The Fool's Story

Lonaya Gaston

February 2006

I e'er tell you 'bout that time Iago wen' to C-Street?

That boy pretty an' he know it. He ain't pretty lak how Roderigo pretty, though. Roderigo got roguish beauty, if there can be sech a thing: well-defined jaw, dark curls, dark eyes, an' kissable dimples adornin' both cheeks.

On the other hand, Iago a pretty boy through and through, what wit his short plat'num blonde locks swirlin' 'round his head, his blue eyes lak a li'l white girl's baby doll, his lips lak an after picture in a plastic surgeon's office, an' his slight, muscled dancer's body.

Though, if'n you ask me, the boy look lak a girl. So it ain't no wonder why Emilia wouln' eat but a fourth of food on her plate when she met Iago fo' lunch in the student union betwixt classes. The boy prettier than she is.

And then that poor girl had to go home an' share a suite wit size zero Desdemona. As if she needed mo' remindin' she was fat. As if her mammy didn' do enough remindin' e'er'day she was fat, what wit the email attachments of wonderful water-cabbage diets an' links to websites fo' revolutionary fat burnin' supplements. So it didn' really surprise me none when Emilia put her finger down her throat jus' befo' goin' to bed, jus' after gorgin' on a day's worth of calories in twenty minutes.

And why wouldn' she? E'er time Emilia walked into a bar wit Iago, all eyes immediately wen' to him. E'er time she an' Desdemona wen' to eat in their residence hall cafeteria all heads turn to them flame-curls on Desdemona's head.

So it didn' surprise me none at all when Emilia ended up 'hind closed doors wit Cassio. When he wasn' drinkin' his football scholarship 'way, that boy was good to her. He was compassionate. He was sweet. He let her cry out her jealousy an' her frustration an' her anger. He recommended a healthy diet, a great workout program an' the Good Food Store. Then that sweet drunk of a boy went an' became a bigger fool than me. He fell in love wit Emilia as her body became sleek an' lissome an'---.

Girl, let me stop gossipin' to you 'bout Emilia and Cassio when I'm 'posed to be gossipin' to you 'bout Iago an' that time he wen' to C-Street.

I don' know if the boy really cares one way or the other what people say or think 'bout him. If you ask me, that boy don' care much at all 'bout anythin', 'cept fo' destroyin' what Othello an' Desdemona got wit each other.

None of this prolly wouldn' have happened if people didn' know who Iago was befo' the fact, what with him leadin' the conference in receptions and receivin' yards this year and bein' in that controversial Ambercrombie an' Fitch catalogue spread two years ago, his senior year of high school.

So when he walked into that Gay, Lesbian and Bisexual Alliance meetin' back in September, no one was really all that surprised. But jus' the same, no one was quite sho' what to do wit Iago. E'ryone 'ssumed he was comin' out by goin' to that meetin', but he never said sech when the Palm Tree interviewed him 'bout his sexuality. Iago ain't quite say the opposite either, though. He jus' said he only wanted to be true to hissself an' that he was openly supportin' a group of students he had always 'mired and respected fo' they courage in a place where hatred and prejudice and segregation was readily nurtured. He then went on to comment 'bout how politically incorrect universities could be, 'bout how labels unfairly defined students, an' 'bout how college life could accurately imitate the atrocities of the real world.

And no one was really surprised when that boy put on brazil blue eye shadow, brazil blue lipstick, a padded bra, brazil blue crushed velvet panties, a brazil blue halter top, fishnet stockings, a short, tight li'l brazil blue hoochie-mama skirt an' metallic blue stiletto high heels, then teased those beautiful curls of his so wonderfully gorgeous, and went to C-Street one Thursday night as Savannah Blue.

But when the words fag an pillow-biter was scrawled in near illegible childish script on his locker an' Iago convinced Coach to suspend Othello fo' one game fo' bein' jealous and homophobic, even I was surprised, and I make it my business to know e'rybody else business.

It jus' ain't right fo' someone so wicked to be so pretty.

Lonaya Gaston is a thirty year old freelance writer currently living on the north side of Chicago. Recently, she returned from Japan where she taught English as a second language.