Homestyle Cooking
written by: P.A. O’Neil
“Thank you, Ma’am, here is your key and one for your mother as well.”
Raylene Weems smiled as she took the laminated cards from the hotel clerk. “Thank you, now can you tell me which way to the elevator, please?” Her deep voice was countered by the genteel tones of her southern accent.
“Of course, ma’am, it’s at the end of this passage. May I call you a bellhop?”
“No, thank you, it won’t be necessary, I’ve got the bags.”
The older woman standing next to her had been admiring the décor of the hotel lobby, but gasped at Raylene’s comment about carrying the bags.
“C’mon along, Mama, I’d like to rest a bit before headin’ out for The Opry.”
Dinora Weems followed her daughter like a disgruntled puppy into the vacant elevator. The doors had no sooner closed before she voiced her opinion with a drawl. “Honestly, Darlin’, if you insist on livin’ the life of a woman, then you have to stop actin’ like a man.”
Raylene ignored the little woman as she pushed the button to the fourth floor. “Mama, if we had used a bellhop, I would’ve had to have tipped him, and until I get the feel for just how expensive it is around here, I want to be cautious, that’s all. This is only the start of our vacation, and I don’t want to end up needing money to make our way home.”
“If you were so worried about money, then why did you decided to come to Nashville of all places?”
The elevator passed the other floors without stopping but chimed when it reached its destination. Raylene picked up the bags and stepped onto the carpeted hallway. “We discussed this in the car, Mama, you always wanted to see the Grand Ole Opry, and I wanted us to have a nice ‘girls’ weekend’.”
They walked noiselessly down the hall until they came to their room, where, setting down the bags, Raylene inserted the key card, which opened the door into a darkened room. Dinora walked in first, making it all the way to the back of the room, and flung open the drapes. Raylene deposited the bags, placed her purse on the oak dresser, then promptly sat on one of the two meticulously made beds, kicking off her high-heeled shoes in the process.
“Oh, I’ve been wanting to do that since we crossed the state line.”
Dinora placed her purse on the nightstand next to the other bed and gently tested the firmness of the mattress with her hands. “Why you chose to wear those shoes, I don’t know. I mean, I know they are fashionable and all, but really, a pair of travelling flats would’ve been considerably more comfortable.”
“Mama, I waited all my life to be able to wear shoes like these, and I’m going to take every opportunity to do just that.” She picked them up and twisted them around in admiration of their design and heel height. “Even if I do think I’m startin’ a blister on my little toe.”
Dinora picked up the train case and placed it on the dresser. “Where on earth were you able to find shoes that big? Must’ve cost a pretty penny.”
“They did,” Raylene dreamily replied as she neatly placed them to the side of the bed, “but the niche market for larger clothing is more readily available now.”
“For women like you?”
“For women of any kind. What’s Y’all doing?”
Dinora had opened the small case and removed a Styrofoam head. “I want to rest up a bit, but don’t want to mess my hair.” Placing her hands behind her ears, she lifted the wig forward until it was free from her scalp, then gently draped it over the bald head of the dummy. She looked at the image of herself with flattened, close-cropped hair and sighed.
“What’s the matter, Mama?”
Speaking to the reflection of her daughter in the mirror, she replied, “Oh, nothin’, it’s just the more I look at you, the more I see myself as a young woman. Yet, when I look at myself, I see a stranger looking back, and I wonder, ‘Where did I go?’”
Raylene rose to stand beside her mother. “Of course, you see yourself in my face, you’re my mother, I’m supposed to look like you.”
“But it wasn’t supposed to be this way,” still talking to her daughter’s reflection, “I was supposed to have a strong, young son, not—not you.”
Raylene draped her arm over her mother’s shoulders. “Are you saying you don’t love me?”
Dinora’s forehead creased as she closed her eyes. “No, of course I love you, it’s just—I miss you; I miss my little boy!”
Raylene pulled her mother back to sit on the bed.
“My memories—when I think of my child, I don’t see you. I see a beautiful baby, and I think how I’ll never hold my baby again.” Tears started to well up through her closed eyes.
“Mama, I’m here. I’m still and always will be your baby. But time has passed, I grew up, and yes, I may have started life as a boy child, but I have found my path and have now chosen to finish it as a woman. A woman who wants to live in the image of her beautiful mother.
“C’mon, why don’t you stand up, unzip your dress, and I’ll put it in the closet to hang out the wrinkles. That’s good, you can lie down for a rest while I take a shower.”
Dinora, now dressed in her slip, lay down without question and watched her daughter’s preparations. When Raylene removed her bra, Dinora gasped. “Those scars! How that must’ve hurt?”
Raylene looked down at her conical breasts and traced one of the dark maroon scars that ran from underneath them towards her armpit. “Well, the surgery itself was no cakewalk, but what really hurts is the saline injections.”
“Saline injections?”
“Yes, every few months, until the doctor and I agree on a cup size, I have large quantities of saline injected into each breast to fill out the implant. Now, that’s painful!”
“You mean, they couldn’t just put a C or D cup under your skin?”
“Yes, the implant will eventually expand to that size, but in the beginning, the skin just is too tight to receive one so large. So, they put in one, uh, slightly deflated so to speak, and then periodic injections of more fluid allows for the skin to stretch over time. I tell you, Mama, the pain of stretching skin has at times brought me to tears.”
Dinora nodded. “What about down below. Are you scarred like that as well?”
“Yes, but the hair has grown back, so it’s not as noticeable. Do you want to see?”
“No, no, it’s all right.” Dinora rolled over, away from Raylene’s preparations, and softly cried herself to sleep.
***
“Really, Darlin’, you shouldn’t have let me sleep so long, now we’ve missed the hotel shuttle to The Opry, and I surely don’t want to walk.”
“We won’t have to walk, Mama. I’ll get us a cab.” Raylene raised her hand to catch the eye of one of the taxis cruising slowly past the hotel.
“A cab! That costs money, and we have our own car.”
“I know, Mama, but I don’t know the way to The Opry, and I’d rather not pay for parking. We can take a cab over and ride the hotel shuttle back. It’ll be just a minor inconvenience.”
A hatchback with a lit Taxi sign on the top pulled in front, and a middle-aged black man hopped out of the driver’s side, leaving the motor running, to open the door for the women. “To the airport or to dinner, ladies?”
“Neither, sir, we’d like to go to The Grand Old Opry.”
“Yes, ma’am,” He gently, yet securely, closed the door behind the women.
They rode in silence through the streets of Nashville, but Dinora broke the quiet. “By the way, you look very nice tonight.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
“If your late father could only see you now. You know, he was just comin’ to terms with your bein’ Gay, and such, but now with you as a woman…”
“Mama, I don’t think this is the place to discuss it, but I think he would’ve had a hard time with whatever I did with my life.”
“He was so proud of having a son, in fact, that’s why he gave you his father’s name—Raymond.”
“I know, Mama. I could’ve changed my name to anything else, but I kept ‘Raylene’ because of Daddy.”
Dinora drew her lips tight and nodded her head. She watched the doors of the buildings as they passed. The people on the street were few, but up ahead was a large man berating what looked like a teenage girl, having backed her up to a power pole. Even from the distance of the car, she could see the girl cringe.
“Driver, stop the car! Raymond, did you see what that man was doin’ to that girl?”
“Mama, I told you to call me Raylene…”
But, Dinora never heard the retort as she had already thrown open the door and was outside the cab.
“Mama, come back!”
Dinora marched as fast as her short, high-heeled, legs could carry her, purse still hanging off her arm. “Stop it! You there, stop treating that child like that!”
Raylene opened her door but turned back to the driver. “Wait here, please?”
The man wasn’t as tall as he appeared from the car. His large build gave him the appearance of added height as he stood over his victim. “Huh? Stay out of this lady, it’s none of your business.”
Dinora moved to place herself between him and the whimpering creature. “You’re beatin’ on this girl is my business, all right.”
“Girl, that’s no girl, lady. That’s a Fag. A Fag that owes me a blowjob. I gave him twenty-dollars for it.”
“I-I gave the money back, I did!” The blonde-haired teen behind Dinora interjected but cowered again when the man raised his arm as if to strike one or both of his adversaries.
Dinora raised her arm as if to strike back with her handbag, but the voice of another prevented her follow-through.
“Big man likes to strike little women, now does he? How tough are you when there are three women? Are you goin’ to take us all on?” Raylene pulled aside the others and took advantage of the additional height her shoes provided to look down at the angry man.
He took a step backwards. “What’s this all about?”
Raylene spoke for them all. “This is about you leaving all of us alone before the police show up after the video of you bullying three women goes viral.” She pointed back to the cab, where the driver was standing between his door and the car, cell phone in hand.
“You’re all crazy!” The man turned away from the trio, and trotted off, his back to the camera.
Dinora swiftly turned to the person she had been protecting. The man had been correct in his claim that the teen was indeed male, but the dirty, shoulder-length hair, smeared make-up, and plaid skirt over leggings, gave the appearance of being female. “Is it true what he said about him paying you to service him?”
With a lowered head, the teen nodded. “Yes, but my money ran out yesterday morning, and I was hungry. I couldn’t think of another way to raise cash, but I couldn’t go through with it. I did give him his money back,” the tear-stained face raised, “I swear it,” which started a whole new set of tears.
Raylene placed her hand on the youth’s shoulders. “It’s okay now, we’re not here to judge you. Are we, Mama?”
Dinora reached into her purse and pulled out a cotton handkerchief. “That’s right. Now, here, clean up your face.
“My name is Dinora Weems, and this is my daughter, Raylene.” Raylene pulled her own head up to look at her mother. A peaceful smile crossed her face. “There, there now. What’s your name?”
“I call myself Jolie.”
“Jolie, that’s such a pretty name. I believe it’s French. Did your mama give it to you?”
“No, ma’am, my mama is dead. I ran away because my daddy was ashamed of what I am. I gave myself the name.”
Dinora placed her arm in the crook of Jolie’s, and together they walked back to the cab. “Well, no one should be ashamed of who another person believes they are.” She looked up at a smiling Raylene who was accompanying them like a bookend.
The cab driver stood by the open door and made sure each was secure before closing the door. Safely seated behind the wheel, he asked, “Where to now, ladies?”
“I think we’d all like to get something to eat, doesn’t that sound nice?”
“But, Mama, what about The Opry?”
“Shucks, Raylene, The Opry will always be there, besides, we can listen to it on radio if we want. Now, Jolie, how about we go someplace where we can get some good home cookin’?”
“Home cooking, ma’am?”
“Yes, you know, like meatloaf, cornbread, and gravy.”
“Can we get whipped potatoes too?”
“Of course, we can. Driver, take us to a restaurant where we can get homestyle meatloaf, and cornbread, and whipped potatoes with gravy.”
From the rear of the cab, Dinora could seek his broad smile in the rearview mirror. “Yes, ma’am. I know just the place.”
“What will we do after that, Mama? How can we help, Jolie?”
“Mr. Driver—if you can join us for dinner, maybe you can give us some advice about places that can help Jolie, and maybe give her a place to stay while she gets on her feet? They say cab drivers know everything about their town.”
“Why, thank you, ma’am. I am scheduled for dinner break…”
As the two older people chatted, Jolie tugged gently on Raylene’s sleeve. “This is awfully nice of you and your mama to want to help me.”
Raylene patted Jolie’s hand. “That’s my mama. She’s a very understanding woman.”
- Homestyle Cooking - March 30, 2026
- Interview Q&A With P.A. O’Neil - November 18, 2025
- Four Days in an Italian Village - October 23, 2025
