Page 113 of Never Flinch

He totes his two suitcases, the blue and the pink, to the hotel, and sets them down outside the revolving door long enough to rest his arms and shoulders. The doorman asks if he can help with them and Chris tells him he’s okay, thanks. He happens to look into the lobby, which is lucky, because McKay’s assistant and the bodyguard bitch are at the desk, talking with one of the clerks. A party of middle-aged women standing in line behind them are wearing Sista Bessie shirts that show a much younger Betty Brady and feature the slogan GIVE ME SOME OF THAT OLD SISTA SOUL.

“Are you in town for the concert?” the doorman asks.

“Yes, if I can get a ticket.”

“That might not be so easy. It’s a sellout, and the scalpers are having a field day. I hope you have a reservation here, because the hotel is full up.”

“I do.”

Chris sees McKay join Anderson and Gibney at the desk, and they head for the elevators. The Sista Bessie fans move up to check in. Chris grabs his suitcases and goes inside. He gets his credit card out of his wallet, hesitates, then puts it back. He also has an Amex card, courtesy of Deacon Fallowes, in the name of William Ferguson. “Strictly for emergencies and good up to two thousand dollars,” Fallowes said. “Use it only if they know who you are.”

So far as he knows they don’t, but some intuition, very strong, tells him to use the Ferguson card, and so he does. He tells the clerk that Mr. Stewart couldn’t make it, so he’s stepping in. “You can delete him from your check-in.”

“Very good, Mr. Ferguson.”

Room 919 is the sort of small box that hotel staff call a “ha-ha room,” but Chris supposes it was all Deacon Fallowes could get on short notice. It’s next to the elevators, and a busy chambermaids’ closet is across the hall. The only view is of a brick wall on the other side of an alley. Still, it’s nicer than most of the sleaze palaces where Chris and Chrissy have been staying. Nice enough to make him uneasy, thinking it’s better than he deserves.

His arms and back are achy from lugging his suitcases to the hotel. Chris gets the aspirin from Chrissy’s suitcase and takes a couple with a bottle of Poland Spring water from the little bar fridge. He lies down to wait for the pills to work.

Just fifteen minutes, he tells himself.Then I’ll find the auditorium where she’s supposed to speak tomorrow night. Figure out a way to do it, and I better figure right, because there will only be one chance.

But sleep has been hard to come by lately, and he falls into a light doze. Too often when his mind comes untethered—when it lets down its careful watch over the past, with its humiliations and hard decisions—he finds himself remembering his mother, who knew and accepted what she called his divided nature.

He never argued with her about that, but never believed there was anything divided about it. When he was Chris, he was Chris. When he was Chrissy, he was Chrissy. Mother bought Chrissy’s clothes for her at Outlets at the Dells, which was far enough away to keep what she called “our little family secret.” Those clothes were kept in the bottom drawers of Chris’s bureau under his bluejeans and tee-shirts, along with a Glitter Girls doll Chrissy named Eudora. Although Daddy knew about his son’s twin, Chris was forbidden to dress as Chrissy or sleep with Eudora until Harold Stewart had come in to ask if Chris had said his prayers and to kiss him goodnight. After that he could take Eudora from her confinement and become Chrissy.

His mother found acceptance easy. His father took refuge in ignorance.

Deacon Fallowes found his own way to acceptance, partly because he wanted to use the Stewart twins at some point (God would tell him when the time was right), but also because deeply religious people in every sect or faith can always find justification for what they want to do in one holy book or another. Deacon Andy found his in the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 19, verse 12:For there are some eunuchs, which were so born from their mother’s womb: and there are some eunuchs, which were made eunuchs of men: and there be eunuchs, which have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven’s sake. He that is able to receive it, let him receive it.

“Do you understand that verse, Chris?”

He shook his head. “I’m no eunuch. I still have my…” He thought of how to say it without giving offense. “My manly parts.”

“Suppose we think of eunuchs as those who are both male and female. Do you understand if it’s put that way?”

Chris, then sixteen, said he did. He didn’t, really—it was so much simpler than that, no tortured syntax needed—but he wanted Deacon Andy to be happy with him… or as happy as he could be. If that meant wringing some necessary meaning out of the Bible, so be it.

Fallowes put his hands on Chris’s shoulders, strong and warm. Unlike Chris’s father, then dead for two years, Fallowes really seemed to understand. Not his mother’s understanding, which was kind, but in a fashion that suggested there might be a way to thread the needle.

“Tell me how the verse applies to you, assuming we make that one little change… which is, after all, just a slight modernizing of the King James.”

“Does it mean some have made themselves both male and female for the kingdom of heaven’s sake?”

“Yes! Very good.” Deacon Andy gave his shoulders a slight squeeze. “And he that is able to receive God’s Holy Word, let him receive it. Let me hear you say it.”

“He that is able to receive God’s Holy Word, let him receive it.”

“Andshe.”

“She that is able to receive God’s Holy Word, let her receive it.”

“Yes. Do what your heart tells you that you must receive. I will help you in that regard.”

“I know you will, Deacon Andy.”

“We’ll talk more about what God wants of you.” He paused. “And your sister, of course.”

6

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