Beast(40)

Jamie shifts from one foot to the other. “Um…Christmas is always nice.”

“I agree.” Mom nods. “My favorite is Martin Luther King Junior’s birthday. Always has been.”

“Since when?” I say.

“Since before you were born,” she says. “Except when you’ve got a little kid you’re forced to get all excited for Halloween and Christmas, wake them up on New Year’s, et cetera, but for me it’s MLK all the way.”

Jamie and I stare at her, afraid of what’s coming next.

“I just love his message.” Mom clears her throat. “To judge someone by the content of their character. Beautiful, just beautiful.”

“Please stop,” I say.

Jamie’s eyebrows shuffle and land on confused. “Okay?”

“Mom was just leaving, right, Mom?”

My mother looks like an angry wombat about to strike, all cuddly until you get too close. “Yes! I was. I’m going to bring your poor mother a cup of coffee while she’s waiting in the car.” She holds up the decanter. “Does she take milk? Sugar?”

“And how,” Jamie says.

“Great.” Mom practically throws hot coffee into a new mug, dumps in the milk and sugar, and stuffs her feet into her good house shoes. “If you need us, you know where we’ll be.”

The door slams, and Jamie and I stand on our three legs in the kitchen. “She seems nice?” Jamie offers.

“She’s trying too hard and she’s pissed at me. Tricky combination for her to pull off.”

“Oh. Well. Thanks for inviting me over.” She shoots the smallest of smiles. “Even though this is weirder than weird.”

“Uh, yeah. Right, okay. Thank you for coming.” The plan, I chant to myself. Remember the plan. “I…I didn’t like how…What happened was…You know.”

“I know.”

“So. I wanted to say I’m sorry for everything.” I stick out a hand. “Friends?”

Jamie’s shoulders sag. “Yeah, sure.”

We shake on it.

I’m not sure I believe what we’re shaking on. The way she’s slumping into the counter makes me think she doesn’t either. It’s like we both know our coexistence is futile. We can’t just be associates on planet Earth, bumping into each other on the sidewalk to ask each other about the weather. Not without some pretty solid hits to the gut. I have no idea where we go from here.

“I made crab cakes for you.”

“I heard.”

“They’re your favorite.”

“Do you want a medal or something, Dylan? Do you know how hard it is to be here? Why am I here, anyway? Did you have me come all the way here just so you could feel better? You seriously want to just be friends? For real?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“So sticking the ‘friend’ Band-Aid on everything that happened suddenly makes it okay? I’m supposed to ignore that you were King Asshole and made me feel like the stupidest person for thinking we were…Fuck it. Yay, crab cakes.” She smudges a spot on the counter. “?‘O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’?”

“?‘Jabberwocky.’?”

Jamie shoots me a hot glare. “You’re not the only one who likes school. Just because my head’s not all swollen up like I have hydrocephalus or whatever doesn’t mean I don’t have a party going on up here too,” she says. “Although hydrocephalus is a terrible condition and I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.”

“Cover all your bases there?”

“Shut up.”

It’s obvious neither one of us gives a shit about the crab cakes, and suddenly I’m doused in gasoline and she’s holding the match. Deep down, there’s a part of me that’s still into Jamie, that still wants to talk to her all the time. It hits me over the head and I swallow. Oh, Dad, I hope you hear me wherever you are and make it go away.

I don’t know what to think about this, so instead I bury it.

Peeking at Jamie, I watch her chip chunks of carbon off an old burner, and I realize it’s not just her anger I’ve been hearing, like sonar beeps; it’s sadness. For every black look and pissed-off word, there’s tenfold within from where she’s hurt.

“I am sorry,” I say.

“I heard you the first time.” Jamie doesn’t look at me.

“I didn’t handle it well. There’s a lot I wish I could take back,” I say.

“Well, guess what, Captain Tact, there’s nothing I wish I could take back. Other than going through all this without you even listening that day.”

“Can you tell me now?”

“Why?”

“So I can listen to every word.”

She sighs. “I was telling the group that my grandpa called me my dead name and how my dad corrected him and said, ‘Please call my daughter by her real name.’ It was a big deal. Dr. Burns asked you what you thought, but it was all crickets. Then you said it was cool.”

“That’s unfair.” I knew Dr. Burns was a piece of work. She was trying to make me look stupid in front of a group full of girls. “A dead name? Like I’m supposed to hear that and be like, Hark! That means Jamie is transgender. Yeah, no. Unfair.”