

face

appeared

calm.

“Can

you

come

back

and

visit

us?"

I

thought before

]

answered. “You’D

see me again, ba

not for

a

while. Not

till

it’s safe for me to come back.”

I

pointed to the golden eagles nearby “You know there’s not mary eagles left The food

they

ea got all poisoned wih chemicals, and sometimes people shot at them. You knew what the

eagles

did?” They both

shook

their heads. “They flew high up into the mountains, way ip above the clouds and they’re going

to

stay ip there and fly

around

in the wind until

it’s

safe to cane visit.”

Kim knelt

on

the bench and

put

ha

gkwes

on

my cheeks.

They were

cold and

wet with

snow.

‘Please take me with

you,” she whispered.

My eyes

burned with tears.

‘1 have to hide alone, Kim. And your mommy

loves

you a lot.

9ie needs you,

too Grow up

the best

way

you

can, Kim. I’ll come

back to

you,

I promise.”

The siow was falling so

heavily

that it nearly covoed us oi the

bench.

I get

up

and brushed us off. I kissed Scotty’s oold

nose

before I

retied

his

scarf

across

his face.

I

waited

cn Coe knee for

Kim

to come to me

She

fell into

my arms

so

hard

we both

almost tumbled

over.

As wetpproached the eagles, Kim ranahead. She stopped and watched them. “Are they happy h there?” she asked me.

1

shook my head. "They'd be happier up there." 1

looked a

the

sky.

Snowflakes fell on my eyelashes

and

cheeks.

nw

"Can we

make snow angels

now?” Scotty demanded.

]

nodded. Scotty and

Kim flopped

backward

n

the

stow and thrashed

their arms

and legs. ‘Look at

me, look

at me," they

each shouted.

I made

a snowball and roiled 1

until

it

was as tag as a boulder.

“What are you mak

ing?"

Kim asked.

They bcth

came close.

'

"I’m

making a

snowwoman,”

I told

her.

Kim made

a

face. “It’s not

a

snowwoman,

it’s

a snowman,” die sulked.

“How

do you know?”

I asked

her. ‘You haven’t seen ha- yet.”

Scotty started rolling

a

tiny lump of snow “Qn

I

help make

her?*

he asked.

I

nod

ded and started a

good-sized snowball

f<i

him.

Kim stamped her

foot ’’There’s

no such thing

as a snowwoman. It’s a snowman"

I put

Scotty’s smaller snow

boulder cn

top

of the first. “Help

me

make her head,” I told than

both.

Kim flew into

a rage

and sobbed.

I

touched her shoulders. “Are

you

really that

upset?” She nodded ind cried. I wiped

her nsmy nose

“It’s

OK,”

Scotty

said gently. "She could

be

a

snowman, right?"

I nodded “Help us

make

his

head,

OK?’ Kim sniffled

and

nodded. Uh rolled

the head, and

1 put

it in place.

I

scrounged for stones

under

the snow,

and

we used them

to

make a mouth and nose and eyes.

"He

needs

a

scarf, right?”

I

asked.

The/ both nodded. I

pulled

off

try scarf

and

put i around his neck.

I took

on

my pack

d

cigarettes. "No,” they

both

shouted in unison,

“don’t

smoke!" ’.\feli,

I

don’t have a pipe forthesnowman. Should

I

put a cigarette in his mouth?” “No!”

they shouted. “He doesnt smoke! He’s snart.“

1

laughed.

“OK, OK. But that’s

a pretty goodfooking

snowman

we

made,

isn’t it?"

Scatty nodded aid fell cn

the

ground. "Watch me

mate

a stow

angel!” He wildly flailed his arms aid

legs.

“Are

you

OK?’’

I

asked Kim.

She nodded. I

pulled her scarf snug

around her neck “Tm

sorry

I upset you,” I

told her.

“I

was just teasing.”

She

shrugged.

"It’s

OK.”

*Tm

sorry anyway”

J

said.

"No," she told me “I mean it’s

OK

about it being

a

nowwoman.”

1 smiled. “How about

if

tie

decide

that this

is a snowperson and

we like him

or

ho

-

just

the

way lie

is?” Kim

nodded without

smiling.

She

silently

stared

out the car window during die long ride home.

“Did

they eat?” Gloria

warted to know. I

nodded. "Time

for

your bath,

she

told them.

“Aw

Mom, we’re too pooped,” Scotty said.

Gloria laughed. "Alright, smart aleck.

But tomorrow night

you both take a bath,

and I don’t want to

hear any

whining.”

Scotty beamed in triumph, "Can Jess put us to bed?' Gloria glanced at me I nodded.

Scotty and Kim changed into their pajamas and kissed Gloria good night. I tucked each one under their covers.

‘You have to read

is

the story about when we were little kids,” Scotty instructed me I picked

ip

tie book from the nightstand

Kim pointed to a bookmark “That’s where Mom left off” die said. I began to read, my voice quiet and low:

WTrere

cm I going? I don't quite know.

Down to the stream where the king-cups grow— Up at the hill where

the

pine-trees blow— Anywher e, anywhere, I don't know.

Scotty yawned. I kissed his sweaty hair. A mobile turned slowly over our heads, casting the shadows cf moving ships against the walls.

If you were a bind, and lived on high,

You’d lean on the wnd when the wind came by Yotfd say to the wmd as « took you away: 'That’s where I wanted to

go

today!’

My voice cracked like a teenage boy’s and then dropped abitdeeper as I read The hormones were beginning to work. Kim stared at me Her fare was still aid sad. Tm never going to see you again, am I?” die asked.

I came over to her bed aid kissed her forehead. ‘Til come back to you when it’s safe. You’ll see me again, I promise I love you, Kim. Go to sleep now” She sighed and pulled the covers up to her chm. I continued to read until her breathing became heavy and rhythmic.

Where am I going? I don't quite know.

Wha does it matt er where people go?

Down to the wood where the blue-b ells

grow—

Anywhere, anywhere. I don’t know

r?i

the kitchens of hairdresser friends.

Td bought an old Triumph motorcycle during the winter from

a

guy at work.

I

took it out of the garage put afresh quart

of oil

in it, and drove it crosstown

to

a barbershop

h

a

neighborhood I’d never have

to

come back to if

i

turned out badly.

The

barber smiled

a

me. “I’ll be with you in just a minute, sir.”

I

tried to

hide

my excitement as

I

leafed through a copy of

Popdar Mechanics.

Td

never daredenter mens turf like this before.

The

barber

mapped a huge

red

doth in the air.

“Sir?’ he

beckoned

fcr me

ri

sit

ft the

chair. He

covered me with

the red material and pulled

it

snug around my neck

‘A

trim?”

I

looked

atmyself

in

the

mirror

“Well,

maybe something different. Maybe its time for

a

change.”

The

barber

smiled. “That's

ip

to you.” '

‘1 don’t

know.

Something neat”

The barber

smoothed

back

my

hair and pursed his lips. “What about a

fla

top?’

“Yeah!

That would be a change"

The electric razor buzzed across the top

rf

my DA fran back to f ront Clumps cf hair fell on my nose The barber brushed them off with the soft hairs of a brush. He clipped

and

trimmed my hair until it f ormedaperfectiy symmetrical flat top. He brushed me off thoroughly.

I

started to get up.

“Not yetj

he said. He lathered try sidebums

and

the

back

of my halrine

with shaving

cream and scraped a clean line with a straight

razor.

Hetcweled

the last

bits cf lather from ny neck Just

when

1

thought he must be finished

he

splashed a little bay rum on his palms and ribbed it on ny checks.

He

shock

pewter

on

the

brush and swept i across the

back

of my neck. Wth a

flourish

he pulled

away the

red doth

that

covered

me and gave

me

a hand mirror so

I

could see the

back of

my hair. “What do you think, my friend?”

This time

1

didn't try to hide my excitement.

I

was passing.

k

was

time

fcr

the

moa

important test cf alt the men's room.

1

walked around a department store until I couldn't stand it any longer. I paced outside the men's room. What would

happen

if

I

walked in? td have to find out sooner or

later..

I

pushed open the

door

Two men stood in front of urinals. They glanced at me and looked away Nothing happened.

I

fouid an empty stall and locked the door,

They

could still

see

my feet

if

they looked. Did men ever

sit

down to urinate?

I

fashed the toilet b cover the sound.

1

immediate! felt something wet and edd aganst my

ass

and

thighs

The

toilet was overflowing.

I

jumped up but it was too late, my Levis

were soaked

I

rebuttoned

my

jeans and huiried out of the men’s room. I pushed ny

way

through the

crowds

of

droppers and

made my

way

back to

ny

Triumph.

All

1

wanted was io drive home, strip off my jeans, and shows- off the feeling

of

stupidity. I sat down

on

ny bike and though about it. It hadn't been

so

bad, really. Now

I

knew better

than to flush the toilet without paying attention to the water level as it rose But

1

thot^h

back to the moment

fd walked

into the men's room. They hardly noticed

srw Bvrar nuts

m

me.

I

could go to the bathroom whenever and wherever I needed to without presswe or shame. What an enormous relief.

At

first, everything was fun. The world stopped feeling like a gauntlet I had to run through But very quickly I discovered that passng didn’t just mean slipping below the surface, it mean being buried alive. I was still me on the inside, trapped in there with all my wouids and fears. Ba I was no longer me on the outside.

I

remember the morning I left work at die macaroni plant just before dawn. I was walking

ip

Elmwood toward my bike. A woman on the sidewalk ahead of me looked over her shoulder nervously. I slowed try pace as she crossed the street and hurried away. Sie was afraid of me. That’s when I began

to

understand that passing changed almost everything.

Two things didn’t change: I still had to wotk for a living, and I still lived in feat; only now it was the constant terror of discovery. I never realized what a small town Buffalo could be.

“Where’d you go to high school, Jesse?” Eddy asked me after we finished unloading cartons from a truck.

Should I lie or tell the tmh? "Bennett,” I answered honestly.

“No kidding? When did you graduate?"

I fumbled for an answer. 1 had lied ai try job application

fir

this truck delivery position.

I

said

Td

graduated from high school. “Uh,

I

transferred in my junior year?’

"Yeah? When?”

“Oh,

I

don’t know Around ’65,1 guess"

“No kidding? My brother indaw wen to Bennett around the same time. Hs names Bobty—played football kbu knew him?' Bobby the rapist. My fsts clenched and I ground try teeth “Naw,

I

don’t think so."

Eddie nodded “No bss. Hecodd really bean asshole, if you ask me. Tfou alright?"

“Yeah, just a little sick, that’s all.“

“Well, sit down a minute,’’ Edie said.

“ListenEddie, fm gonna run to the Store for something.’* And then I waked away I just kept walking, faster and fester. I was running from try own past

I guess I could have feft the city, butt fek as Ihmgh Id fell off theedgeof tbeearth. So

I

stayed But I always had to be looking over tty shoulder in public, afraid I’d run into someone who knew me as a woman Sometimes I didn’t see them until they saw me, ike the time Gloria and the kick were shopping downtown. I was an aisle away in the men's department. Gloria recognized me just a moment brfore

1

saw her. Her jaw dropped. She grabbed Kim and Scotty by their hantk and tried r> drag them away. Scotty got scared and cried. Kim called my name. “Jess! It’s Jess!”

I

came

ip

to Gloria and put ny hand on htr shoulder. She pulled away h horror and wr^jped her arms around Scotty and Kim as though she was protecting them from

I'M

Count Dracula. “Gloria, fix Christsakes, I’m just try ng to survive,

you

know? It’s not such a big deal.’’

“Get away from me What have you done?" she asked me in a strange, bw voice. “What ae you doing?’’

‘Trying to live, Gloria. Give me a break, will ya?’

Kim reached out to me, but Gloria grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Come on Kim, Scotty? ‘ Gloria said, pulling them toward the door. ‘You are really sick, you kmw that? Ycu really need help."

I turned up ny palms in a gesture of exasperation. “Gloria." People nearby stopped to watch.

Kim broke bose and ran toward me at full speed. I lifted

her

into ny

arms

and hugged her tightly. "Do you still love me?” she whispered.

I kissed her nose. "More than ever " I put her down and she ran back to Gloria.

“Ex?“ a salesman aied me

“Huh?”

“Ex-girlfriend?” he nodded with his chin toward the door.

"She’s an ex, alright,” I answered.

I got a steady gig a a bindery as a mechanic’s apprentice. The guy who

interviewed

me looked metp and down real hard. Ifek color rise in ng face. ‘You look like aclean- cut young

mart,"

he concluded. Only a short

time

before I had been a monster.

Having a job was the good news. But there wasn’t much else to do <x anyone to do it with. That was the bad news. My greatest recreation was riding ny motorcycle. I decided to buy a really nice bike. Early one Saturday afternoon I rode to the

West

Side to take a look at a Harley Sportster I saw advertised In the newspaper. ”Ask

for

Mike," the ad read

‘You know about bikes?" Mike asked me V>fe squatted next to the bike in his driveway.

I said yes, but I felt like I was lying. It’s funny, a guy gets a Honda 50 mini-bike and he talks like he’s an expert on bikes. A wonan could ride a full-dress Harley aS her life and she sill feels like she’s faking her end cf the conversation. He told me

Ik

loved that bike, and I could tdl by the way he touched it that he meant every word He hated to sell it, he told me, but he fell In love with a woman who made him choose between her or the bike. He made the right decision.

I handed Mike a wad of bills and revved the engine. ‘Take her ip to Canada,” he suggested. “You’ll be across the Peace Bridge in tor minutes and you can really open her ip on those roads.” I ptl cn my helmet, waved, and drove away.

I stopped at Ted’s fcr a foot-long hot dog I sat on top <f a picnic table outside, surrounded by gulls impatiently waiting fix the end ny bun.

I

could see the line of cars a

the

Peaoe Bridge. How marg hundreds cf times had I gone to Canada this way? But passing as a man meant I hadn’t been able c cross the

Peace Bridge because

I

didn’t have a draft

card.

The Vietnam War had just officially ended

i

seemed amazing to me

that the people of tha tiny

country

had wen against such monstrous odds. Maybe all those rallies Theresa had attended helped. President Ford was expected to pardon thedraft resisters so they could finally come home

Btl

I

still couldn’t cross the border.

I

had no valid ID it case I was pulled over at customs I opened my wallet and looked at my

ID.

Birth certificate, drivers license. They were all clearly marked female.

Hew

could

I

get ID as a male

7

Getting identification required identification. I couldn’t even open a checking account without some sort of

ID.

A credit card was on of the question. I felt like a nonperson. Even outlaws probably had more ID than

me.

t turned my license over and looked at the expiration date: Zirfy

1976

tt was valid for fourteen mere months. How could I get a license markedFemate renewed as Af.ule? What would happen to me if I got stopped by state troopers on a br.efy road in the dead cf night and handed them this license? Bit what if

I

was caught driving without a license? Eitheroption

sotmded

like a nghtmare. it was impossible to work orlive in Buffalo without seme fam of transportation.

I stared across

the

Niagara River, longing io open up my Hailey on those roads

I

knew so well. A feeling of claustrophobia chcked me Even as my world was expand

ing,

it was shrinking.

My beard grew h full of color: blond streaked with ted and brown and white, ii the open fieidsoflife, my beard was a bush to hide behind. Almost no one seemed

to

recognize me anymore when

I

was out in public.

I hated try breasts more th® ever. Binding them every

day

had flattened th: muscles, and they hurt But I had finally saved up two thousand dollars,

i

called the surgeon Dr Monroe had referred me

cq

I

told him I warted to be flat-chested. "Yes, yes,” he said. “Breast reduction

"

“Is k gang to be very painful? Will I be oa cf work a long nme?”

“No,"

he told me “It’s not a radical mastectomy. We make an incision and

remow

some of the My tissue. Although you’ll be uncomfortable, you should be

back

a woik within a wed; or two." I felt a little queasy, but al surgical descriptions made me feel tha way.

“Do you haw the money?” he asked.

I

did. I was

ready.

1

scheduled the sugery and left workTUesday pretending to be

ilk

Tuesday night I Lay

h

bed aid stared at the ceiling.

I

felt anxious, but not scared.

1

was

excited

at the thought of feeling good in my body once again. I wished Theresa could have cane this far wkh me Wty couldn’t

1

have had one night to make love with her while 1 felt comfortable in my body? Theresa. Once rd thought of her it was too late to put her memory away

1

tossed and turned.

Wherever I

was

going,

1

knew I was headed there alone.

ns

The next morning I arrived a the hospital before ny

scheduled appointment to fill out the necessary forms. “Who are you here to see?" the admissions nurse smiled.

“Dr. Costanza."

Her expression cooled. "Just a moment, please.” She returned five

minutes later. The doctor wasn’t in. No arrangements seemed to have been made. But she told

ns

to go to th: nurses’ desk cn the sixth floor.

There were three nurses a the sixth floor desk. ‘I have an appointment

fix

surgery with Dr. Costanza." The nurses glanced at each other.

One sighed. “There’s no room ready fcr you right now. You’ll have to prep yourself m the bathroom.”

I hesitated. ‘I don’t know what you mean."

"Just a minute," the said. She came back with a hospital gown, razor, and Betadine. “Shave your underarm.s, chest hair, and pubic hair with this and then pit on tte gown.”

“Pubic hair?”

She frowned. “That’s the procedure” I hoped the/ didn’t do the wrong surgery at me. I figured fd have time to consult with someone before the operation began.

“Don’t go in there,’’ ate cf the nurses cried out as I neared the men’s room. I turned toward the women's bathroom. “No, not thoe either," another called out. I stood stockstill. They found a rocm fcr me I washed myself with Betadine and shaved ny armpits fcr the first time in maty years When my underarm hair had fist grown ny mother insisted I shave regularly. This would be the last time

As I shaved my beard I promised to take good care of myself. And I swore that no matter what happened I would never allow madness to consume me

I

sa

down at a chair in the room to await surgery. Two nurses talked loudly at the desk outside the room. They said there would be hell to pay when healthy tissue was sent down to the pathology lab. They said sooner cr later this would blow

ip

and there’d be trouble.

A nurse came m the room, smiled, and dipped her head shyly. She pointed to a gurney in

the

hall. “Can’t I walk?” I asked her. She shook her head.

I lay cn the gimey as she rolled it down the hall. All I could see were ceilings. Huge lights appeared over me I was in surgery. Masked feces above me I hoped they weren’t too hostile. “Which cne cf you s Dr. Costanza?” I asked.

One cf them answered, “He’s cn vacation. Don’t worry,” I started to protest but a needle pierced ny arm and the room started to dissolve.

Whet I awoke the world seemed fuzzy I couldn’t focus The man in the bed

across from mine stated at me. Nurses peered in at me from the doorway- I fought fcr consciousness.

A priest came into the room “Where is she?” he looked around.

“Who?” I asked. The room spun.

The priest came close

to ny bed. "There’s a lost soul who needs ny help," he

sTOffiinnMUB m

whispered.

“They just wheeled herdown the hall, lather," I said, pointing. “If you hurry, you can each her,’’

1

tried to sit up. A dull pain pounded in my chest. I

called

out to ths nurses standing in the doorway. “Can I ge something for the pain?" They walked away,

One of the nurses came back. “Look,"

she said,

‘1 don’t understand any of this. But

I

can tell you this hospital is for sick people. You people mate some arrangement with Costanza an the side, that’s your business. But this bed and our time is for sick people.”

How much time would they give me to recuperate? An hour?

Two?

1 didn’t want D be there another minute. I wanted robe safe in my own home.

I

swung my legs over the bed and tested standing

on them. Once

I felt steady, I carefully dressed.

k took

forever for the elevator D arrive. 1 stepped inside and pushed the button for the lobby The young nurse who had brought me down for surgery

held

the elevala

-

door open and pressed something into my hand, k was four Darvon wrapped in a paper towel. “I’m sorry," she whispered.

1 had o walk a long way from the bus D my house. When 1 finally get home 1 pti my key in ths door, but 1 remembered the

door

needed

to

be pulled inward as the key was turned. When I finally pulled hard enough to rum the key, I knew I had hurt myself a

little.

But

I

was home

I lay down on my bed. The last thing I remember is wondering what day it was,

When I woke up I couldn’t figure on where 1 was. A dull pain throbbed in my chest I stood ip carefully. When 1 opened the closet door,

1

saw myself reflected

in

the fulllength minor mounted

inside.

1 ootid tel from my beard growth

1

had slept for days My chest was bandaged. There i was—the body rd wanted. 1 wondered why it had to have been so hard.

I stumbled into the kitchen and chugged a Pepsi. I found a slice of cold pepperoni pizza and a piece of chocolate cake

h

the refrigerator. My childhood tkeam breaklast.

1 called Edwin’s house

Wtfre sorry,

1 listened b the recording in

shock,

hut

the number you dialed has been disconnected

I rang her sister’s house In a quavering vace Edwin’s sister said, “She

shot

herself—weeks ago."

1 put ths receivrordown

gently,

trying not to disturb

Ed’s

memory. "Edwin, Ed," I whispered

as

though she was asleep n my arms and I could wake her.

1 went back to the bedroom and lost consciousness. When I woke, I hoped Edwin’s death was just a dream. I called my

foreman. “Where

the hell

you

been, boy?” he shouted

‘Tve been

sick.

Rea!

sick.”

“Can you get a doctors note?”

I

stopped and thought for a moment “No,’ I said.

“You’re fired," he

growled

and

hung

up.

1 slept on and off for several days A nagging pain woke ire up.

bu

it was emo-

I’M

tional, not a result

cf the

surgery. I changed my bandages in the bathroom. Just two surgical lines crossed my chest Together with the

stitches they

looked like railroad tracks. After a little mere than a week it looked like

i was

healing pretty well.

I

pulled

ai a

clean white T-sh

rt.

Something propel

ed me into the kitchen to

get a beer.

As

1

snapped

off the cap

I

located the sourceof the paint Edwin’s suicide.

It

couldn’t be tree that

Ed

ro

longer existed in the world.

How could she be gone? Hadn't

I

known she was seething inside?

I

remembered

she

said

she’d marked a page in the bock

die

gave me

tha

summed up what

she

was struggling with.

I

tore through the books cn my

shelf,

hit

1

couldn’t fnd

the slim

volume sbed given me

[

finally discovered it in an unpacked box in ny hal closet and sat down

cn

the floor to leaf through the book. She’d marked the page in

blue

ink:

t it

a

peculiar

sensation,

(his double-consciousness, this

sense of always Mang al one's self through the

eyes

of others, of measuring one's sold by

the tape

tf a

world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feds Ids twoness—anAmerican, a

Negro;

two souls, two thoughts,

two unreconciled

strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength done

keeps

it from being tom asunder.

,

I

looked at the inscription, the wry she’d ddted thei in

her

name with

an

inky heart

Pain

roared

through my body like a fire whipped by the wind. “Ed,”

I

cried out loud.

“Please

come back Give me another chance to understand. 11 be a better friend f you ’ll

just cone back."

Silence.

One beer followed another; I got pretty drunk. And then

I

broke down and cried for the

loss

of Edwin and for all the tears fd suppressed ince fd lost Theresa.

1

went for a walk and aided up

on

a bis headed to the

amusement park.

I waited to win

one

of those big stuffed bears lha Theresa always loved, first I thought

I

needed

more beer

,

The two

young women behind the concession counter whispered and giggled

as

I approached. “Gin

1

help

you, sir?”

The dark-haired woman aied me.

*A beer.”

1

pulled on

my

wallet.

The red-haired

woman

nudged her and giggled. ‘Tell him.”

“Tell me what?’’ 1 asked.

“She thinks you're cute.’

The dark-haired woman

pushed

her “I tri not She’s just a jerk.”

My face flushed. 1 walked

away

from the counter without the beer. A powerful rage

rose

inside

me Why

was I

so angry?

This

was what

I

wanted, wasn’t it? Th be able » be myself and yet live without fear? It just didn’t

seem

fair. Al my life I’d been told everything aboil

me

was really twisted and

sick.

But f 1 was a man,

I

eras “cute.” Ac

ceptance of

me as

a he

felt like an ongoing indictment of me

as a

he-she.

I obsessed about winning the bear ftr Theresa. As I threw the baseballs a those dolls on the shelf I

could

feel a few

stitches

on noy

chest tear,

but I didn't care. 1 pitched h a frenzy. I kept putting money down on the counter, and the man kept taking it.

a

small crowd formed. The prizes I wot gat a little bigger each time, but I couldn’t seem to knock dawn a couple of those dolls.

“Sony pal,” the guy bdiind the counter told me His teeth were denched on a agar.

I handed him five dollars. “Here,” I

said real

loud.

‘You

take

try

mcney and I’ll show the people here which dolls are weighted"

Hs

swung around and handed me a giant pink bear. ‘‘I wart the blue one," I told him.

"Fuck you," he muttered, but he exchanged it.

As 1 bolted ip Theresa's stairs that night I felt excited. By the time I knocked, I was scared A youngwoman with a soft butch

exterior

answered the door. I

stood

there with a big blue bear in ny arms She called Theresa.

Theresa stood outside her

door

» talk to me, but she left i ajar.

"How are yotf?” I asked her. Ste shrugged. I beckoned with my chin toward the door. "Housekeeping butch?” It was a mean-spirited thing to say. I was glad she didn’t respond. Tbae was a long silence, then Theresa turned

io go.

I whispered Edwin's name out loud as tears ran down my cheeks, Theresa wheeled around and threw her arms around me Ste knew 9te understood. She held me while 1 choked on my tears. 1 sniffled and looked at my boots She watched my face There were tears in her eyes, too She touched the stubble on my cheek with her fingertips. I couldn’t read her thoughts; I never could. It was time to leave. 'You working?" I adted her

“Some,” she said.

She touched my cheek again and turned to go

‘‘Theresa,’’

I

called her name. She

looked a me. "Does she sit between the tows in your garden?”

Theresa shook her head. “No, Jess. Yotire tie only one"

1 picked up the big blue bear and extended it

K>

her. 9*e smiled sadly and

shook hff head.

Then the door shut and die was gone.

1 walked a couple

erf

blocks to the

supermarket

and stood outside the automatic doors. After awhile this little kid came

by

holding onto his mother's hand. He staed at the bear as he approached and then turned to watch i as he walked by His mother sort of dragged him along before

she

turned io see what he was

looking

at

"Is it OK?" I asked her, nodding toward the bear. She locked surprised, but she nodded. I handed the bear to the boy. “Ihke good care of her, promise?"

He nodded. His arms could hardly

gel arotnd

the snffed animal.

His mother nudged his shoulder. “Say thank you to the nice man.”

CHAPTER

he sm was just peeking ora the

horizon.

My

breah froze on my beard. I

wearily boarded tfc

temp labor

bus.

“Hey.

Jesse?

Ben

sat down next

to me and readied on

his huge, cal-

loused hand, as he did every morning. He could have crushed my hand

uihk,

but

it

was

in his firm handshake that I always rediscovered his gentleness. Hooked

1

this great bear of a man and smiled, genuinely glad to see him.

Thebittercolddidn’t seem

to affect him

I remembered why when he pulled a silver

hp

flask from his coat pocket. He offered it to me first. I tooka Jong swig and coughed

as

I handed it back to him.

"Wild Turkey,”

he smiled. ‘I like a little nip in the morning to get me going” Actually Ben liked little nips throughout the day to keep him going

We were parked next to a diner. Rom where

I

sa

I colid see through

the

restaurart

window. Annie, the waitress who had my complete attention,

w® pouring coffee and joking with the men

a

the counter.

A

powerful longing pulled on me, almost drawing tears.

“How’d you like a piece cf her?” a guy in the

sea

in frort of us asked his friend. Ben watched me cringe. “Hey,

shut up” Ben tdd him

The man

looked over the top of his

sea

a

us. "What’s it to

you?”

Hl

b:

"That’s ny sister you’re talking about,” Bai glared-

“Oh, sorry,” the guy said. He looked at me and squinted. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

‘You everworkin Texas?’ I asked him. He shook his head. “Then you don’t know me," I told him.

The bus lurched into motion. We we headed out to a plant in Tonawanda The agency promised m a steady gy with the possibility cf permanent hire. Bai and I rode h comfortable silence. When the noise level co the bus became boisterous I whispered to him, “Is Annie really your sister?" He smiled and winked.

“Did you really work in Texas?’ he asked me I smiled and winked back.

As we approached the plant I saw picket lines barricading the entrance. Then I understood—we were hired to break a strike “Scabs!” the shout went ip the moment we got off the bus. It was hard to catch ny breath m the frigid ar

Ben stood a ny side. “I don’t wart ary part cf this,” he said.

I heard a woman’s voice shouting through a bullhorn, “We’re gonna hold the line We’re net going to let a single scab through Fm ready to do whatever 1 have to do to defend our jobs and otr union! Are you?” The union women and men roared their agreement.

The cops flipped the visors down cn their riot helmets and held their clubs horizontally across their chest Those billy clubs were almost as thick and long as baseball bats The cops were ready to attack h order to bring ns in as scabs.

Another temp bus arrived. The moi who gut eff that bus gravitated toward us. We formed a group cf sixty men. I looked around <t the guys I rode in with. The oldest cf the men announced loudly, “The Devil can’t buy my soul!”

‘Well, I need a job, gpddamn it I gut a family to feed," someone behind me yelled.

“I’m no scab," Ben shouted. ‘I never crossed a picket line in ny life and I never will. And I’ve gut no respect fcr ary man who does.” He took his UAW card out cf his wallet and held it aloft so the picketers could see Several of the other men pulled out their union cards and held than

ip

proudly, too. I clenched ny fist and pumped the air, The strikers cheered us.

Less than a dozen oftheterrp laborers agreed to be escorted by police into the plant Most of the guys get cn the bus again and asked the driver to take us back b the agency.

I

listened to the moi talk to each other as we rode This bicentennial year was supposed to be filled with patriotism, but the guys were sounding more and more like Theresa used to talk.

“There’s mere hard times commg, mark ny words.”

“Yeah, but you can bet the rich are still gettin’ richer."

“It wasn’t just Nixon—they’re all a bunch rf crooks This new peanut man h the Whie House isn’t going to change anything."

They tailed about the layoffs that had abruptly altered their lives. Harrison, Chevrolet, Anaconda. Fifteen years seniority, twenty years, thirty years.

"I gaveChevy my whole life,’ Ben tdd me “When I got laid offl figured

t

was a vacation. Bat to tell you the truth,

I’m

scared shitless tha I'm never going back. My whole life's in tha plant, you know what Imean?" I nodded. Bai nudged me. “We'll still get paid today for East week.

Let’s

go cash our checks at the bar and havea drink"

I shook ny head. “Naw, I better get home."

"Jesus,

Jesse.

Yhi

always have something you

gotta

da YouYe gonnahave a drink with me and that’s that. Unless you think you’re too good for me."

I sighed. “Just one drink" Ben smiled and thumped my thigh with his gloved hand

Someone played “Stand By You- Man” cn the bar jukebox. I was lost in ny own past as Ben talked to me about growing up without his Hither. “How foout you,

Jesse?”

be asked ‘Did yougrow up with yourdad around?’ I nodded “Were you dose to him?’

I shock my head. “No."

“Why not?*

1

I shrugged. “Oh, it’s a long story. I don’t really like to talk about it.’’

“Where'd you grow

up?'

he

asked, signaling the waitress

fcr another round.

"Different places” I worried dial I couldn't keep up this evason for a thid round The waitress brought two Shots and two beers. Bai smiled warmly

a

her. "Thank

you,

darlin'." Ben turned his attention back to

me

"You know, I’m

curious

about you."

1

tensed. *1 told my wifeabout you. I toti herthere’s

dis

guy I

realty

like.” Ben stopped and held ip one hand. “Don't get me wrong.”

I waived away

his

momentary fear that I

might think

he was sexually atracted to me. His speech was a little slurred. *1 told herthat every time I Dy to get to know

this

guy, he clams up. Y® know what my wife said? Stu sa/s I’m the same way with her. She says that’s what

foe’s always complaining

about”

Ben leaned forward “Are you in

trouble; Jesse?

Cause if you

are,

you can tell me. I'm not much in life. Ba I'm a good mechanic and agood friend. All my buddies waked at

Chevy

with me. I miss those gtys.” I nodded, thinking about ny

old

friends.

“Areyou running from the law?’ he asked

me

“Cause f you

are,

I understand." His vcice dropped. “1 was in jail. Two years.”

Suddenly something charged in Ben. His whole body

settled

into a stillness tha frightened

me,

ike

the smooth surface of a lake before a storm. I fd the turbulence churning beneath his surface. Ben's hurt was presenting

itself.

I waited. Pain emerges

a

its own pace.

I sa n

silence, my heart pounding. Maybe this was just my imagination or the drama lhai Wld Ttirkey ushers in. But when I looked

a

Ben I knew I wasn’t wrong. The storm was closing in, and it was too late to run.

Ben opened las wallet and pulled out two pictures. “Did I ever show you my wife and daughter?’ I saw anexquisiteJy warm Down’s

Syndrome smileon his daughter’s

face. "I love tha child,” his eyes filed with tears "She’s taught me a lot." 1 waned to ask him what he’d Earned but

I

was still emotionally barricading myself from Ben. He wanted so much to know

me,

and I couldn't let

him.

Wha if I trusted him and I was wrong?

184

Ben flipped a small old photo cn the table in front cf me I studied it and laughed. “Is that you?” Ife nodded, without smiling. I looked

zt

the young Ben, a skinny kid with huge hands, slicked-back hair, and a beat-up leather jacket. *You were a greaser?’ He nodded again.

“Nice bike,” I pointed to the Harley in the photo. He smiled.

I could fed the pressure building. “When I was young*

1

Ben said, "I thought I was a tough guy.“ Funny how much men express in a few flat words, k was a butch’s way, too, cf revealing heart.

“Then I got busted fcr Seal it® a car, ¥>u ever beet arrested, Jesse?” I lock a deep breath and shook ny head no Ben nodded. Td been in reform school a couple of times I was a wild kid, I broke ny pocr mother's heart" Ben tossed back another shoL The waitress caught ny eye

Another round?

I shock ny head slightly, “I was a tough guy. You think jail's nothing, those guards can't break me.” I leaned toward him I already knew.

And then suddenly it was there, in his eyes, aS cf his shame. His eyes filed with water. I waited fa the tears

b

drip down his cheeks, but they didn't. I wanted io touch him, to lay my hand on his arm. But I looked around st the guys we worked with every da/ aid I knew I couldn't. I leaned closer to Ben. He locked me in the eyes.

In silence, without words, his eyes told me what had happened to him in prison. I didn't look away. Instead, I let him see himself in ny own mirror, He saw his reflection in a woman’s eyes

‘I never told anyone,” Bai said, as though our conversation had been out loud.

In his own way he had done what I had never been able to do—reveal the humiliation. And I wanted to trust him, to tdl him everything. But I was afraid Ya I couldn't leave him alone inside himself. ‘You know why J like you si much, Ben?’ His eyes were eager as a child's for the answer, ‘I like you because you're as gentle as you are strong” Bai blushed and dripped his eyes “There's something about you, Ben, that's good and that I trust. And fm wondering: how did you turn out this way? How did you get from al your hurt to the man you are now? What changed for you? What decisions did you make?’

The great bear smiled shyly. This was the intimacy he'd wanted, tit attention he needed. He leaned closer. “When I got out cn parole, I went to work at a gas station. The mechanic there, Frank That gty changed my life.” Beds voice dropped lew “Frank cated about me He taught me to be a mechanic. Hb taught me about a bt of things. But there's one thing he told me I’ll never forget One day I was gonna run away. There was this guy who was always fucking with me at the garage and I couldn’t fight him cause I‘d go back to the joint if I did. t was making me crazy. I was all upset inside, you know?" I nodded.

“I wanted to kii that guy and then take cff. Frank knew. He pushed me up against the garage wall and he was yelling at me, trying to get through." Ben laughed. “You'd have to know what a quiet guy he was to appreciate him yelling at me like that. I tdd

him I had to prove I was a man.” He took a swig of beer.

I smiled at the butchness in his story.

“What happened?’

“[’If never forget what Frank tcid me. He said, You’re afready a man, yon don’t lave to prove that. ¥>u just have to prove what kind tf man you wart to be.’ ” My eyes filled with tears.

Ben’s voice was as intimate as his smile. “What about you, Jesse? What made you the way you are? What’s

your

life been about?”

In a world with any justice I would have poured out my life story to him. I woukj have given him back in kind the trust held shown to me Bit [ was afraid and so

I

betrayed him. “There’s

not

mud) to tefi,”

I

said.

Lfe blinked in disbelief. I waited him to let it ga but he wouldn’t. He was brave enough to bloody his head against my brick wall again.

“Jesse,"

he whispered, 'tdl me something about you.”

I

was frozen with feat; unable to collect my thoughts enough to invent a story that evm speared to reveal scrneihmg abou me. “There’s nothing to tell," I tcid him. I was dosed and protected He was left naked

The wanilh drained from his face and anger rose to replace it He was too gentle a man to lash oil at me Like a butch, he kept it inside.

I stood up ‘Td better be goii^,“ 1 said. He nodded and stared at his beer bottle. 1 let my

land

rest Hr a moment on his shoulder.

He

would not accept

the

comfort

cr

look at me I wanted to say,

Ben, I'm

so

sorry I hurt you. I only did i because I was scared. I didn

t knew

men cotid hurt the

way

I da Please lei me back inside.

Bit

of course, I didn’t Instead I said, “See you Monday.”

The loneliness became more and more unbearable. I ached to be touched. I feared I was disappearing and Fd cease to exist if someone didn’t touch me

One woman in particular turned my head every morning: Annie, the waitress at the coffee shop near my job When she brought me coffee, it seemed she didn’t notice me. But then she’d catch my eye and turn away from me, wrapping my attention around her like a shawl. She was as tough as a gangster, God, I liked Annie. She trotted every customer like a trick. She worked them for a tip and didn’t let them drop till they left it.

I

sat at the counter and wanted

Annie

relax withberccworker, Frances. The men in the restaurant seamed to think the women's attention only exited for them. If they had seen how intimate tie women were with each other, the men might have been jealous But they didn’t notice. I did.

Annie saw me at the counter. "Hey, sweetheart, what’s shaking this morning?"

I laughed.“How are you, Annie?’

’’Finer than a frog’s hair quartered, darlin’. Whatoha havin'?”

"Coffee and eggs ova

1

easy"

‘You got it,” she said over her shoulder as die swung away from me Her body demanded I pay attention

186

Frances and Annie shewed each othertheir kids’ school photos while they waited fu their orders from

the

grill.

“Can

[

see?”

I

asked Annie as she brought me my eggs.

Sie eyed

me

warily as she handed me the photo. “Don’t see why not.“

Four

nows

if

sweet

childrens’

feces looked back

a

me “Whichone?"

I

asked. Annie wiped ho- hands on her

apron

and pointed out her daughter.

“God,

she’s

great,"

I

told

her “She’s got your eyes—smart and angry

a

the sarre time.”

“Where do you see that?” Annie demanded as she snatched the photo from my hand. Sie stained

off.

A moment later

die

brought my coffee and slammed i down

hard

it sloshed over

the

rim df

the

cup.

Then

die lifted

i

up, wiped the counter aid spilled

it

again. “Next time you wan to read a book, go to the goddamn library.’’ She spin ai her heel. I put down a dp, paid the cashier, and left

The next

day I

brought her a single flower. "I’m sorry I gpt personal,"

I

told her

“Aw, well,

1

don’t mind

you

gettin’ personal darlin’.

Just

take

your

damn swee time about it, OK?’’

“Agreed,"

I

agreed.

“What kinda flower

is

this anyway?"

I

smiled, “A mum for a mum.”

She

frowned. "Oh, I get

i.”

AnnieS body

language

was very reserved with

me.

But as soon as Annie and

Francis

got together, die

loosened up

They whispered. Francis smelled the flower and put hei hand over her heart Annie smacked Francis on the

shoulder.

1 wanted to spend time with Annie when she wasn’t working, k was no secret now Annie brought me a white paper

bag.

’’What’s this?’’ I asked.

She shrugged. “Coffee and a

cheny Danish,"

I

was

confosed.

“I didn't ask for it”

“I didn’t ask for

no

flower either. It’s on the house,” shediot back. “It’s fresh Th( Danish

is

fresh."

I

smiled,

left a tip and paid the cashier ftr ny breakfest. Then

I

came back to the counter and

tried

to get Annie’s attention. She made me wait.

"Whatdya forget?’

she

asked.

‘1 warted to know if you.

.

.“

I

hesitated. It could be a big mistake to go out with someone who knew my coworkers. She could make real nobble for me tf she fount out; Td have

r»

quit my job. But

I

was deperately lonely.

“If rd what?’ she sounded suspicious.

“If you’d wart to go on with me sometime?”

Annie pit both her hands cn

her h

ps

and

looked

me

up and

down

several times, “Ask me again sometime.” Somehow 1 thought that was a good sign.

Our serious flirtation began the next morning, k was fun.

k

fdt good. It remiidec me

if

the old

days between femme and batches. But this was net between women.

A

STONE BITTHEUB IS7

hast

that’s

not

how

the

world around us saw it And, I reminded myself over

aid over

again,

that’s not

how Annie saw it.

The amazing part was that this

courtship dance could tale place

in public

and

CTttyone—cowrkers and strangers alike—enoouragedand approved. Meanwhile,

Anita

Bryant was thumping the Bible in a well-publicized

campaign

to overturn a

simple gay nghU ordinance.

1 wondered how human

affection could be judged so differently.

When 1 finally

got

tp

the nffve

to

ask

Annie ou again, die

wiped

her hands at her apron and

answered,

“Sure,

I

guess.

Why not?"

Friday night 1 knocked on her

door

It look

a long time for

her

to

answer. I

heard her

yelling

something.

I got

a

finny

feeling

in the pit

of

my stomach. Annie only opened the door partway “Uh

...

she

started.

1

could seea child

wrapped

around her legs.

“It’s

OK," I interrupted. She warted

to cancel.

I

tried

to conceal

my disappoint

ment

“Maybe

another

time."

“Wait, she opened the doer al the way

*1

mean

if you want

to come

in 1 could make

you some coffee

or

something.”

I did wart

to come in.

The three of

us

stood

awkwardly

in her living room. “My babysitter,

well it’s ny

sister’s kid actually, she got sick, so I have Kathy home

tonight and she’s

running a

lit

tle

fever."

I raised my hand

to

stop her.

“It’s

OK.

I

can

see

you've got your

hands full. Relax!"

Annie unwound

a notch “Sitdown.

Would you

lite something to eat?

I

could

make

us something.”

’’Aren’t

you sick

of serving food?’

She laughed.

“It’s

OK. I don’t mind.”

‘’Want me to sit in the kitchen

so

you

can function

in

one room?”

She

smiled and

nodded.

I set the small canvas

bag

I’d

brought on

the floor near the couch,

ou of sight.

Maybe bringing a

dido

had been

too optimistic.

Thai again,

being caught

without

one

could present

its

own

crisis.

1 tried to breathe past

my anxietyas

I followed Annie

and

Kathy hto the kitchen.

“Can

I

help?" I

offered.

She looked surprised, “Naw, that’s OK.”

Kathy clung

to Annie's leg

with

one

arm and

ciuiched a stuffed rabbit with the other

I smiled a Kathy. “Does

your

rabbit have

a fever, tod?”

Kathy looked at the rabbi and then at

me without answering.

“Later,” I told Kathy,

“if you

think

your

rabbit has

a fever,

I’ll

lake it’s tempera

ture. Is it a girl rabbit or a boy?” Krthy held the rabbit up in the air

as

though

I could detenrune its sex

“Ah,

it’s a

girl,” I surmised. Kathy

looked

up at her

mother.

“Goshew him your rabbit,”

Annie urged. Kathy

shock her head violently

and clung »

her

mother

for

protection.

‘‘You like macaroni

and cheese?”

Annie asked, I hate macaroni and

cheese

ins

“That would be great,” I answered.

Annie served

ip

three plates cf sliced ham, macaroni and cheese, can and white bread. The first plate had small portions with pictures tf the Flintstones still

visible

underneath. “Is that mine?” I asked Kathy. She shook her bead and squeezed her bunny tighter.

Annie set nr/ plate in front of me and sat down. Kathy held ip an empty glass. Annie jumped

ip

to fill t with milk. “Wint a beer?

1

' die asked me

while

the refrigerator door was open.

“Sure,” I said.

“Need a glass?” I shook m/ head. She smiled.

Annie brought two beer bottles to the table and sa back down. W; lifted our beers ina toast Krthy tried todo the same thing. Her glass tipped over, pouring milk al over the table.

Annie

immediately tried to mop the milk off

ny

plate with her napkin. I jumped

ip

and came back from the sink with a sponge. W? got most of it.

Annie looked tense. ‘Your meal’s all spoiled.”

“Naw,“

I said, “milk’s

good fcr you.”

Katty seemed ready to cry. She hugged her bumy tighter. I smied

a

her “Sometimes when I drop something I think everybody is gcnna be mad a me,” I Kid her. “Tm not mad rt you.” Kahy narrowed her eyes as she checked me out, just the way her mother did.

“Would it make you fed better if I spilled ny beer?” I asked her. Kathy s

mile

d and nodded emphatically.

“Don’t you dare," Annie warned me with a hidden smile.

The rest cf die dinner went much smoother. After dessert Kathy thrust her bunny at me “Take her temperature?” I asked. She nodded.

“This wabbit needs to go to bed soon," I told her. “I think she’s got a cold.

1

' Kathy weighed

tie

information and nodded “Does your wabbit need a bath first?

1

'

I

asked. Kathy shook her head frcm ride to side.

“Oh

yes

she does," Annie laughed and scooped up Kathy in her arms.

*1’11

clean up," I told Annie. “Take your time.” Annie eyed me suspiciously.

I was washing the last of the dishes when Annie came ip behind me. She grabbed a dishtowel cff the refrigerator door. I wathed the pots while she dried the dishes. It felt good Bu the longer Annie dned dishes, the angrier

she

seemed to become “What’s up?" I asked her.

She threw down the towel and glared at me. “I’m

not

an easy lay, you know. You guys know a woman with a kid’s been fucked before so you figure you can get whatever you want, right?*

I rinsed a sponge under the faucet and walked over to the kitchen table to wipe it off. “I got what I warted at dinner,” I told her.

Sie looked stunned. “What, macaroni and cheese in milk gravy?' Vfe both laughed.

“I just wanted to spoid some time with you when we’re both off -duty, you know.” “Why?” she measured me with those keen eyes again.

“1

like you I guess I really like tough cookies, and god knows, you are one.”

She shook her head. "I can’t figure you out.”

“So what?”

“So a man you can’t figure out is a dangerous man,” she told me She came closer. My body

turned

toward hers,

i was

happening.

“I’m not dangerous," I promised. “I’m complicated, but I’m not dangerous"

"Whalchyalookin fordarlin’?” Annie ran her fingers lightly through my hair. Oh, god, it felt so good.

1 sighed deeply. “I’ve been hurt. I’m not looking to get married, I'm not looking to disrespect anyone I guess I just need some comfort”

“That's it?’’ die probed. ‘Like a onenighter?”

I shrugged ny shoulders. “I don’t know,” I told her honestly,

Annie weighed my words carefully tn the scales erf her own need She turned away from me, but

I

knew after a moment it was alright to touch her I kissed the closest cheek. My Ips brushed her ear and traveled down her neck.

I

could hear her breathing change. She turned

and

looked at me for a long moment befrre offering me her mouth. We kissed deeply, but stil carefully. Slowly we began to move against each other. I could fed how she offered her body D a manas a test.

1

was gentle. I was stow. Gradually her body became aware that

ny

tempo was slightly behind hers. Her face flushed with heat 9te pressed her pelvis against mine and looked

<t

me quizzically Wfc both knew 1 didn’t have a hard-on.

“Mommy!” Kahy caled from upstairs Annie looked apologetic. I nodded toward the sound of Kathy’s voice. Annie was gone for a few minutes. She came back into the kitchen and filed a plastic Cinderella glass with water. “I’ll be rigH back," the said hoarsely.

I remembered the bag Fd left in theotoer room. Now indefinitely the right time to get it. 1 grabbed the bag and raced hto the bathroom. I locked the door aid tock off try pants and BVD'S.

The harness and rubber cock ft nicely in my briefs. 1 pulled my pants back m and checked my wallet for a condom. I heard Annie call my name from the kitchen. I flushed the toilet, ran the cp water for a moment, and came out to meet her 1 was out of breath.

“What were you doing in there, running?” she laughed.

It would take time to get back the feeling.

I

ran my fingers through her hair.

She dosed her eyes and parted her ips. The phone rang We both laughed. ’’Forget tt,” she said,

k

kept ringing. I puked her close to me Sie pressed her pelvis against mine. This time she smiled.

She pulled back and searched my ftoe with her eyes. I leaned against the sink and waited for her tocoine back to tne. Then she tock my hand and ted me to her bedroom.

Annie was afraid. I knew that was true What she couldn’t know was that I was

190

»o. I wanted so much to be in her arms that I was willing io risk exposure and humiliation.

She turned on the light in her bedroom as we walked in. A Harley-Davidson gas tank hung from the ceiling. “You like bikes?” she asked me. I nodded. I walked

over to the light switch and snapped it off She Sood awkwardly near her bed. I came ip behind her and rested try hands cn her shoulders. I lifted her hair with one hand and nipped the nape cf ha neck with my lips. I pressed my pelvis gently against her ass as I pulled her shoulders back so that try moith could lake more cf her neck.

Annie turned and gently pulled me down on the bed She trembled. “Are you afraid?” I asked.

“Fuck you,” she answered with a twisted smile.

“You've been hurt before” I said to myself out loud.

“What woman hasn't?” die snapped.

I rolled over on my back and pulled her against my body. “I'd really like & make you fid good;’

I whispered. “If you’d trust me enough to show me what you want" “What's your hip, mister?” she snorted. ‘You wart to fuck or not?” ‘We can if you wart to," 1 said ”Or we can do other things. It’s up to you.” Annie did a double take “Whatdya mean it's ip to me?”

"It’s yoir body What do you want? I mean,

you

can foow me how you really wart to be touched. O you can act excited and hope 1 come—not too quick, but don't take too long—right?”

Annie shook her head and sa bolt upright “You're scaring me,” foe said

“Because I wart you to really be there when I touch you?”

She nodded, “Yeah, exactly.” I lay quietly.

“I don't know if I can,” foe said.

I sat ip and lock her in ny arms "Try,” I whispered and pulled her down cn fcp cf me. I rolled Annie over cn her back as I kissed her, deep and long. I unbuttoned her blouse with slow steady fingers and teased her breasts fa a long time before I came near them with my fingertips. Then I brushed them, lightly, and felt her body shudder. I took each nipple in my moith and played with it ever so gently. Somehow she told me with her bod/ where to touch, how to touch, when to touch As I rubbed the front of her jeans I could feel her passion building, bit she deserved the luxury cf waning it real bad.

Then she said something to me I knew took a lot of courage. “I've always waned to come before I fuck.” She turned her head away h shame

I kissed the part cf her throat she left exposed. “Anything you want,” I told her. She turned her head to look at me. She had tears in her eyes “Anything?” foe asked Together we began to undress her—my need, her urgency. I pulled off my

chinos and ny dress shirt. I was wearing only a white T-shit and BVD'S.

My hands ran ip her thighs and down the inside crevices. I could fid her heat and wetness through her underwear. I began to work my body down her, ising my lips aid

tongue

t>

create new

erogenous

zones

al

over her rib cage and

stomach.

My

fingers lock held of

the elastic on her underwear and began to

side

it down her thighs as her hands

grabbed my ears

firmly and sopped

me

I looked at her

with a question cn

my

face. “I’m just gettin’ over try

period,”

she said.

I

shrugged.

“So?"

Emotions

played across Annie’s face, disbelief, anger, relief, pleasure. Pleasure was the unmistakable emotion still

cn her face as

I began

to cease

her

thighs

with

my

mouth. She $ve in to her own

desire

and, in doing

so,

reached her

otpsm

with

an

almost relaxed trust.

I held her

close to me

as her

breathing slowed.

She ran her Fingers through

my

hair, stroked my back. Herlouch fidi

so

good that tears welled up

in

my

eyes

and spilled down my

cheeks.

“What’s wrong, dartin’?” she asked with concern.

I

shock my head arri buried ny

face in her shoulder For the

moment her arms

protected

me

from

my own life.

My motih was

near

her nipple. I felt Annie’s breath quicken.

She

tugged

at

ny T-shirt.

"Take

it off,” she insisted. I hesitated,

k was

dark h the room. I was on top

of

her,

so she

couldn’t

see

the two Sues

across

rty

chest

that

revealed it had been

reshaped.

I took

off

my

T-shirt. Annie ran her nails across

my shoulders, down

my

back. I shivered with pleasure.

Her

nails pressed deeps into my flesh as she moved her pelvis against

mine

She was relaxed

with me,

until the moment I was abwe

her,

ready

to en

ter her I stroked her thighs until

she

looked up at me.

“It’s for you, or not at all,”

I

tdd her.

‘1

want

you so bad,” die whispered hoarsely. We

both moaned softly

as she said that.

1

p< died my dido car ef iily

out

of my briefs ri the dark, afraid

of

being

discov

ered.

What

made me think this could woik?

I

rolled a condom orto my dildo. ‘1 don’t think

I

tan have ary

more

kids,” she

told me.

“I don’t want

to

take

any chances,

and

it’s

up to

me, after

al,”

I

said

“Well, ain’t that

a

switch,” die laughed.

I

pushed the head of

my

cock

gently

inside of

her.

She tensed her body; I waited

Then Annie relaxed and her hps began

to move,

pulling me inD her When I was

deep

inside of her

I

lay still

on

top of her. Otr bodies relaxed, fitting intoeach other.

I

didn’t move until die did.

I

stroked her just a little slower than

hff

motion demanded;

her body demanded more.

I

felt her

orgasm building long before she came. As she

began

to come

her hands

dawed

a

ny

back

Once die pulled ny hair

so

hard

I

ctied out with her. As her

or

gasm began to ebb I followed it

gently—circles in

the broken surface

of

a pool

of

water.

I

searched with her for the next orgasm before

the

last one liad

subsided. Together

we found

it, and later a

smaller one

“Oh, Jesse.” It sounded so pretry the way foe sighed my name Her fingertips slid down try back like warm raindrops.

[ was still rock hard inside

cf

her. We both resized « at once. ‘What’s the mater, darlin’, you stuck?"

‘T can’t come with a rubber on,” I

said.

“Let me take it off and I’ll pull on just before I

come;

I promise.”

She tuned her head away “I’ve heard that

ate

before."

“I promise. Trust me”

“Lord have mercy, those are the four most dangerous wordsout of a man s mouth. OK, sweetheart, you’re lucky I don’t think I can get pregnant again."

It’s true I fated an ejaculation, but not my pleasure. Annie’s body felt so good. She kissed me deep and slow, moved fa me, gave me everything a woman can gyve to a lover, and Iwas excited. At the moment when it became unbearable for me to go on ary longer I pulled out gently, ground my pelvis against the sheets, and cried out.

I lay See down on the bed with my head resting ai her belly. Her

hards played

with my hair. Her fingertips ran across my shoulders,

arousing

the surface ofmy

skin.

I

wished I could just stay in chat moment in time

We lay togetherwithout speaking fora while. “I haveto gotothe bathroom,” I said.

“Me

too,“ she laughed.

“Me first.” Still face down I tucked rry dildo ino my briefs. 1 turned away fran her, slipped at my

T-shirt,

and headed to the bathroom it

the

darkness. I locked the door, pulled my bag out from behind the tub, and replaced

my

dildo with a sock in my briefs I looked in the mirror as I splashed cold water on my face. Still me looking back atme.

There was a knock a foe bathroom door I unlocked it. Annie came into my arms and kissed me deeply. She put her hand gently between my thighs and squeezed the sock. “I got a lot of pleasure out of this tonight,"

foe said.

“It was like magic." My body tensed, and she withdrew her hand.

1 stroked her hair. “All magic is illusion," I admitted.

The light was on when I returned to the bedroom. I clicked it off. Anniecame back and sat down at the edge of the bed. “Hungry?" foe asked me.

"Mtnm,” 1 pulled her back at top of me and kissed her until I realized I was making promises I couldn’t keep. “I’m tired," I said, “bit I want to hold you."

Annie came into my arms and nestled against

my

shoulder. "You are cne strange man.”

“Whatdya mean?’

“First ctf all, I never met a guywbowasn’t afraid of a little bitofwoman’sbtood. But you know what's ths werdest about you?'

Every muscle in rry body get hard, except the sock. Annie laughed. “Relax, baby. I’m not complaining. What real y blew me away

is

that you knew 1 had

to

take care of my kid and you didn’t demand my attention till foe went to bed. That, and the

feet

that

even my ex-husband never did the dishes, and he’s the one that dirtied most of them."

Annie shook herhead.**¥>udon’t fuck likesomeotherguys, either.”

1

rolled over on my stomach protectively. She massaged my shoulders. *1 mean, you take your time, you know

It’s like

you git a brain

h

your dick instead of a dick

for

a brain, you know?” We both laughed and rolled around the bed together.

1

fiil asleep safe in her arms.

The first voice

I

awoke to was Kathy’s. “Can I

am

on the cartoons?”

Annie mumbled,

*^o ahead,” Shortly afterward she kissed me on the ear and got

ip

to make breakfest. While Annie cooked pancakes, Kathy

sa

on try lap and told

me

everything she could think of about the Road Runner and Wty Coyote. Annie tried to hide her pleasure at watching us together. “She's usually scared of men,” Annie said when Kathy left the room. ’’You’re real good with her,**

I

noticed Annie’s body language as she cooked. "Something cn your

mind?”

I asked.

bhe timed and wiped her hatids on her apron. ‘I know this is crazy to ask you.” “Go ahead,”

I

said.

“Well, my sister’s

getting married tomorrow, and, well, it’s crazy,

I

mean its too short notice and you didn't commit to nothing last night—”

“Yeah sure,”

1

said.

Annie sat down in a kitchen chair next to mme. ‘'You really don’t mind?”

"I really don’t

mind, as

long as you understand.”

She pressed her fingertps against

try

lips. “My heart asks for mere sometimes,” she said, “but my head wants the same thing you do.” 1 nodded.

Annie got up and waited tothestrwe. “There’s one catch,*

I

added. Shedidn'trum around, bu her entire body clenched like a fist. “What?” die said over her shoulder.

“We have to go on my Harley.

It'S the only

wheels I got."

Annie tock off her apron, threw it in the sink and came over and

sa

in my lap. She kissed my mouth so sweetly “Nine o’clock,” she said, “not a minute later."

I

gat near her place at 8:30actually.

I

turned off the engine ablockaway and relied it in front of her house so I wouldn’t wale the whole neighborhood. I sat on her porch, smoking acigarette, until I heard her dooropen and Annie said, ‘You comiif in or not?*

She looked me

tp

and down appreciatively. “You look real handsome, dari in*.’’ My blush visibly delighted het *1 gotta finish gettirf dressed.

I

madecoffee,” shecalled out

from

her bedroom.

“I’ll get it.”

I

yelled back, “you wart some?’

She came

to

die doer of her bedroom, holding the back of her dress together. “Yeah.” She smiled. “Help tnezipmy

dress

up first.*’ She looked hack at me over her shoulder as I did. I kissed the side of her face. Her hair was swept up and held in place with bobby pins. I kissed the base of her neck. ‘You keep that up and Ill never get ready dartin',”

she

pulled away from me

I

made two cups of coffee and brought them to her bedroom door. The door was

1*4

ajar, but I knocked on the doorframe ‘Your coffee's out here.”

What die came oit moments later I sucked in ny breath and let it oit

slowly Sic smoothed her dress. “How do I look?’

I sighed.

“Like I died and

went

to heaven." She made a ffee and lifted he- oms to wrap them around ny neck,

bit

I pulled back and handed her an orchid corsage I bought the night before.

She blinked back tears. Then she sounded angry. “Whatdya go aid do that for?’ i she scolded. I smiled a the powerful woman who stood before me Her fece softened and she smiled back.

“Where’s Kathy?” I adced her.

She scowled, “With Frances, from the restaurant My ex-husband

migh

t be skulking around the wedding.

11

I didn’t understand,

bit I

let it drop

The wedding was a formal church affair I’d never been to a wedding before Everyone in the audience looked so teary-eyed and melted by the ceremony. Annie’s sister honestly had to promise to obey this guy br the rest cf her life befcre the priest wouH proclaim the two married. I thought it was kind of feudal.

The reception was held outdoors. There were tables and chairs set up all ova: the lawn. Drinks and food were

served under a huge striped tent

Annie introduced me to all her people who’d traveled

ip to

Buffalo

fx

the wedding. She stayed on ny arm the whole time. I md Cousin Wilma. She flashed an evil smile “How wonderful it was of you to agree to cane with Anne today? Annie squeezed ny arm like a tourniquet.

“It’s ny pleasure,” I put rry hand on Annie's hand, which was cutting off the circulation in my arm. Without taking ny eyes off Annie’s I told Wilma, “It isn’t everyday that a woman as strong and beautiful as Annie will give me the time

cf day”

WQma turned on her heel, and Annie chuckled into ny shoulder.

“Get us a bottle of champagne ” she said-

I did. “How many glasses, sir?’ the bartender adced me.

“One.“ I picked

ip

a small bottle of dub soda. “Can I have this?

1

The bartender nodded.

’’What’s that for?’ Annie wanted to know.

“Hell, somebody’s gpt to drive us home? She kissed me so tenderly right that and there under the tent that not a man or a woman within eyesight didn’t stare wistfully.

Anrne and I found a shady place under a tree where wecould watch ail

the

goings- on She kicked off her shoes. I put rry suit jacket down fcr her to

sit

on Annie shook her head. “Your mcmma sure taught ha little bey some manners.”

She gave me the lowdown on all her folks: who was a

closet drunk, who bea or cheated on their wife and who w® giving it to the milkman.

“That fog” she said contemptuously. I was stunned a the hatred in her eyes She was glaring

A

a man in hs early fifties. His arm was around the shoulder of one of the many aunts who reamed this reception. “Who let that queer in here?

1

Annie

hissed.

SIM BUTCH SUES BS

“Is be realty gay?’

I

adted her.

'You bet Probably fuckin’

al the

children h the family-’'

“Jeez, Annie." My Hood ran cold. “How can you hate somebody just because of •ho they fore

7

’

9te looked at me

with

shock. ‘You like faggas?”

I

shrugged. "Vfe aren't all the same, Anne. So what?”

Sie shook her head and spa cn the ground, i wouldn't let a faggot near my daughter”

I

thought before

I

spoke. “Annie, if anybody was gonna fuck with Kathy it would probably be a straight guy. not a gay man."

‘Yeah?* she yelled. Annie stood ip and grpped the

champagne bottle tightly

at ' her side. “Well, I ain’t lettin’ no fanny men around my daughter. I left ny own husband cause I caught him molesting Kathy. I tried to kil the man with my bare hands ' No fucking faj^ are comng near my girl, you understand?’

I

did understand thd this conversation could go no farther. Annie kicked up some dirt and grass with her punps and thm sat down again. “Aw, shit, whai’re we wasting our time talkin' about queers

fu

anyway?"

I

couldn't wiai till we left the reception. Annie rode with her arms around my neck and her face against my back By (he time we got to her home both her shoes were gone and the exhaust pipe had burned a hole in the hem of her dress. “Pay it no mind,” Annie said. She was drunk

When we got to

the

perch shethrew ha- armsaround me ‘You comiii in, dartin'?"

“Naw," I said.

“I

gotta ga ready for work in the morning.”

She

looked

down al her Stocking feet and back up to my face.

‘1

ain’t gonna see you again, am I?* she asked.

I looked down a ny fooes. “I don’t thiik so."

She nodded.

“Why

not?

k hurt

my heart the way she asked it.

“I’m afraid rd fall ii bre with you," I said.

It

was parity true, ba it sure didn’t tell the whole story It’s one thing for the magician

io

reveal

the

art of illusion. It’s another

thing

ro

tell

a straight woman thd the man she slept with is a worr-an. That’s not what Annie agreed to get into. Sooner or later if was going to How q>. And after this afternoon.

I tad even

more reason to far the explosion.

“Whaf$ wrong with falling in love? What’s the matter with you guys, anyway?” she slurred.

“I’ve been hurt, Annie I need time."

“Shit,

I

thought you were different Ytti ain’t any different from any other guy who stands up to pee."

“Well,

1

’

I

shrugged, “maybe just a little different."

“%u tell that woman who hun you I’m gonna come after her and rip her to shreds. She spoiled

it for the rest of us.’

Annie’s smile faded. “Ain’t no use us standing on hoe talkin’, is it? Vru best be goin’.”

L*S

I nodded. V£ looked at each other fu a long moment. I took the keys from her hand and unlocked ths front door. I kissed her lightly on the mouth.

“Hey, thanks for what ycu said K> Wilma back there."

“I meant every wcrd tf it"

She looked me straight in the eye “Thanks for everything, dartin'." I smiled and turned ti go. She stood on the porch and watched me kick-start try bike. ‘Hey,” die yelled over the roar if the engine.

“What?" I cupped my hand near ny ear to hear.

“The wabbit."

“What?”

“Kathy’s wabbit."

I nodded and strained to hear what she was repeating.

“Kathy’s wabbit isn’t a girl, it’s a boy!"

CHAPTER

t’dt light-headed and dizzy. My stomach clenched. I was about toheave my guts

up. The worst part of it was I knew I couldn’t leave the injection-mold machine

I was working on. If

t

switched it off, the plastic wodd harden throughout the

machine. The machines ran continuously—the repetitive sounds were the music

we worked c in the molding department.

I looked around

for

the foreman, but I didn’t see him on the shop floor. I tried to concentrate on my work I checked the barrel filled with plastic pellets on the skid n my left and pushed the suction hose

n

a little deeper. Puffs of steam shot from the machine as it cooked the pellets and popped out little plastic parts, ft stunk as bad as a burning Hither dish drain.

Mind over matter. I willed myself mt to think about the stench, my stomach, and the hot, stagnant air in the factory Mailer wen out. I vomited all C*er the side of the machine and the greasy concrete floor.

Bolt ran tome Hewas lead man on the setup crew He put his hand on my shoulder while I threw

tp

ny

breakfast. “It’s OK, youTl be OK,” he reassured. I was more embarrassed than anything. I wped my mouth with the back of ray hand. Bolt pulled an oily rag out of the back pocket cf his blue work chinos and handed it to me. “You’re

197

B8

the third guy at this shift to puke."

"How ha

you think k is in here today Bolt?"

"Hundred

and

ten degrees.”

]

whistled.

"That's probably right on

the nose.

How

do you

do

that?’

Bolt laughed. ‘The thermometer

on

the wail

in assembly,

Yxi

alright?"

“Yeah," I smiled sheepishly.

Throwing up had only

made the smell worse.

Bolt paled my shoulder. “No shame it puking.

I

doit

myself about

every Satur

day night. Ill

send one cf

the guys from maintenance ewer

» clean

this up."

“Hey,

Bolt, what are

these parts we’re

making?"

Bolt shrugged. "Something for computers."

1

shock my head, "h's weird to spend half my waking day making something and

I

don’t even know what

the hel i

is"

Bolt lallghed.

"Be

glad it

has something to

do with computers. That

means well probably both have a job down the

line? He

started t> walk away and that hesitated. Bolt turned around and pu his hand cn my shoulder. "Listen,” he said, "if you're interested,

there

may be a job

openjig up soon in

shipping

and

receiving

At

least you

can breathe

ii

there.

How

long

you been

working

here?*’

I

thought

about

it ‘Almost a year But the first three months

I

was a

temp, 1

don’t know if tha counts."

Bok nodded. "I

get around the plant. I’D keep my ear to the ground bi you"

He

slapped me

on the

shoulder

and walked

away

A few minutes later Timmy came over to clean ip my vomit. Jimmy

was

Mohawk. All the other guys on the maintenance and set-up gangs were white.

"Can I help you clean it up?’

1

asked

him.

"Il is my mess, after all” ’ Jimmy shook

his

head.

“Just

a

job?

“Does

Bolt let

you

work fixing the machines much, or

mostly clean

up?"

Jimmy eyed me suspiciously, then he shrugged. “Bolt’s not a bad guy He tries to throw some decent work my way?

The

lllnch

whistle Hew.

T better not eat lunch," I told

Timmy

"im

sue

you got

enough work

to do

this

afternoon."

He

laughed. “The air in here doesn't move You should get outside and breathe"

I

punched out for lunch and started »

walk

to the shipping and receiving

aid

of the

plant.

The factory was

the

size of a large supermarket.

E didn

t know

the

guys

on this end; Id

nevereven

been back

here,

k was another world, and

besides,

I was afraid

to leave the safety of working alone on a machine. When

I

got to shipping

and

receiving all the guys had already gene to lunch.

I waked

out on the open loading dock. The temperature was

thirty degrees

cooler.

The

summer air smelled

fresh.

I

wanted to stay

a this plant. Noone knew me

out

here ii Torawimda on

the

outskirts cf Buffalo. Bui working that machine

was making

me

sick.

Maybe

k was worth taking a ruk

and

bidding for this job

Scotty was at least thirty years ny

senior,

but I could never have gottai that last bcK hoisted

up

and into place ii the truck’s trailer without

him.

My

arms

felt like jelly after loading this one-

Scotty

wasn’t even

winded-

“So how do

ycu

like working h shipping and receiving, young fella?” Scotty

asked me

“Can I

breathe

first?”

“Sure.

You! get the rhythm of this job down Y»u work real hard, then

you

take it

easy

Its almost lunchtime. Come on, let’s go wadi tp.”

1 took a deep breath as we walked into the men’s rocm together. It looked just like the one on the other end of the plant. There was a huge

concrete circular

sink in the center of the room.

Scotty and

I

each slapped the

powdered soap dispenser in the middie of the sink and stepped on the foot pedals that

sent

sprays of water our way.

“%u got

a

locker yet?”

Scotty

asked me. 1 shook my head. ‘'C’mon,”

he

said, “fol

low

me.’’

Scotty silenced the barter in the

locker room.

“Some

of you

guys met

Jesse

this morning. He just got transferred from operator.”

Except

for

Scotty and Water, most

of

the guys were in their late twenties or early thirties. Whiter shook

my

hand. “Hey, son. ¥>u

worked here long?’

I shook my head. ‘A year.”

He laughed. "Where’d

you

work before?’

1 shrugged. “Around." Whiter and

Scotty

glanced a each other.

I

was relieved when another

one

of the guys interrupted us, Tm Ernie. This

here’s try

sidekick, Skids.

1

used to bean operator 1 quit when 1 started coughing up blood.”

9uds threw a towel at him. “You coughed ip blood because you smoke, asshole.” Ernie grabbed Skids in

a

headlock and ran his knuckles back and forth

across Skids’

scalp.

A

young

man with

a

ponytail

shook

my hand. ‘Tm Pat”

Ernie laughed

“You

haven’t met Patty

yet?”

Pat made

a face

1

Ernie. “Shut up I'll tell you before they do: I was

a

conscientious objector.

If

you

got

a problem with that, keep

it

to

yourself ”

Skids thrust his chest out. ’1

was

m Nam. Hey, Jesse. Did

you (pt

drafted

or

did

you

join up?”

Al the blood rushed to my head I wished

1

was back in the mo!,dqg department

where the

noise level protected

me

from idle questions. ’1 didn’t

gp”

1 mumbled.

Ernie groaned.

“Another

one. What’d

you

do. tell them

a

fairy tak?”

1

thought hard. “I was exempt Medical."

Walter interrupted.

"Leave

the kid alone. Y»u

gat

a locker? Here, tse this one.”

“Hey,” Ernie said

‘Tfou

need to

spec

up that foxier a little." I knew vdiai

he

meant. All the other

guys

had

pin-up posters

on their locker doors.

“Get

yourself a calendar fran the restaurant on the comer. We all

go

there together

on

payday. Miss August will cook yotr balls.

Hey,

Waiter,

you

better

get one,

too,"

200

Walter shook his

head

slowly.

“Some guys need

pictures, sane

guys get the

real

thing. Right, Jesse?”

I

smiled. “I brought my pin up over from my old ocker." Ernie handed me two

bandaids from

the

first-aid kit

on the

wall. 1 used

them

o

tape ip

a

color magazine ad

rf my

otd Norton.

Pa

whistled. “I’d rather ride Jesse's that yours,

Ernie."

The

lunch

whistle bfcw.

I

looked around

for

Scotty but he was gone. “Hey, Wilter where’s Scotty?”

Waiter shrugged and pantomimed lifting

a

bottle

to his lips.

“He's

having a

rough

go of it.

His

wife’s dying of cancer. Hedon't stick around when

the

guys

start talking

about pussy.”

By the and

of

the sumrre'’

"as cc

n

ide^l

re

-oi t’

giys.

I

actually locked ftiwaid

to

coming to work most mornings

bftausrit WriThy only

human contact.

Friday at lunchtime

we

were headed

to the

Italian restaurant

on the comer when Bolt

lopped me.

"You knew somebody named Frankie?”

I felt the blood rush

ip into try face. “What’s

he

look like?’

Bolt diook

his

head. “It's not a

he.

It’s a bulldagger. She used to

work with you at

a bindery—said you two

woe

on strike together. She told me you did a lot of

work with

the union."

Frankie

told Bolt about me.

She

must have I

wondered

ifl

should

quit

now.

Just walk

out on the dock, hop

down

onto the driveway,

and

keep on walking to

my

bike

“Where

did

you meet Frankie?" I asked Bolt.

“She

was

on second shift. Starting Monday she's moving onto day side She’s an

operator. She

sad you’re

a good guy.“

I

blinked in disbelief. “She said that?’

1

Bolt nodded. ‘She said you’re

a

good union man."

I

laughed

in

relief.

"How did she know

I

worked

here?"

"She

saw you leav ng the parking tot She a friend of yours?’’ Bolt adred me

“Naw,”

I

distanced myself.

"Just

somebody I used

to work

with."

My own dis-

loytiky sickened me.

Boh headed for the

dock.

‘You

coming

to

lunch?’'

I

shook my head.

‘Til be

along,

ga ahead." It was a

relief

to be

alone

I wandered

into tfie warehouse and sat down on a stack of skids to

think

about Bolt’s bombshell.

Frankie was

coming ono the day shift. It scared me to realize she

migh

have

exposed me But

apparently

she didn't.

Frankie

was sharp. She must

have

figured out

the score right aw<ty

A feeiing cf excitement flooded

me

Wrking

with

another

butch! Maybe

we

conic hang

out sometimes. Maybe die knew where some of the otd crowd was Maybe she could

introduce

me to a femme.

“Hey, young

fella,"

Scotty interrupted

try

thoughts.

He was

sitting

on

the

floor,

ieaniig ip against the skids Scotty

utscrewed a bottle of Jack

Daniels and offered it to

me.

“Thanks," I said, taking a

swig,

Scotty tipped the bottle to bus lips and swallowed three times. We sat

in

silence,

‘You married?"

he

asked me

1

shook my head.

He

dropped his head

to his chest, “My wife’s real sick.” He rubbed his eyes with his hands. His face brightened,

“Did

1

ever

show

you a

picture of my

wife?’’

I

shook my head.

Hcpulledoul a leather wallet,

thin and snooth from

wear

“Here she

is. That's

my

girl.”

I

laughed and whistled,

“That’s you?’

He

smiled,

“Yep, Y>u think

1 was bom this age?

I

was once

a

young fella just like you.

Had

my whole

kfe

ahead cf me”

We both laughed. But when

1

looked

a him again, his

eyes

were fdied with tears. His voice

sounded hoarse

‘I wish

J

could go before die does,

1 know that sounds terrible.

1

mean,

who would take

care of her, you know? But sometimes 1 don’t think

I

can stand

letting

go cf

her when the

time

comes."

His

head dropped down again, 1 reached

out

and by

ny hand gently on

his back, ready

to remove

it

quickly

if my touch offended him. it

didn’t.

"You’re young,”

Scotty said, abruptly- “Don’t get stuck in a job like this."

1 shrugged. “This job seems pretty good to me,”

Scotty diook his head. ‘1 mean

a

real

joh

I had twoity years in

the Chevy plant. I got

ny UAW card,

you

want

to see it?

Twenty years of my life

in that plant and they

laid me

off.

Can

you

believe it?"

“Chevy?

Did

you

work

with Bolt?”

Scotty nodded. “Yeah. But

he

wasn’t

there as

long

as

I

was.

He

worked at

Harri

son

for

a

while. Got laid off there, too.”

Bolt

interested me.

“Was he in the same union?”

“Al

is old-timers are

UAW he

said.

“I’ll be a union man cn the day

they lower

my cadcet into

the

ground,

Y>u

gotta have a union, young fella

If

you don’t

have

a union, you better

fight

to get one.”

I laughed,

“Not loo

likely

well

get one here ary

time soon”

Scotty

shrugged, “Well,

you never

can

tell

There’s been talk.

We

need

a union

here I’m

too old b do

it.

Yxi young ones, you’re gonna have to do

it."

I

sighed. “I

wish

we

had

a union,

too But

I

jist want to keep my

job Scotty

By the way, what do you think about Bolt? He

seems like a good

guy"

Scotty wagged

his finger near my

nose. “Watch

out fcr

Bolt He’s

not

really

one of

us anymore. He’s part

gang

foreman, pal

set up man.

Mark

my words: When push comes to diove

he

won’t know

which

side he’s on.

Don’t trust

him.”

His warning

disappointed

me

because I

iked

Bolt. But lucky for

me

I didn’t

really

trust anyone

2W

J felt a hand on my shoulder as 1 punched out Monday afternoon

.

“Hey,” Frankie spun me around.

"Hey, Frankie. Listen, we got to talk."

She put her index finger to her lips.

"It’s

OK,

I

knew?’

I

followed her out to the parking lot "I

m realty glad to see you and everything Frankie. It's jjst Fm scared. Fve got a good thing going here. And the newsp^ers are talking about another recession.’’

Frankie slopped walking. ‘1 understand, Jess. Don't you think

I gpt it?“

“How did you survive ths long?”

1

asked her

She shrugged.

"I'm

living out here in Tonawanda wih my parents

nil

I can save up for my own

place.

It’s not too bad. I stay at my girlfriend’s on the weekend."

1

whistled. ’You got a girlf riend? Lucky

you’’

Frankie pursed her

lips.

A car horn blared.

"You knew my girlfriend,

Jess. Me and Johnny been together

a

yeaif she smiled. “Jost ike the song."

I stopped dead in ray cracks. "Who's Johnny?”

Frankie

sighed. ‘"fouknew Johnny.

Vfevorked together before the strike. Vifeall played softball together,”

I

shock nr

head

”The only Johnny I remember was bitch and

I know you don't mean her" [ laughed.

Frankie widened her stance ‘Yeah, that’s exactly who 1 mean. She's waiting fa

me in our car

over

there.”

“Hey, Jess!" 1 heard Johnny yell from the car “C’mere."

"You

must be kidd

ing

," I whispered to Rankie.

She pa her

hands on

her bps. "She’s my fewer,

Jess.

Do I

lock

like Fm kidring?”

My mouth hung open. I shook my head from ade to side. “Honest. Frankie,

1

just

don’t

get

it

I don’t

understand."

Frankie smoldered.

“You dorit

have to understand it, Jess. But you gotta accept it. you can’t, then just keep walking."

Thar’s exactly what I did. I

couldn’l deal wih it, so

I just walked

away.

■

It

wasn’t

hard » amid Frankie after that—we worked at opposite ends of the plant filing

back in the

afternoons. I didrit want to run into eitherofthem a the time clock

The more I

thought about the two of them being lovers,

the more it upset mt I couldn't

stop

thinking about them kissing each other

k

was like two guys Well, two gay guys would be

alright.

Bu

twobutdies?

Hew

could they be attracted

to

each other? Who was the femme in bed?

1

fbtnd mysetf obsessing about Jrankie and Johnny I was

so

deep in thought ai Wednesday morning tha I didn’t notice Scotty and I were the

only guys in the

department. Scotty motioned toward the merfs room. “Tfau better go in there,” he said.

“What?" He just nodded toward the

men’s

room.

I

didn’t know what to

expect when

I opened the door The men’s roan was filled with guys—some from my department, some

I

didn’t recognize Bolt spoke first.

“Wve

been waiting for you,'’ he said.

My fists clenched a my sides. Frankie crust have toH the guys about me out of spite. I should have known better than to trust her. Whatever misunderstanding we had should havebeen between us Fddeal with her later. Right new I was badly outnumbered.

Bolt reached out his hand and moved toward me

I

backed

ip

against the wall My temples pounded with blood. Bolt grabbed me by the shoulder;

1

pushed his hand off

I

was cornered. “Leave me alone;

1

’

1

growled.

WakeT

moved

toward me. “Take

it easy .son. We just

want

to talk to you."

‘Yeah? About what?” Bolt and Walter looted at each other and backed away from me

‘‘Abou the union,” Water said. I shook my head in confusion. “Ernie’s wfe works

a a factory that the textile workers’ union organized. Sheput us in contact with a really

gxxl guy who

helped them. We need to krow where

you stand.”

I

had trouble regaining my composure. “You mean ths is an organizing drive?

11

Bolt shrugged.

11

VW been talkirg ip till new We needto get a union oiganizerout here and call a general interest meeting. This shit can’t go on much longer without blowing

up’’

This job didn’t seem that bad to me. "What land of grievances?" I asked.

“Like we make shit wages and they make us work overtime practically every week

end,”

Ernie

said.

1 nodded. ’Yeah, bu then we get other days off."

Skids answered me. “Sure, becaise they don’t want to pay us time and a half.’’

Water nodded. *Two people can be working the same machine and get paid different. It’s al based on whether you suck up D the foremen.

11

“The femes are terrible,

11

Ernie

added. “None of us know what we’re breathing.

And it’s so fucking hot you can hanky breathe some days”

Bolt touched my arm.

1

jumped back; he looked hurt. “There’s big safety problems here, too

Wb

see a lot of stiff h maintenance and set-up that you don’t see People have accidents—fingers caught in molds, stuff like that The company tries to intimidate them out of fifog

fix

compensation. We write

ip

equipment problems, and management just files than h the wastepaper basket."

1

listened and nodded. Bolt shrugged. "So we gotta know, Jesse. Where do you stand?’

I

sighed. This was a good job for me I wished it would stay that way But every thing was always changing. “Look,"

I

tdd the guys “You wart to tring a union in here, that’s fne with me.'*

Bohmored doser lo me. “That’s not good enough. VVt need you on he organiz

ing committee"

I

didn’t want to make waves. Why couldn’t I just sign a union card like everybody else and do my job? “I don’t want to get iiwolveid,” 1 idd him.

“Listen,” he said as he leaned toward me

I

backed upa bit “I’m sticking my neck

ou on

this thing md

I

don’t even know if

I’ll

be

eligible

for the

union

because the

la

bor board

might consider me

a gmg

boss;"

"Ybu

cat

conn

on me in an

election,”

I

totd him, “but I’m not an organizer

”

Bott shook

his

head.

“That’s

not what Frankie

told

me She

said

you helped win that

strike.”

"Look,

Boh

I

dont

wart

togd

involved.

I’ll

support you all and do myjoh Just leave me atone”

Boh

shook

his

head. “I thought

you

woe different.”

I sighed. “I

don’t

want

to be different.”

Ife heard the shouting all the way from the other end if the plant. We ran the length

of

the

factory By

the ime we got there, all that was left was blood on the concrete floor.

“Who

got

hurt?”

I

whispered to Bolt.

His

calloused

hands firmed tight fists.

“George." '

I

looked at the lake of

blood on the floor ‘Is he dead?”

Bol dirugged. “Vfe don’t know

yet."

He

pounded his fist cn the forklift next to us

“I

wrote

ip this

tow

motor

myself

last month. The brakes were shot”

The

plant

superintendent waved his

arms.

“Lets

everybody

get back to work,

I does no good

o

stand

around.”

I

was surprised when everyone wait

back

to their jobs.

I

was

half expecting an insurrection.

Tha

came two weeks later,

The accident was

al

we talked about The company was experimenting with bigger mdds that could stamp oii plastic garbage cans George was assigned to use the forklift

tocarry

the mold

wn

to the injection machine. While he was standing in front of the

forklift

attaching the mold, the brakes gave out. One of the arms

cf

the forklift pierced

George’s back

just

below the rung.

Angerstill

simmered

a weeklater. Walterrushed ir.toourdepartment on Wednesday afternoon.

“Have

you heard? Management wrote up George for the accident! They’re

blaming

him.”

Bok

was

rigta behind him.

“Listen

up guys We’re calling a meeting Friday at the VFW post

down

the road. An organizer from the textile workers is gaina meet with us

They've

pushed

us

too far this time;”

He was right

We

aj

punched

out

at

3:00 Friday afternoon.

I

didn’t rush out right away,

I

didn’t

want to

nn

int<

Frankie.

I

wondered if she'd be at the mee

tin

g

When

I

got

0 the VFW post at 3:45 there were twenty-five

workers

there. Every

department

was

represented

Excitement buzzed

in

the air, with people waving their

arms

and talking a mifc a

mi

nutc Boh caught my eye from across tte room.

I

nodded

and

smiled. Frankie

was

standing

next

to

him.

1

avoided locking at het

I

was still un

nerved about

f ndingoui that she and Johnny wereiovers, though Icouldn’t explain why.

I

noticed

Rankre whi.sperinsomeguy’sear. Whenhetumedaround, I recognized

Dtffy. Thesmileon Duffy’s bee when he saw me made me f <seJ warm inside. Frankie grabbed his arm and whispered

something

else to him. I wondered if die wasexplain- hg ny

situation.

Duffy

made a beeline for

me “Jess,’’ It grasped

my hand. His grip felt familiar n mine.

“I’ve

thought dbout you so many times. How long you worked here?

’

“More than a year.”

He smiled. “We're gonna need you help.”

1

started to protest, but Duffy noticed Ernie and Scotty bringing dnnks from the bar hto the meeting room. He waved

D

them. "Get the booze on of here. Wre

seri

ous in here.’’

1

tugged his sleeve. “Go easy

at

the cider guy. Booze

is

his Achilles’ heel, bu he's

a

good guy. He’s an old UiW man. Sets Bolt’’

Duffy nodded. “Ifell me about Boll"

Two Black wunen I didnt recognize tapped Duffy “Excuse me” one of the women said. “I’m Dottie; I work h the assembly department. This is ny friend Gladys. She’s worked there longer than me”

Duffy shook their hands. “How many here from you department?”

“Six,"

Dottie said, 'Put of twenty on day

side. There's

another fifteen or

so

cn second shift.’’

Someone yelled from across the room. “Let's ga this meeting started.” A dieer went up

Duffy excused himself and moved to the

front of

the room. “I’ve heard a lot

of

the grievances this afternoon.”

“Yeah!“ Discipline broke down. Everyone shouted about conditions at the plant.

Duffy held up his hands “Every single

one of

your grievances will be addressed. I promise you that. There’s not a single one that’s not important Bu let's focus fist on the grievances that affect everyone."

Bolt patted me on the shoulder. “C’mon

out

here a minute. I want to talk to you.’’ I started to protest. “C'mon, this meeting will still be going on” I followed Bolt on to the bar

He ordered two beers and paid forthem. He ifted his bottle. “To the union,” he said. I nodded. “I’ll drink to that."

“ Listen, Jesse How well you know ths guy Duffy?”

I

shrugged. “He’s alright in my book. I trust him.’’

“Same cf the guys heard something abon him. Somebody said he's a communist.”

I laughed. “He’s no communist. He’s a good guy“

Bolt smiled and nodtfed

. *

’Alright.

As

long as somebody knows the guy.”

“Hey, Bolt. Did you ask Duffy about whether or not you’d be eligible to join the union?”

Boi shook his head- “I'll ask him later. After the meeting.”

We both heard a roar from the other room ”Cmon,” I said, “let’s gpt back."

I

206

was starting

to fed

a little excited.

“Let’s

sign the cards

now!” Ernie

shouted.

Duffy raced

both hands.

“You

got 120

people

in

your shop.

It’ll take 30 percent plusoneas a bae minimum

to file for anelection.

This is a great turnout, but

we

need more.”

“Where

the

hell r;

everybody?” someone yel

ed.

Duffy

shock

his head. “This

really isa great tumoil for a first meeting.

But

we’ve

gc* to

get more

workers fran

every departmert

lined up."

Boi

yelled

out, “Maintenance aid set-up

are

solid.”

“What about assembly?”

Ernie

shouted

“Those

girls

aren’t

gang to be with us.

They've

got

lusbands to take care

of them. Shit,

I

heard two of them still live with their

parents." ’

Dotlie stood

up.

“And I

In oneofthem .

Yeah,

1

live with

my

parents.

I’m

trying to raise two kids without a husband. And Gladys is living

with

her parents because

die’s

supporting them and

she

can’t afford her own flare. But we’re both

here

lfou don’t know jack squat

about our

department."

Gladys stood up beside her. “That’s right. Our

fingers and

wrists are killing

us

from trimming fladi all day. We’re making

lousy

mcney and

we have to work

weekends;

A lot cf

the

girls have husbands who

also bring home a

paycheck, it’s

true. But a

lot

cf than are fed up and they’ll

sign—

you

11 see.”

Duffy

smiled

i

them. “The

sisters are speaking

up,

guys. ¥>u

better

listen.”

We all agreed

to

end the

meeting

and hold

another aie the following

week. But nobody was eager to leave. We milled around talking.

“Hey, Duffy,” Bolt called lint over, "Am

I

gonna be

able to

get into the inion?

I’m

lead set-up

man.”

I

wished

I

could

dp off Duffy drout Bolt’s worth,

ba

I could

see

Duffy already recognized it. “Management knows

you’re a leader,” he

told

Bolt

I

saw

Bolt

stand a

little taller. “But do

you

hire and fire? Do you

review the guys or

discipline them?’

Bolt hrugged

. “ It’s

kind of hazy. Tm really just

the most

experienced

guy

ri set

rp,

but they

sort cf treat

me like

gang boss, too”

Duffy nodded.

“The company

will argue about which

side

you’re on in

erder to delay

the

elections

and use the

time to intimidate people.

1

(hide you already know which

side you’re

on, bu

you have

to make

I

real

clear.

If you work hard D bring the union in,

it’ll

make our argument

easier that

you

should

be

in.”

Boil shock Duffy’s hand. “Do you

think we’re gonna win?”

Duffy smiled

and

nodded.

“Yeah.

Bit

it’ll take a fight. We

got

strong people

h

eachdepanment.

If

we had

more

like Jess,

wed win it hands down

I trust Jess.

She’s

proved

she’s

for

the

union 100 percent.”

Everything happened in slow motion. When

1

heard

Duffy say

she

1

turned in hor-

rop

my jaw dropped. Frankie slapped ha forehead with her pain and shook her head. The

gtys

looked from Dtffy to me

and

back again.

I

stormed out of

the VFW post

and headed for

my motorcycle.

“Jess, wait!” I heard Duffy

shouting.

He- caught

ip

D me and grabbed my

arm.

I

yanked itaway. "Thanks

a Sot,

Duffy.”

Seeing tears

h his eyes made

it worse

“I'm

so sorry,

Jess. B

just jumped out.

I didn't mean it.”

I

shrugged.

“It doesn't

matter what yon mean

to

do. I’m out

of

this

jub new."

He shook his head “We’D

work t out, Jess.

¥>u could

stay.

I’ll talk to

the

guys”

I laughed bitterly.

'You

don’t get it, do

yotP

Which batlroom

you

think I'm going to use on Monday, Duffy?’’

Duffy

pit

his hand

on

ray arm.

I

glared

a

him. “Jess,

fd

never

do

anything to

hurt

you You

knew

that."

I

pushed

his

hand off my arm.

“Well, you

did."

I

turned and walked away

“Jess, waitup!" It was Frankie.

“Jess.

I

know

you're mad That was really

fucked up.

But

it was a mistake. He's really upset"

‘Leave

me alone;

Frankie.

You

don't understand, either.'

1

Hankie looked stunned.

“What's your fuckin' problem with me? Arc

you

really gonna cut

another

butch base just becaise

you

can't deal with

who rums me on?”

I

wished semeone had muzzled me because

I

was

so

worked up

I

couldn’t

control my mouth.

“What makes you think

you’re still

a

butch?

1

I aied her sarcastically.

Her

smile was cruel

and defensive.

'What makes

you think

you're still

a butch?"

she countered.

I

spun around and stormed off Part of me was hoping tha Frankie or Duffy

wouldn’t let me go.

But

they did.

i

CHAPTER

18

I

he leaf was big and wet and glowed with the oranges and reds of autumn.

1 fotnd

i

stuck

b

the seat of try Harley cn Saturday morning, i made

me

sad when the leaves began to fell. I warted another beginning, anothe-

chance

I bated the thought of putting rry Harley away for the winter, t was dangerous fcr me io ride—I’d been driving without a license for three years—but I freed to cruise on that bite, i was my joy and ny freedom

There were only two things I looked forward © every day: pumping iron

a

the nearby YMCA and whipping into the wind astride my motorcycle.

When my alarm jangled h

the

morning, I awoke feeling small and terrified. I couldn't find myself in my own life—there was no memory

of

mt thrt I could grasp. Therewas no place outside of me where I belonged So every morning I willed myself back into existence. I went to die gym already dressed h sweatclothes. That’s where 1 brought my lensionand frustration, my rage and my fear 1 put it all into my workout.

I thought about rry body a lot as I pressed against the resistance rf

odd iron.

I enjoyed getting leaner and harder. Was that a goal the world had taught

me*

Probably. I thought

of my fcmme

lovers who cursed eadr thickness and fid h their bodies—the

2»

210

beautiful flesh I loved. But as I watched myself clench my muscles while

I

pumped, E found the weight and shape of myown body that pleased

me.

I concentrated

on

my discipline and endurance.

I

tried, in the

best

way I knew how, D love myself.

I ieamed that strength, like height, is measured by who you’re standing next to I was considered a scrawny guy it the gym. That opinion was written on the laces of men whose musdes were

bigger

than mine. And al the while the lifetime of cruel judgments shout my body and w self throbbed like unhealed wounds.

Yet sometimes when I s»od in fm cf myown mirror a home, I saw a powerful me

I

couldn't hold oao the image, though, k slipped like

a

globule of mercury from under my index

finger

Maybe that was the lesson I tried to teach myself with each repetition—that power is something qualitatively more than strength And that the world was wrong dxnjt me, I had a right to live.

Every day the men around me came t> exercise their bodies; I came to exorcise my demons.

Euphoria wa my reward for the tenacious workout that autumn morning,

k

was Saturday. There was nowhere io go, there was

noth

ng to do.

1 tu med up the collar on

my leather jacks. Fall was here and winter was just behind it The sky was overcast The clouds were low, flat-bottomed, and dark as a bruise. ’

I

rewed my bike without knowing where

I

was headed.

I

had money

in

my wallet and a whole weekend

to

ride as far as gasoline would take me

When the fist raindrops plopped on my gas tank, Tpulled over and put on my gear Balts of lightning illuminated the sky over the park. 1 loved dramatic weather.

It

was the excitement

that

made one day different from another.

The women

n

the zoo entrance booth were enjoying a lazy day. They waved me in without paying.

The condor’s head was tilted back into the wind and her wings were spread wider than my height.

I

opened my own arms and turned my face reward the sky and laughed.

The snowy owl’s neck puffed up as I came neat, and he huffed as though he was out of breath. I hurried past.

Raindrops dripped from the beak of the red-tailed hawk whose left wing had been sheared by a shotgun blast. She looked miserable.

The male eagle was balanced on a branch—his feathers slicked back by rain and wind. Hemcved with tie wind onextended wings as though it flight.

His

eyes focused on thedistance. There was no border between

his

frustration and his madness For just a moment he dropped his gaze and held me tn the intensity ofhis golden stare. He looked up again, wildness flashing in his eyes as he flew through hispasi cn widespread wings.

After

incstorm

let

up, I

rode my motorcy

le through the rain-soak ed

streets longing for so much

1

couldn’t name. Sometimes mundane tasks stuffed that feeing back down—I decided to go food shopping.

The supermarket was pecked with women. The conveyor bell

a

the checkout line

wasn’t workmg, so I pushed the food forward as the woman a the cash register rang it up. “That’ll be $22.80," die said. I held otf a twenty and a ten; die reached for the bills. caught each other’s eyes

I whispered her name oil loud: “Edna." Funny how; even years later, I still thought cf her as Butch Jan’s ex-lover and myself as a baby butch in her eyes.

Sie searched my eyes. Her face softened. “Jess.”

The woman behind me in line sighed heavily, “Honey, can we speed this up?’

The last time rd seen Edia I had told her I was too young to be the kind oflover rd waited to be for her. Now life was giving me another chance.

I helped her bag my groceries. Neither cf us spoke. I pressed ny lips together to keep from asking, “Are you with saneone?” I thought cf a neutral question. “Can we talk?*

The wcman behind me banged abcx cf laundry detergent on the conveyor belt and asked Edna, “Honey, do you gp an break soon?“ Edna looked 1 her blankly and nodded. “Then could you please continue your reunion then?’

Wb both laughed. Edna blushed. ‘I get off at 3:30 “ It was only 2:00.

I paced the pavement near ny Harley, rode figure eights around the parking lot, looked in store windows, stopped for coffee—it was still oniy 3:00.

At 3;301 pulled my bike up in front of the supermarket. I wished I had a second helmet. Edna looked my Harley up and down and smiled, as though she liked what die saw Then she looked a me the same way. “It’s good to see you, Jess How long has i been?”

I could haveadced her when die take tp with Jan, bit I thought better of it “Ifell, my hand was in that oaitraption and we woe on strike. I think i was ’67, so it’s been twelve years. I’m almost thirty, can you believe it?”

Edna nodded. “That means you’re just about the age I was when you thought I was such an old woman."

I shook my head “That’s not fair, Edna. The problem was I was so young I never thought you were old."

Edna tock my face in her hands I felt my cheeks flush. ‘Tm sorry," die said, “that was ny fiear.”

1 'Offered her ny helmet She swung her leg over the bike and settled behind me Her body fdt so damn good against mine “Where are we going?” she asked.

“I don’t know” I gently popped the clutch.

We ended upat the zoo The air smelled fresh there, wasted by the rain We walked on a bed cf vet leaves, under a latticework of branches. I ached to hold her hand. Wb tried to make small talk, btf there wasn’t anything either if us said tha seemed insignificant. I tried to wai befcre I asked the question clenched in ny throat, btf I couldn’t put i off ary longer.

I turned to her ‘I can’t take another step till I ask you a question"

She shook her head shyly. “No.“

±12

"No, I can’t ask you a question?"

She smiled. “No I’m not with anyone."

A gnu spread across my face, then I checked it. ‘I was just wondering."

Vte stood and faced each other undo a maple tee.

“

How about you? Are you with tnyone?” die asked.

I

shook my head.

The maple seeds whirled around us. I caught one at my palm. “We used to call these helicopters," I said, as I let t twirl to the ground.

Edna ran her fingertips across the beard stubble on my cheek. I wished I had Staved before Id gene

d

the gym. She touched my lips, my hair, my neck—as though she was searching for

me

with her hands.

“Have

I

changed so much?”

1

asked her, afraid to hear het answer.

She

smiled and

shook ha head. "No. In a way I don’t know hew anyone in the world could think you’re a man, especially if they looked into yotr eyes”

Wih a

light

touch the

turned ny facets

here. Then her hands settled cn ny dies! like a bird’s wings at rest Our faces were very close. It felt to me as though my whole life was held in the balance of tha moment. If Edna had turned away from me,

I

don’t know where I would hare gone or how

I

would have found the strength to go on. But she didn’t. She

brought

her lips near mine; allowed me to celebrate the moment before it began, and Chen gave me her mouth All

I

had to offer was in tha kiss Edna’s hands cupped the back of ny head and pulled me toward her.

The kiss lased until I stopped fearing

i

would end and enjoyed i as ajoumey wed

just begun.

Our lips didnt pan until the wind splattered cold rail down on is from the branches above. She pulled awry from me and began o walk.

I

caught

ip

d

het and tock her hand. Our hands fit so comfortably that

I

sloughed tff the fret layer rtf m)

loneliness.

‘Are you hungry

?”

I

asked het.

She stopped aid turned toward me again. ‘1 have to get hone soon.” Nf disappointment shewed. "I'm sorry,” she said.

“Can

1

see you?” All my hopes rested on her reply

She hesitated and nodded. “Next Friday night’’

Friday! Today was Saturday and I had trouble just killing an hour and a half until she’d gotten ou of work. Edna tinged on a branch overhead. A shewer of raindrop! fell onus.

As I drove her home,

her

hands rested on ny shoulders, die side ofher free presser against my back. This is ft," she painted

1

Slowed and parked.

‘You sure you want to see me Friday?" I needed reassurance. Edna stroked ny cheeks. I couldn’t really fed the touch ofher fingertips on my skin—my stubble wat »o rough. For the first time since

Ed grown

a beard

I

wished i would vanish.

Edna nibbled aimy mouth, pulled away when I moved forward, then drew me bad hungrily. ‘‘I’m so happy to see you, Jess.” She sounded like she meant it My feeling rose in my throat

I

swallowed

aid

nodded. “Meet me here,

n

9:COon Friday?” die

asked.

1

nodded again and watched

her

walk up the sidewalk to her porch. She looked back and waved

Even

after

her front

door closed

and the lights came on behind

her curtains I didn’t

leave. A light rain fd

on me

The

wind

carried autumn and the

scent of fallen leaves.

When die

water

walked away

from our table

Edna

leaned forward. “What’s it like, passing"

I

could teD she’d

wanted

&

ask

me

that all

evening.

“Al my life I’ve been

tdd

there's something really wrong

with me because

cf the way I

am as a woman.

But

if

bn a

man, then

I’m a

mce yorng

man.

The way

I

am is just

fire." Edja waked

for more.

“Some of

it

e

firn. I was tied op

so

tight all the nine as a heshe. It feels good to be free to dn little things, like go & a public bathroom in peace or to be

touchedby a barber.

It’s nice to be smiled at by strangers

or

flirted with

at a

lunch

counter.”

Edna

studied my face ’‘Then why are your eyes even sadder than

1

remember?’

“Oh,

I

think

..."

I

sighed.

Edna

interrupted me

"I’m

interested in what you

think,

Jess.

But tell me how you

feel.”

I

had forgotten

how

much

I

loved fcmmest Another butch

would have nodded when

J

sighed, content tha the whote story had been articulated in the rush of

air But Edna

pressed for wonk

“I fed

like

a

ghost, Edna. Like I’ve been buried alive. As fa

as the

world’s

concerned, I was ban

the

day I began to pass.

I have

no past, no

loved ones, no memories, no me. No

one really sees me or speaks to me or touches

me."

Edna’s

eyes

filled with

tears. She reihed forward and tock my hand in hers. The

waiter

interrupted

us. “More coffee,

sir?"

1 shook my head.

When hed waited

out of

earshot, Edna

told me,

"I

fed

like a

ghost,

too,

Jess. Should I still call you Jess?'

My smile fell

shy "Sometimes peoplecall me

Jesse and I don'tcorrect them.

Yu

can call me

whatever

you want,

just

try to

remember

the right pronoun in

a

public place. It could get

real

ugly.” Edia sighedand

nodded.

I’d

forgotten she

was Roccols lover, too.

“Did you know

Edna,’ I

asked

her,

“did you know I would make the samedeci

sion Rocco made?’

Edna

shook ba head. 1 only knew your

options

were

as few as hers Bu

when you

were

young

I

recognized

something

in you

tha fd

seen

tn Rocco."

I

chewed my

lower

lip,

waiting

fa the words of a woman who knew me

“I don’t know hew to say this. I’m afraid

I’ll make a misake,” she

hesitated.

*Try.’’ I

aged her

“Please I need

to hear it.”

“I don't think femmes ever

see butdtes as one big group. After

a

while you see how many different wa/s there

are

fa

butches to

be Yw see them

young

and

defiant, you see than change, you watch them harden up or be destroyed. Soft ones

aid bitter ones and

troubled ones. You and Rocco were granite butches

who couldn't

soften your

214

edges. It

just

wasn’t in you nature."

Edna took a

bite of

food 1 wished she'd hurry chewing and continue. “1 bve all

the different ways butches can be 1

bve

bitches’ hearts But the

ones

1 worry most about are the

ones

who aren’t tough inside.’’

1

frowned and dropped my eyes.

Edna leaned forward “You see, I hurt you. Pm

sorry.

You

and Rocco both had beautiful hearts that were

so

easily hurt, and 1 bved

you fir it.

But I

didn’t know how long

you

could

Survive.”

*1 think about her a lot,”

I tdd

Edna.

She stared

a her

plate

and nodded “Me too."

“I’d give anything to talk to

Rocco,”

I

said, wishing Edna knew how to reach ha.

Etfoa

smiled.

“i’ll

bet"

I

sat back

in

my chair

and

scuffed the

ng with my shoe.

‘1

wish

I

could

ask

her

a million questions.”

Edna leaned forward. “What

don’t

you know?’

]

shrugged and flayed

with my fork. “I'm

not sure.

Hew

tosurvive this,

1 guess”

Edna smiled

gently

“What

makes

you think

Roccoknows?"

Her answer

surprised

me.

“

I’m not like Rocco,”

I

said “She’s like a legend or something. She’s so strong,

so

sire

of

herself. I

don't

fed (ha

way

at all If 1 could

just

get to knew her."

Edna gently took the

fork

fran my hand and put

i

down on the tablecloth. Sie rested her fingertips on ny forearm. “People get buried under legends. Rocco doesn’t have all the answers. She’s got questions, just like

you

do. She’s trying to get through

it the best way

she

can,

jist the way you are

That's what makes you both

so

strong.

There’s only one thing Rocco had

lha

you don't have,” Edna

told

me.

I leaned fuward

.

‘ ‘

What?’

She smiled and

said,

’’I’ll diow you later."

Was die always going to mate me

wait?

“Edna, where

have you

been al these years?" I asked her.

She smiled and picked

a

ha lasagna. “After the bar scene

changed I

stopped going The butches I loved weren’t there anymore k was mostlyuniversity women I started to fed

embarrassed about showing

up in a dress, with makeupon. It

seemed

hkeevery-

one

in

the bar was wearing flannel

shirts,

jeans,

and boots.

That’s

not

me

But there was no other place

to

go A few of

us

went to a dance on campus,” she said. "But we were dressed different, we danced different." She clenched her

fist

in anger. “One of the women

a

the dance made fun

of

the butch I was wih because she helped me off with

ny coat.

I

wus

so

upset that

we

left right away.”

1 nodded. “My

ex-lover

Theresa worked

up

a

UH

I

remember

getting mad and telling

her

how much I hated those women for rejecting us. She tsed to say They re right about needing a revolution,

but

they’re wrong to think they

can

do it without all ofus.’’’

EAa shrugged.

“I

know

fm

not

a

straight woman, and

lesbians won’t accept

me

jnrmrraiiUBS as

as one of them. I don’t knew whereto goto find the btlches I bve or the ocher femmes.

I

fed completely misunderstood. I feel

Hee

a ghost too; Jess."

For a long moment we held a conversation without words. Our eyes welcomed each other home. The waiter brought the check to me, an automatic gesture.

I

chuckled. Edna frowned. “What's so funny?”

“Until I talked to you tonight, part of me really believed that everyone I knew was sitting in a bar somewhere together halving a good time without me”

V*fe rode back to her home in silence. I wanted to touch her I warted io matter to her And

I

ached to sleep safe, with her body close to mine

1

pulled up in frort of her house She took off the helmet and beckoned for me to follow her I stood in her living room trying to know her through her home. She rummaged tirough het hal closet *1 found ill” She came back into the room soiling. “There’s only one thing Rocco had tha you dotft have. Armor!" Echa handed me a heavy black motorcycle jacket gleaming with silver zippers.

I

took it in my hands. It was soft with wear The right elbw was badly scuffed. That’s whereshe skidded when she dumped her Harley on the way back from Niagara Fife.” Edna fingered the sleeve. “This was the jacket foe loved almost as muchas her

bike. She called this he-

second skin:’

Edna’seyes glazed. “She left it to protect me That's wbatshe said. It ves so much a part of her that

I

cotid never bear to wear it” I coddnt speak.“Try it on," Eckta urged, holding the jacket br me to slip into. It was heavy, the weight fek reassuring. “It fits you perfectly.” She pressed her knuckles to her lips.

I

opened my arms. She shook her head “1 need to be alone. I'm sorry. I'm just nd ready. I hope you understand”

I

didn't. But

I

was so afraid to lose her

that I

forced myself to smile and nod

I walked back out» my Harley and swung

my

leg over it. I beard my own power in the engine’s roar

I droveaway wearing Rocco’s armor.

‘Be careful!'' Edna shouted as the ladder tipped.

1

gobbed the metal tray before the paint inside cf it could spill- 'Get down from there!" Edna ordered.

1

climbed down and wiped ny forearm across my forehead. Edna laughed. “You just smeared paint on yew fece. c’mere.”

Se held my arm as foe gently rubbed my forehead with a doth. I clenched my biceps. “I've been working out," I boasted.

Edna suppressed a smile and said,

“I

noticed." I didn't suppress mine.

She kissed my lips. Thank you fcr helping me paint my living room.”

I smiled and shrugged. “What are hutches foi?’ Contained in those four words were al my hurt and confusion over why, a month after we'd been reunited, Edna still wouldn’t let me make low to her

‘Oh no,” Etta said, shaking her bead sksdy. “Butches are wonderful about tending

216

a hand. Bit that’s rot all you’re good for, Butches have moved my world. They’ve made me fed beautiful when the world took that away from me It’s butch love that’s sus

tained

me”

My eyes filled with tears tf gratitude and with the frustration of restraining myself from touching her,

She stroked my face with fingertips that waited me; and yet I couldn’t be sure tha her whole body wanted the same. ‘You are so beautiful,” die whispered. “Handsome, I should have said you are so handsome.”

I laughed. “Oh, I’ll take either right about now.”

Al I saw was her mouth, so close to mine I felt the warmth of her breath. Still I didn’t move toward her, Edna hesitated. I held my breath as I waited for her to come » me—hoping she would, fearing she wouldn’t. 9ie came into my arms afraid, bil trusting me I welcomed her with my embrace.

Edna fumbled with the buttons on my paint-splattered shirt, Vfe left it cn the living roan floor. In her bedroom die unzipped rry jeans. Only then did I alow rry passion to meet hers.

■ Once it began, al of Our needs were unleashed. She knew exactly what die warted and she took me there demanding everything fran me tha I could give. And I gave gladly, without restraint. Even as I touched her body with my mouth, wjth try hands, with try thighs—I knew it was rot only pleasure I was trying to give her, it was al my love And as die alternately caressed me with her hands and dug her nails into my back, I could fed all of hers.

I lay in her arms, dressed only in a T-shirt and briefs. Her fingernails drifted down try neck, across try shoulders. She smihd seductively, fd forgotten the sheer pleasure cf a high femme tease

Edna mcwd against me; tormenting me with her nails and her lips until I felt crazy with wanting more. Fear gripped my throat. I couldn’t remember how fa submit, but I warted her to guide me there. Her nails trailed ip the inside of one

cf

my thig

hs

“ihi scared,” I admitted out loud.

She stopped touching me and lay still in try arms. Even after she’d fallen asleep in rry embrace I stared

a

the ceiling, longing far her IP take me past try

own

fear and not knowing how Io ask.

Edna gasped with pleasure a the flowers I brought her. “Oh, irises. They’re

so

beautiful.”

I kissed heron the cheek. ‘They remind me of you.” Edna found the card fd tucked inside.

“Wait,” I restrained her hand.

Edha laughed. “What’s wrong? Did you write something you shouldn’t have?” I shifted rry weight from foot Io fxX. i wrote you a poem. I never did tha before Maybe you’ll think it’s stupid.”

Edna pulled my face against her neck and wrapped her arms around me “Oh, honey, you wrote a poem for me? Oh, thank you. That means so much to me I don’t even lave n read it f you don’t want me too."

Femmes can be so smart about these things. Of course

I

warted

her

to read it, e& penally since she was giving me a choice. “Oh, alrig tit, go ahead and read it,” I told her, and braced myself

fir

her reaction.

1

blushed because it surprised me when she read it out loud.

Ba

I liked the vay her voice elevated ny words:

As

yellow l eaves give way to the genif insistence of the

grren

you touched my loneliness end my cnsp, brown husks yielded to a tender newness.

Edna burst into tears. Sie kissed

my

face all over till my embarrassment subsided. “Oh, Jess. Did you really write tha just for md? It’s beautiful.’’

“Edna,“ I whispered in her eat; “was that expressing a feeling?"

Edna pulled back and held my face in her hands.

Her

Iowa lip trembled- “Oh yes, honey. That's exactly what it was."

We hdd each other and swayed

to

a music only we could

hear.

She took my hand and led me to her bedroom. I tried io mate good love to her.

But I

couldn’t read

her

body’s signals—all I got was static

I

couldn’t figure out what

I

was doing wrong.

Edia’s nipple tightened like a bud and then blossomed in tty mouth I heard ha gasp. One sob

followed

another

1

brought my lace near hers, and she grabbed my T shirt h both her fists.

Her

body shook violently She buried her face against my neck and cried so hard t f rightaied me I held her tight. “I can’t," she said.

“Shh. It’s alright."

“Don’t be mad

a

he,"

die pleaded.

Tm not," I whispered. “I'm not mad at you.”

Edia didn’t say what was going on inside of her, and

I

was af raid to ask. If I was undesirable it was something 1 was in no hurry to find out Besides, fd been so unbearably lonely

for

so Jong that tte sex didn’t matter to me as rruch as this intimacy.

I

continued holding ha and settled

into

the simple comfort

that

ter closeness offered

We lay without speaking

fcr

a long, long time. I finally broke the silence with a question. “Do you think I’m a woman?"

Edna got up on one elnw and looted at me. “What do you think?" she asked gently. I sighed. '1 don’t knew There’s never been many otherwomen in the woild

1

coiid identify with. But I sure as hell don’t fed like a guy, either. I don’t know what I am.

k

makes me fed crazy."

Edia nestled against my shoulder. ‘1 know, honey I realy da I don't think I’ve

as

ever had a butch iover who hasn't fell tom up m the same way?

“Yeah.” I shrugged, “but it's differert for me because I’m living as a man. I don’t even know if fm still butch ary more."

She nodded. “It’s truethat you and Rocco have a tough time figuring out how

n

be yourselves and still live. But believe me, honey you’re not alone in the feeling lha you're not a man or a woman.”

I

sighed. “I don’t Eke being neither,"

Edna moved her face dose to mine. "You're mere than just neither, honey. There's other ways robe than either-or. It’s not so simple. Otherwisethere wouldn’t be so many people who don’t fit You're beautiful, Jess, but I don’t hate words

t>

help people set that.”

"I wish everything could go back to the way i was,” I told her.

Edna looked off into the distance. ‘1 don’t,” the' said. *'I don’t want to go back lu the bars and the fights. 1 just wan a place to be with the people I love I want to be accepted for who

1

am, and not just h the gay world,"

1 fek left out of iie fantasy “What about me? Can 1 be accepted too?'

Edna lifted my hand to her mouth and kissed ny fingers. *Tm not accepted till you are”

I

smiled. “It’s a nice dream. How do we male it happen?"

*'] doa’t know? &e

said.“That's the problem."

Edna stretched her thigh across ny hip. Her lips rested on my T-shirt. ‘I wish 1 could save you," ite whispered. "I wish I could beeverything that’s been taken from you."

I

laughed “Just be my kwer.”

Edna leaned on one elbow and looked me in ths eye. ‘You wish I could save you, don’t you?"

“No,”

I

lied, af raid of losing her.

She

sa

up ’1 don’t know how you couldn't. It terrfies mb when I think how little you have; how nuch you must need.

I

don’t have tha much to give you."

I rolled wer and wrapped my arms around her waist. “Then Hi wy to need less”

She gabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back undl I locked her ir the eyes "(X Jess. I'm so sorry I'm hurting you. Don’t you think I know how much it's hurt you when I couldn’t lei you touch me after that first time? And I don't know how to teU you that it has nothing to do with you."

“Thanks a lot," I laughed bitterly. ‘Tm the one you don't want, so it has plenty » do with me AS that means to me is that there's nothing I can do about it." '

Edna put her fing rtios against my lips t silence me “Something'! tearing me up inside, Jess, and I can't explain it."

I sat up eagerly, ‘Then talk to me, Edna. I could help.’’

She shook her head. ‘You can’t fix it, sweetheart Butches always wan to fix the places that hurt.”

SMhlBUTCHHUS 39

I sighed.

"If I

can’t make love to you, and

I

can’t fix what hurts you, then

where’s

my butch magic? What can

I

gi’ve you?’

Edia smiled and sealed back into

my

arms.

“Give me tirre," she said, "and a lit

tle

space.”

Edna noticed the buds cn the trees at the zoo before I did. She rarefy touched me any

mere. 1

envied the way she touched them.

We bought some peanuts and walked

around aimlessly

1 wlched

a caged tiger pace bad; and forth across

his

tiny cell. He dipped

his head and roared. Edna

watched my face. "Sometimes

I

get the feeling that when no one’s here you talk io these animals and they answer you”

I

smiled.

"I'd walk

into these cages without fear*

Edna frowned. ‘They could maul you, without meaning

to.”

I

nodded. “But

Fm

not afraid of them."

walked in silence till we came to the still pcod whwe the ducks drifted and dunked. As we sat

by thepool 1

realized something was gomg to happen.

And

nothing could delay

tha

moment from arriving.

‘You know,’

Etkia began,

“I’ve always waited for a butch to ride up on a horse and save me. I've always leaned on my butch when I fdt

weak.”

I

cracked open peanuts, one

after

another,

and

tossed

them

to eager ducks.

I

knew

better than to utter a

word. Edna

stared

a

the ducks

fir

a long

time

without

speaking.

She pressed against my body As she turned

her

face toward

me I

could see the streaks cf

tears

1 think 1

knew

right

then,

but

sometimes knowing comes

h

layers I whispered her

name out loud.

“We can

work

things out,”

1 told her.

She

shook her head.

"1

justcan’t be

with

anyone right now,

Jess I

don’t evenknow' why.

It

doesn’t make sense

ff there

was ever a hero, you could surely be mine. You’re everything

I

ever

wanted in

a butch. You’re strong and gertte and you listen and you try so

hard. I

kwe you so

much,

Jess.”

As Edha cried, she turned her

faceaway from me.

I

didn’t touch

her. I

longed to, but

I

knew I shouldn’t. ‘You

know,” I

told her,

“the

moments

I

remember meet in my life are the ones where something happened that I didn't want to have happen and I couldn’t control k."

Edna sniffled and

nodded.

“I’m

in

deep freeze,

Jess.

And

somehow

I

haveto save myself. Ycu can’t

da it

for me And

I

don’t know haw. Pm so scared."

I

readied fcr

her

out of instinct Sie held me at an arm’s length with

a

light touch

Tears

filed

my

eyes,

but I rawed

myself

in,

knowing

I

had many nights ahead of me

to

grieve.

"Why?” I

asked

her. “I just don’t

understand why you can’t try.”

9ie

bit her lower lip.

‘I

am trying, Jess.

I

have tried.

I

just don't know what’s happening. Tm just as lonely as you are. I need so much. That’s what scares me, that and how much you

need

me"

aa

“Oh,

Edna Isn’t there something lean do to keep you from leaving me? Isn’t

there anything

I

cat

do to

change

yoir

mind?’

Edna shook her head. Tears streamed down her face “Oh, Jess. I love you so much. Please believe me."

i

was relieved when she came

into

my arms

d

ay, until I realized she was letting me

hold her for

the last tins. A ware cf panic almost drowned me. I could fed in ny gut wha my life was

likse

before Edna came back

into

it “Edna," I whispered.

She covered ny lips with her fingertips. ‘1 can’t,”

she said.

Edia

held my face in bcth her hands and

boked

mto

my

eyes

"What wili you do,

Jess?

Oh god,

I

wid>

was strong enough to save us both.”

I looked auey from her "IH be fine," I heard myself say Ufeboth laighed out Loud. “That vos a

very

butch

thing to say

wasn't if?’’

1

adnined

“Oh, very,” Edna laughed.

We slipped back over

the bourdary ,of otr laughter

d

our tears

1

wondered if die would have

left

me if there had been more inside of me to love, or

if

I just

could

have needed less.

Edia kissed

roe on the roouth.

ff I

had moved toward her she would have pulled away And

so

I held very still and her kiss lingered

a

moment longer.

She stood

up.

“Tm so

sony,

Jess."

'

If

pleading would have kept her in my life

1

would have dropped to my knees, but I knew

&e wouldn’t

stay

“Can

I

drive you home?” I asked, hoping

fir

time to try to change her mind. She

shook

her

head.

1

stood up and let my lips memorize her forehead, her checks, her chin. I

loved

the way age tad softened her &ce. “Can’t I see you sometime? Talk to you?”

She pj

her hand

on

my chesL

“Maybe

a

some

point. Not new”

Her

lips were dose

d

mine

I

kissed her hesitantly. She didn’t draw away

fron

me. For

a

moment I felt her need, then

she

pulled back. I

watched Edia walk away

from

me

Ohe at

a time

I broke

the shells of the peanuts.

I

threw sane of them D the ducks arid ate the others myself.

I

felt mote akne and afraid than

eva

before.

CHAPTER

19

V

t

seemed tobe a Saturday morning like any other, One day had become so mudt

like the next Eadi hour dragged so slowly that I didn't pay attentionas months

turned into years

As I made myself coffee, I watched a blue jay fight with a staring over

the crumbs in the bird feeder Neither noticed theorangemannaiade cat crouched bekw

them, ready 13 spring.

I lock my time in the shower, trying to scrub away the grime tf isolation with hot,

soapy water. Loneliness had become an environment—the air

1

breathed, the sprtial

dimension in which 1 was trapped-

I

sa in a boat on a deathly cakn sea, waiting

for

a breeze to fill my sails.

And so it never occurred

p

me my life might change again dramatically that day k

wasquhesviple, realty.

I

drewoneccof hormones intoasyringe, lifted it abwemy naked

thigh—and that paused. My arm felt restrained by an unseen hand. No matter how

1

tried I could not sink tha needle into my quadriceps as Td done hundreds of tunes before.

1 stood up and locked in the bathroom mirror. The depth of sadness in ny eyes

frightened me.

[

lathered my momhg beard stubble, scraped itciean with a razor, and

splashed edd water on my face, Th! stubble still felt rough. As much as

I

loved my

ta

222

beard as pan of ny

body,

I

fdt (rapped behind

it. Wha ] saw reflected in the mirror was not a man, but I couldn’t recognize the he-she. My face no longer revealed tte contrasts of my gender. I could

see

my passing self, but even I could no longer see the mere

complicated

me beneath my surface.

I

stared far bad: nto

ny

past and remembered the child who couldn’t be catalogued

by

Sears.

I

saw ha- standing in front of her

own

minor, in her father’s suit, asking me ifl was the person she would grow up and become. Yes I answered her. And

1

thought

how

have she waste have begun this journey, to have withstood the towering judgments.

But who was

1

now—woman or mart?

I

fought

lot^ and hard n be included as woman among women, but

1

always

fdt

so excluded by ny differences. 1 hadn’t

just believed

that passing would hide me. 1 hoped tha it would allow men express the part ofmyselfthat didn’t seem to be woman.

1

didn’t get to explore bemg a

he-she,

though.

1

simply

became a he—a man without a past

Who was

I

now—woman or man? That question could never be answered as long

as

ftose were the only choices; it could never be answered if it had to be asked.

1

though about the long road I’d traveled. I had never stopped looking out at the

world

through my own

eyes

Id never stopped feeling like me cn the inside. What jf the

real

me could

emerge; changed

by

the journey. Who would I be? Suddenly, I neerfed

to

know Wha would

my

life be worth if

I

stopped short cf finding out? Fmgers of ex- citementand fear tightened around

try

throat Whe e was I going now? Who was I becoming?

I

couldn’t answer those questions, bu even asking them was a sign to me that tumultuous

<

hange had bear boiling just below

the

surface of my consciousness.

I

searched the apartment for a cigarette,

but

as I picked up the pack I watched rry hand crush

t.

That night

I

dreamt

I

was struggling in deep

murky

water. I flailed

rry

arms and legs against its molasses resistance. My

lungs ached from

holding ny breath. I desperately needed to inhale.

I

began to slowly swim toward the surface. The pressure eased

cn ny

body.

I

felt liquid velvet against my hands as they sliced through the water. I cou d

see

the

sky,

facets of light shimmering drove me. My lungs were read/ to explode. I broke through

the

skin

cf

the water.

I

felt the sun and breeze against ny face, warm and

cool

at the same time. I heard the sound

of

ny own laughter

1

think

]

really believed tha when the hormones were df

I

would discover Id traveled full circle and returned home to

my

own past. But

thi

ourney wasn’t over yet I realized that

the

day

1

saw Theresa shopping in K-Mart.

I

held

my heath the moment

1

recognized ho-, Sre had hardly changed a bit. Would die say the same about

me?

I hid behiid the men’s underwear display and watched her. What would

die

do if] called out her name?

1

wanted her to embrace me and take me home. After al], she’d left me because I'd begun hormones; now rd stopped. Could she love me again?

] saw semeone put

her

arm around Theresa.

1

angled arouid the aisles to get a better

look a the woman. It was the same soft butch who had opened Theresa’s doer almost ten years ago—the same lover. Wha could Theresa possibly see in tha Saturday-night butch? It was so much harder to be me; I needed Theresa’s

bve a

lot more than

foe did.

I hated to admit that die must be special if Theresa loved her.

I heard Theresa laugh, warm and relaxed. Her face crinkled with

bve.

And

then I knew

I wasn’t going home, I wasn’t traveling backward. I was hurtling forward toward a destination I couldn’t see Andiflwasever going tolie in Theresa'sarmsagain, it would be in some distant future, not now

I

hurried out of the store befae they could see me and raced home on my bike, just ahead

cf

the tears f lay on my bed for hours, until the steamy afternoon

shifted to evening.

Ode

leaves rusded

h

the breeze outside my bedroom window; the streetlight projected their shadows on my wall. The whine of

cicadas rose and fell.

Theresa had asked me to send her a letter someday I waned to write it now [ longed to deliver a bundle of sentences wrapped like a gift to her doorstep—words that would light up the night sky words tha would soothe and heal. But the words still wouldn’t come.

During the long night I realized that if bve had been enough. I might never have lost Theresa. But I did. I could we came to a ferk h the road. That

was the

truth, but it wasn’t the whole truth. I knew

I

had lost Theresa h little ways long before

we

parted. I had been

a

the center

cf

her world; she had become my whole world. As my universe shrank. I needed her to be everything for me, and in return I longed to be everything she needed. Neither of us could live up to the expectations.

And yet, how could it be otherwise? How could I not

sink

to my knees a the end of the day and adc her fir sanctuary? How could she refuse, loving me the Way she did? The moments she pulled my head onto ha- lap and stroked my face

were

all I knew

cf

refuge and acceptance. For her, my admission of need was what foe’d asked cf me in infinite ways I don’t know where eke I could havegone for safety in an unsafe world. And I don’t think she could have possibly sustained her love for me if

I

had

Femahed a fortress.

Maybe the problem was that Id begun b believe her bve could protect me, begun to expect

it, to

demand it Maybe she believed if she

just tried

harder

she

could keep me safe. When she wiped the bbod from my face did it mock ho- power? Would i be ary different if we were in each other’s arms again?

Someday I would tell ho- the little things 1 was beginning to understand. But for now, I could only write seven lines

for

her—a short poem squeezed from the clenched heart of a he-she:

Especially in the cool tight

when leafy boughs make patterns on tie walls and consciousness gently ebbs making

way

for sleep to lap

my

shores ri that long moment of no control

224

coals cf remembering glow softly lending the darkness a different hue.

Nothing happened when I stopped taking hormones For months I got

ip

every morning and rated to the mirror, breathless with anticipation. Nothing changed. It was sett of anti- climactic. It took many of hours of electrolysis before I began to fed the softness cf ny cheeks again One mominglgot ip and found menstrua) blood on my BVD’s. I threwthem

oil

rather than risk anyone

a

the laundry seeing the apparent contradiction. But the real motion was taking place inside of me I had io be honest with mysdf, i was as urgent as breathing- When I sat alcne and a&ed what it was I really wanted, the answer was

change.

I didn’t regret the decision to take hormones I wouldn’t hare survived much longer without passing- And the surgery was a gift to myself, a coming home to ny body.

Bu

I wanted more than to just barely exist, a stranger always trying not c get involved. I wanted to find OU who I was, to define myself, Whoever I was, I waited to deal with it, I warted to live it again.

I

warted to be able p explain ny hfe, tow the world looked from behind ny eyes.

Yet I was so afraid b come ou and face the wcrld again. I wondered why I had to choose the openirg years cf the Reagan administration and the rise cf the Moral Majority to demand the right to be myself. WouH they arm villagers with torches and stakes and stalk me through tte countryside? Would I stand alone, handcuffed in a precinct cell, with no one to turn to ifl survived the nightmare? Bu then I acknowledged tha no matter who had been in the White House, it had always been hard b be me Between a rode and a hard place—something told me this lifetime wasn’t going to get ary easier. I’d already been through a lot though, and it didn’t seem to me it could get much worse

Once again I couldn’t see tte toad ahead I was still steering my own course through uncharted waters, relying on constellations tha were not fixed. 1 wished thae was someone, somewhere I could ask:

What should 1

<fr?.

?

But no such personexisted in ny world. I was tte only expert on living my own life, the only person I could turn to for answers.

I knew I was changing when people began to gawk at me again. It had taken a year. My hips strained tte seams of men’s pants. My beard grew wispy aid fine from electrolysis My face looked softer. Once my voice was hormone-lowered, however, it stayed there. And my chest was still flat. My body was blending gender characteristics, and I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

I remembered what it was like to walk a gauntlet cf strangers who stare—their eyes angry, confused, intrigued. Woman cr man: they ue outraged tha I confuse them Tte punishment wifi follow. Tte only recognition I can find in their eyes is that I am “other.’

1

I am different. I will always be diff erent. I will never be able to nestle my skin against the comfort cf sameness.

‘Hew the hdl should I know what it is?" the man behind the counter remarked to a cus- / tomer as I walked away. The pronoun echoed in ny ears. 1 had gone back to being an

it.

■»

1

i

Before, strangers had raged 1 me for being a woman who crossed a

forbidden

boundary. Now they really didn’t know what my sex was, and that was unimaginable, terrifying to them. Woman

cr

man—the bedrockcrumbled beneah their feet as [passed

i

by

the heiisheuld I know -dial

itis?

I had forgotten how hard this was

to

endure.

Bn 1 knew I was emerging into the next phase of my life. Bear and excitement gnawed ar me

Thoe was not much keeping me in Brfbfo any longer. \tt [ was still afraid io leave

I

wanted to believe that whatever heme

I

was looking for, rd fnd it here

But

the time had come to accept that my heme might be waiting for me somewhere

else.

Or maybe I had to travel in order to find that home inside myself.

In

any case, there were jobs in New Yak City. The dispatcher a the temp agency

tdd me

I could get work in Manhattan And he said the twenty-four-hour movie theaers

n

Tones Square were the cheapest hotels in the city. While I told rayself I couldn’t move because

I

didn't have enough money deep down I feared New Virk would drew me ip and spit me out.

It wasn’t just tie hope cf steady work that drew me there, however,

t

was

partly the anonymity that atracied me. Scmebcw it seemed easier

to

be a strangff in a city of strangers. And I hoped

I

might find others

ike

me there. Onfy fear kept me

tn

Buffalo.

One morning I came dewn stairs and found an oil slick where my Harley had been parked.

I

couldrft believe it had been stolen.

1

walked around the block foran hourtrying to convince myself N simply forgotten where Fd parked it. When I finally si down on the curb and faced that my bike was gone,

I

knew it was time to leave Buffalo.

As the Amtrak train pulled out of the Buffalo station I felt as though Td left myself behind.

I

didn’t know what lay ahead, bit the train was hurtling through thedarkness toward tha destination.

The winter sky was as blue as a childhood dream, and the clouds formed foapes waiting to be named New scenery shot past my wiodow. The earth emerged—wooded, bleak, and bare. A long ride lay ahead cf me.

"Is anyone sitting here?” a woman asked me I shook my

head.

She pul her luggage in the rack overhead. A little girl peeked around the woman’s legs at me. “I’m Joan, and this is my daughter Amy”

Amy stared

a

me.

I

nodded and smiled. "I'm Jess”

I

turned and looked out the window. I wanted » be left akne to thhk and to wonder.

Amy curled upon her mother’s lap. "Tell me a story” Joan smiled and leaned her

head badt against the seal

"Once upon a time....” She wovea story about a little

girl

who traveled out into the world to fnd the

sorcerer who

would tell her what foe was supposed to do with her life. Bii on (he way the girl wasconfronted by a fire-breathingdragon who blocked ho- path. She was very frightened by the dragon “What shall [ do?’ the girl cried out. Suddenly she nooced a huge boulder balanced on the cliff above; I she could push the rock, » would fell and kill the dragon. But how could she get ip there?The girl called

»

out to an eagle, “Brother Eagle, please help me slay the dragon!” And the eagle swooped down and lifted the girl ip to the cliff. The dragon saw the boulder falling, but it was too late. When the rock crushed the dragon, it disappeared in a cloud cf smoke. The girl was very happy,

bit

die was afraid the whole mess had made her late on her journey and now she'd never find the sorcerer. That evening die stopped and camped under a weeping willow beside a river. She started a small fire to cook her hot dogs and went into the forest to find more wood. When die returned, die fouid the sorcerer sitting by her fire, toasting marshmallows. She knew it was the sorcerer because he was wearing a tall pointed cap with stars and moons on it. So she sat down and asked him, “Mr. Sorcerer, please tell mewhat I’m supposed to do with try life." And the sorcerer smiled and told her, ‘You are supposed to slay a dragon."

Any smiled

tt

her mother and curled against her breast. “Mommy, is that a girl or a man?

1

die asked, looking ip a Joan.

Joan flashed me an apologetic expression and turned back to Amy. “That's Jess," die said.

“Can I get you anything from the caf ecar?” I asked Joan as I stood ip and inched past them both. She shook her head.

I bought a bottle cf pop and a deck cf cards and sat in the cttfe car and played solitaire. What I came back to try seat, Joan and Any were gone. They must have gotten off a Rochester. I relished the privacy.

The world rushed past try window: streaks cf vermilion, magenta, burnt umber. Silver birch aid patches cf slow Crispy ocher leaves still gjued to branches. Golden waves cf graceful weeds reigning over marshland. Brown ducks bobbing in still ponds

TIe

iy filled with mows and hawks and turkey vultures. Weather-beaten houses tucked awy on hills between evergreens Fallow fields and gleaming silos.

Sleepy rural towns turned their shabby backs toward the railroad tracks. Block- long main drags: five and dime, hardware, auto parts, gasoline, home-cooking. Lime, lemon, peach pastel homes. Saggirg porches. Pick-up trucks and children’s swings rusting in the backyards. Trailer parks—yesterday's dreams of mobility stepped of wheels. Abandoned factories, familiar as a lover’s sigh. Ribbons of roads, trestle. and track tied all cf our lives together like a gift.

I began to fed the pleasure of the weightless stae between here aid there.

But hours later the earth began to recede under the weight of acres and acres of factories and high-rise apartment buildings. were approach ing New York City. The buildings loomed larger till they blocked the sky. I descended deeper irto a forest cf tenements. Some lived in, some abandoned—the differences were slight: boards or cloth tacked ip over windows. Laundry snapping in the air, strung from fre escapes. Every inch of wall space seemed to be spray-painted with names.

I could taste the poverty—familiar grit between ny teeth.

“That’s Harlem," I heard a man say to his traveling companion. Harlem! I felt breathless with excitement.

1

CHAPTER

stood slock still outside Grand Central Station looking up I felt Eke a child again,

standing at the bottomof aconcrete canyon with sky-htgh walk. Crwdsof people

rushed like rapids. Strangers slammed me as they passed.

Mwe

it, asshole.

I remembered how it fdt to grow up in the adults’ world, as though everyone

bad met together and figured out a plan of action, and I didn’t have a clue.

I worked my way o thecurb and aied the guy a the newsstand, “Where’s 42nd

Street?”

“You‘re standing on it,” he snapped.

“How do you fnd an apartment in this city?” I asked.

‘You want an apartment? Go find someone who’s got a rent-controlled apartment

and kill them.” He wasn't smiling as he handed me acopy of tie

Village Jtiice

and took

ny money:

I pressed my back against the fecadeof a building and watched the crowd flew past

me

I

realized Ihiscity required a strategy and

1

didn’t haceone. I had six hundred dol-

lars.

It

had to get me an apartment with enough left for food and tcfcens dll my fast

paycheck.

It turned out to be true tha 42nd Street was filled with all-night theaters. Admis-

227

228

sion was three dollars for kung fu movies endlessly string together. I chose a theater and entered an all-male world. The theater smelled like stale cigarettes and reefer. Many of the seats were broken, something I didn’t discover until I sat down and landed

tn

the sticky floor. "The men nearest me checked me out and went back io staring at the screen.

I loved the movies. They seemed to share a theme. A young man is f iced with a powerful enemy. He’s faced to find a teacher who can trail him in monkey style, fraying mantis, nger, eagle claw, scorpion. The twist is that the teacher is not powerful enoigh on his own or dies before the young man E ready, It always tales some special combination cf skills and insights to defeat the foe The hero was honorable—marked by humility and discipline and was very respectful, if not chaste, with his girlf riend.

But every time a wanan speared on the screen, the moi around me shouted, “Eat that pnssy! Fuck that bitch!” At first it scared me Then I realized, with the exception tf me this was

ai

all-male audience. Who were they talking to if not each other? Was each man who shonted from his stoned stupor trying to convince the mei nearby that a woman conld still make his dick hard? That no matter how the weight of the streets had crushed him he was still a real man?

I kept putting off going to the bathroom, but after a while I just had to, The stench hi me as I opened the men's room door. An older man was sitting at one toilet, a needle stuck m his arm, nodding. The tile was gummy with crud. There were ro doors on the stalls. Most of the toilets were overflowing with shit and toilet paper.

I snuck into the women’s bathroom, k was musty from lack cf use. Just as 1 was zipping ny pants back up, the door opened. “What are you doing in here?” a man in a red blazer asked me

I let nry voice settle into rough. ‘Taking a shit. Do ya mind?” I pushed past him and went back o ny seat. By the time I’d seen each film twice I b^an io doze.

The next morning I walked, asking directions of nearly everyone I passed, (ill I was at the doorstep cf the first rental agency fd found in (he kbice,

‘Do you have anything cheaper?” I asked the woman agent.

‘You wart an apartment or a dump? Two hundred fifty—that’s a barg

ain

’’

I thought about it. “When can I move in?“

“Here’s the keys,

11

she said,

I reached for the keys, she pulled them back. “Thafs ate month rent, one month security, and a finder’s fee $750, payable now.“

‘I only have $500,“ I tdd her, hoping the extra $100 would list me till I faund a job and got paid.

9ie looked me up and down and held ent an open palm, “Give me the $500 now. You’ll owe me the finder’s fee Yai have till Friday. $&u don’t come up with the money by then, you’re out” I thanked her as I signed (he lease.

She needn’t have given me keys The apartment had no locks. It also had no stove; refrigerator, running water, or floor boards. I stepped carefully between the two-by-

fcuis underfoot

I

raced bad; down five flights cf stairs and called the agency. “It’s unlrveatle,'* 1

told

the

woman

“That’s not my problem,”

she said.

'1 wan my money back!"

She laughed, almost gently. “¥m signeda lease, hooey It's yours forthiny days'*

"I want my money back!

There’s

gotta

be laws. You can’t do that,”

I

sputtered

into

the dead receiver.

k was dusk and

I

was cold. The man in the comer liqucr store gave me a couple

of cardboard

cartons. I

climbed back up the five

flights of stairs. I

wedged a

piece

of

cardboard in thedoor

to keep it shut, flattened the rest of

the

bares and used them fir

a

bed.

I

lay there

feeling

like

a

damn

fool. Now most of my

money was gone

and

I

had

no

income

I

heard footsteps on the

hall stairs. I

wondered who

it

codd be since the

building

appeared tobedeserted.

The

footsteps

grewetoser, pausedonmy flight, and

approached

my door.

I

lay still,

trying not to breathe. One push on

my doorand this stranger would

know

I had wedged it from

the

inside. I

was

quiet for

a

long time

as someone stood

silently outsde my

dooc Then I

heard the footsteps recede back down

thestaiis. I

jumped

to

try feet

and

grabbed

try duffel bag,

eager to

gel out ofthts

dangerous

dump.

What

had made

me think I

could survive

this

ciy?

I

didn’t know

any

otherplace to

spend the

night except the kung fu theaters. They

felt

a

whole lot safer

than an

abandoned

building.

I

stopped

a Chinese man on the street

and a&ed him

where I was. “Mott Street," he

answered. “Where you wanna go?"

1

sighed.

’Times

Square—42nd Street"

Ffe

indicated the distance with a

wave tf

his arm **A-train.”

Where were

the

damn

trains?

How

did

people find the siiways in this

city?

I

asked

and asked

until

someone pointed to a staircase leading down under the street.

I

bought

a token

and

entered

the world

of New

York Qty subways. Nothing it life had prepared

me for th

-b

In

Buffalo

I

always had ny own

vehicle. Even when

I

had to take

a bus,

we aS

sat

day-dreaming in the same direction. On

the subway, we foced each other.

The subway

car was crowded.

I had never had the opportunity to observe people

this way Most of the

riders

looked asleep on their feet, their

eyes glazed over. Others

buried

their

noses in newspapers

and

books

I

suddenly

realized

that at least a

few

people

were doing exactly what

I

was

doing.

They

were

tooking 1 people; they

were looking

at

me.

The woman

sitting across

from me stared

as

though I

was

from another

planet.

She

nudged her

boyfriend. “Is

that a

guy <r a girl?’’

He

looted a me from head

to toe.

“How should

I

know?

1

1

hoped we

would

ar-

rive d 42nd

Street soon.

“Hey,'’

he demanded

‘hre you a guy or

what?”

I stared back at him with my

flat

face on. "Hey, I

asked ycu a fucking

question Are you

deaf?"

I

didn’t

answer,

He

got

ip aid

stood over

me. holding the

straps

far support. He leaned

near my

face. Icould

smell beer,

"[’maskingyouoneniore time,

you

motherfucker, What the fuck

are

you?” The train stopped a 42nd Street and the doors opened. He was blocking ny escape.

“C’mon,

hon," his girlfriend tigged at

him.

I

stood

up We

both

squared

cff ttose-

to-nose- I clenched

my

(fits at my

side.

“C’mon, hon,” she

cajoled-

You

promised

me you wouldn’t

get in a

fight again today."

They both

turned

to get off the train. I

decided to

stay

on. '‘You fucking faggot." he

shouted

at me.

“Fuck you

”

I yelled back

a

him.

“It’s a guy," he

told his

girlfriend.

I

get

cff

a

the

next

station

and

walked back down 8th Avenue to 42nd

Street,

tf

I made enough

money,

maybe Id

go

back to Buffalo, At that

mernent

I believed it.

“Looking hr fan, honey?” A woman stepped out in front

of

ne on the sidewalk and opened her fate leopard coa

to

showme her black

bustier. “Let

metake goodcare cf you," she pursed her lips and hooked her arm through mine I remembered

coming out as a

baby butch

and

bang nurtured fey the

strength

tf pros

like her.

Once I

had

been

on

their

side

ii

the world.

Now

1

was seen asa trick.

I puled

away

from

her

n

horror

"Fuck

you,”

she

spat

a)

the

sidewalk

h front

of

me

I noticed

a

squad car parked diagonally across the intersection. 1 heard irons raring

up behind

me.

1

neared a small throng

of cops. One

of them pushed a Black drag epeen in fish

net stockings

up

against

a squad

car and

cuffed her hands behind her

tack.

She

turned

her face toward me.

Help me,

she asked wordlessly.

7

don’t

know how,

my eyes

answered.

Twcops were

hewerir^

wer

another

drag

queen

who was

sprawled cn the asphalt

The blood bubbled on

of

a wide crack in her forehead. One

of

the

cops knelt

down beside

her,

He never

tock

his

eyes

cff

me

as he

readied forward and

took

one of

her hormone-swollen

breasts

in his hand. “Honk, honk," he laughed as he squeezed it-

I

stopped dead

in

try

tracks,

chilled and f

iled with hatred. I

couldn’t

think

of

a

way

to

intervene except to sand (here

and witness The cop

standing

nearest

me waited over,

He

brought his

face up

close

to mine. “What’s your fucking problem?” he asked me He'd eaten garlic recently. I didn t move cc speak. He jabbed me in the rib with the end

of his

nightstick “How‘d

you

like me

to

run you in?” he asked The thought of getting busied

alone in New

Y<rk

City terrified

me

"Answer

me,

huh? or

no?”

I paused. He grabbed his nightstick

with

both

hands and

held it horizontally

across

my chest

"Yes

cc no, asshole?"

I

exhaled

"No.”

‘You mean

No

sir"

he taunted me

I pressed my lips together. He

stared into

ny

eyes. “Get the

fuck

out of here,"

be

Ordered,

I

ran

down 46th

Street until

I

couldn’t hear thrir laughter

any

more. My

breath

came n short

^sps.

An icy wind

blew off the

river.

A young child

was standing

near the

driver’s side of a cai; talking » the man be-

hind the steering wheel

If

she hadn’t been wearing high heel\ she wouldn't have been

tall enough to meet

the

driver’s eyes She wore a thin,

short jacket

and seamed stock-

ings

Sie mist have

been freezing.

I

saw her walk around to

the

passenger side of

the

car

and

get in.

1

couldn’t run

er walk ary

further.

I leaned my

forehead against

the

cold brick

fece

of a

building. The physical pain

begin in my chest and

wtrked

its way

up

to ny

throat.

1 opened ny mouth

to scream, but no

sound

would

comet

The next morning

1

was

waiting

in

front of the 42nd Strea

temporary

labor

office

when

it opened.

A man

in

a

plaid

sports coat read

over

my

application. “What kind

of dis-

charge?’

he

asked me.

“Hub?"

“The

service.

What kind of discharge you got?”

I

shrugged

1

hadn’t filled

out that section of

the

application.

T

wasn't in the service.”

He

leaned

back in his

chair.

“Why

not?’

I

leaned

forwani

“Mister, you got

a

job for me

or not?’

He

dammed his pen down. ‘You gpt a driver’s license?"

I

shock my head.

“Get

one," he said.

“No,”

I

told him.

”1 don’t

want io drive in

this city.

Too crazy.”

He

wrote something

down cn

a

piece

cf paper.

“Know how

io

drive a

forklift?”

I

nodded. "Sewing machine factory," he said

"Skid work." He wasa man

offew words.

“What’s

i

pay?’’

He

smiled. “$80 a week.

We

take $40 out this week and next.”

I

leaned forward

it

anger. “What fcr?‘

“For

finding you

the

job.

You wart i

or not?”

I

exhaled through clenched teeth.

“Yeah,

I’ll

take it”

His

spirits

seemed brighter "Good, here’s

the

directions. Listen

kid,

nothing in

life comes

free.”

During

the week

I

lived

on peanut buner sandwiches. On payday

1

treated myself

tj

the

cafeteria

across from the

factory.

“Brisket/*

I pointed to it. The man behind the cafeteria counter nodded and

be-

gin to carve it

“Lo

mismo,"

the olderwoman

cn

nay left

tdd

him

My

stomach

growled.

The

woman smiled knowingly

at me

Wr

both hungrily eyed

the mea

being carved.

The stack of

meat

on my

plate

continued to grow,

and still the man

piled

cn

more.

The woman nodded at me

1

raised

both

eyebrows.

IM

She sighed.

‘A

man needs more food”

she said.

After work [bought two strong hasps and two locks

at the haidwareaorea-’id went

back to the abandoned building at Mott Street.

I

installed them

so

[

could

lock thedocr

from the inside or the outside. Then

[

bought a piece of

plywood b

cover a

patch

of

floorboards

and a cheap air

mattress

far

a bed. On

my

first night m New York Gty

fd

been

seated to death in this

building

at night.

Now,

a

week

later,

I

thought Id

de

if

[

didn’t get a few nights of privacy.

There was no running water in the building.

But

when cue of

the

gtys

at

the

movie

theater bad found me rinsing a T-shirt h

the

men\ room

sink, he

told me Grand Cen

tral was a much better

place

to clean up.

During the

day

I

worked temp

assignments washing

dishes

and

loading trucks.

After

work

I

waited till the rush hour thinned, washed on

a

T-shirt

in

the metis rocm

in

Grand

Centra] Station, and took it home to dry. At dawn

I

went back

to

Grand

Central

Sta

tion to wadi up Al tha hour the men’s room

belonged

to

homeless men

who,

like

my self,

struggled to hang

onto

the tast shred

of

self worth.

On

two occasions

I

suspected

thtt a

hometess

man, bundled

up in coats,

was really

a

woman.

Through a second agency

I

got a job as a night watchman.

At

least

1

could use the

bathroom in private.

1 had

to make roundsevery sixty

minutes.

With

tte

help

ofanafarm

ctock

I

could sleep forty-two minutes

each

hour.

Doubte shifts were killing

me,

but

[

was driven to

earn enough money

to

get a

teal

apartment.

As

the weather

got

colder,

I

devetoped a

cough

I

couldn’t quiet with lozenges

and

syrups. My throat was raw,

I

hoped it would go away

"Go home,

for

Christsakesj”

one

cf the guys oi the loading platform said eartier in

the

week.

"Can’t afford

to,”

1

totd him.

Fecer consumed me. Sidewalks rolled under my

fed'.

Buildings

curved over

me

and

blocked the sky Wind

tore at my clothing.

1

made

it

to

my apartment by leaning

against the flimsy banister and resting on

each

landing.

My steeping bag and pillow boked inviting.

Tte room was dark For the fist time

h weeks

1

was warm

enough.

Tbo warm,

realty..

As

[

lay

down to sleep

I

thought

1

saw

a batlikedemon flying back and forth

above

me, filling

the rocm with the

hum

of h

eating

wings.

1

fell asleep

to escape

my

terror. When

I

awoke

1

saw

Theresa sitting

next

to

me. My pillow was soaking wet Her hand felt coot on my

cheek

Fd

almost

forgotten

her

smite was

a gift.

"Theresa,”

1

whispered,

’1

tove

you

so

much.

I

miss you, hauy Please take

me

back"

.

She silenced me

with

her hand.

Jess,

ycu have

& go to the hospital

I

shook my head. ‘1

can’t

I’m too

sick b

protect myself,”

She soothed me with her fingertips,

f

'stime

now, sweethem.

Ifou can

do

it

I

know you

can.

“Theresa. I’m

so scared”

STONE BOTH

BUB 233

Sie nodded as she ran ho* fingers through my hair.

I

know Jess.

I

know.

I shook my head. “I don't just mean the hospital I don’t know how

to

five my

fife anymore. I’m afraid.”

fjie nodded.

You 're doing it, Jess. Just hang on.

I trfed to get tp cn one elbow, but

I

sank back down. "I’m so alone. Theresa.

I

don’t belong anywhere. 1 dorit even know ifl still exist” Theresa wiped the tears from my eyes. I took her hand in mine “Please, Theresa, stay with me.

Please dorit

go. I’m so scared"

Fm right here, baby,

she reassured me

I've always been here with you.

I

rdled down a hill toward unconsciousness. “But you’re fading,”

[

whispered.

I

strained to walk against a bitter wind.

I

couldn’t make it to the hospital.

My legs

wouldn’t carry me much further, and

I

felt too weak to submit loan examination. Theresa had overestimated ny strength—physically and emotionally.

I

coughed so violently

I

was afraid my ribs might crack. The sound cf a distant siren seemed to bend like taffy. Gty lights shimmered.

1

walked aimlessly through the streets of the Lower East Side, unsure how toget back to my apartment “C&D,” a young man whispered as

I

passed. “What you looking

for?”

I shook my head.

‘1

dorit know”

His eyes lit

up. “What you need?”

[

coughed and coughed, until the street lights spun around me “Manhe said, “you’re sick, huh?’

“It was just a sore throat,

but now I can’t stop coughing."

“How much money you got?” he asked. 1 shrugged. “You got

twenty dollars?’

I nodded. "Wait here," he told me

I

stood

cn

the corns' so long

I

forgpt what

I

was waiting for.

He came back with an amber

vial. As

I

reached

for

it he pulled it back.

I

handed him a twenty dollar

bill.

‘You take them four times a day You gotta take all of them, you know? That’s what the man said.”

I f rowned. “What is it?”

He shrugged

“Medicine. I told him what you told me. Yougot anotherten dollars?” “Why?” I answered. Tha meant yea

‘1

got foir codeine here

Tha

otghta make you stop coughin’, or at least

stop

carin’."

I

smiled and handed him another ten dollars. "Thanks,“

I

said, and meant t

He foook my hand ‘You take care of

yourself now hear?’’

I bought (wo quarts of juice and wert back to the abandoned space

I

called home.

Every fiw hours when the coughing woke me;

Td pop a pill and a codeine tablet and go back to sleep. When I wote qi Sunday morning my bedroll was soaked.

I

sa

up and rubbed my eyes,

I

fdt stronger. The illness was breaking up and

leaving me.

The rent on this place was due

A

the end of the week fd found a cheap hotel near tie temp agencies where

I

could rent by the week until

I

could save up for a decent

9i

apartment—a real

home.

I

looked around.

I

couldn’t beli ere I’d

lived

in this dump

fu

a whole month.

“How

much?”

I

asked the super.

“Three twenty-five

a

month with heat and hot

water, The

toilet’s

in the hall. Three twenty-five

security

deposit.”

1

nodded, k

had

a

small

bedroom, kitchen, and living

room,

all in one straight

line.

1

gave

him

the

cash; he handed me

the

lease.

“Wait,"

I said as he

turned to leave.

“There’s

no

bathtub?”

“There,’ he

pointed to a

comer of

the kitchen. k was a tub covered with a sheet

of

metaL Strange

city.

I

locked the door of

my

apartment and turned to look around i needed paint: yellow

for

the kitchen,

dry blue

for the bedroom, creamy

ivory for the

living room.

I

needed rugs And

dishes, silverware,

pets and pans Cleanser fu the sink.

I

opened my duffel bag to

look

fora pad and pen to make a list.

There was the china kitten that Milli

had left

me

I

placed

it gingerly

on

the mantle in the living room.

I

pti

the amber

glass,

from the hone Theresa and I once had, on the windowsill in the kitchen and made

a mental note to buy

some flowers.

I

left the wedding ring Theresa

had

bought me on the mantle. .

I

decided to buy

yellow calico curtains fcr the living roan

windows, like the kind Betty had made fa

my

garage apartment. I glanced a the

door once

mere

ii

make sure it was

locked.

1

pried open

the

window

that led to the fire escape. Prom there

I

could see

tire EaS River. Competing

sounds of

Latin music from cars and apartment windows filed

iry

ears. Children

pla/ed in

the

street

Their mothers yelled at

them from the windews,

ki

any

language their warnings meant

Be

careful.

New

buds were popping from the

skinny

trees that

lined the street It was spring

I

noticed

wiry

weeds, almost as

big

a; saplings, growing between the buildings and in vacant loB. They pushed through

cracks in the cement, growing wih scarcely

any soil

a

light. The

sight was strangely

reassuring. I figured if they could survive here; socouldl.

A

woman

h

the

supermarket turned and aared a me as

I

clawed

a

rry

crotch. The

itching

and burning

had

beccme unbearableover

the months.

It wasn’t gong away by itself.

I

had a vaginal infection, I’d put off doing anything about it, refusing 13 admit I needed io

see

a

doaor.

Why did the

infection hare

c be there cf all places? Wfy couldn’t it be an

ear

infection?

I

had

a flyer on

my

refrigerator

door that

fd lifted

off

a lamp post advertising a women’s health clinic in

my

neighborhood. On Wednesday night

I

mustered my cour

age

and went

“This

clinic

is

fa

women,” the'receptionEt

smiled.

1

nodded. "1 know

I

have a

vaginal infeicfion

“

I

whispered.

‘A

what?’’

die asked-

J took a deep breath and spoke in a stronger voice ‘A vaginal infection.”

Stillness fell

over

the crowded waiting room. The silence punished me. The receptionist looked me

tp and down.

"Are you kidding?".

I

shook ny head. ‘5 have a vaginal infection. I came here for help,”

The receptionist nodded. “Have a seat, sir”

I

debated leaving, but the itching and bunting were gening worse every day. 1 watched (be receptionist greet the woman who arrived after me “Just pull your own chart and

have

a seat,” she said. ‘The doctor will be

with

yon shortly. Help yourself

to

herbal tea.”

Everyone in the waiting room was starrig at me

I

looked at the bulletin board: women’s dances and rituals; therapists, masseuses, and accountants. New symbols: a two-edged

hatchet,

a cirde with a cross on the bottom. New names: Goodwwrtyn, Sil- verwomyn.

I could hear myself being discussed in loud voices. “He's crazy.”

“Well, why can’t they be crazy in their own space?”

I found an empty chair and sat down. I noticed a bocfc on the rack next tome tailed

Our Bodies, Ourselves

aid made a mental not to buy n

m

a bookstore.

A shadow fd across me—a wormn with a clipboard. Her nameplate read /foj. Once inside the examining room Roz threw down her clipboard on thedesk and nodded toward a chair. "What’s this al aboutT* All rny words tumbled out.

I

tried to tell

her

everything—who 1 was, why

fd

come.

Roz sat back h her chair and nodded as though she really understood. Then she said, “I

don’tknow what

your problem is, but

this

is a

clinic for

women who are sick and you're using that resowce right now.”

“What?”

‘You may think youre a woman,” Roz

continued,

but that doesn’t mean you are one.”

My anger ignited. “Fuck you,” I shouted.

She leaned back in ha chair aid smirked. “What a very male thing io say.’’

I

fek my face grow purple with rage. “Fuck aD cf you!”

I

got up to leave.

A

doctor blocked my exit. “What’s going on

in here?”

she asked. Roz must have made a gestire

I

couldn’t see The doctor nodded. “Come with me,

1

' the doctor said.

I

followed ha into the hall.

“What’s going on?” she asked me

I

sighed.

“1

have a vagina) infection."

She searched my face with ha eyes. “Have you taken any antibiotics recently?”

1

brightened.

“Maybe. I

took something a couple of months ago for a badcough “

She nodded. “How long haveyou had the vaginal infectiai?”

I shrugged. “A couple of months

Her

eyes widened. “You-ve had this

for

a

couple of months and you didn’t do anything about it?”

2%

“Well, I was hoping

i

would go away."

She smiled slightly. “Let’s tale a look. Come with me”

I stiffened with fear, Too much had already happened to me here. 1 couldn’t let her touch me there. “I can't,” I told her. “Please. It’s been hard io do this, I just can’t.”

She watched the emotions I couldn’t hide. “This is a prescription for Monostat,” she scribbled at a pad, “It should slop the itching and burning sensation. Next

time

you take antibiotics, eat a cup of yogurt each day.”

I wondered if she was pulling ny leg about the yogurt ‘You believe

me

don’t you?” I asked her.

She shrugged. “You might be a man, Bn if you are a woman, 1 don't wart to said you away. £ doesn’t cost me anything to write you oit a prescription. When’s the last time you had a pap smear?”

I froze She pressed. “Within the last three years?” 1 dropped my eyes, but die wouldn't let

gi cf

the question. “Within the last five, six?"

I diook my head. “I don’t know what that is,” I admitted.

When I looked tp she had tears in her eyes, “Now I believe you," she said. “Why?” I asked her. “Plenty cf men don’t know this stuff either, do they?’ She nodded. ‘Yes, but they don’t fed ashamed. Who’s your regular doctor?” ‘I don't have one”

She continued to watch ny face in a way that unnerved me. “I’d like you to ccme bad: for an examination and a pap smear."

“Sure,” I lied. 1 doubted I’d be able to gr ip the emotional energy to face the scene in the reception area again unless I was in real bad shape. And besides, tfe thought cf a doctor opening try legs and examining me chilled me to the bone.

“Thanks

for

listening,”

I

told her. “.Almost nobody hears me anymore”

She squeezed my arm. ‘You can make an appointment

a

tft; front desk on your wa/ out. Don’t put i cff too long.”

I could still fed her hand on ny arm after she'd walked away I suddenly realized I didn’t know ha- name. I might need to come back someday I started (town the hall after her. Roz came oil tf the examining rocm arri blocked ny way,

“What's her name?” I a&ed Roz. ‘I forgot b ask.”

Roz's voice

wie

cold. ‘You got what you wanted, now leave.”

“You’re wrong, Roz,” I corrected her. ‘I got what I needed. Y>u have no idea how much I want.”

Every time I get a paycheck I used part of i cn my apartment. I spent one whole weekend spackling the cracks in my walls and ceilings. As I qaplied pairt to each room with tread strokes try spirits lifted.

On ny most ambitious weekend 1 sanded all the wood floors. Then I started f turn the furthest comer of the apartment and polyurethaned myself out the door That

night

I slept at a 42nd Street theater again—just fcr one mere night!

The floors weredazzling. It added a new dimension underfoot, as though the ceil-

ings were raised, or the apartment had grown in size.

1

found a black Guatemalan rug d a flea market It had tiny flecks of white in it.

1 unrolled it h my living room and stood back »

look

it reminded me of (he night sky

filled with stars.

Gradually

1

bought

furniture—

a sturdy couch and reading chair, a mahogany

kitchen table and chairs. At the Salvation Army I founds bed—the head and footboards

were ovak carved out of cherry

I

wert crazy buying Sheets a Macy’s.

As my house came together, [ suddenly warted things that made my body fed good.

I threw out my dd jeans and bought new chinos,

underwear,

shirts, and two pair of

sneakers, so that I didn’t have to pound the pavemen in the same pair every day

I

bought thick, soft trwels and fragrances

St

ny bath tha pleased me.

And

then

cne day

1

looked around at my aprtment and realized

Td made

a home.

CHAPTER

21

■!

!

iving in New Y>rk City wasn’t easy—

sometimes

my nerves felt

Eke

grded

cheese—but it

was

never

boring.

I

Eked that. Something was always hap-

J

peningm

Manhattan,

good or bad There wee things to

do

almost any hour

of

the day

<x night

There's a bookstoreon practically every comer in

New YorkCity. 1

read

the books

furtively until I realized nobody cared if

I

hung out for hours.

I

only read the poetry and

fiction.

I didn't want

to

discwer

I

wasn’t snort enough

to

understand

nonfiction.

Bn

the Wbmen'sStudiessection tempted ml By leafirg through the

booksIcouMeares-

drop

on the discussions

going

an between women without

being seen.

& turned on to be true that

I

couldn't understand

a

lot of the

theory But I felt as though I

was

rushing iiio

a

burning building to rescue the

ideas

1

needed h my own

IK i

At

first

I

skimmed

past

al the wads and pages about reproductive rights.

1

had ro relationship to my own uterus. But

I

remembered how upset Theresa had been after

I

got

busted in Rochester

because she

couldn’t remember when she had her last period.

I

never

kept

track cf ny menstrual cyde. But Theresa always

knew when try period was in relation

to

hers,

k

suddenly made

sense

to me

she was afraid

I might have gotten pregnant.

The

idea had never

occurred to

me What would

I

have done

139

2J0

Fd

gotten pregnant after a rape?

1

slopped skipping over the sections in bocks about women

controlling

their own

bodies.

Maybe

all

of

these things tfai

were

so

impatani to

other women would prove io have meaning for me, too. No matter how much

I

read

a

the bookstores,

I afcrays

ended up spending a lot of rw paychecks

at books

I

also discovered

classical

music. On my

w^ to

wcrk one

morning I stood

and

listened to a

man

playing

the cel

o

in the

subway station.

The music

grabbed me

by

the

collar and wouldn’t tet me go.

I

crouched dcwn next

to

the pillar nearest him as he pitted.

The

music articulated emotions fa met thewcay poetry did. When the rush hour crowd dunned

1

realized

1

was

lac for

work.

The musician put

down

Ns bow

and wped his brow. “What were you playing?”

I

asked him.

He smiled.

“Mozart."

1

began

to haunt

music stores as

well. 1

scraped

together

enough money

for

a stereo I

also explored reggae and merengue,

charanga and guaguanco,

fca.

and blues. One spring afternoon

I

found myself scrubbing my apartment. I had

turned

up Pachel

bel's

Count in

D Major

full

blast

I

realized

I

was changing

on

the

inside as much as

I

was cn

the outside.

“If

you’rean organizer for Local 6" the owner leaned across

his

desk, “you can

punch

in,

but

you may not

punch

out." Ironic.

He

was

af raid the union had

sent me t» organize his typesetters.

I was

afraid he’d find oil Fd only recently learned to type

The foreman

fed

me to a machine. “Here’s

the manual.

I

don’t have time

c train

you

now kart

typing

this

text.

When h’s

done,

run

i

out

and

give it to

the

proofreaders in there,

til

show you the format

codes

later,

or

look them

up. Got

it?”

I nodded.

“Wait,

1

’ I

stopped

him,

"how dr

1

run it out?"

He

foook his head

disgustedly. “That’s what you got a manual

fir"

From where 1

typeset

1

could

see

four women

working inade

the proofreaders’

room.

I

could hear

their laughter, easy and relaxed. The fireman poked

hs head

in

and said something I couldn't hear

They

brokeofftheirconversation. One wmen

nodded He left. Their

laughter rose

again.

I

wondered

if men know

that

women

talk different jy

among

themselves.

I

guessed foe same mist be true for foe Back

and

Latino workers too, when no whites were around

"The women huddled n

share a secret.

1

typed

upthetext and

locked up

thecodes to run it

out.

1 actually looked fixward

to being inside the proofreaders’ space

for

a moment—women’s space.

The

women stepped taking as I walked in.

I

held up the repros. "Put

them ewer there,”

one of

the women

said. She didn’t

look

a

me as

she speke.

I

sighed, dropped

them it

the

basket,

and left. As

I

walked away,

I

heard their

conversation

resume and

their

voices

rise in

laughter

ooce again.

I

only lasted

one

shift in that shop. But New York Qty was chock

full

of typeset

ting shops that ran round the dock. They were always hiring on third shift—lobster shift. Afterfaking my way into enough shops and learning a bi at each. I soon realized I wasn’t bluffing aiy longer.

1

had become a typesetter

ft wasn’t a bad rhythm of life For six

cr

eight monthsout of the year

I

earned top dollar.

I

loved the leisurely predawn rate home, traveling in theopposite direction of packed rush hour trains and crowded streets. But it was dark when I gX up, and

I

began to fed

ike

a mote. Just when I thotght Id lose my sanity, it was summertime—layoffs. 1 became eligible for the maximum unemployment benefits.

During the summer I explored the city My biggest problem was loneliness. I didift have anyone lotalk toall summer long By fell I longed for casual conversation between coworkers.

Hit poinded the lunchroom table forentphasis. I read the newspaper. “Isn’t tha the truth?’’ Bill asked me He leaned forward. “It’s too fucking weird working nights in a plant with no windows. Ytu could come out in the morning and fnd out there’s been a nuclear meltdown and you never even knew k."

Jim laughed. “Well, if you see the sin risng h the west, cane back and tell the rest of us, OK?” Jim sighed. “I know what you mean, though. I remember one time

I

came oil of work at dawn and there was two feet of snow on the ground. Iddnl even know it was going to snow,

I

felt like I missed something the whole rest of the world saw and

I

was somewhere else”

“It’s Eke working in a fucking submarine,” Bill agreed.

"Ybu knew whal hate the most?" Jim continued. *1 get sodisoriented about which is today and when is tomorrow When

1

get

ip

a night to go to work, my girlfriend says she’ll see me tomorrow But for me; I’m going to see her later today.”

I nodded. “I knew exactly what you mean.

I

fed like I’m livingbetween the cracks of today and tomorrow..’’

“Ooh,’’ Bill

said,

”1 like that Can I quote you?’ Wfe all laughed.

“You know' what

I

really hate about shift work?'

I

said “The way the whole world is geared t> first shift. When I get eff work

E

don’t want bacon and eggs.

I

want ieak and baked potato I want dinner!”

Yeah,” Jim chimed in. “And

I

want to see a movie.”

“And go dancing with my old lady A a club

so

wild it

stays

open past noon,” Bill said.

“And when

I

turn on TV,” I added, *1 don’t want n see game diows and soap operas—it’s depressing.”

“Hey, guy,”

Bill

said. “Why don’t you come to the gym with us in the morning? We go swimming right after work. They got a seam room, too We can get you

in

on a pass.”

It

sounded like heaven, but I fumbled foran excise. ‘1 don’t have a swimsuit cr

242

towel or anythiig. Maybe another time."

Jim cut me off ‘They got towels there. Hell, they wouldn’t care ifyou swim naked.”

I shook my head. ‘1 knew I shouldn’t have worn ny Fred F) jetstones boxer shorts today" The guys laughed. “Another time But thanks

for

the offer.”

Bill shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

During the simmer I made a list of things Fd like to accomplish: join a gym, fnd oi! more about my aunt who had been a union organizer, and have my picture taksi in from of the Stonewall bar where the rebellion took place in 1969.

After visiting a lot of gyms I found one in Chelsea that felt comfortable. It was mostly gay men, some lesbians, different nationalities. It was expensive, but the nice thing about having a decent-paying job most of the year is it meant I could join.

Next I set out to learn about ny aunt who died h New York City around 1929. Jhe became an organizer fix the International Ladies Garment Workers after her hus- hand died. My' father was always so proud tha she merited an obituary in the Ahv

York Times.

I remembered seeing it in the family scrapbook.

I spent two weeks searching obituaries at the library, with no luck. I came close to giving up, bn decided to try 1930. “There’s a half-hour limit today because we’re busy," the woman behind the research counter said as she handed me the spool.

I threaded the film and quickly fell into my routine cf scanning headlines, I almost passed this one without registering its meaning:

Mde Butler Discovered After Death ToBe Woman.

My breathing slowed, I popped a quarter h the machine and printed ou the article, 1 read each wad carefully. The obituary repoted the death of a servant in 1930. Her bod/ was foind in a rooming house, Her name was neva mentioned. Nothing more; r» diary, no clues. All I had woe these few words on a page to know her by I closed try eyes, I would never have the details of her life and yet I could fed is texture with ny fingertips.

Now I knew there was another woman in the world who had made the same complicated decision Rocco and I made. Time separated me from this anonymous servant. Space separated me from Rocco,

The headline chilled me—her life reduced to eight flat words. I wondered if my life woiid be recoded in eight wotds a less, I stared

i

a ^>ot hgh

ip

ai the wall, feeling empty and small.

“Sir,“ the librarian’s voice broke rry thoughts, “your time

e

up"

The last task Fd set formyselfwas finding the Stonewall bar, I remembered the impact when we heard about the battle with the cops in 1969, I wanted to ask a passerby to tale my picture in front cf ft. I thought someday, after Fd died, someone might find foe photo and understand me a little better,

“Do you know where the Stonewall bar is?" I asked two ggy mai who woe lean

ing up

against a

lanppost in Sheridan Square

“That used

to

be the bar.” One of

the

men pointed to a

bagel shop

I

sat down wearily on a park bench. A

homeless man picked through the garbage can nearby. fd seen him before. His bright African print

fabric

skin brushed the

sidewalk. Gauzy

material wrapped his upper body, slung across one shoulder like an East Indan san. He glided with grace and dignity.

Fcr a moment he

looked up to argue with

someone only

he could see. The guttural words he spote were strangely beautiful. No

one

else on this planet tnderstood his language. His hands fluttered near his face as

he

talked, like daik lards winging

on

warm currents of air.

I

dosed my eyes.

The sun was hot and high.

I

tried to rccal what

my

life had been like back in Buffalo. My past already fei like

a

drcam that receded in the moment of waking. Life in New York City diot past me every day hurtling by like clattering sti

way cars.

I

couldn’t remember

a time when the world was slower and

I

was part of it.

Screeching tires wcke me from my reverie. A woman's scream raised goosebumps on my arms I raced to the comer "Call an ambulance,’

she

shouted. “Hurry! For god’s sake, hurry!" The ambulance needn’t have rushed.

I knelt dbwn beside his lifeless body Ms hands were frnalfy still I wiped the

trickle of blood

running from

his

6p

with my thumb. A gurgling sound came

from his moith and blood bubbled over his lips and down his cheek. A pod tf blood spread under his head.

A

nightstick poked me in the shodder.

‘On the sidewalk, buddy,” the

cop nudged me

His squad car was parked in tte middle

of

7th Avenue

Tte man from tte newsstand came over

to

look

at the

body.

“What’s

he wearing, a skirt?’ he asked

the

cop.

“Beats me,”

tte

ccp

shrugged.

Tte

woman sobbed.

“They hit him

on purpose,

officer. There

were four of

them: two men and two women. Tte light was Fed. They stepped on the $s and ran tan over. They were

laughing.”

The wads tumbled

out,

punctuated

with sobs

She dropped to her knees and keened. “Ohmy

god,”

she sobbed, louder and louder. “Oh ny god!“

An older man put

down

his briefcase and moved toward her.

“Are you

alright?” he

asked.

“Oh god!”

her

vace rose

"Lady,

are

you hurt?” He sounded panicky.

“Are you OK?"

She

shook her head and rocked back and forth

cn her knees

“Oh god,” die repeated,

“they were laughing.”

He patted ha on the shoulder. “Calm down, lady,“ he soothed her.

"It was only

a bum."

k

wasoneofthose muggy New Yak Gty summer nights when the temperature

sticks

tt

one

hundred damn

d^rees.

I stripped

down

to light sweatpants and a

tenement T

244

shirt and headed fa the gym.

I didn’t usually go D the gym in the evening. I hated the after-work crowd lined

ip fa

the weights. But I guessed right that night. The city’s population wilted in the intense heal and beaded fa the coolest spots in town. The gym was practically all mine I worked ny body till i fdt like coiled steel and groaned when the trainer announced it was past 11:00

p.m.

closing time.

I h

ounde

d home like a panther, fed mg fine as could be As I turned from Avenue A onto 4th Street I could seeied hghts revolving, illuminating the buildings, the crowd. Tte whole neighborhood looked up in the same direction, riveted. I walked a little slower. Tie street was slick and glistening. There had been no ram for weeks. I waited slower still.

I heard the fire before I saw it. Tie hellfire roared from the windows of ny building straight up into the sky. Sparks shot up like a. volcanic eruption and floated down on nearby rods. My yellow calico curtains blew between broken shards cf glass as though a storm was raging inside try apartment A small spot of flame appeared on each cur

tain

, and they dissolved ma poof, the wy cotton candy melted on my tongue.

Tte w

eddin

g band Theresa had given me! In an irrational moment I thought maybe I could find the coded pod rf metal on the mantle and get it recast. I imagined the pop cf Milli’s ceramic kitten. I pictured the water in the amber glass on the kitchen windowsill b

oilin

g furiously it the furnace cf heat. I saw a small flame licking the stem cf eadi nardssus in the glass, until they curled in cn themselves and exploded in brighter yellows and oranges than ever before. I envisioned Edwin’s slim volume ofW.E.B. Du Bois burning down to the single page die had marked.

Why couldn’t the landlord have just told us he was going to have the building torched? Everyone knew he was having trouble selling it Most cf the other buildings in the area had beai burned during the decade cf gentrif ication. Wly couldn’t he have slipped a note under eadi of our kitchen doos this morning warning 16 to take the things we loved mist with us? Ffe sure notified us promptly before each rent increase.

My wallet! I left t liome when 1 went to the gym. The rest of ny paycheck was h i. More important, the only picture I had of Theresa was inside that billfold. I’d lost everything. Everything except Rocco’s leather jacket. Id brought t to the cleaners to get a zipper fixed

“Abuela! Abueia!"

A woman broke free from the arms cf loved ones and pushed ho- wy through the crowd toward the burning building. Friends restrained her. She fought to freak free

“What’s she saying?” I asked the super.

He lifted his eyes to the top floor, “Her grandmother.”

I shivered. Did he mean the old woman who could never leave her house because ste lived ai the sixth floor? Occasionally die asked me in Spanish to bring her bread, coffee, milk, or sugar—showed me the wrappers when I didn’t understand.

“Mrs. Rodriguez?" I asked incredulously, The super nodded. The young wonan

stopped screaming when she tend me

say

her grandmother’s name. Our eyesand our lives connected in one timeless moment. She began to sob uncontrollably. Friends led her away

I turned and looked a the waves cf flame

sweeping each flocr

and I wondered, fWtere

do

my

tears

go? Why is it that

I can't

cry-

naw when 1 need

to?

Yet 1 knew that later ny tears would be unexpectedly triggered by the scent of lilacs, or the low hum ofa cello.

Eventually the black

sky

lightened over the East River. I

sat on the curb,

my back to the smoldering building. A fine nist fell on me from the tiny punctures in the firehoses, still pumping waer itto

our

homes. I

sa very still,

not knowing quite where to go from this spot.

I was starting al over. I sat cn a bench in Washington Square Park and inventoried try

possessions:

a pair

cf

sweatparrs, a T-shin, and twenty dollars in my pocket. Al my mcney had been hidden in the apartment. Back to double shifts Back to sleeping in the42nd Street movie theaters on weekends.

1

had noenergy; 1 had no choice.

My mind couldn’t fully accept the

loss.

I bought a hot dog and soda pop fcr cue dollar and waked aromd the park, hungry fcr diversion. I was drawn toward a large crowd watching a young nan in a top hat and tails juggling fiery torches. This was the silly part of the life of ths city that I grudgingly

loved,

no matter how excruciatingly hard

it

was to survive here.

“Who would

ever

want to be a juggler?” the woman next to me asked her companion. “I mean, what’s the

point?”

They both shook their heads and walked away.

The joy Td felt watching the

juggler

drained from my feet At the moment she’d spoken, I was thinking how

wonderful It

would be to team a ski! that could

be

practiced atone, simply for the

pleasure

cf

self-amazement

The man standing near my right elbow looked me in the

eyes

and cocked

hs

head. His gaze made me uncomfortable. I waned to turn away from him It was as though he

codd see

the play cf emotions I was feeling. But

somehow he

drew roe

to

took

a

him more closely. 1 saw a gentle man whose own feelings rippled across

his

face, k was

as

though we were carrying on an emotbnal dialogue without words.

Ife raised his eyebrows h question. I shrugged. “Cynics.” I smiled.

He shook his head and executed gracefid motions with his hands—Deaf He saw on my face tha I understood. I smiled. He smiled. Then I was stuck. I looked z

my

hands, inarticulate al my sides. Cnee again I was bereft of

words,

left longing fcr language that could speak from heart to heart

I turned up my palms and shrugged

helplessly.

He held tf> an

index

finger.

Che?

No. Wait, he indicated.

He examined the ground. He pointed

id

something behind a tree

and nodded

with a

smile.

Then he

picked up an imaginary

thing with three fingers What was

ft?

ft was round. I could tell

by

the way he lifted i with both hands to his face. Still

holdmg it

14*

with three

fingers, he drew it back as

though

he

was—

bowling!

A

bow

ing baR

I

nodded

emphatically. He

found

a

second

bowling ball

on a

branchwer

ny

head.

This one he placed

carefully

on

his

rght

foot

He

searched

with

his

eyes for

a third

and

found it.

With

a

bowling ball

ii

his right hand

md

another balanced

m

his foot,

he slowly bent down »

lift a third bah with

hs

free hand.

He

wobbled.

Could he keep

the baJ from falling

off his

foot

1

He did it!

I held my breath

as

he began

p

juggle. 1

could

see

the

heavy

weigh

cf

the

bowl

ing

balls, the

strength

required to

send

each one

higher.

His

skil increased:

foe

bals

pssed under one

leg,

behind his back, and over

his shoulder.

All three balls

weresent ■ high

into the

air ■■ ■

they didn’t

come

back down. He paused

and

looked

up at the

iy,

scratching

his head in bewilderment. Suddenly

he

lurched

forward

and crught one

in

fos

left hand, then

staggered to the right and caught another.

The

third

one lancfed on

his foe,

sending

him

hopping behind

a tree in mock

agony.

He pedced

out from behind

the tree and

winked.

It

fdt

like

such

a relief to laugh—not in

spite of

my

grief, but

becaise

of

it.

We laughed together.

It

was deep, belly

laughter.

The kind

tha

brings you

to

teas. The

kind

tha releases emotions

thick

as mud.

TVomen approached

him

from

other side.

He

smith at

themand

four

armstumed

h

windmills

of exchange. He

indicated my presence.

Vfeal shook hands.

Before he timed £>

go, he

reached

forward

very

slowly

with his

hand and

touched

a tear on

ray cheek.

He

touched his own

eye

with

ny

tear.

And

then

h walked

away.

CHAPTER

22

V

feh

ike the fire kft me no choice. H<w could

I

give up? Surrender was unimagina-

bly more

dangerous

than

struggling

for

survival.

The

typesetting industry didn’t pick up

till

early fell, but

I

found

werk

catch

•

as catch can.

By Septenier 1 signed a lease on a tenement apartment jrst ixne

Canal Street.

Itwas

a pretty

big one-bedroom

railroad flat, bit it was

filthy.

I

didn’t

have

the

energy

to clean

i

when

I

moved in. Ifigured I’d dot a little at a time I bought an air mattress,

a blanket, anda pillow. That's w+tat

I

really needed in the apartment It was asafe place

to sleep, that's

all.

My

first night there I crawled oil otto the fire escape. I could seea few green trees

lining a tiny strip of something people in this aty call a park. The traffic backed ip

for

the bridge to

Brooklyn had

thinned.

The music of mariachi and mandarin melded

in

the

night.

Three little girls si

on a

fire

escape across

the

street, combing each other’s

hair as they sang pep tunes from

Hong Kong

A man and a

wanan fought bitterly in

an apartment betow me 1

tensed at the sound of a crash. It was followed by an even

more ominous silence.

From the

open firing room window of my next-door neighbor’s

apartment

I

could hear the steady

hum

of a sewing machine.

w

248

Tte flint glow cf the

cty

softened the darkness

cf

night.

If

there were still

stars

in the sky they weren’t within my

sight.

I

saw

my

next-door neighbor a

month

later.

As

I

unlocked

my

apartment, she

opened

hers. I said hello before

I

even looked up. She didn’t answer.

Her face startled me. It was badly bruised on one side like

a rainbow—

y

elow, red,

blue.

He

hair was outrageously

crimson.

1

could

tell

that

womanhood had not come

easily to her. It wasn’t

just her large Adam's

apple

or

her

broad, big-boned hands. It

w® tte way she dropped her eyes and rushed away

when

1

spoke to her.

Every day I saw others like me in this city—enough

of us to populate our own

town.

But we only acknowledged each other with a furtive

glance, fearfti cf calling atten

tion to ourselves. Being alone in public was painful

enough; twocould find themselves

smack in the center

of

an unbearable sideshow. We didn’t

seem to have of orr own

places to gither in Community,

to

immerse ourselves

in

otr own ways

tod

our own

lan

guages.

But now I had a neighbor who was different

like

me. As weeks passed

I

became

intrigued by the sounds and

smells

coming from her apartment. She sewed endlessly. She loved Miles Davis. And whenever she opened ho-

oven, the haH outside ho door

filled with the most tantalizing aromas.

One Saturday afternoon

I

fmnd

her

clutching two

huge bags

of

groceries and

fim-

bing with the downstairs front-door lock.

I

pulled out

my key "Here, let me" She didn’t

say thank you. She hurried ahead of me

cn

the stairs.

“Cfei

I

help you cany hose?”

1 offered

“Do I lock weak

to

you?”

she

asked.

I

stoppedon the stairs

“No. Where

1

come from it’s

just a sign rf respect, that’

sail.”

She cortinued up the stairs. “Well, where

I

come

from,” she

called

out,

“men

don’t

reward women for pretending to be helpless." Once

I

heard her apartment door close

I

kicked

the

stair in anger and frustration.

All day

bng

I

sat

h

my apartment rehearsing how

1

would introducemysdfto her

I stood outside

her

door and listened to the Motown music blaring on her

stereo beftee

1

finally

got up the courage

to

knock. Someone turned

the

music

down as she cracked

open the door.

I

lifted my hand to

silence

her before she could speak. “Tm sorry

to

bother you,”

I

said, “but

I

didn’t

make a

very

good

impression before.

1

know you think

I’m a man, but

I’m

not Tm a woman.’’

Shesighed and

unhooked tte

chain. “Listen,” die

opened

her

door

a

little wider.

“I don’t need a gender identity

crisis cn

my doorstep This

s

my

home and I’m wih

friends. Please understand,

I

really don’t want to

be bothered.”

I heard a drag queen’s voice from

inride

ho-

apartment.

“Who’s

that, Ruh? Ooh,

hes cute! Let him

in.”

“Tanya, please.” Ruth silenced the drag

queen

wih

a glae.

I

could

see someone else

peering at me from the living room.

Ruth was visibly annexed at the curious way her fiends and 1 were checking each other out “rm not trying to be rude," she told me. ‘but let me make myself clear: This

e

my home. 1 do not want to be an-noyed”

[ resed my hand on herdoorf rame. ‘But

I

need to talk to you.” Sie glared atmy hand. I removed it

“But

I

don’t need

t>

talc to you. Excuse me,“ she dosed her door.

1 had no choice but to give Ruth the wide berth she demanded.

I shivered in a blanket on my fire escape, unwilling to kt go of the day The temperaturn had risen to seventy-five degrees, unusual in lae October The chilly evening breeze still smelled fresh by Manhattan standards.

Ruth peked her head on cf her living room window. “Oh,” shesounded startled. ‘1 didn’t know you were out here. I’m going to dose my window because it’s coki.”

I

sighed and looked up at the sky.

She spoke more softly. “It's a beautiful night, isn’t it?’ The dtades of gender it her voice were intricate, like mine.

I smiled. "That’s a harvest moon tp there tonight.”

Ruth laughed. "What’s a dty slicker like you know about harvests?”

Her words and tone angered me.

1

wassickofbeiDg everybody’s “other" But pan of me still needed Ruth’s f riendship so damn much. So

I

took a moment before I answered and spoke without anger.

*1 know how t feds to stand

n

a field

n

the pitch dark under a billion stars, with no sotnd except the music cf crickets and cicadas." Ruth nodded as she stared at the moon. I leaned my head back against the brick. “And I knew how a white-capped river looks when it’s rating toward the fells—how it’s translucent and green at the place where

x

bends over the edge, like bottle glass when it washes up in the surf.”

1 smiled al Ruth “And

I

know your hair is as red as wild sumac in early autumn.”

Ruth looked a me wide-eyed. "What a lovely thing to say You’re from upstate. I can tel hy your accent Me, too."

(nodded. “Ikncw."

Ruth’s whole demeanor toward me changed. She seemed ready to open her door partway for me. That’s when I discovered I was still hurt and angry at her earlier rejections. Before she could say another word I told her “Good night” anddimbed back inside my Jiving room.

1 leaned my head agarist the windowsill and watched the moon continue to rise ever Manhattan. I never would have known Ruth was doing the same thii^ only a few feet away from me ifl hadn’t heard the scratch cf a march and smelled the smoke from her cigarette.

I didn’tsee her again for a couple cf months.

I

think she went away for a few weeks over the holidays because

I

didn’t hear music or sewing and the hallway went back to smelling like a urinal.

2W

I

got tired of sleeping

on an

air mattress

and

I

bough a bed

from the Salvation Army

[

also got

a used record

and tape

player that

was

so

beat-up

I wouldn’t

care f

someone

.

stole it.

One Saturday afternoon, after weeks of working

overtime

I

wokeip

lae.

My apart

ment

looked

so

fikhy it disgusted me. The daylight had thinned

» gpty by the time

[

bundled up to

gp out

fcr

cleaning

supplies.

Ruth

and

I

opened

our doers at the same

moment and

looked

swa/

in

embarrass

ment. 1

held back

to

let her go

ahead

of

me.

From

the

landing

she

caled ip to me, ‘I

hepe this

doesn’t sound rude, but

what was the

music

you

were playing

yesterday?

Do

you

remember?”

“Why?”

1 called down

to

ho-.

“Is

this an

indirect

way

of

saying

it

was too loud?”

There was a long silence.

“No,"

she said. “I

liked

it, that’s all.

Do

you

mhd me

asking?”

“If

t

sounded African it was

King Sunny

Ade" '

“Thank

you,”

die

said curtly. I

heard the front door

shut.

Now

I

knew that she

listened to

my

music

just as

I

listened t> hers.

So

I

began

to

play tqpes

for

both

of us, wondering as

I

did which

cues

she

tmjqyed mast

I

imagined

cur

lives

connected it

spite of

the thin walls

and

closed

doors physically

separating

us. That’s

when

1

realized just how lonely

[

was.

On

the

morning of

the spring equinox.

I

wearily

climbed

my

stairs a dawn

eager for

a hot shower and a

bng sleep.

The pungent aroma of

simmering

rhubarb pulled

me

up the steps

two

at

a time. The

irresistible

smell was

com

ng from Ruth’s kitchen.

I

was

a child the last time fd

smelled

rhubarb cooking.

I

rested

my head against

her

doer My mouth filled

with

saliva

and

my glands ached from

the

aroma.

Just

as

I

got out

try

keys, Rtih opened her door. “I’m

sorry,"

I

said. ‘Tm not

skulking—

honestly. It’s

just

been

a

long time

since

I

smelled rhubarb cooking.

It

takes

ms back” .

Ruth nodded.

“I’m

making pies.

Woukl

you like

sems

coffee?”

I

hesitated. We both faced each

other

stiffly.

Bn

I

was

so weary of our caution and

defensiveness. "Thank you,"

I

smiied. “Oh,”

I

groaned as

I

waked into

her

kitchen.

“It smells so good."

Ruth

smiled. “Well,

I

wish

I

could send

ou home with

a

small

pie, but these are

fi friends in the

hospital.”

I

nodded. “When

I

was a kid

I

used

to ea

it

plain

ri a

bowl

with

brown

sugar.”

Ruth stirred

the pot. “I’m sue

there’s

enough for that”

She

stopped puttering and

buried her hands in

the

pockets of

her

old-fashioned floral

apron.

I pointed to one

of

the small watercolor

paintings on her

kitchen

wall. “I recog

nize the Queen

Anne’s Lace,

but what are these purple

flower^?

“Asters,”

she said. “And that’s

goldenrod.*

1

I didn’t usually

like

pictures cf

flowers,

but

these

reminded

me ofthe

way

flowers

looked

the first

time

I

saw them.

‘These are

really

nice,*

1

I

said.

srowwicmuB

251

“Thankyou?

"Did you paint them?" I asked.

She nodded. •

‘This is beautiful." I pointed

to

a framed handkerchief, embroidered with colorful pansies. ‘‘I always kwed pansies, but they embarrassed me, too, because that’s what lads

used to call

me when

I

was a

little

girl.”

Ruth looked me in the eye and then went back

to

stirring the pot.

“

k’s almost treaty” she said.

“

Sit down. Would you Eke decaf soyou can still sleep? Ybu wok nights, don’t you?”

I smiled and nodded She had directed at feast a little attention award her neighbor, just

as

I

had.

"Some

regular coffee would be great I'm trying

to

stay up and

dean on

the

weekends,

but all I get is one layer deeper ino the crud.” Ruth's immaculate home inspired me

"Where are

you from?"

she asked me

"Buffalo.”

She smiled, “We are neighbors. You Imcw

where Canandaigua Lake

is?" I

nod

ded. k was about two hours outside erf Buffalo. “I’m from Vrie Valley

”

I frowned. “I never heard of Vine Valley, k it farm country?’

Ruh nodded.

"Oh, yes—vineyards.”

As

&e poured the coffee

I

could smell cinnamon

in it

‘1 miss Buffalo,"' I sighed. “Well, a least I miss the way it used to

be

It was

such a

blue-collartown when I grew up

Inever could have

imagined that the plants would

dose

and the people from the suburbs would move in and buy oir

houses

dirt-cheap."

Ruthnodded

and

stirred bercoffi re.

“I know

I saw life in the country

change, too.

When the

big

wineries took over the flat land, it got harder

to

keep the little family vineyards on the hills alive. The call of tire cities lured people to work and

shop?

I smiled. "I always though country life didn’t change

much.”

Ruth laughed gently, “That’s the view from the

city.”

'I

know bow it fek to grow ip in Buffalo. But it must have been hard growing up

in such

a small place." I wandered if what

Id

said sounded too personal.

Ruth sighed and leaned back in herchair. “1 don't know

if it

was hard.

Ijust

know k wasn't

easy

I’d be surprised

if the population of

the whole

valley is more

than

two

hundred. But in

a

way

I

think that’s why I survived. Ufe didn’t have outside help for the vineyards—we all had to rely on each other So those old bonds (/cooperation wereht

completely

broken. I had a

place

there. Bit

if

I

hadn’t left I would never lave discovered Miles Davis,

and my

hair might always have been brown

as

din."

Ruth

got

up and spooned soft rhubarb

into

adisb, thencmmbledbrown

sugar

wa

it.

I

slipped a spoonful into my mouth and sighed.

‘I

had

forgotten about

taste."

She frowned. “What

do you

mean?’

“Oh,

1 eat just because I’m hungry. Fas food, take-out I don’t really taste it. But this tastes

so

good it

mates

me want to cry?

Ruth nodded without smiling. 1

cock for

ny own pleasure,

I

sijoy

the preparing

as

much

as

the

eating.”

I shrugged. “I’m rot really set up K> cook?

She leaned

forward. ‘This

is very personal.

¥>u don’t have

to answer,

but why

don’t

you

have curtains?"'

"Well,

my apartment is

just

where

I

sleep."

Ruth shook her

head.

“That’s strange to

me.

1

really live here.”

“k’s different working nights.”

I

made

excuses

“Ijust

crash

when

I

get

home. Be

sides, I

lost

everything

in a

fire

last

simmer.

1

had really

caned

about

fixing

tha

place

up and making a

home out

cf it

Now

I don’t wait

to

care.”

Ruth pursed her

lips. “You mean

if you don? have

anything

you

careabout,

then

you won't have

anything to lose?’

I

nodded.

“Yeah, something

lire

that.’’

Ruth

looked a

me wistfully. “Then I

guess

everything’; already been taken from

you. You’ve nothing

left to lose, have

you?’

E didn’t know why die had finally decided to

invie

me

in, but

suddenly I felt stripped

and

vulnerable. So

1

took

a

last swig of coffee;

and

the last tan

mouthful of

rhubarb,

and stood up to go. ‘Thank you,”

I

told het

‘That was

a

treat.”

Ruth saw me

tothe door.

1

go to

the farmer’s

market at Union Square today. Can

I get

you

anything?”

1

unlocked my front door and shook my head.

“No,

but

t

hank

you.” Once inside,

I

threw open the windows and begin a serious cleaning frenzy

Hours later 1 furiously scrubbed the gunk under

my sink

while my music

blasted.

The knock a the door startled me. and

I

hit my skull

on

the

pipes.

1

ribbed my head

angrily

as

I

opened the door. Ruth extended an armfii

of

irange gladidas T

ihmght

you

might

like these.

I

heard you

leaning and

1

hoped they

woiid brighten

ip

the

{face

after all that hard work.’’

I

opened the door a little further. ‘Thanks.

I

don’t think I

have

anything

to put

tiese

in.”

Ruth returned

a

moment later with

a

cut-glass

vase Shecouldn’t

ccnceal

her hor

ror a my barren apartment.

I

shifted

my

weight uncomfortably. ”1

haven't

had fine

to shop fcr furniture cr anything.”

E

put the flowers in waer

and

set them

in the

middle

(f

the

errpty

living

room

“They’re really pretty, Ruth. I’ve brought women flowers, but

no woman evar gave me

flowers before. It’s a

beautiful

thing

»

do.”

Ruth blushed. “People need flowers.

’ Sie

turned to gi

and stopped- “You knowc

I don’t even know your name"

“less”

Sie

smiled.

T had an uncle named

Jesse.

Is it short fcr

Jesse?” ’

I

shook my head.

“Just

Jess.”

‘Til leave you to

yoir cleaning, Jess.”

I nodded. “Thanks

fcr

the flowers."

When she left 1 went back to scrubbing. Hours later;

I

sat down wearily on the

living room flocr next

to the flowers. Maybe Ruth

had been right

bring afraid to lose anything

I

cared about meaii I’d already lost it all.

1

heard another knock on my door, the second time in one day It was Ruth. Sie extended a bmdle of unbleached muslin. “These are the curtains

1

used to have in my living room. My windows are the same size as yours so I thought I'd offer them

It’S up

to you”

I

stood and looked at Ruth and at the gift in ho- large hands, and

I

said yes to both.

A week later I brought Ruth’s vase back to her, filed with irises.

Her

snriie was my reward. “Do you have a vase?” she a±ed me

I

shook ny head. “Come in.

Here,

do you like this?" She handed me a cobalt

blue

glass vase

I

si

ghe

d “Oh! The color is so intense i pulls me in. lean almost taste the color."

Ruth rested her

fingertips cn my cheek. “You’re hungry, Jess. Your senses are starved" I stared into the depth of the deep blue. “If

I

made you dinner tonight what would you eat? Fish?”

I

laughed. "Is fish food?’

Ruth shook her head ‘Oh no, you’re not a meat and potatoes kind of gty, are you?”

I dropped ny eyes. ‘Tm not a guy, Ruth."

She nodded. “Well, then it has a

little

twist when

I

say that, doesn’t it? Alright, I’ll make you red meat But I warn you. I’m going to expand your appetite."

What a wonderful offer! But wfy was she being nice to me now?

1

shopped tha afternoon for new chinos and a dress shirt I stopped at the farmers

mar

ket and bought Queen Anne’S Lace jelly, just because

I loved the way it

sounded. I found fat blueberries at Balducci’s and a Miles Davis tape at Tower Records that

I

was sure she didn’t have.

Ruth

laughe

d with pleasure

a

the small shower of gifts. ‘These blueberries are going to be our dessert. And I think FD use a spoonful of this jelly for our tea. But how did you know

I

warted this concert tape?”

I smiled shyly. "I’m your neighbor.’’

Rrth laughed

“That you are Sit down.”

Her

kitchen was layered with smells. Ruth set a huge salad in frort of me There were yellow-and-orange blossoms in the bowl along with greens fd never sear before. My eyes filled with tears. "Ruth, there’s flowers in my salad."

Ruth smiled. "Those are nasturtium. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?"

“Can leat them?’ Ste nodded-

1

shock my head. ‘1 hate to eat this. It’S like a work of art "

Ruth

sat down next to me "That's part of how starved you’ve been.

I

think you’re afraid this

e

the last beautiful thing that's going to happen to you, and you want to hold onto it”

“How did you know that?”

Ruth

smiled

“I’m your neighbor. It’s a wonderful salad, Jess,

I

made it just fer you to enjoy. But the next cne will be luscious, too."

1SJ

I

blushed and putdown

my ink.

‘You know

when your leg falls asleep

how it

hurts when

the circulation starts again?

I’m

not

sure I want to hope. I don’t wait to get disappointed again.”

Ruth patted

my

arm. "'We

both

already know all

about disappointment. Lefs not anticipate it."

She

got up and put cn the music

Id brought her.

As

1

ate

thesalad, tears

ran down

my cheeks fcr no

apparent reason. Ruth smiled.

“It’s

balsamic vinegar. Isn’t ii wonderful?”

How

could

I

explain why the

tastes of

nasturtium and balsamic vinegar

on try

tongue made

me cry?

“I’m

sorry,”

I

wiped rry eyes ’‘This is just wfy you didn’t want to

let me

in, isn’t

it?

Why are you being so nice to

me now?”

Rith put down ho- fyk and covered

try hand with hers.

“I’m

serry

1 was

so cold.

I misunderstood you.

1

thought you were frightened and confused and Iwas afraid you’d

sap

my

strength

After you backed off

I

realized

I

couldn’t figure

you out—that’s a very attractive quality in try book. Y>u seemed

to

be much

stronger and

calmer than Fd first given you

credit

for

So

1

changed my

mind.” Ruth smiled, "It’s a woman's

prerogative”

"What

finally made you decide to let me

in?”

Ruth squeezed my hand. ‘The color of

my

hair is

my

declaration

to

the

world

that I’m not h

d

ng.

It’s a

hardcolorto stand behind,

but

I do it

to

celebrate

my life

and ny decisions. Most people

are embarrassed by the color of ny

hair. It

took a very

special

person to compare it

to

the

color of sumac.”

1

laughed and picked

a

ny

salad.

‘Do you

knew if rm a man

<r

a woman?”

“No,”

Ruth

said.

“That’s wfy

I

know so

much

about

you.”

1

sighed.

“Did you think I was a man

when

you

frst niet

me?”

She nodded “Yes At

fira

1

thought

you

woe a

straight man. Then

1

thought you were

gay

It’s been a

shock for

me to realize that even I make assumptions about sex and gender that aren’t true.

1

thought

1 was liberated fam all of that.”

I

smiled. ”1 didn’t want you

to

think

I

was a man. I warted

you

to see how much

more comp

icated

1

am.

I

wanted you to like what you saw.”

Rich

brushed my cheek

with her fingertips.

I

shivered. “Well,

I didn’t understand rjght away but

I

thought

you were awfully cue and handsome and

interesting-looking.” Even

Ruth’s

wonis

were gifts.

I

dropped ny

eyes

so die

couldn’t see ny hunger

fir

her attention. ”Oh, Ruth

1

wsh we had our

own

words

to

describe ourselves, to

ccnnect us”

Ruth

stood up

and opened the

broiler.

“I don’t

need

another

label,”

she sighed. "I

just

am what lam.

I

call myself Ruth. My

moths

-

is

Ruth Anne; my grandmother

was

Anne. Thafs who

I

am. That’s where

I

come from.”

1

shrugged. “I don’t want another label either. I just wish we

had words so

pretty we’d

go out

cf our way to

say

them

on

loud.”

As Ruth set

the

plate

down

1

stared at the steak “What are these little

sprigs cf

things

cn

top?”

1

asked.

’’Sage.”

She spooned tiny

carrots and

miniature squash mto my plate. She opened

the oven door and served me steaming bread and sweet butter. Every bite tasted like music in my mouth.

“Now we’ll have the wonderful dessert you brought,

1

’

Ruth

said. She filled two earthen bowls with blueberries, drizzled them with heavy cream, and sprinkled them with sugar.

I

blinked away tears and squeezed her arm.

“RuthThe

wools got stuck in my throat.

She covered

my hand with

has. “1 know

all

abou hunger, Jess.’’ She lifted her mug. ‘To friendship?”

1 clinked my mug against hers.

“Yes," I answered, rio our fnendshp“

I

shopped

fu used furniture,

the

first sign cf my own sprirj

thaw: Ruth seemed more excited

than 1 did as the steady stream of deliveries arrived

Gradually my rooms

began to assure

shapes. Ruth hung ha framed handkerchief embroidered with pauses cn my kitchen wall

and gave me

the tie quilt die’d made with her grandmother for my bed.

Bn I

really knew Ruth and

I

were becoming

dose when

she admitted how modi she waned help repainting her apartment, k was an absolute pleasure n see the joy at

ha

lace

as 1

covered

her

walls vrith fresh colors.

She

exciedty cut shetf paper while the cupboards were still tacky with white enamel.

I enjoyed the complex

layers of life

tn the

city and longed to explore those nooks and crannies with Ruth. But we never left our apartment building together because

cf

what she called her geometric

theory: two

people like us

in public

are more than double the trouble.

Instead we brought each other

little gifts from

otr daily travels.

I

gave her Villa- Lobo^ she gave me Keith Jarrett; I

brought her forsythia,

she brought me impattens. And after a while we exchanged our teats and our frustrations, as well.

“Why, Ruth?”

I stormed arotnd her

kitchen.

“Why do heath turn when we wait down the street?

Why

are we so hated?”

Ruth

stopped scrubbing the

inside walls

of her stove. “Oh, honey Hfe’vebeen taight to hate people who are different. It’s been pumped intoour brains. It keeps everybody fighting each other

”

1

slumped in a chair.

‘1

used to

want

to change

tie

world. Now I just want

d

survive

it.”

Ruth laughed.

Her rubber gloves

snapped as she pulled them off “Weil, don’t give up just yet, honey. Sometimes thmgs don't

change

for a long time and

then they

catch up so fest it makes your bead spin”

I

sighed. “When

I

was growing

up, 1

believed I was goma do something really important with ny life, ike explore the universe or cure diseases.

1

never thought

Fd

spend so much of my

life fighting over which

bahroo.it

I

could use.”

Ruth nodded. “Will,

Fve

seen people risk their

lives

for the right io sit

a

a lunch

2S6.

counter,

ff you

aid

I

aren’t going to fight

for the right to live,

then the kids coming

ip

will have to do

it.”

I

leaned my head

back against the back cf the kitchen chair 2nd laughed. ‘You are my pleasure, Ruth. You’re

the last

ice-cold Coca-Cola in the desert.“

1 flashed

her a smile that

clearly

charmed her.

1

had forgotten

I

could do that

That

evening we

crawled

out

onto the fire escape and sa close to each other as

die afternoon

shifted

to

evening fd never held a body larger than mine before

The

street

below us was blocked

off fcr a festival—tiny lanterns strung ip between booths cf

food, couples dancing

in the

intersection to a live mariachi band.

“Ruth,

if we lived

in

a world where we could be anything we warted to be, what would

you

do

with your

life?”

Ruth

smiled wistfully. "Oh,

I’d still sew fd

dress people in their deams so they

could walk proudly down

the

street And

Td

codr for all the people who had ever been

hungry.

1

wouldn’t

be

afraid to leavemy house. Oh, IU love to explore this world.

Whrt

about you,

Jess?”

I

leaned my head back against the brick.

“1

think Td be a gardener in a woods just for children, and when they came by

Id sit and listen totheirwonderings. And the ocean

would be nearby Td live in a little house on the

shore. At dawn

Td

strp offall my dothes and

swim.

At night Td sing a song about the way life ised to be. It would be such a sad song

fi

would make the grownups nod and the children cry. But

Td sing

t

every

right so that no one would evar confuse nostalgia with wanting to

return.”

Ruth began to

cry

‘Oh, Jess

Even in your dreams I

can hear low muchyou hurt” I kissed her very

red

hair.

“Jess,

I

had grown socomfoitable with bang alone,

I

forgot

how

lonely

I

am underneath.

I

hare

friends

I

love,

like

Tanya and Esperanza and the

showgirls

I

sew far. But

1

feel so

close

to you... 1 can’t explain it.”

I

rocked her gertly..

“Ruth, if your life was set

d

music, what kind cf instrument would be

playing?"

She snuggled against

me. ‘A soprano saxophone."

I

smi ed

. “

Because it’s so

sad?’

Sie shook her

head. “No,

because it’s so evocative. Whrt kind ofinstnimmt wotid

play your

music, Jess?” ’

1

sighed.

“I think a cello."

Ruth held me tight. “Because it’s so sad?’

1

shook my

head and lookedout over the dty. “No, became it’s so complicated.”

CHAPTER

23

ditched the quarts of elderberries against my leather jacket and grinned, knwtng

how

excited

Ruth would

be

that rd found them in the wiitertime. They’d taste

Ike home

to

her,

like

lier life’s seasoiB. I

could already smell

hot elderberry

pie.

I

leaned fcrward on the subway track and looked down as far as

I

could

see

I

was

anxious o get

home

The

sin

would

be

ip within

hours.

Ruth’s

sewing

ma

chine would

be

humming

Wai

nil she saw Are eiderberries.

Her smile would be my dawn.

I heard the

three teenage boys before

I

saw them. They shooed in boisterous ca

maraderie

as they jumped the

turnstile. White

boys pumped qt <n chemicals. Their first target was an old man asleep on a bench. They

rousted him, kkked

him, passed

him from

one set of brutal hands to another They laughed as he pushed though the

turnstile and ran.

That’s when

1

made a mistake I moved

further back

irto the station, away from

them. In

doing so,

1 moved

further from

theexit

orany possibility ofhelp. Some mistakes in lifeare not punishable, others teach you a lesson you never forget.

When

I

heard their

footsteps

growing closer. 1

knew better than to hii behind the pillar.

It’s

far worse to

be

caught cowering.

I

reached

inside the

bag

and pulled

out a

J5i

small handful

cf

elderberries: Their tan taste heightened my senses. They stained my hands with the color of battles won and lost. 1 sei the rest of die berries down on the platform, wishing Ruth could have known I had found her elderberries in the winter in this pared city. I wanted mere

time

with Ruth I wished I had thanked her for breathing a little life back into me.

I positioned my house key between my fingers so that my fist bristled with coppay spikes. I was trapped between the end

cf

the station and

the

three faces getting closer. They are the hunters;

I

am the prey. For just a moment, before it began, I cursed Ruth for making me hope again. Then 1 let go of everything except the moment confronting me.

The leader of the pack emerged. He reached for my lace. “What have we here?" he asked, almost gently. I blocked his hand with my own. He smiled. Now it had begun. My spiked fist was out of their sight. I didn’t reveal my readiness. His buddies leered and sneered. But hissmile was harder toaand upto,

k

remindedof acop’s smirk, meant to force me to admit powerlessness.

“What the fuck are you?' he aied quietly. “[ can't

tell

what you are Maybewe should jist find out huh, guys?” His taunts and threats rolled off ma not becaise I was impervious to them, btl because ] was filled to overflowing.

I tried not to listen. It didn’t matter what he said. It didn’t matter what I answered- All tha was impertant was the action, the positioning of their bodies and mine, the juxtaposition cf matter and space, open throats and unguarded kneecaps. At the instant the action exploded I would hare a moment to strike to change the relationship of forces When one their punches ccnnected with my body, when blood filled my

eyes.

when

I

could no longer catch a breath—I would be theirs.

I

braced myself againS the leftover grit of elderberries between my teeth. Any moment it would erupt Any moment

I

looked the leader in his eyes, refusing to show tun ny ficar Of course we both knew 1 ws afraid. I wasn't ready to die. Oh. I was scared alright. But what I hadn’t shown him yet was my rage

I

might never get my hands

cn

the powers tha twisted and unleashed these bullies cn me, but if I was going todie, I was sure as hell goittg to try to tale them wih me

I

could feel a breeze on my face—a train was approaching. Wnid it

cane

in time to save me?

The attack began at that moment. His body betrayed him. He telegraphed his

in

tention to move. I swung my spiked fst tin an uppercut to his chin. At die moment of impact he bit eff the end of his trague. Hu bbod sprayed my face More cf his blood ran down my wrist as I yanked oil my fist The train roared into the station.

Another open throat.

I

thrust my clenched fst liito itas hard as I could. Evenover th racket of the train I could beard the gurgling sound as

I

pulled out my keys.

A fist as hard as an anvil smashed the side of my jaw The opposite sde of my kuU slammed into the metal column.

I

staggered down the platform, rubbing someone ete's blood from my eyes

The train doors opened. The early morning rush hour crowd moved away from

STONEBUTCHBLITS

2S»

ire in honor. When the doors dosed I looked around. They hadn’t followed me onto the train. I looked rt rry hands, stained with elderberries and blood. I wondered hew much cf the blood was rry own. My head throbbed more and more insistently. A steel rod of pain pierced ny jaw—fiery hot, icy cold. My vision doubled, focused and blurred again. I couldn’t hear the sounds cf the train over the roar in my ears.

I got eff the train

i

14th Street. I was Ruth I wanted to see. Ifl was going to die, I wanted it to be in the arms cf someone who understood me Bit I knew we risked a hideous scene if we went to the hospital together. Maybe ifl went alone and they didn’t make me take off ny T-shirt they might help me.

No one noticed me

i

first as I staggered through the double doors of St Vincent’s Hospital. Then han± reached out for me, guided me. A nurse peered in rry face as she pushed forms toward me I invented someone who had insurance and no fear of being traced. How long it would take them to check out rry lies?

Another nurse lay me down gently. A gale wind blew behind ny eyes. Doctors and nurses bent over the table and peered

a

me

I

wondered what they saw. The ceil- ir^ tw

gan

to move I was being wheeled somewhere. I remember opening my eyes and w

atching

a doctor sewing my mouth. I waited to struggle

bit

I lay still. Myhead ached.

When

I opened rry eyes again there was only a nurse in the room, writing on a clipboard. I tred to sit up. She came over and steadied me ‘Take i easy? she whispered. She read the fear in my eyes. “Do you know where ycu are?” she asked. I nodded. “You’ve been in and out since you gK here You jaw is broken. You’re gang to bedrink- ing a lot cf milkshakes for the next couple of months. We’re going to bandage your head wo

und

You have a concussion. The doctor’s waiting for the x-rays to ccrne down. He may wart you to stay overnight for observation." My face and head felt huge and bloated.

There was kindness in her smile. “One cf the police officers will help you fill out a crime report.” My eyes widened in fear. “It’s required by law,” she said. ‘You just 5e there, now Don’t try to get up. I’ll be back in a while” I stood up as soon as she left. The room rotrted around tie axis of ny feet I had trouble focusing my eyes My head wasn’t working right.

Soon they would fmd oil I didn’t have insurance. Momentarily a cop would arrive. Every bit cf information I gave him would be a lie. I was still a gender oiXlaw— ary encounter with the police might end up with me

it

their custody.

I

panicked. It was tine to escape. I checked ny wallet I had more than enough for a ci ride home.

The emergency room was so chaotic no are noticed me leave. The icy blast of wind outside felt good against rry swollen face, but t made my scalp ache. I stumbled to the comer cf 14th Street and hailed a cab. The driver turned around in his seat. “Where tq pal?” I couldn’t answer. He frowned. ’Where tq mister?” My hands moved in frustration. “You drunk or something?”

Ruth. 1 warted to get to Ruth. I grimaced so he could see ny gums were wired. “Holy shit,” he said. I mimed writing. Hs handed me a pad and I wrote down my address. He watched me in the rearview mirror as he drove “What happened?" 1 shrugged.

JM

“Oh, yeah. You can’t

talk.

I

forgot” He pulled up in front cf ny building. “That’ll be

SKI,”

he told me

I

gave him a five

and

waved for him to keep it.

AB 1 could think of was Rath’s arms. But by the time I get to her door I hesitated. Even though

I

could hear her in her apartment, I didn’t knock. I quietly took out ny own

haise

keys. They were clotted with blood. I calmed my breathing, fearing Td choke

to

death if

I

vomited.

A moment after Td closed rry door

1

heard a knock. I knew it

must

be

Ruth. 1 heki still and didn’t mote until die walked away and dosed her door.

Why?

Why was I suddenly so afraid to see her? Because I feared bringing so much need to

her?

What

ff

I asked

for bo

much? What

ff

she turned away fran me What if

I

lost her?

I wanted to go

to

her, though.

I

wanted to kneel in from of her and adc ha" io hide mg to keep me safe. Arid

I

wanted her love to protect me from harm’s way More than anything

1

just wanted to be held. But

I

was so afraid

d

ask.

My head

hurt

and hurt and hurt. I couldn’t open my jaws Panic burned like acid

in

my throat.

I

feh claustrophobic, trapped inside my head. My skull throbbed, and the roan til ed

like

the fun house at Crystal Beach. Fb just a moment I was more terrified not to

ad; for

what I needed than

I

was to be rejected.

1

fumbled tr ng to open the lock on my door. I dammed it behind me and hurled myself against Ruth’s door, pounding it with my fist. If; die didn’t answer fist

Fd

lose

my nerve,

Ruth opened her door, wearing tha old-fashioned apron. She pushed her very red hair out of her frightened eyes My chin ached and trembled. I struggled to speak. She saw

ny

gums, laced with wire. Ruth readied out one hand to mg Jed me irto her kitchen, sat me down.

I

tried to repeat two words ova- and ova- again but die couldn’t under

stand

me

She brought me a pad and pencil.

I

couldn’t hold the pencil in ny swollen

right

hand She pulled an old baking heet from the dish chain and opened a can

cf

Crisco, then

Rih

smoothed a thick layer of lard over the aluminum and set it on the table in frcnt of me With my left index finger I wrote the two werds Td been repeating

Hdp me?

Ruh knel in front of

me

and buried her face

in

my lap She cried so bitterly I tried to comfort

her,

stroking her hair and smoothing the floral material covering her wide shoulders. “This

is

why

1

didn’t want to fet you h my life,'* she sobbed. “Because

1

knew Fd have to look. When it’s me

I

don’t have to see it. But when I care about you

I

have to look.

I

see it and

I

don't want to”

Her words confirmed what Fd feared most—I’d asked for tod much. I stood up duwly and staggered to the door. Ruth put her hand on the door. “Jess, sit down. Where are you going?" She wiped her eyes with the back cf her hand. I looked st her calmly, hiding the

crisis

of rejection.

“Honey,”

she

stroked my cheek. “I’m so sorry.

I

just dotft want it to be you C’mon, honey. Please. Come.“ Ruth guided me to her bedroom. I covered my eyes against the sunlight streaming in ho- windew. She pulled the shades.

Ruth laid medown on her bed.

I

could feel tfe embroidered edges of ho- pillow-

WEtOTCH UOS

261

cases against my cheek. My head hurt even wise when I fay down.

I

sat up unable to explain why. Ruh touched the hack of my head.

I

winced

n

pain. She stared at her hand h horror,

k

was covered with blood. "Jess," she whispered, "I’m afraid,"

My eyes narrowed in anticipation of another rejection Ruh lifted my hand in both of hers and kissed each bruised knuckle. I wasn't afraid t> die in her bed with my hand in hers.

She gently pressed my head against her body. It hurt, but I needed her closeness. Her voice dropped lovy Eke a whisper ‘1 once read in an old drag magazine about a time, long, long ago, when people like is were honored. If

1

had the power, Jess, I'd take you back and leave you there

with

people who would care fix you as much as

I

do.

Td

knew you were safe, and you’d be lowed.”

I tried tosit up “Lean against me, Jfess.

Yhj

need forest.'’

I

moaned as I tried to

by

my head against her breastbone. Ruth propped me up

with

pillows. She curled

ip

between my thighs and stroked my chest with her wide hand. "Shh," she whispered. ”1 knew you’re f rightened, too, but it’s gonna be alright. It's always the werst when they hurt my head

I’m

akvays afraid

Fll

bse my thoughts, my memories. Dn scared I’ll bse me

Is

tha hew you're feeling?” Sie wiped the tears from my cheeks.

I

closed my eyes ‘Try to stay awake, honey,” she pleaded. “Please. I’m afraid fx you to fall asleep right now!

1

1 wanted to go away. “Ill tdl you stories.” she smiled. "I’ll tell you about where

I

grew up Ufeuld you Eke that?’

I

blinked back to consciousness and nodded. Ruth rested her cheek against my chest and squeezed me tight. "Oh, Jess. I wijh I could show you the vineyards. 1 wish you could anell the grapes

n

the fall air" Ruth looked qp at me and smied. “Someday I'm going to make you grape pie. After my grandma Anne’s and my mama’s,

I

make the best grape pie in the ’valley.” Grapepie didn't sound very good to me, but it didn’t matter much at the monEnt.

Ruth mesmerized me with her voice.

“1

wish

1

cotfd shew

i

all to you—how the hills change with the seasons. In the winter, my Uncle Dale could name every tree for me just by the shape of its silhouette outlined aganst the sky. But it was the vines that brought usouttodiscovcrspring. Ufemight not ha® noriced the smell oftheeanh thawing if it hadn’t been far the work tha needed

doing.

The

men

trimmed the vines, and we tied them to the locust posts.

‘The women all working together

in

the vineyards woe the best times of my life, Jess.

I

know it was hard work lugging those heavy grape traya But all I remember

b

talking and laughing together, All the stories seoned to begin with the same sentence: ‘Remember the time that-

Ruth

glanced

ip

to make sure I was awake. “When I waseight or nine, my Uncle Date tried to tate me oil with the men to

prune the

vines.

Bu

my mother said no She and ny aunt and my grandma took me to work with them. They already knew my nature."

I

stiffened as the

pan

pew

inside ny head. Ruh rubbed my chest until the hutt

16’

subsided. ‘1 remember ny Unde Dale told ny mother I needed a man around. My dad died when

I

was so young Dale used to ccme by to take me hunting Mostly we just walked in the woods He taught me Io respect Bare Hill—

that’s

the birthplace cf

die Seneca

nation. The government cut a road right through the burial grounds there.

“Anyway, Dale seemed to get mere and more upset about the wa/

1

was growing up. Therecertainly wasn’t anything manly aboil me, and I think he felt it was his fault. One spring day we were walking cn Bare Hill.

The clouds were moving fast, throwing

shadows over the valley and the lake as they passed Unde Dale seemed so disgusted with me

I

thought hed stop takiig me cn those walks.

“A

the top of the till I saw a man whose hair was long and chocolate brown, like muck. Someday I’ll diow you the land we call muck—it’s very fertile and very

beauti

ful. They stood there talking. Then Dale nodded toward me and said, Tm trying to teach the boy to be a man.’ His voice sounded like he’d already failed.

I

felt so

asham

ed standing

there,

this stranger hearhg the disappointment in my uncle’s voice a the same moment

I

did.

“But the man pn his hand cn my nicie s shoulder and he said. Let the child be.’ After

a

minute Dale hung his head and nodded.

He

looked

st

nr different after that, like he was seeing me fcr the first time.”

Ruh cried softly against my stomach. I ran rry fingers throughher hair ’1 wanted

him

to love meso much. And after that he did.

1

knew he cared

about me before,

bu

1

didn

t

think he'd be able io accept that

I

wasn’t growing up t> be a

man

But after that day we didn’t

pretend to hunt anymore. We just went fcr walks

He bved those hiEs

more

than any human being.

I

was so proud he’d take me

ip

there with

him.

”

She reached for a Kleenex and blew her nose. “Want to hear something funny?” she smiled. “Years later I reminded hijn about the man we met cn the hill and Uncle Dale tcid me it never happened like that

He

said it must have been one cf the spirits oftheSenecas who walk those hills. Ididrit know if i really happenedornot. Ido know

that

something changed between nr and Dale that day, and

1

know it was real hard

fcr

him to adtr.it.’ ’

1

rolled my head gently against the pillows until

I

found a place cn rry skull tha didn’t hurt. My eyelids fluttered. “Jess, fight to stay awake, honey.

Please. Wake

up fess.” That’s the last thing

1

heard her say before I lost consciousness.

In

the

days that followed 1 drifted in and out cf awareness. A woman came into

the

bedroom with Ruth. Ther hands felt reassuring on my body. Ruth propped me

ip

while the woman cleaned a spot cn my scalp tha hurt real bad When she was done she wrapped my whole head in gauze. Ruth helped me sit up and urged me to drink through a iraw. I saw my Hood was everywhere: sponge-print circles on the wall behind the bed, soaked stains in Ruth’s beautiful embroidered pillow c

ases.

As

the dys passed

1

could hear the sound

cf

Ruth’s weeping replace the steady hum cf her sewing machine. Even in a state of semiconsciousness 1 knew I asked too much of Ruth this time. My blood was all ova- her life, and the stains weren’t going

to scrub out

One morning

I

fdt her lips on my forehead and opened my eyes.

I

forgot about my jaw and tried to speak When

I

couldn’t,

I

grabbed my face. Sie put her hands

over

mine- “It’s OK, honey. Youlne getting better Look at me Let me see your eyes.” She held my head between her hantfe as though it was a crystal ball. When

I

saw her

eit

pression I wondered what had made me think I had to ask

for

her love.

She dropped her eyes “I’ve done something terriHe. Jess,

I

was just trying to help

1

let myself in next doer and foind the name cf the company where you work

cn

the check stribs you keep

cn

the kitchen table.

I

thought if I called you m sick,

you

might be abfe to keep your job

I

told them you got mugged and you’d be out far

a

week

<r

two Jess, 1 referred to you as

she

I

wasi’t thinking. They heard it. I’m so sorry.

I

know

i

means I lost tha job fir you.”

Ruth touched my face “I know you must be really mad at me.” I shock my head

k

was a mistake, that’s all. I thought about fluffy, the union organizer wbo’d done the same thing, and I forgave him in retrospect

I fluttered my hand to ask fir something to write with. Ruth came back with a pen and paper. My right handwas stiff and sore but the words I wrote were legible—the messajp life had given me another chance to deliver. Ruth read the words on loud:

Thank you fir yow lave.

And then we cried together.

I

visited the graphic arts employment agency in person and wrote down that

1

was locking

fcr

work I started a new job the same night. That’s when I realized fd become a valuable typesetter Christmas was a morth and a half away and the thrd drift could hardly handle the volume ofwork the ad agencies woe sending over.

I

took all the

overtime

they offered.

I

warted a chunk of money,fest.

At night

I

lived inside the coding strings, my face illuminated by the ghostly light of the terminal The code phrases became my poetry. The curves cf type against

space

sarg to met the melody mean everything, the words mean very little.

At dawn I worked ort a the gym, pausing only when the throbbing in

my

head frightened me.

I

moved my will to live down deeper into ny body, Since

my

rage and frustration couldn’t escape through my clamped jaws,

I

screamed through my musdes. I thought I might explode with rage At first working out rt the gym reduced the pressure, but after a while the frenzied workouts became pan of it.

I

was a time bcmb, ticking, ticking, moments away from detonation.

I didn't steep very much.justa few hours in the morning and late afternoon.

I

feared losing consciousness, afraid Fd never find my way back.

Ruth seemed worried about how much lime I spent away from the apartment.

I

could tellby the relief on her face every day when I knocked on her door t>

check

h

with her, “Where do you go?’ she’d sigh as she poured me a protein shake.

I

could tell she didn’t expect an answer.

Restlessness drew me D Far Rockaway beach cn a cold December morning.

As

1

walked along

the shore

I

thought about hew fear and silence had welded my jaw shut

fa

more of my life than Td realized.

I

wondered if silence had killed Rocco aid the anonymous

butler,

a little bit

a

a time, too. What would

I

say when

1

finally snipped the wires tha held try jaws clamped?

The lobster-shift foreman handed me the last check I needed

two

days before the Christmas weekend.

In

the morning Td

goto the check-cash

ng office, flash my company cardl and walk out with all the money

1

needed to buy the gift for

Ruth.

1

snick into the

lunchroom

without punching OU andslipped between the two vending machines in the comer that formedmy favorite hidingplace

at

work, carefully leaning rry head

against the wall.

The headaches were milder, bti they still frightened me.

1

head Marija

and Karen, both typesetters; come into the lunchroom, laughing. “You got change?” Marija asked.

1

si

very still, afraid of being discovered.

Marija

s

hands alwayscaptured my attention. Some people drag their hands through Ife like Heavy weights; others ^>eak with their hands. But Marija’s

hands were

differ

ent.

Although they communicated, they seaned to bucarryingon an entirely separate conversation than the

one

she was verbally engaged in. When she tailed

with ether type

setters,

she laughed

nervously and chewed her lip. But lier hands were calm. While her werds ait cruelly to

the quick,

ha hands fouid the sore places cn a coworker’s shoulder

or

neck.

1

imagined feeling those remarkable hands stroking ny head, caressing

ny

neck.

‘1 tell

you ids

creepy,” Marija said, “the way be looks

a

me“

“Who?” Karen asked.

Marija sighed.

'That guy who never talks—Jesse.

I’m telling you the way he stares

a

me creeps me out,”

Karen laughed. “Maybe he’s got the hots

fir

you" .

“Yecch!" Marija said. “He looks at me like I’m a piece cf meat or somet

hi

n

g

“ “Hets harmless," Karen chuckled.

‘You don’t know

that,”

Marija countered.

“He could be a psycho.”

Karen interrupted. “He’s so effeminate. He’s gotta be ggy.“

1

heard them leaving.

“I’m tefting you,”

Marijaconcluded, “hets

the

kind you gotta watchout far”

1

could see Marija’s hand gently resten the small ofKareris back.

I

dosed rry eyesand waited until

1

was sure they were gone Then

1

walked out of the stop knowing

1

would neva remm.

When

1

got liome

1

leaned the bathroom mirror qp against the couch and found a pair

of scissors

and tweezers

1

took a couple of long puls of whiskey through a straw

btfere

I

cut each wire that laced my gums shut.

I

pulled each segment oti with a

sure

stroke,

the way

I

pulled

off old bandaids—not fest, not slow, just steady. After I was

sure

Id gotten the last piece cf wire out cf my gums,

1

rinsed

my

mouth with whiskey

and

thoi drank the rest of

I

sol could

sleep

without remembering how Manjak words

had

stripped

me

cf

my humanity.

When

1

awoke

1

walked up

to

34th Street, maneuvering in tto throng cf shoppers

1

I

i

like a warrior I knew exactly what

I

was looking for

The best swing machine youhtive.

i

1

wrote

on

a piece

of

paper and handed i to the saleswoman. And then I realized my aw wasn't wined shut

anymore.

Silence had become a habit.

She fed me D the display modeis. They aB looked pretty much the same—except fcr one. I ditfe’t sew; but 1 knew it was the right machine when foe pointed to it. Itglinted

in the light like a motorcycle. Tbesaleswoman talked to me

about

attachments and the

endess things it could do. 1 smiled, not undostanding a word. I couldalready see Ruth hunched over this magnificent machine,

stitching

her magic nfo fabric. As

1

paid br it in cash I

felt excitement, something

I

hadn’t felt in a bng time.

A light Snow fell as I lugged the machine back through the crowded streets and hailed

a cab.

As soon as 1 gpt home! cleaned my apartment with a vengeance. When the bouse sparkled I realized that I was filthy. I todk a long, hot

shower,

letting the water soften my jaw so

i didn’t click each time I opened my mouth.

[ dried off and put cn a

clean white

T-shirt and khaki

chinos.

While I combed try bair, I

caught sight of myself in

the kitchen mirror My eyes looked so sad I couldn’t meet my own gaze My face seemed much older than I’d remembered it I ran my fingertips over the muscles that rippled across ny shoulders and diest and arms. Suddenly all those long hours at the gym seemed

to

be proof of my will to live, fd

sen

myself a

gift—a

memory

cfbody, of

self.

I shopped on Grand Street for handmadeChinese wrapping paper I poiiSed to what

I

needed. I

still

didn’t speak.

The first words

I

spoke were to Ruth. I knocked on her door on Christmas Eve. “Jess, where woe you? I was scared silly. Come on in. Tanya and Esperanza are

here."

I didn't

mwe "Are you OK?”

She looted worried.

I moved my jaw slightly. “Ruth.“ leans welled up in her

eyes

when die heard my voice. ‘Thank you,“ I told her, “Thank

you

fl everything you’ve done for me.” We pressed

our foreheads

together.

"I’m

sorry"

I said.

“I

know i

was

an awful bt

to

ask.”

“Hush,” she whispered.

“Ruth, I love you.”

“Shh, I know" She held my face in her cupped hands ‘I love you toq honey.” Ruth pulled me

dose against

her body Wb hugged

as though wed

never let

go

"Ooh,

let me have some of that,” Tanya said. “Come in here, boy."

Ruth smiled and

shook

her head.

“Jess

is a B-girl,“ foe told Tanya

I

hadn’t heard that word h many years.

B-girl—

the

dd code word femmes used in public to refer

to butches when they were afraid of

being

overheard. There was

so

much about Ruth I siill didn't know.

“Ooh, honey," Tanya looted me up and down appreciatively “I could swing for you, girl."

Ruh

introduced me to

Esperanza.

"Afizdw

gusto'’

Esperanza whispered in

a voce

as complicated as Ruth’s and mine. Esperanza blushed

as

I

kissed

her hand. “Wre

2ft

trimming the tree. ¥>u want to help us?” She handed me tinsel.

I smiled shyly.

1

never did this before,"'

Esperanza frowned. “You neverdecorated a Christmas tree before?’ I shook ny head. ‘You didn’t have Christmas when you were a child?” 1 &ook my head again, “Too poor?"

I laughed. My jaw clicked as 1 answered. ‘Too Jewish.”

Ruh offered me a cookie sheld just decorated. “It’s still warm so it’s soft It's gingerbread. Try it. Just a bite." I rediscovered taste "We re makhg cookies to take to f riends who are stuck in the hospital with AIDS."

Up until thi moment 1 had fell as though the epidemic was takers place a million miles away from me “Can I go with?” I asked.

Ruth sighed heavily. “Yes, if you wart to.“

Tanya offered me a mug. “This is Tanya’s killer eggnog. If thisdon’l give you the holiday spirit nothing will”

Ruth wiped her hands on ha- apron. 'Take it eay with that stuff"

Tanya made a face at her. “Don’t listen K> her hst cause she's a friend erf Bill W's doesn't mean we all have to harg out with him.”

“Vtfe're going out to adrag dub lasertonight.

Yxj

warn toconfe?” Esperanzaasked. I looked at Ruth. She smiled and hrugged

“I'll leach you to bump and grind on the dance floor, honey," Tknya said.

I laughed. 'Th show you a thing cr two on the dance floor”

“Lord have mercy,” ”fenya fanned herself with her large hand. “Kill me npw.”

Esperanza smiled. “I’ll teach you an dd slave dance, the merengue.”

I remembered Ruth’s present “1’11 be right back,’

I

said. When I legged the heavy rectanguJarpresent into her Jiving rocm Ruth sa down heavily on the couch as though she’d been hi with bad news. “It’s for you," I smiled,

“Open it, girl,” Tanya urged.

Ruth chewed her lip. ”You shouldn’t have.”

All try eve was in my smile. “Oh, hush”

She sighed, opened the papercarefully, folded it, and prt i aside. When Ruth lock the cover off the sewing machine die gasped. I could tel by theway her fingos trailed across the machine hew happy it made her. ”1’11 make you a suit,” die whispered.

I beamed. "Really?” Ruth nodded and bit her knuckles. She stood up and walked over io the half-decorated evergreen. “These are ftr you ” she handed me two flal packages.

The first was a book called Gay

American History.

My hands trembled as

I

leafed through the pages,

"Look,” Ruth took the book f rommyhandsandtumed io the index. “Remember 1 told you about what I read in a drag magazine about hew people like us used io be honored? Look a this whole section about Native societies. But, wait, lock al this.” She flipped the pages. “This whole part is abort women like you who lived as men.”

Tests clouded my vision.

Esp

eranza

locked tf the titleand shock her head. 1 wish we wererit always

jumped

into gay”

“Hush.” Ruth shook her head. She handed me a package wrapped in red tissue paper. “Open this.” Inside was a watercolor of a face filled with emotion, looking ip

A a

host cf stars ft was a beautiful face, a face Td never seat before. J was my face

“Let mesee that, honey” Tanya reached for it "Ooh, Ruth. That’s nice. Tha looks just like him ”

"Ruth,” I chewed try lip. “Do I really look like this?’

She nodded and smited through her tears. “When

I

thought you might de,

1

started to sketch your face I wanted something mere than my memories of you to remain.

Yocr

eyes were closed, btf I could shut my own and remember the way the color of

yoir

eyes changes ir the light.”

Ruth sat down next to me cn the couch We put our arms around each other

ard

rocked, Esperanza and Tanya stf on the floor near us

My chin ached and trembled. "You know,” I told them, "f’ve been searching for you all fcr such a long time. I can’t believe Tve finally found you.”

1

squeezed Rtfh tightly in my arms as we both cried.

Esperanza rested her hand on my thigh “Do you know what my name means?” I shock my head. “No, but a sure is pretty.”

She smited and locked me

a

me with a sure, unwavering expression.

"Es.pemnyi"

she explained— ‘‘it means hope.”

CHAPTER

24

t

was

the

fist day cf spring, when everyone who lives in this city agrees to fed

gpod d the same time—a day when i seems as though every woman, man, and

child is flirting with my difference. I browsed at the farmer's market in Union Square,

kflfog rime. The sr»

dipped behkid the buildings io the west of the

island.

Ruth

made me promise not to ccme home until late afternoon.

It

was time to discover my surprise.

I

knocked cn

my owndoor and waited

fir

Ruth

toanswer

*.

She wiped her hands on a doth and led me into my bedroom. “Close your eyes,” she urged, '‘Remember you tcid me

I

could do anything I warted to to it?" I smiled and nodded “OK, open your eyes.”

I

looked

around and then up rt the ceiling—there

t

was

I

sat down cn my bed and fell back to look at the ceiling.

Ruth had painted

t velvety Hack with pinpoints of constellations I recognized The darkness softned to light around the edges.

I

could see

the

outline of trees against be sky

Ruth lay down neat to me “Do you like it?”

“It's

just incredible. I can’t believe you've given me the sky 0 sleep under. But

I

can’t

tell if

it's dawn or dusk you've painted.”

She smiled up a the ceiling. "It’s neither. It’s both. Does that unnerve you?”

270

]

nodded slowly. "Yeah, in a funny way ii does"

"I

figured that," she" said, “k’s the

place

inside

of me

I

have

to

accept

I

thought

t

might be what you need

» deal

with, too"

I

sighed,

i really do have trouble not

bang

able to figure out if what

you’vepainted

is about to be day or

about

to be night”

Ruth

rolled toward me

md

rested ha hand on ny

chest.

“It’s not going to be day or night, Jess. It’s always going

»

be tha moment of

infinite

possibility

tha

connects

them." '

Ruth’s bee was very close

tomine. We became aware of the

symmetry ofpur breathing. She

did

her

hand

slowly along

my borty from my

chest to my stomach. Sh

topped

her

eyes.

I

diewed my

lip ‘Tm afraid,’)

I

answered

the

question she hadn’t aied out loud.

“Why?"

Sie

asked. "Because I’m

neither night

nor day?’

I

squeezed my eyes shut. I knew I would lose her ifl wasn’t honest;

I

knew

I

might lose her

if I

was.

•

Yes,”

1

told her.

“That’s pan of it.

Remember

your geometric theory?

More than

double the trouble?"

Ruth rolled

onto her

back.

“I’m

not suggesting

we

do

i

in

the road”

I stared

ip

at my sky “You know what

I

mean. But that’s only part of it.

If

I really have to be honest,

it’s because I’m

afraid not io be

with

someone who is

night

or day

1

gues

1

felt ike

the femmes

I

was

with anchored me It was

the closest to normal I’ve ever fell"

Ruth

curled

up into ny arm. “Were you her

dawn

or

her dusk?"

I smiled sadly.

‘In the beginning

I washer dawn

By

theend

1

washer

twilight.”

We both sighed.

’You want mere truth, Ruth? There’s

a place

somewhere inside

of

me where I’ve never beat touched before.

I

m afraid you’ll touch me

ttere.

And

rm

afraid you

won’t. My

femme lovers knew me well,

bti

tley never crossed those

boundaries inside

of

me

They tried io coax me across the borders into their arms^ but they never came after me

Yotfte right there with

me. There’s no place fcr me

d

hide

I

scares me."

Ruth smiled sadly.

“Isn’t

t funny? That’s

exactly

why I would like to make bve with you."

We

lay

quietly.

I

kissed her hair. “Oh,

Ruth, I

haven’t

had

to navigate sex in a long time, with anyone.

I

don’t even know who

I

amasa loser anymore.

But

I’mscared you’ll leave

me

now. Can’t we

figure

i

out as we

go

along?

Please

stay in my life

1

need you so much"

Ruthgot up on one

elbow a nd kissed my

lips.**

1

need you too"

I held

one of

her

hands, marveling a how small mine looked in

hers Sheriroppedhereyes

while Ikissed exh ore of her knuckles.

"Pvt

been thinking a lot about my life since my jaw got broken," I old her.

“I

once read

about warriors

who resolve bebre they go into

bard

that Today is a good day todie.’”

Ruh

smiled. “It’s a brave thought, but

I

don’t want to die.’’

I

nodded. ’At fust

I

thought it meant resigning myself to death. But now

1

think it means facing ny own

life

a

themoment

I’m facing my enemy. Maybe that’s the key to fighting fearlessly, to surviving.

I've left a lot ofthings unfinished in

my

life. It

makes me more af raid to die. i holds me back in a fight.”

Ruth frowned.

“Like what?”

“I always wanted to leave something important behind. Remember the history book you gave me for Christmas?” Ruth nodded. “I’ve been going

to the library,

looking up our history. There’s a ton of it in anthropology bocks, a ton of it,

Ruth.

We havent always

beoi hated. Wly didn’t

we grow up knowing that?**

Ruth propped herself up at her elbow and watched my fece as

I

spoke “It’s changed the way I think. I grew up believing the way things are now

is the way

they’ve always been, so why even bother trying to change the world? But

just finding

on

tha it was ever different,

even if it was long ago, made me feel things could change again Whether or not

I

live to see it.

"At work, when everyone else is

a

lunch.

I’ve been typesetting all

the

history

I’ve found, trying to make it look as important as it feels to me. That’s what

1

want

to leave

behind,

Ruth—the history of this ancient prth welre walking. I wan it to help

us restore our dignity.” Ruh pressed rry hand to her lips

“But I

want more,

Ruth.

There’s things I’ve beat afraid to face in my

life.

They may souid small, but they hold me bad; from pride. Remember when

I

told you about

Butch

Al’ I wart to find out what really happened

to

her.

“And there’s a butch

I

once put down because

1

couldn’t deal with the feet thrt she got turned cn by other butches.

I

thought being

butch

automatically meant being attracted to femmes, just like

I

assumed transvestism meant gay."

Ruth smiled, “It’s an easy misunderstanding. ¥)u were

hanging

ou

in

gay bars.**

I

nodded “Yeah, bu

I

always wanted all of us who were different to be the same

I

can't believe I

rejected

a butch friend because she took a butch lover.

I

want to

tell

Frankie

rm sorry**

Ruth kissed my

cheek. ’Anything else?"

I

nodded.

“Yeah There were two

little lads—Kim and Scotty

I

promised

fd

come

back and find them someday Oh, and there’s cne mere thing

t

need

to

do.”

Ruth ran her fingers through my hair.

"What?”

1 lay back and staed into the universe cn

the

ceiling. “1 want to write a letter

to Theresa, a woman 1 still carry around in my

heart. We parted in a real rotgh

way.

I

want to finally find the words, even if she never reads them.”

My eyelids felt heavy Ruth curled up against me as

I

yawned. ‘You’ll find the words,” she

reassured me

I

sighed, “First I have to

let my own memories come back.

I

put them away somewhere because they hurt- Now

I

have to remember where

I

put them."

Tie breeze frem the window chilled

me

I

pulled the

lie

quilt

over

both of us and

m

snuggled ip agarist

Ruth.

She

felt warm and comf

xting beside me "Sleepy?" she asked me.

I

nodded. ‘Stay with me fcr a while

Ruth.

Please?" She nodded.

I

buried

tty face in her

neck.

She stroked my hair and kissed my forehead. "Sleep now, tty sweet drag king.”

I

almost lung up when

I

heard Frankie’S race

mi

theother end ofthe phone, “It’s me-

Jess. Do

you remember me

Frankie?” That’s aJ I

could

think

of to say

There

was

a

long

silence. “Jesd? Jesus, is

that

really you?

It’s been a

long time"

I deared my throat. “Yeah, it has been. Listen. Frankie, I really wart to talk to you. If you don’t

wart to

I’ll understand. But

I

owe you an apology, and

t's

longwer- due. I’d

like

to

offa it

to you in

person, if you’ll

see me

Pm

living

m

New

York

City

no\y

btf

I could

cane to

Buffalo."

Another Icng silence. ‘You know something, Jess?

I

m still mad a you, btf not as mad as you’re afraid I am. And I’ll tell you something else, ft matters to

me that you called to

say that

I’ll

be in

Manhattan cn the 15th.

tf the

labor

colege.

1

could meet you rt

the Duchess for

a

drink

around

11:00.“

I

paused. “Is that th:

lesbian bar in

Sheridan Square?’

’Yeah.”

”Vfell,

I

don’t know if they’ll let me in.

Can I

meet you outside the bar?”

"Sire," Frankie said.

“Hi

see you then.”

When

the

night finally

arrived I paced under

a streetlamp outside

the

bar chewing my thumbnail.

I

saw Frankie approach from across thestreet. We Sood

awkwardly.

Neither of us knew where to begin. I reached otf my hand; she shook it.

I

found

otf

shared past in

her

grasp.

fd

fagotten how much

I

lovebutches until I looked at

her starring there—the defensive defiance of her stance one

hand jammed in

her trouser pocket, her head cocked to the side.

I

don't knew which shocked me more, the ways Frankie had

changed or

how much she

looked

exactly

the

way

I

remembered her,

Strange to see soft wrinkles in that freckled

teenage face, silver hairs among the wiry

red

ones. "K’s good to see you,

Frankie."

Sie scuffled her shoe a

gainst

the pavement. “It’s good to see you, too.”

I

tried to keep my lower lip from trembling.

"I

don’tjust

mean its nice to

see you,

Frankie. Just looking at

you is bringing back a whol

pan cf my

life

1

really

need

right now It’s really good to see you."

I opened my ams and we hugged each other tight, then we wrestled playfully.

I

scruffed her hair, she punched my shoulder. “Jess, no mater

what wen

down in

the

past, we’re still

from

the old days Yxt still

matter

to me,"

Hankie

said.

I

thought

that

was such a generous thing

to

say

‘You ever see

anyone from the old crowd?’ tasked.

Ste nodded.

‘I

see Grant a lot.’

1

“What about Theresa?’’ I held ny breath.

R

ankie

shook her head "You remember Butch Jan? She nd her lover got a flower shop on Elmwood Avenue—Blue Violets. I can’tthink of anybody else, except for Duffy. You remember Duffy, the union organizer?”

I smiled. “Yeah, I remember Duffy,”

Fr

ankie

leaned forward. ‘You don’t know how sorry he was tha he fucked ip tha job far you. He really didn’t mean it, Jess,”

I nodded. “Yeah, I know he didn’t. I want his phone number, if you’ve got it. Td like to talk to him, too.” Frankie nodded.

We stood in sty silence. “Frankie, I’m sorry. I always thought I was so open- minded. But when I came up against my own fears. I tried to separate myself from you. I’ve done some growing up since then. I can’t tala it back, but I’m real sorry?

Frankie gestured with her thumb toward the Duchess. ‘You don’t know if they’ll let you in there? Well in our da/ I was afraid if I showed who turned me on my own people would shut the doer in try face That’S a terrible way to feel. I’m sorry that’s happening to you now Shit, Jess, what hurt the most is I rejected you, I wanted you to respect me.”

I rubbed the sadness oil ny eyes “Well, you desawed it. C’mon.” I tod; her by the shoulder, “Let’s go to the piers.” Vfe walked slowly down Christopher Street toward the Hidson River ‘You know; Irankie, when we were younger, I thought I had it figured out Pm a butch because I love femmes. Tha was something beautiful. Nobody ever honcred our Jove You scared me. I felt like you were taking tha away from me”

Frankie shock her head. ‘1 wasrit taking anything from you But howdo you think I fel when you tdd me I wasn’t a real butch because I sleep with other butches? Ycu were taking awav who I am- Jesus, Jess, when I walk down the street guys fuck with me. I don’t have » prove I’m btlch to them, How cane I got to prove it to you?”

I shook my head. ‘You don’t” Iputmyarmaroundhershoulder. Wecrossed the West Sde highway and walked to the end of the pier. The full moon illuminated the clouds. Light shimmered on the dark water.

F

ranki

e’s voice dropped low “Jess, which Td bull really brought you out?*

I smiled at her memory. “Butch Al, from Niagara Falls.”

“For me it was Grant,” Frankie said.

“Grant?” I remembered Grant as a mean drunk who could offend everyone.

Frankie watched try face. “Grant meant the world tome. She taught me that lam what I am, that I got nothing to prove It was a very Iterating concept fora bsby butch.

’

I smiled gently. ‘1 never thought of Grant as very liberated—not that any of us were.” Fr

ankie

nodded. “Grant never took her own wisdom to heart She's a prisoner cf ha

sham

e, ba shedidn’t wart us young ones to end up like her. Sie onfy seduced baby butches when she got real drunk. But I never felt like we made her happy. I think she has some secret passion tha scares the shit out cf her.”

2T4

I frowned.

‘Like what?"

Frankie shrugged. ‘1 think she's horrified by something inside cf her ste thinks

e

twisted, like maybeshe fantasizes about being

with irong old bulls,

cr

men

er

something. Poor Grant.

I

whh she'd let me in.

1

love that

dd

btilldagger so much.”

We sat in silence,

listening to the waves lapping against the pilings beneath us. Frankie

sighed. “You know; Jess,

I

never learned to love myself until I gave in to lov- hg

other

butches.”

I

laughed. ‘1 don't know why, but I have this image of you sleeping with a different fmme every week"

Frankie nodded

without smiling. ‘1 thought tha was what I was supposed to do Inside my head

I

was asking each one: CoiZi

you hne me? Do you love me? Ami lovea- ble?Of

course,

the

minute they dd care

about me I knew I

couldn’t respect their judgment so

I

moved on to the next God,

I

was a shit

t>

femmes,”

Hankie looked out over the water.

‘It was only when

I

finally admitted it

was butch hands I

wanted on my body that everything changed hr me The more

1

saw what I loved about other butches, the mere

1

began to accept myself. Ycu know who Epts it fcr me,

Jess?”

I

smiled and shook

ny

head. “An dd bull with graying hair,

a

codry smile, and sad eyes: fbu know the kind ofbutch with arms as big as your thigh?

Those

are

the

amis

I

wart to hold me.”

I

ran my fngertips over the dark wood near my thigh. ‘I love them so

much, too.

Bn what gets it for me is high funme. It's funny—it doesrft matter whether it’s women cr men—it’s

always

igh femme that pulls me by the waist and makes me sweat.”

Frankie rested her hand on ny arm ‘You and I have to hammer cut a de

finiti

on cf butch

that

doesn't leave me out.

1

m sick of hearing

but-ch

used to mean sexual aggression or courage

If

thafs what butch means, what does it mean

in

reverse

fcr

femmes?”

1 shook

my

head.

‘I never thought about it like that

But 1

have to admit

thd when you tdd me about you and Johnny,

the first thing

1

wondered was, whois the femire to bed?’

Frankie leaned forward.

“Neither of us were. What you meant was who tfoes the fucking and who gets fucked? Who ran the fuck? That’s not the same as

being butch cr

emme,

less."

Frankie moved doser

to

me and touched my shoulder

I

tensed. “Relax," she whispered,

Tm

not coming cn to you, Jess.”

“I’m

sorry. I’m

not so used to getting touched.”

Frankie’s

hands kneaded the soreness from try shoulders. “You knew;

]

have a confession

to make I

used to have a crush on you

h the

old days"

I

laughed nervously. ’‘Oh shit.

I

was just starting to relax with you.”

She patted

me

cn tte back. “Youll get over it”

Hankie nibbed try neck.

“You were like a fucking legend when you started to pass. What’s i like, Jess?”

I

shrugged. ‘I don't know

Just trying tosurvivehas pilled me through,

but it hasn't

left much leisure io think about it”

“Am I so different from

you?”

She whispered her thought oil loud.

‘You hare io decide that. To me we’re still kin.”

A cruise ship passed; laughter from the people cn deck floated

across

the water. I sat, facing New Jersey, wih Frankie’s hands cn my shoulders.

“Are

you

still with Johnny?”

I fdt her bocty sink against mine. ’’It’s hard

fcr

two butches, Jess. It’s

very hard”

I sighed and nodded. “Hey, Frankie. When two butches

are together

—like

lovers

I mean—do they talk about their feelings?’

“Feelings?" Frankie asked. “What ae

those?”

We both chuckled, warm and relaxed. We laughed harder and harder, until tears s treamed down our cheeks. For the first time since die touched me, I relaxed my body against Frankie's.

I

allowed

myself

to enjoy the strength cf her arms around me

‘You know, Frankie,” I whispered. “There’s things that happened to me because I’m a he-she tha I’ve never talked about to a femme. I’ve

never

had the

words.”

Frankie nodded. “You don’t need words with me,

Jess-

1

know.”

I dtook my head.

"I do need words,

Frankie. Sometimes

I

fed

like Fm

choking

to death on what I’m feeling I need to talk and

I

don’t even know how Femmes always tried to teach me to talk about my feelings, bit it was their words they used for their feelings I needed my own

words—

butch

words

to talk about butch

feelings.”

Frankie pulled me tighter, Tears welled up

n

my eyes "I fed like

I’m

clogged

ip

with all this tauc goo, Frankie. But

I

can’t hear my own voice say the words on loud. I’ve got no language."

Frankie opened her arms wider, took more of me in.

I

leaned my face

against

her arm. Sie offered me refuge, the way

I

held Butch Al yearsago h a jail cell. “Frankie, I’ve got m words fcr feelings that are tearing me apart. What would our wads

sound

like?” I looked up at the sky, ’’Like thunder, maybe,"

Frankie pressed her bps against my hair. ’’Yeah,

like

thunder. And yearning.”

I smiled and kissed the hard muscle ofher biceps.

‘Yearning,”

I

repeated softly. “What a beautiful word to hear a butch say out loud”

ou make your own tnp to Buffalo, and Hl make my own

trip home,”

Ruth insisted.

“But why?"

I

couldn’t understand why die refused Esper.m^a’soffer to lend us her car. ‘You said you haven’t been home since your grandma died. You’ve been saying you should visit.

I

could see where you’re from.

I want

to see the lake and the hills and the vineyards you talk so much about”

Ruth

sighed, ‘To you it’s pretty But

I

escaped to sae

my life.

It’s not easy for me p go back there. I wart to do it alone.’’

I

sho

ok my head. ”1’11 just drop you off and get back on the

Thruway to Buffalo.

Where we’re going is only two hours apart and

I

can’t drive without a license. Ufc could pass as a nice married couple.”

Ruth made a face. “Jess, you dorit understand. \bu cant just drive up to some one’s house and let them off and drive away I’ve got to introduce you. They'll offer you coffee."

I

grew sullen. "Oh, now

I

understand."

Ruth’s

ang

er flared. “No you don’t.

I’m

not ashamed of you.”

Her

voce dropped. “I’m ashamed of them sometimes.”

1

started to protest but she held up one hand to stop

me. “It’s a no-win situation If you

like then

a lot, I’ll be angry with you for not understanding why

it

was so hard for me to grow up with them And if you don’t like them, I’ll despise you hr not recognizing their worth"

I

dirugged.

"OK, I

get that it’s complicated. I’ll drop the subject. But I’m gang to Buffalo to visit. I’ve got to face some things and find ny memories'' .

Although

1

didn’t

discuss

k further, we both knew the subj ect wasn't dropped. I kept putting off my trip, partly because

1

knew it could be painful, but mostly because

I

still hoped Ruth would come with me

In early September 1 asked E^ieranza if I could borrow her car to male the trip. Riih puttered around the kitchen pretending not to hear us.

Days before

I

left

1

brought Rilh a half-gallon of mulled cider. She sat down in a kitchen chair next to me and stared

st

her mug “When I

^t

bed up," die began in a quia voice, “it’s always worse when it’s visible. It means other people can see I’ve been hurt. That’s humiliating to me.“

I

waked for hertocontinue, “My people aren’t bad,” she said. ‘1 love them more slice

1

left They bve me the best way they know how. I’m family. But it’s hard, and

I

daft want anyone whos not family to see it.

I

think they’d mate ycu fed welcome

as

a

guest,

but

I’m

not sure. If they were unkind to you, Td hate them

fcr

it. They're not crueL But it’s a g ride for me because

I

could never forgive them if they hurt you."

I

stirred my cider with a cinnamon stick. “When ate we leaving Ruth?”

She looked surprised.

“I

didn’t sty we were going."

I

smiled and nodded. ‘Yes you did, honey. Neither cf us wre.stle that hard with things we’re not ready

d

take on"

Rith

sighed and patted my hand. “Thursday."

The world is our restroom!

That was our motto on the trip upstate. We brought plenty of toilet paper so we wouldn’t need to risk a rest stop. We left the city well before dawn

on our six

hour- trek. By the time the sun shone,

1

was so happy we'd made this difficult

trp

together.

Rtkh packed muenster cheese sandwiches with sun-dried tomatoes and arugula on freshly baked bread, flfe drank quarts of ice tea.

The world is our restroom!

We laughed.

Ruth’s face softened as I drove She called out the names of all the beautiful wild weeds The anxiety of Manhattan melted

into the distance behind us.

Tte upcoming tension

was

hundreds

cf

miles ahead Somewhere between here and there Ruth and I really met each other all over again.

As we

finally

turned off the Thruway and headed toward Canandaigua Lake; Ruh grew vis bly excited "See?* die pointed to a condominium development. “That used

to be

Roseland Amusement Park. Pull over Let me drive now? Ruth knew those roads like the veins on her hands

Vfe passed fields of sunflowers. *That’s a new crop since I grew

ip

here.” I recog

nized the goldenrod and purple asters that Ruh captured as memories in her waercolore.

Sie pulled over near the lake and parked in a space no wider than three car widths ‘I could never figure out ff this lake mirrored my mood swings or if my moods reflected the changes in the lake. Every square inch around the lake is private now except for two little spaces like this one and the patch behind the country store They'reeven posting the hills now"

She timed the key h the ignition ad hacked the car ouL "The summer people killed my daddy.” Her voice was flat and cold. ‘A couple in a car stopped on a hairpin curve to watch the deer, My daddy swerved to avoid than. Wert off the road right orer there” lAtdrwe past in silence. "I hate the summer people. Only problem is, my mama's cne ofthem.” I didn’t speak. Ruth knew what she was and wasn’t

willing to

say “Of course, my mama was a renter. Her people weren’t yuppies She fell in love with ny daddy before the simmer passed But if you lcwed that man, you knew he’d never leave this valley. He aid my Uncle Dale hear the hills call mg them like lovers."

Ruth smiled. “Funny thing My mama’s a dty girl, but after my daddy died she stayed here in these hills he kwed. I’m like him. My heart’s in these hills, but I left for the city.”

We pulled up it front of a small homes the edge of a woods Agoklen Labrador retriever barked and clawed at the screen doer as Ruth turned off the ignition. “This is Dale’s place.” She handed me a piece of paper. “Here aredirections to pick me ip a try mama’s house.”

I nodded. Ufc sat in the car until our arrival was acknwtedged. “Robbie!" I heard Dale call ou to Ruth .“Robbie, you're home!"

Ruth sighed. Ws both got on tf the car I watched how their bodies fit as they hugged, hew their hands knew each other’s back and shoulders. Ruth puled av^. “Dale, this is my friend, Jess. She Lives in Manhattan, too"

The dogjumped up and licked my face. Dale pulled his collar. "Bone, ept off cf him. Where's your manners?” Dale shook ny hand. His hand was hard and calloused within bis gentle grip.“¥m all want some coffee? I just made same finesh"

My eyes lit up. Rith shookher head. ‘You best be going” she told me. “You thiik you can find your way back to the Thruway?”

1 laughed. “Yeah, follow the lake and make a iefi at the sunflowers.”

‘You sure you doth vent to come in and rest up a little white?” Dale asked, I looked at Ruth. Her face was resolutely impassive.

“Thank you, Dale. But 1 still got a chunk of driving iodo. I’m headed to Buffalo. Maybe

I’ll

see you whai I drive back

d

pick up Ruth” I froze. Did I mate a mistake by calling her Ruth?

Dale nodded-“ Vifell, you be sue to stop in around suppertime f you da I'll make Dale’s famous fried zucchini fcr you. Robbie'll tell you 1 make it real good I got some killer zucchini out of my garden this year”

Ruth sighed.

I

took it as my cue to leave. I fpt back in the car and started it up

180

Dale still held onto Bone’s collar and wared with his other hand. Ruth looked at me with soulful eyes.

The streets of Biff do were as familiar as my own reflection in the mirror.

I

polled ip in front of the apartment biilding where Theresa and 1 had lived. Her name wasn’t on the mailbox anymore

I

walked around back, half expecting to find ny young self still sitting on a milk crate staring up

1

the sky, straining for a glimpse of her own future. Here I was, back searehhg fa her.

A memory suddenly gripped me the look cf pain in Theresa’s eyes the night I was arrested in Rochester, I covered my face with my hands so

I

wouldn't see it, but the image was behind my eyes. Let it come,

1

thought to myself. It’s all in there anyway. Let it cane

ip.

I

walked D a pay phone on the comer and called information.

I

wanted » keep the promise I had made to Kim and Scotty tocome back and visit. I remembered tow my coming had shaken Kim, root and branch and my leaving had hurt her most. Wild she remember me? Would Scotty? Did he become the wind? I couldn t find ther names in the phone

book.

Maybe they still lived at home with Gloria. Her number was listed.

Gloria couldn’t figure ou who

I

was. “Jess Goldberg,’’ I repeated. “We waked together at the print shop ¥>u let me stay at your house. I’m back in town fa a day

a

two, and I warted to see Kim and Scotty.”

There was a long, tong silence. Gloria’s voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, “You leave my children alone. Do you hear me?’ The phone went dead in my hand. I stared a the receiver, stunned. Slowly

I

began to realize that Gloria held the power

io keep me

from finding the kids.

I

called back. She hung up on me again. I slapped the glass wai of the phone booth with my open hand over and over until i stung and burned. Then I kicked the glass as hard as I could, A police cruiser pulled ever to the curb. “What’s going on?” a cop called out to me

I

look a deep breath. “Sony.

I

just tost some money in it.”

“Let’s take it easy, son. It's just a quarter." He waved and drove off. When he was out cf sight I kicked the glass ova: and over again.

I

cold myself n find Kun and Scotty even if I couldn't figure out how at the moment.

The operator gave me the address and phone number fa Butch Jan’s sure on Elmwood Avenue Brass bells tinkled as I opened the door to her flower shop

I

could sme! the perfame cf roses and lilies.

“Can

I

help you?” A familiar face looked up at me. W both stood transfixed. “Edna." I whispered her name out loud. Her face froze.

I

couldn’t figure out what she was doing there, working behind the counter, And then I remembered she was Butch Jan’s ex-lover. They must be together again.

It

wasrft fair! I could understand if Edna left me because she couldn’t be with anyone. But then how could she be with Jan? Questions made ny face bum; Does she touch Jan? Was

i

just me she didn’t wart? How come everybody else is getting a happily-

ever-after?

6 hurt so much to see her standing

there

I

waited to run outside and get back in

tie car and

go.

But I discovered an important pieceof

ny dignity in the

way

I

held my bod/

and in the soft strength in ny voice as I

whispered, "Hello, Edna”

She came out from behind the counter and started

toward me I stiffened

my

body

involuntarily, She paused. “Jess. I’ve thought about

you so many times."

I fet W anger rise

ip

to block her

words

from

penetrating nty defenses.

‘1

came

to see Jan. Is she here?”

Edna chewed her lower lip. “She’s in the

greenhouse

oil

back" The phone rang

I took the opportunity to leave while Edna answered

it.

I

leaned against the

coot

brick

outside the door, Fd thought the pain might splatter

me all over the waits of the shop,

but 1 hadn’t. It just hurt, a lot

Did Jan know Edm and I had been lovers? Fd

socn find out

The greenhouse looked hke a grownup’s

playhouse—a self-contained world.

Humidity foggpd the glass inside. I opened the door and

stepped over the threshold. My

boots sank into tie wet straw strewn ai

tlE

floor. I

took

a

deep breath and

inhaled the

good smell cf darrp earth.

Jan bent over a crate ofviolets. I recognized

her strong, tread shoulders.

Her

hair

had turned to silver. She ruse and looked

a

me

Her glasses tested on »p of her head.

She slid them down to her nose. ‘Am I getting

so otd

I

can’t trust my own

eyes?’

she

asked. “Is thd really you, Jess?" Sie wiped her hands

cn a towet

and wetcomed me

into her arms. Jan stroked my hair and kissed nty

head

as I

cried. “I’ve thought about

you so many times," she whispered.

My lip quivered. ‘I didn’t really bdieve I lived in

anyone’s memcry except

ray

own.”

Jan patted my cheek. “I could neve

1

forget you

¥>u

were

oneofthosc baby

butches

I knew Fd grow old with. How long you

here

for?

Where

are

you

tiving?

Haw’d

you

find this place?’

“Manhattan,” I answered “Frankie

told

me

about your shop. There's something

I

need

to find out whilel’m here, if I can. I wart to

find ott whatever happened to

Butch Al I wart to find out if she’s still alive.”

Jan rubbed her face and sucked m her breath.

“Well if anyone could find out,

it’s

Edna

Did you see Edna?’ I watched Jan’s face

as

I

nodded. “Edna’s

still

in

touch with

Lydia, whose butch worked at tlE auto plant with Al

br a long time.”

My voice rose. “Do you think Lydia knows?”

Jan shrugged- “She might. And Edna knows

how to find Lydia."

I lock a deep breath. “Would you

ask

Edna tf

she’d find out?’

I watched Jan’s face as she said, “Sure,

I’d

be happy

to” That’s when

I

knew

fcr

sure Jan didn’t know Edra and I had been lovers.

“Tett you what," Jan smited,

“what

say we all get together tonight fcr a dnuk?”

It sounded excruciatingly painful, and

unavoidable- I nodded. "Maybe Frankie

would want to come too?’

2S

hn slapped me ai the shoulder, “Good idea.” She wrote down the address cf the bar,

When Jhn opened the greenhouse door, the chilK’ air startled me Ho

-

pick-up truck was parked in the garage behind the store. Next to it was an dd Triumph motorcycle. Jan followed ny eyes b the bike.

‘1

haven't ridden it

fir

a long time but I keep it running You wart b use it while you’re here?" I smiled and nodded emphatically, It had beet years since I straddled a motorcycle. Jan grinned as the bike sputtered to life. She squeezed ny shoulder, “You are a sight for sore eyes It’s good to see you, kid.” I waited till she was back inside the flower shop befcre I whispered out loud, “I'm not a kid anymore,”

met that night in a working-class baron the outskirts of Buffalo,

k

had been a long time since fd been in a bar with lesbians. It was still early in the evening, so the place wasn’t packed yet. There were about twenty cr thirty women in the front room. I loured they’d move into the backroom to dance soon. Wis it my imagination or were a few cf the young women butch, a few femme?

Everybody looked at mg and then each other, when I walked in, but nobody stopped me I peeked in the backroom, hoping that Edna wouldn’t be there with Jan. She was. They were sitting ata table with Frankie and Grant. Jan rose as I approached the table “Jess!" I guessed she still didn’t knew Edna dropped her eyes as I formally kissed her cheek. Frankie and

I

hugged.

Grant

shook ny hand. “Well, III be damned. Look who’s here!” She signaled the waitress. “What’s everybody drinking?” Grant asked.

“Jux a ginger ale for me,” 1 said. I warted b be clear -headed, especially with Edna at the table.

‘You too gpod b have a drink with us anymore?” Grant challenged-

“A whiskey,“ Frankie interrupted. “Straight up so b speak.”

‘Two beers, here,” Jan said. “Right, honey?” Edna stared at her lap and nodded. Wfc all sat in the uncomfortable silence.

Jan filled me in. ‘We’re talking about what happened b all the dd butches and femmes,"

T think we’re sort cf underground,” I said quietly. My heart was in the conversation Edna and I weren’t having. “Waiting for a time when it’s safer b cone out“

Grant sighed bitterly. “But some cf these young kids you can’t even tell what they are—goddamn green hair and safety pins in their faces" W all sighed collectively.

“Grant,“ I shrugged, "who cares?*

1

“It just isn’t right,” Grant slapped the tabletop

I laughed, which made her angrier. “Grant, that's what they said about us!“

"Well, that’s different," Grant said with a ware cf her hand.

I leaned toward her. ‘There’s a lot of things I couldn’t accept when I was yo

ung

er. Grant, like the fact that there’s lots cf different ways for butches to be.” I watched her

expression change.

Frankie audibly

sucked in her breath.

“But now I'm trying

d

accept people as

they are.”

Jan tried to change the

subject.

She leaned over and

stroked the

arm

of

my

leather jacket "Nice,”

die

said,

Edia

shot

mean alarmed look. I fingered the soft,

worn leather of Rocco’s armor.

“Thank

you

” I

dosed

the subject. Edna

exhaled ii relief.

“I'm sure glad

I didn’t

do those

hormonesGrant

announced.

1

bit down hard on the plastic bar straw in my mouth “Why’sthat, Grant?" Ibraced myself.

"Well you're sort of stuck now,

aren’t

you?

I mean

you’re not a butch or

a

guy You look like a guy “

Everyone

at the taUe stiffened, but

no one answered her

1

bent the straw into a circle.

“Be careful, Grant,'* I

warned

her. “You’re

looking

a

your own reflection."

Grant

laughed.

‘1

ain't like you.

I

didn't do the change."

My anger

was greater than the situation called fix

I

could taste it bitter on my

tongue. [ leaned forward

Everyone

held their breath <My

voice

waslow

and menacing

“How far are

you

willing to go. Grant? How much cf

yourself are

you

willing to give

ip

in order to distance yourself from me?"

Grant's face betrayed

her.

She had felt my power fora moment and it aroused her

I

knew it

had,

I

could see it in her eyes.

I

knew

a

secret

about Grarrt’sdesireand

1 wanted to wield

it like a weapon.

Iwanted butchness

to bea quantity, not a quality, so

I

could out-butch her

Grant stirred her drink

with ba fnger. Her face

flushed. Edna

and

Jan

stared at

their laps. I could fid Frankie

silently

pleading with me to let Grant cff the hook.

I

refocused on

Grant

and saw

a

beaten butch, preserved in alcohol.

I

could smell

her humiliatioa. I remembered

how she forced the men in the foctorts to show her some

respect

Slowly her

belief that

she

deserved it had eroded. And suddenly myown

words echoed

in my ears: /fow

much

of

myself

war

twilling

t>

gi

«e

up

todi stance rmself from her?

‘You

know

what

I remenfoer. Grant?"

Everyone looked up

a

me. “1 remember

when

weinloaded

frozen food

on

the docks near

the

take.”

I

gfanced at Edna Thefamt

smile on her lips was a

gift

for me

Grant nodded.

“Yeah,

those woe the good old days, weren't they?”

1

shock

my head

’Some of

it

was a

nightmare. I

sure wouldn

t wad to

go back »

the

ba

raids

and

the drunken

fights. They’re only good dd days cause

I

don't

have

to live them anymore."

Grant

leaned forward. ‘You wouldn't

want to

go back to those dayS"

I laughed. “Not even at

gunpoint.

The

only

tlsngs 1 mss are

the wap

we stood up

for

each other, how

we tried to make a

home for each other. And we could do tha r^ht here."

It

was

time b change the

stibject.

I

glanced ova at

Edna.

“Did Jan

tell

you

I'm

HJ

trying to find out what happened to Al?’

Eckta looked up at Jan, nor a me. Jan dropped her eyes. “Maybe it wasn't such a good idea, kid." Etfcta watched the anger flare in ny eyes.

“1$ she still alive?’’ I asked. Silence. I look a deep breath and addressed Jan with words meant for Edna to hear. ‘You know Al meant the world to me. If Td known I might never see her again, there's a lot cf thipgs I woukTve told her. When 1 was young, I thought 1 had all the time in the world. 1 don't feel tha way anymore. If she

1

still living, I wan to see her.”

Edna stared

a

her beer bottle, apparently unmoved. 1 was so afraid rd explode in anger tha I got up and stormed into the women's bathroom without realizing how long it had been since Td been inside of one 1 splashed cold water on my face.

1 was surprised when Edna came

ul

“I'm serryf she said in a gentle voice. “I know you’re real nad a me."

We both knew die was talking about more than Al but I refused to admit it “Goddamn it, Edna!

I

don’t care if Al is on Death Row or married with kids and wearing high heels. I love her and I wart to see her" My teeth clenched. 'I just want tossy goodbye fc that so hard to understand?’

Edna shock her head. “No. It's just hard to da" Sie put oil her hand as though I were a dog that mght bite, 'Please, Jess. Please dorft be mad at me. Ifsjust that some things are belief left alone."

“I have a rjght to leant my own lessons." I tried to srften my voice. “Look. Edna. There's some things that eat me up mere than pain—ike always feeling so damn pcwer- less. I wanted to find Theresa, but nobody can tell me where she went.

1

promised a little girl years ago Td come back, and her mother just refused c teS me where she is. Now you’re idling me Al is alive and 1 can’t see het.’’

Edna turned away from me as I continued ‘Til tell you what Tm already discovering on this visit, Edna. I can deal with a lot more pain than 1 realized. Bu I dorft know where to go with this frustration. I want » find Butch Al.’’

“It’s not a good idea." Edna sad it so simply, like the subject was closed.

• How dare you?"

I

raged til her “You have ro right to keep tha information from me.”

Jan opened the bathroom door. Hankie and Gant came in behind her hn frowned. ‘Is everything OK h here?" Edna and I were locked in a glare.

Gant rose to the occasion. “ Let’s leavethem alone in here? she tugged Jan’s sleeve, Jan yanked her arm away. “What's gang on in here?" She was getting the picture. I never Kxk my eyes off Edna’s. My voice was winry with irony. “Now you're gonna protect me, Edna? Now you’re gonna save me?’

"Damn you, Jess,” Edna wh spered. “Damn you. ATs in the asylum.”

1 epened my eyes wider. "On Elmwood Avenue? She's that close?"

“Damn you,” Edna repeated as she stermed out of the bathroom

Frankie and Grant left Jan and I alone, feeing each other. “Kid, I think you’d bet

ter leave right now’’ Jan muttered through clenched teeth.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” I told her as I pushed my way out the door.

I felt connected to the Triumph as

I

turned sharply into the curves of the expressway An old power flowed through me Tha exhilaration drained the moment

I

cut the engine h the parking lot of the asylum. I DOk tff my helmet and looked up at the medieval building. Every window vos latticed with iron bars. A coldshiver ran through

me.

Bti

I

wanted to see Al more than I wanted to rm away

fd spent a long, sleepless night h the back sea of Esperanza’S car, parked on the street across from Jan and Edna’s shop All night long I thought about what I warted n tel Al. But while I was going through visitor intake I panicked because 1 couldn’t remember what I’d wanted to say

I

kept comrig back to two simple things Td never said out loud to her:

Thank you

and /

late you

As an elevator door opened, I tried to recall what floor the guard told me.

Sixth Floor—

i.

was

printed in bold letters on (he big plastic visitors ID Td been given atsome point in this process.

‘Are you related?” I blinked. A nurse addressed the question to me.

I

was standing at the nurse’s station, k was time to pay attention.

“Her nephew; ’

I

answered. She looked at chans I couldn't see ”Hmm,” she said.

“I haven’t seen my aunt

for

a ioug time,’’ I made small talk nervously Is she well?” The nurse looted at me over her spectacles.

‘I

mean...”

I

quit talkrig

“I’m afraid she’s in therapy,” the nurse concluded. ’I don’t know who arranged you visit, bu it won’t be possible today.”

All the color rose h my lace. *1 have to see her today.”

The nurse took off her spectacles and put ate end near her lips. “Why is that?" For a momott I vas afraid ifl showed them how upset I really was they miglt have the power to keep me here too. “I flew here just for this visit. It was arranged wih her family, my family ,

I

have to fly back to beat my job.

1

haven’t seen my aunt for a long time. I’m afraid die might de without me ever having seen her again. ¥w see, it’s very important to me” The nurse was taken aback. She looked around.

"Can't I wait while she’s in therapy? Hew long could it be? An hour? Fifty minutes?" "She’s in physical therapy, Mr

...

umm.” She was looking at ATs chan and

ques

tioning my relationship to her, I was sure of it “Wait over there, please,” she said, beckoning to some chairs.

I sat and fidgeted What if she knew I wasn't a nephew, or called the family? Was cross-dressing still

a

punishable crine? Could they tse force to keep me here? I felt their powff over me Most of all they had the power to keep me from seeing A). An hour passed. I noticed the nurse whispering to a doctor.

I

wanted out of here, but I didn’t want to leave without Al.

"Mr..

.

unm," the nurse was standing over me Ijumped to my feet Witbout a

28S

weed she turned on her heels and walked off I raced o catch ip with her. As we got to a day roan she stopped and pointed toward a bank of windows.

I looked in that direction. "Ah, you said physical therapy? Is that why Al..

.

auntie is here?”

"She suffered a stroke while she was here. She has lost the use of one of her arms and leg.”

“Can die walk?”

The mrse pushed her spectacles further

ip

the bridge of her nose, signaling that the conversation was nearing an end. “She does nothing. She sits and stares. I doubt she’ll recognize you,*

1

she said over her shoulder as she walked away She left me standing, filled with dread.

The rays of light between the bars illuminated a snowstorm cf dust particles. A dozen patients were in the dayroom. A few spoke to themselves.

“Young man, you shouldn’t have come," an dd woman chastised me Her gnarled finger pointed at my nose in emphasis. “No good will come of it! I’ve told you that before, over and over again. I told you, I toH you." She was old and very beautiful, not in spite rf her age but because of it. I smiled and eased past her, hoping she was not an Oracle.

It wasn’t hard to recognize Butch AL She sat in frort of the windows. She was slumped m the chair, staripg either through the windows, cr at them. I couldn’t tell which. She was wearing a hospital gown and slippers. The arm furthest from me was in a plastic brace. As I got closer 1 saw that she was tied to the chair with a strip of a bed sheet.

“She doesn’t talk to mortals" the Oracle said behind me. “She listens to voices you can’t hear. She can’t hear you*

1

I smiled over iry shoulder “It’s OK,*

1

1 reassured her, Tm a ghost.”

Theo Id woman came around and peered into my face “Why blessed be;’’ die exclaimed, crossing herself. “That’s a real live ghost,” she announced to patients who did not seem to hear.

I pulled

ip

a chair beside Al. In a way she had changed dramatically. Her hair was almost entirely white and longer than I had ever seen it. If this were the old days Id tease her about looking like Prince Valiant. Of course, if this were the old days she’d get a haircut.

I sat down next to her. Al’s face reminded me cf a dried riverbed, etched by the currents of waters that no longer flow. Ha

-

cheek looked so soft I had to restrain my self to keep from stroking it.

k

feft intrusive to be peering at hff so closely, so I srt badt in the chair. Hom another point of view Al had hardly changed a bit. Everything about her seemed familiar and comforting

I looked out the window. I warted to see what she was seeing and give her time D fed my presence. The windows were half obscured by a brick wall with barred windows Part of the view looked out over the parking lot. If I leaned forward I could see

my motorcycle.

1

thought fora moment Al might have seen me pull upand knew; seme-

how,

that i was

me Of course, this

was my fantasy.

Beyond the parking lot was a strip of grass and a few trees. Seagulls wheeled and

tuned in the distant sky 1

tookcverything in as though

I

had been looking out at this view for years

and had no hope

of seeing any

other landsc^res

tn

the horizon.

That’s

when 1 knew

I

was seeing exactly what

Al

saw. “Not much to

look

at, is it?”

1

said on loud, aknost c myself

Al glanced a me

for a moment.

Her

eyes were glazed over as

though

Ae stffered from emotional cataracts. Then she looked back

a

the windows.

I

pu my feet upon the windowsill and leaned back

‘Young man,

ptease don’t do that" a

nurse admonished me

I

sal

up,

chagrined.

AJ

glanced

at

me

again

and looked away For

a

moment

I

thought

1

saw her smile, bu

1

was wrong.

Al

was locked up in a fortress.

I

didn’t know hew to scale is walls

I

remembered a fairy

tale

about a

prince who had

todimba mountain cf ^ass to free the woman he loved.

I

couldn’t remember how he accomplished it.

Somewhere

Tread that people

in comascan hear you.

I

knew she wasn't in a coma,

but 1 didn’t think

it could

hurt

to talk

to her

1 almost felt

k

if

no time had passed.

If 1

could find the right words, we would just pick

ip

the conversation we’d ended

a

quarter of a century ago "Al,“ I

sad

softly.

1

looked around, but no one was paying any attention to us, except the Grade. “Al, it’s mu

Jess. Maybe you

don’t recognize

me, but maybe

if you looted

a

me you would.”

Al didn't move, but

I

pretended that her [resence vas closer, that she was listening, in order to focus

what 1

was

trying to

say to her “There’s things

1 would

have told you,

Al, but 1 always thought

rd see you again. You know that’s hew

kids are, they

think things are never gonna end."

1 though Al

nodded.

Maybe ( was my imagination. 1

putmyha.'ideversogently on ATs arm and

looked

long and hard at her profile

Minutes latershe turned and looked at me

then looked away. In that brief moment 1 saw her peeking f ran behind a wall.

"Al,"

1 tried to say

but

1

chdced on the words.

1 put my forehead down

on her arm and cried.

I just

couldn’t hold my body

ip

anymore.

I

pushed the

ears back down

md wiped

rny

eyes, 1

fifoed around in

my pockets

fcr

a Kleenex. One tppeared before my eyes, thrust forward by the

Oracle. 1

nodded

h

thanks.

“Butch Al.”

I

said quietly, “if you can hear me,

please just nod,

blink, do anything.” She turned and looked at me.

“Al," I

smiled.

Her hand clamped at my arm tike a

daw, her face contorted

with

anger. "Don't bring me back," she growled.

“Run

away nowT’

the

Oracle

warned me.

"No,“

I

said.

I

could hear

tie

fear in my voice.

1 wouldn’t

rm

from

Al, 1

was

willing to face anything. This moment was al) 1 had with her and

i

would be my

last

“Don’t

bring

me

back,"

Al

repeated. Her nails cut into the flesh of my arms Itried

2SS

b

calm down.

Suddenly I understood what she was saying and I fdt ashamed. How had Al< vived? By forgetting, going to sleep, going away! She went underground,

hid ftr

sal just as Td done.

I faced htr gaze Her eyes were steely but filling with tears So were mine. I my free hand gently over hu fingers, and they began to relax.

"fm sorry,” I said, “forgive me, Al. This was selfish. I didn’t realize until just i that I did this fir me I wasn’t thinking about how it would be fix you People trie* tell me, and I didn’t listen.” I covered my face with ny hand. “Go back to where you go to be safe, I wai’t bother you anymore. I'm sorry.”

“It’s OK, kid,” a familiar old friend’s voice said. ”It’s alright.” I looked qp saw Butch Al smiling st me. The tears streamed down ny face. She wiped them \ ate hand. I could fed the effort

i

took to lift her arm.

“You look nice,” die said. “Can anybody else see you, cr just me?”

‘Tm real, btl only you can see me.“

Al looked over ny head and then her eyes lowered to mine. “You look yout she told me

I smiled. “I’m gonna be futy in a couple of years, if I play ny cards right.’

Al nodded and turned back to the window. “We’re from the dd days” Sie remember!

An emotional storm cloud passed over hu face. She timed to me angrily. “Le the old days alone. Don’t bring me back, fm dead.”

I pulled away from her and then farced myself to Jean forward again. “You’re dead, Al. Yiu just gpt hurt real bad. Yiu fought long and hard, but they hurt you t Yiu did real good.”

She turned her head toward me and let i droop Her hand grasped

ftr

ny a “I just couldn’t, I just... I....“

My voice dropped low, like a lover’s. “It’s CK now; it’s alright. You did so g that now you get to res. It’s alright, Al.“

She rested one hand at my head. The weight of her hand made me fed like act “Did Jackie give you that haircut?” I missed a beat, then I smiled and nodded.

Al squeezed my arm. “Kid, tell her I'm sorry.”

I

put ny hand over hers. “Jackie told me shels not mad, Al.” She searched ny fix confirmation i was true “It’s true,” I lied, “she said don’t worry. She loves y Al. There isn’t a day gpes by die doesn’t think about you, and so do L” Al smiled patted my cheek.

“Al," I said, bn her spirit had left like wind slamming a doer shut. “Al?” She staring out the window. Her body temperature dropped several degrees.

“She’s gone,” said the Oracle.

“Al,” I said, jiggling her arm. “Al, please, don’t go Not yet, please, just give another minute.”

I hated myself fir doing that. Only moments before I had sworn I would let her go back to her peace and now I was trying to drag her back again. My lip started to quiver and then ny whole chin. My jaw ached I had a second chance in life to tell her I loved Her and then I blew it, just like I did as a teenager. And, like a kid, I didn’t want to leave until she reassured me that she loved me too. I leaned forward and put both ny arms around her neck. “I’m sorry” I said. “Ill leave you, Al.” The tears wouldn’t stop. “It’s just that I came all this way, across all these years, to tell you how much I love you, and now g’s too late.

‘I wanted to thank you If i wasn't for you, Fd never have known I had a right to be me Ycu taught me enough to keep me alive all these years. There isn’t a (fay goes by tha I’m not grateful fcr everything you gave me You’ve meant so mudi m my life Al. I always wanted to grow up in a way tha would make you proud of me Al, I loved you then and I love you now."

1 wiped tears off my arm twice before I realized they weren’t commg from my eyes.

“I told you, you shouldn’t have come," the Oracle whispered over ny shoulder

“No, it was important to come,” I said I stood ip and put ny arms around Al again. I kissed her gently in tep of her head, and let my lips linger cn her hair.

‘1 love you, Butdi Al,“ I whispered.

The nurse watched me from the doorway. I straightened up to go.

The Oracle crossed herself. “Blessed be,” she said, looking at me and shaking her head. Moving very slowly, I took ho- hand in mine and kfased i lightly. Sie dropped her eyes and blushed.

“Goodbye, Grandmother," I told her, “thank you for letting me come.“

I pulled the Triumph into the driveway behind Blue Violets. I found Jan and Edna inside the shop. They both looked gnm. Edia wouldn’t meet ny eyes; Jan smoldered. I walked outside behind the greenhouse and waited for fan to follow. Sie stood three feet away from me. Her fists were balled tp at her sides. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?’ she demanded.

“It wasn’t my place," I shrugged. “I didn’t wars to come between you twa“

Jan came closer. “Well, you couldn’t if you tried."

I inhaled through clenched teeth. ‘Actually , I know that I couldn’t hold onto Edna But am I gonna lose you tod? I didn’t do anything to you It’s not fur“

“Fair?" fan shook her head. "It doesn’t have to be four Fve got a right to be pissed."

“No, you don’t," I shouted at her. ‘Y'ou’re the one tha got her. Ycu two have each other. I’m the one wlio has a right to be hurt.“

“You went behind my back and fucked ny girl!" Jan yelled.

“What?” I slapped ny thigh. ‘You must be kidding! Yiu and Edna hadn’t been lovers for twelve years!"

Jan obviously missed the logic. I smiled. “What’s so fucking fanny?" die demanded.

290

1 shrugged. “You’re mad at me for dating Edna

a

dozen

years

after you broke up. I m

mad

at Edna for getting back together with you almost a

decade

after

she

and I stopped

seeing

each other. You know what I

think?”

Jan kicked the

cement.

"I don’t really give a fuck what you think.”

J shrugged. “I’m

genna

tdl youanyway. I think there’s notenough

love

to

go

around. I’ll tell you what else 1 think. We at go back a long way We really need each other,

even if

we’re

real

upset right now."

My

voice

softened.

“I’ll speak for myself. 1 really need

you,

Jan. I didn’t betray you. fve

always

beat

a

friend

k>

you.”

Jan shook her head. “Just let it be far now Don't tell me I don’t have a right to fed what I’m feeling.”

I shrugged. “I’m just scared about losing you. What if I gave it

a

little ime and I tried to be brave

and

called

you

Would

you

speak

» me?"

Jan sighed

‘Give

it

time.”

1 tossed her the tike’s ignition key and

turned

to go. ‘You

see

her?" Jan called after me

“Yeah?

“She recognize you?” I nodded. ‘Was

i

hard?

1

I

could fed the sachess m my smile. “It would have

been

hard

either

way I almost couldn't

stand

thinking about strangers touching her, controlling her

body.

I get real scared. When 1

was

a kid I looked

at

Al and I

saw

my

future

in

her.

1

looked

A

her today and thought maybe that's

rny

future, too?

Jan shrugged. ‘You don’t know what’s

coming

down the road“

My

voice dropped bw. "f was thinking about Edwin's

suicide,

too. 1

took

it for granted tha. Ed would always be around. Then she shot herself. Suddenly

I

wanted an

other

chance and it

was

too late, she

was

gone. So

1

buried her in

ny memory because

it hurt too much. Maybe 1 wa afraid her suicide was my future, too” 1

rubbed

my face “I’ve gotta go Jan."

She

nodded and Turned

b

walk back

inside.

"Jan. Say goodbye to Edna fir me, will

ya?*

Jan answered me over her shoulder. “Don’t push your luck, kid.”

I pulled onto the gravel in front of Ruth’s mother’s house and waited in the

car

until

someone

came to the door

Mist

draped the hills.

The surface

cf

Canandaigua Lake

mirrored bright blue. I heard the front tfoor open. Patsy Cline was singing,

Cmzyfor thinking

that my

love

could hold

you

Ruth called out

to

me *‘C’mon on

in,

honey.” She looked happier and more relaxed than when fd last seen her.

Ruth introduced me

o

her mother Ruth Anne—and her Aunt Hazel.

They

had just finished canning tomatoes All three were wearing the same style floral-print aprons They had been laughing uproariously as I

entered

the room Hazel w ped

tears

from her

eyes.

"We were

;st

telling storie about

the

dd

days"

“Come sit

in the kitchen, child. Have

you

eaten? Can 1 make

you

a

little

something?” Ruth’s mother asked me I

glanced

at Ruth.

She

smiled

ard

nodded.

STONlBLTCHimJES 291

■ Y^, ma’am. Thafd be real nice."

“Call me

Anne. Everybody calls

me by try mother’s name. How about a big piece of elderberry pic?”

'Oh, yes Please!” Anne set down a huge wedge rf pie

n

frort of me “Eat

it

all, now You're a growing boy?’

Ruth looked a me nervously. I told her with my eyes it didn’t matter. “Mama, Jess is my friend from New Ytrk 1 told you about. Sheused to live in Buffalo.”

Hazel rolled her eyes, “[ don’t know how you girls cotdd live in that city with alt

them—”

“Aunt Hazel,” Ruth’s tone cut her off mid-sentence.

“1 didn’t

mean

anything

by

it,” Hazel said. *! just thirJc—

“

Anne cut in. “Hazel, eat your pie.”

I

rolled my eyes with pleasure “Did yai make this pie?”

Hazd smiled. “Anne makes the best elderberry pie tn the Valley. You could ask anybody You ever taste a pie that good?”

Ruth (topped her eyes. “Well,” I said, “I’ve eaten Ruth’s elderberry pic” I looked around nervously to see if Id upset anyone by using the name I knew try f riend by. Rith shrugged. “I must say, ma’am,

I

can taste the family inspiration in your child’s pie.”

“Well, tha was some fancy footwork.” Anne smiled as

I

devoured the pie.

Hazd rocked

with

laughter. ’Anne, do you remember the time you diot your first deer?” Hazel began the story. “She was a dry girl when she mamed try brother Cody.

First

winter she was here, she was hardly good br nothing

I'm

gong back fifty years now So over breakfast one morning, ny brother tells her he’s gonna go hunting. He idd her tha deer meat would help see them through the winter and sooneror later she’d have b learn to prepare it.

I

had told her fd show her how. But she was willful. She told Cody: ‘Ill shoot the damn deer. That's the easy part. Ybu clean he damn thing!' Well,

ny

brother just laughed and went qrstairs » shave.”

Anne picked ip the story. “So

I

was washitg dishes, rigK over there,” she pointed.

“I

was wondering what the hell Id gotten myself into marrying this man in the fist

place.

Anyhoo,

I

look oit the kitchen window and

I

see ths buck standing ui the dearing outside.

I

didn’t even stop » think

I

got one of Cody’s guns and I shot tha deer. I ran outside and started dragging i by the antlers. It was heavy but I was

so

damn mad at Cbdy I had the strength cf a bull. Cody comes downstairs a few minutes later and there’s a buck cn the

kitchen

floor. 1 told him, ‘Now you clean the damn thing.’ “

I knew laughter had rdied around the kitchen this way al weekend long.

“Oh, I wish Fd a camera to show you Cody’s face. 1 can see it now” Anne hooted. Her smile trembled.

‘1

wish you could have met him,” she told me “I think you would have Eked him a lot He was a real gxxi man.” She sighed. ‘You want some more pic?’

I nodded emphatically. Ruth shook her bead. “You’regonnabepukmgpurple all ova- the car.”

Anne put

her

hands on her hips- “This boy’s not leaving this valley without cast-

292

ing my grape pie."

I held up my hands in surrender, "Yes, ma’am."

“That’s better," she said, piffling an even larger slab of pie in front cf me.

Anne.

Hazel,

and Ruth hovered as I tasted the first bite.

I

slapped my chest. "I have died and gone to heaven.

This

is the best pie

I

have ever eaten in ray whole life.”

Anne beamed. “Robbie, yai take a couple of my pies home with you.”

Ruth shrugged. “I’ll make her tnyown pie; Mama.

I’m

gang

upstairs to pack. Then

we gotta ga” '

Anne called up the stairs after her. “Honey, look in my cedar chest. You grandma's apron is

ii

there.

Yju

might want

to take

i

with

you."

Hazel went out back

fcr

wood. Anne struggled to get up

from

her kitchen chair. “It’s na easy getting old," she told me

I

stood up when she did. “I’ve actually been

thinking about

that. To

tell

you the truth,

J

never expected to live this long.”

Anne came close

to

me “It’U come soon enough. Bu you got the whole rest of your iifeaheadofyou. Youcan’t wastettmeworryingabout

it.” Hersmilefeded. "You’re

a gleaner too, aren't yott? Just like my

Robbie.

¥>u know what a gleaner is?”

1

shook my head.

“When the firmer’s done with the harvest, he lets the gleaners come pick through whatever^

left. I wanted more fcr

my child than that

I expect you desffve

more, too?

I shrugged “Itell, we’redoing

it with

al! the dignity we can. And Robbie—

Ruth—

she's real loved in New York Gty by her friends.”

Anne nodded without smiling. “She’s real kwed here, too. Folks may rot understand he

and they ma/ not always

know what to say, ba they know she’s me of us."

Ruth

came downstairs.

“Ready,

Jess?” Hazel and Arne hugged and kissed and fussed ail (ver

Ruth.

Anne called me “Jess, you get ever here now” She put her arms around me Touch is something I could nev^ take for granted. ‘You come back

here anytime,

you hear?

And

i’ll make you another grqje pie that’ll knock your socks off."

I

blushed

‘Thank

you”

“Take good care of

my

child,” she'

whispered.

1 squeezed her shoulders. ‘Yes, ma’am.’’

Ruth and

1

rode in silence through the vine-covered hills.

I

coaid smeS grapes, the aroma

cf

home

fcr

Ruth.

“You

need help driving, Jess?” die asked sleepily.

I

nodded. “Soon,

I dunk.”

“Then I'm gonna need some coffee. Vfe should have filled tp the thermos befcre we left.”

I

looked et her nervously- 'You think we should rid stopping at a restaurant?” She sa up and sighed. “We need coffee Pufl over to that diner. Let’s live dangerously."

I

laughed- “Yeah. Like we don’t

already

”

No one paid any attention to us inside the diner Men dressed in flannel and truckers? caps shared their own stories a booths and tables. The

waitress looked weary

Wfe stood

in

front of

the

cashier,

waiting

to

pay, anxious

to leave before

there was trouble. A man

appeared from the kitchen.

He

couldn’t have been more than three feet tall. He dimbed

tp

onto a stool

h front of the register

and rang

tp

our purchase. He looked at Ruth’s

face

and thoi

st

mine.

His expression

softened.

Ruth and

1

looked

a

each

other shyly, then smiled

at

him.

He

beamed at us “How’s your trip going, gals?"

Ruth and

1

locked at each other wide-eyed and chuckled.

I

leaned closer. "It’s bean an amazing journey

And

somehow we’ve strvrved

it

So far anyway

Hw about yours?’

His smile was a

series of expressions.

“It’s not what

1

thought it

was gonna be, but it's made me into somebody 1 can live with.’’

Ruth

shock kis hand.

“Are you

fom around here too?’

He nodded. “Bom

and bred

here

My

name’s

Carlin."

Ruth smiled.

“I’m from Vine Valley.

I’m Ruth.

Jess is from Buffalo. Vife’re headed back io New Ycrk City.”

Hi

i$ eyffi

brightened.

“1

want to get out rf here 1 want

io go to a bjg

city where

there’s never a

dull moment."

Ruth laughed. "Then Manhattan’s just the [dace fjr you.”

“Come with us,"

I

told him. “Come on! Lefs all get in the car and go”

Ctrlin shook

hi

head

sadly.

Phn

of me wishes) was the kridtf person who could

do that. But

Tve gpt people here.

I’d

have to disengage slower ttan

that."

Ruth scribbled her name and phone number on the hack

cf a napkin. "Call us.

Crime visit- We’ll

show you why

we love New York."

I

nodded. “We’ll show you

why

we hale

it, too"

He

leaned

closer. “Are you gals really serious?"

1

leaned forward till my forehead

was almost

couching his "ftfe don’t have the time

to

waste

on

bring insincere.”

Carlin

patted my cheek.

"How about a nice fresh peach pie for

the

road?

Helen,

bring me

that

pie, please.”

As Carlin and

Ruth

shook hands,

1

saw how beautiful tis very small hand locked as it clasped her very large hand.

We all

sad

our

goodbyes

Ruth and 1 got back in the tar.

1

poured us each a cip of coffee.

"You think we! hear

from Carlin?”

She nodded.

“Oh,

I’d bet on

i." Ruth

rested her hand on my arm.

“How

was

Buffalo? Did

you find

what

you

were

looking for?’

1 sighed- “I don’t know Every time I go looking for something, I find something else

1’11

tdl youabout the

rep istet

rmjusttootired to sort it out new. HeAkSbeutywi?’’

Ruth

sighed.

“It

was a

patchwork quilt."

9ie leaned over and cheek.

I

felt try color rise. “It’s

nice toremember where

you come fran.-Sutfidw Tin ready to go home,” die said.

Ruthsqueezed

my hand. “C’mon, Jess. Let’s go heme”

1APTER

26

The moment I climbed the stibway stairs at Christopher Street J heard an am-

plified voice say the words lesbian and gay When

1

emerged tostreet level.

I found myself in the midst of a crowd of hundreds d people listening to speakers at a rally.

fd

seen gay demonstrations in the streets before. I had always paused

d

watch from s the street, proud this young movement was not beaten bad; into the closets. But lys walked away feeling outside of tha movement and alone. This time one voice

ed me in my tracks. It was a young man who took the mike and in a strong voice,

tiling with emotion, described being restrained and forced to watch his river be-

i eaten to decth with baseball bats by a gang. “I watched him die there on the side-

” he cried, “and

I

couldn’t save him We have to do something. This can't keep

; on

he handed the microphone to a woman whose hair was wrapped

n

bright Afri- c abnc. She urged others to come up and speak.

A young woman from the crowd climbed upon the stage. “There were these guys it neighborhood ui Queens" Her voice could hardly

be

heard, even with the micro “They used to yell things at me and my lover. One night,

1

heard them behind

295

2«

me,

1

was alone. They

pulled me

into the parking lot behind the hardware store and raped me.

I

couldn’t Stop them”

Tears

streamed down

my face. The man

next

to me put his hand on try shoulder. His eyes were filled with tears, too.

"]

never

1 old try lover

what happened,” she whispered into

the

microphone. “I felt like we’d hare both been raped if I tdd her.”

As she climbed down

from the stage

1

thought:

This

is what courage is. It’s not just living through the nightmare, it’sdoingsomething with it afterward.lt's being brave enough to talc about i to other people, It’s trying to organize to

change

things.

And suddenly I felt so sick to death erf my own silence that I needed to speak too. t wasn’t

iha

there was something

in

particular

I

was

burning

to say

I

didn't even know what it would be. I just Deeded to open try throat for once and hear my

ctmi

voice. And I was afraid

if I

let

this moment

pass,

I

might

never be trave enough to try again.

1 moved closer to the stags, nearer to finding my voice. The woman who was chairing locked at me. "Did you want

o speak?”

1

nodded, dizzy with anxiety. “C’mon

up, brother,”

she urged me.

My legs could hardy get me upon stage.

1

looked

a

the hundreds of faces staring

a

me

‘Tm not a gay

man.”

My

own amplified voice startled me ‘Tra a butch, a he- she. J don't knew if the people who hate our g-*ts call us tha anymore.

Bu

that

single epithet shaped my teenage years” Everyone got very quiet as

I

spoke, and I knew they were listening: I knew they had heard me I spotted a fijnme woman, aboti ny age, who stood near

the

back

of

the crowd. She nodded

as I

speke, as though she recognized me. Her eyes were warm with memories.

•f

know about gening

hurt’’

I

said. “But

1

don’t have much experience talking about it. And I know abou fighting back, but I mostly know bow to do it alone. Thai sa tough way to fight, cause I’m

usuallyoumumbered

and

I

usually lose." An older drag queen on the et^es of the protest slowly waved her hand back and forth over her head m silent testimony .

“I

watch protests and rallies from across the street. And part

cf

me feels so connected to you all, but I don’t knew if

I’m

welcome to join There’s

lots

of is who are on the outside and we dont want to be

WeYe

getting busted and beatai up. WeYe dy- tog ait here. We need you—but you need us

too.

"1

don’t know what it would take to really change the world. But couldn’t we get together and try to figure ft out? Couldn’t the

he

be bigger?

Isn’t

there a way

we could

help fight each other’s battles so that we’re not always alone?”

I

gpt the same thunderous applause that those gathered gftve each person who found the courage

to

speak. To me, the applause was an answer yen

i

was possible to still hope This rally didn’t change night into day but I saw people speaking and listening to each other.

When I handed the mile to the weman whowaschairing, she put her atm

around me.

"Good for you. sister,’ she

whispered

in my ear.

No ate

had ever called me that

STOWMJICtlUltS 37

before.

I

stepped

down

and made my way through thecrowd

Hands

reached out and shook mine

ar

patted me on the shoulder . A yomg gay man who was passing out leaflets smded and nodded at me. ‘Thai was really brave to get ip there and say that.”

1

laughed. ‘You don't know the half of it.’’ He handed me a leaflet calling fcr a protest against the government’s

neglect

of

the ADS

epidemic.

"Hold up,"

I

heard someone say A young butch extended

her hand to

me. She reminded meso much of ny old friend Edwin that far just a split second

I

thought Ed had come hade

n

life

to

give me another shot at friendship.

"My name’s Bernice. I really

liked

what you said.”

I

shook her

hand

and

fotnd

her power h the sureness tf her

grip.

‘You been outalong time, huh?” she asked me.

I didn’t know if she meant hw long Dd been g^y or hew bug Dd stood and watched

the

gay movement

tom

the outside. Both

were

true

’’There’s lesbian dances

a

the Community

Center

on the

third Saturday of

eadi month,

f

could introduce you to some of my friends Maybe we could talk"

1

shrugged.

T

dotf

t

know ifl can deal with argting my

wy

into a women’sdance."

Bernice

shrugged. YVe could meet you outside. We

could

all go

m

together

My

friend's on

the

door, Nobody’ll hassle you if we’re all together. Thafs part of what you were talking about, isn’t it?'

I

laughed. T didn’t quite

expect io see

t

right

away"

Bernice shifted from foot to foot “So what

do

you say? Yiu wanna come?”

“Yeah," I nodded. “I’m scared, but

I

do wart to got”

‘‘Cool,’ die said.

"Here’s

my lumber. Give me a call."

1

climbed ip on the

rim

of a garbage can and looted anxnd the et^es of the crowd for the femme woman

whose

eyes

had

recognized me

She was gone

1

hurried

home and

ran qp

the stairs two

al a

time.

"

Ruth,”

1

knocked at her door “Open

up”

She locked alarmed. “Jess, what is it?”

“I

$oke, Ruth. There was this rally in Sheridan Square and they let people-get

ip

and

talk

and I

did.

I

spoke,

Ruth. En

frontofhundredsofpeople.

I

wish you could

hare

been there.

I

wish you could have heard me”

■

<7

it

Ruth wrapped

ha-

arms around me and sighed, “I have been hearir^ you,' honey?’ she

whispered in

my ear “Once you break die silence, it’s just the beginning.”

“Can

I

use

yore

phone?”

,

1

She shrugged. “Sure.” . :

1

knewexactly who

I

wanted to see. I railed the union office on I^ttr Street and

asked far Duffy 1

recogrized his vdee right away.

Its

familiarity warmed -TJuffy it’s me—Jess. Jess Goldberg.”

, . ’

“Jess?”

He

spoke my name in a rush of air. "Oh, Jess. imy

morth fora long lime.

Cai

you fotgiveme for exposing youon the jo btfejssyidi d?”

]

smiled.

“Oh,

I

forgave you a while

ago But

I’m

aJ

exated

today.

I want to talk 10 you

1

want to see you right this minute.

1

'

Duffy laughed. “Where ate you? How did you know where to

find me?’’

“I’m living here- Frankie told me where you

worked” .

"How long would it take you to get here?’ he asked.

1

checked ny watch.

“Fifteen

minutes, tops”

“There's a restaurant on 16th, on the west side of Union Square. I’ll

meet you there.”

I

had wondered if Duffy and

I

would still recognize each other. Of course we did. He spotted me the moment he walked into the restaurant. I stood up as he approached the booth

“Jess.”

He shook my hand. His eyes immediately filled with tears. “Jess, Eve

waited

years to tel you how sorry lam.”

“It s

alright Duffy-

1

know you didn’t do it on purpose. It was just a

mistake.”

Duffy dipped his

head.

“Can

1

have another chance?" '

I

laughed. “You haven’t used tp your chances yet” ’

Duffy dropped his eyes ’I think

h

all the

years

I’ve

organized

it might have been the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. And all

I

could think about wa6 what I’d cost you.

I

would have done anything to make

your life easier,

Jess. And

I

screwed

up so bad.

I’m sorry."

I

smiled. ‘You know; Duffy, there’s this person

I

bve named Ruth She’s different like

I

am One time I got beat up and she called me

in sick to

week and she did the same damn thing.

1

know

1

was real trad at you at the time But even then I knew yai were always on my

side. There weren’t that many people I

could count cn to stand with me, bn I always knew you were one of them. Hey, how about the mistakes! made tha you let slide?”

Duffy smiled and chewed his lip. “Thanks, Jess. Y>u kt me cff real easy.”

1 laughed.

“Well, you’ve always been a good friend.” He blushed. “Sit down, Duffy.”

We

caught

up quick by painting

our

lives in broad

strokes.

“Got red-baited out cf the

bindery where we used to work,” Duffy explained.

‘1

got kindof burned

out, drank too much.

Then

I

quit drinking and got that job organizing, and I’m still working

for

the same union"

I

told him Fd stopped taking

hormones and moved

to New York City and now I was a typesetter.

“Nonunion?" he asked.

I

nodded. “Yeah. When the computers came on the scene, the owners could see fast

tow

it was going to

transform the

old

hot-lead industry. So they hired all the people the dd

craft un

on didn’t realize were important toorgaruze. That’s how they broke the back

of

Local 6?

Jfe

looked

right

a

men

a way

that

made

me uncomfortable.

“It’s been real hard

fix

you,

Jess, hasnt

it?’’

I

shrugged and nodded.

“It

shows in your

face,’ he said.

‘You bok

less scared

but

mere hurt.” Strange,

SrOl.EBVICHBLUES

399

him knowing me like that,

I changed the subject “Something incredible happened to me today, Duffy. I

got

up in front of a rally and talked over a microphone,

I

wanted to tell them how i

was

in the plants, how when a contract’s almost up management works overtime trying to divide everybody. I didn’t know if they’d get what

I

meant if

I

sad it rook the whole membership to win the strike"

Duffy smiled, “Yeah, and nowadays

i

takes more than just one union to

win."

I sighed. “I came to ask you if you think it’s possible io change the world? Or do you it’s always gonna be a defensive battle?”

Duffy nodded very sicwly. ‘Y’eah, Jess.

I

really do believe wc can

change

the world It’s changing al the time, only a bt of the time it’s getting worse.

I’m

not just an

op

timist, I think conditions ate gonna make it impossible for us not io fight to change things."

Duffy smiled I pounded my fist on the table. ‘I want to understand aboil change—

I

don’t just wart to be 4 the mercy of

it.

I fed like

I’m waking ip

inside,

I

want to know about history,

I

have al this new information about

people

like

me dtrwn

through the ages, but

I

don’t know anything about the ages.”

Duffy leaned forwad in the booth. “That’s the Jess

[

remember—

the

hungry one the one who’s ready todo battle."

I

laughed,

“So,

Jess, why don’t

you

consider working with me as an organizer."

“What?”

I

shouted,

Duffy held up both hands

like

shields, “Just think about

it.

¥>u were

always

an organizer.

1

know it world be complicated, but your life has

always

been tha

way

I

know it would hard for you to organize openly as a woman. But maybe you could

fd

back you up all the way. There’s seme others

I

think alsowould.

And

if that's too hard, then you could tell me how you wanted to do i and I promise

I

wont mess

it

up.”

Duffy pounded the table with the hed of

his

hand. “You've got

a

power

you’ve

hardly used yet But you

can’t

do it alone. I really think there’s people who are ready to stand with you now.

[

think we can make them understand,"

I exhaled slowly “I don’t know, Duffy. Thishopethingiskindofnewforme.I’m a little afraid to get my hopes up too much all at

once.”

Duffy shock his head, "I’m not saying well livetosee some son of paradise.

But

just fighting for change makes you stronger. Not hoping for anything will kill

you fa-

sure. TakE a chance, Jess, You’re already wondering if the worldcould change Try im agining a world worth livmg in,

aid

then ask yourself if that isn’t worth fighting fur. You've come too far to give up on hope, Jess,"

“Wow,” was al

I

could say. “I got

to

think about all of this,”

He

smiled. ‘Take your time. Just think about it fve got

to

g> back

»

work," he said.

“If

you’re free tomorrow night. I’ll buy you supper. Let’s talk seme more."

“Let me check my schedule," I squeezed my eyes shut,

"Yup,“

I

opened

them. “I’m free You’re on,“

Duffy handed me a book titled

Labor's Urtold Stay.

I opened the cover. Inside he’d written:

To Jess, wiihgreni expectations. *

It’s

a book

I

always waited

to

give you," he explained. 'Lucky

I

had it

in

rry desk drawer when you called.

I

thought back to

theau iography

ofMother

Jone

he’d

given me

years ago

aid

inscribed the same way. “Does

this

mean 1 get another hance?"

I

asked.

He

smiled

warmly.

“You haven

t

begun to use

up

your chances, Jess.”

We

both stood

ip and

shook hands.

He

turned to go.

“Hey,

Duffy. I cnce asked you

a

question aid you never answered it. Are you a communist?”

Duffy turned around slowly, “I

don’t know what tha werd means to you, so

I

don’t know what a yes would mean.

What

do you say we sit down over

supper

and

I’ll tefl

you

how

I

see

tie world and

my place

ri it?"

1

nodded. “Fair enough."

It was hot

tha

night, almost too unbearable to sleep. The air pressure and

humidity made it difficult to breath. Thunder rumbled

h the

distance. I

thought about how

ny

life was charging, in little ways aid big

ways

And

I thought

about

Theresa

fd

never written

that lettershe’d

asked

me

for

Could I

write it

someday soon?

What

would

I

say? Where could

I

send it?

The

rain peked my

windows.

As

1

fill

asleep

thinking about the letter, lightning

bolts streaked the sky, During the night I had this dream:

i

waked across a vast field.

flbmen and men

and child

rm

stood cn the edges <f the field looking a me, smiling and nodding.

I

headed toward a Smail routd hut near the edge of the woods.

I

had a feeling

I

had been in this place before .

There

were people vho were different Klee me inside. We could all see our reflections

jj

the faces of those

wfto

satin this circle.

!

looked around

b

was hard to

say vdto wtisa

woman, who wasa man.

Their

faces

mdiateda

different kind of beauty

ban

Td gown up seeing celebrated rm television or in magazines. b's a beauty one isrf.t bam with, btf

must

fight to

construct

at great sacrifice ,

If dr proud to sit among them.

I

was proud to be one of them.

A

fire

burned it

be center tf our gathering. One

cf the

oldest

in the

Circle caught my eyes.

1

didrit know if she was a man or a woman at birth. She hdd

ip

an object

I understood

I

was supposed to accept the realness

of this

object I looked more closely. It was the ring that the Dineh women gifted me with as an infant.

If

dt an urge to leap to my feet to plead for the

ring

to be

returned to me. Ire-

strained the impulse.

She pointed

» fte

circle the ring cast on the ground

I

nodded, achttrwledgng

hat

th shadow was as real as the ring. She smiled cud waved her hand in the space between the ring aid is shadow.

Isrit tHs distance

also real? She indicated

ote

circle.

I

looked at fie faces around me. I fallowed the shadow of her haid against the wall

swt wnut

blur.

301

of rfw

hut, seeing fir die first time the diadows surrounding us.

She called met? the present. My mind slipped berk t> the

past.fi

rwrrd to the fie lure. Aren

i

these connected, she asked wordlessly?

Z

flit my whole life coming fuS. circle. Growing up so different coming ou as a butch, passing as a man. and then bode to die same question that had shaped my life woman or man?

The sound erf a street argument, bom tf frustration, wefce me from sleep.

I

didn’t warn to come back to this world

I

struggled to return to the dream, but I was wide awake, ft was near dawn

I

unlocked the bedroom window and crawled out cn the fir escape. The cod ar felt good. I dosed rry eyes

I

recalled the night Theresa and

I

broke up. hov I stared irto the night sky straining fora glimpse

erf

my own future. Ifl could sendames.sageback in time to thatyoung butch sitting on a milk crate, it would be this: My neighbor ,

Ruth,

asfcd me recently ifl had try life to live all over again would I make the same decisions?' Yes,”

I

answered unequivocally, "yes.”

I’m so sony it’s had

b

be this hard. But if

I

hadn't walked this path, who would I be? At the moment I fdt a the center of my own life, the (team still braided likesweet- grass in my memory

I

remembered Duffy’s challenge.

Jmaginea world worth living in, a world worth fighting for.

I

dosed my eyes and allowed my hopes to soai

I heard the beating tf wings nearby. I opened ny eyes. A young man on a nearby rooftop released his pigeons, like dreams, into the dawn.

Afterword

On this,

the

10th

anniversary of the publication of

Stone

Butch Blues,

I’ve just

finished

reading

the

novel for the first

time. Does that

sound

odd to

you?

I

wrote this

narrative

from

the inside,

awash

in its depths, towed by

its

currents. By

the

time

1

held the blues

in my hands the

inked words seemed tike

faint

animal tracks

on a smooth landscape,

a cold

trail I

couldn’t

follow.

Now, a

decade later, 1 am

surprised. Astonished

to be reintroduced to characters I

birthed,

who like anyone’s grown children

developed fictional

lives of

their own,

inde

pendent from mine.

I

discover a

journey

not

identical to my

life’s path

and

yet blazed with the

intimate

familiarity of my own

lived

experience.

1 locate theory—the way

it

is lived in

morion

and in interconnection.

Not hard

to understand; hard

to

live.

And I feel the heat of the inextinguishable fire of resistance to oppression.

Like my own

life, this

novel defies easy classification. If you found

Stone Butch Blues

in a bookstore or library, which

category

was it in? Lesbian

fiction?

Gender studies? Like the germinal novel

The Weil

of

Loneliness

by Radclyffe/John Hall, this book is a lesbian novel and a transgender novel— making “trans” genre a verb as well as an adjective.

“Is it fiction?” lam frequently asked. Is it true? Is it real? Oh, it’s real all right. So real it bleeds. And yet it is a remembrance: Never underestimate the power of fiction to tell the truth.

When

Stone Butch Blues

was published, I thought I

would keep

cartons of copies in my closet to give out to people who were ready to read it. But this book, like the movements for social change it was inextricably

connected with,

exploded the closet door off

its

hinges.

Since then I’ve received the gift of hundreds of thousands of letters, E-mails, and phone calls; heartfelt emotions shared by individuals I’ve met at rallies, universities, colleges. I’ve been stopped by strangers—in places from a gas station in rural Iowa to a shopping mall in Jersey City. These people, many of whose life battles do nor seem to be related in any way, shape, or form to oppression based on sexuality, gender, or sex, took time and Care to explain to me the impact the book had on their thinking, their decisions, their

actions.

People who have lived very different lives have generously related to me the similarities they recognized in these pages with their own struggles

—

the taste of bile, the inferno of rage—transsexual men and women,

heterosexual cross

dressers and bearded females, intersexual and androgynous people, bi-gender and tri-gender individuals, and many other exquisitely defined and expressed identities.

Perhaps what resonates most for me are reports that copies of

Stone Butch Blues

are passed around in prison cel! blocks until they are worn and tattered.

This book has

journeyed

to

lands

that I

have not yet seen. Letters

and

E-mails have traveled to

me

from

the

tip of

South

America

to the far

reaches of

the

North,

from Africa

to

Asia. The

novel

is translated

into

German and Dutch. The Chinese-

language edition, with a preface

I

wrote for readers

there, has been

serialized in Taiwan’s

leading daily

newspaper,

recommended

as reading for

teenagers

and adults alike.

And more Translations are

in the works.

Has

publishing this

novel

changed my life?

Yes. And no. It

hasn’t altered the

trajectory of my life.

As

I

finished writing

Stone Butch Blues,

I

had already lived in

the

vortex of the left-wing

LGBT

liberation current

for

30 years. I’d been

a

revolutionary activist for more than 20 years and a weekly

jour

nalist and editor for

Workers World

newspaper. I

had fought against

Pentagon

wars

of

aggression. Supported

Palestinian

self-determination. Worked to defend political prisoners like Mumia Abu-Jamal

and

Leonard Peltier. Been a

leading

organ

izer

of the

1974 March Against

Racism

in Boston.

Toured the country in

1984

speaking about the AIDS crisis.

I’d

mobilized to stop

the

Nazis

and

Klan, helped

protect

women’s reproductive rights, and made

national rallies and

demonstrations more accessible to Deaf and disabled activists.

Stone Butch

Blues

and

the two

nonfiction books I’ve

writ

ten since—

Transgender Warriors

and

Trans Liberation:

Beyond Pink

or

Blue—

helped to create change, in

my life and

the lives of others.

But

these books arose

as

part of waves of social struggle, contributed to their momentum, were pro

pelled

by

them,

and

rode their

curl like little surfboards.

I

leave it

k>

historians, herstorians,

and

hirstorians

to ana

lyze the changes in the decade since this novel was written

and

to

place

the publication of

Stone Butch

Blues

within

broad and persistent social and political efforts

to

right societal wrongs.

But with this

novel I planted

a

flag: Here I am—does anyone else

want

ro

discuss these important issues?

I

wrote it

not as an

expression of individual “high” an bur as a working-class organizer mimeographs a leafier

—

a call to action. When, at my first public bookscore reading, someone asked me to sign a copy of the book for a friend who was too shy to speak to a published author, it broke my heart. My life’s work is about elevating collective organizing, nor elevating individuals.

I write this in June 2003—Pride Month

—

when millions across the United States and around the world are marching in the streets, cheered and applauded by millions more. Rainbow flags snap

in

rhe winds of change blowing through the streets of cities and towns, reservations and campuses.

The long-term labors of our movement have wrung a great victory from a Supreme Court dominated by seven Republicans—six of them appointed by Reagan and Bush Sr.

—

which has just issued a ruling effectively decriminalizing same-sex love. When the narrative of

Stone Butch Blues

begins, the love we made broke the law in all the states. By the time Jess finds her way to the gay drag bars, just one state had been forced to repeal that biblically named edict.

Our inexorable grassroots movement has won so much in the decades this novel spans. It

is

the struggles of the Jesses and Edwins, Peaches and Teresas, Ruths and Duffys

—

then and now

—

that have historically been decisive.

Yet there is still so much activist work co be done.

My partner, Minnie Bruce, and

I

are packing for a brief vacation to celebrate 11 years of living and loving together. We know we will face gawks and glares; we don’t know if they’ll be backed up by clenched fists of rage. Those justified fears are weighty luggage to carry on a holiday. IXfe lug them around with us every day. And we feel this Rambo mentality deepening in this epoch of “endless” war, colonial occupation of Iraq, and the racist roundup of Arab, Muslim, and South Asian people in this country.

This is the worst of times; this is the best of times—it will be what we make of

it.

If I

had

written

this novel at

the dawn

of the 21st century, would Jess and

her

friends

be marching

for basic LGBT civil

rights?

Or would

they find their way

nto the widening struggles

against capitalism

—

the

dog-eat-dog economic

system

that excretes

inequality

and

injustice

as

by-products?

I

only know as the

author that 1

have found

my way into the

forefront of the

movement

to profoundly transform this

economic and

soc al system.

And

so

have a generation of young freedom

fighters of

all sexualities, genders,

sexes, and nationalities.

Like the left-wing, gay liberation current of the

’60s and ’70s,

they are

on

the

front

lines of every

battle for

social

and economic justice.

From

the

vantage point

of

nonfiction and its

reflection in the mercury of fiction,

Jess

and I

share this:

We both

lived

long

enough to see quantitative

resistance

transformed into qualitative, collective

fight-back.

The 1969

Stonewall uprising ignited

a massive movement

in

the

streets from

coast

to

coast

and around the

world.

It was the

second great international surge demanding sexual

and gender liberation in

the

20th

century.

And

it

was woven with a thousand

threads to

the histor c

liberation

movements

of

African-Americans and Latinos, Asian and

Native peoples, women, and

the

upsurge

against

the

Vietnam

War,

Stone

Butch Blues

is

a

bridge of memory.

The

immense human

toll

of

the AIDS epidemic

—and

of

oppression

as

a

whole

—have

created

a gaping chasm;

virtually generations lost.

As

a result

the

history

of

social

movements and

their

les

sons are episodically recalled.

Recovering collective

memory

is itself

an

act of struggle. It

allows

the generational

currents

of the

white-capped

river

of our movement

to flow together

—the awesome roar of our many waters.

And the

course of

our movement is not fixed

in its banks

like the Hudson River

—it is ours to determine. From Selma

to Stonewall

to Seattle, we who

believe in freedom will

not rest

until

every battle

is

won.

I

am typing these

words

as June 2003

surges with pride. What

year is

it

now, as you

read them? What has been

won?

What

has

been

lost?

I

can’t see

from here; I can’t

predict. But I know this:

You are

experiencing

the impact

of

what

we in

the movement take a

stand on and fight for today.

The pres

ent and past

are

the

trajectory

of

the future. But the arc

of history does

not bend

toward justice automatically—as the great abolitionist Frederick Douglass said, without struggle

there

is

no progress.

1

can say this with

certainty: If your

life is being ground up

in economic machinery

and the

burden of oppression is heavy on

your back,

you hunger for liberation, and

so

do those

around you. Look for

our

brightly colored

banners

coming up over

the hill

of

the past

and into your present. Listen for our voices

—

our protest

chants

drawing

nearer. Join us in the

front

ranks. Vvfe

are marching

toward

liberation.

That’s what

the

characters

in

Stone Butch Blues

fought for. The last chapter of this saga

of struggle

has not yet

been written.

—

Leslie Feinberg

About

the Author

Leslie

Feinberg

is a

long-time activist and an

award-winning author.

Hir

works

include

Transgender Warriors:

Making

History f rom

Joan of

Arc

to

Dennis Rodman

and

Trans Liberation:

Beyond Pink or Blue.

Feinberg is a political journalist, a managing editor of Workers World newspaper, and a memher cf

the

National Writers Union,

UAW Local 1981. Ze

is a founder of Rainbow Flags for Mumia

and

a national organizer For the International Action Center, which is a steering committee

member

of the International

ANSWER

(Act Now

to Stop

War 8c

End

Racism) coalition. Feinberg's

home page in

cyberspace is

www.transgenderwarrior.org

.