This is the playlist I'm imagining playing in Light Avenue most Sunday afternoons.
There's lots of sunlight streaming through the big windows at the front of the Light Avenue bar. People are tucked away in nooks and crannies recovering, or having a chill Sunday afternoon catching up with friends. There's maybe a slightly older crowd — it's certainly less wild than at night. People are eating toasties, nachos and fries. Others are drinking coffees with pastries. A few people are having gentle glasses of wine or beer. All while this music plays at a moderate volume from the many, high quality speakers laying a gentle layer of privacy and calm over the bar and its lazy and hazy Sunday patrons.
I wake and I reach over to check my phone. It’s 8am on a Sunday and I’m at home in bed, wearing a nightdress for the second time, with a man sleeping on my couch. At least I hope he is. Big-G said he’d be here when I woke up.
Last night was strange, I guess. My second night as Toni with an i. My first night out in public and it ended in tears. But not for me. It was Sally wailing she’d been mean to me. The people in the bar terrified for me, seemingly because I’d been trans for such a short amount of time and they felt like they should look after me. Then G sitting with me on my couch for an hour after we got home and just, well, holding me. It was ups and downs but it was fun. My life had been missing ups and downs. My life was flat out boring, in hindsight, but nothing about the past couple of days has been a straight line.
I stand and stretch my eyes wide, clearing out the grogginess, wondering why I’ve woken so early. Normally it’s midday before I’m out of bed on the weekend, and normally I’m not out late in bars, with drama and drinks. And yeah, it was fun; really fun, I guess. I do hope Sally’s OK...
I walk into my living room and Big-G is sitting on the couch watching a news station, blanket folded up carefully next to him with the pillow I offered him placed on top. He looks... I don’t know? Zoned out? Or zoned into something far away.
“Why am I awake so early?” I ask with a groan. “Why am I not hungover?”
“Because you’re excited. And happy,” Big-G says, eyes still on the TV.
“Then why are you awake?” I say.
“Because I knew you’d be awake and I didn’t want you to hear me snoring,” he says, but I don’t believe him.
“I need a coffee...”
In my small kitchen is a brown paper bag with eggs, bacon and a few other items in it. I guess G went to the store. G aka Gary, I think, and laugh to myself. More a snort, though. Then I laugh again thinking that. Although this laugh is a more cackle. Which I lean into.
Dancing a little I make my coffee then realise I didn’t ask if G wanted anything so yell into him, but he’s fine, apparently.
My eyes land back on the paper bag — G buying supplies — and I think of Rohit, the worker in the store who gave me his number yesterday. Nothing about this has been boring!
I’m back in the living room and sitting down on the seat thinking of Ro.
“You know a boy in that store gave me his number, yesterday,” I say to G.
“No. We’re not doing that,” G says.
“Not doing what? Me talking about boys?” I say, with a smile; crossing my legs and sipping some coffee.
“I said last night, when you were a little bit of a mess...” he turns to me and pinches his fingers together, an inch apart “...today you take things seriously. There’ll be plenty of times for boys and fun once we make sure you can continue the fun for the rest of new Toni’s life.”
“Why are you being like this?” I ask, both perplexed and a little annoyed.
He mutes the TV and turns to me fully, swivelling on the couch. “I’ve seen this before,” he says. “Not with close friends but people I knew... Someone comes out, it’s a bundle of fun, for a while, then something happens and it’s not fun any more. They’re frightened and scared and it takes months, sometimes years, sometimes never to help them gain even a little confidence back.
“They’ve lost too much time from their life and they regret it and resent it forever. Sometimes worse than that.”
“Jeeze,” I say. “OK...”
“Do you want to make your list while or after you drink your coffee? Either is fine,” he says, lifting up and placing a pen on a notepad with a small thump.
“What list?” I ask.
“The list of things you need to do. Because there’s a lot. Some things you’ll do on the spot, some you might not get around to for months. Some you’ll need to do soon enough but you’ll forget them if you don’t write them down. That list!”
“OK, fine I’ll start writing a list,” I say. I take another sip of my coffee, place the cup down and pick up the pen.
I stare at the page for a few seconds then write at the top HAVE FUN!!! NO BORING!!!
“You can talk aloud to me,” G says. “Just say it straight out. I won’t judge anything you come up with. I’ll offer advice if I have it, and if I can. But just talk to people. You need help with this and some people in your situation never get help, so use it. And I promise you will have fun. You will even have fun today. A lot of it.”
“I have been having fun,” I say, and think, and remember it like I’m living it again.
“Yeah, since Friday evening,” G says. “What about the previous twenty-six years?”
“Are you saying I wasn’t fun?” I ask, teasing him because even if it was boring for me, well, he’s being mean to old Toni.
“No, you weren’t fun,” G says. Which actually hurts me.
“Then why did you go to Steve’s for so long?” I ask. “I mean I was there and if I was a drain on everything..?”
G rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand, kind of aggressively, or at least with force, and says, “Please, no! Toni! You’re trying to force this into you having more of what you believe is fun. Old you wasn’t fun. But I liked you. And before you begin trying to toy with me not everything is about having fun. Not everything is a thrill a minute. Some things are just pleasant. Some things are simple everyday contentment. You feel comfortable with people, and things are normal and you don’t have to think. Sometimes you just want to relax and have a beer without worrying. And I could do that on Friday nights.
“Now, please, what do you have to do?”
“Fine, fine,” I say, and I hear the grouch in my voice, but I do begin to think, a little. “I have to text Sally and see if she’s OK.”
I take my phone from the table and text her although I figure she’s sleeping off a monster hangover and won’t be awake for a while. But I’m not too worried as I’m certain Steph and Trevor got her home safe after they brought me and Big-G home.
“Right, done!” I say.
“Who else do you have to text?” Steve asks. “Who might be worried about you?”
“My parents never worry about me... I suppose I could see how Jess is doing.”
“Who else? Who else might be worried about Toni? The new Toni?” G asks. “Who hasn’t heard from her in a couple of days?”
I think back to who knows the new, well, me. I think over the past few days. The people from Light Avenue know I’m with Big-G and, anyway, I don’t know their numbers. I’ll text Jess in a minute, I have texted Sally but I’m the one more worried about her. Then I think back further, to Friday night. “Alan and Steve?” I say to G, meekly.
“Yes, they might be very worried about you. They saw something from you they probably never expected.”
“OK... But not Steve!” I say.
“Why not?” Big-G asks. “Why wouldn’t you think he was worried about you?”
“He was acting like an asshole! He was mocking me and teasing, and saying things like, It’s your life, dude! in his big douchey voice.”
Big-G nods and looks a little less angry with me. “That’s your decision and as long as you actually consider things I’m happy too. But just let it rest with you why Steve might have been acting like an asshole. Your life is your choice but don’t throw away people just because they’re a bit shocked. Shock does funny things to people.”
I nod at Big-G. He’s making a little bit of sense, which is annoying, but in a way it’s kind of nice; Big-G being caring, like Steve — my oldest friend — wasn’t.
I pick up my phone and send the easy message first, to Jess. “Me and Sally went out last night. It was a lot of fun. Sally cried, but I didn’t!! Still fun, for her, too. She’s fine. Really, definitely, guaranteed at home, so don’t worry. I know she’s at home. Probably really hungover. Big-G is here and being mean, making me write a list. I can’t wait to see you again! How’s the study going?”
Then I turn to the Alan text and I’m not sure what to say. Just saying I’m fine after all that happened would be weird.
I bring up the last messages we exchanged in the app and they’re all really brief.
I press to make the cursor appear and write the letter ‘I’ and pause. I suppose I should just tell him what I’ve been doing. “I went out last night,” I write. “with Sally. Met some new, really nice people. You’d like them. Looking forward to seeing you. Toni.” I stare at the message for a while, wondering if just writing my name with an ‘i’ is enough, well, to let him know. Then I hit send trying not to think about it.
I place my phone on the table and pick up my coffee but as soon as I’ve taken a sip my phone beeps. Jess must have messaged me.
I open the app but it’s from Alan, already.
I pull it up, feeling my tummy flip. “I’m free all day if you want to have coffee. Can’t wait to hear what adventures Toni has been getting up to. Message or call literally any time, day or night, even just to talk!” And at the end is a Love You Lots, three heart emojis and a rainbow flag.
I put my phone to my chest and I don’t know what I’m feeling apart from like I could cry. I rub my eyes and feel my face squeeze up.
“See! Taking things seriously can be a lot of fun,” Big-G says. “Now come on. Plenty of time for tears. Back to the list.”
“Alan was so lovely to me,” I say.
“Yes, of course! Now come on... List!” he says, tapping the pen on the pad. “What would you normally do on a Sunday. Do you have to do laundry for work clothes?”
“No,” I say. “I have three weeks worth of work clothes and normally I pay someone to wash and iron them. I’m fine for another two weeks.”
“Do you think with your new, exciting life, one that isn’t just you working, going to Steve’s on Friday night and watching TV all weekend you’ll be able to afford to pay someone to do your laundry?
“No...” I say.
“Do you think the place that does your work clothes will be able to dry clean Friday’s dress?” Big-G asks.
“Yeah, probably,” I say. “I didn’t think of that.” I do think of the cum stains. And I think of G’s involvement. And how it’s not mentioned or even really bothering me.
“Write it on the list!” G says. And soon, with me thinking aloud and G helping I have a massive list of things I have to do. One that could take me years.
I keep reading and re-reading it knowing I’ll be adding things and it will absolutely grow when eventually Big-G says, “OK, breakfast. You’ll eat eggs will you?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I say.
“And you can sort out those big black sacks Sally gave you while I make them. Then get showered, and dressed. You can’t spend all day in a nightdress. At least not today. I’ll prepare breakfast then let me know five minutes before you want it.”
I go to my bedroom and start to pull clothes out of the black bags Sally gave me in Light Avenue last night.
At the top are a few dresses, a couple of summer dresses and a couple of heavier autumn and winter dresses. Beneath that are a few tops, a few sweaters, and some coloured cotton camis for beneath. There’s one Minnie Mouse nightdress — in its packaging — which makes me laugh. In the other bag there’s a couple of pairs of jeans at the top, three skirts, some more fancier, dressy tops, and beneath that a heavy, butt length, navy coat that looks really expensive.
I immediately try it on over my nightdress and it fits like a dream. This will do me for months! I hadn’t thought of it until G walked me through it but a proper coat would really have been one of my most expensive purchases.
I’m admiring myself when I hear a knock on my door and G calls out, “You decent?” I yell at him to come in. “Nice coat,” he says, walking through the door.
“OK, our shopping trip, what’s not in the bags?” he says, pen held above the notepad he brought in.
“Shoes!” I say with a moan, and a little excitement.
“OK,” G says.
“Panties, bras,” I begin to list off, with Big-G writing. “Socks, pantihose, makeup, and..? I don’t know.”
“I don’t know either but do you really need socks? I get the panties thing but socks. Are they really that different? And you know you’ll need to save.”
“I suppose...” I say.
“Do you have any man t-shirts that might fit me?” G says. “A sweater or something? Or literally anything? I’ve been in these clothes since yesterday and unfortunately I develop an aroma quickly.”
“I think I have some things. Definitely some of the work branded gear they handed out that was too big for me. I’m always down the list when they’re giving stuff out.”
“That’d be great,” G says. “And do you mind if I shower?”
“There’s some towels in there.”
I pull out the spare clothes I have and hand them to him.
“OK, I’ll get showered and you pick out what you want to wear. I know that takes some time,” he says with a sigh as he leaves through my bedroom door.
It doesn’t really take any time. There’s not as much clothes from the bags, given their size, as I thought there’d be.
I pick out a tight, faded and slightly flared pair of pale, blue jeans, a string top for beneath and a striped dark blue and pink fuzzy sweater. I try the jeans on quickly to make sure they’ll fit and notice a problem. A problem that sickens me. A useless lump of flesh between my legs problem.
I realise it’s probably one someone’s had before so I’m quickly on my phone and there’s a couple of suggestions. A few of the suggestions I don’t want to try and one that simply says more, and maybe smaller underwear, and a little... Manipulation... If that doesn’t work I’ll have to try the looser jeans, but the double panties thing seems to work out with some effort.
I’m standing in my manly red and black bathrobe when Big-G come out of the toilet. I stick my head around the door and see he’s dressed in his jeans and one of my company’s branded sweaters, hair damp. “Everything OK?” G asks.
“Yeah, fine I’m ready to shower, too,” I say. So I do, and unlike yesterday it’s not the long, wash away twenty-six years of worry shower. I make a go on my legs, just starting into them despite there not being much hair. My pits are fine and I’m not taking even more away on my crotch, but I do shave my face. It just feels easier in the shower instead of looking in a mirror.
Again I groan again thinking of Big-G seeing me with morning stubble.
Soon I’m out, in my bathrobe, and darting from toilet to bedroom. I dry, and yell to G, “Five minutes,” before teasing my hair into place with the mousse and getting dressed. My hair isn’t great but it looks more feminine than male, if not obviously so.
By the time I’m ready G has breakfast set out on the table. It’s just scrambled eggs, hot sauce and some herbs but it’s nice, it really works well together. And a little toast. “You’re a good cook, G,” I say, finishing up.
“Thanks, my dad taught me,” he says.
“I’ve never really heard you talk about your family.” I look at his face for some clue but it reveals nothing. “Am I prying?”
“No, not at all. I love them. I talk to them every week. We travelled a bit when I was younger but it was relatively normal. My dad worked as a cook a lot, never a full chef, but he was good...”
“The eggs?” I ask.
“Yeah,” G says. “And my Mom worked every job under the sun. We weren’t well off but we were happy. I never wanted for much.”
“That’s good, it sounds lovely,” I say. I think of my parents, who never laughed or smiled, or cried, or ever really cared about anything.
Yes, they cared about me and my sister, but it always felt like they were performing a duty, not that they said that. Then I think of who I am, in this exact moment. “What am I going to tell mine? Fuck! I didn’t think of that.”
“Do you want to tell them?” Big-G asks.
“No!” I say.
“When will you next see them?”
“Not for a few months, longer, maybe?”
“Then say nothing. Worry about it then. You have enough to worry about now.”
I nod, pause for a second, and say, “Are we going to have fun now?”
“Are you not having fun?” Big-G asks. “Was breakfast not nice?”
“I suppose...”
“Did you enjoy checking out your new clothes?”
“I did, I guess. But I could be having more fun. Extra fun!”
G stands, picks up the plates and says, “I’ll wash up, you finish getting ready and we’ll go. Make a mini list and then we’ll do the More Fun! things.”
After getting dressed and pulling and tugging myself to no avail to be more of a woman I’m standing in my bedroom all ready except for my shoes. I don’t have any girl shoes that work and apart from my boy shoes I have nothing else. I suppose my white trainers are kind of androgynous. They’ll have to do. I don’t really have a choice. I put them on and am ready to go. But I’m not sure.
G is waiting by the door but I hold back. I turn my foot to him and say, “These trainers are kind of androgynous, right? Like, they’re not boy or girl?”
“They are entirely white; plain and white,” G says. “What does that say to you?”
I nod, and my phone goes off. I pull it out with G sighing. It’s a message from Jess. “Glad you and Sally had fun. She’ll sleep all day long, I’d guess. Study is horrible so message me everything you do, I need some contact with the outside world. Listen to Big-G. He’s amazing!”
And the text reminds me of something. I hold up a finger to G to wait then I begin to type a message back to Jess. I hear G moan with impatience. “Trevor from Light Avenue said to wish you luck with your exams. He said sleep and fresh air are key. He told Sally to tell you but I doubt she’ll remember after all of last night.”
I put my phone away, pull my new, navy blue coat closed, and say, “Right! We can go!”
“Are you sure?” G asks. And I nod and begin to walk. We’re about to step in the elevator when my phone goes off again, “Hang on, G.” I say and take it out.
“Trevor loves to wind up Sally. He’s so much fun. And such a sweetheart. Don’t believe a word he says, though. There’s more to him than he lets on.”
I smile at Jess’s message. She seems to have Trevor figured out. “OK, let’s go, G,” I say. “Stop holding things up!”
“You’re such a woman!” G groans.
But then he laughs, puts his arm around my shoulder and squeezes me into him for a moment. I feel good.
“Thanks!” I say, exhaling deeply, and with total satisfaction, or maybe relief.
We step into the elevator, me ready for adventure.
Me and G walk and talk, not going any particular direction other than towards the city centre where the main stores are. We’re not really chatting about anything in particular, which is nice. So much of the past couple of days has been directed at something.
He was right about everyday things just being pleasant. As boy Toni I’d be pounding out steps, desperate to get somewhere; to the next thing. Then when I got to the next thing I wouldn’t care about it — just wanting to get through it — and it’d be the next thing after that. Now I’m happy to walk, slowly, feeling the early autumn sun on my face and chat with G.
As we walk we fall into an easy pace. I figure G doesn’t like being held up but he’s in no rush. It seems if he’s making even a little progress he’s happy.
We walk past a supermarket parking lot when G doubles back and says, “Come on, we can get some of your things in here.”
“What? That’s a supermarket. A cheap one. The clothes they have will fall apart within about three months.”
“Do you really think you’ll be wearing those clothes in three months?” Big-G asks.
“What? Why wouldn’t I!?” I ask, all indignant. “Do you think I’m faking all this?”
“Christ! No, not at all. Have a think, Toni,” he says. “You’re brand new at this. Your style might change, it might not. Friday morning you were completely the old you. You wouldn’t even dream of buying clothes like this. In three months you might have totally different taste after letting it stew for a while. Do you really want to be saddled with expensive purchases you’ll never wear?”
“I don’t like you making so much sense,” I say, with a frown, actually a little bit annoyed at him. I’m getting annoyed at him being right quite often, now.
“It is genuinely a burden,” G says, with a hint of regret in his voice.
Soon we’re inside the clothing department and G is steering me around. He takes me straight to lingerie section, like he has an extra sense telling him what I should do but don’t want to face. I freeze up. “I can’t,” I say.
“Why not?” he asks.
“This is, well, it’s under-things. I can’t be in here,” I say. “People will think I’m a creep.”
“Will they think I’m a creep?” G asks.
“No, you’re with a woman!”
“Exactly,” G-says, and pushes me towards some bras. “You do know your size, don’t you?”
I find a white and a black bra, and a sorta-but-not-too sexy green one with silver stars that’ll fit me and the crappy forms Steve bought me as part of his plan. Then I pick up a load of packs of cotton panties in various colours and patterns, and some pantihose of various thicknesses, all dark.
Just as I’m finding a rhythm G drags me to the shoe section. “I have to get some underwear for me,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll have fun picking out shoes but don’t go batshit. You’re on a budget.”
I parade around the shoe section trying to figure out what I actually need. I want to go straight to the heels but I know G will blow his fuse if I don’t get some immediately practical stuff to wear, and I’m probably not confident enough in heels yet to wear them out and about. I don’t even know what goes with what. Eventually I pick out a pair of peach fabric ballet flats with embroidery on them, a pair of black, fake leather, ankle-high boots with buckles fastening them to the side and studs on the back, and a cheap pair of skate shoes with pink and yellow detailing, and yellow and green laces.
I’m taking a pack of socks off their hook when Big G arrives back, holding a set of boxers.
“I hope you’re not getting them,” he says. “I thought we agreed you don’t need them.”
I hold up the package of socks with butterflies and ladybugs on them and say, “But they’re so cute!” as I place them on the pile in my arm.
“Yeah, no arguing with you,” G says. Then places his underwear on my pile too and shoves some cash in my hand. “Let’s go.”
I’m feeling nervous in the queue for the cashier. The woman will surely know what I am and what I’m buying.
She’ll think I’m a freak or something, or call security, or worse. They’ll call the cops. I’ll go to jail. They’ll lock me up!
We get to head of the queue and my heart is racing when Big-G pushes me forward to an open position.
I place my pile on the counter and the woman smiles at me as she begins ringing things up.
“It’s so good your boyfriend comes shopping with you. Mine will just sit watching sports all day,” she says, along with giving an eye roll as she scans my panties through.
“He’s not my—”
“She dragged me out here to get new boxers. Threatened to throw my old ones out,” G says as I hand the woman my cash. “Then I couldn’t stop her.”
“They’ll wear them until there’s nothing left,” the woman says, handing me the bag. “Men! Have a nice day!” And it’s over in a flash, with new customers coming in behind me.
“See? Easy as pie,” G says. “Towards, Light Avenue.”
“We’re going to have fun?” I ask, heart pounding, being dragged along by G.
“There’s a department store near there I need to pick up some homeware in. I need to do things too, you know? The whole world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“Doesn’t it? Are you sure?” I ask, trying to sound incredulous.
“If you don’t buy anything there you might be able to afford to stop into Light Avenue for a bite to eat, and spend a little time having fun.”
“Yes. I like fun,” I say. “Fun, fun, fun!”
After a bit more of a walk I’m standing inside a fancy-ish department store’s doors, near the makeup section, with purses, handbags, belts and assorted leather goods off to the side.
“I’m leaving you here,” G says. “I won’t be long. Please don’t wander off. I really won’t be long!”
As G walks away I decide I won’t look at the makeup as the women at the concession stands seem really intimidating, just as Sally said. Perfectly severe faces and sharp style. Instead I go look at some of the purses and handbags, thinking about what I’m wearing. I feel like brown would work better with my outfit, so I begin to peruse, taking a few down off the hooks and trying them out. A few I take to the mirrors, slinging them over my shoulder, turning and twisting.
There’s no-one really around to stare at me so I’m having fun when I see one that immediately catches my eye.
It’s a light tan handbag, with a leather strap with lighter again, stained stitching on it. Embroidered on the front in greens, purples, blues and greys is a frog sitting on a rock by a brook with forest off to each side.
“What are you looking at?” Big-G asks. I have no idea how long I’ve been staring at it given G is already back so I don’t know how to answer him.
“OK, fine, don’t talk,” he says. He leans forward and grabs the tag. “That’s not too bad!” He takes the handbag off the hook and says, “Come on.”
“What are you doing, G?” I ask.
“Getting me a gift,” he says.
“You’re getting you a gift?” I ask, confused. Why would he need this handbag?
We reach the cashier and he places the bag on the counter before spinning me around, clamping an arm through mine to stop me from turning. I hear a beeping and some rustling. Then Big-G says, “Would you mind cutting the tags off and giving me the receipt. Don’t put it in the carrier bag.”
“Sure thing,” the woman says.
A few second later G spins me around again and hands the department store bag to me.
I look into it, not being sure why G is doing it and yes, the frog handbag is in there. “But why, G?” I ask.
“It’s something my mother would love and wear to death — exactly her style — and my style too. And it will make me happy seeing you wear it, just like my Mom.” I look at the cashier and she’s smiling, it’s a genuine smile. “And it really wasn’t that expensive,” Big-G continues.
The cashier, still smiling, says, “It wasn’t. Very affordable. But it’s still lovely. Just right for you.”
“Oh, thanks, G,” I say. And I give him a big hug.
“My pleasure.”
As we continue down the street I feel like I’m walking on air and I hold a tight grip on the handles of the department store bag as though it and its contents will float off into the sky with me holding on. Me never letting go. Both of us lost to explore galaxies.
It seems like only a few minutes of walking later — with things still feeling like a dream after my unexpected gift — that me and G are walking into Light Avenue, my heart beginning to pump heavily.
I look around but don’t see Steph or Trevor.
G drags me to the counter where a man in the Light Avenue uniform — Light Avenue’s logo embroidered on his shirt — is standing, waiting. I don’t recognise him, but why should I?
“What can I get you?” he asks. “The full kitchen menu is on for another ninety minutes if you’re looking for food.”
“Toni, what’ll you have?” G asks.
“A Coke,” I say, still looking around, searching.
“Will you eat half a cheese toastie?” Big-G asks.
“Yeah, I will, thanks,” I say.
“A beer, a Coke, and a cheese toastie and fries,” Big-G says.
The bartender dots the order into the till, readies the drinks then hands them over as G pays. “Find a table and we’ll bring you the food when it’s ready.”
“Thanks,” G says. Then he grabs my arm and pulls me into the deeper part of the bar.
As we walk past the alcove me and Sally were in last night I’m seeing a lot of things I don’t recognise. There’s a lot more nooks and crannies than I remember there being, with areas off the main thoroughfare. In fact there’s an entire, long bar area that has no staff behind it at the moment. It’s a section of the bar I seemingly only vaguely remember and even then I’m not sure on on it.
“This place seems to have changed overnight,” I say to G.
“Yeah, some things, and people, can change very quickly,” he says as he sits me down on a comfy bench while sitting himself down in the chair opposite me.
Then it dawns on me he was talking about me. “That’s mean!” I say.
“Fun, fun, fun!” Steve says, putting my Coke in front of me and laughing.
And using my own words against me is really mean, I think to myself. Really, really mean to poor, delicate old me.
But he’s smiling at me like I deserve it, so I make a face at him and laugh. What else can I do but listen to my own valuable advice — Fun Fun Fun — so instead I turn my focus to my shopping and can’t help but smile, too.
I take out the black boots from my supermarket shopping bag and realise they actually have a bit of a heel on them. It’s low and long but it’s noticeable. I rip the tags off, take off my trainers and slip my feet in, wriggling my toes; they’re great; much better than stupid boy trainers. Then I take out the purse Big-G bought me and begin swapping things out of the one I’m still using from Friday night.
“Oh, it’s so nice!” I say. “Thank you so much, G.”
“Feeling better?” G asks.
“Much,” I say. “But I don’t know how, you know? Nothing’s been completely terrible but somehow I just feel better and better. There’s nerves, of course, and fears, but then you’re here to sort them out!” I laugh and put my fists up like an olde timey boxer, me ducking and diving.
“Better...” He nods, slowly. “Good. That’s good!” he says, nodding again. “Get used to it... But don’t let the bad times, which will come, take over. This is a lot of what’s right in the world. Normal Sundays with friends eating fries. That’s all the world is most of the time, if you’re lucky, and that’s how it should be.”
He clinks his beer to my Coke on the table and soon after our food arrives. “If you’re still hungry after we can order more.”
We start into our slightly late lunch.
With the cheese toastie gone we mostly slowly talk and munch on the odd fry. Big-G is telling me a little more about his parents. They were kind of hippy, 60s people, but not that old — obviously — G is much too young for that. I think... More they were free spirits, making do, having fun. He’s an only child and it’s clear they love him to the ends of the earth. Everywhere they went both his parents and G had lots of friends and the way he describes some of his homes it seems like he was meeting new people every day.
Eventually the conversation goes quiet and Big-G says, “I’ve told you all about me and my family, and why I like that purse. You tell me your reason.”
“Don’t laugh?” I say.
“Why would I laugh at a purse I bought because my mother would love it?” G asks.
“OK...” I say. “You know the story of the frog getting kissed and turning into a prince?” Big-G nods. “Well, when I saw the bag it reminded me of me. Except instead of turning into a prince I turned into a princess, or I get to be a princess sometimes. And when I am there’s an enchanted forest around me, full of wonders and amazing things. And, I don’t know, I just feel blessed. I was bumbling around in a boring routine but now I can see the forest, and there’s so much life, and fantasy, and—”
I look up and see Big-G smiling in way I’ve never seen before. He’s like a little boy really looking at space for the first, dreaming.
He coughs, noticing I’ve stopped talking. “The next time I phone my Mom I’m telling her that story then she’ll be flying straight here and demanding to meet you,” he says. “So I am never telling her that story because you and my Mom would drive me nuts.”
“Oh, don’t be mean to your Mom,” I say. “Or me! Tell her the story.”
“Of course I will,” Big-G says.
I place the purse on the table and take out my phone. I take a picture of it and message it to Jess, to break up her study, along with how G bought it for me and what we’ve been up to. I’m just finishing up when I notice Steph is standing above me holding a tray. My heart begins to race and I suddenly feel very warm.
Very, very warm.
I gulp down the lump in my throat seeing the woman who’s night was so put out by me. All while she, and others, were just doing their jobs. No-one signed up for my level of crap.
“I’m so sorry for last night, Steph,” I say. “I really shouldn’t have—”
“Sorry for what?” she says.
“For causing so much drama and being all... Well...”
“Oh please,” Steph says. “Last night wasn’t drama, far from it. We were just worried about a new customer who’s going to be here a very long time. We told you both the story about the bar.”
“Yeah...” I say, feeling the pattern in my chest begin to pulsate with life again. “So no-one’s angry?”
“If anything we’re angry at ourselves for assuming we’d seen it all; you’re just kind of new to us. And that’ll be good for us in the long run, we’ll do better in the future,” Steph says, craning her neck side to side to stretch out. “Now if you wouldn’t mind scooting up I’d like to sit down.”
I slide up on the bench then Steph places the tray with the cocktail on the table next to us and sits. “OK! The main reason I wanted to see you!” she says brightly. “The full night shift is on by about 8pm or so. Or at least whoever’s driving the mini-bus that night. You can assume for at least the next month, from 8pm onwards, someone from here will take you home. No ifs, ands or buts!”
“Why? I don’t plan on getting messy.”
“That’s not it,” Steph says. “As you explained last night your whole situation...” she sweeps her hand up and down in front of me “...was very sudden. We want to make sure if you’re in here you get home safe. So if you’re in here and it’s past, let’s say, 7pm, you wait for the bus. Or if you’re nearby.”
“Are you saying..? That I’m not..? That I shouldn’t..?”
“No-one’s saying that,” Steph says. “There’s always things to be concerned about, reasons to keep your wits about you, but as you said yourself you didn’t even go out much as a boy. If a fresh-faced, innocent, twenty-one year old was coming in here often, the whole world new to them, and we knew, we’d do the same for them. You’re just a fresh-faced twenty-one year old twenty-six year old.”
“You’d really do that?” I ask.
“Yes, of course! This isn’t some Toni only measure we’ve put in place, you’re not that special. We’ve done this for lots of people and it’s no real commentary on anyone. And if it gets you in here more often that’s good. We like seeing your pretty little face.”
“I have a very pretty face,” I say.
“And you’re so modest!” Steph says. “Hear from Sally?”
I shake my head, and I’m wondering what I’m getting myself into with a private bus being laid on.
“I didn’t expect so.”
“Do you know anywhere near here I can get makeup samples?” I ask, distracting myself.
“There’s a few places, but the best of them? No. Trevor would know better than me,” Steph says as she picks the cocktail up from the tray on the table next to us. “Ask him. But first take this cocktail. I’d like to know what it’s like.”
“Sally is much better at tasting this stuff than me,” I say. “I really can’t tell any flavours or even what juice is in it.”
“It’s non-alcoholic so you don’t have to come up with excuses. There’s not enough on the menu and making non-alcoholic drinks that people order one after the other all night is a real challenge. You said you’re not a big drinker so it’s an important point of view.”
“OK, I will,” I say as I pick it up and take a sip through the straw.
“Nice bag,” Steph says.
“If you ever need a smile ask her why she picked it out. It’s very cute,” Big-G says.
“How are you Gary?” Steph asks, standing up. “You had a few hours of sleep, at least?”
“Yeah, I did. Thanks for asking.”
Steph stretches out her neck one last time then says, “Go and find Trevor and ask him about the makeup. He’s in the smoking area. And find me later, when you’re free. I want to know what that cocktail’s like.”
Steph walks off and G says, “Do you want to go find Trevor?” when his phone vibrates on the table, then mine. I pick mine up and it’s a message from Sally. “I’m so sorry about last night. I got wasted and made a fool of myself. Please tell me you’re OK with me and we’ll organise our pedicure for next weekend. If you still want to. If not you and Jess should go. I won’t.”
I lower my phone thinking of what to say. I did think Steph and Trevor would be angry at me but why would I be angry at Sally?
“Sally?” G asks.
“Is it obvious?” I ask.
He holds up his phone. “Me too. She’s in one of her hangover miseries. Are you OK here?”
“You’re going somewhere?” I ask, beginning to feel nerves flutter.
“Not if you need me, or want me to stay, but I was going to go see Sally. I can usually get her out of the hangover dumps.”
My eyes open a little wider and I say, “No. I’m fine. Go find her! And tell her I’m completely OK with her and she has nothing to worry about. I’ll text her the same.”
“Don’t text her yet, do it in about ninety minutes, or a little later. I’ll have found her and it’ll be better received.” He stands, and walks around the table, leans into me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll just grab my boxers from the bag. And you’ll be OK. I’ll stay if you want. And if not I’m only a call away even if you just want to talk.”
“No. Go to Sally,” I say. “I’m sure you don’t want to come makeup shopping with me. And thank you. For absolutely everything. Everything! I mean it.”
G smiles and is gone.
I sit finishing my cocktail and people watching. There’s so many different kinds of people in here. People you’d never expect to see, not for a gay bar, or LGBTQ+ bar, or an LGBTQ+ pretending to be a straight bar that accepts everyone but is really focused on LGBTQ+ people, which is a kind of secret, according to Steph and Trevor. And most of these people seem happy and content. Which, I guess, is what I am now.
I take out my phone and am about to text Alan but instead decide to phone him.
It rings a few times then I hear his voice. “Oh, Jesus, Toni. Tell me everything!” he says, and there’s so much excitement in my chest; in the pattern in my chest. This is one of my best friends.
“Do you want to meet me for a drink?” I ask, giddy.
“Hell yes!” he almost shouts. “Where?”
“I have to get some makeup samples. I don’t know how long that’ll take but not longer than about two hours. Do you know Light Avenue?”
“Some friends have talked about it but I’ve never been. There’s first times for everything, as you well know! I’ll be there in exactly two hours! I can’t wait. I’m going to hang up straight away and get ready.”
“I’m sor—” But he actually has hung up. I guess he really was excited.
I guess I have to get makeup. I have two hours to kill so what else can I do?
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