Little Pink Pills, Part 4

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Little Pink Pills

Part Four, by Michelle Wilder

She'll take a tumble on you
Roll you like you were dice
until you come up blue...
She's got Bette Davis eyes

(Bette Davis Eyes, by Donna Weiss and Jackie DeShannon)

(Revised and reposted)

----

He didn't say he ~was~ a girl, just he felt like one.... But I- it was like he was a girl, to me. For some reason, after he said it.... It wasn't about Jerri's clothes or anything. That musta been years and years ago. It wasn't clothes.

Like things... like it was.... He said he didn't have words. She said. All the words I had were confused.

Not all of them. She. I had to smile. She.

Carson was a girl.

----

I sat up....

There was the thump-thump of two car doors, so Carson was probably back with Dad. I relaxed a little bit.

I'd been thinking more, about what Dad said... about Carson hurting himself. That that was why he asked if Carse wanted to stay over at our house tonight. That's why they went home. To Carse's home. Dad thought he might kill himself.

But he was here now and he wouldn't, here. I wouldn't either, let him.

I heard the door and steps downstairs and all of them talking for like hours. Then ~finally~ someone ran upstairs and Val leaned around the door. "Decent?"

I nodded and lay back more. I was already in bed with a pajama shirt, so I could hardly be anything else, or more. She came in and sat beside me.

"Carson's still pretty wired." She looked right in my eyes. "Can you tell me what's happening with him, with you guys? Can I help?"

I must've looked like that was a bad thing because she went on really fast and grabbed my hand. "You don't have to and I'm not saying that, but I just wanted to know if, if I can help you, guys, you just have to ask, you know, and it's okay if you do?"

She looked like she was really afraid. I suddenly connected that to... to her.

"Ss... he's okay!? I mean, is he?" I didn't know what to ask without saying more than he'd want me to, that I already had... than she'd want.

"What?" She looked like I wasn't making sense, but she looked scared too.

He'd want me to keep that completely secret, and Dad'd want me to keep anything about him hurting himself, well, quiet, not secret, but not talk about it, and I'd already let that out.

Or Val figured it out, too. She knew about him a bit already, I remembered, or something. I made little hopeless moves with my hand. There wasn't anywhere to go and I didn't know what to say. I trusted Val with anything, but it wasn't mine, and I ~really~ needed to talk to someone about how bad this all felt, inside.

Not Carson, me: Carson maybe wanting to hurt herself and I couldn't help. And I knew how awful it felt.

----

Valerie hugged me and I cried and I didn't remember when either started. It was just what he was afraid of, that I'd feel bad. It's what I'd been afraid of. That I already knew.

When you tell anyone anything that's truly important, they always feel bad.

-

Val patted my back and I thought, 'but she still likes me....'

----

It wasn't bad, what Carson told me, what we said. It was just hard to....

It was hard to not be a boy, a guy... to not make it simpler. To not pretend, like it was something, something less... less important or real, so I wouldn't cry.

Or hug someone like I never, ever had except Mom and Dad. Or Valerie. And not for about ten years. I hugged her harder.

----

Or look in someone's eyes. Or touch someone. The stuff we all called gay. The guys. Not Carson. Val kept rocking me. I did that all the time, now. Gay.

I got an idea, kinda without words. Something....

When I fell, Carson touched me and held me and I cried and then, after, like in the hospital, I looked in his eyes and said some, some of the hard things... and then he... she couldn't keep doing the... being a boy anymore, either, the same.

Boys, men... didn't, and she wasn't, and couldn't pretend. It got harder.

And I couldn't either. She's a girl inside, and I'm a boy, and... but we still have the same problem, sort of.

I couldn't be the same kind of man I thought I would ... should be. Was supposed to. To grow up to.

I had a rush of half-ideas with almost no words. I let go of Val enough to breathe better and it was almost as if I switched off the bad feelings and just had the hug.

----

Carse was downstairs and safe. And Valerie and Brenda were here, there- too. Okay. Okay. Think. I'm a senior, smart. Plan to say something smart for once.

"Uh."

I had to wipe my face and Val looked as if she wanted to help but I tried to be grown up, laying in bed with no pants and totally unable to get up by myself. I guess she saw that, too. She gave me a hankie.

"Thanks." "You're welcome."

She smiled it was okay. I wet-smiled thanks. "Could you ask, if... umm... could come up here?"

"Who, Carson?"

I guess I wasn't too clear. But I nodded. "Please?"

I tried to smile, but she just looked worried again so I probably looked sick. That almost made me laugh, at how I must've looked. Mixed messages. She looked better, too, so I guess that was a little clearer. I tried again.

"Pretty please?"

That made her snort.

----

It took ~way~ longer than just her going downstairs, but Carson finally tapped on my door and came in when I smiled at her. "Hey."

When she made to just come in I said that she should close the door and then I had to make her sit on the bed instead of a chair and she still almost didn't. Even then, she was stiffer than usual. Which was pretty normal, considering.

-

For a second I wondered if she'd had any of the same kind of thoughts that I had, about all the stuff that was happening with us, and maybe why. I really didn't think so, since it was all happening ~to~ her.

Even though I had to sit up more than was comfortable, I managed to grab her arm and pull her hand over so I could hold it, like a handshake, but holding hands. Hers was about half again bigger than mine. Big hands. Warm, too. I wiggled my fingers and she still didn't relax. She did look at me, though.

I realized just then. Wow. I smiled that I was, and how I could see.

"I just realized that I'm thinking of you as a girl!"

She looked all scared and weird, like that was bad, or wrong. Maybe it was! Maybe I didn't understand and had it all wrong and that would be ~so~ insulting to a guy!

"That's okay, isn't it?" Her eyes were really wide just then.

But she looked maybe just scared, I decided, 'cause she almost smiled, so I squeezed more than anything else and thought then that I didn't have to worry about hurting her that way. It was a nice thought. Funny and nice. A girl who was a lot stronger than me, and tougher and way better at football and shooter games. I pulled her hand over so I could hold it in both of mine.

"Can I talk?"

I thought that maybe that was the right thing to ask, anyway, right then. She nodded, but still looked weirded-out. Though she had that small smile too.

"I think it all started when you sat on me when I fell, and I cried? I mean, wih-"

Her face scrunched up and I heard myself.

"No!! Not you!! I mean me! What I said here, when- when I came home? Remember!?"

She looked a little less like she was going to cry or something as I kept trying to take it back, how it sounded. She finally looked okay. Or less hurt.

She hadn't said a word since she came in. I liked that she'd talked in the last while. I hoped she'd start again. Like right then, 'cause I was starting to worry I was ~all~ wrong, maybe.

But I had to tell her, 'cause I was right about me, I was sure. And I was even surer I needed to tell her.

"I've never hugged anyone before but Mom and Dad and now I've hugged you and Valerie and I've never touched a boy in my life except to wrestle or sports or joke around or stuff and I... even before you told me, I liked that you... held me, when you did, like carrying me... even if it was just to help, or hold me up... and the hospital." I looked right in her eyes that she was keeping on the floor.

"But I like it." I think my smile was in what I said because she looked over at me and I already knew because she'd sorta told me, but this was about me talking. My leg spazzed and was almost a cramp. "I need to lay down better...."

She moved away while I slid down more on my back and after she finally sat back down I had to pull her arm and then her hand harder to get her to notice me. Then she turned really red and at last shifted closer to where I could lay right back and still hold her hand. She still wasn't close enough.

"I thought I might be gay." I smiled to make that not as bad as it would've been a couple of weeks ago. And not with her.

"I mean, because of the crying, and wanting to tell you guys that stuff? 'Cause guys don't do that? And then I was always saying it was the drugs but I think it really was just me thinking."

I had to put it in one sentence and I thought, too late, she didn't know what I'd been thinking. I looked in her eyes and realized that it was the first time I'd... that I'd ~felt~ what happened, more than thought about it all. I mean, it was all feelings... that were important. Not what ~happened~.

Like that she was a girl.

-

I think it took too long for me to get ready, but she was still waiting when I looked in her eyes again. She was even looking at me, and still looked freaked.

"When you sat on me after I fell, you held me down so I wouldn't move, but you were really trying to make me feel better, weren't you?"

She looked like she had to think about that. She nodded. "I guess...."

"And you weren't embarrassed that I was crying and that you were talking to me when I was. And you didn't come to the hospital all the time, just..." I ran out of that one. But I knew something I didn't before.

"You... coming to visit me, was the best thing that's ever happened to me in my whole life."

She looked right at me. Her eyes were still really big, but she wasn't freaked any more.

I tried to look at her, even with my eyes blurry. "It's just that everything was different, and maybe the drugs too, and hurting, but that you- you helped me and then picked me up from the car and then in school... and you came to see... me...."

That was too much together, but it was all connected, somehow. She got it, I think, though, 'cause she squeezed my hands back. I still tried to finish.

"So, I... I think... I think I'll want hugs from you... all the time, now. From you and Brenda and Val." I smiled at how nice that felt to say out loud.

"All you girls."

Another thing that felt really good was that she could cry with a smile instead of those hurting sounds.

----

Neither of us were going to school the next day because Dad said Carson had to go see her parents and a doctor or someone and I needed someone as strong as her in school. (But Dad said "him.")

We were all allowed to talk pretty late, and we didn't, really, and by the time Brenda left she was yawning. We didn't tell her anything, but I think she knew that something happened from Val, before.

Carson ended up falling asleep on my bed and since I never moved in my sleep any more it was okay with me. Mom came in and covered her up with a comforter and I barely managed to smile hi when she kissed me goodnight.

-

End of Part 4

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Comments

How Sweet Michelle! :)

I am truly enjoying this story all over again!

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Hi, Stanman!

Thanks for your encouragement, it's like a smile every time I see your messages.
I hope you like the changes, too! ;-)
Michelle

I'm a bit slow at times

littlerocksilver's picture

I hadn't read this story before and it took me a while to get into it. Needless to say, you now have me hooked. One of the things I like is that it is avoiding the physical stereotypes that are so prevalent in many of our stories. You are dealing with the inner person and it is becoming apparent that the outer shell is not that important to our hero. Sweet story. I am looking forward to the rest and will try to avoid searching for the original (Then again, I might not.) Portia

Portia

The original?

Hi, Portia
Lovely name. ;-) It's nice to hear a Shakespearean echo in today's hurly-burly world.
My original posting might be out there somewhere, but I hope I'm improving my earlier efforts, and that you'll enjoy this version better.
Thanks so much!
Michelle

It's been said by others

But I'll say it too. I like this story and the twist from 'normal' "girl with birth defect body" is interesting. I'm hoping you can publish more each day. (Actually, I'm greedy and would like to read the entire story right now... *grin*)

Some days you're the pigeon, some days you're the statue

Really engaging, Michelle

I've been too rushed to take time to comment on this before, but you hooked me in pretty much from the first word. I love the originality of your approach, telling it from the protagonist's point of view with the torrent of disjointed half-thoughts and emotions and sentence fragments that tumble through real teenagers' heads, and the difficulty of putting those jumbled, rushing ideas into coherent words, the stops and starts, the frustration that causes and the emotions that adds to the mix, and the real-time interplay of emotions between the speaker and the listener, the former adapting and revising on the fly based on the latter's reactions--giving it an intimacy and immediacy difficult to achieve with a more conventional approach, making it feel incredibly real, and ring true.

It doesn't hurt that the characters and story are so compelling, too.

I can't wait for the next installment.

Sweet

Yes this is a very nice story that brings a smile to your face and a tear to your eyes.
Hilltopper

Gina_Summer2009__2__1_.jpgHilltopper

Definitely the road ...

Jezzi Stewart's picture

... less traveled in TG fiction, a breath of fresh air. Not all TS are 5'6" and slender. Great story.

"All the world really is a stage, darlings, so strut your stuff, have fun, and give the public a good show!" Miss Jezzi Belle at the end of each show

BE a lady!

Abstract Poetry Maybe

I struggled with your writing style for a while; certainly not proper prose, but there is something about it; something that kept drawing me back. Then I remembered one of John Ringo's novels. He has an edgy style; not ending sentences properly; breathless; nearly hysterical. I could really pick up on the protagonists fear and raw emotion. I started his book a few times and finally figured out how to read him. The book was really good once I caught the rhythm.

So, your style in this story is a lot like that. Maybe it is more rightly a sort of abstract poetry, and only means something to those who are willing to open their minds to new things.

For me, being T is a lot like that. I had to relax and try to catch the tempo of my new life. I had to realize that it is NOT ok for me to go out walking in the park at 10:00PM at night. Retarding my natural friendliness was vital because now it is seen as flirting, and with some men that can get you in a lot of trouble.

Thanks for the story. It is helping me to realize some things.

Gwendolyn

Thanks,

Hi, Gwen,
Thanks for the note and I'm glad you're enjoying my story.
I try to write the way ordinary people (especially younger ones) really live. We're a chaotic lot, at heart. We fall into life, love and trouble as much as we live by logic, planning or good advice from parents.
I also like a little fun in my stories, a little tweak on expectations... or two... to keep it interesting. Hence Carson.
It'd make a *terrible* play... nobody would figure it out fast enough! ;-)

Thanks again and why *not* flirt?? *I* do!
Michelle

Oh, flirting just bubbles outta me.

I must have the flirting gene, and also most certainly the dancing gene. I wanna be bad but I can never seem to quite carry it off.

Gwendolyn