CHAPTER NINE
I am a p-ssy. I have officially handed over my boys and slapped on a vagina. My manhood card was traded in for aching ovaries and an incessant need to spit on my thumb and rub dirt off of other people’s faces.
In the last week, it was like my body and mind were on two separate planets. Neither was working with each other anymore. Not since Jillian. My head knew—this girl will mess up everything and suck away everything I worked so hard for with a single bat of her lush eyelashes.
My body, however, could give two shits. All it wanted was to be near her. To touch her. To think about her. My ridiculously stupid hormone-driven body craved her like a drowning man craved air.
I was screwed.
When Tonya begged me to go to that stupid bonfire, I didn’t even let her finish the sentence before my initial thought was no. But then I’d invited Jillian. And even though she said she couldn’t come, I went with the hope she’d change her mind. Yes, I went to a party for the slight probability that I could spend an hour or so with her.
Screwed.
Two beers and an hour later, I’d accepted she wasn’t showing up. But no, I didn’t leave. Leaving would have been the smart thing to do. There was now a riot in my body, battling between sense and desire. Sense didn’t stand a chance, since only one head was allowed to think now. Instead, I took a walk on the beach, hoping the clean, cool air would help clear my head. But the air around me smelled like her. That sweet smell was everywhere and only forced more blood to the lower region of my body, thus denying any rational thoughts to seep through.
Tonya sidled up to me as I walked, high as a kite like most everyone else at this party. I’d overheard her cackling about how she found a new dealer out of the blue earlier in the week. She giggled incessantly, bragging about what a great deal she made—only paying half the cost if she delivered something to the office Monday morning. She’d offered us all some, but I declined. I hadn’t done that shit since high school and didn’t need to spend the evening totally paranoid and then gorge on Doritos and hours-old convenient store hot dogs until I felt like puking.
Now, Tonya was hoping to use the dark deserted beach as an opportunity to hook up, but after my experience earlier in the week, that was not an option. No amount of one-night stands was going to get Jillian out of my head. I shrugged Tonya off and continued alone down the beach when a shiny speck of light reflected off the moon and into the sand.
I bent to investigate, assuming it was a broken beer bottle or some other trash, and was amazed by what I found. The perfect, smooth piece of sea glass was exactly the color of Jillian’s eyes. Such a find was rare, especially in this area, so I wondered if it was real. And if it was, why was the universe constantly throwing reminders of what I couldn’t have in my face? How bad of a person was I in a previous life that I earned this sweet torture? I picked up the glass and put it in my pocket before returning to the party.
When I woke up Saturday morning, I thought about throwing the stone away. I didn’t need reminders of what I couldn’t have, or reminders of how to fail at my dreams. Because fixating on Jillian would do just that. And I couldn’t allow it to happen.
I picked up the glass and padded in bare feet up the two flights to the roof deck. There was a small park across the street, and I was sure if I threw the glass there someone would think they hit the jackpot finding it. Digging the glass out of my pocket, I held it like I would a skipping stone. And held it. And then stared at it. And then walked back down the stairs.
New vagina—one. Me—zero.
I spent Saturday visiting my dad. It had been almost a month since I’d checked in on him, and it would be just the kick in the ass I needed to remind myself that the only real way to long-term happiness was through hard work, not the opposite sex.
“Dad? You up?” I called as I walked through the front door.
I stepped out of my shoes and noted the time. It was barely noon, so most likely Dad was still in bed. He rarely graced the world with his appearance before at least three, after staying up all night watching infomercials and chain smoking.
I went straight into the kitchen and took out the overflowing trash, setting it aside as I grabbed a new empty bag and walked around picking up random fast food wrappers, cigarette butts, and crushed empty cans of Natural Ice. Three full bags later, the house was decent enough to at least sit in. I didn’t, starting on the sink full of moldy dishes instead.
I was throwing out food from the fridge when something caught my eye. It was the foil-wrapped wedding cake topper that they’d been saving forever with a slice of the original cake. I took the topper out and unwrapped it, smoothing the foil out. The plastic piece couldn’t have cost more than twenty bucks, but my mom had loved it. I sighed, thinking of her flitting around this kitchen in her pink apron that said, “I can’t fix stupid, but I can sedate it.”
My mom had worked as a psychiatric nurse and was our family’s breadwinner, allowing us to pay the mortgage and have health insurance. Her salary also kept me from having to visit thrift stores for new school clothes each year. She’d work a ten-hour shift, come home and cook us dinner, help me with my homework, and never complain about how tired she was. She was a saint.
But losing her crippled my dad. He lost the best part of himself, and I doubted if he’d ever be whole again. He had nothing to fall back on because his only passion in life was Mom. He never loved what he did; he did a job for a paycheck and now spent his days lounging in his underwear on his recliner in front of the TV.
At sixteen, I’d picked out the casket to bury my mother when dad wouldn’t come out of his room. I’d dealt with the lawyers to handle mom’s life insurance, paid the mortgage, electric, and bought all the groceries when he fell into an alcohol and sleeping pill zombie-like state each night for almost a year. I forged Dad’s name on every document for school, paid the taxes each year, and made sure he ate when he would forget for days at a time.
“Grant? Is that you?” Dad called from the back room a while later.
I dried my hands on a beach towel since I couldn’t find a clean dish towel and drained the water from the sink. “Yeah, Dad. I came to check in on you. How are you feeling today?”
It wouldn’t matter what day I came, his answer would always be the same, but I still asked anyway. It was our routine. He shuffled into the living room in nothing but his robe and a pair of, no doubt, dirty boxer shorts and plopped down onto the LazyBoy.
“I’m feeling a little better today, son. I’m thinkin’ about getting out this afternoon. Maybe see a movie or try that new place on Phelps Ave.”
The “new place” on Phelps closed over a year ago. Dad wanted me to think he was getting better, that he was coping with Mom’s death finally, that his depression wasn’t as severe as it actually was.
“That’s great, Dad. Maybe we can hit the batting cages or something next weekend.”
It was our game. I pretended to believe him, and he pretended he wasn’t full of shit.
“So how’s life, son? Any ladies in your life yet?”
I leaned against the counter opposite him, not wanting to actually sit on any of the furniture. It hadn’t been cleaned since Mom died seven years ago.
“No, Dad. I told you before. Career comes first. I’m only a year away from finishing my Masters.”
Dad lit up a cigarette. “Grant, how many time do I have to tell ya? You won’t be young forever. You won’t have that body that drives the girls crazy for long. Time is precious. And there’s no better way to spend it than with the person who completes you. You’ve gotta put yourself out there before all the good ones are snatched up. You don’t want to end up with the spinster cat lady after you’re forty, do you?”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t respond. He gave me the same lecture since Mom died.
“Or is it that you’re looking for a decent fella? Is that what it is? ‘Cause you can tell me. One of those guys you row with maybe? If you’re here and queer, then I’m proud of it.”
I spit out the Pepsi I’d been sipping. “Oh my God, Dad! Why does everyone think I’m gay? Is it so crazy to think I’m not interested in dating right now? That I want to make a name for myself in the world, not in the wedding announcements section of the Daily Bugle?”
Dad sighed. “I just want you to be as happy as your mother made me. No job out there can bring you that kind of happiness.”
“Whatever you say, Dad. All right, I gotta go. I have another team practice later today all the way up in Chatham County. Do you need anything before I go? Has Mary been by to bring you groceries?”
Mary was a sweet woman from the local Baptist church and brought Dad groceries from their food pantry once a week or so. I gave her an additional fifty bucks to bring him some fresh milk and fruit, but most of the time it went bad before he ever got around to it. Still, I paid her each week just in case.
“Yeah, she was by yesterday. I think she has a crush on me or somethin’. She’s always comin’ around, botherin’ me. I keep telling her my heart would only ever belong to one, but she doesn’t take the hint. See, son? You wait too long to find a nice girl or guy, her type will be all that’s left. The dregs of the world.”
And on that note, I pushed off the counter and slipped my shoes back on. “Take care, Dad. I’ll see ya later.”
He half-heartedly waved as he turned on the TV to Sports Center, already tuning me out. He’d undoubtedly stay there for several days until even he could smell himself and it reminded him to shower. For most of my late teens, I’d felt responsible. But I learned that nothing I could do would make a difference. So I made sure he survived, was fed, and his bills were paid. There was nothing else I could do besides make sure I didn’t end up the same way.
When I strolled into work Monday morning half asleep, I found myself in front of Jillian’s empty cubicle before I’d even realized my feet carried me there. I sighed at my pathetic behavior and placed the glass I’d kept in my possession all weekend next to her keyboard.
Score another point for my vagina.