Chapter 13: Danielle

Charlie was still working for the city as an electrician. She had been assigned to a project where a community clinic was being reconstructed. She had many meetings with Danielle Wilkins, another city worker who was responsible for acquiring the parts and materials needed on the job site. Charlie and Danielle became friendly and started meeting up away from work.

On a Friday night, they went to a LGBT-friendly bar (easy to find in San Francisco) for dancing and drinks. Then, they were in Danielle’s apartment. Then, they were in her bed.

And then they were a couple. Many weeks, Charlie would be gone to work Friday morning, and the next time we would see her would be Monday evening. Radiant.

Charlie described her new relationship, and asked, “I want to bring Danielle here to meet you. Is that alright?”

“Shit, Charlie; this is your house too. You don’t need to ask!” I responded, a little crossly.

And so we met Danielle. She was tall, dark-skinned, African American. Her hair was in a short natural style, close to her scalp. Her voice was whispery, pitched low. But she was friendly and smiled often.

I also noticed she was hand-in-hand with Charlie, and never stopped smiling.

After she left, Charlie asked, “So what did you think?”

“I liked her,” I said. “She makes you happy, I can tell.”

“Sallie?”

“I feel the same. But, Charlie, she’s trans, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is. Is that a problem?”

“Of course not,” Sallie said. “Love is love,” I added.

“That’s good because I have a big request. Danielle is losing her apartment, and I want her to move in here with me. Is that OK with you guys?”

I said, “Your house, too, remember? She’s welcome. But you told her about our nudist ways, right?”

“I told her, but it’s all good. She has always known me as a clothing-hater. And, believe me, naked Danielle is a fine thing indeed. She just said, “When in Rome.”