A Fine Bromance

by Christopher Hawthorne Moss

  “Is there anything new missing?” Robby asked.

  Ivy checked the timer on the stove and then came over and pulled out a chair and sat down. “Yes. This time it’s something quite sentimental. Just a letter. It was written by one of Queen Victoria’s nephews to her, not too long before he caught some influenza and died, poor lamb. It’s very poignant. I kept thinking, what if that had happened to me? What if you or your sister or a cousin had written it? It made a tear come to my eye. I just don’t understand where these things are going and coming back from. I keep thinking a chipmunk gets into the house and steals things, but chipmunks don’t return things, do they?” she stated with assurance.

  She suddenly changed the subject. “So what is your little friend Andrew like?”

  Robby couldn’t help but smile at her use of the term “little.” “Andy is rather short but not what you’d call little. He’s pretty squarely built. He has short hair, no facial hair, and he dresses kinda like I do, jeans or regular pants and plaid shirts. He wears boots.”

  Ivy gave her nephew an indulgent look. “You know I didn’t mean what does he look like. Though I am relieved to hear he has no facial hair at his age. What is he like to spend time with?”

  Robby was thinking how to describe Andy’s personality, especially in light of what he now knew about him, but before he could decide what to say, they heard a knock at the outside kitchen door. He looked at Ivy and said, “Now who’s that?”

  She jumped up and replied, “Oh, I forgot. It’s your Uncle Roger. I asked him to come to dinner tonight.” She went to the door and opened it, greeting an average-height, slightly pudgy man in his late fifties. Robby saw his uncle was dressed in his usual suit, nothing fancy, and still sported a moustache. “Hello, Uncle Roger,” he called. He had always liked his uncle.

  “Hello, Robby.” Roger seemed surprised to see him there. “Aunt Ivy.” He bent to kiss her cheek.

  “I almost forgot you were coming. I’ll have to put another pot pie in the oven!” Aunt Ivy bustled over to the refrigerator.

  “No, wait, Aunt Ivy. I need to get home. Uncle Roger can have my pot pie.”

  Aunt Ivy looked balefully between her nephew and her great-nephew. “Oh no, can’t you stay?”

  A smiling Roger had to shoo Mr. Duck off the chair where he was about to sit. Robby was already getting up. He made a little self-conscious bow to the adults and said, “I can’t believe how much homework I have. I better get going. Nice to see you, Uncle Roger.”

  He headed down the hallway to the front door and retrieved his jacket and hat. The other two followed him out the kitchen door. His aunt was wringing her hands, but Uncle Roger looked vaguely relieved. That puzzled Robby. He always thought his uncle liked him.

  He managed to get away and went out onto the step, shutting the front door behind him.

  ANDY WALKED along with his hands in his pockets, feeling disgusted for having outed himself as transgender. It bugged him that he still thought in female pronouns. In his dreams he was still a girl much of the time. He knew his counselor said he would get used to thinking of himself as a boy. He was, after all, exactly that. His body might be female, but his brain and, he hastened to add, heart was male.

  He had known this since he was eight or nine. He loved stories about men, about spies and soldiers and astronauts and the like. He always insisted on being Brother when he and his friends played house. He didn’t have any interest in playing Mother or fussing over the baby dolls.

  The girls would look at him when he said he would rather play Brother. “What does Brother do?” they would ask.

  He would shake his head and reply, “Mow the lawn?” That seemed to satisfy the girls. But then he realized he was always being sent out of the playhouse or wherever to “go mow the lawn.” It was boring, but not as boring as playing house.

  As he walked he thought about his plans. He’d had a hysterectomy to put off the inevitable onset of puberty. His mother had thrown a fit until the resistant doctor agreed. He was on testosterone, thus the hunt for chin hairs. He planned to have a mastectomy during the summer before college, eliminating the need to wear a binder. He would probably have bottom surgery someday. He thought about the two types of bottom surgery, metoidioplasty and phalloplasty. With the first they just kinda made the clitoris stick out more and closed up the vaginal opening. With phalloplasty they actually created a penis, a usually quite functional penis out of the lining of the vagina. It sounded really scary. It took hours and hours and cost a great deal. It was possible it wouldn’t work perfectly. But he loved the idea of marching up to a urinal and whipping it out and peeing. Now that would be sweet.

  He was almost home when he heard a car slow and pull up on the street near him.

  “Hey, freak! Where you goin’?”

  He looked up and saw just what he feared. It was Smartass, his two friends, and a couple of girls in an old car. He groaned inside. Then he recognized one of the girls. It was Robby’s sister, Claire. Oh, Robby was not going to like to hear about this.

  But Andy had to get through the next few minutes first. He looked at Claire as the boys hooted and made rude comments. She didn’t look happy. In the car on the way to Robby’s aunt Ivy’s house, Claire, who had been driving, had been unctuously sweet and kind to Andy. Too sweet and kind. He wondered if Claire knew about him and was just embarrassed. She sure looked embarrassed now. And Andy guessed how Claire had come to have that prized bit of information about his own gender identity. She had gotten it from Smartass and his cronies.

  Those charming personages were continuing to drive slowly alongside Andy, calling through the car window. “How come you don’t wear a dress? Where’s your purse?”

  Andy closed his eyes for a moment, hoping the idiots would be gone by the time he opened them again. That almost happened. Just when he opened his eyes, he saw a car coming the other way—a police car. It was just going from Point A to Point B, but the boys apparently decided discretion was the better part of valor. They shut their windows, sped up the car, and left.

  Andy’s heart was racing, wondering what, if anything, would have happened if the jerks hadn’t decided to drive away. He thought about all the things he’d heard happened to transmen. It was basically the same as gay bashing. He thought about the movie Boys Don’t Cry and what had happened to Brandon Teena, being beaten to death. He didn’t know if Smartass would go that far. He didn’t want to tell his parents or the school officials until he got an idea whether the boys would take things further than what might just be called good-natured ribbing.

  He was walking along, looking down at the sidewalk, when he heard a familiar voice. “Andy, hold up a minute!” He spun and saw Robby coming toward him.

  “Oh crap, am I glad it’s you,” he said with a deep sigh.

  Stopping where he was and staring at Andy, Robby said, “Why? What happened?”

  Andy was horrified to feel tears coming to his eyes. Robby saw and came forward, putting a hand on Andy’s shoulder. “Hey, hold on a minute. Was it what I said back at my aunt Ivy’s house?”

  Miserably Andy shook his head. He managed to get himself under control. “No, it was Smartass. He and his buddies just drove by in a car.” Andy looked up into Robby’s face. “And Claire was with them.”

  “Claire? My sister?” he asked. “What is she doing hanging out with them?” He looked at Andy for a moment, his face growing grim. “C’mon, let’s go get something to eat. I think we need to talk about this.”

  As the two of them walked toward the street with all the fast-food joints, Robby said, “Claire is going to be in such deep shit.”

  Chapter 6

  THE NEXT morning Robby found Claire sitting at the kitchen table with a stack of cookbooks and a ruled pad and pen in front of her.

  “Good morning, Claire. What are you up to?” he asked.

  She glanced up at him with a sheepish look on her face. “Um, I’m planning something to take to Aunt Ivy’s for Thanksgiving dinner.�
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  He leveled a skeptical gaze on her as he went to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Why?”

  She looked back sardonically. “Because it’s Thanksgiving?” Her voice was small and tight.

  He got himself some canned milk and sugar and brought the coffee to the table. “But Mom always just picks up a pumpkin pie from the supermarket. That’s all anyone will expect from us.” He sipped his coffee.

  A flash of irritation crossed Claire’s face. “Well, we don’t have to do the same thing every time, you know. I thought I’d make some sort of pumpkin soufflé. Here’s a recipe with a chocolate sauce.”

  He leveled a sardonic look at her. “Give it a rest, Claire. I know where you were last night.”

  She started to protest but subsided. “That’s none of your business.”

  Robby shrugged. “I suppose it isn’t, except that my friend was the person you all taunted.”

  She dropped her gaze, guilt clearly crossing her face. “I didn’t do anything.”

  He replied succinctly, “Exactly.”

  Claire looked up with fury in her face. “How do you know what I did? Were you there? I could have really reamed Smartass out for taunting your little trannie friend.”

  Robby set down his mug and sat back in his chair. “That’s not fair. You don’t know what Andy is. And you wouldn’t risk pissing off anyone if you did.”

  Their mother walked into the kitchen and went to the coffeemaker. “Good morning, kids. Thanks for making coffee.”

  “Claire made it,” Robby said. “Good morning, Mom.”

  Sitting down at the table with her mug of black coffee, their mother looked from Robby to Claire. “What’s going on here?” she asked, seeing the tension on both their faces. “What’s with the cookbooks?”

  Robby’s lips remained shut.

  Claire nervously replied, “I want to make a pumpkin soufflé to take to Aunt Ivy’s on Thanksgiving.”

  Their mother shook her head. “No need. I already ordered a couple of pies from the supermarket.”

  Robby mouthed “I told you so,” earning a sour look from his sister.

  “Is Dad going to make an appearance this year?” Claire asked her mother.

  Robby faked a spit-take with his coffee, receiving an astounded look from his mother. “Robby, manners!” She turned to Claire. “No, I don’t think so. He’s going to his girlfriend’s family’s house, I think. Or maybe they’ll go on a weekend trip or something.”

  Claire glared at Robby. “Hey, Mom, did you know that Robby’s been hanging out with some transgender girl named Andy lately? I guess he must be gay or something.”

  Their mother gave first Claire and then Robby a perplexed look. “Gay? Trans—what’s this all about, Robby?”

  Refusing to reply, Robby stood and took his partially drained mug to the sink. “I promised Aunt Ivy I would go to her place and rake leaves.”

  “He’s spending lots of time with her. He even took her over to Aunt Ivy’s house,” Claire stated smugly.

  “That’s ‘him,’ not ‘her,’ and it’s none of your business, Claire, who I hang out with. Maybe Mom would like to know the company you keep?” Robby looked at his sister in triumph, then instantly regretted his impulsive words.

  Their mother put her own mug down, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at them both. “Okay, what’s all this hostility? And what about this trans girl, and who are you hanging out with, Claire?”

  “See you later,” Robby said before going into the hall and getting his jacket and hat from the closet. He heard his mother call “Robby, you come back here!” as he went out the front door.

  It was no short hike to his Aunt Ivy’s house, but he needed the exertion to calm his nerves. He was angry with his sister for getting mixed up with those deadbeats, Smartass and his buddies. He was annoyed with his mother for letting Claire get away with something she didn’t even know about yet. He was furious with the boys for tormenting Andy. And he was conflicted about his own feelings about Andy being transgender. It was just too much to handle at once, with the holidays coming up and all. And that reminded him, he was pretty pissed off with his dad for complicating things by having a whole new family that didn’t include him.

  When he arrived at his aunt’s house, he found the front door unlocked and went in. He was surprised to find disorder in the parlor. One of the bookcases was open and the books clearly rearranged. One of the cabinets was likewise open and things removed and set on the floor, on tables, even on one of the chairs. He realized he could hear rummaging going on upstairs and could hear his aunt feverishly muttering to herself. He hung up his coat and hat and took the stairs two at a time.

  He found her in her office, searching the drawers in her desk. Her hair was untidy and her face full of distress. “Aunt Ivy!” he exclaimed. “What’s wrong?”

  She looked up from where she knelt by one of the larger drawers in the desk. “Oh, Robby! I’m so glad you are here. The little commemorative plates! They’re gone!” With difficulty she pulled herself to a standing position and ran her fingers through her hair, disordering it further. “I just don’t understand what could have become of them! I swear, I’m starting to think I’m losing my mind.”

  Robby wanted to ask his aunt what plates and where they were missing from, but her agitation drew him to her. He put his arms around her and pressed her face to his shoulder. She let herself lean into him and started to weep, her voice coming out in high-pitched but quiet wails.

  “There, there. It will be all right, I promise you. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  He guided her to an easy chair to one side of the desk and lowered her into it. He knelt at her feet, his hands on her arms, stroking them, and made comforting noises until her cries quieted.

  “Oh, Robby, I’m so terribly afraid. What’s happening to me?” She took a handkerchief from the front of her sweater and dabbed at her cheeks.

  “There has to be a logical explanation,” he comforted her.

  Her eyes flashed as she looked into his. “Yes, that I’m losing my mind!”

  He flinched at the anger in her voice and eyes. “You are not losing your mind. I saw the empty places where the things that went missing had been. I saw when they were returned. I know you aren’t imagining any of this.”

  Looking desperately at him, Ivy said, “But your uncle Roger says—”

  “I don’t care what he says. I know you. You are neither nuts nor emotional.” He made an exasperated noise and stood. “Let’s go downstairs and have some tea. We can work this out between us.”

  He led her down the stairs and into a kitchen chair, then bustled about getting a pot of tea for them both. She sat obediently, patiently waiting for him to finish.

  When he was about to set the teapot on the table, she said to him, “I think I need to go to the emergency room.”

  He opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should just get you checked and rule out one of the possibilities.”

  After putting the teapot back on the counter, he went to draw out her chair. She stood and fussed with her hair. “Don’t worry about that. I have a comb. And I promise you won’t get cooties from it.”

  She looked at him and suddenly laughed. “Oh, Robby, you are such a card.”

  When they got to Evergreen Hospital, the orderly took Ivy in a wheelchair back to an exam room in the huge emergency unit. Robby stayed with the nurse who manned the reception desk and answered her questions as best he could. He explained that his aunt had insurance from her employment at the school, now in retirement phase, and that she was worried she was losing her memory. He tried to explain more about the missing items and how he didn’t believe there was anything wrong with his aunt, but the nurse just kept giving him irritated and sometimes indulgent looks. She finally stood, put a hand on his shoulder, and told him, “We’ll check your aunt out and see what’s happening.”

  He looked up and nodded. “All right.
May I go back and see her?”

  “Is there anyone in her family—an adult, I mean—who can come to the hospital?” the nurse asked.

  He hesitated. “My mother—her niece—I think. Or my uncle Roger. My aunt Norma lives too far away.”

  The nurse pushed a pad toward him and asked him to write his mother’s and uncle’s names and phone numbers on it. He diligently wrote what she asked while she left the room to check on his aunt.

  He didn’t know how long he waited. The nurse came back and guided him to a waiting room with coffee and a vending machine. She told him his aunt was with a doctor now and would probably be taken for tests. She said she would call his mother and uncle and they would join him. He sat, fidgeting and tapping his foot, finally starting to calm down. He got up and walked around the waiting room, picked up and discarded magazines, went to peer into the vending machine, got himself a mocha from the automatic espresso machine, and sat down to start tapping his foot again.

  “Robby, where is she?” His mother was in Saturday clothes. He realized he had given the nurse her work number, but clearly they had figured it out. “She’s back in the emergency room, and I think they’re doing some tests.”

  His mother sat down next to him. “Is Roger here?”

  “I don’t think so. I told the nurse Aunt Ivy has insurance. She must have thought she was having an aneurism or something.”

  His mother stood up again. “I’ll ask the nurse if we can see her.”

  Coming back a little while later, Robby’s mother told him, “She’s having a CT scan. They’ll come get us when she’s back in her room.”

  While they were waiting, Uncle Roger arrived. He fussed about and seemed distracted by his aunt’s conviction she might be having a stroke. “Why does she think that?” he asked. When Robby explained about the missing items, his face went darker. He shook his head. “But that’s not important, where the items are. Do they stay missing?”