Graphic created by Patricia Marie Allen from photos on Pixabay.com
Thorn in the Flesh
By Rosemary
I entered the bar with great trepidation. I hadn’t had any problems in several years of being a woman, but I had just had some terrible news. No, I take that back. It wasn’t terrible at all. It was a relief. I had developed lymphatic cancer, and like every other case, it was ravaging my body.
I was reluctantly taking part in a meeting of eleven other ‘Roses’ while we were at the SWEET (South Western Exposition for the Embetterment of Transpeople) convention. I sat down and started taking in the other Roses there.
Most of them seemed to be much more comfortable in their role as women than I was. I had actually been quite comfortable for many years, but I had never been transgendered. I glanced down at my jeans and western shirt. They were women’s – they had to be. Men’s clothing would have been ridiculous on me.
I shook my head at my clothing. I was trying to return to my old identity, but I wasn’t doing very well. I took a flask out of my purse and took a swig.
Something asked my name, and I responded that I was Rose Carlisle. They demanded a name to differentiate me from the others, so I told them to call me Jeff. People started to get up in arms, but I stood by my name.
It was decided that we’d tell our stories to each other. How we became a Rose or whatever. I listened to several stories, and it was actually relaxing to hear about others, but then, it came time for me to tell mine.
“So what’s your story,” one of the others asked me. I really can’t remember which one.
I sighed. I considered making up a story, but I just wasn’t that imaginative. I sighed again and shook my head. Oh well, I thought. Nothing for it. “I was born, Jeffery Carlilse,” I began. “I had a sister named Rose who was born a year later than I was.”
“We were very much two peas in a pod – we loved the same things, although I tended towards several typical guy things, while she tended toward the girl equivalent. I played football, she was a cheerleader. That kind of thing.”
“We loved the same foods, tv shows, activities... We even looked alike. We lost our parents in an airplane accident, when she had one year left in high school. I was eighteen, so I just took care of her, and we were thick as thieves after that.”
I see my sister in my mind’s eye. We were seated in the living room watching a sitcom. I can’t remember which one. There was a news report that broke in, and we watched horrified as our local newscaster told us the story of a plane that had left our city two hours ago, and crashed. He gave the flight number, and it was the one that our parents were on.
We waited for more news. We found out that some people had survived, but we weren’t sure about our parents. Then came the knock on the door. It was a pair of police officers who told us that our parents had died in the crash.
I took a shuddering breath. “That leads me to my problem.”
“For a while, I didn’t have a lot of money until I got a decent job, and I needed some food for both of us. We got some from my parent’s insurance, but it was mainly just enough to pay for their burial.”
“I had a buddy, Matt Riggs, who had some expertise at the five finger discount, among other things. We decided to ‘borrow’ a rather large amount of money from a convenience store. He went in while I waited in the car. Once everyone had left the store, I watched as he made his way to the counter. He had on a ski mask which he pulled down, and he pulled out a gun. I don’t know what was said, but I saw the clerk’s hand go under the counter, as did Matt. The next thing I knew, there was blood splattering everywhere, and Matt was running out of the store. He jumped into the car, and I peeled out of the parking lot.”
“Wow! That’s crazy!” another of the Roses exclaimed.
I see the clerk’s face as he stares at Matt. There was a moment where I saw the clerk’s hand falter, then move toward the edge of the counter. Matt yelled something. Probably to stop, but the clerk was determined. Looking back in time with my mind’s eye, I can freeze time and move through the scene, as if it’s some sort of 3D model. I stand in front of Matt, begging him to not pull that trigger. I turn to the clerk, begging him to not press that button.
Of course, neither pay any heed, and I watch from right in front of Matt as he squeezes the trigger. The sound is deafening, and I see the expression on Matt’s face as the bullet flies out of the gun. He is scared, but determined. The bullet passes through where I’m standing, and I turn to face the clerk. He too, is scared but determined. His fear ends in an instant, however. I can’t help but agree with the Rose’s assessment.
“Matt dropped the gun in the store, but he had prepared for that, even though he was hoping not to use it.” I said. I felt sick as I thought of the situation again. It was such a stupid thing to do, but I had my Rose to think about. “His fingerprints were on it, but he had staged a robbery in his own apartment, a few days before. He reported the gun missing, so when it turned up at the crime scene, it was pretty much expected.”
I looked around, and the expressions were all disapproving. I understood where everyone was coming from. I felt just as sick as some of them appeared. “The prints on the gun,” I continued determinedly, “would show that someone had worn gloves when they fired it. Matt’s prints on the handle were messed up from that, which would be not at all strange if someone had stolen it and then used it in the robbery.”
“This was in the mid ‘80s, and forensic evidence was nowhere near what it is now. So as long as our alibi held up, we would’ve been okay. What was the alibi? We were at a game. We had made sure we were seen entering. Granted, we left halfway through, but prove it.”
“You were involved in a murder! How can you sit there so calmly?” I looked at the Rose, who spoke. Her face appeared to be imploring me to feel something for what we’d done. What she didn’t realize was that I felt something every moment of every day as I thought back to that one moment of stupidity. It would have made no difference for our financial situation had we just stuck it out, and every bit of difference in our lives.
“Because I have terminal lymphatic cancer,” I told the Rose, keeping my gaze from faltering. “I’m going to die in just a few months. Even if I go to prison, I’ll only be there for a short time. Because of my impending death, I want to try to live my last few days as Jeffrey.” I looked down at myself and shook my head. “I'm not having much luck in that regard.” I decided I needed to build up my resolve a bit, and went for the liquid kind, taking a drink from my flask. I wanted to tell someone what we’d done, but it was hard.
“Go on.” It was a different Rose this time.
I took a deep breath, and another sip. “Well, we didn’t get any money from that robbery, and neither of us had the stomach to try it again. At least, I didn’t, anyway, and I don’t think Matt did either.” The look on his face as he jumped into the car said it all. This had put him onto the straight and narrow. “He entered the priesthood after a while, I think probably for penance.”
“I got antsy a few years later. DNA evidence had come a long way, and there might be a way of proving that Matt had been at the store. And if he’d been, my alibi was shot.”
I guess the Rose who had wanted some sympathy out of me had made up her mind. “It’d serve you right.” I looked, and she seemed to have no more sympathy for me. I really didn’t either.
“Maybe so,” I agreed. “I wasn’t sure what to do, but then, when Rose and I went spelunking, something happened.”
I closed my eyes, and tried to push the next thing out of my mind. It wouldn’t go, so I backtracked. Maybe a delay would help. Probably not, but it was worth a try. “I should have said earlier, that one of our favorite things to do was explore caves. I had a good one on the property I had bought when I did make money.”
When I made money. Ha! What a laugh. I figured one, slight modification of the facts wouldn’t matter. The truth was, the airline finally had to admit that it was negligence on their maintenance program which caused the crash. Their out of court settlement meant that neither Rose or I would ever have to work.
“Anyway,” I went on with the story, “we were traversing a cavern, and Rose was ahead of me. All the sudden, the floor gave way under her! I jumped back, into a smaller shaft, and watched as the entire ceiling gave way. It was horrifying!”
I tried to push the memory out of my mind, but it wouldn’t work. I watched as the floor Rose was standing on crumbled below her feet. There was only the light from my lamp, but I didn’t need anything more. Somehow, I could see her face, although in reality, she was looking away from me. I saw the shock on her face as she started to fall. Then the shock became fear as her fall accelerated, and then, her expression became indescribable as she hit bottom.
I wish that it had been me that died in that cave.
“It came crashing down,” I said in an unemotional monotone. “There was now sunlight shining in from outside, and I could see around me. We had been inside a sinkhole as it formed.”
“I crept to the edge on all fours and looked down. I screamed her name, then I realized that wasn’t a good thing. The ceiling could fall on me at any moment.”
“I couldn’t see any sign of her, and I couldn’t imagine she could have survived the tons of rock that had crashed down on top of her.”
“I started weeping, but then the rock started to slough off at the edges of the hole, and I decided it would be the best thing I could do to head back the way I had come. Part of me said I should have stayed there and let myself be taken to my death too, but I just didn’t have the guts.”
“Too bad,” my moral compass Rose said.
I decided to ignore her. I agreed, but I wanted to finish my story. “I knew that the sinkhole would be on my property, so I made my way home the same way we had gone to the cave. On the way I came up with a crazy idea. It would solve (hopefully) my problem of the years ago robbery.”
I had forgotten to tell them about an important part of the story. It was how my becoming Rose came about. “When we were kids, we had played around fooling people with who was who.” I gave a bitter laugh. “I’ve read many TG stories where this is a common theme, but we actually did it. And we were good at it! We even had our parents fooled for a while one night. Well… Mom kept glancing at us. I think she knew something was up, but just couldn’t place her finger on it. Then, while we were watching tv, in a commercial, she had it. ‘Alright, you two. Go change back to yourselves. Enough is enough.’”
“We giggled as we ran off to change.”
“We tried it a few times when we were teenagers too. We had the look down, but I wasn’t great with all the actions.”
“But could I do it now? And permanently?” I thought back to those times. I could look just like my sister, but I didn’t act like her.
“I decided to try. If I didn’t think it would work, I would report her as having died. If I thought it would, I would report me as the one who died.”
“I got some clothes from her room, and was thankful that I was only about a half inch taller than her. I changed into them, and put on some makeup. I had longer hair, and mine was only a shade lighter than hers, but she had gotten hers highlighted. I tried walking like she did, and I was starting to get the hang of it when there was a knock on my door. I looked through the window and saw a USGS vehicle outside my door. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest, as I opened it.”
My moral compass seemed to be enjoying her criticisms. “Why did you open it? You could have changed back if he hadn’t seen ‘Rose’ there. You screwed up your own plans.”
I nodded, and gave a bit of a snerk. “I know, and what’s worse, I opened it wide. A woman wouldn’t have done that! If she didn’t know someone outside, especially in the country, she would have left it on the chain. I quickly closed it. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘I thought it was my brother forgetting his keys again,’ I kicked myself again. I hadn’t unlocked the door. I hope he didn’t notice.” I was really being stupid that day, but then again, I’d just watched my sister die.
“’I’m from the USGS, ma’am,’ he told me. ‘We got a report of a sinkhole developing on this property. We would like to survey it, if that’s alright.’”
“’My brother isn’t here to give permission, and he’s the property owner. It’s up to him,’ I said. I wasn’t sure I wanted them sniffing around there. My situation seemed to have gone from bad to worse. I suppose if she was found, I could say I was a transvestite, but then I put my foot in it. ’He’s spelunking in a cave on his land.’”
“’Ma’am, we have a survey of that cave. It looks like the sinkhole is associated with it.’ His tone was quite grim as he said it.”
“I had to let them search,” I told the women, “and now, I felt trapped as Rose whether I wanted to be or not. As time went by, and I remained talking to the USGS, police, and attorneys as Rose, I dug my hole deeper. I breathed a sigh of relief when the geological people decided that it was too unsafe to search for ‘Jeffery’s’ body.” I remembered the feelings I had that day. The Geological men told me that the ground was too unstable to get near. The entire cave had been destabilized by the collapse, and I was warned to never enter the cave. I was sorry that I wouldn’t be able to bury my sister properly.
“I found that what goes around, comes around. Matt had joined the priesthood as penance for the death of that poor kid in the convenience store, and I joined womanhood.”
“It usually does,” came from the moral compass, as expected
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I never had gender dysphoria, and until that day, I never had any whim to live as a woman. But I messed up, and had trapped myself living as my sister, permanently.”
“I’ve attended many of these conferences over the years, hoping to help me in my masquerade, and I believe I’ve learned a lot from them.”
“I actually convinced my current doctor that I was trans my entire life, and the records of my birth have been ‘corrected’. A few years ago, I transitioned completely because it seemed the rational thing to do. Not nearly as many questions.” I took a rather large drink from my flask, and scowled when I realized it was empty. I’d need to refill it if I was going to continue.
At last! Finally a different Rose asked, “Why’ve you told us this?”
My scowl grew deeper as I said, “I guess I have to get it off my chest before I die.” I sat for a few moments, then stood up. “I think I’m going to forego the rest of the convention.”
As I left, I reflected that I had been wrong. Telling others about it really didn’t make me feel better.
When I arrived home, I found a couple of boards in my garage, nailed them into a crude cross, and found a chisel to carve two names on it.
I realized that people would mistake who was who, forever, as I hammered the marker into the ground, but that was fine. It would mark the spot where she had died so many years ago, and where I could finally rest in peace.
I dropped the sledgehammer and walked toward the sinkhole.
Comments
Captivating...
almost an understatement. But what holds me and saddens me at the same time is that as someone looking in on Jeff's life I cannot but hope that somehow, someway Jeff finds more that his own end to provide the redemption he needs. I hope his peace goes beyond his mortality, so to speak. What an absolutely wondrous tale. Thank you!
Love, Andrea Lena
thanks!
Thank you. I feel very bad for Jeff. Whether it was the right thing to end it all, is something that we may never know. Hopefully, he has found the peace that he strove for for so long.
Hugs!
Rosemary
Decisions
Having three friends who felt so hopeless as to end it all. AND having considered it myself more than a few times throughout my life AND having my late sister fail twice in her teens? I think that more than anything makes me weep for the utter helplessness that overwhelms Jeff because I've been there. We care for those characters whose lives ARE real to us. Again, thank you!
Love, Andrea Lena
A captivating tale.
Your story is a wonder to me. It amazes me that as we put One Dozen Roses together, that the seven of us came up with twelve stories without one duplicate trope. In our own way we told stories that were real to us and real to the reader.
"Thorn in the Flesh" came out as unique. I'm sure it reached many on a gut level. A reminder to those of us, like me, who tend to write fluff pieces with lighthearted story lines, that there are many who don't have a lighthearted life story. The question of should Jeff have done it is mitigated by the fact that it was only a matter of a short span of time before Karma exacted the same end. Yet that fact doesn't detract from the seriousness of his situation. Guilt, grief and circumstance combined to leave him in a state which could lead to no good end.
My heart goes out to Jeff and all our sisters who find themselves facing that kind of despair.
Hugs
Patricia
Happiness is being all dressed up and HAVING some place to go.
Semper in femineo gerunt
Ich bin eine Mann
Long Stems
I love that these Dozen Roses are coming out as individual postings. This one is a tough one to read. Still, As with all your work it is well crafted and impeccably edited. I love your sense of timing and narration.
Thanks again for sharing this with us.
Your friend
Crash
Thank you so much!
Thank you so much!
Hugs!
Rosemary
What Goes Around
A set of circumstances, a bad mistake, and Jeff carried the consequences for the rest of his life. A depressing story, but well told and a worthy component of The Roses compilation.
His life was certainly a hard
His life was certainly a hard one, full of horrible event after horrible event. I can understand why he felt like it needed to end, even if I don't condone it.
Hugs!
Rosemary