Neither Here Nor There - 7. Chapter 7

Tango

The remainder of my shift sped by. I bounced from table to table, checking on customers. Behind the counter, I was conversational, asking them about their day and happy to personalize their drinks, even the nonsensical requests like a caffè mocha made with skim milk and extra whip cream. All the while I was focused on the upcoming party, seeing Hudson again and introducing him to my friends.

Dale stayed buried in his office, attending to administrative matters. He was quiet as we walked the few blocks home from the shop, but maybe it was my own enthusiastic jabbering that silenced him.

Once home, I raced around my basement unit, straightening up, putting fresh sheets on the bed before showering and dressing for the evening. I didn’t know for sure that Hudson and I would end up down here, but if we did, I didn’t want him to think I was a slob. Earnest schoolboy was my look for the evening. It was the persona where I was most comfortable and the look to which I defaulted most often.

I dropped some product in my hair and ran my fingers through trying to produce a tousled, spiked effect. As usual, this was unsuccessful. Sticking my head under the sink faucet, I rinsed out the product, towel dried my hair and combed the short, fine strands back from my face in a clean side part.

Good enough. Moving to the full length mirror on the rear side of the bedroom door, I checked out the black penny loafers, buffed to a high shine, and new jeans dyed a dark midnight blue, turned up at the cuff. Swiveling, I examined my butt from as many angles as I could. It looked good. The jeans hung just right from my hips, not too tight and not too baggy. A starched white shirt topped the outfit, together with a black vest, and I had put on a binder underneath. The snug, stretchy fabric hugged my torso, flattening my chest just enough to make me appear to have nicely developed pecs.

Dark-framed glasses topped the look, a necessity since my contact lenses had been bothering me by the time I got home. As I gave myself a final once over, I realized I was grinning stupidly into the mirror. With an effort, I dampened my anticipation at seeing Hudson and made my way upstairs.

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“You doing okay, Tango?” Jenna wiped her hands on a dish towel and started pressing candles into the chocolate frosting of the sheet cake. We were three hours into Dale’s party, and there was no sign of Hudson.

I’d spent most of the evening out back with the other partygoers, mingling under the colorful patio lights strung throughout the backyard. For the last thirty minutes, I’d joined a quieter conversation group in the living room at the front of the house. From there I’d kept one eye on the front walkway, straining my neck every time car lights flashed through the window, trying to see if Hudson had finally arrived. Eventually I’d sought a refuge back here in the kitchen, away from the revelers filing the house and yard.

“I was expecting someone else to show tonight. I invited him this afternoon.”

“Who’s that?”

“Hudson. The guy from last week at the bookstore.”

Her face registered surprise, then compassion. “I’m sorry, Tango, maybe-”

“I told you that night at the bookstore what Hudson was like.” Dale interrupted from the doorway. “Sorry Bud, I know you had a good night with him, but a party like this is just not his scene. Not anymore. I mean, take a look outside. Do you see anyone who looks like him?”

Through the long bank of windows behind the kitchen sink and counter, I took in the crowd. The yard was filled with femmes and baby dykes, bois, gurls and grrls, and a good dozen fey, glittery creatures of indeterminate gender or sexual preference. They flirted, flitted, dazzled around one another. They were superior in their otherness, reveling in their vainglorious rejection of convention.

“He seemed into it when I asked him.” I shrugged.

“I know you’re bummed.” Dale came over and gave my shoulder a little shake. “Trust me, it’s for the best he didn’t show. You haven’t been out in the trans community long enough to see it, but guys like Hudson just pass right on through during their transition. They hang with us genderqueers and party with us for a while, but once they get far enough along with hormones and surgery, they stop coming around.

They have a new life, a life where no one thinks anything is odd about their gender. They’re undercover, slipping right into the mainstream, and they don’t want to be seen with people like us anymore.

We’re queer 24/7, pushing the boundaries every day. We look out for each other. They’re only looking out for themselves.”

Words to rebut Dale’s bitter rant rose up, but the angry response passed as uncertainty reared just as quickly. Who was I to serve as an apologist for Hudson? After all, he wasn’t here, was he?

Jenna looked on me with more sympathy. “Did he not even call to let you know he wasn’t coming?”

“No, I...” my hand patted my pockets, searching for my phone. I always had it on me. Except today, I hadn’t. The kilt I'd worn earlier had no pockets, and I’d not checked my phone since this morning. A surge of optimism carried me out of the kitchen. “I need to find my phone. Maybe Hudson is lost; maybe he’s been calling...”

I headed for the stairs leading down to my basement residence.

“Hey, we’re just about to take the cake outside and light the candles. We even have sparklers. You love those.” Dale looked troubled, but I waved em and Jenna on.

“Go ahead without me. I’ll be back up soon.”

Of course, when I found my phone there was no message from Hudson about being lost. He wasn’t driving the streets looking for my address. Something more important had come up.

I checked the time of his text message. He'd sent it only a couple hours after we talked. After we’d been kissing, me doing a slow grind into his body. He’d certainly wasted no time in finding something better to do with his night. He was probably sipping wine somewhere with men who wore ties and women who wore long gowns, and where everyone had hair that did exactly what it was suppose to.

Maybe Dale was right.

Sure, Hudson wanted to fuck me. I didn't doubt that. But all the rest that came with me...my friends, my small room down here in the basement…he’d sure backed away from that fast enough.

Fuck you, Hudson. I will not let you make me cry. Grinding my teeth to hold back the tears, I grabbed my phone again. I didn’t need this sort of complication in my life just when I was starting to feel good about myself.

A happy birthday chorus for Dale started up in the backyard. I tapped out a return text message, finding words to guarantee he’d stay away.

Hey Stalker. Lose my number & forget you met me. Don’t come looking for me again. That shit is creepy.

Through the small cellar windows at the top of the basement walls, I saw sparklers being waved around the yard. The volume of conversation increased as people loosened up, and the night grew late.

I couldn’t go back up there. Turning out all the lights in my room, I slipped out of my clothes and curled up on the bed. Eventually sleep carried me away.