You choose what to wear
and how to present yourself.
I can choose how
to respond to him
but I can’t choose
how I feel about
what he chooses
to share with me.
So I choose to
take him home
but I choose not
to kiss him good night.
I Drive Home Numb
and stay that way
until I’m setting my alarm
and I realize tomorrow’s
the fifteenth.
Then I’m madder than I’ve ever been.
Was he only pretending
to love me?
Was breakfast
in bed a lie?
Was sex with me
just a sick experiment?
And besides mad, I feel
used
helpless
weak.
I’m not used to feeling like a loser
and even when I’ve lost a match
I’ve always had comfort
knowing chances were
I’d prevail next time.
But how do you win
against something
like this?
If he knocks
on my window
tomorrow morning
I’m pushing him
out of the tree.
(BRENDAN)
All Vanessa Said
when I came clean was
“I see,” and I wanted
to beg her for more words
but I was scared they’d hurt.
She drove me home
without saying anything else.
“See you tomorrow?” She nodded.
But that could mean anything.
And just the thought
of tomorrow, another day
of this so-called life,
exhausts me.
I go to bed tired of confusion
tired of being so alone.
No Vanessa, no Angel, no Andy.
Now I’m really alone
and I’ll be this way for
the rest of my life.
No one will ever want to be
with the person who lives
in this body …
Not Me
With that insidious sensation
I’m in the wrong skin
slicing through my spirit,
though s o m e t i m e s
it’s muffled—
whispers almost heard
in that dark and murky season
when the last light is d y i n g.
Who could love this soul?
Anyone normal or
right-thinking wouldn’t.
Vanessa used to tell
me to stop being so down.
Whatever will be will b e.
Easy enough for her.
No doubt about it,
she’s got her gender straight.
I don’t and that’s b a d.
(Angel)
Surprise! Happy Birthday!!!!
For once in my life I am speechless.
Can’t think of a thing to say.
Denai’s holding a birthday cake,
Marcus has a wrapped box,
there’s more presents
on the kitchen table.
Gennifer says,
“Girl, you better shut your mouth
if you don’t want flies in there!”
I can’t help it
or the tears that sprout,
stream, and don’t want to stop.
Of all God’s blessings
these friends are
the most important to me.
Marcus comes forward, kisses me.
“Baby, it’s okay.”
And I smile even though I know
my mascara’s running.
Three Years Ago Today
Cake, champagne, roses, chocolate
were the farthest things from my mind,
I tell you.
It didn’t matter
it was my birthday.
I was workin’ it hard
on the boulevard
tired and dirty.
A Chevy pulled up
baseball cap,
sunglasses,
Western button-down shirt.
“You wanna party?”
He wasn’t my first trick
far from it in fact
and I ignored the tingling
at the roots of my hair.
(My advice? Girl, don’t ever
let things get so bad you ignore
tingling at the roots of your hair
unless you wanna find out how
much worse they can get.)
Driving inland
nerves really
kicked in.
Baseball Cap
finally stopped the car
at a deserted business park.
Beer
belly
belt
buckle.
Throat too dry
to work
up the spit
I needed.
Still he got
what he was there for
and afterward
grabbed my crotch.
“I knew it!”
Slammed my
head against the dashboard
so hard my world
came back together
in pieces
dragged out
pavement
boots
blood
black.
When I woke up
I’d been 17 for 6 days.
Veronica Says
everything happens
for a reason.
Ever notice how
when something’s a cliché
it’s ’cause it’s true?
Her only brother
died of AIDS
and her husband ditched her
’cause she never could have kids.
Sad, but if all those things
hadn’t happened
in her life
she might not of
been there for a kid like me.
She was more than
just a foster mother
who cleaned me up
got me back into school
made me quit smoking (everything)
helped me check out Willows.
She even tried to get me visits
with Frankie—
till that asshole judge ruled
I was unfit company
for a thirteen-year-old.
In return I gave her
fashion advice (she never took it),
mowed the lawn without her asking,
rubbed her feet.
I was that grateful.
I worried ’cause I knew
I could never pay her back.
“Don’t worry,” she’d say.
“I know you’ll pay it forward.”
I hate
The Sperm Donor
The Asshole Judge
The baseball-cap-wearing pervert
but I’m grateful, too.
Why?
Veronica.
Willows.
The life I got now
and the chance to pay it forward.
Next time Veronica checks in on me
I’m gonna tell her about Brendan.
He’s messed up
but I’m gonna find a way
to help him.
(Vanessa)
In the Morning
I’m putting on waterproof mascara
before wrestling practice and
the eyes looking back
at me are tiny.
Sheahan notices,
takes advantage of
my slowness
in the takedowns.
Brendan doesn’t come to wrestling
and no one says anything to me
about him.
(BRENDAN)
At Breakfast
I tell Mom
I quit wrestling.
“I never could go see you
after that first match.
It just looked so awful.”
She shakes her head, like the
memory will fall out.
“I was afraid I’d scream terrible
things at your opponents.”
I’m a little surprised
she’s so relieved—
Is that really the reason
she was the only parent
who never came to meets?
Detached,
I mull it over.
Dismiss,
it doesn’t matter.
Claude the Interloper
pats her arm
like she’s an invalid,
then invites me to get donuts
now that I’m not training.
Just great.
I know he’s secretly thinking
I’m a weakling for quitting
days before finals.
(Vanessa)
Brendan and I
must be broken up
even though neither
of us has said so.
And how could we
when we don’t talk?
He takes the bus,
I don’t offer him a ride.
There’s an empty space
where anger was
and in its place
my heart is breaking.
This morning I started to wonder
if it was all an elaborate lie
to trick me into dumping him
because he was too chicken
to end it himself.
And then I saw him
drooping down
the hall
and knew
there’s something
really wrong.
I wish I had someone
I could talk to about it.
The Night Before Wrestling Finals
I turn out my bedside lamp
and when I close my eyes
an Erin Bledsoe memory
flashes behind them.
She lived
next door to me
until third grade.
Erin had bunk beds
and on sleepovers
we liked to be
in the top one together.
After popcorn
and a Princess DVD
her mother would kiss
us both on the forehead.
And turn out the lights.
It started
just before Christmas.
December break.
Stormy night
howling wind
thudding rain
prevented sleep.
Doctor, nurse,
boyfriend, girlfriend,
soap opera.
The games
built slowly.
Exploring
our bodies
ourselves
each other.
Hello Kitty
days-of-the-week
jammies
panties
discarded.
Touching
never felt wrong
at the time
but daylight
always left me embarrassed.
We fought
sometimes
over who had
to be the boy
and I search my
mind for any
memory
that I ever
wanted to be
anything but the girl
or that I wanted Erin
to be anything
but the boy.
I can’t find it.
There Are Phases
of the moon that
I learned in Science.
Waxing crescent
first quarter
waxing gibbous
full
waning gibbous
third quarter
waning crescent
new.
And, easy to remember,
phases of the seasons.
Spring
summer
winter
fall.
There are phases of life.
When you’re a baby
child
teenager
adult.
And these
are all passing;
nothing stays the same.
I’m flopping, turning
in bed. Hot pillow,
no sleep.
Maybe Brendan’s thing
is just a phase?
A strange phase. Like me and Erin.
Hard to understand
but maybe he just thinks
he wants to be a girl for now
and in a year
we won’t even remember
this phase.
Kind of like
you don’t remember
thudding December rain
in the soft touch of spring.
(Angel)
Nerves at the Sight of a Sweet Bungalow
set off from the street.
Sunflower lights
line the walk.
Lord, I’m jumpy as a cat.
Marcus’s hand
holds mine tight.
“Praying?” he asks.
“You know it,” I say.
He smiles. Cocoa eyes crinkle.
“They’ll love you—
just don’t mention religion.”
I nod. There’s a horde of bees
swarming in my belly
but the roots of my hair
don’t tingle.
We’re barely on the step
and the screen door flies open.
“Welcome!” His moms
are framed in the door.
I almost fall over.
One of ’em’s
my English professor.
You never think of your teacher
having a life outside of school.
All four of us exclaim over this
small, small world.
Then we go in,
sit down.
They offer me wine,
I take iced tea.
It feels good
being with someone
who wants to introduce me
to his family.
And it feels even better
that I’m mostly nervous
because we all know
I have a paper due
that I should be home working on.
Just feels a normal
kind of nervous.
One I could get used to.
I Keep Messing Up
Calling one of his moms
Dr. Wolski.
“It’s Kathleen, here, Angel,”
she says. His other mom,
Dorothy, nods.
“Trust me, she gets enough of
that at school—she’d be
insufferable if we
kept it up at home!”
We laugh and talk
through dinner and into the night.
Turns out Dorothy is an administrator
at the hospital—and she’s on something
called an ethics panel.
“Angel has an ethical dilemma,”
Marcus says, grabbing another
homemade cookie off the plate.
“Tell them about Brendan.”
So I tell ’em about the broken window
and blue envelopes,
and I’m trying not to get worked up
but it’s hard.
“You should absolutely
call the authorities,” Dorothy
says. And she takes a sip of wine.
Kathleen shakes her head.
“I couldn’t disagree more.”
“Why?” Dorothy asks.
“For one thing, the money he
sends is a clear sign of remorse—
he is paying his
debt.
“For another, Angel doesn’t know
why he broke the window—that
should inform any decision she
makes.” Kathleen says to me,
“You should try to find out.”
Dorothy doesn’t like that.
“The reason doesn’t matter—
actions have consequences.”
And they’re off into
a philosophical argument
about crime and the meaning
of punishment.
Disagreeing but not fighting.
It’s interesting to hear and
I’m trying to follow them
but it’s getting late and
I accidentally yawn.
Marcus takes my hand.
“Now we’ve done it,”
he pretends to whisper.
“They’ll be up
half the night debating …
Let’s go.”
They stop
long enough
to walk us
to the door.
“It was wonderful to meet you,”
Dorothy says. Kathleen smiles.
“See you in class.”
And on the way home
even though I don’t
mention religion
I’m thanking God.
You think meeting
your boyfriend’s parents
for the first time
is nerve-racking?
Girl, you just try doing it trans.
(Vanessa)
Weigh-In for Wrestling Finals
at 6 a.m. Afterward
the team goes out for pancakes
before the first match at eight.
I slump at the end of the table
next to Sheahan,
across from
Flannigan.
There’s a rowdiness down at the
other end, but for once Flannigan’s
not in the thick of it.
I watch brown maple syrup
seep into the golden stack.
“Nervous?” Sheahan asks.
Shake my head no.
“Awww, she’s probably
missing her boyfriend,”
Flannigan says,
but not in a mean way.
I almost start crying.
It’s the truth.
“We broke up.”
“’Cause he’s a fag?” Flannigan asks
like he’s genuinely curious.
I look up from the table
to see Sheahan give him a dirty look.
“Shut up, Flannigan,” he says.
We finish eating in silence.
On the way back to the tournament
Sheahan walks with me.
He’s nervous,
talking a lot like he
always does before a match.
“You know Flannigan’s just a dick.”
I nod.
“I know what they say
about Brendan, but
I like him.
Not like THAT,”
he adds in a hurry.
I smile.
Freakboy Page 14
