Moni's Short Stories

I'm taking time out this weekend to do some fiction writing.

No, I'm not going to apply for a job as a copy writer for Faux News, people.

But every now and then I like to let my creative juices flow and unleash some of these characters that are yearning to be released from the creative area of my brain and run free to live their lives in the context of a story.

If something newsworthy happens to transpire while I'm doing so, I'll definitely write it up and give you loyal TransGriot readers my chocolate flavored take on it.

But just in case you're curious as to whether not Moni has the fiction writing skills to pay her bills, here's a sample courtesy of some old short stories, song rewrites and poetic posts I've written throughout the years.

Gotta get back to work on that. My characters are calling.

Bathroom Issues

Transgender Heaven

It's a Wonderful Trans Life

The Recruiting Visit

The Sermon

Battlestar Galactica With Soul

It's A Wonderful Trans Life

TransGriot Note: I was inspired to write this when I briefly flipped on the TV over the weekend and stumbled across one of my fave movies, It's A Wonderful Life. Hope you enjoy the little twist I gave it.


"Hello?"
"Hey Phyllis, it's The Boss."
"What's up?"
"I know you're rehearing at The Club for tonight's show, but I'm gonna need you to go back to Earth."
"What's going on?"
"You remember when you escorted Monica around Heaven during her out of body experience last year?"
"Yeah. She's a sweet kid."
"You did such a wonderful job during that time, we assigned you to be her permanent guardian angel."
"Thanks. So what's up, Boss?"
"She's feeling more than a little depressed about things lately. She's upset about a confluence of events in her life. While I know she's thinks too highly of herself to take her own life, I want to make sure she doesn't. I still have a lot of things I've prepared her to do on Earth that I need her to be around for to execute."
"So what do you need me to do?"
"Help her regain that sunny optimism of hers and her Christmas spirit for starters."
"When do you need me to leave?"
"How about in the next few minutes? I'll send you your briefing information about her current situation on the way down."
"Okay."

Monica sat at her computer desk and stared at the screen for a few hours, but the composition block for her TransGriot blog post was as empty as when she first sat down two hours before.
"This is useless. I might as well give it up for the night and see what movies Dawn rented," she said as she signed out of her blog and shut down her computer.

She exited her room and headed downstairs to the living room. She hooked a left into the kitchen to get herself some chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. She pulled a large mug out of the kitchen cabinet, made a beeline for the freezer and removed the ice cream container. She filled her mug and put the container back in the freezer before heading to the living room and setting it down on the small table next to the recliner. She then moved to the big screen TV to check out the latest pile of rental DVD’s on top of it. “Hmm, some of her usual anime stuff but some Christmas ones as well,” Monica thought as she perused the stack of DVD’s. “You’re Under Arrest Christmas Edition, Noir, A Diva’s Christmas and It’s A Wonderful Life.”

“I think I’ll start with It’s A Wonderful Life first before I get my Natsumi and Miyuki fix.” she remarked as she powered up the home theater system, opened the protective DVD box and placed it in the already opened DVD player tray before pressing play.

As that Christmas classic movie filled the screen, Monica started thinking about her own problems as she devoured her ice cream.
“I definitely feel George Bailey in this movie”, she said softly to herself as she finished the last of her ice cream and yawned. “Sometimes I wish I’d just been born a genetic female, then I wouldn’t have had all this drama in my life.”


“Are you sure about that?”
Monica looked over toward the couch where Dawn was sleeping. “I know I must be hallucinating. I thought I heard somebody say something.”
“You did.”
Monica turned her head to the sound of the voice and noted Phyllis Hyman’s shapely statuesque presence in the living room.
“Now I know I’m tripping. I gotta stop eating Blue Bell this late at night.”
“Yes, you do if you want to drop those ten pounds you’re always complaining about.”

Phyllis noted the confusion etched on Monica’s face and said, “No, this isn’t a dream. I’m here in the flesh, so to speak.”
“So to what do I owe this visit?”
“First, your grandmother says hello and told me to remind you to check on your Dad.”
‘Okay, will do.”
“Tyra and the gang at The Beauty Shop said hello as well.”
“Give ‘em my love as well. But back to my original question.”
“I’m your official guardian angel now. The Boss is concerned about you.”
“”Because I’m depressed? I’ve been depressed before and He hasn’t sent my guardian angel to check on me in the flesh before.”
“Actually, He has. Those particular times you didn’t know it.”
“Oh, okay.”
‘Want some more ice cream before we get started?”
“Yeah, I’ll go get it,” Monica said as she prepared to get up from the recliner.
“Sit tight, Moni, I got this,” said Phyllis as she snapped her fingers. Monica’s empty mug was refilled while at the same time one appeared in Phyllis’ right hand complete with a spoon. She sampled the ice cream and said,” I see why you love this stuff.”
“It’s the bomb isn’t it?”
“Yep.”
“I grew up on it. Reminds me of home when I eat it.”
Phyllis finished her ice cream and resumed her mission. “Look, I know you’ve been going through some rough times lately…”
“You got that right.”
“And Christmas doesn’t make that any easier. But you gotta snap out of it.”
“Pardon me for sounding like the Grinch doll that’s sitting on the mantel next to my Trinity, but bah humbug.”
“I know you’re disappointed over the ENDA and JCPS votes…”
“Disappointed is a mild way of putting it.”
“But you, I and The Boss know it’s gonna happen. You just gotta have faith it will.”
“Phyllis, I’m tired of somedays. I’m tired of being repeatedly cut out of the legislation we desperately need as a community. I’m sick of sellout idiots who don’t have half of my God-given intelligence calling me crazy, the n-word or worse when I try to tell the truth to the transgender community about the people they shill for or expose their part in screwing this community.”

She listened emphatically as Monica continued venting her frustration about the recent developments and some other drama in her life. ”I understand.”
“No Phyllis, you don’t. It’s crap. I try to do the right, moral and decent things in my life and they seem to go unappreciated and unrewarded. It’s not that I’m looking for glory in trying to pass these laws, it’s the right thing to do. When am I gonna catch a break? When are the bad guys in life gonna lose? When are my people gonna stop being killed, denigrated and disrespected? It’s enough to make me wish that I didn’t have the ‘transgender’ label in my life. Then I wouldn’t have all this drama.”
“You really think your life would be better if you‘d been born a genetic female?”
“Yeah, I really do.”
Phyllis paused for a few moments before she said, ““Want some more ice cream?”
“Yeah”
“This is your last one for the night,”
“Okay”
She snapped her fingers as both mugs refilled, then she said as she sat in the other recliner in the room, “Moni, were gonna watch a movie.”
“Which one?”
“Oh, I won’t need a DVD for this one,” she said as she sat down and pointed the remote at the TV

In an instant Monica was transfixed as she was suddenly transported back to a 60’s era Houston hospital watching a young African-American woman give birth. When the camera zoomed in on the wall calendar it read May 4 and she realized the woman was her mother. The gentleman standing next to her as the baby took its first breaths and she held it was her family doctor back in Houston.
“Congratulations, it’s a girl.”
She watched her mother’s face light up, exhausted but happy in the knowledge that she’d delivered a healthy baby girl.

Monica continued to watch the movie as events happened in her life, but on the flip side of the gender spectrum. She got to observe during the movie a conversation between three girls who hated and mercilessly teased her not only because of her intelligence and looks, but who her parents were. As her growth spurt kicked in and she towered over everyone in her 5th grade class it got worse.
“Now you get to feel my pain,“ said Phyllis.

Monica also got to watch a conversation between her parents as they discussed a junior high report card in which her math grades were lower than expected.
“You know she doesn’t like math.”
“I know that. But Monica has to learn that she can’t skate by on her good looks. She’s too smart for that,” said her mother.
“You’re right, but I think suspending her phone privileges for three weeks was too harsh.”
“Maybe, but you’ll thank me later when she graduates from college.


Speaking of college, the next scenes show Monica standing in front of the UC on the University of Houston campus wearing a green dress suit, black hose, green pumps and holding an ivy plant. As she’s being inspected by her big sisters two of her future sorors were discussing the line and Monica’s chances of going over.

“I think Too Tall will be an excellent addition to our chapter.”
“I can’t stand her.”
“Why? Because she has a 3.4 GPA?”
“No, because she’s a legacy. She thinks she’s all that because her daddy’s on the radio.”
“The people I talked to about Monica from her old high school love her. They say she’s always been a sweet kid without a pretentious bone in her body. She was a cheerleader, student council president, editor of the school newspaper and an all district volleyball player.”
“So? It still doesn’t change the fact that I can’t stand her.”

I watched as she made Monica’s life on line hell, but she went over. She got her heart broken in college for the first time thanks to a UH football player. She was nearly date raped in another disastrous encounter She channeled that into graduating on time, serving in the sorority leadership ranks and upping her GPA to a 3.65. She also graduated from school with a psychology degree with a history minor. She’d been motivated to go into it after taking a human sexuality class her sophomore year and finding the transgender film fascinating.

Phyllis fast-forwarded it to the part where Monica has an office in the Med Center but is still single. She let her eavesdrop on a phone call in which she's being prodded by her mom to hurry up, get married and have some children before the first client enters her office for the day.

She paused the film after Monica said,” All this is doing is proving my point.”
“Yes, your life is turning out better, but what about the people’s lives who look at you as a role model?”

She showed one example of a young transsistah who was searching for any Internet blog or website that didn’t depict Black transwomen in a negative light.
“This girl stumbled across your Transsistahs-Transbrothas group on line. But since you're not a transwoman anymore, the group doesn’t get founded. Your blog and newspaper columns don’t exist either, which hundreds of people per day around the world read.”
“Yeah, I know that….”
“But you don’t know how many people you positively affect just by being you.”
“Hmm, you’ve given me something to think about.”
“God made all of us, even transpeople. You’re the only people on the planet who know what it’s like to be on both sides of the gender fence. That’s one quality that makes you special.”
“Too bad we don’t get treated that way.”
“One day, with your help, you will.”
Phyllis got up from the recliner and gave Monica a hug. “I’ve gotta get back and finish rehearsing for an upcoming show at The Club.’
“Who’s performing with you?”
“Aaliyah and Selena.”
“Wow, y’all have some interesting entertainment up there.”
“That we do. Hang in there Monica. Everything will work out and I’ll have your back.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Bye, Monica,” Phyllis said as she departed.
"Merry Christmas, Phyllis."
***
“Monica, I’m trying to sleep… Can you take that movie to your room?”
“Huh?” she said in a dreamy state.
“Turn it off or take that movie to your room, please.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Monica hit the remote and turned off the downstairs TV before heading to her room. She decided to flip on the TV and do a little channel surfing for something interesting. She gasped and chuckled when she discovered what the Christmas movie being broadcast that night was:

It’s A Wonderful Life.

Battlestar Galactica With Soul

TransGriot Note: Battlestar Galactica is one of my favorite shows. As a writing exercise, one day I took this scene from the miniseries, imagined that Gaius Baltar and Number Six were Black and started writing.


We're at the phat crib of Dr. Darius Baltar, scientific genius and playa-playa. He's got a honey dip in his bedroom and Number 36-24-36 is quietly watching him.

"Trick, get up," said 36-24-36.
"Who the frack are you?"
"Get the frack up out of his bed before you find out who I am."
"Darius, you gonna let her talk to me like that?"
"Sorry babe, she’s got it going on," said Darius. “I did tell you before we got busy I was seeing somebody.”
"So it’s like that, huh?”
“Yep Terri, it is.”
“My girlfriend Aisha warned me to leave your tired ass alone,” Terri said as she put her clothes on.
"Whatever tramp, get out." said 36-24-36 as Darius puts on his robe.
After Terri finished putting on her clothes, she rolled her eyes at Darius before storming out of the bedroom and slamming the door on her way out.

“Baby, I'm sorry...," he said with a contrite expression on his face.
"Spare me, Darius. I came here because I need to tell your dog ass something."
"And what's that?"
"I'm a Cylon."
"You're fracking kidding me, right?"
"No, I'm not. Didn't you notice anything unusual about me?"
"Naw baby, you’re fine as hell. But now that I think about it, there was that night I thought I saw red lights when we were doing the wild thang at the Caprica City Hilton."

He stepped back to take another good look at 36-24-36's shapely honey brown figure and hazel eyes.
“Dayum! Y'all sure have come a long way, baby. Last time I peeped Cylons y'all looked like walking chrome toasters."
"That's not all I have to tell you.”
“What? You have a sister?”
“I have many sisters. But that’s not important right now. Remember when I asked you for that little favor to look around the Colonial Fleet’s defense mainframe computers?"
"Yeah. Your point?"
"The point is that I played your pussy whipped punk azz. I needed you to help me complete my mission.”
"What mission?"
"We needed to find out what was up with the Colonial Fleet. Thanks to you I got the information I needed and sent it to the brothers and sistahs back on Cylon."
"YOU DID WHAT?" said Darius.
"I said I sent that information on the mainframe back to Cylon. Every fracking file."
"Girl, you know what they'll do to a brotha if they find out?"
"No, what?"

"They'll fry my black azz for treason."
“That’s your problem, not mine,” said 36-24-36. “What are you doing?"
"I need to call my lawyer," Darius said as he picked up his phone.
"That won't be necessary."
"What do you mean, that won't be necessary?"
"You heard me, that won’t be necessary,” said 36-24-36. “In a few hours there won't be anybody left on this planet to charge you with anything."
"What are you talking about?"
"The children humanity kicked to the curb are coming home,” said 36-24-36. “Today."

A Taste of Studio 13

TransGriot Note: Studio 13 was a legendary club back home that catered to the Black gay community for two decades. It's where I honed my presentation into the Phenomenal Transwoman I am today and had fun doing it. I met some wonderful people like Cookie LaCook, Tommie Ross, Tiffany Brooks and Lawanda Jackson just to name a few.

I'm writing a novel set in 1980's gay Houston called Miss Thang that chronicles one of the transgender characters in my writing universe named Brittany Ross. I also include her friends Markita Johnson and Erica (Ebony Halston) Rideaux along for the ride as well. Enjoy

Erica was in a celebratory mood as she and Markita Johnson arrived at Studio 13 dressed to impress. She received her spring semester grades in the mail a few days ago and was delighted to discover that she’d earned two A’s and three B’s in her classes. She’d aced four of her finals, and earned a B on the math final she was worried about thanks to Brittany’s tutoring.

Her successful orchiectomy helped speed up her feminization process. The estrogen she was taking no longer had to fight testosterone that used to be produced in her recently removed testicles. The other upside was that when she tucked Miss Penis she no longer had unsightly balls getting in the way. Erica hated the fact that it was still there but that would be eradicated soon enough.

June was shaping up to be a great month for her. She had the condo to herself for another three days. Allen was on a business trip and wouldn’t be back until Monday, so she invited Markita to spend the weekend with her. She’d met her three weeks ago as Markita was watching Talent Night in boy mode. She struck up a conversation with her and discovered that they had similar backgrounds and interests.

Miss Markita had a similar caramel brown skin tone, but was much taller than Erica at five-ten. She was headed to Texas Southern University in the fall and wasn’t a 365 girl yet. She'd already acquired hormones and was starting to take them despite the fact that she was still living with her parents. Their friendship had rapidly progressed to the point where Markita was now Erica's drag daughter and kept some of her femme clothes in Erica’s closet.

They entered the converted two-story house that served as party central for Houston’s Black gay population. She turned to her left and stood for a few moments at the edge of the steps leading down to the sunken dance floor and surveyed the club. It was only ten forty-five and it was packed. People were already standing in the narrow corridor that led to the DJ booth and Tony Powell was hard at work inside keeping the party going. The dance floor was mobbed with people swaying to the hypnotic dance music throbbing from the speakers.

As Erica inspected the rest of the first floor she noted that the stairs were packed with people traipsing back and forth between the two levels. As she spied the closed curtains for the stage she wondered if it was a show night. Cookie LaCook's regal full figured presence walking past her with cassette tapes and records in her hands confirmed that it was.

Her cheerful mood was tempered by the knowledge that she’d come to a decision that would disappoint Allen. She wasn’t going to compete in the Miss Studio 13 pageant. She was ready to retire her Ebony Halston drag persona for good and she dreaded telling him when he arrived back in town.

But for now, fun was on the agenda. She focused her attention on the back bar where three drag queens were basking in the attention being showered on them by their admirers. She recognized Carla standing with her back to them conversing with a mutual friend and made a mental note to talk to her later in the evening. She noticed Markita had managed to get a barstool seat on the front side of the bar and was quietly observing what was going on around her. A tall light-skinned guy approached Markita and asked her to dance. She politely declined the invitation but told the gentleman to check with her later on a more suitable song.

Ebony turned her attention toward the entry door just in time to see an old friend of hers wave and quickly scurry in her direction.
“Hey Miss Ebony”
“Hey Donnie, what’s up?”
“Nothing gurl,” he said as he hugged her. “You sure are looking scrumptious tonight.”
“Thank you, baby.”
“Who’s your fishy friend I saw you walk in with?”
“That’s my sista Markita,” Erica said as she led him over to where Markita was sitting to facilitate the introductions.
“Donnie, meet Markita. Markita, Donnie.”
“Nice to meet you,” replied Markita.
“Likewise.” he said as Markita returned her gaze to the dancing throng.
“Hold my seat, Ebony,” she said as she rose up from the barstool. “I’m going to see what’s happening upstairs for a little while.”
“Okay,” she said as Markita turned on her heel and headed toward the stairwell.
“Is that your new drag daughter you were telling me about?” Donnie asked as he watched her gracefully walk up the stairs
“Yes.”
“You produce some beautiful children, gurl. We’re gonna have to get together one day and make a baby.”
“Yeah right. You know I have a man.”
“Umm hmm. I’ve been reading the tea leaves. The children say that you’re in need of some hot chocolate in your life.”
“Well, my White man is the right man for me.”
“Whatever, Miss Fish Basket. I’m gonna get me a cocktail. Would you like one?”
“Yes, I would Miss Donnie. A strawberry daiquiri, please.”
“Coming right up,” he said. The front bar where they were sitting was too crowded, so Donnie turned and headed for the back bar.

Just as Erica prepared to sit down six foot two inches of bad attitude and not-so-feminine looks walked up and deliberately bumped her. He stood less than two inches from her in an attempt to intimidate her.
“What do you want, Satan?” said Erica in a condescending tone.
“That’s Satin, bitch.”
“And I’ll always be a better looking one than you.”
“Don’t make me read you in here.”
“I thought you were devoid of the ability to read since you’re a tenth grade dropout.” Erica said as the club patrons watching the dissfest chuckled.
“You think you all that since you’re going to college.”
“I am compared to you. But like the UNCF says, a mind is a terrible thing to waste. What’s your excuse?”
“You better find an excuse to leave Donnie alone. That’s my trade.”
Bitch please. I got a man, thought Erica. I don’t want him. “Well Satan, he didn’t get that memo.”
“You call me out of my name one more time I’m gonna kick your ass.”
“Better queens than you have tried and failed.” Erica said as she rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t mess with me.”
“You better try harder to leave him alone before I cut you, bitch,” Satin barked as he stomped off toward the dressing room.
“You better go find some mouthwash for that stinky breath.” Erica said as she turned and focused her attention on the muscular chocolate-brown bartender busily mixing drinks. Donnie tapped her on the shoulder and handed her the daiquiri just as she let out a frustrated breath.
“What’s wrong Miss Ebony?”
“Nothing Donnie. Just have a few things on my mind.” she said as she took a sip of her drink.
“Like what?”
“How my boyfriend’s gonna take the news that I’m not entering the Miss Studio 13 pageant.”
“You’re not? Why?”
“Donnie, it’s not because I don’t think I can win it, I know I can.”
“But?”
“I’m just ready to move on to the next phase of my life. I wanna live my life as a twenty-four seven Black woman.”
“I hear you gurl.” Donnie said as she turned her head and spotted Markita talking to the light skinned guys who’d asked her to dance earlier. Erica observed him buying a drink for her, then resumed pondering her own personal issues.
“Donnie, I need to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“What’s going on with you and Satin?’
“Absolutely nothing. I don’t want that ugly man.”
“That’s not what he’s telling the children. He’s says that you belong to him.”
“Oh really? Let me serve this sissy and put a stop to his delusions of grandeur. No wonder I haven’t been able to take any trade home to Casa De Donnie.”
He finished his drink, placed the glass on the bar and headed off at warp speed to the dressing room area of the club.

A few minutes later a half made up Satin came storming out of the dressing room with an agitated expression on his face. He rapidly turned his head right and left trying to locate Erica and once his eyes locked in on her quickly moved in her direction to confront her.
“You a hard headed bitch aren’t you?’
“Que?” Erica answered in Spanish.
“You trying to be funny? I ain’t laughin.’ “
“But we’re laughing at you, Satan.” she said as Markita and Donnie arrived at her side. “You better run back to the dressing room and finish slapping some more paint on that ugly mug.”
Enraged, Satin tried to grab Erica but only succeeded in grasping Erica’s shiny black straight shoulder length hair and pulling her off her comfortable bar stool seat.
“It’s all mine, bitch. Unlike yours,” she said as she jerked Satin’s wig off his head and threw it onto the dance floor. Satin mistakenly released his grip on her hair and tried to swing at her. She ducked the incoming right hook, landed a knee into his midsection and proceeded to give him a black belt karate flavored ass kicking.

Satin crawled away from Erica after the quickie beatdown and attempted to retrieve his wig. The dance floor patrons played keep away with it for a few moments before one of them threw it onto the steps descending from the stage.
“Okay, Miss Cleopatra Jones. Remind me to stay on your good side,” Markita said with a chuckle.
“Hey, I warned him to leave me alone.”
“Better watch your back, gurl. You know he’s gonna be looking to get you now.”
“I’m not worried about that stupid sissy, Donnie. If he tries me again he’s gonna get the same industrial strength butt kicking he got tonight.”
“All right, Wonder Woman. Want another cocktail?”
“Yeah. All this drama is making me thirsty.”

The Sermon

Dionne Spencer made a quick left turn off Fourth Street and pulled her red Nissan Sentra into the parking lot of her home church. It had been a year since she’d last attended Sunday services and after parking her car on this sunny November morning did a final check of her makeup and hair. She wanted to make certain that she looked as good as she did when she first slipped on her stylish pink suit, put on her black hose and heels and sashayed her five-seven body out of her apartment near the University of Louisville campus.

She got out of her car and strode nervously toward the front doors of the church building once she was satisfied that her appearance passed muster. She entered the one hundred thirty-eight year old Greater Hope Baptist Church just as the choir began singing a rousing version of Leaning on the Everlasting Arms. She decided to go to the restroom to recheck her appearance one last time before sauntering into the sanctuary.

She made her entrance as the organ music faded and the congregation was still on an emotional high from watching their award-winning choir rock the house. She started to take a seat in the back pews but remembered that Reverend Oliver asked her to sit on the front row when they’d had their conversation in his office a few days ago. She wasn’t going to disappoint him as she pivoted on her heel and ambled toward the front pews.

Reverend Lorenzo Oliver rose his six-three frame from his chair and strode to the pulpit. He looked over to his left and spotted Dionne sitting on the front pew flanked by Sister Zerline Elliott and Sister Doris Thompson. He observed two longtime members of the church seated two rows behind her, pointing at Dionne as they shook their fancy-hatted heads and whispered to each other. He noticed Sister Elliott clasping Dionne’s right hand as Sister Doris Thompson whispered in Dionne’s left ear. He smiled at the trio and glanced at his wife Althea before he began speaking.
“Let the congregation say amen.”
“Amen.”
“Thanks to Brother Jordan and our choir for that wonderful rendition of one of my favorite hymns,” he said while opening his book-marked Bible to the section that he’d selected earlier that morning while proofreading the final draft of his sermon.
“I’ll start with a reading of the Word from Matthew, the nineteenth chapter and the tenth verse. ‘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.’ Thus ends the reading of the scripture.”
He paused for a moment to survey his congregation before he continued. “Now, you may be wondering why I chose that particular passage. It’s because I’ve been concerned over the last three weeks about anonymous comments that I’ve been receiving about one of our members from various people in our congregation.”

One of the deacons began to nervously shift his body position in his chair at the base of the pulpit as Reverend Oliver continued. “This person was baptized by me at age ten. Sister Althea and I have had the pleasure of watching this young person grow up and become an outstanding adult despite the tragedies that have befallen them.”

He paused for a moment as some members of the congregation shouted amen to his last statement. “When this person’s parents and grandmother were tragically taken away from them several years ago, she didn’t give up. She buckled down, did an outstanding job in the classroom and got that high school diploma. This person is now attending U of L as a Governor’s Scholar.”

He looked over at the beaming young woman and took a sip of water from his chalice. It shouldn’t be any secret that I’m referring to Sister Dionne Spencer. I did not stutter saints, I said SISTER Dionne Spencer. Some of you are aware that she informed Sister Althea and I three weeks ago about the reason for her long absence from our church family. She is undergoing her transition to womanhood.”

Dionne looked up at Reverend Oliver and nervously smiled as Sister Elliott put her arm around her. “Now, I am astounded by the people who have come to us and openly suggested that we cast this young person out of our church. It’s ironic that some of the folks who proposed this haven’t been members of this church a hot minute. Sister Spencer’s family served Greater Hope faithfully for many years. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

There were murmurs of approval by several congregants as others fidgeted uneasily in the pews. “Just two weeks ago we had an amendment pass in Kentucky over same-sex marriage that made a group of people second class citizens. The charge was led by people who I’m ashamed to say, call themselves Christians.
“Amen.” replied some of the members.
“I was concerned that the passage of this amendment would foster a climate of intolerance in the commonwealth for our gay, lesbian and transgendered brothers and sisters. I am appalled that the intolerance has surfaced in my flock.”

Reverend Oliver wiped the sweat that was starting to bead up on his forehead with a small towel and resumed speaking after taking another sip of water from his chalice.
“As a civil rights veteran who was at the Edmund Pettus Bridge on Bloody Sunday I beg to differ. Christians don’t promote intolerance. They should be the people helping to eradicate it. Christians don’t promote hatred of their fellow man. They should be uncompromising advocates for loving all their fellow human beings.” Reverend Oliver said with his voice rising.
“God belongs to all of us. His Son Jesus stood up for downtrodden people. That is my one of my charges to keep as a minister. I am a voice for the voiceless. I am an advocate for my community. If no one else will speak up for the suffering people of my time on this earth, I will. As your pastor I will not tolerate any attempts by members of this congregation to strip Dionne of her membership in our church family.”

As Reverend Oliver surveyed the congregation he noticed that the fancy hatted ladies sitting behind Dionne had contrite looks on their faces. He paused to let those words sink in before he stepped onto the sanctuary floor and strolled over to where Dionne was seated.
“Sister Dionne is a Christian who happens to be transgendered. She has a different outer shell now than what she grew up with. It’ll take time for us to get used to the new one. She is the same person that many of you love and respect. I’m pleased to have her back. I look forward to Dionne contributing her talents toward making the Greater Hope church family the best it can be.”

The rest of the service was a blur to Dionne. She shed a tear when he mentioned her late grandmother Pauline and her membership on the usher board. He also reminded the congregation of her grandmother’s last whispered words from her deathbed as he closed his sermon. After Reverend Oliver offered his final prayer and benediction, the congregation rose and filed out of the sanctuary. Dionne picked up her black crocodile print purse and chatted for a few minutes with Sister Elliott and Sister Thompson before she prepared to leave.
“Dionne, wait.”
“Yes, Sister Thornton?”
“Jamila and I are going to Jay’s to eat dinner. Would you like to join us?”
“Thanks for the invitation Sister Thornton, but I already promised Sister Elliott that I’d come by her house after church.”
“Okay. Maybe some other time?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She opened her purse, pulled her sunglasses out of the case and put them on before she stepped outside into the bright fall sunshine. She was stopped a few times by various members expressing their support for her before reaching her car. As she unlocked it a full-figured woman she recognized as LaTasha Cole and her slim-waisted friend Sarita Sanders approached LaTasha’s battered blue Chevy Caprice. It was parked directly in front of hers, and once they spotted Dionne deliberately adjusted the volume of their conversation so she could hear them.
“I don’t care what the pastor said.” thundered LaTasha. “I ain’t talking to that drag queen.”
“You got that right.” Sarita agreed. “The deacon was correct Thursday night when he said that there’s no room for he-she’s in heaven.”
“What a waste. First that fine Brother Jordan, now this wannabe woman. What’s the world coming to?”
“Girl, I’m gonna have to find me another church,” Sarita said as they climbed into her car cackling to themselves before they drove off.

Dionne was a little hurt by the comments as she clambered into her car. She expected negativity from LaTasha. They’d never liked each other and had been going at it since elementary school. Sarita’s comments were a shock, but she understood her frustration. She was told by a U of L classmate two weeks ago that Sarita liked her previous male persona. Dionne started her car and headed back to her apartment to change clothes before heading over to Sister Elliott’s Newburg area house.

Thirty minutes later she was standing in Sister Elliott’s living room perusing the photographs on the fireplace mantel. The first one that caught her attention was of Miss Zerline and her late husband Walter dressed in formal wear for a Derby party. Even though she’d recently passed her sixty-third birthday, Zerline was still an attractive honey-brown woman who looked twenty years younger. She had a figure that put the younger women of the church to shame. Much of Dionne’s evolving sense of style had come from observing her over the years.

Dionne shifted her gaze to a photo of her grandmother and Miss Zerline. It was taken several years ago on a church bus trip to the Black Expo in Indianapolis. They’d fallen asleep on the return trip to Louisville and were leaning on each other’s shoulders. It reminded her that they’d been best friends since their Kentucky State college days.

She glanced at her Waggener High School graduation photo. She frowned, but not because the photo was of Don. Her feet were starting to hurt after wearing these pumps for a few hours. She gingerly walked over to the couch and pulled them off after she sat down. She rubbed her feet for a few moments to get the soreness out before putting them back on.
“I see you’ve already learned one of the first lessons of femininity.”
“Which is?”
“You’re gonna suffer to look good.” she said as they chuckled.
“Very funny, Miss Zerline. So when’s dinner gonna be ready?”
“When you come in here and help me cook it.”
She smirked before kicking off her pumps and getting up to join her in the kitchen. She’d always loved to cook. Since Zerline didn’t have a child of her own to pass her mouth-watering recipes down to she taught Dionne after she came to live with her.
They spent the next two hours working to finish cooking before the guests were slated to begin arriving at five o’clock. Dionne sensed someone staring at her as she prepared the salad. When she turned Zerline was intently watching her before she gently sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, baby. I just recalled a day when your grandmother and I were talking in the teacher’s lounge. She always remarked about how much you looked like your mother.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Well, now you REALLY look like your mother.”
They both laughed as Zerline’s conversation topic switched. “I was proud of you this morning.”
“I was gonna have to show up for church sooner or later, Miss Zerline.”
“I’m glad you did. Too many people in your situation have turned away from God. I didn’t want that happening to you. That’s why I stayed on you so much about going to church.”
“I wasn’t planning on letting it happen. I wanted to give the hormones a chance to work on me before I came back to Greater Hope.”
“Good. But you know I was getting concerned.” she said. “Your grandmother said to me on her deathbed, ‘Zerline, take care of my grandbaby.’ I had every intention of honoring my soror’s last request ”
“You did a great job. I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, baby.”
“I’m getting my degree in a few months. But best of all I’ll be walking across that stage as Dionne ”
And you’ll be happier than you’ve even been in your young life, thought Zerline. “Your grandmother and I discussed that before she passed. She knew that you were unhappy. She was aware that you were getting picked on, teased and ostracized by other kids.”
“Really?”
“When someone we love is involved, there’s not much that happens in a school district we work in that we can’t find out.” Zerline said as she opened the oven door to check on the cornbread. It wasn’t done yet, so she made a mental note to check on it in a few minutes.
“You got that right. She was in my teacher’s classrooms more than Mama and Daddy were.”
Zerline paused and smiled as another memory of her soror flashed through her mind. “Umm hmm. Pauline taught a child several years ago that had a gender identity issue that wasn’t positively addressed.”
Dionne’s eyebrows raised. “Who was it?”
“Pinky Perry.”
“Grandma was Pinky’s teacher?”
“Yes, she was. Pauline noted how badly Pinky’s life turned out after his parents tossed him onto the streets. She said that he was one of the smartest kids she’d ever taught. She was adamant that wasn’t going to happen to you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, she was. It’s hypocritical how some Black people treat kids with gender identity issues. If Pinky had been arrested for a crime and was on trial at the Hall of Justice, they would’ve been shouting their child’s innocence to every TV camera in sight.”
Dionne nodded as she continued “She felt that had Pinky received the love that was needed at the time, there’s no telling what he, oops she could’ve accomplished.”
The doorbell rang as Zerline was pulling it out the oven. “Don, can you get the door for me? That’s probably Doris and Reba now.”
Dionne frowned as she heard her old name. Zerline noted the change in demeanor on her face. “Sorry, baby. You know it’s gonna take me a while to get used to your new name.”
She nodded and smiled as she walked over to hug Miss Zerline, then headed to the front door to let the early arriving dinner guests in.

Bathroom Issues

Hunter Coleman was sitting at his ultra modern desk conferring with the Texas Division head of HR Mary Ann Lemons, the Senior VP of Marketing Ryan Harper and their corporate attorney Juanita Robinson when his cell phone rang.
"I'm sorry, I thought I had it on vibrate," he said apologetically. "Let me see if this is Alexis."
"Go right ahead," said Ryan.
"This is Hunter Coleman."
"Hunter, this is Alexis. I'm in town and just leaving Bush Intercontinental now."
"Hi Alexis. How was your flight?"
"Hit some bumpy air over Arkansas but overall it was a good one."
"Good to hear. So what's the problem that you alluded to yesterday?"
"A potentially explosive human resource issue has come to my attention."
"Can you give me some background info on it?" Hunter asked as her limo passed Greenspoint Mall.
"I'd rather discuss this in your office with Ryan and Juanita when I arrive."
"Very good, Alexis."
"My limo's on I-45 right now. When I get downtown I'll call you. Have Samantha Simon and Lauren Schmelter in your office when I arrive. "
"Will do."
"Good. Se you in a few minutes."

Senior VP of Human Resources Alexis Wilson was not a happy camper. She was already upset about downsizing the HR department. She was in the process of analyzing the data and determining which cities would take the hits when the e-mail came from the people at the Ethics Hotline.
She recalled her reaction when she'd heard about the mysterious resignation of Shanita Taylor. She'd already sent her assistant Shelby King down to Houston to talk to the gentleman who called in the complaint. Alexis was incensed when Shelby gave her report on what this gentleman overheard at his church and what the investigation had uncovered.

Her eyes were getting tired from looking at the laptop screen and she decided to rest them for a few minutes. She looked up just as the limo came out of I-45's ten-lane S-curve approaching I-10 and the view of the downtown Houston skyline rapidly grew closer.

Moments later she was pulling in front of the building on Smith Street that used to be Enron's headquarters. She put on her Jimmy Choo pumps and whipped her cell phone out of her purse to make the call announcing her arrival before packing her laptop into the leather briefcase her boyfriend had given her for Christmas.
She cut off her cell phone after talking to Hunter, put it in her Prada purse and waited for the limo driver to park the car and open her door.

As she stretched her stylishly dressed 5'7" frame out of the limo the cranberry juice she'd been drinking on the flight began demanding release from her bladder as she entered the revolving door of the Xavier Young Zeno Corporation Tower. She headed for the bank of elevators as the handsome security guard on duty smiled and waved at her. She had other things on her mind as she gave the bald buffed brother a friendly wave and briskly kept moving.

When Alexis arrived on the 23rd floor she knew she needed to make an immediate pit stop in the ladies room. She knew from previous corporate visits that there was one close to Hunter's office so she quickened her pace, entered it and raced to the nearest stall. I needed to check my makeup anyway, Alexis thought as she handled her business.

Not long after she setlled in she heard the door squeak open and heard two sets of heels click clacking on the floor and stall doors open a few paces away from her.
"Lauren, why are they calling us into this meeting?"
"Beats me. Just stay cool until we find out what's going on."
"You mean they didn't tell you?"
"You know that closet queen Ryan can't stand me because his precious Shanita quit."
"You mean Sheldon don't you?" Samantha said with a sneer.
"Whatever that he-she's name used to be I don't care. I got the job thanks to you."
"You're welcome. Thanks for making me your assistant."
"I believe in rewarding people who are loyal to me."
"Me and my Coach purse thank you."

Both toilets flushed and Alexis heard running water from the sinks as they washed their hands.
"Have you made any progress with Javon yet?'
"No. I can barely get his attention when were at church."
"What's wrong, Samantha?" Lauren cooed. "You can't take a man away from a wannabe bitch with a manufactured pussy?"
"I'm more than woman enough for the job, especially if Sheldon still has his original equipment. I can show Javon what he's been missing," she said as they both laughed.
"You ready?"
"Let's go before Ms. Wilson gets here."

She heard their heels click and the bathroom door squeak as it closed. She waited a few minutes before she rose from her seated position, adjusted her clothes and opened her stall door. She strolled over to the mirror and washed her hands before checking her makeup. She checked her appearance one last time before sauntering
out of the restroom and heading to Hunter's office.
She allowed a smile to crease her ebony-hued face when she thought about the bombs she was going to drop on those conniving heifers.

"Ms. Wilson, so nice to see you." Lauren said as she entered Hunter's office.
"Hunter, can you have Ms. Schmelter and Ms. Simon wait outside until I'm done briefing you?"
"Yes ma'am."
Lauren and Samantha looked puzzled as the got up from the couch in Hunter's office and headed to the office waiting area. Once they exited the room and closed the door she began the meeting.

"I've called you together because I've been apprised of a situation that has exposed our company not only to a possible lawsuit but a potential PR nightmare."
She briefed them about Shelby discovered during her investigation as Ryan, Hunter, Juanita and Mary Ann looked at her and listened in stunned silence.
When she was done she said, "Hunter and Ryan, find Shanita Taylor, have my limo pick her up and bring her here ASAP."
"Yes ma'am."
"Mary Ann, call Ms. Simon in please."

Samantha's nervousness shot up a few more levels when Mary Ann called her into the office. What the hell is going on, she thought as she entered.
"Have a seat, Samantha."
"Yes, ma'am."
"You may be wondering why we called you in here today."
"That thought has crossed my mind, Ms. Wilson."
"It concerns a call the Ethics Hotline received a call three weeks ago."
"Did it involve someone in our department?"
"Yes, it did."
"May I ask who it was?"
"Someone you know very well. I can tell you it was in relation to Shanita Taylor's resignation from our company," Alexis said impassively. "Seems that this gentleman overheard a conversation take place that implicates you in the series of events that led Ms. Taylor to resign."
"Say what?"
"We investigated it and have verified that what he told us was true. What we discovered could put you in jail for a long time."
Samantha tried to stay cool but that icy Fifth Ward bravado broke down and tears started flowing down her caramel-colored face as she told Alexis what happened.
A few moments later she sent Samantha out and called Lauren into the office.

"Sit down, Lauren."
Lauren obeyed but was on guard. She observed her assistant walk out of the office with a look that had a mixture of defeat and fear. She wondered what Alexis could have said that terrified her.
"You may be wondering why I asked you and Samantha to come in."
"I know there are rumors about a downsizing of this department."
"Yes, I can confirm that rumor."
"Do you know mow many people we're going to lose?"
"I'm still crunching the numbers, but right now it looks like only two of you will be leaving," Alexis said as she crossed her legs beneath Hunter's desk.
"May I ask who?"
"I'll let you know in a few moments. But first I have some questions for you."
"Yes, ma'am."
"What do you know about Shanita Taylor's departure?"
"It was most unfortunate. She's a very talented person who would have made a wonderful supervisor for us."
"I agree with you. Did she state a reason as to why she was leaving?"
"No," Lauren said. "We were just as shocked when she quit."
Stop lying tramp, Alexis thought. "So was I. That's why I initiated an investigation."
"An investigation?"
"We received a complaint on the Ethics Hotline that mentioned this situation."
"May I ask what was the nature of that complaint?"

Alexis reached into her briefcase, pulled out a sheet of paper and slid it across the desk for Lauren to read. "I can't believe that Samantha would do something like this."
"Some people will do almost anything for love and revenge," said Alexis.
"It's gonna break my heart to give her the news that she's terminated."
"Don't worry about that, Lauren." said Alexis. "I've already taken care of it."
"Thank you Ms. Wilson….."
"You're going to be busy writing a letter of resignation."
"Are you serious?"
"Deadly. I want your badge and your company keys."
"You can't fire me," she defiantly said.
"Seems like that's exactly what's happening right now."
"Do you know who my Daddy is? I'll have your job."

Alexis' impassive look suddenly turned nasty as she stood up and looked Lauren dead in the eye. "Little girl, you don't know who you're messing with. I make phone calls to two of my sorors and not only will you be facing a stint at Club Fed but your Daddy's political career will be ruined as well.
"You're bluffing."
"You think so?" Alexis said. "Does the name Lanita Turner ring a bell?"
She knows the ABC News reporter, thought Lauren. Who else does she know?
"I know you've heard of Senator Jason Reynolds, the man your daddy lost his US senate race to four years ago." Alexis said as Lauren digested the last comment. "And how could I forget my soror DeAndria Randall, the federal prosecuting attorney for the Southern District of Texas?"

Lauren sullenly sat in her chair as Alexis continued. "I want your resignation letter on this desk in the next thirty minutes. If either you, your father or any of his associates mess with this company or my employment status I will bring a world of hurt down on your ass. Do we understand each other?"
Lauren mumbled under her breath. "What did you say?'
"I said yes ma'am."
"That's what I thought you said."
"Are you finished with me?"
"Not quite. Just want to give you a piece of advice for your next job. Be careful what you say in corporate restrooms. It can come back to haunt you."
Lauren's eyes grew wide with shock as Alexis sat back down in the chair and said, "Especially if your boss has as you so crudely put it a 'manufactured pussy' as well."

The Recruiting Visit

A short story by Monica Roberts

Dedicated to all the GLBT peeps either deployed in Iraq or serving in the military.








Paula Morgan was in the bathroom applying her favorite shade of lipstick when the doorbell rang. She put on a final coat and checked her appearance in the mirror before heading over to answer the front door.
“Yes?”
“Good evening ma’am. Sorry to disturb you. Is Tracy home?”
“Yes, but we’re leaving in 30 minutes. Who are you?”
“I’m Sergeant McGill from the Armed Forces Career Center. I would like to talk to him about possible career options in the military.”
“I know he was thinking about that during his freshman year. Come on in.”
“Thank you ma’am. Since y’all have somewhere to go I’ll be brief.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
“Water would be just fine for me, Ms. Morgan.”

Paula returned with two glasses of water as Sergeant McGill took a look around the modestly decorated living room of the Morgan home. In one corner were several large trophies in addition to the academic awards that Tracy had earned. He also took a look at the family photos perched upon a bookshelf. In addition to pictures of Tracy at various ages he noticed several pictures of an attractive young woman who resembled a younger version of the curvaceous lady sitting next to him. There was a large one of the same young woman wearing a cap and gown. But as he recalled his earlier conversations with Tracy he never remembered him mentioning that he had a sister.

“You must be very proud of Tracy.”
“Yes, I am. My baby’s graduating with honors.”
“Yes ma’am. We noticed that he had excellent scores on his SAT and ACT tests. He also scored very high on the Military Aptitude Test.”
“Tracy’s always been a smart child. Couldn’t understand why he wanted to join the military.”
“It’ll give him an opportunity to travel the world and develop his leadership skills “
“That is true. Tracy’s grandfather was in the Marines.”
“Really?”
“Montford Point Marine. He fought at Iwo Jima.”

Paula checked her watch. They'd been sitting there talking for fifteen minutes and Tracy still hadn’t appeared yet. “Baby, we need to be leaving soon. What’s taking you so long?”
“Just packing the rest of my stuff, Mom.”
Paula returned her attention to the handsome recruiter sitting on her couch as he asked,” So you two are leaving on a trip?”
“Actually, it’s for a competition here in town.”
“A competition?”
At that moment Tracy yelled from the bedroom, “Mom, I can’t find my black pumps.”
“Oh, I’m sorry baby, I borrowed them for my date last night. Check my closet”
“Okay.”
“And hurry up. You know you need to be checked in for the pageant by 7.”
“Pageant?” stammered Sergeant McGill. He took another look at the graduation photo and realized the young woman he was looking at was Tracy.
“Yes, Tracy’s so talented. Does a killer Patti LaBelle impersonation and is building quite a reputation in the femme queen ranks in the ball community. Those are his trophies in the corner.

Sergeant McGill tried to digest the news as she continued. “I always knew there was something different about him when he was growing up. Not long after he took that military test I caught him dressed in my clothes. When I asked him why, he confessed to me that he was unhappy as a boy and wanted to be a girl."
Paula took another sip of her water as she continued. "All that matters to me is my child's happiness. If that means he becomes my daughter, so be it. The only reason that Tracy was considering joining the military was that he thought it would make a man out of him.”
“Ms. Morgan, no one needs to know that Tracy's transgendered. Just looking at that graduation photo I couldn't tell. It would still be a wonderful...”
“Spare me the sales pitch, Sergeant. I’m not allowing my only child to join the military for that superficial reason so he can be shot at in Iraq. If this so-called War on Terror isn’t important enough for rich folks kids to fight in it, then I’m not sending my child over there, either.”

There was silence for a few moments before Paula checked her watch and said in an urgent tone, “Tracy, let’s go.”
“I still can’t find my black Nine West pumps.”
“Then get my J. Renee’s. But make sure those thieving queens don’t get their paws on them while you’re onstage.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Sergeant McGill turned to Paula and said,” Ms. Morgan, thank you for your hospitality, but I need to go.”
“Yes, you do. Goodbye, sergeant.”

Sergeant McGill rose to leave. Just before he opened the front door Tracy emerged into the living room carrying a hanging bag. Tracy’s face was perfectly made up and she was wearing a short Baby Phat top with jeans that hugged her unmistakably feminine curves. Tracy's shoulder length black hair was bone straight and nails were freshly done in a French manicure.
The sergeant pivoted to leave, closed the front door of the Morgan home and walked to his car.
“Damn, looks like I won’t be making my quota this month, either." he muttered to himself as he got behind the wheel of the car and slammed the door shut.

Transgender Heaven

A short story by Monica Roberts
Dedicated to all of the people who have fallen victim to anti-transgender violence.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Monica, hope you’re feeling better. Girl, take something for that cough.”
“As soon as I get home Aletha, I’ll will.
*****
“Gee, this dream is so realistic. These lights are so bright I can barely make out those gates over there.”
“You mean the Pearly Gates? “
“Who said that?” I asked as a six foot one sister dressed in white from head to toe stepped out of the light and into my field of vision.
“Phyllis Hyman?”
“In the flesh, so to speak.”
“If that’s really you standing in front of me, then I must be…..”
“Deceased? Not yet.”
“To what do I owe this honor?”
“Your grandmother is tied up in a meeting with Dr. King, so she asked me to escort you around Heaven. She thought you’d get a kick out of me showing you around.”
"She’s right.”
“Besides, this is my off night from The Club and I didn’t have anything planned for today except hanging out around the house.”
”The Club?”
“Yep. We have shows every night. Luther’s singing tonight. Duke and Ella ask me to sing with them when they perform.”
“Hmm, that’s a show I’d love to see.”
“You’ll get that chance if you decide to stay.”
“I might. I’m so tired of the crap that’s going on back in the United States.”
“I’ve heard. Your grandmother Tama told me. We’ve become pretty tight since she arrived.“
“So where are we going?”
“I need to make a hair appointment first before I show you around.”
“Still the diva, huh?”
“And what sistah doesn’t have a little diva in her?”
“True that.“

We walked past well-manicured homes and apartment buildings until we came to a beauty shop on the corner of Heavenly Peace Lane and Holy Boulevard. She opened the door and I almost fainted when I saw that the hairdresser was Tyra Hunter. The client that was sitting in the chair getting her hair done also looked vaguely familiar.
“Hey Phyllis, what’s going on?”
“Hey Tyra, what’s happening?”
“Busy as usual. Who’s your friend?”
"Tyra, this is Monica. Monica, Tyra.”
“Nice to meet you. I’ve seen the stories about you and Dawn on HNN. Love what y’all are doing for the sistahs.”
“Thanks.”
“I need to make an appointment, Tyra. When can you hook me up?”
“Would you excuse me for a moment, Chanelle? I need to check my appointment book.”
“Sure,” she said as Tyra walked over to the ornate desk to check it.
“How about tomorrow at eleven?”
“No good. Got a brunch with Dorothy Dandridge. Is three o’clock open?”
“Yes it is.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then,” she said as the door swung open and Ukea Davis and Stephanie Thomas walked in.
“Hey, Sister Tyra, Miss Phyllis,” said Ukea.
“Hey ladies.”
“Sister Tyra, can you fit us in to get our hair done? We’re going to the Mahalia concert tonight and my hair needs to be tight for that,” said Stephanie.
“I can hook both of y’all up as soon as I’m done with Chanelle. Aaliyah had to cancel her appointment at the last minute.“
“Have you seen Gwen lately?” asked Ukea.
“She came in here with Chareka Keys yesterday,” said Tyra.
“Next time you see her tell her I need to talk to her.”
“Who’s your friend, Miss Phyllis?”
“Stephanie, just call me Phyllis. You’re making me feel old.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“This is Monica. I’m showing her around.”
“The lady they talk about on HNN who's the transgender activist back on Earth?”
“In the flesh,” I replied.
“Congratulations on winning that Trinity. You sure lit a fire under those girls when you told them in your speech to reclaim and proclaim their Christianity,” said Ukea
"Thanks ladies.”
“Are you planning on staying?”
”I’m leaning toward it, Stephanie. I’d love to be around my grandmother again.”
“Yeah, that’s the best part about being here. Being reunited with a lot of people and meeting interesting new ones every day.”

Phyllis’ cell phone rang as we were chatting and she picked it up as I continued talking to the various patrons of the shop. Phyllis finished her conversation with the person on the other end of the line, then hung up her phone.
“Who was that?”
“The Boss. He says your work on Earth isn’t finished yet and you need to return ASAP.”
"Doggone it. I was hoping to see my grandmother.”
”Sorry Monica, It’s gonna have to wait for another time.”
The shop patrons and I said our good-byes and I reluctantly headed back to the Pearly Gates with Phyllis.

I arrived a few moments later and started to frown as I prepared to walk back through the gates. Phyllis hugged me as she said, “Cheer up. When it's time for you to come home we’ll be waiting for you. Just continue helping your fellow transpeople and remember that all of us will be watching over you.”
“Okay.”
“When you get back I’ll have a front row table reserved for you at The Club.”
****
“Monica’s waking up…”
Is that Dawn’s voice? “Where am I?” I said groggily as I awoke to beeping machinery and a group of anxious people gathered around my bed. It dawned on me seconds later that I was in the hospital.
“At Baptist East. That bad cough you had was pneumonia. Nearly took you out of here,” said Aletha.
“Yeah, the machine flat lined for a moment but they brought you back to us,” said AC.
Just then the nurse walked in. “Sorry folks, visiting hours are over. She needs to get some rest.”
"Okay.”
"Monica, on the nightstand next to the bed is your CD player. Grabbed a few CD’s and stacked them next to you.”
“Thanks, AC.”
“You’re welcome. Get some sleep, kid. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I said as everyone left. After the nurse checked my vital signs and marked them off on a chart she left my room. I reached over for the CD’s to see which ones AC brought for me to listen to. In addition to my usual 70’s and 80’s R&B and jazz favorites there was one more:

Phyllis Hyman’s ‘Prime of My Life.'