What Are We?

Fashy Boy asks, “What are we?” and Felina answers, “friends.” This does not sit well with Fashy Boy. Fashy Boy, it seems, pitched the idea of meeting the fam and Felina agreed. Meeting the fam is a “we are a thing” move. He was hoping for more than “friends“.

It is amusing that under all Fashy Boy’s cross dressing and eye shadow is a good Baptist who wants his woman to jump the broom with him. All that energy invested in Felina must mean something. They even said that phrase, “I love you.” Why wouldn’t they be a thing?

Away from the shores of the Mississippi he is androgynous leaning fem and flirts with cis-boys. At home in Raymond the narrow ties and Dockers come out of the closet. They posted a picture on FB that looked like Grant Wood’s, “American Gothic“. Lately, Felina went to the salon for help with her blown out bottle blonde and pink dye job.

So . . . Men are necessary evils to Felina. She’d like kids some day so that means a guy. She’s tasted clams and lost her appetite for them. Too much drama for one. She keeps men around like dusty dildos and Dollar Store tool kits. Not needed, mostly, but sometimes a girl has needs and a guy can help. Until Fashy Boy.

Felina doesn’t have beau’s the way some would wish her to. That would mean dealing with expectations and dirty toothbrushes. He can wash his own damned clothes. She breaks dirty plates left in the sink and throws them away. Never at the bae, just close enough to make the point. Fashy boy accused her of being crazy abusive when he left a plate in the sink and it went flying across the kitchen to shatter and fall behind the stove. That happened early on one of their newish overnights before the whole meet the fam thing happened.

✤ ✤ ✤

It was Fashy Boy that moved the stove and swept up the broken plate. This was before I picked them up this morning at 3:00am at a gas station just off I-95 at the north end of the capital of the South. The bus ride was an epic mess. They missed their first bus on Thursday and could not get another one until this morning. Fashy Boy had made noises about taking care of her, which to Felina means he had money for this pilgrimage. Not. Felina was out of pocket for the whole thing. Felina may be full of the ways in which men have burned her but the flame still flickers. She still hopes that a guy will be able to take care of her.

Fashy Boy’s status with her was not in a good place. Felina did the needful and got them back to Richmond on one of those generic white buses that always seem to have Cantonese speaking staff. A1 Auspicious Travel or whatever. I expected Felina to be cold to Fashy Boy. I expected her to be on the bus by herself. Neither happened. They were repacking their stuff after the driver had tossed it. Felina had wrapped herself with a blanket as a skirt because it was 25°F and when they left Mississippi it had been short skirt weather. They moved together like a couple who were past the ‘spose to phase.

They loaded themselves into my car and we headed off to the Fan where they had friends who were going to put them up. The ride to their crash-pad was short and filled with the business of making Raymond home. Felina was nervous because this is the biggest commitment to a boy yet. I didn’t think Fashy Boy would be the one but these ten minutes with them in my cab were telling.

✤ ✤ ✤

You know a woman picks a man when she starts talking about babies and plans and a purpose and a cause. She can rest in his life knowing that beyond the usual strom and drang of married with children he’ll be fine. There are enough women who are down for the cause and claim to not need men. Then 28 happens and as annoying as it is, the social pressure to settle down gets loud. Felina is a long way off from that. Still, her old soul tag comes from dirty feet while walking through hell to the other side. Fashy boy under the makeup feels like red peas. She found a purpose in him and that feels really good.

She also found rest in the small act of kindness by Fashy Boy when the plate smashed and fell behind the stove. In her family that would have been the opening salvo. It would have been on and after the cops left they’d have to go to the dollar store for paper plates. Fashy Boy just stared at her, shook his head and got out the broom. After a stony silence while he started cleaning up all he said was, “are you done?” No, she wasn’t.  He’d not done what she expected. This melted her. She got the dust pan and helped him throw out the shards.

Trust is Felina’s kryptonite. Hers is a world absent of mercy and grace. In her world every slight, every hurt, resentment or past sin is another round to be fired at the one causing duress. Grace, forgiveness, mercy are impossible and desperate hungers for her. Fashy Boy’s small act of kindness fixed it for her. That was what sealed the deal. She was his.

They unloaded in front of a house on Monument Ave that is on the annual Junior League decorator tour. I figured a different sort of place. It must be nice to have friends who offer crash pads that have appeared in Architectural Digest. As I drove off I made my own bets as to when I’d hear that they’d been to the Hinds County Courthouse and made it legit. In the meantime, I’d say these two are a thing. Not what I expected or wanted. Probably better, though.

Share

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.