Tracklist:
Losing My Religion – R.E.M.
Salsa Cubano – Mambo Companeros
Son de Baloy - Afro-Cuban All-Stars
1991
Dean’s First Flight a.k.a. the Cuban Wife
He’d had an afternoon class and long drive across the state of Ohio, so Dean slept late the next morning. Saturdays at home were made for that. The bed in his room might have been old and lumpy, but it was a familiar old and lumpy.
After a shower and review of his college-issued planner, Dean’s stomach threw kicks and punches in a furious hunger tantrum. As he walked down the stairs to the first floor, he heard a conversational murmur coming from the kitchen. It became incredibly important to determine whether these were Jehovah’s Witnesses or even worse, girls of his age bracket, so Dean crouched in the shadows and waited.
“I think it’s great you’ve stayed together through thick and thin,” said Frenchie. “What’s it been, Mrs. Cook––twenty years?”
“Twenty-one,” said Dean’s mother. “What do you mean, through thick and thin?”
After a pause, Dean heard a chair squeak. “The whole cross-dressing thing. It was your personal decision––I’m not judging.”
“Of course not, you little turnip. If I thought you were I’d break your teeth out with a hammer. This one, as a matter of fact.”
“Uh, right,” said Frenchie. “What I meant was, it must be hard with all the pressure and negativity from everyone.”
“Not really,” said Billie. “I take drugs.”
Something smashed delicately.
“Sorry! I’m so sorry,” said Frenchie.
Billie groaned. “Clean it up, then. I never liked that cup anyway. It was so beautiful that it made all the other cups look like trash.”
Frenchie laughed. “Ironic that it’s the one in the trash now.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. I’ll pay to replace it, I promise.”
“Don’t be such a girl. I was joking about the cup.”
“What was this about the ... ah ... drugs?”
“I’m not talking about smack or pot,” said Billie. “I mean testosterone and male hormone supplements. Frank dumps them in my coffee and thinks he’s putting one over on me. For a while, yeah, but when the muscles and hair started to show, I got suspicious. I turned over one or two tables, maybe had a few fistfights in the hair salon, and put two and two together.”
“When did you find out?”
“Two years ago.”
“And you’re still with Frank?”
“You mean because of the drugs? Hell, I love the stuff. I haven’t told him because what would be the point? He takes his girly pills, and I let him think I don’t know about mine.”
Dean stepped into the kitchen. “Morning, Mom. Hello, Frenchie.”
“Hey, Dean. How’s college life? Did you finally get one? A life, that is.”
“No,” said Dean. “I finally changed my major, though.”
Billie chopped fresh broccoli at the counter. “Your father still won’t come out of the garage.”
“I’d think he’d understand how hard it is to know what to do with the rest of your life,” said Dean. “But that’s just me, a silly kid who doesn’t like wearing makeup.”
“Maybe I should be going,” said Frenchie.
Billie cracked the knife on the cutting board. “You’re upsetting your guest, Dean. Try to be pleasant.”
“Sorry, Frenchie.”
“No problem. I honestly have to be going, Mrs. Cook. The reason why I came over is, I wanted to apologize to Dean for Labor Day. I’m sorry––the girls told me they were exchange students.”
“From Greenland? Have you ever heard of that? Anyone could have seen they were hookers. Sorry, Mom––I meant adult entertainers.”
Billie snorted. “Phil Donahue is an adult entertainer. Hookers are hookers.”
“In any case,” said Frenchie. “I know that I paid for the cleanup and new carpets but I still don’t feel that was enough, given the number of deputies that tromped through the house threatening everyone’s life and delicate property. My family has a house in Key West, and I’d like Dean to come down with me for a weekend.”
“Your twentieth birthday is coming up, and that would be a great present,” said Billie. “Make your mother proud and bring back a sun-tanned Florida girl. Something in a size four.”
“Wow! Thanks, Frenchie. I don’t know what to say.”
“ ‘Yes’ would be a start,” said Frenchie.
“Yes,” said Dean.