Miasha - Secret Society

“Oh, so you actually planned this confrontation?” Darrell yelled.

“Yes, I did. I’m getting sick and tired of you cheating on me!” Rachel began to get emotional. “And you had the nerve to do it while I was in the hospital giving birth to your daughter! You’re sick!” Rachel said, as she hit Darrell in his chest with her balled fist.

Darrell gripped her by her arms and forced her into the kitchen. I just sat there and watched the whole thing like it was a movie. They were still arguing in the kitchen, but it was harder to hear them. I got up and walked over to a wall. I put my ear to it, hoping to hear better.

“Listen, you have to stop spying on me! That’s why I cheat! If I didn’t do anything, you would still accuse me, so I might as well do what I’m getting charged with!”

“What kind of logic is that, Darrell? You’ve been cheating since forever! If I’ve ever accused you it’s because you’ve given me reason to!”

It sounded like Rachel was crying.

“Oh, that’s bullshit, Rachel, and you know it! When I was faithful you didn’t trust me. You gave me hell about everything! And you wonder why I cheat on you. Look at the stunts you pull! Getting rid of the kids so you can invite a woman over to throw it in my face that you caught me!”

There was a brief pause.

“And you went all the way too! You went all the way this time!” Rachel yelled.

“What are you talking about?”

“A man, Darrell? What, did you think she had me fooled with those high heels?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

I pressed my ear even harder against the wall. I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly.

“I know your little girlfriend is a man! She told me on the phone. Plus it ain’t that hard to tell. How could you not tell me you were gay?” Rachel screamed.

I didn’t wait around for Darrell’s response. I grabbed my bag off the couch and sped out of that house. I could not believe it. How could she tell? I wondered. I was insulted. I mean, I was not some typical transvestite or drag queen who wore women’s clothes and makeup for entertaining purposes. This was my life, and I worked damn hard to achieve this look. What the hell did she mean, it’s not hard to tell? I kept looking at myself in my rearview mirror to make sure my makeup was still intact. I didn’t notice any flaws. I drove to a McDonald’s on City Avenue.

“Excuse me, where’s your restroom?” I asked, sounding pressed.

I walked into an empty stall. I looked down at my private area. Shit! I thought. There was a huge bulge in my shorts. How could I have overlooked that? I hurriedly unbuckled my belt and unbuttoned my shorts. I put my hands in my panties. My penis was no longer tucked in between my butt cheeks. The tape had come off.

“Shit!” I whispered.

I dug into my bag. No tape. I tried squeezing my cheeks together tight, but it wasn’t working, either. I was so frustrated. I just had to hurry home and hope no one would notice from here to there.

I held my bag in front of me, trying to hide my secret, and slipped out of the restroom. Now I knew what a girl felt like when her period came on unexpectedly.

It was a misty Wednesday afternoon. I was sitting on the couch watching talk show after talk show, eating grilled hot dogs, and drinking iced tea. I hadn’t spoken to anyone all day and wanted it to stay that way. I was spending nothing time with myself and I actually enjoyed it, lounging around the house in nothing but a T-shirt and a terry-cloth robe. I was comfortable.

From my window I saw the mailman leave mail in my box. I got up from my warm and cozy spot on my couch and went outside to see what bills I had. Lately, I’d been seeing more and more bills, something I wasn’t used to. To pay my mortgage and utilities, I had been digging into the stash that I had been able to accumulate when O started doubling the money he gave me. For groceries and personal items like hormones, I depended on the rent money I collected from the tenants who lived in the duplex that Tariq bought me for my birthday. Tina helped out too, sending me money every two weeks. At times she even sent me new clothes and shoes, but that was because L.A. got styles before Philly did, so she said she was just keeping me ahead of the girls out here.

I skimmed past the junk mail and circulars and came across a cute decorative envelope with no return address. I went back inside, found my place on the couch, and opened the envelope.

Dear Friend,

You are a blessing from the Man up above. I remember when we first met. I was sitting in a classroom in Franklin waiting for the teacher to start the class and you came in and sat next to me. You smiled at me like you was going to holla at me. And I thought to myself, either he sees through me and knows I’m a guy or he thinks I’m really a girl and is trying to play the straight role. Either way, I knew you were gay. From that day on I took you under my wing and I taught you so well that later down the road you were better at the game than me.

Now, after seven years, you are all I have. You have been the only one by my side since. You have kept me level-headed and out of trouble and I appreciate you for that. I don’t remember what it was like to have a family because it’s been so long since I’ve had one, and when I did have one it was dysfunctional. It was hard finding unconditional love from a father who spent most of his life in prison, a mother who put crack before her own children, and an older brother who was too busy trying to follow in my father’s footsteps, trying to be a drug dealer. Anyway, it wasn’t until I met you that I found that love-that kind of love you get from a family. I probably would have been lost without it.

I have changed a lot since I’ve been in L.A. with Derrek. I am a different person. I forgive my family and I forgive the pervert rapist who introduced me to homosexuality. I forgive my grandmother who let me live in her house but who didn’t give a shit about me. And most importantly, I forgive myself for hurting so many people and playing with people’s sexuality. And that’s why I’m writing you. I want you as my friend to get out of the game. I want you to stop faking dudes out for your own sake and theirs. You know like I know that it is not fun being gay. Nobody wants to be gay. And to force that lifestyle on a straight man is wrong. I finally see that. There is a man out there who is gay by choice and would love to give you the world, so please wait for him to come along.

Plus, I wouldn’t want to see anything happen to you. You mean a lot to me. Also, Celess, please contact your mom. Be in touch with her, because you only get one. I know she couldn’t handle your being gay and cross-dressing, but at least do your part and keep in touch with her. You are her only child and you two only have each other. With all that said, I love you dearly.

Love ya, girl,

Tina

P.S. I know you are wondering what the hell Derrek did to me. The answer-he showed me what love really was.

Tina was right, I was wondering what the hell Derrek did to her. I closed up the letter and then read the invitation that was placed inside it. Tina and Derrek were getting married at the end of the month in Albany, New York. There were two round-trip train tickets stapled to the invitation. I sat back and reread the letter. I was trying to imagine Tina writing it. I couldn’t see her sitting down and writing a letter, period, much less those words. I took it all in, though, and started to feel mushy. I mean, I was happy that she was truly my friend and that she felt the way she did about me. Just like she didn’t have anybody else, I didn’t either, even though my family was alive. But on the flip side I was upset that she would come out of the blue and ask me to stop doing what I was doing. I mean, back when I was feeling bad about it she was the one telling me to get over it. Now that she found somebody and she was out the game, suddenly she cared about people’s feelings. So what did she expect me to do, get a job and start paying my own bills? Start frequenting gay bars looking for Mr. Right? Please. She had some nerve, I thought.