I was in the living room with my parents when I got a cell call from my sister’s “functioning alcoholic” friend.
I answer it, and it was clear that he didn’t know who I was, even though we have met many times over the last 20 years.
“I’m her sister,” I said.
Ooops. Not what I should have said, even if it’s what I believe. Did my parents hear that? I can’t tell.
My sister believes that I over process. She’s right, of course. I have to leave all the filters in place to keep myself from slipping like that, have to process past.
I know who I am.
A week ago tonight, I didn’t have to hide it. It was easier, at least for me. It was truer, closer to my heart.
But not for them, you know.
Do I get up tomorrow, get dressed and go to church?
Of the two Miami counseling students at SCC, I wanted to be Betsy, the queerdyke with the long red hair who had her girlfriend sleep over in high-school, the changeling who came as a man to SoCo A GoGo Roadshow. Her flashing power was something I missed in my life.
But Nikki, the strong, dark eyed beauty in the chair, well, she I was the one I wanted to date — present, smart, sensitive and sharp.
It was a gift to meet both of them, for Betsy to say she saw me as integrated, actualized whole, and for Nikki to want to have a chance to kiss my cheek before I left.
And somewhere in those eyes, I had just a glimmer of hope that someone closer to my age could find me attractive, could make a connection.
I need to hand it to TBB. In the past week she has come back from SCC, taken a new entry-level job with the department of transportation, been to dance class and out dancing, taken her son to dinner and been at his track meet, gone on a motorcycle event, taken Italian lessons, and been told she is one of three candidates for a prestigious management position on the new vehicle, so desired that if she doesn’t get this job there will be another coming.
It is the power of moving from the body, with limited self-awareness that keeps her going, all routines, habits and motion anchored in a faith.
And, as much as that isn’t who I am, I need to admire her for being who she is.