Serenity - Prologue

River looked around at the growing crowd of men. All of them filled with mean resolve while their hands were filled with swords or guns. Seven to one; she almost felt sorry for them. The first came at her from her right and she dispatched him with a kick to his chin. As his sword fell from his hand, she grabbed it and stabbed the man approaching from her left. One by one they came and one by one they fell until she was left alone with the biggest and meanest of them all. She looked at him and shook, but not only in fear. She turned to seek some advantage only to find a wall barring her way. She laughed.

As the man stepped close for the kill, she backed even closer to him and ran again, right toward the wall….and up it. Doing a back flip, she passed his shoulders where she dispatched him cleanly with a thrust through deep into his heart……as she fell rudely into her desk, knocking her laptop onto the bed...

“Georgie? Have you finished the ironing? You know I have to have my uniform ready for work in an hour and I’m busy with the wash.”

“Yeah, Mom…I’m hanging the clothes in the closets now.”

“Thanks… you’re a dear.” He was. As he went from room to room, he stopped and lingered at his sister’s closet. Her room was directly across the hall from his room, and he spent time there every Saturday when the ironing needed doing. He looked at her clothes and sighed.

“I’ve decided.” The voice came from behind. He turned and saw his sister standing with her arms folded, looking almost self-satisfied.

“Oh?” He put his head down. She smiled wryly before stepping closer to him.

“Yes….The yellow floral dress. I think with the lime cardigan, don’t you? That should do just fine.” He began to tear up in anxious anticipation. She stepped next to him.

“Yep, Georgie…the yellow will look just fine at the party. Yep…with some nice accessories it should look just fine.” She repeated with confidence as she kissed him on the cheek and smiled.

“You can have it for keeps if you do me one favor, okay?” He winced.

“I want to be there when you tell Mommy….for support, okay?” He sighed.

“I’m afraid to tell her…you know how she feels about…” He looked out the door and his thoughts took a stroll down the hall to the living room. Walking on imaginary heels, he trembled as he stood by the coffee table where his mother’s Bible lay. As he looked at the book he shook even more as he thought of the imaginary skirt and top he was wearing; what would she say if she knew her son wasn’t a good boy…an evil twisted boy? But Mom wasn’t like that, was she?

“Mommy loves us, Georgie. I think we’ll be okay. Besides, sis…I’ve got your back.” Their talk seemed almost juvenile. At nearly nineteen and twenty respectively, Georgie and Frankie were in the midst of their segue into adulthood. Not like some siblings; they weren’t ‘nearly’ twins. He was 5’11 and was of average build for a young man. She was 5’10” and nearly lithe. And their personalities were nearly completely opposite.

Frankie’s confidence seemed to grow day by day as she prepared for her second summer after college. A fellowship awaited her in Milan as she continued working toward her teaching degree in voice. A Master’s in Music Education would follow; perhaps at Julliard.

Georgie continued working toward his ultimate goal of finding out what his ultimate goal actually was. He languished on the vine, as they say; an Associate of Arts, maybe followed by a transfer to State once he determined what he wanted to do with his life. He still felt like the little brother even though he would turn nineteen in six weeks. With the dance in less than two weeks, he felt he had a lot of growing up to do. Or she did, he remembered with a sigh as he looked in the mirror, disappointed at his image as the little ‘sister.’

“It’ll be okay, Georgie…I promise.” Taking the clothes basket out of his hands, she placed it on the bed and grabbed his hand. Walking him over to her dresser she opened the top three drawers, revealing her lingerie and hose.

“Look through here and pick out what you want, sweet…I think tomorrow would be a good day to tell her. Sunday.”

“You mean get dressed…I can’t, Frankie. I just can’t” He bit his tongue and looked back out the door once again.

“After church…when she’s getting dinner ready, I’ll get you ready and we can have our Sunday meal for once with all of us at the table.” He put his head down at the last few words.

“Listen…you know you’re going to have to tell her eventually, and I think it should be as soon as possible. You know what Dr. Cheung said, right?” At nearly nineteen, Georgie had almost waited too long. As it was, he cried at the thought of facial surgery, but looking like a girlish boy had been one thing; looking like a man in a dress was something completely different and altogether too sad for a girl. He began to cry.

“Hey…with the right makeup, you’ll still look pretty.” She took his long hair in her hand and piled it on top of his head. Putting her head next to his, she smiled as she gazed in the mirror and saw the frightened tears streaming down his face. Her smile faded quickly as her own tears began go flow. She spoke softly in his ear, almost as a prayer,

“It’s not your fault that things took a bit longer to get from here?” She touched his chest by his heart, “to…here?” She touched the top of his head.

“I should have said something a long time ago.” Looking at both their reflections, he began to shudder, forgetting everything except the fear that lived inside of him for so long; the reason for the fear was even one more thing he still had not the courage to share, even with his sister. Time would tell.

“It’s too late, Frankie…It will never be right. I waited too long…It’s never going to be right.”

Disappointment comes in degrees. Missing a favorite program… losing the championship soccer match? A huge gap between. But those were mere bumps in the road of life; leaving them all behind, Georgie was convinced his life was over before it had begun. No amount of good jobs or places to live or favorite books or fine meals or wine or fortune could ever mend the wound in his heart that would remain even as he remained a man. Georgie desperately needed to be herself; Georgina Pasquale. All roads should have already led from a hospital in Montreal, but she staggered down frustrating paths; going down the wrong roads to doom as Georgio Anthony Pasquale instead.

Next: Dinner and a Show!