Nice to Finally Meet You #2
I reached into the corset and pulled out the inserts. They jiggled as I dropped them on the table. At my size, I had plenty of chest, but who could say no to a little extra perk? Staring into the mirror, I inspected every carefully placed line, every contour. Mabel Syrup was flawless in every way.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. On the exhale, I pulled at the lashes until the glue gave way. When I opened my eyes, the armor had cracked.
“There you are,” I whispered.
Mabel had brought down the house. The performance ended in a chant.
Atop the bar, I stared into a sea of adoring fans.
They expected the glitz and glam, the sass and attitude.
They hadn’t come for these tired eyes. Turning, I ran a nail, complete with rhinestones, across my cheek.
It had only been a few hours, and already the stubble threatened to show through the foundation.
I understood why Cinderella fled the ball.
The makeup remover pads sat in the same spot they always did.
They held the false promise of a pristine face.
Never had I left Spectrum without the need for a second scrubbing.
Rarely did I start my next morning without dark lines emphasizing my baby blues.
Even if they didn’t deliver, this time they held a different promise.
With a few vigorous scrubs, Mabel would vanish, and I would be left with…
Mike.
Forty had come and gone, and somewhere along the way, I had shelved myself.
While Mabel performed for crowds or made perfectly timed cameos, Mike watched through feathery lashes.
My fondest memories belonged to another person.
Mabel had a party decorated with presents and a cake with enough candles to be called an inferno.
Meanwhile, Mike bought a cupcake with a single candle and blew it out in an empty apartment.
I wiped away the tears, ruining the contours of my cheeks.
While I hadn’t given a speech on stage, I felt like I owed this powerhouse a proper send-off.
When a painfully shy boy couldn’t find his voice, she spoke for him.
While he shrank in the corner of the room, she commanded the spotlight.
We had become the best of friends, but somewhere I let her boisterous personality take over.
I returned to the corner while she remained the life of the party.
“I love you,” I whispered. Forcing my eyes up, she had more stories than sequins. From nighttime diva to champion of children’s literature, I held nothing but love. It wasn’t her fault I became an innocent bystander in my own story.
“Remember that time you taught a room full of retirees how to twerk?” I let the tears flow as I chuckled. “You were terrified they’d break a hip.” I loved her, but it was time to set the wig aside. “Gertie. That grandma could make them clap.”
Jokes were easier than the truth.
“You were loved. You showed me what it meant to be loved.” I stifled a sob. It was one thing to announce it on stage. Saying goodbye in private made it real. “But… it wasn’t me they loved.” The words made my stomach tighten. “I want to be loved, too.”
Reaching into the packet of wipes, I drew a white cloth. I gave Mabel the once-over. It was hard to ignore the beads on the table from Mardi Gras, or the cheap tiara the Glitterati had bestowed upon Mabel. The memories were numerous, but they belonged to her.
I dragged the cloth along one cheek, then the other.
Mike waited behind the mask. Terrified to stand on my own, it was time to see what the future held.
The shy man who hid away revealed himself.
As I continued wiping away the makeup, it felt as if I were staring at a stranger.
As the cloth turned brown from concealer, I debated whether I had made the right decision.
Had it been a moment of clarity or jealousy?
Standing in the doorway, Patrick wiped the tears.
Even before he came out of the closet, he had been my biggest supporter.
Mabel had picked out his first pair of chaps.
Every night, we worked in tandem to make Spectrum a success.
He didn’t know it, but his leaving had been the spark that ignited my curiosity.
Patrick found his calling and a man worthy of his attention. I envied his relationship with Seamus.
He didn’t speak as he came in, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. He squeezed as if he would never let go. I hated that this decision meant he’d lose a friend. Putting away the wig meant there’d be no more Mabel for his late-night texts and goofy photos of Seamus dancing to big band music.
I pulled at his hand until I could kiss his knuckles.
When he let go, his fingers moved to the front of the wig.
He removed the bobby pins before pulling it from my scalp.
He set it on the shelf, his hands returning to my shoulders.
I could remember the first day this so-called straight man entered Spectrum.
I had my reservations about him working behind the bar, but, as always, Spectrum didn’t believe in the idea of outsiders.
In the last year, he had undergone his own transformation.
He was the best friend Mabel could have asked for.
I rested a hand over his, thankful for what we once had.
Our relationship had always been intimate, but never more physical than a kiss on the cheek or a slap on the ass. What would become of us?
His hands gripped my shoulders.
“Hi, Mike,” he said, “nice to finally meet you.”