I shower, then Soli helps me make fricasé de tofu with lots of chopped organic veggies, stir fried onions, garlic, salt, green olives, ginger, olive oil, tomato paste and dried spices. I serve it with a side of wild rice. After dinner, Viva goes outdoors with Neruda to chill on the hammock and read astrology and saint magazines. Soli and I are hanging out on the floor, facing each other, just chilling, listening to my primeval vinyl records on Viva’s archaic record player. I don’t know why I’m the type of person who doesn’t like the music everybody listens to. I either go for primordial tunes or new sounds no one’s ever heard of.
I bite off a piece of nail that tore from my index finger and spit it on the ground. “You won’t believe what happened. London showed up at work today and Tazer—”
She smoothes down the hem on her spandex miniskirt and interrupts. “Shyly, later on that. Damn, I think I got an STD or herpes or something. I’m all swollen. It itches and hurts like crazy.”
“Shit, Soli, you haven’t been using condoms?” I can’t even think about her being bed bound with AIDS and in extreme pain. It would be too much for Soli, Viva and me to bear. Soli’s in my heart. I love her like a sister, deep, deep down to the core. I don’t want her to ever suffer.
“Of course I always use protection.”
The dark circles under her eyes make her face seem droopy. I see her worried expression and hug her to me. “Don’t fret, Hootchi Momma. I’ll go with you to the gyno. I’m sure it’s nothing.” I’m concerned, hoping the condoms she used didn’t tear and it isn’t AIDS. One never knows. It could only take one time to get it. On the other hand, I’m a bit of a neuro when it comes to sex. If Marlena had been with Rick, I’d have never been with her because I had no clue who he slept with. I’m sure Rick wasn’t a saint and probably got some from a lot of girls in Puerto Rico.
I talk to her for a while about what she’s feeling and about Diego. I hate she’s so down in the dumps. She’s madly into him and says, “I won’t be with him again till I know what I’ve got. He couldn’t have given me anything. I don’t want to spread something to him either, in case it’s from a past boyfriend.” I’ve never seen her so upset. What bad luck. I want to make sure she knows I’m here for her no matter what.
After I make her call the gyno for an appointment, she says, “I talked it out with London at work. He’s a good guy after all. I bet you freaked when he went to see you.”
“Yeah. I wasn’t ready for him.”
“He’s so into you. Did you like making out with him the other night?”
I throw off my sneakers. “Well . . . it was . . . hard, different. He’s got nubs. But he’s so persuasive, nice and sweet. He’s been texting me like crazy.” Making out with a guy will never compare to kissing Marlena. Kissing Tazer was better than making out with London. Now that I’ve established who kisses best, it doesn’t matter because I feel illuminated. I’m focused and don’t need to keep exploring.
“Shylypop, when you talked about kissing Marlena you were on fire. But: nice and sweet? Nice is lying on the ground and kissing the grass. Sweet is kissing a ladybug. You need to suck face with a girl again so you can see what you’re missing.”
I slap her cheeks as if they were bongo drums. “Well . . . in that case, Hootchi Momma . . . Tazer kissed me today. I know he’s not a girl, but unlike trans who get their breasts and ovaries removed, he still has breasts and everything else.” I tell her the whoooooole story about how it started back at the restaurant.
“Halleloo!” She slaps me a high-five, a low five and sings out, “I can’t believe you’ve kept it from me for so long. Shyly got kissed by a b-o-i!”
I have to let her know the truth, even if she won’t like it.
As a kid, when I broke something in the house, and didn’t want to get in trouble, I’d bury the figurine in my backyard. After days of my mom checking under chairs, beds, couch, searching cupboards, trash containers, closets and even the refrigerator, she’d ask me, “Where’s the stunning glass fish I placed on the coffee table, Shylita?”
I’d give her a sideways glance and shrug. “It disappeared, Mami.”
“It couldn’t have vanished,” she’d say. “Tell me where it is right now or you’re punished without your iTunes, TV, comics or sketchpad for a week.” Eventually, I’d give in and take her to the “cemetery” out in the backyard. When she found all her favorite collectibles broken into pieces and laid to rest, she convulsed with laughter. I then had to help her wash and assemble everything with Crazy Glue. Our home was a redesigned shrine to dismembered pieces put together with meticulous care, like the broken bone unit in a hospital with patients in casts, slowly recovering.
I won’t lie to Soli or shrug my shoulders and tell her I don’t know what my next move will be. I refuse to spend my life putting pieces of my heart together even if Soli will help glue me back together again.
“I made out with him, but I didn’t get butterflies in my stomach. I couldn’t see shooting rockets and planets didn’t collide. It’s true. Tazer is a fine kissing machine, he’s got this smooth, wild tongue action. But the firecrackers never went off. I let him kiss me, I really did. I stayed there and kissed him back. We kissed and kissed and kissed. No one can tell me I didn’t give Tazer a chance.”
She shakes me by my shoulders. “Tazer is a guy, Shyly. Kissing him is probably just like making out with London. He’s not your type. Now, if a feminine-looking girl you liked with luxurious hair cascading down to her shoulders had kissed you, you’d have melted on the floor; I’d’ve had to scoop you up and bring you back to life.”
There’s no hiding anything from Soli. She knows me better than anyone.
Beep-Beep! Someone honks and we rush to the door. It’s Tazer the kissing machine. Soli zooms out the back sliding glass doors. “I’ll keep Mima company and leave you two alone. Kiss him again and again! You might like it the one hundredth time! Think of it as the first step to getting you on to the second step: making out with a girl, not a boy, your type.” She slams the back doors shut.
I wish I’d told her my plans so she wouldn’t be so excited right now. Once I utter the words, I know I’ll feel lighthearted. My decision will bring months of loneliness to a halt. I know Soli will understand and support me.
I let Tazer in. His smile glows. It fills the room with warmth. “You bailed so fast after work.”
It’s true. After we locked mouths for about half an hour, I became jittery and practically ran out, telling him I had to finish working. After work, I rushed to see Pedri without even saying goodbye. If I had stayed longer, I’m sure I’d have fallen into a dreamy state, since he kisses so incredibly delicious. He’s disarmingly charming and yummy but that doesn’t mean he’ll help make my life better.
“I had to come home and cook.”
We plunk on the couch, facing each other. I notice that his chest isn’t flat. He didn’t bind his breasts, and he’s got medium-small breasts like mine. They stand out because he’s wearing an extremely tight white tank. He’s letting his bangs grow longer and keeps tossing them away from his face. It takes me a few seconds to get used to him looking so different.
I cross my left leg over my right and tap my thighs. I don’t look at his face and don’t know what to say so I blurt, “Your hair’s starting to look beautiful.”
“Be careful,” he jokes. “You might start developing a weakness for me.” He uses his hand as if it were a mirror. He stares into it and fixes his hair with his free hand. “Being genderqueer gives me the license to act like any gender I wish from time to time, whenever it fancies me and I can use it to my advantage. Maybe if I stop binding now and then and grew my hair a little longer, you’d like me better, eh?”
I’m touched by his ability to change into someone he thinks I might like, but this isn’t the time for that.
I tap my foot on the floor: tippy-tap, tippy-tip. I uncross my leg and place my hands over my thighs in silence.
His eyes widen. “Hey. I’ve got a
perplexing idea. What if you make me up like a girl, and I turn you into a guy, just for amusement purposes?”
Woah. He wants me to see he can transform into whatever I’d like. He gets I’m attracted to girls, not guys. This might keep his thoughts away from wanting to find ways to be with me. And, it might also contain his twirling tongue action away from my mouth. I can’t deny I enjoy kissing him, but we must put a stop to it.
He lowers his brow. “You’ll look like a drag king and I’ll become a drag queen.” He sticks two of Viva’s velvet cushions up his shirt; it makes his chest look as if he’s got two big balloon boobs. “I’m Booboola Anderson’s confused grandchild, perplexed and baffled by my desire to mystify others with my knockers. Do you like me better now?”
“Absolutely! Come on, Tazeroni Spazeroni. Let’s change clothes.” I goof around and the tension flies out of me. “You can be Tazmina Mandarina and I’ll call myself Sholo.” I recall the time when some of my dreams were filled with abandoned outdoor markets where I’d walk around pinching, smelling and checking the fruit, alone, feeling lonely. Suddenly, boys and girls appeared. Boys were so busy with pretty girls they never even said hello. I’d look across the way and there were guys with arms draped around girls. I’d see the boy I liked but he kept getting farther and farther away. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe anyone’s so into me.
Before he can say, “I’m not wearing your miniskirt,” I’ve changed into his clothes and he’s got on my skirt and tiny stretch tank top. I’ve tucked my hair inside a baseball cap I found in Soli’s closet and stuck a plantain inside my pants. We scrutinize ourselves in the mirror. “You’ll never look like a boy, even while packing a colossal one.”
“And you,” I put on a gruff, thick male voice and exaggerate my tone. “You look like a sea wave, exquisitely clear, crashing into a new direction.”
“Oh, my love. This takes so much nerve and bravery,” he confides in an over-the-top dramatic way, in a contrived girly voice, with the palm of his hand over his heart. “I’m providing you with a raw glimpse into my romantic, private life. I’ll bend, playact, wear anything and do everything you want. I’ll even articulate my deepest love for you in my sweetest voice. I love you with all that I am, and more.”
“I know, my precious. You’re being so bold, transparent and self-revealing, for me, so I can get to know the many faces and facets of you.”
I rush to Soli’s organic makeup bag I gave her for her birthday before Tazer decides to start doing the tongue swirl with me again, and come back with all sorts of eye makeup, blushes and lipstick. I corner him against the end of the coffee table and layer his face with white powder. “I’m going to make you look like a geisha.”
I want to see what Tazer would look like as a Japanese girl. Not that I want him to alter who he is, or that it’ll change my mind about what I’m about to do with my life. And besides, I hate makeup. But sometimes flipping what society feels you should be like because it’s not who you are and it doesn’t feel right, can be freeing. Playacting is fun, it allows you get out of your own shadow; it makes you look outside yourself for a glimpse of an entirely new world and not take yourself so seriously, even if just for a few minutes. At the end of it all, I’d prefer Tazer as a guy for sure!
I can understand why he’s a playwright and why so many people have a passion for acting.
Once his face and neck are ghostly white, I go to his eyes. I brush gold powder on his lids before outlining his eyes in black slants. “You’re starting to look like a real girl. Shit. Now you’ll have butches after your butt!”
“Are you getting a hard on?” He grabs my banana and I leap up.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to let go and have a blast like this.
If you’re caught between two worlds, exposing fragments of yourself can be rewarding if it doesn’t intimidate you. Some people are threatened if they can’t be themselves for one instant, and that’s okay. It amazes me Tazer isn’t like that, and it makes me like him more.
I place fake eyelashes on him as he blinks up a storm. I put mascara on his lashes and before you know it, I paint his lips bright cherry red.
I walk him to the nearest mirror. He flaps his eyelashes, grins and turns to me. “Am I good enough for you now?” He leans into me, grabs my face with both hands, kisses my lips, and goes into that wild tongue action motion that’s smooth and soft but passionate. I start to melt and love the way his slippery tongue feels in my mouth. But I’ve got to stop this. It’s just so delicious. I need to concentrate on what I’ve got to do. Focus, Shai. What are you doing?
Soli walks indoors and surprises us. “Hell yeah! You guys look amazing!” She sticks her hand into my pants, takes out the ripe plantain, peels it and takes a bite out of it. “Tazer, man, you look like a real girl. That’s wild.” She turns to me. “You look cute, but still femmy. But hey, don’t mind me. Keep struttin’ your stuff. I’m out of here.”
She makes a U-turn but Tazer grabs her by the arm. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got to get going anyways. I should have already picked my dad up at the airport. He might throw a party when he sees my girly makeover. I’ll tell him to not get his hopes high, that it’s only a momentary lapse of good judgment and I’m being a drag queen, not a genetic girl.”
He presses his lips against mine for a pop kiss. “I’ll call you tonight.” Soli slaps him a high-five, and Tazer rushes out the front door.
Soli gently smacks my face. “He’s a hunk as a guy, and a striking girl.”
“Drag queen,” I correct her.
“Whatever. You’ve got the best of both worlds. Unbelievable. Was kissing Tazer better when he’s playing a girl? Huh, huh? Was it?”
“It was exactly the same. His kissing definitely makes me feel like crawling the walls, but I can’t see my life with him right now.” I wipe my mouth clean from the lipstick with the back of my hand and slide the visor part of the cap toward the back of my head. “You’d think I was a hornball like you at the rate I’m going.” I would never have thought I’d kiss a guy and then a boi, all in the same week. I’m just not the type to be carousing.
“Will you give him a chance? I know he’ll be into being a girl for you.”
“I wouldn’t want anyone to not be themselves for me, ever. This was just a game. He’s my type as Tazer, because of who he is as a person, but I don’t want to be with anyone who’s sexual, like you, not romantic and sensual.” I’m making up a million excuses, but nothing will veer me from what I need to do.
Tazer is the type who grabs you and kisses you and throws you on the bed. Feminine gay girls can act assertive too—it doesn’t take a butch girl, trans or boi for that type of behavior. But I like equal partnership, where nobody takes roles and you and the person you’re with are free to do what moves you. Tazer’s aggressiveness toward me, though, lets me know he’s into wanting me to be submissive, unless, of course, we’re playacting. That just doesn’t fly with me. I need to be free to be what I want whenever I wish.
Soli squeezes my cheeks together, making my lips puff out like a fish. “Sissy stuff, that making love thing. You need a real lesbian, or someone like Tazer, Shyly, to show you how gay you really are. With Tazer, you’ve got it all: a boi who’s still a girl underneath. You just have to keep giving him more chances. I bet he’s super hot in bed.”
Soli’s starting to irk me. She won’t leave it alone. It’s time to tell her my decision.
“I’m sorry to say I’m forgetting about girls and anyone who was born female and still remotely resembles a girl underneath it all; it’s just a big hassle that’ll destroy my life even more. Tazer and London both kiss about the same, but only one of them won’t bring me heartache. Can you imagine explaining to my mom that Tazer is a boy? She’ll die. The hiding will be worse than it was with Marlena. No thanks. I’m sticking with the one that will free up my life of trouble.”
Soli stares at me with her mouth wide open. “You’re not giving Tazer a chance?”
“Nope. I’m going out with London till I fall for him. I need peace in my life. I’ve got to get my family back.”
At this point, I don’t care if I live a life of loneliness. I’ll never resent having changed for Pedri. He’s worth it. I’ve spent the majority of my nights, before getting to sleep, writing in my journal, crying, sketching and trying with all my might to feel better. I still have fun at work and with Soli and even by myself, learning my schoolwork. But I’m sacrificing my true happiness. I won’t wait till Pedri turns eighteen. I have what it takes right now to bring peace and love back into my life
“Christ, Shyly. You know you like girls. You’re going to push those feelings away for a mom who threw you out of the house? You can’t give up on yourself. You’ve got to find the right girl. I get it that Tazer doesn’t do it for you. But there are a million girls-who-love-girls who will. Going out with London is stupid and unless you’re into him, a huge lie. You’re doing a Marlena just to please your mom.”
I don’t care what Soli thinks. No amount of coaxing will keep me involved with a girl or boi or bi or anyone Mami won’t accept. I must focus on Pedri and keep my priorities straight. Soli used to have a lot more sensibility and logic about her. True friends are supposed to be supportive. Suddenly, everything to Soli is about feelings and emotions and how it will affect one personally. Sometimes, life isn’t all about me, me, me or how I feel about this or that. There’s a bigger picture and Pedri needs me.
She keeps on and on about my dating girls. I’m not listening. I nod, but what I’m actually doing is looking outdoors from the corner of my eye.
Although it’s late, the sun is still streaming in, boiling the duplex. Everything looks bright, and I won’t allow Soli to keep me stuck in this bleak period. If I really mattered to her, she’d stop being in my face.
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