Change

The MWL was arguing with his friend Wipper about change. It was a topic they argued about frequently. In fact, their argument about change was the one unchanging thing about their relationship.

What bothered Wipper was the MWL's insistence that change was an illusion. "Change is real," Wipper would assert vehemently, inviting his friend to an equally forceful reply.

"Change is collective pretend," the MWL would answer quietly, "it's an illusion."

"Change is real," Wipper would respond, barely retaining control, "change is forever."

"You mean it's unchanging," the MWL would assert.

"Change stands behind its illusions," Wipper would yell angrily.

"Change is reality making believe it's making up its mind. It's a matter of what you choose to believe, that's all," the MWL would state perversely.

Actually the MWL had abandoned Plato about the time he gave up American cheese, but he did not know how he could keep his friendship with Wipper going unless they had something to argue about. For a long time, he had tried to find another topic for them to fight over, but Wipper clung tenaciously to change as a basis for the difference between them. Since the difference kept them together, the MWL decided not to change in a little way, for the sake of not changing in a big way.

As Wipper searched for a response to the MWL's last assault, Klinger, the neighborhood transsexual turned the corner into their argument. Klinger was the 'neighborhood transsexual' not because he was the only transsexual who lived in the neighborhood, but because he was the only one whose transexuality belonged as much to the people who lived around him as it did to him personally.

Of course Klinger wasn't his real name. His real name was Bill or Beatrice depending on which set of clothing he was wearing.

As long as it was definite which was most of the time whether she was a he, or he was a she, was a matter of indifference to the neighborhood. This indifference to inessential things was one of the neighborhood's better qualities. It was only between sexes, when it was impossible to tell whether he was Bill or Beatrice, that people got angry at him or her. One of the ways people in the neighborhood coped with this problem was to give him a third name, a nickname that they could use when his sex was indeterminate. Hence 'Klinger', out of respect for 'Mash'.

"Well, Klinger," the MWL said cheerfully, grateful for the interruption, "how are you?"

"Fine, better than fine," Klinger replied. "I'm going to have an operation." He seemed to call attention to the skirt he was wearing, de-emphasizing the man's jacket and tie.

"Well, Bill," Wipper said, incorrectly solving the mystery of what identity Klinger was claiming," that's wonderful."

"What are you doing with Bill's clothing?" asked the MWL innocently.

"I'm giving them to my roommate," Beatrice replied. "Why?"

"Nothing," said the MWL, thinking of the plaid jacket he had admired for a long time.

"When are you having the operation?" Wipper inquired.

"Two weeks, in Little Rock, there's clinic. They do it very cheaply. It's something I wanted to do for a long time. I have to run," she said.

"Well, good luck," Wipper said, and they watched Beatrice hugging the curb, move down the street, rather daintily, the MWL thought.

As a matter of indifference to the neighborhood, Klinger usually appeared in conversations as an example, to make some point, which is exactly how Wipper used him.

"Take Bill's operation," Wipper said.

"Or Beatrice's operation," the MWL corrected him.

"Take Klinger's operation," Wipper continued unfazed, homing in on his point. "Now there's a change. The worst kind of change too, the permanent kind."

"Change is an illusion," the MWL repeated intransigently.

"You tell that to him," Wipper demanded. "Tell Bill change is an illusion. He is going to part with a piece of him that he's carted around for a long time. Tell him the operation is an illusion. Tell him that male to female is no change."

The MWL thought for a moment. Wipper watched him pick his way among the debris of ideas that Kilinger had left in his wake.

"Why should I tell him?" the MWL said quietly, dragging out his words, "she'll find out soon enough."

Wipper caved in, not to the logic of the argument he told himself, but to the precision of its statement."I give up. How about coffee and a croissant?" And they went off.