Author’s note: The characters and setting for this story will be familiar to anyone who has read “An Aria for Cami.” However, I wrote it to stand on its own and I hope that readers who aren’t familiar with the longer story will be able to appreciate it as well.

Baltimore, Maryland
December, 2020

“Cami, what’s wrong?” Nicole had emerged into the area where I had just finished a Zoom call with my faith community – transwomen who gathered every month for prayer and fellowship. Our gatherings had been remote for the past eight months or so, ever since the pandemic had shut down large portions of the country.

I was weeping uncontrollably. “God, why do people have to be like that? And at Christmas!”

Nicole pulled up a chair and put an arm around me. “What happened?”

“It was Marta – the youngest of our original group. Can’t be more than nineteen. She’s been estranged from her parents ever since she came out, two or three years ago. She called them two nights ago – Christmas eve. Tried to make peace. . . .” I choked up and couldn’t say more.

Nicole held me even more tightly. She called up the stairs, “Mags!!!” My friend the opera singer knows how to project when she wants to!

Maggie popped open the door to the basement and stuck her head in. “What’s up?”

“Tea, Maggie! Fast!”

Maggie took one look at the two of us, said, “On it!” and disappeared. Two minutes later she was back, three steaming earthenware mugs in her hands. She put all three down on my desk, went and grabbed the spare office chair from the synthesizer area, and joined us, giving Nicole an inquisitive look (I was clearly in no shape to fill her in).

“One of the transwomen in Cami’s community tried to reconnect with her parents on Christmas Eve. I guess it didn’t go well.”

I sipped some tea, holding the mug in my left hand. My right was clenched in a fist that I couldn’t seem to release.

Maggie rubbed my back. “Take your time, Cami. We’re here for you.”

I loved my roommates so much . . . . Here I was, surrounded by support, acceptance, love. More than anyone could ever ask for, and certainly more than I deserved. While not ten miles away, poor Marta was all alone, cut off from her family, living in a small apartment. No-one to keep her company. No-one to hug her when life was hard.

I took a longer pull from my mug and set it down carefully. Summoning my professional voice, I said, “They mocked her. Called her ‘Fred-Ex,’ and said she was a disgrace. Christ! I thought my parents were bad!”

“Holy shit!” Maggie said. “How can they do that to their own child?”

Nicole held me wordlessly. She was weeping too.

I thought, No, dammit! I’ve wept enough! “Can I borrow the car?”

“You’re going to go see her?” Maggie asked.

“Yes . . . and no,” I said, sadly. “We’ve got to keep our bubble intact – I’ve been a hardass about that, but it’s paid off for all of us. And for the guys, too. But . . . I can at least drop something off for her. See her, even it its only for a minute, and from ten feet away. Tell her that she’s special, and wish her a Merry Christmas. I’ve got to do something!”

“Of course you do,” Nicole said. “And of course we’re coming with you. The coq-au-vin will easily serve four. And we’ve got an extra loaf of fresh-baked bread.” Nicole had been giving us cooking lessons.

Maggie nodded enthusiastically, then looked suddenly shy. “I . . . bought a bottle of perfume the other day. For Kyle’s next visit. Do you think that she’d like it?”

“God, I love you two!” I hugged them both fiercely. “Give me just a minute.”

I went upstairs. Maggie went to her room to pick up the perfume; Nicole followed me into mine. “What were you thinking of bringing her?” she asked.

I took a box off of the shelf in the closet where I had set it just yesterday. It contained a stunning, three-quarter length negligée in creamy ivory-colored silk with delicate lace at the collar and sleeves. I would need to re-wrap it.

Nicole’s eyes grew wide. “Your present from Rob? Really?”

I smiled sadly. “Really. Rob won’t be here for at least a month, and hopefully I’ll figure out where he got it by then and find a way to order another one. But even if somehow I can’t . . . Rob would understand.”

Nicole looked at me carefully, thoughtfully. Not every man would understand. Maybe not many. But Nicole nodded. “Yeah, he would. David’s like that too.”

“I’ve got Rob, and you, and Maggie. And Al and Javi, for a couple more weeks. And Fiona and Henry, Liz . . . . Marta’s got nobody. Nobody at all.”

Nicole’s eyes narrowed. “What are you holding so tight, Cami?”

I looked down at my right hand, still balled tight in a fist. I willed my fingers to unclench, but it was, strangely enough, a real effort. My palm showed red marks from my nails – and from the small, inexpensive ring I had been holding, plain silver with a Celtic design.

“I went over to the salon to wish Al and Javi – and Tina – a responsible, socially distant Merry Christmas two days ago. And Tina . . . Tina gave me this.”

“A ring?” Nicole asked.

I nodded. “She said . . . she’d managed to hang on to it. Through all those years, when her family had her locked up, and were trying to ‘re-program’ the trans out of her. She hid it from them – told me I didn’t need to know how. But it was her only link to who she knew she really was. The only thing she had that was feminine.” My voice was growing horse again. “Except for her heart.”

“She gave it to you?” Nicole’s voice held a note of wonder.

“Yeah,” I managed to get out. “She said . . . she didn’t need it anymore.”

“Okay, girlfriend,” Nicole said. “You’re a wreck. Finish your tea. Wash your face and fix your makeup. Maggie and I will take care of getting everything wrapped. You know where we’re going?”

I nodded.

* * * * * *

It was full dark by the time we arrived at the tired looking apartment building where Marta was living. A clear, cold night with stars as bright as they ever get near America’s cities. Nicole and Maggie stayed on the sidewalk while I donned 2020’s version of gay apparel – a colorful facemask – and went up the walkway to Marta’s door.

I set the presents down on her stoop – the fresh, crusty bread, the tupperware full of Nicole’s wonderful cooking, and the two wrapped packages – rang the doorbell, and stepped back.

Behind me, Maggie’s contralto and Nicole’s coloratura soprano rose together in a tight harmony which I didn't attempt to join. I was barely fit to speak, and at my best the song was beyond my ability:

Oh, Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining!
It is the night of the dear savior’s birth.
Long lay the world, in sin and error pining,
’Til He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.

The door opened, and Marta stood framed in the doorway, golden light behind her like a halo. At the sight of the presents, and the three of us, her eyes widened.

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

“Cami?” she said. “What . . . . ?”

Fall on your knees! Oh hear the angels voices!

“Merry Christmas, Marta,” I said. “You are such an amazing, wonderful, beautiful woman!”

She bowed her head, overcome by emotion.

I wanted so much to cross the distance between us, to give her the so-very-human comfort of a hug. But I knew I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be safe for either of us, and my heart wept at the restriction.

She looked up, her eyes, like mine, glistening with tears, and held her right palm over her heart. “Thank you, Cami. Thank you so much!”

I returned her gesture, my heart too full to allow me to speak.

Nicole and Maggies’ voices soared, blended, and joined in the decrescendo. Oh night! Oooooh night, divine!

The end

For information about my other stories, please check out my author's page.