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The blade skritched across the thin skin of the wrist, pulling it slightly, catching on the ridges of scar tissue. She changed the blade’s direction again and again. The movements were trance like. Back and forth the blade moved, like the hypnotic sway of a snake gazing at its prey. Fine hairs caught in the movements cut and drifted down to the satin leg of her pajamas. She was lost in the movement of the blade.

The music wove around her in a tangle of drums and guitars, seeping through the room, and she immersed herself in the tide of music, the flow, rhythm, breathing deeply and evenly, eyes closed lightly watching something that serpentined inside. Something that flowed up her arms and out her hands.

The music danced her body in the chair. The blade wove through the air and again over the ridged skin of the wrist. The candlelight pooled wetly over the steel and the skin, incense curling towards the ceiling, eddies forming and breaking apart with the movement. The scent of sandalwood filled her brown hair, mingling with the flowery scent of her shampoo. Her heart relaxed from the daily tension in the embrace of steel and sound. Here there was peace.

The wa, the spirit of the room, shifted. Her spirit was disturbed as the door opened and breath rushed in to be held. Tension returned to the room - to her, crashing like waves against her soul. She turned her head slowly to the left, cracking open one brown eye and then the other to see what, or rather who, had disturbed her moment of solace with sound and steel.

Her brother stood in the doorway, broad shouldered and muscle ridden, eyes transfixed on the blade, which still rocked back and forth lazily across her wrist. The moment hung there heavy until the CD player chunked as it shifted to another song. She could see the tightness along his clenched jaw, reflecting candlelight across the stubble. His eyes were dancing with anger and worry. She raised an eyebrow in question.

Her brother glared at her, trying to loom menacingly, while he growled out, “What are you doing!?”

“Listening to music. Why didn’t you knock?” She asked, purposefully evading his question and redirecting it towards his disturbance of her privacy. The knife never wavered in its slow movements along her arm. His eyes followed it.

“John, are you going to slash your wrists open again?” This time his words were more measured and exact. There was something in his tone that she couldn’t quite catch, something hidden and cold.

Her eyebrows rose in question. The blade paused in its movement and hovered there along her wrist.

“The knife. What are you doing?” There was an edge of concern that tremored his voice. She noted that his face seemed a little paler, his eyes pinched with something more than concern. He seemed completely focused on the blade by her wrist.

She turned quickly in her seat, letting her hand with the blade drop down beside her leg in a natural extension of the movement. Some of the tension that filled the room bled out of him at that point. She could almost hear the sigh of relief he made. His eyes unclenched a little. She paused watching him watching the blade.

She wiped along her PJ bottoms, cleaning the blade out of habit. Without taking her eyes off her brother, she picked up the sheath from where she had placed it, near at hand. The blade slid easily home. She placed the sheathed blade on the small table by her chair. As she moved her hand away from it he relaxed even more. “Is that better?”

“Thank you. It still unnerves me to see you with one of those in your hands after last year. It just makes me nervous.” He remained in the doorway as the music played on, moving sinuously.

“Is there something I can help you with David?” She kept most of the annoyance from his interruption of her personal time out of her voice due to lots of practice. She had gotten lots of practice in the last year. It did her little good to argue with her brother. Most of the time she just wanted to be on her own, alone, with no one to bother her. Instead she was trapped, feeling smothered by the presence of her brother. At least she had escaped the scrutiny of her parents. Life had changed her.

“Mom’s on the phone.”

She sighed and stood, straightening her PJs from where they had shifted on her. David stepped aside and followed her out into the living room. She rolled her eyes at this but said nothing. Being treated as if she was going to kill herself at any moment was getting old. David didn’t trust her not to try again, and there was something else between them that she could not figure out. Sometimes it was like being on the locked ward again.

The cordless phone sat on the coffee table in front of the TV, next to a bottle of beer that David had obviously been drinking. There was another empty bottle next to it. As she picked the phone up David sat down and turned his attention back to his baseball game and his beer. She took the phone and walked over to the area that passed for their kitchen and dining room.

“Yes Mom, what is it?”

“John?” The voice wavered nervously. David had probably mentioned the whole knife thing to her more than once. She found the blade soothing for her nerves but it drove others up the wall. Her shrink wasn’t very happy with the practice but agreed that helping her relax was an important part of her therapy and her transition.

“Mom, I told you not to call me that. My name’s Deirdre now. Remember?” There were traces of annoyance in her voice. This was not the first time she had to chide her mom over the name thing. It was getting old having to constantly go over the same argument.

“Sorry, Deirdre. I’m still getting used to that. I’ll try to be better about that.” Her mother sounded sincere. Her mom may have had troubles with all of this but she was at least trying to cope with it all. “I was calling to see how you were doing and how you are feeling?”

“Not too bad, all things considered, Mom. It’s still about a week until classes start. I have gotten all of my books and supplies, so I am mostly ready. My schedule isn’t too rough, though. That should help a lot. I scheduled free time, like you suggested.” Deirdre sighed a little. Her mom had been calling her about two or three times a day since she and David had reached the apartment they were forced to share. It had been bad right after they had arrived. Hopefully the phone calls would drop to once a day and then maybe once a week. There was such a thing as too much parental advice and concern.

Their apartment was not that much, a two bedroom with the kitchen and living room open to each other. Thankfully there was no shared bathroom. Deirdre was not sure if her brother could have handled sharing a bathroom with her. He barely seemed pleased to even be sharing an apartment, but their parents had insisted on it. She definitely would have preferred to be alone. David seemed to want that as well, but the events of last year seemed to keep that from happening. Maybe a year from now their parents would allow that.

“I meant otherwise. You’ve already told me about school.”

“Uh...not too bad. I haven’t been too depressed lately. My medication is fine. Dr. Hendricks said that my blood levels were good and everything is going normally. If things keep going well, they are thinking of lowering my levels of anti-depressants.” She hoped her mom would be satisfied with that. She got tired of having to explain her emotional state all the time. This high level of scrutiny kept her from just relaxing and live.

“That’s good to hear. We don’t want a repeat of last year. If things get bad call me or your doctor. We want to make sure you’re alright. Have you made any new friends?”

“Not yet Mom. When school starts I should be fine. I’ll actually be able to meet more people.” She sighed again; she didn’t want to go through this conversation again. “Look can I get going? I was going to make some dinner for the two of us and call it an early night. I’m tired.”

Deirdre watched as David picked up his keys and shook his head, mouthing no emphatically. She looked questioningly at him as he stalked toward the door. He scowled and headed out. Thankfully the door closed quietly.

“Well, alright then. You take care of yourself Sweetie. Stay safe. I love you.”

“Bye mom. I love you too.” She heard the phone click off. She sighed for a third time. Thankfully David was gone and she would not have to put up with his shit, his petty treatment of her for the rest of the evening. Once he left he was usually gone for several hours.

David still refused to call her by her name, despite the fact that it had been legally hers for the last five months. He never wanted to talk about what she was going through. If it had not been for her parent’s insistence she doubted if David would have ever talked to or have seen her again. Living with him didn’t help making her feel any better; in fact it made her uncomfortable. When he looked at her, his gaze always seemed to carry disgust and anger. It made her skin crawl. There was something about David that made her a little twitchy. He seemed to be somehow offended by her choice, as if suffering and dying were preferred to living and being happy. He clearly didn’t want her to be a girl.

Deirdre didn’t regret the decision to go through gender transition. Things had gotten better after she has started along this path. It had been difficult and often painful but she felt something besides bone deep sorrow for a change. The Hormone Replacement Therapy had really changed things dramatically and that had surprised her. And it wasn’t just the physical changes she was going through either. Her thoughts had gotten clearer which had helped her state of mind, and her grades. School had gotten easier and her mom was proud of her grades.

Hopefully, life would be good now that she had gotten her name changed, fixed all of her records and transferred to a new Junior College. She felt as if she had made a new start, had been reborn in some deeply fundamental way. The same old fears had followed her but many other things no longer haunted her. She wasn’t sure why she was so surprised that while one part of her life changed the others didn’t. She was still getting used to the fact that changing gender or more to the point discovering her actual gender didn’t solve all of her problems.

Deirdre brushed back a lock of her brown hair from her eyes, tucking it back behind her ear. She was hungry and if David was gone she wouldn’t have to cook for two. And she wouldn’t have to listen to comments about the weirdness of her food. A bickering free evening would be a nice change.

She got out a pot, filed it halfway with water and started it boiling on the stove. She pulled out some ramen noodles, an egg, and a slice of American cheese from the refrigerator. Once the noodles were done she mixed in the seasonings and tossed in the egg and cheese. It smelled really good. It may have looked horrid but it tasted nice. Chris had taught her this little cooking trick back in high school. It was tasty but looked like a swamp.

She hadn’t thought about Chris for a while, not since their fight after this all came out, the first in a series of friendship losses. Deirdre was not sure why there seemed to have been such a sense of betrayal from so many people. Chris had acted as if he...as if she had betrayed everything that was holy and sacred between them when she had started on this path. No one seemed to remember that the path was the other option. The first had been release.

She looked at the thin white scars across her wrists. The pain that had led up to that night had faded as had the despair and soul crushing sadness. She couldn’t look or be like she wanted and the dissonance in her life couldn’t be resolved. Just another regret. She had been drowning in regrets with no one to confide in. That sorrow had drawn the bath and slit her wrists. She had been left with picking up the pieces.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. The last thing she needed was to drive herself into another depressive cycle. She sighed and started cleaning up after herself. Not much to it and it meant David had one less thing to bitch about. David couldn’t call her a slob any more, of that she was glad. Deirdre had not taken care of herself when she had been John, she had utterly ignored her body. She had dressed poorly and had cultivated bad hygiene. Now she was getting the body she wanted. And she meant to take better care of herself from now on. She was happy and wanted to be healthy.

She looked around the apartment, though there really wasn’t much to it. Two bedrooms, bathrooms, a living room, dining room and kitchen. It felt large and spacious whenever David was not home, but close and tight when he was. David usually sprawled out on the couch, taking ownership of the television and of the living room. Since the couch was the only chair in the living room she couldn’t be in there unless she dragged in one of the chairs from the dining room. Yet since he also dominated the remote, the TV was always on what he wanted to watch. She hadn’t liked sports so that left her in her room, reading or on the computer. She didn’t see any way to reach a compromise with him. When she tried David would scowl and turn up the volume on the TV.

She paced through the rooms, dodging furniture. She wanted to do something, get out of this little hamster cage, but she knew no one and barely knew the area. Her thoughts drifted over registration a couple of days ago and all the clubs hawking their existence. She had gotten info from two of them: the gaming club and the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Support group. She hoped that she would be able to make some friends in both groups. The GLBT flyer had a couple of contact numbers listed. Maybe she could call and talk to someone. That should help. After all she had no friends since her transition. Maybe some of the GLBT folks would accept her without calling her a freak. It would be a nice change of pace.

The pile of school stuff in her room had yet to be sorted. She moved books aside and looked into various notebooks until she found the pink flyer. The two contacts were listed on the flyer as Jack and Jill. She smiled, remembering the joke Jack had made about that. Jack had seemed to be really nice, really approachable. She took the cordless phone into her room and dialed Jack’s number.

After a few rings the answering machine picked up. “Hello, this is Mark and Jack’s apartment. Neither of them are here right now. If you would please leave your name and number, they’ll try to get back to you...maybe.”

Beep. “Uh...Jack, this is Deirdre. We met at the booth the other day. I was just trying to find someone to talk to as I’m bored at the moment and I don’t know anybody. I guess I’ll talk to you later.”

She hung up the phone. She was starting to feel a little more down. It was lonely and none of the neighbors seemed to be disposed to talk to the shy little T-girl. She hoped none of them knew she was a T-girl. And to be honest, she had little interest in talking to them.

She dialed the other number on the flyer. Hopefully Jill would be there. She hadn’t been as approachable but she had been friendly. After two rings someone picked up. A pleasant female voice answered, “Hello, it’s your dime.”

“Uh...hello. Is Jill home?”

“Sorry, you just missed her. Her girlfriend came by, handcuffed her and dragged her away. Do you want to leave a message for her? I’ll put it on her door. I’m just not sure when she’ll get it. Odds are that she’ll be gone for the weekend.”

“Uhm...tell her Deirdre called and just wanted to talk, that’s all.” She sighed, not really looking forward to another night trapped in the apartment, alone. She had read all of her books and really didn’t want to start rereading them again. Six times through her books was enough for her to want a break from them.

“Right...Deirdre. Oh...Hey, are you the T-Girl who just signed up for classes? Who just transferred here?”

Deirdre’s breath caught nervously. What now? “Yes...that’s me.”

“Cool...I’m Megan. So are you like on Hormones and stuff?” The voice seemed to bounce with excitement and interest. Deirdre was a little taken aback. This was not a response she was used to.

“...yes. I’ve been on them for about nine months so far.”

“Wow. That’s pretty wild. So, with Jill gone will I do for talking?” Her voice was really upbeat and infectious. Deirdre smiled in spite of her confusion. Megan seemed friendly.

“Sure. I’m just really lonely since I don’t know anyone here yet.”

“Great! Do you want to meet somewhere? We could get a bite to eat or maybe some coffee. Just coffee, not Coffee.”

“Alright. Where do you want to meet?” Deirdre’s mood lightened a bit. It would be nice to meet someone. Megan seemed friendly, if not a little odd and this could be her first step towards making some friends who actually accepted her as her. Having a friend, or even a simple acquaintance would make this whole thing easier to deal with. After all, her shrink said making friends was an important part of the whole transition process. Normalized social interactions or some thing like that.

“So where do you live? We could go some place close to you, since I am not sure how well you know the area.”

“I don’t really know this place at all. I have no car so I am limited to my options. I’m at the Marwood Apartments, across the street from the campus.”

“Okay...I know where that is. Hey, there is that really cool 50’s style diner just down the street from where you live. I think it is like a block or something away from that complex. Will that do? I’ll meet you there in about ten minutes. If you get there first grab a table and I’ll find you. If not, I’ll find you anyway. Wait...what color is your hair?”

“Brown.”

“Long or short?”

“Uh…long. Why do you ask?” Deirdre liked how infectious Megan seemed to be. This could be fun. She already seemed like the kind of person that would be exciting to hang around with.

“Great! See you there!” The line went dead.
 

*          *          *
 
End of Part 1
 
 
To Be Continued...