Elizabeth grabs the carafe and splashes coffee into both of our mugs while I put the cream away. She hands me the orange mug. We both take a long sip and then sit down at the kitchen table.
She cracks her neck from side to side and then reaches across the table and puts her hand on mine. “Our walls are thin,” is all she says.
“Sorry, I guess we got kind of crazy last night.” I blush as flashes of Liam and I eating each other alive on my bed, against the wall, on the floor, pop into my brain.
“I’m not talking about the marathon banging. More power to you. I’m talking about the fight you had this morning and Liam’s subsequent fleeing from our house in your clothes.”
I let out a long breath. “You heard everything.”
She nods. “It was muffled, but I got the gist.” She takes a drink and then sighs. “So, what are you going to do?”
My eyes fill with tears. “I don’t know. So, he likes to dress up in women’s clothes? Maybe I can deal? He’s right – I certainly didn’t care last night, even got turned on by it, but that’s because I thought it was…out of our norm, not what he’s been wanting all along.” I put my head in my hands. “Why couldn’t he just be kind of pervy? Why couldn’t he have a thing for feet?”
“Hey, you’re sharing shoes either way.”
“That’s the thing, isn’t it? There has to be some part of this that…he sought me out. I don’t know exactly what happened with Ari, but she must’ve questioned his manhood. And I’m this…hag who makes big speeches about how I accept everyone for what they are and I happen to be more his size, more open to letting him control things. Whether he knows he was doing it or not, I know part of him chose me…because I’m me. I’m the girl this happens to and is okay with it.”
“But you don’t seem like you are.”
“Because I’m pissed that I have to be that girl! That I’m still her. Ariana is beautiful and thin and can go out and fuck any guy she wants. Any normal guy who isn’t eyeing her underwear and wondering how he’d look in it. This wouldn’t happen to you either, Elizabeth.”
She gets up and grabs the coffee pot, pouring us both fresh mugs, and then doctors hers accordingly. “You’re right. This wouldn’t happen to me. I’ve got my nice, normal long distance thing going on. Never in a million years would I be the kind of woman that a guy like Liam needs. But, I don’t think it’s bad that you are. If there’s someone for everyone…you already love him, I know you do. And I think he probably loves you too. He’d be an idiot not to.”
“Thanks, but you didn’t see him. He looked so broken--”
“Stop making excuses for why you can’t let yourself have this. It’s not conventional, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real. What’s more important? Loving the man that loves you, or trying to achieve this bullshit idea you have of what a perfect relationship is supposed to be?”
X
I borrow Elizabeth’s car and drive over to Liam’s, parking at the end of the block just in case he sees me and decides to take off running. Or maybe just to give myself a little more time to get my words together. I don’t really have any prepared speeches in my repertoire for this sort of thing. Sure, I have an It’s Awesome That You’ve Decided to Come Out to Me First speech, and the Oh, I Totally Understand About You Thinking You Were Ready to Date and Changing Your Mind After One Night With Me. I could do that one in my sleep, and have. But, I’m Fine With You Wearing the Skirt in Our Relationship is a new one on so many levels.
When I get to the bottom of the staircase that leads up to his apartment, I take a deep breath and make myself run up the steps. And then I force myself to knock on his door. Half of the things I’ve accomplished in life are due to my moving quickly to keep from chickening out.
Liam opens the door, fresh from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. Thank karma for at least letting me have this. If I was going to only get one last look, this was the look to get. I step forward, placing my palm on his bare chest, and nudge him into the room. I turn and close the door behind me before facing him. “I’m an asshole.”
He holds my hand to his chest. His heart is beating so fast. “No, you’re not. I…should’ve eased you into this. I just got so excited when you—” He grins. “You were crazy last night and I’ve been thinking about being crazy like that with you since the first night we were together. But, I know your defenses were down.”
“No more tequila or Jell-O shots,” I joke. “We’re becoming strictly beer and wine drinkers.”
He inhales a deep breath and then lets it out. “Fine by me. I feel like ass.”
I give him a once over. “Well, you don’t look like ass. You’re just as fucking beautiful as always. Dick.”
He grins and drops the towel.
One, two, three go! Chickening out is not an option!
I walk past him, running my hand over his abs as I go by. “I wanna play dress up.”
“Dani, you don’t have—”
I stand in front of his closet and open the door. “It’s decided.” I reach forward and pull the light cord, peering inside. The front is full of his regular clothes, all neatly hung on wooden hangers. His shoes are lined up on the floor on the left side, and a three-drawer dresser sits on the right. At the back I see the sweater that was in the bag Ariana gave him. It’s hanging next to a couple of different styles of black skirts. He’s got a definite Ed Wood thing going on. Very proper Fifties co-ed. Kind of like how I dress. I take a deep green sweater off its hanger and one of the black skirts. On a whim, I open the top drawer of the dresser and paw around underneath his socks and boxer briefs until my fingers light on Liam’s very own set of garters and stockings. I pull those out and then go back in and hunt for some undies. He’s got a lone black lace pair.
I take my haul over to him. He’s still standing naked in the middle of the room just watching me. “Bathroom,” I say, directing him with a nod.
Liam obeys.
I set the clothes down on the vanity and move him over to the rug in front of the claw foot tub. I put the underwear on him first, kneeling down. He steps into it and I pull it up, tugging at it to get it to cover his crotch. “Kind of hard to keep that bad boy reined in,” I tease.
Liam doesn’t say anything, his breaths increasing.
“So, why only the one pair of underwear?” I ask.
He answers me quickly. “Those were the most difficult for me to come to terms with buying.”
“Arms up,” I say, sliding the sweater on over his head and down his chest. “Like, you can justify that you’re buying a skirt ‘only for Halloween this one time’?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
I hook the garter belt around his hips, again adjusting for, uh, width and bulge before I’m down on my knees again, pulling the stockings up each leg and clipping them to the belt. “Sorry I can’t do this with my teeth…yet.”
He inhales sharply. “Don’t even play.”
I hold out the skirt for him to step into and then zip it up the side. I lean back to take a look. He looks exactly like a guy in women’s clothes. “Is the point to look more like a woman or is it all about the clothes for you?”
He chuckles. “Thanks for not asking if I’m gay, because I would hope by now I’ve proven that I’m not.” He fingers the hem of his skirt. “I like dressing this way. I like looking pretty, but I don’t want to cut off my dick or get breast implants or anything.”
“Do you have make-up, a wig?”
He opens a drawer in the vanity and right there next to the toothpaste is my Perfect Red lipstick, an eyeliner I’d been missing, a tube of mascara, the tat cover up, and the free gift from Sephora.
“I guess we always stay at my house, don’t we?”
He shrugs and then looks down. “I’ve been saving for a wig. Ima has the hook up, but good ones are hella expensive.”
“And shoes?”
His eyes light up. Liam runs to his closet and comes back with a simple pair of black patent leather pumps. He
puts them on, making him another three inches taller than me.
I leave the toothpaste and stolen make-up drawer open and hop up onto the counter, pulling him in between my legs. I get the Perfect Red in hand and twist the lipstick up. Quite a bit of it is gone.
He licks his lips. “I’ve been practicing.”
“So you have.” My gaze falls to his lips. “Open your mouth like this.” I make an O.
He does it and I dab the lipstick on and then smooth it out with my ring finger. Next I pick up the eyeliner. “Look up,” I say. He does while pushing his pelvis into me. “Keep that up and you’re gonna lose an eye,” I breathe. I regain my composure and line his eyes. I give him a couple swipes of mascara and then get to work on his hair. Twisting around, I find an ancient bottle of gel in the medicine cabinet behind me. I squeeze a dime into my palm and rub my hands together. I run them through his still damp hair and then use a comb to slick it back like I did my own this morning.
“Is there anything else you’d usually do?” I ask, giving him a once over.
He grinds into me again. “Sometimes I wear this red bra and stuff it, but not always.” He kisses me tenderly. “Is that what you meant?”
I grip his hips with my thighs. “Yes and no. What’s…next?”
He takes my hand and lowers it between us. “You’re in charge. What do you want to do?”
Chapter Sixteen
Liam gives me one last kiss. “Call me, okay?” he says, picking up his duffel. “I miss you already.”
“I will and…me too.” I’m sorely regretting my decision to put a firm No Sex policy in place until I am ready to completely get on board with the cross dressing. It has been a difficult week and is only going to be more difficult for the next three of Winter break. Making mature decisions blows.
He turns and gets on the Greyhound to Boise. I wish I could stay and wave to him all dramatic-like as the bus pulls out of the parking lot, but I’ve got a plane to catch and Elizabeth is waiting to drive me to the Eugene airport.
Eugene to Salt Lake to Denver to Midway later, and Dad is tossing a handful of coins from the jar he keeps between the seats of the Blazer into the toll machine. We go another two miles on the shitty, pothole-dented road and then plow through a slushy puddle driving up the exit ramp toward home.
I shiver, my body more acclimated to constant pissing rain than the bitter cold that is Illinois in December.
Dad reaches over and cranks the heat up higher and fans open the front of his parka. He chuckles at me. “You’ll have to borrow one of Mom’s coats.”
I nod and shiver again.
“And probably her hat with the ear flaps.”
“Never!” I grin at him, though. We both hate that hat, which is why my mom insists on shoveling the driveway in it every chance she gets, just to embarrass us.
Dad turns into our neighborhood, and I put my forehead against the chilly window, taking in the beauty of the Christmas lights and spot-lit nativity scenes on every other lawn. “I see the Esahs’ got their third Wise Man back.”
“Apparently,” Dad says, like he’s divulging the secret of the century, “that Darrow kid who does a half-assed job mowing kidnapped the Wise Man and hid it in his closet for ransom until he collected the fifteen dollars he felt he was due.”
“Scandalous!”
He laughs, pulling up in front of our house. “I’m sure we’ll still be talking about it at the block party in June.”
Mom opens the storm door and waves when we get out of the truck. “Hi, honey! Get in here so I can squeeze you.”
I hurry over to her while Dad retrieves my suitcase. Mom wraps me in a hug and pulls me into the house. She rocks me back and forth while nearly suffocating me in her Mama Bear grip. It suddenly hits me how much I miss my folks, and I squeeze my mom back.
“You must be starved,” she says, finally letting go and dragging me through the decked-out family room to the eat-in kitchen. “Sit.”
I take my usual seat at the kitchen table and finger the Polyfil stuffed Christmas tree centerpiece she’s set out every year since I can remember. Moments later, a big steaming bowl of pinto beans with ham over cornbread appear in front of me, followed by a tall glass of sweet tea.
Dad comes into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together. “Ooh, that looks good.”
Mom hands him a bowl and then makes one for herself.
We eat.
“We’re gonna have the toots,” Mom says, giggling.
Dad nods and then purposefully takes a giganto bite of beans.
I’m home.
X
“C’mon,” Devon says, nodding for me to follow him. “I’ll get the salad. You grab the spoons.”
I wade through the mess of wrapping paper and ribbon littering Granny’s family room floor and snag three spoons from the pile on the tea towel lying out across the kitchen counter. They’re still warm from the dishwater.
My other cousin, Sean, pulls my borrowed coat off the back of a dining chair and hangs it on my head by the fur-lined hood.
Operation Escape is in progress.
Devon hands me the bowl of Granny Walker’s Ambrosia salad and climbs the rickety ladder to the tree fort our dads built us a million years ago. I hold the salad and spoons above my head and Devon takes them from me. I’m up the ladder next, finally putting my arms in my coat and zipping it up. Sean brings up the rear.
We sit on milk crates huddled together in the middle of the fort, freezing our asses off, and Devon passes out the spoons before peeling the foil back from the cloudy white Tupperware bowl. They let me take the first bite, like they always have, since we were ten, twelve, and fourteen and started coming up here to avoid getting sucked into the cutthroat hands of Euchre the adults spend most of Christmas Day playing.
I savor the commingling flavors of pistachio pudding mix, Cool Whip, marshmallow, shredded coconut, and pineapple on my tongue. “Mm mmm!”
Sean laughs, nodding, and crams a bite into his mouth. “Liking this shit has to be genetic. There’s no logical way it should be edible.”
“And yet,” Devon says, licking the back of his spoon, “I start dreaming about it the day after Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, me too,” Sean and I say in agreement.
We chow down until we’re disgusted with ourselves and then toss the spoons into the empty bowl.
Devon leans back and rubs his stomach, letting loose a belch.
“Nice one,” I say, countering with a beauty of my own.
“Amateurs.” Sean, as usual, puts us to shame.
I shake my head. “If only Tia and Amber could see you now.”
Devon makes a throat-slashing motion, but it’s too late.
“Sorry,” I say, reaching over and patting Sean on the shoulder. “Tia’s no more?”
Sean shrugs the comment off. “It’s been a couple of months. I’m fine.”
Devon snorts and Sean glares at him like only a big brother can before bringing the focus back to me. “What about you, baby girl? You seeing anyone?”
I blush and look down, giving myself away.
Both of my cousins pull their wallets out and open them, like they’re about to duel.
“I had a feeling this was your year,” Sean says, as if that explains anything.
I nod at their wallets. “And you’ve made a bet of some sort regarding my love life?”
“Twenty bucks to me,” Devon says, “if you’ve got yourself a lady friend.”
“And twenty bucks to me,” Sean says, “if you’ve finally come to your senses and started dating a brother.”
My Aunt Sheila, their mom, is black and has suggested numerous times that I might have more luck if I’d let her set me up with her friends’ sons instead of messing around with silly white boys.
Not that she’s ever made good on her offer. She probably thinks I secretly love the ladies too.
This gives me an idea. “Do I get to pocket all forty if I’m dating a black lesbian?”
> My cousins’ eyes go wide.
“Are you?” Sean asks.
“Nah.” I laugh. “I live in Oregon, remember? I have a better chance of hooking up with a Korean pop star than someone of the African persuasion.” I shrug. “Put your money away. I’m seeing a white dude from Idaho.”
“Hey,” Sean says, shifting to the side and stowing his billfold in his back pocket. “I don’t give a shit what color he is, as long as he’s good to you.”
I bite the inside of my lip.
Devon taps me on the arm, narrowing his eyes at me. “He’s good to you, right?”
“Yeah, he is, but…” I don’t know if I should say. Liam’s secret isn’t mine to tell, although this is different than what Ariana did. It’s not like Sean and Devon are going to blab to everyone they know.
“What’s up, Dani? You can tell us anything. No judgment.” Sean takes my hand.
I suck in a deep breath. “He likes to wear women’s clothes.”
Sean and Devon look at each other, look at me, then burst out laughing. I yank my hand away from Sean.
“No judgment, my ass!” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
Devon wipes tears from his eyes. “Only you, cuz.”
Sean puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him, still giggling. “Only.You.”
I crack a smile. It’s hard not to. I mean, yes, it’s ridiculous. I’ve been mired down in the seriousness of my situation for weeks, but feeling free to laugh about it seems right.
“Ugh,” I groan and bang my head against Sean’s chest.
He leans away from me, studying my face. “You love him?”
I nod. “I love him.”
Sean pats me on the cheek. “Then who gives a fuck?”
X
There’s a knock on my bedroom door and then Mom peeks her head in. I’m sitting on my bed, staring at my phone, trying to get up the nerve to call Liam and tell him I love him. But is that the kind of thing that should be done in person?
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