Bertie

Mother opened the door and escorted us out onto the porch, but I really wasn't ready to go.  My curiosity had been peaked, and I wanted to know if she was really telling the truth.  Was this straight waiter really going to stop by or was she exaggerating?  I know it sounds terrible, but I just couldn't believe that the fine specimen of manhood was gay, or that he would be interested in Mother.  I know it sounds terrible, but I just couldn't understand why a young , studly Adonis would be interested in an overweight, aging Drag Queen.   (( It goes without saying that I was a little suspicious of her veracity.  Her stories didn't always match reality.  Now, I'm not saying that she lied, but I am saying that some of the stories she had told to me always seemed to be in her own favor, but other people's recollections of the same events reflected a different truth..........To say she simply exaggerated wouldn't be entirely accurate, either.........Okay, she lied.....but I don't think she meant to. )) 

The late November night air pierced us to the core.  I shivered just a little bit as I stood on the Shabby Chic porch still making our Southern good-byes even though I could tell Mother was  rushing us and trying to balance that with good dixie manners.  The moon overhead looked like a fingernail clipping stuck in the carpet as it peaked out from behind the clouds.  In our porch conversation, Mother confirmed another evening at Acapulco's the following Tuesday with me, but she didn't invite Cora which I thought was rude.  I, purposefully, didn't mention that I'd have Thursday evening free because I needed some recovery time.  Cora rambled about the weekend happenings at some bar in Little Rock should I want to make the drive, and it appeared by Mother's tapping foot and crossed arms that the good byes were taking just a little too long for her comfort. (( Haven't you ever noticed that Southerners take a long time to say good-bye? They nearly walk you to your vehicle exchanging departing words, and that is no exaggeration. ))  An idea struck me as I looked over at her shelves of geraniums.

"Oh, Mother, let me help you carry those geraniums inside.  They are going to die if it freezes tonight, " I said with complete sincerity.

"Gurl, they are not going to freeze, " she said dully.  She and Cora stared at me blankly in the golden glow of the porch light.

"Well, they might.  I didn't watch the weather, but it's got to be at least 40 degrees out here if not colder," I said as I reached for one of the flowers which still appeared  to be in its prime of blooming. I wondered to myself how they could look so good. but maybe growing seasons were longer in Hot Springs since we were further south than what I was accostomed to.

"I'm telling you, gurl.  Those flowers won't freeze," she said in a monotone. Cora giggled a little.

"Why? Are they a special kind?" I asked as I held a pretty pink one in my hands and descended to the bottom step because it was MORE than crowded on that tiny porch with those big girls.  The potted plant seemed kind of light, and I thought it should have weighed more.  On the last step, I turned around to face Mother and Cora.  The street was to my back.

"Yeah.  They came from China, " Mother's face cracked a bit of a smile.

"Where do you get Chinese Geraniums?" I asked perplexed, and I was thinking that maybe Chinese geraniums could endure the cold.  I'd never heard of Chinese Geraniums, but I was extending this conversation as long as I could, and my curiosity had been piqued since I'd always been an avid gardner -- that is, until I lived in an apartment........................with olive-green shag carpet walls.

"At Wal-Mart," she said in that same monotone as she elbowed Cora who seemed to be holding her breath.  At that point, I looked closely at the plant in my right hand, and I reached up and touched one of the leaves with my other hand.  Sheer embarrassment flooded over me, and I'm sure they could see my blush even in the dim  light.

"Gurllllllll!!! They're fucking silk flowers.  Did you really think they wuz real?" Mother kind of bent over and rocked back and forth in unbridled laughter, as she yelled  "Gurllllllll!" enough for two nearby porch lights to snap on before she said "real".  Cora did a nice laughter duet with Mother, and I felt completely stupid, but from behind me, I heard footsteps from a short distance.  I smiled..... I smiled even bigger, but I wasn't smiling about the geraniums.  I smiled because I knew my ploy had worked.  I'd found out the truth.  Mother was evasive when I asked the question about the boy stopping by, but it was more than evident that she wanted us gone before he arrived.  I was still wondering why that part was so important to her.

"What are you all doing up on the porch? I've been knocking at the back door for awhile, and then I heard you laughing up here." said the cute, blonde waiter from out in the yard.  He must live nearby, I surmised, because it really hadn't been that long since Mother had hung up the phone.

A look of "I've been caught" crossed Mother's face, and I was SURPRISED to actually see the waiter there.  He looked even better in the pale light, but his hair was a little disheveled and his words seemed thick and forced. He still wore his waiting attire, but his white shirt was untucked.  As he stood close to me on the bottom step with his hands in his pockets, he wobbled a bit............... Uh huh, he's drunk, I thought.

"I was just leaving," I said to him.

"Leaving? I thought you told me y'all were going to be up awhile," the waiter said to Mother as he looked up to her.

"I thought we were, but they decided to leave, "Mother lied and she looked at Cora and me like we better agree with her.  "Come on in, before you catch your death of cold," she continued as she held the door open for him.

The waiter looked at me and kind of smiled and said, "Are you sure you have to leave?" And, then he winked at me.  My heart did a little somersault, and I couldn't help but gaze into his innocent brown eyes for a moment too long.

"Yep, I'm sure," I said and quickly turned and began the walk to my truck.  The boy was damn cute with a fine physique, and it wasn't easy to walk away.   I didn't know what Mother had agreed to, but I certainly hadn't agreed to anything.  I felt like I needed to high-tail it out of there before the situation dove into depths that I'd never want to explore. When I got to my truck, I turned around and waved at all of them.  I watched the boy slowly lumber up the steps with his hands still in his pockets and his head hanging down......................Then, I left as quickly as I could.  I was betting that Mother had told that waiter that we'd all swing naked from the chandaliers, but I'm a nice boy.  I don't do that kind of stuff. I also felt used like bait, if you know what I mean.........She wanted us gone before he arrived so he wouldn't spill the beans to us, but spilled they were, and she'd never be able to pick them all up again................As I drove home, I remembered hearing mother say on the phone, "No, I wasn't the one drinking margaritas."........................................ Uh huh..................that boy had asked about me, and Mother had used me as bait to get him there.  It felt good in one way, and it pissed me off in another .  At least, the cute waiter had asked about me and then seemed a bit let down that I was leaving.  BUT, Mother had intentionally lied to him to get him over to her house as she shuffled us out the door.............. Uh huh.................  I got it................I understood it perfectly................  Used.............. Typical.........  That was just another reason why I'd have to consider if I wanted to be friends with this unpredictable, lying, violent, sweet, funny, maternal, drag queen with a ravenous sexual appetite.............BUT, she was a total person, and there was no denying that I liked being around her -- most of the time.  ( And, let's face facts,  I was more pissed cuz the cute boy would be spending the night with Mother and not with me.  I realize I am a nice boy, but I am still a BOY.)

Another bizarre night had come to a close in beautiful Hot Springs, Arkansas, and I was exhausted.  Emotional upheavals can take a lot out of a person  -- even if he is only witnessing them and not an active participant.  I replayed the entire night in my head as I lay in bed, and the hisses and pants from next door got me to wondering what Mother and that waiter were doing..................  Hmph!  I knew damn well that I could have whisked that boy out of there, and he could have been in my bed If I had wanted it.  I was also fully aware of the Motherly consequences if I had done that...........I'd made the safest decision, but safe isn't always fun.  Eventually, I fell into a restless slumber after resolving myself to loneliness.

I awoke the next morning feeling all blah.  It must be the damn Margaritas, I thought.  They had to use the cheapest tequila available to only charge a dollar for them.  I didn't have a hangover headache, just a feeling of malaise.   I put a Cher CD in my boom box which rested on the lovely formica top kitchen table and blasted it to wake me up as I continued with my morning ritual. The bathroom was just off the kitchen.   In my mind, I dared my neighbor to bang one time on my wall after the rodeo I heard from his apartment the night before....

So, I showered, and as I was brushing my teeth a sudden urge to lip sync to "Main Man" came over me.  Heck, I hadn't done that since I was in college, so there I stood staring in my medicine cabinet mirror giving the best impersonation of Cher of my life.  Even when I was growing up, I had lip sync'd to Cher. She's kind of easy to do because she has some very masculine qualities.  (( And, she wondered why her daughter grew up to become a lesbian?))...The toothbrush just wasn't working well as a microphone, so I grabbed a rolly-type hairbrush.  It fit my hand and intentions perfectly. 

I moved out of the bathroom and shut the door because I had a full length mirror attached to the back of it.  I could sling my imaginary long hair around just like she did, and it was easy to hold my hand a little crooked from the elbow ( gay guys do that part  naturally).  I had her walk down pretty good, too.  The secret is holding the head fully erect and giving it a few shakes.  The tongue to the top lip was usually overdone by most drag queens, but I had to throw it in every now and then for authenticity,  I was totally immersed in Cher and for a few minutes, I felt like I was dressed in a svelte orange Bob Mackie  -- I don't know why I chose orange to imagine, I guess because it goes so well with the black hair  -- with a neckline that plunged to my navel and a side seam split to my thigh, even though I was naked as a jay bird in my kitchen.  But in my mind,  I was at the Mirage, surrounded by a dozen shirtless studs dancing to a perfectly choreographed number,  performing in front of thousands of adoring fans. 

I turned to my left a little bit, and my apartment manager was standing in my living room.  Cher vanished from me, and I was no longer at the Mirage; I  was just simply me standing completely naked in my kitchen brandishing a pink hairbrush at my lips.  Well, at least the manager was smiling, so I couldn't have been that bad.  I wasn't scared.  I was experiencing a mixture of shock, embarassment and invasion and those  feelings don't collide often.  For a minute, I couldn't think.  We just looked at each other.  When I got my wits about me, I walked over to my boom box and turned it off.

"Can't you knock?" I asked in the nude.

"I did," he said kind of sheepishly.  "I guess you couldn't hear it over the music."

Suddenly, I remembered that I was naked.  I ran to the bathroom and shut the door.  I know it was a stupid thing to do.  Hell, he'd already seen all the goods, but a person doesn't really think clearly in moments of nude distress. The naked part didn't bother me all that much, but Lord, he'd been watching me impersonate Cher using a hairbrush as a microphone, and I had really been getting into her NAKED. Well, there was not a damn thing I could do about it now, so I braced myself for the worst,  wrapped a towel around my middle and forced myself to go out and face him.  He was one of those Arkansas backwoods hick types who was married to a red neck gal.  He could have been in "Deliverance", but I'd never squeal like a pig for him, that's for sure.   Male Pattern Baldness.  Missing teeth, Scruffy beard.  Small gut.  But, not entirely ugly.  I'm sure a lot of people would find him attractive if they were into
 r o u g h, and I do mean rough, trade.

As I clutched my towel with my right hand, I gave him a glare, but I was still standing on the linoleum in the kitchen and he was standing in the same spot in the living room.  Who wouldn't be mad?

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what? Walking into my apartment and watching me lip sync naked?"  I laughed a little, but the words were delivered in complete bitch mode  - and they should have been.

"You're pretty good, " he said. And I could have sworn that I saw him rub his crotch.  No, I wasn't seeing things right.  This could not be happening.

"You know, my little brother is gay.  We used to go to the Deer Woods together and have some goooood times," he said "good" in a high pitched voice, and I caught his meaning immediately.  His little brother? I thought and nearly puked in my mouth.  Lord, this was Arkansas.

"Do you want to tell me why you broke into my apartment?" I asked sternly.  It is kind of hard to be stern after knowing he witnessed that naked spectacle, but I gave it the best shot that I could muster.

"Oh...yeah," he fumbled for words.  "The neighbors were complaining about the music, and I was going to ask you if you could pay your rent in cash.  I'll give you a receipt."

"Well, my neighbor sounds like he fucks a wild cat every damn night, so he doesn't have a thing to complain about," I quickly tattled on my neighbor's perversion hoping it would get the spot-light off of me.

"Oh, it wasn't him.  He leaves for work at 6 every morning.  It was the Miller's, the old couple two doors down.  I wanted to catch you before you went to work to ask you about the rent, anyway." he said.

"Yeah, the rent is no problem, and I definitely won't be playing my boom box again," I said embarrassed.

"Well, If you do, just turn it down a little, " he said as he walked toward the door.  As he placed his hand on the knob, he turned and said, "And I hope you invite me for the show."

I laughed.  I had to laugh.  I mean, I LAUGHED.

"There won't be any more shows, I can assure you," I said with complete confidence. "And, If I don't open the door immediately, don't just barge-in, even if you have a key."

"You signed a contract that says the manager can enter your apartment at any time, " he said and with that, he opened the door and left.

I had to take a minute and sit down in my nogahide dining room chair (( with silver duct tape accents  )), and just laugh.  This could only happen to me, I told myself.  After my respite, I glanced at the clock on the wall, and hurriedly got ready for work.  I'd have to remember to always place a chair in front of my door when I was there alone at night, so Mr. Deliverance couldn't sneak in and try to make me squeal.  Was it really legal for him to just enter at his whim?  I'd need to read the contract -- wherever it was.

As I hurried through the back door of the restaurant, I realized that I would be opening with Bertie.