Chapter 19 — On Target.

Sarah woke suddenly. The sun was streaming through the gap in her curtains, signalling a new day. It wasn’t the comfortable, sleepy awakening she enjoyed, but she felt renewed, full of energy and ready for the day.
As she lay in bed, her eyes drifted around the room. It was definitely David’s. The room she had sculpted to please her parents. The sports posters, the fighter jet photographs. Even her old rifle sat in the corner.

Gently slipping her legs from the bed. Sarah was very aware of her past in this place. So many memories… so many feelings. She was happy for a large part of it of course, the times she could do something… anything… she didn’t have to think about herself. It was her childhood, there was no changing that.

Stretching, she slowly padded over to her old rifle. The gun her father had bought her when she turned 12, the gun she had been taught to shoot with.

She sat down on the edge of her bed, cradling the rifle in her hands, her fingers rubbing the grain of the stock. Just touching the thing brought he back to the day when her father taught her to fire the thing. To aim, to breathe correctly. She remembered his gentle, firm instruction. It had seen her through her life so far in more than just shooting…

‘Relax before you do anything, line up what you want, and get it first time. Passion and fire will only cause you to rush, and waver.’

How that had held true…

Gently placing the rifle against her nightstand, she rose from the bed and pulled apart her curtains. The bright sunlight made her blink momentarily. It was still the same…. The neighbourhood she had grown up in was hardly different…. Would she be able to face it? Or would she sneak out the same way she had arrived? Avoiding those who might know her…

The knock at her bedroom door broke her from her thoughts. “Hello?” she called uncertainly, wrapping her robe around her tighter.

The door opened and her mother appeared bearing two mugs. “I thought I heard you moving around darling.” She smiled warmly.

Relaxing, Sarah returned the smile and took one of the offered mugs.

“Thought you might need this, you always liked me bringing you coffee in the morning,” said her mother wistfully, as if remembering a happier time.

“I still do Ima.” Sarah replied slipping her hand into her mother’s and giving it a squeeze.

“You know, you seem a lot more natural now my dear.” began her mother slowly.

Slumping down on her bed with a leg beneath her, Sarah looked quizzically at her mother. “Natural?” she repeated wrinkling her brow. “How so?”

Joining her on the edge of the bed, Sarah’s mother patted her child’s knee. “You just seemed a little forced last night, your actions and mannerisms seemed deliberate, forced, and unnatural…..” She began. Before Sarah could protest, she continued. “Seeing you this morning proved that to me…. You were trying to prove yourself to me, prove you were worthy to be my daughter. Worried we would think you unfeminine if you relaxed. Believe me dear, Seeing you now is prove to the opposite. Even the way you sit is totally female…. What confuses me, is this is how you always acted, sat, moved, reacted… you really haven’t changed. Just your shell seems more appropriate now.” She smiled.

“I really don’t know what to say Ima.” sniffed Sarah, fighting back tears. “I wish I could have told you sooner, I was just terrified of myself… I know I probably let you and Aba down… I wasn’t the son you wanted… That you expected….” She answered quietly.

“Daughter, believe me, you could never disappoint me and your father. Of course, I would have loved a son, but that does not change the fact that I was blessed with two daughters, and I see that now. I never had a son. So I fail to see what I should be disappointed about….” She smiled softly at her child. “Your father and I had a long talk last night. And we want to be there for you… To help you, love you, and rejoice in your successes… Nothing will change the fact that you are our child, our baby. You were a blessing to us, we want what makes you happy.”

Unable to restrain her tears, Sarah Hugged her mother tightly. The world didn’t matter now she had the approval of those who mattered, those she cared about.

“Come on you, get dressed now and face the day properly.” Smirked her mother. “You cannot stay in your bed all day, or ill be forced to spank your bottom madam.”

“Yes Ima” giggled Sarah smiling broadly. Words could not describe how good it felt to be normal… Just a regular girl …

After a brief shower, Sarah made her way downstairs. Looking around, she saw her mother working by the sideboard, but nobody else.

“Ima, where are Eli and Aba?” she asked cocking her head to one side as she slipped onto one of the bar stools in the kitchen.

“Oh hello dear.” Her mother smiled turning at the sound. “They went out, Eli needed some things and you know how your father is with her…” she smirked.

Sarah grinned. “He will be penniless when he returns.”

Her mother chuckled as she chopped fruit, “Well he does like to dote on his only daughter.” As the dagger like words slid into Sarah’s heart, her mother spun around with her hands to her mouth. “I’m sorry darling. I.. .I just… its taking some getting used to.” Her mother stumbled apologetically.

“Sarah looked down at the wood grain of the table. “It's okay Ima, I didn’t expect things to be perfect straight away.”

“No darling, I’m sorry, I should be able to get something so simple right….” Her mother replied softly placing her hand on Sarah’s shoulder.

“It's okay, Ima,” she sniffed quietly. “Is there any more coffee?” she asked brightly, hoping to change the subject.

“Of course. One moment dear.” Her mother smiled, rubbing her shoulder before busying herself in the kitchen, clearly catching that Sarah did not want to talk about things further. She had always been like this with her mother. They had always got each other's clues and signals.

How could she not have spoken to her mother? She had known that she was unhappy and tried to talk… but any time she did… she had just pushed her away. Sarah felt a massive pang of guilt that she had not had enough love to trust her mother, what if? What would things have been like? Where would she be now? Surely not doing what she did, that was certain in her mind.

As the two sat quietly drinking coffee at the table, Sarah pushed her chair back and looked squarely at her mother. “I’m seeing someone.”

Her mother stopped mid sip and looked across at her daughter. “Aaah, that’s nice dear. What’s hi … ah … he … um, their name?”

Sarah looked at her mother. She was trying to be delicate, and she could tell that her mother was thinking very hard about gender and sexuality at this moment in time.

“It’s a man, Ima. … It’s Ari Weismann …”

“Does your father know?” she asked tentatively, watching her daughter’s expression.

“Uhuh,” nodded Sarah, “When we talked last night.”

“Oh,” stated her mother simply. “I shall have to talk to the Rabbi about this … Surely he can find some way for you to still be a boy and love Ari? You don’t have to be a woman if its not what you want dear … If its because of this ….”

Sarah didn’t hear the end of her mother’s sentence. The door slamming saw to that.