Part 2: It had to happen. . . .

Maybe she’s in the bathroom?

 I wandered into the kitchen area mainly just to check that the water heater was off before we left and came across Julie. She was standing motionless, leaning with her left hand on the kitchen counter, her right arm diagonally across her chest; a pained expression on her face.

“Julie…. Julie, are you okay?”

“Hmm…. oh yes sorry, just had a bit of a turn. Mild pains in my chest. Think I’m okay now, though.” She stood upright, the sequins on her lovely purple dress catching the overhead light. “Might be the heavy business lunch I had. It’s been bothering me all afternoon.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look a bit pale.”

“Oh dear, do I?” she smiled. “Must put some more foundation on then. No seriously…. I’m fine, thanks.” A deep breath. “Well, let’s get this show moving. Give me five minutes and I’m done. Don’t want to keep the girls waiting,” she added, and slipped past me back towards the brightly lit area in the living room we used to do our makeup.

We enjoyed our meal as usual and, as regular customers, Luigi the owner made us feel welcome — and treated us to some of his special, heavenly tiramisu dessert. Despite it being the end of a busy week for all of us, the girls appeared to be in good spirits and the conversation ebbed and flowed — mainly about things that only girls like us talk about (think: makeup application; breast forms; places to shop where the sales assistants are welcoming and the clothes and accessories are forever on sale). Sometimes the conversations headed towards matters affecting the male side of our lives plus, as we often did, we talked about the trials and tribulations we and others in our community encounter: engrained discrimination and prejudices against most people in the LGBTIQ community; possible changes in the health care act and, of course, the “bathroom wars”! “Just where do they expect five girls like us to pee when out and about en-femme?” was Clara’s query. “In the street?”

Notwithstanding the apparent joviality of our party, I couldn’t help but think that Julie seemed more subdued than usual yet, as I wasn’t sitting directly next to her, couldn’t really engage her in quiet, questioning conversation. Still, one time, I thought I saw her wince as if in pain and was just about to ask if she was feeling any better when a waiter appeared asking if we were finished and could he finally clear the dessert plates.

Around 9:45 p.m. we left the restaurant and strolled the few minutes into one of the quieter bars/music clubs just off the main strip, mainly for coffees and to continue our general chit chat. The other motive was, of course, to prolong the time we all had out as either just being ourselves or our alter-egos (depending on how you look at it!).

Clara and Rosalind went upstairs to dance for a while and the other three of us settled down for yet more talk about broken nails, laddered tights and, given that spring had arrived, how we all really needed to put in some extra effort to make sure we could still fit last year’s summer outfits….

Conscious as we all were about the pressures of time and the need to get back to our sanctuary, get changed, scrubbed up and head for home, I said I’d be heading off about 11.00 p.m. — and Suzy nodded in concurrence. “If you are staying on a bit longer, I’ll meet you back at the apartment or see you next week ….” I started to say, looking across at Julie.

But Julie was just sitting there in the low-light; staring into space, her face quite blank; her eyes dull. As I was looking at her, she leaned back and snuggled into the back of the soft sofa, closing her eyes momentarily.

“Julie! Are you okay?” cried Suzy who was sitting closest to her. “Julie?”

“Hmm…. what?” mumbled Julie, responding slowly as Suzy shook her shoulder. “Don’t feel so good again, maybe I’d better head off too….”

Something made me shiver and I felt the chill of concern pass through my body as I took in Julie’s posture and the way she spoke.

Moving to sit next to her, I saw her wince again. I put my arm around her shoulder. “Hey, come on Julie, let’s get you out of here. If you’re not well, we’d better get you home. Suzy can you go and find the other two, please?”

I put my hand under Julie’s elbow and tried to help her stand. She gradually co-operated and once standing leaned against me for support. My brain was whirring; thoughts and questions rapidly firing through my brain: Oh… Julie, Julie, I do hope you’re okay. What do we do? Where do we take her? We don’t even know where she lives? And how can she go home dressed like this?

Fortunately, Suzy returned quickly with Rosalind and Clara and with a fair bit of effort we managed to get Julie to the exit and into the open air. As we passed the door staff, I heard Clara say, “She’s not drunk, she’s just not well,” to a couple of youngish men who’d fixed us with curious stares. Unwelcome attention at the best of times!

Outside and Julie didn’t seem to be feeling much better despite the fresh, cool air — all she wanted to do was sit on the edge of the pavement, her legs splayed in a most unladylike  manner.

My earlier bad feeling about the seemed to be proving right. Here we were, five crossdressers on a night out; with a friend who clearly wasn’t well; not sure what to do for the best and also, the least of our worries if truth be told, overtly drawing attention to ourselves as other people went in and came out of the bar/club.

“What shall we do? Oh, what shall we do?” Rosalind twice asked the question that we had all been thinking.

“Best take her to hospital, if you ask me,” said Clara, who was the only one amongst one who had ever done any sort of first aid course.

“All of us?” Suzy enquired. “Like this? En-femme?”

Continued next Monday. . . .

Tags: closeted, crossdressing, featured

Category: Transgender Fun & Entertainment