by Carr, Suzie
“Right. See you then.”
After hanging up, a giddy rush coursed through me. Talk about a sweet distraction.
Chapter Six
Ruby
I contemplated asking Grampa if I could live with him. I didn’t want him to view all of his hard work raising me as a failure though. So, I slept in my car for the next three nights. Each morning, I simply entered a new gym and asked if I could take a guest tour. Each one allowed me access to it all, even the showers. For food, I volunteered at soup kitchens. I could handle this homeless thing. No rent. No furniture required. Shower and eat for free.
On the fourth morning, after scrunching up into a ball for six hours, I woke up with another stiff neck and not being able to wriggle my toes. This scared me. I loved my toes.
Placing my pride aside, I called Marcy and Rachel.
Just like loving family, they welcomed me to live in their home with them.
“You can have this room on the left,” Rachel said, escorting me down the hallway of her and Marcy’s condo. “It’s got a nice view of the water.”
“I can’t thank you enough.” I placed my luggage down near the twin bed.
“I changed the sheets so they’re nice and fresh for you.”
I looked around my new bedroom, a sunny room with tangerine-colored walls and paintings of the sea. I handed her the five hundred dollars I had borrowed from Grampa. “I hope this is enough?”
She placed it back in my hand. “Keep it. When you’re working, you can pay us.”
That very day I went job searching again. This time, I applied at retail stores, at pet stores, at garden centers, even at the breakfast restaurant where I ate with Grampa on Sundays. I went to the beauty supply shop and applied there, too.
The receptionist wore pink braces on her teeth. She smiled and her mouth looked like bubblegum.
“I love your braces,” I said.
“Thanks, hun.” She scanned over my application. “My younger sister is a breast cancer survivor.”
“Younger?” This girl couldn’t have been more than twenty-five.
“Yup. She just turned twenty-three last month. Her boyfriend discovered the lump, and next thing she had a double mastectomy.” She continued scanning my application as though she just told me that grass grew green.
“Poor thing.”
The girl stopped scanning and just stared at me. Her jaw hung and her pink braces sparkled under the reflection of the overhead fluorescents. “Her new ones are beautiful.” She glanced down at her flat chest and shrugged. “A hell of a lot better than mine.”
“Will she be okay?”
“She’ll be fine.”
“That puts things into perspective.”
“Yep.” She twisted her mouth and studied my history.
I prayed she’d look right over the unemployed part. “I mean just this morning, I stressed about my frizzy hair. How foolish, huh?”
She dropped my application to the counter and picked up a bottle. “Just stick some of this Moroccan oil on it, and it’ll be good as new.” She opened up the lid, squirted a few drops into her palms and massaged them together. Before smoothing onto my hair she sniffed it. “Smells like eucalyptus.”
How could she think about shiny hair at a time like this when she sported pink braces and mouthed the words cancer and sister in the same sentence?
“So do I get the job?”
She shrugged and picked up my application again. “Not sure, Ruby.” She placed heavy emphasis on my name as she scanned my application. “Why did you leave your last job? You left that blank.”
“Looking for a better opportunity,” I blurted out.
“Here?” Her lips curled up into a wry smile.
I glanced around at the chaos of hair and nail products. “Well why not?”
“Says here you are a masseuse. You’re never going to like it here.”
“Of course I will.” I leaned into the counter. Hire me, damn it!
“A better opportunity, huh?”
Adrenaline pumped through me. “Yes.”
She tossed the application back down again. “The boss will never hire you. You’ve got too many credentials to work here. A masseuse doesn’t leave her massage job at a fancy day spa to come work in a supply shop.”
I flushed. All of my needs suddenly buried me. I stared her down. You don’t understand. I need this job. I’m taking money from my grampa. I just moved out of my car into someone’s spare bedroom. Please.
She pointed to a bulletin board behind her. “There’s a new job posted. The Della Norte Day Spa has an opening for a massage therapist. Walk right in and earn forty-thousand dollars a year with that position. At least that’s what the girl said. Apparently the existing masseuse took a job in Florida and is leaving her clientele behind to the next lucky one.”
I had already applied to that one and they never called back. I secured my pocketbook strap over my shoulder. “I’d rather work here.”
“We’re not going to hire you.”
My fragile pride unraveled in front of me, leaving me vulnerable to her sarcastic grin. “Then, fine. I’ll apply to the spa. Thanks for the tip.” I couldn’t disguise the anger in my voice.
I walked away and looked back as I exited, unable to leave a mess where I might one day need to return for supplies should I ever get my life back on track. “Sorry about your sister.”
“Thanks,” she murmured.
I brushed past the window on my way to my car, and through the thick glass, with all the posters claiming the biggest savings, I could still see her pretty pink braces smiling back at me.
* *
When Friday night arrived, I walked into the Gateway Suites lounge with butterflies. Shawna busied herself with mopping the floor behind the bar. She was attractive. Her body rocked, and I envied her thick hair. A sadness haloed around her. An uncertainty. A constant, look-over-the-shoulder-type apprehension.
“She’s running late,” she said from behind the bar.
I eased onto a stool. “Nadia told you I was meeting her?”
“She tells me everything.”
“So you and she are close?”
“You could say that.” A playful smile danced on her rosy lips.
“You have a crush on her, don’t you?”
“I admire Nadia. That’s it,” she said with a completely straight face hindered by a blush.
I grinned. “You are totally crushing on her.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes.
“So, why is she so stressed?” I asked.
Her eyes flew open. “You know I can’t answer that.”
“I won’t tell.”
Just then, a couple of guys entered and sat at the table next to me. Shawna approached them, and they sneered at her, looking her up and down. Then, the bigger of the two grabbed Shawna’s arm. “What are you, a fucking dude?” He laughed along with the bald, fat guy sitting across from him.
Shawna blushed a deep red and tears sprang to her eyes.
Whoa. Hell no are these fools going to bully her with me standing right here. I stood up. I wrapped around the table and grabbed this burly man’s arm and dug my fingernails into his skin. His eyes popped. He released his grip on Shawna.
I dug deeper. “Apologize to the lady,” I said to him.
Shawna cradled the tray to her chest. “It’s okay. No need to cause a scene,” she said to me.
I dug my nail again. “Apologize or leave.”
“I’m not going to fucking apologize,” he said.
His friend stood. “Let’s just get out of here.”
“What’ll it be?” I asked the guy. “More pain?”
He stood up and flung my arm away from him, pushing me against the table. I pushed him right back. He grabbed my shoulders and lurched at me. His friend plucked him off of me.
He glared at me and Shawna. “Freaks.” His spit hit my face.
“Go on, get out,” I said, pointing to the lounge door. “Take your i
gnorance and go elsewhere.”
He shoved off with a grunt and his friend followed, pulling up his pants over his gut, and waddling away.
I turned to Shawna. Her face burned red. Little blotches popped up all over her chest and arms. I pulled her into my arms and hugged her. “I’m so sorry they were such jerks.”
“It never gets easy.”
“Next time, dig one of those nails into his arm like I did.”
She chuckled. “You’re all right.”
We shared a friendly grin.
“Thank you for standing up to him for me.”
“I’d expect nothing but the same from you. Call it a mutual trust among women.”
Shawna sat down on the stool next to me, placing her empty tray in front of us. “People don’t generally trust me.” She fiddled with the lip of the tray, spinning it now. “You know?”
“No, I don’t know,” I said, mesmerized by her ability to spin the tray in perfect rotations with just a finger. With that kind of strength and control, she’d heal a lot of people as a masseuse. “People always trust bartenders.”
A wistful look swiped across her angular cheeks. “Not bartenders like me.”
I leaned in. “Like you? What does that mean?”
She blushed. “You do see that I’m not like you, right?”
I hovered over her question. I didn’t know the appropriate response. “You’re a beautiful woman stuck in the wrong body. Doesn’t give him the right.”
“So you’re not bothered that I’m transgendered?”
“Are you bothered that I’m a lesbian?”
She swallowed a readymade comeback that I rendered senseless now.
“See, not very comfortable being asked such a question, is it? Yet, here we are justifying ourselves.”
She toyed with a napkin, wringing it up tightly. “It’s not easy being transgendered.”
I had never met a transgendered person before. I had so many questions. They sat on the back of my tongue waiting to pounce. “It’s not easy being anything. Yet, here we are, surviving it all.”
She offered me a sideways glance. “I bet you’ve got a lot of questions, don’t you?”
You bet I did. I wanted to understand her. I wanted to know when she realized that she wanted to transition. I wanted to know what she looked like under her clothes. Did she still have a penis? Did hair grow on her chest? Did she enjoy wearing lacy undies like I did? Did she trim her hair down there or let it run all wild like men often did? How did she smooth out her Adam’s apple? Why hadn’t her voice changed to more female? “I would never ask you such personal questions.”
“Ask me.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Do you have any questions?”
“Abso-freaking-lutely,” I said.
She giggled and her cheeks relaxed, balancing on her face like chiseled art, shining to life. “Go ahead and ask me. I’m an open book to you now that you used your fingernails as a loaded weapon for me.”
“Really?”
“Abso-freaking-lutely.” Her eyes twinkled.
Where did I start? “When did you choose to be a woman?”
She clenched her jaw. It quivered under her teeth grinding. I hit a nerve. This girl needed to talk. “I didn’t choose to be a woman.”
I scrunched up my face trying to figure this one out. “Huh?”
“I am a woman. I was just born in the wrong body. Since I can remember, I’ve always felt like a girl inside even though I have a penis. I never felt like a boy.”
“Do you get attacked often like you did tonight?”
“It’s been a while. We get a lot of regulars in here and everyone is always nice and respectful for the most part. Just every once in a while a drunk jerk comes in and stirs up shit. Most people just accept me here.”
“And that’s why you love it.”
“That’s why I love it, Ruby. That’s exactly why I love it.”
She spun her tray with the tip of her finger. We both took up refuge in its spin. A few stragglers sat at the bar with their backs to us sipping on beers and eating the complimentary peanuts. Candles lit up each table casting a tranquil and serene blanket over the lounge. I glanced to the bartender behind the bar who was wiping down the counter and laughing with a skinny, unshaven guy.
I needed to segue into something more comfortable. “So, anyone special in your life?” My voice crawled out weak and shallow.
“You ask that as if I have a choice in that.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
She sat up taller on the edge of her stool. “You have a beautiful view of the world, little miss sunshine.” Pain etched across her face.
“I don’t follow you.”
“I’m stuck mid-transition.” Her face blanked. “I’m not exactly girlfriend material. I prefer solitude over the inevitable awkward moment.”
“So you hide?”
She cocked her head. “I read a lot of lesbian romance novels and live vicariously through the characters. It’s safe and comforting and all I need. Freedom is a good thing in my case.”
“That’s not freedom.”
She raised her eyebrow. “Maybe not for you. For me, it is.” She popped off of the stool and leaned against the bar. “Enough talk about love. Go ahead and ask me something else. It’s your open invitation. I don’t do this often.”
I gazed into her eyes. In them I saw a softness, an innocence and a desire to connect. “I’ve never met a transgendered person before.”
“So, I’m your first?” A hint of a smile played out on her lips.
“My one and only.” I rolled out a wink and a flirty twirl to my hair.
“Ask me anything.” She studied my twirling finger.
“I just want to know how it all works.”
“How my body works?” she asked with a trace of anxiety.
I wrapped my hand around her wrist and smoothed my voice. “I meant psychologically, not physically.”
She pulled in her bottom lip and bowed her head. “The physical is so much easier to explain.”
“Hey.” I lifted up her chin with my finger. “We can stop.”
“No.” She shook off my comment. “I don’t mind. Not with you. I feel oddly safe with you.”
“Then you wouldn’t mind if I told you I think you’re gorgeous and I’m jealous of your boobs?” I glanced down at her cleavage. “They’re curvier than mine, that’s for sure.”
She smiled. A moment later she looked down at my pathetic boobs. “A pushup bra would do you good, dear.”
I scanned mine. “No doubt.” I pointed my eyes back down to her boobs. “They’re perky.”
She cupped them, tilting her eyes up to the ceiling, thinking about it. “The hormone therapy is finally starting to perk these babies up. That and a pushup bra.”
“Hey, Shawna,” the other bartender called out to her. “Can I get some help back here?”
“I have to go,” she said, standing up.
“So that’s it? That’s all I get to understand? You have gorgeous boobs from hormones and a pushup bra?”
“I’m such a tease, aren’t I?” She curtseyed and flung her hair over her shoulder with melodramatic flair. “Just stay away from my girl crush.” She winked.
I tripped over this request. “I can’t promise that.”
She smiled and messed my hair. “Relax. I’m just kidding. She’s not in my league anyway.” She laughed and walked away.
“Hey,” I yelled out to her. “She’s not out of your league.”
“Who said anything about me being out of her league?” Amusement flirted on her face. “You twisted that one around. I’ve got standards to uphold.” She flounced away like a drag queen all done up on Pride day.
I had the distinct feeling she and I were going to become great friends.
I sat at the bar and sipped an iced tea while waiting for Nadia. A few minutes later, she arrived wearing dark blue jeans and a delicate brown and blue top. Her cat eyes latched
onto mine as she swaggered towards me.
“I’m so sorry. I ran a little late.” She doled out an apologetic smile and fell onto the stool beside me. “You do work miracles I hope?”
She smelled like the spring earth, sweet and flowery. My heart raced.
When she waved at Shawna, I imagined nuzzling up to her and getting drunk on her soft skin and beauty.
Shawna walked over. “What’ll it be, boss?”
Nadia looked to my iced tea. “Whatever she’s having.”
Shawna squared off towards the bar with a nod.
I cradled my iced tea glass between my hands, swiping the condensation, searching for my voice. “So,” I said.
She relaxed into an easy smile. “So. Thanks for understanding my lateness. My brother-in-law held me hostage to a phone conference. Once he gets talking, there’s little to do to stop him.”
“Brother-in-law? So this is a family operation?”
She looked ahead, staring at the bottles of liquor. “By marriage.”
Of course. That explained everything. The mystery, the pullback, the guard. “You’re married?”
She turned away from the bottles and back at me. “My sister’s husband.”
I paused longer than customary, mesmerized by the delicate curve of her upper lip.
Shawna returned with her iced tea. “Don’t forget, pottery tomorrow ten a.m., right?”
Nadia cocked her head. “Wouldn’t miss it, my friend.” She squeezed her lemon in the tea, watching Shawna sashay her way back to the customer at the far end of the bar. “We’re creating matching mugs.”
“I love pottery. It’s so earthy, so pretty.”
She sipped her tea. “Can’t leave out fun.”
“The way this place is running you ragged, I’d imagine you need to have some fun.”
“This place is my escape.” She ran her fingers through her hair, tossing the front fringe over to the right. “There’s a soothing quality about this place, don’t you think?”
I scanned around the lounge. Soft lighting, greenery in the corners, and leather chairs added a peaceful element. “If it didn’t smell like chicken wings and beer, it’d be a perfect massage room.”
“Yes. I guess the chicken wings might detract a little from the whole Chakra thingamajig.” She giggled. Her skin glowed when she smiled. “Speaking of,” she continued. “Tell me more about this traveling masseuse business. I’m very curious. How does it work? How do people find you?”