Page 57 of On Fire Island

“Made you laugh,” Shep boasted as Ben conceded. “See, Julia was right. It’s working already.”

thirty-three

The Grove

As we stepped off the water taxi in Cherry Grove, two drag queens stepped on, quickly signaling that we were not in Kansas anymore. We were, in fact, somewhere more equivalent to Oz—somewhere fabulous.

While it’s always magical to arrive by boat anywhere on Fire Island, it feels a little extra stepping off a water taxi at Cherry Grove. The vibe encompasses both the current definition of the wordgay—homosexual—and the dated one: lighthearted and carefree. Every time I visit, I feel envious of the board-walked community of beautiful homes and stylishly dressed people who seem, to me, to do everything at a higher level.

We headed over to Cherry’s on the Bay, where the back deck was hopping—as is usually the case on bingo night, and every other night too. Groups of friends sat with drinks and bingo boards, ready to go. Strings of cherry-red lights reflected off the walls and off the patrons’ faces, creating a vibe that was part Moulin Rouge, part red-light district, and part vaudeville. I knew it wasn’t Pam, Andie, or Ben’s scene, but I loved it, I always had. I never imagined I would have the chance to be here again.

We sat at a table for four, but our server was quick to point out that we were three.

“A threesome! What can I get you?”

Even the servers were in on the schtick.

“What kind of beer is on tap?” Ben inquired.

“Heineken.”

Ben nodded and raised one finger. Andie added, “I can start with a beer—make it two.”

The server winked and joked, “Two Heinies on top? Perfect. And you, Blanche?”

Pam responded with her usual, “A glass of chardonnay, please.”

The drinks arrived as the voice of “God” introduced the “Bingo Bitch” of the evening. “Let’s give it up for the Queen of Soul—Ms.Urethra Franklin.”

Everyone applauded as the empty seat, mine, seemed to scream my absence.

“Are you ready to jam?” Urethra called out, before breaking out into a rowdy rendition of “(You Make Me Feel Like) a Natural Woman.”

The crowd cheered, some more than others, and from that moment on I think we all realized this was a bad idea. Ben was not ready for this kind of revelry. It was painful to look at him. He was pale and glassy-eyed.

Andie tapped the server as he passed and shouted, “Three shots of tequila too, please, and some of those soft pretzels to soak it up.”

Even the server, without having a clue about the situation, could sense the struggle.

As the song ended and bingo began, we all hoped that Ben’s competitive spirit would pull him out of his funk, but he was barely even paying attention.

“Anyone got some lube to get the balls rolling?” Urethra joked, before calling out her first number. “N your butt thirty-seven!”

Andie pointed out N37 on Ben’s board and he reluctantly slid it open.

By the time the first game ended with—“G fifty-four, to the meat rack to score”—Pam needed a break.

“I’m gonna go pee,” she announced, before running off.

Urethra began another game with “May the odds be in your favor, and the balls be in your mouth.”

It made Ben chuckle, and I hoped he would turn his mood around. My hope was short-lived. Pam returned from the bathroom with an old friend.

“Andie, look who I found—remember Josie Miller, from First Boston?”

I knew her too. We had met briefly at Pam and Andie’s wedding. She fixed my dress in the bathroom—the fabric had gotten caught in the zipper with me inside it. Two other women in the bathroom had witnessed my distress and gone about their business, but she had stopped to help. I was immediately taken by her kindness and her beauty: short cropped hair and dark eyes with impeccable brows and pale pink lips. It had been about five years, but she looked the same.

Andie stood to kiss her hello.

---