by Bryl R. Tyne
Oh, fuck. I shook my head. Hitler? If there was ever a human more deceived… “No, not him.” I shifted onto one hip and leaned one hand in the sun-warmed grass. This conversation was not headed in the direction I’d hoped to lead it. I was definitely losing my touch.
“Satan!” Recognition flashed suddenly in Nick’s eyes, and I offered what I could only assume was my ‘no shit’ look. I’d be damned if I as much as allowed Lucifer, that double-crossing bastard, an ounce of my breath, energy, thoughts, or otherwise.
I refilled Nick’s cup and he proceeded to drink. I could see the wheels turning in that free-willed brain of his.
After a few minutes, he stared blankly ahead. “I won’t go to hell?”
“You aren’t going to hell. No.”
For the first time in a long time, Nick smiled.
Now here before me sat someone I could work with, and if I didn’t have this wicked rash, I’d have ignored Papa’s don’t touch rule, scooped the man into my arms, and embraced him. Despite my pain, I smiled in return as he released his desperation, his unjustified doubts…but his smile faded as quickly as it had appeared.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“I’m so confused.”
Leave it to one of my charges to make the understatement of the year. Papa wouldn’t let me live this one down. I took in the look on Nick’s pitiful face. He was stupid, yes; but a bad kid? No. “Listen. How about I let you in on a little secret?”
Slowly, he turned his dazed stare to me.
“Your brother’s not going to tell your father a damned thing.”
“How? You know what happened?”
I twisted my neck to one side then the other, releasing the tension, unsure how much more of his ignorance I could take. “I already told you; I know everything about you.”
“E-everything?”
I nodded, and immediately he brought his knees up and rested his forehead on them, hiding his face. “Oh, God.”
“It’s okay, Nick.”
“It’s not okay. I’m not gay.”
“No. That’s not quite true now, is it?”
He shot up, inadvertently smacking me with his arm. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not gay!”
I squelched back the anger that threatened to rekindle. Why did Papa have to make these creatures’ meager existence so confusing? Damn Him. I called Big Papa out, but I no longer cared. His rules were unfair, and He wouldn’t convince me otherwise. I would tell the kid the truth and deal with Papa’s wrath later.
“Your brother’s gay, Nick, and he wasn’t laughing at you.”
For a long minute, his mouth hung open and he stared. “Nuh uh. No way. I don’t believe you.”
“Oh, yes. Like you, he chooses to be discreet.”
Within seconds, the guilt of what he’d almost done consumed him. His head hung lower, and I could see him sinking into himself. “You’re wrong. It’s all Cody’s fault—traipsing around our room half-naked, always teasing, flirting, acting like a—he’s the one who dared me to… I don’t want to be like him.”
Denial and self-pity, what a combination. I inhaled deeply, my patience on its last thread. Of course, I’d always been a ‘take the bull by the horns’ type, myself. Damn it! Now, my other arm itched like fire. I tossed a concealed, “We will have words,” skyward. Humans were not like me—I knew that. I didn’t need Big Papa’s reminding or His help. My best course of action to avoid further interference was to change the subject.
“What’s your friend like?” I asked and noticed the twitch of recognition in Nick’s eyebrow, though his gaze remained in his lap.
He twirled the half-full cup between his hands. “Cody? H-he’s…um…just m-my roommate.”
Of course, he was, but sooner or later—hopefully, sooner—Nick would speak the words he needed to hear himself say. “So, it’s your roommate’s fault you lust after him?”
His head shook ever so slowly. This time, his voice was barely audible. “It’s not like that. He’s a cool guy and…he’s really funny.”
“So, you do like him, then?” My own words sounded wrong, even to me, considering Nick had just thought about offing the guy.
“You don’t understand.”
Try me, kid. You’d be surprised. I wanted to say more but held my tongue.
“It’s way beyond—” He looked behind him, then over my shoulder as if ensuring himself we were alone. “You don’t understand how hard it is….” He began again, fiddling with his cup before leaning my way. “I’m not gay, but every time I look at him, all I can think about is getting him up against the nearest wall and—God. I’m so fucked up…” He met my gaze. “I’m busted, right?”
I closed my eyes, exhaled slowly. The kid couldn’t keep a straight train of thought if he tried. “For what?” I asked, looking over at the bushes where we’d scuffled then back to Nick.
“I almost—”
“I don’t have a clue what you’re rambling on about.”
He staggered to a stand, almost toppled over as he searched the bushes, and I was on my feet in time to catch him as he stumbled.
“Where is my dad’s—?”
I swear to all that is Holy, he had the memory of a chicken. This could work in my favor, though. The resiliency of human youth was a remarkable thing, even to me. I pushed Nick to his feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He stared, his alcohol-buzzed mind numbed further by my revelations. With a wave of my arm, the thermos and cup disappeared. His eyes widened as I waved my other arm and instantly, he sported fresh jeans and a clean shirt from his closet. “How’d you—?”
“Time to face reality.” I shoved him through the row of bushes and onto the field before vanishing from sight.
I watched him pick himself up, brush the grass from the knees of his jeans, and then stand there staring toward the far end of the field. Took him a few minutes to find his bearings, but finally, he traipsed off, toward his roommate.
Papa could unleash every vile curse available on the vegetation in this wretched place and he wouldn’t budge my position. This kid was not a lost cause. Desperate? Maybe; but even the most well intentioned many times do desperate things. Or maybe, Papa had forgotten about His “great flood” fiasco. Waiting for Nick to wander to the other end of the field, I added the incident—Papa’s worst lack of judgment, in my opinion—to my notes. I had faith in my work and in my charges; they always pulled through, in the end.
As I looked on, Cody stood from retrieving his ball and looked surprised to see Nick stumbling toward him. “Hey, Nick!”
Nick staggered as he slowed to a stop a couple strides yet to go. For a second, Cody stared with a tilt to his head, but then took the remaining steps and immediately braced Nick with a helpful arm. “You came out to watch me practice?”
At first, Nick jerked away from the hand on his back, offering nothing in reply but a slight nod, but when Cody smiled and embraced Nick, I couldn’t have stopped the told-you-so smirk that crept onto my face if I’d tried. Face buried in the man’s shoulder, Nick bawled like a child, his cries echoing across the empty field.
Cody looked taken aback for a moment, but held Nick even tighter. “It’s okay. I didn’t expect you to really show up.”
Nick shook his downturned head across Cody’s shoulder. “It’s not that…it’s not… Oh God….” Between his wailing and his snot-filled blubbering, his confession became incoherent to anyone’s ears but mine. His heart finally burden-free, he turned his face to Cody’s neck.
Cody appeared frozen—his eyes widening before clenching shut. He let out a half-stifled moan. “Nick. Dude!” He released his friend and put an arm’s distance between them, but Cody’s grin was apparent.
Tears streamed down Nick’s face as both men’s hesitant gazes met. Nick looked away first, offering his roommate a small shrug. “I want you again so fucking bad…I can’t stand it.” His words were soft yet more than I needed to hear. Might take some time for him to
grow into his own skin, but he’d come around.
I laughed, spying Cody’s dry swallow. Stalling for composure, the young man scratched at the back of his head, but I could hear his thoughts…about fucking time. “You’re drunk, man.”
“I am. Don’t think I’d be here if I wasn’t,” Nick told him.
Cody eyed Nick for a long minute. “Hey. Why don’t we grab a cup of coffee?”
Nick almost lost his balance as he snapped upright, waving his hands in front of him. “Oh, hell no! No more coffee!”
Eyebrows raised, Cody chuckled at what must have sounded like a strange reason to get so excited. “Well then, how about a cheeseburger?”
Not gay—my ass. Mission accomplished, I took my leave, scratching at the welts that had now spread across my stomach and chest as I ascended the Heavens. Big Papa had better be prepared, because I was in no mood for games.
Lost
I dodged left, dematerialized, and reappeared only after the smoke had cleared. “Hear me out. That’s all I’m ask—”
“Silence!” The Heavens rumbled from the force of Big Papa’s shout.
One finger in my right ear, I tried massaging away the pain. Why I ever bothered to voice my side, I didn’t know. It got me nowhere and nothing but trouble.
Dodging to my right, I avoided another lightning bolt by a hair’s breadth. “Sir. Yes, sir. I’m listening.” For Christ’s sake. “I won’t question your authority again,” I lied and knew I lied…and I was certain Papa knew my vice also, but I didn’t care. Papa made unreasonable demands. If I struggled to adhere to them, how could He expect my charges to walk such a narrow line?
“This one will pose a problem for you, Zagzagel.”
Papa wasn’t letting me in on any secret when He reminded me Charley was special. I kept my thoughts to myself, though; my attitude had landed me in the hot seat too often as it was. My decision to play it safe was two-fold. Despite my complaining, I longed for Papa’s approval—always had if you wanted the truth. My second reason conflicted in a sense. I was fiercely independent, abhorring interference as I performed my duties.
“One more false move, Zag, and I’ll….”
Papa’s warning was lost in the sea of nothingness I often drifted to whenever He started ranting about my lack of judgment or my blatant disregard for protocol. Despite the shifting sands under foot, I couldn’t force myself to listen when His chastising began.
“I understand,” I said, not having a clue what he’d last mentioned. The sooner I got away from His presence, the better. Nothing productive ever came from our one-sided conversations.
Without further distraction, upon my dismissal, I descended the Heavens and veered for Mel’s twenty-four-hour, coin-operated laundromat. Actually, I alit in the alley behind Mel’s, where my charge, Charley, had set up residency for the last couple of years.
Charley’s wall-less accommodations were nothing special, but she liked to call them home. On the other hand, Charley, as Papa had foretold in His I-am-the-all-knowing speech, was very special, and in many ways.
With the exception of children, you see, humans are unable to see me unless I divulge my presence. My cloaking ability, however, had no effect on Charley, never had, not even as she’d reached adulthood.
“Morning,” she said, as I kicked a misplaced, half-shredded bag of trash toward the nearest dumpster on my approach.
“How are you today, Charley?”
“Fine. Fine.” Flagging me over, she smiled, but frowned and, with a gasp, covered her eyes as I rounded the dumpster. “Zagzagel! Cover up, for Heaven’s sake! You’re in the presence of a lady.”
How easily I forget these tiny details, but my name from her lips in such a scornful tone refreshed my memory—real quick. Before she had a chance to dress me down again, I made myself presentable, as you humans deem proper. Though I’d chosen the finest of silks, admittedly, I was uncomfortable. Hiding my disdain for the confines of the suit and tie I now adorned, I stepped forward. I didn’t need to ask Charley’s approval. Her smile said more than any words could ever say, and for a brief moment, I forgot my woes, my worries, my constant odds with Papa. Charley’s ability to lift my spirits was a gift.
“Got yourself a new chair.” I pointed to a sturdy looking, thigh-tall crate not present on my last visit.
She chuckled, appearing almost embarrassed. “Not fond of sitting on the ground these days.”
Of the many alleyways, overpasses, and bridges Charley had held residency in, under, and around over the years, behind this laundromat had been her wisest decision. High, along the scored brick wall, ran a row of dryer vents. Not only did they provide Charley warmth during cool nights, but she used the fresh laundered aroma of dryer sheets and fabric softener to air out her tattered clothing also.
“What are you up to?”
Standing beneath one of the vents, Charley shook what looked to have once been a crisp, white button-down dress shirt. “Just a bit of laundry. You?”
Now, she knew, I could not answer her, not with any detail.
It had been a while…a long while, but with this assignment, I was compelled to agree with Papa. Sometimes, the truth does more harm than good. Thanks to Charley’s extreme independence, she was good at tossing knowledge around in her head and coming up with a solution or a way to cheat fate. The less time she had to do this, the better.
“Thought I’d drop in, see how things were going on your end.”
She eyed me suspiciously, smoothing out the moth-nibbled shirt. “Seems I haven’t seen you in ages, Zag.”
“Well, you know how it goes.”
Only those in dire need garnered my direct assistance. No, being homeless was not Charley’s need. She’d lived on the streets for the last twenty years—her choice. Having the heart of a lamb, Charley didn’t want to burden her family.
Charley gave the shirt a brisk snap. “Still as talkative as ever, I see.”
She was also as tenacious as a wolverine.
Once she made a decision that was the final word in the matter. From her determined actions, I knew I’d garnered her curiosity. If I were wise, I’d steer the subject in another direction. “Hungry, Charley?”
Without as much as acknowledging I’d spoken, she threw on the blouse with its lacy cuffs and collar, and proceeded to button it from the top down. She motioned with a jerk of her chin for me to come closer, but as I neared, she held up one hand indicating I stop. Only after she’d fastened the final button on her shirt did I realize what she intended. With a muffled grunt, holding one hip, she squatted and picked up one of her stench-filled blankets. She gave it a hearty shake and then proceeded to fold it into quarters before dropping it back to the broken asphalt.
“Now, I’m ready for you,” she said and, with her palm upward, beckoned me to take a seat. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
“Thank you, Charley. You sure you aren’t hungry?” I asked, still standing.
One brow askew, she glared. “You already asked me that once.”
Yes. Yes, I had. “But you never answered one way or the—”
“For Heaven’s sake, Zaggy. When is this old fool not hungry?”
Another thing about Charley I’d forever cherished, she didn’t have a problem calling a spade a shovel when it fit. As always, she had a point. For me to show up at anyone’s doorstep empty-handed in the first place was inconsiderate. “I’ll be back in a minute. Okay, chief?”
“Yeah. Yeah….” She waved me away as if I was a fly at her picnic.
Charley forever denied she needed help. Estranged from her only family, she claimed to enjoy her solitude. Claimed being the operative word. You see, twenty some odd years earlier, like a caterpillar to a butterfly, her transformation happened whether or not Charley felt ready.
Glorious Spring, with its early blossoms and budding trees, bound forth that year. During the time of celebration and rebirth, Charley’s condition advanced. Her word for her secret, never mine. In her mind, a part of he
r died that year. Wasn’t anything wrong with her, as far as I could tell. She simply found facing life too difficult, considering her circumstances—considering Charley was born as Charles.
Hell bent on remaining in society’s comfort zone, Charles had pursued life as many of his male counterparts had, despite his differences. He even met a nice girl, married her. Together, they had a daughter. Life was good to Charles until he could no longer hide behind the wall of lies he’d constructed to protect his secret…to protect himself. The truth hit him smack in the face, once his only child left home. For months, he’d enter his wife’s bed—force himself to perform, most times, to the point of exhaustion. He tried too hard to prove he was something he was not. Though his wife was a brilliant but unassuming human, she did question his sudden, increased sexual interest.
When he could no longer stand to lie to himself or to others, he confessed his secret over breakfast one day. “There’s something wrong with me, Irene,” he said.
She had looked at Charles quizzically when he added, “I think I’m a woman.”
That was some revelation, especially for a married man in his fifties, who, up until then, had barricaded his secrets so deeply in his closeted mind, he wasn’t certain he remembered where he’d left half of them. Surprisingly to Charles, Irene said nothing, not at first.
After washing the breakfast dishes, she joined Charles on the back patio with a cup of warm cocoa. “You’re ready to admit it, then?” she’d asked, patting his back softly. “I’ve known for a while, dear.”
The shock of Irene’s statement sent Charles’s mind reeling. Where he had been certain he’d meet the biggest opposition in his life, he’d been embraced with love and understanding instead.
Charley cried that day, but I think some of her stability escaped on her tears. Over the weeks, talking to herself grew into an everyday event, and one-by-one, she distanced herself from her friends, coworkers, until finally, Charley quit work altogether.
Months passed and she’d yet to come out to Monica, her daughter. Charley, full of uncertainty, wearing her confessions on the sleeve of her dress, met Monica over lunch one day. Sadly, Monica did not welcome the news nor was she understanding in the least. Without finishing the meal, for Monica had stormed away before Charley could stop her, Charley stood from the table, paid the tab at the register, and walked away.
