Authors: Kristin Elizabeth Clark
everyone's just hangin' around.
I can tell it's a lot for this kid to take in.
Looks like he wants to run
so I tell the other intern, Lisa,
to take the front desk,
and I challenge him to Mario Kart.
I figured him for a gamer
and I'm right.
Kid hesitates, then,
                “I guess.”
We wait for Tiffany and Eric
to finish their DDR
so we can have a turn
with the GameCube,
and we talk game talk.
Halo and Call of Duty,
Gears of War, Assassin's Creed,
Dead Space, BioShock.
And we talk platforms.
Xbox 360, PlayStation 3,
Wii. And PC games Warcraft,
Half-Life, Command
&
Conquer.
“
You're
a gamer?” he asks.
Emphasis on “You're.”
I'm not the
stereotype PoPo,
girls can be gamers, too
but I get he has no
idea I'm trans.
“My little brother used to beat meâ
then I spent about
four months laid up and
I got really good.”
Quirky smile from him.
Almost smart-ass?
                    “Really good, huh?”
I know a challenge when I hear one.
“It's so on.”
Eric finishes his dance
and steps aside.
I set up Mario Kart and
away we go.
The kid picks Yoshi
so I take Princess Peach
and I beat him two out of three.
We're done and
just kind of chatting
when I mention
coming to Willows
around his age,
looking for a healthy
trans community.
His eyes get wide,
then he nods,
glances at the other kids.
Shifty, like
he's not sure
about this place.
                    “I have to get home,”
                    he says.
I walk him to the door.
“Come back and see us anytime.”
                    “Maybe,” he says,
                    hand on the doorknob.
And I can tell he's never comin' back.
And I don't know if it's 'cause
he makes me think of Frankie
or if it's God tellin' me
this kid needs a friend.
We're not supposed to have private
contact with the kids at the center
and I do something I
wouldn't
if I didn't know sure as shit
Brendan's never gonna be a client here.
“Okay thenâ
you still have my number?”
He looks surprised,
even more nervous,
and I realize the kid
didn't think I would
remember him.
“Tell you what.”
I grab paper,
write down my info.
“Call me when the next
Mordock's Giant comes out.
I'll play you.”
Of course I want to
help him if he needs it
but also, between school, work, interning
âbeing all-around productive Angelâ
I forgot how much
I love gaming.
(BRENDAN)
Q
Is for Question
(Holy crap!)
Angel is transgender!
She's feminine and beautiful
and easy to talk to.
And there's so much I want to askâ
like how do you know what's right?
What if you aren't always sure?
What if there are days when being a guy
only kind of tortures you?
And you just don't see yourself
as a supergirly girl?
(And how did you beat level five
in Machines at War?)
What does it mean that even if this body
doesn't feel like the right one,
high heels and dresses
aren't really for you either?
What if sometimes you feel like
you're pretending to be male but
you don't want to feel like
you're pretending to be female?
(Are you alone in this?)
And how can you keep
who you really are from
hurting your girlfriend?
Funny Timing That Boys' Night Out
falls on the day
I visit an LGBTQ center.
It starts with a two-hour drive
to Honda Center in Anaheim.
Just me and Claude the Interloper,
who wants to get sushi on the way
even though I try to convince him
that getting crappy food
at the arena
is part of the hockey experience.
          “Your coach won't be too happy
          if you don't make weight.”
Like he knows anything about it.
I know to the ounce what I weigh.
          “Sashimi's pure protein, on
          the other hand,” he says.
As if it's news to me.
          “Also, this will give us
          more guy time.”
Exactly.
I study the menu like I care.
Order hot tea
so I'll have something to drink
while Claude the Interloper has sake.
          “How's the girlfriend?”
“Fine.”
          “She seems nice.”
“Yep.”
          “Which school is your first choice?”
“No idea.”
          “How's the new semester?”
“Fine, I guess.”
It feels like an awkward date.
I'm not trying to be difficultâ
I just have no idea what to say to him.
At least in the car we could listen to
the radio.
Claude falls quiet. Thenâ
          “You still miss your dad.”
I wasn't expecting this.
Tea burns my tongue.
          “To a certain extent that's normal.
          But at some point
          you have to man up.
          Accept it, and don't be a baby.”
He sips his sake like he's said
nothing offensive.
          “I know you didn't choose me
          but I'm here for you, like a dad.”
I don't need a father.
My blood bubbles low but no way
am I letting him see that.
I order four of the most
expensive rolls on the menu.
When we leave for the arena
I've tasted two. In silence.
And refused to let the waitress
wrap the rest to take home.
An asshole, wasteful move
that's rewarded by a
tightening in the jaw
of the Interloper.
(Vanessa)
Before Bed
I break down
and call Brendan
(
Get out of my head,
Grand-maman
)
ask about the hockey game and â¦
“I thought maybe we
could hang out tomorrow?”
            “It's Tuesday,” he says.
He babysits while his parents
are at rehearsal.
“I could stop by.”
I'm careful not to whine
that we've not hung out in a week.
            “I have to do a bunch of stuff.”
It feels like a slap. I reactâ
“There's something
you're not
telling me.”
Once the words are
out, I hold my breath.
            This is it.
For some reason
I check the clock
on my nightstand.
11:55. My heart beats,
sad, muffled.
11:56.
                            “I love you,” he says.
I'm waiting for the “but.”
                            “I'm just having a
                            crappy time right now.”
So am I, I want to tell him.
                            “And I can't talk about it.”
There doesn't seem
to be room
for more than
one person's problems
in our Nation of Two.
More silence â¦
Finally,
                          “I have to go.”
                          His voice drops.
                          “I DO love you.”
We hang up.
At least I didn't beg.
(BRENDAN)
Tuesday After Practice
I buy Mordock's Giant.
Courtney's in bed,
Mom and the Interloper are gone,
and Angel comes over.   Â
S h e
sounded happy when I called,
and through the guilt of
blowing off Vanessa, I'm glad.
Hanging with
Angel is greatâit   Â
d o e s n' t
feel weird to sit in
the family room
playing games.
I'm so completely
comfortable I forget
she's not Andy and when
she takes an easy point
I give her a   Â
p u s h
.
She laughs.
Even soâ
I don't tell her
for real
what's up with   Â
m e
.
We take a break
from Mordock, grab food,
talk about nothing some more.
She checks out   Â
m y
RPGs, pulls Renegade Road
from the shelf and
for a minute   Â
g u i l t
crashes the party.
            “You like this one?”
The cover shows a
bashed-in storefront window
and the burnt   Â
r e m a i n s
of a cop car.
“Nah,” I tell her,
the back of my neck hot
remembering
that window    that night    that word.
I take it from her
stick it at the back
where it'll be   Â
h i d d e n
behind other games.
The rest of the night
is good though,
and when she leaves
I go up to my closet.
Heeding the Call
of the forbidden.
Wearing the bra feels
more natural nowâ
my body right
my soul at home.
And I let go of worry
for a few minutes.
The dread of upcoming
wrestling matches.
The nagging feeling
I won't get into any schools.
I relax as Larissa
in a way I can't as Brendan.
(Is that schizophrenic?)
I'm a little trans
but I think I can
keep it under control.
Hope licks away
at the rough spots.
Living That Part in Secret
And being Brendan-the-guy
in everyday life.
Mondays,
get set and go days.
Homework planning
for the week.
He's a studious guy.
Tuesdays,
Angel game days.
Parents out
Court in bed
play and talk and eat.
She brings up Willows.
Brendan-the-everyday-guy
changes the subject.
Wednesdays,
wrestling-match days
home or away
slick, sweaty,
furious, fast,
he wins more often now.
Thursdays,
family “together” days
means he's captive in the living room
while SpongeBob reruns loop.
Fridays,
Vanessa days
Mono Cove
salty sweet
tender taste.
Just a regular guy and his girl.
Saturdays,
chore days
mowing, weeding;
the Interloper
calls him “man.”
Sundays,
Andy days
too-much-girlfriend-Lindy detail:
            “Her tit fills my palm perfectly.”
And Brendan-the-everyday-guy grunts
the way he's supposed to.
He goes to school,
hangs with Vanessa,
sits down at the table
with his family,
reads bedtime stories
to his sister,
and dreams of the
freedom
that's his
at night
                      alone.
(Angel)
Thank You, God, for Everything