The blonde bartender from earlier, standing above the table and holding a tray of drinks as she stares at Sally, says, “We’re onto calling each other bitch, already, are we?”
“Ooh, presents!” Sally says, doing a seal clap and bouncing in her seat.
“It must be someone’s birthday today. Their twenty-first, I’m guessing?” She smiles at me.
“How did you know?” I smile, resigned. I guess it really is my first night out — my birthday — for the girl I’m going to be. And I want to be a woman, a real adult woman like the people around me, at least when I can be. The women who are kind to me just like the women who simply smiled because I walked the same street as them.
“Well, I haven’t seen you here before. And Sally seems to live here. So unless you really are a completely new friend the only logical conclusion is Sally was respecting me and the near infinite tolerance I afford her by not trying to sneak in an underage cousin. But now you’re twenty-one! So she brought you straight here for your first drink.”
“That’s exactly it”” I say.
The bartender looks at Sally, and says, calmly, “Sally has also promised her cousin’s parents that she’ll have her cousin home by midnight and won’t allow her to go home with strange men.”
“Her parents didn’t mention the 12am business but strange men are always out.”
“Men are out for Sally’s cousin,” I say. “At least tonight. And I don’t think I’ll even make it to midnight.”
“You say that now but I’ve met one or two twenty-one year olds and some of them can’t be stopped, then they’re back in here crying. Or worse, they never come back. Do you hear me Sally?”
“I hear you,” Sally says.
“Now you ladies can tell me what you think of these.”
“New?” Sally asks, as the woman places the tray on the table as she crouches, then stands again, her knees cracking.
“Do you want to sit down for a bit?” I ask her, shuffling a little as I see her stretch out her leg.
“Thank you, that’s very sweet. I’m really OK. I’m well practised at this; it’s just oldness,” she says, stretching out her other leg. “And really I came over to apologise for earlier. New staff are a pain in the ass and I had a face like a bitch. I don’t want to scare away a potential new whale.” Now she’s cracking her back. “Anyway, come up to me later and tell me what you think of the cocktails.”
“Steph?” Sally asks, stretching Steph’s name out and with an undulating sing-song to her tone.
“Haven’t I done enough for you?” Steph, the bartender, says.
“Remember I’m a whale!”
“One who’s getting too big for her boots and might not be worth the hassle. But, yes? What? Dearie!” Steph says quickly switching between faux sternness and innocence and sweetness.
“Can I store two bags in the back?”
“How big are they?” Steph asks, brow furrowed.
“Huge!” Sally says, stretching her arms wide.
“Are they gifts for me?” Steph asks, looking brighter.
“They’re gifts...”
“OK, Trevor will take you back in a minute. He’s just getting ready for his shift. Don’t forget them later tonight!”
“I won’t!”
“I’ll throw them out if you forget them!”
“I promise you these will not be forgotten.”
Steph narrows her eyes and glares at Sally then turns away, looking fully professional again. “Enjoy the drinks ladies. And happy birthday,” she says over her shoulder.
“I can’t believe you’re telling people it’s my birthday!”
“I told you Jess made me orgasm.”
“Yeah,” I say. “And I believed you.”
“People believe things.”
I shake my head and reach for my cocktail wondering if Steph brought them down thinking it really is my birthday.
“Now the gift cat is out of the bag I might as well tell you,” Sally says. “I spent this morning clearing out my closets, picking the nicest clothes that don’t fit me and might fit you.”
“Me?” I ask.
“Yes. Who else?”
“Why didn’t you give them to Jess?”
“Are you looking a horse in the mouth?”
“OK! You’re right! Thank you... Can I look?”
“They’re behind the seat and nearly bursting. No unnecessary movement. You can look tomorrow when you’re hungover, feeling miserable and need cheering up.”
“Just the first few things? From the top.”
“Really, really bursting. There’s three layers of plastic and it was all I could do to get them here.”
“Fine,” I say. I take a sip on the cocktail through the straw.
I have no clue what it is, other than alcoholic. Very alcoholic. I never really drink cocktails, not that I’m typically in bars that serve cocktails, but it’s nice.
“What do you think?” Sally asks.
“It’s nice,” I say.
“You can give me more than that.”
“There’s a lot of alcohol in it,” I say, taking another sip, trying to figure out more.
“What juices are in it?” Sally asks.
“No clue!”
“So when Steph asks you what you think of her handcrafted, self-created masterpiece you’re going to say it’s nice and it has alcohol in it and you don’t know what juice is in there? And she will ask.”
“What do you think of it?”
“It’s nice,” Sally says, smiling.
“Oh, you hypocrite!” I take another sip, almost without thinking and place it down on the table so as not to finish it all in one go. Unlike Sally’s which has been completely demolished. “You’re a whale here?”
“I suppose,” Sally says.
“What does that mean?”
“I’m here fairly often, and being here often I spend money here.”
“So you know quite a few people here?” I ask, looking around the bar.
“To talk to. They’re not really friends. I don’t know them as well as I know you.”
As I’m looking around I notice a small old man, dressed in all black, with gentle, white hair and an earpiece in his ear walking around sort of painfully to tables, talking to most, sometimes checking IDs. He notices me looking and smiles, so I smile back. Then he waves, and I wave. Then he’s back to walking to tables.
“Who’s that?” I ask Sally.
Sally turns in her seat to see where I’m looking then turns back. “That’s Trevor. You’ll meet him in a minute, unfortunately. I’ll get more drinks.”
“No, no, I’m fine,” I say, waving my hand over the one in front of me. “I still have my cocktail.”
“Well I’m getting one. I’ll need one with Trevor so you’re getting one. It’s your birthday and we’re going to have fun,” Sally says as she stands.
“You can have more fun if you like. I don’t usually have this much fun and I’m already feeling it.”
“I’ll put it in front of you and if you don’t want it you don’t have to have it.”
“No! Please? Sally?” but she’s already gone.
I’m watching Trevor when Sally comes back, expecting her to have a shot for me, but she actually has two each. “I can’t do this, Sally,” I say, and push the nearest shot to me towards the middle of the table. “I didn’t go out much as a boy. It was mostly Friday nights with Steve and them. I don’t have practice at this.”
“Now you can practice,” Sally says.
“I’m not a boy any more so I’m not giving into any machismo idea of matching you drink for drink. Just because you buy them for me doesn’t mean I’ll go at the same pace as you, and it certainly doesn’t mean I’ll drink them all.”
“Of course. If you don’t want them I’ll have them. No-one’s forcing anything, just see how the night goes,” Sally says.
“He’s coming!”
Sally looks over her shoulder, turns back, picks up a shot and knocks it back.
Shot gone she cranes her neck to where his face, of course, appears, and says, “Hi, Trevor!”
“Hello, Sally. How are you tonight?”
“I’m good, Trevor. How are you?” she says, all sickly sweet and polite.
“I’m in very good spirits, the same as every night, but not so great in the legs, today. I still have to make the rounds, though. Say Hello to all my friends.” He stops for a moment as though he’s in pain. “No Jess, tonight?”
“No, she has to study for an exam so she’s tired.”
“At her age? She’s too old for school!”
“No. They’re professional exams. For work. She’s looking for a promotion.”
“Good girl, good girl... Well, wish her luck from me if I don’t see her,” he says. “And the most important thing is to get proper sleep. For both health and study, but fresh air is just as important.”
“I will, Trevor. Thank you, Trevor. Have you met my friend Toni, Trevor?” Sally asks.
“I don’t believe I have. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Toni,” Trevor says.
“The pleasure’s all mine,” I say. “But Trevor and me shared a smile and wave.”
“That was you?” Trevor asks.
“That was me,” I say, fully amused by Trevor. “You don’t remember me?”
Trevor stops for a moment, and seems to be thinking, eyes looking upwards. “Ah yes, of course. The girl with the friendly wave and pretty smile.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice this weekend.”
“A smile can give a lot of confidence,” he says.
“The other way around works, too, doesn’t it?”
“Does it?” He asks. And pauses again. “Maybe it does? I think that works. A bit of confidence can get you a pretty smile.”
Sally rolls her eyes at all this and while her eyes are in the back of her head Trevor winks and at me and seems to stand a little taller.
“You’re a flirt, Trevor!”
“Guilty!” Trevor says proudly. “Now Sally can show me where these big black sacks are then she leads the way. She knows it very well.”
“They’re behind the seat, Trevor,” Sally says.
He goes behind the couch and carefully slides out two rather large, black, plastic bags, then positions himself between the two of them, twists up the tops, bends at his knees and lifts them with ease.
“Sally is getting away but if she’s too fast for you, Toni, I’ll direct you.”
“I think I can follow her,” I say. “And I have no doubt you can keep up...”
“It’s just past the toilets so you know the way already.”
“At the back, to the left.”
I walk down to the women’s toilets, pausing for Trevor once or twice who’s playing it all up and find Sally just around the corner on an empty, plain white corridor apart from double doors marked private, as well as a big emergency exit.
“In you go,” Trevor says.
Sally pushes open the doors with the Private sign and we’re in a large enough, disordered storage room.
There’s bare plaster on the walls and it’s cluttered with cleaning supplies, paint cans and brushes on shelving, along with light bulbs and boxes of candles. Broken chairs and tables are stacked up on top of each other. The room is a mess. A working mess, sure, with tools and equipment strewn about, but still a mess.
Trevor places the sacks down theatrically, with a gasp. “Safe and sound,” he says. “And you know where they are, so come find me when you’re going home and if I’m not already gone and in my bed I’ll bring you back here.”
“Thank you, Trevor,” Sally says.
“Off with you before someone clears away your drinks. Your friend won’t know her way around if I don’t give her the tour.”
“Have fun, Toni,” Sally says, wiggling her fingers in a wave at me.
Trevor nods his head as if counting, and I know something is going to happen. This is all too suspicious. Trevor’s far too suspicious.
“Please don’t mention this room to anyone unless you’ve seen them in here. If you think someone should be in here we don’t know about then let me know. Or let Steph know.” Trevor says, demeanour almost completely changed.
I laugh with relief, or I think it’s relief. I don’t know what this is other than it’s something.
“Oh, don’t you laugh! You lot always see through me no matter your age. Now, follow me up.”
He opens a thin whitewashed, battered, old wardrobe door set into a wall and up a step but once you really look the door is pretty much fully person sized. It’s just hiding in plain, aged and worn sight.
Stepping through I see it leads up some stairs covered in red carpet with gold flecking and with red painted walls and ceiling.
Trevor gingerly walks up; he’s not all play acting.
Stopping a few steps from the top he reaches out, knocks on the opened door a little way above him, and calls out, “Anyone home?” before turning to me and saying, “Sometimes people forget to check in with someone downstairs.”
He waits a moment and goes in.
As I step in I see the same carpet, the same red painted walls and ceiling, and a hanging light-shade with light that seems to be on a dimmer. At the opposite side of the room are mirrors with lightbulbs like you’d see in a classic dressing room for the theatre or a showgirls review, with low, spinning stools from the bar floor in front of them. On another side of the room are what looks to be individual changing rooms, with floor length, thick red curtains hanging from rods. In the corner is a small, old, bar drinks fridge. There’s a random assortment of screw together armchairs and couches, along with cushions and throw pillows all over. Even a few blankets.
I look back down the stairs to where I came from then back into the room to centre myself, to remind myself this is really a secret hidey-hole and to keep from hysterics, and as I do see to the right of me is a notice board, with a few posters, home printed advertisements and notes pinned to notes, but most importantly I see that hand painted on the door, in thin print, are the words Trevor’s Room.
“Do you like it?” Trevor asks.
“I love it!” I say.
“Thank you. I decorated it myself. Years of memories and people went into it, and not just the looks.”
“But what’s it for?”
“Sit yourself down so I can rest my bones.”
I do as I’m told.
“Remember, don’t tell people about this room unless you’ve seen them in here. It might be difficult to keep up it with some people, even if you know they know and they know you know. I also know secrets are hard after what must feel like a lifetime of them. Slip ups happen but just gloss over it and we might have a word with them if you let us know.”
“This room is for trans people,” I say.
“All kinds of trans people. Men and women, in between, young, old, sleepy, snoozy, bashful, grumpy, although the men tend to use it less. Sick of listening to women, most likely. Personally I think you’re great, always have. But it’s all kinds.”
I nod.
“There’s some kinds of your lot still being discovered, and discovering themselves, and if I find them, and they’re not lunatics, I’ll probably bring them up here, especially if they’re struggling.”
“You’re a treasure,” I say, leaving a breath I didn’t know I was holding out. “And are you a boxer?”
“I was,” Trevor says. “A lot of security were.”
“No, are you still a boxer?”
“I try to train a little, keep in good health. How did you know?”
“You have shin splints,” I say. “From skipping. And boxers skip a lot.”
“Aren’t you a sharp one!” he says. “But I’m sharper, and you’re trying to change the subject from you and your kind. Standard deflection from someone still not comfortable in who they are.”
“Why?” I ask, lifting my hand to the room.
“I’ve been around the LGBTQ community for almost two of your lifetimes, at a guess. I’ve always loved it. Every minute of it. And most of all I’ve loved women like you. I’ve worked security in LGBTQ+ bars in multiple cities, across the world, and you’re the most vibrant, interesting, heartbreaking creatures I’ve ever met. I’ll never be bored around you. And I mean that in the best way. Not only that but you’re always teaching me things. I’m always learning with you. You keep me fresh, and young.”
He grimaces, rubbing his leg, then continues. “I could go on forever but let me get the introduction out of the way.
“If you want to come up here check in with me, or Steph, or whoever’s in charge of security at the time, then the on duty manager, then anyone at all on security. We’ll want to watch the door in the hallway because there’s no cameras up here. And that goes for anyone.
“Don’t take pictures up here, don’t take a selfie even if you know you’re alone. If it’s just you and your best friend there’s still no recording. Don’t take a picture of the noticeboard to remember something, if you need something to write on and there’s nothing up here go downstairs and ask someone at the bar.
“If you ever feel unsafe, in here or in the bar, even on the street outside find me if you have time, if not find Steph, if not literally anyone in security. Nothing too bad ever happens here, mostly, but we’re a big bar, we can’t see everything, or really guarantee anything, and we’d prefer to be informed and ready even if it’s nothing.”
“You’re the head of security!” I say.
“I’m not!” he says.
“If you give an order it happens...”
“Well, that would be correct. So don’t get on the bad side of me.”
“No! I will not!” I say, smiling.
“Anything else?” Trevor says to himself. “The fridge... In the unlikely event you put food in the fridge please take it with you at the end of the night. I really don’t like cleaning it and I’m the only one who does. And yes, you can put drinks in there. Yes, you can bring drinks from outside the bar in here but please don’t abuse it, the bar is still a business. It’s one of the few ones with morals, in my opinion, but it is still a business. That’s the general rule.
“You’re all mostly smart women and men, and know right from wrong, so don’t be completely silly. Don’t abuse what we’re trying to do for people who need it.
“Mostly, though, don’t be afraid to use this room. It’s hidden away but it’s hidden away for you. If you need a bit of peace on a night out you can come up for fifteen minutes, or the whole night. If you notice your nail polish is chipped and want to fix it up in here, that’s fine. Most people use it for the noticeboard, you’ll find out a lot from it. If you want to chat with me because you have a thing for old farts, or need someone to listen, I’ll find a few minutes. That’s what I’ve been doing my entire working life, just talking to people, and listening. But mostly come up here because you might meet a new friend.”
“I think I have met a new friend,” I say. “I could talk to you for hours.”
“You are a very nice young woman and if you want to talk about anything there’s not much that needs me right now. You look like you have a lot to ask, although your friends might be more helpful than me.”
Sucking on my teeth, considering it, I say, “I should really get back to Sally, if not much is happening she’s probably bored.”
“You haven’t been out with Sally much, have you?” Trevor asks.
“I met her last night,” I say.
“Let me check on her.” He leans down to his mic and says, “Blonde Sally?”
I giggle while Trevor begins to stare off into nothing, waiting. Thirty seconds go by and he nods. “She’s in the smoking area, catching up with some old acquaintances and having bundles of fun.”
“Do I get a call sign?”
“You have to be either very good or very bad to get a permanent call sign, and you remain to be seen!”
“I know which Sally was.”
“So you should go down to catch her in full flow,” Trevor says. “Confirm your hunch, because I’m not saying.”
“What was it like when you first started working in gay bars, Trevor?” I ask.
I pick up a cushion from next to me and hold it as Trevor smiles at the decision I’ve made.
I sit for what seems like hours listening to Trevor tell old war stories from his career, hearing things I didn’t think possible — with him just taking the odd break to say a few words into his mic — when I hear him say something about Blonde Sally.
“Is she OK?” I ask, realising I must have been ignoring Sally for an age.
“We don’t snitch on people. If someone is in trouble we’ll help but as a general rule we don’t tell friends who did different things what the other friend’s been doing. And more importantly you shouldn’t worry if you hear a name you recognise. We could just be laughing about someone who lit their last cigarette backwards.”
“But she is OK?” I ask.
“Yes. She’s fine. She’s been told her next drink has to be a glass of water or she’ll regret it in the morning.”
“Will you tell me where she is? So I can find her? And try to get her home so I can go home?”
“I’d guess she’s out for the night, now. You should go home yourself if you need rest. I can arrange you a taxi. Maybe something—”
“Where is she?” I ask, interrupting.
“Back of the smoking area. The very back. It’s quite big, and busy at the moment. But if you don’t do the smart thing and go home to bed then at least have a wander and chat to people. You never know what interesting people you might meet.”
I’m making my down the stairs, through corridors and the main bar area, then to the smoking area, in a rush, and it really is jammed; the whole place. And noisy! I think of Trevor telling me to chat to people but I can’t imagine chatting here, not with it like this.
I push my way into the crowd in the smoking area, getting jostled around, until I make it to an alcove with a large emergency exit set into it at the back where Sally is, with just my luck, of course, knocking back a shot and swaying.
“Sally,” I say. “Sally!”
She turns to look at me but instead of saying anything, and although it looks like she’s trying — or at least like she’s struggling with words in her head — instead just smiles, holds her hands in the air and begins a lazed, out-of-it dance.
“Sally, I want to go home,” I say. “It’s too crazy out here. This is too crazy for me. Tonight is—”
“And you’ve come to say goodbye to me! Gimme a hug...”
“I want you to come home, too. With me!”
“I’m not going home with you, we’re both straight!”
“Sally, please. Just tonight. I won’t ask any other night, just tonight. It’s my birthday and I’d like if you took me out of here, please,” I say.
Sally begins to sing me Happy Birthday, slurring most of the words as she spills an unattended drink she picked up from a nearby ledge. A few of the people she was talking with join in on the song half-heartedly apart from one guy bellowing it.
“Happy Birthday, to my favourite person. My favourite person who is having her first baby birthday,” she says, hands back in the air again, still holding the now empty glass, slowly spinning.
“My birthday, yes, please? Please, let’s go home?”
Sally sighs a crackling sigh, obviously after a smoking all night, and says, “OK! Yeah, yes... I will, yep... It’s your birthday! I’ll finish my beer and have a smoke and meet you at the front in fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes, please. Promise?” I ask.
“I promise,” she says, wobbling. “One beer, one cigarette. Fifteen minutes.” She waves her arms around like a plane made of gelatine then stops and looks at me with half closed eyes and a serious look. “Maybe two beers, but no longer than two fifteen minuteses,” she says. Which I do not believe at all.
I’ll try again in a half an hour, I think, as Sally returns to her slow-spinning dance.
I tug my dress down as a guy stands up to in front of me. “Happy Birthday,” he says, smiling, but also a little drunk.
“Thanks,” I say, not even looking at him.
I’m looking to figure a path through the crowd and if I can find an easier route the next time I’m out trying to tear Sally away.
“Is it really your birthday?”
“Yeah, sort of,” I say, standing still but half practising my jinking past people.
He leans into me but I duck under his arm.
Then I am pushing past people, getting inside, not noticing anything happening around me — which is a blur of people laughing and cheering — and grabbing Steve’s jacket which is stuffed down between the armrest and the wall by where we were sitting.
I really have to yank at it to get it out.
Then I make my way to the front of the bar and perch myself on one of the high cushioned bench seats, waiting for Sally. And I know, I really know I’m going to be back in the smoking area, soon, trying again to convince Sally to go home. I really want to go home.
I’m tired, feeling all my energy completely drained out of me, empty. And everything is too loud and busy. And crazy. The past twenty-four hours have been crazy. This is too crazy!
Except the front area of the bar is quiet. There’s no-one here and no glasses on tables. The black, velvet curtains are even half drawn and I think I did push my way past one.
“You can’t sit there, hun,” Steph is saying to me from behind the bar. “Up here, to me.”
I stand and walk, embarrassed, so totally embarrassed and without hope to near where Steph is behind the counter with till receipts and a black ledger in front of her; walking right up to a red rope blocking off a little cutaway area with a few stools and some tables inside it.
“Go past the rope. Then sit! Up at the bar!”
I squeeze past the rope and place myself on top of a stool.
“Once I can break away from here I’ll take you home in the minibus,” Steph says.
“What about, Sally?” I ask, raising my head to look up at Steph.
“I’ll take her home when she’s ready. It’s a pain in the ass to get to her place but she usually sleeps in the back while I take other people home first. Most people sleep on the bus. On a good night.”
“You take people home? You do this often?”
“If they’re in a bad way. And yeah, every night of the week. There’s a rota of drivers.”
“So I’m in a bad way?” I ask.
“It really is your first night out and your birthday, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I say. “First everything.”
“So what actually is the celebration? You accepted yourself a year ago this weekend? You first went out in public? You came out to special people a year ago? I don’t think you’re on hormones a year, although maybe, you are pretty. It probably is just a one year celebration though. You’re too energetic to be older, although that could be actual youth. It could be a two year celebration, at a push. Maybe...
“And you really have pushed yourself tonight, haven’t you? Don’t worry, it’ll come. You’ve done a lot in a year. You’ll be fine””
“I mean it’s my birthday,” I say, confused. “I came out this morning. I guess I was born today. Today was my birth-day. Last night I guess I... I was about to be born, maybe?”
“And how long have you been dressing? How long have your friends known?”
“I didn’t know yesterday morning. Last night I—”
“You’re confusing me. Yesterday morning — Friday morning — you weren’t trans anything? Then something happened last night and you were..?”
“No. Well, I suppose I was always this. This trans me... I was always, I guess...”
“That’s not right. That’s not an answer someone who was never trans gives on their second day of being trans.”
“Before yesterday evening I’d never trans anything’d. I’d never thought about it. Never wore any of these clothes, never nothing.
“I never even looked at a guy but people are telling me now I have been without knowing...
“I suppose it was all repressed because I don’t think I could have picked up all this without listening from some deep, hidden away level.”
“It could have been all repressed, but no actual actions or thoughts? Not even of being with men, as... When you were alone?” Steph asks.
“No,” I say. “But let me go on.”
“Please do,” Steph says.
“Last night I lost a bet in my friend Steve’s apartment. I had to put on a dress, which I did. Then I met Sally and Jess for the first time. We had fun. Jess told me to sleep at her place, so I did, not wanting the night to end. The dress, and the fun, and new friends, I mean. It was fun, but I thought it was just fun, not actually trans yet.
“I woke up this morning at Jess’s and had no clothes to wear home apart from that really nice dress I was wearing but it’s a kind of date night dress, really fancy, and I’ve never had to dry clean anything but that gorgeous dress is a mess now. And Jess gave me this outfit then I walked home.”
“You walked home in the dress Jess gave you? The one you’re wearing now?”
“Yeah. And women smiled at me, you know. Just in passing. No-one ever really smiled at me before. It felt good.”
“I bet,” Steph says.
“I showered, I ate, I noticed fuzz on my lip which is disgusting because I was walking around with literal fuzz on my lip. People actually saw me like that so I’ll buy makeup tomorrow, but anyway... It’s going to be so expensive...
“Anyway, Sally phoned me and said come down here. I did, and I was having a great night, but I’m really tired. I’m just suddenly... And I want to go home, but Sally won’t go home because she’s really drunk but I’m not going to leave her. She means the world to me and I want her to get home safe, but she’s drunk, so I’ll be back out there again and again trying to convince her but I don’t really like drunk people. Or I’m not used to drunk people. I haven’t been around crowds of them.”
“You’re really tired, and you don’t like crowds of drunk people, and you’re now a trans woman?”
“Yeah. I’m trans, I guess. But I’m not really a woman. And I don’t think I can be. Not a real, you know? I just won’t be. And I know I’ll learn to accept myself, with time, and therapy, and medication, maybe. But what if I don’t? What if I can’t be happy? What if I always look like and actually am a boy?
“I do not want to cry about this. I cried last night but Jess was there and I wasn’t in public. I don’t want to think this, and I don’t want... I just don’t want...”
“Oh, sweet Jesus!” Steph says, leaning back. “Now Toni, please listen to me. I know there’s a lot going through your mind right now but you stay here and I’ll bring both you and Sally home as soon as I can fish her out of there.
“It could take a while but you’re safe here, and Sally is safe here no matter how drunk she gets. And we will get you home.
“If Sally, for some insane reason, does come out here don’t go off with her. I will take you both home. Only me. And Trevor will be keeping us safe.”
“Have I done something wrong?” I ask.
“No. God no! You’ve done nothing wrong. I just want to make sure you and Sally get home OK.”
“I’m a bit thirsty, can I go get a drink?”
“What do you normally drink?” Steph asks.
“Just a few beers.”
“OK... One will be up to you in a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”
I rest my head in my hand, mind screaming at me, head pounding and I close my eyes.
A minute or two later, maybe more, I hear a gentle rattle of someone carefully placing a bottle on the counter.
“Thanks,” I say. “And for being so quiet but I wasn’t really asleep.”
“You’re very welcome. Happy birthday,” the woman says, smiling, before she turns and walks back down the bar to where the people are still having fun.
I take a few sips and it gives me some energy — wakes me a little — so I slowly tip away at it, feeling very, very tired, and really, really wishing I was at home, in bed, and Sally was with me. That people who understand were with me.
When Steph comes back Trevor is also walking in through the normal bar floor entrance. He stops and turns to draw the black, floor length curtains fully across the opening to the main area where people are drinking, and dancing, and having fun. People I’m now closed off from.
As he approaches me he’s smiling just like during our earlier conversations when he made all this — the whole world of who I am — feel right for me, in that moment. When he made this feel like an option; a reality really open to me. A reality that was possible.
I look up and smile at him.
“Toni, will you indulge my questions for a bit while I have a drink with you?”
“I asked you so many questions earlier it’s only fair,” I say.
He pulls a table out from against the counter in the cutaway, moves some stools around and soon we’re all sitting around it.
“Just to be clear, when you told Steph you never thought a trans thought before last night you weren’t exaggerating? And you’re not hiding anything because you’re ashamed? We won’t ask you to tell us anything if you were. That’s for a therapist you trust.”
“No, I’m not hiding anything, not that I know,” I say. “But I am thinking about it a lot since last night. Like, I liked looking at girls and maybe I was looking at them deep down thinking I wanted to be one? It’d make sense, wouldn’t it?”
Steph puts down two glasses, one in front of me and one in front of Trevor. The bottle opens with a squeak and pop as the cork comes out and she pours some very big measures into them.
“But you never thought of yourself as them?”
“No.”
“And did you have girlfriends?”
“A few.” I take a sip of the whiskey, and it’s really nice. Smokey and smooth but that’s what everyone says about whiskey.
“And what happened when you fooled around? When they touched you, you know?”
“I am very small down there, so I wouldn’t let them.”
“Did you get hard?”
“Not really, but I don’t even now.”
Trevor is nodding at Steph as he asks me this, while Steph is looking a little less frazzled.
“Did you ever kiss a boy, or even think of boys?”
“Never,” I say. I take a big gulp of whiskey this time and feel it fire across my chest. “These are all questions I’m asking myself but I don’t know what my answers mean. Or if they even are answers.
“And Sally and Jess aren’t trans so they can’t really help. I know it’s a lot to expect to know so quickly but it’s eating me up, really badly.” I sigh and take a small sip of whiskey just to feel a burn again.
“Will you not hold me to what I tell you? I’m not an expert in this just a curious security worker, with some experience, and promise me you’ll go to a therapist when we find you a good one.”
“No, of course I won’t hold you to it. Everyone’s figuring things out. And I’ll try to get to the therapist but this will all be so expensive.”
“Don’t worry about expense, for now. Just worry about who you’re going to be.”
I nod, still thinking about may be.
“I think you’re on track to all this already but a stab in the dark is you did repress all this, for whatever reason, and that’s for the therapist to work with you on. You might have low testosterone, you might be intersex of some variety, or you might have been a normal man. Combine all that together with the lid being blown off it last night with your experiences and the fastest transition I’ve seen in a long time so now you’re someone we want to make sure is OK, and who we’re paying special attention to.”
“Am I normal?”
“No-one in this entire bar is normal, Toni,” Steph says. “Don’t worry about that. In fact we’d probably kick them out if they were.”
“And I can drink to that,” Trevor says, knocking back half the whiskey before Steph tops up both our glasses again. “But you’re perfectly normal for the kind of person you are, just a bit complicated.”
I think to myself I can be complicated even if it’s less than ideal.
“Now just a few final questions. Then we can chat while we wait for Sally to exhaust herself,” Trevor says.
“Sure,” I say.
“Did you take any drugs last night?” Trevor asks.
“No, I just had a few beers and some white wine.”
“Definitely no MDMA?”
“No, definitely.”
“Did anyone there?”
I think back but I don’t even really need to think, the answer is obvious. “Not ever when I’ve been around them. It’s not that kind of group, really.”
“That’s going to change,” Steph says pretty much to no-one. “For some of you, at least.”
“Have you taken any before?” Trevor asks.
“I’ve smoked weed a few times but nothing else.”
“Do you think anyone slipped you anything? Like do you know them well enough to know they didn’t? Think hard on that one. Did anything taste off?”
“I trust them all but one person did act differently, kind of.”
“OK. That’s important. Who was that and in what way did they act different?” Trevor asks.
“There’s a guy called Big-G, I’ve known him a little while but he definitely changed.” Trevor leans back on the stool and seems somehow more interested at this.
“Big-G? Sally and Jess and Big-G, Big-G?” Steph asks.
“Yeah, that’s him. Sally really likes him. I like him too.”
“How did he change?” Trevor asks.
“He was always really gruff, and strong. Like he’d bark at people, but last night I noticed it was only really barking at men being douchey.”
“Big-G barks at the bad men,” Trevor says, with a smile. “Toni’s far too sharp for her own good. And in all the wrong ways.”
Steph laughs. “Big-G’s a guard dog?” she asks.
Trevor laughs, too, nodding.
“Yeah, a little like that,” I say. “He was always really nice to me when it was just me and him but I didn’t understand that. He’d get quieter. I actually felt singled out. Then as soon as anyone else was around he’d be back at his barking.”
“And did he bark at anyone aggressively last night? Or ever?” Trevor asks.
“No, it was always funny, like he was relaxed, or playing,” I say. “He toyed with Steve more last night.”
“He toyed with Steve or barked aggressively at him?” Steph asks, and it seems as though she’s curious about this guard dog idea.
“Neither. He was spurring me on as I teased him. He interrupted Steve a few times but mostly he just piled onto something after I went at Steve with it.” I say, taking a drink. “Having fun. And having fun with me. Like, with me, not at me.”
“You’re going to have to update Big-G’s file, add a few pages,” Steph says. “And do me up a Powerpoint on guard dogs. I feel I know but I’d like some bullet points.”
“Do you mind if I give him a call, Toni? Ask him to come down for a drink, if he’s around.”
“Big-G? That’d be great!” I say.
“You have Big-G’s number?” Steph asks.
“I have so many people’s phone numbers,” Trevor says. “And it’s always good to have a non-affiliated but friendly guard dog’s number in your contact list. Did I never teach you that?”
“I’ll remember it,” Steph says.
Trevor takes out his phone, an old style one without any smart features and almost as soon as he’s held it to his ear he’s talking. “Yeah, Trevor from Light Avenue... You’re what? ... Really... Why is that? ... Yeah, a few more details, please... Do you mind if I...?” Trevor stays quiet for longer than before and as I lean in to try and hear what Big-G is saying I notice Steph is too. “No. The front door... There’s someone on it... OK, yeah... See you soon. Bye-bye.”
“You know, you kids are alright,” Trevor says.
“I don’t know what’s going on, now,” Steph says.
“It may be taking some of them longer to get there but when they do they’re so much better at it. They’re basically playing games with us without realising. It’s at an instinctual level!”
“Trevor, you’re going to have me drinking and driving if you don’t speak up,” Steph says.
“It’s Sally who’ll need a few more pages in her file while Big-G is getting a folder.
“It turns out it was Big-G who told Sally to bring Little Miss Virgin Birth, here...” Trevor stabs his thumb towards me “...to this lovely establishment. Because she’d feel comfortable here. Sally’s been under strict instructions to phone young Gary—”
“Gary!? No wonder he goes by Big-G!” I say.
“Yeah, his name’s Gary. You don’t know everything, do you?” Trevor says, and sticks his tongue out at me while making a face.
I shake my head and reach for the whiskey.
“So, anyway, Sally was told to phone young Gary if anything went wrong or Toni felt upset. I don’t think Toni had even fled the smoking area by the time Big-G was hurrying down here, the whole thing explained by Sally in seconds. Now Sally’s upset she was mean to her friend and can’t build up the strength to face her. Gary is going to find both Toni and Sally and sort it all out, taking them both home with him if he has to.”
“Fuck! They are playing games with us. Toni’s finding friends like that before she’s even in a dress. And they’re regular folk?”
“Big-G isn’t a civilian,” I say.
“A civilian!?” Trevor says. “A civilian! You must be on drugs!”
“I think he’s straight, but a little kink. Really open minded, at least.”
“What am I, then, Mrs. I Don’t Do Drugs?” Trevor asks.
“You were a civilian but now you’re paramilitary.”
“OK, close,” Trevor says. “What about Steph?”
“I don’t know if I want to hear.”
“I won’t say anything, then,” I say, and take another drink.
“I don’t know if I should give you more whiskey but I am interested in seeing what happens. So go on, what am I?” Steph asks.
“Even if you don’t hold a rank, you can be treated as if you do. And that usually comes from being part of the resistance. High up. And there’s always a chance a woman is a member of the resistance.”
“I don’t know whether to bar you from this establishment for endangering it or give you the keys to it because you’ll obviously own it some day.” She tops up my glass, pretty much filling the tumbler to the rim.
I pick the glass up, being sure to keep my hand steady, and slurp a little down.
“We’re obviously telling Toni,” Trevor says. “She’s been open with us so I think she deserves it. But I think we should tell Big-G, too.”
“Why Big-G?” Steph asks.
“A guard dog crossed with a pointer? And one who’s doing it because it’s the right thing to do? A Civilian? As Toni put it.”
“I understand guard dog. What do you mean by pointer?” Steph asks.
“A hunting dog that points in the direction downed animals are in is the technical explanation, but I mean he’s finding and pointing out people who might be hidden away. Although I suppose he’s more of a retriever because he’ll actually bring them right to your feet.”
“OK, sure. I’ll let you take lead on this. You have the history on places like this,” Steph says.
“I was never an academic, I just know folk tales.”
“And Toni let you tell her some on her first day.”
A woman’s head pops through the split in the curtains. “Sorry, Trevor. Your radio’s off.”
“I’m having a drink,” Trevor says, lifting his glass.
“That’s not happened in a while.”
Trevor shrugs. “Anything big happen?” he asks.
“No, the usual. Nothing that’s not being handled.”
“You’re here about Blonde Sally?”
“Yeah, in the toilet check.”
“She wasn’t asleep?”
“No. Crying. With seven ladies in waiting around her.”
“Lucky number tied as usual?”
“There was someone fanning her face, which was the tie-break”
“There always is with seven,” Trevor says. “I don’t even want to know who won the pool. I do want to know if the fan was a purse, magazine or something else. That’ll come up again. What’s she doing now?”
“She’s cross legged on floor, refusing to come in here in case she’s in trouble. Demanding her friend come out so she knows she’s OK. Eyes closed and silent protest now, sleep very soon, if not already.”
“Do we know what she wants to be OK?”
“Just generalised blubbing,” the woman says.
“That’s all the info, Toni. Now it’s your turn,” Trevor says.
I stand and push the stool back. I take a few steps, holding the table for as long as I can to pick up confidence and to make sure I’m not too shaky. As I approach the curtain the female security guard holds it back and I see Sally sitting on the ground, looking like a mess.
“Oh Sally! I’m so sorry!” I say.
Sally’s head bounces down, then she raises it, opens half of one eye and looks like she’s about to burst into tears, or possibly throw up, as she wails, “I’m sorry, Toni, it’s all my fault!”
I reach down to hug her.
“No, it’s not,” I say, lifting her up with help from the security guard. “Trevor kept me on the tour for so long I couldn’t find you.” She rests her head on my shoulder and I feel her face all wet on mine. Her body is almost limp in my arms. I start walking backwards.
Sally snorts.
She has her feet under her now, mostly, with the security woman doing most of the lifting while I steer. “Trevor didn’t even show me the smoking room for two hours.”
“Bench behind you,” the security guard says. “Sit her down, then lie her down.”
I place Sally onto the bench as she’s wobbling around.
“Oh no! He’s here now too,” Sally whimpers.
“Sit back and close your eyes and you won’t see him.” I say as she slumps sideways. “Let me lie down next to you, Sally. I want to get away from him too. He’s awful.”
As I hold Sally steady the security guard nudges me out of the way and with her hand cradling Sally’s head lays her down on the bench, and starts to stroke the top of her arm. She holds a her finger up to her lips, telling me to be quiet.
What feels like an eternity passes with no-one saying anything, despite Sally being blind drunk, before the security guard says, “Yeah, she’s fine now.”
“Thanks,” I say to her.
“How did Toni do?” Trevor asks.
“Fine, yeah. It was easy. Sally was happy to see her, which helped. And before you ask we don’t know who the He she mentioned was, just some boring guy she met, we think.”
“We’ll need your help when we’re getting her out, Ana.”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Anastasia, would you ask someone to put a six pack and a bottle of whiskey in the minibus, please?” Steph says.
“No problem,” she says. And she walks out pulling the curtains closed.
I’m not even fully settled in my seat before I hear tapping on the window like keys. Trevor stands, and pulls back the curtain. He unlocks the door and let’s in Big-G.
“Hi, Gary, come on in.”
“How’s Sally?”
“She’s asleep on the bench,” I say. “She’s fine.”
“How are you?” G asks me, putting an arm around me. And pulling me into him.
“I’m OK,” I say.
“Trevor? How is she really?” G asks.
“It’s been a non-stop emotional wave for hours.”
“Since last night,” G says.
“Why are you all so worried?”
“Let us care if we want to care,” G says. “I’ve known you a while now and you’ve gone through more emotions in the last thirty hours than I saw in you for the two years prior.”
“He’s good,” Steph says, and Trevor nods.
“I’ll sleep on your couch, tonight, Toni, but before that you’ll sit next to me on it. And you’ll cuddle up to me. And we’ll drink a few beers while you just sit, being held, not having to experience anything, nothing new, nothing to distract you, just sitting. And if you fall asleep I will carry you to bed, and you’re so cute I might kiss you goodnight, but you will have some peace. And everything will be OK,” G says, squeezing me into him. “Is that OK with you?”
“That’s fine,” I say. “I’m fine!”
“And then, tomorrow, you’re taking things seriously.”
“Sit down, Gary,” Steph says. “We’ll let Sally sleep a bit then take you all home.
“I’ll pour you a drink.”
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