Queens Passing

     The party was drawing to a close. Barry had never met someone as gorgeous and illuminating as Regina. “This night is no ordinary night,” Barry thought to himself. There were a quiver and restlessness in Barry’s stomach. He was wondering if Regina felt it too. A traditional New Year’s Eve party always ended with a kiss, but this kiss was different. Barry and Regina’s kiss would surely be something to remember. “3… 2… 1… Happy New Year!” Barry and Regina kiss. “Happy New Year your grace!” Barry whispered. In the hoopla of ringing in the New Year, Regina slipped away. Barry knew that this would be the last time he saw her.

     Dick Clark had announced the coming of 1984, as he did every year, with his “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve” countdown. Like clockwork, Barry worked those nights and watched the party on television. 

     “Dick, your plastic surgeon must be amazing!”

     Barry looked up at one of the TVs. He stood half-fixated on the tv and half-walking, making his way to see patients. 

     “He doesn’t get work done,” said the charge nurse with a smirk. Barry was a volunteer at St. Vincent’s new AIDS ward, where he spent his nights consoling dying patients during holidays. Since many of the patients were abandoned by their families, these patients were often alone. Barry would spend every New Year’s Eve celebrating with those dying of AIDS. Some were ready to pass, while others were in the midst of receiving treatments. Barry specifically spent time with those who were alone on New Year’s. 

     “I was kicked out when I was fourteen,” one patient recounted to Barry. 

     “So was I!” Barry felt a kinship with the patients. He didn’t have AIDS, but Barry could relate.    

     “Was your dad Irish Catholic?” Barry was quick to respond.

     “Russian Orthodox,” the patient contributed with a warm smile.

     “Where you from?” Barry said as he leaned in.

     “Flah-ridda,” the patient cooed.

     “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Barry replied as he chuckled at his own sarcasm. 

     During the ’80s, Barry was sleeping out of a beater car that he had scraped and saved for. He initially volunteered at St. Vincent’s Hospital during the AIDS crisis. This quickly became ground zero for New York City and AIDS at the time. Almost overnight, Barry’s volunteer work became a job where he could earn a wage. More importantly, Barry would fulfill his calling.  As the money started coming in, Barry still slept in his beater so he could be at work in a hurry. During the holidays, Barry would clear his schedule just so he could sit and listen to a patient. This was a tradition born from Barry’s 1984 celebration with Regina, his “first.” 

     To say Regina was gorgeous would not come close to describing her. Although AIDS had claimed her beauty, one could still see elegance and grace in her eyes, despite her now shriveled and bony appearance. In her heyday, she ruled the runway. “I put the ‘drag’ in Drrraag honey!”  

     Regina would often go on, “My wigs were real hair, my nails were chic, and I could leave my shitty ‘pays the rent’ day job and put it all on, ready to perform faster than Superman could strip down to his red undies and cry ‘Up, up and away!’ bitch!” 

     While daylight was still out, she was David Scully, a meek yet mild-mannered accountant.   

     “David was my shield from coldness and cruelty,” Regina said in her worst Scarlet O’Hara accent. “His tight-ass is somewhere in my tight ass.” 

     Barry couldn’t help but chuckle at Regina’s humor. 

     Regina Fells was aptly named. “I’m always falling in love!” She had loved fiercely and openly and she would pay the price for it. Not long ago, Regina met a handsome stranger at a gay bar. At that time, no one knew to ask if someone had AIDS, let alone did anyone know what “safe” sex was. The community was still trying to figure out what it all meant. AIDS was a monster that people knew little of and it was devouring countless lives. Regina was HIV positive last year & discovered that she developed AIDS when she came down with the flu. This go around, however, Regina felt it all over and deep into her bones.

     “Reg,” as he called her, was one of Barry’s regulars. Barry came by every day to put fresh flowers by her bedside. When she was up for it, she would tell stories of her glory days on the runway. Barry was drawn to Reg. He would savor every word of Reg’s adventures in Drag. 

“Cupcake,” Reg declared, “You look like a French Foreign Legionnaire who just got out of the desert and was in desperate need of a drink!” She was referring to the face Barry made every time he came to listen to her. 

     “Of course, your Grace! You are Grace Kelly and Grace Jones rolled into a strawberry blunt!” 

     They both smiled. 

     “Barry bear… may I call you ‘Barry-bear?’ I’m going to anyway--Barry-bear, why you always so good to me?” She replied while attempting to mask the effort she put into speaking. 

     “Because you’re beautiful Reg. You make it easy. You’re a queen.” Barry always did know what to say. 

     The more she noticed Barry being engrossed in her stories, the more Regina would elaborate--embellish rather. He loved listening and she loved the attention. 

     “I was hit on by Prince Charles once,” Regina toyed with Barry.

     “Get out of town!” 

     “I was! He said I looked like a caramel Camilla,” Regina retorted, committing even more to her story. “At least he said his name was Prince Charles. Come to think of it, his first name may have been Prince and he did wear a shiny suit.”

     Barry had to intervene, “Oh! So ‘Prince Charles’ was your first pimp?”

     “Stop it Barry-bear,” Regina cooed, “Tricks are for kids. Besides, you know Drag Queens don’t do that shit!”

      Many nights passed as Regina told her stories to Barry. He would sit beside her bedside and gaze at her like a boy whose balls had just dropped and had his first celebrity crush. She would stop and gaze back when she ran out of words. 

     Just as quickly as they had met, New Year’s Eve had arrived. Regina was uncharacteristically somber. The doctor had given her 6 months to live and her 6 months were up.

     “Barry-Bear, promise me you’ll never forget me,” Regina said with tears welling up in her eyes.

     “Reg… you’re unforgettable. I couldn't forget you even if I had Alzheimer’s!” Barry was by her bedside as Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve came on tv. He held her hand as Regina made trivial comments. 

     “Dick’s plastic surgeon must be incredible.” 

     “Supposedly, he hasn’t had any surgery,” Barry replied.

     “Well then his deal with the devil must be going well,” Regina said. 

     They both chuckled. 

     “I deserve an Oscar for this death scene,” Regina shared as her voice was fading. 

     As the ball dropped in Times Square and people were cheering, Regina’s breathing became labored. “3… 2… 1… Happy New Year!” Barry and Regina kissed. Regina’s stories reverberated in the moment Barry closed his eyes and kissed her. He had never seen someone else’s life flash before his eyes. The scenes were beautiful. Barry held her as their kiss deepened. Their lips were still intertwined when Regina stopped breathing and her heart monitor flatlined. Barry began to sob. The moment was surreal.

     “Happy New Year your grace,” Barry whispered. In the hoopla of ringing in the New Year, Regina slipped away. Although Barry knew he would never see Reg again, he felt a melancholic joy having been a witness to this queen’s life. As he held her in his arms, Barry knew that nights like this were too important to pass up. This is how Barry would celebrate every New Year’s Eve. He would be there to hear their stories and to witness their beauty one last time.