“I don’t see how you can sit here and say these things about yourself.”
Ever since I came out as Lance, I’ve struggled with these types of thoughts about myself and others. Gay relationships often seem off limits to trans people, especially among gay men. I’m not white, I’m a trans man, and I’m gay—the array of conflicting identities can be too much for me at times. I can’t share that burden with Arthur, not here in Avalon, and I would never dream of asking him to move to Lexington just for me. I’m not worth the hassle.
“But I won’t argue with you anymore,” Gwen says. “It’s your journey, and if you’re dead-set on traveling it alone, I won’t force you into doing somethin’ you don’t want. I just wish you’d let him love you once and for all. Oh, I meant to ask you—aren’t Arthur’s kittens cute?”
I scoff. “You mean Yin and Yang?” Just saying those words makes me feel uneasy.
“Yes! I helped him name them!” Gwen beams with pride. “Because they’re black and white!”
I stare at her in disbelief. “You suggested those names? I can’t believe it. Are you that dense?”
“Dense? I don’t get it. What’s wrong with it? They are black and white.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You’ve taken sacred Chinese philosophy and— You know what, just—never mind. I don’t feel like getting into it with you right now.”
Gwen pouts her bottom lip. “This is a ‘I’m white and have done something horribly offensive again’ thing, isn’t it? I’m sorry.”
“I don’t live here anymore,” I say. “I am not going to dictate how you or Arthur live your lives, but try to be mindful of this shit, won’t you? You’re like this close to being that dumbass who wears a headdress to the bar on Halloween night.”
“God, Lance, give me some credit. I would never do that, I’m not that stupid.”
“Just how stupid are we talking?” a voice from behind our table asks. “Mornin’, Gwen, Lance.”
Arthur and a girl wearing a plain, low-cut yellow sundress walk over to our table. She has blonde dreadlocks and a tattoo of a Japanese symbol just below her clavicle. I know the girl, or at least have seen her at the library a few times. The last time we actually spoke to each other was in passing, at the polling station, where she was helping folks vote. That time she had been wearing a shirt that said ‘A Woman’s Place Is In The White House’, and kept fucking up my pronouns because I was still registered to vote as Linda. I think she was confused about the whole process. Hell, I was confused, and it made voting for the first time suck.
“Hey,” Gwen says, and kicks me under the table. “Speak of the devil. How are you, Arthur? Tammy?”
I don’t acknowledge either of them, keeping my eyes on my cup of tea, because I’m a huge baby and haven’t been able to climb out of my dark feelings since Friday night. Besides, I am not particularly fond of Tammy, and just the sight of her irritates me.
Arthur does his best to ignore my low mood, though, and takes the chair next to mine, turns it around then sits on it, folding his forearms on the back. His leg brushes against mine and he keeps it there, making me acutely aware of his close presence. Normally I would say something and move it abruptly, but that would force me to acknowledge him, so I don’t.
“Lance, do you know Tammy Dixon?” Gwen asks. “Tammy, this is my brother, Lance.”
Tammy must not recognize me, because she is all smiles and giggles when she introduces herself, but that doesn’t stop me from ignoring her greeting. Arthur rubs his leg against mine and I shoot a look at him.
“I’m glad to see you made it home okay on Friday night,” he says, leaning over. “I would have given you a ride if you had said something. You didn’t have to walk all that way. I spent the rest of the night thinking that Todd had done something awful again. Do you even know how to respond to text messages?”
Arthur isn’t usually this disgruntled, or at least, frames his questions differently when it’s just the two of us. The irritation saturating his voice is almost palpable. I’m not sure if it’s vexation or disdain, but I’m not used to such a black, accusatory tone.
“Lance, I feel like I know you.” Tammy must sense the beginnings of an argument, because she interjects before I have time to respond to Arthur. “Have we met before?”
“I’m not sure, maybe,” I reply, my eyes still locked with Arthur’s. “White people all look the same to me.”
Arthur stifles a laugh and Gwen huffs.
“I’m sorry,” Gwen says. “My brother is being very rude at the moment. Maybe he’s about to be on his period?”
“Fuck off,” I say to Gwen. “You expect me to be nice to some white chick with shitty dreads and a fucking Asian tattoo on her left boob that probably means ‘barbecue’?”
Tammy shuffles uncomfortably in her seat, and when I think she’s about to apologize for existing, she says something even dumber, sending me into a fit of rage. To make sure I heard her correctly, I ask her to repeat herself.
“Don’t you think it’s misogynistic to imply that your brother is about to be on his period just because he’s mad?” Tammy asks Gwen again, in all seriousness.
The table falls silent, and Arthur, Gwen and I exchange looks. I scoot my chair back and stand up.
“Are you serious right now?” I ask. “Don’t you think it’s transphobic to suggest that men don’t get periods? You know what? I actually don’t give a damn about what you think because I’m leaving.” I reach into my pants pocket and pull out two five-dollar bills, then toss them on the table. “That should cover my breakfast, tip and all. I’m out of here.”
“Lance!” Arthur stands up. “Hey, wait!”
I can hear Gwen telling him to let me go, that I’m on one at the moment, that it’s not worth it. She’s probably right.
“Lance!” Arthur calls out once more, ignoring Gwen’s sound advice. “Where are you going?”
I make my way to the front of the store, and throw up a hand, before opening the screen door. “Later,” I say.
I don’t know why I’m so mad, maybe Gwen’s right.
The overhead sun is in full force this morning, so I reach for the sunglasses in my shirt pocket and take a few deep breaths before finding a shaded seat on the ground.
Outside, the streets are much busier than inside the shop, and while this would normally exacerbate my anxiety, there’s something unusually calming about watching joggers and random folks with dogs share a sidewalk with one other. Sometimes life is so simple in this little Podunk town.
Across from Baubles & Books is a tiny vintage boutique that sells hats and scarves, called Hatsapalooza, and beside that is a candy store that specializes in making old-fashioned rock candy and homemade ice cream floats. I have no idea how some of these shops are still around. Who even buys hard candy in bulk anymore? Camelot Crafts is Baubles & Books’ next-door neighbor, and the only store on the block that I know of with a steady stream of customers on the reg. Thank God for church ladies and preschool teachers.