I wrinkled my brow, trying to imagine us on the stage, myself singing off key to a Taylor Swift song, then laughing and strolling down the street, feeling as if everything was right in the world. “I’m sorry, I… faintly remember karaoke, I think, but after that…”
“It’s okay.” She smiled through her tears. “I’ve tried to forget, but I remembereverything. I was complaining about Ben and how we’d broken up because he was a closeted transphobe—like, why was he with me if it was such a big issue for him? Anyway, I made a drunken joke about having more balls than he did.”
“He wasn’t good enough for you,” I cut in.
“Well,theyheard. I didn’t even know they were there. I guess they were fixing something in the alley… But they heard, and I wished I hadn’t been so cavalier about being—”
“That’s not your fault, you have a right to exist like everyone else. I don’t assault everyone that’s ever made a gay joke—”
“Let me finish, honey,” she said, scooting closer. “That caught their attention, one of them said something about chicks with dicks. I gave them the finger and you tried to put some space between us and them. They wouldn’t shut up, hurling every transphobic insult in existence. It was stupid, sostupid…”
She buried her face in her hand, and it was my turn to comfort her. I wanted to tell her never mind, she didn’t have to relive this, but I needed to know.
Sucking in a ragged breath, she pressed on, “It happened so quickly. They said something you really didn’t like and to this day I have no idea what that was, but one of them shoved you against the brick wall so hard I thought you’d go right through it. But you didn’t back down, told me to run and get help while you glared at them and insulted their fragile masculinity. I didn’t want to leave you, but you yelled at me in a way you never had before. So I did, and I regret it to this day. I’ll always regret leaving you behind.”
“You did the right thing,” I said, cutting through her tears. I was surprised about how level-headed I was about this, but it was as if I was being told a story about someone else’s life. “If you didn’t, they could have killed you. I think I was a substitute for their anger.”
She said nothing for a long while as she wiped the tears from her face with her hand. “I ran into a convenience store a block down, those stupid bells reminding me I had a damn phone before I called 9-1-1. I think I–I was in shock. The guy at the checkout came back with me to help you, but you were on the ground in that dirty alley, blood everywhere, and—I thought you were dead. I should never have left you…”
I tugged on her wrinkled dress, pulling her into my arms, because I needed her closer. Still, I had to protect her, and my own tears started to flow. “Stop blaming yourself, Ronnie. I’d do it all over again to protect you from the assholes of the world. It’s not your fault. Please tell me you believe me.”
She nodded against me, seeming so small and fragile in my arms. I couldn’t help thinking I’d inherited a small part of Jere’s protectiveness. He’d taught me to stand up to bullies. I tried to imagine myself in that moment, throwing insults at their manhood to distract them from Ronnie.Could it be the reason you're so obsessed with what's between a transwoman's legs, is because you are harboring a secret fetish? Or maybe you’re just jealous because they have bigger dicks than yours.I wasn’t big and strong like Jere, so I’d protected the one I loved in the only way I knew how—with sarcastic wit.
“Thank you for telling me, Ronnie,” I mumbled, and sniffled. “I needed to know.”
She sat up straight, her face a lovely mess. “Please, honey, don’t let those miserable human beings ruin your life.”
“I’m trying. And you’re going to promise to not let this misplaced guilt eat you alive. And—” I said before she could speak, tipping my chin up. “You’reneverto talk to that dick, Ben again. Find yourself a real man, young lady, one who makes you feel like you’ll die of happiness whenever you’re with them.”
She smiled something beautiful and all at once that reinforced my decision to take the punches for her. A sly smile creased her cheeks as she bit her tongue playfully. “That guy I was dancing with last night?”
“The brother of someone I don’t know?”
She covered her giggle with her hand. “I like him. He gave me his number and… He knows I’m trans.”
“Well, there you go. Get yours.” I rubbed my face with my hands. “And while we’re on the happy train, I want to tell you something.”
“I have something else to tell you too, but you first,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder.
“Well,” I started, unable to keep from grinning like a fool. “It’s a long and complicated story, but the TLDR version is Jere and I are together. We’re an item.”
“What!” She gasped and sat up. “I thought you said he was straight?”
“I think I convinced myself he was because of reasons, apparently, but I think he is pan, or demi. He asked me not to put labels on everything, so I’m trying not to do that. The thing about Jere is he's pretty honest and says things point blank, they just might sound different to our ears. He's told me if I had a pussy, he'd still be into me. Oh, but I like the label he gave himself—Danny-sexual.”
“Oh my gosh, that's totally adorable and sweet,” she sighed with second-hand infatuation. “I’m so happy for you, Danny. I mean it.”
“Yeah,” I said on a contented sigh. “I am happy. I mean, I know things aren’t going to be perfect, and I’m going to have bad days, but, somehow, we found our way to each other. He’s it for me, Ronnie,the oneand I know in my heart, I’ll never love anyone as much as I love him.”
She started sobbing again and I buried my face in her bosom with a manic laugh. We sat on the front porch for a long while, holding hands and watching the world go by. A squirrel scampered across the lawn and the honeysuckle bush I’d planted years ago was still in full bloom, a butterfly hanging off one of the orange flowers. My mother came out to sit with us for a while, a weight visibly lifting from her shoulders when she saw the abject joy on my face. I couldn’t ever imagine being a parent and agonizing over whether my child was suffering. We talked lightly about plans for the autumn and maybe going to a Halloween party, and I teased my mother about hiding the fact she was an amazing dancer.
“Danny,” Ronnie started when my mom went inside, smiling at something off in the distance. “I’ve decided I'm ready to legally change my name. How does Veronica Patterson sound?”
“It sounds perfect, Ronnie,” I said, realizing the day had turned out as such too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jere
