The grandfather clock bongs midnight and snapshots of
freaked Vanessa
shocked Mother
raging Claude
scared Courtney
etch my brain.
Pretending gets hard
remembering that everyone,
straight or gay,
would be
creeped out by this.
Creeped out by me.
I peel off my shirt
shed the bra
like snakeskin
ball it up
and stuff it onto
the top shelf of
my closet.
It’s repulsive.
I’m repulsive.
If anyone ever saw
the real me
they’d know that.
(Angel)
Because of Frankie
I tried to stay in the area
even after leaving Tía Rosa’s.
Not too close though—
La Jolla doesn’t roll out the red carpet
for the homeless,
but San Diego’s near enough.
There was a whole bunch of girls.
Trans like me
with no place to stay.
We shared clothes,
food when we had it,
tips on safe places to sleep,
advice on which gas stations
would let you wash up in their
bathrooms
without giving you too much shit.
Watchin’ out for each other
and ourselves
’cause no one else was.
Well, except for
Renée.
I’d been on my own for two weeks.
Hungry, tired.
She caught me Dumpster diving,
took me back to her place.
Let me clean up,
bought me Taco Bell,
told me how easy it was
to make enough to eat,
buy new clothes,
makeup,
hormones.
All I had to do was … you guessed it.
Oh—and give her a little cash
now and then
if I was gonna do it on her block.
Only Friend I Still Have
from that time is
my roommate Denai.
We don’t talk
too much about
what it was like for us
three years ago.
But every once in a while
we’ll be at a table in Starbucks
or at home on the couch
and our eyes will meet.
I see in hers what I
know is in mine—
incredible gratitude that
we’re still here,
that we got the life
we’ve got now.
That so far,
we’ve escaped
the
ugly
the
fatal
statistic.
Praise be to God.
(BRENDAN)
Tonight the House Is Quiet.
That word is loud.
Back against headboard
laptop on knees,
I “research”
bathed in
the dim light of
of my computer.
It’s hard to see me
in snatches of statistics,
old words, new phrases
gnaw at my skull.
“Gender dysphoria” churns my stomach
with its science-fiction sound
and what does it mean
that I love Vanessa
mind soul body?
“Gender identity”
and
“gender attraction”—
two different things.
I snap the screen closed.
Not being gay doesn’t make me not trans.
No Hope in Hell of Normal
If someone asked,
would I have
enough humor
left in me to say,
“I think I’m a lesbian”?
Vanessa used
to say
I was
a funny guy.
I think she’s right,
but it’s easier to laugh
when you’re not
terrified.
A Simple Solution
And for the next few days
I just fake a sore throat.
It’s better that way.
Better to lean back
in the desk chair
playing Warcraft.
I’ve signed on
with the Horde.
Built my Blood Elf avatar.
No more “research.”
My shame stays in the closet and
I’ve found a way
to escape from me.
Virtual me has long legs,
blue hair,
a killer body.
It’s as close as I can get
to being a girl.
I’m Larissa.
I’m Larissa and
I kick ass and
I can lose myself
in the anonymous world
of online gaming.
I start to think
it’s all I want to do,
that Larissa is all I want to be.
The last weekend of Christmas break
is the perfect time to laze at home
pretending to be sick,
not stirring.
It’s just better this way.
Except that
I miss Vanessa.
Final Day of Winter Recess
I leave the house,
drop an envelope in the mail,
show up to practice
tell everyone I got better,
promise Vanessa
we’ll hang.
But during conditioning
that word gets loud and
something twists in me.
I duck out of the gym
catch a bus for home
stand under the showerhead,
let guy stink
go
down
the
drain.
She has to be pissed
I didn’t tell her goodbye.
I just don’t know
what to say to her.
Of course I love you.
Sorry I’m distant.
No, I’m not mad
just don’t feel well.
Not sorry we made love.
Can’t go out tonight.
Family dinner.
And that will be it.
There’s no explaining
some things.
Others just have a sucky explanation.
(Angel)
Gorgeous Sunday
and I’m singin’ at church like
music brings me closer to God.
When I was little,
Mama always took us to Mass.
The Sperm Donor
wasn’t big on worship,
so he stayed home.
Sometimes if Frankie fussed
she’d take him
into the cry room
at the back of the chapel,
leave me alone in the hard pew
with wintergreen Life Savers.
I spent my time looking
at the stained glass window
of the Three Kings,
wishing I could wear
their dresses,
the colors were
so gorgeous,
so rich.
Later on,
I really
started listening
and realized that
even if
I liked church,
with its soaring music
and beautiful art,
church didn’t like people like me.
After Mama’s funeral
we just stopped going and
I sure as hell d
idn’t miss it
until …
Three Years Ago
after a sadistic-pervert john
landed me in the hospital
Social Services got in touch
with the Sperm Donor.
He wouldn’t take me back.
(I wouldn’t of gone with him anyways.)
Got a social worker named Pat
who placed me with my foster mom.
Praise be to Jesus.
Girl, Veronica was homely.
Fashion? Forget about it!
It didn’t matter, though.
Her heart was beautiful
and big enough
to take in kids like me.
She cleaned me up
brought tea, protein shakes
while my jaw was
still wired shut.
Big Macs when it healed.
She read books out loud
when the headaches
were too bad for me
to keep my eyes open.
Told me how smart I was,
how beautiful.
How valuable
my life to God.
I lived with her almost two years,
kids came and went,
bouncing around in the system.
(And I know now
how blessed I truly was
after hearing stories
from the ones who didn’t get
a Veronica in their life
soon enough.)
But I didn’t have
anywhere to bounce
and she said me and her
were a good fit.
When I healed enough
to get around
she invited me to her church,
said it was up to me though.
So I waited
and then waited
some more.
(Till I was bored out of my brain.
And we were used to each other.
And I was feeling bad ’cause
I stayed out late one night.
And didn’t call
’cause it’s hard
to live with house rules
when you been on your own.
And she cried when I finally
did get home ’cause she worried
but she didn’t tell Pat on me.
Girl, did I feel guilty.)
Funny thing was,
when finally I did go with her?
Church was a serious party!
Singin’, swaying, witnessing
to the loving power of God.
Christ Church Unified.
LGBTQ friendly.
They welcomed me
embraced me.
Now that’s what I call Christian.
Sundays Like Today
when there’s nothin’ goin’ on
it feels good to go
to church
but I don’t feel
like I have to
or the Lord will get mad.
I’m a pretty strong spirit myself.
And me and God?
We’re tight.
We don’t need anyone
to translate
for either of us.
God doesn’t make mistakes.
I’m here for whatever reason He/She has.
No need
to apologize
For who I am.
For what I am.
(Vanessa)
Today Was Just Another Crappy Day
in a long line of
other crappy days. I d o n’ t
know what’s wrong.
Brendan left without
saying goodbye.
We were supposed
to hang out after wrestling,
but that was something
he obviously didn’t w a n t.
When I left the gym I saw
someone’d written “dyke” on my car.
I acted like I didn’t care—and
Brendan’s the only one
I’d complain about it t o.
They say I play for both teams
but there’s not a lot of play
now anyway. We used to
get busy after meets—
endorphins would surge,
win or l o s e.
Today he just left, and I wish
to God he’d open up,
tell me for real
what’s wrong with h i m.
In the Parking Lot
I text him:
Give me a call?
By the time I get home
there’s still no reply.
Helloooeeee?
Nothing.
After dinner
I call his cell,
leave a message.
“We need to talk.”
Nada.
I’m mad
and worried
at the same time.
There should
be a name for this
Morried? Wad?
I dial again, hang up.
Should I call the house?
Anger and sadness
compete inside me.
It’s a tie.
(BRENDAN)
On the Wall
After my shower I
go to put on pants
and I end up in bed,
eyes closed. Won’t look
at the dresser m i r r o r.
How do you deal when
what you see just d o e s n ’t
reflect your soul?
The hips, the tits don’t exist
and what is there is a l i e.
The Big Question
I’ve ignored two texts and a call.
When I hear the landline ring
I get off the bed, still ignoring
the bastard mirror,
open Hamlet, and sit at my desk.
Mom knocks on the door.
(I knew she would.)
Opens it a crack
and pokes her head in,
“Sweetie, it’s Vanessa?”
(I knew it was.)
I shrug.
“Studying,” I say.
Mom nods—
like she believes me.
“I’ll tell her to call back?”
She sounds like she’s asking
a question. She’s not.
Until she does.
“Brendy, are you all right?”
Oh, so there’s ANOTHER question, not
just to be or not to be. Hamlet, you ass-
wipe, you had it all wrong.
I Can Tell
Mom’s standing
outside the door
still waiting
for me to answer.
“Just tired,” I say.
“Okay.”
Is that relief in her voice?
“Let me know if you
need anything.”
I hear her move off down the hall.
Knowing what I need is different
than knowing what I don’t.
I don’t need
to let the world
see me
a curious shemale.
(Vanessa)
Driving to Brendan’s
feels a little weird.
I didn’t tell him
I’m coming over
not that I always do—
but this is deliberate
as if I’m mounting
a sneak
attack.
His mom
answers
“Vanessa!!!”
Like I’m her long-lost daughter.
She opens the door wider to let me in.
“It’s good to see you!” she says
before waving me up
to Brendan’s room
with a graceful harp-player hand.
He’s sitting
at his desk
back to the door
World of Warcraft
on the screen
in front of hi
m.
No idea I’m behind him.
I watch him for a minute
his shoulders are slouchy,
his hair a little long.
I want to touch it,
trim it, take care of him.
“What’s wrong?”
He jumps
at my voice
turns off the game
like it was porn
or something.
“When did you get here?”
He doesn’t sound happy to see me.
“Just now.
What’s wrong?”
I repeat.
He stares at me a minute.
I can’t read his face
and I want to cry.
Not long ago
I wouldn’t have had to
try to decipher anything.
He’d tell
me everything.
“I started feeling sick again,”
he finally says.
“And you couldn’t text?
You couldn’t call?”
I’m getting whiny
and I hate it
but his excuse is lame.
“Look, I’m sorry.
But I don’t feel well.”
“And there was
no way of
letting me know that?
I was worried!”
His mouth
hardens.
“It’s not always
about you!”
He flops
onto his bed,
closes his eyes.
“I really feel sick. I’m sorry.
Can we argue about this later?”
He looks tired,
small somehow
and maybe he IS
just sick?
Guilty
I
cave
kiss him
leave.
On the Way Home
I’m rewarded
with a text
for dropping
the whole thing.
ILY
And it sucks that
Grand-maman was right again.
She has a cautionary saying (of course)
Foxes are all tail,
Women are all tongue.
I think it means
shut up
if you want a guy
to love you.
(BRENDAN)
Dr. Do-Little’s Office
Soothing beige
stucco walls
press in on me
at my mandatory
six-month check-in.
I missed school today
so Mom could roll her eyes
and drop me off
at Dr. Andrews’s office,
where he asks
the same old questions.
(Suicidal thoughts?
Tendencies?)
Last night I had the princess dream
and maybe agitation seeps out
in my “no”
because he doesn’t take it
for an answer.
NOW he wants me to talk
Freakboy Page 9