Graphic created by Patricia Marie Allen,
background by Greta Schölderle Møller ,model by Ussama Azam on Unsplash

Henderson, Nevada, just north of Las Vegas, St. Rose Dominican Hospital…

“Leilei got stuck in Denver and won’t get in until tomorrow. I’m doin’ a split-double, hon. Sorry,” Anita says as she puts her hand on the door handle. I barely have time to kiss her before she gets out of the car and hurries into the hospital. With her starting at eight and with ‘flexible shift change, she will probably do some online course-work and maybe a long nap before starting again tomorrow morning. She could be getting off late afternoon.

I watch her walk into work; the contrast was odd if nice. She’s thirty-six and even in scrubs looks like a model. I’m sitting here dressed way more than business casual, but I don’t feel pretty at all. Anita says it’s residual from being shunned by my family when I came out. I feel a lot like Rudolph the Red-faced Transgirl when Anita compliments me… ‘I’m cute…she says I’m cute!’

Anyway, I’m enjoying a very rare weekend off. My gallery is closed for a few days for renovations, so I’m able to attend the convention in town. S.W.E.E.T. (South Western Exposition for the Embetterment of Transpeople)

After a not-too-bad drive, I park the Outback in the garage and walk into the center. As much as I had given thought about doing casual, I still need to present as a professional, since some of my art connections were actually going to attend. Imagine that. I’m really not looking forward to hearing a lot of info about being trans, but professional and personal connections are still good to make.

S.W.E.E.T. opening meeting that evening…

After about God-only-knows how long, I look down and realize I left my watch at the apartment. The woman next to me sees me staring blankly at my wrist and offers her hand up to display her own watch.

9:48?

I’m practically nodding off at that point, so I get up and walk back to the parking garage. I grab papers off the front seat and find the conference print-out of local places to sup, so I zero in on the basement bar The Tomb It’s not too far a stroll away. I walk in and the place is already filling up with girls from the hall.

“Hey?” The bartender calls. I walk over and he just stares at me. He can’t be much more that twenty-five if that. Hell.

“What’ll you have?”

“Um… Blue Moon…Mango if you’ve got it.” I’m not one of those people who can’t drink because they can’t handle it, although this girl comes from a long line of dry alcoholics. One or two ales over a couple-to-three days suits me just fine. But I’m constantly aware of what awaits me if I fail.

“You from that convention?” He tilts his head like a Beagle caught in a staring contest.

“Uh…” I’m about to get angry when he sees my expression.

“Just askin...”

“Yes. I’m one of those…” I hesitate and he finishes my sentence.

“Transgenders?” Plural? Like in outcasts? Fugitives?

“I’m transgender.”

I’m a nano-second away from adding the queen mother of swear words when a gal down at the other end of the bar holds up her empty martini glass. Now I know she’s from the convention because she’s a pal from around here and we go to a support group for family stuff. Her wife and my Anita work at the same hospital. But while I look like Sigourney Weaver’s not-twin sister on her worst day, Lisa there looks like a slightly older Katy Perry.

“I…” The kid stammers and smiles awkwardly before hurrying over to refill Lisa’s glass. I wonder if he realizes who she is; or even if he sees her as whom rather than what. I on the other hand walk over and sit down at one of the tables not far the bar. Three ladies from the convention see me and wander over.

“Hey..hi,” one of them says, spotting my Convention name tag. She’s a fairly attractive woman; dressed in a nice grey gabardine skirt suit.

“Rose,” she says.

“Kat,” I say in reply. “Kat Rose...Catalina Rosetta...I shrug my shoulders.

“Me, too… Rosemary,” the gal across from me waves and smiles.

“We’re…Several of us, in fact, from the convention realized we share something besides being…you know… “ She points to her nametag. We’re going to be getting together here tomorrow….” She has one of those voices that’s familiar even though you never heard it.

The third woman just waves without a word. She’s dressed like she could be your favorite aunt. I hate to use the word passable, since that’s what we have to face with guys like Mr. Wonderful at the bar. But she does…pretty much pass...

“Hi,” she says in a somewhat timid voice. Apart from a barely-there attempt at makeup, she looks like she could at least fit in with Judi Dench or Helen Mirren.

She smiles and takes a few sips out of the carry-out coffee she brought over from the hall. She nods and looks at me like I have all the wisdom of the world. And because I sometimes think that I do while forgetting that I don’t, I smile back and just start venting.

“The bartender is a real dick. Just when I think I’m over being judged, he goes and sets me off.” Ms. Deer in the Headlights smiles again.

“I...I’m sorry…Kat? I...I’ve never had to deal with that. It must hurt.”

“Of course it hurts,” I’m thinking. But then I look at her looking at me, and I realize she was being kind.

“Guys like him? It feels like I only run into jerks like my brothers or tools like him… like I’m a Panda or a Meerkat in the fucking zoo.”

“I hear you,” Rose says. Ah…An ally. Thank God. Caroline Ingalls, however, continues to look at me like Nelly Oleson just stole my doll.

“Well," I start in again.

"I hope they at least rotate staff ‘cause I really don’t want to deal with that tomorrow.” I stand up and nod to them before walking out.

The next day, back at The Tomb…

Apart from a brief wave hello earlier, most of my day was spent on the phone with a buyer in Seattle who wants the Matisse I have been reluctant to sell. I finally get him to commit to my asking price and I head down to The Tomb again. The ladies appear to be enjoying themselves, so I head over to the bar, only to find the same guy tending.. After a brief exchange I get my ale and walk over to the ladies.

I’m not looking forward to the facing anyone; embarrassment will do that. Okay, it’s not that bad…I’m not really humiliated, but I am ashamed of my behavior, and Mama Rosetta's s middle child was raised to keep short accounts.

“Folks? Ladies? Roses?” I wave to get their attention, but I remain standing.

“I wanted to apologize to some of you. I…I was out of line last night”

I look over my shoulder in the direction of the bar. He’s moving around quickly; cutting up limes maybe or premixing some juices for cocktails. He sees me and waves. I wave back.

"Oh,fu…oh gosh… am I interrupting things here?

“No, that's OK go on it should be your turn to share anyway. What were you out of line about?" (Rosemary from last night says.)

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” I say as I sit down.

"No, that's OK...really...go on it… anyway. What were you sorry about? “

“Like I said…I…I was out of line.” I look over my shoulder again in the direction of the bar. He’s moving around quickly. He sees me and waves again. I wave back to my new best friend.

“Sam over there? What I said to some of you about him yesterday? Well let’s just say I was being my old obtuse self.”

“What do you mean?” (Another of the Roses tilts her head and narrows her eyes just a bit.)

“I…Just a while ago when I came back down, I stopped off at the bar. When I walked up, he smiled at me and said ‘hi,’ in an actual human glad-to-see-you face.” I pause and gaze down at myself. I’m hardly a looker with that worn-a bit-occasionally attends-Renaissance-festivals-dressed-as-a-wench thing, so I 'm already perplexed.

“I’m sort of disappointed, since I actually almost want him to say something ignorant. Instead he smiles again and says ‘Blue Moon, right?’ He remembered from the night before. I’m not even within a parsec of some of the girls here when it comes to looks. You know? Like the older gal who hugs her girlfriend at the end of the Skywalker thing?” (I can almost hear Anita say, "Honey, stop putting yourself down!)

“I can actually see that,” Rosemary teases.

(I realize I'm doing it again and I think to myself, "Anita thinks I'm cute.")

“Anyway he brings me the beer.”

“’We ran out of Mango. Belgian White okay?’ So I nod yes and he smiles at me. Almost the type of smile I wish I’d get from my brothers? He leans closer and says ’Mind if I ask you a question?’ And there I’m thinking oh, oh…here it comes.”

”Oh oh?” Rosemary says.

“That’s what I thought. Here it comes, you know?? But he asks, ‘Is this your first time, or does your boyfriend come to these a lot?’”

“He…he thought you were the girlfriend?” (Rosie half smiles and laughs softly. I make a sort of scrunchie disappointed face but she holds her thumb up.)

“Yes. Like I said, we have an awful lot of ladies here who could actually break Dwayne Johnson’s heart, you know. So I tell him that I’m the boyfriend. Leastwise was, since now I’m the girlfriend too, you know? He laughs, and that sets me off but he shakes his head ‘no’.” (Thankfully, he managed to forget out 'tansgenders' chat.)

“Oh, gosh…That seems awfully rude either way…” Rose McDonough says.

“Maybe a little, but I realized he was really sincere? And then he nails it.”

“Oh oh,” CIS says.

“’You remind me of my Mom’s younger sister.’ Oh great, I’m thinking. I’m someone’s forty-one year old aunt? But then it dawns on me? We talk a lot about passing? But what we really want is to blend in?”

“I guess so,” Rose says. (A few of the ladies at the table look at each other.)

“All I ever wanted was for my brothers to look at me and treat me like their sister, you know? Not a visitor. When I started transition, I really dressed to the nines, but not only was it not me, it wasn’t going to get me what I wanted.”

(I’m greeted by a few ‘yeses’ and nods.)

“Anyway, Sam sees my reaction and half-frowns. ‘I’m sorry.’ He shrugs his shoulders and walks a bit away and gets a drink for a girl who looked like she could be Emma Stone's twin. I’m standing there finishing my ale when he walks back.”

“OH OH?”

“’My mom is one of five sisters,’ he says. ‘My aunt…the one I told you about? She’s the only one who everybody else will talk to when they…you know like families do? She’s nice.’”

“Nice?” Rosemary asks.

“’And she’s sort of pretty.’ Now I don’t know if he’s saying that in apology or if he’s stretching the truth? But then and there he’s acting more like a human being than anyone in my family...ever has.” I swallow hard and wipe the tears rolling down my cheek.

“So I look him in the eye and I smile. ‘You know? In the past half hour….and besides my girlfriend? You’ve been kinder to me than my whole family my whole fucking life. Thanks.’” He shrugs his shoulders again and nods almost absent-mindedly before walking away.”

“Wow…do you think he meant it?” CIS asks

.

“Yes. But at this point, it’s more like he wants to mean it? Like he’s trying? Like I said, I am so sorry. I guess some of us,” (I use my arm in a broad gesture to indicate everybody else in the room.)

“Maybe all of us? We want acceptance and I get that. But someone reminded me that we also want and need some sort of validation. The blending in instead of standing out?”

“It's so unfair...” Rosie sighs.

“Maybe, but at this point? We take what we can get and hope things keep improving.”

“Oh…don’t I know that.” Rose McDonough says with a smile.

“Anyway, Anita…my girlfriend did a split-double at the hospital. I gotta drive up to St. Roses Hospital of all places to pick her up and spend some time together before tonight? We’re both going to dress up; she insists that we’re both worth it. Ciao ladies.”

“Wait, how did you get the name Rose?” (one of the Roses asks; waving her hand urgently.)

“Oh, Anita...my girlfriend gave me that. It was the name of her best friend in grade school. I reminded her of Rose. My last name – Rosetta – fits. We were together for a few years... she saw this part of me and encouraged me to transition. Sorry. Gotta run ladies, see you later? Oh…Thanks for understanding. Bye.”