Chapter One

Looking is Listening and... Shaving

I met Felicia at the last Social. She was at the other end of the room with a bunch of young folks. It’s a big room, there were over sixty people there but I noticed her. My type. Long black hair flowing down her shoulders and I could tell by the way she flung her hair and moved her hips, she was a sexy one.

Her group was listening to Rita Morales tell about the Balkans. Then Kevin Morales talked about their daughter’s graduation.

An old lady, I reminded myself. Plus I’m probably not even her gender. A teen-aged boy called her Mom butthatdoesn’t mean anything -- so many queers have kids.

I was talking to Gladys and Chuck, Gladys gave the run-down on AIDS and Magic Johnson, Chuck about Donald Trump’s new girlfriend and Ivana’s book. Harvey talked about the Operation Rescue fanatics. Harvey talks slowly but everyone makes an extra effort to encourage him; he was raised oralist so he has trouble Signing.

I’d already said my Hello, How Are Yous to Trudy, my ex-”roommate,” and Carmen, her girlfriend. We don’t have to actually go up to each other like Hearings do since we can talk from a distance but we can’t avoid each other either since we all attend the same Socials.

I’ve gotten used to seeing the two of them. Trudy left me over a year ago. Carmen is a nice lady; I don’t hate her. I’m really quite sorry when she says she injured her foot last week and that’s why it’s in a splint.

Trudy’s gone back to work part-time. She’s also put on weight which doesn’t look good on since she’s only five feet tall. Really, she’s gettingfat. But she’s still dramatically good-looking, her plentiful snow-white hair swept to one side and up. Like her hair all over, I can’t help but think.

I was talking about the Pentagon trying to resist budget cuts when I saw Felicia telling a joke about Star Wars and asteroids. Since we were talking about the same thing I saw my chance and invited her over.

As she and her son made their way through the knots of people between us, I got a better look at them: poor guy, he had a terrible case of acne. He was dressed in a kind of preppy uniform, a white shirt and tie, jeans, his dull brown hair cut ‘50s-style short. Felicia was a different story. Her coloring was perfect from my point of view: fair skin, but black eyebrows and a detectable mustache (always a good omen). Her coal black hair had some white streaks but she was young, she couldn’t be over forty. A nice body, just a bit plump. Her powder blue jeans were ripped up and down and reminded me of a picture of Cher -- nowthere’sa lady I could really do something with.

Aft