"I'm a transsexual."

. . . . He's, what?

"It might be a shocker to you, it might not be. . . But, it's what I am."

He continued to look at me. Look into me. This is apparently the part where I reply.

"I'm going to-"

My stomach turns sideways inside myself and I slap my hand over my mouth. Fear washes over me as I know what's coming. Without saying anything, I urgently walk to the closest restroom, pray that no one is inside, slam open a stall door, and commence the deed.

I retched the Meat Market and Coke out of me, not bothering to cover up the sounds or be discreet in the slightest. After all, Tayler would most likely be right behind me. I close my eyes so I don't have to look at the contents that looked appetizing only moments before. It's kind of funny if you really think about it. It's the exact same ingredients and nutrition as the pizza and beverage that you would pay almost twenty dollars for when it's all pretty, but if you mix it all in a blender and poor some of your stomach acid on it, you suddenly wouldn't eat it if someone paid you. People pay for presentation because in the end, that's pretty much all what matters.

Two sets of footsteps entered from the door to my left and I had to fight off my instincts to stand up and sit on the toilet like I was just casually using the restroom like anyone else.

"Well, we're closing up in a little bit but you can stay. Take all the time you need.

"Thanks. He's not sick, I think I just shocked him a little bit, so, you know, it shouldn't take long."

"Well. . . Okay, promise to keep a secret?"

"Sure."

"I need the time. I'm going to stay later anyway but if it looks to the cameras like I'm waiting on two customers to finish up, it doesn't look like I'm milking the clock."

"Ah."

"You need a drink or anything?"

"No, I'm good. I'm pretty sure my friend doesn't - Well. Hey, bud?" Tayler stuck his head into the stall. "Do you need anything?"

He had his color back. He wasn't shaking anymore either.

"I'm well."

He turned his head back to the employee, "We're fine. We'll work the clock for you."

"Oh, thank God," she said like it was the greatest relief ever. "I think I might be able to get those shoes this time," and she was on her way.

I spit a few times into the toilet. I probably have one more left in me but I can get it out of the way when I got home. Nothing really ruins the mood so much as your best friend watching you in the midst of your evil.

I moved my brown hair out of the way to get a look at Tayler. He was just standing there, watching over me like I was his kid who had a flu. He had a sad smile again, too. Just as dispassionate as the former. How he always has the energy to smile, I may never know.

He came out.

The recollection twisted my stomach again and I got the last of it out.

"Ugggghhh. Fuck!" I grabbed some toilet paper and wiped my face. "Mwah! Nasty, that is."

"Dude. I'm so sorry. I-"

"Not your faul-"

"I should have told you at a better time. I should have told you at-"

I hopped up and put my hands down on his shoulder. "Not your fault," I said with a winning smile. "Fun fact about bulim- about me is that it just happens when I get shaken up. You could have told a really funny joke and it probably would have had the same effect."

He wasn't smiling anymore. He was just looking at me, well, analysing probably would be a better word. He's looking for something in what I said or what I'm doing for some tell that I'm not okay.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Or you could just be direct about it.

"Yes." I smiled again. He didn't seem satisfied. Do I have something in my teeth? "Take me home. It's been a long day."

He didn't look like he liked that idea. He looked like he wanted to stay and talk more but that's not what I need right now. I've been talked out.

"Please," I said in between a ragged breath. "I just want to go home and think about some things."

That wiped the joy completely from his face. He wasn't that pretty when he's sad. I think I've thought about it before, but it's becoming more real now. He's got a good body for transition. He's thin, blue eyed, has middle-length strawberry-blonde hair, and an attitude that will take him the rest of the way. Of course, his voice isn't where it could be but he probably won't have a problem with that at the end of the day.

I should come out.

I slapped the idea out of my head as soon as it entered. I most definitely do NOT need to have that conversation with him right now. I'm too messed up from everything else that happened and I can always do it later. He'll be alive tomorrow, I'll be alive tomorrow. . . I could do it tomorrow.

"Tayler," I leaned into his shoulder and pushed some of my weight onto him. "I'm tired. I'm just so tired right now. Can we please please please just do this whole event tomorrow? I promise we'll still be friends at the end of it."

I could feel his muscles relax underneath me as I said the last words. I guess that's what he was wanting to hear. Good.

"Uuuuuummmmm. . . Sure. Let's go."

We exited the stall, grabbed our stuff from the booth, gave the pizza lady a sad fare-thee-well, and booked it towards my place. Which was five miles away. And we weren't talking again.

It's probably nothing, to be honest. Friends sometimes don't talk to each other. Granted, we were never those kinds of friends, but we've known each other forever. We're bound to have some quiet spells at times. Plus, he just came out, I just puked my guts out, there's bound to be some tension right now.

But why is there tension? It's so thick you could bounce a beach ball off of it. This is a good thing, right? He's trans- . . . She's trans, I'm trans, why am I not beating the roof of the truck in excitement, yelling some wild extremities? Instead, there's an insidious quiet.

"Help" by the Beatles played for most of the trip. I didn't think anything of it.

As we pulled up to my house, I took a look at the decorations, or lack thereof. Halfway through October and he finally got the impression that it would be a good idea to take the lights down. Without them, it looked like the American Dream House. Not the old American Dream, but the new one. Back in the day it was said you could come to America, work hard, and become rich. A land of opportunity to be whatever or whoever you want. For some, they left neutral or higher grounds for the mystery box of opportunity that awaited them. For others, it was a way to escape whatever horrible thing was hunting them if they stayed or a way to just cancel the debt of their past. A remission if you will.

The new American Dream was to survive. Ask anyone on the street and they would say something along the same lines. "Just a nice job, not much debt, and a house to call my own." No will to take risks, no will to aspire. Because when everyone is born in debt, why wouldn't you aim to be content? Of course if you aspire to look content, then everything and everyone will assume it's all right.

The house, for example. White picket fence, trimmed bushes, no junk on the lawn, and the grass is mowed. With the deduction of the Christmas lights, it's the gilded illusion of the American Dream.

Gilded. Because, of course, the inside is always a different story.

You pay for presentation, because that's all that matters.

"You listening?" I heard mumbled to my left.

"Huh?"

He smiled. "I said your dad's awake."

I looked back at the house and I could see lights flashing in and out at different intervals against the window to the living room. Ergo, the TV was on. Of course he could be asleep on the couch, but I personally didn't care. I looked at the window in the room to the right of the living room and saw a faint bend in the blinds accompanied by a shadow. I averted my eyes so he wouldn't see.

"Think the folks would mind me coming over?" I asked as I looked back to Tayler.

Without saying a word, he put the truck back in drive and we were off.

I looked behind me as we made a turn and saw that the shadow was gone along with the bend in the blinds. I'll probably have to deal with that later, but I couldn't care at the moment.

I shifted my feet under the radio and leaned back the seat (when you're tall, you have to compensate). Sleep was calling me a long time ago and I desperately needed to return the call. Out the corner of my eye, I saw Tayler turn down the radio and turn up the heat. He looked to me for reassurance, but I was already gone.

_________________________________

This didn't exactly come out like how I wrote it the first time. Wait. Tidbit, why are you writing it twice?

Well, HA! It's a funny story. I was actually going to post this Tuesday night, but *drum rolls* MY GOD DAMNED COMPUTER WAS STOLEN!!!!!!!!!!!!

I had a cold, I was in a McDonalds (yeah, I know, hold on), and I got up to blow my nose in the restroom. Of course I left my computer there. I go there all the time so everyone knows me. I watch their computers when they go somewhere and in return they watch mine.

I come back and my laptop and the three people who were in the booth next over to where I was sitting were gone. Ran into the parking lot, and they had apparently been seen running to the major supermarket's parking lot across the ways. Video camera shows them walking around scouting out where they who they were going to target. Luckily, they chose me. Why? Probably because I dress nice and my laptop was the shiniest. Which brings me to my next point. . .

DON'T STEAL THE HOMELESS GIRL'S LAPTOP!!!

I get it. You're an addict, you need the quick cash to get a quick high. You're going to be dead or in jail in a few years and you honestly couldn't bring yourself to care because that part died a while back. However, if you're going to steal, steal from the people with excess. Don't steal MINE where I have to spend the $500 I've been saving for the last three weeks to supplement a new laptop so I can search for a steady job so I can finally get off the street. You're not a fucking Robbin Hood.

Anyway, I got a new laptop. It's not as slick as my Mac Pro or has all of my former writing + journal from the last 5 years (yes, including my transition and time in college), but it's a laptop. . . It also has a touch screen which I think is nifty.

I'm sorry I didn't make the Wednesday update. I've got a few good ideas for this story so I'm pretty good on direction for a while so you'll most likely see a few extra updates.