The Stonewall Inn

By Marlie Smith

Cups clinked around me; distant chatter filled my ears. The familiar smell of the bar was a comfort, and even though I didn’t really enjoy drinking, the environment was all I came for. That and the people, they were all like me. I sat at a table near one of the windows, and I listened in to the table next to me. I heard hushed voices, talking of rumors.  

“…but the police have already shown up. I’m scared,” a woman on the shorter side said. 

Another woman, sitting across from the former, calmly reassured her.

“It’ll be fine. They’ve only come once or twice; we should be ok. If it makes you feel any better, we can leave soon.”  

The women both looked around my age, early twenties. I heard other people talking about similar things. I hadn’t been to the bar in a bit, and I was hoping the police were not aware of our little place. I checked a clock on the wall. 

“Shoot. It’s already eight. I gotta get home and feed Richard,” I said quietly while grabbing my things, stuffing them into my bag. 

I slipped out of the small building, looking back at its brick walls, and reading the red lettering on the outside of the window.

“The Stonewall Inn.”

I smiled before walking towards my apartment building. The walk home was always scary. It was dark, and it was obvious where I had been walking from. I tried to walk confidently, more masculine. Maybe if it was obvious that I was a guy people wouldn’t think anything. I tugged at my sweater, pulling it away from my chest for a moment and letting it fall back down. I did that often, making sure I looked as flat as possible.  

I arrived at my apartment, I flung open the door and walked up the first flight of stairs. I watched my feet, counting the stairs in my head as I walked up. Suddenly, I felt something hit my shoulder, and I saw an extra pair of feet step next to mine.  

“Faggot.” 

I flinched but kept my eyes at my feet. I knew not to engage when that word was said. It was a word I knew very well; it had become a second name for me. I walked up the remaining steps and reached into my bag, blindly grabbing at things in my bag before I reached my keys. I heard rustling from inside my room. I unlocked the door and stepped in, immediately greeted by my small, pudgy orange cat.  

“Hey Richie!” I said as I bent over and picked him up. He sat around my shoulders as I prepared dinner for him. I spooned his food into his bowl and placed it on the floor. Richie leapt off my shoulders and started eating.  

“Good boy, Richie.” I patted his head a few times before I walked into the bathroom, lightly shutting the door behind me. I pulled my sweater off over my head and looked at myself in the mirror. I examined myself, and the tape I had put around my chest. I peel the tape off slowly at first, wincing at the sting, before ripping it off like a band aid. I avoided eye contact with myself through the mirror, quickly throwing my sweater back on and exiting the bathroom.

I looked around my small apartment, spotting my bed and climbing in, falling asleep right when my head hit the pillow. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

I woke up to loud knocking coming from my front door.  

“Ugghhh.” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as I lifted myself from my bed. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I shouted over the loud knocking. I twisted the doorknob and flung the door open. 

“Yes? Hello?” I said, letting out a sigh. The man at the door owned the apartments; I never remembered his name. 

“Rent. This is the last time I’ll remind you, Emma.” I winced at his use of that name. “If I have to come back to this damn room, I’m kicking you out.”  

“I know, I know. I have the money, let me grab it.” I said, leaving the door open and opening the drawer of my nightstand. I grabbed an envelope and took a few bills out, walking back and handing it to the man in the door. “Here.”

He counted it in front of me, giving me a dirty look before stuffing the cash into his pockets and leaving. I checked the time; I was almost late for work. I shut the door and walked into the bathroom. “I don’t care how late I am. I’m not forgetting this today.” 

I opened my medicine cabinet and took the tape out, ripping it from itself with a loud stretching sound. Throwing the sweater I had fallen asleep in onto to the floor, I pulled my skin to the side and started layering on the tape. It was a routine I had gotten used to, and it became less annoying over time.

I walked out of the bathroom and grabbed a new shirt. I checked the time again. Now, I was officially going to be late.  

I worked at a small boutique, which was within walking distance of my apartment. I always walk by the Stonewall Inn on the way to work, but today something was different. I noticed maybe half a dozen police cars lined up outside, almost blocking off the road. I tried my best not to seem too interested, but the Inn was my safe space. If those rumors I heard were true, who knows what could happen to it.

I made eye contact with the ground and weaved through the police cars. I arrived at my place of work and opened the light pink door, causing a bell above it to ring.  

Work was slow as usual, and before I knew it, the workday was over. I started my walk back home, noticing that the police cars in front of the Inn had doubled. People were being yanked out of the Inn and were being thrown onto the hoods of the policemen’s cars.

I was horrified. I wanted to help but I could barely understand what was happening. I knew I couldn’t just walk away. My ears were filled with screaming from both sides. The officers were getting physical. I saw people like me being tossed to the ground, people like me being stepped on and trampled, people like me getting hit with batons. I was frozen.

I heard a loud crash to my right, and whipped my head towards the sound almost immediately.  

“A brick?” I squinted my eyes at the orange rectangle that had just made contact with a police officer’s wind shield. “A brick.” I restate, now sure of it. I heard more crashes from the left and from the right of me. I could barely differentiate any noise anymore. The yelling from the police, the yelling from the Inn, the crashes. Everything blended together.

Then, I heard one more crash. This one was much closer. I started to cover my head, but I was too late. Tiny shards of glass and debris flung into my face. I closed my eyes, but it didn’t help.  My eyes stung; my whole face stung. My left eye hurt much more than my right, but I knew they were both injured. I tried to keep quiet and not draw attention to myself when suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around me. 

“Are you alright?” I heard a soft voice ask me. 

“I…I don’t know, I…” I could barely get my sentence out. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Can you tell me where you live?” 

I didn’t want to just give out my address, but I couldn’t open my eyes, and there were still crashes and shouting coming from all directions. I made the decision fast and told the voice my address. 

“Okay, I think we can walk there.”  

I started to feel woozy, and my legs began to tremble. I tried my best to keep walking. I heard the screaming and crashing get farther and farther, until we were in front of my apartment building. I tried my best not to trip up the stairs, the voice giving me as much time as I needed. We entered my room, and I felt Richie’s paw at my legs.  

“Richie!” I patted him on the head and kept walking towards the bathroom. The voice pushed the door open and continued to walk me in.

I sat down at the end of my bathtub. “There should be some first aid stuff under the sink, and in the medicine cabinet…” I paused, realizing I had no name for the voice that had been helping me, “What’s your name?” 

The voice sighed before answering; “Jack.”  

I could hear a smile in his voice when he spoke. I heard the cabinets open and close, and I heard bottles clinking around.  

“This is gonna sting,” Jack warned me. I felt a harsh sting on my left eye lid, and pressure around my eyebrow. I sucked air in through my teeth.  

“Sorry.” Jack said quietly. “It’ll only hurt for a bit.” 

Jack continued to clean my wounds; I had no sense of time and my whole face ached and stung. My right eye was ok, but there was permanent damage done to my left.  

“So,” I started, “Why were you at Stonewall?”

“Why was I at Stonewall?” He repeated my question. “Why do you think?” He let out a small laugh. 

“I guess it is pretty obvious,” I chuckled. 

“That scene out there was pretty crazy. I hope this whole fight thing with the cops and the Inn is over,” Jack sighed. 

“No, the fight isn’t over yet,” I said. I put a hand over my bandaged eye. “It’s just getting started.”