Double Date

EPH STARED ACROSS the table at Sophie Blue Feather and her—their—date, whose name was Darrin. Eph warily pondered Darrin’s genetic provenance, an exercise he well knew should be a silent one. The longer Eph spent in the Northeast, the more aware he became of the cultural minefields. In his thought bubbles Darrin was “she.”

Outwardly, Darrin was a beautiful woman, although for Eph her completely shaved head complicated the picture. She was considerably younger than Blue Feather and had delicate pale features. A silver ring pierced her nose, while a series of smaller rings climbed the outer edge of her right ear. A tattoo on her neck read DO NOT RESUSCITATE. Eph wondered where Darrin placed herself among Facebook’s fifty-eight genders but decided he lacked the required perspicacity to sort it out.

Getting to this dinner had involved no shortage of awkwardness. Eph popped his head into Blue Feather’s office one day and, screwing up his courage, just blurted it out: “We haven’t had a chance to get to know each other, and I was, ah, wondering if you and a … friend?… would like to join my girlfriend and me for dinner some night?”

Blue Feather stared back, expressionless. “What would we eat?”

“I hadn’t thought that through yet, but we could go wherever you like.”

“I have a number of dietary restrictions. Also, I am still new here and am not yet acquainted with the culinary landscape.”

“Oh, well, this town’s not half-bad for food. Bit of a renaissance in the last few years. I’m sure there’s something you would like.”

“Very well.”

Eph decided to push his luck. “Will you be bringing someone?” He didn’t want to say “a date,” even if he wasn’t sure why. He was treading carefully.

“Yes,” said Blue Feather, elaborating no further.

They settled on Calendar, a new restaurant that varied its menu based on the time of year and what could be locally sourced. The amateur critics on Yelp liked it, one reviewer saying it was a “fresh newcomer on the burgeoning Havenport food scene, offering a mélange of seasonally correct cuisine.” It was mid-January, so Eph hoped the menu had something other than root vegetables.


The four of them arrived at the same time and Eph held the door. D’Arcy and Blue Feather entered, but Darrin stopped and glared. Eph smiled and motioned with his free hand for her to walk on through.

“Patriarchy,” said Darrin, not moving.

“Sorry?”

“Your behavior. It’s patriarchal.”

“Just trying to be polite…”

“That’s what you’ve been trained to think, but it’s a lie.”

“Well, my mother trained me, and I’m pretty sure she’d be upset, wherever she is, if I walked through that door first.”

“Then she’ll have to be upset.”

There was a brief standoff, but other people now wanted to enter, and a small part of Eph could see her point. “Okay, forgive me, Mom.” He looked up at the sky as he said it, then walked through first. Standoff resolved.

Darrin ordered an apple martini, while Blue Feather surprised Eph by ordering Maker’s Mark, neat. Eph went with an IPA and D’Arcy a cabernet.

The menus were made from some kind of particleboard. At the bottom was printed Made from 100% American hemp. Eph was relieved to see a varied selection of meats, game, and vegetables.

“So, how long have you two been together?” Eph asked, hoping he might steer the conversation back to how long he and D’Arcy had been together. He shoved feelings of shamelessness into a deep pit where they could not be retrieved. Tenure was tenure.

“About six months,” Blue Feather said.

“How did you meet?”

“At a poetry slam in Brooklyn. Darrin is a poet.”

“That is so awesome,” D’Arcy said, looking for a way into the conversation. “I love poetry. Are you published anywhere?”

Darrin fiddled with one of her many earrings, which appeared to be bothering her. “I don’t write any of it down. I don’t believe in it.”

“Where does it go?” D’Arcy asked.

“I only speak it aloud, and only once. Sometimes in front of others, and sometimes all by myself. I spoke my last work to a small copse of trees.”

“How intriguing. Why don’t you like to write it down? I’m sure people would enjoy it.”

Darrin lowered her apple martini, which was disappearing quickly. Her face betrayed the slightest hint of contempt. “True poetry should be as fleeting as a momentary gust of wind, relevant only to the moment, the right now, and then as disposable as our culture. I compose for only the present, not for yesterday or next week.”

“I see,” D’Arcy said, not sure at all that she did. “That is so interesting.”

“Is it?” Darrin looked absently into space.

Lacking anything else to say, all went for their drinks. Eph was throwing back his second beer as fast as he could without being obvious. Darrin seemed content to glower.

Thankfully, Blue Feather broke the silence. “So, D’Arcy. How long have you guys been together?”

“About a year.”

“D’Arcy works in President Strauss’s office,” Eph said.

Blue Feather shot him a look that said, I think the woman can speak for herself. “Impressive.” If Blue Feather was in any way surprised that Eph’s girlfriend was “of color,” she wasn’t letting on.

“It sounds more impressive than it is. I’m basically a secretary, although we don’t call it that anymore. But it keeps me busy, and some pretty interesting people come through. I’ve met three U.S. presidents!”

“Sounds like the heart of the patriarchy,” Darrin said in a monotone.

“I don’t know if I’d quite put it that way,” D’Arcy said. “Milton is awfully nice.”

After ordering dinner and their third round of drinks, Eph said the only thing that came to mind. “I didn’t take you for a bourbon gal, Sophie.” He immediately kicked himself for gal.

Blue Feather fixed an unblinking stare on Eph. “What are people like me supposed to drink, Russell? Just curious.”

“No, ah, I didn’t … what I meant to say is…,” Eph stammered, shifting in his seat. This dinner is a huge mistake.

“Relax, Russell.” Blue Feather smiled. “I’m just busting your chops. I grew up in Kentucky. We’re weaned on the stuff there.”

“Well, I think it’s vile,” offered Darrin.

“So, you’re from the heartland,” Eph said. An opening. “How did you end up here? At Devon.”

Blue Feather leaned back. “Let me ask you something, Russell. I grew up in the middle of Kentucky nowhere, a town called Junction City, population twenty-two hundred. How do you suppose blue-haired, gender-fluid teenagers from ethnic backgrounds got along in a place like that? You think I was on the pep squad?”

From ethnic backgrounds? Damn, the woman is obtuse, Eph thought. “I suppose you got along about as well as an undersized bookworm in the football-mad town of Ashley, Alabama.”

D’Arcy gave Eph a surprised look. She’d never heard him mention Ashley with anyone else.

“You can’t be talking about yourself,” said Blue Feather. “Alabama?”

“Yes, ma’am. Roll Tide.” He said the words with a heavy Southern lilt. “Looks like we’re both outsiders, Ms. Blue Feather.”

“I’ll be damned. I took you for Northeastern establishment all the way.”

“We become what makes us most comfortable, I guess. Besides, if I played up my roots, it might set off some kind of alarm around here.”

Blue Feather laughed. “I hear ya.”

“If I may,” Eph said, “I don’t think you are in much danger of being outed as a denizen of Junction City, Kentucky.”

“Probably not. I haven’t been back there since the day I got out of high school. Went to NYU and haven’t looked back.”

“Do you have family back there?” asked Eph.

“Some, but they’ve never known what to make of me, and I think I just embarrass them. Easier for all involved to go our separate ways. You?”

“Same story. More or less.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Sometimes.” Eph preferred not to elaborate.

Blue Feather raised her glass. “Well, here’s to us closet rednecks.”

The four of them clinked glasses.

“Isn’t it interesting how much you two have in common,” D’Arcy said. “Although, Eph, I’m going to have to insist you remain gender nonfluid, at least for the time being.”

D’Arcy honked at her own joke, but Eph froze, hoping she hadn’t crossed a line. But then Blue Feather broke into a smile and laughed. Even Darrin offered what Eph could only assume was her version of a smile.

“I may have misread you, Russell. You struck me as someone who was—how to put this?—not in tune with the times. Do you plan to remain stuck in the nineteenth century, academically speaking?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t imagine you want to go the rest of your life teaching Mark Twain.” Blue Feather’s elocution dripped with contempt at Mark Twain. “I mean, with the proposed steps toward decolonizing the curriculum, you need to adapt.”

Eph could feel D’Arcy’s hand give his knee a hard squeeze under the table. “Adapt … uh, naturally one should always try to stay … relevant,” Eph sputtered.

“I’m glad you feel that way. What was that book you wrote?”

“It was called Ralph Waldo Emerson: Muse of the Private Man.”

“I understand it did quite well.”

“Six thousand copies. I don’t think Stephen King feels threatened, but I was pleased.”

“So that’s your yardstick? Book sales?”

“Is there a different one?” Eph shifted in his seat.

“Books are meant to be written, not read,” offered Darrin.

“What’s important,” added Blue Feather, “is what you have to say, not how many consumers you can snooker into clicking BUY NOW on Amazon.”

“I guess all things being equal,” Eph said, “I’d like someone to read my books. They do take some time.”

Their main courses arrived. Eph looked down at his lamb and brussels sprouts. His serving appeared as a small island in the middle of an expansive plate. D’Arcy had pumpkin ravioli, while Blue Feather and Darrin were both eating some sort of vegan stew.

“So, Russell,” said Blue Feather, digging into her stew. “There’s a march for trans rights next Saturday, right here in Havenport. I think it would be amazing if you two joined us. Darrin’s dressing as a pussy. I’m still trying to decide what works.”

That must be complicated, thought Eph, willing his face into a bland neutrality. He glanced sideways at D’Arcy, looking for help, but she just smiled pleasantly while giving his ankle a swift kick under the table. Overall collegiality was one of the criteria for tenure. That was the nebulous factor that had tripped up more than a few candidates in the past. Collegiality was strictly in the eyes of the beholder.

“Amazing, yes. Can’t think of anything better.”

“It’s settled then. I’ll email you the details. You know, we might even have some extra costumes.”

Eph raised his hand to catch the attention of their waiter. “Excuse me. More drinks please?”