Tea burns my tongue.
“To a certain extent that’s normal.
But at some point
you have to man up.
Accept it, and don’t be a baby.”
He sips his sake like he’s said
nothing offensive.
“I know you didn’t choose me
but I’m here for you, like a dad.”
I don’t need a father.
My blood bubbles low but no way
am I letting him see that.
I order four of the most
expensive rolls on the menu.
When we leave for the arena
I’ve tasted two. In silence.
And refused to let the waitress
wrap the rest to take home.
An asshole, wasteful move
that’s rewarded by a
tightening in the jaw
of the Interloper.
(Vanessa)
Before Bed
I break down
and call Brendan
(Get out of my head,
Grand-maman)
ask about the hockey game and …
“I thought maybe we
could hang out tomorrow?”
“It’s Tuesday,” he says.
He babysits while his parents
are at rehearsal.
“I could stop by.”
I’m careful not to whine
that we’ve not hung out in a week.
“I have to do a bunch of stuff.”
It feels like a slap. I react—
“There’s something
you’re not
telling me.”
Once the words are
out, I hold my breath.
This is it.
For some reason
I check the clock
on my nightstand.
11:55. My heart beats,
sad, muffled.
11:56.
“I love you,” he says.
I’m waiting for the “but.”
“I’m just having a
crappy time right now.”
So am I, I want to tell him.
“And I can’t talk about it.”
There doesn’t seem
to be room
for more than
one person’s problems
in our Nation of Two.
More silence …
Finally,
“I have to go.”
His voice drops.
“I DO love you.”
We hang up.
At least I didn’t beg.
(BRENDAN)
Tuesday After Practice
I buy Mordock’s Giant.
Courtney’s in bed,
Mom and the Interloper are gone,
and Angel comes over. S h e
sounded happy when I called,
and through the guilt of
blowing off Vanessa, I’m glad.
Hanging with
Angel is great—it d o e s n’ t
feel weird to sit in
the family room
playing games.
I’m so completely
comfortable I forget
she’s not Andy and when
she takes an easy point
I give her a p u s h.
She laughs.
Even so—
I don’t tell her
for real
what’s up with m e.
We take a break
from Mordock, grab food,
talk about nothing some more.
She checks out m y
RPGs, pulls Renegade Road
from the shelf and
for a minute g u i l t
crashes the party.
“You like this one?”
The cover shows a
bashed-in storefront window
and the burnt r e m a i n s
of a cop car.
“Nah,” I tell her,
the back of my neck hot
remembering
that window that night that word.
I take it from her
stick it at the back
where it’ll be h i d d e n
behind other games.
The rest of the night
is good though,
and when she leaves
I go up to my closet.
Heeding the Call
of the forbidden.
Wearing the bra feels
more natural now—
my body right
my soul at home.
And I let go of worry
for a few minutes.
The dread of upcoming
wrestling matches.
The nagging feeling
I won’t get into any schools.
I relax as Larissa
in a way I can’t as Brendan.
(Is that schizophrenic?)
I’m a little trans
but I think I can
keep it under control.
Hope licks away
at the rough spots.
Living That Part in Secret
And being Brendan-the-guy
in everyday life.
Mondays,
get set and go days.
Homework planning
for the week.
He’s a studious guy.
Tuesdays,
Angel game days.
Parents out
Court in bed
play and talk and eat.
She brings up Willows.
Brendan-the-everyday-guy
changes the subject.
Wednesdays,
wrestling-match days
home or away
slick, sweaty,
furious, fast,
he wins more often now.
Thursdays,
family “together” days
means he’s captive in the living room
while SpongeBob reruns loop.
Fridays,
Vanessa days
Mono Cove
salty sweet
tender taste.
Just a regular guy and his girl.
Saturdays,
chore days
mowing, weeding;
the Interloper
calls him “man.”
Sundays,
Andy days
too-much-girlfriend-Lindy detail:
“Her tit fills my palm perfectly.”
And Brendan-the-everyday-guy grunts
the way he’s supposed to.
He goes to school,
hangs with Vanessa,
sits down at the table
with his family,
reads bedtime stories
to his sister,
and dreams of the
freedom
that’s his
at night
alone.
(Angel)
Thank You, God, for Everything
is what I’m singing.
I seem to be all about
counting my blessings right now.
There’s that San Diego sunshine
getting thicker by the day
now the rain is almost done.
Been having fun with my
new gaming bud
the last couple weeks.
Still hasn’t told me
what made him
come to the center
and I’m praying about that,
but it’s peaceful knowing
all will be revealed
in Your time, Lord.
Willows’s loss,
my gain
in a way.
Generous kid was shocked
I don’t own a system.
(Not too weird when you figure
it’s either games
or books for school.)
He texted me to stop by
and pick up
his old PS2 later.
I wouldn’t feel right
borrowing it
Thank you, God,
for Brendan!
I sing all the way to the center.
The air smells sweet and,
Girl, it’s one of those days
just great to be alive.
Later, I even smile
when I look up from my desk
to see Jim from Adult Day Care.
“No beer today, Jim.
Let’s get you back next door.”
I leave Lisa in charge
and I take him back over.
Miss Prissy Pants isn’t there
but Lordy, Lordy,
the specimen that comes to the door
is a FINE substitute.
Tall, handsome, cocoa-colored eyes—
models scrubs like he’s in GQ
or something.
“I am so sorry!” he says to me.
Even agitated, his voice is honey.
“They warned me about this!
I don’t know how he got by!”
I smile. “It happens to the best.
Jim here’s a regular Houdini.”
I’m feeling generous.
Handsome nurses do that to me.
Cocoa Eyes smiles back at me.
“You work next door, right?”
he asks.
“Yep.” Now how’d he know that?
“I saw you leaving
yesterday.”
That’s how.
“Could you wait here a minute?”
He’s got Jim by the elbow, gentle.
Lordy, do I want to but,
“I better get back.”
Beautiful smile again.
“Teen center, right?”
All I can do is nod.
“Then you better hurry!
Who knows what could happen
if you leave for five minutes, right?”
He winks.
“See you later.”
I turn, guide my
melty body to the door.
Hear him tellin’ Jim they’re gonna go
see what’s shakin’ in the rec room.
Funny, gentle, handsome,
I like it all. Except the conversation
we’ll have to have.
(And that’s if I’m lucky.)
Five O’clock, the Most Beautiful Hour
I’m putting my books in my bag
when Cocoa Eyes opens the door
pokes his GORGEOUS head in.
“Glad I caught you!
Just wanted to say thanks
for bringing back
my wayward charge.”
I melt again, nod
even though my head
might fall off.
“Can I buy you coffee?” he asks.
Disclose
or not
disclose
or not.
I take a breath.
“What do you think of trans people?”
It’s a safe place to ask the question
there’s other people in the next room.
Cocoa Eyes tilts his head
looks at me.
“Why?”
Now or never.
“I am.”
He looks again, closer.
Considering.
I’m dying.
“Do trans people
like coffee?”
“We’re all different,”
I tell him.
Smile.
“I do, though.”
We go to a shop around the corner.
Marcus is just as FINE inside
as he is outside.
We talk for three hours
and I’m late
to stop by Brendan’s.
(Vanessa)
How a Girl Gets a Reputation
(as a stalker).
I’m glad Grand-maman has gone
back to the land of the
independent and oh-so-perfect women.
She’d sniff out what I’m up to
and I’d have no excuse.
I sit in my car down the road
from Brendan’s house.
He’s blown me off again
and I have to see.
Mom always says Trust your gut.
Something’s going on.
I remember doing this last year with Julie
after she and her boyfriend split.
We hid down the street
from Ben Awami’s house
and pretended to be private eyes.
It was funny then
girls gone wild
in a different way.
We talked and drank Starbucks
and waited to see if his new girlfriend
would show up.
She didn’t.
Nothing happened except
his dad came out to get the paper.
He didn’t see us
but we drove off fast,
laughing like crazy.
When you do something
you know is stupid
it’s good to do it with a friend;
then they’re stupid, too.
Doing this alone is pathetic.
Brendan’s Mom and Stepdad Leave
and I scrunch down
hope they don’t look my way.
God, I feel dumb.
I sit for a long time,
my skinny Frappuccino melts
and just as I’m about to take off
I see HER.
She’s tall,
skinny jeans,
long brown hair,
pouty supermodel lips.
My heart whooshes down
I can’t breathe
I can’t even cry.
The door opens
and I can’t tell who answers
but it has to be him.
She steps inside.
Who the hell is she? And
oh my God.
Is he seeing her?
There’s only one way to find out.
(Angel)
Brendan Opens the Door
finger to his lips.
“I just got Courtney
off to bed,” he says.
Takes me past the room
with the harp in it
and up the wide stairs.
“I put the console in a bag
for you,” he tells me,
still being quiet.
“You sure it’s okay
for me to borrow it?
Your parents won’t get mad?”
I whisper.
He makes a pfftt noise.
“I bought it myself.”
He stops in front of his door.
“Uh … I’m not very neat,”
he says before opening it.
Eww, the boy speaks the truth.
He goes in and I see
bed’s unmade
jeans on the floor
gaming controllers
tangled together.
He holds up Kingdom Hearts,
I nod, and he puts it in
a gym bag along with Call of Duty,
Devil May Cry 3.
We’re heading back downstairs
when there’s a knock on the door.
Through the side glass I see
there’s a silver car in the driveway.
Brendan sees it, too,
stops, all twitchy.
“It’s my girlfriend.” His eyes big.
“Look, can you do me a favor?”
“Maybe…”
Not sure where he’s headed.
“Pretend you’re the babysitter?”
“For real?”
“I’m sorry—it’s just—”
Now the doorbell rings.
“I don’t want her to think
anything weird.”
“There is nothin’ weird,” I say.
“I know, but she might think…”
More knocking.
He looks from the door to me—
/> sweatin’, I can tell.
“Fine, I’m not gonna blow it.”
I get in his face.
“But you might wanna
consider being honest
with people
you care about.”
He doesn’t answer.
Instead he
hands me the bag, abrupt-like.
Opens the door
on a girl.
Small, pretty
but not
what you’d call
friendly looking.
I step out.
Brendan’s already waving
even though I’m only
about two feet away.
“Bye, Angel, thanks for everything.”
(Vanessa)
Brendan Pulls Me Inside
shuts the door.
“Hey, you,” he says,
sounding all normal.
He goes in for a kiss.
I’m a cactus but he
doesn’t notice.
“What’s up?” he asks,
like my stopping by out of the blue
is normal these days.
“Not much,” I say calmly.
Forget wrestling,
go into acting.
“What’s up with you?”
“Homework. Video games.”
We head
into the family room and
I can’t stand it anymore.
“Who the hell was that?”
The words flame from my lips.
Forget the Oscar.
He freezes
steps back to look at me
shakes his head.
“Are you REALLY jealous
of Court’s new babysitter?”
He flops onto the sofa like
he can’t believe how small,
how petty I am.
I feel stupid
that there’s an explanation
but wait—
“Well then,
why is she here
if you are, too?”
I have a seat.
“Last night was her first night.
She accidentally left her bag here
and came to pick it up tonight.”
Exasperated, amused.
I turn my head away.
I know
I’m supposed
to accept this
to forgive him,
but adrenaline
is still rushing
and I can’t—not right away.
When I finally look at him again
his face is serious.
“Do you really think
I’d be interested in anyone but you?”
His eyes are deep.
And damp?
“I love you
more than anything.
“You have to trust me.”
I want to believe him.
I close my eyes.
Breathe
and breathe
and breathe
into the quiet.
I want to trust him.
I need to trust him.
I decide to trust him.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
We
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