Just Another Midnight at the Chapel
By Sabrina G. Langton

***

Author's Note: Mmm, New Year's Eve in New York City. If you never experienced it, um, consider yourself lucky, ha.

Two people meet, and change each other's lives, whether they really had something to do with it or not... I hope YOU like it...

***

"Which way is Times Square?"

I smiled, I would point.

"Is there a subway close by?

I would shrug, my earrings would jingle, I'd make a face and more pointing.

"Is there an Applebees, a Fridays or somethin' like that aroun' here?"

I would shake my head and send them to a great burger bar, Italian hero, or shawarma place, or a restaurant with a great lunch special.

"Thank you." They would always say. It was nice, but no one ever asked me... 'Hey is there a chapel around here? You know somewhere I can get a little prayer goin'? Light up a candle?'

*

I live in New York City, in the beautifully named neighborhood of Hells' Kitchen, almost the theater district, almost a tourist trap, almost a family neighborhood. I have lived here for mmm, let me think... mmm, two years now? Is that a question? Don't I even know? Well, I don't remember but two sounds like a good round number. I kind of inherited my apartment from a friend, she moved to Vermont. She left me her old clothes and sometimes she will send me beer. I mail her the programs from the shows I don't go to, musicals, plays, they are all over the street after a performance. I pick up a bunch on my way home from work, I send them up north. It's an even trade.

A year and a half ago we met at a chapel...

"Do you have change for a hundred?" A beautiful Spanish woman was talking to me. I froze, I wasn't much of a talker. She was also wearing a gray and red fox fur coat, I was instantly jealous. Oh, and I was on my nylon knees, I was pretending to be praying hard so I shook my head.

"I don't want to put a whole hundred bucks in this little box, Bella."

"I have singles." I smiled, I talked really low, almost in a whisper. I was wearing a short pastel coat, belt around my waist, it was the only one I owned and it didn't hide my flowered skirt underneath. I gave her three dollars from my purse, and I went back to pray. I say pray, but I was just closing my eyes, hiding from the tourists searching for celebrities in the cold.

"Thanks." I felt her behind me, she became quiet, I figured she was waiting for me to finish, finish up my conversation with God. I could feel her eyes on me, and hear her long nails tapping on the back of one of the pews.

I stood up, fixed my coat, I made lots of room, but she just watched me. "Bye," I smiled, "Have a great New Year."

"You know it's a little early for that color, that's definitely for spring, and last time I checked it's still winter." She did this thing with her lips, they were tight together, and then she squinted her eyes. "Why don't you put that back in the closet and take it out at the end of, well, March? The earliest, Bella."

"Um, okay, I'm sorry." I frowned. I felt I disappointed this beautiful woman, so I turned to go. The door to the chapel was tremendous, it was a couple of yards away, and the woman in fox was clashing with the sanctuary.

She rubbed the back of my blend/wool coat, so I spun and she handed me the bill. Pushed it into my palms. "Keep the change." She giggled, showed me her teeth. "Now go buy yourself a real winter coat, for chrissakes, this is New York City, it's fucking cold in December."

She cursed in the chapel as I opened the door with a swish and a harsh breeze. One of the candles blew out.

*

I felt funny taking money, I mean I had money, I just didn't have extra money to spend on a coat.

I didn't get too far away. The woman was behind me again, grinning, she invited me to hang at somebody's apartment, Fifty-First Street, the next day at eight.

"It will be warmer than this." And she laughed, her palms facing up. "Oh, and don't be late." She watched me move on, then followed while I walked toward home in the semi-dark.

I turned and smiled at her on Ninth Avenue. "I'm Wendy." I did the smile I practiced on the tourists, but I could tell she was a New Yorker. My teeth were wasted on her.

She followed me for another block, reminding me about the get-together. When I finally returned home it was just after 2:00 AM and I was freezing in my spring coat.

*

I shared a small apartment with four others on West 49th Street and 12th Avenue. A dirty, nine-story walk-up. I had a great view of the traffic on 48th.

We shared a living room and kitchen, oh, and a shower. Someone was unfortunately still up.

"Hey, wow, the guys tol' me you were a tranny, I didn't believe them." It was Renny, he was Eastern European and I barely ever spoke to him. I had been sleeping with his brother so I could watch Netflix, so I assumed he was just teasing me.

I shrugged, I slipped by him. I made believe he was a tourist. I was exhausted, I worked late, I knew I was going to be thinking about jiggling change all night.

***

Earlier That Day...

"Two dollars," I said that a million times a night, seven days a week. "Two dollars, thank you." My long nails made it hard to give change, usually, I heard 'That's okay keep it.' I smiled, I had the best smile. I also held so many five-dollar bills.

"Dos dolares, gracias." Same smile different language.

"Quédese con el cambio."

It didn't matter almost everyone was nice, almost everyone just wanted to have a good time. I was pretty happy here.

1:00 AM was closing time, it was a long day. Some of the longest days that I have ever had. I would clean up the closet, then fix my makeup and brush my hair for the walk home.

I heard them call me from the hall, "Wendy! Gonna have a drink with us tonight?"

"Of course."

1:00 am turned into 2:00 am then lights out. I would fix my makeup and hair again. Then head home, the seven long Avenues in the wind, but I always stop in a chapel, a synagogue, a church. The Actor's Chapel was my favorite. It was quiet, it reminded me of my parents, it was warm and the doors were always open. I still had four long blocks to go, but I needed to rest at the halfway point, close my eyes, and think of the past. To remember when I was working regular hours and knew what day it was. Now I am in a fog, a tunnel, I also remember when I wasn't as happy, or as tired.

***

I remembered, it felt like decades ago, my then wife Lissa, was throwing herself a party, she was six months 'On The Wagon,' that was how she always phrased it. Never dry, restrained, sober, or abstaining, always 'On The Wagon.' I hated when she fell off the wagon, mainly because I knew we would be having another 'On The Wagon' party and she would require tons of sympathy. I found out she didn't want it from me.

An 'On The Wagon' party meant no alcohol, of course. Me? I loved alcohol, I was a bartender during college, I was a salesman for Heineken Holding for a while until I realized I hated Heineken and most of the beers they produced. Now I work for a small Craft Brewery. It was a restaurant and a tap room. The wife never visited. She didn't like beer anyway, actually, she didn't like the taste of any alcohol.

The thing that I did like about her parties was her family. Mine were mostly gone, only my mother Amara and my Aunt Virginia were still alive and they lived in Hollywood, unfortunately in Florida, I was never going there. Loving New York City made it hard to visit anywhere easily.

Lissa had an Uncle, he owned a slew of clubs and bars In Hell's Kitchen. "I haven't seen you in a while." He told me. "Are you getting busy again?"

"Mmm," I slyly gave him a rum and coke in a red solo cup, "The taproom is crazy right now, never any seats available."

"So what did you want to talk to me about?"

What I wanted to ask him, was the hardest thing I found to talk about. I had gender dysphoria. I was never depressed but I had this great weight on me all the time, it was so much worse in the morning for some reason, and it was so much worse RIGHT now. I told the wife and she laughed at me. She had no empathy at all. She told me she did, but she didn't.

We were married three years ago, she came into a bar I was tending at. Soon she was in the bar all the time. She drank a lot and fast so I learned to give her almost no alcohol, I don't know how she ever got drunk from my pours. She must have had such a low tolerance. Hmmm...

I looked up, embarrassed. I wanted to ask him for another job. "Um, I don't even know how to say this but I, um, do drag." I wasn't a drag queen and I didn't 'Do Drag' but I knew he would know what that meant.

"Really, wow, okay."

He looked at me. He looked at me like he had never done before, I was used to this, I was used to this surprise. I didn't want to tell him what I wasn't, but I was definitely trans, maybe genderfluid and I desperately needed to crossdress. Now I needed to take it up a notch. The physical pain in my chest was growing.

"I have been like this since I was a kid, I don't know... now I'm just going through a phase. I was wondering do you have something in one of your clubs that I could come dressed?"

"Well," He was thinking, he took out his phone, he flipped through a couple of things. "Actually now that I'm looking, yeah, I have the four clubs going at the moment. I even have a couple of bars in Midtown that do drag nights. I'll find you something. Full time?"

"Um sure, if that's what you have. I would like to still work in the taproom too. They love me there." I was surprised he wasn't more surprised. "I will do anything. Anything."

"Are you any good at it?"

"Drag?"

Was I good at it? Well, I had such a small personality, so probably not, but I have been passing as a female with my limited wardrobe, since I was a teenager. I even had a perfect voice.

"Yeah, I do okay," I said, slightly higher.

He smiled. That was the last 'On the Wagon' party I ever threw.

***

The wind pushed me three blocks away from my apartment. It was busier, had more people, more animals, and more beautiful restaurants. It was eight PM on the dot. It was a Wednesday, cold again, I had a plastic shopping bag full of fruited sour beers from the taproom. Hell's Kitchen was crowded, more crowded than usual. I called work and told them I couldn't handle the coat check tonight, I needed the night off. They were fine about it, it was the first time I missed work in six months.

I was shifting from one leg to the other, I was a little antsy.

"Si, ¿Quién es?" The voice sounded so far away, so alien, so Spanish.

"Hi, this is Wendy..."

"¿Quien es esta?"

"Um, hi, yes, I am friends, well, acquaintances with someone I met yesterday in the chapel." There was a click and a thud, then a loud buzzing noise. I slipped into a tiny little vestibule off of the street and then through an ornate glass and metal door into a long bright hallway. I had to climb over a tower of cardboard boxes, pass two men on recliners playing some sort of dice game, I had to pet a three-legged dog with an expensive-looking owner. I then had to go up three flights of stairs... In my new sandals... In my lilac coat. I walked right passed the elevator.

Another metal door, another buzzer, another game of 'Who was I?'

*

"Bella, come in, come in." The woman from the night before took my shopping bag with a little trouble, passing it off to an older woman. The older woman cursed at me in Spanish. I think.

"¿Qué hay aquí dentro, una maldita vaca?"

I have never heard those words before in the club. Usually it's 'idiota,' 'puta,' 'maricona,' and especially '¿Dónde está mi maldito abrigo?' Sometimes one of the coats from the coat room went missing, but we eventually found it. I always imagined taking one, something long, something soft with a beautiful lining. Sometimes I tried them on and posed in one of the dozens of mirrors littering the bar or the lady's room. Sometimes I imagined I was a patron, not a worker, just someone drinking martinis. My long nails fingering a glass and imbibing a cocktail that matched my almost warm coat.

"Wendy, this is mom. Mom! This is Wendy!" She yelled.

The madre didn't seem too interested to see me, but the woman who invited me seemed nice. She had a big mauve smile on her face, then she took my coat, she looked disappointed.

"Um," I found myself apologizing, "Sorry, I found this in the lost and found at work. It was the only one that fit."

"This wasn't lost, someone wanted it missing. What color is this anyway?"

"Lilac?" I instantly regretted saying that.

*

'Yo no olvido al Año Viejo
Porque me ha dejado cosas muy buenas'

('I do not forget the Old Year
Because it has left me with very good things,
yes')

There was music on, I was all decked out in my new tightly fitted blue party dress, lots of white and pale yellow flowers. I had on nude pantyhose and white sandals. I was showing off my ten white toes. I fixed and hid my bra, then sat at the dining room table. I was given a glass of coquito and an empanada. They were perfect, I was having fun sitting with my legs crossed, admiring my new manicure, playing with my hair. I didn't socialize that much outside of the club, mainly because I was dressed femme most of the time. I was almost always 'Wendy.' Once I took the new job, I found an apartment, quit the brewery, and left Lissa to navigate her own 'Wagon' parties. She was happy to see me go, or at least that is what she told her uncle.

'Ay, yo no olvido, no, no, no al Año Viejo
Porque me ha dejado cosas muy buenas'

I started feeling a little weird once the coquito was gone and I realized it was just the three of us... Maybe I was early.

"Don't you want to know my name?"

I smiled again. Part of me didn't want to know, part of me felt strange not asking her what it was already. I made a face and shook my head yes.

"Maria." She pointed to her perfect breasts. "This is my apartment, this is my going away party. With your help, I am saying goodbye to my apartment and New York. Tonight I am saying goodbye to the LAST year."

The front door opened. "Ha, ha... finally... Maria, we are ready, let's go!"

*

I was lagging way behind, I had the urge to hide behind one of the halal stands or get lost in the madness of the crowd. I was following Maria and her two gorgeous friends. I was carrying the heavy bag of sours and some goodies the madre threw together. The closer we got to the lower avenues, the more crowded it became. Soon we were holding hands and navigating our way through the sea of people like a subway car. We were moving slowly, but Maria was focused as she pushed the tourists out of our way. The streets and stores were bright, it was loud, it was crazy, crazy, crazy.

Is this what I have been missing working at night for so long? Working in a loud club, hidden in a big closet?

Wait is this really 49th Street? It was, I spied the green and white street sign. We were now in front of the Actor's chapel.

Knock, knock. "Here we are... Bella open the door, take us into your chapel."

Maria giggled as the large wooden door swung out, I held it letting them into the quiet sanctuary, to the darkness that was so close to the crowds and lights on the street. Maria shooed several people away as the large wooden door slammed closed. Clunk. She pushed the long metal lock into the molding of the door frame.

She leaned against it with a laugh. "We are one block away from Broadway. One tiny block away from the largest party in years... Ha..."

*

"Bella! Where is your fridge?"

Maria kept on insisting it was my chapel. I didn't want to tell her it wasn't. Whenever a bang was heard on the heavy doors, she made me chase whoever was there away. I could swear one was a priest. I didn't want to tell her that I had a plethora of destinations to stop into and pray or more to the point, assimilate. Sometimes I went into St. Patrick's Cathedral, me and so many tourists, so many children. I stayed in the back, in my tight jeans. I sometimes even stayed for mass. Other days I slipped into Bartholomew's Church, with its beautiful stained glass windows, and chairs for five hundred. Dipping my long fingernails into the holy water, taking pictures by the statues and altar. Sometimes staying to throw rice at the bride and groom. Mostly I walked down restaurant row, imagining I had reservations at one of the cuter restaurants, walking passed the old brewery, then walking proudly into the Church of Scientology. They had the friendliest greeters. I loved traipsing through their bookstore, paging through the extensive library that they would try to sell me, ruffling the t-shirts with the logo on the front or the pocket... plus they had THE best bathrooms, ha, the best. Room to stretch, lots of light and paper towels, huge mirrors for checking makeup, and windblown hair.

(They have the best bathrooms in New York City, now all of you know, ha.)

"Excuse me, is there any place to tinkle nearby?" I would be asked by the younger tourists. I would smile, I would shake my head, and I would send them to visit the Field staff members.

"Tell them Wendy says hello. Or even better, tell them you were dreaming about L. Ron Hubbard. Ha..."

If it was early enough, I stayed and watched a movie. An epic. Then when it was over more Scientologists would surround me with their clipboards. I loved the attention, I loved that they complimented my dress, my earrings, even my Lilac coat. I loved how they held my hand as I made my way to the auditing table. Making believe I was going to stay, change my life, reinvent my soul. I always excused myself and headed back to the beautiful bathrooms. I couldn't be bothered, I just wanted someone to be nice to me. The Scientologists were SO much nicer than Maria.

"Bella! Where are the fucking bathrooms?"

"Um, I don't know." I shrugged ironically, I felt bad, I didn't even know where the bathrooms were in my own chapel.

I was daydreaming as the three women put the beer on the pews next to paper cups, poured chips and veggies into paper bowls, pulled out noise makers from their tiny clutches and Prada bags. It was time to start their party.

"C'mon... everyone, take a drink." The women were all smiles as we poured and grabbed, as we spread out amongst the Saints.

"This is my last New Year's in fucking New York City." And the girls cheered as Maria waved goodbye toward the heavy doors. "My two New Year's resolutions are, to be a little friendlier..."

"Ha, like that is ever gonna happen..." The women with the Loubatons giggled.

"Nice, being nasty in Bella's chapel. You two are going to hell." She cleared her throat as they glanced at me coldly, as I nervously shrugged. I figured I would put in a good word. "My second resolution was to change my life, and my life was changed yesterday. Goodbye, Frank! Enjoy New York without me, ha..." We all drank, for Frank. Everyone unsurprisingly liked the sour and frothy beer. The glances were way warmer than the last one. "One stupid little candle and whoosh... God went and answered my prayers, ha..."

The Virgin Mary watched us as we had our beer and ate our snacks. I gave them a tour of the chapel. First the balcony, then the smaller room with the baptismal font, then the statue of Jesus where Maria found me yesterday, on my knees. Right next to the votive candles.

"You put money in this box, then you take this candlelighter, and put it to the wick of the candle." I smiled, I demonstrated like I knew what I was doing. The two of them couldn't wait to be granted a prayer like Maria. I was thinking I would have to put in another good word. Suddenly we heard noises, we heard banging and screaming and singing. It was now Midnight in my chapel.

***

When I was a teenager, I lived for Sundays. On any given Sunday my parents spent the entire day at the Christ Apostolic Church, in Uniondale. It was loud, it was quite crowded, it was so much fun. The best for me were the funerals, the celebration of a life. I would yell 'amen,' and 'thank you, Lord,' I would follow the crowd and we'd sing.

When I turned fifteen I convinced them to let me stay home.

"Pastor Adelini is going to miss you. What am I going to tell him, or your friends?"

"Um, I don't know, I just feel a little uncomfortable there lately." I shrugged. My mother knew, well, my stepmother, she had an idea. She had no idea I was lying. The Pentecostal church had mostly black parishioners except well, for my father and I.

"They love you there, you know that."

"I know, but I think it is time for me to try something else, something different. I'm sorry."

She laughed, she was always quite understanding, "Sorry, ha, stop apologizing. You do wha' chu feel."

***

"I'm sorry."

Shaking her head and long hair, Maria was holding my lilac coat. "I was hoping you would have a new one today." She shook her head at the others, now placing the coat on the back pew, as far away as possible. "I have watched her walking into those huge doors every day I am at the restaurant, right across that street, every fucking day. We close up and I am thinking when is she going to change, when does that ugly coat get a rest and get pushed to the back of the closet? Well? I guess Never!"

"Maybe she is just hiding her small boobs and terrible dress sense, ha." One of the friends was chiding in.

"Or maybe she thinks she looks like a supermodel, ha, so sad..." The other one added.

"Come here, Bella. Try this on." Maria was taking her coat from the altar. Knocking over a number of flowers and items in the sanctuary. "Let's see how you look in fur. In real fur."

I clicked over nervously as the other women watched. I didn't like when someone made fun of me. I also didn't like being the center of negative attention.

Maria put her red scarf around my neck and her red bow in my red hair. Then she took off her heels wanting me to slip them on. I was a size ten and there was no way I was going to be able to wear shoes made for her tiny feminine feet. They were red and black mules. I loved when she walked, she made so much noise.

Instead, she helped me with the fur. She brought me over to the altar, raised three feet above the others, on a stage. I felt like I was 'Doing Drag,' felt like I was about to do karaoke, felt I was out of place, in my own chapel. I was in the right place wearing the wrong outfit.

"There, perfect."

Maria watched as I drew the coat tighter around me, it was so warm and soft. It was a subtle gray with the dark red fur setting off the redness of my long hair. I felt so good, my eyes closed, imagining I was in a chapel full of parishioners, full of people saying amen and singing. When I was young my biggest fantasy was going to my parent's church in one of my stepmother's colorful dresses. She had a closet full of them. Red, yellow, orange, and green, the colors were amazing, even though I realized I couldn't blend into the background with such a colorful palette on my body. I wanted to enter the church with them, I wanted to visit my friends, show off, laugh, and talk about the week with people I knew, but instead, I stayed home and practiced my makeup, my walk, my voice. I stayed inside all day, all alone. It was something I needed and Sundays were for me, for years, until I finally decided to leave Long Island and reinvent myself as a real New Yorker. Unfortunately, it wasn't as a feminine New Yorker.

"Bella, that coat was made for you. I want you to keep it. It is your New Year's present. Next year is going to be phenomenal, for both of us." She laughed and the other girls watched as I started to cry. I sat on the edge of the raised platform, I moved the coat down my shoulders, removing the scarf and hiding my eyes.

It was great that Maria was being so nice to me, but maybe I just wanted to dress accordingly for every chapel, church, or reading room the four blocks and seven Avenues from the coat room to my little apartment.

Once, I had on this beautiful navy blue A-line skirt and matching jacket. I looked like I was opening a law firm or leading an investigation. I decided to visit the Christian Science reading room. In a beautiful Westside building, downstairs, past men in uniforms and soft watercolors on the walls. I fit in so perfectly, everyone called me Miss. Someone brought me coffee as I perused the periodicals, as I looked through the magazines, as I clicked in my sensible heels down the quiet hall.

Another time I was all in black. Black latex skirt, black 6-inch heels, and a latex top showing off too much cleavage. I was in a mood, something different, something a little edgy. I went to the Church of Satan. Turns out it was in an apartment, fifteenth floor, run by a small woman also in black. I wanted to show off the tightness of my outfit, but instead, she gave me a tour, she gave me pamphlets, she made me come up with a password. Three lonely rooms in her large apartment. I ended up volunteering for a luncheon, a funeral and helping to go through some new acquisitions. It was interesting and I learned an awful lot. I wore something completely inappropriate every single time. Oh, and no one minded at all.

Now I am in 'My' chapel, wearing someone else's fur coat over my beautiful flowered dress.

***

'Ay, me dejó una chivita, una burra muy blanquita
Una yegua muy bonita y una buena suegra'

(Oh, he left me a goat, a very white donkey
A very pretty mare and a good mother-in-law)

I was three floors up, right next to the elevator. The smell of empanadas, sweet potatoes, and homemade salsa was always amazing. I had more show programs. I had a box of them all ready to send to Maria. "Mom! I'm going to the post office do you want to come?"

"Me encanta la oficina de correos. Entonces la capilla?"

"The chapel? Sure, okay, then let's go now, we can stop in on the way back. Wait, what are you wearing?"

It was fine, we were both in flowers, bright dresses, white sandals, and terribly, inappropriate coats for this time of year...

*

(El Año Viejo me dejó cosas muy buenas) y la burra fue inteligente

(The Old Year left me with very good things) and the donkey was intelligent)*

*El Año Viejo by Celia Cruz

*

The End