Choir Boy (24 page)

“This is all weird.” But the idea of going to high school as a girl fascinated Berry. Maybe it was just the idea of being in the girls’ locker room when they all undressed. Or maybe Berry liked the idea of a new life. He couldn’t imagine high school anyway. The little he’d heard so far sounded like a non-stop rave of hurt—worse than Orlac, if that were possible. “I don’t know. Maybe life would be better as a girl,” Berry said slowly. “Maybe it’d be easier to get girls as a girl. Maybe I’d be under less pressure to get girls, too. Maybe it could be fun.”

Judy seemed relieved to hear something positive from Berry. She started clearing some of the living room debris, making piles of records and books.

“Just explain something,” Berry said. “You haven’t taken an interest, a real interest, in me since bed-wetting. Why now? Why this?”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been kind of absent.”

“Understatement. ”

“I left it up to your dad, and maybe expected too much from him. You’re obviously a special person, Beck ... I mean Berry.” “That makes me sound like a cerebral palsy kid doing the fifty yard freestyle. I’m serious. Lately everybody wants to help me. Now you. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know about the others.” Judy thought. “But you’re ... I already said special, right? I don’t know what to say. You seem to want this a lot. You went to all this trouble, the hormones, the hiding. Okay, there is something else. You’re such a sweet kid. Until today, you’ve never raised your voice except to sing. I always thought you’d have been a lovely girl. And you’re at that age when sweet boys turn into brutes. I’d love to see that not happen to you.”

Judy took Berry shopping. “I have so much to share with you. I wish I’d been there for your makeover. Do you curl your hair? I bet curlers would do miracles.”

Berry turned sullen. He stopped paying attention to his mom and stared out the window at all the people and dogs on the late Saturday afternoon.

Judy bought Berry a couple of blouses and a few shirts, plus a few more bras and some panties. “I don’t know if I’ll wear this stuff,” he said.

“Well, you can’t wear what you don’t have.”

They didn’t go to the big mall Berry had visited with Lisa. Instead, they went to the big outlet mall across town, where the irregular and discarded ended up. Then Judy took him to a shoe store to find some cute sandals or platforms. “I just don’t know why this can’t wait two weeks,” Berry grouched. Judy shrugged and handed Berry a pair of Mary Janes to try on.

Back at the apartment, Marco stalked back and forth. “I was your active parent.” He jabbed a finger at Berry. “I taught you everything.” Judy didn’t speak, just stood with her arms folded. She definitely looked as though she’d won some unspoken war, one she’d never expected a shot at. Judy went and cooked nut cutlets. Marco walked closer to Berry. “Please don’t hit me again,” Berry said.

“I’m not going to hit you. What kind of monster do you think—you’re the monster, you know—I always tell my investment clients and spiritual disciples to beware the false path, the disguised ogre. But I never thought.”

Berry ate as fast as possible. Then he went to his room and shut himself in. He tried masturbating but couldn’t get hard. That squicked him. They’d mentioned that side effect when he’d started the pills, but it hadn’t sunk in, maybe because Berry hadn’t had so many erections before that. He stared at the Kings College poster but nothing happened. He zipped up, went out and found Marco.

“Dad, I need your help. You’re the only one who understands. I’m not a girl, you know. Please write a note to Mr. Allen telling him that and saying I can go back to choir.” Marco didn’t look up. “If I do that, you’ll drop all this? Stop taking those things?”

“I need the pills. Some of them, anyway. For my voice.” Marco didn’t answer. Finally, Berry’s dad got up and walked away.

“I should stop the female hormones and just take the pills that kill testosterone,” Berry told Lisa on the phone. “That way I lose the breasts and stay a boy. The only problem with that is getting more pills once my prescription runs out next week. They won’t prescribe unless I’m a wannabe girl.”

“It’s too bad,” Lisa said. “You look so cute the way you are. But maybe you can get the pills you want off the Internet.” “Time’s not on my side,” Berry said. “If I stop the estrogen, I don’t know how soon it’d be obvious. And I felt something weirdly awesome when I was all done up last night. It’s nice having my mom pay attention to me, and you, and Anna Conventional. You’ve been really great. I feel important, sort of like a foreign dignitary only with fewer sashes and more fuzzies. I feel awesome when you guys girl me up and stuff.”

“See? You could get to like this.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s like I have two voices in my head all the time. One says, ‘Wash me throughly from my wickedness,’ like the anthem, and I imagine myself all clean and pretty like a girl. The other just says ‘False!’ over and over again.”

“Take your time,” Lisa said. “Make up your mind at your own pace. But come to church. And hey, I wanna see your new irregular clothes.”

“I can’t go to church. No note.”

“Come with my mom and me. Just please come as a girl, or my mom’s brain’ll melt.”

“I’ll come as a boy, then meet you and your mom afterwards at the pizza joint across the street dressed as a girl. She won’t see me in the boy stuff. Okay?”

• • •

“Then Job answered the Lord: ‘I know that thou canst do all things, and that no purpose of thine can be thwarted. “Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?” Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.’” (Job 42:1-6, 10-17)

Berry hid from the choir as they marched in. They sounded good, but Berry heard something wack in the hymn, a trick of the throat as the melody passed from mid-to-upper treble. Finally they reached the stalls and he didn’t have to crouch in his pew any longer. He watched them giggle, put on beatific faces, then lapse back into giggles. The blessing mask resumed, then slipped again. He’d never realized how glaring it was when the choir goofed off.

Then the choir settled. Canon Moosehead stepped up and blessed the congregation. He preened for the first time since Easter. He waved hands above the congregation as if parting a sea and intoned that the gifts of God were for the people of God. He didn’t twitch or stammer or ramble about Jung or try to shield his crotch behind a rail.

The anthem by Tomas Luis de Victoria sounded polished, but with the same cracks Berry had heard earlier. Even as he dissected the performance, Berry started to cry. Every lilt, every clear high note sliced Berry’s breast. He soaked his linen shirt.

Berry waited for the kind of disaster that made church fascinating and fun to gossip about afterwards. But, instead, the service went smooth. Maybe the Dean and the Canon had cracked down in the wake of Bonergate. Even Sandy, the kid-loving Verger, was on his best behavior. Canon Moosehead gave a sane sermon about the healing of the blind man in the reading from Mark’s gospel. He dwelled on the idea the beggar’s own faith had healed him and managed to turn that into a comment on the Hungry Souls soup kitchen. “Sometimes the greatest charity is to put limits on charity, so people may heal themselves.”

Then the offertory, then the Eucharist. Berry stayed hunched in his pew through the wafers and wine, then ducked out as soon as the recessional hymn started. He wished he could say hi to Wilson and the others.

Instead, he went to the pizza place and got a soda. He got the bathroom key and locked himself in the boys’ room.

The bandages unwrapped in moments (Berry had practice) and then he slipped on a bra and a red scoop-neck blouse from the remainder store. He didn’t bother to change his slacks or shoes.

He came out of the bathroom and slurped his soda until it made ice noises. He wondered if he should get a pizza slice or wait to eat with Lisa.

“Fucking insane! I heard it but I didn’t believe.” Teddy stood in the door of the pizza place. He stared at Berry’s chest. “Boy got a rack. Fucking weird. What is that? You a C cup yet? How could you do this to us? You were a star, now you’re one of the people too strange for us to pray for by name.”

“I did it for the choir,” Berry said. “Ask Wilson.”

“Wilson says you’re a faggot.”

“That’s not true. I’m not anything. I just wanted to save my voice.” Berry wondered where Wilson was.

Teddy grabbed Berry’s blouse-scruff and dragged him out of the pizza place and onto the sidewalk. Marc and Randy came and watched. “Look at the fag with jugs. God damn,” Teddy said. “I can’t believe this. We almost hung out with you. Now look at you!” Teddy kicked the back of Berry’s legs and he fell onto his hands and knees. “Cock sucker,” Teddy said. “No wonder you hit the high notes we couldn’t get.”

“Better ask somebody,” Randy said.

“It’s twelve hours too early for the freak show,” Teddy said. His voice had a new gruffness. He lifted Berry and threw him against a lamp post. “Maybe if you were less pretty, you’d be smarter.”

“Your voice,” Berry wheezed. “It’s changing.” He covered his face with both arms and pulled his knees up. His ribs stung and his face felt raw all over again.

“All our voices,” Marc said. “Plus Wilson’s.”

“All but you, cocksucker.” Teddy kicked Berry again. “You got no balls, so I guess you won’t care if I kick below the belt.”

“Excuse me,” a voice said. “But what the fuck do you
boys
think you’re doing?” Berry unshielded his face to see Lisa with her arms folded. “Is this a church activity that I missed between the knitting social and the Bible study for the blind?”

Teddy kicked Berry in the shin, then turned to Lisa. “You want everyone to know he’s a friend of yours? I thought you were like popular girl.”

“I don’t care who knows I’m anti-thug. Don’t you boys have a gang war to fight with the Lutherans or something?” “Later, fairy. Later, fag hag.” Teddy led the boys back to church.

“Whew.” Lisa dusted Berry’s outfit. “Too bad. This blouse looks like it kicked booty. Pretty color. I like what it does for your skin. So now I’ve seen two sick things in one day.”

“What was the other one?”

“Canon Moosehead and Maura face-gluing behind the cathedral after services. Tongues, groping, the whole revolting, guacamole-heaped enchilada.”

“No way.”

“Way. On church property. I’d show you, but I bet they’ve got a room by now.”

Berry sighed. “I’ll take your word for it.” He could see the cathedral across the street, quiet except for stragglers and some younger choirboys playing in traffic. Off limits. “My life is over.”

“I have that feeling a lot.”

“I mean it. Over. No hope.”

Lisa hugged Berry. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Mrs. Gartner took Berry and Lisa to lunch at a big sit-down restaurant with a plastic sign that said “The Golden Trough Tours Welcome.” Berry had a plate of home fries and pancakes. Mrs. Gartner and Lisa both tried omelettes. Mrs. Gartner talked about the service after lunch. She praised Canon Moosehead in particular. “He’s so dignified and mature. He understands the difference between charity and being made a fool of.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a fool for Christ,” Berry said.

“Now, that’s referring to all the silly repeat-after-me business in church. We’re supposed to be a good flock, and you never see sheep giving their wool to the other sheep. Anyway, the Canon looks so much happier and more collected than in ages. Maybe he’s found a way to restore the dignity of the church.”

Lisa didn’t say anything. Berry stopped challenging Mrs. Gartner and let her ramble. Berry liked church to be nice and pretty, but didn’t understand what that had to do with the homeless. When Berry tuned out Mrs. Gartner, though, he could only think about all the people he’d hurt, like Maura, Mr. Allen, and his parents, on his way to a goal he could never reach.

“I feel sick,” Berry said. He wasn’t lying.

Mrs. Gartner and Lisa made comforting noises. He went and sat in the girls’ room for a while. He stared at the bathroom stall and read every spider leg scribble on the walls. Josie is a slut. Mara and Lee 4 Eva.

“Hey,” a voice said outside the stall. “You okay?”

“No,” Berry told Lisa.

“Sorry. Look, this is going to work. You’re going to shine a new way.” Berry rocked on the seat and didn’t reply. “Really, you’re going to have a new life with people who care about you,” Lisa wheedled.

Berry flushed the toilet for no reason. He and Lisa went back to the table where Mrs. Gartner talked about righteousness. Berry randomly said, “I’m not sure I’ll ever believe in anything again,” during one of Mrs. Gartner’s brief pauses. “I mean, it’s all just shapes and voices. Nothing means anything.”

Mrs. Gartner looked at Berry as if he’d spoken in tongues.

“Sorry,” Berry said. “Bad day.”

“We all have dark times and doubts,” Mrs. Gartner said. Then she talked about her personal relationship with Jesus.

Back in the Gartners’ car, Lisa and Berry sat in back. “Can we go home, mom?” Lisa asked. “Berry and I want to try on clothes.”

Berry watched city surrender to freeway, and freeway to grass and gas stations. But his eyes saw only Teddy screaming at him for deserting choirboys and boys in general. Then his dad howling. Lisa talked to Berry softly about the clothes they would try on. Berry had brought the stuff his mom had bought him. Lisa murmured about the bottle of perfume hidden under her dresser, the teen fashion mags, the Barbie dolls, and the dolls’ clothes.

When Lisa mentioned magazines, Berry told about Anna

Conventional working for
Teeneurosis,
and more about their night out.

“Wow. Do you remember what they used on your hair?” “Sorry. My head is full of music I’ll never sing again. No room for hairspray.”

When they got to Lisa’s house, they ran upstairs without stopping to talk to Mr. Gartner, who was building a spice rack in the kitchen. “Hi dad,” Lisa called from the top of the stairs. Then they went into Lisa’s room.

Lisa’s room had a big mirror with light bulbs around it and a Barbie house with a dog-sized plastic corvette parked out front. Posters of boy bands and bubblegum girl singers hung where Berry’s wall celebrated choirs. A few school books sat in the corner, but no bookcase supported heaps of literature like the ones in Berry’s and Wilson’s bedrooms. Lisa’s bedspread was pink with white hearts. A heart-shaped throw pillow nestled against her real pillow. She kept her room neat.