Stories from the Crowd: Second Skin, a short story

by Linda Ball

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She waited, drinking what she always did in this lounge, a martini on the rocks. Extra olives for sustenance. She liked coming here because the seats were comfortable and the bartender knew what her ‘usual’ meant. And you could watch the folks on Sixth Street to entertain yourself. Which was good because she didn’t have anything to read and her phone was low on juice. There was always some waiting when meeting Bryan. There were lots of people to watch. Bicycle cops. Riding on sidewalk. Bad example they’re setting. Families piling out of SUVs to eat at the steakhouse. Buff bodies headed to Gold’s next door and returning gleaming with sweat. A few transients. Young couples heading to East Sixth like there was something there of genuine interest. Suddenly there Bryan was in a purple shirt with a subtle pattern. He came in and caught her eye, knew she was looking at the shirt. He held up one foot, pointing. Purple wingtips, just complementing the outfit which, mercifully, included simple black pants.

“Great outfit. Where’d you find those shoes?” she said, getting up to give him a peck on the cheek.
“Why…you want some?”
“Maybe in black!” she said.
“Men’s shoes now?”
She pointed to her shoes. Very nice leather tasseled loafers.
“Guy in Nordstrom’s convinced me he should order these in a Men’s size 7 for me. After I groused about Cole Haan abandoning its casual line to the devil after merging with Nike. Never could wear Nike anything.”
“I just want to be left alone with what I wear, you know. I went through twelve grades of pubic school, four years of college and a couple of years of work before I could wear pants!” she added, warming to the subject. Besides the loafers she was wearing a rather worn pants suit she’d had custom-made years ago and a blouse that was, in fact, a man’s shirt.
“Well,” he said, noting that a nerve had been struck, “Women have so many more choices today. Sure people are looking at my shoes, but if I’d chosen a dress and put on some makeup….”​
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“Would you like to?” She probed.
“Not really. But it isn’t as accepted as your manly look.”

But I have to resist the pressure to wear makeup! It’s funny,” she mused, “How important clothes are to us and how from a young age we crave wearing certain things. Regardless of sexual orientation, I think. We are almost always dressed and our clothes are our advertisements of ourselves, our defense, our second skin.” “Yeah,” he said, As a kid I wanted really bright colors and, if I’m honest, sort of wanted some frills or a dress! Oh, not really a dress, but just, I don’t know.” Suddenly she remembered that Bryan had said he had something important to tell her.

“But what did you want to tell me?” she said, just as the waitress appeared with the glass of white wine he’d signaled her for on the way in. He waited, nodding at the waitress and thanking her. She was off to deliver more drinks across the room.
“Well. Yes. Clayton and I are going to go our separate ways.”
“It’s not a question of fashion, is it?” she said, trying to sound light-hearted but sympathetic. She hated it when friends she liked broke up. These two always had the greatest fashionable outfits. She liked them both so much.
“No,” he smiled. “No, not fashion. Not sex. Just some other things that just won’t mesh.”
She wished it weren’t so. But there is no talking people out of things. She reached in the inside pocket of her jacket and fished for the flyer for a charity event.
“You should come to this. It will be fun and I’m one of the chairs. And Clayton will be out of town, I know.”
Bryan scanned the brochure.
“I may do it. What should I wear?” He laughed. Laughter helps she thought. And purple shoes.

Excerpt From
Stories from the Crowd
Scott Ballew
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