Page 29 of Nearly Roadkill: Queer Love on the Run

Scratch pulled the car to the side of the road, and I chose that moment to say I was hungry—it seemed as good a time as any. All I’d been eating at Gywynth’s for five days was tofu!

There was a diner across the street. Winc realized we had to get back into drag if we were going into a restaurant. Scratch and I groaned, and I complained about having to put the fishnets back on. Thank gawd Winc said I didn’t have to.

Back went Winc’s mustache; I could see how ze used to look when I was growing up, but ze still looked like someone completely different and now I could also see how Scratch looked…

funny… in that dress, something not quite right.

I’m still not sure if it was cuz I knew ze was a woman who never wore that stuff, or if I was still getting used to seeing hir in the flesh after imagining hir online.

So we all trooped to a diner across the road, proper family that we were, walked in, sat at a table, and looked at our menus.

The waitress came over and our jaws all went slack, and I swear we all just stared at her shirt.

She was wearing an “I Like Scratch and Winc” sweatshirt!

I had to think of something cuz it was zombie-town at our table, so I whined “I’m hungry” in a high voice.

It worked; they both looked up at the waitress’s face and flapped their menus around.

Then the waitress turned to Winc and asked ‘him’ what we were having, ignoring me and Scratch, right?

And Winc, I can’t believe this, Winc sat up straight, and cleared hir throat, and stroked hir mustache, and in this way deep, grown-up guy voice, said to Scratch, “Honey, what are you having?” I thought Scratch was gonna pee right there, but then Scratch ran with it.

Ze got all sweet and smiley and said to Winc, “Oh, you order for me. You always pick something nice.”

Then Winc almost lost it. But ze went completely into “Dad-ordering-us-breakfast” mode, and the waitress walked away like nothing was strange.

Then it was silence again until our food came. All three of us tore into it.

“I want to get back to something you said, Scratch,” said Winc around a mouthful of waffles. “About sensory overload.”

Scratch, who I swear looked one minute like everyone’s mother, and the next like some guy in drag, and the very next minute, well, strong and proud, got all quiet and nodded, so Winc kept talking.

“It ties in with something I was saying, about the courage you’ve given me—online.

See, I did want to be a woman, Scratch. I really, really thought that was the answer for me, because all my time being boy and man—it was all acting.

Then I finally made that change, and I had become…

well, a woman… it still felt like I was acting. ”

It was weird hearing all this come from a doode with a mustache.

“Too many rules on both sides of that gender fence, and I just don’t get along well with rules.”

Scratch looked a little more like what I think ze really looks like then. “So online,” ze said, “you got to escape?”

Winc nodded, then Winc took a deep breath.

“I wouldn’t call it escape. I fell in love with you a lot of ways, Scratch. I loved being boy to your riot grrl. I loved being nasty gay man to your nasty gay man. I even loved you when you were a vampire, and I was your supper. I fell so deep and hard when we were Frankie and Johnny….”

I felt embarrassed but hoped at least what ze was saying would maybe save this whole thing.

Hir voice trailed off, and Scratch’s eyes got a little wet, and ze just nodded some more. Winc went on. “What I’m realizing now,” ze said, “is that I was falling, but with a safety net beneath me.”

Winc was getting sadder and sadder, but ze kept talking. “I was finding a way to be all the different mes I could be, with you. But it wasn’t with all of you, not really. A lot of it was in my head. It wasn’t really you. It was the you I wanted you to be.”

Ze just stopped and looked down and took another bite of hir waffle, but I don’t think ze was hungry. Scratch took up the slack.

“So you were becoming who I wanted you to be?”

“Sort of.”

Scratch looked disgusted with hirself.

“I wanted to be those people too,” Winc went on. “I loved that no matter who we became, you were right there with me. We both had the safety net. I… I didn’t have to worry about looking like a freak to other folks. And you didn’t know you were with a ‘freak.’?”

Right then, the waitress came back and asked Winc if “the table” wanted more coffee. So Winc responded in this girly voice ze usually uses now, “Thanks, hon, yes please,” and the waitress just stared at hir, poured the coffee quick and got outta there.

“You’re a freak?” Scratch said when she was gone. “You think you’re the only one? Don’t you know I’m one too? Why do you think there’s so many of us online? Not just queers, either, but lots of people are freaks out there.”

Ze looked around the diner. “I mean, out here.”

Winc looked kind of surprised but didn’t say anything. Ze had a kind of “tell me more” look in hir eyes.

“Every time I walk outside, I kind of hunch up. People think butches look so tough, but we’re… bracing,” Scratch finished, real quiet.

Winc was crying now; ze just nodded. Then excused hirself and despite what was happening I hoped ze would remember to use the right bathroom!

When ze was gone, Scratch looked at me and asked if I thought ze was being a jerk. Scratch is so cool that way, asking me what I think, but I could tell ze was really confused, even hurt. Not just by what Winc was saying, but by what ze must be feeling.

So I said, “Nah, you’re not a jerk. I think you’re just scared. When things change so fast…” I shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess that’s it.” But Scratch sounded kind of doubtful.

Then Winc came back and slid back into the booth.

“I don’t want this whole thing to get into who used who, okay?” Winc said. “It’s a two-way street.” These walls had shot up around hir—spooky.

Winc continued. “I know that I fell in love with you. I learned a lot about who I am and how I want to be in the world. I learned I could be a lot of things with you, and figured maybe I could really be that way. I could be anything, anyone, everything, everyone, all of me. With you. For real.”

Scratch looked at hir; maybe something was about to happen, but right then, I had filled up too much, and I just busted out crying like a little kid.

Scratch reached across the table toward me. “Oh, man, Toobe, I’m sorry. Jesus, I… we’ll be alright, Toobe!” Ze looked at me, then looked at Winc, then put hir head in hir hands.

Winc reached hir arm around me. We held still, just like that.

Finally Scratch said to Winc, “I don’t see how it’s going to work in the real world. There’s so much involved. I wish I was bigger than I am, but I guess I’m just not.”

Winc got that other smile on hir face then. Someone else’s smile. Ze sat way back in hir seat. “Then I guess I should say it’s been nice to meet you,” ze finally said, “and have a good life.”

I felt like I’d been hit with a jolt from a million light sockets. But Scratch didn’t move.

“Oh, that’s very Ingrid Bergman, my friend, but this isn’t the movies,” Scratch said in a kind of drawl. Ze was grinning! And kept right on talking.

“Don’t you realize that we’re just getting started? Don’t you realize we’re at some kind of precipice, instead of stuck inside some theory!”

I didn’t really get what Scratch was talking about, but I did like the grin. Winc looked surprised too, but ze still had a guarded face.

“What do you mean?” ze asked, kind of huffing up. “I wasn’t being dramatic, I was—”

“I know, but darlin’, you’re not the only one with the good lines here. What about my freak status? My idea of a good time would be to walk off into the sunset with a woman, a wolf, or my computer. Not a husband. But probably not a wife either.”

“Oh, so I’m messing up the dream because I’m not a real woman?”

Scratch winced big. “I don’t think that’s what it is. I came here ready to deal with your being a guy, to being straight and narrow all over again. I’m still stuck on what I’m going to be now. When the thought of being a straight anything makes me want to choke!”

They looked at each other. Then Scratch looked back at me.

“Oh, Jesus, Toobe, this must be awful for you, pal. I mean, Mom and Dad are fighting. I’m sorry. I really am.”

I got kind of mad, then, but I still didn’t know why I was crying. “You’re not Mom and Dad! You’re Scratch and Winc. I don’t know why that’s not good enough for you!”

Scratch swung hir head back at Winc like a gangster. “He’s hit it on the head again, you know dat, shweet-hawt?”

Winc just said “Yeah,” eyes all misty and clouded and really beautiful too.

They just sat there, a kind of truce, I think, or at least an agreement not to pick at this gaping wound that looked like it would spew all over the place again.

Then Scratch looked up at the TV on the wall of the diner, and there was a story about us! There was Coney Island, there were cops, there were walkie-talkies, helicopters, and an anchorman doing a standup and everything!

You wouldn’t believe how fast somebody with a mustache can get his check. We were outta there.

END TOOBE ENTRY