Drag Teen

by Jeffery Self

  “But you did! Last night you did.”

  “I just meant that we can’t overthink things because it takes us out of the moment, JT. Jesus Christ, can’t you ever just calm down for one second and not immediately overreact.”

  “What?!”

  Heather stepped in between us. “JT, calm down. You are overreacting a bit. You’re upset, just—”

  “Oh! Me?! I’m overreacting, Heather? You’re the one who had a complete meltdown at the gas station earlier because some creep we met at a diner called you fat!”

  Heather’s face fell, as if I’d just punched a kitten in front of her.

  “Screw you,” she said, quietly and painfully. “I told you that in private. I told you that because you’re just as bad about hating yourself as I am and I knew you’d understand.”

  “Wait. What happened?” Seth asked.

  Heather shook her head, turned her back to me, and spoke solely to him.

  “That guy Mark told me that the reason he was into me was because he’d never been with a fat girl before. Only people who were ‘normal.’ I didn’t want to make a big deal about it—the absolute last thing I want is to be the stereotypical fat girl who’s freaking out about her weight to two gay guys on the side of a country road.”

  Seth turned to me. “JT, see? This is yet another reason you need to be kinder to yourself. How can your best friend trust your encouragement when you can’t even it trust it yourself?”

  “You know what? You were right. This was a terrible idea. Let’s just throw in the towel right now, call your mommy and daddy, and tell them the whole story so they can fly us back to Tampa and forget all about this stupid scholarship or my stupid future!”

  A pair of headlights came shining from down the road. We stopped. This could be either help or an ax murderer, and I wasn’t sure which we needed more. The car pulled up and the window rolled down. The two people inside didn’t look like ax murderers … but it’s hard to tell with ax murderers; they don’t really have a traditional “vibe.” This was an older couple, grandparental in their demeanor.

  “You kids all right?” the man asked with a deep southern drawl.

  “It’s our tire.” Seth pointed at the very flat problem.

  “Yikes!” the man said, peering out the window for a look-see. “That thing’s seen the last of the road, I’d say.”

  The woman leaned forward; she was very pretty. Her hair was red with streaks of white, and very big. There was something familiar about her.

  “Y’all from around here?” she asked.

  The three of us looked at one another, waiting for someone to answer. None of us wanted to admit to being miles and miles away from home to two strangers on an empty dark highway. However, none of us wanted to be stranded either. I spoke up.

  “No. We’re from Florida, we—”

  “Florida?” The woman reacted as if I’d said Budapest. “Good lord, y’all are far away from home. What are you doing all the way up here in Virginia?”

  “We’re on our way to New York for a competition. It’s for a scholarship. I’m—”

  I stopped myself, realizing that it also might not be the best idea to admit to being on my way to a drag queen pageant in the middle of a dark road in Virginia.

  The man’s accent was so southern it was basically deep fried and covered in gravy. “Y’all got anybody around here you can call?”

  I explained that we didn’t, and before I could ask about a nearby motel, the woman was offering to let us come stay at their farm, as if she’d known us her entire life.

  “It’s just right down the road,” she said. “It’s a big house and we’ve got an apartment above the garage, so you won’t even have to be around us old folk. Come, stay the night, and we’ll figure out what to do with your tire in the morning. Y’all don’t have any business sitting out here all by yourselves. And the only repair shop around here closes as soon as Foster passes out drunk, which is usually about three hours ago. I’d call him, but that would only wake him up, and you never want him working on your car when he’s pissed—in both senses of the word. You’re much better off with us.”

  I couldn’t believe it. It’s clichéd to say, but there really are some good people left in the world, and though I didn’t even know these people’s names, I somehow knew they were some of them.

  “I’m Tina; this is Bud.”

  Tina smiled a big sweet smile at us. Again, something seemed familiar.

  “I’m JT. This is Seth and Heather.”

  Seth and Heather both said hello, looking to me with slight concern. Were we actually going to get into the car with these strangers? Before my mind could answer, Bud was helping Seth put our suitcases into their car and Tina was asking if were hungry.

  “Yes!” Heather responded, obviously quicker than she had meant to. Then, looking over at me, she attempted to stifle a guilty grin. “Shut up.”

  I was so happy to have her speaking to me that I did exactly what she said.

  “SORRY ’BOUT THE MESS,” TINA said, throwing her coat over the sofa as soon as we got into the house. The place was far from messy—cluttered, yes, but messy, no. It was one of the biggest houses I’d ever been in, and everywhere you looked your eye landed on something homey and interesting. Like a Cracker Barrel without the overt sense of bigotry.

  “Bud. You go fix them something to eat. I’ve got that sweet potato casserole in the fridge. I’ll show y’all to the garage apartment.”

  Tina led us into the massive backyard. A giant pool was covered in one of those green pool covers nobody ever uses in Florida. The apartment sat above a four-car garage, with stairs snaking around its side. The whole walk there, Tina’s big red hair didn’t move even once.

  “It ain’t much, but it’s something,” she said, flipping on the lights to reveal a place that was far from just something. The apartment was way bigger and way nicer than any apartment I’d ever been in. That’s when I realized Tina was one of those people who always sets you up to be disappointed so that you’ll always be pleasantly surprised. I appreciated that in a person.

  “There’s a room right there off the kitchen, and another one over yonder, and that sofa pulls out into a bed if you want it.”

  “This is so nice of you,” I told her. ”I don’t know what to say—”

  “Aw, don’t give it another thought. We never use this place anyway. If it were up to Bud, it’d be his sanctuary to come watch football without my complaining about it. But I like having him for company. Y’all get comfortable. I’m going to make sure he hasn’t set the house on fire trying to heat up that casserole.”

  Tina moved a mile a minute, so before we could even respond I could hear her high heels clapping their way down the stairs.

  The tension from earlier returned the minute Tina left us alone. The way Tina had laid it out for us, it was clear she thought there weren’t any couples here. And from the way Seth and I weren’t speaking, maybe there weren’t.

  Right now, Seth was wandering over to peek into the other rooms. “This place is really, really nice,” he reported without acknowledging the awkwardness between us.

  Heather sat down on the sofa and immediately focused all her energy on her phone.

  We all knew the silence was there. We were trying to pretend like we didn’t, and we were very bad pretenders.

  “So do we all hate one another?” I said, breaking the ice. Then I quickly added, “I don’t hate either of you.”

  “Me either,” Seth chimed in.

  “I guess it would be a waste to be mad at one another in a place like this, huh?” Heather said, looking up from her phone.

  “I know this is stressful—traveling always is—but can we all try and be a little nicer to one another?” Seth asked, timidly.

  “No promises, bitch,” Heather deadpanned.

  All three of us laughed. It was the first time we’d genuinely laughed all day, and a wave of relief washed over me. They were my two favorite people on eart
h. Fighting with them hurt way more than whatever the issue was that we were fighting about to begin with. Sometimes the people you love the most are the most difficult for you to be around, because they see right through your crap and don’t mind telling you. The truth was that I had overreacted on the road, and they were well aware that I tended to overreact quite a bit, but I didn’t feel like getting into all that again. At least not in such a nice place.

  “I mean, you guys … look at this!” I circled the room, checking out all the fancy furniture, artwork, and electronics. “Is this another bathroom?” I opened a closet and immediately began choking on something made out of bright blue feathers.

  Seth rushed over. “Are you okay?”

  I pulled my head out of the closet, three or four blue feathers falling out of my mouth.

  “What the hell is in there?” Seth asked, watching the feathers fall onto the floor.

  “I don’t know … but it’s none of our business. I shouldn’t have been looking anyway. It’s—”

  Before I could finish my sentence, Seth had yanked open the closet doors, revealing a roomful of costumes. And not just any costumes—incredibly old, colorful, shiny costumes.

  “Holy Mary, Mother of God!” Seth cried out. “We’re the Gayders of the Lost Ark.”

  Heather barreled in just in time to see the bedazzled green pantsuit Seth was holding up to himself, his eyes the size of saucers.

  “Guys,” she said, “we shouldn’t be going through their stuff—” But as soon as she saw what was inside, her warning fell flatter than our tire. “Are those costumes or just really old clothes?!” Heather gasped, pushing past me and picking up a hot-pink sequined number.

  “These aren’t costumes. These are works of art.”

  It was a museum—but it was a private museum, and I still felt like we were trespassing. “You guys. Stop. We don’t know these people. We can’t go through their—”

  Before I could finish my sentence, my eyes fell on a plastic box in the corner.

  “Wigs,” I said breathlessly. “Lots of wigs.”

  Seth opened the box, pulling out just about every hair color I’d ever seen. I felt like we’d discovered lace-front, real-human-hair gold. I tried to compose myself.

  “Guys,” I said. “Seriously. She’s coming back any minute with—”

  Seth stood up, coming toward me with a long strawberry-blond wig that resembled my mom’s hair from the back when she used to wash it.

  “Are you two thinking what I’m thinking?”

  His grin. Was so. Hard to. Resist. And so was the wig.

  Still, I mustered my strength to say, “I’m thinking that we’re invading someone’s privacy. Put those fantastic, gorgeous, perfect wigs back.”

  I was really trying to be resilient. But Seth knew how to sabotage my resolve.

  “JT,” he said. ”We have just stumbled upon the ultimate drag closet of all time.”

  Heather jerked her head around, the jet-black bob she was wearing bouncing along with her. “You mean Tina is a drag queen?!”

  “What I mean is, this stuff is perfect for JT to wear in New York! These are Miss Drag Teen USA–winning clothes, not like the crappy, cheap clothes we brought.”

  Just then, I heard the clapping of Tina’s heels coming back up the stairs. I panicked.

  “Get that stuff back in the closet! GO!” I whispered as loudly as one can whisper without it not being whispering.

  Seth and Heather furiously repacked the box … but it was too late. The door to the apartment was already opening and Tina was inside.

  “Yoo-hoo! Anybody hungry—”

  She stopped cold in the doorway, her eyes lowering to see the three of us attempting to shove all the costumes back into the closet. I braced myself for her reaction and made a mental note of how we’d gotten to the house, just in case she kicked us out without another word.

  I was the first to jump to my feet, Heather and Seth following shortly thereafter.

  I said, “We’re all sorry!”

  Tina’s face was expressionless.

  “We weren’t snooping,” Seth swore. “I mean, I guess we were, but when we saw one of those incredible pieces of fashion history sticking out of the closet—well, I personally couldn’t have lived with myself if I hadn’t looked at it!” Seth was revealing way more about himself than I wanted Tina and Bud to know.

  “What kind of competition are y’all heading to New York for?” Tina’s voice remained flat and quiet.

  “Well, JT can’t afford college and his parents are no help and I found this competition for—”

  I stepped forward, stopping Seth before it was too late. “We can just go if you’re upset. We never meant to—”

  “Upset? Lord.” Tina chuckled to herself. “I must seem pretty damn uptight!”

  We all awkwardly chuckled along with her, the way people do in action movies when the bad guy makes a lame joke and laughs at it while holding a weapon.

  Tina sighed. “It’s official. I’m too old to be famous anymore, I guess.”

  Heather, Seth, and I looked at one another, confused.

  Tina waited a beat for recognition to come. When it didn’t, she smiled and said, “My name is Tina Travis. I used to sing country music, a million and two years ago. Back when the dinosaurs were around and somebody who looks like me could get internationally famous.”

  Tina Travis. As I rolled the name around my brain, her face and hair began to look more and more familiar. Then it hit me. She had the same face and unmovable hair as a woman on one of my mom’s old records.

  “Now,” Tina said. “Let me guess. One of you must be a drag queen.” She crossed her arms and smirked at us, striking the exact pose on the old record I’d just remembered. “Nobody alive today but a drag queen would see any of that junk as fashion history. That’s why it’s stuck up here and not at the Opry. Did you find the wigs?” Tina brushed past us, opening the closet and dragging out the box of wigs behind her. “Back when I used to tour, I’d mix things up every few songs. Nowadays I just stick with this one.”

  She scratched her head, shifting the immovable hair like a hat.

  “So … which one of you wants to try one on?”

  She held up a blond curly wig that reminded me of Taylor Swift after a long night. Without missing a beat, all three of us shot our hands in the air. Tina threw her head back and laughed. Her hair again didn’t move. Not even once.

  We dug through the wig box for over an hour, all four of us forgetting the sweet potato casserole and our problems entirely. Tina exuded the kind of charm you only saw from famous people. Or rather, the kind of charm I imagined you only saw from famous people. She made each of us feel like we were the most interesting person in the room, even though the whole time she was way more interesting than any of us.

  “And what do you have to do to win this thing?” she asked me now, styling the long strawberry-blond wig on top of my head.

  “It’s a few outfits, an interview, and a speech about why drag matters to you.”

  “No talent?!” Tina gasped, spilling a bunch of bobby pins onto the floor. Seth intervened, looking adorable in a wig three times as big as his head. (In the wig’s defense, Seth has a very small head.)

  “He has to do a talent, he’s just in denial about it. We’re going to figure out something.”

  “Well, damn. You better get to figuring.”

  I could feel my face blushing. I had no talent—that was the problem with figuring out my talent.

  “He’s going to sing,” Heather said with a smile.

  “I am NOT going to sing.”

  Tina grinned and looked down at me. “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t sing. I can’t.”

  “Sure you can. Everyone can sing.”

  “I really can’t—”

  “He sang a song from The Little Mermaid in front of our whole school,” Heather tattled. “It was amazing until the power failed and he got booed off the stage.”
r />   “‘Part of Your World’?” Tina asked me.

  I nodded.

  She seemed satisfied by this answer. “Now you stop and come with me to my music room. All of you, bring a wig!”

  Seth and Heather stood up to follow her.

  But I stayed down. “No. Really. I can’t. I don’t want to humiliate myself in front of you. Let’s just—”

  Before I could finish, Tina was pulling me up from the floor, revealing an impressive amount of strength for such a petite old woman.

  I had no choice but to follow her.

  Tina’s fame and success were fully revealed in her music room. Her piano was covered in Grammys and other shiny gold statuettes that reflected gold speckles of light on her face while she sat at the piano.

  “I’ve got the perfect song for something like this,” she told me. “And I wrote it, so you better like it or you’re all out on the streets.” She paused while I laughed nervously. “It’s a joke. Lord! You better find some humor before you get to New York is all I have to say. Sugar, hand me that yellow book right there.”

  Heather handed her a yellow book filled with sheet music. Tina flipped her way through it, doing that thing where she licked her finger in order to turn the pages faster. I’d never seen anyone actually do that in real life before. We all stood around her piano, wearing our favorite wigs.

  “Here it is! Now. Listen.”

  I looked over at Seth and we locked eyes. He mouthed, “You can do this.”

  Easy for you to say, bitch.

  Tina began to play, the song beautiful and beautifully familiar. As she began to sing, the gorgeous sound of her voice made so many memories come rushing back. Of course I knew her music. Everyone did. Tina Travis wasn’t just some country singer. At one point she had been the country singer.

  She continued to play and sing the song, a ballad called “People Care.” She purred the lyrics and looked up at me with a twinkle in her big green eyes.

  Tried before and I failed.

  Thought I knew, but that boat sailed.

  Tried to find the real me

  and I just couldn’t see.

  Now every day is a blessing,