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“To tell you the truth, I was sacred. I know I’m not a goddamn flitty.
But when I saw old Luce at sitting in that creeky old bar stool, I knew he would know.
The bar wasn’t all that impressive. Old wooden stools seated next to even older looking tables. The whole place smelled like sweaty old losers who had nothing better to do then laze around the bar and hit on the cute looking bartenders who are half their age. I hated people like that, because you could clearly tell that the girls didn’t like them. It was uncomfortable to watch. Uncomfortable like when I had to where that suit when to Phoebe’s 5th grade graduation. Or like that uncomfortable feeling you get when people call you “sir”. It was hard to watch these grown men hit on girls who are young enough to be their children.
I’d rather be a flitty then become one of those guys. But being a flit would be bad too. Every time I’m around old Luce, I got worried he’d smell that shit on me. That next time I saw him he’d know their was something wrong with me.”
“Why are you so scared of being called a ‘flit?” The psychologist had asked me. They had required I see her after my trip around New York. She was phonier then everyone at Princely combine, she rarely asked questions. When she did, it was pointless shit like this.
“No one wants to be a goddamn flit” that’s the bullshit you get bullied for. Everyone Luce had outted had killed themselves, and I don’t blame them. Most of the guys at Princey were phonies, but that’s the one thing they got right. Being a flit or lesbian was wrong. Asking why I was scared was like asking Ackley to brush his teeth or wash his hands after he masterbated, it was pointless.
“Why?” Why, why, why, that’s all they ever asked. The truth is I don’t know. That’s just how it is. I don’t know until it happens, and sometimes I just don’t know.
“Why should I know?” I had asked her, I didn’t know why she expected me to know so much about nothing. It didn’t matter. I knew being a flit was bad, that was all that matters. I just have to try and not be one, easy.
“You should know why your scared of things Holden, it can help you over come the fears.” That was the stupid explanation she game me. She always game me some phony answer like that. And the ‘Holden’, it was awful, it dragged on. I hated the way people stayed my name. I don’t know why, and I don’t care why. I hated it, that’s all I needed to know.
“I’ve been listening to your life story for a while Holden. And I have an exercise I want you to try.” Oh god not again. They always wanted me to do this useless exercises that made no since. It was always a waste of time. That’s what this whole ‘mental health retreat’ was. A waste of my goddamn time. A waste of everyone’s time.
“Holden, I want you to image yourself in the other people shoes. I want you to image your the guy at the bar, image your old Luce, image your the girls getting hit on at the bar. Just try and think what their thinking. Think about how you would feel in that situation. How do you feel about yourself, about how you are. Think about that as you imagine.” Maybe this therapist should be the one in the loony box. This was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. It was almost worse then acting. Why should I care what these strangers are feeling.
Whatever. “If I was those old men hitting on girls old enough to be my daughter, I would kill my self, or I would hope someone would come up and kill me.”
“And if I was old Luce I would call anyone I don’t line a flit, I would calm the guys at the bar flits, just in the hopes that they killed themselves.”
“If I was one of the girls…”
“I”
What would I do as a girl?
I’d for sure change my name, Holden isn’t a good girls name. Maybe Haley? I’d also burn every suit I have, I’d get all those nice sparkly dresses that I’ve seen the girls where to school dances. I don’t think I could wear necklaces, bracelets or rings like I saw on some of the girls mixing drinks. Maybe earrings though, it’s always nice to see a girl with some cute and simple gems on her ears, I get jealous of their pierced ears at times.
If I was a girl I wouldn’t work at a dingy bar like the one I met Luce at. I’d work at some nice library, or coffee shop. Somewhere where I’d get asked for my opinion, even if no one took it. A book store would be nice, I would know what to recommend to people. I’d recommend Luce some sweet romance book. I’d recommend this therapist a book on how to do her job. Maybe “Don’t Ask Stupid Questions” by Black Sheep.
If I was a girl I’d settle down with a nice guy after working at my library for a few years. A nice guy who knows how to dance.
“I’m not a girl” I spit out the reply, this game is dumb. Why would I pretend to be someone I’m not. Someone I can’t ever be. It’s pointless.
“Do you want to be.” It was a dumb response, I can’t be, why entertain the idea.
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The next few months we’re weird. The phycologist was still stuck on the goddamn game she forced him to play. It was a pointless game to start out with, why drag it on so long? I hated when people did that. Take something and run too far with it. I hate when people are so obsessed with pointless things like that, it’s bullshit.
But she insisted.
She really wanted me to pretend I was one of the girls at the bar. She’s bringing it up everyone conversation, it got old. It got so old she had to start bringing me some of her old cloths and stuff, I guess she wanted my outfit to match how old this conversation had gotten.
And to tell you the truth, it was nice. I’d always made fun of actors for being so phony, but this wasn’t half bad. The dresses were nice and comfortable, why didn’t more people wear dresses? They were nice.
And maybe Haley was better then Holden.