by Beth Burnett
She nods. “Well, they’re getting old. I figure I better be nice to them so I can get back in the will.”
“You’re so sentimental.” I stick my tongue out at her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know I’m running late!” Lynne comes tearing out of my bedroom, wearing a pale lavender gown with strategic cut outs on either side. The color looks perfect with her dark eyes and hair. Sarah approaches her with the corsage.
“You look beautiful, Lynne.”
Lynne kisses her softly. “Thank you. So do you.”
Leah clasps her hands together. “We all look beautiful and we all have to go.”
Andy herds us all into her big SUV. I reach out to take her hand and she heads toward the freeway. “Andy, you look good.”
She glances at me. “So do you, Davey-baby. So do you.”
Andy delivers us safely to the hall and turns the keys over to the valet. She comes around to my side and sees me out of the vehicle. The rest of the ladies pile out and we walk up the stairs. Andy gallantly escorts both my mother and myself. Again, I don’t know why I can’t just turn into a lesbian. How many of my problems would be solved if I could just be in love with Andy?
I hear a shriek and turn to see Steve running at me. “Oh my God, you look like royalty!” he yells. When Steve finishes mauling me, Erik lifts my hand and kisses it. “Davey, you do truly look wonderful.”
Steve and Erik steal Leah, so Andy and I continue in together. The hall is decorated to the degree that only gay men can truly master. There are little white lights twinkling all over the place. It looks like a fairyland. The orchestra is already playing on the stage at the front of the room. There are individual place cards on all of the tables. We go to the door of the main hall, and a volunteer takes our names.
“Yes, you are at table thirteen. To the left.”
“Davey!”
Ron is crossing the dining room. “It looks fantastic, doesn’t it?”
“It does. I can’t believe how many people are here.”
“Hi Andy.” Ron holds out his hand and Andy shakes it.
“Good to see you, Ron.”
“Go ahead and mingle or dance. There are tables of hors d’oeuvres. We have waiters circling with champagne. I must go meet and greet!”
“Ron, wait.” I touch his arm. “Is Nancy Astor here?”
“She is. The speakers are going to come on right before dinner. We figured we would give people a chance to dance, have a good time, maybe get a little liquidated, then we’ll hit them with the speakers.”
Andy nods. “Good idea. If you wait until after dinner, people might leave before the speeches are over.”
“Exactly. Now, excuse me ladies.” He bows and takes off.
I look around for Leah. She’s already on the dance floor with a guy I don’t recognize. Lynne and Sarah are sitting at the table. I look up at Andy.
“It’s hard to believe in these heels that I’m still shorter than you.”
She holds out a foot. “Doc Martin boots. Two inch heel.”
“Figures.”
She laughs and takes my arm again. “Shall we dance, mingle, eat or drink?”
“Let’s have some champagne and then dance.”
“Sounds good.”
We move over to the table and check out our place cards. “Very posh,” Andy says, picking up one of the glass finger bowls. “Imagine how much more money could have gone to the charity if you didn’t have these.”
“Stop it. Almost every little decorative thing in here was donated.” I smack her hand.
“Besides,” Lynne adds, “people who pay two fifty for dinner expect extravagance.”
“I guess. I would have donated two-hundred fifty bucks just to dance with Davey — regardless of the setting.”
“Gram and Gramp’s basement is still available.”
A waiter stops by our table and offers champagne. Sarah asks for a refill of her water, instead. We all raise our glasses. “To life,” Andy says.
“To love,” Sarah puts in.
Lynne smiles. “To good friends.”
I look at Andy. “To making the right choice.”
We clink our glasses. Leah trots up to the table. “Did I miss a toast?”
“There will be plenty more,” Andy assures her.
A man appears at our table. “Leah, hello. I’m Frank. Want to dance?”
“I would love to, my darling.” She glides off on his arm. Andy and I look at each other, laughing.
“Well?” Andy asks.
“Well what?”
“Sorry. Let me be more of a gentleman.” She stands up and bows. “My lady, would you care to dance?”
“I would.” I give her my hand and let her lead me to the dance floor. Andy is a strong lead and we’ve been dancing together for years. We move naturally and effortlessly together. Her hand is strong on my waist with a gentle pressure that lets me know which way to turn next.
“Andy, maybe I should take ballroom dancing lessons.”
“Why? You’re already a great dancer.”
“I was just thinking that of all the exercises I’ve tried over the years, dancing is the only one I really love.”
“And you don’t have to worry about getting hit in the face with balls.”
“Not when I’m dancing with you.”
“Ha. If you find a dance class that you want to take, I’ll take it with you. But why don’t you look for one that’s a little sexier, like salsa or tango?”
“You might lose control of yourself if you have to tango with me.”
“Really?” She throws me down into a low dip, then brings me slowly back up. When our faces are aligned again, she bends her head down and kisses me on the mouth. This time, I don’t resist at all. I let her slide her tongue into my mouth, her hands tighten around my waist.
“Davey,” she whispers in a low voice.
I let my lips trail lightly along her face until I reach the spot where her jaw meets the underside of her ear. I linger there for a minute, then whisper into her ear. “Maybe I should stay at your house tonight.”
She groans softly against my face. “Davey, don’t do this. This isn’t what you want.”
“This is what I want.”
We dance together for several more numbers, before Leah cuts in. She whisks Andy away, leaving me to dance with Erik.
“So Davey, are you gay now?”
I look at him pointedly. “Shut up and dance.”
“Wanna make out with me, too?”
“Shut up!” I’m laughing. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. It just suddenly seems like the best thing I could possibly do for myself would be to settle down with Andy.”
“What about for Andy?”
“I think it would be good for her, too.”
“Davey, is this decision made with your head or your heart?”
“Does it matter?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
The song ends and I escape Erik, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter as I thread through the crowd. Leah and Andy have found new partners and they are both swinging around the dance floor. Sarah is at the table alone.
“Hi Sarah. Where’s Lynne?”
“She went off in search of munchies.”
I smile. “I don’t know how that little girl eats as much as she does.”
Sarah laughs. “If you figure it out, let me know. I’ve wanted to get rid of about thirty pounds for years.”
“How is it going with you two?”
“I think it’s good. It’s weird to be dating after living together for fifteen years.”
“I can imagine that would be hard.”
“I took her for granted, though.”
“Was it hard to quit drinking?”
“Not really. I think it was the drinking that killed my sex drive. I was at a low-level drunk every day and I would just get drunker and drunker until I fell asleep. Of course there was no room for sex in there
.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I’m not too old to change. And it’s weird, Davey. But the time we spent apart was actually good for us. Lynne has changed.”
“She seems to be happy.”
“She’s found a spectacular talent for counseling people. She wants to go back to school for her degree and work full-time counseling transgendered teens.”
“Wow.” I’m stunned. I can’t believe it. “Wow.”
“I know. Pretty heady stuff. I’m really proud of her. And I guess it’s nice to reach into my own prejudices and false assumptions and learn something new.”
“That’s really cool. I wish you two the best of luck.”
“I wish you the best of luck too, Davey. Whatever you do.”
Lynne slides into her seat with a huge plate full of goodies.
“Lynne! You can’t possibly be planning on eating all of that. Share some with me,” I say, grabbing a little chocolate torte.
Andy reaches over my shoulder and sets a plate down in front of me. “Baby girl, I got you some snacks.”
“My hero.”
We share the hors d’oeuvres and watch Leah dance. Lynne and Sarah are flirting outrageously. They finally decide to hit the dance floor for a slow number. Andy puts her arm around me and I lean my head against her shoulder.
Leah comes back and raids my plate, looking for chocolate. “Sorry Leah, I ate all the chocolate ones.”
Andy stands up. “I’ll bring more.”
Leah looks at me. “Davey. Are you sure about this?”
I shake my head. “Leah, I’m forty. So is Andy. We’ve been together for so long. We know everything there is to know about each other.”
“But are you in love?”
“Andy believes that being in love is a conscious choice.”
“What do you believe?”
“I believe that I’m done looking for love.”
Lynne and Sarah get back to the table at the same time that Andy comes back with more chocolate. We all take little cakes and cookies. The waiter comes by and fills up our glasses again. Sarah and Lynne both take water this time. They kiss as they toast each other.
“A toast,” Leah says, raising her glass. “To my chosen family.”
We all raise our glasses.
“Davey?”
“Mrs. Astor.” I jump to my feet to hug her. Andy stands up next to me.
“Please, call me Nancy.” She holds out a hand to Andy. “Nancy Astor.”
“Andy Eriksson.”
“And this is my mother, Leah.”
“Leah, I am pleased to meet you.”
I gesture toward Lynne and Sarah. “And these are my friends…”
“Oh, I know Lynne and Sarah,” Nancy interrupts. “We work together with the trans support group.”
Leah touches Nancy’s arm. “Would you like to join us?”
“No, thank you. I have to make a speech in a few minutes.”
“Well, it was nice meeting you. I hope we get a chance to talk to you after dinner.”
“You definitely will.”
Nancy hugs me goodbye and I wish her luck. Ron is adjusting the microphone, so we all sit and stare at him expectantly.
“Human beings,” he begins.
“Smooth start,” Andy whispers to me. I take her hand under the table.
Ron is giving an overview of the care center’s programs. Leah leans over Andy to whisper to me, “Maybe I should join a bisexuals support group.”
“You aren’t bisexual.”
“Well, just because I was bad at it the first time doesn’t mean I won’t try again.”
Andy’s jaw is clenched, but a small snort escapes. I poke her in the ribs. “Don’t encourage her.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“A little.”
Ron goes on to talk about where funding for our center comes from and why it is so important to donate. “Sadly, however,” he says, “sometimes we fail in our mission. Sometimes, we want so badly to help, but for whatever reason, the help does not come soon enough. We’re working hard to prevent that from happening, but sometimes, a child slips through the cracks. Jonah Astor was one of those lost children. On June 3rd, Jonah killed himself in his bedroom. He left a note saying that he couldn’t handle the torment he was getting from his classmates. Tonight, Jonah’s mother, Nancy Astor is here to tell us about her son.”
We all jump to our feet and applaud as Nancy takes the stage. She gives us a few minutes to settle down. Finally, she holds her hands up to quiet the crowd. “Thank you. Thank you all for such a warm welcome.”
I lean closer to Andy and she puts her arm around me.
Nancy continues, “I had a daughter. I had a beautiful, loving daughter who liked to chase butterflies, play with dogs, and read picture books. Her father died when she was two, and I have to admit that, though parents really aren’t supposed to have favorites, Jamie was special to me, perhaps because I knew she was my last child. She was the love of my life. And one day, when she was about four years old, she told me she was a boy. I laughed and ignored it. But she kept saying it. She kept saying it and she kept stealing clothes from her older brothers. And one day, I came home from work to find that she had cut off all of her beautiful hair. I remember yelling at her older siblings for letting her get to the scissors. Then I sat down on the floor and cried. Jamie was punished for cutting her hair. I sent her to her room. When she came out, I asked her if she was sorry she cut her hair. She told me she wasn’t sorry she cut it, but she was sorry that it upset me so much. I said it upset me because she was being silly in thinking that she was a boy, but she told me that she wasn’t being silly. At four years old, my daughter told me that she knew in her heart that she was supposed to be a boy. I cried and raged. I spanked her and yelled and sent her to her room and railed at the universe for sending me this odd mutant of a child.”
Andy looks at me. “Are you all right?” she whispers.
I nod.
On stage, Nancy pauses to take a drink of water. “So one day, during one of my fits of rage, my little girl looked at me quite seriously and said that she was sorry I didn’t love her anymore. My heart broke into a billion pieces. And I had to ask myself at that moment, did I love my daughter because she had a vagina? Did I love her because one day she would have breasts? Did I love my daughter because of the pink dresses I could buy her? Did I love her because of her gender? No. I didn’t. I loved her warmth and her humor and her ability to find joy in simple things and her intelligence and her compassion and because all dogs loved her and because she screwed up her little nose when she ate something with pepper on it. I love that she would run to me with new discoveries and look at me with love when I exclaimed over it. I loved that she sang along to all the songs on the radio and made up her own words when she didn’t know the right ones. I loved that she would crawl into my lap when she was tired and rest her face against my neck. And I realized that none of those things had anything to do with my child’s gender. If I loved all of those things about my daughter, why couldn’t I love them about my son? And I did. I do. I loved and embraced my son from that moment on and he remained the most thoughtful and caring of my children, he was just my thoughtful and caring son, instead of my thoughtful and caring daughter.”
I lean back and close my eyes, thinking about Danny. Dammit. This poor woman went through the hell of losing her child and I want the easy way out. I want to take the path of least resistance. I gave up the man I love because I couldn’t handle having to figure out a whole new way of loving someone. Well, why the hell shouldn’t it be new? Isn’t all love new? Don’t all couples have to adjust and learn how to live with and love each other? Why the hell can’t I just love Danny the way he is? I look over at Andy. She’s watching me sadly.
“Andy,” I whisper. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Go,” she mouths.
I jump up from my seat and run for the door. I look for a cab as I reach the valet
parking. I turn to a valet.
“Can you call a cab?”
He nods and pulls out his cell phone. I calculate how long it will take to get a cab. Danny lives two miles from here.
“Fuck it. Never mind.” I take off running. I can do this. Two miles is a walk in the park. I tear down the street in my high heels, until one of them breaks, then I carry my shoes. I’m running full on, sobbing as I run, hoping it’s not too late.
I finally reach his house and I tear up the porch stairs, pounding on his door. Danny opens the door, grabs me and pulls me inside. “Davey, are you all right? Sweetheart, what happened? Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?”
I’m panting and sobbing and I can’t get a breath, let alone talk. I drop to one knee and bend over, trying to catch my breath. Danny lifts me off of the floor and puts me in the big armchair, kneeling in front of me. “Davey, can you talk? Did something happen?”
“You did,” I manage to gasp.
“What?”
“Danny.” I try to take deep breaths, slowing my pounding heart. Tears are streaming down my face, as I look directly into his beautiful, angelic face.
“Danny, I love your eyes. I love your face. I love the way you kiss the inside of my wrist when you hold my hand. I love your taste in literature. I love your sense of humor. I love the way you hold me. I love that you open the car door and carry my bags. I love the way you mess up your hair with your hands. I love the way your whole face lights up when you laugh. I love the way you make me feel. I love that my whole family loves you. I love that you punched Joe, even though he could have killed you with his bare hands. I love you. I love you. I fucked up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I hurt you. I’m an asshole. I hate myself for hurt…”
“Davey!” Danny finally interrupts. He takes me into his arms and presses his lips against mine. “Davey,” he whispers, when he finally stops kissing me. “Stop talking.”
Epilogue
“Davey, how do I look?”
Danny is wearing a perfectly cut tuxedo, with a dark gray silk handkerchief in the pocket.
I straighten his bow tie, grinning. “I finally get to see you in a tux.”
He bows deeply, sweeping one arm out in a grand gesture.
“And you, my love, look amazing.”