Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12)(56)

When Carin was alive and one of the boys had a birthday, she’d have their whole class over, including their parents. I could still see Carin’s beautiful face, flushed with joy as she replenished pitcher after pitcher of sweet tea and lemonade. Or as she stood in the sun, holding her hair back from her face because of a stiff breeze while she listened intently to another parent telling her whatever it was that concerned her. And I could see Archie, grilling hot dogs and burgers by the score, stopping to shake hands with this parent or that one or leaning down to take a special request from one of the children. Carin and Archie couldn’t do enough to fete their birthday boys like princes.

I hoped the tradition would continue, because I felt like the more things went on as they had been, the easier it might be for the boys to continue to adjust to and move past all the traumatic changes.

Leslie and Charlie continued to correspond, and the date of his lip-sync competition grew closer. She came to the conclusion that she wasn’t going to go to Las Vegas for this whatever-it-was. But she was developing a broader view on the whole subject.

We were sitting on the porch in the dark, waiting for the stars to come out, just solving humanity’s problems.

“Think about Dame Edna,” she said to me. “That Australian guy? And what about that whole Monty Python gang? They were always dressing up as women. It doesn’t mean a thing!”

“That’s true,” I said. I had to agree with her about them.

“And they’re hilarious! It turns out that as Cher, Charlie is hilarious. I mean, who knew?”

“Really? How weird is that? Like Clark Kent has superpowers when he’s wearing his cape?”

“Sort of. But yeah.”

“The human mind is fascinating. If I had it to do over again I might be a neurologist or a psychiatrist. You going out tonight?”

“No, I think I need to spend some time really thinking about where my marriage is going. You know? And what do I want my future to look like?”

“You say that like you’re in charge of it,” I said.

“What? My future? Of course, I’m in charge. And, darlin’ Holly, if you don’t think you’re in charge of yours, we’ve got a lot of talking to do.”

“I could probably use some direction, because I think I may have painted myself into a corner.”

“Well, then, we’ll have to find a way for you to paint yourself out. I mean, your life should make sense. Example, if you look at Charlie’s new lifestyle objectively, you can break it down to the point where it makes perfect sense,” she said.

“Oh, please. Let me hear this new slant on the world,” I said.

“Well, let’s start with the things Charlie never told me about his childhood,” she said.

“Wait a minute, I want to check the sky.” I got up, stepped outside, and looked up. Only half the stars were visible, so I went back to my rocker. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Well, he was attracted to pretty things—you know, jewelry, perfume, or just good smells in general.”

“Like what?”

“Well, fresh baskets of laundry that were still warm. He didn’t like the smell of people’s sweat. Apparently, when he got around anyone working in the yard in the heat of summer or around his father after a long tennis match, the smell of body odor made him nauseated.”

“Can’t say I’m a fan, either,” I said.

“Well, anyway, that extended into high school. You can imagine, the locker room was disgusting to him. He had no desire to play sports other than tennis or golf. He was drawn to music and theater and the arts. On and on it goes. Dad’s wool suits were scratchy. Mom’s silk dresses were super nice to touch. Trying them on was even better.”

“Where are we headed here?” I said.

“He was just simply never comfortable in the role of All-American Boy. But All-American Girl didn’t appeal to him, either. He says he always felt stuck somewhere in the middle. He always liked girls and was attracted to girls and girl things. And he loved musical theater, especially when he was cast in something that required costumes and makeup—like pirates or some Greek play where they wore togas. It was why he became the drum major in our marching band. And, gosh, he was so good at it. Do you remember?”

“That’s true. I remember him being all enthusiastic and twirling that big baton down the center of the football field at halftime. Always smiling. Yeah, he was a natural for that job. And I’ve gotta say that he was the most spirited drum major I’ve ever seen. He got everyone up and out of their seats, cheering like crazy!”

“That’s just it. It makes him so happy to be somebody else for a while, especially if it involves impersonation of a big female star. I don’t want to deny him that. Who’s getting hurt?”

“No one, as far as I can see.”

“I think he’s just having fun. You know, you talk to bees. That honey you harvest gives you a thrill. Lucky for you that your thrills are within the boundaries of society’s norms. There are so many people who suffer. You know, all the stigma, bias, and even hate crimes when all they’re trying to do is be happy and not hurt anyone else.”

“So you think Charlie’s really a straight guy who just likes feminine things?”

“Yeah. I think this is how he was wired. Charlie is a good guy and we really love each other. But there are going to have to be some concessions.”