FA+
Shop
A Week in my Life that I Remember Well
14 years ago
I woke up late and was rushing to see a gender therapist in the Alley McBeal Building, not far from the State House. My mom stopped me and asked, "Do you know what's going on?" I took a minute to stare at the TV. It was something about a plane hitting the Pentagon. I didn't have time to stick around to figure out whether it was an accident or a deliberate. I had a bus to catch. When I got to my appointment, there was a small black and white TV set up in the waiting room, and everybody, staff and patients alike, was watching the news. I watched the towers fall, over and over again. I heard the gender therapist say, "This is surreal*," over and over again. Perhaps it was because the whole thing was unreal to me, but I don't remember feeling much of anything really; least of all, fear. I realized that my appointment got canceled and that I may not be worried, but my mother would be, so I skipped hanging out at the Tiffany Club of New England's weekly meeting (that's how I know September 11th was on a Tuesday) and went directly home.
This was after I got fired from Ritz Camera and before I got hired by Walgreens. Unless it was for an appointment, I didn't go out for anything, for the next three days.
And then, it was Saturday night, I had enough unemployment money for drinks, so I left my parent's house with my backpack, found a place to change into Jessica, and spent the night at Jaque's, Boston's only seven-day-a-week "drag bar." All that I remember was that September 11th was what half the conversations were about. When I woke up, Sunday morning, my mother told me to get rid of my "girly stuff." This was not the first time that she said it. If the girly stuff would go, I would go with it. I called my friend, Haley. She told me I could move in with her the moment that I got there. I packed my things and loaded them into the cab.
Most of Monday and Tuesday are a blur of events. I remember doing three things, shaving my legs, cleaning things up a bit while Haley was at work, and being on my cell phone with Walgreens when they told me that I could start the next week.
Tuesday evening, a friend picked me up and drove me to the Tiffany Club of New England. The thing I remember the most was how someone had hung a couple of US flags from the false ceiling. When I got home, Haley had gone to bed. I called her twice and left two messaged, but no answer. My friend was in no mood to let me crash at her place. I spent an hour alone, not wanting to wake the entire building and not knowing what to do, otherwise. Fortunately, I discovered that the door to Frank's car was not locked, and I slept across his front seat.
Wednesday night, I showed up a week early for my fist evening class for Electrical Engineering Technology, at Northeastern University. Before getting back on the Green Line, I got a call from Haley telling me that my presence there was giving her nightmares. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if it was due to my pleading into her answering machine, but, even if I was aware of such a possibility, I didn't bother pursuing the matter any further. I took a loaded cab back to my parents house and hid my "girly stuff" in the basement, until I was able to rent a space at Planet Self-Storage. All "girly stuff" stayed there until I moved in with Stacy, half a year later; all except for a small wardrobe that I kept within two lockers at Northeastern University. One of those lockers got broken into, but that's another story!
* (surreal which is is supposed to mean more than real. I thought it meant unreal, at the time. Now I'm not sure if he meant surreal or unreal, but the whole thing was unreal to me.)
This was after I got fired from Ritz Camera and before I got hired by Walgreens. Unless it was for an appointment, I didn't go out for anything, for the next three days.
And then, it was Saturday night, I had enough unemployment money for drinks, so I left my parent's house with my backpack, found a place to change into Jessica, and spent the night at Jaque's, Boston's only seven-day-a-week "drag bar." All that I remember was that September 11th was what half the conversations were about. When I woke up, Sunday morning, my mother told me to get rid of my "girly stuff." This was not the first time that she said it. If the girly stuff would go, I would go with it. I called my friend, Haley. She told me I could move in with her the moment that I got there. I packed my things and loaded them into the cab.
Most of Monday and Tuesday are a blur of events. I remember doing three things, shaving my legs, cleaning things up a bit while Haley was at work, and being on my cell phone with Walgreens when they told me that I could start the next week.
Tuesday evening, a friend picked me up and drove me to the Tiffany Club of New England. The thing I remember the most was how someone had hung a couple of US flags from the false ceiling. When I got home, Haley had gone to bed. I called her twice and left two messaged, but no answer. My friend was in no mood to let me crash at her place. I spent an hour alone, not wanting to wake the entire building and not knowing what to do, otherwise. Fortunately, I discovered that the door to Frank's car was not locked, and I slept across his front seat.
Wednesday night, I showed up a week early for my fist evening class for Electrical Engineering Technology, at Northeastern University. Before getting back on the Green Line, I got a call from Haley telling me that my presence there was giving her nightmares. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if it was due to my pleading into her answering machine, but, even if I was aware of such a possibility, I didn't bother pursuing the matter any further. I took a loaded cab back to my parents house and hid my "girly stuff" in the basement, until I was able to rent a space at Planet Self-Storage. All "girly stuff" stayed there until I moved in with Stacy, half a year later; all except for a small wardrobe that I kept within two lockers at Northeastern University. One of those lockers got broken into, but that's another story!
* (surreal which is is supposed to mean more than real. I thought it meant unreal, at the time. Now I'm not sure if he meant surreal or unreal, but the whole thing was unreal to me.)
