The cop's face suddenly appeared through the open window of the driver's side, flushed with anger, and Erica jumped. "Everyone out of the car," he growled.
Serene took Erica's hand. They slid out together onto the sidewalk, Erica's chest now heaving as tears rolled out from under her glasses down her cheeks, but Kanani flew from the car, full of attitude as the officer called for backup.
"Fuck," Sweetness said, shaking his head.
"What did you say, boy?" The cop smacked him upside the head and Kanani went ballistic.
"What, you a bully now?! Why you pull us over? Why you hittin’ him? Fucking haole piece of shit! Five-O PIG!" Her arms were held out wide at her sides as if she was trying to make herself bigger. Sweetness' arms shook as he kept his hands up against the hood of the car and the cop came after Kanani. Serene felt as if she were watching everything at a great distance. Taylor was somehow by her side, trying to take Erica's hand. Erica clung to Serene while Kanani was wrestled to the ground and handcuffed. Another police car came speeding down the street, lights flashing, and, of all people, Steve's dad Ron was getting out of his car from across the street and walking toward them.
"What's going on?" Ron asked.
"Step away," the cop said to Ron.
"I know these kids." Ron's eyes scanned over them and focused on Sweetness. "Was this hoodlum trying to hurt these girls?"
The cop had stopped paying attention to him, shoving Kanani to a sitting position as the second cop got out of his car, and Serene finally felt some relief.
"Officer Wu," she called out.
The officer glanced her way. His brows shot up and he walked toward them.
Everyone knew Officer Wu. Serene met him when she'd wiped out on her skateboard a few months back. He'd helped her to her feet, asked her how she was, told her to be careful. She always waved to him when she saw him. They all did.
"Serene," Officer Wu said. When he was a few feet away, his eyes roamed over their group. "Taylor."
"We stopped to say hi to Taylor."
The cop who pulled them over began to talk over her.
Ron joined them. "You know him?" He asked Serene, pointing at Sweetness.
"He's a friend." Her throat felt tight and, for the first time, she was aware of Erica sobbing. Ron's face softened when he looked at her, and then his eyes fell on Taylor and he reddened before staring at Kanani, who sat on the curb, hands cuffed behind her back.
"Fucking ass, pulls us over for no reason, jus’ cause we slow down to say hi to her." Kanani gestured with her head toward Taylor.
"That's no way to talk," Ron said sternly.
Kanani glared at him but then lowered her eyes. The officers had walked away to talk amongst themselves and now they were coming back. Officer Wu asked Sweetness for his license, registration and insurance card. After some minutes of looking everything over, he handed everything back and told him to go home.
"I just need to take her," Sweetness said softly, pointing at Erica.
Serene gave Erica a hug and then nudged her toward the car, where she climbed into the front seat, lip trembling. After Sweetness pulled away, Officer Wu gave Kanani a dressing down before unlocking the handcuffs and telling them to go home. Ron offered to drive them the short distance, but Serene said they were okay to walk. He blushed again and then jogged across the street to his car, leaving the three girls to make their way down Jackson.
Five minutes into walking, Taylor said to Kanani, "You've got a mouth on you."
Kanani gave her a once over. "That's right, sis," she shot back. "We should've never stopped fo’ talk to you, ass half hanging out your shorts. You look like rape bait."
Taylor stopped walking and then threw her head back, laughing, which made Kanani chuckle.
* * *
They parted ways at Serene's, Taylor walking over to Enzo's. Hips sashaying, she glanced back at them and winked. Inside the house, Serene almost tripped over the suitcase sitting at the entrance. Aarav was just coming into the living room, holding a second suitcase, a look of resignation in his dark eyes. A haze of smoke lingered in the room, the scent of weed overpowering. Darpan sat on a beanbag, toking a joint.
"What's going on?" Serene asked.
"I found an apartment." Aarav set the case down.
"What? Why?"
Serene watched her stepdad go to the little table in the dining room where the phone was kept alongside a small pad of paper and a cup with a broken handle holding a few pens and some pencils in need of sharpening. He wrote something down on the paper.
"That's my address."
"We don't want you to go, man," Darpan said.
"Where's Ramani?" Serene asked of Aarav.
"Upstairs," Darpan answered for him, his speech lazy, a bit slurred.
Aarav opened the door, grabbed both suitcases and walked out. Kanani shut the door after him, taking in the scene alongside Serene before giving her a look. Serene marched upstairs to find her mother bent over, scrubbing something off the floor. She took in the new ripples of fat on the backs of her thighs, her shorts stretching tight over her bottom, which suddenly seemed much bigger. And then it hit her as Ramani stood. Serene's eyes traveled to the small bulge of her belly. There was panic in Ramani's eyes, her features pinched with sadness, but she flashed Serene a smile.
"Your hair looks good."
"Are you pregnant?"
The smile faltered, then held firm.
"As a matter of fact, I am."
"Why is Aarav leaving?"
"You'll have to ask him that." Ramani gave a small toss of her head and ran her hand over her frizzy hair, which was so much thicker and longer than Serene had ever remembered.
"We told him we didn't want him to go."
"Who? You and Darpan?"
"Who else?"
"Aarav is your husband, Ramani, not that snake you went pick up on the side a the road!"
Her mother held her gaze and then tossed the rag in her hand onto the kitchen counter. "Serene, stay out of my love life and I'll stay out of yours."
The sound of the car starting up had Serene going to the window to look out. "You gave Aarav the car?"
"I told him he could borrow it."
37
Steve - February 2020
* * *
Steve opened the gate with the remote and watched Dora make her way across his front yard. She had called him crying last night about her relationship with Erica, begging to come by, so Steve had sent Tera and the kids away so they could talk. A lot of what she'd said was incoherent, and he wondered if she'd been drinking, but he managed to understand that she wanted to come over immediately. He'd been forced to tell her no. Sara was still sulking over the incident that happened during Dora's shopping trip with the kids at T.J. Max, and Jesse was acting like a little shit to Tera. His girlfriend had always been patient with his kids, but yesterday it seemed that some of that patience had finally worn thin. She'd snapped at Jesse a few times and pulled Steve aside, asking why they had the kids yet again when it wasn't their turn. Were they going to be taking the kids every time Dora couldn't handle them? Schedules were made for a reason, blah, blah, blah. The argument that ensued between them was probably one of the worst they'd had, resulting in Tera sleeping in one of the other bedrooms. Dora had called not too long after their unresolved bickering, rambling about perversion and a secret phone. It made his stomach twist to hear her in pain. He hated telling her no, telling her to wait until tomorrow.
It seemed the shit just kept hitting the fan. Jesse had screamed at Tera that morning about the fact that there were no eggs and that he wasn't a fucking vegan, earning him a time out in his room. And Tera gave Steve a piece of her mind when she learned that Dora would be coming over to talk later. He'd finally gotten her to calm down and agree to take the kids out, but that wasn't the end of his problematic day. Steve's client, Constance King, a major pain in the ass diva, was driving everyone crazy on the set of Walk And Talk Lies. Half the cast wanted to strangle her. The director
had a meltdown. An actual red-in-the-face-screaming-throwing-things-I'm-going-to-kill-you-meltdown. By the time he got the call from the actor's agent, Constance was threatening to sue. It took all morning to smooth ruffled feathers. He'd almost had to cancel Dora.
But now here she was, at his door. A golden hue of light splashed across her face, and for a moment, Dora looked like the girl he'd met twenty-four years ago. She was in high-waisted jeans, a black and white striped t-shirt that fell off the shoulder and wore a white cashmere scarf around her neck. Her hair was scraped back in a ponytail. It was cold out––had been for months. Steve couldn't remember the last warm day.
"Where's your car?" He asked.
"I don't know how to drive yet." Dora paused and added, "I mean, I don't remember. Barbara called me a, um, what is it called?"
Steve was struck by her answer, yet more proof that Dora's memory was actually gone. He shook his head at the thought. Of course, her memory was gone. Dora watched him earnestly. She looked so young somehow that an involuntary laugh bubbled out of him.
"What?"
"Nothing. I sometimes forget all you've forgotten. You probably took an Uber or Lyft here," he said.
"Lyft," she confirmed.
"Come in." He stepped out of the way to let her through and watched as she stood gawking.
"This is your house?"
"Last I checked."
She was impressed. Dora had never shown any admiration over this house. In fact, it was just the opposite: a cold indifference. Once upon a time, he'd wanted her to be impressed, to feel like she'd missed out in leaving him. But Dora never cared or at least she never showed she did, and now that he'd bought the opulent prefab home, it was slowly crushing him financially. Steve looked around with Dora, seeing it with fresh eyes, and felt a stab of disgust. He took Dora to the living room and offered to make her a cappuccino, her favorite.
"No, thank you." She wrinkled her nose at the offer.
Steve looked at the time on his phone. It was half-past noon, a little early for a glass of wine, but what the heck.
"Glass of Chardonnay?"
A look of uncertainty flitted across Dora's face, but then she nodded.
He returned with two stemless glasses of chilled Rombauer. When they talked a few days ago, Dora had asked him questions about their old life, how it was they started dating again, when they had married and why she had become gay. She'd asked little about their kids. As far as her change in sexual orientation, he couldn't answer. Maybe she had always been gay. His suggestion was met with fierce denial. It didn't matter anyway, Steve thought. Not anymore. Their relationship, as a couple, at least, was long over. Erica brought out a whole new side of Dora. That was how Steve always saw it. But now that he was aware of this multiple personality thing, this amnesia, he wondered. Was Dora a separate personality who had seamlessly taken over? A personality that held Serene's memories, yet wasn't Serene? He watched Dora take a sip of wine and then set the glass on the coffee table.
"I'm sorry about yesterday," she began.
Steve felt a flash of irritation. "I never thought it was a good idea to let Jesse go around dressed like that. He's bound to be teased. I told you, he's too young to make this kind of gender identity decision. You know kids, they go through phases. I was fine about letting him dress up at the house, but for god's sake, Dora, he's only nine."
"I don't like it either," Dora said, brows pulled in tight, mouth turned down.
"If you thought it was a bad idea––" Steve stopped himself, staring into her imploring dark eyes. He forgot that she wasn't the Dora he knew and interacted with over the past six years. The woman who'd snuck around behind his back, having an affair for two years with her now wife. Serene had changed her name to Dora in the last year of their marriage. Had started Dora's Closet then, too.
"You don't like Jesse dressing up as a girl?" He asked to make sure he was hearing her correctly.
"It's like you said, he's too young, and," she stretched her fingers out in front of her, examining them, then shrugged. "I don't know. Erica said…" she hesitated and didn't finish the thought. "I don't remember what I was thinking or why I decided on certain things." She looked up, searching his face. Steve was about to ask her how things were going in counseling, but she said, "I don't really know the kids. At least not now."
Her admission was stunning––the lack of regret. The lack of… what was it? It was as if the kids didn't belong to her at all. As if she were talking about someone else's children she'd been saddled with. This was Dora, Steve kept having to remind himself. Dora, who homebirthed all of their children. Breastfed them for several years each and was involved in every aspect of their lives, putting the children above all else, head and shoulders above. Her love was fierce and doting, a psychic umbilical cord of connection. And now here she was, her tone flat and resigned like she was accepting an enormous responsibility that had suddenly been unloaded onto her lap.
"But I guess times have changed. Maybe it's normal to live like this," she said quietly. "I'm not, I mean––I'm open minded. There was this kid on Maui, a friend of Ramani's, her little boy. The mom would let him wear skirts and barrettes in his hair and stuff, you know. But he was, like, three and it probably was because he had older sisters. By the time he was four, he lost interest in all that. And I never really thought about it one way or another. Um…" Her eyes wandered toward one of the far windows and she took another sip of her wine. "This seems different, though, don't you think?"
"Yes. Yes, it is different." Steve agreed.
"Like they're confirming his fantasy that he's a girl."
"You mean Erica?"
"Yeah. Erica, Cuppa… me, I guess." Dora made a face. "He likes it, though, right? Jesse? That's how he wants to go around?"
She was voicing all of his private concerns, which he didn't dare ask because he knew he'd come off as a bigot, someone who had no awareness, no tolerance for anyone out of his own heteronormative, white male, cis-gender role. All the labels. When did things get so complicated? It seemed one minute he was trying to figure out the different pronouns and genders. The next minute, he was expected to be fluent in gender politics and rattle the words off his tongue as if they had always been part of his vocabulary. And he couldn't afford to make a mistake and say the wrong thing. He felt society was ready to pounce on him, call him out for his privilege. How dare he not get it right? Hadn't everyone suffered under white male oppression long enough? At first, Steve had strongly expressed his opinions about the whole Jesse-wants-to-go-around-as-a-girl decision. But the backlash from his family had been fierce. Mostly Steve tried to understand, but sometimes he wanted to scream, “we're not all like that! We're not all racist, queer-hating, macho assholes. Some of us are just white dudes trying to figure it out like everyone else.” He'd broached the subject with Barbara once, but she wouldn’t have any of it.
“For too long,” she’d said, “people of color and the LGBTQIA+ community have been tiptoeing around, making things comfortable for whites. It's okay to be uncomfortable for a little while. No one knows I'm part black, Dad. When people see me, they see a white girl and all the privilege that goes with white skin. There are so many more doors open to me just for being white. And you know what? I'm not going to bitch and moan about looking white and being part black. It's not the responsibility of people who are experiencing oppression every day to comfort me. We're already comfortable, just for looking the way we do.”
He'd let go then. Left it alone. The incident at the store yesterday, though, had revived his misgivings and anger that Dora and Erica were allowing Jesse, encouraging Jesse, to experiment in a lifestyle that Steve didn't feel his son was ready to grapple with, the bullying sure to come his way.
"Are you asking if it was Jesse's decision?" Steve asked.
Dora chewed at her lip, reminding Steve so much of her younger self. "Yeah, like, they didn't push him into dressing like that, did they?"
"Dora, you're talking about your
self, do you know that? You are part of them."
"Yeah. I know. I mean, we."
"I don't know. I wonder sometimes," he told her honestly.
The two fell silent, caught up in their own thoughts. Dora opened her purse and pulled out an old phone.
"I found this," she handed it to him.
He took it and then glanced back up at Dora.
"There's messages on there from Darpan."
"Darpan?" Steve frowned.
Serene took the phone from the palm of his hand and played the messages for him.
"He's calling you from prison," Steve said. Heat flooded his body and his heart began to hammer out a hard rhythm in his chest.
"I know. I think I've been visiting Darpan. Talking to him. But I don't know what about."
Steve played the second message again, the pulse of his heart migrating to his neck.
* * *
“Blessings be, Dora. It's not always easy to walk with the light. I trust you will do the right thing and rise to your godly self, confirming your divine essence, and let truth have its voice.”
* * *
That fucking hippy, Steve thought. What the hell was he going on about? What did he know? More importantly, what did Dora know? Steve studied her features, but all he saw was puzzled innocence. Yet she did know something. It was why she had this phone; it was meant to be a secret.
"I thought maybe you might know something. Maybe I told you something," her voice trailed off.
Steve's mouth went dry and he swallowed, trying to gather some moisture to talk. "It seems you've been visiting him from what I can gather in these messages."
Dora nodded. "I remember seeing Taylor with Darpan that night," she said, her voice rising.
"I know," Steve cut her off. "And Darpan's semen was found inside Taylor during the autopsy."
"It was?" Dora's breath caught. "I thought they might have been sleeping with each other." She stiffened as if remembering something. "But what happened to the baby?"
Her Last Memory Page 19