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As is usual in my stories, I'd like to thank Malady for his help in editing and ideas.

I'd also like to thank Melanie in helping me get this posted!

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Verity sat on her recliner, her feet up slightly. She lived alone ever since her parents had died two years before. She had a brother. Well, a half-brother, but she had neither seen nor spoken to him since her parents died.

As was usual, she was lonely, especially on this day, as it was Christmas Eve. She got up and went to the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, and instead of creamer, she poured a bit of eggnog in with the brew. She considered something stronger, but even though only she would know, she wasn’t yet of the legal drinking age, and it wasn’t like she had any alcohol on hand.

She put the nog back in her fridge, then returned to her recliner.

She lived in an apartment that wasn’t lavish by any means. She needed to save as much money as she could, so whatever was left each month after basic necessities was put into a savings account. Once it was large enough, it would fund her needed surgery.

As she sipped the coffee, she thought about the events that had brought her to the present. Her mother had played around a lot in high school and she kept it up as she went to college. She had been the stereotypical proud cheerleader, who felt no one but the football team was worth her time.

Usually.

One night when her mother was twenty years old, she went to a party. A very specific type of party. At the… party, many people were having sexual relations. Some in couples, some in triplets. A few were having several at once. She and the two men got into a three-way, and she got pregnant by both of them.

She had no idea the children were not from the same father, but when she delivered them, the fact that one was dark-skinned and one light, just as the men had been, gave it away. A quick verifying DNA test confirmed the fact.

She decided to raise the children herself, both of them little boys. The darker one, she named Raymond. The lighter one, Ronald.

She didn’t want to have the boys adopted, so after a couple of years trying to juggle childcare and work, she married one of the men. The father of Ronnie, as the toddler had become known. Ray had no such diminutive name, but that was fine as he was the larger of the two, and usually took the lead in their play.

Things went okay for a few years, but there seemed to be a steady decline in family peace.

Charlie, as was the mother’s name, began to resent the fact that she was always in charge. Perhaps she was outgrowing her proud, entitled personality. She told Joe, as was the father’s name, “It would be nice if you’d take a bit of initiative once in a while.” But that wasn’t to be. Joe didn’t know how to take charge. It just wasn’t in his nature.

From there, their relationship degraded faster, and as it went further and further downhill, the screaming started. Ray’s father decided to get his little boy out of the situation, and took him away. When Charlie started to object, Joe, in a rare instance, demanded that she back off. Their combined jobs didn’t really make enough money to support two ten year-olds anyway.

Charlie acquiesced, but things started to spiral even faster. She had claimed that she wanted a stronger man, but when he did take charge, it was so strange that she wouldn’t allow it again.

Then when Ronnie was 12, he told his parents that he was actually a girl.

This started a whole new type of hell, but not actually for Ronnie. More for Joe. Charlie always blamed him for anything that went wrong in their lives, and this was one more thing. Only it was his weakness that messed up her son, and if Joe wanted to be a sissy, then that was fine, but not her son. Oh no! Not her son.

When Ronnie was fourteen, on a dreary day, Charlie was going shopping, hoping to cheer herself up.

“Ron, you make sure Joe’s taken care of. It’s not like he can take care of you!”

As she walked out the door, she was still muttering about whatever karma might have precipitated her winding up with such a weakling for a husband.

Ronnie sat down beside his father once they heard the car drive away and asked, “Why do you stay?”

“To protect you,” was Joe’s answer.

“But there’s no need. She’s never angry with me.”

“I’m a shield, Ronnie.” He paused a moment. “Is that your name?”

Ronnie stared at his father for a moment. “What do you mean?” he finally asked.

“You’re a girl, like me.”

Again Ronnie simply stared for a full minute as he tried to think of something to say. Finally, he asked, “Is that the truth or are you under orders to find something to punish me for?”

Joe laughed. “You said a couple of minutes ago that you didn’t need protection from her.”

“I did once. When I said I was a girl.”

“I know. I slacked especially hard that night so she would leave you alone.”

Ronnie shook his head. “It seems like that would just make her mad in general and she’d take things out on me too.”

“I try to keep her occupied, Ronnie.”

The teenager shook his, or rather, her head. “That’s not my name.”

“What is it then?” Joe asked.

“My true self is a girl, so I want something that reflects that.”

“Well, Veritas means truth, but that’s not a great name. How about a variation of it? Verity.”

Ronnie nodded. “That works.”

So from then on, when the two were alone, Joe always called her Verity.

It was that fact, however, that caused the worst of the eruptions.

It was nearing just two weeks before Christmas when Verity was seventeen. Charlie had seen a dress she wanted in an ad. It was for a store in a neighboring town and, perhaps in a case of Christmas spirit, had insisted that Joe and “Ronnie” attend her.

Charlie was driving, as usual, for she never let her sissy husband drive, and an argument had started, as per usual.

“Well, I want him to come!” shouted Charlie at Joe, ominously punctuating her words with her hands.

Verity was watching in the backseat and flinched when her mother’s hands came off the steering wheel. To their left was a cliff face, and to their right was a drop off of about 50 feet into a cold mountain lake.

“Perhaps this isn’t a good time to argue,” she pointed out tentatively, and thus softly.

Neither parent heard however as it was getting heated at this point.

“Verity doesn’t need him there!” shouted Joe back at his stubborn wife.

What happened next was absolutely incredible.

The roads were bare and dry, and as usual, Charlie was traveling at higher than legal speeds, but the name must have infuriated her as she unbuckled her seat belt and lunged at Joe, pummeling him with both hands!

They were on a turn to the left, and ahead of them was the lake.

When she lunged at her husband, Charlie’s leg pulled the steering wheel hard to the left and her right leg pushed on the accelerator. They missed the lake, but not the cliff face.

When Verity awoke, she heard the beeping of a heartbeat monitor behind her. She sat up, momentarily confused, not having opened her eyes.
She suddenly felt hands on both of her shoulders, and they pushed her back onto the bed.

“You don't need to get all energetic, young lady.”

Verity nodded and laid back, then it hit her.

She opened her eyes in surprise and asked, "Young lady?”

“Your father said you were a trans girl. Aren't you?”

The man who was talking to her and gently pushed her back looked concerned.

“Yes, I am, but my mother won't like it if I'm listed as such.”

The man hesitated a moment, then said, “I'm sorry, Verity, but your mother didn't survive the accident.”

Verity nodded, but couldn't feel any sorrow in her heart at the news. More than anything, there was relief. “Don't be sorry. I'm not.”

The man sighed. “I'm sorry about that,” he said sadly. He seemed to snap out of it and told her, “I’m Doctor Nelson.”

“Verity Brown,” she said in response. At his smile, she realized, “But you already knew that.”

“Do you have a middle name? Your father is requesting that your name and gender be changed legally.”
“Really?” She gasped.

“I like ‘Verity’, But isn't ‘Really’ a bit redundant?”

She laughed. “That wasn't what I meant, but you knew that. I like ‘Archae’ for my middle name.”

“Let's see if I can remember ancient languages. It'd be easier if you'd picked Latin instead of Greek, but the root words mean ‘truth’ and ‘beginning’.

Verity nodded.

“Very, no pun intended, fitting.”

Again she laughed. Not having to hide her ‘truth’ was such a relief.

“I've got to see my other patients right now, but I'll stop by later, okay?”

“Can you tell me what happened to me in the accident before you go?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. You've got a broken arm and a concussion.”

“Is that why there's two of you?”

He laughed, waved, and headed out of the room.

One week later, she was strong enough to see her dad, who was still in intensive care. She sat in a wheelchair and an orderly pushed her to the ICU unit where Joe lay.

He had been in a coma, but had come out of it and now he wanted to see her.

As she entered the room she was shocked to see the amount of damage that had been done to his body. He was wearing a neck brace as one of his vertebrae had fractured. He also had a bandage around his head, hiding the left side of his face. Apparently, flames had swept into the front of the car from the fires that engulfed the engine, burning the left side of his face. The most shocking, however, was the missing left leg and hip.

“Daddy?” she said when the nurse left the room.

“Hi, Sweetheart,” he said stiltedly. It seemed to take a lot of effort to get the air needed to speak.

“Shh… Shh,” she told him quietly.

“I need to tell you something,” he told her.

“There’ll be time later,” she said. “You need to rest, Daddy.”

“No there won’t,” he gasped. It took a moment, then he managed, “I’m not gonna last much longer. I signed a DNR when I woke up. Thankfully, I’m coherent enough to do that.”

“It’s not gonna come to that!” she cried.

“I’m sorry, baby. Charlie isn’t alive anymore, so there’s no need to protect you like I did.”

“But Daddy, I don’t know how to be a girl!”

“I’m like you, but I never got the chance to be a girl, either.” He sighed and coughed at length. “I went to that party when i met your mom…” He paused to catch his breath. “To prove I was a man. Greg *cough* was a friend, or so I thought. *cough cough* He led, and I followed.”
He gasped again, then said, “That’s why I didn’t want Ray coming for Christmas. I didn’t want him to judge you because he’d taken on his father’s ideals.”

Tears were streaming down Verity’s face as she contemplated her father’s death. She didn’t know how to make it alone. “Daddy, I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to die.”

He laughed. “What you see is the least of my problems. As a matter of fact, this is a blessing.” laughing made him cough. “I finally got rid of that thing. I get to die with my bottom surgery done. Not as painlessly as I would have liked, but it's done.”

He interrupted her as she started to say something. “Your mother left you and Ray as the two who would inherit what she had. It’s not a huge bequest, but it’s not bad.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“She didn’t want her sissy husband inheriting anything. I’m fine with it. I just wish she hadn’t included Ray, but whatever. It was hers.”

“What I’m giving my little girl is this: I’ve petitioned for your status change and name change. You know that, but I’ve also requested that you be emancipated. Hopefully, it will be granted and you won’t need to have a guardian. You’re old enough to make your own decisions. I don’t want you to have to deal with someone who interferes with your transition.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” she managed to get out between sobs. She could see that speaking to her had exhausted him. She wanted to talk more, but he was drifting off to sleep, and she hoped it would help him gain strength. She just held his hand.

It was not to be, however. A few minutes after he drifted off, his breathing stopped and she watched the heart monitor slow down and stop. There was an unending beep that sounded until a nurse came in and shut it off. Quietly, he checked Joe’s heart with a stethoscope, said, “I’m sorry,” to Verity, then stepped out.

She just put her head down on her Daddy’s chest and sobbed.

Verity debated going to her mother’s funeral, but finally decided she should at least do that. Perhaps it would provide closure to so many hurtful things. It had never been how she treated Verity. It was her refusal to acknowledge the truth of who Ronnie really was. That and how she treated her husband. There was no excuse for that.

She attended the funeral in a dress. A beautician had come to the hospital and helped her with makeup and hair. Her hair wasn’t long, as Charlie nevered allowed it to be, but the beautician was able to style it into a pixie cut.

At the funeral, she saw Raymond, his father Greg, and Dinah, his step-mother.

Raymond smiled when he saw Verity, but she looked away, hoping he wouldn’t want to talk to her. She didn’t trust him, after what her father had told her. Probably thought it was funny that she would come in a dress.

Her mother’s funeral basically filled her with relief. She and Raymond were asked to throw the first dirt into the grave, and she was more than happy to do it. What she didn’t want to do was be next to Raymond. She used the wheelchair as an excuse to not round the grave to where he was standing. He started to come around to where she was instead, but she gave him an evil glare, so he stopped.

The next day was to be her father’s funeral and rather than relief, she was dreading it. The fact that Charlie didn’t want their funerals, or even burials together didn’t surprise Verity. The headstone that was to be theirs together had been replaced by single ones. It was no surprise that Charlie would have a stone, and Joe would have just a marker on the ground.

What did surprise her was the fact that Raymond and his family were also present at Joe’s funeral. Well, her father had told her that Greg had been a friend. Sort of.

Once again, Raymond grinned at her appearance. Greg was more forthright in his disdain. She saw the evil glare he gave her before he looked away. It was certainly clear what he thought.

After the graveside service, Raymond approached Verity, but she just wanted him to go away. However, her repeated glare didn’t scare him off again, even as it was fueled by the knowledge that it was arguing about him that caused the car crash that killed her father.

“Are you alright?” Ray asked without preamble. “Do you need a place to stay?”

“I’ve only got two things to say to you, Raymond,” she said. “Charlie wanted you to spend Christmas with us, and Daddy didn’t. So they fought. In the car. I suppose I should thank you for killing our mother. But I will NEVER forgive you for killing my father.”

With that she directed the nurse to push her to the van she had come in. Raymond simply stood there watching.

Two years was a long time to be alone, but also it gave her time to think. She had lived the entire time as herself, not wearing some disguise of a teenage boy.

She wanted truth, as her first name said. Because of that, she had tried to get the cemetery where her parents were buried to change the markers of both her parents. They would not change Charlie’s. There had been strict instructions that her stone was to be as it was, with no mention of her husband.

But Joe’s marker had no such restrictions. Therefore, there was now a stone, identical to Charlie’s, which gave his name as ‘Faith Grace Brown’. Under that, it said, ‘known as’ and had his male name. Below that it said, ‘Despised by her wife for the truth.’

Back on her recliner, she held up the letter to read it again.

Hi, Verity,

I hope you’re doing well. I’m really hoping to see you on Christmas. If not that, for New Year’s.

I’ve missed you lots, and with Dad gone, Dinah and I really want to include you. You’ve been alone too long, Sis, and you need a family.

The letter went on, explaining what was happening in Ray and Dinah’s lives, but there was no mention of what had happened with Ray’s dad.

Raymond had sent a letter each month for the last two years, but Verity hadn’t opened any until six months ago. She wondered if any of the unopened ones solved the mystery, so she left her drinking recliner for her living room and grabbed a plastic file holder from beside the bean bag that served as her main chair where she would relax and read each night.

Inside, at the backmost of the files, was one that read ‘FIRE’. Inside that was a cut up debit card in her male name, several pieces of correspondence from businesses addressed in her old name. Each of these were ripped in half. There were also seventeen envelopes addressed to ‘Verity Brown’ in Raymond’s handwriting. Rather than simply torn in half, they were ripped again into quarters.

She looked at them for several minutes, then took them over to her computer desk. Well, it wasn’t really a desk. It was two sawhorses with a piece of OSB (oriented strand board) lying across them. She glanced at the time and saw that it was nearly midnight. She really didn’t have the energy to puzzle through the letters tonight. She would wait until morning.

She arose at 7:30, which was the time she would normally get up for work. In a case of lucky efficiency, she worked down the street at the same credit union where she stored her money, and the job made a halfway decent amount of money too. Her surgery was only a short while from being funded.

She needed to eat so she made up a modest breakfast and carried a plate to her usual dining surface. Having two tables seemed a waste of money to her, so she usually ate at her computer desk. She slid the letter fragments from the night before to one side and plugged her phone into a docking station to keep its charge up while it played a news podcast from the local channel’s website.

Nothing interesting seemed to be happening, so she turned off the station and unplugged her phone. She sat down on the bean bag and pulled up her current book and started to read. She spent the day reading, as she had very little else to do. In the evening, she got up and stretched. She went into the kitchen and fixed up a single serving- sized charcuterie board and sat down at the computer desk again. She plugged in her phone again and watched the evening news, which was similar to the morning, except for a list of roads blocked because of accidents, most of which seemed to be caused by Christmas revelers.

After her food, she sat down on her bean bag again and read until around ten o’clock. She got up and as she was walking to the bathroom to prepare for bed, she passed the pile of letter fragments again. She considered looking at them, but decided she just didn’t have the energy this night either.

The next morning, she sat down for breakfast and turned on the TV. It was filled with day-after-Christmas specials. Getting rid of unsold Christmas inventory, she supposed. Well, Boxing Day didn’t hold anything for her. She looked at the pile of letter fragments again and thought, except maybe a family.

She finished breakfast and turned off the news. She looked yet again at the letters and resolved to solve the puzzles. She got some tape and painstakingly taped the envelopes back together, and then carefully removed the fragments from them and taped them back together as well. It wasn’t hard to do, and she had it done in about half an hour.

Then, she began to read.

She learned that after the funerals, Greg had demanded for Ray and Dinah not to appear friendly to Verity. He knew there was no way he could mandate their actual feelings, but their apparent feelings, he could. Only he couldn’t.

Neither Ray nor Dinah were willing to change how they even appeared to feel. Greg discovered his son’s letter-writing in June of the first year. And in that month’s letter, Ray apologized that his letter was late. Sure enough, when Verity went back over the dates that the letters were written, the 1st of each month was the date at the top of them, and the 2nd was the postmark.

Except for June of the previous year. It was written on the 10th, and postmarked the 11th.

Ray also told how his letter had been ripped up by his father, then a huge blow up had occurred. Greg and Ray got into a fistfight with Dinah putting herself between the two. Ray was very proud of his step-mother as she told Greg to leave, and if he felt a need to change their feelings toward anyone, especially Ray’s sister, to never come back.

Greg motioned for Ray to accompany him, but Ray stood his ground. A second in the same envelope, from Dinah, told Verity how proud she was of her son… not stepson, but son. He stood up to his father and told him to never return if that was his character.

Greg didn’t say a word. He just turned and left.

Verity discovered that from that June on, each of her brother’s letters was accompanied by one from his step-mom, telling Verity how glad they were that she was becoming herself and not remaining a boy.

If these letters were the truth, how did she reconcile the death of her father? She had felt justified in blaming Ray for it for two years, but was she wrong?

It took until the 30th of December for Verity to come to a conclusion. One she hated, and yet was glad for.

Her father had been wrong. Not about Greg. Her father was exactly right about him. But about Ray, he had been wrong.

But was he? She remembered him saying, “If he follows his father’s teaching, I don’t want him there,” before the argument became physical in the car.

Was that word ‘if’ him admitting that he could be wrong? Maybe. It was also possible that he felt sure that he was right and was telling why he felt the way he did.

But if he was wrong, it was because of his love for Verity that he was willing to stand up to his controlling wife. Just like Ray stood up to his controlling father for her. Just like Ray. And Ray was just like her dad.

Tears came to her eyes as she considered what she had rejected for two years. She looked around at her spartan apartment and realized that she could have had a much more comfortable two years had she been willing to hear her brother out.

But she was hurting, and she didn’t dare hope that anyone would care for her even remotely the way her father had. Again, if the letters were true, Ray was willing to remove his father from his life for her. For her? Most likely for anyone, but especially for her.

She carefully folded the letters and put them away, this time in a new folder marked, ‘My brother, Ray’.

She sat back down and sobbed for much of the night.

The 31st was an emotional day for Verity. She wasn’t sure whether she should go to Ray’s or not. In a way, she wanted to hide behind the way things had been, but the thrill of having a family again… That was incredible!

At 10:50PM, she boarded a bus heading across town to a more upscale neighborhood. She got off the bus and sat down under the canopy at the bus stop. The bench was cold metal, but she endured it, hoping all the while that the cold would slow her heart. She glanced up the street to where she knew the house would be and her heart started to race again.

She was nervous!

Twenty-five nervous minutes after she sat down, she saw the next bus making its way toward her. She had to make a decision. Go home or go to Ray’s? What would it be?

She stood up. “I resolve to have a family!” she said to the world.

She knew that New Year’s resolutions were hard to keep, for many reasons, but she hoped this would be an easy one.

Before she knew it, she was standing on the front porch of her brother’s home. She raised her hand to push the doorbell, but before she touched the button, the door was pulled open with a bang!

“Verity!” came a cry from both her brother and his mother.

The next thing she knew, she was engulfed in a double hug and tears were running down her face.