1. Frankie #3
His apartment looked well lived in, with an empty pizza box leaning against the recycling bin to the right of the door, and a glass of water and a cup of what looked like the remains of coffee on the coffee table.
There were books and notes scattered across the kitchen table as well as on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.
Frankie noticed a huge sweatshirt thrown across the back of the sofa, and he felt a momentary flare of jealousy.
Did Diego have a boyfriend? Was he huge? Was that Diego’s type?
Before he could fully formulate his thoughts, Diego walked over and grabbed the hoodie, slowly maneuvering it over his head and shoulders with some pretty obvious effort.
It got stuck on his shoulder blades, and he reached behind himself to try and pull it down, but he was clearly struggling.
When he let out a pained grunt, Frankie didn’t stop to think before stepping up behind him, grabbing the hem of the sweatshirt, and pulling it down.
His knuckles brushed along Diego’s side, and he noticed what felt like a tube, as well as copious amounts of fabric underneath Diego’s shirt.
Diego jerked away and had to steady himself on the couch.
Once again, Frankie seemed incapable of controlling his thoughts or actions because he blurted out, “Did you have back surgery? My mom had that when I was in middle school and had to wear bandages and baggy clothes for weeks. Me and my sis had to help her get dressed and she always got stuck pulling it over her back like this.”
Diego looked over his shoulder at Frankie and his eyes sparked with anger. Frankie almost took a step back, but for some reason he didn’t. He stood, holding onto the hem of Diego’s hoodie, trying to make his face look as supportive as possible.
As they stared at each other, Frankie tried desperately to think of something else to say but his mind had gone strangely blank.
Diego seemed to be making him lose his train of thought and bumble around like a moron.
Of course Diego didn’t want to talk about it.
If he had wanted to talk about it, he would have opened up the ten-plus times he’d had the opportunity to do so before.
Frankie pouted slightly, just about ready to drop his hand, when Diego blinked, and his face cleared. It was like a curtain fell. All of the cold hostility disappeared, and he was left with a soft, almost vulnerable looking expression.
“I… had surgery on my chest,” Diego said slowly, reaching down to remove Frankie’s hand from his sweatshirt. Frankie would not admit that he felt tingles run along his skin from where Diego’s fingertips brushed his. Tingles? Seriously? How fucking lame.
Diego turned around until they were facing each other.
Frankie couldn’t help but glance down at his chest. “Shit man, like… your lungs? Or… your heart?” Was Diego really sick?
No wonder he hadn’t been in class. Frankie couldn’t even imagine having such a serious surgery.
His mom’s back surgery had been relatively easy, with minimal scarring and pretty much no damage to soft tissue, and it had still taken her months to recover.
“No, Franklin, I had surgery on my chest ,” Diego said, emphasizing the last word with an uncomfortable looking shoulder roll.
Frankie blinked at him, not even commenting on Diego’s insistent use of his full name.
Diego sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried again. “I had surgery on my top half.”
He had surgery on his top half? His… top…
surgery… Frankie’s brain and mouth caught on to what Diego was saying at different times.
His brain thought, Wow, that must have been so hard for him to admit .
But his mouth said, “So, if you have two pride flags, why don’t you ever come to Rainbow Club meetings? ”
Diego’s mouth fell open and he gaped for a moment. Frankie tried to backtrack, and naturally, made it worse by word vomiting all over Diego.
“I mean ‘cause, you know, you said you were queer, and then corrected it, which I’m now sort of assuming means you’ve always been into men but identified as queer before, and then after your transition you identify as gay–and you’re trans, so there’s that flag, and then everyone can rep the rainbow flag, especially the new progress pride flag with the pink and blue, so in essence you have three whole flags which–wow, that must make pride fun–hey!
You should join the pride planning committee!
We have three other transgender members and one nonbinary person on the committee. Maybe you know them?”
Frankie was relieved by the “what the fuck, why are you so stupid” face Diego was making because at least that one was familiar. It wasn’t full of the earlier vulnerability that Frankie didn’t know how to handle.
“I’m sorry… did I just come out to you, and the first thing you ask is do I know the other trans people you know?”
Frankie bit his lip. A burning heat worked its way across his cheeks. “Uhm… I think technically my first question was why don’t you come to Rainbow Club, and the second was if you want to join the pride committee. Then the third question was—”
“Stupid?”
Frankie ducked his head in embarrassment. “Uh, yeah… pretty stupid… sorry.”
Diego let out a soft huff, but when Frankie glanced up at him through his lashes, Diego’s expression was almost affectionate.
“Well… thank you for being so understanding and… welcoming,” Diego said.
“I’ve never come to the meetings because they’re during one of my evening classes.
Unfortunately, most clubs on campus are more geared towards undergrad schedules which end by 6:00 p.m. Almost all grad classes except the Entrepreneur class are at night. ”
Damn, Frankie had never thought of that.
How incredibly non -inclusive. “I’ll change that,” Frankie said.
Diego looked taken aback. “I mean, I’m not the president, so I can’t just decree anything, but I know the president and once I mention this to her I’m sure she’ll…
well, probably feel super bad about how accidentally exclusionary we’ve been acting, and then change the times of the meetings. What time works best for you?”
Diego was staring at him like he had two heads. “I… am usually freer on weekends. I know that’s not usually when clubs have meetings—”
“Done. Maybe Saturday afternoon? Oh wait… that won’t work because of Shabbat. Okay, maybe Sunday afternoon? Late enough so anyone who went to church services will be able to attend.”
“Are you Jewish?” Diego asked abruptly with a sort of thoughtless air. It was very un-Diego-like.
“Nah, but again, we try to be inclusive. So, we have to be cautious of Friday nights for Mosque as well. Now that I’m saying all this out loud, I think people go to Baha’i temple every nineteen days for their feast, so we’ll have to watch out for that, and some Buddhist temples do their Uposatha day of rest on weekends…
but I think the observation follows the lunar calendar in some way.
I have to be honest, I’m a little less familiar with that one.
I’ll have to look it up when I get home. Then I’ll tell Dalia.”
Diego was giving him the dazed, sort of surprised look again. Was he feeling okay?
“Oh shit, the professor said you’ve been having a bad go of it…
are you alright? Is everything healing okay?
” His mom had gotten an infection in her surgery site, and the doctors had been worried it could get into her spinal column.
Frankie wasn’t as familiar with top surgery – was there a huge risk for infection as well?
Diego grimaced and walked slowly around the couch, presumably to sit down.
Frankie followed close behind in case he needed any help…
which he didn’t, so when Diego sat down, he was practically face to face with Frankie’s crotch.
Diego looked up at him through his long lashes, somehow incredibly endearing and patronizing at the same time.
Frankie allowed himself a moment to catalog Diego’s features.
He suddenly understood why Diego’s beard was sort of patchy as if it was slowly establishing its domain and thickness on Diego’s face.
Frankie forced himself not to look down to note the fullness of Diego’s hips and thighs.
Two of the members of the pride committee were trans-feminine and talked openly about their hard jawlines, thinner hips, and smaller butts.
The one trans-masculine guy on the committee didn’t have any complaints about his body.
In fact, he often bragged about his big butt, although, he did sometimes joke with the women about detaching his boobs to give to them.
Frankie knew enough about gender, trans, cis and otherwise to know that not everyone felt the same, but he imagined this surgery would be a huge relief for Diego. Why then did he look like he was still carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders?
“I’m… alright,” Diego finally said. “Everything was healing fine until a few days ago when I spiked a fever. Looks like one of the incisions is infected and the swelling could mess up the way the scars heal and… I don’t know.
Never mind. You obviously didn’t come here to listen to this, or to have me burden you by coming out, so… I apologize.”
Diego’s back was slowly stiffening as he spoke and by the time he was done, his spine was ramrod straight as if he was perched on the edge of a hard chair and not sitting on his own surprisingly comfy looking sofa.