By Andrea Lena DiMaggio
A collection of vignettes; brief glimpses into the lives of transwomen. Real-life portrayals of hopes and dreams; struggles and setbacks; and triumphs. Transgender; real-world lives imagined. Previously published short stories
The woman got up after a nervous rest, smiling at her sleeping wife. She walked over and sat down at the vanity and began brushing her hair; a short brunette bob that almost mirrored her lover's black. Vanity…an odd, familiar, but almost paradoxical idea. She gazed at her image and pouted. She was no vainer than any other; wanting to look pretty was a fairly normal feeling, wasn't it? And feeling unloveable and not at all pretty; she wasn't the only one, was she?
"You keep brushing your hair as if there were something wrong," Hannah called from the bed. "You know how adorable I think you are, right?"
Anne looked over at her wife and smiled, but there were tears in her eyes.
"Oh, honey…please…it's okay. Please, come to bed." Hannah patted the pillow next to her.
"I'm sorry. I don't want to be…" Anne said as she put her head down, the tears flowing freely. Hannah got up and walked over to the vanity, putting her arms around Anne in a tight hug from behind.
"Don't…you look just fine." Hannah smiled at her lover's reflection in the mirror as the woman raised her head. Anne looked down and saw what was missing even as Hannah saw noted what was there.
"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry...." She wept haltingly, leaning her head back against Hannah's breasts, the sad reminder of her loss. Hannah might have felt guilty if she were another, perhaps, seeing her own abundance while noting Anne's lack, Instead, she could only see the heart that beat softly but surely in her lover's chest; the heart that loved and cared and savored and cherished.
The heart that embraced Hannah's daughter, even as Anne was unable to have children of her own. The woman who esteemed her lover; Hannah had been abused and neglected all her life, from her family to her former spouse to so many other missteps in her quest to be loved. She leaned closer and spoke.
"I love you more than my own life. You see loss; I see possibilities and hope. You see failure; I see opportunities and newness of life. You see lack; I see what may yet be. You feel like you cannot be a mother to my child; I see a mother already who has brought healing to my little girl.
"But…no matter what I do…I'll never be…real. I'll never be…whole? What can I possibly do to bless you as I am…I can never be for you what you are for me." Anne shuddered in sobs. Hannah kissed her face over and over, saying,
"All I ever wanted…all I ever needed." Her own tears mixed with her lover's as she lavished Anne with her love; her own lack healed long ago by an abiding faith that things would one day be better. And they were. She led her lover to bed while squeezing her hand gently, cooing softly,
"I love you." Reaching over, she turned off the light. Softly and gently, caresses sent an almost magical sense of acceptance to the younger woman as she loved her as best she could. Sobs from both were replaced slowly by sighs and soft, calm breaths of relief. Weeping was replaced with joy as each woman drank in the other's essence; a reverie of exploration and discovery.
Slowly, sighs and gasps were replaced with moans and sobs, but these sobs were joyous founts of blessing; loving while truly loved as the women fell into each other.
Neither woman had started this journey in any way that might have been expected or presumed. Hannah, mother to a seven-year-old girl? Born Paul Armetta nearly thirty-six years before. Anne? Anne Manfredonia; a woman no longer with womb or breast, ravaged with disease and pain; perhaps never to live to see her step-daughter marry but determined to be a mother to her.
Time might be short, or they might have an eternity; who could say, but while they both lived to draw a breath, it would be a time like no other. Each caress would be a caress of love; a touch of the very hand of God. Each kiss would unite them in a way that none could ever know. Each teardrop like the life-giving water from a Spring rain; renewal and rebirth even as life waned in one and grew sad but faithful in the other.
"Nothing has ever been as good as it is now, my sweet girl," Hannah said as she kissed her lover in every place and every way.
"No one has ever given me the joy that you give, save for my God, and God give me the grace to give you the same. I love you, Anne. I love you."
And they wept.
And they loved.
And they lived.
Who can say what can happen; what can take place when love and faith and joy and pain and sadness are mixed together? What dreams may come from embracing every bit of another; welcoming the loss and lack as well as the blessing? But that day…that night…they were granted grace to live for at least a little while more and see their daughter grow and fall in love and wed.
If one can describe a mere twelve more years of pain and more hurt but much more promise and much more hope and faith and joy, it would be this:
When you cry I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
The breeze was cool if a bit uncomfortable. Two figures sat on a bench overlooking the large pond; separated by eighteen inches that might as well have been eighteen miles….
"I'm sorry that I'm such a disappointment," Greta's voice trailed off; almost in anticipation for a hoped-for consolation that would never come. The wind seemed to have grown colder, but the temperature hadn't changed. She turned to see Deke looking away.
"I don't know what else to say…." She gasped. He turned to her and glared.
"It's not like …. Nothing you can say will change anything…." He spat. The words stung. Greta's eyes pled even as he started to turn away once again.
"Believe me, Deke…. If I thought it would have…. You can't …. I don't know how to say it other than what I've told you. If I stayed the same I would have died. This is who I am….this is all of me."
"Not from where I sit. Do you know how much this hurts?" He sighed. Her eyes widened a bit in confusion and anger. How much it hurt him?
"Well I'm sorry I didn't consult you," she shook her head in frustration.
"You didn't even tell me….How could you do that?" It was his turn to plead. It had to be hard to know something you believed…..someone whom you believed in….would withhold so much of himself? Deke waved his hand at her in confused dismissal.
"Would it have made any difference?" She looked down at herself as if his words had laid her bare. The shame of merely wanting what everyone else in this lifetime wants.
"I thought…. This is disgusting!" Deke continued to glare at her. His eyes flashed an anger that she thankfully never saw since her face was downcast. But the word destroyed what little love she had for herself as it was slammed hard against what had now become hatred from her best friend.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," she repeated; this time softly as she began to cry. The words had lost their bite as the sarcasm gave way to complete despair. He thought only of himself; not too hard to imagine since we almost always see things first from our perspective. Greta could only hope with time that he would see things enough through her eyes to not hate her.
"Goodbye, Greg…." His words were tinged slightly with a regret that was engulfed in his own selfish pain. He stood up and walked away without another word.
"G…goodbye," she said weakly. Life was just as it always had been. But no matter how much pain the moment just past had brought, she would live her life. Even still, she sighed before lowering her head to weep for the loss that even the best life would not heal…..
"I…I love you…."
My Immortal
Words and music by
Amy Lee, Ben Moody,
and David Hodges
As performed by
Evanescence
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5anLPw0Efmo
Are we really happy here
With this lonely game we play
Looking for words to say
Searching but not finding
understanding anywhere
We're lost in a masquerade
"I want…. I need some space, Gar…." Patti sat on the opposite end of the couch, her arms folded in a self-hug. Gary sat still, fearing that any movement toward her would send her running to their bedroom for solitude. She turned and faced him.
"This whole thing…. It seems so…." She struggled to understand him, but it was just too steep a hill to climb. She turned away and sighed.
"I'm sorry." It was the sixth or seventh time he had said those words in the past two days; he'd lost count and she lost any real sympathy for him amid her own pain. It almost felt as if in trying to downplay what he told her he amplified it to the blare of a klaxon horn. He looked down at himself in survey; hardly any change but for a simple turquoise bracelet on his left wrist and newly polished nails; clear but shiny.
"I know you're sorry, Gar. That's the problem. You tell me you're sorry but you're not going to do anything but what you want." She huffed.
"It's not what I want…"
"I know, Gar…it's what you need! What about my needs. I don't like this…." She began to cry softly. He leaned closer for a second but backed off as she pulled her arm away from his touch.
"I… I want to be happy, Gar…. I don't know if I'll ever be happy again…" Patti sighed but turned to him and half-frowned
"I love you…. That's what's so hard about this. I love you! I don't know…." She stared at his hands.
"At least they're clear…." She laughed, but her heart wasn't in it and she turned her face to the back of the couch and began to weep. Gary put his hand on her shoulder and she went to pull away, but he turned her to him.
"I'll let it go…." He could no sooner let this part of him go than to stop being brown-eyed or left-handed. But letting go and setting aside can be two very distinct things, as words go if all the more painful.
"I hate you!" She said it even as she fell into his arms and wept. He sighed and held her tight as she cried. Looking down at his wrist he saw the light dance off the semi-gloss of the turquoise. He held Patti with one arm and shook off the bracelet; dropping it on the floor next to the couch. Nodding his head, he kissed Patti's hair and began to cry….
Both afraid to say we're just too far away
From being close together from the start
We tried to talk it over but the words got in the way
We're lost inside this lonely game we play
"What's the worst word in all of this, Patti?" Louise smiled warmly; an invitation that was too hard to ignore since no matter how Patti felt otherwise she needed to talk.
"It's like we've been playing a game all along…." Patti sighed and Louise nodded in encouragement.
"I feel so….useless…" She looked down at her body in almost disdain.
"You don't feel… needed?" It wasn't quite what Patti had said, but it was exactly what she would have said if words didn't get in the way.
"I don't know… I feel almost abandoned. I mean…where did he go?" She laughed but the frown on her face belied any lightness of the tone in her voice. She raised her hand and held it in front of her face; palm facing her like a mirror.
"You haven't changed, have you?" Louise smiled once again; that inviting expression that eased the pain out of Patti.
"Yes…I have. Doesn't everybody? Oh.. dammit….God fucking dammit….where did he go? Where did my husband go?"
"You miss him? Has he gone anywhere?" Louise prompted.
"Fuck it, Louise, you know what I mean….. Oh shit…I'm sorry." She went to wipe her face with her sleeve. Louise handed her the box of tissue and nodded.
"Yes, Patti… I know what you mean. Do you?" It wasn't as provocative as it might have sounded as that warm smile accompanied her words once again.
"I ….I'm a woman…. Why can't he see …. What the fuck happened?" She looked away.
"What has changed, Patti… what has happened? How do you see it?"
"I…I knew things….I knew he was….oh, fuck…" She paused, reaching inside for words like a child reaching into a bag sight unseen looking for her favorite candy.
"He was different?"
"Yes… I just…."
"You didn't realize just how different he was?"
"I….I'm a woman…. I…"
"You never imagined just how different he was…. That the man you married…." Louise left it open.
"He's not a man….I didn't know… I never realized." She stammered, searching for the right words until the look of quiet realization crossed her face and she began to cry.
"But…." A small, almost insignificant word, but illuminating instead of intrusive.
"I….I still…." She turned away; her head resting on the back of the couch. Louise sighed in relief as the pain seemed to flow out and away from Patti; a cleansing, healing flow.
"I…I still love…." No other words were necessary for the moment and no other moment was necessary for the process for the time being. Love was what brought Patti and Gary together, and it would do whatever was needful for both of them, no matter how things might turn out.
"I'm going to head out to Connie's now, okay?" Patti said as she picked up the keys from the kitchen counter. Gary looked up from the laptop at her and smiled.
"Have a nice time."
They both spoke; words followed by innocent laughter. Gary stood up and walked over to her. She looked at him with an awkward half-smile. The bracelet had returned and the nails were neat but now longer and pale pink. Little steps, she thought, as she pulled him into her for a warm hug. He kissed her on the cheek. She shrugged in frustration but kissed him back in the same manner. He wasn't the same, but maybe…just maybe; had she changed enough?
"I…love you," he said, the words were tentative and almost ashamed; repetitive and almost with a completely different meaning than ever.
"I… I still love you," Patti said with a quick squeeze of his shoulders and that continuing, inviting smile as she looked into his eyes; even if her own words were halting and awkward. She sighed in relief.
"I'll call you." She wanted to add more, but it wasn't easy and really too soon to take it all in. Time enough, she thought, to understand…....the words would come...
Thoughts of leaving disappear
Every time I see your eyes
No matter how hard I try
To understand the reasons
Why we carry on this way
We're lost in a masquerade
This Masquerade
words and music by
Leon Russell
as performed by
Jason Gould
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2oTUF8MQbuA
I don't know where to find you
I don't know how to reach you
I hear your voice in the wind
I feel you under my skin
Within my heart and my soul
I wait for you
Adagio
Annabella stood with her arms folded as she leaned against the edge of the shower. She stared at the ordered chaos on the large sink counter; various cosmetics seemingly taking over what had once been a very generous space. The home had other bathrooms, of course, but the master bath was a tenacious reminder of the commitment the two had for each other even as things had changed. She looked into the mirror, gauging how much she had changed as well.
"I've got to stop by the doctor's on the way home from work." A voice came from the hallway. She nodded as if she was face-to-face with the speaker. Tones and even cadence might have changed, but the voice always seemed to indicate a desire to please. That extra effort of detail; made not for the sake of information so much as for the need to defer. Annabella nodded again; almost absentmindedly and half-smiling at the irony.
"Since you'll be working late, maybe we can eat out?"
She sighed and shook her head. Favorite places and treasured rendezvous had been replaced by nice if somewhat less-threatening locales made even safer as places unfamiliar to friends and family. As one climbed out of shame and guilt, it was almost as if the other was in danger of sinking into the same muddy pit of confusion.
"No!" She breathed a deep sigh before resolution and commitment grabbed her rudely if necessary in reminder.
"That sounds just fine," she said as she grabbed a brush from the pile of personal care products that threatened to jump into the sink like some odd pool party. She pulled the brush through a little tangle above her left ear before her hair gave way in cooperation. As she finished brushing, she felt a presence followed quickly by a grab around the waist.
"I love you,' the voice spoke; still deep and throaty after so many years but segued into their own version of Lauren Bacall, even to the trembling nervous chin pressed down against the chest. Annabella turned and faced the voice. The same smiling eyes stared into hers; love that never would depart no matter whatever else had been lost or gained.
She sighed and smiled a weak smile; a supreme effort on her part that was becoming only a bit easier day by day as she had decided long ago that love was more important than anything. So what if others found things different enough to be wrong; for her, it was just right.
"I love you, too," she said.
While her words still felt odd, they also felt comfortable; a choice to do more than merely make do with circumstances and choices and decisions removed from her control entirely. What was it that someone once said? We can only control how we face things that come to us? She controlled her own heart, in a way. While it still felt unfamiliar and even as it banged hard into what she had always held dear or thought she knew, she was determined to embrace at least those things before her as gifts, no matter how they seemed or felt.
She stepped closer, standing almost tiptoe to deliver a kiss; not romantic in the truest sense, but oddly romantic nonetheless in the innocence of both hearts. Like two teenagers; second-childhood sweethearts as it were; she embraced the change as much as anyone would in learning about love for the very first time.
"Pick you up at seven?"
"I…" She paused and smiled. In the recent past she might have been very nervous; reluctant in fact. But today was a new day; twenty-four hours removed from yesterday's remaining doubts followed instead by her willingness to embrace what life had chosen to give her.
"I'll be in the lobby with Pete and Rina," she said, pointing to the book peeking out of the purse that sat on the sink next to the cosmetic detritus. An odd comfort to realize that mysteries weren't only relegated to real life.
"And let's go to Mario's for a change?" She said it with a lilt that charmed the dread from them both, recalling a long-abandoned if the less safe place to enjoy. If they were going out, they'd go out all the way.
"Okay." A nervous if resolute response, followed by another quick kiss and then silence other than the creak of the front door. Annabella smiled to herself with a shrug and a laugh-like sigh. Her mother had told her once that it was never a good thing with two women in the house; a caution against any prolonged cohabitation with a then-as-unidentified mother-in-law. Never in a million years would she have imagined being married to another woman; especially considering how that other woman had started out as her childhood boyfriend. She smiled. It was still taking a bit of energy and time to get used to. So what; She had all the time in the world.
I hear your voice in the wind
I feel you under my skin
Within my heart and my soul
I wait for you
Adagio
Adagio
Tomaso Albinoni, Rick Allison,
Lara Fabian, Dave Pickell
as performed by Lara Fabian
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1yJVW5kR8w
Kerry stared at the picture that graced her laptop. If it had been a photo album or a mere book, she would have scaled it across the room. Instead, she plopped the laptop on the couch beside her; even at that it wasn't the best way to treat something so expensive, but at that point, she almost didn't care. She fiddled with the ring on her left hand; convention be damned! She would keep the ring no matter what as a reminder to be wiser next time.
"I should just throw this away!" She would have said if she hadn't been crying for nearly a half-hour. Her throat hurt and her eyes stung from the weeping. She pulled the ring off her left hand and tossed it onto the table against the far wall. It bounced once and caromed past the table edge, falling to the floor.
"I hate myself." She sobbed. Picking up a throw pillow, she brought it to her breast and clung to it like a long-forgotten favorite blanket or stuffed dog. She was too tired to move, even though every part of her wanted to open up the laptop once again to stare at his picture. It wasn't fair, but then again life rarely is fair if fair at all. It just is what it is. But for human choices? Circumstances and events may often be almost capriciously guided, but when someone chooses to hurt another, it really isn't fair.
"I...I tried to...I really tried to tell him." She had told him, and likely as quickly as things required, but soon wasn't soon enough and he felt betrayed. That she hadn't told him the first moment they met seemed understandable; likely by most folk's estimation. And in all seriousness, all of her friends reminded her that she had nothing to explain or be apologetic for, even if he felt otherwise.
"But..." She often argued with the voices that raged in her heart; nothing audible but still besetting her with doubts and worries than most other women would ever know. Other women...the idea of the distinction hit her hard nearly every day; even more so since he left.
She stared at the ring; the glow of the table lamb glittered and danced in the facets of the gem. A mere promise of a friendship. She would have felt foolish if she knew that he had indeed intended to seek more in their relationship, but her honesty and candor pushed him away. Rather, her real self. The person he was beginning to know...that person was such a disappointment to him as he had expected a lifetime of love with a real girl.
"Caveat Emptor?" She sighed and threw herself onto the couch, shoving the laptop rudely onto the floor.
"Well, I'm sorry, Cameron, but this is an irregular. You can purchase it for half price since we're really trying to get rid of it. And it's sold as is; no promises or guarantees." The words flowed through her heart like poison. "All sales are final," she shook her head at the cruelty of the indictment that escaped her lips before she dissolved into hopeless tears.
"What does it profit a girl if she gains her soul while losing her whole world?" Being a writer was both a blessing and a curse. If she had read the words she had spoken in someone's book she would have noted the clever turn of phrase. But in her own story, they were just more words of condemnation. She felt alone and helpless and her sobs caused her to gasp and cough.
"Mommy?"
The little boy tugged at her sweater lapel, pulling her attention around. The boy looked nothing like her, of course, but he resembled her in ways that matter most. He looked her in the eyes in a way that only a loving child can in concern for a sad parent. Two misfits in an ideal but exclusive world; she with an identity created by a surgeon's hand and he with a life borne of two who never loved but loved enough to give him a home with her.
"Uncle Cam called." He smiled as if he had accomplished some Herculean task, and to be honest, cheering up a sad mom is no mean feat. Her eyes lit up for only a moment before she steeled herself to the impending new disappointment. She tried not to frown for her son's sake. She sat up and wiped her face with her sleeve, failing to notice the box of tissues in his hand.
"Okay, Malik. Thank you." She picked the boy up and gathered him in her arms. He was getting almost too big to pick up without at least a little bit of help from him.
"Uncle Cam said to tell you he's sorry." He half-smiled at her half-frown.
"That's good, honey. Thank you." She wanted to dismiss the whole moment but for the loving hug he gave her along with the words. It almost hurt more, since the man had used the child to deliver his message; not brave enough, and certainly not as brave as the little boy who had been through more than any child should endure. But the boy was as strong as can be, and wise enough, at least, to see her disappointment.
"Don't be sad, Mommy. Okay?" His grin revealed an otherwise perfect smile but for the slight backward tile of his right eyetooth. But love is perfectly exercised by the imperfect, isn't it? He squeezed her hand as she stared vacantly over his shoulder at the ring on the floor.
"Oh, honey, I'll be okay." Her words were true if not unconvincing for the moment and for the boy. He shook his head.
"Uncle Cam says he's sorry." Of course, the man was sorry; easy enough to express some semblance of remorse through the agency of a small child. And of course, if she had been honest she would have given him the benefit of the doubt since the call Malik answered was the only call of many that went heeded since she had chosen not to answer the phone herself. The boy smiled even brighter; his efforts to cheer her up weren't working, but he did have more to say and even something to give of himself as well.
"Uncle Cam said to tell you he wants a second chance." Six and a half years of age and so wise and perceptive. Her eyes lit up at the prospect of her own second chance. She pulled back hastily as she gave up hope in wise resignation before the boy continued.
"He said to look in the mailbox." She shook her head no as if to short circuit any operation that this small family might undergo in the futile hope of a normal life. Normal. What was that, anyway? Nevertheless, her legs and arms, and body betrayed her as she found herself gently setting her son's feet on the floor. A few minutes later she found herself standing at the bank of mailboxes in front of the apartment building. She found the small key on her keychain and opened her box. She sifted through the pile of junk mail and bills and found a plain but almost square envelope.
"Kerry and Malik Montalbano" she read aloud, noting that there was no postage on the envelope.
"Can I open it?" Malik asked with a big smile. Always a help to his mom. She handed the envelope to the boy and he gently pulled it apart and pulled out a card.
He handed it to her with the words, 'Can I see it?' She looked down at the boy with pride and nodded, forgetting herself. She opened the card and read it aloud.
"Dear Malik. I am so sorry that I've been such a bad person. I want you to know that you are very special to me. Can you do me a favor?"
She paused. Looking at the card, she noticed a few stains, as if someone had spilled something. And underneath the words she had just read, there seemed to be something embossed on the sturdy paper, causing her to gasp. She looked up as if to pray, mouthing the words 'I'm sorry before handing the boy the card. He grabbed it eagerly and his hands danced across it until he felt the place of importance. He breathed deep and 'read.'
"Dear Kerry. I am sorry."
"He's sorry, mommy!" Tears welled in her eyes and she nodded and spoke 'yes, honey.' He continued.
"Can I come back?"
"He wants to come back, mommy.' He grinned eagerly as if to say 'yes?'
"Yes, honey...he wants to come back." She gasped
"I want to come home. And Malik? Can I be your daddy?" The boy struggled as the words escaped his mouth. He didn't add another word as Kerry knelt beside him and hugged him tight.''
"Yes," was all she could say as she wept in her son's arms. He held the card while his arms encircled her neck. With only a bit of a struggle, he managed to put hand to card once again.
"Malik? Will you ask your mother if she wants me in your family, please?" The boy stumbled only a bit over the words as he began to cry as well. Kerry nodded yes, but the boy could pay no heed as he finally read,
"Will you both be my Valentines?"
"Mommy? Uncle Cam wants us to be his Valentines. Can we, Mommy?" Again, Kerry nodded; tears falling gently onto the boy's face. She pulled back and looked at his face; sightless eyes for a boy who had more vision than her. She nodded out of reflex but spoke once more.
"Yes, Malik. Yes." She hugged him once again before standing up. Grabbing his hand, she looked at her beautiful child and spoke again.
"I think we should go call Uncle Cameron. Okay."
"Okay." The boy said eagerly as he squeezed Kerry's hand.
"And Mommy?. Happy Valentine's Day."
"Happy Valentines Day, my sweet boy!"
Rush, New York, February 14, 2011
Mary Grace opened the yellowing envelope carefully; it gave way easily with seams that no longer adhered and corners worn by years of handling. Gently pushing it apart with her left hand, she reached in and grabbed the card inside.
The card was single-ply with a picture of two fawns bumping noses.
Be a Deer and Be My Valentine
She smiled at the sentiment of a six-year-old boy from decades past whose simple love and care reached across time to touch her heart.
Luv, Anthony Macaluso
She swallowed and blinked back tears. The most precious thing she could ever point to in a very troubled childhood. She recalled with fondness and only a tiny bit of residual sadness the day she received the treasure.
"My Mom says I hafta give everybody a Valentine," the boy said. You don't hafta keep it if you don't wanna." A hand reached over.
"But even if I didn't hafta give you one, I would. I like you a lot." He stepped closer, looking for all the world, as they say, as if he was about to bestow a kiss.
The boy was shooed away by a very kind and well meaning teacher who merely reflected how things were back then. The woman grabbed the Valentine and shook her head no. Innocence interrupted in a way as the woman returned to the front of the classroom and placed the card on her desk. Thankfully the day was nearly over, and the card was retrieved later while the teacher was pre-occupied with getting coats and galoshes and hats all sorted out on a cold afternoon in February.
"What you did, Anthony?" She shook her head as she stared down at the card. The pencil was nearly faded, but overwritten several times in ink; each time the hand was steady until recently when pens became shaky even if memory was as steady as always.
"You…I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, Anthony Macaluso."
She blinked back tears over the memory of a boy who made the supreme difference in her life. And who made a supreme sacrifice on behalf of companions years ago in a rice paddy a whole world away. She shook her head and smiled even as the tears flowed; a yearly ritual that was dreaded and welcomed at the same time. The stains from crying over the years added character to the fading card; almost like the patina on the birch backing of a Martin guitar or the brown stains on the bottom of a favorite coffee mug.
She sighed as she remembered the boy from so long ago; forever etched in her memory as a six year old with red hair and big green, caring eyes. He and his family moved away that summer, and she never saw him again. Only in reading in the paper had she learned of his fate. The boy became a man who loved enough not to love his own life too much, as some would say. Not a surprise, when he loved enough to give a Valentine that made her life complete so many years ago.
"Mom says to give everybody one…so nobody will know, okay?" The soft, tentative voice spoke from beyond the pale as if the little boy stood before her at that moment.
"I didn't want to get you in trouble," the boy would say afterwards. It never became trouble because no one ever knew other than the teacher who spared them both. A hastily confiscated card 'accidentally' left unattended to be retrieved when nobody was looking. She peered down at the card and noticed, of course, that fresh tear stains graced the paper. Ironic, she thought, remembering her middle name.
"Mary Grace…actually Mary Graziano Forte." She spoke it quietly to herself, but the voice was still heard.
"He must have been something special," the man who sat across from her in the rocker; he didn't look up since it was a ritual for her that spanned decades, predating even their thirty years together. The words spoke more of an acknowledgment of her history rather than a question; another opportunity to thank God for the love of a boy who was blind in all the best ways with otherwise perfect vision. She looked at the card once again and then up at her husband. The cards he gave her over the years were just as special; each tea rose or carnation or dinner out had just as much importance in her life, if in a completely different context.
"I should get another envelope for this." Something she would say every year and then forget; not in forgetfulness, but because to replace the envelope would be, perhaps, to lose the most important part of the treasure, even if it was faded and yellowed with age. She read the card once more before placing in the envelope.
Be a Deer and Be My Valentine
Luv, Anthony Macaluso
She slipped the card into the envelope and folded the flap carefully before turning to look at the front one last time until the next Valentine's Day one year hence; blessed by another year's worth of tears.
To Joey Graziano
On my own; pretending he's beside me
All alone, I walk with him till morning
Without him, I feel his arms around me
And when I lose my way I close my eyes and he has found me
The girl sat at the desk; bathed in the glow of the laptop by a cold light in an otherwise darkened bedroom. The window was opened to a page filled with pictures from friends. One stood out; almost a painful reminder, the young man stood next to a very pretty girl; his arm around her waist. A quick click on the 'x' closed the window followed by another click to sign off.
"I…" Even in the privacy of the bedroom in an otherwise empty house; parents away on their weekly date and sister off to see her new boyfriend; a sigh and a stammer as if the whole room was filled with taunting and laughter. Accusations from no one but deep inside are as real and as sad and painful as if they had been delivered by a best friend. Best friend…
"Why can't I be found?" She asked; her memory flashing quickly to the picture of the happy couple.
"I'm so stupid."
She stared vacantly at the blank laptop screen; as if the offending images still displayed her frustration. The boy was ….just beautiful. She couldn't get over how handsome he was, nor could she ignore how pretty the girl beside him was; a match made in heaven, even if it was her own private hell as well. She wanted to be angry at the girl, but she couldn't. It went beyond more than not being jealous; she loved the girl in the picture and wanted the best for her. The harsh reality of caring too much for both filled her heart with conflict and pain; as if it was being split in half.
"I'm so stupid."
She repeated the mantra; wanting so bad to be mistaken but feeling at least that she was correct in her self-assessment. She wasn't stupid at all. But no one could convince her otherwise.
She stared at the object on the desk; an instrument of deliverance that could provide relief in mere moments in a minor way or an arduous journey that could end all of her pain. She picked up the blade and held it lightly; a soft touch for the moment. She dragged it down her arm; starting at just below the elbow and finishing at the large group of freckles just above her wrist. A soft, warm glow filled her even as the dark flow dripped onto her jeans. She winced and laughed at the pain; the dual sensation filling her with pride that she had both overcome the temptation to end it all and the relief that the pain brought for the moment.
And I know it's only in my mind that I'm talking to myself and not to him
And although I know that he is blind Still I say there's a way for us
She thought of the picture once again. As in every recent memory, the face of the girl changed; becoming her instead of her rival. She imagined looking into the boy's eyes. And every time his eyes were sightless; seeing without comprehension the love before him. Ignoring her to look past into the face of the girl she had sought in some way to replace; even if for a fleeting moment of recognition. But those eyes were blind to her; who could blame him when he had the love of the one whom he loved back. It didn't matter to her since it was still painful.
She looked down at her arm. The track was almost fading as the river of blood had stopped its flow. She took the blade and drew it across her wrist; as near a final act as it could be without following through; the blade left a very shallow slice; she had become proficient in hurting without harming. A wince from the sting; she dropped the blade onto the desk.
"You're a coward!"
She stared into space, imagining what the boy would say if he knew how much she cared. No coward; she was as brave a soul as anyone might wish to know, even if she didn't know it herself. Some dilemmas resolve over time. Some end when one side gives way to another. And some never end; even if the sting of disappointment fades like the pain from a well-worn blade. She looked at the laptop once again; the glow was dim, but the room lit up enough for her to note her reflection on the screen. She shook her head.
"I….don't even know you!"
She bowed her head; feeling like a stranger to herself, she put her hand to her face and began to cry softly; the crying that begs silence because anyone might hear and try to comfort the inconsolable, even if she was all alone. And she hated crying; a futile exercise that did nothing to help but did much to leave her vulnerable to discovery. The paradox of wanting so much to be known while staying anonymous.
In the rain the pavement shines like silver
All the lights are misty in the river
In the darkness the trees are full of starlight
And all I see is him and me forever and forever
I love him, but when the night is over
He's gone; the river's just a river
The silence of the moment was interrupted by the sound of a hard rain outside her window. Looking out, she saw reflections of ambient starlight mixed with the lone lamp down the block; leaving the street silvery grey. She always loved the sound of rain and the loud patter seemed to soothe her.
She looked down once again at her wrist; another moment of temptation. What a lovely sendoff it might be; the sights and sounds of things she loved followed by the pain and bliss of release as she pressed the blade once again to her wrist. This time it was just a bit harder, but still safe enough. The blood trickled once again onto her jeans; a favorite garment of praise, she thought, that somehow would remove the spirit of heaviness, as the song goes. But it wasn't release enough, either. She scaled the blade across the room and it flew out the open window into the warm rainy night.
I love him, but every day I'm learning
All my life, I've only been pretending
Without me his world will go on turning
A world that's full of happiness
That I have never known
"Jan?"
The voice came from the bedroom doorway. The familiar face of her rival smiled warmly as a wave got her attention. The girl held her hand up….her left hand revealed a sparkle that more than caught her eye.
"He asked me to marry him, Jan. Isn't that wonderful?"
"Yeah, Sis," came the happy sigh even as the sleeves were pulled down to guarantee the pretense would continue. The girl ran to the desk and threw open her arms.
"He wanted to…. But I couldn't wait. Will you stand up for us?"
A smile and a nod; the sleeves serving a dual purpose by removing the evidence of tears. The girl offered another hug and the embrace was followed quickly.
"I think Mom and Dad are home. I'm so happy, Jan. This is the best day of my life."
She blew a kiss before running out the door and down the hallway. Jan looked again at the blank screen and beheld an image that both disappointed and somehow satisfied. At least she would be happy with him, and that would be enough for now. Jan looked out the window once again; disappointed and relieved at the same time that the blade layout in the pouring rain. He shook his head and laid it down on the desk and wept.
Without him, the world around me changes
The trees are bare and everywhere
the streets are full of strangers
I love him
I love him
I love him
But only on my own
On My Own
Music by Claude-Michael Schá¶nberg
Words by Alain Boublil and Jean-Marc Natel (French lyrics)
and Herbert Kretzmer (English adaptation)
As performed by Samantha Barks
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XhLoYVU6ymE
Heather sat on the bed looking at the clothing that lay piled neatly beside her. Nothing spectacular from anyone's point of view, but still huge enough of a statement. She sighed deeply before standing up. Stripping off her clothes, she eyed the pile once again.
"This should work," she said as she pulled off her briefs and pulled up a pair of soft, cotton-lined grey-green satin panties. Though they would remain hidden, they set the tone for the rest of her outfit. She hadn't meant to be so confrontational, but her father was unable to listen.
"Dad…please?" She had begged so many times, and while failing in that regard time after time, she knew it was because he just couldn't understand.
"No." The word seemed abrupt, but the tone was soft. A father struggling with his beliefs and how they crashed hard against his child's needs. He couldn't even understand that they were needs; not wants invented out of entitlement and confusion, but needs that burst out of a heart filled with hope and clarity. But still, it was her father who turned down each and every request to understand, and no matter what understandable reason stood behind his response, it still hurt
"It has to work. It will work." She placed her arms thru the bra straps and fastened it in front. No hose today; it was very warm, and she was already nervous enough. She stepped in and pulled up the matching grey-green slip; pausing before continuing to look at herself in the mirror. Her body remained disappointing to her; too wide in the waist and way too small in the bosom, but it was what she had, and it was hers. She pulled up a long cream-colored gauze skirt and followed it quickly with a tan tunic with a scoop neck and short sleeves. Stepping into her sandals, she looked down, wondering why no one in the family had small feet.
"Now what could anyone possibly say about this outfit?" She shook her head. Nothing would matter unless she could face him as herself. But also? No amount of preparation could help to anticipate how painfully sad the coming moments would be for her. Nothing would retrieve the time lost between the two, but she had to try. She grabbed the broad round straw hat from the post of her bed and put it on with another sigh.
"Oh….please, Dad…" She felt that even the slightest accommodation might mean the difference between acceptance and refusal, and she decided to avoid saying "Daddy." Moving to the dresser she grabbed the watch sitting on her jewelry box. The only thing that actually meant something to her; an old Gruen, it was a treasured gift from her father for her twelfth birthday. It had a new leather band that accommodated her larger wrist.
"Heather?"
A voice called from the hallway. A tall, rugged-looking man stood at the door dressed in a dark suit. His face was a brilliant welcome to her amid her anxious mood, even if it was less than handsome to most; her sister said he was good-looking in an ugly sort of way, which everyone recognized as a compliment.
"I know."
She walked to him and kissed his cheek. He pulled her close and she began to cry. Never one for much makeup, she was at least glad that her eyes wore no adornment to repair. He patted her gently on the back but pulled away slowly and guided her down the hallway and outside to the waiting car...
"Dad? I wanted to say I love you, but I can't." She sounded oddly calm for the words that would come next, and they were also surprising, since they were completely unexpected.
"I'll try anyway, okay? I know I've been something of a disappointment to you, but somebody told me once that you can't disappoint someone unless they expect something or that you are important to them. I'm going to remember the times you told me you loved me. And I'm going to remember the times you cried when you saw me; not because you hated me, but because you cared too much. That you couldn't love me softly but it had to be with that hard edge of yours. No compromise, right? But I know it was because you loved me."
She leaned over and kissed him and forgot her vow; nothing mattered now, and it truly was all about what she could give to him rather than what she could ever get.
"Daddy. I love you. I forgive you. Be at peace, okay?" She leaned again and kissed his forehead before standing calmly. Her boyfriend came close and touched her hand; taking it in his and squeezing. Putting her other hand to her face, she wiped tears that came too fast to staunch.
"It's time," the doctor said. Heather nodded before turning into a comforting embrace as a soft click was followed by a loud persistent high-pitched beep.
The Ragazza home, Essex Fells, New Jersey, October 31, 2015….
Being the child of a jewelry artist was a plus, but the design of the tiara was simple if very pretty. She adjusted it as she tilted her head slightly; musing about how attractive it might appear to the boy she liked. Her makeup was a bit more involved than normal; which wasn't really normal most days anyway. A quick re-touch of lip-gloss was in order; she had a tendency to bite her bottom lip when she was deep in thought or nervous. Deep thought and anxiety usually danced around her head in times like this, but she remained undaunted.
"Will you be back in time for dinner," her mother called out from the kitchen. She looked around the room in haste, as if the answer was written on the wall or hidden underneath her bed.
"No," she shouted, her voice a bit scratchier than usual, but needful for the moment.
"Okay. Maybe I'll stop by your Aunt Margo's on the way home from work. She's busy re-doing the kitchen and I've been meaning to get over there to help. Is that okay? Do you have any money?"
"Yes, Mom. Probably stop by Taco Bell later." She lied. Tonight, no matter what happened, tonight was absolutely not a Taco Bell night. She wasn't even sure she could eat.
"Okay, honey. Hope you have a good time." She heard her mother open the front door, but pause.
"Nino? Would you mind? I forgot to check the mail last night?" The boy put his head down at the mention of his name, which pushed hard in an ironic fashion against his family name. He didn't hate it, but there was something so frustrating about hearing it time after time; especially since he hadn't had the strength to push past his fears to tell his mother the truth. He sighed even as he heard his mother shout one last time.
"Love you, honey. I'll see you tonight! Have a good time." The door closed sharply behind her, leaving her only child to ponder the cruelty of fate or some deity or even Goddess herself; how a princess ended up stuck on a mundane planet in an ordinary town living a very sad life as a sixteen-year-old boy. He looked up and his face….her face brightened as she realized that maybe today would be the day she told her mother that Nino still lived, but his name was Natalia.
The Stein home, Essex Fells, New Jersey…
"Oh, honestly, Lee. Do you really have to go out dressed like that? I mean…." The girl's mother stared at her, hands-on-hips with a wry grin, trying with some success to keep from laughing. She stepped closer and inspected her middle child. The second of three girls had come to her nearly two years before and cried over a secret that everyone knew but no one wanted to face until that moment.
"You're quite handsome."
"I'm not, but I'm not pretty either." Both of them were wrong. The boy's face was almost exactly like the girl's face except for the lack of makeup. Sharp features and fiercely bright eyes made him look like the young man he was, even if things were different under his clothes. He looked down as if he could see beneath his outfit. Everything was 'put away for the moment. He felt oddly ashamed that unlike some of his friends, he did more than not despise his body. He embraced it. Gender was fluid and presentable depending upon the heart and mind of the person, wasn't it? He shook his head as tears came freely.
"No regrets, Lee."
"But I'm a freak, Mom. Even some of the folks in the support group look at me funny." Kara looked at her child…her only son…and half-smiled; it was so ironic that some people could demand acceptance and tolerance while extending little or none to someone just as out-of-place as they were. Thankfully those moments and those people were few.
"Not a freak. We're all different and all the same, Lee. I hope at least that I have shown that to you and Debra and Ruth." She stepped back and looked at her son. Ready as ever to take on the world, no matter which world that might be. She patted the sides of the boy's shoulders to boost him, so to speak.
"You have everything?" She inspected his 'gear.' Loose dark pants partly covered by a medium-length tunic-like garment covering a cream-colored shirt; all loose but not quite flowing. His hair was a bit longer than usual, but still just the right length. No other hair, however. Even the boy's grandfather and uncles found it difficult to grow beards, and Lee had already chosen not to seek any extra 'help,' so his face was clean. No rules that either of them knew that demanded a beard. And he was only a Padawan anyway; his sister Ruth had added a braided length of hair to complete the look.
"What…I can't find it…" The boy began to panic; even for a day of make-believe, where looks and demeanor and even accessories mattered.
"Relax, my brother," Debra said as she walked into the living room. She pulled a cylindrical object from behind her back.
"I was just scratching it up here and there to give it that used look, you know," she said as she handed the lightsaber to him. He placed it under his garment in a deep inside pocket, breathing a sigh of relief.
"I hope you make that connection you told me about," Kara said with a soft laugh. The boy's cheeks grew red.
"Oh, as if we didn't know? Come on, Obi-Wan." Debra giggled and Ruth joined in with a laugh of her own.
"You might be a Jedi in training today and on any other occasional weekend, but you're still living in this world, where young men fall for young ladies," Kara said to him as she kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"And if you see a guy with a red and black face and horns, quickly walk away!" Debra said as she stepped closer to give Lee her own hug. The old ways had been replaced from one side, but Debra still treasured her sibling as much as when things were different. She pressed a small packet into the boy's hand. A nervous look of recognition quickly flashed and was gone. He put his head down but avoided looking at his hand. How could she have known? She stepped closer once again.
"I know, bro. It's okay. You know….everything about you is just right!" The words did little to alleviate the feelings of awkwardness even if they were heart-felt. To begin with, things didn't fit and he felt out of place with his newly-found peers; at least with the few friends whose rude if well-intended remarks seemed to outweigh the encouragement from others. He shook his head.
"No regrets, Lee," Kara said. "I have three children who give me great joy. Two beautiful daughters and one handsome son, and I will not hear otherwise. And what my children choose to do with their lives in whatever manner they decide is just fine with me.
"You don't understand."
"I don't. Not at all." Kara said as she looked back and forth between Lee and Debra and Ruth. She smiled.
"But I didn't have children with the idea that I had to understand everything about them. All I am called to do….everything I am called to do with you three is to love you as best I can. Your father, may his soul be blessed, said as much before he died. He loved you three so much. It's what we do." Kara began to tear up. A visit to a once-in-a-while event by her middle child would have meant much less to any other mother, but today was almost a hallmark; that moment where he would make up for those years of neglect of who he had always been. A 'today I am a man' moment, no matter what surrounded his soul.
"Okay, bro." Ruth walked over to the pass-through counter by the kitchen and grabbed her purse. Reaching in, she grabbed her keys and tossed them to the boy.
"Park it nicely and bring it back in one piece." She laughed. He stared at the Porche medallion on the fob; the one luxury Aaron Stein allowed himself passed to his oldest child who now entrusted her 'baby' to her brother.
"And if you run into a little boy with a big smile and big eyes and he asks you to train him? Tell him thanks but no thanks?" Kara touched the boy's elbow. He winced only a bit; don't all boys get a bit embarrassed at their mother's attention, even in front of family?
The Izod Center, East Rutherford, New Jersey…late afternoon…
The girl seemed lost in a sea of colorful characters; both as beloved members of families and friends on the screen and the odd and unusual personality one might find in a gathering like this. She practically lowered her head, only glancing up on occasion when she saw the feet of approaching people. It was her first time ever to take a breath… the heart that beat inside her was throbbing for the first time as her, so to speak. As much fun as the afternoon promised, she felt awkward and out of place in an arena filled with novelty and odd amusement.
The boy strained his eyes from the glare of the exhibit lights as he looked and looked without much success. The arena was filled with people and creatures and all sorts of wondrous things to see, even if Jedis and Brownshirts and caped heroes and heroines all mixed together. Not as much organization as other conventions, to be sure; the promoters had made a horrible choice in the venue and it was a first-time well-meant effort and it showed. Even still, what wasn't included or missed or forgotten was made up for completely with what …with whom he hoped he'd find.
His attempts to communicate had been thwarted by a crappy 4G knockoff and unanswered texting. He stopped and pulled out the large card in his pocket; a laminate 'map' of the exhibits. He realized he was probably only fifty yards or so from where he had told her to meet him. He walked a bit until he found the Lucasfilm booth and saw several girls standing in front dressed in skimpy outfits along with a tall guy in a dark vest over a cream shirt with dark pants.
He glanced at his watch; it was well past the time for their meeting; provided she had even gotten his message. Several people jostled past him even though the aisle was fairly clear; two girls who looked as if they were texting each other and a college-age guy who looked like a reasonable facsimile of Benedict Cumberbatch.
"Lee?" The voice was almost a whisper accompanied by a tug on his sleeve. He turned to face a very pretty if nervous-looking young lady. She wore a long ivory gown with a crisscrossed bodice and billowy sleeves. Unlike the gown in the photo of her idol. her midriff was covered, And she wore a very red complexion; unaided by cosmetics but enhanced by embarrassment.
"Natalia?" The boy breathed out her name in a sigh. Through his sister. they had known each other for almost their whole lives, but this was the first time they had met, in a way. He smiled nervously, which didn't help the girl at all. She turned sideways and shook her head.
"I'm sorry….this was a mistake." She went to leave but he grabbed her hand; first with urgency, but softly as she gave in to his assuring eyes.
"I haven't told my Mom." She shook her head again and began to cry. Who cries at a comic convention, anyway? He stepped closer to her and pulled her to him in a brotherly embrace. It was brotherly since they had been almost siblings since grammar school.
"It's okay, Nat…. Maybe me and my Mom can help you tell her?" The boy was as strong as the girl was weak; the contrast was both good and bad, but mostly getting better as the girl sighed.
"You'd do that for me? I feel… I'm such a fool. I hate myself." She shook her head yet another time; this moment with eyes cast downward in shame.
"Natalia?" The boy pled, his arms held out wide in encouragement.
"No…. Nino...." She used that name…that other identification that seemed to taunt her even if unintentionally so. Her eyes flashed with shame.
"Natalia….that's your name. Not Nino….not anymore! We'll tell your Mom." He cupped her chin to raise her countenance, as the old saying goes. But he went further, even if it hadn't been his intent all along, it was appropriate and honest and healing for both of them. A quick but tender kiss on the lips; the first kiss of many for both of them.
"Obi-Wan kissing Padme? Holy X-Wing! Some Jedi is gonna be majorly pissed," a boy said with a laugh. His hair was short and very red and his face was covered with freckles. He wore slacks and a simple vest sweater over a button-down shirt with a bow tie. His comment drew a few smiles and some laughter from a gathering crowd of teens and young adults and even an older gentleman dressed in a long coat with a very large hat and a long striped scarf thrown loosely around his neck.
"Hey…look at the freaks!" Another boy dressed similarly to Lee said as he pointed. His intended response never arrived as several young men and a few girls booed him.
"I think it's beautiful," a girl clad in green and yellow spandex with a short brown leather jacket said loudly before elbowing the rude boy in the arm. The girl next to her was clad in a dark red outfit covered mostly by a very long trench coat. She took the pack of cards in her hand and flicked it at the boy unceremoniously; the pack was unopened and the box careened off the boy's forehead and onto the floor.
"Ce qu'un imbécile!" She shook her head and laughed before grabbing her girlfriend's hand. A boy dressed in white plastic armor took off his helmet and began to applaud. Soon everyone in the immediate area was clapping. Lee turned to Natalia and pulled her close for a hug, which the girl welcomed with happy tears.
An odd match made in a heaven of another universe, I suppose. The wrong bodies on the right people? The wrong clothes worn by the perfect person? The wrong approach for the right union? Even the wrong characters for the right hearts. A shy and retiring girl who wanted to be loved for who she was as well as for what she might remain. And a very strong boy; not weak of spirit or selfish, but a good and honest boy who sought only to be himself.
And a promise that this odd couple might be much more together than they would ever have been apart; perhaps with young Padawans of their own? One can never tell when a romance like that is written for all to see across the stars….
Inspired by
The Love Theme from
Attack of the Clones
(Across the Stars)
composed by John Williams
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KZ92vQbgE7M
The Folke home, Lyons, New York...
The girl sat in the old easy chair in the corner of her bedroom. A remnant from her recent past, its golden brown velour was rubbed raw from nearly constant use for over a decade. The cushions seemed to barely support even her slight weight while threatening to almost swallow her small frame, but it was still comfortable.
The phone rang. She sighed and reluctantly extricated herself from the pit of the chair and walked down the hall. She had wanted some time before the meeting that evening, but Cathy was insistent and seemed to need a lot of attention.
"Yeah, hi…no…that'll be okay…oh…" She paused and her face began to redden.
"Yes, I …I guess. Okay…see you in a bit." She put the receiver back on the cradle and went to walk back to the bedroom.
"Jay?" Her father spoke from the kitchen. She turned to see a very concerned look on his face. He knew her 'like a book,' as the old saying goes. She sighed but otherwise kept silent.
"Still worried?" He shook his head slightly, not to deny her obvious fear, but to affirm how much he knew that she didn't want to go to the meeting that night.
"Wouldn't you be? Oh, wait…you've never had to deal with this?" She regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth. His eyes almost seemed to twinkle as he smiled, since he did know her like a book.
"It's hard, but I know you can do this." He paused and his eyes widened along with his smile; his eyebrows arched unequally, revealing a scar over his right eye.
"After all…it's what you need to do." Another broad grin. Anyone who didn't know him might suppose he was teasing, but his smile was welcoming and kind; she didn't need as in 'required' or 'should,' but instead needed to do it for the very sake of her soul.
"Who are you, Jay? Tell me again."
She frowned and tilted her head sideways a bit; looking like a child asked to sing a song for her favorite Aunt and Uncle at Christmas. She began speaking in an almost monotone; the litany nearly rote.
"Hi, My name is Janice. I'm a transgendered teen and just moved here from Pittsfield." Her drone elicited one of the very few frowns she would get on occasion from her father.
"Definitions, honey, definitions!" He laughed softly.
"Dad…I don't know what else to say. How do I explain who I am?" She breathed out a frustrated sigh.
"Well, for one, you don't begin by telling everyone what you are. First, what you are is no one's business but your own and your doctor, right?" She looked at him as if to say, 'and you and me and Mommy.' He nodded and grinned.
"And second? You're a human being like everyone else; you breathe the same air, you eat most of the same foods, and you probably have most of the same songs on your iPod, right?" She looked at him in puzzlement, as if he had left something out.
"Jay? We are WHO we are, right? What did your Mom tell you just last night?" He arched just one eyebrow then for effect.
"I'm fearfully and wonderfully made. But what does that mean, Dad? Fearfully?"
"Back and forth, century-wise, words can sometimes get annoying. Fear like in absolute awe and almost speechless… like 'wow!' He laughed softly; his warmth seemed to wrap her up in safety.
"And God knew you before you were even conceived." He smiled again, but the word 'knew' seemed to poke her sharply.
"Then why did he make me this way?" She looked down at herself; her clothes seemed to disappear before her eyes and she shook her head. Her eyes began to tear up; the disappointment was almost impossible to hide since she was almost never able to hide her feelings. Some might say 'hey, none of that,' in a way to encourage or strengthen, but her father just smiled again.
"One of the best answers I ever heard for that question, Jay?" She looked up eagerly awaiting the wisdom that would give her relief from her doubts, but he smiled yet again and spoke with conviction.
"Beats the hell out of me!" The 'haich-ee-double hockey sticks' rarely came from out of his mouth, and the softness of his voice, coupled with the mild expletive made her laugh nervously even as the frustration seemed to grow.
"It may seem sometimes that he's just fooling with us when we get no concrete answers to important questions, but it's in the void where we get our hope." She tilted her head once again, puzzled.
"He loves you, right?" She nodded slowly, waiting almost for a letdown.
"And he knows you, right?" She nodded once again, blinking out some tears.
"Look at yourself again, Jay? Do you see what I see?" She complied as if his request was something to avoid. But that's the way she felt.
"I see my child. You're fourteen and you're the same person your Mom gave birth to. You're exactly the same person I held in my arms the day you were born, right?" She pursed her lips and folded her arms in a self-hug, fearing her own answer. Shaking her head, she looked down once again and spoke.
"No…" Almost a question.
"You're not exactly what you were when you were born, Jay. But you're exactly who God made you to be. He had and still has plans for your life…plans with hope and a future. Not for what you were or are now or even what you might become, even if that's included. His plans are for who you are, Jay." She looked into his eyes and the warmth she had always known seemed to intensify; the acceptance grew if that was even possible, and she felt loved all over again. The rehearsal of life seemed to go on between the two of them on a nearly daily basis.
"Never mind what the world says about what you are, okay? Keep in mind and your heart what God and your Mom and I feel about you. You're our daughter now, but you've been our child always. You've always been and always will be defined by who you are." He held out his arms and she stood still, as she always did, testing him; assaying his commitment by simple gestures. He never minded since he loved her, after all. He stepped closer and pulled her into a hug. She dissolved in tears; a ritual that really wasn't bad at all because her tears were good and whole and cleansing once again.
Lyons United Methodist Church...later that evening...
"Hey… Brian? C'mere." Cathy waved at the tall boy setting up chairs. He finished unfolding a chair and placed it in the row before walking over.
"Brian…this is Janice… she just moved here…her Mom is the new pastor."
"Hey…you've got a lot to live up to. A PK? That must be hard." Pastor's kids always seem to be either under much more scrutiny than anyone else or under the radar and even anonymous. Janice shook the boy's hand. She looked down at her own hand and the doubts seemed to rise up in her throat like bile. Did she shake 'too' firmly? Was she too much 'like herself?'
"I…." She hesitated. Old fears seemed to close in on her like a vise, but she looked over the boy's shoulder and saw a gentle face smiling at her in welcome. She took a deep breath and spoke.
"I guess… My mom is pretty easy to live with, you know. She's the best. I think she and I are going to like living here." She smiled at the boy, enjoying the new attention, but her eyes darted back to the man in the corner; her expression seemed to ask, 'How am I doing?' His smile gave her all the answers she needed. She shook the boy's hand and smiled before giving her attention once again to Cathy as Brian turned to set up the chairs.
"I…I'm really glad you called me. I wasn't going to come." Her voice seemed to break at the nervous moment as the girl rubbed her arm softly.
"I'm really glad I called." Cathy smiled with more reserve but much more warmth; her face duplicating the emotion of the moment as she began to blush. Janice grabbed the girl's hand softly and smiled a smile she'd never smiled before. She looked over at the man in the corner once again; his face beamed approval. She blinked out a few tears.
"Oh, shit…" Cathy blurted out. Her face darkened even more; Janice felt the heat of her cheeks as she wiped away the girl's tears.
"Oh…no….not that. I was just thinking of my Dad."
"Oh…." The girl did a nearly acceptable job of composing herself before she changed her subject to match Janice's words.
"Will he be working at the church as well?"
"Oh….no…" Janice sighed and half-smiled.
"My Dad's an engineer….you know…rocket science?" She laughed softly and blinked back a few tears before continuing.
"He died a couple of years ago. I miss him so much." She looked over Cathy's shoulder at the empty corner of the room.
"I'm…I'm so sorry." Cathy stammered as her face grew red once again, feeling unimportant and not at all helpful.
"That's okay. You didn't know. I'm just glad that I can still hear his voice, you know?" She smiled and her warmth seemed to cool the girl's embarrassment.
"Oh…me too. I lost my Dad last year….he was a corpsman over in the war." Cathy started to cry.
"I'm so sorry…I didn't know it would still do that." She looked at herself in apology.
"I understand."
"I ….it…why the fuck would God do that….why did he let my Daddy die?" The words seemed almost sacrilegious amid a somewhat holy place. Janice pulled the girl close to her and held her tight; confidence and compassion seemed to burst out of the girl like a flower blooming in the sun.
"I know…I know." She kissed the girl's cheek, tasting the salt of her tears. A beginning for both of them that would span decades, but at that moment it was all about definition.
"It…" She hesitated, beginning to explain away the pain. A calm presence came up to the two of them from behind and her mind paused as her heart took over. She leaned closer again and kissed the girl on the ear and whispered.
"A very wise man told me once, Cath….'Beats the hell out of me."
the Jefferson Diner....
The woman sat at the booth by the window. She was a big woman both in size and in presence; almost out of place and more suited to dine at the fine tavern next door. She leaned down and touched her calf, feeling the soft smooth hose that adorned her legs, revealed by the split in her long satin-lined green wool maxi dress. A moment later she looked up to see a very nervous girl standing before her.
"Your tea, ma'am. Have you decided?" The girl shook nervously; afraid of both her own shadow and the woman before her.
"The Cobb Salad, please."
Her words seem to electrify the moment as the girl was startled. She nodded, smiling as she backed away slowly. Delia lifted her glass of iced tea and took a sip as she watched the girl walk away. She was very plain looking, and Delia noticed that the other wait staff seemed to ignore her when they gathered at the station while waiting for their orders. A few minutes later the girl hurried back to Delia's table with the Cobb Salad.
"Would you like some more iced tea?" The girl said almost apologetically. Delia peered at the tag on the girl's uniform before saying,
"That would be nice….Jane." The girl blushed at the mention of her name as she looked down at her name tag. She went to take the empty glass from the table when Delia reached out and touched her hand, causing her to spill the glass, sending ice all over. She flinched at her 'mistake' when Delia once again reached out and touched her hand.
"It's okay, sweetie. It's only ice." Delia smiled gently and the girl's face grew even redder.
"You know how beautiful you are when you're humble?" Delia pulled the girl closer, a gentle tug that brought the girl nearly nose to nose with her.
"Let me take you away from all this?" Delia said with a smile. Her breath was hot and sweet and the girl shook slightly from the sensation of the moment.
"Really? You need someone who will take care of you the way you deserve." Delia stood up and looked around the room at the other diners.
"Excuse me," she said loudly over the noise of the various conversations that filled the restaurant. Almost every eye turned and faced her; the attention she sought was almost complete.
"Excuse ME?" She spoke louder; loud enough to gain the attention of the wait staff who had ignored the young woman earlier.
"Jane and I have an announcement!" The girl turned to face Delia, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and joy as she put her hand to her cheek in wonder.
"We've decided that this establishment is not worthy of her presence!" Delia pivoted around to face the wait staff. She offered a smirk as the boys and girls eyed her. She took a step in their direction before turning back to the girl.
"Allow me?" She said gently to the girl as she placed her hand on the girl's cheek. Her fingers brushed against the girl's earlobe playfully before settling softly on the girl's neck. She leaned closer and began to kiss the girl; softly at first in tentative exploration as the diners gasped in surprise.
She continued, but now with both hands gently supporting the girl's slender neck as the kiss grew hot and romantic. In a moment Jane had changed from a seldom noticed duckling to a graceful swan who gained the admiration of the crowd. She startled everyone by reaching around and down and in a second had the girl bundled in her arms; sweeping her away from all that as she carried the girl to the sound of...
"Johnny? Did you remember to take out the trash?" The loud voice echoed in the hallway as Johnny woke up with a start. A moment of foggy semi-awareness was followed quickly by a tentative,
"Ye…yeah, Mom…I…."
"Well, okay, honey. I'm heading for bed myself, okay? Love you," Johnny's mother called as she walked down the hallway. A second later he heard the door open as his mother entered the room. She walked over to his bed. He gripped the covers tightly that lay across his body. She leaned over and kissed his cheek and shook her head, the scent of her Aveda seemed to fill the room. She walked to the bedroom door and stopped. Turning, she smiled at the boy before saying at last,
"I forgot to tell you…Delia called. You left your chemistry book over at her place. She's going to bring it on the bus tomorrow." The boy blushed. She went to exit the bedroom but turned one last time.
"Honey?" The word was soft and gentle but seemed to bode of more than just a final 'good night. He looked up gingerly, his hands still gripping the blanket tightly to his chest.
"Make sure you put my uniform away when you're finished with it." She said with a soft laugh. He looked at his mother and then down at himself. A peek underneath the covers revealed a pink polyester dress that covered a perky if entirely faux bosom. On the left breast, just under the 'Jefferson Diner' Logo, was a name tag, covered with a piece of white medical tape with a handwritten name. His face grew hot and he wished he could just die right there when his mother spoke one last time.
"Sweet dreams, baby, okay."
"Okay, Mom…love you." He said nervously as his eyes filled with nervous fearful tears. She stood in the doorway and sighed.
"I love you too…..Jane."
Up Where We Belong
words by Will Jennings
music by Jack Nitzsche
and Buffy Saint-Marie
as performed by
Gschwisteract
from the Motion Picture
An Officer and a Gentleman
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sOaU31Zs-5w
The room was barely lit from scented candles when they crossed the threshold; her full white gown brushed softly against the door frame as the dimmed light still managed to glisten off the satin and silk. A moment later they lounged on the settee in front of the bed, hugging tentatively.
"I…" the Bride stammered; her face had darkened in embarrassment. Her new husband touched her cheek, wiping away shameful tears.
"You are so beautiful," he exclaimed as he kissed her neck, sending a shudder down her spine. His hand moved to her ear as he circled his finger around a curl that had come undone from her updo.
"I'm not…." She sighed, turning her head. He caressed the back of her neck; the touch on the edge of her hair tingled and she shrugged nervously in response.
"You're everything I've hoped for," he said as he kissed her cheek, paying particular attention to nibbling the cartilage on her ear. She shuddered again and began to cry softly.
"It…can't work…." Her voice trailed off as she pulled away slightly, her head turning even further away from his kiss.
"It already has," he said as his hand drew her face back to his waiting lips. She went to shake her head no, but his touch had already begun to convince her of the truth of their love. He pulled her gently into a soft kiss; his tears mingling with hers as he kissed the edge of her mouth and his teeth dragged slowly across her lower lip.
"I'm not…" she protested. The soft half-smile coupled quickly with a nod that disagreed gently.
"You're everything I need…." He smiled, still subdued but convincing enough to evoke a sigh of relief as she fell into his arms, the skirt of her wedding gown draping his knees like a soft blanket. He kissed her again, the warmth of his breath filling her nostrils with strength and courage. She began to weep in relief as he reached under the edge of her bodice and caressed her breast.
"Oh…Elliot….Elliot…." The girl cried as his fingers softly danced across her nipple; tiny but still sensitive. His palm cupped her breast; small in his hand but still treasured by his touch.
"You are so beautiful…to me…" his voice trailed off as his other hand slipped under the great folds of her gown, paying heed to be careful. She shuddered once again before sighing a deep sigh. Her hands made their way to his chin; soft and bare but still strong in its way. He kissed her hand and wrist.
"Everything…" he said softly as his hand reached further in; his short nails still sharp enough to provoke a surprised smile.
"Oh...…" he said, grabbing and holding and touching. She shuddered once again at the caress and moved her hand downward. In a moment she reached in and touched him; a soft caress that dragged almost lazily across him, evoking a shudder of his own. His face grew red as she found his moistness and used it to probe.
She kissed his neck and he began to laugh from the tickle of her eyelash; the redness and heat growing in his face. Softly he sighed as her hand lightly touched the soft mound even as she entered him; a moment of mystery and wonder coming together as she knew that she indeed was everything to him even as he was everything to her….
You Are So Beautiful
Words and Music by
Dennis Wilson, Billy Preston
and Bruce Fisher
as performed by
Arpi Petrysian
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bw4e_VQ1fOY
It is now that this life is mine
I've had a few moments on this earth
And my longing has brought me here
What I missed and what I had
It was the day of Alaina's mother's funeral. Still clad in pajamas and robe, she sat on the bed and held the treasured garment closely to her chest. It was already late, and the morning promised to be hectic. She smiled as her hands seemed to dance across the fading rayon. Her face was a mixture of fatigue and peace, oddly enough. But today was a day of transition, to use a very worn-out expression, but apt for the moment. She sighed and turned to face the door only to be startled by her father's presence.
"Your mother loved that dress,' he said with a soft laugh. The dress was important for so many reasons, but none more than that the dress served as a connection between Alaina and her mother, even if it had frustrated her father to no end.
"I'm sorry I never understood, Alaina." He shook his head at his own failures, in a way. Alaina looked around the room in anxious urgency. Her father seemed to use his glance to indicate the rest of his daughter's treasures. Her eyes fell upon the purse and shoes on the wide dresser against the far wall.
It's still the way I have chosen
My confidence far beyond words
As it's been shown a little bit
From the sky I haven't reached
"I guess it works,' her father said. His voice was steady and nearly unchanged from her childhood. Unpredictable and frustrating since he nearly always expressed disappointment in her without ever telling her what it was he had actually expected. Unspoken expectations were followed quickly by correction. It wasn't that he didn't want to love her, but rather that he had decided very early in life that he would allow what he understood to define what he would choose to know, even if he never actually chose that path. His father was adamant about what he understood, and it followed that he would be as well.
I want to feel like I'm alive
All the time I have
I'm going to live how I want
I want to feel like I'm alive
Knowing what I have left
"You really going to wear that,' she heard him ask. The dress merely awaited her attention. She smiled nervously at her reflection in the wide mirror over the dresser. She did resemble her mother, didn't she? Her father stood off, leaning against the bedroom door. A sentinel of sorts seeking to guard the outside world from his daughter. She sighed as tears fell from her cheeks. Tears he failed to note.
I haven't forgotten who I was
I just let it sleep
Maybe I had no choice
Just a desire to remain
The group of friends seemed to balance out her family; small as both groups were. The timid sister who finally came to appreciate Alaina only to be silenced by their father's insistent beliefs. Her two brothers were standing next to her sister. One stood tall and proud as he smiled from eternity through an ethereal portal opened to the fragile past they both shared. His uniform was neat and clean and unblemished as it likely would always be.
Her other brother stood on her sister's left side as he tenaciously clung to the ideas and perceptions of her father. All of them loved her; each in their own way, and barely if at all in the way Alaina needed. The change would come for her sister as she finally regained her voice. And while her older brother might never understand, he would come to the place of accepting that he did not need to understand Alaina.
Her father's insight had already come to a crossroads of sorts as he and his younger son would learn from each other.
I want to live happily
Because I'm myself
Able to be strong and free
See how the night goes to day
Alaina turned and looked at her friends. Three girls she had known since they were all in pre-school. Two of them always knew exactly who Alaina was. The third did not, but after some prayerful exploration had come to see things and ideas and life as her faith was re-framed with love that accepts. The two young men were opposites in a small way. The first had known her since middle school, Lifelong friends whose relationship had always been rock-solid even as the foundation underneath that rock had shifted and changed while still being ever tangible and real.
And the other young man who came to love Alaina late. Never knowing the child or the teen but coming to know the adult enough to share every part of himself even as Alaina sought to withhold much of hers. His love helped her be finally who she had always been meant to be.
I'm here
And my life is only mine
And the heavens I believed were there
I should find it there somewhere
Alaina looked back and forth between friends and family as her unspoken song seemed to waft heavenward. Her father shook his head at the disbelief of his lost opportunities. While they would one day enjoy the relationship that had been meant to be, the time of lament still inserted itself into the moment.
Alaina turned her gaze down to face the grave. Her dress was just right for the day. A wonderful early Fall day that was both warm and comforting, with a breeze that seemed to push all of her hurt away. The dress was greyish-green rayon, full-skirted. She wore a hat with a short veil that covered her face. Her gloves and purse matched her dress and suited her mood - grey in grief but green in hope
Alaina smiled and recalled her words with her father only last week. While it had been a long time coming and still was incomplete and unfinished in so many ways, it was exactly what she needed to say and exactly what he finally embraced.
I want to feel like I lived my life
Gabriella's Song
from the motion picture
Så som i himmelen
(As it is in Heaven)
Translated from the original Swedish
Words and Music by
Py Backman and Stefan Nillson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u2Vr1ODCUag
Comments
I actually had to pause several times reading this
the emotions were so raw and real I found myself feeling what the characters were feeling, and needed to take breaks while reading it.
that is the sign of an excellent author, one of the very best of those whose stories I've read.
Amor Vincit Omnia
That's the message in these little stories.