Page 16 of Talk to Me

“Well,” I said, “I apologize for my fellow youths.”

He waved me off.

“Theo Hendrix.” Arthur reached up to rub his chin. “He’s the one who cheated on that other little boy at that other university, yes? Blaze? Two Gays from Blaze! That’s it.”

“You’re a better fag than me, Arthur,” I said.

He laughed. “I’ve had more time to practice. Well, is the campus abuzz? Do you have any classes with him? What’s he like?”

I blew out a breath.

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s not really all that popular. I guess people are all upset about that cheating thing. Or whatever. I don’t know. I have a couple classes with him. He’s kind of standoffish.”

Arthur listened intently.

“But, then again, people are kind of rude to him,” I explained. “Some people were yelling names at him the other night. People point at him and whisper in classes. So…I can’t really blame him for keeping to himself.”

Arthur looked thoughtful, turning his attention back to the window to stare out at the beautiful day for a moment. When he turned his attention back to me, his brow was furrowed.

“Years ago,” Arthur cleared his throat, “my friend Morty and I were still living in New York, and he got invited to a socialite’s birthday party. Morty had a fabulously popular drag show at one of the bars in the city. He still performs to this day, mind you. That’s how good of a drag performer he is. Though, she’s never been on Drag Race, so she doesn’t exist to you kids.”

“Okay?” I tried not to be offended at the ‘you kids’ comment.

“Well,” Arthur said, “Morty invited me as his plus-one. He was terribly excited. Nervous, but excited. Bang Bang Baisemoi was moving up in the world!”

I’d heard the name Bang Bang before. A regionally famous drag queen, she was well known in the area. Nationally, I think enough people had heard of her to consider her a celebrity—and the longevity of her career made her an icon, in my mind. I leaned in, listening to Arthur recount the tale of his drag performer friend back in heyday of drag in New York City.

“We got all dolled up. Morty as Bang Bang, me as, well, myself,” Arthur snooted haughtily, causing me to chuckle, “and we headed out to the party. The who’s who of New York City was at this party. It was decadent. The most fabulous décor, catering, drinks—oh, and the gowns! I can’t even begin to describe the fashion on display!”

Arthur’s eyes lit up and seemed to glaze over with the memory. He sat there in silence for a moment, marveling at the memory. Then he seemed to come back to the present and his face lost its cheer.

“What is it, Arthur?” I asked.

“Well,” he said with a sigh, “being invited by the birthday girl herself, we assumed we’d get greeted with open arms. Alas, you may be surprised to learn that a drag queen and a dandy black man were not exactly that crowd’s cup of tea. Bang Bang gave the performance of her life—as if anyone was even bothering to watch. A professional always does. But Morty was devastated. We left right after he walked off the stage. He was so gutted he didn’t perform as Bang Bang for a whole week after that!”

I frowned, sad for my friend—and his friend.

“Sometimes,” Arthur leaned forward in his chair, leveling me with his eyes, “you may be invited, but you still aren’t welcome.”

The words hit me in the gut.

“My people and our people, we all figure it out eventually.” Arthur sighed and shrugged, then forced a small smile to his face.

We both sat there in silence for a moment. The story had gotten into my craw, and I simply couldn’t let that be the moral.

“Well,” I demanded, “what do you do?”

Arthur scoffed. “You show up, drink as much free booze as you can, then you go back where you’re appreciated, and let those uppity straight white people eat their bland food at their boring party with dreadful music.”

I laughed.

“I might have failed to mention we each snagged a bottle of their hooch on the way out the back door,” Arthur said with a wink. “Possibly one or two of the unwrapped gifts on the birthday table. And a caterer’s tray full of canapés. They tasted like shit, but the vodka was top shelf! And I have a darling diamond tennis bracelet somewhere around here…”

Arthur pretended to look around the room, as if trying to remember where he left his stolen goods. My laughter grew so that I had to tip over on Arthur’s bed and hold my stomach. He grinned at me as I laughed and shook my head at him.

When I left an hour later, I was smiling, but I felt guilty. I’d signed up to be a buddy at Spice House to make sure the elderly of our community knew they weren’t forgotten. To make sure they had a friend until the end. I was supposed to uplift and motivate Arthur. However, I always felt like it was I who left our visits better off.

Hopefully, he got something from my weekly visits, too.