Immaculate Rejection


My landlord's expression was his usual one of barely contained suspicion. He was Irish and his his red face always reminded me of a tightly clenched fist. Angry. He was such an angry man. He had been born and raised in this Boston neighborhood and deeply resented the influx of immigrants, loose hipped ballers and the sexually ambiguous wave of new comers that had changed the complexion of his childhood home. For anonymitys sake (I have a weakness for heavy handed symbolism) I will call him Mr.White.

I had about two minutes to hide Sissy away from the prying eyes or Mr. White. I picked him up and tucked him under my arm like a foot ball and ran down the length of the apartment. I was filled with a brief surge of adrenaline, the kind produced by fear and basic survival instincts. He kicked his well shod feet fitfully and then relaxed, giving in to his fate. I flung open the heavy door of a family armoire that I had inherited. I used it to store my extra blankets. I plopped him on top of the pile where he landed crossed legged. As I shut the door on him, I got a last glimpse of Sissy as he peered up at me, his eyes magnified by his thick glasses. His wig had fallen off somewhere during our head long flight but he was still wearing his customized French maid out fit.

Sebastian had already thrown the tarp over the roll away clothing rack and had tucked it into my bedroom. He was flushed but composed, reclining on my sofa like a courtesan in an oil painting. I scanned the room quickly but there was nothing to indicate anything untoward going on. In fact the apartment never looked better. I steeled myself before opening the door to Mr. White. What could he possibly want? I was suddenly filled with righteous indignation, my annoyance escalating at this untimely intrusion. I opened the door a begrudging crack and peered out like a paranoid shut in.

"Hello Mr. White. How can I help you"?

Mr. White shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and looked down bashfully like one of my clients.

"Um. I'm sorry to bother you, but I am working on the outside of the building. I need to use the bathroom and saw your car in the lot. Could I use your bathroom? I'd never ask but it is kind of an emergency" He looked away in embarrassment. Shit. Literally.

"Sure. Come on in". He stepped inside and gave Sebastian a curious look but I didn't feel I needed to make an introduction. He knew the way but I trailed along behind him. As he closed the bathroom door behind him, I spotted Sissy's limp gray wig in the hallway. I scooped it up and dashed over to the armoire and threw it inside without looking. I then hovered around the kitchen area while Mr.White did his thing. I heard the toilet flush, then running water. I also heard him open up my medicine cabinet, the nosy bastard. Well now he knew that I used condoms and had allergies. What he didn't need to know was that I had a minuscule, cross dressing stow away in my cabinet.

I walked him out and bolted the door behind him and exchanged looks of relief with Sebastien who was obviously enjoying this. I then walked over to the armoire and opened it. Sissy was still sitting obediently atop of my quilts.

"Come on out Sissy. My landlord is gone now." He clambered out and shook out his petticoats, holding his wig in his fist.

"Why don't we wrap things up. You did well and I was most impressed with your efforts". He nodded but I could tell he was visibly shaken. As was I. That was to close for comfort.

Sebastien and I watched him wordlessly as he gathered his things together. I saw him out and told him I would be in touch. But I knew I would never see him again and already I was mourning his loss. My apartment would never be so clean again.

The smell of Murphy's Oil lingered for hours in the air like a beloved's perfume.