Part 8-back in Dixie

Part VIII

50

Fourth of July in Georgia is not only hot but humid.  You could barely breathe without drowning.  I spent a lot of time trying to stay dry.  It didn’t work.  By noon my camisole looked like I was in a wet t-shirt contest.  I could have won too if it was.  It was no time to bar-b-que.

Trey had been to some charity golf thing and while he was showering, I changed into a bikini and a cover up.  I waited on the veranda, that’s what we call the patio in Georgia, a veranda, for him.  He came out in shorts and a t-shirt, his hair dripping and the shirt stuck to his chest.

“You should try drying off.” I said.

“I was dry, then I came out here.”  He moaned. “Tell me again why we moved here?”

“It was your step mom’s idea and the Hughes men always do what the women tell them.”

“Oh, yeah.” He said, “and they are where…?”

“In Colorado.”

“OH. Yeah.”  He looked at me seriously, “And we are where…?”

“Melting in the heat.” I replied, “Sweet tea?”

“Ah, is that your new pet name for me?”

“No, “ I told him “ that would be grande amante.”

“Sounds like an AMC car in the 70’s.  Come drive the grande amante.”

“It rides great.” I winked at him.  I snuggled next to him and careesed his chest, “Smooth as silk.”  I handed him a glass of iced tea.  The sounds of Ron and Tiff’s party next door carried across the hedge.

“They sound like they are having a good time.” I mentioned.

“They didn’t invite us.” He reminded me.

“All well and good, her cheer panties are wedged up her ass anyway.”

“For the record, Ron wanted to invite us.  He likes you.”

“For te record Tiff has Ron by the shorthairs,” I told him, “I like him too.’

“You women have all us guys by the short hairs.”

“I don’t.” I replied, “Do I?”

He hesitated.

I reached down to his crotch. “Well do I?” I asked again.

“Yes, dear.” He said meekly. Then,  “No, not really, we work together.”

“Good answer.” I said and kissed his forehead.  “Wanna come in the pool?”

“Only if you take that off.”

“Of course, why would I wear the cover up in the pool?”

“No,” he smiled, “The bikini”

“You’re on”

51

Most urban settings no longer have the “city park”.  There are little dots of grass here and there, but the park where the community gathers has disappeared.  Except in the small town south. 

The town we lived in still had the park with the little league baseball diamond and the picnic tables.  And on Independance day, people turned out to watch the fireworks.  I brought a blanket and a small cooler.  We found a spot and spread out.

The local high school band was playing marches, the little kids were playing tag.  Trey and I were just playing.  It would be at least a half hour before the fireworks so we lay on out backs and stared at the the sky.

“What are those little lights” I sighed.

“Why missy, we call them stars.  They are run on solar power.” Trey slipped into his hick accent.

“Can you touch them?” I asked.

“Only if your true love gathers them for you.” He whispered., “Which do you want?”

“You choose...” I told him

“Billy Joe!  Come here right now!” a voice rose above the crowd:  I looked up and saw a little boy staring down at us.

“Hi, “ I said.

He giggled and did a little wave.

“I’m Susan, what’s your name?”

“None of your business.” A male voice said, “Stay away from the kids, creep.”

Trey sat up and looked at the man.

“Excuse me?” he said.

“You all are perverts.” The man told Trey, “God didn’t make you like that.”

“Make who like what?”

The man pointed at me “It ain’t right.”

I reached up and put my hand on Trey’s arm. “Leave it.” I hissed.

“Go back where you came from,:” Trey told him.  “That’s my wife.  I feel sorry for your son, he doesn’t know hate, but you’ll teach him I’m sure”

The man pulled the little boy away. “C’mon boy.  That just ain’t right.  Man marrying a man.”

Trey started to stand but I pulled him back down. “Let it go.” I said, “I want to go home.”

I stood up and gathered the blanket and started toward the car.  I didn’t look to see if Trey was following me. 

I got to the car and threw the blanket on the top.  Then I started crying.  How could someone be so mean?

“Princess?” Trey was now next to me.  “Princess, I am so sorry.”

“Why would you be sorry, you aren’t the creep.”

“You aren’t either.” He said softly

“Ma’am” another voice next to Trey said, “We’d like you to come back and sit with us.”

I looked up and man was standing there next to Trey.

“Look, our church group is sitting right there.  We heard what the guy said and he was wrong.”

“How was he wrong?” I asked, wiping my eyes, “You can see what I am.”

“Ma’am he was wrong because God did make you and it is right.  You are an image of God, you are the image God made you.” He said quietly, “God doesn’t make mistakes, He knew when he made you what you are.  He made you a woman.”

I tried to smile

“So, please, both of you, come, sit, watch the show.” He continued, “No questions, no judgements.”

“C’mon Pricess, what do you say?” Trey asked .  I nodded and we followed him back into the park.

52

I guess I should have known better.  Some people just can’t understand. 

The fireworks show was incredible.  Trey sat behind me, his legs on either side and his arms around me.  He would on occasion kiss my neck.  The church group truly didn’t judge or ask anything.  They didn’t even tell us what church they were from.  Afterward I thanked them for their kindness and they each gave me a hug.

In the car on the way home, I broke down again.

“It’s OK Princess,” Trey said to me, “If you want we can sell the house, move to the city.  I’m sure we can find a condo you would like.”

“I don’t want to move,” I said staring straight ahead with tears streaming down my face. “I just want to be treated like anyone else.”

“I know, honey” Trey said reaching over to my knee, “But it takes time.  You can’t change what people are taught.”

“I can sure as hell try.”

“No you can only hope they teach their children better.” He explained, “You knew this wasn’t going to be easy.”

“I know,” I said, “But the fairytale in Europe made me forget.”

“So,” He asked, “what shall we do?  We can move if you want”

“No,” I said,  “I don’t care as long as you are there.  Let them talk and point.”

52

After the 4^th of July disaster, Trey had a meeting in LA, so he asked me to come along to chill out.   The left coast is totally opposite of the South and it would be a good place for me to get back on my feet.

His meeting would take all day so I lay out by the pool soaking up the California sun and improving my tan.  Being where there was less humidity was a good too.  By five when Trey came back to the hotel I was in much better spirits..

“You look like you have been basted and fried, honey” he said to me.

“Yeah, but I got awesome tan lines.” I told him as I untied the top of the white bikini.  He whistled low.

“That is about the most beautiful thing I have seen in…3 or 4 hours.” He joked.  I pushed him back on the bed and jumped on top of him.

“What or who have you been seeing?” I asked holding him down.

“The new contract with Smithers,” he said with a broad grin,  “Should net us a couple hundred.”

“That’ll buy me dinner,” I said.

“No, Princess, a couple hundred grand.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said, so what’s for dinner?”

“Sometimes you’re impossible.” He whined, “I take you to California, and all you think about is eating?”

“Well, no,” I said thoughtfully, “But I thought maybe you would be too tired for sex.  If you want that instead then…” I pulled the bottoms off and lay on the bed “OK…ravish me.”

He rolled over on top of me, “You smell like coconut,” he whispered “Now I’m hungry.  Can I get a rain check?”

“It never rains in California.” I told him, “So how about get one now, get one later?”  I kissed his neck.  The mix of his cologne and the sweat from the day was making me crazier by the minute.

“If you insist, but I am getting old, I may be asleep by nine.”

“I’ll wake you.

53

 The next day, Trey made a few calls and we got reservations in Sonoma for two days.  We rented a car and took I-5 north to the wine country.  It took a little over seven hours. That gave us plenty of time to enjoy the sunset from the little balcony at our Bed and Breakfast.

Since we had the room for two nights, we decided to just have dinner and then hang out the rest of the evening.  The hosts gave us a list of places to dine and we randomly chose one.  The food was excellent but the company was better.  The past weeks melted away from me as we leisurely dined on seafood and steak.

“To my Princess,” Trey toasted me, “Glad she is back.”

“To my loving husband,” I countered, “Sorry he had to put up with me.”

“I don’t.” he said

“You don’t what?”

“Have to put up with you.”

Suddenly it felt like the floor fell from beneath me.

“I love being with you.  There is no “putting up”.”  He looked into my eyes, “You should know better by now., I am serious.”

My eyes filled with tears,  I blinked quickly so none would fall down my cheek.  “I should, shouldn’t I?” I whispered, “But it is hard for me to know that someone actually loves me- for me.”

He looked concerned, “What else could there be?”

“Well, my life before was…”

“Stop,” he said, “You know the rule, no before, no past, just now”

I smiled, “Just now.” I said, “with the one person I was destined to be with.”

We spent the rest of the evening just talking.  He had planned on us going to some vineyards the next day.

“So what will you wear?” he asked.

“Well since this wasn’t planned I have limited choices.  I was thinking the yellow sundress.”

“Good choice for that tan you have..” he said, “All eyes will be on you.”

“They usually are and now you because you are with me.”

“I will take that.”

54

The next day was beautiful, cool breeze but not bad.  I have no palate for wine at all but Trey was acting like a sommelier, looking at the color, sniffing, tasting.   By the end of the day I had had enough wine and the server at the restaurant thought I was strange ordering beer.

We spent the evening in the courtyard of the inn.  I cuddled into Trey and we wrapped ourselves into a blanket, his hand stroking my thigh.  There was a large fire pit blazing in front of us.

“This is the perfect end Princess.” He whispered in my ear.

I didn’t say anything, just nestling closer.

“We will spend tomorrow night in LA and fly back Sunday.”

“K” I said wistfully.

“You’re not ready to go home?”

“Sure”

“You don’t like it there do you?”

“Uh huh,” I smiled at him, “I love it there.”

“But you sound like you don’t want to go back.

“As long as you’re there, I don’t mind at all.”

“Where would you want to be instead?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Sure it does because I want you to be happy.”

I sat up and turned toward him.

“Honey, I don’t care where we are as long as we are together…as in the same place at the same time.  I couldn’t bear losing you again.”

When I said it I know I shouldn’t have.

“Wait,” he stared at me,” What do you mean again?”

“Again as in, for another time, again.”

“OK what’s going on, you have been quiet off and on now since Paris.”

“You know the settler dream?”

“Uh huh, “he said, “but that was past,”

“Well while in Paris I had another.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Details don’t matter, it is just that you left me again, before it was time.”

“I made a promise,” he said

“I know,” I sighed and sank back into his arms.  “But you can’t control it.  You’ll leave me …again.”

“I promise you with everything I know and all my heart I will do anything not have that happen”

“Good,” I said, “Because next time I may not find you again.”

“Look at me,” he said.  I sat up and turned to him again.

“It won’t happen, OK.” He held my arms and looked me in the eye,” We are going to grow old together…And we will find each other…I Know that.”

“Promise?” I started crying.

“Cross my heart.” He pulled me close and hugged me 

All I could think was “and I hope to die.”

55

Back in LA and then in the air to Georgia.  I was used to flying “right seat” with him now and there really wasn’t much to do once we got to altitude.  More and more though he was using the corporate pilot.    Maybe he was working more while flying.

“Do you sit here when you have a pilot?”

“Uh huh.” He answered.  “I like looking out the window.”

“Do you talk?”

“Sure.”

“About…?”

“Flying, the weather, sports …how you made love to me the night before.”

“You don’t!”

“Sure,” he laughed, “She likes to hear about that.”

“Well, it is fun.”  I smiled,” Have you ever…?”

“Um..what? “ he looked puzzled,

“Have you ever…you know?”

“Done loops in the jet?  Stepped out for coffee? ,” he looked serious, “If you are thinking that I would ever…with her…you are mistaken.  I don’t cheat on you.”

“Well that’s a load off my mind…not that I had considered it.” I said. “No I mean have you ever had sex in a plane?”

“Oh….sure.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “No, I have to fly and you can’t trust Otto”

“Otto?”

“Otto the pilot.”

“Oh! “  I giggled, “ I guess not.”

“Do you want to…?”

“What,” I teased looking out the window.

“Have sex.”

“Nah,” I said, “I was just wondering.  Now that I know that you discuss our sex lives with the pilot, next time she flies, we should.”

“Should what?”

“Have sex.”

“Not now I have to fly.”

“Yes Abbott…” I leaned over and kissed his cheek, “But you should tell her we are going to do it.”

“I already did….”

56

Everything settled into routine for the next weeks.  Neither of us traveled much, doing most of our work from home.  One afternoon, there was a letter addressed to Mister Thomas Hughes III.  I laid it on the entry table and forgot about it.  He found it three days later.

“When did this come?” he asked as he tore the envelope open.

“Oh, sorry a day or two ago.  Is it important?”  I asked as I chopped vegetables for the fajitas I was making.

“It’s from Sherman Oaks.”

“Ah yes, good old Sherman…” I said looking up at him. “What is he up to these days?”

“You know darn well that’s the country club,” he read quietly, “They want me to join.”

“Can we afford it?”

“No…yes…I mean, we could if I wanted to join.” He said absentmindedly.

“Do you?”

“The invite is for me.” He said seriously, “They don’t mention and spouse.”

“I’m sure they imply that.” I said, “I know a couple families who are members.”

“No, “ he sat down, “They are offering a single membership.”

I dropped the knife on the counter.  “Really?”

“Yes, they are specific.” He crumpled the letter and threw it into the trash bin. “So that’s settled,” he smiled, “And that looks awesome, Shall I get the steak?”

“No…wait.” I said, “This is important to you.  You can make business connections.  What did they say exactly?”

“Doesn’t matter, “he said, “I’m not joining.”

“Trey…” I looked at him, “Listen, this is a big move.  I don’t need to go there with you, it’s not like you will live there.”

I fished the paper out of the trash and started reading it…

Dear Mr. Hughes

The membership committee would like to extend an offer to have you join our exclusive country club.”

I looked up and laughed “Well well…” then continued reading. 

Sherman Oaks has been part of this community for 125 years.  Membership is offered after extensive background checks and recommendations from other members.”

“Do we know anyone there?” I asked.

“Tiff’s father.”he said.

“Have you met him?” 

“Yeah, Ron and I played golf with him a few weeks go.  The guy can’t putt.”

“What about Ron and Tiff?” 

“Ron is OK putting but his short game...” he stopped and looked at me.  I scowled, “Yeah, they’re members.”

“Just Ron…or Ron AND Tiff?”

“Both,” he said, “Look Princess, it doesn’t matter.  We’re not joining.”

“WE weren’t invited, you were.” I said sternly, “And if you want to join, join.  You are not glued to me.”

He looked like I had hit him.

“Princess,” he said slowly, “We ARE glued together.  Forever, remember?”

“This is different”

“No, “he told me sternly, “It isn’t.”  I had never heard him raise his voice at me before.  “Now, it’s settled.” He took a deep breath, “I’ll cook the steak.”

57

Nothing was said about it for several days.  I did research and noted that Sherman Oaks had only recently started allowing minorities and women to be members.  I also noted that most of the society people in our area had joined.  I had kept the letter and I read it again.

“..If you would like to be part of our community, please contact us as soon as possible.”

I thought for a minute.  This could help us make more contacts, increase our income.  He was already golfing three times a week, so why not, it would save money that way.  That night I brought it up to him again as we sat snuggled on the veranda.

“You should, you know?” I mentioned slowly rubbing his chest.

“Here?  Now?”

“Here now what?”

“You said I should…”

“OK, but be quiet the neighbors will hear you scream when you finish…” lightly hit his chest, “No silly, you should join Sherman Oaks.”

“I’d rather the neighbors hear me scream.”

“Be serious,” I said, “It’s a club, you can use it for business.  I’m sure they will let me be your guest?  They do allow spouses.”

“I suppose they do,” he said, “and you could maybe play tennis or backgammon or croquet or something while I am golfing and smoking cigars”

“You smoke cigars?”

“I have before, but that isn’t the point.”

“I like cigar smoke sometimes,” I gazed off across the yard, “You should get some.”

“DAMMIT!” I sat straight up when he yelled, “Quit telling me what I should do.”

“K” I said, looking like a puppy that was caught chewing a slipper. “I just thought maybe you would enjoy it.”

“I like cigars,” he said quietly

“OK, I would like it if you had some sometime.” Then I prodded again, “and…?”

“What?”

“The membership?  It’s OK really.”

“It would be good for business.”

“Uh huh and I could wear something really sexy at the cotillion…”

“You would wouldn’t you?” he said with an evil grin..

“Just to see Tiff’s face..”

58

There are two types of music that are my favorites.  Jazz standards lounge type music when I am happy or in an aggressive sexual mood.  It makes me feel like 1950, when roles were set and women had the power of sex appeal.

And classical.  The classical of middle19^th – early 20^th century.  Composers like Claude Debussy, Aaron Copland and Anton Dvorak.  The romance era.  This was the music I listened to when I was in a nostalgic mood or…when I was feeling lonely.

Thus it was today as I sat on the veranda.  I held a glass of whiskey, mixed with fruit, sugar and, in honor of my home, peach bitters.  My father’s chosen drink with a slight twist.  Beads of moisture ran down the sides where the humid air had met the ice cold glass.    It was early September, still hot in the South, but when the sun set, it made a more spectacular show than it did in July.

You can be alone even when there are people around.  I felt that way a lot growing up.   That was why I was out here, numbing my mind with Claire de Lune, the New World symphony, Appalachian Spring and several Old Fashioneds.

Music should allow your mind to go where it wants to go.  Allow you to paint a picture in your imagination of things that are as they should be.  Or as you wish they were.  Listening to the rise and fall, the soft melody.  Watching the landscape grow from your subconscious.  Horses running in a meadow.  Birds floating across a bright blue sky.  A storm forming upon a mountain top.  This is how I saw classical music.  The seduction of someone by another who loves them with every fiber of their being.  The melding of two spirits into one.  Then that spirit gliding to places no one has ever been before.  This was where I could go before I knew I could be.

When I had told Trey before that I liked the smell of cigars, I was telling the truth.  I grew up in a comfortable home in a comfortable part of town with comfortable parents.  My life should have been “comfortable”.  When my father would settle in what he termed his study after dinner, he would open a book, mix a drink, light a cigar and put on his favorite vinyl records.  The classics.

Trey had made the rule that there was no past, only our present and future.  But try as I may, I could not shake what brought me to where I was now.  Sounds, tastes, smells all infused into my mind to bring back the happy times.  The times when all was safe and warm in the folds of a family.  The time before it all went away.  When you were the “one”.  The child they adored, the child they doted on.

That was the memory I chose to keep.  The memory of how things were set the way they were supposed to be.  Not how they were later when that image came crashing in around my shoulders.

I didn’t tell them I had been discharged from the Army.  They assumed I had resigned or just decided not to reenlist. They were surprised when I appeared on the door step in civilian clothes but carrying a duffle bag and a suitcase. 

After dinner that evening, my father went to his study, following his ritual that he had set over the last 30 years.  I wandered in and sat across from him.  He handed me a glass full of the amber mixture.

“Here you go,” he said raising his glass to me, “Home from the war, home from serving your country.”  I stared at the glass, it had already started getting the condensation on it and a rivulet ran down the side onto my finger.

“What?” he asked me because I had not returned his toast, “You want a damn cherry in it?”

I smiled.  Actually, I would have liked that.  But Dad didn’t put “fancy fruit” in his drinks.  It was not manly.

“No, Dad, it’s great, thank you.” And I held up the glass to him.

“So?” he asked, “Have any war stories?  Battle scars?  Tales of you on leave seducing women?”

I again stared at the whiskey.  He lit a cigar and offered me one.  I politely waved it away.

“Can’t talk about any of those huh?” he joked.

“No, Dad, I can’t” 

“Top secret.  Hush hush.” He laughed.

“Yeah, that’s it…well no not really” I said softly.

“Not really?” he asked.

“Dad, I was discharged.”

“After so many years, I would expect that.  Some guys just don’t want to make the military a career.”

“No, Dad, I was discharged with less than honorable conditions.”

“What’d you do tell the Major to go to hell?”

“Dad,” I started, “I am a transsexual.”

“A Trans…what?”

“Sexual, Dad,” I said quietly,  “I am a woman.”

“You…are a woman?”

“Yes, dad.” I slammed the drink, “I am.  I have been for my whole life.”

“Why are you telling me this?” He asked.

“Because,” I walked over and poured straight whiskey back in the glass, “I am going to transition.”

“How can you do this to me?”

“To you, Dad?  I’m not doing anything ‘to’ you I am doing it ‘for’ me.”

“You couldn’t wait until I died?”

“Dad,” I looked at him seriously, “I hope you never die.  And no, I couldn’t.”

“After all we did for you.”

“I appreciate that, Dad, I really do.  And I pray that your love for me will help you see that this is the right thing.  That I will be able to be happy.”

“You weren’t happy before?”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You looked happy”

“It was a front, dad.  My way of trying to not hurt you.”

“So, now you come and hurt me.”

“OH God, dad, That isn’t what I wanted to do.  I never ever wanted to hurt you.  I wanted to make you happy, make you proud.”

“By prancing around in a dress and heels?”

I hung my head and started to cry.

“I don’t prance.” I said to the floor.

“But you cry?”

“Yes, Dad, I cry.” I looked him in the eye, “I cry a lot.  I have cried for my whole life.”

“What made you do this?”

“Nothing, nothing made me do this, except the fire inside me, the desire to be something outside that I have felt inside forever.”

He stared at me, his eyes wide and his cheeks getting redder.

“You need to leave.” He said.

“OK, I understand.” I told him quietly, “I had hoped for something else, but this isn’t unexpected.”

“You have to leave now”

“I’ll go, dad,” I told him, tears now dripping off my cheeks, “I know you’re confused.  I have been confused for years.  I don’t know how to explain it.  I can’t be miserable anymore.  But, I want you to know that, no matter what you think, I will love you for the rest of my life.  You are the one who brought me into the world.  This world where I haven’t fit, but still you brought me here.”

I stood up and walked upstairs to get my things.  Inside the duffle bag where I had placed it on top of everything else, was my Purple Heart.  I took it out and placed it on the dresser.  Then I picked up the bags and went back downstairs.  Dad was in his chair, staring at the wall, the cigar clenched in his teeth and the drink in his hand.  The stereo was playing Schumann’s Ghost Variations.

I stopped at the door and looked at him.

“Dad?” I called quietly.  He didn’t move.  “Dad?” once again.  He took his glass and sipped the drink, never looking around at me.  I opened the front door and walked away.

59

So thirty grand later plus initiation fees, Sherman Oaks had a new member, Thomas Hughes III, from the Chicago Hughes’.  I wasn’t allowed at the initiation so I imagined it involved paddles and humiliation and suddenly, I was jealous. 

I was waiting when he got home.

“So?” I asked innocently.

“Meh,” he said, “it wasn’t that big a deal.”

“Is there a secret handshake? Did they make you eat something really gross like snails or fish eggs? Did they paddle you?  Make you run around naked?”

“No,” he grinned, “Where did that come from?”

“Oh…nothing” I said coyly, “Can I see your ass?”

“Nothing happened,” he smiled, “and it wasn’t even secret.”

I pouted.

“I want to be a member of your club.”

“Princess,” he stopped me, “You said you were OK with…”

“Not that club…YOUR club.”

“You are the sole member.”

“But I never got initiated.” I said as I pulled out handcuffs and a paddle.

“You really want that?”

“Sure,” I said with a shrug, “could be fun.”

It was for a little while but the next three days I couldn’t sit down without turning slightly.    But I was initiated.

60

Christmas in Dixie.  Alabama sang that song in 1982…and 500 times a day every December since then.  It’s different down south.  The snow is fake, the trees are fake, the people at Saks are fake.  I sort of missed the Christmas like the year before.  We had Tom and Sherrie over.  The house was huge and trying to fill it with Christmas spirit was overwhelming. 

But we were going to do it, with a real tree and real presents and a real family.  It seemed that now, no one really cared, or at least said anything about me anymore..  The grocery store checkout girl asked me about Trey and if I had gone anywhere special.  Life was…just was.

The invitation came after Thanksgiving.  Addressed to Trey as usual.  I made sure he saw it when he came home.  He read it and threw it away.

“Sometimes I wonder why I joined that damn club” he said angrily.

“To play golf and smoke cigars as I recall.” I teased.

“Yeah,” he smiled, “and the initiation.”

“Don’t remind me,” I said rubbing my butt.  “However, anytime we need an update…”

He shook his head in disbelief.

“So,” I asked, “why did you toss it?”

“No big deal, it was the Christmas party for members.”

MY eyes grew big, “Let’s go!,” I screamed like a little girl, “I have the perfect dress.

“I don’t think that is a good idea.”

“We haven’t been to any of the parties,” I pouted, “C’mon, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You always do,” he grinned, “But not his time.”

“Because?”

“The holidays and people and crowds and all that “Happy New Year” stuff…”

“Because?”

“I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“I’m a big girl,” I said, “We know the members…mostly.”

“Princess, I think we should let it go.”

I started singing Let It Go

“OK OK…we’ll go.” He hugged me, “Anything you desire.”

“Well I did buy a new paddle…”

61

 The nice thing about the Deep South is you can wear little black dresses in December.  And I did.  I made sure everything was perfect

Trey was so proud introducing me to his friends there.  They were all very cordial, some even engaged in conversation like where do you work?, where did you meet?…have you had the surgery?

During the evening we were introduced to Clayton M Barnes and his wife Maryann.  They were the club royalty so to speak.

“So nice to meet you Mr. Barnes,” I said with a little curtsey.

“We have heard a lot about you Mrs. Hughes…”

“March” I corrected him

“March?”  he asked, “You two aren’t married?

“Oh yes but I kept my name….I worked hard to get it. And he wouldn’t change his”

“I see. “He said, He held out his hand to Trey “Clay…”

“Trey” Trey answered

“Hya Trey, wadda say?”

“Hey Clay, how’re you today?”

“Went golfing, you play?”

“Usually starting in May.”

“I play everyday”

“Did you try the buffet?”

“I had the filet”

“in the café?”

“down the way.”

“Was it OK?”

“I really won’t say.”

“Would you guys stop already?” I butted in.

“How do you like Georgia, I understand you are from up North.” Clay asked me.

“I love the country, especially out here away from the urban centers.” I told him.

“I sense a ‘but’ in there.”

“Some people make it less beautiful.”  I said in a hushed voice.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Because of who I am.”

“Who are you?  Some sort of criminal?”

“No sir,”

“Politician? We don’t like carpetbaggers.”

“No, sir I am in sales.”

“Then what would anyone have against you?”

“My gender sir.”

“They’re against women?”

“Transwomen.”

“Oh my, the transwomen are against women?”

“No,” I giggled, “I am the transwoman they don’t like.”

“I don’t know why?” he said, without a shred of sarcasm or humor, “You seem nice to me.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, the club here welcomes all.” He said loudly.

I just smiled. Then he continued.

“And I for one am very glad to know you. “

“Thank you sir.” He shook my hand and walked away.

“Well, “Trey started, “That was interesting.

“That he was so accepting?” I asked, “Or that he doesn’t have a clue how the club runs?”

“That he has no clue.” Trey shook his head.  “C’mon, let’s go to the buffet.”

We went through the line, Trey was behind me and the people in front of me looked like they were being chased by the devil.  They threw food on their plates and tried to stay away from me.  Trey leaned over my shoulder, “More for us.” He whispered.

After we filled our plates we looked around for open seats.  Two were next to another older couple so we walked over.  Trey introduced us.

“Hello,” he said to them, “I’m Thomas Hughes, this is my wife Susan March, can we join you?”

The man struggled to stand and button his jacket.  He held out his hand to Trey.  “Jackson, Andrew Roosevelt Jackson.  Call me Andy.”

 “That’s quite a legacy,” I told him as he kissed my hand.

“Well Mr. Roosevelt saved us all in 1936.  The year I was born.  This is my mistress, Bonnie.”

“Andy!” she chastised him, the Georgia accent dripping from every syllable, “The word is escort.” She held her hand out to Trey, “I have been married to this guy for 50 years.”

We told her it was good to meet them and sat down.

“So, Thomas,” Andy started, “What do you all do?”

“I’m in investments,” Trey said, “And call me Trey Please.”

“OK Trey,” he smiled, “and your lovely wife?”

“Drugs,” I told him.

“Got any good ones for this damned arthritis I have?” he asked. “Six years of pro football got me in the circle but cost me my knees.”

“Circle?” I asked.

“These rich snobbish people.” He said, “I was born dirt poor.  In fact we couldn’t even own our own dirt.”

“Oh?” Trey said, “And what team did you play for?”

“The Colts when they were in Baltimore.   I was on the team the years we didn’t get to the finals.”

“Well it is a huge accomplishment anyway.” I said.  “But no, I sell chemotherapy drugs.”

“They serve a purpose too I suppose,” he joked.

“Andy, be nice.” Bonnie said.” I was named for someone famous too, I think my mama had something against me.” She intimated,” So she named me Bonnie after Bonnie Parker.”

“You should be happy she didn’t name you Clyde.” Andy laughed.

“There is that.” She agreed, “So Susan, I haven’t seen you at the pool or the courts.”

“No, I haven’t been.  In fact this is the first time I have been here.”

“You must work a lot.”

“Not really,” I said, “Trey comes and golfs. I stay home.”

“Silly rules they have about women only golfing on Thursday mornings.” Bonnie said.

“Yes,” I said with little veiled sarcasm, “Isn’t it?  They should let women golf any time they want.”

“What?” Andy feigned indignation, “And show us duffers up?”

“Susan doesn’t golf.” Trey told them.

“That shows how little you know me, Mr. Hughes.” I said, “I have golfed before.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What?” I said, “And ruin those four hours you’re gone and the pool boy entertains me?”

We all laughed

“Well, honey” Bonnie continued, “would you join me for Tennis sometime?

“I would be happy to.” I said, “But I would have to be your guest.  I’m not a member.”

“But your husband is?”

“Yep,” I said, “They were very specific it was a single membership.”

“Susan,” Andy said, “Any time you want to come, you tell them you are my guest.”

Trey blushed, “She could come as my guest but that isn’t the point.”

“What point would that be, son?”

“That the membership committee stiffed her.”

“Oh,” Andy said, “Well we’ll rectify that.”  He stood up and hobbled over to a group of men.  After a few minutes they returned.

“These men have been members here for years and years.  They used to be the controlling group 10 years ago.  Although we were very segregated then, we see the error of our ways now.  Tell them what you told me.”

We explained the letter and the invitation to join.  How we decided it was good for Trey but probably better if I stayed out of it.

“Miss March,” one of the men said, “I wish you had told us, that wasn’t what we thought.   When Trey’s name was brought up, we thought you would both be joining.  We assumed you didn’t want to be here. We were told you didn’t want to be here.”

“I assumed you didn’t want me here.” I replied.  “Maybe you need to ask the membership in general.”

“No need,” he said, “Two of us here are on the membership review committee.  If you would like your membership changed to family, we’ll do that.”

I looked at Trey and whispered in his ear, “That will frost a certain cheerleader.”

“Like the tips of her bleach blonde hair.” He told me.