Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
TITO MELBOY CRIES INTO THE PALMS OF HIS HANDS. “I’m sorry, Rex,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I say. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Diyos ko.” My mother brings her hand to her mouth, curling it into a fist. “How could anyone do that to you? To my beautiful boy?”
“Rex,” Eva says, “why didn’t you tell us?”
“Tito Melboy said to forget it. And you were too young anyway. I wanted to protect you, I guess.”
After Ivan’s thug buddies left, we went back to Dreamland for help. Baby was still closing up. She gave me some first aid and, shaking with rage, encouraged us to file a police report. But Tito Melboy refused. When we got back home, he told everyone we’d been mugged and instructed me to take a break from Dreamland and, most importantly, from drag. A week later, he found another place to stay in San Francisco and moved out of our house for good. It was the last time I saw him until this week.
“I should have done something to protect you, Rex, instead of just crouching there like a coward,” he says.
“What could you have done, Uncle? I tried to stand up to them, and they beat me up. They would have done the same to you.”
“I was paralyzed.”
“It’s okay.”
“No,” Tito Melboy says. “Let me explain. Do you remember how I warned you not to tell Ivan that you were Regina? That’s because I had an experience before, in the Philippines.”
He takes a few slower breaths, his head still bowed. “There was this young man whom I met at one of the bars where I worked. He used to give me big tips when I would perform. Eventually we became close, and we began to see each other. But only there at the bar. And only when I was in drag. Then one day, I ran into him at the market. I took him aside to say hello but he pushed me away, as if I were a stranger. At first, I thought he didn’t recognize me out of women’s clothes. And then I realized, it’s because he was there with his wife. If I had been dressed as Beaucoup Buko, it might have been better. He would have just laughed and boasted to his wife about being irresistible to women. Instead, he cursed and spat on me. I’m lucky he didn’t do more. I could see it in his eyes. The fear of being found out. If it weren’t for his wife pulling him away, I know his reaction would have been worse.
“I was just trying to warn you, Rex. My experience with men at that time told me they would all be the same, that they don’t want to be confused by how we present ourselves to them. But I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to protect you in the alley. I don’t blame you for not talking to me again after that.”
I kneel down in front of Tito Melboy and take his hands in mine. “Uncle, the reason I stopped talking to you isn’t because you didn’t stand up for me in that alley. It’s because you told me to pretend like it never happened, instead of working through it. Processing it. That’s what I needed to do. And I wanted you to help me do that. But you didn’t. And then you just left me,” I say.
Tito Melboy shakes his head, leaning over and still unable to look at me. “That was such a mistake, pamangkin. I thought if you could just let everything go, even me, you would eventually forget the pain.” His tears fall, splashing onto our hands.
“But pain is part of drag,” I say. “Not just in the uncomfortable clothes and shoes. It’s in the ache that comes out of us when we perform. The hurt that we transform into art. It’s in the way we pay tribute to queens who’ve inspired us, who’ve suffered just for existing. Like you. Without people like you and everything you’ve gone through, there would be no Regina Moon Dee.”
“I never realized how much suffering you went through, anak,” my mom says, wiping tears from her eyes. “I see now why you thought you had to stop doing your drag. I never understood it before.”
“I know I disappointed you, Mom. That you always liked having a famous kid.”
“No, Rex.” She pulls me up on the couch to sit between her and Tito Melboy. She puts her arm around me. “Listen to me. My happiness for you never had anything to do with that. Yes, it’s true, when I was a girl, I wanted to be an actress. And I always resented that your lola and lolo did not support me. So I encouraged your creativity. I saw how much happiness was in your heart when you wore your favorite colors or clothes. Or when you sang and danced to your favorite songs. That’s all I ever wanted for you. That’s all any parent ever wants for their child—to be happy! But more important than that, to be safe. And it breaks my heart to know that there are people out there who don’t want you to be who you are meant to be. How can I protect you from that?” She looks at my uncle. “How can any of us?”
“We can be there for them, Sharon,” he says. “And most of all, not tell them to hide themselves away. That is not the way. I know that now. Rex taught me.”
“My whole life I’ve known I’m different,” I say. “And yeah, sometimes it’s been hard. Especially these last few years. But I never would have had the strength and courage to find myself as a kid—to discover drag, to become Regina Moon Dee—if it hadn’t been for you, Mom. For as long as I can remember, you’ve always been my biggest fan. Not just Regina’s. Mine. How many kids out there have someone who made them feel beautiful, and accepted, and loved every single day? The world’s full of people who hate people like me. Just because of who I love or how I express myself. But you loved me so much it all got drowned out. I never had to listen to them because I had you. You are the best mom any kid could ever have. You both are.”
I put my arms around Mom and Tito Melboy and pull them into me. My shoulders get wet as they cry into my shoulders.
Kat hands a box of tissues to Eva. They both wipe tears from their faces.
And Paolo stands in front of us, his eyes full of so much care and concern that it feels as if he’s embracing me, holding on to me as much as I’m holding on to my mother and uncle.
I look around at them, my face slick with tears. How lucky I am to have these people in my life.
“Okay, enough crying,” I say, shaking my uncle and my mom lightly. “We’ve got work to do.”
AFTER A QUICK BATHROOM brEAK , we put my music video back on. This time, Paolo and I lip-synch to it together. The rest of the group observe, helping Paolo to capture every tilt of my head, every flick of my finger, and every inflection of the words in my expressions. Tito Melboy stands beside us, making suggestions and adjusting Paolo’s body as he goes.
We move on to the second song—karaoke night’s finale—and repeat the process. This one involves a surprise bit of choreography in the beginning, which we make sure to go over carefully with Paolo.
By the time he’s gotten the basic moves down, the cloud cover in San Francisco has mostly evaporated, revealing a swath of sun over the neighborhood. Everyone wanders into the kitchen to get some food for lunch. I grab Paolo’s hand and pull him aside.
“Can I have a look at your back deck? I haven’t seen it yet,” I ask, enjoying the heat his hand brings mine.
Paolo laughs. “Is that code for something?”
“Trust me,” I say, squeezing, “when I want to do more than talk, you’ll know.”
We head out through the sliding glass doors beyond his dining room onto the deck. While not large, it’s smartly designed, utilizing every bit of space for relaxing in privacy. Thick arborvitae trees line the sides, and stalks of bamboo border the back.
We sit down on the outdoor love seat overlooking the deck. Above, a single, silken cloud edges its way across the sky.
“Your family is so amazing,” Paolo says. “I wasn’t so sure we needed that many people here, but I’m glad that they are.”
“I am, too. And I feel so much better now that my mom and Eva finally know the truth about what happened outside of Dreamland,” I say. “You, too.”
“What happened to you and your uncle was so horrible.”
“It was. But what was worse was not telling my family about it. I don’t know why we thought it was better to keep everything buried. It wasn’t.”
Paolo leans his head against mine. The feel of it is substantial and feather-light at the same time. “I can see how it would be easy to associate being in drag with hiding,” he says, his words vibrating against me. “It’s all an illusion, right?”
“I used to think that,” I say softly. “But it isn’t. Not to me, at least. For me, drag is heightened reality. It’s not about lying, it’s about revealing the truth in a different way. My truth. I see that now.”
I feel Paolo smile. “I like that.”
“And on the subject of truth…”
“Uh-oh. I don’t know if I can handle another bombshell revelation.”
“Just hear me out.” I look out onto the bamboo in the back, swaying in the slightly chilly wind sweeping through. A tiny shiver runs up my body, and I move even closer to Paolo. “I need to tell my dad the truth about my drag. Not tomorrow, obviously. But one day. And I really think you should tell your dad that you don’t want to manage one of his restaurants. That there’s something else you want to do with your life, something that you’re damn good at. So let’s make a pact with each other to come out to them soon. And to be there for each other when we do it.”
“Yeah. I’m in.”
“Good.”
“So,” he says, “how am I doing so far, being you?”
“Mmm, so far, so good,” I reply. “Now you need to practice in the outfit and wig. So you’ll get a better idea of how everything will look and feel.”
Paolo strokes my hand with his thumb. “I can’t wait to see and feel it. All of it,” he says with so much loaded intention that my insides tingle.
“Maybe we should go inside now,” I say quietly.
He nods but doesn’t move, still stroking my hand. I know that I should just get up and bring him inside with me. But I stay there, letting him hold on to me. We watch as the edge of the cloud above briefly covers the sun before revealing it again.
I chuckle. “Hey, do you remember the first night I hosted karaoke?”
“Of course I do. Every minute of it.”
“There was this moment when I started seeing you differently. Do you know when?”
He shakes his head.
“It’s when you sang. With your lovely voice.”
“My lovely… hey!” he says, pulling back with an indignant smile.
“No, but seriously, you left everything out on the floor. I really respected that.”
“That’s why I love karaoke,” Paolo says. “It’s a chance to be free. To not have to care about what my dad thinks or worry about running a fancy restaurant. It’s just me and the music. And the people willing to put up with me.”
He smiles at me. I smile back.
And then he gives me a brief, light kiss on the lips.
I want to stay there. Return the kiss. Make it a longer, deeper one.
But one of my family members could come outside and interrupt us at any moment. And we still have to finish working on the final song.
“Okay,” I say. “Before you get me into any trouble, we should get back to practicing. We need to make sure your lip-synchs are perfect.”