If I Was Your Girl(41)

“Yeah,” I said, my mouth feeling suddenly dry.

“Well, my biggest secret isn’t that I’m bi,” Bee said, leaning forward slightly. I cocked my head and listened. “I was raped in tenth grade.”

“Oh my God,” I said, covering my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever,” Bee said, waving my condolences away and snapping a few pictures. “It’s not a … I mean, it was a big deal. I needed therapy and shit. But it’s not why I am who I am or whatever. Anyway, that’s not the secret.” She took a few steps backward and knelt, the camera still pointed at me. “The secret’s coming.”

I nodded and looked away, off into the distance, where the wind rustled the grass like a gentle wave. By not looking at her, it felt like I was giving Bee privacy to tell her secret.

“So the guy who did it was a senior at one of the private schools up in Knoxville. His dad owns like seventy-five percent of this shitsburg, which is, I guess, why he was down here at the time. My folks told me I needed to go to the police. They got real mad at me because I was hesitating about it. But, like … everybody’d been calling me a slut since sixth grade when I had the bad luck to grow boobs first, and it felt like the son of a bitch’s family had enough money that there was no point, and really I just wanted the whole thing behind me, so I went to therapy and got over it and moved on.”

“And then?” I said, wanting to cross the distance between us and hug her. But something told me she needed to keep going, so I stayed where I was.

“And then two years later he was arrested anyway,” Bee said, her voice brittle and distant. “He’d gotten four more girls after me. One was twelve.” She lowered the camera for a moment and rubbed her eyes. “And it’s like, the rape was something I could put behind me, at least most days. I don’t really think about it, anymore. But if I’d come forward, yeah, he might not’ve gone to jail, but it would’ve been in the news, and those girls and their parents would’ve had a chance of avoiding what happened. That’s harder to get over.” She bit her lip and slowly started bringing the camera back up. “Therapy hasn’t really helped with that.”

“Bee,” I said softly.

The camera clicked a half dozen times. Her hands shook. I wanted to comfort her, but there was nothing I could say. Everything that came to mind sounded empty. I wanted to give her something real, to show her that she was right to trust me, that I trusted her too. Only one thing came to mind.

“I came close to telling you something last time we played,” I said, keeping my voice low.

“Sure,” Bee said, still sounding a little shaken.

“It’s serious though,” I said, raising my eyebrows. The camera clicked over and over. “Really. I’m not kidding. It’s not about me being embarrassed, or worried what people will think. It’s much bigger than that.” She looked up from the viewfinder and blinked. “If you tell people what I’m about to tell you, it will end me.”

“I won’t tell,” Bee said quietly. The look on her face was the most serious I had ever seen her wear.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” I said, scooting back to my side and looking out at the grass shivering in the wind as it gave in to the inevitability of winter. I breathed cool air in through my nose, held it, and poured it back out between my teeth. Now was my chance to stop. But I didn’t. “I’m transsexual.”

For a moment, Bee didn’t say anything. Then she spoke. “Do I have your permission to take a few more photos?” she asked. “I have some questions, but the way you look right now is really important to me and I want to keep it.” I nodded. The camera clicked faster than ever and then suddenly stopped. I felt a wave of naked warmth climb up my neck and down from my shoulders as she lowered the camera and stared at me. “I’ve never met anybody like you,” she said.

“Most people haven’t,” I said. I was surprised my voice wasn’t shakier. I looked down at my hands and saw they were relatively still. “Or at least they don’t know they have.”

“Okay,” Bee said, nodding slowly. “I’ve seen … what’s the word? Transgendered?”

“‘Trans people’ is best,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve seen trans people in movies and TV shows, but judging by how unrealistic and shitty bi characters tend to be, I’m gonna assume I know nothing. So what’s okay for me to ask?”

“Don’t ask about my genitals,” I said, balling up my skirt and looking up at the clouds. “Just don’t.”

“Wouldn’t matter,” Bee said, shrugging.

“Thanks.” I bit my lip. “Don’t ask about surgeries. Don’t ask what my name used to be. That’s pretty much it.”

“Okay,” Bee said. She put her camera away, folding the strap deliberately, her eyes locked on something just beneath the deck. “You didn’t have to tell me,” she said.

“I wanted to,” I said, releasing my skirt and surprising myself with a smile. “I really wanted to.”

“Well, you should know I was just f*cking with you earlier,” Bee said, “with the stuff about the robot.” She rubbed the back of her neck and I was almost sure I saw her cheeks redden before she turned to pick up something behind her.