His Fair Lady (10 page)

“What?” Josie asked after what seemed like a long silence.

Mark shook his head. “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess. It’s nothing.”

“Ooookay.” Josie was silent for several moments before she spoke again. “I have a question for you.”

Mark’s gut tensed. “What is it?”

“How come you never told me you went out with Vi?”

Crap.

And there it was, his comeuppance.

He should have known this might happen. If Vi caught even a whiff of anything between him and Josie—and how could she not, given she’d seen them together at the Book and Bean—no way she could resist filling Josie’s head with all kinds of stories about the two of them.

Ah well, there was no putting the cork back in that bottle, he supposed. Better to just come clean with Josie.

“It was a while ago,” Mark said.

“She said you were still together over Christmas break.”

“Maybe she thought we were still together. In reality we started breaking up last summer. Vi just wasn’t—”

Mark stopped. He wasn’t going to trash Vi.

“Vi wasn’t what?”

“I tried to break up and still be friends. It was totally my fault for not being more…”

“Clear?” Josie suggested.

Mark nodded. “Yeah, exactly. I don’t like conflict, so I tried to sort of, you know, ease back. I guess I handled it badly.”

Mark made himself shut up. Her silence and blank expression made him want to keep talking, to justify and explain and argue his case. But no.

Just. Shut. Up.

After a long moment, Josie nodded. “I see.”

But he was sure she didn’t, or not the way he wanted her to anyway.

Mark opened his mouth, but before he could speak Josie looked at her watch. “I have to go or I’ll be late for class.”

“Which way are you going? I’ll walk with you.”

“That’s okay.” She picked up her jacket and slipped it on. “I need some time to…practice my lines.”

“I’ll call you later,” Mark said.

“Sure. Whatever.”

Without another look back, she left the study room, closing the door behind her, and leaving him alone with his uncertainty.

Chapter Seven

“I’m so glad you could come in this afternoon. Will you have a seat?” Kierra Feni closed the door to her office then turned and smiled at Josie.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Josie said. She hung her bag on a straight-back chair in front of the desk. But before she could sit down Dr. Feni stopped her with a gesture.

“Let’s sit over by the window. It’s cozier, and it’s such a pretty day.”

Josie thought the day was sort of gloomy with the low-hanging clouds and chilly wind whipping the nearly bare branches against the window glass. But she followed her advisor to the small conversation grouping by the wide, uncurtained window. They settled in two low-slung chairs that looked like the half-breed offspring of a butterfly patio chair and a beanbag. Weird but oddly comfortable, the impression was artsy-casual and appealed to Josie’s sense of fashion much the way the professor herself did.

Kierra Feni crossed her long legs and folded her hands in her lap. Today she wore a slim, high-neck dress the color of ripe peaches and made of some fuzzy wool that was probably cashmere. On her feet were black suede biker boots with silver buckles and chunky three-inch heels. Josie thought she looked utterly chic and totally pulled together.

Josie sighed. Even on her best day, she doubted she could ever look half as good or exude even a fraction as much confidence.

“Did you come straight from class?” Dr. Feni asked.

“I was in the bookstore, and it was crowded. I’m really sorry.” Feeling awkward and self-conscious, Josie mirrored the other woman’s pose.

“It’s not a problem. Would you like some tea?”

“Oh, no thank you.”

“It’s no trouble. I always have a cup at this time of day.” She rose and crossed to a low credenza in the corner behind her desk.

“Well, then, sure. Tea would be great. I’m freezing.”

Josie watched the tall graceful transwoman as she prepared the tea, filling the pot with bottled water, getting a pretty ceramic teapot and two mugs from a little cupboard in the corner, and filling a tea ball with loose tea before dropping it in the pot. Her movements were fluid and smooth, like a dancer, and despite her height—over six feet—there was nothing clumsy or awkward about her. And certainly nothing that could in the least be called masculine.

God, she so wanted to be Kierra Feni when she grew up.

It was only a few minutes before they were once more settled by the window, steaming mugs of tea on a small table between them. The fragrance of jasmine wafted from the cups, the radiator clanked and hissed quietly, and the wind whispered and sighed outside the window.

It was cozy, Josie thought and reached for her tea.

“So, Josie, tell me how things are going for you so far this semester.” The professor lifted her cup and blew the steam from the surface. She sipped, then set the cup down and once more folded her hands.

“Fine,” Josie said. Then, because she knew more was wanted, “My classes are going well. I’m having a great time in the show and…”

She racked her brain trying to think of something else to say. Of course there were about a million things she wanted to ask the older woman. After all, this teacher was the reason she’d chosen to come to this school.

How long have you been living as a female?

Did your parents let you wear dresses to school?

How did the other kids treat you?

Did you have friends?

Do you have a boyfriend?

Was it hard getting acting jobs when you were starting out?

Are there still days when it’s just hard?

But of course she couldn’t ask any of those questions, because to ask them would mean revealing herself in ways she wasn’t yet ready to do, not even to Dr. Feni with her soft voice and kind eyes.

“And how are you getting along with the other cast members?”

“Okay. Fine, I guess. They’re all nice. Vi Markowitz and I were running lines for our Shakespeare class just yesterday.”

“Ah, Vi is a very ambitious young actress.” Dr. Feni sipped her tea. “Are you two friends?”

Josie shook her head. “Not really. She’s nice, though, and she’s very talented.”

Dr. Feni nodded. “She is. And she wanted to play Eliza Doolittle quite a lot. I wasn’t sure how things would go between the two of you after I cast you instead of her.”

“Why did you?” Josie clapped a hand to her mouth as if she could push the question back in. But no, it was out there now and no going back. She wanted to sink through the floor.

“Didn’t mean to ask that, did you?” Dr. Feni chuckled.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Feni. That was sort of rude. I didn’t mean—”

“Never mind.” She waved the apology away with a careless gesture. “And please, call me Kierra. All my students do. As I think I told you before, Dr. Feni is my father.”

“Is he in theater too?”

“No, he’s an archaeologist.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Right now he’s on a dig in… I forget where exactly, somewhere in Egypt, I think. But back to the original question.” Kierra leaned forward and rested her elbow on her knee. “You asked why I cast you as Eliza instead of Vi. I cast you because I see something special in you. You’re young, yes. And you don’t have nearly as much training and experience as some of my other students, but there is something about you, Josie Frazier. You sparkle when you’re on stage. Do you know that?”

“No,” Josie whispered.

“Yes,” Kierra said. “It’s true. I saw it when you sang that Etta James ballad for your audition. I see it during rehearsal, not every time because you don’t yet know how to tap into that special place inside you. But now and then, when you’re really feeling it? Honey, you light up the stage like a Fourth of July sparkler.”

The compliment lit Josie from within. She felt the smile break across her face even as heat suffused her cheeks.

“Thank you.”

Kierra raised a hand. “Don’t thank me. You still have a long way to go. Loving the stage isn’t nearly enough to make you a great actress. It isn’t even enough to make you a good actress. You are going to have to work your ass off if you want to be successful in the theater. That is your plan, to be an actress, isn’t it?”

Josie nodded. “My parents think it’s not practical. They’re afraid they’ll be supporting me for the rest of my life.”

“It’s not practical. Majoring in accounting is practical. Don’t make that face,” Kierra said in response to Josie’s eeewww face. “I’m not suggesting you switch your major. I’m saying be prepared for some resistance.”

“Did you have resistance? From your parents, I mean.” It was as close as Josie dared get to the things she really wanted to know.

“Oh yes. In fact, the choices I made that year resulted in my moving out of my parents’ house and getting an apartment with a friend.”

She went on to tell Josie how she started her freshman year as a double-major in anthropology and ancient studies at the school where her father taught. And how when he went on sabbatical, she took the opportunity to try out for that semester’s production of
Sweeney Todd.

“Did you get cast?”

“I did.”

Josie leaned forward. “Who did you play? I bet you were Mrs. Lovett.”

Kierra laughed. “Not that time. I was cast as the beggar woman, the one who makes such a pain in the ass of herself she gets her throat cut for her trouble. But just getting that part was like winning a Tony. I was so excited.”

“I know what you mean. This is my first role, and I can’t wait for opening night.”

“That wasn’t my first role. I had done drama club in high school. But it was my first time playing a woman.”

Josie’s lips formed an O of surprise, but no sound came out.

Kierra continued as if she hadn’t noticed.

“After that I decided to live full time as a woman.”

“Why?” Josie whispered.

“Because it’s who I am, who I’ve always been.”

“No. I mean, why are you telling me all this?”

Kierra didn’t speak for a long moment. She seemed to be considering how to answer.

Please, Josie prayed, though for what she wasn’t sure. If Kierra Feni knew her secret, if she laid it on the table and asked flat-out are you trans, Josie thought she might die. Or maybe…

“I’m telling you so you’ll see we’re not that different.”

“Yes, we are. I’m nothing like you. I can’t ever be like you.” Josie jumped to her feet. She had to get out of there.

She scooped up her bag from the floor and turned. She meant to rush out the door, but her knee bumped the table. The tea cups jittered and danced as the table wobbled, then tipped, sending everything to the floor in a crash.

Josie froze. She stared transfixed at the mess she’d made. A broken china cup lay in a puddle of tea and spilled sugar. The pretty teapot lay on its side, a jagged hole where the spout had been spilling pale tea on the pretty carpet. A few inches away, the other cup stood upright and miraculously whole.

Josie went to her knees and with trembling hands began gathering shards of broken china.

“Josie, don’t do that. You’ll cut yourself.”

As the words left Kierra’s lips, a pain sliced into Josie’s palm. She sucked in her breath. “Ouch.”

The older woman was beside her in an instant. She grasped Josie’s wrist and turned her hand over. Blood welled from a long cut at the base of her thumb.

It was so bright red against her pale skin.

Uh-oh.

Suddenly Josie’s head went all light and floaty. Her gorge rose, and the salad she had for lunch threatened to make a cameo appearance right there in the professor’s office. She quickly closed her eyes. From a long way away she heard Kierra’s voice saying her name.

“Josie! Stay with me now, honey. That’s it. No fainting.”

Josie opened her eyes and tried to focus. “It hurts.”

“I know it. Look at me. We need to check it for glass. But to do that we have to wash it off. Can you stand? Here, let me help you. Lean on me.”

Kierra walked her to the ladies’ room down the hall. Inside she held Josie’s hand under the warm running water, then carefully examined the cut for glass while Josie kept her attention fixed on the paper-towel dispenser.

“It looks like a clean cut, and there doesn’t seem to be any glass in it, thank goodness.” Kierra pressed a pad of paper towels to the cut. Josie winced but said nothing. God knew she’d caused enough trouble today, and she just wanted to get out of there and go home and let Kyle baby her.

“You should have that looked at. It may need stitches.” Kierra tore several more paper towels from the dispenser and began cleaning the blood from the sink.

“It’s okay. Look, the bleeding stopped already.” Cautiously Josie removed the paper towels and held her hand up to the light. A wave of faintness swept over her, then was gone.

“Hmm, I’d feel better if you went to the infirmary. I can drive you. It’s not out of my way.”

She did not want to go to the infirmary. But she couldn’t think how to refuse gracefully, so she lied.

“Actually, I’m meeting my roommate at the library. He’ll drive me over there.”

Kierra gave her a long steady look. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll help you clean up your office, then—”

“Don’t worry about my office.”

“But—”

“It’s just some broken glass and a little spill. I’ll take care of it. You go and get that cut looked at, and I’ll see you later at rehearsal.”

Once the ladies’ room door had closed behind Dr. Feni, Josie leaned against the counter and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Did her advisor know or suspect she was trans? If so, how had she guessed? Was it that old adage, takes one to know one?

Turning to face the mirror, Josie studied her reflection, trying to see what Kierra saw when she looked at her.

She and Kierra were both taller than most women outside the world of fashion, where heights of five-nine and taller were not uncommon. Her shoulders were broad but not overly developed. Lots of girls had wide shoulders, especially swimmers, so that wasn’t overly freakish.