Page 135 of Whirlwind

“Thank you.” Carla gave her a warm smile. A special smile. Like it meant something that she liked his cooking. Or maybe like she was special.

She had no idea what to say. Desire and nerves thrummed through her body, leaving her mute and awkward.

Fortunately, Carla took the lead on the conversation, like he always did. Carla talked about his kids at school and the summer program he was working at part time, which explained why he had so much free time right now.

Charlie fell back to talking about the bar, sharing stories from the early years and funny encounters with drunk patrons, though she maybe suspected he’d heard some of the stories before.

They were traveling conversational paths they’d walked before, and it felt relaxed and comfortable. Carla was witty and real, and she could see herself slipping into the habit of just being with him all too easily. Sharing homemade meals over a tiny table and laughing together about their days. She hadn’t had that since…

She pushed the thought away.

This was Carla, who was more kind and thoughtful than Lacey had ever been. She just needed to keep her expectations in check.

At last, she couldn’t eat another bite.

“I still can’t believe you made all this.” She said as she wiped her mouth with the napkin. “You said your grandmother taught you how to make this?”

“Yep. My grandmother immigrated from Egypt and met my grandfather here. She cooked big meals like this almost every night. I love going back to visit her.”

“Do you speak… I don’t even know what language they speak in Egypt. Have you ever been?”

“Arabic. And yes, I’ve visited a few times, and I spent a year there in high school, but it was at a British-based school. Most of my childhood was between Japan and the U.S., though. We moved around a lot.”

“Was it difficult?” Charlie was starting to realize that there was a lot they’d never spoken about. Almost nothing personal. And Carla was fascinating.

“Yes and no. I was actually that crazy kid who loved moving and making new friends. We lived in Costa Rica for a semester once and my mother says that I didn’t know five words in Spanish when we arrived, but by the end of the day I had a whole crowd of kids organized into some sort of game.”

Yeah, that sounded like Carla.

“I lost two years of school here and there moving between countries, but it made me more mature when I started college. I think for some students moving between countries is a real challenge, but I had a lot of resources, education, and opportunities to be successful. I got to see it as more of an adventure.”

“Was it difficult for you growing up queer in those countries? I mean, with how you identify?”

“I think it would have been if I’d lived there while I was older. Japan was fine for me as a kid. We lived in Tokyo and I had to wear a uniform skirt to school every day, but it wasn’t a big deal when I wore boys’ clothes on Sundays. And to be honest, it took me awhile to figure myself out. It might have been different as an adult, because even with progressive laws, most people don’t come out. My dad tells people that he has a queer kid sometimes and they’re polite but kind of fascinated because it seems so rare. He’s in academia and I don’t think he’s told most of his colleagues or supervisors.”

Carla paused to take a bite, then continued. “Living in Cairo as a teenager was much, much harder. Women have to cover their heads and it’s very, very gendered. But I was also a foreigner there. There was a bit of leeway with me wearing more masculine clothing because people thought I was an American or Japanese tourist. I kept my shoulders and legs covered, and that’s what they were most concerned about for outsiders.

“I was irate about the way women were treated, especially after living in other countries with much more gender equality. And you can end up in jail for wearing a rainbow flag, though I found a few allies. It was a learning experience, though, and I made it through alright. It helps me relate to a lot of my students.”

Carla shrugged. “As an adult, I’ve just lived in the U.S. and visited family once in a while. I can follow local customs for a few weeks without setting off my dysphoria too much, and if I occasionally get slurs thrown at me, I just ignore it. Especially in Cairo, I just pretend I don’t speak Arabic and walk away.”

Charlie took a moment to respond. She’d kind of thought that Carla had it easy. That he was so free with his identity and his desires because he’d grown up in a different era and never known hostility or prejudice. But it was just him. He was strong and confident in a way that she only pretended to be.

“Your parents supported you?”

Carla nodded. “All the way. They’ve supported me in trying to figure out how out to be in each country and what that looks like. I think it’s helped them to have an international perspective, too. When you experience a lot of different cultural traditions, I think it helps you to notice that there’s not just one right way to do everything.”

That made sense. Sometimes, even decades later, Charlie still felt like she was trapped in rural Arkansas.

“So, what about you?”

This was the moment. She felt like she owed Carla this story, like he needed to hear it before they went any further. But that didn’t make it any easier to tell.

When she was silent for too long, Carla took her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. It was an unfamiliar gesture. Usually she was the one doing that, the one taking the man’s role.

Was this what it had felt like for all those women she’d done it to? To be cherished and desired and taken care of? She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Did it mean she was less… whatever she was? Less butch?

But it was sexy, too. Carla was such a… gentleman seemed only the right word. Taking on old fashioned manners and making them meaningful. Like they meant something. Like she meant something.