Miss Jessica
Bridesmaid
by Miss Jessica
"Ohmigod, it’s beautiful," I squealed, looking at Lisa’s hand, "And it’s huge! What is it, two and a half carats?"
"Two seven-five," said Lisa, "and look at the cut and clarity. Jim does good work."
"It really is great. Congratulations," I said, giving her a hug.
"There’s something else Brian. I want you in my wedding party."
"I’d love to," I said, then paused. "But I would think Jim has some other people, like maybe everyone else he knows, that he’d rather have as ushers, don’t you."
Lisa grinned devilishly. "I didn’t say I wanted you to be an usher. I said I wanted you in MY wedding party. As a bridesmaid."
"Come again?"
"You heard me. I want you to be a bridesmaid. You’re my best friend. How could you not be in the bridal party?"
"Um, I don’t think so. Thanks but no thanks."
"Come on. Please? Why won’t you do it? I thought you were my best friend."
"I am. I would do anything for you, you know that."
"Then, why won’t you do it?"
"Number 1...Whatever usher gets stuck walking down with me will be pretty pissed off. I mean, most guys wouldn’t be too cool being part of a male couple. And Jim’s got some real troglodytes for friends. I’d be a splotch on the aisle when they got through with me..."
Lisa grinned. "Brian, you don’t get it. I said that I wanted you as a BRIDESMAID."
The little light went on in my head. "Which brings us to problems 2 and 3. First off, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m a drag queen. Besides that, I doubt we could pull this off."
She rolled her eyes. "We could so do it, and you know it."
"Oh, really? What makes you say that?" I said, crossing my arms.
"Look at you. You’re what 5'6", 135?"
"5'7", thank you and 140."
"Fine. Anyway, how many times have we gone out to eat, and had the waiters say ‘what can I get you ladies?"
"Umm." I said, staring at the floor.
"Also, everytime I go to the deli downstairs, the guy at the counter says, ‘where is your friend? She is such pretty girl, why she no dress like you?’"
"So, some waiters and a Bangladeshi deli owner think I’m a girl. This proves your point how?"
"It’s not just them. You have such delicate features. Long lashes, high cheekbones. No facial or body hair. You’re so pretty. That and your hips are bigger than your waist. Honestly, it’s more like you’re passing as a boy than a girl..."
"Thanks," I interrupted. "I feel so much better now. You’re really selling me on this, you know."
"I’m sorry, Bri. I don’t mean to hurt you. You know that. It’s just that it wouldn’t be the same unless you were in my wedding."
"I know."
"So, you’ll do it?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No," I said flatly.
"I can’t believe you," she said angrily.
"I’m sorry, Lise. I’d do anything for you. I’d give you my last dollar. I’d give you the shirt off my back..."
"So, I’m just asking to do the same for you," she said, with a smile.
"Ha ha. No."
"Fine," she said. "You know what, on second thought, I’m not really up for dinner. Another time," she said, going into her bedroom.
"Come on, Lise. That’s not fair," I pleaded, to a closed door.
The next few days were really unpleasant. I’d call, she wouldn’t answer. I’d leave messages. None of them would be returned. This killed me. Lisa and I had been best friends since the second week of college. I just couldn’t do this for her, and it hurt me that she would shut down over this.
I was sitting at home watching TV one night, when the phone rang. The caller i.d. showed Lisa’s name. "Lise?" I answered anxiously.
"Brian, it’s Jim." Oh shit, I thought.
"Uh, hi, Jim...how’s Lisa doing? She hasn’t returned my calls."
"That’s what this is about. Why don’t you meet me in the lobby in ten minutes? We’ll go get a drink."
This was not good. While Jim and I weren’t sworn enemies, we weren’t exactly friends. I understood why. He was homophobic, and always seemed uncomfortable around me. Lisa loved him and, since I wanted us all to be OK around each other, I learned about sports to try and make peace with him. As a result, he and I had that superficial bond that all guys (OK, all straight guys) had with each other. But, it wasn’t like he invited me out with his friends to watch a game. Not that I expected it - "Hey, guys, this is Lisa’s faggot, Brian."
"Uh, OK, ten minutes it is." He responded by hanging up the phone.
I came downstairs to find Jim waiting. "Hey, Jim."
"Let’s go," he said, with a scowl. We began walking towards Second Avenue. "You know, she’s really upset about this."
"I know, but I just can’t do it."
"She would do anything for you, right?"
"Yes, but..."
"When your mom died, who took a week’s vacation to stay with you?"
"I..."
"I mean, that fucked up my plans too, you know."
"Sorry?"
"And when you came out and your old man went apeshit on you, who had your back?"
I stared at the ground.
"Look, Brian, she’s gone all out for you, and you can’t even do this. I’d have figured you’d be into it."
"I’m gay, not a drag queen. We don’t all get off on dressing like women."
"Whatever. Anyway, this is killing her..."
"I have a lot of issues with this, Jim."
"Like?"
"Number 1, like I told Lisa, I can’t imagine too many of your friends signing up to be part of a male couple, and all in all I’d rather not end up a splotch on the aisle."
"Who says they’ll know?"
"What?"
"Remember, last summer, when you and Lise were going out to her mom’s pool and my friend Dave and I were heading to the Yankee game?"
"Not really, but OK?"
"Anyway, you guys left. And Dave turns to me and says, ‘Who’s Lisa’s friend? She doesn’t have much up top, but she’s cute and has great legs."
"Uh huh. Isn’t Dave the one you say has an IQ of 40?"
"Yeah," he laughed, in what seemed like an eternity. "Nonetheless, he’s still a guy and he knows what a girl looks like."
"Apparently not."
"My point is, no one’ll know."
"Suppose someone finds out. The guy who gets stuck with me will beat me to a pulp."
"I’ll take care of it," he said, with a half smile.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I’ll take care of it, don’t worry."
"So, you are cool with me, a guy, being a bridesmaid? Wearing the dress and everything?"
"It’s fucked up."
"So, why are you pushing me then?"
"Because," he said, stopping to light a cigarette. "Lisa wants you to do this. You’re her best friend. If she wants this, I can deal..."
"OK," I said, "I still don’t think I can pull it off."
He snickered. "You need to get your mirror fixed."
"Thanks, just for that, I’m telling Lisa about that cigarette."
He scowled at me, then laughed. "You want to end up a splotch, you’ll tell her. You all stick together, don’t you?"
"Ha ha," I said. "Just for that, if, and I mean if, I do this, you’re dancing with me at the wedding. I’m gonna get the band to announce how you wanted to, and everything."
He raised an eyebrow. "Tell you what, butt pirate, I’ll make you a deal."
"I’m listening."
"The wedding’s in June. If your Mets have a better record than the Yankees, which as we all know is not going to happen past maybe the second game, I’ll dance with you."
"And, if that overpaid bunch of machines you call a team is better?"
"You and Lisa wait hand and foot for me and my friends at our July 4th party. In French maid uniforms."
I laughed, "You know what, you sick fuck? I think you’re the one who wants me in the dress, not Lisa."
He laughed, and pushed me. "Sorry Brian. I know you’ve wanted me for years, but I like my women to be, well, women."
"You know Jim," I said, with a smile. "Marriage is about compromises. Nobody’s perfect. You have to overlook certain things..."
"Yeah, yeah. That’s enough of this."
"So you’re OK with me doing this...if I decide to, of course." I added quickly.
He rolled his eyes. "Like I had a choice. Like YOU had a choice," he said, with a grin. "You knew how this was going to end up, didn’t you?"
"Shut up. I hate when she does this."
"You’re her friend. Try marrying it."
"Hey, you chose it. You know what, Jim, I have something I need to take care of. Raincheck on the drink?"
"Sure," he said. "Make her apologize, at least, for freezing you out."
Half an hour later, I knocked on Lisa’s door.
"What?" she said, staring at me.
"Let’s talk about this," I said, handing her stack of bridal magazines.
"What are these?"
"Bridal magazines. I’ve taken the liberty of folding down pages of some of the dresses I like. If I decide to do this, of course."
She gave me a big hug and kiss. "Thank you, Bri. I love you. You’re the best."
"I’m serious, Lisa. I don’t think I can pull this off..."
"That’s fair, Bri. I’ll make you a deal."
"What?" I said, as my eyes narrowed.
"You let me make you up and if, after we’re finished, you don’t feel comfortable, it’s done. No questions asked. Deal?"
"Fine," I said, suddenly feeling nauseous.
"OK," she said brightly. "Let’s get to it. Sit down."
I slumped into a chair. "This isn’t going to work."
"Shhh," she said. "We have a deal. Just relax and enjoy it."
"If I had a dollar for every time I heard that..."
"Skank," she said, laughing.
"I wish."
With that, she began applying lipsticks and eyeliners and all sorts of things to my face. "You know," she said. "You’re going to have to do this yourself soon. I won’t be able to do this everyday."
"I won’t have to learn anything, Lise."
"We’ll see."
After what seemed to be an eternity, she said "Voila. Turn around."
I looked into the mirror, and my jaw dropped at my reflection. If I do say so myself, I was one attractive, if not downright gorgeous, babe.
"Well?"
"Uh..."
"I’m right, aren’t I?"
"Uh...maybe."
She jumped up and down, squealing, "This is going to be sooo much fun."
"Oh, yeah. OK, the face is there. The body’s still a guy’s, though. A little short up top."
"That is why, I took the liberty of ordering a few things. Strip!"
"What?!"
"Strip naked."
"Excuse me."
"I need to check some things."
"Like?"
"Your measurements."
"Ooh, look at you, Laura Ingalls Wilder. Are you going to make the dresses?"
"Ha ha, Bri. We need to see where you are, so we can know where you’ll be by the wedding. So strip already."
"Turn around," I said, blushing.
"Please," she said. "It’s just us girls here."
"Turn around."
She rolled her eyes. "Do you do this with dates? That would explain your dry spell."
"For someone who wants me to do something, you have an interest way about you," I said, taking off my clothes. "I’m done."
Lisa took out a tape measure. "Chest - 36". Like I thought."
"Why were you thinking about my chest?"
She ignored me. "Waist 28". Hips 31." We’ll need you at 24" by the wedding. Wait here."
"Like I’m going somehwere."
She went into her bedroom, and came out with a bag. She opened it, and pulled out two flesh colored blobs.
"What are these?"
"Breast forms. C cup."
"Excuse me?"
"You yourself said you were short up top," she said, applying something to them. She went behind me and started pressing them to my chest. "Oooh baby," she said, as she went behind me and started fondling my "breasts."
I slapped her hand away playfully. "I am sorry, Lisa. But I don’t do girl-on-girl. Strictly men, thank you. Wait a minute...what did you just do?"
"I glued your breasts on. Let you get used to them."
"What the hell am I supposed to do? I have work, you know."
"Please," she said, taking something else from the bag.. "You’re a computer consultant. You work from home. You’ve said it yourself, noone ever sees you." She pulled out a corset from the bag.
"No way. This will show through my dress."
"No, it won’t."
"How?" I said, putting it on.
"Because the wedding is six months off, and you’re going to start with it now. That and you and I are going on strict diets and workout regimens starting today," she said, tugging on the corset.
"Gack, that’s too tight." I gasped.
"I want your waist at 24 inches by the wedding. Although, maybe not. I don’t want to be overshadowed by my bridesmaids."
"Then, you shouldn’t have chosen such a babe."
"Oh, jeez, I made a mistake, didn’t I," she said, laughing. Next she pulled out a lacy black bra that clasped in the front. Again, she went behind me and began putting it on. "Mmmm, please baby. I want you," she whispered in my ear.
"I’ve told you time and again, I’m not that kind of girl."
"That is because noone ever asks."
"Bitch..."
"Now for the piece de resistance," she said pulling out a strange contraption.
"What the hell is that?"
"A gaff, I think they call it."
"What is a gaff?"
"Prevents those unsightly bulges..."
"Excuse me."
"Tucks little Brian up to give you a flat front."
"What is up with you?"
"I researched all of this before I asked you."
"Thorough, aren’t we?"
"Yes, sweet cheeks. Put in on."
After I did, she took out a garment bag. "Now, for the piece de resistance," she said, unzipping it. "What every girl needs. The little black dress," she announced, pulling out what was, in fact, a very short black dress.
I put it on, and it came to about 4" above my knee.
"Look at yourself," she said, pointing to her full length mirror. "Tell me that anyone will think you are anything but a hot babe. In fact, I may need to keep Jim away from you."
"Alas, he is taken," I said, laughing. "You’re right, though," and I began to cry.
She sat me on the bed. "What’s wrong, sweetie?"
"This is a little too off-putting for me, Lise. I mean, I’ve heard the cracks my whole life. And this just proves them all right," I said through sobs.
"Fuck them, Brian. Fuck the homophobes. Just relax and go with the flow. You are who you are. And who you are is the best person I know."
"Thank you," I said, sniffling. "You’re the best."
"No, you are. Thank you for doing this. I apologize for freezing you out the past few days."
"It’s OK. You were hurting."
"Still...what made you come over here with the bridal magazines?"
"Jim."
"Excuse me?"
"He called me, and we went for a walk..."
"And?"
"He called me out on this. Told me what a good friend you were, and how I should do this for you."
"Wow."
"You’re lucky Lise. Most guys wouldn’t be OK with this."
"I know. I’m not going to tell him that though. Have to keep the upper hand."
"Oh, one thing, though..."
"What?"
"You better hope the Mets have a better record than the Yankees come the wedding."
"Why?" she said, staring at me.
"Uh, Jim and I kind of made a bet."
"Which was..."
"If the Mets are doing better, he dances with me at the wedding. Complete with announcement from the band and everything..."
"Oh god," she said, bracing herself. "I can only imagine what happens if they’re worse..."
"Uh, youandIhavetowaitonhimandhisfriendsatyour4thparty.InFrenchMaiduniforms," I said, as fast as I could.
She laughed. "He needs help. He really does. Anyway, look at you, you need a new name."
"Why?"
"How can I call you Brian? What do you want to be."
"This is still a little overwhelming."
"Well, then..." she said, pulling out her cellphone. "Hi. Mom, it’s me. I’m here with Brian. Yeah, he agreed. But we need a name. Nah, he’s still a little freaked...What? That works...please, if I tell him why, the princess will start crying again...Bye."
"What was that about?"
"How do you feel about Jessica?"
"Where did that come from?"
"My mother said you’re like a sister to me, and if she had another daughter, she would have named her Jessica and...Oh god, I told her you’d cry," she said, watching me tear up. "OK, that’s enough," she said.
"What," I said, wiping my eyes.
"Girl school is in session. First lesson, heels..."
[to be continued.]
Lisa reached under the bed, and pulled out a shoe box. "Put these on," she said, handing me a pair of black 2 ½" pumps. I didn’t know they were pumps then, but have since learned more than I ever expected. "How do you know these will fit," I asked.
"Because," she said, "I looked at your shoes one night. You’re a mens 7 ½, which makes you a women’s 9 or 9 ½. We’re the same size, although I bought these for you on line."
"Thorough, aren’t you," I said. "What would you have done with all this stuff if I said no?"
She laughed. "Like THAT was going to happen. Put them on and stand up."
I put them out. "Ouch," I said. "These toes hurt. They’re too pointy."
"You’ll get used to the pain."
"Again, if I had a dollar..."
"You’d have two dollars."
"Bitch."
"Stand up, Bri..I mean Jessica."
I stood up and wobbled. It was a strange sensation. Up higher, and yet somehow pitched forward.
"Walk," she commanded. I began to wobble, like a newborn colt. Then my ankle twisted and I fell down.
"Ow. These hurt. Can’t I wear flat shoes?"
"Look at these dresses you’ve picked out. Are any of the models wearing flats? Besides, how will you dance with your usher?"
"That’s not happening."
"We’ll see," she said, with a half smile. "Try again. This time, stand up straight. It’ll help. Wait a minute," she said, walking over to her CD player. "This’ll get you in the mood." Suddennly, En Vogue’s "Never Gonna Get It" started playing.
I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Lise, this is ridiculous."
"Please," she said. "You used to love this song in college. You could do the moves, too, as I recall."
"Once. I was drunk."
"Free your mind..." she started singing.
"Fine," I laughed. "I’ll do it. If you’ll stop singing." With that, I stood up again, as straight as I could, and began walking.
"Now, pretend like you’re on a tightrope. One foot in front of the other."
I did as told, and began wobbling. "Keep going," Lisa encouraged. "Don’t move your arms so much. Women don’t wave their arms when they walk."
I walked down the hall. The song switched. Now, it was "It’s Raining Men."
"What’s with the CD? Opening a gay bar?"
"This gets me in the mood. Makes me feel empowered."
"Empowered? Are we running a seminar here?"
"Shut up. It gets me excited before Jim and I go out. Just let your body move with the music."
I started giggling, but decided to follow her advice. Damn, if she wasn’t right. I felt more confident in the heels, much to my chagrin. Next came "Milkshake."
"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard," Lisa sang.
"Stop it," I said.
"You’re doing great. Your ass is already starting to shake. Now, when you get to the end, turn."
I reached the end of the hall, went to turn, and fell into the wall. "Let’s stop, please..." I begged.
"Come on, girl. You need to do this. Or else, how will we go out?"
I turned white. "We are not going out!"
"Um, how will you be a bridesmaid, if you won’t leave here? Come on, you’ll get it. You’ll be walking like a model in no time."
"Just what I wanted to hear, thanks."
"Come on."
I got up, and started walking again. I kept picturing the imaginary tightrope. ‘Left foot in front of right, right in front of left...’ We kept doing turns around the apartment. "You’re doing terrific," Lisa kept saying. "Are you sure you’ve never done this before?"
"Stop. You know how anxious I am about this."
"Sorry, Bri..Jessica....I have to watch myself. Can I tell you again how much I love you for doing this?"
"You’re welcome."
We kept at it, trying higher and higher heel heights. I was walking towards Lisa in a pair of 4" Manolo slingbacks, when I heard a wolf whistle.
"Damn Brian," I heard Jim say. "You keep shaking that ass, and I’m going to get the fire extinguisher."
I turned bright red, and fell down.
"Well, that kills the mood," he laughed, offering me his hand.
"How long have you been there," I spluttered, while he and Lisa laughed hysterically.
"Two minutes, relax. Do you want me to go?"
"No, it’s okay. I think I’ll go."
"Wait," Lisa said. "You don’t have to. I’m sorry. I knew he was there."
"Thanks," I said, angrily. "What the hell’s going on here? Is this some sort of sick joke?"
"No, Jess...and remember to call him that, Jim, his name’s Jessica now..."
"Uh huh," he said, rolling his eyes.
"Anyway, Jess, there’s no other motive here. It’s what I said, and no more."
"Fine...now what?"
"First, Jim is leaving..."
"Oh come on, I’m tired..."
"Go to Flanagan’s on 2nd. I’ll call when we’re done."
"Please?"
"I’ll make it worth your while...." she said, as Jim left skid marks.
"I totally didn’t expect him..."
"Uh huh, Lise. I’m feeling very uncomfortable, you know."
"Relax. Besides, now we’re going to do something easier...sitting."
"I’ve been sitting since I was a baby."
"Ha ha," she said. "I mean, sitting in a skirt. Now sit."
I sat down, unconsciously smoothing my skirt beneath me.
"Good. How did you know to do that?"
"Do what?"
"Smooth your skirt out before you sit."
"Did I do that? I must have seen my mom and sister do it, I guess."
"Good, good. Prevents it from wrinkling and riding up. Ahem.." she said, pointing at my lap. "Cross your legs. Be a lady."
I turned red. "Sorry."
"Put your legs together, or cross them at the ankles. That one drives guys wild. I don’t know why."
"Drives guys wild, huh? THAT I’ll try."
"Slut..."
"I’m learning from the best."
"OK," she said, "Let’s get you out of that black dress. We need to keep it fresh."
"What will I wear?"
"Thankfully, we’re close to the same size. So put these on," she said, handing me a baby blue sweater and black skirt. "This will give you something to wear, while we go shopping."
"OK," I started to say, "Oh no! No no no no! I’m not...I can’t...why are you doing this to me?"
"Noone will know..."
"Look, this is too much too soon," I said. "I agreed to do this, but you can’t just throw me to the sharks."
"It won’t be that bad."
"No, Lisa. I need to do this on my own schedule. I’m not comfortable. That’s it."
"OK, OK, Jess. You’re right. I’ll loan you some of my stuff. When you feel comfortable, we’ll go out. One thing, though..."
"What?" I said, suspiciously.
"I need to go to Victoria’s Secret for you. You’ll need your own underwear. Borrowing mine is out of the question.
I giggled. "That is kind of skeevy. Besides, I’ve never wanted to get in your panties."
She giggled back. "You wish you could."
"Thanks, but no thanks. Anyway, you really have to let me do this on my own time. When I’m ready, and I have no idea when that will be so don’t push, I’ll do it. That’s it. I’m still overwhelmed."
Lisa put her arm around me. "I can respect that. I really can. You do what you want, when you want it."
"Thank you. By the way, is there any solvent to get these things off?" I asked, holding my ‘breasts.’
"Why? Don’t tell me you’re chickening out..."
"No, but I would like to shower at some point, and can’t imagine they’re supposed to stay on 24/7 for six months..."
"Oh yeah," she said, reaching into the never-ending bag that was the source of all my troubles. "Here it is," she said, handing me two small bottles. "This is the solvent, and this is the glue."
"Can I ask you a question...actually, two."
"Uh huh," she said, warily.
"Don’t worry, I’m not backing out...yet. First, why do I need to do this for six months? Why can’t we just start this in like March or April? I mean I’d go on the diet for the full time. I just don’t get the corset and the dresses and everything. It’s a little ridiculous, no?"
"No, it’s not. I thought about that. I knew how uncomfortable you’d be, and I figured the more time you had, the better you’d be at it. Second, we’re going to start on all the wedding planning soon, and I want you totally involved..."
"And I can’t do that as a guy?"
"Well, I guess...but I wanted my best friend AND my bridesmaid there. Besides, there’s dress fittings and all that guys usually aren’t at."
"Come on, I’ve dated wedding plannners. They do all that stuff. Dressed like guys."
"I know, I just thought..." she said, with downcast eyes.
"Relax, relax. I’m not backing out. I just have questions. I’m entitled to answers."
"True. What’s question #2?"
"You say we’re going on workout regimens. How am I supposed to work out in drag? It’s not like I can go to the gym like this."
"Hmmm," she said, "I hadn’t thought about that."
"So, I can go in my usual work out clothes, without the gals here?"
"Let me think about it."
"If you want a fat bridesmaid, that’s your problem," I said, twirling and kicking up one heel coquettishly.
Lisa laughed, "See, you’re getting into it already."
I stopped. "It’s one thing in here. It’s another out there. I’m already on society’s shit list, as is. If I’m found like this, I’ll be dead and the cops won’t even look for the killer, do you understand that?"
"I know you’re freaked, Brian. I do. I wouldn’t do anything that put you in danger, you know that."
"I know. I just don’t think that you fully understand what it’s like."
"You take your time. If you have any problems at all, we’ll call this over. I promise. I want my best friend alive and OK more than a perfect wedding."
I smiled. "More than the Vera Wang dress and the Pierre?"
"Even that."
"Wow, I’m honored."
"Look, Bri..Jess, I have to remember that, you go to back to your place, and I’ll be over in a while with stuff for you."
"OK."
"Relax. And, in the meantime," she said, handing me both pairs of heels, "practice. You can’t walk into a wall everytime a hot guy checks you out. Otherwise, you’ll be perpetually bruised. Because whether you like it or not, you are one hot babe."
"I know."
"Oh really, Miss Thing? You best keep your hands off of my man," she said, doing the ‘Rikki Lake’ head move, with accompanying hand motions.
"Don’t worry. He’s already told me he likes women without penises."
Lisa laughed. "He is so unwilling to compromise."
"He also told me something else strange."
"What?"
"When I asked whether the usher who was paired with me would be OK, he said, ‘I’ll take care of it.’ I asked what that meant, and he said, ‘It means I’ll take care of it.’ What does that mean?"
Lisa gave the same half smile as Jim. "It means he’ll take care of it."
"What does that mean? Tell me. Come on."
"Goodbye," she said, walking out the door. "Let yourself out."
I scratched my head. Something was up, and I didn’t know what. Anyway, I figured my only choice was to go back to my place. I opened the door a crack, and peeked outside. "Good," I thought, "noone’s around." I snuck into the hall, and decided to take the stairs up the two flights rather than using the elevator. I figured that way I’d be safe.
I began walking up the stairs. That was a stupid idea. About two steps up, I twisted my ankle. "Stupid heels," I thought, taking them off. "I should never have done this." Anyway, I took off the shoes and limped up the two flights. I opened the stairwell door, and looked around. "Good, noone here either."
I opened the door to my apartment and sat down. I massaged my ankle. It hurt like hell. I also had to go the bathroom. I got up and walked in. After I was done, I washed my hands and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, and then I cried. "Look at yourself, Brian. You’re some kind of freak," I thought. "A pathetic weak little freak. Look at you. Makeup, tits and a dick. You’re the lowest of the low. You’re everything they’ve always said. Noone will want anything to do with you." I went into my bedroom, buried my head in the pillow and just bawled. Forty-five minutes later, my doorbell rang. I dragged myself off the bed. "Who is it?"
"Lisa," she said, brightly. "I bought you some presents."
"Go away. Leave them by the door," I said, sniffling.
"What’s the matter, Bri?"
"Just go. Leave everything by the door."
"Come on, open up."
"No."
"I’m not leaving unless you open up."
I opened the door a crack. "Just give me everything."
She pushed the door open and wedged herself in. "Just take a look...holy shit, what’s wrong?"
"Nothing...everything...nothing. Never mind."
"You’re really freaked, aren’t you?"
"Look at me, Lisa. I’m a joke. I’m a little queer with tits. I’m pathetic."
"That’s enough," she said sternly. "You are NOT a freak, and stop feeling sorry for yourself. I am not a freak, I do not associate with freaks, so just stop it."
"Do you know what my father would say if he saw me?"
"Fuck him."
"You know what," I said angrily. "I’m sorry if I’m scared. I’m sorry I’m not jumping up and down and doing twirls. But I’m scared. How would you feel if your whole life was crystallized at once, and you realized how fucked up you were? How would it feel," and then I started bawling again.
"I’m sorry, Jess. I really am. You’re right. I didn’t realize how scary this could be. Maybe subconsciously that’s why I asked for six months. So you could adjust. I really can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. Whatever you need to feel comfortable, I’ll do it," she said, fumbling around for words. "Please. I’m really sorry for what I said."
I sniffled, "You should be."
"You’re right."
"What’s in the bags?"
"Well," she said with a grin. "This is your underwear. Ten pairs. Five bras. If you want more, you have to go get it yourself."
I opened the first pair, and pulled out a red lace thong. "Oh, you bitch," I said, laughing.
"I told you if you let me go myself...don’t worry, there’s some cotton ones in there. I just had to get those. Just to see your reaction."
"What’s in the other bag?"
"Skirts. Tops. Some other clothes and makeup for you. For whenenver you decide to go out. Also some issues of Vogue, Elle, In Style, etc. Get an idea of what works for you."
"Uh huh. What works for me is men’s clothes"
"Whatever," she said, ignoring me completely. She reached into her wallet, and handed me a credit card with my name, well ‘Jessica Rosen’ on it.
"What’s this?"
"$1,500 debit card. You use this whenever and wherever you want. Buy clothes, whatever. Do it on your own time."
"Uh huh."
"Do you want to be alone, Jess? If you want me to hang around, I will. If not, not."
"Yeah, I think I’d like to be alone, if you don’t mind."
"Not at all. Tell you what, I won’t even call. You call me when you’re ready, OK?"
"Thanks, I appreciate it."
"Not as much as me," she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "By the way, wash your face. Your makeup is a complete mess."
I washed my face and then went into my bedroom, took off the corset and put a t-shirt on. It stretched over my chest so much that it left a little strip of stomach showing. Now I looked my old college roommate’s girlfriend. "Wonderful," I thought. "Just wonderful."
I climbed into bed and passed out. That night, I had the most bizarre dream. I know it sounds cliched, but I did. I was outside dressed in a floral print dress. Noone noticed at first, then suddenly a little kid shouted, "That’s a boy!" Suddenly everyone on the street was jeering and catcalling me. No matter where I went, I couldn’t escape it. Suddenly, a man came out of nowhere. He looked like one of the 2xist underwear models. He scooped me up in his arms and said, "Don’t worry. I’ll protect you." Then he gave me a long passionate kiss. The next thing I knew I was in a wedding gown, and he was taking me across a threshold. He pulled off my dress, so I was just wearing a bra, panties, garters and stockings. He pulled down my panties and my penis was gone. Then he looked at me and said, "You’re not the woman I married," and left. I was left standing there, looking confused when...
My alarm went off. I woke up with a start. I looked in the mirror. My college roommate’s girlfriend looked back. I went into the kitchen and made some coffee. "OK," I thought. "Let’s just do some work, that’ll take my mind off of it." I spent the next three days immersing myself in work. I never left the house. I had food delivered, which I barely touched. I never even went onto my terrace. I figured avoidance was the only way to deal. My clients, however, were happy. Projects were getting finished at a rapid rate. Nothing like severe sublimation and denial to move a project along.
By the afternoon of day three, I was getting cabin fever. I decided to look at what Lisa had left me. I pulled out a black silk skirt and red sweater. I put everything on. "Not bad. Not bad at all," I thought. "Let’s see if she left me any flat shoes." Sure enough, there were black flat shoes. "OK," I thought, "This isn’t so bad." Analytical mind that I am, I decided the next step was makeup. "Let’s go online. Someone has to have make-up tips." Sure enough, the web has everything. I found several websites that helped me learn everything from daytime to evening. I spent the next several hours, applying and reapplying makeup. By the end, I was quite good if I do say so myself. I was also, quite frankly, a little put off by how quickly I adapted. But, I chose to use sublimation and denial yet again. You’d be surprised how well that works. One thing was wrong however. My hair.
"Shit," I thought. "Everything looks good, but this is a mess. I have to figure this out." I started thumbing through all the magazines. Suddenly, in In Style, I saw a picture of Keira Knightley. She had this shortish kind of haircut that looked like I could pull it off. The caption said, "Styled by Bumble and Bumble, NYC." I figured, "What the hell? Let’s see if they have any openings." I picked up the phone.
"Bumble and Bumble."
"Hi," I said, "I’d like to make an appointment for a haircut. I don’t suppose you have any openings..."
"Actually," the receptionist said brightly. "We have a 10 AM cancellation with Robert tomorrow. You’re in luck. Otherwise, it’s a month. Have you ever been here before?"
"Uh, no."
"What’s your name?"
I drew a deep breath. "Uh, Jessica. Jessica Rosen."
"Well, uh Jessica" she said, with a giggle. "We’ll see you at 10 tomorrow. You’ll love Robert, he’s fabulous.’
"I, uh, can’t wait," I said.
I slept like shit that night. I tossed and turned. No dreams though. I woke up at 8:00 AM the next day. "Oh, jeez," I thought. "Do I really want to do this? Not really, but let’s give it a go." I went and got dressed in the red sweater and skirt, and put on my makeup. I pulled my hair into a scrunchie that was in the bag. What I saw in the mirror both excited and unnerved me. I put my keys, money and debit card in the purse Lisa had oh so thoughtfully left for me. I drew a deep breath and went outside. I debated taking the train or a cab. On the one hand, the train is much more anonymous. On the other hand, if I’m caught, I’m dead. Cab it was.
I hailed a cab. "57th and Park, please."
"OK, miss."
"Miss," I thought. "That’s good."
We pulled up to Bumble and Bumble, and I paid the cabbie. "Thank you."
"May I say, miss, that they cannot do anything to make you more beautiful."
I blushed. "Uh, thank you. You’ve just made my day." "More than you know," I thought.
I went in. "Hi, I have a 10 AM appointment with Robert. Jessica Rosen."
"Of course," she said. "Put on a robe and have a seat. He’ll be right out."
I went in and changed. I pulled the robe tight, so that noone could see the breast forms.
I sat and read the In Style I had brought with me, when all of a sudden a man who made me seem butch came swishing in. "You must be Jessica. Robert. What are we doing today?"
"Hi, Robert. Uh, Jessica Rosen. Nice to meet you. I think I’d like something like this," showing him the picture of Keira Knightely.
"Ooh, Keira. Fabulous. That would look stunning on you. Come, come. Are we doing highlights, as well?"
"What do you think?"
"No, not yet. Sit," he said, leading me to a shampoo chair. "Darling," he said to the shampoo girl. "Shampoo her and bring her to me. I leaned back in the chair and the warm water began caressing my head. The girl began rubbing shampoo and then conditioner in my hair. "Mmmm, that feels so good."
The girl laughed. "Boy, someone needs a little something something."
I laughed. "True enough. But, even so, this feels good."
"Thank you, miss. Come let’s go to Robert." We walked over. "Here she is," she said, giggling.
"So, sit. So the Keira cut, yes?" he said, lifting my hands with his fingers.
"Exactly."
He began snipping and cutting. About halfway through, he said, out of nowhere, "So, what’s your name?"
"Uh, we covered this. Jessica Rosen."
"Oh, please, princess. Your real name."
I turned blank white. "How did you know?"
"Please , queen. It takes one to know one."
"Oh my god, did the shampoo girl read me? That’s why she giggled. I’m doomed."
"Oh, don’t worry. That little slut can’t walk and chew gum. If she figured you out, every shampoo girl and receptionist here would’ve come by to take a look. Anyway, what’s your name?"
"Brian. How did you figure me out?"
"A couple of tips. First, get used to saying your girl name. You pause too much. Second, the makeup was flawless, you’ve been practicing, good girl. But the robe was too tight. Also, the hair was rat’s nest. Any real girl with flawless makeup coming here would NOT be caught dead with her hair in a scrunchie. But, don’t worry, noone could read you. And, when I’m done, you’ll be beating the straight boys off with a stick."
I grinned. "Oooh, that sounds like fun."
"I like you girl," he said, laughing. "So what’s the story? Why are you here?"
I told him the whole story. When I finished, he blew out a breath. "Damn, you are one good friend, Miss Jessica. That’s a lot of her to ask."
"Tell me about it. So what do you think "I’ll take care of it" means?"
"I was thinking about that. I don’t know. Something’s up though. And that friend of yours is in on it. Get even with her though. Use up that debit card. Anyway, take a look. I’m done."
I stared in the mirror. I was dumbfounded. "Ohmigod, Robert, it’s gorgeous."
"No, you are."
I started tearing up. "Oh stop it," he said. "Your makeup will run. Now go pay."
I paid, put on my sweater and came back. I slipped my hand into his front pocket with his tip, and gave a little squeeze. "This is for you."
"Oh, please," he said, rolling his eyes. "Sorry, but I like my men manly, Miss Jessica."
I folded my arms, in mock exasperation. "I just can’t win. The first man says you’re too manly. The second one says you’re too queeny..."
"OK, Goldicocks. You’ll find the one that’s just right."
I gave him a peck on the cheek and left. "Let’s hope so. I’ll keep you posted."
I decided to give the debit card a whirl. I still felt uncomfortable and scared, but decided to try. If I got caught, this would be over. I was walking on Lex, when I passed Ann Taylor. I saw a floral print dress in the window. It was the dress from the dream. I must’ve walked past it a hundred times and it must’ve been burned into my subconscious. I walked in.
"May I help you, miss?" said the salesgirl.
"Uh, yes. I’m looking for the dress in the window. The floral print. Size 8."
"Of course, follow me."
We found the rack. "Here you are. The fitting room’s over there. Can I show you anything else?"
"Do you have any suggestions?"
"With your complexion, I’d go with pale pastels. Pink, baby blue. Tell you what, go try on the dress and I’ll bring you things."
"Uh, that’s great." I drew a deep breath. Into the belly of the beast. I went in. The other women going in and out didn’t even give me a second look. Well, nothing beyond the usual once over women give each other. I went into the fitting room and tried on the dress. I couldn’t believe it. I looked so cute. I gave a little twirl. I heard the saleswoman say, "Let me see." I came out tentatively.
"That is adorable," she said.
"You think?"
"Absolutely. Someone is just going to eat you up."
I blushed. "I don’t think so."
"Don’t be so modest. Try these on," she said, handing me all manner of tops, skirts and dresses.
As I went to pay, she said, "Do you wear pants often?"
"Yes, why?"
"You shouldn’t. You have a figure that was made for skirts. I would kill for your legs."
I blushed. "I bet you say that to all of your commissions."
She laughed, "But I don’t always mean it."
I left the store $550 lighter. I spent the rest of the day, going from store to store. When I got home, I went upstairs and called Lisa. "Hi, Lise!’
"Oh, Bri. Thank god. I was beginning to worry."
"I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. Let’s go to dinner. Your treat."
"Very cute. When?"
"Come over in fifteen minutes?"
"Sure."
I went into the bedroom, put on my new floral print dress and fixed my make up. Then, the doorbell rang. "Come in," I said, "Door’s open."
I walked out. Lisa’s jaw dropped, "Brian?"
{to be continued}
“Jessica,” I said with a smile. “What do you think?” I said, twirling around.
“Wha...huh...what?” she stammered.
“I assume, despite your inarticulation, that you want to know what’s going on.”
“Do you think so?” she said, sarcastically. “When I left here the another day, you were totally freaked out and now look. Explain.”
“I was totally freaked out. I cried, I bawled. I had nightmares. I spent the first three days burying myself in work. I worked eighteen hour days to avoid dealing with this. I never left the house.”
“I figured. So what happened?”
“By the end of day 3, I had cabin fever. I was losing it. I don’t know what possessed me, but I started going through everything you left. Maybe it was like looking under the bed to confront the monster.”
“Uh huh...I still don’t get it. I mean your make-up is flawless, your hair is gorgeous, and I know that’s not one of my outfits, so I’m still missing something.”
“Well, you know me. I’m a perfectionist. If I was going to do this, I was going to do this right. So, first I started to look on-line for make-up tips. I wanted to learn everything. Day, evening, formal, informal, the whole 9 yards.”
“Well, it shows. You can do mine anytime you like. That doesn’t explain the hair. You certainly couldn’t do that yourself.”
“Oh no, Robert did it.”
“Who’s Robert?” she asked uncertainly.
“My stylist at Bumble and Bumble. He says I look gorgeous.”
“Bumble and Bumble,” she said incredulously. “Not only are you a perfectionist, you’re a little JAP, too,” she said, with a laugh.
“I’ve learned from the best...you.”
“Ha ha. What made you choose Bumble & Bumble?”
I handed her the In Style. “Look,” I said, flipping to Keira. I felt like we were on a first name basis now.
“I thought this looked familiar. You look adorable...no, hot. You look incredibly hot, Miss Jessica.”
“Why, thank you. And, by the way, my milkshake does bring all the boys to the yard.”
She laughed, “I don’t know if I like my new girlfriend, too much competition.”
“Oh, please,” I said, grabbing her left hand. “Look at this. You are off the market.”
She dropped her head. “True, such a shame, we could’ve done some major damage.”
“You’d still make a fine wingman.”
“Ha ha. OK. What’s really going on here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, did you have some kind of revelation? The clothes, makeup, hair OK. You’re you. You’re a perfectionist, so of course you’d try and look the role. But, what’s with the attitude? You were a blubbering nightmare the other day. Now, you’re a completely different person. What’s up? Seriously, no little jokes.’
“I don’t know. I’m still scared. I mean, I still live in fear of being found out. So, I don’t know, maybe subconsciously, I’ve figured if I play the role to perfection, I won’t get caught.”
“If you act out there like you just did in here, no one will find you out without looking under your skirt. So, if you keep your legs closed like a lady, you’ll be OK,” she said, with a leer.
“Oh poo,” I mock pouted. “I was so looking forward to some straight boys.”
“Well, at least, I don’t have to worry about you getting knocked up before the wedding, you little slut,” she giggled. “Anyway, that dress is absolutely perfect for you. Where did it come from? Like I said, it’s not one of mine.”
“Ann Taylor, on Madison.”
“Really,” she said, arching her eyebrow. “How did you know the right size?”
“I went into the dressing room and tried it on. How else would I know?" Her jaw dropped. “You went into the dressing room. YOU? You who were afraid to go outside the other day are now trying on clothes in public; talk about confronting your fears, little Miss Jessica.”
“First off, it was a separate room, not one of those bullpen deals. Second, it was like two in the afternoon, so I figured no one would be there. Third, if I felt in anyway like the saleswoman knew something was up, I would’ve been out of there like a shot. But she didn’t, because she told me I had a perfect figure for skirts and she kept bringing me stuff to try on...”
“Wait a minute,” she interrupted. “How much stuff did you try on?”
“I don’t know. 5-10 outfits. There.”
“How many places did you go to?”
“A whole bunch. Once she didn’t read me, it actually became kind of fun. Like being an actor or something.”
“How much did you buy?”
“You’ll have to fill up my debit card again. There’s maybe $100 left. A girl has to look her best.”
She laughed, “Ohmigod, you little princess. This is going to be sooo much fun, you’ll see. Let me see what you bought.”
I went into the bedroom, and came out wearing a black skirt and baby blue top, with a pair of black 3" heels. “Very nice. Very demure. Next.”
Next were a pink skirt, white top, pink cardigan and 3" pink heels. “Oooh. Look at you; Very Bree. One problem - Has anyone told you you’re Jewish, not a WASP?”
“Oh, please. I have the perfect coloring for this.”
“Perfect coloring? Now, you’re worrying me.”
“Relax. Just my perfectionism, and the saleswoman.”
“Remember, she’s just out for commission. Did you buy all of Ann Taylor?”
“Wait. I’ll show you my other stuff.”
I came out with another delicate floral print skirt and white sweater. “What do you think?”
“You look great. But remember, girls are made of sugar and spice. And, girlfriend, you need more spice.”
I arched my eyebrow. “Just wait a minute. I’ve been doing my homework.”
I came out wearing a black tank top that said “Bomb Shell,” a black leather mini, fishnets and 4" black Manolo spikes. “Well?”
Lisa’s jaw dropped and then she started laughing. “OK, Miss Thing. That’s a little over the top, no? I mean, all you need is a whip...”
“Wait a minute, and I’ll get it.”
“Boy, I am learning all about you today. We need to get your shrink here. This is like intro to Pysch all over again.”
“So, what do you think?”
“I think you’re actually starting to loosen up. That outfit, for example, screams loose."
“That,” I said, with eyelashes batting, “is exactly what I’m going for.”
“I’ve created a monster. Hey, wait a minute,” she said, pointing at my feet. “Where did you get those?”
“I took them from your place.”
“Uh huh. Am I going to have come over here every day and get my clothes back?”
“We’ll see. I may have to buy more, as my size drops. Which brings me back to an old question - how am I going to work out?”
“I’ve thought about that. Maybe we can get a visitor’s pass in your new name?”
“I’ve thought about that too. But there’s two problems - #1, they’ll need I.D. and #2, where do I change? I mean, I am a knockout, but there’s still the problem of my little friend...”
“Hmmm. I hadn’t thought about that...I guess you’ll have to go as a guy,” she sighed.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll work out up the block, so I can come home and get dressed quickly. I won’t be Brian any longer than necessary, OK?”
“OK. OK. ”
“Very funny, Lise.”
“Anyway,” she said. “Let’s get you out of that skank outfit and into something normal, so we can get dinner.”
“Sure, can we go to Cabana on 60th?”
“Why? In the mood for pan-Latin?”
“Kind of, also, I saw the most gorgeous 3" black boots in Jimmy Choo that I want to pick up...”
She slapped her forehead. “Bri..Jess..whoever you are, you’re really starting to scare me.”
______________________________________________________________________
We went into my bedroom. Lisa gaped at the bags on my bed. "Whoa. Bebe, Ann Taylor, Scoop NYC. When you go, you go all the way, don't you?"
"A girl, even a temporary one, has to look her best."
"I'll say it again - you are really beginning to worry me. You are just taking to this too well and too quickly."
I gave her a peck on the cheek. "Don't worry. This is truly temporary. I like who I am. I'm doing this for you, remember." I held up a black knee length leather skirt and black turtleneck. "So, how's this? Does it work with the heels?"
"That is much better." I began stripping off my clothes. "What are you doing?" Lisa said.
"Getting dressed and undressed?"
"I see that. But, four days ago, you refused to get undressed in front of me and now, it's perfectly normal."
"I'm going to have to do this at some point in a public or semi-public place. I may as well get used to it. Now, how do I look?" I asked, giving a twirl.
"Absolutely beautiful. No, wait, radiant. Jess, you are stunning."
I blushed. "Let's get going. I want to get to Jimmy Choo before they close. Let me just touch up my face."
Lisa whistled. "You do that perfectly. When you take on a project, you take it on one hundred percent."
"It's my father's one useful piece of advice, the bastard. Do something right or don't do it. I'm sure he'd love to see how I put his advice to work."
We left the apartment and went to Jimmy Choo's. I bought the boots, and Lisa bought me a pair of 3" pink slides. She said they'd go great with my "little Miss Junior League" outfit.
We walked into Cabana. Well, actually Lisa walked and I sashayed. I don't know why, but I just felt like doing it. It paid off. I felt every set of eyes staring at me. Men ogled me, and women glared. I have no idea why, but it felt great. Lisa came back from the hostess desk. "She said it would be ten to fifteen minutes. Do you want to wait at the bar?"
"Sure," I said. "I'm tired from spending your money. I could use a mojito."
Lisa laughed. "The way you're acting, it's like your Jim's revenge on me for being me to him."
I sat up on a bar stool, and crossed my legs at the ankles, just like my teacher said. Well, that and I still had something standing in my way of crossing them any higher. I could feel someone looking at me. I looked up and saw the most stunning Black man I had ever seen looking at me. I looked at him, then quickly looked down and then up.
"Why, Miss Jessica," Lisa said. "I do believe you are flirting with that man at the other end of the bar."
"He is absolutely stunning."
"And," she said, warily "very straight looking. Be careful. Something tells me he wouldn't be too happy to find out your little secret."
"Relax, mom, it's just flirting," I said, as the Black god and a friend walked over.
He held out his hand. "Jeffrey Walker."
"Jessica Rosen. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Walker."
"Call me Jeff."
His friend stuck out his hand to Lisa. "Todd Bernstein or, as is more appropriate, wingman."
Lisa smiled. "Lisa Wasserman. I'm engaged."
"Me too," said Todd. "I truly am the wingman. I'm just here to distract you so Jeff can work his magic."
"Well, Miss Rosen," said Jeff, looking me over. "What about you? Has someone already swept you off your feet, or will I have that pleasure."
I gave him the once-over. "Does that line work often?"
"I don't know. Does it?"
I picked up his tie and ran it through my fingers slowly. "We'll see."
Todd looked at Lisa. "Your friend really has to learn how to open up. She's so pretty, but that shyness is just awful."
Lisa rolled her eyes. "I know. We've been working on it. But Jeff needs to work on his self-esteem. He'll find it much easier to meet women if he does."
"Can I interest you ladies in joining us?"
"I'm certainly interested," I said, "if it's OK with Lisa."
"Far be it from me to stop what's shaping up to be a very interesting evening."
Todd went over to the hostess. "She can seat four, but it will be close quarters, if that's OK."
"Fine by me," said Lisa. "Just don't try anything funny," she said, with a laugh.
"I spent last Saturday registering. The last thing I want right now is to get near any woman," he said, with a laugh.
Jeff rolled his eyes. "Maybe we should just get a table for two and let these boring married types talk to each other."
I brushed his arm. "There'll be plenty of time for that later, if I so choose. Relax."
Lisa choked on her drink, and we all turned. "Sorry," she said. "Wrong pipe. Right, Jessica? Wrong pipe?"
"OK. OK. So long as you're OK."
Jeff turned to her. "Don't worry. I don't bite."
"Oh poo," I said.
Todd turned red. "I keep saying it. Get past the shyness."
The waitress took us to a very close booth for four. I sat across from Jeff, and Lisa from Todd. They fell into a conversation about places to look at for the wedding, places to avoid and all that sort of thing. Jeff and I started talking about work. He and Todd were investment bankers for CSFB. They traded derivatives.
"They're a bit hard to understand," he said. "If you're not interested, I'm sure we can find something to talk about."
"Actually, I helped develop Amex's proprietary trading system. I'm actually somewhat conversant in the terminology, although I don't follow the derivatives markets closely."
"You helped develop the system?"
"Yes. I'm a computer consultant."
"Really," Todd piped up. "You don't look anything like our IT consultants. First off, they're all male. Second, they're all named Kumar or Ivan. You must have had your pick of guys in college."
Lisa interjected, "Not really. Jessica's really just come into her own. If you went to college with her, you wouldn't even recognize her." I gave her a kick.
"Give me your card," said Todd. "I know some people in IT who can make it worth your while."
"Thanks," I said, caught off guard, "but I'm really swamped lately. I wish I, uh, could handle the work, but I have, uh, too much as is. But, uh, thanks."
"Relax," said Jeff, taking my hand as I felt a jolt. "No one's forcing you to take work," he said, massaging my inner wrist with his fingers. It felt so good that I felt like melting into the booth.
"Mmmm, Jeff," I said, secretly massaging his leg with my foot. "Aren't you being just a little forward?"
"Am I?"
"OK, a little premature. And premature is never a good thing."
"That's never my problem, rest assured. I can keep this going for hours, if you can." I thought Todd and Lisa were going to vomit. Todd started simulating a bad bass line.
Jeff turned to him. "What's that about?"
"I figured if I was going to sit through a porno, I'd have the appropriate background music."
Lisa chimed in, "I never believed these letters were true..."
Todd turned to her. "Quoting 'Forum?' Why, it's such a shame we're both engaged. If you like the Yankees, we'll run away together, catering hall deposits be damned."
"Won't your fiancee mind?"
"Nah. At this point, I'm an afterthought to her big party."
"That's not true. Who else can we blame for your mother if you're not there."
The waitress brought dinner. "Thank god," said Jeff. "Now Todd will have something to keep his mouth busy."
"Keeping his mouth busy, huh? And, what do you like to do to keep yours busy? I mean, do your female friends usually approve of what you do?"
He didn't flinch. "Actually, they usually like what I do. They let me know, multiple times."
Lisa took my arm. "Excuse us," she said. "Jess, can you come with me to the ladies' room?"
"Excuse me. Lisa needs help."
We went into the ladies' room, and she hissed at me. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Flirting. I'm letting go, like you said."
"Buying shoes is one thing. But that is something else. I don't talk that way with Jim."
"What's the big deal?"
"Look, all it takes is one misplaced hand of his, and you'll be beaten to a bloody pulp. Look, I'm all in favor of a little harmless fun but you're crossing the line."
I turned to her and snapped. "Don't worry. It's talk, just talk. Would I love to see what he's got in his pants? Absolutely. Am I going to put myself at risk? No. But thanks for your trust in me. You know what? Fuck you. You put me in this position, tell me to go with flow and, when I do, you think I'm a fucking idiot. Thanks a hell of a lot," I said, walking to the door.
"Wait, Jess, I'm sorry."
"You should be."
"It's just, I don't know, it's like you're my little sister and you're just finding out about boys and I don't want you to get hurt. But, unlike a real little sister, you have something that could get you in real trouble. I'm sorry," she said, reaching out with tears in her eyes.
"It's OK," I said, hugging her. But I'm not a kid. I'm 34. I've been screwed in relationships before."
"Yeah, but never like this."
"Don't worry, Lise. I have it under control."
We went back to the table. Jeff and Todd stood up. "I was beginning to worry," said Jeff. "What took so long?"
"Oh, you know girls," said Lisa.
We started eating again. As much as I wanted not to do so, I toned down the flirting for Lisa's sake. We started talking about families.
"I bet your parents must be very proud of you, Jess," said Todd. "I mean, you're beautiful and successful."
"Not exactly. My mother's dead and let's just say I'm not what my father wanted."
"Really? How is that possible? Or is he one of those assholes who only wanted a son?"
"Something like that," I said, exchanging sideways glances with Lisa.
"Well," said Jeff. "If I ever get the chance to meet him, I'll set him straight."
I smiled, and touched his hand. "Hold up there, Tiger. Who said anything about meeting anyone's parents?"
"Touche, Jessica," he laughed. He had the most sexy laugh. I wanted to rip off his clothes right there, but realized Lisa was right. It killed me.
The waitress brought the check. Lisa said, "How much do I owe you?"
Jeff and Todd both laughed. "Thanks to Jessica, we talked about work. Therefore, thank CSFB. The meal's on the derivatives desk."
"What an evening," I said. "Charming company, and a free meal. How lucky can we get?"
"That's up to you," Jeff said, taking my hand.
I arched my eyebrows, and started running my fingernail on his wrist. "Oh, really?"
Lisa coughed. "Ahem, I hate to break up you two, but remember Jess, you have to help me with the..uh..engagement party. Remember?" she said pointedly.
I glared at her, but saw the same look I saw in the bathroom. "Oh yeah. That's right. I'm sorry, Jeff. Raincheck?"
"Sure," he said. "I'm a little disappointed, as I'm sure are you. But let me have your number, and I'll give you a call."
"Tell you what," I said, leaning in to give him a kiss. "Give me your number and I'll call you."
Todd and Lisa laughed loudly. "Oh shit," said Todd. "The player gets played. This is going to be fun tomorrow at work."
"Oh yeah?" Jeff retorted. "Try it, and I'll tell everyone about your little discussion tonight about which place settings you preferred."
Jeff leaned in and gave me a deep kiss. "Just a little preview. Goodnight, ladies. Jessica, you will call, of course." Damn Lisa. Why couldn't I follow through on this?
We stood there for what seemed like forever. Lisa broke the silence. "Asking for his number? Nice save, kiddo."
"You know, because of you, I won't be able to sleep tonight. Did you see how gorgeous he was? And that kiss? My god, I can only imagine what he'd be like."
"Imagine is right. I hate to burst your bubble, but you don't have the bubble he wants to burst, if you get my meaning."
"A girl can dream, can't she?"
"Don't worry, Jess. Your needs will be taken care of."
"OK," I said. "First Jim, now you. What the hell does that mean?"
"Good things come to those who wait. And haste makes waste."
{to be continued. Please post comments.}
In what wins the “Bad Timing” award, my psychiatrist was on vacation for the first two weeks of my new adventure. I was completely lost. When I started this, I figured I’d dress when I saw Lisa and otherwise would stay me. Yet, I found myself getting lost. I’d forget my name when I spoke to clients. I’d spend twenty minutes in the morning trying to decide what to wear, and not because I was trying to decide which of my new outfits to wear. Rather, it was because I couldn’t decide who I was. I know a lot of people would love to be able to switch but, believe me, when you have to do it, it’s no picnic.
On the other hand, my agony caused me to stop eating. I lost nine pounds in two weeks, and my waist dropped 2". But then, on the other hand, I now was, without the corset, 36", 26", 31". I was starting to get curves and I still wasn’t sure that this was what I wanted. It didn’t help that more and more people assumed I was a woman. For example, I went to the gym dressed in my usual workout clothes and handed the attendant my i.d.
“Brian,” he said. “That’s an unusual name.”
“Not really. I know a lot of Brians.”
“Yeah, me too. But I never met a girl Brian. That a family name or something?”
“Something like that.”
“Anyway, enjoy your workout, Miss Rosen. By the way, if you don’t mind me saying so, your picture doesn’t do you justice.”
I blushed and stared at the floor. “Uh, thanks.”
When my shrink’s vacation was over, I alternated between utter joy that she was coming back, since I needed to talk to someone and Lisa was hardly objective, and utter fear. I spent the entire morning before my appointment agonizing over whether to go as Brian or Jessica. I have no idea what possessed me, but I decided to go as Jessica. I knew I was opening myself to severe scrutiny, but yet I felt oddly compelled to do it. Maybe I was facing yet another monster.
I made sure I arrived just before my appointment, since I really didn’t want to have to deal with her receptionist. I wore a white top, green silk skirt with a pink floral print and pink 3" heels. Julia came into the waiting room, and did a double take. When she figured out it was me, she said, with a bemused smile, “Come in.” We sat down opposite each other.
“Hmmm,” she said.
“You didn’t say my name out there. You always do.” I said.
“Well, I think this is a little unusual, don’t you, Brian?”
“OK, I admit this must seem a little strange.”
“Well, is there a particular reason you’ve chosen to come dressed this way?”
“In drag?”
“I wouldn’t have chosen that term. I usually associate it with somewhat more flamboyant attire. You’ve clearly chosen to try and pass as a woman. Would you care to explain why?”
And, with that, I went through the entire story of how this came to be, even the whole Jeffrey incident. When I finished, she said, “Hmmm, that’s all very interesting. Why don’t you tell me why you did this?”
“I did. Jessica asked me to be a bridesmaid, and I agreed.”
“We’ll cover that. But, as you said, the wedding is six months off and yet here you are, dressed immaculately. Why do you think that is?”
“I told you. Lisa said she wanted me to get used to it before the wedding.”
“I understand that. But that’s a little simplistic, Brian. Clearly, something compelled you to do this. You could’ve easily said no to her or, at a minimum, not agreed to effectively live as a woman for six months. Friend or no friend, that’s a little extreme. Do you think you’d like to become a woman?” she asked, rolling her pencil between her fingers.
I rolled my eyes. “Quite frankly, Julia. I’m a little surprised and disappointed with that question. I’d expect that from Jim, not from an experienced practitioner.”
“Interesting attempt at deflecting the question, Brian, but you haven’t answered. Or have you?”
“No, I haven’t. And the answer is ‘no, I do not want to become a woman.’ I did this as a favor for someone who’s always been there for me. That’s it.”
“Do you think there might be another reason?”
“No, I don’t. But clearly you do,” I said testily, “so why don’t you share it?”
“What do you think my reason would be?” she said, in that manner that all shrinks have in turning the question back on you.
“How should I know? Reappropriating the symbols of the oppressors?”
“Interesting. I’m not sure I follow.”
“I read it somewhere. It’s when an oppressed minority subverts the stereotypes that the majority has put upon it. Like blacks calling each other ‘nigger...’”
“I’m aware of what the term means, Brian,” she interrupted. “But, I’m not sure I follow in your case.”
“Look at how I’m dressed. Society sees gay men as women, so I’m taking on the trappings of womanhood to subvert society.”
“You’ve always been very good at jargon, Brian. But, in this case, I think you and I both know that it’s inappropriate here.”
“Oh really,” I said, rolling my eyes. “How so?”
“If you were truly interested, consciously or not, in, quote ‘reappropriating the symbols of your oppressors’ unquote, you’ve chosen an interesting way of doing it.”
“Now, I don’t follow.”
“Look at how you’re dressed. Your makeup is subtly flawless. Your clothes are immaculate. Very feminine yet entirely appropriate, although I think, quite frankly, you’ll find yourself tiring of heels after you have to go up and down stairs enough. You are entirely passable.”
“So, how does this disprove my theory?”
“How do you think it does?” she said, with a sly smile.
“For once, Julia, answer a question with an answer, not a question.”
“Calm down, Brian. It was a small joke. I think my response to your claim of going ‘in drag’ answers the question.”
“I sill don’t get it.”
“If you were truly interested in flaunting your sexuality, you’d be dressed in a way to call attention to yourself. Much more flamboyantly, a la the drag queens in the meatpacking district. You would trying to caricature femininity to make a statement. Instead, you’re dressed like the average woman on the street. Therefore, I think that there’s another agenda other than subverting society at play here.”
I clapped slowly. “Very interesting, and all on the fly. I’ve already told you my agenda. I’m doing a favor for my best friend, that’s it. What did Freud say, ‘sometimes a cigar is just a cigar?’ This is just a cigar, Julia.”
Now, she rolled her eyes. “OK, Brian. I see your point,” she said. “Yet, you’ve clearly chosen to embrace the role, as it were. I mean, your makeup, hair and clothes are flawless. Did Lisa pick these out for you?”
“No.”
“Did someone else?”
“No, I did.”
“Interesting. Did she do your makeup?”
“No, she has to work everyday.”
“Did she teach you?”
“No, I taught myself. Oh great, now what do you have to say?”
“Really? You are really quite talented. It’s flawless. Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t want to look like a clown,” I said huffily. “A job worth doing is a job worth doing right.”
“That’s your father’s saying, isn’t it?”
“Oh god, now we’re going to start covering my father. I thought Freud was fairly discredited.”
“Let’s keep to the topic, Brian.”
“Yes, it is his saying. And?” I said, defensively.
“Well, we’ve certainly covered his response to your coming out. Do you think your doing this is somehow revenge?”
“How?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know. Like I was always this total disappointment and somehow by taking his advice and applying it to this, it was like getting even with him?”
“That’s a possibility, no?”
“I guess. I mean, no matter what I did right, I was a disappointment. I mean, I graduated magna cum laude and he still thought of me as a little pansy. And, we both know what he did when I came out. Yeah, maybe, this is some kind of revenge.” My voice started getting louder. “Like, ‘I’m going to be the biggest, queerest little faggot you ever saw, dad, fuck you. How do you like me now, huh?” I said, with increasing ferocity. “I mean, look at this, I’m a beautiful woman, here’s your ultimate worst nightmare, you dickhead. I dress like a girl and men fuck me. I mean, I don’t even do the fucking. I get fucked. Hard. I’m a catcher, not even a pitcher. And I like it. And I suck dick and I like it. I like a mouth full of cum. I like swallowing. How’s your little boy now? I give it one hundred percent like you always said.” I stopped. “Wow. That’s pretty fucked up. Is that what they call a catharsis? I thought stuff like that only happened in movies.”
“Does it feel better?”
“Oddly, yes. It’s funny. Like I said, I told Lisa that I tried the clothes and makeup to try and face the monster under the bed. Well, I guess I figured out who the monster is.”
“That’s good. But, it’s really only part of the puzzle. Why do you think you agreed to do this?”
“Haven’t we been covering that for the entire session?”
“On one level, albeit a fairly deep one. But you and your father haven’t spoken in twelve years. There’s not a real likelihood that he’d ever see you like this. Something else compelled you to do this.”
“Are we going to start talking about my mom now?”
“Do you want to?”
“Not really.”
“Do you think this is somehow related to her?”
“Since you’ve been away for two weeks, I’ve had to parse this on my own and, no, I don’t think it has anything to do with her.”
“Then, why do you think you chose to come dressed today?”
“Because, it’s been a big deal for the past two weeks. I thought I should show you.”
“Are you looking for approval?”
“Are you now my mommy?” I sneered.
“I didn’t say that Brian. But, it’s interesting that you did. Like you’re trying to show me what you can do, or is what you did?”
“What does THAT mean?”
“Well, what did you expect my response would be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Praise? Critcism?”
“Do you have a problem with this? What do you think?”
“I’m not here to judge you Brian. I reserve criticism only for patients engaged in behavior harmful to themselves or others.”
“Does this fall into that category?”
“Should it? Do you feel as though you’re harming yourself or others?”
“Others, no. Me, I’m not so sure.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. I’m just very conflicted. Like I don’t know who I am anymore. On the one hand, I like me as me. On the other hand, this,” I said, waving my hand up and down, “gives me a weirdly heightened sense of reality.”
“Meaning?”
“I don’t know. I’ve become much more aware of my surroundings since I started.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know. Fear? Like if I let down my guard, I’ll be found out and beat to a pulp.”
“I’d like you to try something this week. If and when you’re dressed, try to just be in the moment. Don’t think about. Just be.”
“Easier said that done, Julia.”
“Just try.”
“I’ll try.”
“Let’s talk about Lisa. Why did you do this?”
“I told you,” I said with exasperation. “Lisa’s always been there for me, so now I’m there for her.”
“Has she always been there for you?”
“Uh, yeah. I mean she took a week when my mom died, and she totally helped me when my dad exploded when I came out.”
“But, has she always been there for you? Has she been there for you during your relationships?”
“There haven’t been a lot of those.”
“Well, has she been there when there have been?”
“I don’t know. I guess.”
“You guess? Well, have she and Jim ever gone out with you and a boyfriend?”
“Um, let me think about it,” I said, with a pause. “I don’t think so. But I think Jim would be uncomfortable.”
“Hmmm. Has she ever said that?”
I suddenly felt the need to stare at the print in my skirt. “No.”
“Does she ever talk to you about sex?”
“We talk about guys.”
“I don’t mean checking guys out on the street. I mean, does she ever talk to you about yourself as a sexual being?”
“Do you talk to your friends that way? I mean, do other people who aren’t shrinks talk about themselves as ‘sexual beings?” I said sarcastically. “Come on.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she asked, “Have you ever talked about her relationship with Jim?”
“In detail. Nauseating detail.”
“Has she ever reciprocated?”
“No, you know what, I don’t think so. But, then again, I don’t know if I’ve ever tried.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think she would have a tough time dealing with you as a gay man?”
I laughed. “I think that cat’s out of the bag, don’t you?”
“I don’t mean as some kind of camp figure. I mean as a sexual equal.”
“That’s a little much, don’t you think? Again ‘sexual equal,’ ‘sexual being.’ I don’t think anyone thinks about their friends that way. But, anyway, she was the first person I came out to, and she has always been totally cool. You’re being unfair.”
“Am I? You’re not answering my question.”
“I don’t know. Like I said, maybe I haven’t tried.”
“Why? Are you afraid she’d reject you if you were somehow more sexual? Do you think that would scare her?”
I looked at my nails, then played with the hem of my skirt. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Then, why did you agree to do this? Do you think is a way of somehow gaining her acceptance?”
“Like what, I’m no longer a gay man, but another woman? Isn’t that kind of pat?”
“Is it? What about the whole incident in the restaurant?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, you flaunted your sexuality in front of her, although in a more societally acceptable way?”
“I don’t understand. Societally acceptable way?”
“Yes, by embracing the outward trappings of a female, you could actively pursue a man in her presence.”
“Huh. I don’t know. Maybe.”
“And, yet, you said that she responded extremely negatively to you doing this.”
I sat up. “She was just looking out for me. I mean, if he had found out, I would’ve been beaten to a pulp. I mean, do you really believe that he would’ve been all, ‘Hey, you’re a guy! Cool!’?”
“Clearly, no, Brian. But it’s not as though she got upset because you were leaving with him, but rather simply because you were flirting, albeit in, quite frankly, an over-the-top manner. Do you flirt that way with guys when you’re not dressed this way?”
“No, not really. I always feel awkward.”
“So, I return to my original question. Does this feel more comfortable for you?”
“Sort of. I mean, it’s like a costume. Or like I’m an actor playing a role. It’s not me.”
She looked at her clock. “I’m sorry, Brian. But session’s over. We’ll have to continue this next week. Think about what we’ve talked about.”
“Oh boy. Fun, fun, fun.”
“Brian,” she said, in an annoyed tone.
“Sorry. See you next week.”
“See you next week. Again, I must compliment you on your look. You look adorable.”
“Thanks mommy,” I said flatly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I left Julia feeling hollow and confused. Lisa had always been a good friend to me. I mean, I didn't think of her as a sexual being either. She was my best friend. It's not like she, Jim and I went out together. I saw Jim because he lived with her, and we all lived in the same building. I mean, Lisa was as comfortable with my sexuality as anyone.
Or was she? Was Julia right? Was I just the adult equivalent of the "fat friend?" The one who hung around with the pretty girls when they had just been dumped, but who was jettisoned when a guy was in the picture. Maybe Julia was on to something. Maybe, I needed to assert myself as me, rather than doing what Lisa wanted. If she couldn't handle it, then maybe we weren't as good friends as I thought.
When Friday night came around, I decided I was going out, as me. Not as Jessica, me. I got dressed up in my gayest clothes - my tight tank top, my tight Diesel jeans and my boots.
I heard a knock on my door. When I opened it, there was Lisa.
"I just wanted to know what you were up to. I haven't seen you in a while." she said. "Uh, going somewhere?"
"Yeah, I'm going out. Is that a problem?" I said indignantly.
"No," she said warily. "Just curious. Where are you going?"
"The Boy's Room. OK with you?" I said angrily.
"Uh, sounds great" she said. "You go girl."
"What does THAT mean? I'm sorry I'm not dressed for you tonight, but you know what? I need to be me," I said angrily.
"Who said anything about any of that?" she asked timidly. "I was kidding. Calm down."
"I am calm," I said. "I need some time to be me, not who you want me to be!"
"OK, OK," she said, sounding hurt. "Go hook up. Have a gang bang. Whatever. I don't know what I did, but I apologize."
"Look," I said, impatiently. "I'd like to get going."
"So go," she said. "I'd like to know what's gotten into you, but you clearly are 'on the rag' today, so I won't bother."
"What the hell does THAT mean? I'm a guy, you know, despite what you think."
Now Lisa got angry. "Look BRIAN," she spat. "I know what you are and I thought I knew who you are. I don't know what the hell has or hasn't crawled up your ass, but tell you what. When you get off whatever the fuck you're on and want to act like a human being, forget my friend but just a human being, you call me," she said, walking out of the room.
"Good," I thought. "My night's free." I went to the Boy's Room that night. I tried to play predator, and hit on everyone I saw who was even remotely attractive. You know you're in trouble when you can't get laid at a gay bar at 2 AM. One guy turned to his friend and said, "Oooh, look, Miss Bottom's getting all macho." That really killed it for me. Maybe my heart wasn't in it. If it was possible, I felt even worse and even more confused. I went home and stared at the television until I fell asleep.
At 11 AM Saturday, I called Lisa. Jim picked up. "Hello?"
"Hey Jim, it's Brian. Is Lisa there?"
"Why? You wanna rip her new one?"
"I guess she said something."
"Go figure. Her best friend craps all over her, and she says something. Women, who understands them?" he said, sarcastically.
"I deserve that. Can I speak to her?"
"I don't know. Are you going to be you, or the Manhole?"
"You know a little too much about some things," I tried to joke.
"I'm not in the mood for jokes," he said coldly. "I've told you before. She loves you, and you trip out. Quite frankly, I don't know why she does it or what the hell's up with you. I just know that she is my number one priority, and if she keeps getting upset, you'll feel it. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes. She's lucky to have you."
"That's the first sensible thing you've said in the past twelve hours. I'll see if she wants to talk, but again remember - if she gets upset, I get upset. If I get upset, you get...well, let's see what you get," he said ominously. "Hey Lise, Act Up boy is on the phone."
"What?" she said coldly.
"Um, can we talk?"
"Can we?"
"I'd like to do face-to-face."
"Are you going to attack me again? I have things to do, and that doesn't fit into my plans, BRIAN," she said, saying my name like a curse.
"I just want to talk. If you don't, call me when you do."
"I'll be downstairs in five minutes," she said with a sigh.
She came over. "What happened to you last night?"
"Look, Lise. I'm sorry about how I said what I said."
She tensed up. "How you said what you said? What does that mean?"
"I mean I'm sorry I attacked you. I've been feeling lost lately. Like I don't know who I am."
"And that means you attack me, why? Oh wait, Julia's back, isn't she?"
"Let's not get into that, OK? Let's keep on the subject. I've been feeling lost, like Jessica was replacing Brian. Like I was being made a girl to satisfy your needs."
"What?"
"Like you're uncomfortable with me being gay, so this is your way of dealing with it. By trying to change me."
"Excuse me?" she said, with eyes bulging. "I'm uncomfortable with you being gay? That would actually be hilarious if I didn't think you believed it. Explain to me how I'm uncomfortable," she said, crossing her arms in front of her.
"Have we ever talked about my relationships?"
"What relationships?"
"I've had relationships."
"What do you mean, 'talk about them?' I'd like to understand the nature of the charges."
"You never asked me what these guys were like, how our sex life was..."
She held her hand up. "Do YOU ever ask me about my sex life?"
"You tell me, and I listen."
"I tell you that Jim won't leave me alone. We don't talk about Jim's prowess. Do you want to, because I will?"
"No."
"Are we supposed to? Did Julia say we should?" she said mockingly.
"Leave her out of it. Anyway, we've never once gone out as couples, you, me, Jim and whomever I was with."
"Did you ever ask?"
"I'm pretty sure I did."
"I'm pretty sure you didn't. I would've liked to, as long as we're talking. That you never did is your own problem, not mine, Bri."
"You yelled at me about Jeff."
"We're back on that? Look, I'm sorry I yelled, but I didn't want you beat to a pulp. Also, quite frankly, you were acting ridiculous."
"I can't assert my sexuality? Does it bother you when I do?" I said quickly, so as to be able to get the words out.
"OK," she said. "That is clearly Julia. What does that mean? If Jennifer was acting like that, I'd call her on it. Am I uncomfortable with her sexuality too? Maybe I'm just sexually repressed. Why don't we see if Julia can fit me in? I've clearly got issues," she said.
"I just feel like you used Jessica to somehow mask your discomfort with my being gay," I mumbled.
"That hurts. After sixteen years of what I thought until last night was being best friends, that hurts." she said. "I am not uncomfortable with you being gay. We are, or is it were, friends. Maybe you never felt comfortable talking about sex or bringing your boyfriends over, but I didn't. Anybody you love, I'll love. I mean that. I'm not your family. I won't reject you. But you need to ask yourself, 'Am I comfortable with me?' Maybe you aren't. Maybe Jessica triggers all sorts of things in you that you've been avoiding. If you don't want to deal, I'm not going to make you. Until last night, you actually seemed to be getting comfortable as Jessica..."
"Not this again. I don't want to be a woman," I said. "I like being a guy. I'm doing it for you."
She rolled her eyes. "And I appreciate that. As I was saying, you seemed to be getting comfortable. If you don't want to do it, don't do it. I'll survive. I won't lie. It hurts. But I'll live. I really just want you to be happy. But I can't make you happy. You need to do that yourself."
"Thanks Oprah," I joked.
"Shut up," she said, with a smile. "I'm serious. You need to do what makes you happy. Do you want to get brunch?"
"Sure," I said. "Let me get dressed. Come in the bedroom."
"So," she said sarcastically. "Did you get you laid? And I mean that in the most supportive way."
"Yeah, yeah. I deserved that."
"Did you?"
"I tried."
"You didn't. After all that, and you didn't even get laid. Good, you deserved it." Then she started laughing.
"Anyway, what should I wear?"
"Oh no, Brian. I am so not going there. Whatever I say, you'll tell Julia and she'll say I'm stifling your sexuality or something like that. I am so not going there. Wait," she said. "Where's last night's outfit? I am willing to go out with an out and proud gay man. I am a proud member of PFLAG."
"Having fun? Would you like to invite Jim to join in?"
"Jim actually blamed me. Said all this girl stuff is making you hormonal."
"Remind me to thank him," I said dryly.
"Tell you what. You put on what you want. I'll wait in the living room."
I agonized for ten minutes. Lisa called in, "Boy, you really are Jim's revenge on me. What's taking so long?"
I came out wearing a gray sweater, black wool skirt, gray tights and a pair of black boots with a 2" heel. "Let's go."
"So you decided to go with Jessica," she said. "I didn't pressure you, right?"
"No. That's what I felt like being. Today. Tomorrow I may feel differently. OK?"
"Boy, whether you like it or not, you are becoming such a girl."
"I'm serious."
"I know," she said quietly. "I love you Brian. Whatever you want, I want. Just be happy, OK?"
"OK, OK," I said. "Emotional time is over. EJ's?" I asked brightly. "I need french toast."
"That'll probably reject you too," she joked.
"You're stifling my sexuality," I shot back.
"You know, I'm calling Julia for rebuttal time. You are nuts. Let me call Jim and see if he wants to join us."
Jim came down and looked at me. "Damn," he said. "I was hoping for last night's outfit. It's a bird, it's a plane, it's Superfag!"
"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," I said. "You want me."
"Maybe that shrink of yours can prescribe some heavy-duty meds, because you are nuts," he said. "I've told you. I'm taken," he said, grabbing Lisa by the waist.
"I wouldn't take you even if you asked," I joked.
"You so want me, fudge packer," he said. "Who wouldn't?"
Lisa raised her hand. "As amusing as this is, could you two stop?"
Jim grabbed me by the waist. "I think she's getting jealous."
"I think so. Do you think she'll be my bridesmaid?"
Lisa laughed. "You know what? You deserve each other. He's an imbecile and you're nuts, Jess."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I won't bore you with the day-by-day recitation of my life. January turned to February and February to March. I took Julia's advice and just let myself be "in the moment" as Jessica. Don't get me wrong. I was still on guard, since however comfortable I was getting, society was not. But being "in the moment" really helped. I stopped constantly worrying and just did what I wanted. I was much more productive with my work. My billing was up 25% over the past year. I had always done well, but now I was really making money. Unfortunately, Jessica was consuming more and more of it. By March, I was down to 123 pounds and a 24" waist. My abs were as flat as ever and I was, quite frankly, hot. I began to spend more time dressed as Jessica, since it allowed me to show off my new body. I liked getting the once over from guys who, if they were gay, wouldn’t have given Brian a second look. Julia had a great time with that.
“So, you like when guys look at you?”
“Yes,” I sighed. “Yes I do. Who wouldn’t?”
“And you find yourself getting dressed in sexier and sexier outfits?”
“Yes. I enjoy it. It’s not like I get a lot of attention as Brian.”
“Hmmm,” she said. “Do you feel like you put the same effort into Brian as you do into Jessica?”
“I don’t understand.”
“How much did you work out as Brian?”
“I don’t know. 4 times a week.”
“And as Jessica?”
“Maybe one more time.”
“Do you do anything else?”
“Not really.”
“Really? I couldn’t help but notice your abs seem very toned lately.”
“Do you often look at your patients’ abs, Julia?”
She rolled her eyes. “Only those that cross-dress and wear belly Ts, Brian.”
“Touche. OK, so I do situps too. And probably eat healthier.”
“OK, so you work out more and eat healthier, and wear sexy outfits. But, yet, you maintain that this is quote, “all for Lisa.” unquote.”
“Yes.”
“If you met someone else doing this, what would your response be?”
“I don’t know. I can’t read minds.”
“Fine, Brian.”
“What does that mean? And don’t say “what do you think it means?” I hate that.”
“OK, Brian. I’ve said it before. You seem more at peace this way. You seem to truly have embraced this part of your personality.”
“It’s fun. It’s fun to walk around without feeling like society’s looking down on you. But that doesn’t mean I want to do it full time.”
“If you could, would you?”
“No. Once the wedding is over, so is Jessica.”
She kept rolling her eyes. It was like therapy at the Caesars’ Palace slots room. “So you’ve invested in all these clothes and makeup for four months.”
“Yes.”
“Really? How much have you spent?”
I stared at the floor. “I don’t know.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Somehow, given your personality, I doubt that you can’t give me a very close estimate.”
“I don’t know. $4,000 more or less.”
"Has Lisa reimbursed you for that?"
"No. I haven't asked. I'm sure she would."
"But you haven't asked."
"No."
"So you've spent four thousand dollars for something that will be over in June."
"Uh huh. And?"
"That's quite a lot. What do you suppose you'll do with all of these clothes once you're done?'
"I don't know. Donate them to charity?"
"Very altruistic of you, Brian. In fact, this whole process reeks of altruism. First, you do this solely for Lisa. And then, at the end, you give away the clothes to charity. It's almost like a cleansing ritual. Or like you've martyred yourself for the good of the world," she said sarcastically.
"Fine, Julia. I find this really helpful. I come to work on my problems, and you mock me. Maybe, you just don't understand doing for someone else. I did this for Lisa. I've said it time and again. And, at the end of the day, I'll give my clothes to Dress for Success. Help some poor women get a leg up. That's it."
"OK, Brian. I just think you need to decide if that's what you want. If you do, that's great. I'm just suggesting that maybe you need to examine what it is you want, not what's good for everyone else."
"I have, Julia. But, I understand your point."
"That's all I'm going for, Brian. You've spent your life worrying about everyone else. Enjoy yourself."
"Yup. Got it."
"And with that terse reply, I'm afraid time is up. I'll see you next week."
I left Julia feeling like I had for the past several weeks. Like she couldn't understand that this was finite. Yes, it was fun to play dress-up and take on a different role. But, life wasn't that simple. It's not like my clients would take to me dressing in drag. It could be fun once in a while. But, you know what? Putting on make-up every day was time consuming. Julia was right the first time - heels do hurt after a while. And keeping your legs closed was annoying. Other than that, I just didn't know. No, I knew. Jessica was like summer vacation. Fun while it lasted, but it had to come to an end. Right?
Anyway, one Saturday, Lisa and I were shopping in Barney's. She had gone off to find something and I was browsing in the Prada department. I was dressed in a peasant blouse, knee length paisley skirt and boots.
"Brian?" I heard someone say. I turned around to face Melissa D'Amico, the CTO of one of my clients.
"I'm sorry," I said, hoping this would pass. "You must be mistaken."
She didn't flinch. "Either you're Brian Rosen or his identical twin sister. Which is it?"
"His twin sister?" My tone must have tipped her off. She pounced
"I knew it. I knew something was up at our meeting last week."
"Oh god. What do you mean?"
"Tisha," her secretary, "noticed a couple of months ago that you had that new haircut. I didn't think anything of it. Then, last week, she said, 'I swear he's getting curves. And he's wearing your black pinstripe suit.' Then, when you left to go to the bathroom, I looked. It said 'Banana Republic, Size 8.' 'You bitch,' I thought, 'I'm a 10.'" Then she laughed.
"Oh god. I'm so sorry, Melissa. It won't happen again," I pleaded.
"Relax, Brian. You bring projects in ahead of time and on or under budget. As far as I'm concerned, you could wear a tutu."
"Thanks, I think."
"Also," she laughed. "I work in an office with guys who consider Star Trek crew shirts de riguer office apparel. I have one guy who dresses like a Jedi Knight. Quite frankly, men's or women's suits, you dress incredibly professionally. Although, I must say, lose the tie next time and roll the cuffs up over the jacket sleeve. With a string of pearls, you will be the picture of girl power."
"Thanks a lot, Melissa." I said sarcastically. "Besides what about Raj and Danny," the company's CEOs. "They would not be too thrilled about this."
"Don't worry about Raj and Danny. Number 1, with the road show for the IPO coming up, they don't know what day it is, much less what you're wearing. Number 2, as far as Raj is concerned, you've walked on water ever since you debugged the Bank of America software at the 11th hour last year. In fact, he said I have carte blanche to get you on full-time. What will it take? The IPO will make you rich."
"Thanks, but no thanks. I cashed out in the 90s and have more than enough. I have no interest in working for one company anymore. Tell you what though. I'll take shares in lieu of my fee for the next six months."
"Done."
"What about Danny? What would he think?"
"Danny," she said, laughing. "Let's just say, unless you're Queen Amidala, he wouldn't notice you."
"So, I'm not fired?"
"No. In fact, if I let you go, I'd be following you out the door. You are too valuable to let something like that outfit get in the way. Although it is a little trippy for me."
"Ha ha. So, Tisha noticed first?"
"Yeah. She asked and I quote, 'so is Brian getting off the down low, and becoming a girl?'"
"Oh god."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Are you?"
"That question is out of line, Melissa."
"I think we're a little past indignation, don't you? I mean I found you dressed in a skirt shopping in Barney's. In addition, you've started to get curves and you've got that very cute, but very feminine, haircut. I think the time for feigning incomprehension is past, sweetie."
"Fair enough."
"So answer the question."
"No. I'm not getting a sex change. What do you think of me?"
"I just thought that, well, you know..."
"No. What?"
"Well, I mean you are gay..."
"Come on, Melissa," I sighed. "I expect that from Tisha, but not you."
"You're right. But, the outfit, the haircut, the curves...what's up?"
And with that, I told her the whole story. When I finished, she had the same reaction as everyone else. She whistled and said, "Wow. That's pretty amazing. That's a lot to ask."
"Tell me about it."
"But you've never done this before. Really?"
"Really."
With that, as if on cue, Lisa showed back up. When she saw Melissa, she stopped. "Oh, hey, Jess. Who's your friend?" she said a little too brightly.
"It's OK, Lise. She knows. Melissa, Lisa Wasserman, the bride. Lisa, Melissa D'Amico." They shook hands. "Melissa's the CTO of Excelsior, the client I've told you about. The integrated video-audio streaming software for corporate development."
Lisa turned to Melissa, and said, "I have to apologize. Even dressed like this, he's such a geek. He thinks he's explaining things to me, and forgets I don't have a CS degree."
Melissa laughed. "Understood. I have to say, you have one hell of a friend here. I don't know too many guys, even gay ones, who would do this."
Lisa smiled, "I know. He's truly the best."
I blushed, as Melissa went on. "Did you do his makeup? It's flawless."
"No. He's done it himself from the beginning."
Melissa turned to me. "I thought you never did this before, you liar."
"He's not lying. I've known him since freshman year. If he had done it, I'd know. Nope, this is just Brian being Brian."
"I don't understand."
"When he decided to do this, he started researching it on the Net. Practiced every style of makeup for two days until he found the right one."
"That's our Brian. Nothing if not thorough to the point of OCD."
I coughed loudly. "Ahem, I AM standing here."
They looked at me, and then started again. "I do have one bone to pick with you, Lisa."
"What?"
"You let him go out dressed like Woodstock."
Lisa laughed. "I tried to stop him. He's usually much better. Very Ann Taylor. Very classic."
Melissa looked me over. "I could see that. Let's find him some more outfits that work better. Then we're burning that one."
"Boy," I said. "I think I'll go rob a bank."
"What?" they both said.
"I must be invisible. So, I may as well use it."
They went back to ignoring me. "I see him in a nice pencil skirt and cropped sweater," said Melissa. "Show off those curves he has. That and those legs."
"You know, this is making me a little nervous, Melissa. I mean we do work together. This is a little too personal."
She put her arm around me. "Relax, Brian. What happens in Barney’s stays in Barney’s. This is just fun. Like I said before, no one is letting you go. In fact, I'll fight anyone who tries to poach you, so just relax."
Lisa interjected. "He worries too much. Even after three and a half months, he's still afraid. Look at him. He's beautiful and sexy. And he still thinks everyone's coming after him. I like the pencil skirt idea, by the way."
"Have you seen his Banana Republic suit? I told him next time to ditch the tie for some pearls."
"Oh, I know. With a pair of low heels, he would be so stunning. I'm also thinking a cream colored suit, with a blue blouse."
"The boys would eat him up. Although I’d love to see him in more skirts. He was made to wear skirts."
I coughed again, rather loudly.
Melissa briefly glanced at me and said, “OK, Brian. I know. Skirts would be a little too much now.”
“Now?”
“We’ll see.”
“No, we won’t. There is nothing to see. After the wedding, this is done.”
Melissa and Lisa looked at each other and smiled. Then Lisa said, "This is soooo much fun, Melissa. I love having someone else to play Barbie with."
Melissa laughed. "I forgot how much fun that could be."
I spent the rest of the afternoon with the two of them dragging me around, and making me try on outfits. Every time I put on a skirt, Melissa would whistle and say, “You need to wear more skirts, girl. You are just fabulous in skirts.” Then once she “accidentally” dropped her pocketbook. When I went to pick it up, she grabbed my ass. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. It’s so cute. Try it, Lisa.” Then Lisa did it. I felt like such a piece of meat.
In addition, whenever saleswomen asked, they said, "Jess has lost a lot of weight lately. If you knew her before, you wouldn't recognize her." They each, as "consolation," bought me a new outfit. Lisa bought me a pair of leather pants and a sleeveless belly T, along with a black pencil skirt and white blouse. Melissa went classic, and bought me the aforementioned cream colored suit. She told me to wear it to our next meeting with "no tie!"
In addition to torturing me, Lisa got an added benefit. When she told Melissa that she did P.R., Melissa told her that Excelsior was going to need a new firm and she set up a meeting. At Bloomingdale's, Lisa said, "You know what Jessica needs? A sexy little black dress. We have something coming up."
"What?" I said, "What do we have coming up?
"Patience, Jessica. Patience is rewarded." Then the bitch turned to Melissa and whispered something to her. Melissa raised her eyebrows, and they both giggled.
"I don't like this. I don't like this at all."
"Oh, relax, Jess," said Melissa. "It's no fun to ruin a surprise."
"I'm calling Raj," I said feebly. "I'm quitting."
Melissa laughed. "And telling him what? That I kept a secret from you while you were trying on dresses.
I just moaned.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next week, Lisa, her mother, and I set aside for dress shopping. Her other bridesmaid Jennifer couldn’t make it, but she and I had shared ideas on our dresses. Her mother was coming in, and we were going first to Vera Wang and then to Kleinfeld's in Brooklyn. Kleinfeld's is this gigantic discount bridal place in Brooklyn, I found out. You find the dress you want in the city, and then go there to get it cheap.
Lisa called me Friday night. "My mom is coming at 10 AM. We'll get breakfast and go, OK?"
"Does she know what to expect?" I asked, referring to me.
"Let's surprise her," she said, "Wear the pale blue dress, and your blue slides. I'll call you when she gets here."
At 10 AM, Lisa called and I went to her place. I knocked. I heard Lisa say, "Ma, can you get that?"
Her mother opened the door. "May I help you, Miss?" Then she did a double take. "Ohmigod, Brian! Is that you?" she squealed. "You look absolutely adorable."
I gave a twirl. I know it seems like I do that a lot. But there's nothing like the feel of a skirt swirling around your legs. "Do you like, Sandy?"
Lisa came in and said, with a grin, "So, Ma, what do you think?"
"Brian, you are just stunning. This suits you."
I blushed. "Call him Jessica, Mom. I think the yentas at Kleinfeld's will get confused if you call him Brian, no?"
"I'm sorry. Jessica," she gushed. "Lisa told me you changed. But I swear I wouldn't know it was you. You have gorgeous legs. Such a shame you didn't wear skirts before."
Lisa interjected, "And he knows how to work it. Show my mother your walk."
If it was at all possible, I turned redder. "Stop it."
"Come on, Jess. Show her your walk."
I walked, and gave my ass an extra shake. "You know," her mother said, "if she does that at the wedding, no one will notice you, Lisa."
I laughed. "I doubt that. We are going to get Lisa a dress so phenomenal, no one will take their eyes off of her. I've been reading the magazines and have some ideas." Sandy arched an eyebrow.
Lisa smiled. "You know Bri, ma. When he takes on a job, he takes it on. He scares me sometimes. Do you know he taught himself make-up in like two days? It looked that good his first time out."
Her mother gave a low whistle. "I am impressed, Bri...I mean Jessica. You do look good."
"Thank you," I said. "Enough of praising me here. We can continue at breakfast and then in the cab. We need to avoid the crowds."
They both laughed. After breakfast, we met up with Jennifer and went to Vera Wang to look for a wedding dress. Lisa tried on several styles. We rejected the first five. One was too poofy. One had too much beadwork. One made Lisa, who weighed all of 125 pounds, look fat.
Dress number six was a gorgeous sleeveless satin dress. A long, flowing unadorned skirt. Empire waist. The bodice was satin, with a sheer piece from the bustline up.
Her mother began to cry. "You look...just...oh my."
I started to tear up too. "Lisa, that is it. We are not looking anymore. That is absolutely it." I turned to the salesgirl. "Put it aside."
Lisa came over and hugged her mother. "Is it OK, mom?"
She kept crying. "Listen to Jessica," she sobbed.
I gave Lisa a hug. "You look absolutely phenomenal. "
"You really think so?"
"Yes, now take it off, before it gets wrinkled."
The salesgirl put it aside. "We'll be back," said her mother. This was a contingent lie. By that, I mean that we'd be back unless Kleinfeld's had one just like it for less. Then, we wouldn't be. Everyone understood the drill.
As we walked out, Sandy said, "So, Jessica, Jennifer, do you have any ideas for the bridesmaid's dresses?"
"Well, Jennifer and I were talking. We were thinking sleeveless, knee length black or blue."
Sandy laughed. "Gee, Jessica. I don't know whose figure that could flatter."
I blushed and laughed. "Hey, once I was brought in, I wasn't about to wear some sea-foam green poofy thing."
Lisa interjected. "He is such a JAP, ma. I swear, he's Jim's revenge."
Her mother laughed. "Well, you were your father's revenge on me..."
Lisa continued. "There's just one problem, ma."
Her mother sighed. "Allison. I know. I've made it abundantly clear to her that she will do this the way you want, and with a smile on her face, but you know how she is."
Lisa's shoulders slumped. "I know. I know."
“Come on,” I said. “We’ll get her into this. I mean, if I can be made to do it, so can she.”
They both gave me the half-smile that seemed to happen every time I talked about it. “Sure,” said Lisa, with a smirk. “You’re right. Crunchy will get as into it as you.”
“Stop calling your sister Crunchy,” said Sandy.
“But she is,” Lisa whined, as if reverting to age twelve.
“You will treat her nicely and she will, god help me, do this with a smile. Or at least do it and not complain in public.”
“Um, does she know I’m involved?” I asked. Allison and I had a tense relationship. For all the supposed tolerance of Dead Heads, she was extremely intolerant of people who didn’t fit her model. Not that I was gay, but that I actually made money for my work above and beyond the amount needed to buy Phish tickets and pot.
“Sort of.”
“Sort of? Sort of is like sort of pregnant, Lise. Does she or doesn’t she?”
“She knows Jessica is,” said Sandy.
“Doesn’t she wonder who Jessica is?”
Lisa sneered, “Oh yeah. Like she cares about my friends.”
Sandy sighed. “I think she said, ‘Doesn’t she have another little princess who can take my place in this bullshit?’”
Lisa smirked. “Well, I think she’s not only getting a princess, she’s getting a queen.” Then she stuck her tongue out at me.
“You’re just jealous because I’ve lost more weight than you.”
“Anorexia will do that.”
“I never noticed how green your eyes were, Lisa. It’s sad though.”
“That’s enough girls,” laughed Sandy. “When I said you were like a daughter to me, Brian. This is not what I meant.”
I giggled. “Sorry, mom.”
This is went on for a while as we drove to Kleinfeld’s. Lisa found the dress and her mother paid for it. We felt bad for the woman at Vera Wang, but fifty percent off is fifty percent off.
Next we had more fun. We shopped for my dress. First I tried on a black cocktail length sleeveless dress.
“I don’t know,” said Lisa.
“Eh,” said her mother, “I don’t think so. It looks nice. But too many women at the wedding will be wearing something close.”
I tried on several more dresses. My personal favorite was a white beaded backless dress that ended 2" above my knee. I looked damn hot. I strutted out and gave a model’s turn.
“Damn, Jess,” said Lisa. “Did Sharon Stone have a garage sale?”
“Nice try,” said Sandy. “You look very nice, but THAT is not for my daughter’s wedding. A night out at a club, maybe. Not going down the aisle.”
I mock pouted. “Oh, poo. I like it.”
Then Lisa said, “Wait!,” and whispered something to her mother. They both giggled and Sandy turned to the saleswoman. “Put it aside.”
“I thought you said it was inappropriate,” I said warily.
“It is,” said Sandy, with a Mona Lisa smile.
“Then what are you doing?”
“Buying you a present. Can’t I do that?”
“Sure. But where will I wear it?”
“You’ll see.”
I turned to Lisa. “That’s enough. Everyone is in on the joke except me. What’s going on?”
She grinned. “Good things come to those who wait, sweetie.”
“What?!”
“Ride the tide, Jess. Just ride the tide. See what happens.”
“You’re like a bad kung fu movie. What is going on? Sandy, speak.”
“Woof,” she said, with a grin. “I promise, Jess. Be patient. Would Lisa let anything happen to you? Would I?”
My stomach sank. “I see this is getting nowhere.”
Finally, I tried on a light blue sheath, knee length. If I do say so myself, I looked damn good.
Lisa whistled. “I don’t want to be overshadowed,” she laughed.
“If this were in the afternoon, maybe,” Sandy said. “Not for Saturday. Try it in a darker blue, maybe cerulean..”
When I put it on in cerulean, we all agreed that it was the dress, pending Jennifer’s approval. We’d ask Allison, but apparently she said, “Does what I think matter, anyway?” I made a note to see if it came in hemp.
After we finished, the saleswoman said, “Would you like to try it on too, Miss?”
I turned whatever the next shade is past beet red. “Uh..I...uh.”
“Please,” said the saleswoman. “Every girl wants to know what she’ll look like on her wedding day.”
“Yeah, come on, Jessica,” chimed in Lisa and her mother. “We want to see it.”
“Uh, isn’t it bad luck to try on the dress or something?”
The saleswoman laughed. “No, it’s supposed to be bad luck for the groom to see you in it beforehand. But only goyim believe that. What are you afraid of? You will look stunning.”
“You will,” said Sandy, with a devilish grin. “Try it.”
“Come on, Jess,” said Lisa, pushing me towards the dressing room. “Don’t be so lame. She’s an 8,” she said, to the saleswoman.
“Live a little,” said the saleswoman. “Don’t worry so much.”
The next thing I knew I was in the dressing room, with the saleswoman handing me a dress. “What size shoe do you wear?”
“Uh, 9 ½,” I said, blushing.
“Look, darling,” she said. “Just because the expression is blushing bride, don’t take it so literally. I’ll be outside.”
I stared at myself in the mirror. I was alternately horrified and mesmerized. “What am I doing?” I thought. “Now, she has me in a wedding dress. Am I going to be in maternity clothes next? Damn, I look good though.”
The saleswoman gave me a pair of white 4" heels, and I came out of the dressing room. I walked over to the fitting station to an imaginary wedding march.
“Oh my,” said Sandy. “Can I be mother of the bride for you too? You look gorgeous.”
Lisa added, “Oh my, Jessica. You will have to have that dress when the time comes.”
“The time isn’t coming, Lise,” I said, through gritted teeth.
“Don’t say that,” said the saleswoman. “A beautiful girl like you will find someone.”
“Sooner than she thinks,” said Lisa.
“What does that mean?” I said.
“Ride the tide, Jess. Ride the tide.”
In the car home, I turned to Lisa, "What’s going on?"
She smiled. "What do you mean?"
"You know full well what I mean."
"Patience. Just have patience and all will turn out well."
"Enough with the oblique comments. Tell me." I turned to Sandy, "What is going on? I’ve been manipulated long enough."
She shrugged. "Ask Lisa. This is her show."
"Very funny. I want to know, or this is over."
Lisa rolled her eyes. "Oh god, she’s at it again. Look, I’ll tell you one thing and that’s it. I don’t want to ruin the surprise."
"Oh gee thanks," I said sarcastically. "Do tell."
"Two weeks."
"What does that mean."
"The resolution comes in two weeks."
"That’s it? That’s bullshit. I need to know more."
"Fourteen days," she said, giggling.
"I need to know more. Sandy?"
"I think you’ll like the surprise."
"I quit. I’m done. If you’re not going to tell me, I’m done."
"So quit," Lisa said. "I’m tired of the drama, Miss Jessica. If you don’t trust me, who needs all of this?"
"Stop. Put yourself in my shoes. There’s all this whispering. Then someone buys you a gorgeous dress. Twice. And then you’re left hanging."
Lisa smirked. "Gorgeous dress, huh? For someone who’s quote ‘only doing this for me until June,’ you’ve developed quite a fashion sense. And quite a wardrobe."
"Stop it."
"All I’m saying is just wait, sweetie. If the surprise is less than fulfilling, you can...pick something, anything, that’s how sure I am."
"Sandy, please," I begged.
"Sorry, Jessica, this is between you girls. I’m staying out of it".
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Everyday I’d ask Lisa, "Please tell me. The suspense is killing me." And everyday she’d say, "Thirteen days." Or "Twelve days." On the upside, however, she stopped sounding like Kane from Kung Fu.
A week after our shopping excursion, I ran into Jim in the bodega around the corner from our building. "Hey Jim," I said. "What’s going on?"
"Oh, hey, Br..Jess," he responded, catching himself before anyone noticed. "What’s up?"
"What’s the big secret?"
"The Mets suck, my little French maid. Oh wait, that’s not a secret," he smirked, as we left the store.
"Very funny. I’ve already picked out a nice slow song."
"I’ve already ordered French maid uniforms. And I’m going to spill lots of shit."
"You just want to see my ass. I’m a little concerned about you, Jim."
"Look, ass wrangler," he laughed. "I’m sorry you’ve fallen in love with me, although it’s understandable..."
"What color is the sky in your world, Jim?"
"Anyway," he said, ignoring me. "I’m not interested, but..." he said, catching himself.
"But what," I pounced. "That’s the secret, isn’t it?"
Jim turned pale for a brief second but quickly regained composure. He was good, I had to admit. "How fucking nuts do you think I am, Brian? You think I’m going to talk? You’ll like it, trust me."
"I’m tired of that, Jim. I think I have a right to know."
"So do I. But, I’ve been sworn to secrecy. But, trust me, I think you’ll like it. And, I’m not Lisa. I think we’ve pretty well established that I don’t do games."
"I guess..."
"Look, it’s a week away. You can hold out until then. I mean, you’re a Met fan. You hold out hope every year that they won’t suck. They always do, but look you still hold out. So, what’s a week? Besides, unlike that, this actually has the hope of turning out good."
"Ha ha. I can’t wait to see that $200 million payroll go down in flames."
"See, that’s the ticket. You’re waiting for that. It won’t happen. But you still wait. So wait another week."
"You suck, Jim, you know that?"
"Sorry, I would tell you, I really would," he said apologetically. "You will, or should at least, like this. Tell you what, you don’t like it, I will wear a Mets jersey and cap for a week..."
"And?"
"And what? That’s not enough."
"You’ll stand by the Stadium on a game day singing, ‘Meet the Mets.’"
"You know what, I am so sure you’ll like this, that I’ll do it. And, if you like it, I won’t even make you do anything."
"Wow, OK, I trust you." I did really trust him. This was not something he would do under threat of death. The cap alone would kill him.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So the week passed very slowly. I buried myself in work once again, hoping that sublimation and denial would make things move quickly. They didn’t. On Thursday night, Lisa came over. "OK, Cinderella. Time to pick out an outfit for the big ball."
"Oooh, a big ball. Is it attached to something else big? Is that my surprise."
She rolled her eyes. "We’ll see. Anyway, we need to pick out an outfit for tomorrow’s surprise. Try on the white dress."
"How fancy is this?"
"Just do it," she said, pushing me towards my closet. I put on the dress and a pair of 4" white spikes.
"Hmmm..." she said. "Wait, where did you get those?"
"I bought them a week and a half ago. I needed shoes to go with the dress."
"But, yet, you’re stopping this after the wedding. Uh huh."
"Don’t read more into this than there is. I needed shoes."
"You could borrow mine," she smirked.
"Your feet are too big," I smirked back.
"Bitch."
"Such petty jealousy...tsk, tsk."
She stuck out her tongue. "Turn," she said, twirling her finger in the air. I did. She said, "You look great. But that may be a little over the top for tomorrow. Put on the LBD Melissa and I bought you." I slumped.
"What’s wrong, Bri?"
"I had forgotten about her. I have a meeting next week with her. I’m going to be mortified."
"Oh, stop it. She has nothing but respect for you. She told me so last week."
"So, what are you two best buddies now?"
"No. We had a business meeting about her new project."
"And I came up?"
"Actually, yes. She brought you up. She said, ‘he’s all worried that I’m going to make fun of him, isn’t he?’"
"Oh god," I moaned. "What did you say?"
"‘You know our Brian.’"
"And?"
"She said, and I quote, ‘Tell him enough already. If I had to pick one person to take to my next job, it would be him. Dress or no dress. Although...’"
"Although what?"
"‘Although if I had my way, he’d wear skirts all the time. He has killer legs, the bitch.’"
I laughed. "I do, you know."
"Oh god, you little diva. I am soooo sorry I ever did this. Anyway, the LBD NOW!" she said, clapping her hands.
"Yes, Miss Lisa," I said, slipping it over my head. I put on 3" strappy sandals, and gave a twirl. "Well?"
"Beautiful. That’s what we’re going with."
"What’s my surprise?"
"Nope. Nice try. But nope. Besides, it’s just one more day."
"This better be good."
"And, if it’s not, you get to torture Jim and me. How do you lose?"
"Uh huh," I said, warily.
"See you tomorrow at 7 P.M. at our place."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I did as I was told. The next night, I put on the LBD and arrived at Lisa and Jim’s place at 7 PM sharp. Jim answered the door and whistled, "You look good, Jess." This threw me.
"What’s up, Jim? No comments? No ‘butt monkey,’ no ‘popsicle police’ or ‘tunnel digger?’"
He laughed, and pointed his finger towards Lisa. "She said not tonight. Although I’ll have to remember ‘tunnel digger.’"
"It won’t count now that I came up with it."
"You’re becoming more and more of a woman."
"No, I’m not. This is just until the wedding..."
"Uh huh," he said, rolling his eyes. "Actually," he grinned, "it’s until July 4th, when you and my wife will be serving me and my friends."
"They’ve looked like shit in spring training. So, I’m thinking that after our big dance, I’m going to tell everyone I’m a guy."
"Yeah, OK," he snorted. "The flaw in your plan is that we always look bad in spring training, but do it when it counts. Whereas, you suck in spring training and continue to suck."
"A nice slow song. Maybe ‘Endless Love.’"
"Oops, I dropped my beer. Fifi, Giselle, clean it up."
"Fifi? Giselle? You have some major issues. Maybe you should postpone the wedding and see someone."
Lisa walked into the room. "Jess, you look amazing. What are you two talking about?"
"What else?" Jim said. "Jessica over here is deluding him..I mean, herself that the Mets will actually be better than the Yankees. And I’ve been explaining that she had better get used to that French Maid uniform."
"He’s named us Fifi and Giselle."
"He picked ‘Endless Love.’"
"I’m leaving you two. You should marry each other."
We both laughed. "Jim’s unwilling to compromise."
"I know, I know," he said, "you can’t let every little, and I mean little, thing get in the way of true happiness, right?"
"You know you want me, Jim. Don’t lie."
"Get it out now, you two. You need to be on your best behavior."
"Why?" I said, "What’s going on?"
"The surprise should be here soon. Come into the bedroom and help me finish getting ready."
"I hate you," I said, walking ahead of her.
She gave me the once-over. "And I hate you. You’re too beautiful."
"I know."
We walked into the bedroom. "Have you considered keeping this up after the wedding?"
"Stop. Now. Or I’m going home."
"I’m just saying..."
"Stop."
"You just seem much more confident. And peaceful."
"I’m not. I’m doing this for you. That’s it."
"OK, OK. No one would care, you know."
"Are you delusional? The world just loves guys in dresses."
"Noone knows that you’re guy in a dress. Every guy on the street gives you the once or twice over. You think they know?"
"Look, I don’t want to do it, OK. I miss my old life."
"You miss being ignored by men?"
"Fine, so they don’t ignore me now. I think they’d be a little upset to find what I’ve got down below, don’t you?"
"So you admit you like being this way."
"That’s not what I said. I said that, even if I stayed this way, which I’m not going to, it’d be pointless, since I couldn’t lead a full life."
She smiled. "Mmmm, hmmmm."
"OK, Julia," I said snarkily. "Enough. What’s the surprise?"
"Soon."
Lisa finished putting on her makeup, and said, "Damn, we do look good. Maybe we should ditch
Jim and go out."
"Not until I see the surprise." Just then, like a bad movie, the doorbell rang. "What do you have, a stage manager, Lise?"
She laughed. "This should be the surprise."
Jim called out. "Lise, Jessica, come here."
We came out and there was a good looking guy standing with Jim. About 6'2", 190 pounds, with dark curly hair and blue eyes. Lisa came over and gave him a kiss. "Kenny, how are you? It’s been too long. How’s Paris?" She turned to me. "Kenny’s a lawyer with Clifford Chance. He’s been working in Paris."
"Really? That sounds interesting."
He laughed. "Not really. Great city. Too bad I spend most of my life in an office. I could just as easily be in Tulsa."
"April in Tulsa. I hear it’s lovely." I said. "By the way, since Lisa has clearly not been keeping up on etiquette, I’m Jessica Rosen," I said, sticking out of my hand.
"Kenny Weinberg," he laughed.
"Kenny is one of Jim’s fraternity brothers," said Lisa.
"How do you and Lisa know each other?"
"From college. Best friends since freshman year."
"Lise, I don’t remember ever hearing about Jessica. You think I would have, at least from Jim."
Jim laughed. "She’s lost a lot of weight. She’s like a different person."
I flashed Jim the ‘good save’ look. He continued, "Actually, you and Jess have a lot in common. For example, you’re both Met fans. I thought that, since you both don’t get it, you’d go well together at the wedding."
Kenny punched Jim on the arm. "Putz." He turned to me, "Jim is so pathetic. Rooting for the Yankees is like rooting for Wal-Mart."
"I think the quote is ‘Rooting for the Yankees is like rooting for US Steel," I said.
Kenny whistled. "I know, but US Steel isn’t US Steel anymore. Still, very impressive. She really knows her stuff. Anyway, I always ask him, ‘what’s it like to always expect a World Series, and then fall progressively shorter, like they have since 2000?’"
"I know," I said. "He doesn’t get it."
Jim smirked. "Wow, two delusional losers. You two were made for each other."
"You two have other stuff in common," Lisa chimed in. "For example, Jessica used to work in Paris."
"Really, where?" Kenny asked.
"I worked two years for Price Waterhouse, before the merger. Where do you live?"
"The 7th. On Rue de Grenelle."
I whistled. "The 7th. Nice."
"And you?"
"In the 5th."
"Kind of cliched, don’t you think?"
I folded my arms in front of me. "I was twenty-two, and some of us aren’t big shot lawyers."
He reached and moved my arms down. I felt electricity. "Sorry, I was just teasing. So what do you do?"
"Software development."
"Nice. Beautiful and smart. Still at PWC?"
I blushed. "No, on my own. I found that I don’t like working for other people."
"I’d say the same, but it’s a little harder to do what I do on your own."
"Which is?" I said, giving him the once-over again. "I could get used to him," I thought.
"M & A. Not too many companies hiring solos to handle the big deals."
"I know. I’ve done systems integration stuff when companies merge. There always seem to be too many..sorry, a lot of lawyers on these things."
He laughed. "You were right with too many. Enough shop talk. Favorite restaurant in Paris?"
"This place in the 10th, Le Gigot Fin. Yummy lamb. You?" Over Kenny’s shoulder, I saw Lisa roll her eyes and mouth "Yummy?"
"In the 10th, huh? Interesting neighborhood. You felt safe?"
"It wasn’t so bad. Besides, we went in a group. You haven’t answered my question."
"Coin des Gourmets, in the 5th. Vietnamese-Cambodian-Thai."
"Oooh, I love Thai. If you’re interested, I’d love to go get some with you."
"Sounds like a plan. Favorite Met? And don’t say Ron Darling, because he’s cute."
"Please," I said, rolling my eyes. "He was spectacularly mediocre. My favorite, cliched as it is, is Tom Seaver. Although I have a soft spot for Steve Henderson."
"Hendu, huh? Interesting."
"I don’t know why. I guess I always liked the underdog. Your favorite?"
"Jon Matlack? Why him?"
"Because...never mind, just because," he said, looking down.
"No, why?" I said playfully. "I said Steve Henderson. What could be worse than that?"
"He gave me an autograph when I was seven, at a temple thing." He blushed.
"Don’t blush," I said, touching his arm. "That’s adorable." He briefly gave me a look that said he felt something too. "This is a beautiful suit." I opened the jacket. "Zegna. Nice." I flipped over the tie. "Hermes? Are you sure you’re Jim’s friend?"
"Excuse me," he said, with a smile. "I’ve just met you."
"I’m sorry," I said, "I just can’t believe a friend of Jim’s would actually know Zegna and Hermes, much less wear them. Where did you get everything, Paris?"
He smiled. "We’re not all cavemen like Jim. Tie, yes. The suit I bought it at Barney’s the last time I was in. Let’s see what you’ve got," he said, flipping back the neck of my dress. "Dolce and Gabbana. Very nice."
"Excuse me," I said, turning crimson. "What do you think you’re doing?" Actually, I only wished he’d kept going and unzipped me. But that, unfortunately, was extremely unlikely.
"Turnabout’s fair play," he said, ‘accidentally’ brushing my neck. He had to stop this. Or not.
"OK, you two," Jim said. "Can we go to dinner, or would you two like to be alone?"
"Sorry," said Kenny. "You know Jim can’t let other people talk for more than five minutes."
"I’m sorry dickhead," Jim responded. "But that story about Jon Matlack was soooo cute. You never told me that," he said in baby talk.
"If you ever tell anyone, I’ll tell Lisa about that week in Tijuana."
"What week in Tijuana?" Lisa asked with a smile.
"I’ve never been in TJ," said Jim defensively. "Seriously, Lise, Kenny’s just busting my balls."
Lisa grinned, "I believe you honey," then theatrically mimed "Call me" to Kenny. "OK, everyone, who’s up for York Grill?"
"Sounds good to me," said Jim.
"Burger Heaven’s good to you," said Lisa. Jim then started grunting like an ape and scratching his armpits.
"York Grill is fine."
"What’s York Grill?" Kenny asked. "Although, I’m sure if it’s fine with Jessica, it’s fine with me."
"Thank you," I said. "It’s nice to be listened to. Anyway, it’s upscale American. On York and 90th."
"Should we cab it?" asked Jim.
"Let’s walk," Kenny and I both said, at the same time. "Jinx, buy me a Coke," I giggled.
Lisa made mock-vomiting motions. "That is so cute. Isn’t it, Jim?"
"They are just adorable," he said sarcastically, clapping his hands together.
We went downstairs, and we all started walking together. Then, about five blocks in, Lisa, in a pathetic theatrical display, called Jim to the window of a florist and said, "Jim, come here. I want your opinion on something."
"Huh? Ask Jess. You know I don’t know this shit."
"Get..over...here...NOW!!!" He shrugged his shoulders, and walked over.
"She’s subtle, isn’t she?" I said, moving in closer.
Kenny stiffened. "Look, Jess, don’t take this the wrong way, but..."
My heart sank. "But, what? I’m sorry. I came on too strong." Lisa was right.
"That’s not it at all." I could see Lisa straining to listen in. "It’s just..."
"I was just playing. I didn’t mean anything," I said, apologetically. I wanted to kill myself. "I’m sorry. Really." I started crying. I don’t know why. I felt ridiculous.
"Don’t be sorry. I gave as good as I got. It’s just...jesus, this is difficult," he said, looking down. "Just say it...It’s that...well, I’m...well...I’m gay," he spat out.
"That’s it?" I said, with a smile.
"That’s it? That doesn’t bother you?"
"No. So am I."
"What," he said, his jaw dropping. Then he laughed. "Jim must beg you to let him watch."
I laughed. "I didn’t say I was a lesbian. I said I’m gay."
"I don’t follow."
"I’m gay. I’m a man. I like men. Same as you."
"Sorry, but I find that hard to believe. Look at you."
"Why would lie about that?"
"I don’t know. But there is no way you are a man. Look at you."
"If you kept going with the dress, you could’ve had confirmation."
"Stop it. This is just too strange."
"Lisa, Jim, you can stop listening in. Come over here, Kenny has a question for you."
They walked over. "What’s up?"
Kenny pointed at me. "What’s her real name?"
"Jessica," Lisa answered. "Why?"
"Lisa," I said. "What is my real name? Tell him the truth."
Jim chimed in. "His name’s Brian."
"For real?"
"For real," Lisa said.
"Then, Brian," he virtually spat, "Would you like to explain yourself?"
"Excuse us," Jim said, pulling Lisa away.
"I want to stay."
"No, Lisa, you don’t," he said. I had never seen him put his foot down like that.
As they scurried away like rats from a sinking ship. "What’s going on? They set me up with a drag queen? Or are you pre-op? I don’t do drag queens or pre-ops. Guys like you make me sick. Too embarrassed of who you are."
"You don’t know thing one about me. And I bet you’re out and proud, huh? I’m sure the partners love that. Closet case."
"Don’t talk about what you don’t know. OK," he said mockingly, "if you’re not a drag queen or pre-op, what’s with this?" he said, waving his hand up and down.
"Not that you give a shit," I snarled, " but I’m doing this for Lisa."
"Oh, really?" he said sarcastically. "You seem a little too good at this." He started tapping his foot. "I’m waiting."
"Are you truly interested, or are you just mocking me? I mean, you seem, or should I say seemed, very nice, but really you’re not the only fish in the sea."
"I’m still waiting."
With that, I gave him the whole story. I mean, the whole story. It took fifteen minutes. When I was finished, I was tearing up from embarrassment. All he said, with a smirk, was, "Wow, that was some story."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that it’s some story. Must’ve taken you quite a while to come up with it."
"The truth doesn’t take a while."
"Please, you expect me to believe that you’re only doing this for Lisa? Come on, the walk, the makeup, the D & G."
"What? I’m sorry. I’m in the wedding and I guess you expect me to look like a guy in a dress. Why? So Jim’s friends can kick my ass?"
"OK, fine. The wedding’s two months away. And, yet, you’re dressed to the nines and flitting around like you’re real."
"Look, I told her I’d do it. And a job worth doing is a job worth doing right."
"Please. You’re a little queen and that’s it."
"Fuck you," I said. "Closet cases like you make me sick. Afraid of your own shadows so you dump on everybody else. Go fuck yourself."
"Not very ladylike," he smirked.
I smacked him across the face. "How about that? Ladylike enough for you?"
He rubbed his face. "You need help."
"Tell Lisa I got sick," I said, turning to go home.
"Come on," he said. "We can suffer through dinner."
"Why the hell should I?"
"Tell you what," he said. "I’ll ask Lisa and Jim to confirm your story."
"How magnanimous of you," I said icily. "Quite frankly, I don’t care what you do. I don’t need to prove myself to you or anyone. Besides what’s in it for me? You find out I’m right and then what?"
"My firm has a skybox at Shea. It’s yours. Any game."
"Why should I believe that you could get it?"
"You have no reason to. But what do you have to lose? Even if I’m wrong, you can still lord it over me. Besides, what are you going to do, go home and stew?"
"Fine. Provided the skybox doesn’t include you."
"Please. Like I want to be anywhere with you."
"That’s not what I got before."
"Hard up little femme."
"Stuck up self-hating asshole."
We walked to the restaurant in utter silence. I finally broke the silence. "Does Jim know you’re gay?"
"Of course."
"Jim...Jim and Lisa Jim knows you’re gay."
"Uh huh."
I whistled. "Wow, I find that hard to believe."
"Why?"
"It’s just that Jim never struck me as being that liberal."
"Why?"
"I don’t know. He’s always making cracks. Coming up with new synonyms for being gay. I’m fond of ‘popsicle police.’"
He smiled. "That’s Jim. Actually, when I came out, he was really there for me. I mean a lot of my other friends couldn’t run away fast enough, but he didn’t."
"Wow. I’m amazed. That seems so out of character."
"It’s really not. He’s a straight boy. He’s not going to share his deepest feelings with you."
"OK, OK. What did he say when you told him?"
"Uh, OK," he mimicked Jim’s speech patterns. "You know, if you need something, I got your back. Although you know you can’t have me."
I laughed out loud. "Now that sounds like Jim."
He smirked. I hated that smirk. "There’s a lot you don’t know...Jessica."
"I could say the same...Kenneth," I said, lisping on the "th."
When we got to the restaurant, Jim and Lisa were waiting. "What took you guys so long?" asked Jim, with a sly smirk.
"Lisa," I said, curtly. "Excuse me, but I need your help in the ladies’ room."
"What happened?" she and Jim both asked.
"Lisa...NOW!"
We went into the ladies’ room. I checked to make sure no one was there, and then lit into her. "What the fuck was that about?"
"I’m..uh...guessing that you don’t like your surprise?"
"My surprise, huh? Next time, spare me the surprises. In fact, just spare me."
"What happened? You two were so cute together before."
"Well, he found out I was a guy."
"So? I mean he’s gay."
"I’ve told you this before. If gay life were a prison, drag queens and pre-ops are like child molesters."
"That seems melodramatic. What’s a pre-op again?"
"Pre-operative transsexual. A guy who wants to be a girl and who lives as one."
"Oh...what else did he say?"
"Said I was full of shit. I told him why I was doing this, and all he said was ‘that’s some story.’ And you know what? He’s right. I’m a goddamn freak, Lise. I liked him and now he thinks I’m some kind of freak. I didn’t want to do this and all I’ve gotten is shit for it. You really think he’s going to keep his mouth shut? Maybe next time you’ll get someone to crack my skull. That’d make the night complete."
"Come on, it can’t be that bad."
"Yeah, it can. I used to be gay, now I’m some kind of freak. I can’t have straight guys, unless I start turning tricks on 11th Avenue, and gay guys think I’m shit."
"Enough, Brian. Kenny’s an asshole and you blame yourself. Fuck him. You’re my friend and you did this for me. I know that. Jim knows that. And Kenny will sure as shit know that. Prick. When he came out, everyone except Jim treated him like shit. And then he has the nerve to pull this crap. Fuck him. I’m going to tell him off. Come on," she said angrily. "No one does that to my best friend."
We went back to the table. "Did everything come out OK?" Jim joked.
"Who the fuck do you think you are, Kenny?" Lisa asked.
"Excuse me, Lisa?"
"Did you think he’d keep quiet?"
"I’m guessing not," he said, suddenly nervously playing with his napkin.
"I guess not," she sneered. "You don’t know anything about anything. Instead, you just go after him."
"Um, I just thought..."
"You thought? You thought? I don’t think you thought about anything. You just shot your mouth off."
"Please, you expect me to believe that this is all for you and that he never did it before."
"Jim, is this true?" he said smugly.
"I’ve never seen him in a dress," he said, just before biting into his roll. He chewed and watched the argument like it was a movie.
Kenny’s face fell. "So, this is true?"
"Yes, Kenny, it is," Lisa said angrily. "I’m sorry to tell you it is. No wait, I’m happy to tell you it is. You just shot your mouth off. Quite frankly, I’m disgusted by you. I’d rather you not be at the wedding, much less be in it. But you’re Jim’s friend and I wouldn’t do that to him. Although you certainly don’t deserve Brian."
"Uh, thanks," I added nervously.
"I deserve that. Can I offer an explanation?" Kenny said meekly.
"Is there one to offer?"
"Um, it’s just that...it’s hard for you to understand. People hate gays already, and drag queens make it harder for regular guys."
"Regular guys? That’s classic, Kenny. Regular guys. Please." Lisa snapped. Kenny turned to Jim for help.
"Dude, you’re on your own."
"Thanks. Leave me hanging here."
"Sorry, but you’re wrong. I mean, I’d think you’d all stick together. It’s not like you can afford internal dissension. At least in public, although this wasn’t technically public. Plus after what you went through, I’d think you’d at least give Bri..Jessica the benefit of the doubt. In addition, correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t Stonewall started by drag queens? Not that you’re one Brian, but it seems like those in the vanguard have become outcasts. Like we’ll use you to man the barricades, but abandon you when we reach the Promised Land. Maybe that’s the nature of revolutions. But, to paraphrase my old rabbi, I suppose there’s no homophobe like another gay guy."
We all turned in shock towards Jim. "Oh sorry," he said sarcastically. "I forgot I’m the troglodyte who doesn’t know anything. Please continue your high level discussion here," he said, chewing his roll.
"Anyway," Lisa continued. "Are you out at work now?"
"Uh..."
"I thought not. Brian is. But you don’t even have the guts. Instead, you go after someone like Brian who has more class, integrity and courage than you ever will. What would you do for a friend?" Jim began humming ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic.’ Until Lisa kicked his shin under the table.
"I’m really sorry. If you want, I’ll leave," he said, getting up.
"Stay," I said. I don’t know why. Maybe I thought watching him grovel could be fun. Maybe because I didn’t want to subject Jim to a public drubbing from Lisa. More likely, it was because, in spite of everything, I felt really attracted to him.
"Thank you," he said. As dinner progressed, the mood began to lighten. No matter how hard he tried, Lisa still refused to talk to him.
"So, how’re the plans coming along?" he’d ask. "Get a dress?"
"Yes." Lisa would snap. "Do you care? I mean, do you secretly want to wear it? Oh sorry, you’re a ‘regular’ gay."
"Down, girl," I said, with a smile. "He’d look ridiculous." That got me a glare from her.
Instead, he turned his attentions to me. He asked all sorts of questions about my job, the Mets, anything at all to keep the conversation going. I actually began to warm up to him.
After coffee, Lisa turned to me. "Please join me in the ladies’ room."
We went in. "Jim’s going to think you have a bladder condition."
"Stop," she said, putting up her hand. "What are you doing?"
"What am I doing about what?"
"Out there. He craps on you, and you flirt with him."
"We’re talking, not flirting. I was trying to make it less uncomfortable for you and Jim."
"That was pretty well shot when he threw his hissy fit."
"I agree. But, still..."
"Still, what?" she said, with exasperation. "Don’t say it..."
"I’m sorry. I feel something."
"Are you incapable of having a stable relationship with someone who knows who you are and is comfortable with that?"
"That was harsh." Probably true, but harsh. "I’m not saying anything’s going to happen."
"If he asked, you would."
"It’s not the same for me."
"What? Did I miss a memo? Is taking abuse a normal part of gay romance?"
"No...I just...I mean."
"Look," Lisa said. "I know he’s cute. When I first met him, I was disappointed to find out he was gay. But, you saw his true colors before you told him the truth. What does that tell you?"
"My god, Lise," I said. "I want him to fuck me, and you’ve got me at Kleinfeld’s already."
"A ha!" she said, with a grin. "I knew you wanted that dress. Admit it, you like this."
"Christ, Lise, it was a joke...besides, I’m going to Vera Wang...on you." I said, sticking out my tongue. "And wearing a six."
"Bitch," she said.
"Jealous," and we left the bathroom laughing. When we got back to the table, Jim spoke first.
"Everything OK?"
"It’s up to Jessica."
"I’m fine."
Kenny said, "I already paid. I figured that’s the bare minimum, and I mean that, that I could do."
I grabbed his tie, and pulled him towards me. "If I had known that, I’d have had dessert."
He blushed. "I don’t know. That dress doesn’t leave much room for dessert."
"Then I’d have to take it off."
Jim made a mock-gagging noise. "Look, I’m comfortable with you two..to a point."
"Jim’s just upset, because he’s only getting it missionary tonight," said Kenny.
Lisa actually laughed. "Who says he’s getting that?"
"I don’t need this shit," Jim grinned.
"Don’t mock what you ain’t gettin’," I said, with a smile, pulling Kenny closer to me. He actually started to sweat. "Am I making you nervous? Or something else?"
"I..uh.."
I felt under the table. I knew it would work. "Think of the lineup for the ‘79 Mets," I whispered in his ear. Then I kissed the lobe. He turned beet red.
He got up and pulled out my chair. He clearly was trying to think of the entire roster, not just the lineup. I swear I could hear "Doug Flynn...Joel Youngblood...Willie Montanez," coming from his brain.
We all started walking home. As is so often the case, Kenny and Jim ended up ahead of us. Lisa turned to me, "Please don’t do anything."
"About?"
"You know what. I know you’re horny, but please."
"He hasn’t offered and I’m not."
"What if he offers?"
I stared at the ground. "I don’t know. I feel something."
"Oh god, Brian," she said. "Please don’t give him the victory."
"It’s not a victory. It’s sex."
"Have some pride. You’ve lived this long without even knowing him. And it’s not like he’s George Clooney."
I smiled, "Mmmm...now that you couldn’t stop me."
She smiled back, "I wouldn’t try...except to get him for myself."
"What about Jim?"
"Jim wouldn’t mind. He actually once said that I could. Figured he wouldn’t look bad, since he had a woman George Clooney wanted."
"That’s our Jim."
"Anyway, please don’t do anything. At least not yet. You’d look pathetic."
I sighed. "I think this is premature, but OK."
We got back to the apartment and got into the elevator. Lisa and Jim got off first. "Good night," I said. "Talk to you in the morning. Good night Kenny. I guess I’ll see you at the wedding."
"Do you mind if I come up with you?"
"Uh.." Lisa stood behind him, violently flailing her arms and mouthing "NO!" until Jim pulled her in. The door closed.
"What do you want Kenny? To continue your tirade from before now that they’re gone."
"I deserve that," he said, as the door opened on my floor. We both got out.
"Thank you for a...well...an evening that’ll certainly give me something to talk about in therapy," I said, opening my door.
"Me too," he laughed. "Mind if I come in? Just to talk?"
"Not tonight," I said. "I’ve talked enough."
"I’m sorry."
"Uh huh. Are you? I mean, regardless of who I am, you shouldn’t be so judgmental."
"I...uh...yeah, I guess not. Anyway, if I can’t come in, how about brunch tomorrow?"
"Why should I?"
"It’s a free meal."
"True."
"Can I make one request?"
"Maybe. What?"
"Come as Brian. I’d like to meet Brian."
"Fine," I said warily. On the one hand, I resented his attitude. On the other hand, I wanted to be with someone as Brian.
"I’ll pick you up at noon."
"See you then...oh, one last thing," I said, giving him a peck on the lips. "Something to think about," I said with a grin.
He pulled me towards him and gave me a deep kiss that, like Crash Davis said, ‘lasted for three days.’ "Something for you to think about," he said, and he got into the elevator.
That Wednesday, I came into Julia’s office with a huge grin on my face. "So what’s going on?" she said, with a half smile. "You look happy." "I’m in love!" I gushed. "I’m in love!" "Really?" she said drily. "Tell me all about it." "Why do you have be such a buzz kill? I’m in love and happy. That bothers you." "No, it doesn’t, Brian," she said with a sigh. "If you’re in love, I’m happy for you. I’m just curious. Tell me about him." "His name’s Kenny. He was my surprise. He’s a lawyer in Paris. He’s my usher at the wedding. He’s adorable and he’s gay." "And he’s OK with Jessica?" "He understands it’s only until the wedding." "Oh yes, that’s right," she said, rolling her eyes. "It stops after that. I forgot." "Oh god, that again. Despite what you and Lisa think, it’s over June 25." "Of course," she said, writing something on a pad. "That’s why he understands." "Yes, that’s why." "So, he had a problem with you?" I stared at the ground. "With Jessica. Initially, I suppose. But we cleared it up." "Hmmm. What happened? Start from the beginning." "Why? It’s all good now," I said defensively. "So it wasn’t good at the start?" "Thursday night, Lisa told me that I’d get my surprise Friday night, and that I should wear my LBD..." "Your LBD?" "Little Black Dress, sorry. I assumed you’d know what I meant." "I did. I just find the term interesting." I glared. "Sorry, keep going." "Anyway, so I get dressed and then Kenny comes over, and we start flirting. He’s a Met fan too." "That’s terrific. Did he know you were a man?" "No," I said, defensive yet again. "Not initially." "So he thought he was flirting with a woman?" "You’d have to ask him." "So, when did he find out?" "We were walking to the restaurant. York Grill on 90th and York. If you haven’t been there, you should go. It’s..." I started to jabber really quickly. "Keep to the story." "Anyway, Lisa and Jim conspired to leave us alone. And then he told me he’s gay." "And you said." "I told him I was too. At first, he didn’t believe me, but then Jim confirmed it." "And he was OK with that?" "No. Not really," I said, crumpling a tissue in my hands. "He got...kind of...upset." "Meaning?" "He called me a drag queen and a pre-op. Said...never mind." "What did he say?" she demanded. "Said guys like me made him sick." "Guys like you? And what did you do?" "I called him a closet case, and told him that I was doing this for Lisa." "Why did you feel the need to justify yourself?" "I wasn’t justifying. I was telling him the truth." "Why do you care if he knows?" "Because." "Why?" "Because, I don’t want to be stereotyped like that. Besides, he should know this wasn’t my choice." "Everyday, Lisa comes upstairs and forces you to dress like this." I was wearing a white blouse, my black pencil skirt and 3" black Manolo slingbacks. I don’t know why, but slingbacks made me feel powerful. Something about clicking heels on pavement and the open back. "You know the answer to that." "And I bet if I go outside, she’s standing there with a gun. Let me call 911." "I get your point," I said, looking at my nails. "This is until the wedding though, that’s it." "If you say so. Back to Kenny, how do we get from name calling to love? Did he apologize after you told him the story?" "Not immediately, no." "What did he say?" "He..uh...said, ‘that’s some story’. Then we had a fight, and I slapped him." "And yet you went to the restaurant anyway? Why?" "Jim and Lisa were waiting." "Oh," she said theatrically. "Jim and Lisa were waiting. And you couldn’t call her. I mean, your cell phone doesn’t work. Nor does hers. And the restaurant has no phone..." "He bet me his firm’s skybox at Shea that I was lying." "Come on, Brian," she said, exasperatedly. "I don’t know..." I started to sniffle. "I didn’t want to do that to Lisa and Jim." "Do what? Leave them there? Why?" "She’s my friend." "Is she?" "Are we back on that again?" "Let’s see. She has you dress like this for four months. Yells at you when you flirt..." "She didn’t want me to get beat up." "Right. Then, she sets up you for a surprise, that turns out to be more of an ambush..." "She didn’t know." "Really? Do you think she thought Kenny would appreciate Jessica?" "I don’t know that she thought." "Oh, so that it makes it better. What did you do in the restaurant?" "I told her off in the bathroom. Told her that she made me into a freak that no one would want." "Interesting choice of words. Do you feel like a freak?" "We’ve been covering that." "When do you feel more freakish? Now or as Brian?" "You make Brian sound like a different person. I’m Brian. Jessica’s a role." "So, you’re a Method actor?" "I don’t follow." "You haven’t come as Brian in months." "So?" "If it were a role, you’d be out of costume most of the time." "Let’s not go there..." "That’s an interesting way you’re sitting." I looked down and saw myself sitting with my legs tucked under me. "Very feminine." I immediately dropped my legs down and sat with my legs spread. I felt very uncomfortable. "It’s OK. Sit how you feel comfortable." "I feel very uncomfortable right now, regardless," I snarled. I sat with my legs crossed at the ankles. I know, I know. Really masculine. "Please don’t. So tell me what happened next. Did you leave the restaurant?" "No. We went to the table." "Why?" "To, uh, eat?" "Why didn’t you leave?" "I was there already." "Lisa humiliates you and you stay." "She didn’t do it on purpose." "But, you were upset and angry and hurt. And yet you stayed. Why do you think you did that?" "I don’t know..." "Think about it." "I don’t know...I guess I felt like I should. Like if I left, Kenny would win." "And how does he lose by you staying?" "Like he had to suffer with me all night." "Do you think he felt that way?" "I don’t know. I suppose not. He was so sure of himself." "So you stayed to make someone suffer who viewed you as a joke, and you also stayed for a friend who put you up to it?" "What’s your point?’ "And now you tell me you’re in love with the guy who viewed you as a joke? I’m a little confused." "Let me tell the story," I said, twirling my hair on my finger. I related how Kenny confronted Jim and Lisa, and how Lisa told him off. "Interesting." "What do you mean now?" "Lisa’s defense sounds forced, like she was convincing herself." "What would be an appropriate response, Julia?" I said sarcastically. "She defends me and that’s not enough. She knocks him down and that’s not enough. So please tell me what an appropriate response is." "Fair enough. It’s just an opinion. Did he apologize then?" "Sort of." "I’m waiting for love to strike and I haven’t heard anything resembling the conditions for it." "Ha ha." "What did he say then?" "Said guys like me made it hard for ‘regular’ guys like him..." I said, in a half-whisper, half-whimper. "Brian, Brian, Brian. Why did you stay then?" "I dunno. I guess Jim helped." "Jim?" she said, seeming genuinely surprised. "How?" And I told her all about the ‘Stonewall’ speech. "I find that very interesting," she said, laughing. "Yeah, I was kind of surprised too. I didn’t think he was that aware." "Not that. His defense of you." "Me too. I didn’t think he liked me very much." "I question that. He seems much more willing lately to take your side. And that speech actually seems to be made out of genuine affection for you." "I think he appreciates what I’ve done for Lisa." "Much more so than she does." "That’s not true." "Really?" "Come on. He’s not my friend, she is." "He was willing to tell you the surprise, but was stopped. He’s tried to back you up, but either you or Lisa have stopped him." "I just don’t know anything anymore," I mumbled. "That’s OK, Brian. It’s OK to be confused. I am, despite what you seem to think, trying to help you." "How? By sabotaging my happiness?" "I am not trying to quote ‘sabotage your happiness,’ I’m trying to help you. So, tell me when love happened." "Well, after Jim said his piece, Kenny softened up. He apologized. He really paid attention to me all night. Asked me about my job, we talked about baseball..." "Did he apologize?" "Not in so many words." "So, no?" "He was really nice to me..." "Brian, Brian. That’s not an apology. That’s someone trying to make the best of a bad situation." "He paid for dinner?" I said, pleadingly. "So, he buys you dinner and that makes everything OK." "He said it was the least he could do." "Oh, how sweet of him," she said nastily. "Then what happened?" "I pulled him to me and said I would’ve had dessert..." I said, holding my head in my hands. "Oh, Jesus." "Brian, why?" "I felt something for him. It was primal." "Brian, repeat after me, I am not an animal." "Ha ha." "Brian, you felt something so you went to someone who mistreated you and called you a freak." "I am a freak," I said, waving my hand up and down. "You are NOT a freak." "I’m not a woman. And I’m not a man, even among gay men." "That’s enough. You are who you are. You are a kind, caring person. Clothes do not make the man." "What a touching speech," I said sarcastically. "Too bad the world’s not therapy." "Brian, why do you think you get involved with these relationships?" "What do you mean?" "I mean, every relationship you’re in involves someone not accepting you for you are and mistreating you. First, Lisa..." "She doesn’t mistreat me. She’s my friend." "Really? She sets you up for an ambush..." "She didn’t know." "Do you really believe that?" "Yes. I don’t think she’s a sadist." "Fine, do you think she really considered the consequences?" "I..uh..guess not." "Fine. So she does this because she thinks it’ll be fun. If she thought you two would like each other, why didn’t she set you up with him before?" "I dunno. Jim?" "Do you believe that?" "I dunno." "Then, Kenny mistreats you and now you’re in love? Why do you think that is?" "What? What are you going to say, that I’m looking for a man like my father?" "I didn’t say it. You did." "Whatever. That’s ridiculous." "Is it? You wouldn’t be the first abused child to be in an abusive relationship..." "My father disowned me because of who I am. Why would I want that?" "I don’t know. Yet, you seek approval from people unwilling to give it to you on your terms." "I don’t want to be with my father. He’s an asshole. Period." "I think we should explore this." "I don’t." She wrote something down. "When you’re ready. So, I haven’t still heard when you fell in love." "So, we all went back to the building. Kenny rode up in the elevator with me." "Please, don’t tell me..." "No," I said indignantly. "He asked to come in. I said no." "Good. Then what happened?" "He asked to go to brunch on Saturday. With Brian. He said he wanted to meet Brian." "Interesting choice of words. As if Brian were another person." "I am Brian. Brian is me. There is no Jessica. That’s all." "Right," she said dismissively. "After everything that happened, you agreed to go?" "Yes, I thought I’d give him a chance." "So, what happened?" "We went out and it was wonderful. We went to the park, we held hands, we kissed...." "How did he respond to Brian?" "He laughed at first." "Why?" "Well, it’s funny. I went to put on my boy-clothes..." "Boy clothes? Uh huh..." "Clothes...I meant clothes," I said, realizing my huge error. "Anyway, they didn’t fit, because of the weight loss. So, I had to rush to Banana Republic and buy the closest stuff I could find." "Which was?" "A pair of khakis and a blazer. I wore a Polo shirt. It sort of fit." "What did Kenny say when he saw you?" "He laughed. Said I looked like his sister’s Skipper doll. Called me Skipper for a while." "How did it feel to be Brian?" "You make it sound like Brian’s another person. I’m Brian, remember?" "True enough. Fine, how did you feel being dressed down?" "Fine," I said, looking away. "Brian, be honest." "It felt strange." "How so?" "I don’t know. I felt naked." "Good. In what way?" "Well, first off, I didn’t have my boobs..." "I’ve never heard you use that term." "Fine, breasts. Sorry if boobs offended you." "No, it’s just that’s a term I’ve generally only heard women use." "Don’t go there." She wrote something down. "What else?" "It feels strange to leave the house without makeup. I feel naked." "Oh. Anything else?" "It’s also funny. I felt short." "Why?" "I didn’t have my heels on." She laughed. "Consider yourself lucky on that score. Heels look nice, but early spring in the park is no place for them. The ground’s too soft." "I’ll keep that in mind," I laughed. "So, what do you make of all of this?" "What?" "You don’t feel comfortable as Brian anymore." "It’s not that at all." "What is it then?" "It’s like having a broken leg. When they take the cast off, it feels strange. You feel like you’re missing something." "That’s a specious metaphor, Jesssica." "You’ve never called me that." "I think we need to stop beating around the bush. You need to address your feelings." "I have. Jessica’s for another few months, that’s it." "Really? Like I said before, I haven’t seen Brian for months. And, to take your broken leg analogy to its conclusion, if your broken leg healed, you wouldn’t wear a cast afterwards, no matter unusual it felt to be without one." "Meaning?" "Meaning, you were Brian Saturday. Yet, here you are on Wednesday, dressed as Jessica, why?" "Kenny’s gone. I’m back in the role." "Or the man who won’t accept the real you is gone, so you can go back." "Brian is the real me!" I yelled. "Besides, a real relationship beats playing dress-up." "Is this a real relationship?" "I know it’s only been a few days, but we’ve talked every night. And we e-mail. I’m supposed to go to Paris in a couple of weeks." "That’s not what I meant. Is this a real relationship, when he doesn’t accept who you are?" "He does accept who I am. He loves Brian." "What about Jessica?" "For the last time, Jessica doesn’t exist. She’s a temporary creation. It’s fun to dress up, but that’s it. Brian is me and I am Brian!" "Have you convinced yourself yet?" "There is no convincing to do. I know who I am. Do you? Why is everyone so bent on me being Jessica? Do you have a problem with gay men?" "That’s enough, Jessica." "Stop calling me that." "I think we need to address the issues and I’m quite frankly at a loss as to how to do that." "Then maybe I should stop coming here." "Do you really feel that way?" "No," I said. "I just want to be me." "Who’s me?" "Brian," I said, sniffling. "I want to be Brian. I want to be Brian with Kenny. He makes me feel safe." "How?" "We were walking and he took my hand, and it felt right." "Look, I want you to be in a happy, stable relationship. But you need to figure everything out." "There is nothing to figure out. I’m Brian. I’m a man. I don’t want to be a woman. I want to be with Kenny. ‘Jessica’ is a headache. There is no one who will accept me as ‘Jessica.’" "If there was, would you keep doing this?" "I dunno...maybe," I said, absent-mindedly tucking my legs under me. "They wouldn’t be Kenny, though. Good looking guys don’t want guys like me." "Do you believe that Kenny wants Brian? I find it a little hard to believe that someone who mocked you so mercilessly suddenly found love." "I dunno...all I know is that we had a great time." "I still haven’t heard about love." "We went off on a tangent, remember? Anyway, he picked me up and we went to brunch at Sarabeth’s which..." She smiled and held up her hand. "No restaurant reviews, just the story." I smiled." Excuse me for trying to help. Anyway, we had brunch and we talked. And then we walked in the park. We went to the gardens on 103rd, they’re really starting to bloom...and we just had a great time. We spent hours together. We stopped for ice cream and were playing with each other, when..." "Did anyone comment?" "No. Why would they?" "I didn’t realize the Upper East Side was so tolerant. Two guys usually can’t show affection without someone saying anything." "Umm...." "What?" "I don’t think they knew." "Why do you say that?" "The..uh..waitress called me ‘Miss,’ and the ice cream scooper..and...when we were playing around, this old couple came over and said, ‘We hope you two have as many happy years together as we have.’" "What do you make of that?" "I dunno. I don’t look very manly. That’s not exactly news." "Did you correct anyone?" "No." "Why not?" "Why do it? It would just make people uncomfortable." "People. Or you?" "People. Not me. I’m Brian. I’m also not a five year old who needs to prove himself. I know who I am. Anyway, we had a great time," I said defensively. "Is Kenny out at work?" "No," I said, looking away. "Brian, Brian, Brian. Where do you think this is going? He won’t accept Jessica. But, you think he’s going to show up at a firm party with Brian? Come on. Do you see this long-term?" "First Lisa and now you have me at Kleinfeld’s. It’s a little soon, no?" "Kleinfeld’s?" she said, with a smirk. "It’s a figure of speech," I said angrily. "Is it? I’ve never heard any of my male patients, gay or straight, use it." "OTHER male patients." "Sorry, other male patients. Anyway, do you think he’d come out for you?" "We haven’t exactly gotten there yet. Nor should we." "Why do you think he reacted so strongly to you initially?" "Because drag queens are a sore spot in the gay community, you know that." "Are you a drag queen?" "No. Do you think so?" She sighed. "We’ve covered this. No, I don’t think so. Drag queens are caricatures. You are not a caricature. You may be an incredible facsimile, but you are definitely not a caricature. Did you look like one that first night?" "I don’t think so. I think I looked pretty good. The make up wasn’t overdone. I wasn’t wearing 6" platform shoes or hot pants or anything." "So, why do you think he responded so negatively?" "I think the Talmudic distinctions you drew between drag and facsimile were somewhat lost on him. He responded viscerally to me." "Did you ever talk about it on Saturday?" "No, why would we?" "You had a fight. You each used some pretty nasty language. You slapped him. That’s a big thing not to discuss." "We were having a good time. Why spoil it?" "Do you think a long-term relationship is possible when the parties don’t discuss things?" "I imagine we’ll cover it as some point." "When?" "When the time is right." "Which would be?" "I don’t know." "Did he correct anyone who called you ‘Miss?’" "No. Should he have?" "For someone so uncomfortable with Jessica, I would think he’d want to correct them." "He didn’t want to make them uncomfortable either?" "But you, he would?" "That was the heat of the moment." "And the rest of the evening?" "It got better. He warmed up to me." "Is that it? Or was he just trying to make it less tense?" "If it wasn’t warming up, then he wouldn’t have asked me out to brunch, would he? Wouldn’t he have just called it a night?" "Fair enough. Why did he want Brian then?" "I don’t know. Maybe he realized he liked me, but wanted to see me without the dress. I mean, he’s gay. Did that cross your mind? Maybe some people can get past first impressions." "Are you convinced yet?" I got angry. "Yes," I said sarcastically. "I AM convinced. You’ve never met anyone, disliked them initially but then came to realize they’re OK? Or does that not happen in Julia’s world?" "Brian, Brian, Brian. Yes, to answer your question, I have changed my opinion of people after a first impression. That’s human nature. But, I still reiterate my earlier point. Why would you even give someone who was so cruel to you..." "That’s a little harsh." "How would you describe someone who tells someone else that they make them sick and calls them hard up little femme, and pathetic, and..." "I get your point." "Do you? Because then this person doesn’t even apologize, and yet you stay..." "Um," I started adjusting my skirt. "He got better, and I thought..." "What? That he would somehow change? Do you believe that he thinks any more of you now? Do you think he’s suddenly changed his world view to recognize that femme is acceptable?" "He was nice to me. What about that? And, yes, I think he’s changed his opinion. He’s realized that the clothes are only temporary and that I’m a good person." "But he’s not out. What do you think is going to happen?" I got angry. "I don’t know. I really don’t. But I know I’m having a good time and, for the first time in a long time, I’m with someone. And he makes me feel special. And, so what if we don’t have a cute ‘first meeting’ story? It feels good. If it crashes and burns, it crashes and burns. It won’t be the first time. At least it’s something. It’s not this nether world I’ve been in, where I’m Jessica but can’t really be Jessica..." Julia pounced on that last part. "So you’d like to be Jessica in all facets?" "No," I responded angrily. "My point was, that I can walk around like Jessica and get scoped out and even flirt, but at the end of the night, I’m alone. With Kenny, I don’t end up alone." "So you slept with him?" she sighed. "Yes. I did. It was amazing. We came back to my place and were play fighting, and he scooped me up, threw me on the bed and pinned me...." "Has anyone ever done that to you before?" "What?" "Scooped you up and threw you on the bed?" "No, why?" "I was curious. Did you enjoy it?" "Why? If I say yes, does this mean I want to be a girl too? To be manhandled?" "Do you think it does?" "It was something new. That’s it." "So anything new you like?" "Clearly, no. We’ve talked about this before. I’m a bottom. I like being penetrated. I like giving blow jobs. So, I don’t know, maybe this is just another step in being a bottom.." "Or?" "Or what? Becoming Jessica? Like now I’m some little flirt who wants her man to thr...never mind." "Keep going with that. Initial responses are very telling." "No," I said flatly. "I don’t want to be judged anymore." "I am not judging you. I’m trying to help you. What was going through your mind when he scooped you up?" "Yippee, I’m going to have sex?" "Very cute, Brian. What else?" "I dunno." "Think. Did Jessica enter the picture?" "That’s enough." "Brian," she said, in an annoyed tone. "Just go with it." "I imagined myself in a negligee and heels," I muttered. "What do you think that means?" "That this," I said, waving my hand up and down, "has so fucked me up, that I can’t even have sex anymore without it intruding." "Maybe you’re coming to terms..." I put my hand up. "Stop it already! I’m not coming to terms. I am Brian. I want to be Brian. This is temporary. And whatever happens with Kenny happens. I don’t want to hear anymore about it. He’s not cruel. He was confused." "Have you convinced yourself yet?" "Fuck you Julia. Just fuck you, OK?" "Are you through?" "Yes, I am. I’m sorry I said ‘fuck you,’ but I’m tired of this. Are you trying to help me or pigeonhole me?" "I could ask the same question of you? Do you want help or affirmation?" "I withdraw my apology." "OK. Your responses were, if not appropriate, expected." "What the fuck does that mean?" "What do you think it means?" "I think I’m tired of this." "What else?" "Nothing else," I sighed. "Why do you think you responded so vehemently?" "Because I’m tired. I’m Brian. Everyone’s decided I’m meant to be Jessica. But you know what? I’m the only one with a vote. I like these clothes, I’ll admit that. But, I like my penis more. I’m gay. How many years have I spent dealing with that? That much we’ve established. And, you know what, I would gladly trade a skirt for someone who loves me..." "I agree," Julia interrupted. "But why should you have to trade? Why should you have to give up one thing for another? Especially from someone who can’t commit to you fully?" "Number 1, if I found someone who was willing to tolerate the clothes, there’d be something else wrong. I mean Prince Charming doesn’t exist. He’d be fat, or treat me bad or be bad in bed. This is just fun. It’s not who I am. It’s like saying if I smoked, I shouldn’t be with someone who didn’t like smoking..." Julia rolled her eyes. "This is not like smoking. It’s not unhealthy and, more importantly, smokers don’t adopt other personalities." "Am I schizo now?" "No," she said flatly. "Besides, I’d actually like to explore the commitment issue more." "Why? It’s early in the relationship. There’s nothing to explore." "Why spend time with someone who will never be able to commit to you?" "Never say never." "How old is he?" "35." "Do you think he’s suddenly going to come out at work at 35?" "He could." "What? Your love will make him willing to put his career at risk?" she said sarcastically. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." "You’re out at work. Do you want to spend the rest of your life as "the friend" or "the roommate" or not being known at all?" "This is premature. It’s not like we’re a couple or anything...." "But again, you can’t be Jessica with him, because he doesn’t approve. But you can’t be Brian either. Or for now you can. But what happens if this gets serious? You’ll always be shut out of one part of his life. This is not a ‘real relationship.’ This is someone working out his insecurities on you," she said, ending with a sigh. "I like it better when you just say ‘what do you think it means?’" I smiled nervously. "I’m sorry. I’ve just seen such a change in you the past few months, and I’d hate to see it lost for someone who abused you but then can’t even be fully there." "Abused is too harsh," I said, looking at my skirt. Lisa and Melissa were right. Pencil skirts looked really cute on me. Damn, why did I say that? "He was a little nasty, but only because he was shocked." "That still doesn’t answer the issue of his being closeted." "I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. In the meantime, it’s just sex." "You called it love." "It’s...I don’t know...I just liked the feeling of being with someone." "Just think about it," she said, looking at her watch. "I’m sorry session is over. See you next week." I got up, straightened my skirt and left. I felt depressed. I started in love and ended feeling like I’d been hit. This always seemed to happen to me at Julia’s. Why did she have to ruin my happiness? Why couldn’t she just let things be? I thought about calling Lisa, but realized that, much as it pained me to admit Julia was even a little right, she had her own agenda. What was I going to do?
The saga continues. April in Paris. Romance in the air. Or not.
I know it's been a while, but I hope everyone likes this.
I left Julia feeling frustrated and angry. Angry at Lisa for setting me up for failure. Angry at myself for falling for Kenny. And especially angry at Julia. Why? I don’t know. Maybe because she had to ruin what I thought was a good thing with Kenny. Maybe because she made me rethink sixteen years of friendship with Lisa. Maybe because, I don’t know, she wasn’t entirely wrong. Anyway, I decided to work off my frustrations in the gym. I would’ve gone for a run, but the sky was cloudy and all I needed to cap off my day was getting caught in the rain. I went home and changed into my work-out clothes. I agonized whether to keep my breasts. On the one hand, by keeping them, I thought, I was admitting Julia was right - maybe I did want to be Jessica. On the other hand, why the hell what she or anyone else thought important? If I wanted to be Jessica today and not tomorrow, that was my choice. Besides, I liked being scoped out. I’m sorry, but it’s true. I liked being an object of attention. I know a lot of women resent it and feel like they’re being treated like a piece of meat. And, maybe, I’d be tired of it too. But, it’s not like I ever was one before and for now the novelty was still there. So, I went home and decided to get dressed. I put on my sports bra, belly T and shorts (a little baggy, so as not to show you-know-what, but still cute.)
“Hi, Miss Rosen,” said the desk attendant. “Those workouts are doing great, huh?” he said, ogling me. That felt good.
I smiled. “Stop, Jason.”
“I’m just saying...”
“Thank you,” I laughed. “It’s always nice to hear.”
“Tell my girlfriend that,” he laughed. “I tell her she looks good, she tells me I just want sex.”
“Don’t you?”
He laughed again. “Yeah, but if I don’t compliment her, she gets pissed too. Women...no offense, you’re different.”
“None taken.” Then I thought, “More than you know, Jason.”
I started off lifting weights. Nothing heavy. Had to keep my girlish arms, although I was beginning to wonder why. I was on my second set of lat pulldowns when I heard, “You have good form, but you need to work at it a little more.”
I turned to face a decently built guy. Balding, but still cute and with the kind of build you get from working out regularly, but not “today, I’m doing delts” obsessively. “Does that line work often?” I said, giving him the once-over.
He turned beet red. “I meant your lifting form. You’re a little out of balance and, if you keep doing it that way, you won’t get the full benefit of your workout and may throw out your shoulder.”
“You sound conversant in the topic.”
“I am. I’m a chiropractor. Plus, I used to be a personal trainer. Most people figure that if they do the machines, they’ll do everything right, but they don’t. You naturally favor your stronger side.”
“That makes sense. I do feel stronger when I use my right arm.” Given my love life, my right arm got a regular workout.
“Do you mind if I show you how to do it?”
“Shouldn’t you at least introduce yourself first?” I said coquettishly.
He turned red again. He was so cute in his shyness. “Adam Connolly,” he stammered.
“Jessica Rosen. Relax. I was just playing with you. Sorry.”
He looked down. “It’s OK. I do have to relax. I just didn’t expect someone as beautiful as you to respond that way.”
Now it was my turn to blush. “OK. Stop. Show me what I’m doing wrong.”
“OK, start pulling down the bar.” I started pulling. “Stop.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “You’re pulling down faster on your right side than your left. Go slowly.” I started pulling down again.
“Wow, that feels much better, thanks.”
“You’re, uh, welcome,” he said, walking away. “Have a good workout.”
“Where are you going? What are you, the Lone Ranger? ‘My job is done.’ Unless you’re busy.”
“Not at all. I didn’t want to bother you. I was going to do the Stairmaster.”
“Hang on. I was just going to finish this set, and do that myself.”
“You sure?”
“I don’t bite Adam,” I said, with a smile.
“My bad luck,” he said with a smile. “Sorry. That was inappropriate.”
He was so cute in his shyness. “Adam, it’s called flirting. Besides, I started.”
“Uh, ah, well...” he stammered. I thought he might be the only person who needed to get laid more than me.
“Tell you what, Adam. Let’s pick a harmless topic. Are you a Met fan or a Yankee fan?”
“Yankees. How could anybody be a Met fan? They never get it done. They spend, but they can’t get it done.”
“I’m a Met fan,” I grinned. He made me feel comfortable. He wasn’t trying to prove himself.
“Boy, I can’t get a break, can I?”
“It’s not the end of the world. Besides, you guys haven’t won since 2000.”
“When we beat you.”
“Now, you’re pushing it.” He looked down. “Kidding. Kidding. Adam, please.” I finished my set and we walked over to the Stairmasters.
We started talking. The conversation started off innocuously enough, about work and how we were both lucky to be able to set our own hours. Then it was more baseball and the shows on the TV over the Stairmaster. In thirty minutes, you can range pretty far afield and somehow we ended up on relationships.
“So, are you seeing anyone?” he asked cautiously.
“Not really. I mean I went out on a blind date with this guy last week. We had a great time and I’m supposed to go see him in two weeks...”
“Oh,” he said, looking crestfallen. “All of the good ones are taken.”
“Thanks. That’s really sweet.”
“That’s what I always get. Just before the ‘but as a friend’ speech.”
“Hang on, tiger. What I was going to say is that I don’t know if I should go or not.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think he’ll ever be able to commit fully to a relationship.”
“Kind of premature, no? I mean you’ve been on one date.”
“(A) I’m 34, so I need to think about that. (B) It’s kind of complicated. Besides, if you know that going in, why be with someone? I mean fun’s fun, but I need to be with someone ready to accept me for me.”
“What’s not to accept? You’re smart, beautiful, stand properly on the Stairmaster...”
“Something you always see in personal ads...”
“Anyway, what’s the problem? Why do you think he can’t accept you for you?”
“It’s too complicated. Personal stuff.” I wanted to say something, but knew that this was neither the time nor the place for it. Besides, as nice as he was, there was something I had that probably wasn’t up his alley.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Yes, but no. It’d freak you out.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. For the time being. So, what’s up with you? Seeing anybody?”
“Not now. I was. For two years.”
“What happened?”
“My brother got divorced.”
“And this caused the breakup how?”
“Our relationship was two years of sheer misery, broken up by periods of less misery. I think we were together out of inertia. Anyway, my brother’s divorce was really acrimonious, and I think I looked and said, ‘Do I want to end up there?’ Because that’s where it was going. So I broke it off. It was unpleasant, but a hell of a lot better than it would’ve been if we had been married.”
“That’s actually a really rational response. I think we’d all be better off if more people did what you did.”
“So, what about you? What’s your most recent relationship?”
“They don’t last long enough to talk about.”
“Sex and the City girl, huh? Love ‘em and leave ‘em?” I stared at him. “Sorry, my ex used to watch it. The show sucks, but it seeped into my unconscious.”
“Not exactly. I’ve changed a lot lately. I’m like a different person.”
“Whatever you did, it worked.”
“Thanks, that’s really nice.”
“Nice and sweet. That’s my lot in life.”
“Nice and sweet is good. There comes a point when you no longer want an emotionally unavailable asshole.”
“When?”
“The Monday after I get back,” I said with a smile.
“Is that when we’ll go out?”
“That’s the kind of move that works.”
“Did it? Will you do me the pleasure of having dinner with me?”
“I’m not who you think I am. I’m in a really strange place and...”
“OK. I understand,” he said, looking like a lost puppy. A lost puppy who had just done 40 minutes on the Stairmaster, but a lost puppy nonetheless.
“It’s not that. I just...there’s something...I wouldn’t want to lead you on...” I started to tear up, although god only knows why.
“Wow,” he said. “OK. Either you’re telling the truth or you’re one hell of an actress.”
“It’s true. You are a great guy and I can always use a friend.” I said, getting off the Stairmaster as did he.
“I knew it,” he said, shaking his head. “The ‘just a friend’ speech.”
“Come on Adam,” I pleaded. “That’s not it...”
“Now it’s my turn to tell you to relax,” he grinned. “I’m cool. I’ve been ‘Fresh Kills’ note to non-NYCers - it’s our former garbage dump guy enough to know that I don’t want to be him again. I would like to be your friend though. You seem really cool, despite the whole Met thing..” I punched him in the arm. “Hey! Besides, who knows? Maybe I can use you to pick up other women. You all seem to like guys who are with other girls.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “I can always use friends too. Are you still interested in dinner? I’ll even treat. It’s only fair for the workout tips.”
“A beautiful woman treating ME to dinner? I’ll take that. Can I get the large fries?”
“And the apple pie, if you want. Or we could even go to a place with waiters.”
“You’re just pure class,” he said. “I bet you even use a spoon to eat soup.”
“Depends. What kind?” I said, laughing. I borrowed a pen from the trainer’s desk and wrote down my number. “Call me later to schedule everything,” I said, giving him a peck. I don’t know why I did that, after the whole ‘leading on’ speech. He just seemed like such a nice guy and it felt right.
“Thanks,” he said, blushing. I swear I wondered what he did when he had sex - explode? “I’ll call you later.”
“You better not be lying.”
“This better not be fake,” he said, walking away. I suddenly felt, if not much better, better. I was establishing a life away from all of the bullshit with Kenny and Lisa and Julia. Now, one could argue that Adam thought I was Jessica and thus I was creating my own bullshit. Which wouldn’t be wrong, but at least it was my bullshit. Besides, it’s not like I was leading him on. I made it clear that I wasn’t interested in a date. If he didn’t understand that, it was his problem, right?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I won’t bore you with the next two weeks of my life. I spent most of it working which, as you now know, is how I avoid dealing with things. I know it’s not healthy, but it’s better than getting drunk, I guess. Lisa and I went out occasionally, and it was strained. She was so absorbed with the wedding that she couldn’t recognize that I was upset. I buried myself in work which, as I have said before, is how I avoid dealing with things. Specifically, Lisa things. We saw each other occasionally before I left and talked about the wedding, but it felt hollow, at least to me. She seemed fine, though. I think she decided that, since I was going to Paris to see Kenny, it was all good. Anyway, I was heading to Paris on a Thursday night flight. Wednesday night, I went to pack. It was much harder than I thought it would be. I wanted to pack the clothes I now wore by rote, but knew I shouldn’t. Kenny wouldn’t like them. Besides, I was Brian. Like I told Julia, Lisa, Melissa and everyone else, Jessica was temporary. I wanted to be Brian and Kenny, not Jessica and Kenny. I didn’t need the clothes. They were a prop until the wedding. Even still, it felt strange to leave everything in New York. No matter what I wanted to believe, they had become a part of me. I felt naked if I didn’t have make-up on. I felt short in anything less than a 3" heel. My legs felt constrained in pants. In short, I was a complete mess. So, I packed my breast forms. It just felt right. It made me feel whole and secure. Jeez, breasts making me feel secure. Could it get anymore Freudian? Anyway, about an hour after I finished packing, the phone rang. It was Lisa.
“Hey, Brian! I just wanted to call you before your trip!” she exclaimed.
“Thanks, I just finished packing up.”
“What are you bringing?” she said suggestively.
“What do you mean, what am I bringing? What, like whips and chains?”
She laughed. “Since 9/11, they won’t let you bring those. You know what I mean...who’s going?”
I sighed. “I knew what you meant and wasn’t going to respond. But, to answer your question, Brian is going.” A slight lie, I admit, but I really wasn’t interested in getting into it. She however was.
“Really?” she said, sounding let down.
“Did you expect a different answer?”
“I just thought...”
“Thought what? That I’d go as Jessica? We’ve covered this repeatedly. (A) Kenny made his feelings about Jessica abundantly clear, in your presence I might add and (B) I am not, repeat not, Jessica. I’m Brian. Prior to this, I was. I am currently Brian. After your wedding, I will still be Brian. That’s it.”
“Have you convinced yourself yet?”
“Basta, Lisa. Enough.”
“I just..never mind, let’s not leave this on a down note. Are you excited?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Why? You two had a great time on your date. At least, that’s what Kenny said.”
“One good date does not obviate his behavior, Lise. I mean, I saw his true colors that first night.”
“But, if you’re not into being Jessica, why does it matter?”
“Because...”
“Because why? Because you like being Jessica?”
“That’s not it. No.”
“Then why?”
“Because he was so smug and self-righteous. It’s annoying when anyone does it. When some closet case does it, it’s like a thousand times worse.”
“So, why are you going then?”
“I don’t know. To see which Kenny is the real one? Day One Kenny or Date Kenny?”
“Just go with the flow. Enjoy the weekend and see where it goes. It’d make life easy for me if you two ended up together, but I just want what you want.”
“Uh huh...”
“I really do, Bri. Just have a good time. Call me when you get there, so I know you’re OK.”
“OK, Mom.” I laughed.
“Shut up,” she mock protested. “I just don’t want to have to find someone else to be a bridesmaid. I don’t know any size 6s, you anorexic.”
“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.”
“I hate you because you’re mental. Have a good time.”
“Thanks.” And I hung up. Then, the phone rang again. What do people have, radar? This time it was Adam. We had actually spoken a few times since the gym. He was a great guy. I only wished that I could be the woman he thought I was. No, scratch that. That’s not what I meant. Really. I meant that I could make him happy. That being me would make him happy. That’s what I meant.
“Jessica? Hi, it’s Adam.”
“Hey! I’m so glad you called,” I said, sincerely meaning it.
“Cool. Anyway, I wanted to call and wish you a good trip, and to firm up plans for when you get back.”
“Great. How about Wednesday? That’ll give me a chance to recover. What do you want? Remember it’s my treat.”
“I forgot. But, since you reminded me, Le Cirque is always nice. So’s Daniel.”
“Ha ha. Try again.”
“You like Turkish? There’s this place, Beyoglu, on like 82nd and 3rd looks interesting.”
“Sounds great. 7:30?”
“I’ll make the reservation. Do you want to meet there or at your place?”
“I’ll meet you here,” I said, giving the address.
“I can’t wait,” he said happily. “So, excited about the trip?”
“More so apprehensive.”
“Why?”
“Just nervous about what’s going to happen. You know, for all the reasons we’ve talked about.”
“So why are you going?”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
“Seems like a lot for some guy.”
“I know. I just feel something and want to see where it goes. I’m sorry, do you mind talking about this? I mean, you know, I mean, is it a problem?”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, Jess. I brought it up. We’re friends, remember? No, I’m not sitting here plotting Kenny’s demise so I can have you.”
“Well, that’s depressing,” I laughed. “Couldn’t you lie a little?”
“OK,” he laughed, “I must have you. And he shall rue taking you from me. That feel better?”
“Yes. Yes it does,” I laughed. “Anyway, I just don’t know what to do.”
“Go. Have a good time. If he’s an asshole, it’s one weekend and write him off. That’s what my dates do.”
“Stop it. You’re a...”
“I know. I know. A great guy. And I’ll find the right woman.”
“Sorry. It is true, though.”
“Thanks. Anyway, have a great trip. Bring me back a souvenir.”
“You got it. I’ll call you when I get back.” We hung up, and I felt all at once happy and sad. Happy because Adam was a really great guy. He was being a friend, with no agenda that I could discern. But sad because he was so open with me, while I was keeping this huge secret from him.
The next night, I went to the airport. It felt strange being dressed in khakis, a shirt and guy’s shoes. I felt like I was playing dress-up. Between that, no make-up and no boobs, I felt like a different person. I know this was who I really was, but it still felt strange. I felt like I was hiding something. I made a note NOT to talk about this with Julia. I had enough on my plate without needing her snide comments. I handed the desk agent my ticket and passport.
“YOU’RE Brian Rosen?” she said, in disbelief.
“Yes,” I said with exasperation. “Is there a problem?”
“No, it’s just that...well...you don’t look like a Brian.”
“What do I look like?” I said, with a touch of sarcasm. Probably not a great idea. She was probably putting me on an FBI watch list as I spoke. Still, I didn’t need her attitude to go with my mixed feelings.
“Never mind,” she said, “Whatever works for you, I say. Enjoy your flight, MR. Rosen.”
“Thanks,” I said, grabbing my ticket.
When I landed in Paris, the customs agent scanned my passport. “Brian Rosen,” he said, pronouncing it “Bree-Anne.”
“Oui.”
“Purpose of your visit, Mademoiselle?”
I hesitated, on ‘Mademoiselle,’ but decided to let it go. “Visiting a friend.”
“Bienvenue,” he said, not lifting his head. “Enjoy your trip.” ‘Mademoiselle,’ I thought. This is going to be an interesting trip. Kenny met me as I left customs processing.
“Hey Skipper,” he said, brightly. He looked gorgeous. I remembered what attracted me in the first place.
“Hey Kenny.” Then we had that awkward moment gay men have when meeting a romantic partner in public. Straights can hug and kiss each other, while we’re left standing awkwardly. We gave each other a ‘man hug,’ when an older man said, “Kiss her you idiot. She travels across an ocean and you give her a hug.”
Kenny smiled. “You heard the man,” and he gave me a deep kiss and spun me around in the air.. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” I said, wondering why neither one of us felt the need to correct him. Maybe because we got to do what we could never do in public, except maybe in Chelsea or the Castro. Whatever. We did it and that’s what counted. We chatted about the flight and took a cab back to his place.
“So, what do you want to do today? It’s your choice,” he said, brightly.
“You don’t have to go to work?”
“I should be there, but I told them I had someone coming in. I’ll just be working 23 hour days next week.”
“I’m sorry. I can amuse myself if you need to work.”
He took my hand. I liked this confusion thing. “”I’m sure you could amuse yourself, but you’re only here for the weekend, so I want to spend as much time with you as I can. Besides, I have the Crackberry, if they really need me,” he said, holding up his Blackberry.
This felt good. He was being so nice. Maybe day one Kenny was just scared. “I want to see the Louvre addition. Otherwise, we can just hang around. Go all over. I’m in your hands,” I said, giving him a peck on the lips. I loved that I had to stand on tip-toes to do it. It felt so romantic.
He smiled. “My hands, huh? You’ll regret that, Skipper,” he said grabbing my ass. I think both of us were really enjoying this ‘public affection’ thing.
In the cab on the way back to his place, we fooled around. He nibbled my neck. I played with his thigh. Throughout, the cabbie didn’t bat an eyelash. I don’t know if it was because he thought I was a girl, or because he just didn’t care at all. I know, I know. I was giving in to this closet case. But it felt good. And Jessica was only temporary. That he got upset with her was irrelevant since she had a shelf life of June 25. He paid the driver and we went upstairs. “Voila,” he said, opening the door.
“Wow, nice place!” It was. Two bedrooms. A view of a park. Immaculately furnished, in a mid-century modern yet perfectly masculine style. A hell of lot better than the dump I lived in when I lived in Paris. While it didn’t have a park view, I did have the view of the back of a Moroccan restaurant. Nothing says Paris to me like rotting lamb and couscous. “I love the furniture.”
“It’s home,” he said offhandedly. “The bathroom’s over there, if you want to clean up.”
“Sounds great. Mind if I shower?”
“No problem. I’ll get you a towel.”
I decided to shower and change my clothes. The ones I was wearing were all wrinkled. I got in the shower and let the water run over me. I was soaping myself up, when suddenly I felt Kenny’s arms around me.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” I mock protested.
“You tell me,” he said, nibbling on my neck again. God, it felt good. “I just wanted to make sure you were getting all nice and clean.”
“Thank you for your concern,” I said, turning to face him. I took the soap in my hand and started soaping his chest. “It’s only fair that I do the same...mmmm, do you like this?” He moaned. Clearly, he did. I started soaping his cock. “Mmmm....somebody likes this.” Two somebodies, actually. I was also getting hard. I knelt and started to take him in my mouth.
“Stop,” he said. “Let’s take this to the bed.” He turned off the water, opened the door and scooped me up. He was really big on this. It made me feel strange. No one else had ever done this, and I had been with some big guys before. It felt good. I liked the feeling of powerlessness. But, still, it was kind of unusual. I leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. He threw me on the bed. “Last stop!” he said, laughing. I went to get on all fours. “Stop,” he said. “Get on your back.”
‘My back,’ I thought. ‘Where’s he going with this.’ We fooled around some more. God, he could kiss. I felt tingling all through my body. Then, something really strange happened. “Put your legs on my shoulders,” he commanded.
“If you say so,” I said, flirtatiously. “I mean, where could little old me go? You’re such a big guy. I’m at your mercy. Please don’t hurt me.” I congratulated myself. I now sounded more pathetic than ever. Like the world’s worst porn movie.
“Damn right,” he snarled. Or mock snarled. I really couldn’t tell. It was extremely off-putting. He pulled a tube of K-Y warming gel out of his night stand, and began lubing himself up. “Are you ready, bitch?” ‘Bitch?’ OK, someone needed some help. Big time. But, I forgot all about it as soon as he started penetrating me.
“Oh god!” I moaned. “That feels so good. Keep going. Keep going.” And he pumped harder and harder. “Yes, ohmigod. Don’t stop,” I said, arching my back and bucking my hips in rhythm with him. He and I came simultaneously, and he pulled out.
“Did you like that?” he asked, leaning over to kiss my stomach.
“What do you think?” I smiled.
“I thought you’d like it like that.”
‘Huh,’ I thought. ‘What does that mean?’ What I said was, “Oh, really? Quite full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t hear any complaints,” he said, with a Cheshire Cat grin.
I leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth, “You’re lucky you’re so good, or else I wouldn’t put up with that.” What the hell was wrong with me? I sounded needy and pathetic. Not that he was listening to it. He was just, pardon the pun, eating it all up.
“I could stay here all day, but we really should get going,” he said, rolling over and getting up. “Let’s get dressed. Tell me where you want to go.”
I got up and went over to my suitcase, and started rifling through it. I found the breast forms, and made sure to quickly cover those before Kenny saw them. “I don’t know. Whatever you want.”
“Well,” he said, rolling his eyes, “we’ll hit the Louvre addition, so I don’t have to hear about it anymore, then we’ll just play it by ear, how about that?”
“Sounds great,” I said. “What’s the weather supposed to be?”
“Mid 50s. Take a sweater or jacket.”
“OK,” I said, rifling through my suitcase. I put on a baby blue Polo shirt and jeans. “How’s this? Too wrinkled.”
He smiled. “You look great Skipper. Did you bring a jacket?” ‘Skipper?’ I thought, ‘he’s a little too fixated on that.’
“Yeah, I’ve got a blue blazer in here. I hope it survived the flight.”
“Don’t worry about it. Worst comes to worst, I’ve got a portable clothes steamer.”
“A steamer?” I laughed. “You are soooo queer.”
“Oh really,” he laughed. “That’s high praise from a guy who wears a dress.”
“That’s temporary,” I shot back, a little too stridently. “The steamer’s forever, you homo.”
He picked me up and held me in the air. “Take it back,” he said, with a laugh.
“Put me down, you oaf!”
“No,” he said, coyly.
I started mock-pounding him with my fists. “You are in such trouble,” I said, unable to suppress the giggles.
“Oh please, you girl.”
“Girl, huh?” I said, flirtatiously. “Is that what you want? Jessica back?” I said, regretting it the minute I saw his eyes.
He put me down abruptly. “I thought that was temporary,” he said coldly.
“I was kidding,” I whimpered. “Come on, you know it is.”
“Uh huh.”
“Is this how the weekend’s going to be? Because if it is, I can go.”
He slumped. “I’m sorry Brian. I was out of line.”
“So was I.”
He picked me up again. This was weird. “OK. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”
“Fine. Just put me down, you ape.”
He grunted. “Last stop, bottom floor,” he said, emphasizing the word ‘bottom.’
I slapped his ass. “Don’t get too full of yourself, sweetie.”
He got out the steamer, and started steaming my blazer. “Wow,”I said. “Very good. If the law ever fails, you could be a dry cleaner.”
“I hear there’s a pressing need...”
“That’s awful,” I giggled. “Now I’m really going to go.”
The rest of the afternoon was wonderful. We went to the Louvre, we walked along the Seine, all the touristy stuff. We held hands and no one batted an eyelash. But, something still felt strange. As we walked along the Rue Fauborg St. Honore, I kept sneaking furtive glances at the shop windows. There were so many beautiful clothes, but I couldn’t even look at them, much less try them on. I wanted to be Brian, but still something was missing.
“Earth to Skipper, come in Skipper,” said Kenny, as I was daydreaming. Or day-nightmaring. One or the other, I don’t know which.
“Huh, what?” I said.
He laughed. “Penny for your thoughts.”
“Client stuff,” I lied. “Thinking about a project.”
He put his arms around me. “Let it go. I know it’s hard. But let’s just not think about work today, OK Skipper?” He said, giving me a great kiss.
“Wow. Aren’t you worried?” I whispered.
He smiled. “No one’s even looking, Skipper.”
“What’s with the Skipper stuff?” I asked.
“Does it bother you?” he said defensively.
“No, I just was wondering...”
“I just thought it was a good nickname for you,” he said, somewhat angrily. “I’ll stop.”
“It’s OK,” I said, a little too apologetically. Actually, it wasn’t OK. But I didn’t want to ruin this. What ‘this’ was was another issue entirely. But, I liked being liked. Or at least paid attention to. “I don’t mind at all. What should I call you?” I said.
“Mr. Huge?”
“I don’t like to lie.”
“Ha ha. I haven’t heard any complaints.”
“Would it matter?” I said, grabbing his ass.
“Not really, no,” he said, lifting me in the air. Between this and Skipper, I really wondered about him.
“I’ve got it! You already have your nickname. If I’m Skipper, you must be Ken! Can I dress you up and play with you?” I said, nibbling his ear and playing with his crotch.
“Bad Skipper,” he said, spanking my ass and laughing. I still felt like shit though. I was sitting here flirting pathetically with this closet case who treated me like crap. Julia would tell me just to go, and I should have. But I didn’t. Instead, we walked around some more and went for an early dinner. Once again, the waiter called me ‘Mademoiselle,’ and he said nothing. I overheard a woman look at me and say to her husband, “American women don’t know how to dress. Look at her. Pants and a men’s shirt. She should be in a skirt.” When her husband looked me up and down and said, “With those legs? Of course, she should,” I felt great. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to wear a fitted knit jersey dress with 3" heels and turn every man’s head. But I couldn’t. I knew it was better to me with Kenny than Jessica alone. But I just couldn’t get her out of my head.
The next morning, Kenny woke up about 8:00 AM. I woke up fifteen minutes later to see him getting dressed in a soccer jersey and shorts.
“Hey, where are you going?” I said groggily.
“Go back to sleep,” he said, giving me a peck. “I’ve got a soccer game. I’ll be back by 11.”
“Wait,” I said, getting up. “Let me get dressed. I want to see you play.”
“You don’t have to...”
“I know,” I said. “But I want to. It’ll be fun.”
“If you get bored, you can leave.”
“Thanks for that optimistic outlook,” I said, heading into the bathroom. “Let me wash up and get dressed. Give me fifteen minutes?”
“Sure,” he said. “I’m going to make myself some coffee. You want any?”
“Sounds great,” I said, washing my face and brushing my teeth. I went to get dressed and saw the breast forms. I don’t know what possessed me, but I glued them on. ‘Oh shit,’ I thought. ‘Now what, genius?’ Well, necessity is the mother of invention and this was necessity at its finest. “Kenny,” I yelled. “Do you have a sweatshirt I could borrow?”
“Sure, second drawer.”
I took out an NYU law sweatshirt. It was perfect. It was a XXL, and it smelled like him. I put it on. With my shorts, I looked like every sorority girl at college, wearing her boyfriend’s too big sweatshirt. Even better, it covered my boobs.
“Let’s go,” I said, taking the coffee.
“You look adorable,” he said quizically. “Nice outfit.”
“I’m just going to watch you play soccer. Is this a formal game? Should I put on a tie?”
“Relax. I’m just kidding.”
We went to a local park and he went off to play. I was standing alone, when a woman came over to me. “Not very interesting, no?”
“It’s not so bad.”
“You’re new. It gets old quickly. Catherine,” she said, holding out her hand. She was about 5'7", 125 lbs with brown hair and emerald green eyes. She was the picture of understated elegance and femininity. And clearly French. I knew not only by the accent, but by her clothes She was wearing a green sweater, black wool pants and 2" heels. No American woman would be dressed that way on a Saturday morning. And no French woman would be caught dead in a sweatshirt and shorts. Even to watch her boyfriend play soccer. I felt embarrassed by my outfit.
“Brian,” I said.
“Unusual. Family name?”
“Something like that,” I lied.
“You must be here with Kenny.”
“Actually, yes. How did you know?”
“The NYU Law sweatshirt. Plus, everyone else’s girlfriends have stopped coming.”
“Why are you here then?”
She laughed. “Good question. Actually, I do it for Henri. He likes when I’m here. So I come. I’m surprised to see you.”
“Why?”
“I always assumed Kenny was gay.”
I nearly spat out my coffee. “What?”
“He’s never with a woman. He’s too fastidious for an American. I just thought...nothing personal, it doesn’t bother anyone.”
“Anyone? Who else thinks it?”
“Everyone. Well, everyone’s girlfriends and wives.”
“Huh,” I said. Deep down, I was laughing hysterically. “That’s interesting.”
“Well, anyway, I can’t believe you came. Did he make you?”
“No, I volunteered.”
“Do you live here?”
“No, in New York. I’m just visiting for the weekend.”
“And you came to watch him play soccer. New romance is an amazing thing,” she laughed.
“Something like that,” I laughed. “Besides, it’s not like anything’s open yet. So I figured I’d watch him.” He went to head the ball into the goal and missed it entirely. “He’s not very good, is he?” I asked.
“I think you make him nervous. He’s usually fairly good, for an American. What are you doing for the rest of today?”
“We figured we’d play it by ear. Why?”
“No offense, but interesting outfit.”
“It is 8:15 in the morning,” I protested. “Besides,” I lied. “My luggage is missing. All I had was what was in my carry-on, and this sweatshirt.” I have no idea why I got defensive. Or why I lied. It just came viscerally. Which was frightening.
“Ah,” she said. “Do you need to go shopping, or do you plan to wear that all weekend?”
“I wasn’t planning on wearing much all weekend,” I said slyly.
She rolled her eyes. “New romance again. You will have to eat, you know, and we don’t have delivery here. Besides, they usually go out after the game. Do you want to join them or would you like to go shopping?”
My heart leapt. I knew just the stores I’d want to hit. But, then, I remembered. Kenny would have a fit. Besides, I was Brian. Not Jessica. Brian. I felt nauseous. “Let me check with Kenny. I mean we only have two days together.”
“Of course,” she said. “I understand.”
We watched the game for another hour or so, and talked. She was an official in the Economics Ministry, specializing in relations with the former French colonies. She and Henri had been married for four years. They had no children, and as she said, “I don’t know that I want any. The world is overcrowded and, besides, I like my life. What about you?”
“It’s a bit premature,” I said. “We’ve just met each other. Besides, I work crazy hours,” I semi-lied. I also left out the fact that I was (a) gay and (b) a guy. But, these are petty details.
“Ah,” she said, as Henri and Kenny came over. “Henri, this is Brian. Brian, Henri.”
He took my hand and, if as to play up the stereotype, kissed it and said, “Enchante, mademoiselle.”
Kenny made fake barfing noises, “Having fun, Henri?” he said with a laugh. I noticed he didn’t correct him for ‘mademoiselle,’ though.
“Ah, Kenny, the curable romantic,” Henri said. “Are you enjoying the game? I can’t believe Kenny dragged you out here.”
I laughed. “The game’s really good, other than Kenny’s “header.” Also, he didn’t drag me. I offered.”
Catherine smiled. “New romance,” she sighed. “Anyway, I told Brian how you go out after the game, and I offered to take her shopping. Her luggage is lost, so she needs some new clothes.” Kenny raised an eyebrow, but again said nothing.
“Do you mind, Kenny?”
He shuffled uneasily. “Uh, no. Not at all, if that’s what you want. I mean, I’d like to spend as much time together...”
“Nonsense,” said Catherine. “I’m not kidnapping her, just going shopping. We’ll meet you at the bar at 2:30 P.M. That will give you plenty of time together. Besides, it saves you from getting dragged to the shops, no?”
“I suppose.” He looked extremely uncomfortable. I understood. I didn’t help. I mean, I could’ve said I was a guy at any point during this. But I didn’t. But, the, neither did he. I mean, I wasn’t going to out him to his friends. If he wanted to be closeted, it wasn’t my place to fix things. Right?
“Then, it’s settled. Come on Brian, we’ll get started. Do you want to go like that, or would you prefer to wear something more..ah..appropriate.”
“Uh, whatever you think,” I said, looking at Kenny. His face was now impassive. I was scared. But, if he wanted, he could’ve stopped this at any time. So, if he wasn’t going to, I wouldn’t either.
“You’re about my size. American 6?”
“That’s right.”
“We live two avenues away. I’ll lend you something.”
“Uh, thanks. You sure you’re OK with this, Kenny?”
“Please, don’t worry, Skipper,” he said, with a nauseous smile. “See you at 2:30. Have a good time.”
I kissed him on the lips. “See you at 2:30.”
Catherine and I walked to her apartment and went into her bedroom. “Take a look in the closet. Wear whatever you want.” I opened her closet, and I was in love. Rows of beautiful skirts, dresses and slacks. Not a single sweatshirt or pair of sweats. And the shoes were beautiful. Only two or three pairs of flats. She dressed the way women should dress. Stylish, feminine. Perfect.
“You have immaculate taste,” I called to her.
“Merci,” she said. “Pick something. Let’s get going.”
I picked out a blue and white floral print skirt that came about mid-calf and a baby blue sweater. I looked in the mirror and loved what I saw. I knew, though, that Kenny would be disgusted. And then I felt worse. I mean, I wasn’t Jessica. I was Brian. I wanted to be Brian. With Kenny. And this was the ultimate act of sabotage. But, yet, I felt comfortable too. I was a mess. Julia was going to have a field day.
Catherine came in. “Beautiful. Now you look right. Why cover yourself up with sweatshirts and shorts? Show what you have.”
I blushed. “Thank you.”
“Please,” she said. “You look good. Use it to your advantage.”
“True. Well, lead on, Madame.”
We spent the next several hours shopping. I bought everything from top to bottom. Dresses, skirts, shoes, lingerie. Everything, well everything except pants or anything remotely masculine. I heard Julia’s voice the entire time (“Isn’t that interesting? No pants or even man-tailored shirts. Just dresses, skirts and heels. But, Jessica is only temporary?”), but it wasn’t that. It’s just that Catherine said that I had such a gorgeous figure, I had to dress Parisian not “like some frumpy American housewife,”and I felt it rude to insult her. Yep, that’s it.
Anyway, in Galeries Lafayette just before we had to go meet Kenny and Henri, I saw the most gorgeous sundress. A white bodice with a black and white print mid-calf skirt. I tried it on and it was just perfect. I looked stunning. I decided to wear it out, with a pair of black 3" heels I had just bought.
“Perfect,” said Catherine with a whistle, as I left the dressing room. “Perhaps, I should call ahead and tell Kenny to meet you somewhere. I don’t want to lose Henri.”
I laughed. “Please, compared to you, I’m the ugly duckling. I should have half your style.”
“Ah, style can be learned. Legs can’t. And you have the style. You just need to stop thinking like an American.”
“Fine,” I said with a grin. “Merci. Besides, you needn’t worry about me. Kenny’s enough.”
She half-smiled. “If you say so. Let’s go.”
When we walked into the bar, Henri looked at me and laughed. “My god, look at all those packages. Kenny, you’re lucky she’s just your girlfriend. I mean, she’s beautiful, but with spending like that, you’d be in the poorhouse.”
Kenny just looked me up and down. “Nice outfit,” he said, non-committally.
“What?” I said, under my breath.
“Nothing,”he snarled back.
“Let’s just play this out until it’s time to go.”
Kenny, like all good lawyers, was also a good liar. We spent another a couple of hours with Catherine and Henri, laughing and joking like any normal couple. At about 5 PM, Kenny said, “This has been fun, but I would like some time alone with Brian, so if you don’t mind...”
“New romance,” said Catherine, with a grin. “Try to stop and eat at some point, to keep up your strength.”
“Catherine,” I blushed.
Henri laughed. “Perhaps, we should follow suit? This is one time it would be useful to follow the Americans,” he said, with a leer.
She ignored him. “Please give me your phone number. Next time, I’m in New York...”
I wrote it on a napkin. “I’d love that,” and we kissed on both cheeks. It’s funny. I always thought that was just a TV French thing. Like wearing berets and striped shirts, or riding a bike with a baguette in the basket.
Kenny said nothing in the cab on the way back. We walked in the door and said, “It’s 5:30. Get that off and we can return it.”
“What?”
“The afternoon’s over. You don’t need to do that anymore. So, we’ll take it back. Get your money back.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. We’ll return it.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“No, I don’t. Please clarify, counselor.”
“Real fucking funny, Brian. The day is done. Take that shit off.”
“The day is done, huh? It served its purpose, so let’s take it back.”
“What did you say?”
“You heard me. It served its purpose. I was your “girlfriend” when it suited you, but now it’s done so it goes back.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t work for you. You know what I mean. You could’ve stopped this at any point and told them. But you didn’t.”
“You didn’t either.”
“It’s not my job to out you. Besides, you know what, I’m comfortable with who I am. Can you say the same?”
“Look,” he snarled. “Just take it off...”
“Or what?”
“Just take that shit off,” he said, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Are you going to hit me, you prick. Real fucking tough. You have what, eight inches on me? Or are you hitting yourself, because you’re a piece of shit closet case who can’t deal.”
He kept clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Come on. Try it, big shot. Take one shot and I’ll call the cops. Big fucking tough guy.”
“The cops will laugh at you. Little fucking drag queen gets beat up and you think they care?”
“You think they’ll see a drag queen? Take a look, you pathetic piece of shit. They’ll drag you off. So, try it. Try and hit me. Big macho asshole.”
He blanched. and dropped his hands to his sides “Sorry, but take that shit off.”
“Or what?”
“I knew it. Drag queen.”
“Closet case, and...” I almost told him that everyone thought he was gay, but quite frankly, I didn’t want to put Catherine in an awkward position later on. “From the airport forward, you could’ve told everyone I was a guy. Hell, from our first date forward. But you didn’t. Instead, you reveled in the mistake. Every time someone said ‘mademoiselle.” or used ‘she’ or ‘her’ for me, you didn’t say a word. But, now, behind closed doors, you’re mister big shot. Fuck you.”
“Are you through? You told me that you were just doing this for the wedding. But, my, my, my. Look at all the clothes you bought. Donating it to charity, Tinkerbelle?”
“I’ll wear whatever the fuck I want. You know what, I knew this trip was a mistake. You showed me who you were the first night, you piece of shit. I hope you enjoy the rest of your life picking up rough trade, you scumbag. Maybe one day you’ll grow up.” With that, I went it to the bedroom and packed up my things. “I’ll see myself out.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” he smirked. “Where are you going to stay,”
“Let’s get something straight, Kenneth,” I said, lisping exaggeratedly. “I make more than you. I can afford any room in this city. So don’t worry about me. Go find someone in the park to fuck. Someone where you don’t have to worry about actually behaving like an adult.”
“Brian..” he said.
“No, Kenny. Fuck you. And do me a favor, lose my number.”
“Fine.”
“Fine,” and I slammed the door. I found a cab at the cab stand, and went to stay at the Crillon. Extremely pricey, but I had to prove that I could to Kenny, even if he wasn’t there. Besides, it was one night. I was crying at the check-in desk.
“What’s wrong, Mademoiselle?” asked the clerk.
“Nothing,” I sniffled. “Just...never mind.”
“They are all pigs,” she smiled. “Give them foie gras and they want hamburger.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
“Room 413, enjoy your night.”
I got upstairs, and wanted to call someone. I started to dial Lisa, but stopped. I felt like this was somehow her fault. I don’t know exactly why. She had no idea Kenny was going to be like this. But I wouldn’t be here, across an ocean if it wasn’t for her. I wouldn’t be in a dress and heels either. I just felt like she would have nothing useful to say. So I called Adam.
“Hello?”
“Hi Adam, it’s Br..Jessica.” Close call. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, I was just going out to go food shopping. Life on the edge. What happened?”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re in Paris. If everything was good, I have to imagine you wouldn’t be calling.”
“Nothing. I mean I don’t want to bother you.”
“It’s no bother. Besides, one day,” he said, doing the world’s worst Brando imitation, “there will come a day when I need a favor...I’ll call you with a problem and then you’ll have to listen. So, I’m not being nice. I’m merely accumulating debt.”
I laughed. “Don’t quit your day job. So, collecting debts, huh?”
“Just tell me.”
I then told him the whole story. Well, obviously, not the whole story. I mean, I left out the whole ‘I’m a guy, dressed like a girl’ part. I just said he acted like an asshole in private about things he laughed about in public. And then I told him about the fists.
“What?” he said angrily. “He did what?”
“He didn’t do anything. It was just a gesture.”
“That piece of shit. You don’t even threaten that shit. I’ll fly there and fucking kill him. Let’s see him try it with a guy.” You don’t even know the half of it, I thought.
“Calm down. I left. I’m at the Crillon, and he can go fuck himself.”
“Damn right, he can. What kind of jackass gives up someone like you?”
“I’m blushing. Stop it.”
“It’s just,” he stammered. “I just don’t see that you did anything so awful.”
“Me either.”
“What are you going to do about the wedding?”
“Nothing I can do. Besides, I walk down the aisle with him, smile in some pictures and that’s it. I can do that for Lisa.”
“You’re a hell of a friend. Most women I know would drop out.”
“You don’t ditch 16 years because of some prick.”
“Mature of you. I’d be out of there.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You think you would, but you’re too good a guy to do that to a friend.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s my lot in life.”
“Stop it. When I get back, we’re getting you a girlfriend.”
He laughed. “Good luck.”
“Stop it, Adam. You’re a great guy.”
“Thank you,” he said. “And you’re great. Someone’s going to snatch you up. I’d offer my friends, but I want to stay friends with you.”
“Thanks. I feel much better.”
“I try.”
“You succeed.”
“Now, I’m blushing. I’ll see you Monday.”
“I can’t wait.”
I ordered room service. I feared the bill, but wasn’t in the mood to go out. When the waiter delivered the food, he looked me up and down, like he couldn’t figure out why I was alone. I smiled and gave him a good tip. I don’t know why, but I decided to try on all my new clothes. I know, I know. For someone who was only doing this as a favor, I was sure having a good time. I put on my little plaid skirt, Mary Janes and white shirt, with my black lace bra peeking through. I started making suggestive poses in the mirror. I honestly don’t know why I bought it, except that Catherine pushed.
When she proposed it, I rolled my eyes. “Isn’t this a little tacky?”
She laughed. “Of course, it is. But all men love it. I think they all want to fuck Catholic school girls.”
“I’m Jewish,” I laughed.
“Trust me. Kenny will love it.” ‘I doubt that,’ I thought.
I was trying on a blue shift, with blue 3" heels, when my phone rang. It was Lisa.
“Where are you?” she yelled. “I was worried.”
“Hello to you too.” I said calmly.
“Where are you?”
“In a hotel.”
“Which one?”
“Why? You obviously found me.”
“Kenny called.”
“Kenny can go fuck himself. In fact, I think that’s the only thing that would make him happy.”
“Come on. What happened?”
“Nothing. I wasted money on plane tickets and, now, a hotel. He’s an asshole, like I initially thought. That’s it.”
“Something happened for you to leave. He said you two had a fight. That you lied.”
“I didn’t do shit.”
“Then, why did he say you did? Tell me, so I know who to believe.”
“What?” I said flatly. “Excuse me...who to believe?”
“You misinterpreted what I said.”
“I imagine I didn’t. You’re going to believe him over me. Your quote ‘best friend of sixteen years,’ unquote. Versus a guy you saw treat me like shit. Nice to know where I stand.”
“That’s not what I meant. I just, I mean...”
“I know what you mean. This is all your fault.”
“Bri,” she started, whimpering.
“Let’s end this conversation now, Lise. Before it gets uglier.”
“Bri, please. I apologize.”
“Whatever,” I said, hanging up.
I laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. What the hell was going on in my life? I have one psycho who treats me like shit, who I knew treated me like shit when I flew six hours to see him. I had another guy, who was great but would lose it if he found out I had a penis. I was sitting a blue dress an ocean away from someone who I thought was my best friend. I was a real prize. I was reveling in my self-loathing, when the phone rang. Guess who?
“Hello,” I said tentatively.
“I’m getting a little tired of this, Brian.”
“Jim...”
“Let me ask you a question. What do I do for a living?”
“You’re an architect. Why do you ask?”
“Do you know why I became an architect, and not a pyschiatrist?”
“No, why?”
“Because I don’t like dealing with emotional crises. Tell me what happened, so I can decide which fag’s ass I’m going to kick. I want to watch the Yankees and I can’t because of you and Kenny.”
“You should be thankful I’m sparing you from the Yankees.”
“I’m not in the mood. What happened?”
I started with the airport, and ‘kiss her, you idiot.’ “So, he doesn’t say anything...”
“Did you expect him to say this is my boyfriend?”
“Well, no...”
“OK. Can I get the Cliffs’ Notes version of this? Not that it’s not interesting...”
“I understand totally,” so I told him about the waiters, Catherine, everything...
“Again, were you expecting something different? Besides, you didn’t say anything...”
“I’m supposed to out him? C’mon, Jim, I expect more from you.”
He laughed. “As well you should. So, how do you end up in a hotel?”
I told him about what happened in the apartment.
“Take that shit off, huh?” he laughed. “You don’t know him, but that’s classic Kenny.”
“What?”
“Uses a situation to his advantage, then shifts when it doesn’t anymore and wonders why everyone didn’t know the game had changed.”
“Thanks for setting me up with him.”
“Lisa did that. Blame her. Oh, wait, you did. Which brings me back to the initial reason for this call.”
“I’m not finished. When I wouldn’t do what he said, he started clenching his fists...”
“What? That is not cool. No women. No weaker guys. Prick. This will be taken care of.”
“Thank you. Don’t ruin your friendship for me.”
“Whatever. You still haven’t told me why Lisa’s all bent.”
“Did she tell you what she said? She said, and I quote, ‘tell me what happened, so I know who to believe.”
“Whoa...”
“Whoa is right. I’m pissed.”
“If you ever repeat this, I’ll kill you. But you’re right. You know that’s not how she meant it.”
“I know. I’m not apologizing though.”
“Think about it. For my sake. You owe me one. Or several.”
“I know, Jim. You’ve been incredibly patient throughout this.”
“I have.”
“Don’t get arrogant.”
“It ain’t arrogance, if you can back it up.” We both laughed. “Can I ask you a question? Why are you there? ”
“It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s not. You want to know why?”
“Why, I ask with trepidation?”
“Because you’re an idiot.”
“Thanks a lot. I shouldn’t ask why, but explain.”
“He treats you like shit here, so you go out with him. Which is bad enough. Then you fly there, on your own dime, which is exponentially more stupid. So, unless there’s some fucked up gay shit I don’t want to know about, you are an idiot. Case closed.”
“You’re a putz, Jim. You know that, right?”
“I do. But that doesn’t make me any less right. One last question...”
“Don’t you want to watch the Yankees?”
“I am. Besides, it’s the fourth inning. I’m fine. Anyway, you keep saying this is temporary. But, you seem to be getting more into it, am I wrong? I mean, buying all the clothes is not a temporary act.”
“Shut up...”
“Whatever works for you. I don’t care. You need to think about that.”
“Thanks, Doctor.”
“If I was your shrink, you’d be cured,” he laughed.
“Of what?”
“It doesn’t matter. Whatever it was, it’d be fixed.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Now, back to the last and worst topic, Lisa. You can’t hang up on her.”
“She doubted me over Kenny, after everything.”
“She didn’t doubt you. She was just confused. You know her, she’s a romantic.”
“So?”
“She keeps thinking you two will work this out.”
“Which two?”
“You and Kenny.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I hope not. If you two hook up again, I don’t want to hear it. Fucking crazy butt monkeys.”
“You want in?” I laughed.
“Not likely, although I know why you want it. If I’m switching teams, it’s not for either of you. Anyway, that’s not what she meant.”
“Lately I don’t know what she means.”
“Me either. But, she’s freaking out again. She loves you.”
“She has a weird way of showing it.”
“Maybe, but she didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Me either.”
“I know,” he sighed. “But make this up with her when you get back. I need peace in my life, and this is not working.”
“I’ll do it for you.”
“Thank you.”
“You need some hope, what with the Yankees and all.”
“The bet still stands, Fifi.”
“Freak,” I said, laughing.
“Homo,” he said, “just take care of this. Besides, I can’t have my French maids all pissed at each other. You’ll drop drinks.”
“You were my first love...”I began singing.
“Can’t sing. Can’t dance. Are you sure you’re gay?”
“Dickhead.”
“Rope smoker.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Just fix this. I drop fifteen gs on a ring, and all I have to show for it is grief.”
“Me too. I’ll do what I can.” And we both hung up. I started to dial Lisa, but decided to hold off until I got back. Sometimes, you need to see someone’s face to understand what they’re thinking. All I knew was I didn’t know anything.
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Another BigCloset TopShelf story. The saga continues. I'm back from Paris, alone and unsure. I find hope. Is it real or false? I need help.
I took the red-eye back Sunday night, and landed at JFK 7:00 AM Monday morning. Quite frankly, since my trip was not quite what I expected, I would’ve left earlier but, when I called Continental, they couldn’t guarantee me a seat. Rather than spending eight hours at De Gaulle, I spent the day wandering the streets, just checking things out. It wasn’t much fun, however. I kept expecting to see Kenny and I just wasn’t in the mood for his shit. Especially since I was dressed in my new pink bohemian skirt, black top and black 2" platform slides. I would’ve worn a nicer shoe but, as Julia had pointed out, walking in 4" heels for an extended period of time loses its appeal very quickly.
Anyway, I cleared customs. I was dressed in my traveling clothes, jacket, khakis and polo shirt, so as not to arouse suspicion. Ironically, I think I probably got more scrutiny that way. This time, the customs agent felt the need to say “Brian Rosen? You’re Brian Rosen?” Unlike the last time, I kept my mouth shut and said, “I know. I know. But, yes, I am. Would you like to see my driver’s license?” I came home to find eight messages on my voice mail. I took a deep breath, figuring this couldn’t be good since I was only gone two days.
First message. “Hi, Brian. It’s Steve Kroenke...” OK, client call. Dodged one bullet.
Second message. “Hi, you’ve been selected to receive a free...” Never has a telemarketer sounded so good.
Third message. “Brian, it’s Kenny. I assume you’re alive. If so, I think you owe me a phone call after the way you behaved...” ‘I owe you a phone call?’ I thought. ‘I. Owe. You? After the way that I behaved? Why? So you can play out some more self-loathing? Or maybe you’ll announce that you’ve come out to all the people who’ve already guessed? Oh yeah, when that happens, the temperature in hell will be a brisk 32. That’s really fucking priceless. Delete this one. Expunge it. Erase it from human history.’ ‘Well, whatever’s next can’t be so bad,’ I thought.
“Hi, Brian. It’s Lisa. Please call me and let me know you made it. I’m worried. So’s Ken...” Note to self, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ “I’ll deal with this at some point,” I sighed to no one in particular. “Not now. Not today. I need to say something, but I want to be calm and formulate it. Not fly off the handle.” ‘Well, what’s next,’ I thought. ‘Dentist saying I need root canal? Audit?’
“Hey, Jessica. It’s Adam.” I grinned from ear to ear. “Wanted to see how you were doing. You were pretty broken up on Saturday, so I just wanted to make sure you were OK. That guy’s an asshole. Anyway,” he said, laughing. “I wanted to make sure we were still on for Tuesday. Since you’re treating, I’ve been starving myself. Be prepared to pay. Call me.” That made me feel great. It was so nice to hear from someone without an agenda. Someone who just liked me. Then I felt like crap. He didn’t like me. He liked Jessica. I was bad as everyone else. I was manipulating someone who didn’t deserve it.
The last three calls were from clients, including Melissa.
After I was done, I unpacked. I stared at all the clothing I bought. I loved all my new outfits, but then I wondered. Why am I doing this? I’m going to stop in June. I certainly don’t need this. But, Dress for Success can use it to help poor women on interviews. But, is a pink and white floral print, spaghetti-strap sundress work clothing? I took off my traveling clothes and slipped it on. I don’t know about work clothes, but I did look cute. It was so light and flirty. I twirled around, loving the way it felt. OK, maybe everyone is right. Maybe I’m deluding myself. Maybe this is what I want. No, wait, Maybe, I bought all of these clothes to piss off Kenny. Like, he liked ‘Mademoiselle’ in public but not in private, so I was forcing his hand. That sounded convincing. Or it did, until I fished out my breast forms and slipped them in. Damn, I looked adorable.
Enough of that. I had work to catch up on. I took it off an put on my work clothes. A buttondown shirt and a pair of khakis. I know it sounds ridiculous on so many levels. Putting aside Jessica, I worked at home. People never understood why I dressed in office clothes to work at home. They also said I could wear whatever I wanted, which was true. But someone how I felt like if you treat it like a real office, you’ll get more done. And I did. Of course, since I was now 36-24-31, I had to wear a woman’s blouse and khakis. Nonetheless, I was dressed for work, and so I sat down to return calls. First call, Melissa.
“Hey, Melissa. It’s Brian.”
“Hey, how are you?” she said brightly. “So, what happened on the trip?”
“Let’s just leave it at nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
“Lisa called me and told me part of the story...”
“I said, ‘Let’s just leave it at nothing ventured, nothing gained.’”
“Look, if I’m crossing a line, let me know. She was pretty freaked and...”
“Melissa, off limits. Nothing personal, but I don’t want to go there.”
“If you say so. It’s just that I thought...”
“I understand. If I change my mind, I’ll let you know. But, I’m still processing. Also, while we’re friends, you’re a client, and this is not really something that helps me professionally...”
“And buying skirts in Barney’s does?” she laughed.
“Oh, god. I should’ve held my ground and pretended....”
She interrupted. “Kidding, Brian, kidding. I’ve said it before. You’re the golden gi..you’re golden. I don’t care what or who you do, or what you wear. Speaking of which, buy anything interesting?”
I blushed. “A few things.”
“No more paisley, I hope.”
“I like that skirt.”
“You’re about it. What did you buy?”
“A few skirts. A very cute pink sundress. Some shoes.”
“A quote ‘very cute’ pink sundress? You are such a girly girl, Miss Brian. But this is only until June 25th?”
“Line crossing.”
“I’ll stop on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“I come over for a fashion show. I’m tired of you in pants.”
“Fine. Can we cover work now?”
“If you want, Princess.”
“Line crossing. Sexual harassment, actually.” I laughed.
“Yeah, OK. Call legal,” she sighed. “That should be interesting. Anyway, the project..”
I won’t bore you with work talk. We talked for half an hour, and then worked for another four. You know me, sublimate issues with work. Sublimate, huh? I’ve been seeing Julia for too long.
At 1:30, I took a break and called Adam.
“Dr. Connolly’s office. Gina speaking.”
“May I speak to him please?”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Uh..” I paused, almost stumbling over the name. “Jessica Rosen.”
“Oh,” Gina said, her voice brightening. “He’s told me about you. Hold on..”
‘He’s told me about you? Oh god,’ I thought. ‘What does that mean?’ I’m, as a former president once said, in deep doo doo.
“Hey, Jess, how are you?”
“Fine. How about you. How was your weekend?”
“Boring. Uneventful.”
“Better than mine then.”
“Are you OK? You didn’t talk to him again, did you? By the way, the offer still stands. I’ll fly there and kick his ass for you.”
I grinned. “My knight in shining armor. That’s actually the best offer I’ve had in a long time, but it’s not necessary. Appreciated, but not necessary.”
“You’re welcome. Are we still on for tomorrow?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” I said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Me either. I mean, a free meal’s a free meal...”
“Stop it,” I giggled. ‘I am such a loser,’ I thought. ‘I sound like a 16 year old. Girl.’
“Plus, the company’s not so bad...”
“Thank you SO much, Adam. Nice to know where I stand.”
“Wherever you want,” he said. “Sorry, that was rude.”
“Again, Adam, it’s not rude. It’s flirting. Women like that.”
“Sorry. It’s just...”
“You need more confidence. We’ll work on that.”
“That’s what Gina says, too.”
“She’s right. You are one hell of a catch.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled. “I’m embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. We can get a man on the moon. We’ll get a girl on you.”
“Uh, thank you. Sure it can’t be you?”
“Adam,” I sighed. “We’ve covered this. Not me. Someone less fucked up.”
“You’re not fucked up.”
“Thank you. But you deserve better. And I’m going to get her.”
“If you say so. Anyway, 7:30 tomorrow?”
“Meet me here,” and I gave him the address. “You better not stand me up.”
“Me? You better not stand ME up.”
“See you tomorrow,” I giggled. ‘Stop it, you girl,’ I chided myself.
“Done and done.” he laughed.
I got off the phone and tried to focus on work. But I couldn’t. I was focused on Adam. ‘This isn’t right,’ I thought. ‘He’s straight. You’re not. You..are..a...guy. Not much of one. But a guy, nonetheless. So, get back to work. Besides you have bills to pay.’ This worked for about half a minute. ‘OK,’ I thought. ‘Decide what you’re going to wear tomorrow night. If you do that, you’ll be finished and you’ll be able to work.’ I went to my closet and looked around.
First, I tried on a baby doll top, a pair of jeans and my black 3" boots. I looked cute, but decided (a) jeans required me to tuck, which was really unpleasant and (b) I wanted to show off my legs. ‘Show off my legs?’ I thought. ‘Melissa’s right. I am such a girly girl.’
I wanted to wear the sundress, but it was still too cool. Next up, a black spaghetti strapped dress. No, too dressy for a ‘just friends’ dinner. Note to self: Put down Cosmo. Read a trade journal.
Next up, my black cotton wrap around dress and black heels. ‘Hmmm,’ I thought. ‘I look good, but I’m not overdressed.’ I put it aside for future consideration.
I decided it needed to be a skirt or dress. Everyone kept telling me how great my legs were. Why not show them off? ‘OK,’ I thought, ‘you need to stop this. Stop this now. You’re a man...but, Adam’s looking for Jessica. And Jessica likes skirts and dresses. And heels. So, it’s not you. It’s Jessica. It’s the role, not the actor.’
I finally found the perfect outfit. My white t-shirt and a skirt with a cartoon print that ended about 2" above my knees. I put on my black platform slides and twirled. I looked really cute. Friendly but not like I was trying to lead him on. I needed help. Bad. Psychotropic drug bad.
I put the outfit aside. If nothing else, I was able to get back to work. I worked until 6:30 when the phone rang. The caller i.d. read, “Lisa.”
“Hey,” I grunted. “What’s up?”
“You’re alive,” she said sarcastically.
I still wasn’t in the mood for her. “I’m swamped with work. Projects on deadline. Can I call you back.”
“Uh, sure. Are you OK?” she said meekly.
“Yeah, fine. I’ll call you back. It’s just ‘leave for two days and have four days work when you get back,’ you know?”
“Uh sure, Bri. Call me.”
“Uh huh,” I grunted. “Later.”
“Later? OK, speak to you soon.”
I was too absorbed in myself to hear the hurt in her voice. When I thought about it, I thought, ‘Good. Now she knows how it feels.’ Once again, keeping in character, I threw myself into my work. I stopped at 1:30 AM and passed out.
I woke up the next morning at 8:30 and did more work. It was hard to focus, though. I was really looking forward to dinner with Adam. I liked the fact that he knew nothing about the whole Lisa-Kenny-Jim debacle. I mean, he knew about Kenny, but not really. Then, I felt guilty. Again, this poor guy thought I was Jessica. If he knew I was Brian, he would cut me off at the knees, I’m sure. I needed to forget about it. So, guess what I did? If you said, “work,” you made the right call. Other than ten minutes for lunch, I worked through until 6:00 PM, when I stopped to shower. It felt so good to get into a hot shower. I lathered myself up and let the water run over me. I felt my legs and even though I barely had hair (even before I started this), I decided to shave them. I’m not sure why, though. It’s not like Adam was going to run his hands over them. Involuntarily, the image of Adam running his hands over my legs started to get me excited. He kept going up and down, further and further up. I avoided picturing him reaching the point of no return, but he kept going further up my thighs until just before then. Then, I pictured him using his chiropractic skills to give me a massage, and then kissing my neck, and I started to get hard. I decided, to avoid any problems later on, to masturbate. I figured that, if he could get me excited without even being present in any way, who knew what would happen at dinner.
I got out of the shower, attached my breast forms and got dressed. I then put on my make up. Not too much though. While it was evening, this wasn’t a date. We were just friends and a friend wouldn’t get all made up, I decided. After I was finished, I went to my full length mirror. I looked really cute. I gave myself a smile and a little twirl. I loved watching my skirt fly in the air, and hated that I loved it. Since Paris, I was having a hard time determining who I was. On the one hand, unlike Adam, I knew I was a gay man and didn’t hide that from anyone. But, on the other hand, maybe everyone was right. I was playing the role of a woman a little too well. I knew I didn’t want a sex change but I was beginning to wonder what I wanted. Did I want to be Jessica, a she-male Brian or was this just until June 25? I did know one thing for sure. I was giving my self a head ache. I looked at the clock - 7:20. At 7:25, the buzzer rang.
“Hi, Jess. It’s Adam.”
I smiled. “Come on up.” I buzzed him in, and was giddy with expectation. ‘I am so lame,’ I thought. ‘He’s a friend. Who doesn’t know that you have a penis. Calm down, you girl.’
I opened the door. “Wow,” he said, “you look great.”
I blushed. “Thanks.” He, however, didn’t. He was wearing the uniform of the defeated thirty-something straight male in New York. A blue golf shirt, tan Dockers pants - with pleats! - and brown Timberland loafers.
“Uh, nice place,” he said, looking around.
“I know, it’s a mess.” It was. Plus, my decor was, charitably put, Spartan. I had a couch, coffee table and TV. In one corner, I had my computer and files. Other than a Jasper Johns print on the wall, it was pretty much empty. When it came to interior decorating, I was one pathetic queer. I almost got drummed out of the union.
He laughed. “No, it’s just nice to see someplace where you’re not perfect. Actually, I like it. Most girls’ places are too fussy.”
“Adam, I am not perfect. Believe me, I am far from it. Besides, what you call fussy, a woman would call homey. Remember that. Besides, once you’re in, you don’t get a choice in decor anyway.”
He laughed. “Thanks for the heads up. Ready to go?”
“Sure, how is it outside? I haven’t been outside all day.”
“Really?”
“Work. When I get on a project, I get OCD.”
“Are you OK to go now?”
“Don’t even try and back out. I’ve been waiting all day for this.” That sounded pathetic and needy. Both of which, I excelled at.
He grinned slyly. “Really?”
“Shut up,” I said. “How is it out?”
“60s.”
“Let me grab my coat.” I went into the bedroom, put on my denim jacket and ran my fingers through my hair. I couldn’t help it. I looked good.
We left and went downstairs. Unfortunately, of all the lobbies in all the apartments in the world, she had to walk into mine. In other words, we ran into Lisa and Jim.
“She walks! She lives! She has returned!” said Lisa mockingly.
“Ha ha,” I said flaty, “I’ve been busy.”
Jim gave me a sideways glance. “Hey,” he paused momentarily “Jessica.”
“Hi.”
Adam stuck out his hand. “Adam Connolly.”
“Jim Goldberg,” he said, shaking and giving Adam a strange look.
Adam looked at me with a ‘what’s up here?’ look. I held up one hand, in the universal, “don’t worry” mode.
Lisa stuck out her hand. “Since both Jess and Jim are so rude, Lisa Wasserman.”
Adam laughed. “Ah, the bride. Congratulations.”
“I see Jess has acknowledged my existence recently to someone.”
“I’ve been busy. Hey, Jim, Adam’s a Yankee fan.”
Jim laughed. “Maybe you can do something with her.”
“She’s hopeless.”
“Actually,” Jim laughed. “All she has is hope. No likelihood of ever winning. But, hope nonetheless.”
“That’s enough, you two.”
“Where are you two off to?” Lisa said, with a smarmy grin.
“Beyoglu, on 2nd,” I said.
“A date? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not a date. We’re friends,” I said defensively. Adam looked a little disappointed. Jim shot me another sideways glance.
“You never treat me to dinner.”
“(A) I have. (B) You never help me at the gym.”
“So, you two met at the gym,” Jim said.
Adam brightened up. “She was using the machines wrong. I showed her what to do,” he said proudly.
“You showed her, huh?” Jim said, putting an emphasis, infinitesimal but emphasis nonetheless, on her.
“Yes, he did. He used to be a trainer.”
“Cool. Must’ve met a lot of women.”
Lisa punched him. “Jim...”
“What? I can’t live vicariously now?”
Adam laughed. “They have policies on that.”
“Don’t ruin it for me,” Jim laughed. “Lie.”
“OK, it was constant women. Just throwing themselves at you. I barely had energy to do my job. That’s why I stopped training....”
“Thank you.”
“This conversation is degenerating,” I said. “We’ve got to go.”
Lisa smiled. “Call me, and let me know how the non-date went.”
“Me too,” Jim chimed. “I’m curious.”
“Goodbye, you two,” I said.
We started walking. “They seemed nice,” Adam said. “What’s up?”
“What’s up with what?”
“You and Lisa seemed tense around each other.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
“They introduced me to Kenny.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, the wound’s still raw. I need to cool down before I deal with her.”
“I understand. Nice skirt, by the way. Milton Canniff?”
“Huh? No, I forget who the designer is, but I know it’s not Milton Canniff. I’ve never heard of him.”
“Not the designer. The cartoons on the skirt. They’re by Milton Canniff. From his comic strip, ‘Terry and the Pirates.’”
I laughed. “Oh, god. You’re not a comic book guy, are you? I have an X-Men, Series 2 in mint condition,” I said, affecting a wheezy voice.
“How do you know comic book guy?”
“I was an engineering major, remember?”
He laughed. “No, I was not comic book guy. I was worse.”
“What could possibly be worse?”
“Cartoon guy.”
“What is cartoon guy, and how is he worse?”
“Comic book guy collects comic books. Cartoon guy knows every comic strip and cartoon ever, and can discuss them at length.”
“OK, so how is it worse?”
“Cartoon guy is lonely. There’s always that group of five or six comic book guys in every school. There’s maybe one or two cartoon guys. And they don’t know each other. Or they don’t know that the other’s one cartoon guy, I mean.”
“That is so sad,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
He turned beet red. “Stop it.”
“It’s cute, Adam. How do you become cartoon guy?”
“I drew all the time when I was a kid. I wanted to be a cartoonist.”
“No kidding.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, that’s really cool. I think it’s cool that you can draw. I can’t draw a bath. Creative people are amazing.” This whole line of discussion was making me fall for him. I needed to stop. Unless he wanted a chick with a dick, this was not happening.
“OK, seriously stop. I’m embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. It’s nice.”
“What about you? What did you want to be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ballerina?”
OK, think fast. Do I agree and play along? No, go another way. “Nice stereotype. Actually no, I guess I wanted to be Steve Wozniak.” Which was true.
“Who?”
“The guy who founded Apple Computer.”
“I thought that was Steve Jobs.”
“Wozniak was the hard-core programmer. He kept in the background more and left after Apple’s first big wave, so no one remembers him much.”
“Interesting,” he said. “I guess you stuck with it. More than me.”
“How did you end up doing this?”
“I don’t know. At some point, somewhere around ninth grade, I gave up the cartooning dream.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he said sadly. “It just stopped being the dream. No reason. Or no good one that I can come up with. I think about though, every once in a while.”
“Why not try now?”
“My mind doesn’t think that way anymore.”
“That’s a cop out. I bet you’re still creative. Lots of people have done it. Gaugin, for one.”
He laughed. “That’s quite a comparison, thank you. It’s not creativity. It’s thinking in four panels. Set up, set up, set up, joke. You have to be in that mindset. Plus, my guess is I wasn’t that funny.”
I touched his arm which, I realized immediately, was a bad signal to send. “I’d like to see your old strips.”
He blushed. “I think they’re at my mom’s. If she didn’t throw them out.”
“Well, if you’d let me, I’d like to see them.”
He kept blushing, then mumbled, “I’ll check next time I’m there.”
I don’t know why, but I felt so comfortable around him. Maybe, it was that he seemed as vulnerable as me. Or maybe it was his sweetness. He was the first person I told the Steve Wozniak story, too. My female friends didn’t understand, and gay guys would’ve thought it was bizarre. It always felt like I should say Elton John or Kim Richards in “Escape from Witch Mountain.” Even when things were good, and I use that term very loosely, with Kenny, I never felt open. I always felt like I was hiding something. But, I felt like I could be myself with Adam. Which is ironic, since I wasn’t. I was Jessica.
I must’ve seemed out of it, because he said, “Penny for your thoughts.”
“Nothing. Just thinking about something.”
“What, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Nothing. Just some work stuff,” I lied.
He smiled, “You’re a workaholic. Tonight, you relax.”
“Deal,” I laughed. Just then, a woman with a bulldog puppy walked past. She, the woman that is, was cute, about 28, dark hair, greenish-brownish eyes, 5'4" and 140 lbs.
Adam bent down. “Hey puppy,” he said, rubbing the puppy’s belly. “Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl?”
The woman smiled at me. “He’s a keeper. She usually doesn’t like men that much. That tells you something.”
“I know. But, we’re not a couple.”
“Really?”
“Nope. Just friends.”
“Why? Is Ginger,” she said, pointing at the dog, “a bad judge of character?”
“No, it’s me. I’m still in my asshole phase, apparently.” She smiled. Adam was, during all of this, blithely unaware. He kept playing with the dog.
“Hey, Adam. Stand up. Adam, this is?”
“Denise,” she said, with a smile. Adam stood there, looking embarrassed.
“Hi Denise. I’m Jessica,” which came out surprisingly easily, which made me feel uncertain. “Now, Adam, here’s where you introduce yourself.” He blushed. Denise smiled.
“Hi, uh, I’m Adam. This is a great dog.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he stammered. “Um, nice to meet you. Jessica, don’t we have to get to dinner?”
“Where are you headed?” Denise said, throwing me a “boy, he’s shy” look.
“Beyoglu, on 2nd.”
“Ooh, that’s good. Try the doner kebab. Also, they make great hummus.”
“Thanks, Denise. Oh, by the way, since Adam here seems to have lost the power of speech, maybe we could all get together some time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure,” she said, giving me a sly grin. “That’d be fun.” She fished through her bag. “Here’s my card. E-mail me.”
“Great, either Adam or I will do that. Right, Adam?”
“Sure,” he mumbled. “OK. Nice meeting you. Bye, puppy,” he said, as the dog jumped on him.
“Bye,” she said, walking off. “By the way, cute skirt.”
I slapped him on his head.
“Ouch. What’d I do?”
“She was so into you. And you stood there like a statute.”
“Really? She was? You think so?”
“You are so dense. Did she have to hold up a sign? Even that, you’d probably stand there and say, ‘I want to fu...fu...what?”
He laughed. “I’m not that bad, am I?”
“You’re a work in progress. So, you’ll e-mail her, right?”
“Um...”
“Adam, Adam, Adam. You are a great guy. You just need to realize it.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“It’s a compliment. Take it as one.”
“OK. If I’m so great, why aren’t you interested?”
“You really want to be rebound guy?”
He smiled. “No. I guess she was cute.”
“We’re working on you. Fix you up and then sell you.”
He theatrically turned away. “I feel like such a piece of meat.”
“You love it, you big ham,” I said, punching him lightly. I was sending off such mixed signals. I needed to stop. But it felt so natural.
We got to the restaurant and ate dinner. Denise was right. The hummus was delicious. Adam had the doner kebab. I had striped bass. It was great. But, what was really the best was the conversation. We talked about work, our hobbies, our families.
“So, tell me about your family,” I said.
“Not much too say. Generic Irish family. Grew up in Pelham. Mom stayed home, dad’s a VP at Chase. I have two older brothers and a younger sister.”
“That sounds good. Tell me about them.”
“One brother’s a doctor, the other’s a mortgage trader. My sister’s in law school.”
“Wow, that’s quite an accomplished bunch. How do you all get along?”
“OK, I guess. We fought as kids, but who doesn’t?”
“True. What about now?”
“I mean, we see each other every couple of months. Talk every week or so.”
I laughed. “That’s amazing.”
“Why?”
“You all have the right idea.”
“Who’s you all? And the right idea about what?”
“Non-Jews. Jews are on top of each other. Lisa goes to the bathroom, her mom knows. You get to have lives.”
He sighed. “But, you’re much closer. My house, you had a problem, no one really talked about it. My Jewish friends always seemed much closer. You could talk to your parents. Like, I bet you and your family are really close.”
“There’s an exception to every rule,” I said.
“Why? You seem like you’d be on the phone with your mom all the time.”
“I wish. Unfortunately, she’s been dead for eleven years.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
“You couldn’t.”
“Brothers, sisters?”
“One sister. After my mom died, she found Jesus. She moved to Texas with her husband, and we don’t talk much.”
“Why?”
“She’s really rigid. She doesn’t approve of me,” I said, regretting it the minute I said it.
“What’s not to approve of?”
“She’s really into, ‘Men are men. And women are women. And everyone has his or her place. No divergence from the norm.’”
“Wow,” he said. “What’s so bad about you? Like you should be married with four kids and home-schooling?”
“Something like that. My one regret is she has kids that I’ve never met.”
“That’s a shame. You’d be a great aunt, I bet.”
I looked down. “I’d like to try, but it’s not happening.” I started to tear up.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to open a wound.”
“Actually, it feels good, sort of, to talk about it. But, it’s depressing dinner conversation.”
“No, it’s not. I mean, it’s not shits and giggles. But, it’s OK. You’ve listened to me.”
“You’re easy.”
“So are you. What about your father?”
“We don’t speak at all. Let’s just say, he and I don’t see eye-to-eye. The last few times we spoke, we really had it out, so we don’t speak. I’m happier, and I hope he is.”
“If you don’t mind me saying so, your family’s ridiculous. You’re beautiful, successful, kind, sweet and caring....”
Now, it was my turn to blush. “And I stand up straight on the Stairmaster.”
He laughed. “Hey posture’s important. That way, you won’t be one of those hunched over old ladies.”
I blushed. “I don’t think that’s a risk....anyway, enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”
“We have, I thought.”
“Not your family. You. We need to do something about you.”
“What? What’s wrong with me?”
“Well, number one, shyness. Women send out subtle signals, not flares.”
“I know,” he mumbled. “I just hate getting shot down.”
“And, so what if you do? It’s not high school, where you have to face her every day. You move on, her loss.”
“Easier said than done. What else is wrong with me, he says with trepidation” he said, with a smile.
“Since we’re on the topic, your clothes.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“When you sell a car, you clean it up. You’re my used car...”
“That’s so sweet. I prefer pre-owned, thank you. So, what’s wrong?”
“I’m ignoring you. Number one, pleats. Pleats are for fat guys with something to hide. You have a great body, show it. Flat front pants.”
“OK. Flat front pants. What else?”
“The shirt. Are we playing golf?”
“No,” he said, uncertainly.
“Then, why are you wearing a golf shirt?”
“I guess, it’s comfortable is out....”
“Look at what women wear. Do you think heels are comfortable? Or pantyhose?”
“Um, no, I guess.”
“No. We wear them for you.” We? I need help. “So, you can wear a button down shirt, which is not that uncomfortable.”
“Uh huh...boy, this is quite the lesson.”
“It’s not done. Lose the shoes.”
“Can I keep my underwear?”
“Boxers or briefs?”
“Boxer briefs.”
I smiled at the thought of him in just boxer briefs. “They can stay.”
“That was close. Clearly, I need help.”
“You do. And I’m just the person to do it. What are you doing Saturday? Working?”
“Yep. Downside to the job. Sunday OK?”
“It’s a date. To Barney’s.”
“Isn’t that a little gay?”
I almost choked. “Why is stylish gay?”
“You’re in charge, but my ex took me there once. It scared me.”
“Oh, you baby. It’s not Bergdorf Men’s. THAT is gay. But, we’ll build slowly. How about Bloomingdale’s?”
“How about Banana Republic?”
“Where did you get those pants?”
He looked down. “Banana Republic.”
“Bloomingdale’s.”
“You’re in charge.”
“Is that what you like?” I said coyly. Stop it. Just stop it, BRIAN.
“Depends.”
“Adam, Adam, Adam. If I wasn’t so messed up.” I’m serious. Stop it, BRIAN. You are BRIAN. With a B. As in boy. Not much of one, but a penis makes the man.
“I know, I know. Besides, that Denise is much cuter than you...”
“Hey! Take that back!”
“I’m kidding. But, I like the dog.”
“Just what every woman wants to hear,” I said, clutching my hands to my heart.
The rest of the dinner continued on like that. It’s funny. Jerry Seinfeld once said that you don’t make new friends in your 30s, but it seemed like I was. And what made it great was there was no past baggage nor were there external forces. I mean, Melissa and I were friendly enough, but work was the basis, so there would always be certain topics, like my family, that I couldn’t discuss. And even before Jessica, Lisa and I had known each other so long. That’s good, in that you could speak in shorthand, but it’s bad because, on some level, you know too much. She knew too much of my backstory and would interject her own take. Finally, this wasn’t a date. On dates, we all perform a sort of striptease. Show enough to keep them interested, but not so much that they run. Adam was just a friend. And a good one. I only wished I could be honest. But, some things always remain a striptease.
We walked home. We stopped for ice cream.
“Mint chocolate chip,” he ordered.
“Interesting. They say you can tell a lot about someone by the flavor they choose.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, this should be interesting. Do tell me, Miss Jessica, the great psychic...”
“It tells me you like to be different. That you like variety...That...”
“I have two older brothers and the only way I’d get ice cream to myself was to order something no one else liked...”
“You are no fun,” I pouted. Pouting, touching his arm, talking about control. I was acting like such a girl. And the scary thing was I did it reflexively. I was losing it.
“And you, miss?” said the counter clerk.
“Biscotti, please.”
“Biscotti, huh?” he said. He started making crystal ball motions. “You are a woman who likes adventure. Travel. Swarthy men with bad accents...”
I laughed and pushed his cone onto his nose. “You’re right about the swarthy men,” I said, backing away.
He lightly grabbed my arm, and said with a smile. “Oh no you don’t! Not so fast.” He looked into my eyes. ‘Please kiss me,’ I thought. ‘Please don’t kiss me.’ I was confused. Then, he smushed my ice cream onto my nose. “Now, we’re even,” he said with a grin. It broke the tension, but I was a little sad too. I wanted him to kiss me so badly, but I knew it wouldn’t work. One misplaced hand and I was a goner.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“The ice cream. I’ve ruined your makeup.”
“Oh stop, Adam. It was cute. Besides, I started. Any woman who’d get upset about that is a Class A bitch.”
“That’s my ex....”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, it’s OK...”
“I’m all ears...”
“And all legs.”
“Why, Adam? Are you staring at my legs?” I said flirtatiously. I had officially crossed into the abyss.
“I’m your friend. I’m not dead. Can I offer a fashion tip?”
“This should be good.”
“Don’t ever wear pants again. You should always wear skirts.”
I turned bright red. “Thank you,” I mumbled.
“Kenny’s a jackass.”
“Agreed. What about your ex?”
“She would’ve tripped on me if I had pushed ice cream on her nose. Her idea of fun was shopping. Or belittling me.”
“About what?”
“My job. My hair. Everything. I think it made her feel better.”
“And you?”
“It made me feel worse.”
“Why did you put up with her?”
“I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t very successful with women as a kid. So, the first woman to show me attention, I went for. I guess I should’ve seen the signs...”
“Don’t beat yourself up. We all wish we had a time machine. But we don’t. So we move on and try our best in the future. Plus, at least, you didn’t marry her...”
He let out a breath. “Thank god for that.”
We got back to my place. “I had a great time.”
“Me too,” he said, shuffling his foot in a circle. We were in that awkward place, where we didn’t know what to do. I mean, gay guys didn’t really have this problem. Either we had sex, or one or the other (in my case, usually the other) would cut it off. But, straight people seemed much more awkward about this. And, I guess, for the purposes of this interaction, I was a girl. A straight girl.
I leaned forward and kissed him on the nose. “I wanted the ice cream,” I said cutely. I was such a tease, and I resented myself for it.
He blushed. Maybe, he needed to see someone. “Um, ah, um, ah...”
“See you Sunday,” I said.
“Can I speak to you beforehand?”
“I’d be upset if you didn’t. Several times, in fact.”
“I’m going to be a pest.”
“I’m looking forward to that.” I fished in my purse. “Here’s Denise’s card. E-mail her.”
“I don’t know. What do I say?”
“I don’t know. Let’s go out. How’s Ginger? Let’s go Yankees. You’re smart. You’ll come up with something.” That made me feel better. Like I was sending him to someone else.
“Right,” he said, snapping his heels and saluting. “You’re in charge. You speak. I obey.”
“See, you know the secret to a successful relationship already.”
He stuck out his tongue. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Good night. Ask Gina about your shoes. She’ll back me up.”
“Good night, Jessica,” he said. “I’m not listening anymore,” he said, walking away with his fingers in his ears.
I laughed and went upstairs. I felt light as a feather and like I had the weight of the world on me. I was falling for Adam, but couldn’t do anything about it. I never felt more like myself than I did tonight, but it wasn’t me. It was Jessica. The flirting, the pouting, the ice cream. Everything felt natural. From getting dressed to saying, ‘Good night,’ I felt completely relaxed and at peace. I always felt guarded before, like I had to hide. And, with him, I felt free. But, I wasn’t. Because however I felt, I knew he didn’t have the whole story. And there was no way he’d ever accept the real me. Dress or dress. Shoes or no shoes. I was a man. And so was he. And that was that.
Needlessly to say, I barely slept. I’d love to say I had a dream, where he and I lived happily ever after, but I didn’t. Instead, I tossed and turned. I can’t even remember what I dreamt about. I just know I woke up the next morning feeling like I’d been run over by a truck. I poured myself some coffee, and started to work. Coding was therapeutic. There’s a right way and a wrong way, and that was that. Java didn’t look like Unix, but was actually Java. It just was. That’s why I liked programming. No gray areas. No relativism. Just objective truth.
At 11:00 AM, my phone rang. The caller i.d. read, “SGT Design Partners.” I had no idea who that was. I didn’t usually take cold calls, but figured it could be a new client referral.
“Rosen Consulting.”
“Brian, it’s Jim. Or should I say Jessica?”
“Hi, Jim. What’s up? What did I do to her this time?”
“This isn’t about her....”
“Is everything OK? Did something happen?”
“No, relax. Everything’s fine. This is about that guy last night...”
“Adam?”
“Yeah, Adam. We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“About you and him.”
“Um, what about us?”
“What’s the deal with you two?”
“Why are you so concerned?” I said defensively. “I didn’t realize this was any of your business.”
“Fuck you very much, Brian. I’ve watched this whole circus for several months now, and I think I’ve been pretty cool about it, all things considered.”
I felt ashamed. “You have...”
“So, you know what, it is my business.”
“Agreed.”
“So, what’s the deal? Does he know who you are?”
“Does any of us truly know?”
“Cut the fucking comedy. Does he?”
“No.”
“OK, that is un-fucking-acceptable, Brian.”
“Why?” I said, a little too quickly. “We’re just friends.”
“Look,” he said. “I know you were wearing a dress and all, but unless I missed something, you still have a dick, right?”
“And?”
“You know as well as I do. You may be his friend, but he’s not yours...’
“Yes, he is.”
“Come on, think like a guy. The clothes haven’t sapped your brain, have they? He may be your friend, but what I mean is anyone can tell, even dense ol’ me, that he likes you. I mean he wants inside your skirt. Or he thinks he does.”
“He knows we’re just friends, Jim.”
“Let me ask you a question.”
“Shoot.”
“You think, if you said, ‘Adam, I want you,’ he’d say no?’
I moaned. “I know. I know. I don’t know what happened. What do I do?”
“I don’t know. I’d say tell him. But that’ll freak him out, and...”
“What?”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“You really think he’d do something?”
“No, I guess not. But, I think he’s entitled to know.”
“Why are you so concerned about him? You didn’t feel that way about Kenny.”
“I know,” he sighed. “I dropped the ball on that one. I guess I just feel sorry for this guy. Like he looked so happy last night, and he’s part of this big lie. And he doesn’t deserve it.”
“Wow. That’s really sweet of you. So out of character.”
“Bros before hos.”
‘That’s the Jim I know. I know he has a right to know. It’s just...never mind.”
“What?”
“It’s emotional shit. Girly-like.”
“Don’t go to the dark side,” he said, in a Darth Vader voice. “Don’t do it. Nah, seriously, what?”
“Nothing. It’s nice to have a friend.”
“You have friends. Lisa, for one.”
“Things have changed, Jim.”
“She’s still your friend.”
“She is, but this has changed things.”
“Things, or you?”
“Both. Me. Her. Us. Like, we’re addressing shit we never have...sorry, I know you don’t like emotions and feelings.”
“It’s OK. I think you and she both have a lot of shit to deal with. And maybe, for once, you can’t talk to each other. That’s got to be tough.”
“You’re right. It’s sad, but you’re right. You’re also right about Adam. I don’t like it, but you are. It’s just that, with him, I feel comfortable. Like I’m not being judged. Like Kenny, all the politics got in the way. But, now they don’t. Like I can just relax. I haven’t felt that way with Lisa in a while.”
“She can be tough. She does care about you.”
“Does she? Then, why did she do this to me?”
“Do what?”
“Jessica.”
“She didn’t do Jessica to you. She may have handed you the ball. But, you ran with it. More than anyone thought. Maybe more than you did, too. But, what I saw last night, no offense, is not Lisa. It’s you. You chose to do it.”
“Hey, you yourself said I couldn’t say no.”
“Not saying no is one thing. Like you could’ve been in the wedding, but have been Brian the rest of the time. But, I haven’t seen Brian in a long time.”
“I was just being a good friend. This is done June 25.”
“Tell yourself what you want. Quite frankly, believe or it not, I hope whatever you do makes you happy.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Why did she start this? Was it some sort of way of dealing with me.”
“Julia is a quack. We all know it. So should you. I’ve actually given a lot of thought to this. I really don’t think she thought about it. I think she just thought it would be fun.”
“What about Kenny?”
“She has a very simplistic view sometimes. Like gay-gay, hey! I should’ve stopped her, but figured you and he would deal with it in your own way.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Ain’t it though? You have to do what works for you, Brian. Not for me. Not for Lisa. Not for your old man. You. I just think you need to tell Adam, before it gets too deep. He’s an innocent bystander. And a Yankee fan.”
I laughed. “That’s it, isn’t it. Can’t you give me an easy one? Like world peace.”
“Or the Mets winning.”
“Just wait and see.”
“What do I know you, ten years? Just give up already. It’s sad.”
“Ha ha. Thanks, Jim. You know you’re not so bad...”
“I know. Everyone thinks I’m a one dimensional asshole. I’m actually a multi-dimensional asshole.”
“Thanks, Jim.”
“Don’t think this conversation means I won’t make you be a French Maid.”
“You are my...endless love.”
“Later. Do the right thing.”
“I’ll try. This is between you and me, right.”
“You and her have to figure this out. I’m here for both of
Jim was right. I’d discovered over time that he was right about a lot of things. Even so, I couldn’t figure out how to get out of this mess. I got up and went to my closet. I put on a pair of jeans and a tight T-shirt. It sounds ridiculous, but I figured if I dressed the right way, the male way, the gay way, I’d be able to think clearly and find a solution. I looked at myself in the mirror and began to cry. Not just tear up, but bawl like I hadn’t since my mom died. I looked like a fool. I was trying to trick myself. I had lost all sense of who I was. Was I Brian the bottom? Jessica? Some freak condemned to go through life alone and pitied? I went into the bathroom and threw up. Then, I just laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling for an hour.
I was lost for the rest of the day. For once, I couldn’t work. I tried to, but I couldn’t focus. I tried to read, but the words blurred. I just watched TV. I watched the Game Show Channel. “Press Your Luck.” “Match Game.” Anything mindless.
At 5:30 PM, I heard my door unlock. After I pulled myself from the ceiling, I looked over. It was Lisa.
“Knock knock,” I said, nastily.
“Well, look who it is. It’s Brian or it’s Jessica. I don’t know who.” Lisa had a master’s degree in catty. “Whoever you are, you look like shit.”
“Did you come here to be a bitch, or for a reason?”
“Have you been dodging me?”
“I’ve been bus...you know what, I have been avoiding you. I’m pissed. And before I did anything stupid, I thought I’d cool down. Thanks for respecting my space, by the way.”
“I didn’t realize we ‘respected each other’s space.’ But I don’t know a whole lot anymore, I guess.”
“Don’t play the victim. Not this time.”
“I’m not playing the victim. But I am entitled to know why you’re avoiding me.”
“I just wanted to know who to believe....” I said, in a snotty little sing-song voice.
“Oh god, that still? I said I’m sorry. I’ll say it ten times. A thousand. You misunderstood me.”
“You and I both hate that expression, Lisa, come on. I understood you perfectly. You believed Kenny over me. Which is fine. You’re entitled to an opinion, misinformed as it may be. But you can believe who you want. But, I understood you perfectly. Don’t insult me by trying to convince me this had any other meaning.”
“Fine. You’re right. I did believe him...”
“Bitch. You would.”
“Excuse me?” she said angrily. “You’ve made this whole speech about Brian, and being Brian. Then Kenny tells me you come back with an armload of bags wearing a dress. So who should I believe?”
“He’s a closeted freak. I was dressed that way because his friends thought I was a girl. What was I supposed to do, out him? Huh?”
“Oh,” she said sarcastically. “So, his friends made you wear a dress. And buy stuff. Like a ‘cute pink sundress’ I didn’t think the French had it in them.”
“Fuck you. There’s the door. And fuck Melissa too. I guess it’s just work from now on.”
“No, fuck you. I’m not going anywhere. We have to cover this. You wore a dress. You seem to like doing it. So do it. But don’t pretend it’s something else...”
“You made me.”
“Oh, poor little Brian. Poor sad Brian. Poor passive sad little Brian. Everyone makes him do things. Take some responsibility for your life. Don’t always be the victim. You like it. Just admit it. No one cares.”
“So you have no responsibility for this? My life is fucked up beyond recognition, and you bear no responsibility. Nice try, Lisa, but no dice.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ever asked you to be a bridesmaid....”
“Fine,” I snapped. “Done. I’m out. Good luck to you and Jim. Nice to know what you think. I’m sorry I wasted sixteen years of your time. Mazel tov for life. Tell Jim the same.”
She started to cry and then snarled. “Let me finish, and then I’ll be gone. What I was saying was I’m sorry I ever asked you, because of what’s happened. I thought it would be fun. You’d wear a dress, you’d come to my bachelorette party, we’d play with it. Now, look at us, we don’t talk to each other anymore. We talk AT each other. Maybe, we have some nice polite conversations about the wedding, but I feel like you’re angry at me. I don’t know what for. You seem to like being Jessica...”
“Stop it. Stop it NOW!” I yelled.
“Sorry,” she said meekly. “All I was going to say is you seem to like it. If you do, do what makes you happy. If you don’t, then stop. If I started this process and you’re only doing it for me, then we’ll stop it now. I didn’t want a bridesmaid. I wanted my best friend to share my wedding with me as much as possible. But if this is killing that, then this stops now. All in all, I’d like to get my friend back, however he wants it. I understand that they may not be a choice anymore. But, if being out of the wedding would make it better, then quit. Or you’re fired. Whatever. I just don’t want to live like this anymore. It hurts too much...” and she started crying again.
I started to bawl too. “Lisa, I’m scared....”
“Of what?”
“Of everything. Like I don’t know anything anymore. Before all of this, I had a life. It may not have been a great one, but it was what it was. I made a good living, I had a best friend, once in a rare while, I had a boyfriend. I had a nice existence. Now, I feel lost....” and I bawled again.
She came over and held me. “Let it out. What’s lost?”
“Me. Brian. What the hell am I? I flounce around in heels and skirts. Kenny was right...”
“No, he was not right,” she snapped. “He was wrong. And I’m sorry about that too. I shouldn’t have done it, but I didn’t know better. But, once he showed his true colors, I should’ve put my foot down then and there. I should never have let you two go out...”
I smiled weakly. “Let us? Thanks, mom.”
“Shut up! Yes, let you. You were so hard up, you let that asshole crap all over you. So, if being your mom would’ve stopped it, I should’ve been your mom. I blame myself. But, I still want to know what’s going on.”
I started to cry again. “I don’t know. I feel lost.”
She held me and rubbed my back like my mom used to. “You’re a good person. And I love you.”
“One day, you’ll have kids and things will change. And then where will I be?”
“Brian, you’re a good person. You need to do what makes you happy...”
“That’s just it. I don’t know anymore what makes me happy.”
“You looked happy last night. He’s cute.”
“Yeah, but he thinks I’m Jessica.”
“If he likes you....”
“Stop. That’s not true. And you know it.”
She sighed. “I know. I wish it was true, but it’s not. But, you still looked happier yesterday than I’ve seen in a long time.”
“I’m not cutting off my penis.”
“Whoa, hold on, who said anything about that? Other than you, of course.”
“A psych minor doesn’t make you a shrink.”
“Ha ha. All I know is you looked happy. Whatever will make you happy makes me happy. Seriously. And, you know what, Jessica comments are off the table from now on. Whatever you do, you do. I’ll miss her if I never see her again, but I’ll respect that.”
“Thank you. I don’t where she’s going.”
“OK. I won’t miss the paisley though.”
“I like it.”
“You and the store that palmed it off on you,” she said. “OK, what now?”
“I’m sorry if I’ve been distant. You’ve been going through a lot.”
“Don’t apologize. I’ve been planning a party, that’s it. You’ve been dealing with 34 years of shit, your father, society, plus all of human history about men and women and gays and straights. I haven’t been there for you, and I’m sorry. I’ve been caught up in floral arrangements. As Jim would say, ‘they’re flowers. Get some roses and move on.’” Then we both cried.
I stopped first and she said, “Can I ask one thing?”
“Anything. You’re my friend.”
“Can I see the cute pink sun dress?”
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The saga continues. I go shopping with Adam and find something in the bargain...
"If this is, as you say, until June 25th, why do you think you did
it?" Julia said.
We were discussing Kenny and the dress because, I figured, everyone
else who knew had weighed in, so why not she?
"I resented the fact that he was so adamant that it was getting
even?" I said, uncertainly.
"Ah," she said, with her trademark bemused smile. "So, this was
solely to get even. You bought over $1,500 worth of dresses, shoes
and lingerie to get even..."
"Also, Catherine thought I was a girl, and she said I needed to
dress better..."
"So, a complete stranger criticizes your fashion sense and you go
and buy, what was it, a lace bra and panties?"
"I shouldn't have said anything," I muttered.
"Brian, Brian, Brian. I'm just trying to understand. But, that
comment was a little snarky, I'll grant you..."
"Thank you SO much..."
"So, let's continue. Kenny isn't here. How do you explain today's
outfit?"
I was wearing a blue baby-doll top, with pink trim around the top, a
pair of Chip and Pepper jeans with embroidery and a pair of 3" Jimmy
Choo booties. Oh, I was also wearing a pink thong. "What's wrong with
it?"
"Nothing," she smiled. "It's very cute and, need I say it, very
feminine."
"That's inappropriate."
"Why?"
"Because it is. It's biased."
"How so?"
"You're trying to bait me."
"Bait you?"
"Saying it's feminine. You, Lisa, Melissa, you've all been pushing
me about that."
"What did Melissa say?"
"I was talking to Melissa after I got back, and never mind..."
"Come on, Brian..."
"She asked me what I bought, and..." I stopped mid-sentence and
stared at the floor.
"And I told her..."
"Brian..."
"Averycutepinksundress..."
The missile homed in. "A very cute pink sun dress... and what did
she say?"
"She called me a girly girl..."
"And you said..."
"'Stop. Let's talk about work.'"
"How did that make you feel?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Then why did you bring it up?"
"I didn't. You did. You asked me what she said."
"Brian, we don't have to cover this, but ask yourself if you want to."
"I don't know."
"About what?"
"About what it means. About whether I want to talk about it. About
everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything. The outfit. Melissa. The girly girl thing."
"Let's start with the outfit."
"What about it?"
"How would you describe it?"
"A top. Jeans. And booties."
"Booties?" she said with a smile.
"What would you call them?"
"Booties."
"So?"
"That's an interesting thing for you to say."
"Why for me and not you?"
"Why do you think?"
"Stop it. Is this a male/female thing?"
"Is it? 6 months ago, what would you have called them?"
"I'm guessing you're looking for boots."
"You or me?"
"Enough."
"Fair enough. What did you do when Melissa called you a girly girl?
Did you get upset?"
"What's your point?"
"Answer the question, Brian."
"I'm embarrassed..."
"After all these years, you shouldn't be."
"I am."
"No judgments, remember?"
"I tried on the dress...."
"How did it feel?"
"I hate to say it..."
"No judgments..."
"I liked it," I mumbled.
"Go with it. Why?"
"I like the feel of the fabric. I like the way it swirls when I
turn. I like the way it makes my legs look, when I wear it with
heels." I started to whimper. "I am a basket case, Julia."
"Why do you think that?"
"I don't know. Because I like the way the dress feels. Because I
like this outfit. Because I'm wearing Jimmy Choo booties. Jimmy.
Choo. Booties. Do you understand?"
"Keep going. Why do you think that you're first addressing this now?"
"Isn't that what I pay you for?"
"Cute, Brian. What's happened lately?"
"Kenny? Lisa not believing me?"
"And?"
"And what? They're my mother and father?" I said, regretting it the
minute I said it.
"I didn't say that."
"That's not it."
"Then, why did you say it?"
"Because it always seems to come back to that?"
"Brian..."
"I don't know. Never mind. I was wrong."
"Brian..."
"I don't know. I've thought about it. Kenny, I can see. Like he's
rejected my sexuality, so I'm going to throw it in his face?"
"When you won't even see him again...."
"I will. At the wedding."
"And?"
"I dunno."
"Work with it."
"You don't like Jessica, you closeted abusive freak. Or you like her
when it serves your purposes, but not behind closed doors." My voice
got louder. "Well, I am going to be the girliest girl I can be. I'll
wear lacy bras and panties. Pink sun dresses. Heels. I am going to be
sugar and goddamn spice, and every guy is going to want me, and it'll
drive you nuts because you can't handle it... Jeez, this sounds like
that session about my father..."
"Keep going."
"Fine, Kenny's my father. What about Lisa?"
"What about her? What about not saying no when she asked you to be a
bridesmaid?"
"I don't know. I fear rejection? I fear her leaving me like my mom
and sister?" I smiled weakly. "But, then didn't we say that you were
mommy?"
"Brian, I am your therapist. I'm not going to turn you away. Keep
going."
"Um... ah... um. I don't know if I have unconditional love. So, I
didn't say no because I couldn't afford to lose the most important
woman in my life. For the third time. So I did what she wanted. Now
what?"
"Now what what?"
"So, I'm here. Freaking out."
"Come on, we're doing great..."
"I'm a guy, but then there's this other side..."
"What other side?"
"It's... never mind..."
"Keep going."
I started to laugh. Uncontrollably.
"What's so funny?"
I kept laughing. "Brian..."
"I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head.
"For?"
"I'm losing it. I really am." I just kept laughing.
"Brian," she said, somewhat angrily.
"It's... no, it's ridiculous."
"BRIAN..."
"I feel like I'm going through puberty..."
"Hmmm. What do you mean?"
"I have all these conflicting feelings... I'm a guy. But, I like
Jessica. I like dresses and heels and makeup and lingerie... Oh
god..." I said, burying my face in my hands.
"What? What is it?"
"I am going through puberty. This time, I'm a thirteen year old girl."
She smiled. "Why do you say that?"
"Listen to me, Julia. I was a boy. Or maybe a tomboy. Now I want to
be pretty, so the boys will like me. What do you call that? Maybe
it's not puberty. Maybe it's a nervous breakdown."
"That's a little extreme. I think this is a good thing."
"How?"
"I mean that you're finally trying to figure out your way. You're
dealing with all of these conflicting feelings..."
"What have I been doing here the past four years then?"
"No, clearly, you've been dealing with things. Your father, your
family, your sexuality..."
"But?"
"I think you're exploring another part of yourself. Your feminine
side, as it were."
I laughed. "I'm a gay man who likes giving blow jobs. I think my
feminine side's pretty strong..."
"Brian. You know what I mean."
"Fine. Now what? I'm in this nether world. Am I a guy? A girl? A
freak? I'm at a loss."
"Why do you have to make a decision?"
"Because, you and I both know that most guys are like Kenny..."
"No, they're not."
"Julia, come on. You and I both know that drag queens..."
"Brian..."
"Look, like it or not, that's a catch-all for guys who dress like
women. But, fine. You know how..." I sighed "cross-dressers are
treated in the gay community. I can wear what I want, but I'll either
be celibate or spend the rest of my life with pseudo-straight guys
who won't be there in full because, like Kenny, they won't be out..."
"Have you convinced yourself yet?"
"Facts are facts. In an ideal world, we could do what we wanted.
But, we can't. So, now, I can't win."
"What would you do in ideal world?"
"Be with Adam. As Jessica. Or Brian as Jessica. But sometimes Brian.
But, if being with a gay guy is a fantasy, Adam is like science
fiction."
"So, things went well on your date with Adam..."
"It wasn't a date, but yes. Actually, yes, but no."
"Explain."
"Things went well with Adam and Jessica. Not Adam and Brian." With
that, I recounted the entire date. From picking out my outfit to Lisa
and Jim to the ice cream. Everything.
"Interesting. It sounds like you really let go. Enjoyed yourself
fully. Just were, without thinking."
"I did. But, now I regret it."
"Why?"
"Because I potentially hurt someone who doesn't deserve it. A really
nice guy."
"How did you hurt him?"
"Because I'm not me with him. I'm Jessica."
"Are you going to tell him?"
"Are you calling for lying?"
"No. But why do you feel the need to tell him?"
"Jim."
"Jim?"
"He called me and told me I had to."
"Why?"
"He said Adam's interested in me and was entitled to know."
"So, he tells you and you obey?"
"Ha fucking ha. No, he said that Adam didn't deserve to be led on
and that he deserved to know. And he's right."
"Why?"
"Adam wants a girlfriend. Besides, Jim's been surprisingly on
target..."
"Yes he has, but why say anything now?"
"I'd rather end things with Adam before it gets too close. Later
rather than sooner equals more pain, no?"
"I suppose. How do you propose to do so?"
Quoting the old Tom Lehrer song 'Wernher von Braun,' "Vonce they go
up, who cares vhere they're down..."
"Brian..."
"I don't know. How should I?"
"I don't know."
"What do I pay you for?"
She smiled. "This is beyond my pay grade Brian. Sorry, but I'm at a
loss..."
"Great...."
"Brian, you need to address this. Just tell him. Just make sure
someone knows when you're going to do it."
I got nervous. "Why? What do you think he'll do. Oh god..."
"Brian, calm down. Does he seem violent?"
"No. Then why did you say that?"
"Because, unfortunately, this is an uncertain situation. And lots of
men, even calm ones, can react inappropriately."
"Inappropriately? What would be wrong to you?"
"Brian, just be careful."
"Thank you, mom but not mom. Partial mom. Muh."
"Very cute, Brian. By the way, that outfit is adorable. The most
feminine yet."
"This? It's jeans."
"That's what it makes so feminine. The baby doll top. The
embroidered jeans. The booties. You're picking and choosing things
that work. Dressing like a real woman. Not someone who pulled the
outfit from the Ann Taylor window."
"Boy, I have great fashion sense for a thirteen year old girl."
"Brian, it's a compliment. It means you're synthesizing the parts of
you. Think about it for next session. Although, I'm amazed that you
still like heels..."
"I'm new at it. And I don't always wear them..."
"Just here? Are you trying to make a point?"
"Julia, you sound defensive," I said with a grin. "No. Not just
here. Just sometimes..."
"Continue," she said, parrying my smile with one of her own.
"Sometimes, I like to wear them. Sometimes, I don't." She kept
smiling. "Do not say something like it's my prerogative."
"I didn't. You did. I'll see you next week."
"I'm coming in jeans and a football jersey."
"Next week, Brian," she said with a smile.
------------------------
Sunday at 11 AM, Adam and I met for brunch. I knew I had to tell
him, but not today. I agonized over what to wear. I wanted to wear
the jeans and the football jersey. I wanted to break him in slowly to
Brian. I tried them on. I looked paradoxically even more girly. Like
a cute little cheerleader who took her jock boyfriend's shirt.
Instead, I wore a white baby doll top, brown knee length bohemian
skirt and gold flats. Light makeup. Just blush and lip gloss. I know.
I know. Another baby doll top and bohemian skirt. But, you know what?
I looked cute. Adam deserved cute. Scratch that. He deserved a cute
girlfriend. And I was going to find him one.
"Hey, Jessica," he said with a big grin, when I got to the
restaurant. "You look great."
"Thanks," I said, kissing him on the cheek. 'Stop sending mixed
signals,' I thought. 'No, wait, it was on the cheek. That's just
being friendly.' "OK," I said, looking him up and down. "This is
slightly better."
"What?" he said. "What's wrong with this. It's Sunday." After all my
agonizing, he was wearing worn jeans, sneakers and yet another golf
shirt. Men. I mean, straight men.
"True. But, those jeans are worn."
"I thought worn was in."
"Worn is in. Ratty is not."
"And the difference would be?" he said, with a smile.
"$125." I said, with a smile.
"Oh...."
"Do you own any other shirts besides golf shirts?"
"T-shirts. Come on, it's Sunday. Can I say something?"
"You just did."
"Seriously..."
"OK."
"I love the way you're dressed."
I blushed. "Adam... thank you."
"No, I mean, the effort you took. The shirt, the skirt... you make
an effort to look good. My ex would've been in a t-shirt and jeans.
You have such... I don't know... grace or something..."
Grace, wonderful. That helps my neuroses. "Stop it, Adam. This is
nothing. It's not like it's an evening gown or something..."
"I know. I just want you... no, sorry, I mean, someone like you. A
girl."
Oh boy, now I was freaking. 'Maintain calm. Make a joke.' "And your
ex was what, asexual?"
"No," he said, laughing. "That's not what I meant. I just meant that
you look like you enjoy girly stuff. I mean it's Sunday morning, and
you're in a skirt. Not sweats."
"So?" I said, a little too defensively.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it in a bad way. It's a good thing. I like
girls."
Damn. I knew that. "That's good," I lied.
"Sorry, I really meant it as a compliment. I like women who like
being women."
"Barefoot and pregnant?"
"No. OK, I know that sounds sexist. I don't mean subservient. I like
the fact that you're this hotshot computer consultant..."
"Getting better," I said, with a smile.
"I just mean, that you also like skirts and stuff..."
"I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan..." I started singing.
He laughed so loudly that other people turned around. "I can't win.
So, I'll stop."
"Thank you," I laughed. "I have my sweats days, by the way."
"I hope I never see them."
"Really?"
"Unless you're changing the terms of our deal."
"Our deal?"
"Just friends..."
OK, Jim was right. "The deal is still on. So, you'll never see me in
sweats."
"Some other lucky guy will," he said sadly.
"And," I said brightly, trying to change the subject, "some girl
will benefit from my work today."
"Speaking of which, I e-mailed Denise."
"And?"
"We're going out Tuesday."
"Great!"
"We'll see."
"Be optimistic."
"I am. But, cautiously so. I've been on enough bad dates..."
"Haven't we all. But, you have to be positive."
"I will be. This is just you and me."
"True enough. With your charm and the new clothes you'll get today,
she'll be knocked out."
"Hopefully, she'll make the same effort..."
"She will. It's a first date."
"Que sera sera, as my mother likes to say. That, and get married."
"Why do married people push that?"
"Misery loves company. And my mother wants more grandchildren."
"Ah...."
"What about you?"
"I want you to have kids...."
"And you?"
"Won't happen."
"Why?"
"I'm not suited to motherhood." For starters, I had a penis.
"You're such a sweet person."
"I'm nuts."
"No, you're not."
"Trust me, I am. You've seen good... Jessica." Close call there.
"Is bad Jessica really bad? Sorry..."
"Adam, for the umpteenth time, women don't mind flirting. It's not
bad Jessica. It's workaholic neurotic Jessica. A kid needs a...
parent who can be there."
"Sorry if I hit a nerve."
"You didn't. I know what I am." I almost laughed in my own face.
"What about you? I bet you'd be a good dad."
"I hope so."
"We'll get you the right woman, and you'll see."
"Thanks, mom."
"We'll clean you up and sell you off."
"Again, I'm a used car."
"I thought it was 'pre-owned'..."
"Eat..." he said, as our meals came. "I'm feeling worse as we
speak," he said with a smile.
"But, you'll look better, and isn't that what's important."
After brunch, we hit Bloomingdale's. I still pushed Barney's, but I
swear he broke out in hives when I said it, so I gave in. We went
downstairs to the men's department.
"What do you think of this?" I said, holding up a black button down
shirt with blue stripes.
"I dunno..."
"You need an opinion."
"Do I? You lead. I follow. Works for me."
In the midst of this high level colloquy, a saleswoman came over.
Cute. About 5'4", 120 lbs., dark hair and dark eyes. Late 20s.
"Hi, I'm Arianna. How may I help you today?" 'Nice touch,' I
thought. 'How may I help you? Very proactive.'
"Well, Arianna, I'm Jessica and this is Adam. I'm trying to do
something with him."
She looked him up and down. "Good raw material, but I see what
you're saying."
Adam blushed. "Um...."
"And," I said, "he's useless...."
"Aren't they all?"
"I can get stuff off high shelves..."
"Anyway," I said, ignoring him. "I'm working on him and I don't mind
the help."
She picked up a pair of black wool pants. "Go try on these with that
shirt."
"Wool itches," he mumbled.
"What are you, ten?" I said. "It doesn't itch. Besides, 3" heels are
a walk in the park..."
"Then why do you wear them?"
"For you ungrateful imbeciles. Put on the pants. Go," I said,
pointing to the dressing room.
"Polishing him up?" Arianna asked. "Be careful. Someone else'll try
and grab him. He's cute. Rough, but cute."
"Oh, we're not a couple. He's just a friend."
"Really?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "What's wrong with him?"
"Nothing," I said, with a laugh. "It's me. I like assholes, what can
I say?"
"Hmmm.."
"Interested?"
"Should I be?"
"He really is a great guy. Sweet. Caring."
"And cute."
"Uh huh," I laughed. "Let's see what I can do."
Just then Adam came out of the dressing room in the black shirt and
pants. He looked hot. 'OK,' I thought, 'get him to Arianna before you
do something stupid.'
"Nice," I said. "Very nice."
"Are you going to hang a pine tree from my neck so I don't smell?"
Arianna looked confused. "Inside joke," I said.
"You know there's a sale on six," she said to me, with a smile. "We
have some great tops. Yours is adorable, by the way."
"Thank you. Well, Adam, I hate to leave you, but I leave you in the
capable hands of Arianna here. I'll be back in half an hour..."
"Jess," he pleaded.
I pulled him aside. "She's cute and interested. Don't worry."
"What if she's a freak?"
"Then, call me on my cell. I'm not marrying you off. She is cute, no?"
"Yeah, but I thought you were going to help me."
"I am. I intend to approve everything you buy. I'm also helping you
with women, like you wanted. Go, fly little bird."
"Please..."
"Cell," I said, holding it up. "I'm not abandoning you on the door
step, you baby."
I looked back to see Arianna handing him multiple items. She was
holding his arm. He looked lost. I went upstairs and looked around
for a half hour or so. I was still processing my puberty, so I didn't
buy anything. My cell phone rang. It was Adam.
"Um, we're done down here," he said, in a tired voice.
"And?"
"And what? Arianna kept handing me stuff."
"And, you oaf?"
"And, we'll talk?"
"Good talk or bad talk?"
"Good."
"That's great."
"Just come here..." When I got downstairs, Adam had four bags.
Arianna was grinning from ear to ear.
"My god! What did you buy?"
"I dunno anymore. A lot of pants. Some shirts. A couple of jackets.
Arianna said she was coming to my place to burn my golf shirts."
"Good."
"They're comfortable."
"Fine. You can wear them when no one's around."
Arianna smiled. "He told me what you said about pleats. I agree.
He's got it. He should flaunt it." Adam turned beet red.
"Boy, he's shy, isn't he?" she whispered to me. She turned to him.
"You will look great. Wear the black shirt with the tan wool pants
Thursday..."
"Thursday?" I said.
Adam grinned. "I told her she had to let me take her out to
celebrate my upgrade..."
I smiled. "That's great." And I believed it. Sort of. Another part
of me wanted to be Arianna.
"Thank you," she said. She looked at my hands. "Nothing?"
"I may come back... I was distracted... by work stuff."
"I told you. She's a workaholic."
"Boy, you two covered a lot of ground."
"This and that," she said, with a half smile. "Anyway, Adam, I will
see you Thursday. Jessica, very nice meeting you."
"You too." I went to say "same," but that sounded too manly. What a
laugh. I'm flitting around in a skirt and worried about 'same.'
"Adam," she said. "Excuse us for a second."
"Uh oh," he said. "This can't be good."
"Just go," I said. "Don't worry." He walked a few feet away. "Yes,
Arianna?"
"Thank you. Are you sure you're OK with this?"
"I offered."
"He likes you. He talked a lot about you."
"We're friends. Really. I want my friend to be happy. Just treat him
well. Sorry. That's a little over the top. It's a date."
She smiled. "It's nice that you care."
"I do. He really is a great guy. It really is me, not him."
"OK," she said, then laughed a little. "He's very nervous around
women."
"He is. But, he's really great once you get to know him."
"I'll take your word. I like them that way. I've had enough God's
gifts, if you know what I mean."
I laughed. "I'll coach him before..."
"Thanks again."
"You're welcome." I sighed inwardly. I wanted Adam to be happy. I
really did. But I wanted him happy with me, not Arianna. But then I
realized that wasn't fair either. He wanted Jessica, sure. But he
wanted a woman, not me. If I couldn't be that woman, the least I
could do was get him what he wanted. I walked over to him.
"Nice move, ace. The date line. Very suave."
"I don't know what came over me..."
"Confidence? What have Gina and I been saying to you?"
"I owe it all to you. If you weren't here, nothing would've
happened..."
"For starters, you wouldn't be here. You'd be shopping in the
defeated white guy store..."
"I'm serious, Jessica. Thank you."
"You're welcome. You really like her?"
"Who knows? She seems nice enough. It's just that I did at all.
We'll see what happens. But, like you said, it's not high school. If
it works, great. If not, oh well. But I'm getting into the game."
"That's really great," I said, mustering a smile. Which I also
meant. It's just that I couldn't shake the feeling that I didn't want
him in the game. I wanted it to be me and him. But that wasn't
possible.
"You OK with this?"
"Of course. Why would you say that?"
"You seem bothered by something..."
"Nothing. Just a random Kenny thought."
"Stop. He is an asshole. He screwed up, not you. You're great. He's
not even worth the thought," he said, getting more and more upset.
"Calm down," I said, smiling. "Thank you. It's just hard to shake
sometimes."
"I know. My ex was a bitch, and I agonized over her for a while."
"See?"
"I know. You just really deserve the best. Not him."
"Thank you. Do you mind if we walk for a while? If those packages
aren't too heavy, I mean?"
"I should be OK."
"I just want to window shop."
He smiled. "Oh boy... and we're not even a couple."
We walked up Madison for a while. We walked past Barney's. He
blanched.
"Don't worry. I won't make you go in." I said, punching him.
As we passed by Makola, a store in the low seventies, he turned to
me. "I... never mind."
"What?"
"Nothing..."
"Come on..."
"OK, I'm going to ask you something. If it's too weird, you can say
no. Just don't get upset."
"You're scaring me here, Ad..." I said with a smile. "What?"
"You see that dress?" he said, pointing to a pink and white
sleeveless, knee length floral print dress with a flared skirt.
"Yes?"
"OK, here goes. I'd really love to see you in it."
"What?" I blushed.
"Sorry, that's weird. Don't be angry."
"It's not weird," I said. "I mean, a little bit. But, I'm not upset.
Why that? I'd figure you want a mini or something."
"Boy, full of yourself, aren't you?" he grinned. "I don't know. That
one just fits you somehow. Like it matches the inner you. Sorry, that
sounds extremely gay."
"It doesn't. It's sweet. I mean, no one's ever asked me something
like that. Sure, I'll try it on, if they have my size."
We went in. "May I help you?" said a saleswoman, in her 50s.
"My friend here would like to see me in the dress in the window."
She looked at him, then me, then smiled. "Of course, 8?"
"Yes, please."
She looked through the rack and handed it to me. "The dressing room
is in back, dear. I'll bring you a pair of appropriate shoes. Size 9?"
"Wow, you're good."
She smiled. "Years of practice, dear. Go."
I went into the dressing room, and I tried it on. Adam was right. It
looked right. It's not that it was sexy or anything. It just looked
good. Very pink. Very soft. I could see me on his arm at a Sunday
afternoon wedding. Very feminine. That touched a nerve. I started to
cry.
The saleswoman came in and handed me a pair of 3" heels. "What's
wrong, dear?"
"Nothing," I lied. "For some reason, the dress made me think of my
mom. She died 11 years ago." I paused. "Sorry, it's funny what'll set
you off, isn't it?"
She put her arm around me. "It's OK, sweetie. My mother's been dead
twenty three years and, one day in the supermarket, Vienna Fingers
did it. She loved them and it made me think about her... anyway,
stand up. Dear... what's your name?"
"Jessica."
"Jessica, you look gorgeous in that dress."
"Thank you."
"I also have to tell you that man out there is quite a catch. Not
many men would sit still for this, much less pick out a dress for
you."
"I know. He's just a friend, though?"
"A friend. And he picks out a dress for you. He's certainly doesn't
seem gay..."
'I wish,' I thought. 'No, I don't. Then he'd be Kenny.' I laughed,
"Not quite. Just shy around women. If you told him that you thought
he was, I can only imagine what would happen."
"Jessica, a piece of advice?"
"Uh oh..."
"He likes you. The way he looks at you, it's obvious." I started to
cry again. "What now, sweetie?"
"It's complicated. He deserves better than me."
"I don't know you. Or him. But you seem very nice to me."
I smiled. "Anything to close a sale."
She smiled back. "Telling a 14 that she's an 8 is closing a sale.
This isn't. Go show him."
I wiped my eyes and walked out. Before I could say anything, Adam
said, "Wow, Jess... that looks... right. Made for you."
I blushed. "Adam... stop." He was hitting too close to home.
"You look like Grace Kelly."
'Grace Kelly?' I thought. 'Maybe he is gay.' "Grace Kelly?"
"I know it sounds gay. But did you ever see 'Rear Window?'" The
sales woman listened to this exchange in what could only be called
barely disguised amusement.
"Sure..."
"There was something about Grace Kelly in that movie. She was just
so... something. Like it was hot, but not Cindy Crawford hot..."
"Uh huh... keep going."
"She just was like this ideal woman. I mean she was gorgeous, but I
just remember thinking that her personality too made her this ideal.
Graceful, feminine... like you." He saw me turn white. "I'm sorry,
was that wrong?"
It wasn't. But it was. Like here was therapy all over again. Am I
Brian the gay man? Jessica, his apparent princess? I loved how he
felt. I wanted to be his Grace Kelly. But I couldn't shake the
opposite feeling. The feeling that I lost who I was. That I was a
freak. That when he found out, I'd be even more alone. "No, it
wasn't. I'm just embarrassed by the attention."
"Why?"
"I don't deserve it."
"Stop it. Yes, you do. You're beautiful and nice and..."
I smiled. "Keep going."
"I don't know. Like I said, that dress made me think of you. It's so
pretty and feminine. Like you. Like I see you and I feel better. I'm
sorry if that's wrong. I said it before, I like that you have these
two parts, the computer genius and the girl... OK, I feel stupid."
"Why?"
"I'm spilling my guts in a store. And I picked out a dress. And I
have diarrhea of the mouth."
"Adam, don't feel awkward. I'm glad you feel comfortable around me."
I turned to the saleswoman. "Can I wear this out?"
OK, now I was officially a loser. I bought a dress to impress a guy
who thought I was a girl. Because he liked it. I started to hum
"Wishing and Hoping" to myself. Adam didn't get the joke. The
saleswoman did.
"Of course," she said, smiling. I went to get my credit card in the
dressing room.
"Stop," Adam said. "Let me get it. For all your help today."
"He's buying you clothes..." the saleswoman said.
Adam blushed. "It's just because... because... just let me."
Now I blushed. "Thank you." The only thought that ran through my
mind was that more than him buying me a dress, I wanted him to take
it off me.
"Just return the shoes tomorrow. I wouldn't want to ruin the
outfit." She pulled me aside. "Trust an old lady. He's in love with
you."
That felt like a punch in the stomach. He was in love with me, or at
least had a crush on me. And I was in love with him. But, I felt like
the lowest form of life. I was leading this guy on. I didn't think
he'd do anything if he found out, but I wouldn't blame if he did. I
mean, he'd be well within his rights to do so. He pours his heart to
a girl and she turns out to have lied straight to his face about the
biggest thing possible. Or, if it wasn't the biggest, I was at a loss
as to what was first.
When we left, he turned to me. "I am soooo sorry. I really must've
embarrassed you in there. Going on about Grace Kelly. I can't believe
I said it. I am such a jerk."
"Adam, you are NOT a jerk. It was really sweet. I've never had
anyone say things like that about me before..."
"You deserve to. I'm sorry, but you do."
"I'm far from perfect, trust me."
"I know..."
"You know?" I said, with mock indignation.
He laughed. "It's just, compared to my ex, you are so sweet and
soft. I mean, she would've laughed in my face if I asked her to try
on that dress."
"Adam, she was a bitch and a half. But, she is in the past. There's
someone out there who will appreciate you and your caring and your
effort... maybe Arianna or Denise..."
"Just not you."
"I'm not who you think I am." BIG understatement.
"All I know is that when I see you in that dress, I see someone that
looks right. It's funny. I'd swear if I didn't know any better, you
look like you're walking lighter than before."
"What?"
"You seem even more graceful. Like the rest of the girls walk. You
glide. OK, I have to stop that."
I laughed. "I don't mind. But, yeah, you may want to hold off on
that on a date."
"Damn, where's my Palm Pilot when I need to take notes."
"Ha ha, Adam. Thanks for the dress, by the way."
"It should thank you." I rolled my eyes, so he said, "Hey, I have to
get comments like that out now, before my dates."
I won't bore you anymore with the rest of the walk. We talked about
Arianna and Denise and dating tips. Ironic, huh? Me, giving dating
tips. Right up there with the Billy Joel Driving School. When I got
home, I looked at myself in the mirror. Scratch that, I stared. I had
no idea who was staring back. Here was this girl. This beautiful
girl. And I liked her. I liked her poise, her delicate manner. I
liked the way she exuded femininity. The way she let this other part
of me out I HATE YOU, JULIA!!!! But, I hated her too. She was every
stereotype come to life. The mincing little fag out to seduce
straight men. The drag queen. I never wanted to be someone's 'down
low.' I was out and proud, or at least out, and now I was back in
somehow. I took off the dress and stood there naked. And, then, I did
something I found truly reprehensible. I tucked myself up to see
whether I'd be OK without a penis. And, what was worse was I couldn't
decide. I felt truly alone.
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The final chapter. The wedding day. I hope everyone likes it.
“So, how’re things with Arianna?” Adam and Arianna had been going out for about two months.
“I dunno,” he said, looking somewhat depressed. He and I were hanging out on my couch, watching “Mystic River.” I was wearing a pale pink short sleeved floral print dress. I don’t know, but whenever I was with Adam, I felt pink.
“What’s wrong?”
“I dunno. It’s starting to get serious...”
“And?”
“I’m not sure how I feel. I mean, she’s great and everything, but you know how when you stop dating and start having a relationship, things change...”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, you actually start showing more of your real self...”
“Yes, and?” Oh, yeah, I was a real expert at that. I still hadn’t told him about me.
“Well, like, I’ve noticed some issues...”
“What kind of issues? Like she sips loudly issues, or serious problems?”
“I dunno. I mean, yeah, she licks her fingers when she turns pages which annoys the crap out of me...”
“Adam.....come on, that’s ridiculous. I mean, if it really bothers you, then you know. Don’t stay and think it’ll get better, because it won’t...”
“I know that,” he said, looking downward.
“But, I mean think about what you want and what’s realistic. Everyone’s got bad habits, even you. I mean, there’s no ideal.”
“Yes, there is.”
“Oh, really? And who is that?”
“You.” I felt like I had been hit in the stomach. I started to cry.
He reached over and hugged me. “What’s wrong, Jessica?”
“I...uh...oh...Adam, I’m a horrible person....oh god, I never meant to hurt you in any way...”
“What?”
“Adam, I have something to tell you...but please promise that if you’re really upset, you’ll just leave. That you won’t hurt me....”
He looked shocked. “What? You think that I would ever hurt you? Ow, jeez, Jess, what kind of shit do you think I am? I’m not Kenny...”
“I know. I know. But this is really awful....”
He smiled. “What could it be? What’s so horrible?”
I took a deep breath. “OK, remember you promised.”
He rolled his eyes. “I promise.”
“Here goes. I’m a guy....”
“I know,” he said softly.
“I’m sorry I lied to...what?”
“I said I know.”
“How? How could you know?”
“I mean I didn’t know know. But I was pretty sure...”
“How..what...what gave it away?”
“Honestly?”
“No, lie.”
“It’s a little complicated...”
I smiled. “Like the rest of this is simple.”
“I mean, it’s not the way you look or carry yourself, if that’s what you’re worried about...”
“Adam, I’m really freaked now. Just tell me.”
“I mean, I could never figure out why you had no relationship with your family. I mean, you’re smart, nice, beautiful and you said that you were this disappointment to your father. And that your sister didn’t approve of your life.”
“That was it? I mean lots of people believe in barefoot and pregnant.”
“Also, you had no pictures of you with friends or anything. And the place is very...uh...sparse.”
“What? All women need chintz and tchotckes?”
“No, not just that. Also, I noticed the strange looks from Jim too. Like he couldn’t figure out why I was with you. I mean, I could understand why someone would think you’re too good for me, but not the other way around.”
“Adam, stop. You’re a great guy. Merely by not beating me senseless, you’re great.”
“Jess, I would never. And then there was the whole Kenny thing. I’m guessing he didn’t like you dressed up. That’s a big deal with gay guys, right?”
“Yes. So what did it?”
“I saw a magazine addressed to Brian Rosen, and then it all made sense. Everything.”
I buried my face in my hands. “I am so sorry. If you left and never came back, I’d understand.”
He put his arm around me. “Are you kicking me out? Because I’d rather not go, if you don’t mind.”
“Really?” I sniffled. “I am so sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”
“You should have.”
“I was afraid. I was afraid you would hit me. Or certainly hate me. Both of which would be completely understandable.”
He got annoyed. “Hitting would never be. Neither would hating. You’re my friend. A good friend. Why would I hate you?”
“Because I lied to you. Because I led you on.”
“You didn’t lead me on. You said from the beginning that you only wanted to be friends.”
“But, you liked me more than that.”
He laughed. “Full of ourselves, aren’t we?”
“Adam, very funny. I know you did. And I liked you too.”
“I thought so, but I couldn’t tell..”
“Adam, again. Subtle signals, not flares.”
“I know, I know. Anyway, I just figured you had a reason.”
“You are too good.”
“So are you.”
“So, I don’t understand. If you knew, why did you still call me an ideal? Or am I not anymore, because I’d understand.”
“I don’t know. I mean, now I’m kind of freaked...”
“Why? I mean, I know why. But why?”
He got a little agitated. “You don’t know why...”
I got scared. “Sorry, I just thought...” He was really starting to worry me.
“You know what’s freaking me out? I know you’re a guy, and I still love you. I still look at you and want to be with you. And that scares me. I’m not gay...what the hell’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you...”
He got sarcastic. “Hi, Mom and Dad...this is Jessica. But she’s not. She’s Brian...”
“Adam, calm down....”
He stopped for a second. “I’m just scared...I love you, but I’m scared.” Then, like a bad movie, he grabbed me by the waist and kissed me deeply.
When we broke, he said, “Sorry....”
“Shut up,” I said, standing up on my toes to kiss him. This was getting cheesier by the minute. I started to unbutton his shirt. “Just shut up.” He pulled my dress over my head. I was wearing a white bra and thong. I pulled him toward my bedroom. I reached my hand down his pants. He was rock hard and, from what I could feel, fairly big. Not enormous, but about 7 1/2". Hey, when you’re gay, you learn by feel. “Mmm,” I said, “someone’s enjoying himself.” I gave his balls a little squeeze. “Come on..”
“Jess...Bri...I...uh....”
“What?”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t do this.”
“What?”
“I can’t...this,” he said, clumsily buttoning his shirt.
“What? Why?”
“I’m such a shit...”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am. I love you, and you’re beautiful...and I can’t get past...”
“What?”
“That....you...”
“Have a penis?”
He slumped. “I am such a piece of shit....like I have this great...person, and I can’t...”
“Sleep with him?”
“You must think I’m such crap. What does this say about me?”
“That you’re not gay?”
“What’s the matter with me?”
“You’re not gay. I mean, I wish you were. Believe me, I wish you were more than anything. But, you’re not.” I started to put back on my dress.
“See, that’s it. I look at you, and I see my Grace Kelly. But, then...”
“I take off my clothes, and the illusion is shattered, right?”
He sat down on the couch. “Yeah.” He started to put on his shoes.
“Where are you going?”
“If I were you, I’d kick me out.”
“You’re not me. Do you want to go? Because, I’m not kicking you out. I’d like to talk, if that’s OK.”
“Me too. Can I ask you a question? If it’s too personal, just say so.”
“Let’s see. You just me saw me in a bra and thong. Personal’s kind of past,” I laughed.
“OK, here goes. What are you?”
“Excuse me?” I said, not liking where this was going. “What does THAT mean?”
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong. Are you gay, pre-op, a cross dresser?”
“Pre-op? You seem unusually conversant in the topic.”
“I read the Voice,” he said, with a grin. “So?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No, I really don’t.”
“So, you dress this way and act this way and you don’t know why?”
And with that, I launched into the whole Lisa story. After I finished, he said, “Wow...that’s pretty amazing.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing, I’m just amazed that you’ve only been doing this a few months.”
“Well, I have. Do you think I’m lying.”
“No, no, no. I believe you. I really do, it’s just...”
“What? Just say it.”
“It’s just that you really seem to fit the role.”
“Meaning?” I snapped.
“Meaning,” he said, taking a breath. “that you seem so relaxed and confident. I mean, remember that day in that Makola store...”
“Yes?”
“When you put on the dress, you seemed to stand taller..”
“It was the heels.”
“I’m serious.”
“Sorry.”
“No, I mean, you left and you just seemed so happy. And you’re always so kind and sweet and I mean, if I didn’t actually see your penis, I still wouldn’t believe you’re a guy...”
“Great,” I started to cry.
“I’m sorry. That’d scare me too if I was you. Boy, we’re a pair. A straight guy who’s in love with a gay guy who’s more of a woman than the woman the straight guy’s been sleeping with since the gay guy in a dress pimped him out to her...” We both started to laugh.
“Thanks, Adam. That makes me feel SOOOO much better.”
“No, seriously. What are you?”
“I really don’t know. I mean, when I started this, I was scared. I mean, like it plays into every stereotype of gay men you can think of.”
“I could see that.”
“Yeah, but then...oh god, I feel embarrassed....”
He laughed. “I think we’re both a little past embarrassment, don’t you?”
“True. Anyway, so I was totally tripping. Then, I started going out dressed and men started paying attention to me which is a new thing, you know?”
“I find that hard to believe. I mean, you’re gorgeous.”
“See, that’s the thing. Jessica is gorgeous. Brian is a little 5'7" runt. And Jessica started getting attention and Brian started to like it.”
“It’s funny. You talk like it’s someone else.”
“My shrink says that, too. Sometimes, I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Anyway, I started to like the attention and I really started getting into it.”
He picked up my shoes. “Yeah, I can see that. You have more shoes than Ari does.” He stared at the 3" heel. “Don’t your feet get tired in these?”
“No, surprisingly not. Besides, I look good in them.”
“You really are such a girl. Anyway, so what happened?”
“Anyway, then I met Kenny....”
“Prick.”
“Yes, he is. But, anyway, I started to freak out again. Like I’m a freak and I’d never be in a relationship, because...”
“Cross dressers and pre-ops are at the bottom of the pile. No pun intended.”
“You really know your stuff, Connolly.”
“I told you. I read the Voice.”
“So, I really didn’t know what to do. Like, I wanted to be with Kenny. But, I like Jessica.”
“You really think Kenny was ever going to be a real thing? Come on, he sounds like a closet case.”
“He is. But, you get lonely, you know.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So, I started to think. I’d rather get rid of Jessica and be in a relationship than keep doing it.”
“OK, so where do I fit into this?”
“Then I met you, and you were such a great guy...”
“That you lied to me for two months...sorry, that was harsh.”
“I deserved it.”
“Go on.”
“And you were such a great guy, that I tried to set you up.”
“Assuaging your guilt...”
“Ouch. True, but ouch. Anyway, I started to fall in love with you. I mean, I never told anyone the Steve Wozniak thing. And I really became Jessica, that...never mind.”
“What?”
“This will really skeeve you out.”
“No, it won’t.”
“It will.”
“Just tell me. I mean, I think we can’t really have secrets anymore.”
“I felt like I was going through puberty again. Only this time I was a girl...like I became even girlier than I was already. OK, I shouldn’t have said that.”
He smiled. “It’s OK. That explains the Makola dress.”
“Huh?”
“It was like the epitome of what you’re saying. Like it was this really girly dress, and I wanted to see you in it. Or it, in a ball on the floor...OK, that slipped out.”
I blushed. “Now, I’m embarrassed. Anyway, you made me examine what I wanted. Like I wanted nothing more than to be the girl you wanted. To be with you. I mean, with you.”
“Me too,” he said. “And now?”
“I’m in between. Like I want to be Brian and Jessica at the same time. That makes no sense, does it?”
He smiled. “No, I get it. You ever read Hegel?”
“Huh?”
“The Hegelian dialectic. Thesis, antithesis and synthesis.”
“I’m lost.”
“OK, like the thesis is ‘This is only until June 25th. And the antithesis. ‘I like being Jessica. I want to be a girl. And the synthesis..I like both.’
“Huh, that’s interesting. You’re a smart guy.”
“Thank you. So, now what do you do?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I like being Jessica. I like the clothes. I like getting checked out. It’s fun. That must seem really weird to you.”
“Kind of. But, I mean everyone wants to reinvent themselves sometimes. You’ve just taken it to a whole other level.”
“I guess...”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Jessica’s all well and good and fun. But, what do I about clients? What do I do about my love life, such as it is. Kenny may be a shit, but he’s definitely in the mainstream of gay opinion on this.”
“Somewhere there’s someone,” he said, half-heartedly.
“No, there isn’t. And you know that.”
“I know. Can I ask a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Can I meet Brian?”
“Um, you have...”
“No, I mean, I want to see Brian. Not Jessica telling me she’s Brian. I want to meet Brian. Does that make any sense?”
“Yeah, it does. Give me a few minutes to change.” I went into the bathroom and I washed off my make up. I even took off my nail and toe polish. “Keep your eyes closed.” Then I went it to the bedroom, and took out my breast forms. I combed my hair to the side, and put on a t-shirt and jeans. “OK, open them,” I said, coming back into the living room. He laughed loudly.
“What?”
“Boy, little girl, when you hit puberty, you’re going to be a real heart-breaker.”
“That was cruel.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, laughing. “I can’t help it. You look like a Jessica, not a Brian.”
I started to laugh. “I know. I know. Before I ever started this, people called me miss all the time. Does a hell of a number on your ego, you know?”
“I can imagine.”
“So, where do we go from here?”
“What do you think?”
“I asked you.”
“I dunno. Can we still be friends?”
“I’d like that. You’re not too freaked by me?”
“I’ve been processing this for a while. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m still a little confused. But, you’re a real friend, and my father always said that if you had five real friends in your life, you’d be doing OK...and you’ve been a good friend.”
“So have you. Today alone you proved that.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
I looked at the floor. “I don’t see any skid marks, Adam. That’s huge, you know.”
“You don’t drop a friend over this.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Besides, you know what, you’ve introduced me to two women, who I wouldn’t have otherwise met. That’s big.”
I laughed. “But, you said the best part of Denise was her dog. And what about Ari?”
“Hey look, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I’m in the game. And it’s because of you. I can’t give up my shill,” he said, with a big grin.
“Very funny. Putz. So who do you want?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Brian or Jessica. Who do you want as a friend?”
He looked hurt. “I want you. You decide the label. But I want you.”
“You’re unreal, Adam, you know that?”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re too good. I don’t deserve a friend like you. You sure you’re not freaked.”
“Absolutely,” he said, sticking out his hand. “Friends?”
“Friends.” We shook. “So, what’s up with Arianna? It better not just be the finger licking thing.”
“That’s a symptom, not the disease.”
“So, what’s the disease?”
“She’s too into labels. Like ‘get me my Chanel sunglasses.’ Or ‘have you seen my Burberry scarf.’ It’s a scarf. Everything doesn’t need a label. It’s obnoxious, you know?”
I laughed. “That caps it. You are obviously so not gay.”
He laughed. “I’m serious. Like I look at that and I know that if we stayed together, she’s not going to change and I’d come to hate her for it. Like, I don’t blame her. That’s her thing. Not my thing. I don’t get it. It’s just stuff. But, I can’t be with someone like that.”
“So, you know what to do. Sooner beats later.”
“I know. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Waiting doesn’t make it better. Believe me I know about that. Just do it. Otherwise, it’ll only get messier and more painful.”
“I know. How come you didn’t tell me sooner?”
“I dunno. Jim told me I should.”
“Jim? Not Lisa.”
“Jim. He called me. Said you deserved better than that.”
“Tell him thanks. I didn’t think you two were friends.”
“We’re not. But he’s been surprisingly cool and insightful during all of this.”
“Wow. I’d freak if I were him.”
“Me too. So what now?”
What do you mean?”
“I dunno. I mean, what now in the sense of do you want to watch the rest of the movie? But, I probably mean something else too.”
“I’m not really up for the rest of the movie. This has been a lot, you know? I mean, I’m glad it’s all out and everything, but it’s a lot.” He started to put on his shoes.
“Don’t go. I’m glad I finally told you, but on some level I wish I hadn’t. And I’m really sorry I took so long. Please don’t go.”
“I...uh...sorry. I need to go. I’m really spent. I’ll call you later.”
“Adam, I am sorry. If you never wanted to speak me again, I’d understand. It’d kill me, but I’d understand. But don’t tell me you’ll call.”
“Jess...Bri...I just need to get some sleep. Seriously.”
“Friends?” I stuck out my hand.
“Yeah,” he said, reflexively sticking out his hand but not meeting my gaze. “Friends. I will call. I promise.”
I wished I could believe him. I really did. But I didn’t. I felt like I had lost my friend forever. I called Lisa, and said, “What are you up to?”
“We were about to get something to eat. Why?”
“I kind of need to talk.”
“What’s wrong?”
I heard Jim say, “We going or what?”
“It’s Jessica,” she said, which only made me feel a thousand times worse. “Hang on. What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“Adam.”
“What happened?”
“I told him.”
“Oh my god...what happened?”
“Can I come down?”
“Do you want me to come up?”
“No, I’d rather leave the scene of the crime, you know what I mean?”
“I guess so. Of course, come down.”
I went downstairs, still in my t-shirt and jeans. Lisa opened the door, “Hey....oh...oh wow, Bri,” and she hugged me. “Tell me what happened.”
I told her the whole story, and started to sob, “We told each other we loved each other, and I thought we were cool, and then he freaked...”
“He is such a shit. I can’t believe he left.”
Just then, Jim chimed in, “He’s not a shit.”
“Excuse me?” Lisa said, angrily. “Who asked you?”
“No one. But, I’ve earned the right after this whole soap opera of a wedding to say my piece. You want to disregard me, go ahead. But, you both heard me. He’s not a shit. Not by a long shot.”
“He tells her that he loves her, and then leaves, and...”
“Him.”
“What?”
“He told HIM he loves HIM. Whatever’s been going these past few months, Brian is still Brian, last I heard. True?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“So, after two months, the girl Adam thinks he loves tells him that she’s actually a guy, and he gets upset and leaves. He doesn’t lose it. He doesn’t yell or scream or anything. He just feels overwhelmed and probably betrayed, and he left. Seems eminently reasonable.”
“He said he already knew, Jim,” Lisa responded nastily.
“Yeah, he knew. But, like you said, there’s knowing and there’s knowing. And do I need to remind you that I told you like two months ago to tell him and you didn’t. You waited, until he called you, what, his ideal, which by the way is hysterical given how much I know about you, but I digress. So, you shoot his dream to shit and then wonder why it didn’t turn out like a fairy tale. I expect Lisa to expect fairy tales, but I thought you were a little more realistic...”
Lisa interrupted, “When did you tell her to tell him? And what’s that crack supposed to mean?”
“You’re a romantic, sweetie. Kenny and all. But BRIAN is a little more sensible, I thought. Anyway, I told HIM, and let’s not forget pronouns are part of the problem here, right after we met them on the street that time. So, why didn’t you tell him?”
“I figured that once he started dating Arianna, it wasn’t all that urgent,” I mumbled.
“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” he said. “Were you planning on doing this forever?” He laughed. “Didn’t you realize that Arianna was going to try and set you up with someone?”
“Excuse me?” I laughed.
“Yes, Jim, what does that mean?” Lisa said, tapping her toe.
“Yeah, Jim. Explain yourself. Look at her, she’s pissed at you.”
He laughed again. “All girls do that when they’re in a couple. Misery loves company.”
“So does the couch, Jim.”
“I’m kidding. Anyway, how long were you planning on doing this? Forever?”
“I meant to,” I mumbled, looking at the floor.
“You meant to? That’s incredibly weak, Bri. You’re better than that.”
“I know. I got scared.”
“That what? What happened was going to happen? That was the risk you took.”
“Jim, you’re being mean.”
“No, Lise, he isn’t. He’s being honest. Blunt, but he’s right. I made my bed.”
“Look, Bri,” he said. “I hope he comes around. I do. You’ve been beaten up enough with this whole Jessica thing. But it wasn’t only going to get worse. And, I hate to say it, you’ve really gotten lucky with this. It could’ve been worse.”
“Are you saying she deserved this?” Lisa asked accusingly. I couldn’t help but notice that she kept calling me ‘she.’
“No, HE didn’t. He’s a he, Lise? A salami slurping, fudge packing, ass wrangling, dress wearing nancy boy,” he said, flashing me a grin, “but a he nonetheless.”
“Salami slurping?” I said. “Do you stay up at night thinking of these?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes they just come to me, in a vision,” he said, waving his arms in an arc.
“They have meds for that, you know.”
“Meds? What, and miss this?”
“Excuse me,” said Lisa, “what do you mean he or she?”
“You keep calling Brian ‘she.’ But, he’s not.”
“Do I, Bri?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Sorry. I don’t know why.”
“I haven’t helped recently. I’ve been acting girlier, if that’s possible.”
“I’ll stop. I’ve really screwed up your life, haven’t I?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t ask you Jim.”
“You didn’t. I mean you started this, but like Jim said, I took the ball and ran for daylight...”
“I’m not sure I like you two talking behind my back.”
Jim smiled. “Who else can we talk to?”
I smiled. “Exactly. We need to trade war stories. Jim’s a perceptive guy, by the way. I never knew. If I get nothing else out of this, I got that.”
“I’m like an onion,” he said. “Many layers....”
“Why not a parfait?” I said, imitating Eddie Murphy in ‘Shrek.’
“I am an onion...”
“Trust me,” Lisa said. “If you smelled his feet, they ain’t no parfait.”
“And you love me for it, baby,” he said, grabbing her by the waist.
“Shall I leave you two alone?”
Lisa laughed. “Are you OK?”
“Yes. No. I mean, I’m worried about me and Adam, but I can’t do anything but leave him alone, so yeah I’m OK. I won’t kill myself or anything.”
Jim put his arm around me. “You did the right thing. I know it sucks. But you did. I hope he gets past it. You deserve good stuff.”
“Wow, thanks Jim. That was...”
Before I could finish, he interjected, “because the Mets suck and no one likes a mopey maid, Fifi.”
“That’s better,” I said, smiling. “You two go eat. But remember Jim, ‘you’re every breath that I take. Every move I make...”
“Talk to that shrink about changing your meds. You’re clearly delusional.”
“It’s our year. We’re due.”
“We’re due. We’re due. OK. Sure. Whatever. I’ll even let you pick out the color of your uniforms...”
“Good night Brian,” said Lisa. “If you need me, call me.”
“Thanks. Both of you. Go eat.”
A month passed without any sign of Adam. I started to call him a hundred times the first week, but stopped myself, figuring that if he wanted to talk, he’d call. Having said that, I went through the five stages of grief, all in the first week. By the second week, I realized that, sad as it was, our friendship was probably over. I mean it was based on a lie, on some level. I mean, all the emotion sharing we did still didn’t obviate the fact that I had lied to him. I was hurt, but also knew that I was responsible. The wedding started getting closer, and Lisa kept me busy with dress fittings.
We were at the last fitting for the bridesmaid dress one Saturday in May. I had just come out of the dressing room.
Lisa let out a whistle, “Damn, Jess. You look amazing.”
“I know,” I said, with a grin. And I did. It was the blue sheath, that ended about 2" above the knee. My legs looked amazing. And my breasts, such as they were, looked spectacular.
Lisa turned to the seamstress and said, “Can we do anything to make her look dumpier? Some ruffles? Let it out? Something?”
The seamstress was Korean. I don’t think she understood all that well. “Ruffles, yes. OK.”
We only averted disaster when the saleswoman told her, in a nasal Brooklyn whine, “Joke, ha ha, Kim. No ruffles.” The seamstress rolled her eyes, and gave all of us a look that could only be described as abject contempt, the sort shared by orderlies and cab drivers who seem to be saying, “In my country, I was head of surgery. Here I clean bedpans.”
Anyway, I was in the dressing room getting changed back into my black skirt, when my phone rang. “Get that, Lise...”
I heard her pause, then say, “Hello...oh, it’s you. Can I help you? I’ll see if she’s available, although why she would be is beyond me....”
I came out, “Who is it?”
She handed me the phone. “Look at the caller i.d.” It was Adam.
“Hello, Adam,” I said as flatly as possible, but feeling my heart in my throat.
“Hi, uh, Brian,” Adam said, tentatively. “How have you been?”
“Fine. You? Long time no speak,” I sneered. “What’s new.”
“Nothing much...What are you up to?”
“Dress fitting.”
“Oh.”
“Does that bother you? I mean, does it get you all confused?” I didn’t mean to be nasty, but I heard myself and cringed. “So, did you call for a reason?” I said snidely.
“I deserve that.”
“Whatever. Can I help you with something?” Lisa and Jennifer were leaning in. I walked outside.
“Um...I...yeah, oh boy....”
“Just say it.”
“Can we talk?”
“We are.” I was being such a bitch.
“I meant in person.”
“Why? Why now? I mean, it’s been a month.”
“I mean, that’s part of what I want to talk about.”
“Is there something you want to say to me?”
“Not on the phone. What do you want from me?”
“I could ask the same.” I don’t know what had crawled up my ass, but it was lodged there really well.
“Look,” he said, getting irritated. “Can we please get together? Give me five minutes, and then I’ll go if you want.”
“Are you going to run like hell again? Because I don’t need that at this point.”
“Let me explain in person and I’ll leave you alone.”
“Whatever. Fine. I’ll be back around 5. Be there at seven.”
“Thank you.”
“Uh huh.”
“Um, bye, Brian.” It sounded like he choked on Brian.
I hung up and walked back. “Please tell me you are NOT talking to him,” said Lisa.
“It’s complicated, Lise. You know that.”
“What’s going on?” said Jennifer.
“Nothing, Jen,” I said. “Long story.”
“It is NOT a long story. It’s the same story every time. Guy craps on her. She takes him back.”
“You know there’s more,” I snarled.
“Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I am so getting tired of this movie.”
“That’s enough, Lisa,” said her mother. She turned to me, “Are you OK with this, honey? I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
“Thanks, Sandy. I appreciate that. It’s nice to have a mom again. Sorry if that crossed a line.”
She looked hurt. “Absolutely not. You’re like my third...child. I really want what’s best for you, just like my other girls.”
I looked sideways at her. “Thanks. Maybe this’ll give me closure or something. It’s a shame. He was nice.”
“Just don’t let yourself be hurt.”
I got home at five, and spent two hours agonizing what to wear. I went to put on the cute pink sundress, but decided that would be too confusing. Then I put on sweats and a t-shirt, and looked like I was trying too hard. I tried on ten different outfits, five Jessica, five Brian. Five minutes to six, I finally decided on a white shirt and khakis. No shoes. No breasts. I looked like I was going to work.
At seven on the nose, the buzzer rang. “Hey, it’s Adam..” I buzzed him up.
I opened the door. He had flowers. And some beer “These are for you.”
“Um, thanks,” I said. “Interesting choices.”
“I didn’t know what to do.” He looked me up and down. “You’ve changed your hair.”
“I lightened it for the wedding.” It was now a dark honey color. Robert said it looked amazing, without being too queeny. Which was an interesting thing to say to a guy in a pink baby doll top, skirt and heels, who was getting his hair colored.
“It looks...nice.”
“Thanks,” I said without affect, but feeling incredibly insecure. I put the flowers in water. “Beer?”
“Yeah, please.”
I opened two. “So?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” God, I had spent too much time with Lisa. I was becoming her.
“For everything. For the way I treated you. For leaving suddenly. For not calling. For bringing beer and flowers. For...”
“Fine. So now what?”
“I was a jerk. I ran like a scared rabbit. And I was a pussy who didn’t call for a month...”
“Keep going.”
“You were a great friend, a great person and I ran like a scared rabbit. I wanted to call every day, but I was afraid...”
I snapped. “Afraid of what? Afraid of me? Why? Because I’m gay? Because I’m Jessica, I mean I dress like Jessica? What? Afraid this makes you less of a man, is that it?” I was getting angrier. “Because it doesn’t. Running from it does. ‘Ohmigod,’ I said, in a singsong voice, ‘I’m friends with a gay guy, I must be gay.’ Sorry, but it doesn’t work that way. At least, not for someone secure.”
“Shut up,” he said.
“What?”
“Shut up and let me talk.” He had never been this confident. I was confused. Turned on, but confused.
“Fine. Talk.”
“You know what I was afraid of? You want to know? I’ll tell you. That I still loved you. That I loved you not because of the dress and not in spite of it. Because, even after Brian came out, I still loved you. That I saw someone who made me feel great. That I felt connected to. That I wanted to wake up next to every day. And she...he..that person was a guy. And I didn’t care. But I did care. Because I never felt this way. And, yeah, maybe this makes me shit, but I didn’t know what I’d tell people. But, all I knew is I loved you. And I didn’t want to deal with that. So I ran. And hid. For a month. Like a coward. I didn’t think you’d take my call. But, I decided to risk it. If you told me, if you tell me, to drop dead, I would. But, I needed to say it. And so I did.”
“Is that all?”
“No, it’s not. I’ve been picking up other women for a month...”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“That was mean, really mean.”
“Sorry.”
“I deserved it, I guess. Anyway, I’ve met all these other women, and you know what? They’re not you.”
“We covered that the first night.”
“That is NOT what I meant. They were fine. Great. Some were pretty. Some were nice. Some were smart. But they weren’t you. I didn’t feel any connection. I looked at them and it wasn’t there. And I couldn’t deal. I couldn’t deal with that. I’d spend the rest of my life looking for someone who I loved like you, and I wouldn’t find it...”
“So, you had this epiphany. And it took you a month because....”
“I was scared. That may not be a good reason to you. But it is to me. And, you know what, I’m glad I told you. Because if you told me to go, I’d be upset, but at least I would’ve said my peace. I hope you can forgive me...”
And with that, I jumped into his arms and kissed him. For five minutes. I know. I looked at the clock before we started.
He carried me, hanging off him, into the bedroom. “Ad, before we start, I have a penis.”
He laughed nervously. “Interesting foreplay.”
“No, I have a penis.”
“Um, I know that?”
“And it’s not going anywhere.”
“OK.”
“The last month has taught me that I like me. And that I’m not changing for anyone, not you, not Kenny.”
“Don’t lump me in with him,” he said, angrily.
“I’m not. But I’ve learned I’d rather be alone and be me than start changing for someone. And, me includes all of me, including some parts you didn’t expect. You want me, you get me Brian as well as me Jessica.”
“Me Tarzan?”
“I’m serious. If we’re going to be anything, it’s me as is.”
“I don’t care.”
“I’m not always going to be in a skirt and heels. Sometimes, I’m going to be Brian.”
“You were Brian tonight, right?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m still here, right?”
“Yes.”
“Look, I love you. Not Jessica.”
Now it was my turn to be confused. “Huh?”
“I love who YOU are. I mean I love Jessica. She’s more gorgeous that any woman I’ve ever been with. But that was, if not lust, not love either. I mean beautiful is great, no ever looks at someone and says ‘whoa, dig the personality on her.’ But, I love you. You’re kind, understanding, you don’t judge people...”
“I don’t have the right.”
“No one does, but they do. And you don’t. And I love that. I love the way you care about me. That you tried to help me. You make me a better person. That’s what I want in a...partner. Someone who makes me better, and who I make better, I hope.”
I started to tear up. “You do. But, you really need to think, ‘Am I going to be OK with this for my life?’ I mean, you love kids. And I clearly can’t do that for you. I mean, I don’t want you waking up and hating me someday because I’m me.”
“Look, Jess, Bri, I can’t make that promise. And neither can you. We may wake up one day hating each other for all the usual reasons people hate each other, not because of this. You know it. I know it. All I know is I love you now. I mean, I hope that’s enough. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe I fucked up so bad we’re done. But, I said my piece.”
“Shut up,” I said, smiling. Then we started kissing and undressing each other. I reached for his penis again and started rubbing it.
“Mmmm, someone’s happy.”
“Uh huh,” he said. He looked at my closet. “Put on the plaid skirt and some heels.” He was looking at the school girl skirt I bought in Paris.
“Excuse me?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, you kinky fuck. You want a little school girl, is that it? A slutty school girl? Fine.” I took off my pants, tied my shirt at my midriff and put on the skirt and heels. I sashayed over to the bed. I had no idea what sashaying exactly was, but I was doing my best impression of it. “Is this what you want?” I pushed him backwards. “Lay down.”
“I...uh...”
“Shut up,” I said, pulling down his pants. He was wearing the boxer briefs. He looked even better than I imagined. I pulled his penis out. “Mmmm,” I said. “Get ready for the best blow job you’ve ever had.” I really needed to work on my dialogue. I started going up and down the shaft. “Yum, yum, yum.” Then I tea-bagged him. I know I was in the minority, but I liked balls in my mouth. “Don’t cum...” I said, stopping. “Fuck me, fuck me hard.”
I leaned over the bed, and he started fucking me. I yelped in pain, then pleasure. He grabbed my ass, and started pumping. “I’m going to cum...I’m going to cum.” Why did guys always do that? Lisa and I used to joke that it was like some kind of Miss Manners thing. ‘A polite partner always announces his sexual plans.’ “Oh god...oh god...unh.” We both came and fell onto the bed.
We lay in each other’s arms, like a bad movie.
“Wow,” he said. “That was....amazing.”
“You hesitated. Are you OK with this?”
“I told you I love you. I’m just new at this.”
“At what? Being with a guy?”
He laughed and ran his fingers through my hair. “No, although I am. I’m new at being with someone I love.”
I blushed. “Sorry. I’m just scared that this is a dream.”
“Me too. Let’s stop talking about it and just be it.”
“That’s funny. My shrink always tells me to just be.”
“She’s right.”
“I’ll have to tell her that. Can I ask a question?”
“You just did,” he said, smiling.
“The Catholic school skirt? Come on. That is so cliched.”
“Actually, I’m really not that into it. I mean I went to Catholic school. The skirt lost its appeal in the 11th grade.”
“Really?” I said, playing with his chest hair. “You wouldn’t know from the way you acted. So, what is your fantasy?” I said coyly.
“Cheerleaders.”
“Cheerleaders?”
“Cheerleaders. Not NFL though. High school. College. Something about the skirt and the panties...”
“Dirty old man.”
“You’ll see how dirty I get,” he said, swatting my butt.
“Hey, watch it.” He started tickling me. “Stop it,” I giggled. I was such a girl. “So now what?”
“Hey, give me a minute to rest....”
“No, I mean are you going to run again?”
He started rubbing my back. It felt so good. “No, I’m not.”
“Think about it,” I said, kissing his stomach. “This is going to be some complicated shit for you, Connolly. I’m out. All the people in my life know who Jessica is. How’re you going to explain this to everyone?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning what do you think your parents would do with someone like me?”
“I dunno. If I’m happy, they’d be happy. Confused for sure for a while, but they wouldn’t disown me or anything.”
“Good Catholic family? Really?”
“Talk about stereotypes. No, my mother doesn’t go to Mass everyday. And, no, my father’s not Paddy O’Furniture, getting drunk and beating up blacks with a shillelagh and everything.”
“I’m sorry. I just thought...honestly, I don’t know a whole lot of people who’d be cool with their son being with someone like me.”
“You’re a good person. My dad might have a tough time. My mom would be cool. You dress properly.”
I laughed. “What?”
“My mom is very big on being neat and properly dressed. She always thought my ex was slovenly. Which is much worse than gay in her book. She’d like the fact that you wore a skirt to Sunday brunch. So long as you don’t wear flip flops, she’ll be fine. She hates flip flops. I can hear her now, ‘Is he going to the shower?’”
I laughed. “I’ll remember that, should it ever come to that. Want the rest of your beer?”
“Yeah. Thanks. This has been...I could use a drink.”
“Me too.” I went to the kitchen, and brought back the beer. I took a sip.
“Well, now my mom would be upset.”
“Why?” I laughed.
“You drank beer. Straight from the bottle. ‘A proper lady does not drink beer. Certainly not from the bottle. Even if she has a penis.”
“Ad?”
“Yeah.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” I said, throwing myself on top of him.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Three weeks later, I called Lisa. We had been speaking occasionally, but between the wedding and other things, the conversations had been very short.
“Hey stranger,” she said, laughing. “I was wondering when you’d come up for air.”
“Sorry. I’ve been...busy. Work and all.”
“Work doesn’t interest me. And all does.”
I giggled. “Sorry. I’ve been a bad friend.”
“Please,” she laughed. “You’ve been with me through how many guys? It’s OK. I was wondering if you were going to make it to the wedding.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. I look fabulous in my dress. Adam said so.”
“Oh, ADAM said so. Well, then, pick it up off the floor and get it pressed beforehand.”
“Lisa! Please.”
“Oh, you girl. Speaking of which, Melissa said you seem calmer lately. Said you’ve outdone yourself with work.”
“What else did she say?”
“She liked your hair.”
I groaned. “That was a mistake.”
“Oh, please, you baby. She’s fine with it. All she said was, ‘she looks so adorable. I could just eat her up.’”
“Adorable. Her. Great. Just what I need from a client.”
“Stop it. She calls you the golden girl. Said she wouldn’t trade you for a hundred consultants.”
“Golden girl? Oh god.”
“Stop focusing on it. It’s a compliment. Anyway, so what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“I want to introduce you guys formally to Adam.”
“OK. When?”
“You sure?”
“What does that mean?”
“I mean, you and Jim will be OK with this.”
“He’s your boyfriend. It’s important that I get to meet him. Someone has to watch out for you, your taste being what it is.”
“I’m serious.”
“Me too. I’m hurt that you’d think that I wouldn’t want to meet him for real. Or is it that you’re embarrassed of me...”
“Stop it, Lise.”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” she mock-sobbed. “You’re...ashamed..of...me.”
“Ha ha, Lise. That’s not it. I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That you’ll embarrass me. Like this.”
“A-HA! Now, we’ve solved the problem. I’m going to tell him about that time junior year...”
“What time junior year?”
“Oh that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even have to be true.”
“Ha ha. Seriously...”
“Seriously, tell me when and where and we’ll be there.”
“Thursday. 7:45. We’ll meet here. Maybe I’ll cook.”
“Oh god. Is food poisoning really the way you want to go?”
“Bitch.”
“You can bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan...and give him trichinosis.”
Thursday, 7:35, Adam was at my place. I was wearing a baby blue shirt dress and black 2" heels. I liked baby blue. Adam said I looked cute. I wore a lot of pastels and florals with him. Melissa was right. I was such a girly girl.
“Are you sure you’re OK with this, Ad?”
“I love you,” he said. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. Do I look OK?” He was wearing a black shirt and charcoal gray wool pants. Flat front. He looked hot.
“Mmmm,” I said, sticking my hand down his pants. “You look amazing,” I said, standing on tip-toes and kissing his neck.
“Hey, stop it,” he said. “They’ll be here soon.”
“I have a surprise for you later.”
“What?”
“What does surprise mean to you, you doofus?”
“Please?”
“Just trust me. You’ll like it.”
“OK,” he said warily. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get through dinner though.”
“Think of Mo Vaughan naked.”
He laughed. “Now, I’ll be done for the night.”
The doorbell rang ten minutes later. “Hey Lise, hey Jim. Jim, Lisa, you remember Adam. Adam, Jim and Lisa again.”
Jim stuck out his hand. “How’s it going?” he grunted in the universal straight guy greeting. This was good. He looked Adam straight in the eye.
“Good. What’s up?”
“Yankees,” he said, smirking at me. “Ahead of the Mets. As it always is.”
“And always should be,” said Adam.
“That’s right, you’re a Yankee fan,” Jim grinned. “Any luck with this one yet?”
“It’s what I love about her. That sense of hope in the face of all empirical evidence to the contrary. Like the President.”
Lisa laughed. “I don’t know who should be more insulted, Jessica or the President.”
“Hey, I’m not invisible here.”
Jim laughed. “Did she tell you about our bet? Although, given that she has like zero shot of winning, it’s not much of a bet.”
Adam raised an eyebrow. “No, what is it?”
“Nothing. It is nothing.”
“Oh, so it’s definitely something then. What?”
“When the Yankees have a better record on June 25...”
“If...a big if.”
Jim laughed derisively, “WHEN...the Yankees have a better record...I have this July 4th party every year...and Jessica and Lisa here will be the French maids there.”
Adam laughed. “French maids? Sweetie, why would you ever make a bet like that?”
Lisa mouthed ‘sweetie? That is so cute.’ Jim showed no emotion whatsoever.
“We’ll see. And when the Mets are better...” Jim started humming the Twilight Zone theme, which I ignored, “Jim has to dance with me at the wedding. To a song of my choice. Which will be ‘Endless Love.’”
“She’s always had a thing for me.”
Adam laughed. “She’s taken.” Again, Jim just laughed. Then Adam turned to Lisa, “So how goes the wedding plans? I hear the final fitting’s next week...”
“Thank you, Adam. It’s so nice that someone,” she said, looking at Jim, “remembers.”
“Am I really necessary? That’s why the rabbi says, ‘do you take this man..’ If I’m not there, someone else’ll step up. Like Dave. Or my brother.”
“Oh boy. That’s a choice. Just for that, I’m substituting Allison.”
“Allison?” said Adam. “I forgot my scorecard. That’s your sister, the...earthy one, right? She even try on the dress yet?”
“Wow, Jess. He’s very attentive. Again, unlike some people I know.”
“Whatever. Got any chips?”
“Top cabinet.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Continue on without me. Please.”
“Anyway, Adam. Yes, she finally took it into Portland to get fixed. And ‘earthy’ is a polite way to describe her.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure she won’t, but I can’t do anything about her. So why worry?”
“Wow. If I didn’t know you were Jewish, I’d say you were Catholic.”
“We invented fatalism before you,” she laughed.
He laughed. “Do you need help with anything? Pick up place cards or something?”
She smiled. “He is amazing, Jess. A keeper.”
Adam blushed. “I know,” I said, kissing him on the cheek.
Jim came back in, crunching some chips. “I miss anything? No? Good.”
“Adam offered to help with wedding stuff.”
“Dude, you’re making me look bad. Anyway, they’re just dating. Wait a while and see how helpful he is. We getting dinner?”
“I made reservations at Calle Ocho on Columbus. That OK with everyone?”
Everyone agreed, and we went to dinner. We had a great time. We talked about work, families, the usual stuff. Adam made sure to hold out my chair. That earned Jim, who plopped himself down, a glare from Lisa. As expected, around dessert, Lisa said, “Excuse me for a moment. Jess?”
“Huh?”
“Jess....”
“Oh yeah.”
As we left, I heard Jim ask Adam, “Did you ever see that Saturday Night sketch, where Tim Kazurinsky and the other guy sneak into the ladies’ room.?”
When Lisa and I were in, she turned to me, “He is amazing. And he is so in love with you.”
“You think?”
“He listens to you. I mean, really listens...”
I blushed. “I really love him. I’m just so afraid that...”
“I know. But, you know what, you just be you. And he won’t go anywhere. Besides, if he hurts you, my mom will kill him...”
“Uh oh. Siccing Sandy...” We both giggled. “You’re happy,” she said. “I’m happy.”
“Thanks. Your opinion means everything to me, you know that. I’m glad we could do this.”
“We always could. They seem to be getting along.”
“They both mock me about the Mets.”
“You know Jim. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t mock you. He’d ignore you.”
“I know. I just want everyone to get along...”
“Don’t be a martyr, Jess. Worry about you for a change.”
“OK, mom.” And we went back to the table.
“Everything OK?” said Adam, getting up. Lisa smiled again. Jim rolled his eyes. “I ordered us a Mayan chocolate ganache cake thing,” he said to me. “If that’s OK.”
Jim made a retching noise, looked at Adam and made an “L” on his forehead. Adam laughed.
“And what did you order US dear?”
“I got a vanilla creme brulee (which he specifically pronounced “Creamy Bruley” to piss off Lisa) and I got you the chocolate cake thing too.”
“The curable romantic strikes again.”
Dessert came. Adam insisted I take the first bite. “Oooh, this is good. Try some Ad,” I said, spooning some into his mouth.
“Oh god,” said Lisa. “New couples...”
“Oooo twy some. No, oooo. I wuv you soooo much,” said Jim.
“They’re just jealous,” I said.
“I thought bitterness and resentment only set in after you’re married,” said Adam.
“Touche,” said Lisa.
“We’ve been together ten years,” said Jim. “Romance fades....just kidding, Lise. I love you as much today as I did when I first met you.” He leaned over and kissed her. Lisa looked shocked.
“I’ve said it before. Everyone thinks I’m a one-dimensional asshole. I have many dimensions.”
“Like a parfait,” I added.
“Onion! I am an onion,” he said.
We finished dinner, and walked down Columbus for a while. Adam and I held hands. It felt good. I think we even made Jim romantic. He took Lisa’s hand.
“What?” she said, staring at him.
“Come on, look at them,” he said. “I’m trying to be nice. Fat lot of good it does.”
Lisa and I were both surprised. She smiled softly, “OK. It’s been a long time.”
Adam dropped us at my place about ten-thirty.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come up?”
“I do. But tomorrow’s my early day. I need to be there at 6:30 and if I come up, I won’t be awake tomorrow,” he said, with a leer. Jim retched again.
“What?” I said. “Is this a brush-off?”
“Not at all. I am that into you...”
“Sex and the City, Adam?” said Lisa. “I would’ve never guessed.”
“Dude,” said Jim, disappointedly.
“Hey, hey, my ex watched that show religiously. She had one TV. It sank in...”
“Uh huh,” said Jim. “I’ll let it pass. This time,” he laughed.
“Anyway, Jess, like I said, I have a really early day. And the 6:30 people are bad enough even with sleep. And I don’t want to sleep here,” he said, smirking at Jim.
“Don’t taunt me, dude. I’m going home to sleep...”
“With that attitude,” said Lisa. “Keep it up. Maybe if you’re good....”
Jim leered. “Thanks dude,” he laughed, shaking Adam’s hand. “Come on Lisa.”
“Good night, Adam,” she said, giving him a kiss. “Call me, Jess.”
“Good night. Very nice finally meeting you for real.” And they left. “I had a good time. They were fun.”
“They liked you. Well, Lisa did. And that’s what matters.”
“Lucky Jim. Am I going to get set up on grown man play dates, like Chris Rock says?”
“You two seemed to hit it off.”
“I think so. He likes you.”
“Really? I never could tell.”
“He said you were smart and a good friend. Said you’d go through a wall for Lisa. Which meant a lot to him.”
“Wow. That’s cool.”
“Don’t say anything, OK? I don’t think that was for public consumption necessarily.”
“Understood. Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”
“I’m sure I do, sweetie. But if I do, I’ll be up all night.”
“Is that so bad?” I said, sticking my hand down his pants again. I needed to calm down.
“It’s not that. I just know that we’ll be up all night going over stuff. And I really need to go home, Jess. I have to be up really early. But, I want you to think about me all night.”
I felt flushed. “No, I want you to think about me. About me putting my lips around your cock. Going slowly up and down the shaft....fingering your balls...and you’re tied to my bed frame.” Adam liked light bondage and S & M. No, not the gimp mask or anything. Just a little tying him up. Or him spanking me. It turns out that under that shy exterior beat the heart of a kinky little bastard.
“Oh, Jess, you are such a tease...”
“I don’t have to tease. If you come in, I’ll do whatever you want. Plus, I have the surprise.”
“I can’t stay.”
“I know. I want you out anyway,” I joked.
“Hey.”
“Kidding, Ad. Get in here.” We kissed some more, and fumbled on to the couch. I took off his shirt and unbuckled his pants. I took off his underwear. He was naked. I was still fully clothed, including my heels. He loved this. Said it turned him on to be so powerless. I smacked him on the ass with his belt, flipped him over and straddled his chest. “So, are you ready for the surprise?”
“Yes. Oh god, yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes please.”
“That’s better,” I said. “Close your eyes.”
“OK.”
I went to the bedroom and changed. “Now open them.” I was standing there in a full cheerleader uniform. White sleeveless top with a big red “A” on it, and Jessica in script over my heart. A little red and blue pleated skirt. Even pom pom socks and white Keds. “Well?”
Suffice it to say, we didn’t get much sleep.
June 24, 2005. 3 P.M. The rehearsal dinner was four hours away. Lisa was, politely, a basket case.
“Goddammit, mom. Where is she?”
“She will be here, Lisa. You know this is hard for her.”
“Hard for her?! Hard?! For?! Her?! This is my wedding, and she can’t get her ass fucking here?”
“Lisa, that’s enough. Stop cursing. Your sister will be here. Her flight was delayed.”
“You know what, if she didn’t want to be here, she didn’t have to be. I didn’t want her. She could’ve stayed in the woods for all I care. I sure as hell didn’t want her in the wedding. I did it for Grandma. That’s it. But, if she screws this up, I will kill her...”
“Lise,” I said. “Relax. I will make sure this gets done. If I have to babysit her the entire time, and wrestle her into the dress, I will do it. Your day will be perfect.”
She laughed. “You wrestle her, huh? Sorry, but you are sugar and spice, and Allison will beat the crap out of you hands down.”
“Jen will help me. Right, Jen?” Jen waved.
Sandy’s cell phone rang. “Yes...yes..we’re at the hotel. The Essex House on Central Park South. I’m sure we could save lots of rain forest for the cost of the room. I’ll send the monkeys hors d’oeuvres. That was a joke. For once, just do this for me, please? Thanks. See you soon...”
“What, mom?”
“Nothing.”
“What? What did she say?”
“She’ll be here. And she’ll behave. That much I can promise you.”
“God help her.”
“Lise, I told you. I’ll take care of her, if need be.”
“Thank you, Jess. What are you going to wear tonight?”
“The LBD you bought me. And my black Manolos. And the necklace Adam bought me.”
“LBD? You amaze me with how girly you are, Miss Brian. Wait. Necklace? What necklace?”
I pulled a diamond pendant out of my top. “This?”
“Very nice,” said Sandy, fingering it. “This sounds serious.”
Lisa laughed. “You can barely pull them apart. It’s nauseating, really.”
“Bridezilla speaks. So bitter.”
“Girls. Please,” said Sandy. “This sounds wonderful. And you two have talked...?”
“Yes. We’ve talked.”
“And.”
“And he bought me this necklace. Enough said?”
“Enough said. Will he be there tonight?”
“A little late, but yes. He has a late appointment today. Some big shot he can’t tell me about. He had to sign a confidentiality agreement. But, he’ll be there.”
“I can’t wait to meet the man who’s made my Brian so happy.”
“You’ll behave yourself, mom?”
“Allison will behave herself,” she said, with a grin. “Mother’s prerogative.” I started to tear up. “I’m sorry, Brian. Did I cross a line?”
“No, not at all. I appreciate it, actually. It’s just...you know.”
“I know, dear. I understand. But, you know you can always talk to me.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m not going to behave myself though,” she said, with a grin.
At 7 P.M., we all met in a hotel ballroom. Lisa had us all wear black dresses. As I planned. I was wearing my little black, spaghetti strapped dress and black 4" open toe Manolos. The dress came in at the waist, and fell about 2" above the knee. I had my hair blown out just before, and was wearing the necklace Adam bought me. For him, I had painted my toes a bright pink. I felt amazing. As I walked through the lobby, I could feel every man’s eyes on me. I know that sounds incredibly arrogant, and maybe I was deluding myself, but I felt great. And I wanted everyone to know it.
I walked into the ballroom. Jim came over. “Hey, Jessica. Looking good.”
“Jessica? No comments? I’m disappointed.”
He smiled. “I’m behaving myself. Besides, I know you saw the standings. We’re one game up. So, I will have ample time to amuse myself on the 4th.”
“There are two games to play. Tonight and tomorrow. So, I’ve been practicing...”
“I’m going to check my silverware after the party. You know how help can be....”
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, our groom specifically wants to dance with...”
“So sad. So delusional. Poor Adam. Speaking of which, where is he?”
“Late appointment...”
“Oh yeah, he told me. Some big hoo-hah.”
“I don’t like that you guys talk unchaperoned...”
“Please, we’ve been wedding widowers. I need to talk to someone, and Dave is, well, Dave. By the way, Kenny is here. Just wanted to give you fair warning.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need any warning. Honestly, whatever. He is who he is. And I’m not who I was. So fuck him. Sorry. I know he’s your friend.”
“Don’t apologize. He pulled some shit. But I know you can handle yourself. Just try not to throw a drink at him or anything.”
“I’ll try,” I said, smiling.
“That’s all I can ask. That and, if you do, throw soda or something. They’re serving top shelf stuff, and I hate to see good alcohol go to waste.”
“You’ve got it. Maybe a Shirley Temple. Sticky and it stains...”
He laughed out loud. “That’s the ticket. You’ve learned well from Lisa, young Skywalker. Oh shit, Lisa’s giving me the eye again. I guess I have to say hello to someone else I don’t know.”
“Just remember. You’re totally irrelevant.”
I started to walk around. I knew all of Lisa’s relatives, but couldn’t very well say hello, dressed as I was. So, I hung out with Jennifer. We were having a drink when Allison came over. She was actually wearing a black dress. When she cleaned herself up, she didn’t look half bad.
“Brian,” she said, with a barely disguised sneer. “You look...pretty.”
“Thank you. So do you. So, Allison, how are you? How’s Oregon?” I said, brightly.
“Fine, thanks. This is ridiculous.”
“What?”
“This whole party. After ten years, they decide to do this. Come on...”
“Allison, just do me a favor. I understand how you feel, but just do this for Lisa. You two used to be close. I remember. Just suck it up for two days, and then you can go back home...”
“You’re the expert on sucking up...”
“Nice, Allison. You don’t have to do anything other than smile and wear the dress. Is that so hard?”
“I suppose not. Clearly you’ve adapted to it.”
“Allison, I’ll ignore that. It was uncalled for. I know I’m not your favorite person, but that was unnecessarily cruel, even for you.”
She softened somewhat. “Fair enough. This is just such...bullshit. The Theater of Lisa. Plus, I have to listen to all my relatives. ‘You look so nice. Why don’t you dress like this more often?’ ‘When will you meet someone?’ ‘So you live in Ah-Ree-Gone. Are there Jews?’ Plus, Lisa doesn’t want me here...”
“Yes, she does,” I lied.
“Brian, don’t lie to me. If you want me to be here, don’t lie. Whatever else, you’ve never been a liar. Although your outfit makes me doubt that.”
“Long story. Anyway, it means a lot to your mom and Grandma. Do it for them. You have family. You may not appreciate it, but you should, you know? Don’t screw it up.”
“Whatever. Tell me where I have to be and I’ll be there.”
“Tomorrow. 10:30. Lisa’s room. You want me to give you a wake up call?”
“Hurricane Sandy will take care of that, I’m sure. Later. I’m going to hide somewhere.”
“Just remember. It means a lot to your grandma.”
“Yeah. Uh huh.”
Jennifer and I were standing together, having a drink when Kenny walked over.
“Kenny,” I said, coolly.
“Hello...Jessica,” he said, giving me the once-over. Hello...?” he said, offering Jennifer his hand.
Jennifer glared at him. “Jennifer Flynn,”she said, with her arms crossed. “So, you’re Kenny.”
“My reputation precedes me,” he said, grinning nervously.
She ignored him, and turned to me. “What do you want here?”
“I can handle this, Jen. Even he wouldn’t try and pull anything,” I said, looking through him.
She looked warily at him, then me. “If you say so...”
I held up my hand and smiled. “Thanks, Jen. But I’ve got it.” She walked away.
“So, how have you been?”
“Fine, Kenny, and you?”
“Fine.”
“Is there a point to this conversation?”
“You’ve changed your hair. But this is only until tomorrow, right?” he smirked.
“Did you come over to be an asshole? Because, quite frankly, I’ve got better things to do.”
He slumped. “I’m sorry. We had a good time and then you disappeared...”
I laughed loudly, so that people turned around. “I didn’t disappear. You acted like an asshole, raised your fists and I left. Period.”
“I was hurt. I felt betrayed.”
“Betrayed? Why?”
“You know why...”
“Do explain again.”
“How you were dressed.”
“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it in front of your friends.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“Be honest? Oh wait, sorry, can’t do that. Better to dump it in my lap, right?”
“Look, I’m sorry. We were good together. We could still be. What is you want from me?”
“Kenny, stop. I don’t want anything from you. We weren’t good together, because we were never together. We had one good date that was obliterated by one horrific and expensive weekend for me. That’s it. But, realize that there is no we. There is you. There is me. But there is not nor will there ever be a we. By the way, thank you.”
“Thank you? Why?”
“Your behavior actually made me really take a look at myself...”
“And this is what you saw?” he said sarcastically.
“Actually, yes. You know what? I like me. I like this. And I like Brian. And you know what else?”
“No, what?”
“I’m happy. I was pretty upset after all your shit...”
“My shit? MY shit?”
“Yes, your shit. Your playing along when it served you, and switching gears when it didn’t, rather than being who you are. But then I realized, I’d rather be me alone than give up something just to be with someone.”
He clapped three times slowly. “Bravo...or should I say, brava, for you. That is so touching. Call me when you’re alone and tell me how you feel.”
“I don’t need to. I’d really rather be alone. Because, even with you, I’d be alone.” He raised an eyebrow. “No, Kenny, I would. Because there’d be this huge part of your life I’d be excluded from because you’re not out. So, we wouldn’t be a couple. I’d be some guy you fucked.”
“That’s classy.”
“How would you express it? You’d never take me to a firm function. Because what would you call me, your roommate? Come on.”
“So this,” he said, waving his hand up and down, “is my fault.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Kenny. It’s not about you. It’s about me. And it’s not about fault. I like me. I like this. If you have a problem, have a problem. But, just think, I’m out. You’re not. And as alone as you may think I’ll end up, at least I’ll be real. Some point, you have to get tired of bathroom hook-ups.”
“Thanks for the update. Quite funny coming from a guy in a dress and heels.”
“You wish you had the guts to be out. But you don’t. So you crap on me. That’s too bad. Good luck. I hope you find whatever makes you happy. I really do. I’ll see you Sunday. But right now, I’ve got other things to do.” And I walked away. No crying. No drinks thrown. Nothing. I felt, well, empowered.
Jennifer came over. “Are you OK?”
“Fine,” I laughed. “Have you ever dated someone and then looked back and asked what the fuck you were doing?”
She laughed. “Every date I’ve ever been on.”
“That’s what this was. I don’t know what I ever saw in him.”
“He’s cute?”
“It’s funny. I used to think that, but he seems uglier now.”
“Some people get better looking as you know them. Some get worse. Are you going to be OK walking with him in the wedding party?”
“Please. The question is better directed to him. I look good. No, great. He’s just some guy who’ll make me look better.”
“You are such a diva,” she laughed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were a girl.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Shut up. You love it. It may freak you out a little. But, look at you, you love the dress and the shoes and the hair.”
I looked down. “It’s fun?”
“It is. And you know it. No one cares if you like it. So just do it. One thing..”
“Yes.”
“I hate your legs. Bitch.” she said with a smile.
About fifteen minutes later, Adam came in. He was wearing a navy suit, with a blue shirt and red tie. As always, flat front pants. He looked good. “Sorry, I’m late,” he said, giving me a kiss. “You look amazing.”
“Please,” I blushed. “No problem. How did everything go?”
“Fine. This...client is a gigantic pain in the ass. But...they...left happy, so maybe it’ll be referral business.”
“Nice eliding the pronouns, Ad.”
He looked serious. “I signed a non-disclosure. I can’t let anything slip.”
“Relax,” I said, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “I know non-disclosures. I wouldn’t think of asking.”
“Thank you.”
“So who is it?” He looked shocked. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”
“Ha ha. So how’s the party?”
“I saw Kenny.”
He looked irritated. “Are you OK? Where is he?’
“I’m fine, Ad. Really. He’s pathetic. I just kick myself that I ever wasted time on him. But, please. I have you.”
He grinned. “Lucky me.”
“No, lucky me.”
“So, where is he?”
“Over there. Tall guy. By the bar.”
“Dark gray suit?”
“Charcoal. Yes. Dark gray...”
He laughed. “Dark gray. I’m a guy, remember?”
I smiled devilishly. “Yes, yes, I do.”
He blushed. “Jess, stop it.”
In a low voice, I said, “Oh, come on. You know you want it. My lips, around your shaft. Up.. Down. Up. down. You’re tied to the bed frame, with my panties. You can’t move...”
“Come on. Stop. I’m getting excited....”
“That’s the idea.”
“Think anyone will notice if we’re missing?” he said, with a smile.
“We have time. Just keep thinking about it.”
“How about instead, I bend you over the bar and start fucking you. In. Out. In. Out. You want to scream, but you can’t...”
Now, it was my turn to blush. “Ad...come on.”
Thankfully, we were saved by Jim and Lisa. “Jesus,” she said, laughing. “What were you two talking about?” She leaned over and gave Lisa a kiss hello.
“Nothing,” we both said. “Work.”
Jim laughed. “I need some of that kind of work.” He stuck his hand out. “How did whatever go?”
“Fine, can’t talk. Even if I could, it’s just another appointment” Adam said. “How’s this?”
“Thrill a minute,” he said. “Whole lot of people I don’t know.” Lisa punched him on the arm. “Hey! Sorry, I’m having a great time.”
“That’s better,” I said. “You’re learning. Like Pavlov’s dogs.”
Adam turned to Lisa. “You look beautiful tonight.”
Lisa smiled. “Thank you for noticing. Jess, you’re training him well.”
He laughed. “I have a mother and a sister. Jess got me broken in. So, how’s everything? Nervous?”
“Not at all. I can’t wait. I’m excited, not nervous.”
“Me too,” said Jim. Everyone looked at him. “What? Then, we get to go on the honeymoon and I don’t have to hear about dresses or shoes or caterers again.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “I saw you talking to Kenny before...are you OK?” Adam grimaced.
“I’m fine,” I laughed. “He may not be. But I am. I have Adam now,” and I gave him a kiss.
Jim smirked. “Get a room, you two.”
“Gladly.”
He turned to Adam. “The Yankees are one up, as I was telling Fifi over there.”
Adam laughed. “Can I pick the uniform?”
“What you two fail to realize is there are two games left. And I have specifically told the band to play ‘Endless Love’ reallllllly slow, so Jim can get the full wonder of me, like he secretly wants.”
He and Adam laughed. “I’ll keep you company when they cart this one off to the looney bin.”
“You were my first love.....” I sang. “You are my......endless.....love.”
Lisa laughed. “I can’t wait until this is over, so I don’t have to listen to either of you.”
We talked about things for a while, when Kenny came over. Jim shot him a ‘don’t be an asshole’ look which he, of course, ignored. I held Adam’s hand.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” he smirked.
Adam stuck out his hand. “Adam Connolly, and you are?”
“Kenny Weinberg.”
Without blinking an eye, Adam said, “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Really?” Kenny looked shocked.
“Yes, you live in Paris, right? Lawyer?”
Kenny was clearly nonplussed. “Uh, yeah...”
“Must be really interesting,” he said happily. “I’ve never lived in another country. Must take a lot of getting used to.” Jim and Lisa were stifling giggles.
“It does...I guess...” Kenny stammered.
“Me, I’m a chiropractor. Not quite like being an international lawyer. But it pays the bills, I always say.” Jim looked like he was going to choke from stifling laughs.
“Sure, um...yeah.” Kenny was clearly getting annoyed. He couldn’t figure out what was going on.
“I guess I should explain,” I interjected. “Adam is my boyfriend. I mean, we’ve been together about a month.”
Lisa pounced. “Together is right. You can’t pull them apart.”
“You don’t mind that I call you my boyfriend, do you sweetie?” I said, ladling on extra sugar.
Adam blushed. “No, I love it.”
Kenny looked disgusted. “You know she’s a guy, right?” Jim looked like he was going to kill him.
Adam, without missing a beat, turned to Lisa and said, “You’re a guy? Wow. I’d never guess. Shouldn’t you be doing this in Massachusetts?” Jim and Lisa burst out laughing.
Jim turned to Lisa and said, “So, THAT’s why you always want the lights out!”
Kenny looked deflated. Adam stared at him. “Yes, I know who Brian is. Some people look inside the package when they get a gift, know what I mean?”
“Whatever,” he mumbled.
Lisa started to say something, and I stopped her. “Don’t be mad at Kenny. Pity him. He just can’t deal with himself. So, he does this. Besides, I have Adam. You’re the gift, sweetie,” I said, and he and I gave each other a deep kiss.
Jim started retching. “OK, that’s enough. No more. Kenny...what is wrong with you?”
“You think this is OK?”
“I think it’s none of your business. You two went out. Then you didn’t. Deal. Don’t deal. But don’t fuck up my fiancee’s party.”
“Jim,” he said. “You don’t understand.”
“I do. We’ve covered this. You don’t like what Brian does. Don’t do it. But, why is it so damn important that you two be on the same page. He doesn’t like you. They’re a couple. Get over it.”
“We’ve been friends a long time, I’d think...”
“What? That I’d take your side? Sorry, not happening. If you two were together and broke up, whatever. Bros before hos. But this is some sort of psychological thing you have. Get some help.” Kenny shook his head, and left.
“Wow, thanks, Jim,” I said. “That was really cool of you to do that. I mean, he’s your friend and all.”
“Please,” he said. “Number 1, that was a dickhead thing to do. Number 2, I like Adam. Number 3, and most important, if I take his side, then you and Lisa would be all pissy and I don’t want pissy maids. Happy help is good help.”
With that, Lisa said, “That’s enough, let’s go say hello to my cousin Stacy. Tell her she looks good. She lost weight.”
“Fat Stacy?” I said.. “Good for her. How much?”
“I don’t know,” Lisa snorted. “Probably three pounds. But we’re all supposed to encourage her. Good bye, you two.”
When they left, I turned to Adam. “Are you OK?”
“With what?”
“With all the Kenny shit.”
“He’s an asshole. I love you. What else is there?”
“I mean, maybe it pointed out things you didn’t want pointed out...”
He looked annoyed. “I told you. I love YOU. Not Jessica. YOU. All of you. I love Brian and Jessica. Don’t get me wrong. I love the way you look tonight in that black dress. And I’m going to love it even more in a ball on the floor of our room, you slut...”
“Adam, come on...please.”
“But nothing that dickhead could ever do would make me love you any less. Although, I still don’t get it. What did you ever see in him?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. All I know is I’m too lucky. I have you.”
“I agree. You are lucky....just kidding, I’m too lucky too. Now, I can’t wait for the 4th. You’re going to wear a pink uniform and 5" heels. And you will wait on me hand and foot. I can get pretty demanding, you know.”
“Stop,” I said, blushing. “I have a secret for you.”
“What?”
“You get the maid’s uniform, even when the Mets win.” With that, he pinched my butt. “Hey!”
“Just practicing, Giselle.”
“Giselle?”
“I like it better. Giselle, get me a drink. Giselle, get me a newspaper. Giselle, service me.”
“Perv. Come on, I have someone I want you to meet.”
“Who?”
“Lisa’s mom.”
“Hurricane Sandy? Do I have to?”
“If you don’t, I’ll be in real trouble.”
We walked over to where she was standing. “Excuse me,” she said to her party. “I have to meet someone.”
We walked a few feet away. “Thank you for rescuing me. My in-law’s friends from Florida. I’ve had enough...so,” she said, looking Adam up and down. “you must be the famous Adam I’ve heard so much about.”
He looked nervous. “Hi, Mrs. Wasserman. I’m Adam Connolly. Mazel tov.”
She smiled. “Mrs. Wasserman is my mother-in-law, may she rest in something resembling peace. Call me Sandy.” She turned me. “You’ve dressed him up nice. He’s cute.”
Adam blushed. “So...are you ready for the big day?”
She laughed. “Relax, Adam. I’m fine, thank you. I’ll be glad when this all goes off.”
“I can imagine. My brother said his mother-in-law couldn’t wait.”
“It’s been a lot of work. But enough about that. Bri..Jessica hasn’t told me nearly enough about you. Tell me.”
“Um, what can I say? I’m a chiropractor with my own practice. I’m from Bronxville. I have two brothers and a sister...”
“Do you love Bri...Jessica.”
Adam blushed and took my hand. “Boy, cut to the chase. But, yes, I do.”
“Are you ever going to pull what you pulled before?”
“Sandy,” I said. “Stop!”
“No, I won’t. You’re one of my children.”
Adam gulped. “I screwed up. I know that. I’m the luckiest guy in the world that she took me back. So, no I won’t.”
“Good,” she smiled, “because if you do, you’ll answer to me, understood?”
Adam laughed. “I’ve heard about you. I don’t want that.”
“You’ve heard about me?” She turned to me and said, “What did you say?”
“Nothing...nothing at all. Just how you were like my mom....”
“So are you two next?”
“Sandy! It’s been a month!”
“See? I am just like your mom. Adam, I’m glad to finally meet you. And after this is done, we’re going out, just the three of us. I have,” and she sighed, “family to deal with here. But don’t think you’re off the hook. When we go out, be prepared.”
Adam laughed, “Uh oh. Am I in trouble?”
“Depends,” Sandy laughed. “Now, excuse me.”
When she left, Adam turned to me. “She really loves you.”
I teared up. “I know. I’m lucky.”
“You OK?”
“Yeah. No. I mean, it’s times like this I miss my family. And I realize they’re not coming back, you know.”
“I know. You have me though. And Lisa’s family. And my family will love you.”
“I don’t know....”
“I’ve told you before. If I love you, they will. Besides, my mother would definitely approve of this outfit. You look like a million bucks. Keep wearing skirts and heels and you’ll always be on her good side,” he smiled. “You want to go outside for a while?”
“Yeah, I’d like that. You’re really too good to me. When am I going to wake up from this dream?”
“Never, I hope. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Saturday morning 11:30 AM. The Mets and Yankees had both lost the previous night, leaving the Yankees one game up. Now I was getting nervous. Anyway, we were all in Lisa’s suite. The hair and make-up people were there. Sandy was there. Jennifer was there. Lisa’s grandmother was there. Except Allison. Allison was not there.
“Where the hell is she?” Lisa screamed. “I told you she’d pull this!”
“Calm down, Lisa,” he mother said. “It’s six hours.”
“That is not the point! She has one thing to do and she can’t even do it. She is a bitch. She’s doing this on purpose.”
“Lisa, calm down,” said her grandmother. “It’s your wedding day.”
“I’m aware of that, Nana!”
“Lisa, apologize.”
“Sorry, Nana. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just...she can’t even do this. But I’m sorry.”
Her grandmother smiled and turned to Sandy, “Like a repeat of your wedding day.”
Sandy laughed. “That’s different. That was Helene. Lisa, relax, I called her. She’ll be here.”
“Why does she have to do this? And don’t tell me it’s difficult on her.”
“I’ll deal with her. Don’t worry. You relax.”
“Lise,” I said, “Can I get you something? Water? Soda? Champagne? Nembutal?”
“Shut up. I’m actually surprised to see you here this early,” she laughed.
I blushed. “Lise, come on....”
“At least I don’t have to worry about you getting knocked up.”
“True. But, to answer your question, I got enough rest. Not too much. Just enough.”
“Are you OK with today? Kenny and all?”
“I wish everyone would stop asking me that. I feel nothing for him. Scratch that. I feel pity. He was a bad date. That’s it. Like I told Jen, he’s just someone walking with me. It’s five minutes. Five minutes when all eyes will be on me, because I will be just so stunning...”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Girly girl, girly girl, girly girl.”
“Don’t hate. Appreciate.”
“I’m serious. Look at you. We’re getting ready and you’re wearing a dress. I’m in sweats. Jen is in sweats. And you, Miss Jessica, are dressed in, I’m sorry, what did you call it, a “really cute pink sundress” and heels. You are the girliest girl I know.”
“Adam likes me in dresses. And I....never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. He likes me in dresses.” I started to tear up.
“Mom, Nana, Jen, could you guys go outside for a minute?”
“They don’t have to.”
“Come on everyone,” Sandy said. “Let’s give them a minute.”
They shut the door. “Jess, what’s wrong?”
“That’s it. Jess. That’s what’s wrong,” I sobbed.
“I’m sorry. I was just kidding with you. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know. It’s me. I think it all just backed up on me. I’m sorry. This is your wedding day. You should be happy. Or nervous. Or pissed at Crunchy. Not worried about me.”
“Please. Brian. Talk to me.”
“You’ll think it’s stupid.”
“No, I won’t. Try me.”
“When you said that, it brought back something I said to Julia.”
“Oh jeez.”
“Stop. It’s just...I can’t.”
“Brian Andrew Rosen, talk!”
“I feel like...like...I’m going through puberty again.”
“Excuse me?”
“Like puberty. Except now I’m a girl. I told Julia this, it’s like I like pretty things and I have a crush and....”
“Are you getting your period? This is a magical time in every young girl’s life....”
“Thanks a hell of a lot.”
“I was kidding. So, you like dresses. They can be fun. And Adam likes you in them. Why wouldn’t he? You’re gorgeous.”
“That’s just it. I know rationally that he knows who I am. I just wonder does he really or does he really want Jessica and one day he’ll wake up and I’ll be alone and Kenny will be right...”
“Stop it right now, young lady! Sorry, I just had to say that. Number 1, I’ve heard Adam call you Brian as well as Jessica, so he knows who you are. Although mostly he calls you sweetie and cutie, which Jim and I want to tell you is just plain nauseating. But anyway, he loves you. Nana saw it too. She said that he loves you absolutely. So don’t worry about that. And Kenny, I won’t even discuss that. He’s not right.”
“Even still, I’m just really scared. I’m sorry to do this to you today. I’m just freaking out. The girly girl thing hit too close to home. I need to stop this before I have a breakdown...”
“Bri, I was kidding. I won’t say it again. You’re my best friend. Please!”
“I’m sorry...I really am...I need to go take a walk...”
“Bri, please don’t go.”
“Lise, I just...I....uh,” and with that I left.
I ran down to my room. I wanted Adam to be there. But he was seeing patients this morning. He didn’t want to, in case he said, “you need something.” He was too good. But I told him that he’d be bored hanging around and he should go to work. Now, I regretted it. I needed him more than ever.
I took off the dress, and put on a t-shirt and shorts. I stared at the mirror. I felt like I did that first night. I had no idea who I was. I looked like Jessica. Even in a t-shirt and shorts, I looked like a girly girl. I just stared and cried. I had lost who I was. I may not have been much as Brian, but I knew who I was. Now I was just some circus freak. “Ladies and Gentlemen! Come and see the boy who looks and acts like a girl! So real you won’t believe your eyes!” I wasn’t wearing any makeup, but I started scrubbing my face. Like Lady Macbeth, out, out, damned Jessica!
Ten minutes later, I heard a knock. “I don’t need housekeeping...”
“It’s Stanley Lachman.” Lisa’s maternal grandfather. I was in shock.
“Mr. Lachman?”
“Brian, open the door please.”
I opened the door. He walked right past me. “Close the door.”
“Um, what’s going on?”
“You tell me. I’m watching TV with Jim and his friends, when Lisa calls all upset. She says you left the bridal suite and she’s worried about you. That you won’t be part of the wedding.”
“You knew I was in the wedding?”
“You didn’t invent the wheel.”
“Sorry?”
“You weren’t the first fagelah. You won’t be the last.”
“Thanks. But, how did you...I mean...how?”
He laughed. “Do you know why I like you, Brian?”
“Um, no...”
“Because everybody else treats me like a child. They talk about me like I’m not in the room. Does Dad want dinner? What’s Dad doing? Like I’m invisible or a moron or something. But, you don’t. You talk to me about work. About sports. About the market. Thanks for that tip by the way...I made a bundle.”
“Don’t share where you got it. That’s about ten SEC violations. So, I’m not sure where this is going...”
“You act like I shouldn’t have known it was you.”
“I’m still lost.”
“You and Lisa have been friends since you started college. You’re always there. I see you more than Allison, with the spotted owls. Then, she’s getting married and you’re no where to be seen. And, lo and behold, here’s her new best friend Jessica. It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes.”
“Oh god. Who else figured me out?”
“Relax, Brian. If I didn’t know it was you, I wouldn’t guess. But, I know the whole story. Actually, my nephew Ronnie said ‘who’s the new girl? What I could do with her...”
I rolled my eyes. “Ronnie. No, I don’t think so. Sorry, Mr. Lachman, I didn’t mean...”
He laughed. “Like I said before, you weren’t the first fagelah. You won’t be the last. And you’re right, he’s a putz. I don’t care if you wear a dress. You like it? Go ahead, you look good. But, Ronnie, that’s unforgivable.”
“I’m sorry to have put everyone through this.”
“You’re a good person, Brian. You want to dress like a girl, go ahead. It’s your life...you look surprised.”
“I just didn’t expect...”
“What, that I’d say that? I knew you were gay from the first time I met you. That’s not important to me. You’re a good person. You’re a good friend to my Lisa. That’s what counts. You want to sleep with men, go ahead. Just not Ronnie. Or Stephen (Lisa’s uncle). You should have standards.”
I smiled. “I’m seeing someone.”
“I saw. I heard. Where is he?”
“Work. I told him to go.”
“I want to meet him. Make sure he’s OK.”
“Thanks. You will tonight.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“I’m still a little unsure.”
“About what? You go upstairs. You get dressed. You go to the party. You dance. You drink. You go home. Everything else, as the rabbis say, is commentary.”
“I’m just worried...”
“No one knows, Brian. I know. Nana knows. No one else. And if they do, so what? That’s them, not you. Now,” and he laughed, “be a man and put on your dress.”
I laughed. “Can I ask something else?”
“What?”
“How did you end up down here?”
“Well, Lisa calls Jim and can’t breath, she’s crying so hard...”
“Oh boy...”
“Oh boy is right. Anyway, he figures out that you left, and he’s going to come down....by the way, that Kenny made some comment...you two have something?”
“We did. Don’t ask.”
“I won’t. Don’t do it again. He’s a schmuck. Anyway, Jim said he would come down. I told him I would.”
“That must’ve been something.”
“He looked shocked. I told him I knew and would take care of it. He’d give you some pep talk. You don’t need a pep talk. You need sense. And that, despite what my wife thinks, is where I came in. So what are you going to do?”
“Go upstairs and put on my dress, I guess.”
“Good boy. You’re a mensch, Brian.”
“So are you.”
“Don’t let that get around. Let’s go. Any tips for me?”
I laughed. “One day, I’ll get caught and look at me. How long do you think I’d survive in jail? Anyway, I’ll have friends and family shares on a deal coming up. We’ll see what I can do.”
We went to the bridal suite. Mr. Lachman knocked, “Lisa, come to the door. I have a surprise.”
Lisa opened the door. Her eyes were swollen and puffy. “Bri,” and then she hugged me. “I’m so sorry.”
I started to cry too. “No, I am.”
“I’m going back downstairs. Maybe I’ll take a raft from all the tears,” her grandfather said, in mock exasperation.
“Thanks, Mr. Lachman.”
“Stanley. Sixteen years. Stanley. Or Grandpa. Not Mr. Lachman.” Then, he walked away.
We walked into the bedroom and Lisa closed the door.
“Are you sure you’re OK?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“I mean, really sure. I don’t want you to do this if you’re not 100%.”
“I am. Besides, what would you do without me?”
“Throw out Kenny. On second thought...but seriously, are you OK? I won’t make anymore girly girl comments.”
“It’s OK. I shouldn’t have freaked out like I did. It was uncalled for.”
“You got scared. Don’t apologize for that.” She looked in the mirror. “Apologize for the fact that my eyes look awful because of you.”
“Sorry, we can take care of that. I have some eye stuff in my makeup bag.”
“Your make up bag? You are such the girly girl. Poor Adam.”
“Ha ha. I learned from the best. I’m sorry, Lise. For everything.”
“Don’t be. I made this mess. If you stopped after tonight, I’d understand.”
“No.”
“No what?”
“I’m not stopping. I told Adam and I’ll tell you. I like this part of me. I like Brian too, don’t get me wrong. But you know what, I like dresses and heels and putting on make up. And I like sports too. And if someone else doesn’t, that’s them, not me. I’m me.”
“How ABC Afterschool Special of you,” she said drily.
“Bitch,” I smiled
“I’m serious. I’m glad you’re happy. I like having both of you around. More clothes for me. On that front, can I borrow the sundress for the honeymoon?”
“Will it fit you?”
She threw a pillow at my head. “You’re right. I might have to have it taken in.” Then we laughed and hugged.
“Now, let’s get you ready,” I said. “This is your day.”
______________________________________________________________________________
The wedding ceremony went off without a hitch. Lisa looked, cliched as it is, radiant. Everyone gasped. I too looked gorgeous. The dress showed off my figure perfectly and, as Adam said, made my legs look ‘more phenomenal, if that was possible.’ Kenny was Kenny.
“You look gorgeous,” he said with a sneer.
“Thank you,” I said, ignoring his tone. “That tux looks good on you. Are vests still in?”
“That was bitchy. But what should I expect from you?”
“Kenny, look. This is not about you and me. It’s about Lisa. And, tangentially, Jim. You don’t have to like me. Or respect me. Or even talk to me. You have to walk down an aisle with me. That’s it. After the ceremony, you don’t have to say another word to me ever again. Something we both can appreciate, I’m sure. But, for now, all you have to do is hold my arm and try not to trip. That’s it. OK?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He said, spitting out his words. “I’ll be fine.” We walked down the aisle uneventfully.
The Yankees lost that afternoon, leaving the Mets a half-game up. The Mets had a game at 5:00 PM. I was truly on pins and needles awaiting the outcome.
At 8 PM, Adam and I were sitting at our table when Jim came over, and held out his hand.
“Mind if I dance wif you date?” he said to Adam, imitating the Dexter Lake Club Scene in Animal House.
“Excuse me?” I said.
“Mets just won.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Tie goes to the runner, you know that. I made the bet. So, here goes.”
“Jim...”
“Adam, tell your girlfriend here it’s rude to insult the groom on his wedding day.”
Adam laughed. “He seems serious. You better go.”
The band finished the song. Jim pointed at the bandleader, who announced, “And, now, our groom has made a special request. He wants to dance with the beautiful Jessica Rosen,” and with that ‘Endless Love’ began playing.
I turned beet red. “Jim, I’m going to kill you.” I turned around and saw Lisa and Adam doubled over in laughter.
“You asked for it,” he said, with a huge grin. “Come on.”
We started to dance. “You didn’t have to do this, Jim.”
“Bet’s a bet.”
“I’m serious. I would never have held you to it.”
“I know. I would have held you though.”
“I know. Believe me I know.”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For everything. You went above and beyond, you know?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You did. You didn’t have to do this. But you did. You’d do anything for Lisa. I really appreciate that. I love her, but she can be...difficult.”
“That’s an understatement,” I laughed.
“Relay that and die,” he said. “Anyway, I know this has been hard on you and I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I like you, by the way.”
“Huh?”
“Not that way, you deluded butt biter,” he laughed. “I mean, you’re a good...person. I don’t know why you never thought I liked you.”
“I never said that.”
“Yeah, you did. Lise told me.”
“Sorry, I like you too. You’ve been way too cool during all of this. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. Remember, I’m an onion...”
“Parfait.” We both laughed.
“Anyway, you and Adam want to watch a game some time, that’s cool. Or just we can. Unless that dress has made you like Lisa.”
“Shut up. Seriously, thanks.”
“You too. I like Adam, by the way. He’s a good guy. Don’t fuck it up.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. He likes you too.”
“The four of us need to hang out more. He’s better than the other guys Lisa’s friends hang around with.”
The song was coming to its climax. “Hey,” he said, with a grin, “want to piss off Kenny?”
“Gladly, how?”
“Follow my lead.” And with that, he spun me out, then back and then he dipped me.
{The End}
Authors’ Note:
The Yankees and Mets were really tied on June 25, 2005.
All restaurants named herein are real. Calle Ocho is not worth it. Cabana is.
Dress for Success is a real organization that gives poor women clothes for interviews. It has a male equivalent, Career Gear. Please give. It’s a hand up to someone in need.
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