Page 42 of A Little Life

[III]

Vanities

1

THEIR NEXT-DOOR SUITEMATEStheir second year in Hood had been a trio of lesbians, all seniors, who had been in a band called Backfat and had for some reason taken a liking to JB (and, eventually, Jude, and then Willem, and finally, reluctantly, Malcolm). Now, fifteen years after the four of them had graduated, two of the lesbians had coupled up and were living in Brooklyn. Of the four of them, only JB talked to them regularly: Marta was a nonprofit labor lawyer, and Francesca was a set designer.

“Exciting news!” JB told them one Friday in October over dinner. “The Bitches of Bushwick called—Edie is in town!” Edie was the third in the lesbians’ trio, a beefy, emotional Korean American who shuttled back and forth between San Francisco and New York, and seemed always to be preparing for one improbable job or another: the last time they had seen her, she was about to leave for Grasse to begin training to become a professional nose, and just eight months before that, she had finished a cooking course in Afghani cuisine.

“And why is this exciting news?” asked Malcolm, who had never quite forgiven the three of them for their inexplicable dislike of him.

“Well,” said JB, and paused, grinning. “She’s transitioning!”

“To aman?” asked Malcolm. “Give me a break, JB. She’s never exhibited any gender dysphoric ideations for as long as we’ve known her!” A former coworker of Malcolm’s had transitioned the year before and Malcolm had become a self-anointed expert on the subject, lecturing them about their intolerance and ignorance until JB had finallyshouted at him, “Jesus, Malcolm, I’m far more trans than Dominic’ll ever be!”

“Well, anyway, she is,” JB continued, “and the Bitches are throwing her a party at their house, and we’re all invited.”

They groaned. “JB, I only have five weeks before I leave for London, and I have so much shit to get done,” Willem protested. “I can’t spend a night listening to Edie Kim complaining out in Bushwick.”

“You can’tnotgo!” shrieked JB. “Theyspecificallyasked for you! Francesca’s inviting some girl who knows you from something or other and wants to see you again. If you don’t go, they’re all going to think you think you’re too good for them now. And there’s going to be a ton of other people we haven’t seen in forever—”

“Yeah, and maybe there’s a reason we haven’t seen them,” Jude said.

“—and besides, Willem, the pussy will be waiting for you whether you spend an hour in Brooklyn or not. And it’s not like it’s the end of the world. It’sBushwick. Judy’ll drive us.” Jude had bought a car the year before, and although it wasn’t particularly fancy, JB loved to ride around in it.

“What? I’m not going,” Jude said.

“Why not?”

“I’m in a wheelchair, JB, remember? And as I recall, Marta and Francesca’s place doesn’t have an elevator.”

“Wrong place,” JB replied triumphantly. “See how long it’s been? They moved. Their new place definitely has one. A freight elevator, actually.” He leaned back, drumming his fist on the table as the rest of them sat in a resigned silence. “And off we go!”

So the following Saturday they met at Jude’s loft on Greene Street and he drove them to Bushwick, where he circled Marta and Francesca’s block, looking for a parking space.

“There was a spot right back there,” JB said after ten minutes.

“It was a loading zone,” Jude told him.

“If you just put that handicapped sign up, we can park wherever we want,” JB said.

“I don’t like using it—you know that.”

“If you’re not going to use it, then what’s the point of having a car?”

“Jude, I think that’s a space,” said Willem, ignoring JB.

“Seven blocks from the apartment,” muttered JB.

“Shut up, JB,” said Malcolm.

Once inside the party, they were each tugged by a different person to a separate corner of the room. Willem watched as Jude was pulled firmly away by Marta:Help me, Jude mouthed to him, and he smiled and gave him a little wave.Courage, he mouthed back, and Jude rolled his eyes. He knew how much Jude hadn’t wanted to come, hadn’t wanted to explain again and again why he was in a wheelchair, and yet Willem had begged him: “Don’t make me go alone.”

“You won’t be alone. You’ll be with JB and Malcolm.”

“You know what I mean. Forty-five minutes and we’re out of there. JB and Malcolm can find their own way back to the city if they want to stay longer.”

“Fifteen minutes.”