by Tanya Boteju
I reciprocated by covering my eyes with my own hand. “I have no idea why I said that. I’m so sorry.”
She swallowed and laughed easily and loudly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s true—I do tend to enjoy removing items of clothing.” Once I let my hand fall, I could see her eyes glimmering.
What do I say to that? Generally, silences didn’t bother me. We’d always been good at silences in my family. And Charles and I were comfortable with plenty of quiet. But I felt like silences with Winnow were a sign that I was too boring to carry a conversation. We didn’t know each other well enough to hold comfortable silences, right?
“Where do you live now?” I tried.
“Right now? In North Gate. I live in a house with a couple of others and work at a community center up there.”
“Nice. Deidre lives there too.”
“Yeah, we’ve performed at a few shows together. I just never got to formally meet her. But now I have, thanks to you.” She leaned in to nudge me with her shoulder, and her arm stayed pressed up against mine.
Another shiver passed through me, but I tried hard not to let her feel it and pressed on. “You travel around doing drag otherwise?”
“Not really. I mostly stay put and do drag once a month at this local bar. There’s not a huge, drag king–loving crowd around here, but we manage to pull a decent crowd most nights. This is only the second time I’ve performed outside of the bar. What about you? What do you get up to when you’re not in school?”
I was trying to decipher whether that last question indicated any disdain with “school” and the fact that I was still in it. “I read a lot. Sometimes I garden. I have a part-time job at a gardening shop.”
Good grief. As I was saying it, I realized how boring it must all sound to her.
“Cool—what do you like to read?”
“You don’t really care, do you?” Nima. Why?
She cocked her head and looked at me, a slight frown forming on her brow.
Push through, push through! “Uh, all kinds of stuff, I guess. But I prefer novels.”
“Happy endings or sad?”
“Umm, believable ones, I guess?”
“So what’s a believable ending for tonight, you think?” The frown disappeared. More smiling. More looking at lips.
My cheeks burned and I didn’t know where to look. To hide my embarrassment, I turned back toward Deidre. “Good question. I’m beginning to wonder if it might end with me hauling Deidre home to sleep on my couch.”
Winnow turned to look too. Deidre was now barefoot and in the process of using her four-inch heels to play horseshoes. A stick protruded from the ground, and she was competing with another queen to see who could throw their heels closest to it. They weren’t throwing the shoes anywhere near the stick, but they were having an amazing time doing it. A cheering section of queens swung their wigs and handbags around like lassos and hollered out a litany of diva shouts and screams.
“Yeah, I feel you may need some help with that,” Winnow sympathized.
“Shall we go hover, in case she can’t stand as well in her bare feet as she can in her heels?”
“Let’s.”
I was thankful for the diversion. We strolled over and stood a little ways from Deidre, watching the commotion and drinking our beer. I snuck a few glances at Winnow as we walked. With her hair swept over one shoulder, her ear and neck lay open toward me, soft and inviting.
I weighed my options here. Was this girl way out of my league? Not only was she wicked awesome and way more interesting than me, but she was also clearly more experienced in a hundred million ways.
But I couldn’t ignore this feeling of electricity that moved through me when I stood beside her. And it seemed like that feeling was mutual, maybe?
But maybe not. Maybe I was assuming too much. I could be making up any interest on her part. Why in the world would she be interested in me? She was probably just being friendly. She seemed really friendly.
And then I felt her friendly hand on my back.
She leaned over and shout-whispered into my ear, “You think you’d ever come visit me in North Gate?”
I looked at her. A cheeky smile crept across her face. She looked from my eyes to my lips, back to my eyes.
Swallow. Blink. Breathe. “For sure—I’d love to see one of your regular shows, actually.”
“That’d be cool. Maybe I can rope you into performing with me.”
I laughed out loud. Loudly. “Nice one.”
“You never know.”
“Trust me, I know. But I’d definitely be into watching you.” Did that sound weird?
Deidre’s sweaty, hot body crashed into us before I had a chance to second-guess myself some more.
“Babies! I won! I won the drag-queen heel toss! Aren’t you proud of me?” She was all arms and wig and lipstick—full of a genuine, contagious excitement.
“We saw. We’re impressed!” I took ahold of her arm to lend her some stability. Winnow took the other.
“Yeah, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a high-heel toss before. Very impressive,” Winnow added.
“I know,” she drawled, her voice falling an octave. “I can’t help how talented I am. But now, goddesses, I find myself fatigued and wish to sleep.” She rubbed her cheek against mine like a cat. “Your place or mine?”
My place? To sleep? For real? The thought of having Deidre spend the night sent an unexpected thrill through my heart, even as it exacerbated the agitation that had set up camp in my stomach. “Uh—I guess that depends on if you have a way home. Do you?” I asked.
“If you’re in North Gate, I could give you a ride, if you wanted one,” Winnow offered.
Deidre made a pouty face. “Must we drive all the way back there tonight?” Then her face lit up and she followed with, “Can’t we have a sleepover instead? Girls’ night!” She wrapped her arms around us and swayed a little to the left.
The additional thought of a sleepover with Deidre and Winnow just about sent every bone in my body flying in different directions. Before losing this opportunity like so many before it, I quickly followed with, “Okay, I guess my place it is.” I looked at Winnow, trying to keep my features neutral.
“That sounds amazing,” she said, “but I promised a friend I’d give him a ride home tonight. I’ll have to take a rain check.”
I swallowed the pang of disappointment that rose in my throat.
“But let’s get you to a nice, comfortable couch ASAP, gorgeous,” Winnow added, taking Deidre’s arm and nodding at me to take the other. As I did, I couldn’t help letting my mind linger on the thought of a future sleepover with Winnow.
By the time we wobbled our way back to my house, Deidre had managed to give us a whirlwind tour of her early years as a young violin prodigy and relay the stories of two separate occasions involving the same feral ferret. Along the way, I found myself wanting to be her best friend forever.
After a tipsy struggle up the three porch steps, we managed to get Deidre in the door, through the living room, and onto the couch. I had to shush Gus as he came bouncing down the stairs to investigate. He instantly flopped onto his back in front of Winnow for a belly rub, which she happily gave him.
The air was warm and so was Deidre, so I just threw a light sheet on top of her. I wrote a brief note for my dad and slipped it under his bedroom door so he wouldn’t walk downstairs to a surprise drag queen in the morning. He was pretty chill, but I wasn’t entirely sure what his reaction to this whole scenario would be. My usually boring life didn’t often test the limits of his easygoing-ness.
“Should I let you sleep now?” Winnow whispered, looking up at me from the floor. Gus had inserted himself onto her lap.
I’ll never sleep again. “I’m not that tired, actually. Do you want some iced tea or something? It’s hot.” Pause. “The air, not the iced tea.” Jesus. “Or, you probably need to get back to your friend—”
“Iced tea would be awesome. I can text my friend and me
et him in a bit.”
I got two glasses of tea while Winnow texted, and then we sat on the porch steps, our arms touching again.
Determined to start the conversation, I blurted, “I love your back tattoo, by the way.”
“Oh, thanks! I love her too. I think people sometimes mistake geishas for these submissive, proper women, but I don’t think of them that way. I like to think of her as my alter ego. She’s way more badass than I am.”
“More badass than you? Doing drag and making up poetry on the spot isn’t badass enough?”
“Well, that’s kind of what I mean. When I’m performing, I kind of think of myself as this other person. In my real life, I’m pretty shy.”
As if. “You don’t seem that shy to me.”
“Well, when I’m properly motivated, I can be more outgoing.” She leaned into me a bit, and I had to look away so she couldn’t see the goofy smile on my face.
“Okay, let me know if this next question is annoying,” she said.
I looked back at her, curious.
“Are you mixed?”
It took me a second to figure out what she was asking.
Before I could find words, she added, “I only ask because I am—my mom’s half-Japanese, half-white, and my dad is full Japanese—and I thought maybe you’re mixed too. Sorry if you get asked that a lot.”
I smiled at her. “I don’t mind when people ask like you just did. Most people are just like, ‘What are you?’ or ‘How come your dad’s so white compared to you?’ ”
“I know—I’ve actually been asked, ‘How come you look so white but have Asian-y eyes?’ Seriously? What the eff?”
I laughed at her incredulous face. “To answer your question, yes, I’m mixed too. My dad’s white and my mom’s brown.”
“What kind of brown?”
“Sri Lankan brown. It’s a little island off—”
“India!” Winnow exclaimed. When she saw my surprised look, she laughed and added, “My mom used to work for the UN and made sure I learned beyond my own backyard. I have excellent geographical knowledge.” She dusted off her shoulder with playful smugness.
Meanwhile, Nima remains woefully tethered to her own backyard, my annoying inside voice whispered. Trying to ignore said inside voice, I replied, “Whoa. Your mom worked for the UN? That’s amazing.”
“Yeah, she’s a pretty cool lady, I’ll admit.”
The next twenty minutes felt like twenty seconds as we talked about our parents’ occupations, more pet peeves of being mixed, and what it was like to live in North Gate as opposed to Bridgeton. I discovered that I definitely needed to spend more time in North Gate, for several reasons—namely, Winnow, Deidre, and a bigger gay scene than I’d imagined.
“So your dad’s a mechanic. What about your mom?” Winnow asked after I’d been deliberately skirting the topic of my mother.
I tried to keep things general. “She just worked for my dad, mostly—ran the business side of things.”
“Oh, sorry, you said you just live with your dad, right?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t really know what else to say about that topic.
Winnow was silent for a moment. Then: “Cool. We don’t need to talk about that.” She took my hand in hers and pulled it into her lap. I wished I didn’t have such healthy, sweaty pores.
“Deidre’s a real find,” Winnow said. “I can’t believe she and I have never connected before this.”
“Yeah, she’s awesome,” I said, acutely aware of how each of her fingers laced through each of mine. I stared at the mostly melted ice cubes bobbing up and down in my barely sipped tea. I could feel her looking at me, and I was sure the heat off my face would easily melt the rest of the cubes.
A moment later Winnow dropped my hand, took the tea from me, and put both her glass and mine on the step behind us.
I imagined this was what it was like when someone injected adrenaline into your system.
She placed her hand on my cheek.
She’s going to know I’ve never kissed anyone before. I stared at the moon on her chest so hard my eyes burned. Tears welled up.
When she saw this, she hesitated and pulled back a little.
“Are you okay?”
Oh my God, Nima. Seriously? “Uh, yeah, sorry.” I wiped my eyes. “Sorry, I don’t know. . . .” Apologizing just made me want to cry more. It just reminded me how little I had to offer Winnow, how embarrassing this could all so easily become.
“Hey, it’s okay. Too soon. I get it.”
No! Not too soon. “Yeah, maybe. Sorry.” Tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn’t look at her and I couldn’t wipe them away fast enough.
“Come here.” She got to her feet and pulled me into a hug. It felt good. So good the tears came harder and faster. I tried to choke them back, but that just made my chest heave fitfully against her.
“Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.” She squeezed me tighter. Then, pulling back to look at me, she wiped my cheeks and said, “Sometimes tears just happen.”
Yeah, at the worst possible times.
Finally my tears ebbed. I stepped back and lifted my T-shirt to wipe my face.
“Whoa—what’s with the six-pack, Miss Universe?” She started to tickle my belly.
“Oh yeah, right.” She’d made me laugh, though, which I suspected was her goal.
“Listen, I don’t want to go, but I should. My friend’s waiting.”
Yeah, I’d want to go if I were you too. “Okay, sure.”
“Can I give you my number, though? Do you have a cell?”
“Really? I mean, yeah, yeah, of course.” Surprised she still wanted me to call her after my baffling breakdown, I fumbled for my phone and almost dropped it.
After giving me her number, she squeezed my hand. “Talk soon, I hope,” she said, her fingers lingering on mine.
All my words caught in my throat as I watched her walk off into the darkness.
As I lay in bed that night, I played out our almost-kiss over and over again. But this time, our lips reached each other’s and I imagined the softness of them, the wet of her tongue, her breath against my face, my hands against her body. This time, there were no tears—just lips and hands and tongues.
It was hours before I fell asleep.
CHAPTER 7
The next morning I rolled over in my bed to find Gus lying on his side next to me and panting softly. His breath, rank and hot, blew into my face in soft puffs. I drew my hand from beneath the covers and placed it over the side of his face. “Gus. Stop. You stink.”
His panting paused for a moment. Then he licked his own nose and resumed as before.
A gentle knock on my bedroom door interrupted this precious moment.
“Nima? It’s Dad. You up?”
I rolled over and out of bed, Gus hopping out beside me. My eyes felt like pinpoints, and I tried to blink the sleep out as I opened the door. “Hi, Dad.” Then I remembered last night. “Oh, hey—did you get my note?” My voice sounded like sandpaper against wood.
“Yeah, I just thought I’d let you know that your friend is up and making breakfast.”
What.
After a quick wash, I went into the kitchen, and Deidre was indeed at the stove. Eggs crackled in a pan, coffee dripped from its machine, and sliced mango fanned out across a plate on the table. Deidre still wore her dress from last night, but she was barefoot and wigless. Her short hair was in tight cornrows against her scalp, and she also seemed to have washed most of the makeup off her face. Her skin looked brand-new, and without her lavish wig, she somehow seemed even more womanly. I noticed that her figure still had every curve it had boasted the previous night.
I was in plaid boxer shorts and a tank top, still feeling like a Toyota Tercel next to her Lamborghini.
When she saw me, she said, “Well, well, what is your excuse for rolling out of bed so late on this gorgeous morning?” Her smile still shone.
“I have no excuse. I definitely did not think you wo
uld wake up this side of noon, considering.”
“Considering what?” Her lips pursed and smirked all at once. “I’m a pro, girl. That was a quiet night for me! Eggs are almost ready. Where’s that handsome father of yours?”
“You met?”
“Oh yes, we’ve already had coffee and shared stories, and he’s told me all kinds of interesting things about his one and only daughter. He made all the pancakes sitting in the oven right now.”
Dad and Deidre making breakfast together? And I thought last night was surreal.
“Come, sit,” she commanded. “Delford! Breakfast is ready!”
Hearing Deidre call out my dad’s first name sent a ripple of surprise and amusement through me.
But there he was. Delford. Instantly at the doorway to the kitchen, ready for breakfast.
“It smells great, Deidre. I’m famished,” he said.
“Well, sit on down, sugar. Let’s eat.”
“You sit. Let me get everything on the table.”
Deidre didn’t argue. Neither did I. I felt like I could have eaten a dozen eggs and a foot-high stack of pancakes at that point.
As we shoveled food into our mouths like we hadn’t eaten in days, my thoughts went back to last night. Had all that really happened? A wave of images rolled through my mind. Then that almost-kiss drifted into view and I wanted to cry all over again. What is wrong with me?
After breakfast, Deidre and I ended up on the porch swing, sipping coffee.
“How was last night, sweetheart?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Amazing. Confusing. Awful. Amazing.”
She let out a peal of laughter that I’m sure they heard in the next town over.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” I added.
“Well, let’s start with how sweet you two looked together.” She put her hand on my thigh. “Honey, do me a favor and don’t overanalyze this. You like that amazing girl and she likes you. As my mama used to say, ‘You’re gonna break that brain a’ yours, and then what?’ ”
I squished my lips over to one side, something I did when I was thinking. Mom used to do it too. Deidre and her mama were right, of course, but I’d never been too good at taking action without overthinking.