Part 8 (1/2)
Taryn sat with the book, just holding it gently in her open hands, looking at Rosalind in a way that made her want to cry, to dance. Something remarkable had happened; an understanding had pa.s.sed between her and her drag king.
Rosalind felt like she had succeeded in letting Taryn know how much she wanted to know all of her. How welcome she was as who she was. She had found a way to get inside. She sat in the glory of that recognition, too scared that it might vanish if she spoke.
Maria came back with hot tea and poured into the silence between them. Taryn sighed, at last, and set the book aside. ”Thank you.”
”You're welcome,” Rosalind said, picking up her teacup.
The meal had been remarkable, but Rosalind couldn't recall much of it afterward. She remembered how Taryn looked in the candlelight-the shadows on the planes of her face, the sharp edge of her cheekbone, the way the new haircut left her neck exposed. The way her eyes got soft and swimming the minute they fixed on her.
”You know, Joe told me tonight about him,” Rosalind said, remembering.
”About being trans? He must like you. He usually waits to mention it.”
”I think he likes me because I like you. I get that impression from him. He loved playing papa while you were upstairs. I see a lot of him in you.”
Taryn leaned back in her chair, a smile easing across her face. ”There was this film they showed at Hallwalls, several years ago. Part of the Ways in Being Gay Festival. It's called s.h.i.+njuku Boys. It's about the drag kings who work at the New Marilyn Club in the s.h.i.+njuku district of Tokyo. This club is staffed by male impersonators who are hired to charm the customers, flirt with them, sing karaoke to them, get them to buy drinks. And all the customers are women.”
”Gay women?”
”Nah, that's the thing. Straight women flock to this place. They eat the drag kings up. Call them, page them, send them gifts, try to get them into bed. There was this whole romantic culture built up about being with one of the kings, drove these women nuts.” Taryn paused, sipping at her tea.
”Oh, I can relate. In a distant way,” Rosalind said, fanning herself with her hand.
Taryn grinned. ”They profiled these three drag kings. Tatsu was a transman. He was on hormones, his voice was lowered. I don't think he'd had surgery, but he was living as a man. He had this gorgeous nineteen-year-old girlfriend, Tomoe. She wanted to marry him. They seemed very devoted to each other, very happy. Joe's like Tatsu. He always knew he was a man, he just had to make the outside match the inside.”
”I can see that. What about the other two?”
”Well, this one, Gaish, looked pretty femme, but dressed like a king. She lived with her partner, another performer at the club, a transwoman. They seemed pretty solid. But the third...she was a real dog. She had all these women calling her, paging her. She was cruel to them, but they were all over her.”
”Wonder where I've heard that before?” Rosalind said, thoughtfully tapping her temple.
”Stop it. I'm not that bad. But I am like her. I know I'm a woman. But I'm a masculine woman.” Taryn paused to see if Rosalind was following. She took Rosalind's hand from the tabletop, kissing it.
”What's that for?” Rosalind asked, pleased.
”For listening. For caring.”
”Finish your story,” Rosalind said tenderly, to keep from saying I love you.
”Joe said to me, after we saw that movie, that he thought it might be even harder for me sometimes than for him. Once he transitioned, the whole world saw him the way he saw himself. Few people are ever going to see me like I see me. I don't make sense, like he does. I don't fit what's expected out of a woman,” Taryn said, spinning her teacup on the tabletop.
”I see you the way you see yourself,” Rosalind said, every word from her heart. ”I see a handsome young woman whose courage will change the world. I see a hero. I love...who you are.” She realized what she had almost said and buried her face in her teacup.
Taryn looked at her, shaking her head. ”You have this remarkable effect on people, worming right under their skin. I knew you for an hour, and I felt like I never wanted to stop talking to you.”
”Not all people,” Rosalind said, remembering Rhea. The evening was going so well, her first date with Taryn, that she didn't want to bring Rhea up just yet.
”I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't be charmed by you. You're just so...good. Loving. And you're smarter than anybody, but not pretentious about it.”
”Why, Taryn, do you have a crush on me?” Rosalind asked in her best professor tone.
Taryn blinked at her, blue eyes innocent and wide. ”Yes. But I'm all confused about it. You're so pretty, and everyone tells me it's just me admiring you, wanting to be like you, but all I want to do is take you home and f.u.c.k you till you scream.”
”Taryn! You are bad,” Rosalind said, delighted and scandalized. Her body responded to the suggestion with enthusiasm.
”I'm a dog. Come take a walk in the park with me. I promise I won't try and hold your hand.”
”If you promise that, I'm not going anywhere with you,” Rosalind warned, and Taryn hung her head.
”Okay. I'll be a gentleman. Not perfect, but a gentleman.”
Delaware Park was a haven of green and black trees standing against a sky lit charcoal and orange from the city lights. Taryn led Rosalind down past the Rose Garden, where Shakespeare in the Park was performed during the summer. Taryn pointed to the hill, her arm disappearing against the gunmetal gray sky.
”People come and set out their blankets, bring a picnic and a bottle of wine, and watch the show. You'd be in Heaven. I always have trouble following the language, so I make Rhea translate, or I just drink the wine with Joe and ignore the whole thing. It'd be fun with you, though. You know all that stuff.”
”I'd love to see a Shakespeare play with you. A comedy to start, I think, but I'd work you up to the tragedies. I'd have you reciting Hamlet by the end of the summer,” Rosalind said, as they strolled down the path.
The hill was dark; the lights were fading between the trees. The park closed at ten, and she should have been afraid. But...she wasn't. It was being on Taryn's arm, the rightness of it, that made her feel immortal. Like nothing could touch her. It helped that Taryn looked male, especially in the darkness. Another couple walked by them, saw Rosalind on Taryn's arm, and nodded a greeting before vanis.h.i.+ng into the trees. ”They thought I was a nice young man escorting you. You can tell when people don't get it. They don't give you the double take.”
”Does that bother you?” Rosalind asked, leaning against Taryn's shoulder.
”Nah. It's a benefit, at night. People don't f.u.c.k with you if you're a straight couple, not the way they would if they saw us as two women. It's when the sun is up, and they get a good look at me, that it gets more complicated.”
Rosalind looked at Taryn's profile, etched against the darkness of the trees, her hair blending with the night. ”You know, there's a Shakespeare play where a young woman named Rosalind dresses as a young man and has a few adventures in a forest. She takes the name Ganymede,” Rosalind said, folding her hand over the arm of the handsome girl.
”So you should be the one in the suit?” Taryn asked, amused.
”I don't think I'd look nearly as good as you do. It's funny, Ellie told me I'd meet my Ganymede. And here you are.”
Taryn tilted her head. ”So you're Zeus? Funny, you don't look like him without the beard.”
”You know the story?” Rosalind asked, pleased.
Taryn stopped walking. ”One day Zeus, King of the G.o.ds, was looking over the earth. He saw this beautiful boy in a field, the most beautiful boy in the whole world. Zeus went crazy with l.u.s.t. He did that all the time apparently. This kid, Ganymede, was just hanging out, minding his own business, maybe playing a game, and this big eagle swoops down and grabs him, drags him off to Mount Olympus. He ended up fetching drinks for Zeus, being his boyfriend. I know most of the gay stories. They're the only ones I paid attention to. They don't talk about that one much in school.”
They walked down the hill, down to the edge of the lake, where the path curved and became paved. Benches sat along the walkway; the water shone dully in the starlight beyond the lip of the stone wall. Taryn stopped and faced the lake. ”Here, stand next to me. This is the most powerful spot in all of Buffalo.”
Rosalind stood at Taryn's side, looking up at her profile. ”Why? Besides being next to you, I mean,” she whispered, slipping her arm around Taryn's waist.
”Draw an imaginary wheel around us. The Albright-Knox Art Gallery is to our left, across the road. The Historical Society is in front of us, off that way. Forest Lawn Cemetery is to the right. Behind us, that building is the Casino. The city rents the s.p.a.ce out. I think there's a wedding reception starting, from the sounds of the music, up on the second level.” Taryn said this as if it explained everything.
Rosalind was enjoying leaning on Taryn's shoulder, enjoying the warmth. Her brain was pleasantly floating in the sensations of being in contact with Taryn. It didn't help her comprehension at all. ”I'm not sure I get it.”
Taryn gestured out into the night, the sweep of her arm taking in the lake, the building, the lights on the water, the wedding reception beginning above them. ”Art on our left, death on our right, history before us, and love behind us. What could be more powerful than being in the center of that?”
Rosalind considered this. ”Turning around. So history is behind us, and love is in front of us.” She gently guided Taryn around, until they faced the Casino.
Music started up on the level above them, the bridal dance. Taryn stepped away from Rosalind, bowing from the waist, holding out her hand. ”Dance with me?” It was a question, but the force of Taryn's charm was behind it, making it an invitation guaranteed to be accepted.
Rosalind had stepped forward and taken Taryn's hand without even thinking about it. Truthfully, she'd started moving the minute Taryn held out her hand, whatever invitation was being offered. She put her arm around the drag king's shoulder and felt her hand on her waist.