Imaginary Boy

Robyn slammed on his Cure tape, dancing around as a clotted version of “Boys Don’t Cry” came on. Clearly his skills of transferring music from CD to tape didn’t quite cut it back in ninth grade. Still, it made the whole sound of the album seem a little bit older, a little more nostalgic.1

Brushing his blue-black bangs from his face, he started to shimmy around his bedroom, trying to avoid heaps of black clothes and well-read books as he did so. He turned to face the full-length mirror propped up against the wall, gazing over himself. His hair was tousled and wet, as he’d just stepped out of the shower. It hung around his head like a rat’s nest, making him look a bit like Robert Smith. How appropriate, he thought with a wry grin, hazel eyes sparkling. From his ears several hoops hung, making a quick rainbow. One on his left ear, followed by three on his right. He was working his way slowly up his ear, liking the asymmetrical look of it all. 2

He was dressed simply for today. A rumpled and slightly baggy black button-up shirt and a pair of skinny lounge pants, also black. Leaning over his dresser, he found his favorite earring - the one with the long bone dangling from it and the ankh stud at the top. He switched out the ring on his left ear for it and smiled again to himself as he hummed along with the tape.3

There wasn’t much going on today. Robyn’s friends were all out, and there wasn’t really anyone to talk to online. Not to mention that he’d finished reading every page of the Writhe and Shine online comic earlier this afternoon. He tapped a black-tipped finger against his lips, wondering what he should do today. It was an unusually cool day for June, probably a good time to take a walk to the thrift store, even though he was low on cash. 4

Slipping on his comfy pair of sneakers, Robyn grabbed his keys and wallet and shut off the Cure tape. He made his way out of the apartment building where he lived, a small and only slightly shabby place where the rent was cheap and the neighbors weren’t too nosy. The soles of his shoes slapped rhythmically against the sidewalk as he strolled towards the nearest Goodwill, humming to himself. The city was thriving. The college kids who had their own places in the city were milling around, businessmen were hurriedly making their way towards their cars or offices, chattering on their cell phones, and unemployed guys were standing around on street corners, asking for spare change.5

A few people glanced to Robyn as he walked, and he wondered why they would look his way. Perhaps they knew him from his art shows. His picture had been in the paper once, though small and in grainy black and white. Or maybe it was because he was dressed like a typical starving artist goth boy. But the paranoid side of him thought maybe they could see the carefully bound breasts underneath the large shirt he had on. Maybe they thought his face seemed a little too fine-boned to be a “real” boy’s. Maybe everyone in the world had a radar deep in their subconscious that told them that this creature walking past them wasn’t completely a boy, that he had gender issues, that unfortunately, it was his time-of-the-month.6

Robyn shook his head with a scowl, urging himself silently to stop thinking so negatively. Nobody can tell, he promised himself. And even if they can? Screw ‘em. He smiled at that and opened the door of the Goodwill, peering in. A few old ladies were in line, and behind the counter was a scruffy bearded, sandy haired indie-youth. Robyn couldn’t help but look over the boy as he strolled in. He had a bit of a weakness for the indie types, even if a lot of them were pretentious snobs. At least they were cute to look at.7

He started for the women’s section out of habit, forcing down the paranoia that he would somehow be caught or exposed as a female-bodied boy. But he reminded himself that it was fashionable for boys to wear girl’s jeans these days, and anyway, what the fuck did gender matter anyway? He pulled out a pair of black ones, eyeing them up. They looked slightly comfy. He usually didn’t wear regular blue jeans, except when he was painting. As he wandered the store, perusing the men’s blazers, his ears perked up at the music playing through the store. It was The Cure’s “Why Can’t I Be You?”. He chuckled at the coincidence that this particular band would be playing and mouthed along with the words happily.8

“You kinda look like Robert Smith, you know that? I mean, if he was waif-thin.” A voice from behind Robyn made him spin around to see who was speaking to him. A boy about his height, spiky black hair with a blue streak of bangs hanging down over his face. He has a slightly rounder face than Robyn and a wide, easy smile. His eyes sparkled blue as he met Robyn’s for just a moment and his fingers nervously adjusted the hem of the army green shirt he had on.9

Robyn grinned shyly and nodded. “Yeah, I get that a lot,” he replied with a soft laugh. “But it’s cool. I don’t mind being compared to him.”10

The other boy smiled, giving a quick nod of understanding. “So what’s your name? I’m Monroe. My parents were gonna name me Marilyn if I was a girl, so instead I got stuck with the quirky first name.”11

Robyn chuckled, shifting the clothes he had draped over his arm to the other arm. “I’m Robyn. My dad’s a big comic book geek, so obvious guess as to where he got my name.” He grinned, wondering what had made this cute boy come up to him in the first place.12

“I’ll refrain from any Batman jokes, I promise,” Monroe replied. “Or at least, I’ll really try. It’s gonna be pretty hard though.”13

Robyn shook his head with a laugh. “Don’t worry. I like Batman. I mean, he’s not as cool as.. The Sandman, but you can’t win at everything, right?”14

“Sandman, figures,” Monroe teased softly. “Typical goth boy answer. God, I almost expected you to say something about wanting to fellate Jhonen Vasquez.”15

“Well, I do, but that’s a whole other story,” Robyn giggled before turning his head, eyes catching the glint of the tape rack in the back of the store. Monroe noted the glance and grinned.16

“There’s not much back there except a few old Poison tapes, and I really doubt you’re the kind of guy to dig hair metal. But hey, I know a really good place nearby that has music and comics, if you wanna go.” Monroe seemed a bit shy at the request, but the hopeful look in his eyes said he could really do with a new friend.17

Robyn beamed and nodded. “Oh yeah! I haven’t been there in forever.” He looked to the armful of clothes and slung them over the nearest rack. “Who needs clothes when I can have music and comics?”18

“Yeah, you can just go naked!” Monroe chirped in, his cheeks a light shade of pink as he spoke.19

Robyn could feel his own cheeks heating up and he laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t think anybody really wants to see that,” he replied quietly before perking back up. “Come on. To the comic book store, Batman!” He pointed towards the door and darted towards it, Monroe laughing and trailing after him, leaving the place in a whirl.