ME AND
BOBBI© by George
Wilkerson
It's My Party
[Part One: Yes Santa, There is a Virginia]
Ed. Note: Bobbi/George is sharing an internal conversation with us, and in effect, outting herself to the world. We think you'll find her (and his) point of view interesting. Earlier articles in the series can be found at
The Central Texas Transgender Society's Web Site
You can also write to the author
"How many does this make?" she asks.
"Are you talking to me?"
"Is there someone else here?"
I rouse myself. "I'm sorry...I guess I fell asleep."
Bobbi |
She smiles. "Good for you...or for us, that is." She scans the hotel lobby, reporting images: T-gyrls chatting, others walking toward the elevators, some heading for the bar. "I love it," she mutters, then asks again. "How many?"
I shrug. "I don't know...five...six, maybe."
"Well, no matter. We're here and..."
"Bobbi !! Hey !!" a voice shouts across the lobby. "You made it!"
"Just got in," she says.
Laura winks. "Did you bring George?"
She smiles. "Not really...how about Bruce?"
"Left him home...I'm 100% Laura for the next three days."
"Great. Well, let me check in and we'll get a drink. What room are you in?"
"435."
"I'll come get you."
As Laura dashes toward the elevator, I tap Bobbi on the shoulder. "Not really?" I ask. "What does that mean?"
She grins broadly. "It's simple," she says. "Did you pack anything?" she asks.
I shake my head. "You did all the packing. You brought enough for three weeks, not three days."
She raises her eyebrows. "There you go," she says. "That's what it's all about. As far as I'm concerned, you're back home. This is my event."
She turns and walks up to the check-in counter. "Bobbi Williams," she says to the clerk.
A few moments later she's handed the room key. "Thank you, Miss Williams. The elevator is across the lobby."
She turns, waves at the bellhop, and walks toward the elevator. "Miss Williams," she mumbles. "Dontcha just love it?"
"You do, I suppose, but..."
She puts her finger up to my mouth. "I'm only going to say this once," she whispers. "I know everything you have to say. Fantasy and reality, real and imaginary, you and me...." She pushes the button for the seventh floor. " Well, those distinctions are blurred here. I'm real here and you're not. And I don't want to hear anything more about it."
I take a deep breath. The door opens. The elevator walls are floor to ceiling mirrors. Bobbi steps in and looks all around. "I wonder if they did this just for us," she mutters as we step inside. The bellhop follows, and an older woman steps in beside us.
"Virgina?"
George |
The woman turns and looks us up and down.
Bobbi extends her hand. "Virginia Prince. Right?"
They shake hands, although it's more like the hands are hugging. I can feel the warmth and, despite the woman's frown, I can feel something more.
"Yes," she says softly. "Yes...I am."
"You're gushing," I whisper.
"I want to say so much to you," Bobbi says. "I feel like I've known you all my life."
Virginia smiles. "You probably have," she says. "I'm a lot older than you."
We laugh. Bobbi looks at the bellman, who pretends not to hear us, then back at Virginia. "Thank you," she says. "Thank you so much."
Virginia nods as the doors open at the sixth floor. She steps out, turns, and looks back at us. "Just remember," she says. "It's the little things..."
The doors close. Bobbi steps back and the bellman presses number seven again even though it's already lit.
"What did she mean by that?" I ask.
Bobbi shakes her head in exasperation. "If you have to ask," she says, "then you just don't know what this party is all about."
The elevator doors open and we follow the bellhop down the hall and into the room. Bobbi is looking out the window as the bellhop exits. "Will there be anything else, Ma'm?" he asks.
She turns, smiles, and walks over to him and hands him two dollars.
"Thank you Ma'm," he says, pushing the cart in front of him out the door.
"You're very welcome," she says. "And thank you. Thank you," she continues after the door closes, singing and swaying, " for letting me...be myself...again."
|