“Maybe so, but Miz Causey, her house next door to mine, if them workers ever get ’em finished up, she seen him, an’ she say he got bosoms an’ ever’thing. An’ they real, too, ’cause she say he wear a dress cut so low, they almost flop out in her face. She didn’t hardly know him, but he come right up an’ say good mornin’, like he real proud of how he look.”
This news just about did me in, and I felt for Mildred, knowing that she might never recover from the blow. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it could work in my favor. People do talk, you know, but as soon as something new and outrageous happens, the old news is dropped like last week’s
Enquirer.
I began to feel much better as I realized that Tony, or Tonya, Allen could take Wesley Lloyd’s place in the headlines at the checkout counter. Not that I was happy to hear about his surgical transformation, you understand, but I was gratified that it had come about just when the town could use a new topic.
=
Chapter 12’
Everybody knows that I’m not in the habit of passing along every bit of gossip that comes my way, but I was living in times that were trying my soul. Even though I loved Mildred dearly and fully sympathized with her on the loss of her son, I felt justified in telling Hazel Marie about Tony. I mean, Tonya. Sam needed to know, too, but he could wait.
I was counting on Hazel Marie being so entranced with the way he was said to be flaunting himself around, that she’d pay no attention to whispers about anybody else.
“Come on, Lillian,” I said, fully resolved to do my part in spreading the word. “Hazel Marie needs to hear about this.”
“Well, I don’t know, Miss Julia. We might not oughta be talkin’ ’bout it. I ought not of tole you, but I knowed you think a lot of Miz Allen.”
“So does Hazel Marie. Besides, if Tony didn’t want people to know, he wouldn’t’ve come home. Where is Hazel Marie, anyway? She’s going to just die when she hears about Tony. Tonya. Whoever he is.”
“She cleanin’ out her closet, see what she need for summer.”
“Well, let’s go.” And off we went downstairs and through the back hall to Hazel Marie’s room. She had winter clothes piled up on the bed, and she, herself, was on her hands and knees inside the closet with only her bottom sticking out.
“Hazel Marie,” I said as we entered the room, “come on out here. Lillian’s got a story to tell you that might end up on a rack in the checkout line at the Winn-Dixie. You’re not going to believe it.”
As Hazel Marie backed out of the closet, Lillian said, “Uhuh, you tell her.”
Hazel Marie stood upright without pulling herself up on anything and without a creak or pop in her joints. I vaguely remembered being able at one time to do the same.
She brushed the hair back from her face and said, “Oh, good. I haven’t been to Velma’s lately, so I’m really out of the loop. What’s going on?”
“We better sit down,” I said, moving shoe boxes off a chair. “This is going to curl your hair. Tell her, Lillian.”
So Lillian did, and Hazel Marie’s eyes got bigger and bigger with the telling.
“You mean he was a man, and now he’s a lady?” she gasped.
“Hazel Marie,” I said, “he may be female, but he is certainly no lady. He was a perfectly lovely young man until he went up north, and it just
ruined
him.”
“Yessum,” Lillian said, nodding in agreement. “Jus’ like it did Janine.”
“Oh, I’d love to meet him,” Hazel Marie said, her eyes dancing with excitement. “Or do you say her?”
“I don’t intend to say either one, although for my money he’ll always be a him. I watched him grow up, and I know people change, but they don’t turn inside out.”
“It’s called gender reassignment, Miss Julia. I read about it somewhere, maybe in
People,
and you wouldn’t believe the number of men who’ve done it. They don’t even have to go to Sweden any more. They can get it done right here in this country.” She frowned and shuddered. “Think of all the electrolysis they have to have.”
“Better to think of hair removal,” I said, “than of what else gets removed when your gender’s realigned.”
But Hazel Marie wasn’t listening. Her face lit up with a sudden idea. “I tell you what, Miss Julia. Let’s have a party. A reception or something, and invite him and everybody we know.”
“Hazel Marie!” I cried, springing from my chair. “How can you suggest such a thing? No, Mildred would not want to draw attention to her shame. The thing to do is overlook him, pretend nothing’s out of the ordinary.” Then, on a sudden second thought, I sat back down and considered how the tongues would wag at our audacity in honoring the new woman in town. Maybe a party wasn’t such a bad idea. “Of course, he might not accept,” I mused aloud, “and I know Mildred wouldn’t. She’s such a stickler for the rules of etiquette, you know, and I don’t think Emily Post covers a situation like this.”
I tapped my fingers against my mouth, my mind running through the possibilities. “Still,” I went on, “Mildred has gone out of her way to help me out of a sticky situation many a time. Maybe if we showed her that we accepted Tony, or Tonya, she might be grateful for our efforts. I mean, after one great, big coming-out party, so to speak, everybody would know and she wouldn’t have to explain him ever again. It never works to try to hide anything, anyway.”
“Miss Julia,” Lillian said, glowering at me, “you ought not be thinkin’ that way. Yo’ pastor get all steamed up, you commence makin’ out like they no diffrence ’tween a man an’ a woman.”
I smiled. “All the more reason to do it.” But my real reason was one I was unwilling to share. A gala affair to introduce Tonya Allen to local society would bring out every woman in town who counted, socially speaking. No one would refuse an invitation to such a function. Not that anybody ever refused my invitations, barring the excuse of sickness or death, but this would be the highlight of the season, as well as several seasons afterward. For all I knew, it would enter the annals of Abbotsville lore, and be talked about for years to come. What Wesley Lloyd did or did not do when he was alive and kicking wouldn’t be able to hold a candle to the thrill of seeing this new woman in the flesh or to my boldness in making him the guest of honor.
“Oh, let’s do it,” Hazel Marie urged. “I’d love to see what he’d wear. I mean, if he’s been in New York, he’d have the latest styles, wouldn’t he?”
I didn’t care what he’d wear. Well, yes, I did. If he showed up in a three-piece suit and tie, that would certainly put a crimp in my strategy.
“Let me think about it for a minute,” I said, wondering if I dared go through with it. Although, if anything could send the Mooney woman to the bottom of the town topics list, Tonya Allen would.
“Miss Julia,” Lillian said, “you gonna be talked about, you go an’ have a party for such as this.”
“I’ve been talked about before,” I reminded her. “And, Lillian, you know you’d love to see him up close.”
“I know I would,” Hazel Marie said. “Although we ought to make it a morning function when Lloyd’s in school. I don’t think I could explain Tonya to him, and I certainly don’t want to give him the idea that people can pick and choose whatever they want to be.”
“Miz Causey say you can’t tell no difference ’tween Mr. Tony an’ a real lady,” Lillian informed us. “ ’Less you knowed him ’fore his operation, which she did, so she could.”
“Yes, but Hazel Marie’s right,” I said. “We need to protect that child as much as we can. What’s the use of monitoring what he watches on television, if we bring it into our own living room? Now, Hazel Marie, we should put our heads together, and decide what we’re going to do, who we’ll invite, and how we’ll approach Tony about it. I guess we ought to think about that first.”
Lillian shook her head at me. “What you oughta be thinkin’ ’bout is what Miz Allen think. You go an’ hurt that sweet lady’s feelin’s, you bring shame on yo’ own head.”
“You’re absolutely right, Lillian,” I said, recalling the long friendship I’d had with Mildred Allen. “What I have to do is feel her out and see if she has any objections.”
Lillian threw up her hands. “She not gonna like it! You know she won’t. That boy be flauntin’ hisself all ’round town now. You think she gonna want you to he’p him do it even worse?”
“Maybe we ought to rethink it,” Hazel Marie said, more soberly than when she’d made her suggestion. She never went out of her way to hurt a living soul, which I both approved of and respected. She didn’t, however, know what was burdening my soul. And it wasn’t Mildred Allen, as much as I liked her, and it certainly wasn’t that chameleon of hers.
“Neither of you know Mildred like I do,” I said, unwilling to let the idea of a party that would be talked about for weeks, if not forever, go so easily. “She might surprise us. For all we know, she may have accepted what she can’t change, and would appreciate us doing the same thing. Hazel Marie, I think we ought to pay her a call.”
“You mean, like a condolence call?”
“We’ll play it by ear. If she’s all broken up, then, of course, we’ll extend our sympathy. But if she’s come to terms with it, then we’ll broach the idea of a party. And if she doesn’t want to draw too much attention to Tony’s alteration, we won’t make him the guest of honor. Just invite him as if he’s like anybody else.”
“Well,” Lillian mumbled, “that the las’ thing he be. I jus’ don’t want y’all to get in any trouble, en’ertainin’ somebody nobody might not wanta look at, much less be pourin’ tea for. What Miz Ledbetter gonna say, anyway? First thing you know, she start cryin’ while she pourin’. An’ handin’ out Bible verses what say be happy in whatsoever condition you find yo’self.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I said. “Besides, she can’t be too critical, since she’s been undergoing a little transformation, herself, these days.”
I got up again, figuring if we didn’t strike while we had a mind to, I might think better of entertaining such an unknown quantity in my own house. Even if it did come from a good family.
“Get yourself together, Hazel Marie,” I said, putting my qualms firmly aside. I had a higher good to accomplish, even if it meant doing something slightly underhanded to get it done. “We’re going to see Mildred. Then we’ll decide if a celebration of Tony’s unexpected emergence as a woman is in order.”
=
Chapter 13’
“You have your calling cards?” I asked Hazel Marie as I parked at the curb in front of Mildred’s house. “In case Mildred can’t see us?”
“In my purse,” she said. Then taking her lip between her teeth as she gazed out the window at the large Federal-style house, she went on, “I hope we’re doing the right thing.”
“Yes, well, I’m a little uneasy about it, myself. Still and all, I expect Mildred will appreciate a visit from us. You know how people are in this town. Let something out of the ordinary happen, and they stay away in droves, too embarrassed or shocked or thrilled or something to extend the least little courtesy.” I opened the car door. “That’s not my way, though. All she has to do is refuse to see us, if she’s not up to it. We’ll leave our cards so she’ll know we cared enough to come by. Come on, Hazel Marie, let’s go.”
We went up the broad brick walkway to the front door and rang the bell. While we waited, I noticed that all the draperies were drawn across the windows, and no light was coming through the fanlight or the glass panels on each side of the door.
Finally, though, the door opened a tiny bit, and Ida Lee, Mildred’s housekeeper, peeked around it. When she saw who it was, she fully opened the door, seemingly relieved to see someone she knew. She looked so neat in her gray uniform with its white collar and cuffs, but her face was drawn and sad-looking.
“Good afternoon, Ida Lee,” I said. “Is Mrs. Allen receiving?”
“I don’t know if she is or if she’s not. Come in, Miz Springer, I’m real worried ’bout her. She been in bed ever since Mr. Tony come home, an’ the onliest thing she eat be chocolate candy, one after the other. She real down in the mouth, ’cause none of her other friends been here nor called nor nothin’.”
“That’s why we came, Ida Lee. Run up and tell her that Hazel Marie and I love her to death, and we want to see how she is.”
“Yessum. Y’all jus’ have a seat in the drawin’ room, an’ I be right back.”
As soon as she scurried up the stairs, I looked at Hazel Marie. “See? I knew nobody’d come to commiserate. They’re all acting like she has the plague or something.”
“They probably don’t know what to say,” Hazel Marie said, worriedly. “I know I don’t.”
Ida Lee appeared in the door. “Y’all can go on up. She say she not dressed for comp’ny, but she too sick to get up.”
Hazel Marie and I climbed the stairs, turned right and went into Mildred’s large bedroom. My Lord, what a sight. The curtains were drawn, dimming the corners of the antique-filled room. Lamps on each side of the bed were the only illumination. Mildred, herself, was spread out in the middle of the four-poster bed, the canopy reaching almost to the ceiling. She was wearing a celadon satin bedjacket and was propped up by a half-dozen lace-edged pillows. Mildred was a big-boned woman to begin with, but sprawled out on the bed like she was, she looked as big as a mountain. She was always neat about her person, though, careful to have her hair and makeup in perfect order.
And so she did that afternoon, if you could overlook the red, swollen eyes, splotchy face and the crumbled Kleenexes that were strewn over the bed covers. A box of Godiva chocolates sat beside her, most of the spaces empty.
“Julia!” she cried, stretching out her arms toward me as soon as we entered. “Oh, you are so sweet to come see me in my time of anguish.”
I walked over and endured her embrace, then stepped back so she could crush Hazel Marie to her ample bosom.
“How are you, Mildred?” I asked.
“Heartsick!” she cried, flopping back against the pillows. “Just heartsick. Pull up a chair, Julia, and you, too, Hazel Marie. Close to the bed. I just don’t have the strength to raise my voice.” She sniffed and pulled out another Kleenex. “I know you’ve heard about my dear, sweet Anthony. My darling Tony. Oh, Julia, has any mother suffered worse than this?”