After her father has a stroke, Carmen Morales is summoned back to the Kern County home she was kicked out of twelve years before, by the Grandmother – “Abuela” – who refused to intervene. Over the course of the weekend, as Carmen attempts without success to determine whether her father — Padre — has insurance, she reconnects with several members of her extended family, including her Uncle Augustin and his daughter Inés (“Innie”). Carmen stays with Kelsey, the only family member who had known she was trans, but the situation is complicated by Kelsey’s boyfriend Dace. Dace treats Kelsey poorly; he also reminds Carmen of his younger brother Diego, Carmen’s first crush.

At the end of Chapter 7, Kelsey has tried to make a nice Sunday night dinner for Carmen and Dace, but Dace stands them up. She suggests inviting Innie to join them instead. Carmen’s interactions her over the weekend have been tense.

Chapter 8: In Tequila, Truth

I gave Kelsey a dubious look. “Really? She was prickly as fuck when I saw her at lunch. Didn’t seem real happy with you, either.”

She waved it off. “C’mon. That’s just Innie. She’s always got an auger up her ass about something.”

“Her poppa said you guys hadn’t been close for a long while.”

“Yeah, well.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a couple Buds, handing me one without asking. “She sort of blamed me for making you trans. They all did, for a while.”

“Blamed you.” My family is SO fucked up!

She popped her beer and took a sip. “Don’t worry about it. I stuck around and they got over it. But I was pretty pissed at Innie, too, so. It’s not like we don’t see each other at family things. We just don’t hang anymore, ya know?”

“Yeah.” I pushed away a memory of the three of us, running around in swim suits and t-shirts, heaving water balloons at each other and screaming loud enough to scare the crows. That was then.

I’d never focused on how my getting outed might have affected other relationships in the family. Obviously, nothing good had come of it.

Kelsey sensed the turn of my thoughts. “I said don’t worry about it. Yeah, it was bad for a few months. But we’re still family and we got through it.”

“Except you and Innie.”

She quirked a half grin. “I don’t think your Padre or our senior Aunts ever forgave me either, but no loss there. We tolerate each other.”

I took a long drink myself, and thought it over. My conversation with Kelsey all by herself shredded my emotions; I had serious doubts about my ability to handle Innie, too. But their friendship foundered because of me, and I was feeling pretty guilty about that. Maybe I could help repair some of the damage — but only if I could get myself firmly under control. My track record on this trip wasn’t great.

Still . . . Gotta try. “Okay,” I said. “Why don’t you get the chicken cooking, and I’ll go out back and call her.”

“I can call her,” she said, sounding a little offended.

“Kels. Her first response isn’t going to be sunshine and spring flowers. I don’t want you two blowing up at each other, you know? Let me see what I can do.”

She rolled her eyes, but agreed.

Just like Padre’s house, Kelsey’s place had a concrete slab patio, though hers lacked furniture. The evening sun was still plenty hot, and there was no escaping it.

I punched Innie’s number, having gotten it out of her, however grudgingly, at the end of our lunch.

“Yeah?”

Just a fun little ball of cactus, aren’t we? “Hey, Innie. I’m calling with an invitation.”

“Why?”

“Couple reasons. One, because your Poppa wouldn’t let you chew my ass out earlier.”

She snorted.

“And, two, because Kelsey’s boyfriend is a pendejo.”

Another snort. “Of course Kelsey’s boyfriend is a pendejo. She only dates pendejos.”

“Yeah, well. I’m just getting caught up, you know?”

“Uh huh. What’s her shitty love life got to do with me?”

“She made a nice meal for three, and he stood her up. And she thought, hey. Maybe the three of us could get together instead.”

“Oh, a ‘girl’s night?’” Her voice dripped scorn.

For Kelsey’s sake I suppressed my strong desire to bite Innie’s pugnacious head off and stick it up her tight, angry ass. “How about an ‘old friends’ night? Former friends, at least? Who might, maybe, think about being friends again?”

The phone was silent for a long time, but I knew she hadn’t hung up. Finally, she said, “I’d rather wash my frickin’ hair. You get that, right?” But she sounded resigned rather than annoyed.

“Yeah. I know.”

“I’m pissed at both of you.”

“Yup. Understood.”

“I bet the bitch wants me to bring the hot sauce.”

“Tequila,” I confirmed with a sigh.

“I’ve gotta work tomorrow,” she warned.

I laughed. “For all our sakes, make it a small bottle.”

“Yeah, that’ll go over well.”

“Innie,” I said, switching to serious. “Bring whatever. Bring nothing but your attitude; I don’t care. Just come, okay?”

“Oh, fine. You at the pendejo’s house?”

“Yeah. You know which one, right?”

“Which house, or which pendejo?” Before I could answer, she said, “Yeah, I know.”

“See you soon, then.”

“You owe me for this.”

“I do,” I confirmed, ending the call and shaking my head at my own masochism. Yeah, you’re doing me a favor by coming over to shit all over me.

She arrived with 750 milliliters of Jose Cuervo and an enormous chip on her shoulder, which was about what I was expecting. Marching in — no knocking — she scowled and said, “Not a word. Not one.” She glared at Kelsey, put the bottle on the kitchen counter, and said, “Three shots. Right now.”

Without a word, Kels opened a cabinet and pulled out three two-ounce glasses decorated with logos from what looked like local cantinas. She set each glass on the counter with a crack, then returned Innie’s glare, measure for measure.

Why did I think this was a good idea?

Innie filled all three glasses to within a hair of the top, set down the bottle and picked up a glass. “Okay. Here’s the deal. No pinche bullshit tonight. We’re gonna be honest with each other and say what we think, even if it means we don’t talk to each other again for another twelve years. Clear?”

Kels grabbed a glass and lifted it, her eyes locked with Innie’s. “Truth.”

“Truth,” Innie confirmed.

All for fun, and fun for all? Yeah, no. I had no intention of sharing anything that made me uncomfortable, or that I thought they couldn’t handle. But I wasn’t going to ruin Innie’s drama, so I raised the last glass and spoke my first lie. “Truth.”

We threw back the fiery liquid and I spoke my first truth. “Dios mio, that piss is harsh!”

“City chica,” Kelsey said, disgusted.

Innie grinned. “Yeah. It’s fucking perfect!”

I did manage to convince Innie that her orgie of honesty could wait a few minutes, until we had at least gotten some of Kels’ cooking into us. I hated to see her dinner go unappreciated, and besides, something solid might slow the effects of the tequila.

She let us get half-way through before she launched. “So, how long were you playing dress-up with Kelsey before you got caught?”

Kels got her line off before I could. “Fuck you, bitch.”

I raised a placating hand to forestall Innie’s response. “Not what I’d call it, but . . . a couple years.”

“And you told Kels that you wanted to be a girl?”

“No.” This time I returned her glare with interest. “I told her I was one.”

“Fine. Sure.” She cut a slice of chicken and popped it in her mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell anyone if I could help it. She found out.”

Innie raised an eyebrow, and I decided to elaborate before Kels could give an extended — and still more embarrassing — version of the story. “She caught me with my pants down, literally, ’cuz I didn’t know the lock on the bathroom door didn’t work. The lacey pink panties were kinda hard to explain.”

“I bet.” She looked at Kelsey. “And you bought the whole, ‘I’m a girl’ thing?”

Kelsey leaned back in her seat and narrowed her eyes. “You say shit like that, and you wonder why she never told you?”

Innie flushed, but stood her ground. “Don’t tell me you didn’t take some convincing, when you caught her in frillies.”

“Yeah. So what?”

“Well, she never tried to convince me.”

“I couldn’t risk it,” I said, hoping to get Kels out of the line of fire.

“You trust her more than me? Why? Because of my madre?”

“No,” I lied. But instead of challenging her directly, I said, “Innie, how many fights have we had?”

“You think I kept count?”

“Yeah, no. You fight to win, though, right?”

“Well, duh!”

“Right. You bring the knife and go for the throat, every fight I’ve ever had with you, every fight I’ve seen you have with anyone else.”

She saw what I was getting at, and shook her head. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I would have frickin’ outed you!”

“I thought you said no BS?” Kelsey mocked.

I agreed with Kels, but saying so wouldn’t help. “Like I said, I couldn’t risk it. I knew what would happen, if it got out.”

She looked from one of us to the other, glowering. “Somehow, I just knew it was all gonna turn out to be my fault.” She threw back the rest of her second shot and set the glass down hard, But before I could say anything, she clenched her teeth and ground out, “Shit. Me and my fucking temper.”

Kels opened her mouth to pile on, but I managed to call her off with an almost imperceptible head shake. “Your temper saved my ass, more than once,” I said gently.

That earned the briefest hint of a smile, maybe for my kindness, more likely from shared memories. But then she turned her glare on Kelsey. “So, fine, I blow up, and I say shit I don’t mean. Do you have to repeat it? Jesus, if I’d known you were gonna blab everything to Carlos . . . .” She stopped and shook her head angrily. “Fine. ‘Carmen’. I’m not trying to be a culera, it just takes getting used to. Which you’ve had years to do, and I’ve had, like, a day. Anyhow, I wouldn’t have said anything!”

“Like you could help yourself,” Kelsey said, exasperated. “You say lots of things, you dumbass! You just fart them out. How’m I supposed to know which ones you mean?”

“By using your frickin’ brains!”

Kelsey refused to give an inch in the face of Innie’s outrage. “I told Carmen what you said, and I told her you were pissed. I figured she could make up her own mind.”

They glared at each other like a pair of gladiators in some swords-and-sandals movie. But that, oddly enough, felt just like old times. My memories superimposed numerous images of the two of them – as kids, as girls, as young women – in each other’s faces, spitting mad, glaring, shouting . . . .

I had a sudden, perverse feeling that things would be alright.

I helped myself to a bit more chicken. Some black beans. A little more brown rice. A sip of the tequila. The roasted corn had caramelized, giving it a sweet and smoky flavor. The food was all excellent — it even made the bargain-basement tequila palatable — and I was impressed. Kels can really cook. Whoda thunk?

“What’r you grinning at, you monkey?” Innie scowled at me.

“You two. Swear to God, you both have more testosterone than I ever had.”

Innie snorted, and Kels said, “well, no shit!”

It seemed to break the tension. “Look, Innie,” I said, seizing the moment. “Don’t blame Kels. She told me what she knew, that’s all. She couldn’t have known . . . .” I stopped abruptly. Whoops.

“How you would react to my saying the whole trans thing was horseshit?" Innie sounded skeptical. “I kinda think she could have guessed!”

I shook my head, fighting against memories that were grabbing at me, trying to pull me down again. “She couldn’t have known I was just about crazy at the time.” With all of my will, I forced my voice to sound normal, even though the things I was describing were anything but. “Paranoid, I guess.”

From the look on her face, she wasn’t understanding what I was trying to tell her, which wasn’t surprising. If you’ve never been there, “paranoid” is just a label, a word we throw around so often it’s almost meaningless. The reality, though . . . if you have been there, the meaning is real, it’s specific, and it’s terrifying. Like being a helpless passenger on an airplane that is tumbling out of a clear blue sky, turning end over end, the ground rushing up to meet you . . . .

With an effort, I shook the feelings aside. I needed Innie to understand, and she wasn’t the type to appreciate metaphors. Truth, ugly and unvarnished, would have to do, even though this was exactly the kind of truth-telling I’d hoped to avoid. Fucking tequila! “I got it in my head that people from home would hunt me down if they knew where to find me. They’d come, and they’d take their revenge for what I’d done. What I am.”

I shivered, remembering the images that still haunted my darkest dreams. Looming shadows in dead-end alleyways, cold, merciless eyes, machetes honed to razor sharpness, gleaming in the moonlight. “I begged Kels not to tell anyone that I’d called.”

Innie was staring at something, hard, causing me to look down.

With an effort, I relaxed the fist that had balled into a Filipino grip around the handle of my butter knife, and carefully set it back on the table.

No-one spoke. Or ate. Yeah, awkward.

Finally, Innie shook her head. “That’s some messed up shit.”

“I know, right?” I managed to steady myself with a breath, just like Dr. Shelley always recommended. Better.

That earned me a long, measuring look. Her glass went to her lips before she saw it was empty and set it back down. For once, her motions were careful. Almost thoughtful. “Okay, I guess I get it. I mean, not really, ’cuz it’s off the charts nuts, but whatever. What about later? You’ve been talking to her for years, right?”

Kels weighed in. “We’ve had, maybe, eight calls? Ten, tops. It’s not like we’re frickin’ Facebook friends.”

“Still.”

I shrugged. “What can I tell you? I got better, sure. But it’s like this big, black hole inside me, trying to pull me back again. Pull me down. I’ve spent ten years just trying to forget the past, and have the past forget me.” I gave Kelsey an apologetic look. “I’d have to work myself up to talk to you. Talk myself into it. I’d get nightmares. . . .”

Enough! I pulled back from my memories and concentrated on what I was trying to accomplish. Focus, Carmen! Turning my attention back to Innie, I said, “That’s why it’s not Kelsey’s fault. You’ve both got reasons to be pissed off at me, and I’ll own that. But honest, there’s no reason for you to be pissed at each other.”

Innie shook her head, uncertain, but then she looked at Kels and curled her lips into a lopsided smile. “Reeeeesons!?” Her outrageous accent was from something Uncle Augi used to quote. “I don’t need no stinking reasons!”

I was beyond grateful at her attempt to lighten the tone. We all laughed, and I managed to keep mine from tipping into hysteria. My moment of darkness passed again. Until next time.

Innie poured more tequila. “Alright, fine. I’d say I’m sorry, but . . . I didn’t even know you were alive for twelve years, and you show up with your shiny degree and a big city job. Just pissed me off, you know? And, I’ll admit I was ticked that you never told me about the trans thing, even when I was out there on the playground screaming at guys who were mocking you for being . . . ah. Well, you know.”

“I do. Very clearly. Though, they were mostly afraid I was gay.”

“You’re not?” Innie looked confused. “You still like girls?”

For some reason – maybe it was the just-released stress, or maybe the tequila – that hit me right in the funny bone and I cracked up. “No, you jackass. That would be gay, ’cuz – just in case you missed the memo – I’m a girl!”

“Oh . . . uh. Right. But then . . . .”

“Keep up, woman!” Kelsey grinned, knocking back a shot.

“I’m freakin’ tryin’!” Innie kindly poured her another. “All those guys – they were giving you shit because they thought you were, like, into them. Gay, like you said. But you actually were, weren’t you? Not gay, but . . . you were into them?”

I stopped laughing – so much for levity! – and sighed. “Not generally, no. But yeah. I had a serious crush on one of the guys. I guess I wasn’t as good at hiding it as I thought.”

“Wait . . . not the one who was throwin’ you around that time on the football field at school? With all his asshat friends?”

I heard her before I could see her, screaming as she charged. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I could see all their faces, taunting, jeering as I whirled past. Toma, Luis, Santi, Dan . . . .

“Yeah.”

“But that was . . . .” Her mouth shut with a snap, and her eyes slid to Kelsey.

The only one who mattered was the one at the center, his hands twisted in my t-shirt, his beloved face fixed in a sneer . . . .

“Diego.” I lifted my shot glass and rammed it home. Truth. “That was Diego.”

Kelsey’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what? I knew you guys had been friends back in grade school. Middle school, even. You never said anything about crushing on him!”

Innie lifted the bottle and raised her eyebrows in a question.

I waved my assent to another glass. “I never tol’ — told — anyone. But he figured it out, or one of the guys did. When one of them made a joke about his ‘gay lover,’ I guess he decided he had to defend his manhood or something.”

“So that’s why you were so weird around Dace.” Kelsey reached for her own glass.

“Weird how?” Innie asked. “Like, attracted weird, or repelled weird? Diego frickin’ pounded on him! Her. Whatever.”

Kelsey shrugged. “That’s just it; I couldn’ figure it out. Dace, I understood right off . . . .”

Innie dismissed him. “He’s a cochino. Pigs gonna pig, girl.”

“Tell me something I don’ know.” Kels drank, then looked at me. “Well, which was it? Attracted? Repelled?”

I raised my hands in the universal gesture of confusion. “You’re asking me? Diego hurt me worse’n anyone. Maybe even worse than Padre, ‘cuz I always knew Padre wouldn’t get the whole trans thing. But . . . I spent a lot of years pining, know what I mean? I couldn’t just turn it off, when Diego decided to hate on me.”

Innie’s laugh was close to a guffaw. “Shit, Kels, you were right when you said I shoulda seen it alla ’long.”

“I know, right? All girl, all the fucking time.” She knocked back what was left in her shot glass and held it out to Innie for another pour.

But she kept her eyes on me. “I wasn’t asking about Diego. What about Dace?”

“No interest,” I said promptly. “He looks so much like Diego, it tiggers a lodda . . . .” I paused to untangle my tongue. “Triggers a lot of . . . memories. And I wish to fuck it didn’t! But, no. Dace does nothing for me.”

She held her refilled glass at eye level between us. “Truth?” she challenged.

I put my glass against hers, careful not to break them both. “Truth.”

Both shots went home.

Innie let out an unladylike burp, followed by something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. “What abou’ you, Kels? Does Dace do anything for you?”

Kelsey responded with a self-satisfied smirk. “I ain’ tellin’, you jealous bitch!”

Things went downhill from there, after a fashion. It got pretty raunchy, anyway, as the talk turned to men, their deficiencies, and their few redeeming features (which, Kels insisted, after providing some graphic illustrations, really only amounted to one feature). But slowly, imperceptibly, the tensions eased, and the past, finally, gave the present a little room to breathe.

The night wore on, and the tequila kept flowing. The talk turned to family, and Buttonwillow, and what the world is like on the other side of the mountains. We talked about hopes . . . and about regrets.

Kelsey’s complaints were mostly with the quality of the men she had found. Which, given the list she discussed, was unsurprising.

But Uncle Augi had been right on the money about Innie. Damn, that woman wanted O.U.T. She wanted out so bad she could taste it . . . and so bad, it was souring everything in her life, like fresh milk left in the summer sun.

We were pretty far gone when Kels asked about my transition, and I was probably even drunk enough to provide the details she wanted. Mercifully, Innie interrupted with a groan. “Fuuuuck. I’s goddam one fifteen. I gotta work tomorra. Today. Whatever.” Placing a hand on the table to steady herself, she managed to get to her feet. “Wait a sec . . . gotta piss. Maybe heave.” She staggered off to the bathroom.

I looked at Kels. “No way she c’n drive.”

Kelsey bobbed her solemnly. “Nuh-uh.”

I tried to think about it, but my thinking mechanism wasn’t working so well.

Kels looked around stupidly, like there was an answer lurking just out of her line of sight. “She could stay here. Somewhere.”

I shook my head. “Dace’l be comin’ back, maybe.”

“Fuh . . . fuck Dace.”

“Tha’s your job.”

She cracked up. “Yeah, baby! Leas’ he’s good for that!”

Innie emerged, walking better, and we managed to articulate our concerns about her getting behind the wheel. It took a bit longer, but she finally took our point. However, she pointed out that this was “freakin’ Buttwipe” and she only lived four blocks away. She decided to walk home and pick up her car in the morning.

Kelsey and I, of course, had reached the companionable stage where we wouldn’t think of allowing her to walk home by herself, so the three of us were soon stumbling around in the moonlight.

Kelsey had her arm around Innie’s waist; they both seemed steadier as a result. Their new-found closeness made me feel warm inside, at least until I’d tripped over a fire hydrant that came out of nowhere, and practically face-planted. They made me walk between them, all of our arms intertwined, even though I’d had less to drink than either of them. I couldn’t argue; they were way more experienced at drinking.

It’s surprisingly difficult to walk together like that while under the influence. We tripped each other, and stepped on each other’s feet, and inadvertently marched Innie into the trunk of a palm tree.

Turns out she’s really good at swearing, in both English and Spanish. At that point we switched to holding hands, which seemed to work better.

Between swearing and giggling and shoosh’ing, we probably made enough noise to wake everyone at Innie’s house and all their neighbors, too. We managed our goodbyes without getting teary or maudlin. But it felt like our friendship had been restored. Or maybe, re-started, on a better foundation. It felt good.

By the time Kels and I got back to her place it was well after two, and there was still no sign of Dace. Kels seemed unsurprised. Even her comment, “pendejo!” was delivered without much feeling. The walk and the night air had sobered us up just enough to avoid collapsing in our clothes.

I rinsed my face, switched into comfortable light cotton shorts and a tank top for sleeping, and downed a couple ibuprofen with a big glass of water. Brushed my teeth. The girl in the mirror looked wasted, sure enough . . . but maybe not as haunted.

I’d take it.

When I left the bathroom, I heard Kels snoring. That was quick! I filled up another glass of water, went into her room, and left it, with three Advils, on her bedside table.

She’d been less than thorough on her own clean-up, and I seriously doubted that she’d brushed her teeth. But she had taken the time to slip into a short, thin nightgown — a departure from her usual, defiantly tough, look. I smiled, bent down and kissed her forehead. “Nice to see you’re still in there, princess.”

Back in the living room, I got myself settled on the couch. Given everything I had to get done, it had been irresponsible to drink so much and stay up so late. But I’d healed some old wounds — including a few of my own — and I decided that was worth a hangover. I was out within moments, confident that my bladder would keep me from oversleeping.

— To be continued

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