“I always feel so awkward at things like this,” Whitney whispered to Bruce, “when I don’t know anyone.”
“You know me,” he reassured her.
Arm in arm, they entered the room in the funeral home devoted to Calpurnia’s visitation. A strange sensation came over her. Nothing ghost-related this time. She just had this vision of herself in a white dress, walking down the aisle arm in arm with her future husband. Yes, they would walk in together. There was only so far tradition could take you. Whitney would gladly don the gown, but she wanted to walk down that aisle side by side.
Strange thought to have in a funeral parlour. Would make more sense in a church. But this place did have some lovely stained glass along one wall. The evening sun shone through, casting rainbows across the neutral space, really brightening up the place. It would probably be even more beautiful for the funeral tomorrow morning, but as it turned out, Bruce and Whitney were both too busy at work to escape for a stranger’s funeral.
So they’d have to carry out their recon work at the visitation. Probably better this way. Lots of people milling about, talking in hushed tones. If they split up, they could eavesdrop on twice as many conversations, but Whitney didn’t want to let go of Bruce, and he didn’t seem to want to let go of her either.
Closed casket. Unsurprising. Whitney would have been mortified if she’d had to confront the physical body of the girl who’d been haunting her.
“Pretty girl,” Bruce said as they perused the photos in frames on top of the casket.
Whitney wouldn’t say “pretty” was le mot juste, but she wasn’t about to say so at the girl’s visitation. No reason to sound uncharitable. She simply nodded as she took in Calpurnia’s school photos, pictures with friends.
“Finally!” said a voice to Whitney’s right. “Someone who knew the real Cal!”
Whitney looked around to see who this young woman was referring to, and she was confused when she realized the girl was looking straight at her.
“I’m Danine,” she said, as though Whitney should know what that meant. “You look confused. Didn’t Cal mention me?”
“I… I…” Whitney wasn’t sure how to answer. “I’m afraid I never met Calpurnia.”
“Cal.”
“Cal,” Whitney repeated.
Some lady was muttering something Whitney couldn’t quite make out. Danine made the sort of face that would have been accompanied by steam shooting out of her ears, had she been a cartoon character. Danine grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the casket, over toward the wall where there were no eavesdroppers present.
Aside from Bruce.
“Who’s he?” Danine asked sourly.
Loaded question! “Bruce,” Whitney said. “He’s my… we’re friends. Good friends.”
Danine seemed to catch her drift, but that didn’t make him any more welcome in their grouping. “Whatever,” she said. “As long as he’s not here to enforce oppressive patriarchal structures.”
“I’m just here to pay my respects,” Bruce interjected.
Whitney could tell by the way Danine looked at him that she didn’t have much time for men. “Were you and Calpurnia… was she your girlfriend?”
“Not she,” Danine replied, seeming at the end of her rope. “Cal.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Cal was genderqueer. I figured that’s how you knew each other, from one of those trans orgs. Volunteer work or support groups, something like that.”
Whitney felt a little as though she’d been hit with a frying pan. She should be used to being read by now, but she wasn’t. She was really starting to think she passed perfectly well. It was jarring, when some stranger came right out and acknowledged it like that.
“I didn’t know Cal at all. The law firm where I work is right near the elevator where…” Whitney couldn’t finish that thought. “Bruce and I were very touched by her passing. We just wanted to pay our respects, that’s all.”
“Not her,” Danine said, sounding increasingly aggravated. “Cal didn’t ascribe to binary gender, didn’t use pronouns. Just went by Cal.”
Bruce was quick off the draw. “Sorry for the mistake. We didn’t know. None of the news reports made that distinction.”
“Well they wouldn’t, would they?” Danine shot back. “Anyway, Cal’s parents didn’t get it. They didn’t get Cal. I did. Friends did. But prim and proper Mummy and Daddykins won’t acknowledge that their darling daughter is anything but. To them, Cal’s a girl, plain and simple. They don’t even want me here. I tried to tell the funeral director Cal wouldn’t want to be referred to with feminine pronouns, but he’s all like… who are you? Not family? Well, I have to do what the family wants.”
“It’s hard for some people to understand,” Whitney put forth.
Before Danine could respond, Bruce asked, “How long were you together?”
“Coming up on three months,” Danine said proudly. She seemed to be warming to him. “And I know what you’re thinking: that’s not a long time. But I knew Cal better than anyone.”
“Are you genderqueer too?” Whitney asked.
“No!”
Whitney looked to Bruce, not sure what she’d done to elicit such a loud reaction. People were looking. This was so embarrassing.
“I’m sorry,” Whitney said. “It’s only that, the day Cal died, she—sorry, not she—Cal had on this long dress. And long hair. All very feminine-looking.”
“So what?” Danine asked. “You can be genderqueer and dress femme. You can be genderqueer and dress masc. You can dress however you want.”
“I’m sorry,” Whitney replied. “I don’t know much about these things.”
Danine’s brow furrowed. “Aren’t you trans?”
“Yes,” Whitney replied in a whisper.
The girl looked like she was about to launch into a tirade, but instead she asked, “Wait, did you say you work in a law firm?”
“Yes, I’m a lawyer.”
“Good! You should sue all these news places that keep referring to Cal as a she, girl, woman. Someone needs to set the record straight, and it can’t be me. Cal’s family won’t even let me speak at the funeral.”
“That’s awful,” Bruce commiserated.
“Well, they say it’s because we’d only been dating for three months, but it’s really because they don’t want their darling daughter’s memory tarnished by some raging queer.”
“They said that?” Whitney asked.
“They didn’t have to,” Danine said. “It’s obvious what they think of me.”