Light From Uncommon Stars(16)

“The bridge!” Katrina pulled the violin from Evan’s hands.

“Bridge? What?”

Skylar walked into the living room.

“Do you have any money for the bus?”

“What?”

She grabbed Katrina’s purse, fished around, and pulled out a five-dollar bill.

“Thanks, gurl. Gotta go!”

Evan waved to Skylar, then glanced at Katrina. Finally, he went into his bedroom and closed the door.

Katrina listened carefully for any danger. She heard a dog, and an old man across the street. She heard schoolchildren outside.

Softly, she put her violin away and closed her purse. Still quiet. Good. It seemed safe for now.

And Katrina still had not taken a bath.

The shower was still cold and filthy, but there was no time to think about that. She didn’t know how much time she had. She quickly scrubbed, shampooed, conditioned, and felt almost human before Evan came in.

He held her from behind and kissed her.

Katrina remembered how she’d just started wearing makeup, and found a women’s blouse from a secondhand store. Her hair hadn’t grown out yet, but she had fastened it with a shiny pink barrette. It had been the first time she’d gotten a lanyard and a name tag with her chosen name KATRINA and she/her printed in boldface Helvetica.

And, after another workshop where she had said nothing, Evan had sat with her for lunch. She had a ham sandwich, while his was tofu. She apologized about being too stupid to know queers shouldn’t eat meat and so many pronouns existed and she’d never even heard of Imogen Binnie or Nevada.

Then he hushed her with his finger, kissed her on the forehead, and she felt her body go liquid like summer sun. And then he kissed her on the lips, and she knew it didn’t mean anything, except that it meant everything.

But now?

“I was thinking, it would be a way to help with the rent, you know?”

He pushed her down and continued. After he finished, Evan tried to kiss her again.

“I don’t know why you’re crying,” he said. “It’s fair trade. Besides, I can only imagine how you paid for that violin.”

Eventually Evan left with a couple of their friends for a new Korean teriyaki place that was supposed to be super authentic. Katrina listened as Evan’s Jeep drove one, two, then three blocks away.

Katrina felt for her safety bag. Then, quietly, she retrieved her violin. From China, a P20+, maple, spruce, ebony … The eBay description said it was a copy of a 1710 Stradivarius. Even in the dimness of Evan’s living room, the wood grain seemed to hold whatever light it could find.

Please come see me. Or you can meet me here, the teacher had offered.

She was so beautiful. Was she even real? Katrina reached into her purse. Whoever she was, to be able to play like that. To make music that could do that.

Yes! The woman’s card was still there. Of course she’d never use it. But yes. It was real. The music she remembered, the music that she was hearing, even now, was real.

But then Katrina’s phone buzzed, and with it, a more immediate reality. Someone wanted a date, and he was nearby.

It did not take long to make herself pretty, at least pretty enough. Early on, she realized that being Chinese, Vietnamese, and Mexican meant that with the right makeup and attitude, she could seem exotic to just about anyone.

Work it, girl.

Though she far preferred to webcam, there was neither the space nor privacy to do cam sessions at Evan’s. She looked herself over. It would do. She carefully packed her violin, then hid it away before heading out the door.

It was time to make money.





6


Unfortunately, the hookup was horrible. Although he seemed normal at first, he was high on something, and his dick wasn’t getting hard.

A man on drugs with a limp dick can be very scary. He tried and cursed, then began to blame her, insisting he was soft because he wasn’t a homo.

And then he wanted her to top him. And then he wanted her to speak Chinese.

And then he pulled her hair and spat on her.

But at least he didn’t reinjure her ribs. And thank goodness, he wasn’t able to cum. Sometimes guys like this got crazy with trans girls after they came.

And, yes, thank goodness, he paid.

Katrina started the walk back to Evan’s. As she watched the cars go by, she tried to feel grateful. But gratitude was difficult. Yes, she had money for now, but she wasn’t stupid. Her ribs weren’t healing, and her hormones would run out in two weeks, a month if she stretched them.

If she stepped onto that road, what would be different? And why was she fighting, anyway? She just had sucked someone for money, after fucking someone else for rent. What made her so special that she should live?

But then, Katrina smelled food.

First, she smelled the sweet, almost citrusy smell of roast duck. Then the heavier warmth of BBQ pork. Chilis from a hot pot. Oyster sauce being stir-fried into a wok of raised noodles. Salted eggs in rice porridge, fried turnip cakes with diced leeks, ginger and green onion lo mein.

The many smells from the kitchens of all the small, bustling restaurants along the boulevard made her stomach growl, her mouth salivate.

She may not have had a reason to live. But here were plenty of wonderful reasons to eat.

Half an hour later, Katrina was sitting at a table with a bowl of pork belly noodle soup. The skin crackled on the outside of the pork, while the flesh oozed with fatty juices within. The noodles had the perfect bite, and the broth was glistening with the flavor of long-cooked bones.