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“Gasp! Even my brother? You’re forgetting that at least Bart married and had a son!”
“I clearly don’t know enough about Confucianism.”
“Count your blessings, love. It’s a little heterocentric. Patriarchal, you might say. In the good old days, my brother would rule my life the moment my father goes tits up.”
“You’d have been married off first.”
“Shedoesknow something about it! Good thing I am already married, as all of America knows now.”
“Don’t worry, pretty sure this show doesn’t even pull in a million viewers. If that.”
“Now I’m offended. Shouldn’t everyone enjoy our gracious Cait?”
They sat through a handful of two-minute segments showcasing a myriad of talents, from singing to an impressively quick French lesson to a tumbling act from the fair Mrs. Kansas who showed up in a red, white, and blue leotard and pigtails.Someone elect her, please.That was how this worked, right? Democratic process?
Caitlyn shared that she wrote an original piece to perform for her talent. When she appeared on the stage dressed in a pair of black leggings and a turtleneck, Jane had to contain a guffaw at the thought of her wife looking like a beatnik poet. With her hair tastefully pulled back into a slick ponytail and her makeupminimal, she perched atop a stool in front of a mic on an otherwise empty stage.
“Do you know what she wrote about?” Jane asked while the host introduced Caitlyn’s talent portion of the night. “Because I did not even know she was a writer. I don’t think she has ever written something around me.”
“She likes to dabble, you know.”
“Does she now?”
“How is it I have this knowledge of her but you don’t? Is it because you don’t pay attention, Jane?”
“How very dare you. I will let you know I learn at least one thing about her a year. Just do not ask me what.”
Rebecca laughed as the auditorium quieted to let Caitlyn perform in front of… well, Jane now had no idea how many people were watching at home, but there were at least a thousand people in this audience.
“In the quiet corners where my soul rests,
I lie awake upon my breast,
Searching for peace within and all around,
In the rhythm of life, that’s where I’m sound.
There’s a music in the places I’ve been,
In the stories I’ve lived, the movies I’ve seen,
In the strength I’ve found and the fears I’ve faced,
In the whispers of tomorrow, woven from past grace.
I’m more than the labels others choose to see,
More than the roles, the colors, or what’s worn by me,
I’m the moonlight’s dance, the calm in the storm,
A song, again, unfolding in its form.
In the quiet of self, where my spirit stays,
There’s a freedom that soars in its own wild ways,
In the curves of my being, in the light I hold dear,
