None of the Above(70)

CHAPTER 43


Josh toppled over with a garbled moan. On the ground, Darren let out a faint whoop of relief. Then the back door slammed open and someone shouted, “There he is!”

“Darren, Kristin, are you okay?” Jessica ran out, trailed by Quincy.

An older, red-haired man ran out and made a beeline for me and Josh. He stopped about a foot away. “What’s going on here? The cops are on their way!”

There was a dull thud as Josh dropped the bottle. He got to his feet, grimacing. He was so close I could feel him tremble as he struggled to gain control over his emotions.

“No, Mr. Sanderson,” Josh said. Clearly the guy was a manager of some kind. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” The red-haired man looked at me, and frowned. “Did someone hit you, miss?”

“Yes.” I pointed at Josh.

The red-haired man’s frown deepened into a scowl. “So you’re the type of guy that likes to hit women?” he growled.

Josh reddened, then looked at me. Suddenly he grinned. A crowd had gathered at the door. “Actually, sir, that’s not a woman over there.”

I froze. No, no, no. Not here.

Josh looked through the crowd and found the bouncer who’d been at the entrance. “Hey, Pinky, did this one pay the chick rate?” The bouncer nodded and Josh’s grin widened. “Then she’s guilty of fraud. She’s a man.”

I crossed my arms to cover my chest, and kept on squeezing as if I could pinch myself right out of existence.

“You’re a tranny?” a bouncer asked, bug-eyed.

“Actually, the technical term is intersex,” Quincy said. I knew he was trying to be helpful, but I was mortified.

“What, are you her . . . his . . . boyfriend?” the red-haired man asked. He was still trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“Oh, no,” Quincy said, making a point of putting his arm around Jessica. “Just a friend.”

Josh’s laughter made me wince. Left unsaid was the question: What kind of freak would date someone like me?

A few of the girls huddled in the club doorway giggled, and I stared at the ground. A gust of wind blew through the alley. In the distance I could hear the emcee trying to get people back into the club, and some of the curious heads disappeared. I heard the red-haired man enlist Pinky to get Josh inside.

Within minutes, the cops that policed the clubbing district arrived. One of them, a stout older man with graying temples, took a statement from me, and asked if I wanted to press charges.

I thought of police stations and depositions and having to tell my dad, and shook my head. “There’ll be a report of everything, right? In case anything else happens?” Though I doubted it. Josh wasn’t stupid. He knew that he could never do anything now, after having fifty witnesses.

“We’ll have a record, miss. And if you change your mind . . .” He handed me a business card, which I clutched tightly like a talisman. I tried to get out a thank-you, but all I could manage was a shaky smile.

After the cops left, I sat down against a pile of broken-down boxes, too drained to move and too raw to go back inside. In the blessed silence after the last group of people filed out, the burn of my shame faded to a dull ache.

But I had done it. My worst-case scenario had occurred, and I was still here.

The last surge of adrenaline had come and gone, and I felt hollowed out inside.

Darren limped up, rubbing his shoulder. He sat down next to me, picked up the dented spray paint can, and flipped it around and around.

“You okay?” he asked me.

I nodded, and forced an unconvincing smile. “Thanks for . . . intervening.”

“It’s not like I did anything but distract him. You delivered the knockout punch.” He let out a puff of a laugh. “Remind me to donate to a sperm bank before I ever pick a fight with you.”

I smiled. Then I burst out crying.

All the anxiety and guilt and self-loathing that I’d been holding in for weeks came out in the catharsis Dr. LaForte had been hoping for since I started therapy. But it wasn’t fear that pushed all my emotions past the tipping point; it was the realization that I was kind of in love with Darren Kowalski for making me laugh minutes after I’d survived a potential hate crime. I cried like a baby, and as embarrassing as it was to have a meltdown with the object of my affection sitting there patting me awkwardly on the arm to get me to stop, the release was so liberating that I didn’t care.

When the torrent had subsided, I leaned my head back to gaze up into the midwinter sky. The air was so clear and cold that you could see the stars even through the city lights.

“Wanna get in out of the cold?” Darren asked. He had his hands tucked deep into his pockets.

“You should go inside. I just need another second or two out here.”

“No, I’ll stay and keep you company,” he said, trying to pretend that he wasn’t freezing. Though I could have stayed out there all night, I took pity on him and went inside.

The minute we stepped back into Club Eternal, Gretchen came running. “There you are, Kristin! Are you okay? We heard there was a fight.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I just want to get home.”

“Are you sure you’re up to driving all the way back to Utica alone?” Leslie asked. “You could always crash in my dorm.”