by Ariel Schrag
“That girl’s ugly, anyway,” said Adam, peering at the profile open on Casey’s screen. “I mean, if he needs to explore what it’s like to be with an ugly person . . .”
Casey didn’t laugh. Adam looked over at her. Two tears slid in uneven lines down her face.
“Hey, don’t be upset about that lame-ass,” he said.
Casey was really crying now. Wiping at her nose with her fist. Her nose always ran a ton when she cried.
“I’m not . . . crying . . . about Casey . . .” she said, in between cries. “I’m crying about Sam.” She let loose, giving herself over to heaving sobs.
Adam didn’t say anything. In a weird way, he missed Sam, too. He wished Sam was in the next room, instead of June. He wondered if Sam would get along with Ethan.
“What’s she up to?” Adam asked. It wasn’t the most sensitive question, but he wanted to know. He suddenly felt angry at Casey for dumping Sam. Sam had wanted them to stay together, even though they were going to different colleges. All Casey cared about was becoming an entirely different person in New York. But here she was, same person, just without Sam. Adam looked at Casey, snorting and blowing her drippy nose into her shirt. She looked pathetic.
“She’s got some girlfriend,” said Casey, spitting at the word girl as if Sam had been the one to switch her sexual orientation, not Casey. Casey clicked on the computer and brought up Sam’s Facebook page. “The girl’s ugly, right?”
Adam looked at the photo of Sam and a girl snuggled together on a couch. The girl was actually pretty cute. But Casey was cuter.
“You’re better,” he said. Casey clicked off Sam’s page with a self-righteous jab. She went back to Boy Casey’s profile. Stared at it blankly.
Adam perused it as well.
SEX: Male. Adam felt defensive. Boy Casey wasn’t really male. He was trans male. He knew if he said this out loud, Casey would flip and go on one of her “trans guys are real guys” rants, so he didn’t say anything.
ACTIVITIES: kicking it with my boys, crashing fancy museum parties, f#%*ing.
ABOUT ME: I’m an artist.
MEMBER OF: Facebook’s finest T-Boys, FTM YouTube, Facebook should have other gender options: Official Petition, LAID Dance Party, Transbromance!, Pretending to Text in Awkward Situations
“So, how was your night?” asked Casey, her crying jag apparently over.
“It was fine,” said Adam. His heart was beating fast. If he started talking about Calypso, Casey would know something weird had happened. There was no way he could hide it from her. With Brad and Ethan, he could lie, cover it up, pretend it was just any normal make-out. But Casey would look at him and know something else was up. She’d hound him until he confessed everything. So he had to say nothing.
“I’m kind of tired,” he said. He stood up from the floor.
“OK, weirdo,” said Casey. “Did something happen tonight? What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” said Adam, walking out of her room. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
Adam went into the bathroom and pissed. His dick was still semi-hard. Like it was grasping at the chance that Calypso might come back. Calypso. Just saying her name made his dick get harder. Shit. Now he couldn’t pee. Adam leaned awkwardly over the toilet so he wouldn’t spray piss all over his stomach. God, why didn’t he go further with her? “Fuck me with that dick of yours.” Fuck! Adam was fully hard now. He needed to go to bed and jerk off immediately.
In his sleeping bag in the dark, Adam recalled every second of what had happened in the bathroom with Calypso. The way her big tits had felt under her bra. When she’d grabbed his hand and shoved it down her pants. It was wet, it was soft. Adam imagined ramming his dick up inside her, oh god it felt so fucking good—
Adam came all over his hand.
He was a dumb-ass. He shouldn’t have bailed! He didn’t have to tell her he wasn’t trans. Then he could have put his fingers back inside her. His tongue inside her. Fuck! Did he just totally blow his chance?!
Adam slammed his head into the pillow. But at least he did it, man. At least he fucking finally made out with a girl! He rolled over and grinned into the dark. He did it! And he went pretty far, too! Adam pumped his fist in the air like a nerd and laughed. He didn’t care how stupid he looked. He was happy. Happy. He closed his eyes, and a lulling calm fell over him. He tugged the sleeping bag tight and rolled onto his side. Calypso. And as his brain filled up with thick, dark sleep, one last thought squeezed out: I wonder what she’s doing this very moment.
Chapter 7
A COUPLE WEEKS later and the thing everyone was excited about was the Gay Marriage Rally happening in the city that weekend. “All the kids are going,” Casey had said. “The kids” referred to anyone in “the scene” that Boy Casey was a part of and that Casey and June were obsessed with.
Stuff between Casey and June was still weird. June was officially dating the ugly Internet girl and went around talking about how hot she was all the time when everyone knew she was lying. It wasn’t just that the girl—Agnes—was ugly. It was that she and June didn’t seem to have any kind of connection. Observing them around the apartment was painful. June would say something normal, and Agnes would respond with some baby-voiced non sequitur. As in:
JUNE: “Hey, wanna go to McCarren Park?”
AGNES: “Hee-hee, my burp tastes funny.”
People like Agnes disturbed Adam. People that were both profoundly unattractive and stupid. Not that he was some handsome genius or anything, but he knew he was good-looking enough and smart enough. Agnes—with her weak chin and bug eyes and lack of ability to say anything on the fringe of interesting—had nothing. I mean, couldn’t God have given her something to work with? Even her name sucked. Adam knew he shouldn’t believe in God because people were being tortured and murdered and wiped out by tsunamis, but it was people like Agnes who really made him doubt there was a higher power.
Casey, meanwhile, had spent the last two weeks figuring out ways to make Boy Casey jealous. “It’s not about him,” she would say. “It’s about me. How dare he think he can get more action than I can. I’m hot shit and he knows it.” Adam loved it when Casey got cocky. She was hot shit. He was proud. She’d brought home another trans guy and a butch girl, but wasn’t too interested in either of them. Her main focus was this girl Hazel who posted on the same queer message board as Casey. Casey had never met Hazel but would go on and on about the latest way Hazel had “burned” someone during a political argument on the board. “This other poster, OnionBagel, told me Hazel got a perfect score on her SATs,” Casey had announced, apropos of nothing, during breakfast one morning. Hazel was also apparently “ridiculously hot”—according to some Facebook pics. Hazel was going to be at the Gay Marriage Rally, and Casey had taken to doing nightly sit-ups and facial cleanses in preparation.
Ethan was, of course, not going to the rally. “I fainted at Disney World when I was a kid. I try to avoid crowds.” But also, he had a date. A girl who kept coming into Film Forum had asked him out, and he’d said yes. Adam was floored when he heard this. “She just asked you out? I thought guys always had to do the asking.”
“That’s just retarded high school shit,” Ethan had said. “Girls ask guys out all the time. I don’t know, I wasn’t gonna do it, but she’s really cute . . .”
Adam could tell Ethan was more nervous than he was letting on. It was his first real date since Rachel. Ethan said he wasn’t allowing himself to work on the Rachel movie for two days before and after the date, because he couldn’t let the date with the new girl taint his energy when working on the Rachel movie. “But what if you want to keep dating the girl?” Adam had asked.
“Maybe that means the Rachel movie is finished,” Ethan had answered, somber. And then he’d gone into the bathroom to shave and mess with his hair for the fifth time that day.
The night before the rally, Adam hung out in his room, surfing porn on mute. It had been two weeks since the Calypso incident and t
hen—nothing. Just the fucking usual: hanging around the apartment, reading, watching TV, eating liverwurst sandwiches in secret. He’d tried taking the subway into Manhattan and exploring a little by himself a few times, but he’d felt lonely walking around the Museum of Natural History with no one to talk to and self-conscious eating alone at a restaurant. One evening he got up the courage to stop by a bar on Bushwick Avenue, but the bartender had just looked at him and shook his head. It was all old men inside, anyway. He’d thought about suggesting to Casey they all go back to The Hole but couldn’t do it. “You want to go back to The Hole? Why?”
He missed Brad. They had only IM’ed and texted a little. Brad was spending the summer hanging out in couples with Fletcher and Alice and Colin and Andrea and Stephen and Stephanie, just like Adam had feared. Brad also didn’t seem too bummed about it. He had always complained to Adam how obnoxious Fletcher and Colin were and how ditzy Alice and Andrea were. But now, every time they got on IM, Brad was in some hurry to go off and meet the group. During one IM chat, Adam had written, You brain-damaged from hanging out with those fools yet? and Brad had just written back, What? It made Adam nervous. His New York trip was almost half over, and he was going to have to go back to school. The whole point was to come here and get action, become different, experienced, and return to EBP with everyone dying to be his friend. But what if when he got back, everyone had forgotten about him? What if instead of New York making him cool, it just erased him? Before Adam had left, Brad had said he wanted to visit. But a month and a half had gone by, and Brad had never mentioned it. Adam didn’t even know if he wanted Brad to visit. He was supposed to have a hot girlfriend, a cool group of friends, a whole new life that would blow Brad’s mind. After Calypso, he’d texted Brad that he’d scored with a hot older chick, and Brad had texted back, Word! But that was two weeks ago, and Brad had never even called to get details. Didn’t even seem that interested. Adam felt like he’d lost his life in Piedmont but didn’t have one here, either. He felt like a ghost.
Adam closed his laptop and walked out into the front room. Casey and June were slumped on the futon, watching TV. The noise was loud and jarring. He went into the bathroom and closed the door. What was he doing in here? He didn’t even have to go to the bathroom. Adam stared into the mirror. His face looked weird. Like all the right parts were there, but they didn’t add up. He couldn’t recognize himself. He smiled and the face smiled back. It felt creepy. Wrong. Adam thought he had been standing over the sink but realized he was backed up against the wall. How did he get there? What just happened? His heart was racing. He felt sweat dripping down his forehead and his hands were buzzing. What was happening to him? There was a loud ringing in his ears, and he plugged his fingers in, trying to make it stop but he couldn’t. He splashed water on his face. Just make this feeling go away, just make this feeling go away. He sat down on the toilet. Leaned his head over his knees. It’s OK. It’s OK. He started to feel a little better. He straightened up. Casey and June would wonder why he was in here for so long. They would ask him what happened. He had to get back in his room. He stood up and exited the bathroom. It felt like returning from outer space. He walked into his room. Casey and June didn’t even look up. He closed the door and sat down on his mattress. He put his hand over his chest. His heart was still beating fast, but it wasn’t racing. He picked up his cell phone and stared at it. He should call Brad. He should just call Brad. Adam scrolled down to Brad’s name and dialed. Please let him be cool, please let him be cool . . .
Brad picked up. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing.”
“How’s New York?”
“Boring.”
“I thought you hooked up with that older girl?”
“Yeah, that was cool.”
“You gonna see her again?”
“Probably.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“When?”
Adam started to panic; did Brad know he was lying?
“Tomorrow, at this rally thing.” Fuck! Why did he say that?
“No shit. What rally?”
“Gay Marriage.”
“Sounds gay.”
“Ha-ha.”
“Why don’t you go on a normal date?”
“I don’t know . . . she’s into this. She’s, like, political. We’ll probably go to a club in the city afterward. And then have sex. She, like . . . can’t get enough of it.” What the hell was he talking about?
“No shit. She got some friends?”
“No one that wants your ugly ass.”
“I’m bored of Sandy. Her pussy’s weird. She’s Asian. Hook me up with some New York girl.”
“Get the hell over here if you want a New York girl.”
“Cool. My parents want me to go with them to Hawaii in a few weeks. Boring. I’ll tell them I wanna visit you instead.”
“Cool.”
“You’re not making this shit up, are you?”
“No!”
“Good.”
They hung up. Adam felt nauseous. He needed to get a life fast.
***
NO SECOND-CLASS CITIZENS!
Casey, June, and Agnes were kneeled on the living-room floor painting large cardboard signs taped to wooden rulers. It was the morning of the rally, and it was blazing hot. Casey was wearing a wife-beater over a black bra and short red seventies shorts. June was wearing her usual dark baggy T-shirt and jeans. Agnes was in khaki shorts and a pink T-shirt with the word EQUALITY written in marker across the front.
“Want to come?” Casey asked Adam.
“Sure, whatever,” said Adam. He wished she’d just assumed he was coming. He hated having to acknowledge he never had anything of his own to do. Calypso might be at the rally, and maybe she would recognize him. It was a total fucking long shot, but at least it was something. Brad would be here in less than three weeks, and Adam certainly wasn’t going to amass a whole new life and identity hanging around the apartment. He had to go out if anything was ever going to happen. Plus he, like, supported gay marriage and stuff.
“What’d you do, raid Ethan’s closet?” said Casey.
Adam blushed. He was wearing a white T-shirt, new Diesel jeans, and new Adidas sneakers. Pretty much Ethan’s uniform.
“Whatever, this is just what guys wear,” he said. “What’d you do? Get off from your job at Hooters?”
Casey rolled her eyes.
Adam saw June chuckle to herself.
The four of them took the subway into the city. You could spot all the people on the train going to the rally. People carrying signs that read: END HETEROSEXUAL PRIVILEGE and AGAINST GAY MARRIAGE? DON’T GET ONE! Some of the signs Adam didn’t understand, like one that read: WHO DO YOU THINK DESIGNED YOUR WEDDING DRESS? Those were the ones Casey and June pointed to and laughed hardest at. All the people carrying signs or who looked “queer” were extra friendly to one another and talked as if they’d known each other for years, even if they were just introducing themselves. Adam knew if he was alone, he wouldn’t look like he was one of them, so he stood close and chatted with Casey and June, asserting himself as part of the group. The queer people were cheesy and “in your face,” but he liked the idea of being part of something. He supported gay marriage, supported his sister. He was an “ally,” as Casey had described him—an essential part. He’d much rather be that than one of the boring, solitary people on the train, reading their books or staring into space.
When they got out of the subway at Bryant Park, the streets were swarmed. People jumped around, waving their signs, chants of “What do we want? EQUALITY! When do we want it? NOW!” in a kind of musical round with “No to Hate! No to Hate! We Will Not Dis-crim-i-nate!”
June was fired up. She started pumping her EQUALITY sign up and down in the air. “Equal Rights! Equal Rights!” she screamed.
“Equal Rights!” said Agnes. Then stopped to pick her nose and eat it.
> Casey scanned the crowd, anxious. “I know Boy Casey’s here with Schuyler and Jimmy, so if you see any of them, you have to tell me immediately. Also Hazel.”
“I don’t even know what Hazel looks like,” said Adam.
“Cute curly hair, really pretty face, probably all black clothes. And she uses a cane.”
“She uses a cane?” said Adam.
“Yes!” said Casey, annoyed. “So if we see her, don’t go using the word lame, OK?”
“What?”
“The word lame is offensive to differently abled people.”
“To what people?”
“Differently abled. People with disabilities.”
“That’s retarded,” said Adam.
Casey groaned. “Adam! Just try not to embarrass me, OK?” She picked an abandoned EQUALITY sign off the ground and shoved it at him. “Come on, let’s go.”
The sign Adam was carrying said EQUALITY on one side and SMILE IF YOU ARE GAY on the other. He discreetly dropped it and picked up a normal EQUALITY-on-both-sides sign.
Adam, Casey, June, and Agnes weaved their way into the thronging march, which had started thumping down the street. Adam could feel himself shrinking as the mass of people expanded around him.
They reached a police-manned intersection, and Adam noticed a clump of old, ugly people leering on the street corner, passing out pamphlets with a picture of Jesus. One of them held a sign that read: AIDS ISN’T A DISEASE, IT’S A CURE.
“AIDS affects everyone!” June shouted.
“Go home, creeps!” Casey yelled.
The clump began chanting in response. “One Man! One Woman! One Man! One Woman!” Adam saw a little girl mouthing along with them. She was holding a sign that read: CHILDREN NEED A MOMMY AND A DADDY, which Adam found especially dumb. Plenty of kids didn’t have a mom and a dad, and it had nothing to do with gayness.
Adam thought about his own mom and dad. It was weird how he didn’t really miss them. Their mom sent e-mails and called every Sunday, pestering them with questions and giving the latest news from “the homestead”—news that Adam and Casey couldn’t care less about. Sometimes she’d put their dad on the phone, and it would be really awkward because no one would have anything to say. Their dad had never been all that interested in Adam or Casey. He wasn’t a “deadbeat dad,” just more of a “bored dad.” The only thing Adam knew his dad really loved was golf. There were trophies all over the house.
