Deirdre just wants to make friends and reached out with a phone call. Now she is heading to a 50's diner with no clue what to expect, but heading into the unknown is certainly better than being around her brother. A Splintered Life Chapter 3 - Meetings by poetheather Copyright © 2009 by poetheather

The diner was only two blocks away from the apartment. It wasn’t a long walk, and the movement did her some good. Some of the tension she had been holding on to seemed to release during the walk. The air smelled of smog and flower trees. She watched as a line of ants moved from a flowerbed into the street, collecting food from the trash.

The Diner served classic American food, had neon signs and prints from that time. There were several Norman Rockwell prints as well. They also had those table jukeboxes so you could request a song and not leave your booth. The wait staff all dressed in 50’s style and the hostess wore a poodle skirt. It screamed of wholesomeness. Deirdre thought it was a nice place and that the food was good.

The hostess led her to a booth along the front wall, with large windows that looked out at traffic and the other side of the street. She slid in, facing the door and took the menu that was being offered to her. She glanced over it in the short time between being seated and the waitress showing. Dessert and a drink were all that sounded good to her right now. A hot fudge sundae and a Coke should give her a good sugar rush. That would be helpful right about now. It would certainly make her feel better.

The waitress took her order and smiled. When she returned with the drink, Deirdre thanked her. She smiled again. The Coke was nice and cold. It soothed her tension.

As she was drinking, an oriental girl with shoulder-length black hair and wearing an army field jacket entered the restaurant. She spoke briefly with the hostess and scanned the room, her eyes narrowed with concentration. She spotted Deirdre. Deirdre felt her throat go dry with nervousness, despite the drink. The girl waved and started to head over. When she got there, she spoke, “Deirdre?”

The voice was definitely that of the girl she had spoken to on the phone. She nodded a bit shyly and nervously. This was the not first time she was meeting someone new who only would know her as Deirdre but it was close. “Yes. Megan?”

The girl smiled brightly and slid in opposite. “That’s me. Miss, Coke please.”

The waitress brought another drink quickly. Megan took a deep drink and sighed happily. She then looked at Deirdre, “So, you’re new here?”

“Yes. I just transferred here. Due to my life being my life I ended up taking a year off. So you could say I’m at least a year behind where I should be.”

“Could simply be a year sideways you know. Don’t stress. I’m a freshman as well, which puts me more than a year behind, but that is only if we use your system.” Megan blew a stray strand from her face.

“What were you doing if you weren’t going to school?” Deirdre leaned forward, resting her head on her hands.

“I was in the military. Spent four years in. That’s where I got this neat jacket. Any way you said you wanted to talk, so talk.”

“Well, I don’t know anyone in town and I was just trying to make some friends. Jack said I could call and talk to either him or Jill. I guessed it would be a good idea to get to know other people. That and my therapist said friends would be a good thing.”

“Therapist?” prompted Megan.

“Sure. You think they would let folks like me deal with this without keeping tabs on us?” There was only a slight trace of bitterness to her voice.

“That’s right...the whole T thing.” Now Megan leaned forward with interest. Deirdre liked her gentle brown eyes. “You want to talk about it?”

“Sure but I would rather do it some place less filled with people.” She glanced around the moderately crowded restaurant to see if anyone was paying attention to their conversation. There didn’t seem to be anybody not engrossed in either their food or their own table talk. “Certain things are not for public consumption. But someplace else, sure.”

“Okay, I will contain my raging curiosity. Can you answer a quick question than, to tide me over? Pre or post?”

“Uh...pre. I’m on hormones and am about halfway through my real life test. On the other side of that is surgery. I already am on a waiting list, so once the time is past I go get it done. My parents have been somewhat understanding.”

“Wow.” Conversation stopped as the hot fudge sundae arrived. The waitress had brought two spoons with it. The sundae was huge. Four scoops of vanilla practically drowned in hot fudge. It was topped with whip cream and chopped nuts. There was a cherry partially sunk in the whip cream. Deirdre’s eyes widened at the sight. It was actually larger than the picture on the menu had made it. She was glad there was someone there to help share in the task of consuming this monstrosity. Deirdre wordlessly pushed the extra spoon towards Megan.

The Asian girl smiled and waited until Deirdre had her first bite before she dug in as well. They both closed their eyes and savored the first mix of flavors. Both of their eyes opened and they were looking right into each others eyes. Deirdre blushed.

“Mmmmmmm....good hot fudge. I keep forgetting how good these are. So what does a girl like you do for fun?” asked Megan, as she spooned out another bite of sundae.

“Not much really. I like to read, listen to music, and go to movies. I don’t really do much else except play role playing games.”

“Role playing games? Are you a gamer geek?” She responded with a mock look of horror on her face.

“What of it?” asked Deirdre defensively.

“Nothing. Can’t I tease you a little?”

Deirdre shrugged a little. “I suppose so. Do you play?”

“Nope. I have a number of other hobbies which eat all of my time. I find them to be fun at any rate. Jill says a Lipstick like me needs daintier hobbies.” Megan drank deeply again from her Coke. The ice clinked as the glass was set back down on the table.

“Not to seem totally ignorant, but what do you mean by lipstick? I take it not what you put on your lips?” She had never heard the term used to describe a person before.

“Huh? Oh...it usually refers to lesbians who tend to be girly. Sweet little dainty things, like me.” Megan fluttered her eyelashes and gave Deirdre a completely pure and innocent look. It made her look twelve. It was almost even convincing.

Deirdre smiled. “Oh, I completely understand. Gosh, thank you for telling me.” The look she returned was one almost as innocent. And about as convincing. Both broke out laughing.

Megan leaned forward conspiratorially. Deirdre leaned in as well. “Deirdre, if I didn’t know you were a T-girl I would never have known.”

She blushed again. The complement made her feel really good, as if something pleasant were swelling within her chest. If a lesbian thought she looked good she figured she might actually look like the woman she felt she was. “Thank you.”

Soon enough the sundae was gone and they were reduced to trying to spoon out the dregs of fudge and melted ice cream out of the glass bowl. Deirdre felt a little forlorn at that, not wanting things to end. Making some sort of connection with another human being who didn’t despise her for her mere existence was nice. Comforting. She wished things would continue.

Megan seemed to be following the same train of thought. “So, Deirdre, you want to come with me to get some coffee? I know a nice place with a friendly environment where we can sit and talk. It might even qualify for semi-private like. What do you say? I might be able to introduce you to a few more people.”

Deirdre didn’t really have to ponder much. Keep talking to Megan or go home and do what? It really wasn’t much of a choice. “Sure. Sounds good.”

They paid and tipped. Megan led them outside and to her car. She drove a four door teal Saturn with a number of bumper stickers on the back. There was one that said “Free Tibet” next to her U.S. Army sticker, which read “Hooah! It’s an Army thing.” There was even one that said, “Born Again? Why? I got it right the first time.” Deirdre smiled at the sight of them. They seemed to fit Megan or at least what she had learned so far.

With a turn of the key, the doors unlocked. They both climbed in, moving around the automatic seat belts. The car was a little messy, having that lived in look that most cars took on after a short while with their owner. The car smelled faintly of vanilla.

Megan started the car and the sound of Fleetwood Mac exploded out of the speakers. Deirdre’s eyes popped a little at the volume of the music. Megan mouthed sorry and turned it down. The sound seemed to be echoing in Deirdre’s ears. She blinked a few times and turned towards Megan. “I take it you like Fleetwood Mac?”

Megan blushed a little, the color just touching her ears. “Yes. My mom introduced me to them. That was some time after Clinton’s election. I really like their stuff. So since we are fairly private at the moment why don’t you tell me about the whole T thing?”

Megan backed out and moved into traffic easily. The roads had little traffic. Deirdre nodded. “Sure. What do you want to know?”

“How long have you felt you were a girl?”

“I guess I noticed it about five or six. I always wanted to play with the girls because they made more sense, felt more right and I thought like I was one of them. That caused some grief, and I got beat up a time or three over it. I was getting the fact that I was supposed to be a boy beaten into me.” The memories still hurt and the confusion felt was still there, in raw wounds still tender with healing. Each sharing made it hurt a little less.

“I take it the beatings got that through to you?”

“Eventually. By the time I was in third grade it had gotten through to me that, for survival, I had to pretend to be a boy. Getting caught in my mom’s clothes didn’t help matters any.”

Megan snickered. Deirdre liked the sound, it made her feel a little soft, fluttery in her stomach. “By the end of third grade I had learned that lesson very well. I started acting tough, picking fights and becoming a wonderful example of why boys can be pains in the ass. I got dirty and muddy all the time. Started coping an attitude with my parents and trying to act tough like my brother.”

“You sound like you are the poster child for repression.”

“Exactly. Well, long about fifth or sixth grade the girls in my class started developing. They ran through the whole gamut of responses from proud to embarrassed. I had the same responses as all of the late bloomers, envy and jealousy. But at this point I had fooled my self into believing I was a boy. So I had no idea why I felt this way. The feeling only grew as they grew. I grew more upset and confused, depressed and the like. I had no connection to myself and others. I started to hate my body. I got involved in Dungeons and Dragons at that point. The gaming helped to take the edge off.”

Megan looked over at her, confused, while she was changing lanes. “How can that take the edge off of anything? I mean, isn’t that a game for dorks?”

“It is not a game for Dorks!” Deirdre bristled. “The game is actually a lot of fun. Don’t knock it till you try it!”

Megan raised her hands in surrender and the car drifted slowly to the left. She corrected that easily. “Sorry. I’ll get more information before I dump on gaming again. Please continue your story.”

She humphed and continued. “Well, near the end of my second semester of college I had more than enough. I lit some candles, drew a tub, and slashed my wrists. My mom found me before it was too late. It came out in therapy three days later that this was what I was going through. So I started on hormones and here I am, trying to start my life over again.”

Megan maneuvered through some more traffic in silence. She pulled up to a coffee shop. She turned off the car and opened her door. “So, coffee?”

Deirdre nodded, unsure of herself. Megan had shown no real reaction to the story of her life. No “I’m sorry” or “Gee, that sounds tough”. Her story had always seemed to get some sort of response from people. Megan seemed unaffected by the whole thing. Deirdre felt awkward as she got of the car.

The coffee shop, “The Last Drop”, was in an older building. It had warm wooden walls with what seemed like the work of local artists hanging on the walls, for sale. There were a number of small tables inside and out filled with a wide mixture of people. The window had numerous posters and flyers attached. There were even some cozy chairs and a couch. Megan was waiting up by the counter, in line. Deirdre joined her, her uncertainty naked on her face.

“Want me to order?” Megan asked, with a slight smile on her face. When a nod was returned, she turned to the server. “Two Sumatra Mandheling, medium.”

“Four dollars. At Carousel and Flower.” Money changed hands. Megan led her to the other end of the bar. There were paper cups under this metal holder for coffee filters, each spot with a different colorful picture on it. The guy behind the counter scooped out some of the beans into two filters. He then ground each set of beans. After that, he placed the filters and slowly poured hot water over them. Both girls waited for their coffee, why the guy flirted a little with Deirdre.

She blushed and thanked him for the coffee. Megan led her over to the prep station. Megan added sugar in the raw and cream to her coffee, while Deirdre used white sugar and milk. The table outside seemed a good spot for conversation and people watching.

Deirdre raised her eyes in surprise as she sipped the coffee. Megan chuckled. “What? Never had real coffee before?”

“No. I got used to drinking Folgers my senior year and last year. This is so much better.” She drank again, savoring the taste. It was quite unlike anything she had drunk before. “It actually tastes like it smells.”

Megan handed her cup over. “Try it with the sugar in the raw and cream.”

Deirdre did, followed by a longer sip. Megan rescued her coffee and drank from it possessively. “So do you know what you are going to major in yet?”

She shook her head no, her hair flipping along her jaw line. “I really don’t have a clue. I figure I could get my AA, take some electives and figure it out from there. So that gives me about two years to try and choose something. Life has been so crazy that I never really had time for it. How about you?”

Megan sipped thoughtfully from her coffee, her eyes closed, enjoying the aroma. “I’m not sure. I thought about PolySci but I’m not sure. I can get into the CIA, FBI or even NSA with my military background. But I don’t want to learn criminal justice and while foreign policy decisions are interesting I’m not too sure I could be happy doing that for the rest of my life. Like you I still have to find what I want to do.”

“So were in the same boat?”

“Pretty much.”

“Why did you leave the Army?” Deirdre cocked her head questioningly.

“Well, I was nearing the end of my term and I had made Sergeant. I was dating this girl I had met in town. There was another girl in my unit who was also a lesbian. She got caught in her barracks room making out with her date. She was Chaptered out of the Army under “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”. She made one bad choice about where to have sex and was discharged. I didn’t want to run that risk so I kept to the straight and narrow until my enlistment was up. I kept turning down enticements for me to re-up, but I couldn’t tell them that their policy on my dating habits made me uncomfortable.”

“What was the Army like?”

“Orderly. Very rules-oriented. I had some fun, but there was the right way, the wrong way, and the Army way. It got old after a bit.”

“Doesn’t sound all that fun.” She though about the mindset that Megan’s statement implied and it did not really appeal to her.

“Don’t get me wrong. I had some fun in the Army and I know some guys and girls who have made careers out of it, despite the need to keep their sex lives compartmentalized. The Army is fine, but not everyone is suited to such a life.” Megan drank more of her coffee.

For a moment, the two of them sat silently, drinking. Both seemed momentarily lost to their own thoughts. Deirdre looked up after a bit and noticed Megan looking at her appraisingly. Deirdre blushed and looked down again quickly. Megan chuckled.

“You know Deirdre, you really are quite cute.”

Deirdre was surprised by the comment. As she looked up again, her eyes plainly showing her astonishment, her mouth open a little. “Really?”

Megan sighed. “I think so at any rate.”