by TJ Klune
I was surprised to see Sandy had pulled up next to the curb in front of a small, squat building at the edge of downtown Tucson. Bright rainbow flags hung from the exterior, and a sign outside cheerfully proclaimed it as PHOENIX HOUSE, the words printed with flames coming up from each of the letters.
“How are we here already?” I demanded.
Sandy shrugged. “You were snoring. Told you that you were tired.”
“Okay. Fine. Um. I guess… I guess I should just go inside.”
He reached over and took my hand in his. His fingers were long and slender and fit against mine perfectly. “You’re going to do amazing,” he said quietly. “Changing lives and all that. I bet years from now, they’ll have a gaudy statue of you right there on the sidewalk that will be beautiful at first, but then will end up being a perch for birds to poop on.”
“I hate you so much,” I growled at him.
“No you don’t. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll walk you inside.” He let go of me and reached for his seat belt.
“No,” I said quickly, struggling to get out of the car, the seat belt pulling against my chest. “Do not do that. Absolutely do not.”
“Gonna do it,” he sang, finger pressing threateningly against the button.
I managed to make it out of the car without loss of limb or life. It was close. I slammed the door behind me and turned around to glare at him through the window.
He wasn’t fazed. He rolled the window down slowly, his smile widening. “You forgot your backpack. Your special lunch is inside. I made it with bananas and love.”
“I won’t eat it,” I said savagely. “In fact, I’m going to give it to the first homeless person I find.”
“Only you could make a threat empathetic.” He wiped a fake tear as he sniffled. “You’re growing up right before my eyes.”
I reached in and grabbed my backpack, intending on turning around and storming inside just so I wouldn’t have to listen anymore. I’d almost made it when he called my name. I glanced over my shoulder at him.
He had his phone raised. I heard a camera shutter sound as he pressed a finger against the screen. “For your first day!” he shouted maniacally as people walked by on the sidewalk, staring at us curiously. “We have to have memories! Do good work, my sweet angel!”
The bystanders hurried away.
Sandy laughed as he pulled away from the curb.
I couldn’t believe I ever felt relieved he’d come home.
PHOENIX HOUSE was bright and spacious, the inside far bigger than it seemed from the outside. It was the first thing I’d noticed when I’d come for the first in a series of interviews last spring. The walls were brick and painted white, with a fifteen-foot rainbow painted on the far wall. The ductwork overhead was exposed, giving it an industrial look. The building had once been an art gallery but had sat empty until Phoenix House had opened last year.
There’d been another LGBTQ youth center in Tucson called Wingspan, but that had closed a while back due to lack of funding. Given the size of Tucson’s LGBTQ population, it was a harsh blow, especially to the queer kids. This new center had opened with a solid backing in place, though funding was always going to be an issue. It was a nonprofit. Donations and grants were the only reason it existed in the first place.
The problem with that was Tucson was a blue speck in a sea of red. It was only three years ago that Arizona came close to being one of those states, trying to pass a bathroom law requiring people to use the restroom of their assigned gender. I was pleasantly surprised when it failed. The fact that centers like Wingspan and Phoenix House still struggled was not surprising.
Phoenix House was meant to be a youth center, but it also was a community outreach group. And since there was no other place like it in Tucson, it had a few beds in the back for people who needed them (rare though it was), a psychologist who worked pro bono, and contacts with queer-friendly drug treatment facilities. Sometimes it felt overstuffed, like it was trying to do too much with too little, but it worked.
The director who’d conducted my final interview in April had been nice, but he was a lawyer—one of Tucson’s rich Super Gays—and he’d had to take a leave of absence due to his day job. I hadn’t met the interim summer director yet.
There were a couple of kids sitting over near a carpeted area on the floor, leaning back against old sofas that had been donated. School was out for the summer, and though I expected there to be more of them, it was still early. One was a tiny Latinx boy with a spiky black mohawk and a rainbow bar through his eyebrow. He glanced over at me, eyes narrowing suspiciously. The other didn’t even look up. Their shaved head was bowed over their phone, fingers typing furiously.
I stood near the entrance, unsure why I was uncomfortable. They were just kids, not much younger than I was, but I still felt nervous about it.
“Corey!” a bright and cheerful voice said. “You made it!”
I turned my head, relieved.
An older woman was walking toward me, a wide smile on her face. She wore jeans and a loose-fitting blouse. Her gray hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her name was Marina, and as far as Phoenix House was concerned, she was in charge. I’d interviewed with her twice before moving on to the former director. She was, as she told me, an Original Gangster lesbian. In another life before she retired, she’d worked for the county in management at Public Works. We’d bonded over our disdain of Andrew Taylor, Vince and Darren’s father and former mayor of Tucson, who was currently enjoying freedom while waiting to be tried on a bunch of charges.
“I’m so glad you showed up,” she said, stopping to stand in front of me. She was carrying a clipboard, and a stubby pencil was stuck behind her ear.
I shifted nervously. “You’re welcome? I mean, I said I would. You did give me the job, right? I didn’t just hallucinate that whole thing?”
She laughed. “No, I don’t think so. Not unless I did too, but I haven’t dropped acid since the seventies, so it’s unlikely.”
God, I hoped I could be as cool as her one day. “That’s good to know. I’m pretty sure drugs are frowned upon here.”
“Of course they are,” Marina said. “That doesn’t mean I don’t smoke a joint every now and then, but who doesn’t?”
I didn’t, but I nodded politely. It seemed like the right thing to do.
“We weren’t sure if you would be here,” she said, glancing down at her clipboard. “I know you kids have a lot more opportunities these days, but we appreciate it.”
I was confused. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”
She looked back up at me. “Of course you wouldn’t know.” She sighed. “We chose you and one other.” The skin around her eyes tightened. “I came in this morning to an email from her saying that she reconsidered and took another internship. Just like that. No notice at all.”
“That seriously sucks,” I said, angrier than I expected. “Why would you do something like that?”
She shrugged. “It happens. I will admit that leaves us in a bit of a bind. We need all the unpaid labor we can get.” Her eyes widened. “Wow, that might have been offensive. I apologize.”
I waved it away. “I know what you meant. Still, that’s a shitty thing she did to you.”
“Perhaps. But I should still remember to watch what I say.” She smiled ruefully. “So many people make the accusations that we’re becoming too politically correct these days, but isn’t it happening for a reason? Things aren’t like they used to be. More and more are coming forward with who they are, and it’s up to us to listen to what they’re telling us. Speaking of.” She pulled the pencil from her ear and lowered it to the clipboard. “What pronoun should I use to address you?”
I blinked. “What?”
“I remember you’re bigender. And it’s important to me to get it right.”
I fidgeted again. “He and him is fine with how I am now.”
She nodded as she scribbled something on the clipboard. “If I ever make a mistake
and call you the wrong name or pronoun or whatever, I expect you to point it out to me. It’s how I’ll learn. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Good!” she said. “Let me show you to your desk. I’m afraid it isn’t much, but it should work for now. Follow me, please.”
She turned, and I almost crashed into her back when she stopped.
I peered over her shoulder as she looked toward the kids near the sofas. “Diego. Kai. Say hello to Corey. He’ll be a fixture around here this summer. And if we’re lucky, I’ll be able to convince him to never leave us.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. This was always going to be a temporary position, one that would look good on my résumé. It was important work, sure, but I also had my future to worry about. The cost of living in Tucson was relatively cheap compared to other cities of the same size, but that didn’t mean I could afford to live off next to nothing, especially if I ever wanted to move out of Sandy’s house.
Diego looked up at me, arching an eyebrow. He grunted. It sounded like he said “S’up,” but since I didn’t speak teenager, I couldn’t be sure. If I was being honest, teenagers scared the holy hell out of me.
The other one—Kai—didn’t raise their head from their phone.
Marina sighed. “I’m afraid that’s as good as it’s probably going to get.” She raised her voice and said, “Because some people still need to learn their manners.” She shook her head and started walking farther into Phoenix House.
“They’re here early,” I said as I followed her.
She glanced back at me. “Usually are. They don’t really have any other place to go. Kai’s in foster care. The foster parents get the checks from the state and put a roof over their head, but that’s about as far as the parenting goes. Diego is….” She seemed to catch herself. “Well. He’s got his mom. They both just finished their junior year, and while I’m trying to convince them to get jobs, no dice so far.”
“Oh” was all I could say to that.
“But it’s all right!” she said as she led me toward an old door near the back of Phoenix House. “I love having them all here, especially now that school is out. Teenagers with nothing to do can sometimes find themselves in unruly situations. I give them breakfast and the code to the Wi-Fi, and they help me around here. They painted the rainbow mural on the wall last week to help us in our celebration of Pride Month.”
“It’s nice,” I replied dutifully.
She beamed at me as she opened the door. “I think so too. You’ll get to know them, I’m sure. They can be a little… well. They’re seventeen years old. I’m sure you remember what that’s like better than I can.”
I could. Seventeen-year-olds were assholes. I had been a seventeen-year-old asshole. And though I’d gotten over it quicker than I expected, the thought still terrified me. But it wasn’t enough to make me doubt why I was here, why I’d wanted to work at Phoenix House in the first place.
The room she’d led me to was small. It was made even smaller by the fact that three desks were placed against three different walls. It would be crowded with three people sharing the same space. Two of the desks were empty, chipped old things that looked as if they’d seen better days. The third desk belonged to Marina. There was a framed picture on the desk showing her and her partner of a few decades smiling widely while wearing mouse ears at Disneyland.
“This is us,” she said as if it were the greatest reveal in the world.
“It’s nice,” I said.
She laughed. “You liar. But that’s okay. You probably won’t spend a whole lot of time in here, if I’m being honest. Aside from all the paperwork I can’t wait to have you do for me, we usually are out and about. I mostly find myself in here when I need a break from all the noise. And now that it’s summer, I expect to use it a little more for that. Not that it’s a complete escape. It’s an old building, after all.” She pointed up toward a large vent near the ceiling. “If people are in the director’s office having a meeting, you can hear everything they’re saying. Just ignore it if you can. You brought your laptop?”
I nodded as I set my backpack on one of the empty desks. “I downloaded the programs you emailed to me too, so I should be ready to go. And I filled out all the paperwork.”
“That’s good,” she said, leaning against her desk. “We won’t worry about that right away. Few things you need to do first.”
Adulting was hard. “Like…?”
She glanced down at her watch before looking at her clipboard. “You’re going to meet with our interim director this morning just so you can introduce yourself and get to know each other. He’s a great guy, and we’re very lucky to have him on loan. If I had my way, I’d steal him and keep him here forever, but I don’t think that’ll happen. Like you, we have him for the summer, but I’m going to do everything I can to make sure both of you see how great this place is so you won’t ever want to leave.”
I looked at her. “That sounds almost threatening.”
“It is,” she said, eyes crinkling. “I find threats of happiness work better than anything else. And he’s excited to meet you. I don’t think he’s had a chance to review your file yet since he’s been trying to get himself situated, but you two can go over that together. I’m sure if he has any questions, you can—”
She was interrupted when my phone beeped annoyingly from my bag. “Shit,” I muttered as I unzipped the front pocket. “Sorry. Sorry, didn’t put it on vibrate. This morning was… I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“It’s fine,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Our phones are extensions of ourselves these days. My wife thinks we’re going to evolve with longer necks that are always curved downward. She’s funny like that.”
I glanced down at the screen to see the family thread lighting up. I tapped the box and pulled up the messages.
PaulyShore: You’re going to nail it. And if you don’t, I will buy the Ben & Jerry’s and we can eat and cry together.
SoVainDarrenMayne: Sandy said I had to tell you good luck.
IDreamOfVince: I luv u! U got dis!
NanaBanana: SIUCSAS (See If U Can Steal A Stapler) LMAO
MadMatty: WE’RE SO PROUD OF YOU.
LarryBerry: Take pictures!
Before I set my phone down, another, separate message popped up.
MyTyGuy: Good luck today! I miss you!
I smiled.
“Good news?”
I looked back up at Marina as I silenced my phone. “Just some friends wishing me luck.”
She smiled knowingly. “It’s good to have people, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
She nodded. “It’s one of the reasons I believe in this place. I want to make sure others know they have that too. In this day and age when things are so uncertain, it’s nice to know there’s a place these kids can go and be themselves, free from judgment. Many of them don’t have the support network they should and, even worse, can be targeted for just existing at all.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She tapped on the screen for a moment before holding it out to me. “Case in point.”
There was a stark headline across the screen on a website I didn’t recognize.
WHY ISN’T THERE A HETEROSEXUAL PRIDE MONTH?
I rolled my eyes. “The straights are at it again.”
She shoved her phone back into her pocket. “I won’t subject you to the rest of the drivel, but I try to read everything so I can see all sides. It’s nonsense, of course, but it just goes to show how far we still have to go. The internet has vast resources and can connect people from all over the world, but it can also give people hiding behind cartoon avatars the ability to be racist, homophobic, and misogynistic without any repercussions. And it’s certainly not helping that our current political climate is….”
“Unreal,” I said.
She smiled tightly. “That about sums it up. But that’s neither here nor there at the moment. What’s important is the work we do today so th
at it turns into something grand tomorrow. And I’m happy you’re here to help with that.”
“It probably helps too that I’m a diversity hire,” I said dryly.
She laughed loudly, head tilting back. “Oh my, I knew I liked you for a reason. Yes, I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. Biracial, bigender, sure. That looks good for us. But what matters more to me is that you’re a good person. I couldn’t care less about all the rest, though the higher-ups might disagree with me. I knew from the moment I met you that you’d make a great addition here, regardless of whether you ticked those extra special boxes. You’re fierce and funny and bright. Exactly what this place needs. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
I was touched. I wasn’t used to people I didn’t know very well being so kind.
She glanced down at her watch again. “We should probably get you over to meet with the director. I’ve got phone calls to make, donations to solicit. The usual. It never ends.”
I thought hard. “What about Jack It?”
She looked surprised. “What, really? You think they’d do that?”
I shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
“Do you know anyone over there?”
I snorted. “You could say that.” I was above name-dropping. I was above name-dropping. I was above— “One of my best friends is Helena Handbasket. And I know the owner. Well, Helena knows him better, but I’ve got an in.”
“Whoa,” she breathed. “That’s impressive. I’ll have to think about it. Can I get back to you?”
“Sure.” I almost hoped she’d say no so I wouldn’t have to go talk to Mike at any point. I didn’t like to remember that he existed, much less think about him.
We stopped in front of another door just down the hall from our office. There was an open transom window above it resting on gold chains. I could hear more voices coming from out in the front of Phoenix House. They all sounded young.
“Ah,” Marina said. “Sounds like the cavalry has arrived. I’ll go deal with them while you’re meeting with Jeremy.”
I froze as she reached up and knocked on the door, three loud raps against the wood.