Other Half

August 29, 2001

The first time Charlie Ray gets teased for having a boy’s name on his wrist, he’s only four years old and his name has only just finished showing on his suntanned skin. The kid teasing him is older and when Charlie Ray starts to get tears in his brown eyes, he pushes Charlie Ray into the mulch.

Running back to his mother, Charlie Ray sits on the green metal bench and she glances over at him. She sees him pouting, bottom lip quivering and waits. Charlie Ray sniffs loudly and crosses his arms over his chest.

The older boy watches Charlie Ray, like he’s waiting to be tattled on.

Charlie Ray doesn’t tell his mother, but they leave the park a few minutes later. She takes her son’s hand and together they walk the short distance home.

“Momma,” he says as she tucks him in that night. “Why I gotta boy name on my arm?”

“Charlie Ray, don’t you worry about that, okay? And don’t go telling your daddy neither,” she says. Charlie Ray nods and she waits until he falls asleep to leave, thinking about what she’ll tell her husband when he comes home.



Charlie Ray wakes to the sound of his daddy’s voice, loud and booming through the small house. He grins in the dark of his bedroom and climbs out of bed. He tiptoes to the hallway and looks into the kitchen. His mother sits at the table, head tilted down.

“What’re we gonna do about this?”

“Tim, there’s nothin’ we can do,” Charlie Ray’s mother says, looking up at her husband.

“I ain’t raisin’ no faggot son.”

Charlie Ray steps into the kitchen, gripping the hem of his t-shirt. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

“Go back to bed, Charlie,” his mother says.

“Momma, is there something wrong with me?”

Charlie Ray’s father takes a deep breath and turns to his wife. “You and Charlie need to go.”

“Tim, where am I supposed to go?”

“Daddy,” Charlie Ray says and starts toward his father.

“Go to your room, Charlie Ray!” He says, loudly, slamming his fist down on the table.

Charlie Ray stares up at his father, brown eyes wide. He turns around after a moment, his mother urging him back towards his room. Bringing a hand up to his face, he rubs at his eyes and crawls back into bed. He pulls a blanket around his shoulders and stares at his closed door and the light coming through the crack underneath it.