Choir Boy (23 page)

Berry found Anna Conventional at his elbow again. They held hands. “Having fun?” Anna Conventional asked.

“I guess so,” Berry said. It seemed he’d aged decades since his parents had dragged him to Dr. Tamarind this morning. Weariness turned to a hatred of everyone around him, even Anna who clutched his hand. Berry had never felt so hostile. It frightened him, more alien than the hose and lipstick he wore. The costume he could try on and discard just as easily. The anger was inside him, a previously unknown organ. Was this what Marco felt like? Or Mr. Allen?

Bar music faded and way louder beats started. A large woman in a tight dress and huge wig got on a small stage in the corner that Berry hadn’t noticed before. She pranced around the stage, cracking wise at the girls who waved dollar bills at her. Then she lip-synched to the song “You’re So Vain” by some ancient songstress Judy used to put on the CD player before Marco “accidentally” broke the speakers. The memory of Marco slapping a hammer down, again and again, into the paper around the speaker’s woofer until it only farted, made Berry wonder what Marco and Judy were doing tonight.

The large lip-syncher finished, her dress stuffed with bills. Another woman got up and mouthed Debbie Gibson. “I don’t understand,” Berry said loudly. “Don’t these people know how to sing?” Maura shushed him.

When they finally left, Berry was exhausted and raw. Maura kept talking about how great it had been and how much everyone had liked/envied/admired Berry. Berry stayed silent, then finally blurted, “Is that all there is?”

“What do you mean? What more do you want? Some people look forward all week to going out and showing off at the Booby Hatch. And for others, it’s where they make the rent.”

“That’s not all there is to transgender life,” Anna put in. “A lot of people don’t go clubbing at all. This is just one subculture.”

“You didn’t like it?” Maura said, hurt.

“It was pretty stupid. I mean they had some nice outfits and stuff. It was just kind of lame and boring. I mean, how can you like places like that after you’ve been to church?” “What’s so great about church?”

“Everything. The music, the costumes—we don’t just move our lips there, we make actual sounds. It’s culture and spiritual stuff and dress-up all rolled into one, and that’s why it’s way cooler than any of that clubbing crap.”

“Perhaps a minority view among teens,” Anna muttered.

“You are such a little bitch!” Maura yelled. “I can’t believe how ungrateful you’re being after we went to all this trouble for you! You’ve had all these opportunities and you just act spoiled and jaded!”

“Go fuck yourself,” Berry hissed.

“Now that sounds like a teenager,” said Anna.

“Oh yeah, the big teen expert,” said Maura. “Why don’t you enlighten us? What would Gwen do?”

“Who the fuck knows. Depending on how much caffeine I get, Gwen would say be yourself, listen to others, or don’t be a brat.”

“I’m just really tired,” Berry said. Then he closed his eyes, and the next thing he knew, Anna Conventional was leading him upstairs to her sofabed.

14.

Berry woke to guilt. He lay tangled in the flannel covers of the rollaway bed. His neck throbbed from the unnatural posture his heels had kept him in all evening and dryness stung his mouth. But much worse was the image of himself as a spoiled debutante mocking Maura’s haunts. He wouldn’t have thought himself capable of being either so lovely or so mean, let alone both at once.

Berry drank scant saliva and vowed never to be in a position to disappoint anyone ever again.

Anna Conventional saw Berry awake and offered coffee, but he took OJ and ibuprofen instead. It was almost noon. When she took his glass to refill it Berry thanked her and mumbled that he wasn’t usually such an asshole.

“Did you lose your bitch cherry last night? Congrats.” “Thanks, I guess.” Berry drank a second glass of OJ. “Any ideas how I get it back?”

“The bitch cherry, once popped, never restores. But you can choose not to exercise those muscles. Anyway, Maura kinda had it coming. She expects too much of people and then flips when they fall short. ”

“What about you?”

“I had fun helping you explore. No pressure.”

“Thanks. Shit, gotta call my parents.”

“Phone’s inside the papier-mache walrus. How are they coping with this?” Anna Conventional waved a hand at Berry’s chest, barely hidden by the T-shirt he’d slept in. “Not sure. They seemed pretty creeped yesterday.”

“Hey, you need a place to crash ...” Anna nodded at the sofabed.

“Thanks. That’s really nice of you.” Berry squinted. “What makes you think I’ll need somewhere to stay?” “Hopefully you won’t. But I don’t think you know how much shit you’re letting yourself in for if you go through with this.”

Berry looked at this cool friend who suddenly wanted to suffocate him with warnings. He almost yelled at her. Then he shook his head. “Thanks. Hope you’re wrong. But thanks.” The phone rang for a long time at Berry’s house. Then he heard an answering machine, a new message in Judy’s voice. It simply mentioned the phone number and said to leave a message. “Hey. Berry. Everything’s fine. Home soon. Bye.” Anna Conventional insisted on taking Berry for waffles with blueberries and syrup. She lent him a nice pair of jeans and a knit top. With his one bra and the heels he’d worn the night before, he looked just like a girl his age. As an afterthought, Anna gave him a dash of foundation, powder, blush, and mascara, just enough to put life on his face. At the brunch place, Berry felt self-conscious, but not as scared as the night before. Femininity started to feel like a second, or maybe third, skin.

By the time Berry got home, he felt soothed, the way he did when performance jitters gave way to confidence. He’d get his parents to sign the note before tomorrow’s services, and be back in business in time for the recording. Once the choir laid tracks there’d be time to decide on girl or boy or what.

On the car ride back to Berry’s place Anna Conventional seemed a little startled that he didn’t live in suburbia with Lisa. “Want me to go up and explain to your parents about last night?” she said.

“Nah,” Berry said. It sounded tempting, but he didn’t want her to see his place. If his neighborhood had disappointed her, what would his apartment do?

“Fine. You’ve got my home and cell phone numbers.” Anna Conventional kissed Berry on both cheeks, then drove off leaving him to climb to the sixth floor alone.

Berry was glad Anna couldn’t see the Sanchez apartment. It took him a while to take it all in. One chair sat on its side. Books and old vinyl records covered much of the floor. A vase had hit one wall, full of water, then fallen and broken. Flowers and shards littered the floor and the wet spot on the wall showed the impact had happened recently. Berry hadn’t seen the place this bad.

Neither parent was home. Nor was there any sign where they’d gone or when they’d be back. He almost called Anna Conventional’s cell phone, but changed his mind. He needed time alone anyway and might need her help way more later. Plus, Berry needed to talk to his parents and get that note for Mr. Allen.

Berry took off the high heels. He felt like he’d just unsnapped the jaws of two poisonous snakes from his insteps.

The television seemed broken again. Berry started to listen to
Choral Fugue State,
but that just made him more anxious. Finally he called Lisa. Her dad didn’t recognize Berry’s voice from their confrontation. He’d heard about Lisa’s friend from church.

“How’s it going?” Berry asked Lisa when she picked up.

“Not good,” Lisa said. “Been swimming.”

“Oh.”

“How are you doing?”

“Not great. Went out last night with Maura.” Berry told Lisa about clubbing.

“I wish you’d let me give you a makeover instead,” Lisa said. Berry wasn’t sure if he wanted another makeover, but he wanted to see Lisa. “Do you want to hang out tomorrow after church?” she asked.

“I don’t know if I’m going to church tomorrow.” Berry explained about the note.

“Well, if you can’t go with the choir, you can go with me. I’ll sneak you in as a girl. Nobody’ll even know you’re there.”

“I don’t know. I . . .” Berry heard door sounds. “Shit. Parents. I’ll call back.”

Berry ran out into the desolate living room/kitchen area. Marco had a bandage on his left hand and stitches under his right eye. Behind him, Judy closed the door and put away keys. Marco wore a T-shirt that said “Old Fart.” He smiled when he saw Berry.

“Son. How’s tricks?” Marco asked.

“That’s not our son. That’s our daughter,” Judy said.

Marco rammed a fist into Berry’s chin. Berry fell on his butt. His jaw thrummed and his sore neck spasmed again.

“That’s our son,” Marco said. “Get up, son. Say howdy to your old man.”

Berry stood up. Marco punched him again. This time on the nose. Berry felt blood dribble into his mouth. He fell like a flag on a pinball table. He landed on something hard, which jabbed an inch from his spine.

“What are you doing?” Judy asked.

“Just roughhousing,” Marco said. Berry tried to get up and Marco split his lip. “With my son.”

Berry stayed on the ground, hugged himself. “Little friendly father-son wrestling,” Marco said. He pounced, bear-hugged Berry’s neck with both arms. Berry cried out. Marco pulled Berry by the throat.

“Stop it!” Judy yelled. “I just got back from patching you up! Let her go!”

Marco let Berry go. Berry huddled against the kitchen table, sobbing despite himself.

“Hey, son,” Marco said. “Your turn. Free shot.”

Berry peered over at his dad, whose arms crossed behind his back. Marco sat on the floor against the wall waiting for Berry to hit him. He beamed. “Pop your pop one. Come on. Kisser or gizzard, your choice.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Marco, leave your daughter alone—”

Marco grabbed Berry’s shirt and hauled him vertical, shoved him hard against the wall. “Hit me, goddamnit! Hit me, you little fucking queer!” His face blocked everything. His dark eyes looked bloodshot and bulged. He smelled of antiseptic, coffee, and stomach acid. “Now, you shit!”

Berry fell forward or lunged, he wasn’t sure which afterward. Either way, his forehead crunched Marco’s face. He felt the impact just above his right eye. It hurt Berry worse than any of Marco’s blows. The sudden sharp pressure above Berry’s eye made him see flashes.

Marco roared and let go of Berry. Berry staggered backwards into the kitchen. He looked up to see Marco, hands on his stitches and agony stretching his mouth. “My son is evil,” Marco said. He turned, one arm gesturing. Berry flattened against the wall, near the trashed chair. “We can’t close our eyes here, he’ll murder us as we sleep. He tried to gouge my eyes out. You saw it.”

Judy said nothing. She and Berry just crouched at opposite ends of the room and waited for Marco to make a move. He raged and raged. Then he paused and looked at his wife and kid. “Not that it matters what I think,” he said. Then he walked down the hall to his and Judy’s bedroom and shut the door.

Berry listened for sounds from his parents’ bedroom, but didn’t hear any. He stayed on the floor, too drained to get up.

“Sorry about that, Becky,” Judy said. “Is Becky okay? Or what should I call you?” Berry looked down at the blood on his shirt. “Your father’s just having a tough adjustment. He seemed fine at first, but he couldn’t let go of the idea all this was a judgment on him somehow.”

“Why didn’t you tell him it wasn’t?” Berry said.

“I didn’t know what to tell him. I mean, you went and left us to absorb this information by ourselves, and we kind of reached our own conclusions. Don’t worry, honey. I’m not mad. I understand you had some things of your own to work out.”

“That’s good. I guess.”

“You know we haven’t been close. Maybe now that you’re my daughter we can be.” Judy acted like she’d been elected student body president. Like Berry had chosen her over Marco.

“I guess. You know, this whole girl thing isn’t in stone, I mean ...”

“We’ll just take it one step at a time.”

“I mean, I don’t really know that I want to be a girl. That’s just what I told people to get the pills so I could keep my upper range.”

“Dr. Tamarind said you were confused.”

“Has he ever actually helped anyone? I know two of his other patients and they’re both insane.”

“I’m sure they were worse before they started seeing him, Becky.”

“Berry. Call me Berry.”

“Okay. It’s kind of a weird girl’s name.”

“It’s kind of unisex.” It hurt Berry’s jaw to talk. “Listen, I really need that note for Mr. Allen.”

“What note?”

“The one that says I can stay in the choir.”

“I thought the choir was boys only.”

Berry explained again. “He just needs a note saying I’m still a boy in spite of . . . everything.”

“But that would be lying.”

“No, it wouldn’t. I’m tired of explaining to people, I’m not a doll to play dress up with and buy accessories for. I want to live my own way. ”

Judy’s student body president face melted. In a moment her face became more liquid than solid. “Oh, Berry ...” She sobbed, violent in-gusts followed by long outward sighs. “Why are you doing this to us? I don’t understand what’s going on. Your father and I were patching things up, and now he’s worse than ever. I can’t play your games right now. Tell me this is all worth it because you’re becoming something beautiful. Fighting to be yourself I can understand, but not all these riddles. Berry, please.”

“Mom. I wish it was that simple. All I need from you right now is that note.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Berry screamed and explained about the big recording date. “After that we can make a quilt together or pick flowers or buy bras. Two weeks. That’s all.”

“I don’t understand. You should go forward, not backward.” Berry screamed again.

“Please don’t wake your father,” Judy said.

“I want to wake him,” Berry said. “Maybe he’ll write me that note.”

“Berry. Look. Look at me. I just want to support you. Do you want me to take you shopping? Do you have enough girls’ things? And then there’s the question of where you’ll go to school once you’re full time. I’ve been reading up on it, see. Maybe you can transition when you go to high school.”