Don laughed and tried to defend himself. “I puked it up later with the ammo!”
“But you tried to buy her off with a couple tickets to The Bird Cage,” Oceanna said.
“And that was when trans wasn’t cool,” Simi said.
“She talks!” Don said. “Freely? Or only when you wind her up?”
Simi blushed a little.
“Hard to say,” Oceanna said.
Mason smiled at Simi. “And it’s kind of cute.”
Presentations on the field switched to the area behind home plate.
“Speaking of ice cream,” Don said. “I think I’ll go get one. Anyone want anything?”
“I’ll go with you,” Oceanna said. “Wouldn’t mind a hot dog.”
“Fattening,” Hila said.
“Nothing in a ball park is fattening,” Mason said. “Right boys?”
Hank and Indigo laughed. “Certainly not the food,” Indigo said, patting his experienced belly.
“You want anything, Hila?” Don said, making his way through the seats behind Oceanna.
“No,” Hila said.
“Sure?” Don asked.
“No—yes!” Hila said. “I’m sure.”
“Probably got some pizza out there? Chili dogs? Chips?” Don asked.
“No. Nothing,” Hila said.
She leaned back a little so Mason could join in a group discussion with Hank and Indigo, while Don and Oceanna disappeared.
Simi smiled at them, but kept to herself.
“Sure is a nice park,” Mason said. “What is that Coke bottle over there past left field? Several stories tall?”
“That’s a slide,” Hank said. “Maybe for the kiddies.”
Mason looked harder, and sure enough, there were people walking up it.
“And the huge left-handed ball glove beside it?” Mason asked.
“I think that’s just for looks,” Indigo said.
“No, it’s for catching meteorites,” Hila said.
“No way!” Hank said as if he was astonished he believed her.
“I work here!” Hila told him.
In short order, Don and Oceanna came back. They scrunched their way in-between the seats. Oceanna took her seat between Simi and Mason, doling out some goodies to both of them even though they didn’t ask for any. And Don squeezed by Mason and Hila, taking his seat between Hila and Hank.
Don sat down to begin devouring his hot dog.
“Where’s my hot dog?” Hila asked.
“He ate it!” Indigo teased, laughing.
“You ate my hot dog!” Hila teased the Marine.
“You said you didn’t want one!” Don defended himself.
“I changed my mind!” Hila said.
More people began to file into the stands as the game was nearing.
Simi leaned forward so she could speak over Oceanna and Mason to Hila. “What do they call this part, where they drag those mats over the field?”
“I think they call it drag, honey,” Hila said.
“You’d know about that,” Don said, teasing Hila.
Hila gave him a little smirk. “The cutest little pink panties you never did see.”
Indigo spoke up from behind. “I don’t know either,” he said. “I think they just call it ‘preparing the field,’ or something.”
Don leaned his bag of chips over in front of Hila. “Any one want a chip?”
“Hell no! You ate my hot dog!” Hila teased.
“And it was good. You want a chip or not? Because I’ll eat it so fast, it’ll make your puny Air Force hide turn pale. What country are you from?” Don asked.
“Afghanistan. Let me take our picture together,” she said. Hila held out her right hand to take a selfie of Don and her together. She had a devilish grin.
“What’s that for?” Don asked.
“You ate my hot dog,” Hila said, touching some icons on her phone and smiling.
Don laughed and made big of it with his other friends. “Every day of the week and twice on Sunday.”
“I am so impressed,” Oceanna said in a more serious tone to the group.
“Why’s that?” Mason asked.
“Because a few times—and this is no reflection on the Dodgers as a team, because I know they’re good, too. But I kid you not, I’ve had different experiences with Dodger fans.”
“Someone didn’t eat your hot dog there?” Hank asked.
Oceanna smiled. “No, not that. I mean, this is nice, here, isn’t it?” Oceanna indicated the park and all of them within it.
“Look at this gathering here. People filing in. Us sitting here, and you all talking up a storm with us as if we were regular people.”
“So?” Indigo asked.
“This is San Francisco,” Hank said.
“But my experiences with Dodger fans have been, a couple of times, me sitting there—this is real—before a game, when they were prepping the field like this. I was talking with those around me, but they wouldn’t even bother to talk back with me, and their body language was as if I smelled—and I didn’t.
The group around her showed their displeasure.
“Once from an interracial couple, once from a family, and another night from two separate Hispanic couples.”
Hank shook his head in disgust. “They should have known better.”
“That’s true,” Oceanna said, continuing. “Actually scooching away in their seat to get farther away from me.” It was clear she was hurt.
“Maybe ketchup was on the seat there?” Indigo asked.
“I doubt it,” Hila said.
Oceanna shook her head.
“Maybe to see around someone else’s head?” Hank asked.
Oceanna shook her head again. “No. I hate to say it, but the truth is, I left the stadium after that last time, and haven’t, yet, developed the interest in going back—and the sad thing of that is, that is probably what they’d like. Me to be gone.”
“You should go back and advocate for your own inclusion,” Hila said.
“It gets hard to keep doing that, decade after decade,” Oceanna said. “It wears you down.”
“I hope that’s not most Dodger fans,” Don said.
“Hope so, too,” Mason said.
“No,” Indigo said. “I’ve been down there. I think Dodger fans are good—”
“I’m sure they are,” Oceanna said. “as a whole, but I experienced that. Maybe it’s me, somehow, or just the people I happened to sit by. Random chance? I hope. Or I’m dreaming. Or it was real.”
“Now Giants fans,” Hank spoke loudly enough for everyone around to hear, “are the greatest fans in the whole world!”
People around them cheered him.
“—but I did notice,” Indigo said to Oceanna and the others, “half of the Dodger fans leave the game in the seventh inning stretch—”
“To get out before the traffic?” Hank asked.
Indigo nodded. “I think so.”
“Not us Giants fans,” Don said to Oceanna. “We’re friendly, and we stay until the last ball is thrown.”
“Dedicated fans!” Hank said.
“Ooo-rah!” Don said, giving Hank a high five.
“This is a social event!” Don said to the ladies. “It’s a big part of life! Look at this wonderful afternoon. We’re healthy, we’re happy—”
Hila took the chips out of Don’s hand to help herself. “We eat each other’s food.”
Don pretended to look cheated, then laughed.
Indigo slapped him on the back.
“Sure, you can have them!” Don said.
Hila put one in her mouth.
“I laced ‘em with jolokia peppers!” Don said. “Why you think I offered ‘em to you?”
Hila stopped eating until she realized he was joking, then chewed confidently.
Hank, Indigo, Mason and Oceanna laughed.
“Almost got you!” Don said.
“Marines!” Hila said.
“It’s not his fault,” Mason said. “He
’s ‘teched.’”
The announcer was loud and professional. “And now, ladies and gentlemen: Please stand for the National Anthem. As we approach Independence Day, if you are a veteran of the United States’ armed forces, please salute for the singing of the ‘Star Spangled Banner.’”
Everyone rose.
All seven of them stood together, serious, at attention and saluted the flag during the entire National Anthem.
CHAPTER
11
At the seventh inning stretch, the four left the stadium and made their way out.
“Good game,” Oceanna said.
“They just know we’re from L.A., now,” Hila said.
“Yeah, but if we’re going to make the Dyke March and the stuff in Dolores Park, it’s good to leave a little early.
They walked through the parking lot toward Hila’s car, when a black Harley-Davidson Heritage Softtail pulled up in front of them. The lady riding it wore a black, plastic bowl of a helmet which barely covered her short hair. She looked at Simi and revved up her engine, slamming the throttle off, causing her engine to spit, pop and bang on the way down.
Simi looked back at her.
Mason, Oceanna, and Hila all looked at Simi.
“You,” the lady on the bike said to Simi. “I’m Harry.”
“From the club,” Oceanna said. “Yes, I remember you.”
Harry smiled at her briefly and returned her gaze to Simi. “Harry Biker,” she said to Simi.
Simi laughed. “Hi.”
Harry revved up her engine again.
“Get on,” Harry said. She handed Simi a 2nd teeny-weenie, plastic bowl for her head.
Simi smiled, put it on, and jumped on the back of Harry’s bike, wrapping her arms around Harry’s waist.
“Wait!” Oceanna said. “Where are you going?
Harry smiled at her.
“But we don’t know you!” Oceanna said.
Harry drove away with Simi on the back of her bike.
Hila took a photo of Harry’s bike from the rear as they left.
“Well, hell,” Mason said, laughing to himself. “I guess we know where she’s coming from now, don’t we?”
CHAPTER
12
Mason, Hila, and Oceanna stood by a tree on the eastern edge of Dolores Park and watched Simi.
The part of the park that wasn’t under construction was packed with what could have been a hundred thousand women, for all anyone could count. Beautiful day, afternoon sun baking everyone, slight cool breeze off the ocean, the women basked in their shared union. Some ate, played, danced to music, slept on blankets on the grass, ran around, played games, went to and from toilets, called to friends, talked on phones, texted, shouted for causes, bought T-shirts and tried them on…
A D.J. was playing Robin Thicke singing “Blurred Lines.”
Simi and Harry were dancing with a hundred other women.
Harry moved heavy with the beat.
Simi, however, was slinking-up the place: Smooth and silky, she was charming the socks off Harry.
“You are kidding me,” Oceanna said.
“Looks like a horny Medusa,” Hila said to Oceanna.
Simi seemed oblivious to everything in the world other than Harry, and the music seemed to drive her deeper in tune.
Mason stepped forward to go over to them, but stopped when Simi’s dance took her within a millimeter of Harry.
Simi wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck and kissed her full on the mouth, warm and wet.
Harry stopped dancing to kiss her back, wrapping her arms around Simi’s waist.
A few couples near them made catcalls at them, whooping and hollering.
Harry continued the kiss, but, without stopping, gave those girls the bird.
Mason leaned his hat into the sun and walked across the grass in his boots to stand beside them.
Harry—only about five foot six—looked up to see him, and his friends behind him. “Guess you found us,” she said.
Mason’s smile was sinister, paternal. “I don’t need to ask your intentions.”
“Um!” Harry smiled, looked like the cat who got the canary. “Ah—”
Simi kept hanging onto Harry, ignoring everyone else. She kissed Harry’s neck.
Harry relaxed her smile and offered Mason her hand.
Mason shook it.
“So who the hell are you?” Harry asked.
“I am her father,” Mason said.
Simi looked at him for that.
“Bovine feces,” Harry said.
“Or I oughta be. You two are going to have to get married, now,” Mason said.
“We’ll practice up on that later,” Harry said with a smile.
Simi blushed and hugged Harry’s neck, then moved to stand behind Harry, away from Mason. She smiled at him playfully.
The Dyke March route wound through the streets of The Castro, thousands of women walked in police-escorted streets, shouting and waving at people on sidewalks and hanging out of town-house windows.
Harry and Simi walked in the middle of the group. Mason was on their left by Harry, with Hila and Oceanna on their right.
“Ha!” Hila said. “The ‘Fab Five,’ all with rainbow necklaces around our neck.”
Someone threw another rainbow necklace off the top of a townhouse to the marchers.
It hit Mason in the face.
“What is it with these beads, anyways?” Mason asked.
“It’s the rainbow,” Hila said. “The colors mean everyone, so aren’t you lucky.”
Mason put the necklace around his neck with the other four that were already there.
Oceanna caught another one thrown at her.
“So what’s all the big deal about me picking Simi up,” Harry asked.
“Nothing,” Hila said.
“It’s just that we didn’t know she was gay until a couple hours ago,” Oceanna said.
“What is gay?” Hila teased.
“Right!” Mason said.
“Well, I might not know!” Hila said. “I don’t know poop from poppies, if you ask my father.”
“And you’re from Afghanistan?” Harry asked.
“Yep,” Mason said. “Guess she is.”
“What’s it like there? For a transgender?” Harry asked.
“It’s no problem, if you don’t mind hate crimes,” Hila said. “Or being treated like dirt, or worse— The truth is, I don’t really know.”
“You ought to,” Oceanna said.
“Yeah, you’d think so, But really, I didn’t see much of it before I left. I was only thirteen, remember. But it wasn’t as important to me then, as now, so I didn’t really check into it at the time, either. But I have this sixth sense that it would be better to have been the bad guy in Stallone film than a crossdresser there. I’m so thankful I’m here.”
“Why is it so important to you,” Harry asked Hila.
“Oh—” Hila stopped her own speech to consider. “You know— You know, imagine a girl growing up. She’s a girl—”
“Genius,” Harry said.
“And she’s growing up,” Hila continued. “She’s told that girls wear dresses, and for Easter, or whatever holiday, or her birthday, she does.
“How does she feel about it?” Hila asked them all.
No answer.
Hila asked some women near them.
“Beautiful,” one lady said.
“Gets in the way,” another said.
“Why? Foo-foo fabric stuff?
“No, it’s nice to look pretty,” another said.
Hila thanked them for their views with a smile. “And that’s it: it’s a thing girls do to get dressed up. It’s draperies for the body. It’s when you have to act more like a lady, because you don’t want parts to show. It’s maybe also a feeling of being a little vulnerable because it’s open at the bottom?
“And what about things like panties and bras?” Hila asked them.
“If you don’t want ‘em,
don’t wear ‘em,” Harry said.
“I think I see where Hila’s going,” Oceanna said.
Mason watched them both intently.
Simi ignored them and called out to people on the sidewalks. “Happy Pride!”
“Overall, these things are ‘nice,’ ‘beautiful,’ or ‘just whatever,’ to women. But what if you’re male, raised as a boy, but you like them also? It’s sex! It’s the stuff that women wear! Panties? That’s the material that’s right up against a woman’s— Dresses? It’s sexy from the word go! And it’s forbidden territory—You can’t!—men can’t wear that, is the message you internalize.
“But you do, anyway!” Hila held the hem of her short dress out to display her dress. “You get close. You admit you are turned on at the thought of it—the arousal is there—and you get down right hard when you put them on—
“So how does it feel for a guy raised as a male to wear these? Take the pleasure a woman may feel from it, and double it ten times over!”
Harry looked at Hila as if she was crazy. “Okay, so?”
“So!” Hila’s expression was incredulous. “So I almost feel sorry for natal women. They can never feel anything like this. I think being a crossdresser is the greatest thing in the world!”
“You still aroused in women’s clothes?” Harry asked.
“Not like that any more,” Hila said. “I’m used to it. But I do still feel the spice. It is still, so arousing, but I don’t get erections all the time.”
“So do you claim to be a man or a woman?” Harry asked.
“Woman. Definitely.”
“Happy Gay Pride,” Harry called to some women hanging out of the upper window of a townhouse.
“That’s part of the excitement of it,” Hila said. “And, for what it’s worth, maybe I am a little more considerate of women sometimes, because of it. And who says a woman can’t be excited in her clothes? What’s lingerie for?”
“Well, I think my wife likes that because of how I react to her when she’s wearing it,” Mason said.
“But can some women actually get aroused wearing it?” Hila asked.
“Maybe some do,” Harry said. “Tell the truth, I don’t know. I know I don’t.”
“What about soft slinky things against your skin?”
“When it’s nice, it’s nice, is all,” Simi said. “It’s not sex, to me.”
Hila turned to Mason. “You don’t get an erection thinking about this?”
Mason laughed at Hila’s brash statement. “No.”
Hila looked at Mason’s crotch then back to Harry.
“Just be yourself, Hila,” Mason said.
They walked on with thousands of lesbians, enjoying the march.