September 2004
“Sandra, the coffee pot smells like vinegar!” Ariel called out down the hallway, receiving no answer, as expected. She huffed and pulled the finished pot from the burner, holding it at eye level and giving it a quick shake before committing the dark brown liquid to her clear-glass coffee mug. The coffee swirled before coming to a rest inside the mug and she hesitated only slightly before adding sugar and creamer. Fifteen calories per pump – and a possible scale surprise when she weighed herself at the end of the week. Still, her tired eyes and useless limbs demanded caffeine, as did her body if she planned to actually have a productive day.
“Chai tea,” Miles said from his desk behind the brick partition. Ariel half-turned to look at him, mug in hand. He was holding up a thermos, yellow with a floral design. “Healthier for you, and you don’t have to worry about Sandra ‘cleaning’ out the coffee pot.”
“Well,” Ariel said, stepping away and heading toward her desk in front of the partition. “If it’s all the same to you…”
“Yeah, yeah,” Miles rolled his eyes. “Coffee drinker for life.”
“Damn right,” Ariel smirked. She crossed the room carefully, taking a seat at her desk in front of the partition. The Haven had a curious setup – the front of the house was just a single desk in front of a brick facade designed to hide the rest of the office from anyone who wandered in off the street. Not that it happened very often. The idea was to make sure that anyone who came in seeking help wasn’t immediately overwhelmed by the four occupied desks immediately behind Ariel. Given the things that most people came here for, it was understandable.
She booted up her computer and waited for the Windows desktop to appear while she took a sip of her coffee, scrunching her face and looking down at the abomination that not even four pumps of creamer and two sugar packets could save. She set it down on the desk, looking up at the computer screen and navigating to Outlook.
Outlook’s inbox populated, giving Ariel a list of new e-mails along with older ones, already opened and greyed out. There was nothing particularly interesting today – a joke e-mail from Miles and an office policy update from Sandra. She sipped her coffee again and looked up toward the entrance which her desk faced. The front entrance was a set of steel-glass doors flanked by two vertical windows on each side, stretching from floor to ceiling and coated with an anti-UV sheet, rendering all of the outside light a pale blue.
The world beyond the window seemed quiet, fortunately, but then again, this was Ypsilanti and not a whole lot happened here. It was interesting to her, honestly; this place was a stark contrast from her home in North Carolina, Rylee would have survived here. That wasn’t to say that this place was perfect: it had its share of backward-thinkers and hate mongers, but Rylee would have survived here, and that would have been enough.
Thoughts of her lost sister brought back images of that fateful night, when Father had come to his senses and stopped his violent spree mid-stride. When the three of them, Ariel, Mother, and Father had walked to the end of the driveway to see the blood-covered snow. Rylee had never been found, but the incident had been sobering enough that Mother and Father raised no objection when she moved into Amber’s studio apartment the next day. It had been cramped, dry, and practically unlivable with two people, but it had been quiet, peaceful, and she felt safe for the first time in her life. Save for the nightmares.
Letting out a hard sigh, she opened the top right drawer of her desk and pulled out the long-handled mirror. Her face looked okay; blush done perfectly, lips appropriately light pink, and her long blonde hair hung tightly around her shoulders. Today she’d chosen to wear a light blue blouse paired with a khaki skirt -- not the most professional ensemble, but who cared anymore?
Satisfied that her desk was mostly in order, she checked her phone messages and then stood from the desk, walking around the partition and past Miles, who barely looked at her as she pressed on toward Sandra’s office.
Sandra sat at her desk, as usual, sipping an iced coffee and clicking away at her e-mails. She looked up at Ariel as she stepped into the threshold; the age-lines on her face looked even more pronounced today.
“Good morning, Ariel,” Sandra said with a soft, yet insincere smile. “Any calls today?”
“Just the usual.” Ariel shrugged and returned the smile. “We have a temp agency that wants to work with us, and I think we need to call EMU about scholarships again. I’m worried about how we treat trans people here.”
“If we want to keep this place open and keep helping people, we have to follow the money. You know who has the money, Ariel. We can’t operate The Haven on good intentions.”
“Yeah, so you’ve said.” Ariel resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and reminded herself that Sandra needed her paycheck just as much as she did. “Have you…heard anything about my sister?”
“Ariel, sweetie, it’s been nearly a year,” Sandra sighed. “I’ve put out feelers, we’ve talked to the police in your home state, there’s very little that can be done. The girl doesn’t have an online footprint at all.”
“That’s what really bothers me.” Ariel took a step into the office and folded her arms before sinking into the chair across from Sandra’s desk. “She loves computers. She should have a MySpace profile or a Reddit account. She loves tech so much…I’m kind of worried that if she’s out there, someone’s keeping her from using computers or something.”
“Ariel, honey, it could be anything. If she’s out there, she’ll be found. She’s transgender, right? How long is it going to be before she walks into one of our sister facilities or someone we network with? Any day now, Ariel.”
“Right.” Ariel stood, straightening her skirt and nodding, her face grim. “Any day now.”
She returned to her desk and sat, checking Outlook once again for anything new. A single new e-mail at at the top with a red exclamation point indicating an urgent message. She clicked it open and was treated to a list of new job opportunities from Crystal Temps, one of five temp agencies that were working with them.
“Jobs for everyone,” Ariel muttered in a sing-song tone. “Except the trans people, of course.”
She clicked her tongue and checked to make sure that the e-mail from Crystal Temps had been forwarded to the other members of the team. As she clicked the red ‘X’, almost on cue, the front door swung open, and a young man darkened the threshold for a moment before stepping in. He was a little younger than Ariel maybe; thin with stringy brown hair, dressed in a tan button-down shirt and a pair of fit blue jeans.
“Welcome to The Haven,” Ariel said, after taking a moment to recover. “Can we…I mean, how can we help you?”
The boy was nervous; he shifted from left to right, hands in his pockets as he stepped forward, head swiveling as he inspected his environment. Ariel tensed slightly, her hand inching beneath the surface of her desk toward the white panic button affixed near the edge, just below her keyboard. Her fingers lingered over the rounded button as she watched the boy move closer to her desk. Finally he gave her a shallow smile and spoke.
“Hi, um, I’m Chris.” His words were shaky, and he spoke quietly as if he were afraid someone would overhear; each word was accompanied by an eye-dart to the left and then the right. “I um…I heard you help…certain people.”
He was close enough to Ariel’s desk now that she could speak without making it awkward; that was something.
“We help displaced LGBT people, yes,” Ariel nodded. “We can connect you with temp agencies, shelters–”
“My dad cut off my college funds,” he said quickly, the words nearly running together as they brushed past his lips. “He, um…he didn’t approve of…my, um…”
“Why don’t you sit down?” Ariel suggested as the young man broke out into a sweat. His complexion had paled so considerably that Ariel was afraid he might pass out, right there in the lobby of The Haven. The young man nodded quickly and pulled the seat away from Ariel’s desk; it screeched across the floor and he plopped down on it, looking around again, as if he expected someone to walk in and catch him in some kind of ‘ah hah’ moment. “Can I get you anything?”
“Get me…anything?” He stared at Ariel like a deer in headlights, somehow failing to comprehend the question.
“As in, a coffee, maybe a snack?” Ariel suggested, smiling softly as she tried to assess the situation. Was he gay? Bi? Or…was he like Rylee? No, that seemed impossible.
“Oh, um…water…if it’s not too much trouble?”
“Of course.” Ariel smiled again, standing up and rubbing her hands together. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” The boy’s eye twitched and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Ariel watched him for a moment before leaving the desk and walking around the partition, where she made a beeline for the break room.
“Ariel,” Miles called out, stopping her mid-stride. Ariel turned, clasping her hands low in front of her and giving Miles an obligatory smile. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ariel nodded quickly. “I think the guy’s dad just cut him off.”
“Relatable,” Mariah said from her desk across the room. Ariel nodded again and resumed her journey toward the break room. Inside, she opened the mini fridge and grabbed one of the water bottles from the door. She gave it a quick shake and then thoughtfully tapped the toe of her platforms against the concrete before heading back toward the front. Miles gave her a worried look as she passed, and she simply shrugged in response before heading back to the front, winding around the partition and offering Chris the water bottle before sitting down. He took it gratefully and Ariel waited a moment for the conversation to start – as she expected, he sat there, slowly rotating the bottle over in his hands.
“So, Chris,” Ariel said, breaking the awkward silence. “You said you were having trouble with your finances? Because of your father?”
“Yeah, um…he…doesn’t like the way I am, I guess.” Chris mumbled the words so quietly that Ariel nearly missed them. “I’m…I, uh…I like guys.”
“Okay, look.” Ariel nodded. “I know things are hard for you, and I know you must be super apprehensive, but within these walls, you’re safe, no one will hurt you here, and we can hook you up with a job–”
“I need a place to stay,” Chris said, suddenly interrupting her. “I…I was staying at my dorm, but my dad…he isn’t paying anymore and…”
“Where are you staying now?” Ariel asked, tilting her head slightly with concern.
“Um…just…here and there,” he admitted sheepishly. Ariel tried her best to conceal the anger that suddenly began to boil within her.
“I see,” Ariel said as evenly as possible; she turned to her computer, wiggling the mouse to deactivate the screen saver and brought up The Haven’s shared Excel sheet. “Well, let’s see here; I can put you in touch with one of the temp agencies we collaborate with, and I have an address for a shelter, it’s called the Hope Home. You should be able to get there…oh! Do you have bus fare?”
“Bus fare?” Chris was watching her and listening to her words, but he seemed confused, lost almost. Ariel pursed her lips and looked down at the desk before quickly re-establishing eye contact.
“Yes, just let me get you a bus token.” Ariel smiled, reaching into her drawer and grabbing a handful of round tokens. “This should last you a couple of days. Here, let me get you a print off for that temp agency. Now, from you I need your name, current address, etcetera so I can let the temp agency know you’re coming.”
The rest of the exchange took less than ten minutes, and Chris was on his way. As he left through the front door, envelope in hand, Ariel sat back in her chair, hands gripping the armrest as she broke out into a cold sweat.
Fuck that was intense. The boy didn’t seem to want to do any harm, but he didn’t seem okay. Well, that was kind of a dumb thought, wasn’t it? Ariel scolded herself as she remembered that the boy was probably running from abusive parents and was now facing homelessness. That was enough to put anyone on edge. Still, something in his eyes reminded her of Rylee. The hopelessness, maybe. Who knew? She shrugged it off and returned to her e-mail.
“Hold still!” Fiona laughed hysterically, holding a handful of Rylee’s hair in her fist as she used the other hand to dunk her head in the sink. “Stop flopping around!”
“I’m not!” Rylee shouted above the roar of the faucet. “It’s cold! Let me go!”
“Please don’t drown my little sister!” Tori called out from the living room. “And don’t get hair dye all over the kitchen!”
“Okay, you know what?” Fiona stopped massaging Rylee’s scalp to look up at Tori while Rylee squirmed helplessly under her palm. “I am making a brunette right now. It’s not like making macaroni and cheese, okay?! It has to be done with patience, love, and a lot of elbow grease!” Fiona made a show of dunking Rylee’s head further under the faucet with each enunciated word in the sentence, leading to more enraged squeals from Rylee. Tori rolled her eyes and returned to her book.
“You’ve got this, Rylee!” Wendy shouted excitedly, clapping her hands and jumping up and down as Rylee continued to squirm.
“Christ, child.” Fiona cranked up the water pressure. “I have to get it all out, just hold still!”
“Let me up!” Rylee squealed again, thrashing harder. Fiona rolled her eyes again and gestured for Wendy to pin her one functional arm. Rylee had broken her arm a few weeks ago, and it was currently wrapped in a pink cast, which had been signed and sketched on by Tori, Fiona, Addy, and even Wendy. Anette had declined, silently shaking her head when offered the marker.
“Rylee, I am almost done, just hold still!” Fiona held her down for a moment longer, then shut off the water and snatched the towel from the counter. “Wrap this around your head–Rylee!”
As soon as Fiona’s hand released, Rylee shot up like a freed animal from the sink, shaking her head and spraying brown hair dye all over the kitchen. Fiona screamed and Wendy laughed as they were both dotted with brown drops. Tori took her time pulling the bookmark from the back pages of her current reading endeavor and closing it before heading over to the counter. She leaned forward, crossing her arms across the marble countertop, and shook her head at Rylee, who was now sprawled out across the kitchen floor.
“She did tell you to hold still,” Tori reminded her with a very serious expression that softened with the next words. “Are you okay?”
Rylee nodded her confirmation as she climbed to her feet with the help of Wendy and immediately headed toward the sink to scrub her hands, which were dotted with brown dye spots.
“Thanks for coming, Wendy,” Fiona said, rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry she’s…so….Rylee.”
“Hard to be mad at her,” Wendy pointed out. “Besides, you know I’ve been wanting to meet her.”
“That’s true.” Fiona moved toward Rylee and used her still-gloved hand to wipe Rylee’s matted hair away from her eyes. “Rylee, Wendy is kind of the reason you’re here.”
“You know, I just gave her advice,” Wendy interjected, taking Rylee by the arm and guiding her out to one of the kitchen chairs, behind which stood a domed hair dryer supported by a pole. She set Rylee in the chair and moved the dryer into position over her head. “I didn't tell her to kidnap you.”
“You didn’t tell me not to kidnap her,” Fiona argued, taking a seat at the table. “You’ve gotta be more specific.”
“This really the conversation we’re having?” Tori still leaned on the counter and watched the scene unfold in front of her with no small measure of amusement as Rylee squirmed beneath the dryer. “We’re past all that. Yes, mistakes were made, yes, they turned out good, but they were still mistakes. Let’s move on.”
“Okay, well, I have some news,” Fiona announced. “I’m renting the Thackery house.”
“The Thackery house?” Tori repeated. “My house?”
“Max’s house,” Fiona corrected her. “And yeah, living out on Thackery Road is way cheaper than in town. I have a friend going in on it with me.”
“Well,” Tori scoffed. “Enjoy Max.”
“I certainly will not,” Fiona told her firmly. “I promise to hate him as much as you do. Girl code, you know.”
Rylee made an attempt to stand; Wendy gently pushed her back into the chair while advising that her hair wasn't quite done yet.
“I can’t wait to see this hair,” Tori commented. “She’s going to look cute as a brunette.”
“What was the point of this again?” Fiona threw a wayward glance at Rylee, then craned her neck to look at Tori behind her. “You’re trying to make her look different for school?”
“Basically,” Tori nodded. “I know it’s not much of a disguise, but with the haircut we gave her, and this, and maybe straightening her hair? No one’s going to connect the dots.”
“That she’s the same girl from the fair.” Fiona phrased her question as a statement, but the implication was more than clear to Tori. Just four months ago, Tori had had absolutely no idea that Rylee was a trans girl, and then found out unexpectedly at the county fair. The incident tied to it was…disturbing, and they’d done their best to separate Rylee from it as much as possible.
“So,” Wendy said. “Explain how this happened, tell me everything.
”
“Tall order,” Tori laughed.
“I told you most of it at work,” Fiona reminded her. “She wandered into the house, Tori asked her to stay, the end.”
Wendy raised an eyebrow and looked to Tori, then back to Fiona. “In some versions of this story there’s a gun.”
“Mmmm.” Fiona squeezed her lips together, then parted them slightly and clicked her tongue. “Well, not in this one.”
“You’re going to tell me the whole truth sometime.” Wendy nodded to her, then switched off the hair dryer and pulled it away from Rylee’s chair. Just as quickly, she snatched a purple brush from the table and went to work on her hair. “She is adorable, though. That part was true.”
“I’m right here,” Rylee reminded them.
“Why, yes you are.” Fiona shot her a sideways grin. “And we’re so happy for it.”
Rylee could swear that the correct version of her strange origin story existed only in her mind. The truth was that Rylee, tired and hungry, had broken into Tori’s house four months ago seeking a hot shower and food from the pantry. Tori, after putting a gun to Rylee’s head, had quickly realized she needed help rather than a bullet to the head, and literally refused to let her leave. They often joked that it was the ‘family kidnapping,’ but when Tori or Fiona retold the story, they rather often omitted mention of the gun or changed the sequence of events, though Rylee had no idea why.
“Okay,” Tori said, stepping away from the counter and joining them near the table. She leaned against the surface and looked lovingly at Rylee, practically beaming as the girl’s hair was brushed and straightened until she was nearly unrecognizable. “So, Wendy, what happened is…well, Rylee was hungry so yeah, she broke into my house, and I sort of asked her to stay.”
“Asked?” Wendy laughed. “That’s not the way Fiona told it to me.”
“Look, guys, I…really don’t like being so flippant about it.” Tori tried to assert herself, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “Like yes, okay, she came here by…unconventional means, sure, but she’s home now.”
“Yeah, that I agree with.” Fiona reached over and patted Rylee’s knee. “She’s home.”
“Hey, um, Tori?” Rylee interrupted; the three of them looked to her with silent surprise at the fact that she’d actually spoken. She’d been doing a lot more of that lately, though.
“Yes Ry?” Tori used Rylee’s newly christened nickname, causing Rylee to giggle.
“Um…Kelly and her friends are going bowling today and I, um…” Rylee’s cheeks flushed, then turned red as she realized she was about to ask something completely inappropriate. “I was wondering if I could go with them? I mean it’s kind of dumb, I don’t really like bowling, but they want to go and–”
“Ry, stop downplaying things you actually want to do,” Tori lectured. “And no, you can’t.”
“But I–” Rylee started, and then her face fell as she realized Tori was resolute in her decision.
“Bedroom,” Tori said, pointing off down the hallway, toward Rylee’s room. Wendy pulled the brush away and patted Rylee on the shoulder as she pushed herself away from the chair and gave everyone a sheepish look before heading off toward her room with Tori in tow. It was a short walk down the hall and then a left into the room.
The room had largely been left the same as it had been originally – when Tori had given it to her. This had been Tori’s room when she’d been in high school, and when she’d left home, it had been left largely intact save for the belongings she’d taken with her. Rylee had inherited a closet filled with Tori’s old clothes, her bed, obviously, a dresser, boom box, and a decent CD collection, though she didn’t know any of the bands.
At Tori’s direction, they sat on the bed and Rylee braced for another lecture.
“Let’s start with the obvious,” Tori said, as if she were throwing out a suggestion, but immediately launched into the lecture. “I don’t tell you no just to be mean, okay? Sweetie, you’re…a transgender girl, and that would be hard even if you were a fully functioning adult, which you’re not.”
“Will I ever be?”
“Yes!” Tori nodded empathetically. “Yes, you will. That’s the whole point of this, but first of all, it’s dangerous for you to go out, even with friends. Second, you just…there are so many things you don’t know, socially or otherwise. Your autism makes it hard for you to be present in the moment, and it’s also a learning disability. You have a lot working against you and I’m sorry that it has to be like this. Your parents had fifteen years to sort this out, and it should have been a priority, but I guess…I don’t know, they were busy jacking off or something. But you’re here now, and yes, eventually you’ll be able to go out and do things, but not yet.”
“So that was the obvious,” Rylee sighed. “What’s next?”
“You’ve come a long way, Rylee. Like, a really long way. You can make eye contact with me now, you’re better with touch, you can talk to people, mostly; it’s better than Mom or I expected, but…”
“But?”
“But,” Tori continued. “You’ve been here for four months. Yes, you’ve made a lot of progress, but we’ve really only been working on your issues for about a month. Think about it: you got here in April, and we had to deal with the trauma of, um…”
“You kidnapping me,” Rylee finished her thought for her; Tori rolled her eyes.
“You were given like two outs, Rylee,” Tori pointed out. “Mom would have taken you anywhere you wanted.”
“You still kidnapped me.” Rylee did her best to hold back an obvious grin.
“Yeah, and you need to save your empty cereal boxes so I can cut out the letters for ransom notes. Now anyway, yeah, you’re doing better but I’m not ready to throw you to the wolves just yet. One thing at a time, okay?”
“Okay,” Rylee agreed. “I’m sorry I asked.”
“You’re allowed to ask for things,” Tori reminded her. “I won’t always say yes, and Mom won’t always say yes, but never, ever be afraid to ask.”
“I’m…not used to that,” Rylee admitted. “When my parents told me no or punished me, they didn’t explain like this and….I don’t know, this is weird. I guess I’m still trying to get used to it.”
“Well, how do you feel about it?” Tori asked. Rylee clasped her hands together, turning them over, squeezing them, unsqueezing; it was called ‘stimming,’ apparently. She hadn’t known that until Anette explained it.
“I like it,” she said finally. Tori smiled. “I feel like, um…like I’m someone important enough to listen to. I didn’t feel important before. But it’s still hard because, um…I’m still worried I’ll get yelled at or something for telling the truth. Sometimes I want to say things, but I can’t because I’m just scared.”
“We’ll find your voice,” Tori promised. “And as for the rest, this is how family operates, it’s how we treat each other. The way your old family did it was wrong. I’m sorry, Rylee, but they treated you like an animal and you didn’t deserve that.”
Their moment was interrupted by Tori’s phone buzzing. She pulled it out and looked at the front display rather than opening it.
“I have to go make a call, Ry,” Tori said as softly and affectionately as possible. “I’ll be back out as soon as I can, okay?”
Evening was looming as Ariel left The Haven, frustrated as ever. Every week, they received inquiries either by e-mail or by phone, and they could help some of them, but never all. Absolute bullshit. She turned right, walking down the sidewalk, purse clutched tight to her body as she went.
There was a coffee shop in the downtown area – the one Amber worked at. Some nights they met there after work, and this happened to be one of those nights. Ariel noted the waning heat as she walked; it was September and summer was coming to a close. They were entering that in-between period where the air was still and it wasn’t quite cold yet. Actually, it was probably the most tolerable time of the year where it wasn’t hot, or cold, and one could simply exist rather than worry about sweating or bundling up. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a season that lasted long.
The walk to the downtown area was short; Ypsilanti was only about ten miles across, and all of the major shops were concentrated in two areas that were basically adjacent to one another, making it easy for someone who didn’t care to drive. Ariel was such a person. She neared the coffee shop and could already pick out Amber from a distance; she was framed by the plate glass window of the coffee shop, and bathed in the bright yellow lights overhead. She had a bob haircut these days, ombre, shades of black and gold. Her nose was in a book, as usual, and that in itself reminded her of Rylee. She paused at the corner beneath a streetlight that buzzed to life above her, and then gradually made her way down the sidewalk.
Amber greeted her with a smile as she entered the shop; a bell above the door had announced her presence. The barista looked up momentarily, and then turned away, toward the stainless steel vat behind her; she knew what Ariel would want.
“Rent’s due,” Amber said as Ariel pulled the stool out and took a seat.
“I’ll have it tomorrow,” Ariel promised.
“Sarah’s gonna be pissed.”
“Sarah can go to hell.” Ariel rolled her eyes at the mention of their roommate and the apartment’s leaseholder.
“Any luck on the search?” Amber gently closed her paperback and set it face-up on the table. Something by Neil Gaiman.
“No,” Ariel said sadly. “The Haven has a lot of resources, but…I don’t know, Amber, she just doesn’t seem to be out there. I’m worried that…”
“Yeah, no, don’t think that.” Amber shook her head and reached across the table to grasp Ariel’s hand. “Your mind always takes the darkest route, I swear. Your sister isn’t stupid, she definitely found a way to survive.”
“Then why hasn’t she gotten to a computer? She would have made a MySpace profile or something; there should be forum posts or something. I’ve looked all over the weird tech forums, fantasy forums, anywhere that she might go, and still nothing. I even checked that stupid Unsolved Mysteries site.”
“The one that’s super flashy and has an upside down chatroom?”
“Yeah, that one,” Ariel confirmed with a quick nod. The barista brought Ariel’s drink to the table; a triple latte with cream. “She went there a lot. I wish I knew her password. It’s just…if she can’t get to a computer, she’s….god, Amber, what if she’s living under a bridge or something? Or worse, what if someone has her?”
“Ariel, sweetie, no offense, but Rylee looked like a dude when you didn’t do her makeup and put a wig on her. No one scooped her up for anything.”
“Yeah yeah, I know.” Ariel took a quick sip of the latte. “But what if she’s out there and needs help? What can I even do? I’m her big sister, I’m supposed to be able to protect her.”
“Mitigating circumstances,” Amber said. “Your dad was beating the shit out of you and Rylee was crawling away covered in blood, apparently. How much of that do you want to put on yourself, exactly?”
“Okay, look.” Ariel set the cup down with a thud. “I hear what you’re saying and it makes sense, but I can’t get myself to believe it. Look at us, Amber. We’re off living in Michigan and Rylee should be here with us. She should be herself, she should be happy. I should have made it happen. I promised her that it would happen, Ariel. I. Fucking. Promised. Okay?”
“Alright, well, if you can get off the cross for two seconds...” Amber took a slight look to her left. Ariel turned and saw a guy about their age approaching. He had thick brunette hair down to his chin and was dressed pretty nicely in a light gray windbreaker atop a green polo shirt. He smiled nervously as he approached. “Ariel, this is Lucas, Lucas, Ariel.”
“Are you serious?” Ariel demanded, turning back to Amber and giving her the most abhorrent expression she could conjure. “This isn’t the time.”
“When is it the time with you?” Amber rolled her eyes and laughed a little. “You need to get out more.”
“Hey, um, if this is a bad time–” Lucas started, but Amber quickly cut him off.
“This is a perfect time,” Amber said, grinning. “You two have fun.”
Ariel held her glare as Amber slung her black messenger bag over her shoulder and headed up to the counter to settle her bill.
“So, um…I’m Lucas,” Lucas said, sliding into Amber’s now-vacant seat.
“So I gathered.” Ariel gave a dismissive laugh and looked away.
“Amber tells me you guys are new to the area; how do you like it?”
“Well, it’s as good as it can be when the town has a giant penis in the center of it.” Ariel delivered her words with a downward inflection and an eye roll, picking up her cup and sipping at the latte. To her surprise, Lucas chuckled in spite of her intentionally offputting demeanor.
“I mean, yeah, it’s kind of our thing,” he laughed. “The Brick Dick, you know?”
“I’ve seen the postcards,” Ariel confirmed.
“So what do you do? Are you in school or something?”
“I work at The Haven,” Ariel said quickly, hoping to get rid of him. Finally she sighed and laid her arms on the table. “Okay, look, Luke?”
“Lucas.”
“Lucas.” She smiled. “I’m going to level with you, okay? I have a lot going on. I mean a lot. Okay? I’m full of spite, I’m incredibly busy, and I’m apparently on a wild goose chase, so…”
“A wild goose chase? Do tell,” Lucas smiled with genuine interest. Ariel huffed and shook her head, standing up from the table.
“Okay, look, I’m sure you’re a good guy,” Ariel said as politely as possible, “but this…isn’t the right time, I’m sorry.”
She rushed to the counter to pay her bill, and then exited the coffee shop, heading in the direction of Depot Town. As she passed the plate glass window, she could feel Lucas watching her. He didn’t seem like a bad guy, but Christ, Amber had bad timing.
Her apartment was located in Depot down, behind one of the larger buildings adjacent to that burger joint, Frenchies. Or was it a bar? Wait, was it called Sidetrack? She pushed the idle thoughts out of her mind as she sped through Depot Town as quickly as she could in platform heels. It was a quick walk across the bridge adjacent Riverside Park, and then past a few old shops, until she reached the towering storefronts of some of the oldest buildings in Ypsilanti. The street was flanked on either side by storefronts that had changed names and owners probably two dozen times over the last hundred years, and would no doubt do so again in the not-so-distant future.
The center of Depot Town was defined by the dual crosswalks, each made with brick pavers that interrupted the flow of traffic, though not so much as the old iron clock tower betwixt them. The streets were well lit – something that Ariel was grateful for as the daylight had faded completely. Another thing she was grateful for was the swathe of people that were huddled on the streets talking, laughing, and drinking. Depot Town did a great job of drawing people, most of them heading to Frenchies, others sitting in the huge outdoor pavilions. Those crowds would fade away gradually as the fall gave way to winter, but for now they provided some measure of safety. She passed, nearly invisible, through a small crowd and turned right, into an alley lined with red brick pavers, many of them engraved with the names of Ypsilanti-based businesses that had come and gone over the decades.
At the end of the alley, she took a left, walking up a set of wooden steps, ascending the back of the building past three nearly identical porches until she finally landed on her own. Inside the apartment she found Amber fast asleep on the couch, a red plastic bowl of popcorn on her laps, and some chick flick playing at a low volume on their television. Ariel shook her head and quietly closed the door, breezing past the couch and heading to her room.
The apartment was a three bedroom, technically, but the rooms were small. Ariel had taken some initiative and decorated hers with fairy lights and other knick knacks to give the space character. As she entered, she hit the far left light switch, turning on only the fairy lights and giving the room a warm, cozy, almost eerie glow interspersed with shadows that complemented her abysmal mood.
Her laptop was sitting open on the desk next to her bed; it was an old one from The Haven, given to her by Sandra shortly after she went to work there. Still, it was better than nothing, and it had been well cared for. She waited patiently for Windows to load and navigated to her e-mail client. Outlook, just like work, but it was tied to her Gmail account rather than The Haven’s POP3 domain.
She waited patiently for her messages to load; the first one was from one of the building owners on North Washington street asking about a mural. Well, that made sense; they wanted some kind of queer-positive art, and Ariel was a pretty established artist in the area.
“The entire building, though?” Ariel said aloud. “God damn, that’s a lot.”
She clicked the ‘Flag’ button to mark the e-mail as important for later and watched as it turned red and moved to the bottom of the list. The next few e-mails were junk, and one was from Sarah complaining about the rent.
After thoroughly checking the primary inbox, she moved on to her nightly ritual of switching to her other e-mail account, the one that only one person should have, the one that would forever be empty.
She’d made this account three years ago just in case, and a year later, the ‘just in case’ had become reality. She’d texted it to Rylee in the hopes that she’d see it and be able to contact her, but so far, the inbox hadn’t seen a single message. She expected the same today, but as the inbox loaded, her eyes went wide and her heart nearly stopped as she saw a (1) beside the inbox. Her fingers trembled and her breath caught in her throat as she looked at the name of the sender.
Lucille Garcia.
The social worker from North Carolina, the one who had followed up with Rylee more than once as Ariel had relentlessly tried to report the abuse. If she had the address, it meant that it had been found in Rylee’s phone.
Lucille Garcia.
Lucille fucking Garcia.
She trembled with both fear and hope as she opened the message and read the words.
Hi Ariel,
I hope you’re still checking this address; we need to talk. My phone number is in my signature. Call me, please. It’s urgent.
Lucille
“No way.”
Tori quietly closed her bedroom door behind her and stepped around a pile of cardboard boxes next to the closet. Her desk was mostly cleared off with only her Dell laptop sitting open and powered on. She took pause as she stepped around the foot of the bed and stood before the tiny work desk. The laptop was there, beneath a work lamp, surrounded by a pool of white light in an otherwise dark room. The moment she went over there, the moment she connected with Lucille, everything would change. Everything.
She thought back on her time with Rylee; the moment she’d walked in and caught her robbing her home. The moment she’d looked into her eyes and realized that she was dealing not with a hardened criminal, but a scared little girl. There was the moment she’d realized Rylee couldn’t stand being touched, and from there it was one thing after another. A rabbit hole of personality quirks and mental illnesses, none of which made her unbearable but oftentimes more endearing.
Then, of course, there was the trans thing. When Rylee had first come to her, Tori had no clue that she was transgender. She passed as a biological female for all intents and purposes, though Tori much later learned that this was largely in part due to her age and her clearly stunted growth. Rylee had been terrified that Tori would reject her, but it had instead brought them closer together. When she was twenty and marrying Max, she would have scoffed at the thought of all this as she was busy planning for a new child and decorating her new house, but she was now a very different person. She was a person who had loved and lost in more ways than anyone should, and yet she’d found a new family in Rylee. How times had changed.
She walked back to the door and flicked the light switch into the on position before walking back to the desk and double clicking the Netmeeting icon on the computer’s desktop. It took a second for the application to start, but she was able to enter the meeting using the IP address that Lucille had provided. The status bar said ‘Connecting’ for a moment, and then it simply said ‘In a Meeting’. Lucille’s face appeared to Tori for the first time; she was a middle-aged Hispanic woman who looked absolutely exhausted.
“Um…hi,” Tori said, opening the conversation.
“Hi, Tori,” Lucille said; her greeting was followed by a yawn which she quickly silenced by pressing a hand to her lips. “I’m sorry, I’m really glad to meet you, it’s just been a crazy week over here.”
“Not because of me, I hope?”
“Rylee is a side project,” Lucille explained. “We have a lot of other things going on here. Um, let me see…so, Tori, I didn’t know about the ‘Rylee thing’ until Anette contacted me about two months ago. Honestly, it was a stroke of luck that we connected over this particular case. The Skye case was kicked around to a lot of different people, so I guess it was inevitable it would land in my lap. Still, it was one of the more disheartening cases I’ve dealt with.”
“Yeah,” Tori agreed. “It’s been…a lot of work putting her back together. I don’t know if Mom told you everything, but--”
“You mean the part where you put a gun to her head and adopted her?” Lucille asked with a startlingly level tone. “Yeah, I’ve heard weirder adoption stories, I’m just glad she’s safe. I visited her school numerous times and did a home visit. I could always tell something was wrong, but her parents…they were upstanding members of their community and their church. Paid their taxes, had steady employment, kept food in the fridge. Nothing would stick to them.”
“And Rylee?”
“She lied. I think she was afraid of being separated from her sister,” Lucille explained. “Or maybe she was afraid of what her parents would do to her. I don’t know, Tori. Honestly, if she’d just told the truth, I could have worked it out and saved her, but…”
“She does have a self-destructive tendency,” Tori mused, “but we’re working on it.”
“Honestly, Tori.” Lucille took a drink of water before continuing. “Her ending up with you and Anette was…well, it was a stroke of luck. We don’t see happy endings yet and even though it’s probably been rough, this is a happy ending, okay?”
“Yeah, I agree,” Tori smiled. “I totally one-hundred-percent agree that this is a happy ending. She’s come a long way in the last few months and I consider her my little sister. She took our name, you know.”
“Oh, did she? I didn’t know about that.” Lucille’s eyes lit up. “So she’s officially Rylee Blackburn?”
“Now and forever,” Tori said. “And that was after I learned about the trans thing, so you can rest assured that we’re keeping her.”
“I never doubted it, but you have to tell me, how did the trans thing go for you? I’ve seen trans girls before, and a lot of them look great, but you can usually tell. Anette says you couldn’t tell at all with her?”
“Okay.” Tori adjusted her seat and pushed her hair back. “When she first came here, I couldn’t tell. She has long hair and a really really feminine voice, which she worked hard on. She behaves like a girl and I’m learning, now, that men and women have very different, very subtle behaviors that separate them. She emulates the behavior perfectly. Speech patterns, movements, you name it. My friend Fiona figured her out first, probably the first night. She saw a medication Rylee had in her bag, and it was some old style hormone replacement pill. Then my mom, well, Rylee accidentally outed herself, and Mom started doing some digging.”
“And they didn’t tell you?” Lucille asked in surprise. “That seems like something you’d need to know.”
“Yeah, I’m not gonna lie, I was pissed at first, but they made some good points.” Tori sighed and smiled, thinking back on that night in her mom’s living room. “What it came down to was Rylee had been violated enough already, and they didn’t want to take her last scrap of dignity away. Unfortunately it was done for her, but that’s another story. The fact is, looking back, Mom and Fiona were hovering around enough to make sure at least one of them was around when Rylee slipped up around me.”
“You guys are really dedicated to this.” Lucille seemed almost proud. “But I shouldn’t expect any less from Anette.”
“So,” Tori said. “What about the sister?”
“Ariel Skye,” Lucille said. “She’s two years older than Rylee and left North Carolina shortly after Rylee. I looked for her after, and at your mom’s request, but she left virtually no footprint. But, here’s the neat thing, that e-mail address she gave you? It’s listed as a secondary for her Myspace Account, so when you put it into a search engine, her Myspace profile is one of the results, but it’s pushed to the second page. She left a trail of breadcrumbs and you guys found it, so good job.”
“Where is she?”
“Ypsilanti, Michigan,” Lucille said, to Tori’s surprise. “Not that far from you, actually.”
“Well that’s great news!” Tori said excitedly. “She would have to come down here, though, Rylee’s starting school and--”
“College? Really?” Lucille seemed impressed. “What’s her major?”
“High school,” Tori corrected. “We enrolled her in high school.”
“Okay, that’s a lot.” Lucille gave a low whistle. “And more than I want to get into, I’m sure you have it under control.”
“As much as I can,” Tori confirmed. “What can we do about the sister?”
“Well, I sent her an e-mail,” Lucille explained. “And…she responded. I managed to set up a meeting between you two, tomorrow morning; would that be okay?”
“Yeah, of course!” Tori said with both excitement and apprehension. “I’ll call into work and tell them I’ll be late, I guess, but yeah, right after I drop Rylee off.”
“At school?”
“Yeah,” Tori nodded. “It wasn’t really her first choice. Actually, she didn’t have a choice.”
“Anette didn’t tell me everything, but she did tell me about the choice you gave her. Risky, but I’m glad she went the right way.”
“Yeah, me too,” Tori said. “We’ll probably have to explain it to her sister.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand. See you tomorrow morning, Tori. We’ll aim for nine.”
They ended the call, and Tori leaned back heavily in her chair, considering the implications. They could bring Ariel here, but Tori would have to meet her first, in person. That had to be the condition. After thinking for a bit too long, she stood up and stretched, turning toward the door and pulling it open. At the end of the hallway she heard a commotion, frowned, and walked cautiously toward the kitchen. As she reached it, she was treated to a clear view of the living room where Fiona and Wendy were standing in awkward positions; Fiona leaned against the counter staring off into space, and Wendy stared out the window. Rylee, on the other hand, was sitting on the couch with her hand clamped over her nose and mouth.
“What the hell is going on?” Tori demanded as she speed-walked through the kitchen and stood in front of Rylee. “Rylee, what are you hiding? Pull your hand away from your mouth.”
“She’s just been sitting there the whole time,” Fiona said, snickering a little. Rylee echoed the snicker and then whimpered in pain.
“Rylee!” Tori stepped forward and pulled Rylee’s hands away from her face, gasping at the sight of blood smeared across the lower portion of her face, seemingly emanating from her nose. “Oh my god! What happened?”
Rylee shrugged.
“I don’t remember,” Rylee snickered again.
“I didn’t see anything,” Wendy said, still staring out the window.
“Oh my fuck,” Tori snapped angrily. “You two are adults, fucking adults. Rylee, go wash your face and come back out here. Holy shit. As for you two, rough housing? Seriously? Are you ten?”
“I was showing Rylee how to pillow fight,” Wendy said apologetically. “I didn’t expect her to fall down and hit the damn couch.”
“Pillow fights? Really?! Again, are you ten?” Tori demanded. Fiona burst into laughter.
“Oh my god, Tori,” Fiona could barely contain her laughter. “It’s been so serious for her, let her have some fun, why don’t you?”
“We got her two Nintendos!” Tori’s voice elevated. “I…wait, no, a Nintendo and a PlayStation? Whatever, she can have fun with that. She doesn’t need to maim herself!”
“You’re right, you’re right,” Fiona laughed again. “Next time we’ll give her a helmet.”
“Holy fucking Christ, you two. You know she’s in a cast, right?”
“Gives her an advantage if you ask me.” Wendy stuck her tongue out. Tori glared.
Rylee returned from the bathroom, her face cleaned but her left eye bloodshot. Tori redirected her glare from Wendy to Rylee as she shook her head in disgust.
“Okay, Rylee.” Tori tried to regain her composure. “Grab that bag from the kitchen counter. It’s your back to school outfit. Go put it on, I want to take some pictures.”
“Amber, this is bullshit, I can’t just sit here and wait!” Ariel paced the living room for the umpteenth time as Amber responded to text messages from her sprawled-out position on the couch. “They know where she is and won’t tell me!”
“I don’t think that’s how it went,” Amber reminded her. “Lucille said she’s with some family, right? Isn’t that a good thing?”
“How can you just sit there texting?” Ariel demanded. “Who are you even talking to?!”
“I’m on AIM.” She shrugged. “It’s a Hiptop, it gets Internet.”
“How can you afford that? You’re a waitress!”
“Uh, tips?” Amber looked to Ariel as if she’d asked the dumbest question on Earth. “Look at the size of my boobs, Ariel.”
“Okay, okay! Okay, you’re right, she said Rylee’s with some family and I guess they’re treating her okay?”
“That’s what Lucille’s second e-mail said.” Amber looked up from her phone and leaned toward Ariel, placing her elbow on the back of the couch to support her head. “Look, Ariel, you made that e-mail address two years ago and you’ve been checking it every day, like sometimes three or four times a day, and suddenly, you got something from Lucille. You know what that means, right?”
“That Lucille learned to use Outlook as part of her job training?”
“You texted that e-mail address to Rylee, and only Rylee. You told me she had all of your text messages hidden, you know that she took the phone with her. That means that someone found the phone, someone re-associated your phone number with the messages, and they got in touch with Lucille. No one would have done that if they wanted to hurt Rylee. They would have thrown the phone away or sold it or something. No, Ariel, they did this because they wanted to help Rylee, there’s no other explanation for it.”
“No other explanation,” Ariel said in shaky agreement, nodding her head. She continued to pace the living room, mulling over the situation in her head, looking over it from every single angle. Her pacing didn’t take her far in the tiny living room; a quick walk from the hallway entrance to the front door, past the kitchenette, and then back to the hallway. In the small living room area, a tiny flatscreen was playing some western with the volume muted. “No other explanation,” Ariel repeated, trying to reassure herself as she made the short journey again.
“Oh my god.” Amber tossed her phone onto the couch and stood up. She stretched and traipsed across the room toward the kitchenette. “I’m making you some cocoa to calm you the hell down.”
“I don’t need cocoa, I need answers!”
“And…you’ll get them,” Amber assured her; she opened one of the cupboards and pulled down a red mug along with a packet of powdered cocoa. “Tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah, tomorrow,” Ariel confirmed. “We’re doing a Netmeeting thing in the morning.”
“So just relax until then,” Amber suggested. “You’ve waited this long, you can wait a little longer.”
“How can you be so calm?!” Ariel said, her panic growing as she watched Amber heat up the kettle. “This is Rylee! You love her as much as I do!”
“I do enjoy Rylee,” Amber agreed. “I definitely liked her a lot more when we pushed her out of the closet along with all of your clothes. Dressing her up was a blast.”
“I do miss that,” Ariel giggled, just slightly. “Oh! Lucille did say that this family she’s with is treating her as a girl. They’re not making her be a boy.”
“See? It’s not bad at all,” Amber said reassuringly. She faced Ariel and leaned against the kitchenette, pressing her palms against the counter to support herself.
“The bar is kinda low, Amber,” Ariel said with uncertainty. “Like, this entire time I’ve been worried that someone like, held her at gunpoint and kidnapped her.”
“Yeah, I doubt that happened.” Amber rolled her eyes and turned around as the kettle began to whistle. She poured the boiling water into the mug, stirred, and handed it to Ariel, who took it with both hands and sipped lightly before closing her eyes and joining Amber in leaning against the kitchenette.
“We have to bring her up here,” Ariel concluded. “She’s in Ohio or something.”
“You going to keep her under your bed?” Amber teased.
“We’ll get a bigger place, she can sleep on the floor of my room or something.”
“We can’t afford a bigger place,” Amber pointed out; Ariel immediately deflated. “And she’s with some family, right? She probably has her own room and everything. Look, it sounds like she’s fine. She probably doesn’t need to be rescued.”
“I hope you’re right.” Ariel nodded profusely and stepped away again “I hope she’s happy, and healthy, and…I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“Come on,” Amber said, taking the cup from Ariel’s hands and then gently taking her arm. “We’re going outside.”
“Wait, why?” Ariel asked as Amber pulled her toward the door.
“Because you need some fresh air!” Amber threw open the front door and pulled Ariel onto the balcony; the Fall air hit her like a brick wall as she once again realized just how stuffy their tiny apartment was.
The small balcony gave way to a huge, beautiful view of the old railroad tracks, train station, and the gravel Frog Island parking lot below; Ariel leaned against the railing and sucked in a breath of fresh air, closing her eyes and then taking deep breaths to calm her nerves.
“Think about it,” Amber advised her. “Look at where we are; this is a super nice place, we have jobs, your parents are nowhere around, and your sister is off living with some family somewhere. Maybe nothing happened to her after all! There’s nothing to be worried about right now!”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” Ariel exhaled heavily again and wiped newly formed sweat from her brow. “It’s just a lot. We’ve been waiting for two years, and it’s so…close!”
“Worrying about it won’t get you anywhere.” Amber took her by the arm again. “Come on.”
“What? Where?”
They descended three flights of stairs and walked across the blacktop lot, taking a quick right down the alley between Depot Town’s historic buildings until they stood on the sidewalk amidst a crowd of people. It was loud, really loud; people conversing, shouting, music blaring, dancing, all of it was happening in front of them.
“Come on,” Amber shouted to her over the noise of the crowd. “They’re not letting the summer go without a bang, neither should we!”
Ariel wanted to protest, but her arguments melted seamlessly into the roar of the crowd. Amber led her off the sidewalk and into the crosswalk, across the street toward that pizza place. They merged into another crowd, pushing past a swathe of bodies until they reached a beer keg that had been set up near the back of the courtyard by the railroad tracks.
“We’re not even twenty-one!” Ariel shouted to Amber. “This isn’t legal!”
“This keg being here is illegal!” Amber shouted back. “Come on, let’s have some fun!”
Amongst the dizzying noise and motions of the crowd, Ariel felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning around, she found Lucas, the guy that Amber had tried to introduce her to at the coffee shop. She shot a glare to Amber, who shrugged and mouthed that she didn’t invite him.
“Hi!” Lucas shouted. “I wanted to apologize for earlier! I think we got off on the wrong foot!”
“The wrong what?!” Ariel cupped a hand over her ear, and Lucas repeated his statement.
“I was wondering if…”
“I still have baggage, you know!” Ariel told him. He shrugged.
“So do I!”
For a few brief moments, they forgot about Rylee, their troubles, and the rest of the world as they bid the summer farewell. For the moment, everything could wait.
***
“Rylee,” Tori said softly, laying a hand on Rylee’s shoulders. She jolted awake almost instantly, her body immediately tensing and her eyes wide with momentary fear until she realized that it was Tori. Rylee’s lips curled into a smile as she looked up at her sister and stretched; she pulled the blanket aside and raised herself into a sitting position, her toes scrunching the carpet beneath her feet as Tori stepped back. “You’ll need a shower. Do you need help getting ready?”
Rylee nodded, her eyes heavy as she stood and immediately began to fixate on a spot on the wall that only she could see. Tori waved a hand in front of her face and smiled at her as she caught her attention.
“Stay with me, sweetie,” Tori said softly. She’d become well versed in how to wake Rylee up; the girl hated being tapped, especially on the feet. Tori had found that it was not only irritating to her new younger sister, but it could be outright detrimental for reasons that she couldn’t quite grasp. “You’re going to need a quick shower and I’ll set your outfit in the bathroom.”
Rylee nodded again and began to stumble toward the bathroom. Behind her, Tori grabbed her back-to-school outfit, which consisted of a dark pink top, a blue jacket, and a jean skirt.
She left the bedroom and entered the bathroom, finally feeling a bit more awake as she started the shower and removed her pajamas. Dropping them on the floor beside the tub, she walked to the sink and grabbed a plastic grocery bag from the cabinet beneath. It took her a few seconds to wrap her cast and then she proceeded to shower.
It was a fast shower; Rylee shampooed and conditioned her newly brunette hair, and then did her best to wash her body in spite of the cast. As she finished that task, she took a moment to examine her body, running a hand over her chest and then her arms, eyes closed, feeling for anything resembling stubble. She did the same to her face and breathed a sigh of relief when she felt nothing. Still, as soon as she exited the shower, she stood still in front of a full-length mirror scrutinizing her body.
The hormones were doing their work, it seemed; she rubbed her free hand against her chest and felt the start of a budding breast, and then examined the rest of her body. She was gaining curves, it seemed, especially near her waist, but still not quite enough for her to give up the loose clothing or jackets. Fortunately, Tori’s ‘back-to-school outfit’ had included a jacket, and it had been left on the vanity sink while she’d been preoccupied in the shower.
After her self-inspection, she toweled herself off, then, with some difficulty, pulled the skirt on. To her utter disappointment, there was a white cotton training bra sitting on the vanity atop the dark pink top. She cursed under her breath and called out for Tori, who immediately walked in, grabbed the bra and slid it over Rylee’s arms.
“There’s no easy way to do this,” Tori said apologetically. “Even a sports bra would kind of suck for you right now.”
“I could go without a bra,” Rylee suggested.
“Not likely.” Tori stepped around her and straightened the cups, ensuring Rylee’s tiny breasts were covered. She then reached beneath the pile of clothing and pulled out a pair of small silicone breast inserts. Rylee looked to her questioningly, but didn’t interfere as Tori slid them into the cups of the bra. “People notice things like this,” she explained.
It took Rylee a full ten minutes to dry and straighten her hair, with Tori stepping in to make sure that the back was equally straightened. Fully dressed, Rylee looked at herself in the mirror again; she’d had to roll the left sleeve of the jacket up to allow for the cast, and Tori had in fact suggested that she just not wear it, but actually exposing the shape of her body wasn’t a route that Rylee planned on taking.
“Okay.” Tori gave Rylee a quick pat on the shoulder. “Can you do your makeup on your own?”
Rylee nodded. “Yeah, I can do that one-handed.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.” Rylee nodded and smiled at her sister, turning to walk back to her room.
Fifteen minutes later, Rylee emerged from her room and walked into the kitchen, fully dressed, and took a seat at the kitchen table, where Anette was already in the process of serving up bacon and eggs. Tori poured Rylee a glass of orange juice from a cardboard Minute Maid carton and took a seat in the chair across from her.
“Okay,” Tori said, throwing a quick glance at the clock. 5:52 AM. They still had plenty of time. “What’s the plan today?”
“Go to school.” Rylee shot Tori a cheeky grin as she stuffed a fork-full of eggs into her mouth. Anette snorted; Tori gave her a hardened glare.
“Rylee,” Tori said with a hint of warning that made Rylee immediately straighten up.
“Um…stay with Kelly, don’t do anything dumb, and listen to the teachers,” Rylee said quickly. As she spoke, the existential dread began to set in. She was going to school; she hadn’t been for the last two years, and to be honest, she’d thought she was done with it. Running away from home in your sophomore year tends to stunt one’s education, but Tori had found a way to make it happen. She and Anette has even gone so far as to make sure that Rylee had friends to keep her safe. So much thought had been put into this, and it all depended on Rylee behaving as expected. She didn’t trust herself.
“Rylee,” Tori said, commanding her little sister’s full attention. “This is scary, I know. The first day of school is scary for anyone, but it has to be terrifying for you. I need you to understand that this is an opportunity. I don’t mean for education. Shit, if we wanted education I’d just send you to get your GED. This is to get you the social experiences you missed out on, stuff that you never would have gotten living with your parents. Look, Rylee sweetie, you’re not going to be the most popular girl in school, and you can’t just…make friends with everyone. You have a lot to hide, and a lot to be afraid of, but you’ll have people there to protect you, and you’ll be doing the things a young girl should be doing.”
“How many times did you imagine being a girl at school, Rylee?” Anette added, taking a sip of her morning coffee and watching Rylee carefully as she wrapped her fingers around the handle of the mug.
Rylee stopped eating and looked at her, suddenly deep in thought. Anette wasn’t wrong; Rylee had spent so much time at school watching the other girls; not because she was attracted to them, but because she imagined being them. Studying their ethereal movements, the way they talked, the way they laughed, the way their skirts effortlessly and naturally flowed from their perfectly formed bodies. And she knew that she could never be them. She had sat up night after night imagining them, poring over yearbook photos, her chest aching as she reached mentally for a dream that could never possibly manifest. The pain, fear, and longing had built up inside her, and maybe it hadn’t broken her, but it had contributed to her eventual breakdown. All of it had come to a head, triggering an invisible explosion inside her, one that only she could feel. The pieces of her had been flung to the distant corners of her psyche, the dull pain behind her eyes suddenly manifesting as her reality as her hopes and dreams faded. The pain had been real, the hopelessness had been real, and yet somehow, Tori had put her back together.
“Thank you,” Rylee whispered. Tori nodded to her, smiling softly. “I’m scared. Like really scared, but…I…thank you.” Rylee’s voice caught in her throat as she found herself at a loss for words.
“You’re gonna be fine, sweetie,” Tori reassured her for the millionth time since they’d established this course of action. “Just stick to the plan.”
With breakfast finished, Rylee said an emotional goodbye to Anette, and moments later she was in the passenger seat of Tori’s car.
It was her first day of school.
Tori dropped Rylee off at Kelly’s house, and immediately drove home. The meeting was set for eight, and she’d dropped Rylee off at exactly seven forty-five. She made it home in record time, shoving her key in the front door and pressing her back to it as she closed it.
“Shit,” she said aloud, breathing heavily and doing her best to collect herself before walking to the bedroom. Around Rylee she’d done her best to put up a ‘tough guy’ front, but even she had to admit that right now she was at a complete loss. She was about to meet with Ariel for the first time with Lucille as a mediator. They’d gone through so much to get to this point, to find Ariel, and she knew that she should be excited, but for some reason she felt nothing but apprehension.
Each step toward the bedroom felt like the steps of a condemned woman passing the cells of death row on the way to the electric chair, though in this case, the laptop computer was the instrument of execution. What would she say to someone like Ariel Skye? Rylee had spoken highly of her, and as Tori understood it, Ariel had been instrumental in Rylee’s transition under the nose of her ultra-conservative parents. This girl loved Rylee as much as Tori did, if not more. She would have questions, and more than anything, Tori wanted to make sure that she was ready to answer them.
The laptop was still open and powered on; the Netmeeting application was minimized and with a click, Tori brought it up. On a small notepad beside the computer was an IP address provided by Lucille, which Tori slowly entered. Her finger hovered over the Enter key for a full minute as she tried to get her breathing under control. This morning she’d taken care to apply makeup and brush out her hair. She’d even chosen a nicer blouse than usual, just to avoid looking like a shoe-dwelling hag for this call.
“Why do I care so much?” Tori muttered to herself. But she knew why she cared; this was Ariel Skye, the most important person in Rylee’s life, and there was a chance that this could become confrontational. With no more time to delay, she tapped the Enter key and waited for Netmeeting to connect. The call went through almost immediately with Lucille’s video stream appearing alongside another girl, a younger blonde, perhaps a few years older than Rylee. Her hair was long and straightened, her makeup immaculate just like Rylee’s always was. Well, at least she knew where Rylee had gotten her skill from.
“Hi,” Tori said, unsure of how to actually start the conversation. “I’m, uh…My name is Tori. I…I guess you’re Ariel?”
“I am,” the girl said as Lucille remained silent, watching the increasingly awkward interaction. “Lucille says you have my sister.”
“I…do…well, she’s not here right now, but yes, we have her.” Tori nodded, her nervousness increasing with every passing second. Ariel watched her with cold eyes from a state away, clearly resisting the urge to pose a million questions to Tori right at the start.
“Where is she?” Ariel asked evenly, clearly doing her best to keep emotion out of her voice.
“She’s at school,” Tori told her. “It, um…today was her first day back.”
“She’s going to college?” Ariel looked worried; there was little doubt she knew about Rylee’s social issues, not to mention how difficult it would be for a trans girl.
“We, um…we sent her to high school.” Tori regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, but what else was there to say?
“You what?!” Ariel demanded, her eyes growing wide as both rage and panic began to manifest in her quickly changing expression. “You can’t do that! She’s eighteen now, and…and oh my god, you know she’s autistic and trans, right?!”
“She’s aware,” Lucille cut in, quelling Ariel’s mounting panic. “We’ve discussed it.”
“Then…” Ariel looked from left to right, her image freezing briefly as she did so. “How could you do that to her? Those kids will eat her alive! Are you trying to get her killed or something?!”
“We worked out a protection plan for her,” Tori explained quickly. “We, um…we were able to anticipate any troubles she might have and…basically, Mom and I have friends with a daughter in her grade and she’s just going to stick with that friend group. It should keep her safe and unnoticed.”
“And if it doesn’t?!” Ariel demanded. “You can’t keep track of her at school!”
“I make her text me every half hour, though in school I’m having her do it in between periods,” Tori explained, then took a deep breath before continuing. “Look, Ariel…I…I know that you’ve known Rylee for longer than me, obviously, but we…we know what we’re doing here. My mom is a social worker; Lucille trusts her. We were able to identify Rylee’s disabilities early on and we were able to address them. Some stuff she knows about, but a lot of stuff we do behind the scenes to make sure she’s comfortable and safe. Her safety is our number one priority.”
Ariel stopped talking and appeared to be deep in thought, chewing her lip and then placing her chin on her knuckles as she studied Tori. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she spoke again.
“How exactly did she come to be with you?” Ariel asked. Tori took pause herself as she tried to remind herself that while she was being interrogated by a child, it was Rylee’s sister; she had every right to be suspicious.
“I don’t know how much Lucille told you…” Tori trailed off, waiting for Lucille to interject.
“I didn’t get a chance to talk to her much,” Lucille said apologetically. “Like I said, we’ve got a lot going on over here.”
“Right,” Tori nodded, then took another deep breath. “Ariel, I…I don’t have a good way to say this, at all. She went through some things before she…before she got to me. I don’t know all of it, I’m sorry I don’t, but I know she was…sold…”
“Sold?” Ariel shook her head, her voice suddenly beginning to shake. “What do you mean sold?”
“I mean she…she met some people that she found online and they…oh god, Ariel, I’m so sorry -- they used her, sexually. She got away somehow, I don’t know how, but the poor thing…she didn’t know what to do or how to function in the real world, so she started breaking into houses and stealing food. I don’t know how long she was doing it, but I caught her in my house about four months ago and I just…okay, this is going to sound awful; I just didn’t let her leave.”
“You held her prisoner?!”
“In a manner of speaking,” Tori said quickly. “Look, she was so thin, her feet were swollen, her face was bruised like someone hit her. She was so afraid, and timid, and…I couldn’t let her go out there, but I couldn’t take her to a shelter or call the police.”
“Because she’s trans,” Ariel said – a statement rather than a question.
“Okay, this is embarrassing,” Tori admitted. “I didn’t know she was trans for the first three months. I know it sounds stupid, but she’s good, really, really good. She has the voice and the behavior down to a science. That’s why I have no problem sending her to school, she passes like a football.”
“And when you found out she was trans?”
“I loved her just the same, hell, maybe even more,” Tori said. “But it also helped me to understand how vulnerable she really was. Your sister needs to be protected and we’re doing the best we can. She’s a little headstrong, but it’s nothing we can’t deal with.”
“Who exactly is we?” Ariel demanded, even though her glare had softened considerably.
“Well, me, obviously,” Tori laughed a little. “And my mom, she’s a social worker. And my best friend, Fiona, she’s in nursing school. If you can believe it, they figured out that Rylee was trans way before I did and they just…didn’t tell me.”
“Why wouldn’t they tell you that?” Ariel furrowed her brow. “That…seems important?”
“They were always hovering,” Tori explained. “They knew I would figure it out eventually, but my mom would sit her down and do therapy with her, and Fiona took care of her doctor stuff. They just left me to love her and take care of her. I guess the logic was that she’d been robbed of enough of her autonomy and if she wanted to hang onto this one last secret, she should be able to. Ariel, her entire life was laid bare, she has no secrets left. I want her to be her own person, but so much shit has happened to her and our lives are just intertwined now. I am trying, but it’s taking time. I love her, I’m glad she’s here, but this situation isn’t normal and we have to handle it in a really unique way.”
“But you didn’t let her leave,” Ariel said it again. “You kept her…like a prisoner.”
“Okay, god dammit, Ariel,” Tori said, barely managing to keep her temper under control. “If I let her go, she would be homeless still and probably would have been killed by now. If I’d taken her to the police, she would have been put in a cell with men. If I took her to social services? A group home, with men. A homeless shelter? Men again. There’s no help for someone like her. I did the best I could because the system is bullshit, and I knew it was bullshit even before I knew she was trans. She’s happy, she laughs, she plays video games, she reads, she has friends and most of all, god dammit, she gets to be herself.”
“I’m sorry,” Ariel said; Tori watched her closely now, seeing the signs of both exhaustion and hopelessness on her face. This was someone who had gone through years of hell, and then two more of them looking for the sister she loved; of course she’d be a bit suspicious. “I…I’ve waited for so long and…I’m just emotional. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you, especially if Lucille says you’re alright.”
“I would be the same way.” Tori smiled at her. “But she’s safe, she’s happy, and she’s Rylee.”
“Um…” Ariel wiped an emergent tear with the side of her palm, dragging her hand across her face and letting out a sniff. “What is she like? Do you have any pictures?”
“I do, actually.” Tori nodded and smiled. “I took a picture yesterday in her back to school outfit. Do you want to see it?”
“Yes!” Ariel suddenly perked up, eyes wide. “Oh my god, yes, here, let me put my e-mail address in the chat.”
Tori waited for the e-mail address to appear, then copied it into Outlook along with the picture of Rylee in her back to school outfit along with a few other shots of her and clicked send.
“Did you get them?” Tori asked, but she got her answer when Ariel’s face lit up, then transformed into utter shock as she mouthed ‘oh my god.’
“She looks like that?” Ariel’s eyes were wide. “We got her looking pretty good, but this…”
“She’s great at makeup, and her hair is gorgeous; you can see we made her a brunette.”
“Does…she have a broken arm?” Ariel frowned, and Tori’s heart fell into her throat as she remembered the incident at Chell’s shed just a few weeks ago.
“Oof, yeah,” Tori said apologetically. “She…did something dumb.”
“Well, her bones break easily.” Ariel shrugged and then chuckled as if recalling a distant memory. “She broke her other arm twice on the playground at school. The first time was on a jungle gym…or rather off the jungle gym because she just fell off. Then the slide.”
“She broke her arm on a slide?”
“Yeah!” Ariel suddenly laughed. “When she was like eight, it was like…a slide with curved edges, right? She was sliding down and tried to ride on the side instead of in the middle like a normal person and…she kind of flew off. It wasn’t a long drop, but damn, that girl needs to drink more milk!”
“Well, it was a little crazier than that,” Tori laughed. “I’d love to fill you in when you get here.”
“When…I get there?”
“Look, Ariel, she has a home here and she’s building a life, but she needs to see you again. I can see it in her eyes, she’s happy but there’s a piece missing. Look, you’re welcome any time, you can fly into Dayton and we’ll pick you up.”
“Okay, okay,” Ariel said quickly. “Um…I need to take time off of work. I think I have some PTO saved up, I just need to talk to my boss. Maybe like…in two weeks?”
“Whenever you can,” Tori said. “But in between, maybe she can video chat with you?”
“Yes! Yes, of course!” Ariel beamed. “And she’s…okay to stay there? It’s not an inconvenience, is it?”
“She, um…” Tori pursed her lips, trying to think of a way to phrase it, but Lucille did it for her.
“She can’t leave,” Lucille said simply. Ariel frowned, her eyes darted from left to right as her confusion grew.
“What…do you mean she can’t leave?” Ariel shook her head and frowned again. “You mean you won’t let her?”
“She…was given a choice,” Tori said slowly as she chose her words carefully. “Look, Ariel, she’s in bad shape. She has no concept of how to be social, she can barely read--”
“Barely read?” Ariel repeated, her tone rising. “She loves reading!”
“As I understand it,” Lucille cut in, “she can read, but she can’t retain the information. It’s trauma-related.”
“Basically, she’s been through so much shit she’s forgetting basic life skills,” Tori said solemnly. “That, on top of the fact that your parents--”
“You don’t need to lecture me about them.” Ariel dismissed her with a hand wave. “They barely taught her anything other than yard work or helping Dad in the pole barn with bullshit. Like that ‘57 Chevy he bought from that guy in Woodcrest; Rylee just spent ages out there handing him tools.”
“Okay, so on top of all that,” Tori said. “Her trauma is making it difficult for her to cope. So we gave her a choice; she could either be a roommate and we’d help her when we had time, or…she could be treated as a child. She would lose most of her freedoms, like going out, using the Internet, watching certain movies, even talking to people that I don’t approve of. We pushed her in the ‘roommate’ direction, but she picked option two.”
“I don’t understand,” Ariel leaned forward, frowning into the webcam. “Why would she pick that?”
“Because she knew we could save her,” Tori said simply. “We can show her the life skills that she wasn’t taught, and we’ve already started working on her sensory issues. It’s going to be a long road, but I need you to understand that I will not let her out of our agreement unless Mom and I both think she’s ready.”
“And…when will she be ready, exactly?”
“I don’t know,” Tori admitted. “I’m hoping that school helps, and we’re working on things at home. Look, no offense to your family--”
“None taken.”
“But Rylee was neglected and given severe childhood PTSD. We have to cut through it all, and we have to find her, wherever she is in there.”
“I just…have one more question,” Ariel said. “Why?”
“I’m going to give you the answer I’d never give her,” Tori said after an awkward silence. “She’s hurt, but so am I. We’re both broken and maybe by fixing her, I can fix myself. And moreover, Ariel, she’s a beautiful girl. She’s kind, she’s compassionate, loving, curious. She…didn’t deserve what she got. She didn’t. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure she’s alright.”
“Just be careful,” Ariel warned. “That’s my little sister.”
“Yeah,” Tori said, nodding. “Mine too.”
“Over here, Rylee.” Kelly gently took the sleeve of Rylee’s jacket and maneuvered her across the sidewalk toward the steps of the school; if Rylee hadn’t been wearing makeup, all color would have drained from her face by now. The sidewalk in front of the school was packed with more people than Rylee was comfortable with, most of them teenagers younger than her. Though, as Rylee had been reminded of countless times, she looked like a kid herself. Kelly stopped her at the far right of the steps; a group of students in red-and-white letter jackets brushed past. One boy, a brown-haired kid the size of a linebacker, did a double take at her as he ascended the stairs; Rylee cringed. “We’re going to meet Carrie Ann here,” Kelly explained.
“Does she know?” Rylee asked quickly, suddenly staring at Kelly in anticipation of an answer. Kelly didn’t respond right away; she seemed to be looking through the crowd, occasionally standing on her tippy toes to see above the sea of students as they either gravitated toward groups or headed up the stairs toward the bank of doors.
“Know what?” Kelly was clearly distracted with her visual search of the grounds.
“Um…about…me?” Rylee barely managed to squeak the words out of her mouth. Kelly looked at her quickly and then looked away.
“Oh, no,” Kelly said quickly.
“Who all knows?” Rylee could feel the flow of her blood pressure increasing with every passing second as Kelly seemed to regard the topic with complete indifference.
“Um….” Kelly took a step away from Rylee, mounting the first of the concrete steps to see over the crowd. “Sorry, what was the question?”
“Who else knows about me? You know…about me?” Rylee asked, looking up at Kelly, who had abandoned the steps and stood on the low wall next to them as she continued her search in greater detail.
“Oh that?” Kelly said, looking down in surprise. “No one, just me.”
Rylee breathed a sigh of relief at the realization that no one else knew she was trans. As she looked around, from student to student, she realized barely any of them were giving her a second glance; she was passing well.
“You won’t tell anyone, right?” Rylee called up to her.
“Would you stop worrying?” Kelly said, looking down, finally. “You look fine, no one’s going to guess, and I’m not going to tell. Hey! Carrie Ann!”
“Kelly!” A blonde girl with a pixie cut waved to them, making a brisk walk from the far side of the stairs. She smiled broadly as she reached them, giving Kelly a quick hug and then greeting Rylee. “You must be Rylee!”
“Oh, um, you’ve heard of me?” Rylee said sheepishly, resisting the urge to begin kneading her hands.
“Well, duh!” Carrie Ann laughed. “Hey, come on, we’ve gotta go in, class is starting in like ten.”
“We were waiting for you.” Kelly shook her head as she joined Carrie Ann in walking up the steps with Rylee in tow. “What took you so long?”
“We got a new cat,” she explained. “I spent half an hour lint-rolling my outfit.”
“No one told you to wear that dress.” Kelly pointed to Carrie Ann’s light blue sundress. “You could have changed. That thing is a hair magnet.”
“Screw you, I’m fabulous.” Carrie Ann rolled her eyes. “So, Rylee, you just moved here, right?”
“Uh…yes, yeah, I mean, yeah, I did,” Rylee said nervously, working hard to keep her octaves high enough to pass for a feminine voice.
“Where did you come from?” Carrie Ann slowed down, allowing Rylee to walk between them.
“North Carolina?” Rylee delivered the line with an upward inflection that nearly made it sound as if she were questioning her own statement. Kelly chuckled quietly.
“Wow, that’s, uh…really far away,” Carrie Ann noted. “What brings you out here?”
“I just…moved in with my sister.” Rylee gave her a practiced explanation that wasn’t quite a lie. Tori was her sister now, after all.
“Well that’s neat,” Carrie Ann said as they moved past the doors and into the lobby. “You’ve got a ‘cool older sister,’ huh?”
“Yeah, I do,” Rylee grinned, though her voice still felt shaky.
The lobby was nearly as Rylee remembered it from the first time she and Tori had stopped by to register for classes, but now it was stuffed full of students. Her eyes darted from left to right, and even upward as she followed the path of the stairs to the second level of the school.
Kenton Ridge was split into two levels, and the lobby played host to the two massive stairs that served as a primary access to the second floor. The stairs faced away from one another and were connected at the bottom by a platform; Rylee was still amazed – her old school in Woodhaven looked nothing like this. In addition to the students, a white and red ‘Welcome Back’ banner was strung up across the second level, a spectacle that nearly drew Rylee toward the stairs, but Kelly gently pulled her back on track.
“Thanks,” Rylee said at nearly a whisper; Kelly gave no response. Being on the autism spectrum came with a wide range of ‘quirks’ for her, one of which was an apparent inability to navigate a space without keeping contact with the wall or at least touching objects as she passed by them. Kelly kept a loose grip on her sleeve and prevented her from straying too far.
“Okay, Rylee, you have English II first period.” Kelly handed her a printout of her schedule and pointed to Carrie Ann. “You’ll have to go with her, I’ve got biology.”
“Wait, what?” Rylee began to panic at the idea of Kelly leaving her behind. Who even was Carrie Ann?
“Hey! It’ll be fine!” Carrie Ann smiled as she took Rylee’s arm and Kelly wandered off into the crowd. “Are you good at English? I need to copy notes from someone.”
“Um….” Rylee said nervously as she followed Carrie Ann’s lead down the hallway.
“Okay, we have like ten minutes,” Carrie Ann announced as she dragged Rylee down the hall. “I’ve gotta go to the bathroom.”
Rylee’s heart nearly exploded on the spot; one of the conditions for enrolling in school was that she use the staff bathroom and while she didn’t care much for this place, Tori wanted her to succeed, and that was enough motivation. Still, she couldn’t stop Carrie Ann from taking a sharp right turn and pushing through a heavy wooden door. The next thing Rylee knew, they were standing dead center of the girls bathroom; a row of stalls stood to her left, and a line of sinks to her right. There were three other girls in here, all busying themselves with makeup or handwashing. Rylee froze in place, certain that she was going to die, or be found out, or both at the same time.
“Smell me,” Carrie Ann said, turning around.
“Excuse me?” Rylee squeaked as she swiveled her head looking for somewhere to hide. One of the stalls would probably work.
“Look, we got this new cat,” Carrie Ann explained. “Mr. Fuzzles. He’s cute, but he pees on everything. I bought this dress last week and I really wanted to wear it today, but I left it on the floor. What if he peed on it, and I end up smelling like cat pee all day? Smell me. Now.”
“Uh…uh….” Rylee began to panic, and Carrie Ann asked again. Finally, Rylee managed to lean forward and take a whiff.
“Well?” Carrie Ann demanded. “Do you smell anything?”
“I…I don’t know,” Rylee admitted. “Um…I can’t…really…”
“Hey!” Carrie Ann waved to the other side of the bathroom, flagging down one of the girls. “Hey, do I smell like cat pee?”
“Let me check,” a tall redhead said, making her way over to them. Rylee scooted out of the way, eyes wide as the other two girls wrapped up at the sink and headed over. “Hmm. I can’t really tell.”
“Here, let me,” a black-haired girl said, leaning in and sniffing. “I don’t smell cat pee--”
“Oh, thank god!” Carrie Ann breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“--but it is musty. Did you forget to put it in the dryer after you washed it?”
“I didn’t wash it!” Carrie Ann said, panicked. “I just bought it!”
“Eww!” a new girl said from the doorway; Rylee spun around as three more girls entered. “You don’t wash clothes after you get them?”
“No one’s worn them yet!” Carrie Ann argued. “Why should I wash it right after I get it?”
“You don’t know where it’s been!” a fourth girl shrieked. “Oh my gosh!”
“She does smell kind of musty,” a fifth girl with a ponytail and a track suit spoke up.
Rylee was frozen in place as the girls milled around, discussing amongst themselves how they might solve the mysterious musty smell. She didn’t hear most of it, but she did find herself stumbling backward, feeling lightheaded as the black-haired girl ran to grab one of her friends from the hallway. Two more girls walked in, each one confirming the musty smell. One girl suggested perfume, another suggested spray deodorant, and past that, Rylee had no idea. All of the voices seemed to run together, an inescapable wall of sound around her as she looked toward the exit.
“Okay, okay!” the red-headed girl said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a can of spray deodorant. “Just close your eyes, I’m gonna spray you!”
“Oh my god!” Carrie Ann squealed. The redhead aimed and fired, blasting Carrie Ann with a wall of scent. One of the girls laughed while a few others moved in to check her scent again. The group cheered as the girl gave a thumbs up. Rylee began to feel lightheaded and started to push her way through the growing crowd. If she’d ever wondered what girls did in the bathroom together, she knew now, and it was not only uninteresting, it was noisy.
“Hey! Rylee!” Carrie Ann called out as Rylee made it halfway to the door. She stumbled over her feet; light headed and dizzy, she turned around and looked at Carrie Ann through increasingly dark vision.
“Oh god,” Rylee said as she lost consciousness.
Ariel walked into The Haven at exactly ten forty-five in the morning, still lost in thought over the conversation with Tori. Tori Blackburn. What the hell. Rylee’s pictures were on her phone; one showed her in her back-to-school outfit, another with her on a couch beside a woman in blue scrubs. Was she a nurse? It didn’t matter; the one thing she could really pull from this photo was that Rylee was happy. The look on her face in these pictures said it all. That goofy grin in the back-to-school outfit, the picture on the couch that had caught her in mid-laugh; the expressions she was giving were ones that Ariel had never seen on her before.
“Ugh, I was so awful to her,” Ariel said, thinking of Tori. If this woman could make her sister smile like that, then who was Ariel to question her? “At least you did okay, little sister.”
The Haven was quiet this early in the morning; the bright sunlight was muted by the UV-coating, bathing the lobby in that ominous blue light that was bright enough to see by. Ariel enjoyed the silence as she crossed the room, the only audible interruptions being the clicking of keyboards as Miles and the others answered e-mails and filled out reports.
She walked past the partition and sped by the desks, pausing briefly as she bumped into the water cooler and caused it to wobble. Finally, she came to Sandra’s office. The woman was in there looking half asleep, nearly slumped over her keyboard. Ariel rapped at the door frame with her knuckles before entering and Sandra gave her a nod.
“Good morning, Ariel,” Sandra said as she returned her attention to the screen. “What can I do for you?”
“I, um…have some news,” Ariel said, fighting to contain her excitement. “Someone, um…found my sister.”
Sandra’s fingers went limp at the keyboard as she looked up at Ariel, her expression betraying her utter shock at the statement.
“Are you serious?” Sandra’s eyes went wide. “Ariel, that’s wonderful! Where is she? Is she doing okay?
“She’s…she’s fine,” Ariel exhaled heavily and stepped forward, taking a seat in the chair across from Sandra’s desk. “She’s with…a family, I guess, and they’re taking care of her. I just…I wanted to ask you…I know I don’t have a ton of PTO, but…”
“You want to go see her, right?” Sandra asked. “Where is she?”
“Ohio, apparently.” Ariel shrugged.
“Aren’t you both from North Carolina?” Sandra frowned. “How on Earth did she get to Ohio?”
“I…I don’t know,” Ariel admitted. “I just know someone found her and took her in. I talked to her this morning; it’s a woman named Tori. She’s letting her be…herself, Rylee, I mean. It’s better than I could have hoped for.”
“What are your plans?” Sandra asked.
“Well, I…want to go see her, obviously. I’d love to bring her back here with me, but I don’t have anywhere for her to stay and there’s no way I could provide for her. She…it’s weird; well, I guess it’s not that weird. I guess she can’t really function as an adult and it’s not surprising, considering…”
“So what will you do? Can she stay there?”
“They say she can, but I’d really like to find a way to get her closer to me,” Ariel said. “I don’t…know how I’m going to do it. We live in a three-bedroom, but my room is small. I could maybe get rid of my queen size bed and swap it out for two twins. That could work, but then there’s the issue of feeding her…”
“Well, Ariel.” Sandra nodded. “If it were under normal circumstances, we’d use Haven’s resources to get you into a bigger apartment, but…”
“But we don’t go out of our way to help trans people.” Ariel rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I got that, even if we don’t say it outright.”
“You know how it works,” Sandra said coldly. “Shelters won’t take them, no one wants to hire them.”
“But they’re people,” Ariel reminded her. “Just like anyone else.”
“Convince our benefactors, and the shelters, and the temp agencies,” Sandra lectured. “It’s just not the right time. Let’s help the people that we can help.”
“LGBT is four letters,” Ariel reminded her. “People only care about the first two.”
“Someday,” Sandra told her, “there’ll be more acceptance and we’ll have more resources to work with, but right now, we do what we can do. Now, as for your sister, what I can do is offer you a raise. Ditch that queen size bed, buy those two twins, stock your apartment with food, do what you have to do. I’ll even give you an advance for a down payment. I know how important this is to you.”
“Wait, what?” Ariel’s eyes went wide; excitement began to well up in her as she considered the new possibilities. With more money she could bring Rylee here. They could be a family again! Holy shit! “How…where would the money come from?”
“The Haven isn’t broke, Ariel,” Sandra reminded her. “We do have grant money. I can’t help your sister directly, but you’re one of my best employees; surely I can help you out a little.”
“I…don’t know what to say…” Ariel stammered. “I…thank…thank you!”
“Just do me a favor,” Sandra said; Ariel nodded profusely. “Give me about a week to get some things in order here; it’ll be complicated, not having a front desk person here. I’ll probably get Miles to do it, but we’ll see.”
“Sandra,” Ariel said, nearly breathless. “Thank you. Thank you so much. You don’t know what this means to me!”
“I do, actually,” Sandra reminded her. “You came here for help a year ago, and I know how long you’ve been searching. But, in all that time you haven’t stopped helping other people. I’ve had the pleasure of watching you grow, Ariel, through your work here. You deserve this, and your sister deserves it. So wait a week, and then go get her, alright?”
Ariel thanked her and returned to her desk; an unquellable excitement welled up within her as she logged into her computer and immediately opened up a web browser to search for apartments. It was happening, it was really happening! Rylee had been found, and she had the means to bring her back with her! Her mind wandered back to the conversation she’d had with Tori over Netmeeting. What was that promise that Rylee had made to her? It didn’t matter; Rylee was her sister, and after everything they’d gone through, this Tori person wasn’t going to stop them from being together.
She couldn’t help but grin as she searched through apartments; one had on-site laundry, another had a pool. There were so many options available to her! She tapped her fingers excitedly on the desk and then leaned back in her chair, cupping the back of her head with her hands and staring at the ceiling. How was she supposed to concentrate on work? She was supposed to make some cold calls today, but Jesus, she was going to see Rylee in a week!
“Shit, I’ll have to take her out of school,” Ariel said aloud. “Shit, can I do that?”
Of course she could do that! Okay, she just needed to breathe! She inhaled, then exhaled, then reached into the right hand drawer, pulling out a plastic water bottle and twisting the cap off. She could barely sit still! Just as she was going to take a drink, the front door bell sounded, and that boy from yesterday walked through. Chris, right?
Ariel took another deep breath and set the water bottle down, stood up and greeted him.
“Hi, Chris, right?” She smiled widely as he stepped forward. “Were you able to get to the shelt--”
Ariel stopped mid-sentence as the boy stepped from the shadows and she beheld a bruise on the left side of his face, punctuated by a newly blackened eye nearly swollen shut.
“Chris, what happened?!” Ariel gasped, doing her best to keep her volume under control. “Did you make it to the shelter? Who did this to you?”
“Um…yeah,” Chris said, the nervousness and wavering in his voice was more than evident to Ariel, and it was suddenly becoming all too familiar. “I…was wondering if maybe there was another shelter? I would look it up, but…I…I don’t have a phone anymore.”
Ariel froze in place, frowning as she tried to assess the situation. What the hell had happened? Did it have something to do with the Hope Home?
“What, uh…what happened to the Hope Home?” she asked, furrowing her brow as she tried to keep her concern from showing on her face.
“Just didn’t work out.” Chris shrugged. “So, um…do you have anywhere else?”
Ariel remained silent for a moment, watching Chris intensely as a million scenarios ran through the back of her mind a sense of familiarity began to creep in.
“I…yes.” Ariel swallowed and nodded, somehow keeping her composure. “We do have a few other shelters. Did you have any luck with the temp agencies I gave you?”
“I have to have an address to work.” Chris shrugged.
“Did you try?” Ariel frowned.
“Not these,” Chris admitted, indicating the folder he was holding. “I’ve tried to apply other places, and I can’t do it without an address or a phone number. They--”
“Okay, look.” Ariel folded her hands, placing them on the desk in front of her as she swallowed again. “We have an agreement with the temp agencies in that folder. You can get a job without a phone number, they’ll work with you. Can you try it? For me? Please?”
Ariel’s request was intense; Chris frowned, looking back at her, and then nodded slowly. Ariel nodded back.
“Okay.” She barely managed to keep her voice from cracking as she nodded. “Why don’t we--”
“Ariel, Sandra wants to see you.” Miles strode around the barricade and nodded to her. Ariel closed her eyes and nodded. She pushed her chair back and excused herself, aware of Miles taking her place at the desk as she rounded the partition and walked along the wall until she reached Sandra’s door.
“Hey, Sandra,” Ariel said, knocking on the door frame. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yeah,” Sandra shuffled a stack of papers and shoved them aside. “I have some charity work for you.”
“Charity work?” Ariel crossed the room and pulled the wooden chair away from Sandra’s desk, taking a seat across from her. “What do you mean?”
“A young woman named Annie contacted us last week,” Sandra explained. “She has a procedure at the Planned Parenthood in Ann Arbor and needs someone to walk her in.”
“Wait, we do that?” Ariel frowned. “Can’t she just…walk through the doors?”
“Look, Ariel,” Sandra lectured. “The Haven is open because we have funding; in order to maintain that funding, we have to maintain a good image. For example, one donor gives us a hundred thousand dollars a year because it’s not only a good tax write-off, but also makes him look like a philanthropist. He’s not going to look like a philanthropist if we’re not doing anything that’s visible to the public.”
“Okay, that’s not what I mean.” Ariel glared, still confused. “I just don’t understand why she needs help getting from her car to the door…”
“Seriously, Ariel?” Sandra rolled her eyes. “Okay, honey, I have a lot to do today. Head over to Planned Parenthood, you’ll find her in a silver Mercury Sable. Here’s her phone number just in case.”
Ariel took a handwritten note from Sandra, gave it a passing glance, and folded it up before turning toward the door. Halfway there, she paused and turned; Sandra was already busying herself on the computer.
“Sandra,” Ariel said apprehensively. Sandra stopped typing and looked up. “I think…I think Chris was beaten up at the shelter I sent him to.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Ariel,” Sandra said in a very matter-of-fact tone. “But…it is a shelter and those things are to be expected. You’ve been here long enough to know that.”
“So there’s nothing we can do?”
“Not really.” Sandra shook her head. “We’ll find him another shelter, maybe work with him on employment, but beyond that there’s very little we can do.”
“I don’t like that,” Ariel said, shaking her head. “Can’t we do better?”
“Ariel, you know how it goes. People have to want help, and if they want it, they’ll take the necessary steps. They’ll take initiative, get a job, find housing, especially with the resources we give them. Ariel…you can’t put all your effort into a single person, you just can’t.”
“I’m trying to do my job,” Ariel pointed out. “We do help people here, right?”
“We help people who meet us at least halfway,” Sandra corrected her. “And, Ariel, doing your job is admirable, but at this point that’s all you should be doing. Don’t you have something else that should be on your mind?”
Ariel found it difficult to argue with that.
“What the hell have you done with my son?” Chef Quinn stormed across the kitchen where Tori was lazily frying up a pan of onions. Around them, the clattering of kitchen utensils and the sizzling of meat created a certain ambiance, accompanied by the regular announcement of orders from the front of the house. Tori looked up from the pan momentarily, regarding Chef Quinn, and then returning her attention to the pan as the onions continued to sear. She shook the pan, moving the onions about and then returning her attention to the conversation at hand.
“What do you mean?” Tori asked, moving the pan from the burner and throwing a glance to Chef Quinn who put his hands on his hips and cocked his head at her.
“Well, he hasn’t been hanging around the house playing his stupid video games,” Chef Quinn said, working it out in his head. “And when he’s out, he’s with you. You and my son doing the dirty?”
“What?” The pan slipped from Tori’s hand and clattered against the burner; the onions sizzled as she turned to Chef Quinn, a scowl on her face as she regarded him. “Absolutely not, he’s like ten years old, Chef Quinn!”
“What a shame,” Chef Quinn rolled his eyes. “I thought maybe he’d developed some taste.”
“Hey,” a line cook called from across the kitchen. “I thought that girl of Tori’s was good!”
“That’s a boy!” Chef Quinn shouted back.
“You made me ruin the onions.” Tori glared again, switching the burner off and storming across the kitchen toward the industrial fridge on the far side. Chef Quinn followed her like a man on a mission. “And Marcus is working for me.”
“Working for you?” Chef Quinn said, his tone hosting an upward inflection. “The food truck?”
“Yeah,” Tori said, brushing past Mariel and pulling open the refrigerator. “We’re -- where the hell are the onions?”
“Check the freezer,” Chef Quinn suggested.
“Because that’s where they go.” Tori rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he’s helping me clean it out, and then I’m going to get the hardware installed.”
“You want to set up in my parking lot?” Chef Quinn suggested. “Split the profits?”
“Yeah, probably,” Tori nodded. “You know, he’s not a bad kid.”
“Unmotivated,” Chef Quinn scoffed. “He’ll live in our basement for the rest of his life, way he’s going.”
“Doubt it.” Tori opened the freezer and reached for a plastic container of onions, but then paused, looking to the second shelf. “What the hell is this?”
“What the hell is what?” Chef Quinn demanded. Tori reached quickly, deliberately toward the second shelf and yanked out a gallon of ice cream.
“This generic shit!” Tori shook the quart and glared at Chef Quinn. “What happened to the Haagen-Dazs?!”
“Too expensive,” Chef Quinn said gruffly. “The customers don’t notice the difference.”
“They don’t notice the difference,” Tori repeated back to him. She turned, taking a few steps to the right, then turned back, laughing hysterically. “They don’t fucking notice the difference? They don’t know the difference between Haagen-Dazs and sewer water?!”
“Calm down,” Chef Quinn folded his arms. “You know we’ve had to cut costs.”
“Because customers aren’t coming back,” Tori laughed again, this time looking at the quart before raising her arm above her head and slamming it onto the ground. It bounced toward Chef Quinn, who managed to side step it. “Maybe they aren’t coming back because you’re serving them shit! How long have we been doing this, Chef Quinn? How long have you been feeding them this crap?”
“Oh, would you stop being a drama queen?!” Chef Quinn unfolded his arms and shouted back. “You know how it is!”
“What’s next? You going to start serving Choice steak?”
“We’ve been serving Select for months, you crazy bitch! Where have you been?!”
“Okay, that’s it!” Tori swept her arm to the right, smacking a rack of kitchen utensils to the floor. She moved around the side of a stainless steel work bench, slamming her hands against the surface and continuing to hold her glare. “You are fucking incompetent! You know what? I’m doing all the shopping from now on! You can choose the color of things, that’s what you can do!”
“Oh, you think you can do better than me?!” Chef Quinn roared. “I built this place with my--”
“Tori!” Mariel stepped away from her station and took her by the arm, smiling to Chef Quinn. “Why don’t we step out for some fresh air?”
Tori chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment, and then nodded, stepping past a red-faced Chef Quinn and following Mariel across the kitchen. They stepped into the hallway, walking past the bathroom and heading out into the rear lot, behind Mitchell’s. Tori unbuttoned the front of her coat and allowed it to hang loose as Mariel lit up a cigarette and leaned heavily against the wooden privacy fence surrounding the dumpster.
“What’s your deal?” Mariel took a drag on her cigarette as Tori clenched and unclenched her fists. “Problems with the kid?”
“Kid nearly got herself killed,” Tori said, exasperated. “I feel like I’m failing here.”
“You, uh…ever consider parenting classes?” Mariel suggested. “It worked wonders for me and my ex.”
“I don’t think it applies here,” Tori said, closing her eyes as a cool breeze wafted through the parking lot. “She’s not a kid.”
“You still treating her like one?”
“Yeah,” Tori admitted.
“Then she’s a kid. Get some parenting classes.”
Rylee coughed as she regained consciousness just a few seconds later; her vision had flooded with darkness and her head had felt empty. Fortunately, all of that had spared her the terror of being present as she’d tumbled to the floor. She awakened face up on the yellow bathroom tiles, looking up at the faces of ten girls who were staring down at her in concern.
Oh god, no, she thought; the last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself and she wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping a low profile.
“Are you okay?” A short, round-faced girl with black hair looked down at Rylee with concern as two other girls gently took her by the arms and raised her into a sitting position. Rylee briefly considered squirming out of their grasp, but her limbs were weak, and she allowed them to set her up against the wall.
“Hey, are you the new girl?” a blonde girl asked, cocking her head at Rylee; Carrie-Ann answered before Rylee even had a chance to consider the question.
“This is Rylee,” she said quickly. “She’s friends with me and Kelly.”
“Are you okay?” The black-haired-girl looked again at Rylee, this time placing a hand on her shoulder as she looked into her eyes. Rylee nodded slowly as the emptiness in her head was filled, and she reined in the beating of her heart.
“Yeah.” Rylee nodded and spoke, her voice cracking. “Just…a lot of people.”
“Oh, you have anxiety?” The blonde girl smiled warmly while the others murmured amongst themselves. “Jeez, that sucks, and we’re all crowding you. Come on, step back, everyone!”
Mercifully, they took a step back and the black haired girl offered Rylee a hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Rylee took it and allowed herself to be raised up to her feet in front of the small crowd.
“Did you just move here?” the blonde girl asked.
“She did, yeah,” Carrie Ann interjected, finally. “From North Carolina.”
Rylee looked at Carrie Ann, her eyes wide as Carrie returned her nearly-horrified expression with a simple shrug. Rylee turned away from her and back to the girls who were watching her closely. The thoughts that went through Rylee’s mind were too numerous to count: what were they thinking? Could they tell she was trans? Could they find out? Just to name a few.
“Well,” the black-haired girl said with a welcoming smile. “I’m Alissa, this is Karissa.”
After she spoke, the other girls introduced themselves quickly, citing names that Rylee would never remember. She simply nodded as each of them spoke, ultimately returning her attention to Alissa and Karissa, who were joined by Carrie Ann. This was getting quickly out of hand.
“Can you get to class okay?” Alissa asked as the crowd began to disperse. Rylee nodded. “I don’t know; these hallways can be a lot, especially if you’re new.”
“Oh, it’s okay, I’ve got her,” Carrie Ann reassured them. Alissa studied Rylee closely for a moment – so closely that Rylee nearly considered turning tail and bolting for the bathroom door.
“Well, alright,” Alissa smiled. “Hey, sit with us at lunch?”
“I, um…maybe?” Rylee said shakily. Karissa giggled; Rylee’s cheeks flushed. She and Carrie Ann exited the bathroom with Rylee cringing every time Carrie Ann giggled about the situation.
“Okay, first class is English,” Carrie Ann reminded her.
“I can’t go into the bathroom like that,” Rylee hissed, reminding her. Carrie Ann shrugged.
“It didn’t kill you,” she pointed out.
“It might!” Rylee said in a panic as they rushed down the hall, following a crowd that eventually tapered off, allowing them to take a quick turn and walk through a wooden door into a multi-tiered classroom. Carrie Ann ushered them to the back, stepping up the wide stairs until they came to a pair of desks in the back. The class wasn’t that interesting, nor was it that mentally taxing. The teacher took roll call and handed out stacks of papers including a syllabus for the year. Additionally, they were given green English books that must have weighed five pounds. The classes after that were much the same, each one giving Rylee more and more paper and more books until she was certain her backpack wouldn’t fit any more. Mind-numbing lectures on what to expect for the rest of the year, the occasional stares from other students, and each time, Rylee was passed off to someone else in the friend group. Kelly and Carrie Ann, she knew. Molly, Megan, and Richard, not so much. Nevertheless, she went along with it; she’d promised Tori, after all.
“What are you thinking?” Kelly asked as they walked toward the lunch room.
“Um…that it would be easier for everyone if I could walk around on my own,” Rylee sighed. “This is a lot of trouble for everyone.”
“Your sister would kill us both,” Kelly reminded her. “I don’t know about you, but I’m afraid of Tori.”
“I mean…I’m not really afraid of her,” Rylee said, unsure of if she believed it or not. “I mean, um…she’s…”
“Scary,” Kelly finished the sentence for her as they moved toward the cafeteria line.
“Scary,” Rylee agreed, shuddering. Kelly chuckled as they moved along the food line and were eventually served with a slice of ham, peas, and a small pile of mashed potatoes and gravy. After Tori’s cooking, none of it looked appetizing.
“We get pizza on Fridays,” Kelly said helpfully as they moved away from the line, toward a table off near the back of the cafeteria. They took a seat at one of the tables with Carrie Ann, Kelly, Molly, Megan, and a few others who talked amongst themselves or sorted through the papers they’d received in their classes.
“What’s this?” Megan, an auburn-haired girl asked, pointing to her syllabus; Rylee strained to hear her over the noise in the lunchroom. “What’s The Odyssey?”
“You’re in Advanced English?” Kelly peered across the table at the paper; Megan nodded. “I don’t know. Never heard of it.”
“Greek poetry,” Rylee said, speaking up; she turned red the moment everyone turned to look at her. “Um…I saw the movie.”
“Rylee’s smart,” Kelly said helpfully.
“Not really,” Rylee said quietly. “They have me in special ed.”
“Did you go to that yet?”
“No,” Rylee shook her head at Kelly and then looked down at her food.
“Hey, Rosie,” Kelly said to a girl near the end of the table, nose stuck in a book. “Rosie!”
“What?!” the girl practically shrieked. Rylee’s eyes widened as she noticed her physical condition; extremely thin, bony, and sitting with a hunch even as she straightened up from her book and glared at Kelly.
“When is your special ed class?”
“Why?” Rosie demanded, her words short and her voice sharp as she glared at Kelly.
“Because Rylee needs to go to it,” Kelly said in a tone that was far more reasonable than it should have been, given Rosie’s demeanor. It was like she didn’t even notice.
“Who the fuck is Rylee?” Rosie demanded, slamming her book shut and shoving it aside in a huff. “I just wanted to read. Why won’t anyone let me read?!”
“This is Rylee,” Kelly smiled, pointing to an increasingly horrified Rylee.
“Okay, you know what? Fine!” Rosie snapped, slamming her fist down on the table; the rage continued to grow in her expression. “No one wants to let me do anything. Ever! I don’t ever get to read my stupid book, but I have to help your stupid friend! God!”
“You can’t leave me with her,” Rylee whispered, panicked. Kelly frowned.
“Why? She’s really nice,” Kelly said dismissively.
Rylee made a conscious choice to detach herself from the situation and to survey the lunchroom instead. There were probably forty tables set up in the lunchroom, which was a pale white. The floor was adorned with white linoleum tiles while the walls were white cinderblocks with the school mascot emblazoned near the front of the room in black and yellow paint. All throughout the cafeteria, students sat around tables, eating, talking, laughing, just existing in the moment. Rylee watched some of them carefully, her eyes traveling from table to table, wondering what it must be like for them.
Most of the students were carefree, happy, existing in the moment; what would it be like to do that? To just live instead of worrying about what was going to happen from moment to moment? To exist without that nagging fear in the back of her head? She’d never gotten to be one of them, not even when she was living at home in North Carolina. Always the outsider, always out of place, and always afraid. These days she was finding that the fear was fading, but she still couldn’t just be.
“Rylee,” Kelly said again; she’d probably said it at least three times before Rylee finally refocused her attention and then looked at Kelly, confused.
“Huh?” Rylee said, blinking at her.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Rylee nodded quickly. “Yeah, just overwhelmed. Lots of noise in here.”
“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” Kelly furrowed her brow in concern; Rylee shook her head. Kelly patted Rylee’s hand and gestured toward the cafeteria exit; a long hallway led to the back hall where the music and band rooms, respectively, stood. She led Rylee down the dark hall, all the way to the other side; Rylee exhaled heavily and leaned against the wall, next to Mr. Reiner’s art room. “Rylee?”
“It’s just a lot,” Rylee said, finally. “People. I mean. It’s loud and…I don’t know.” Rylee’s face turned red and her stomach twisted as she tried to find the right words. She shifted her weight to her left foot and wrung her hands as Kelly regarded her with a soft expression. “I don’t feel like I belong here.”
“Sometimes I feel out of place too,” Kelly reassured her. “Being bi and all.”
“I can’t tell that from looking at your face,” Rylee pointed out. “But if you look at my face long enough…”
“I asked Stephanie Wells out in eighth grade,” Kelly said, giving Rylee a half-smile. “Interpreted things wrong, I guess. The rumors spread like wildfire.”
“That sucks,” Rylee admitted. “What did you do?”
“Kids are cruel.” Kelly shrugged. “That’s what my mom says. They’ll say what they’ll say; you just gotta let it roll off of you.”
“There’s another problem,” Rylee admitted. “I just…I don’t know. School is your whole world, but it hasn’t been…my whole world. I don’t know if that makes sense. I’ve just…been places and things have happened to me and it’s hard to just…be…here. I don’t know. I can’t say it right. I’m not very smart.”
“Are you having an existential crisis?” Kelly suddenly laughed. “Well…yeah, I mean, I definitely kinda understand. I don’t know everything you’ve been through, but I know it was pretty bad. You’ve got a bunch of people who care about you, though, you just gotta give ‘em a chance, you know?”
“Yeah, I mean, I guess,” Rylee said, unsure, but slightly reassured as Kelly smiled, took her hand, and led her back to the lunchroom. They took their seats; Carrie Ann looked to them questioningly, but Kelly simply shrugged while Rylee picked at her mashed potatoes. On the other side of the table, Richard had half-turned in his seat and was excitedly talking to another boy about some new video game that had just come out. Rylee tried to tune into that conversation, but quickly tuned out as the noise became overwhelming.
“Hey! New girl!” an unfamiliar voice said. Rylee turned her head to see a blonde girl who was the very personification of high school popularity standing before them in a black skirt and white blouse, hair loose around her shoulders and her makeup perfectly applied as she looked at Rylee intently. Behind her was a brunette, just as well-dressed; probably way too nice for school. She could practically feel the eye roll from Kelly as the blonde stared daggers into her. “Why don’t you come sit with us?”
Rylee stared, unmoving, unblinking at the girl, like a deer in headlights as she gestured to a table across the lunch room.
“She doesn’t want to,” Kelly spoke for her; the blonde whipped her head around, glaring at Kelly. “She’s fine right here.”
“I’m talking to her.” The girl glared some more, gesturing to Rylee, who continued to stare, unable to speak. “You mute?”
“Go back to whatever level of hell you came from, Cathy,” Carrie Ann spoke up; the table went silent as every head turned toward the girl, Cathy. “She’s with us.”
“Ugh, whatever.” Cathy rolled her eyes and looked at Rylee. “You should learn to speak for yourself.”
“That’s the last thing she wants,” Kelly muttered as Cathy walked away. “Anyway.”
“What was that about?” Rylee asked quietly, looking from Kelly to Carrie Ann.
“Just, um…stay away from them,” Kelly advised. “They like to ‘induct’ new girls into their little club and then humiliate them. It’s a whole thing. Anyway…hey, Rosie, you ready?”
Rosie, lost in her book, completely ignored Kelly, who shook her head and reached across Carrie Ann, prepared to poke Rosie hard in the shoulder when she stopped and looked to her right, across the lunch room. Rylee followed her gaze toward a gathering crowd where even Cathy and her friend seemed to be drawn.
“What’s going on?” Kelly frowned and stood up from the table, her chair screeching against the linoleum. Rylee stood and followed her, keeping close as they pushed through the crowd. Rylee struggled to see; the other students were packed tight, but finally, they were able to see through the first row of spectators and Rylee nearly shat herself.
It was a brunette, or someone wearing a brunette wig; the girl was very clearly trans, though a bit smaller than Rylee. She was wearing a white button-up blouse and a plaid-checkered skirt atop white stockings. After that, the second thing Rylee noticed was the laughter; kids were jeering, pointing, screeching with laughter as the girl cowered against the wall. Kelly looked at Rylee, who stood there with a blank expression, watching the scene unfold. Suddenly, it was Cathy who stepped forward and ended the commotion, standing in front of the girl, a smirk on her face.
“Isaac?” she asked, her voice sat on the edge of laughter as the girl shook her head. She responded with a poorly practiced female voice that shook and cracked.
“It’s Izzy now,” she said quietly, simply. Cathy looked to her friend, who gave a quick shrug and a sardonic smile.
“Okay, Izzy,” Cathy laughed. “Why don’t you come with us?”
Kelly looked at Rylee as Cathy led Izzy away; Rylee shook her head and turned away, pushing back through the crowd, eager to disappear to her next class.
Ariel gasped as they pushed through the doors of the Planned Parenthood. The woman, Annie, was in tow, looking just as exhausted and horrified as Ariel. They’d just managed to push through a throng of protestors, all holding horrific signs and shouting phrases like “God doesn’t want you to kill your baby.” Ariel, wide-eyed, stood back as the woman made her way to the counter and checked herself in.
“Okay, um, I’m just going to sit here, and wait,” Ariel said, taking a deep breath as she sunk into one of the waiting room chairs. It wasn’t long before Annie joined her, sitting heavily on the chair beside Ariel. “You okay?” she asked Annie, who looked completely exhausted.
“Yeah,” Annie nodded, clearing a strand of brown hair away from her face. “I just, um…this is a lot.”
“Yeah.” Ariel looked past her, out the doors beyond the nearly-empty waiting room where the crowd still stood, chanting, screaming, waving poster-board signs that shouted derogatory phrases of their own. “Sorry about all that.”
“I’m just glad you’re here,” Annie admitted. “I’m not even here for an abortion, so I don’t know what baby I’m killing.”
Annie was maybe four years older than Ariel; a brunette with soft features and long-ish hair resting on her shoulders. She was very well put together aside from looking a little disheveled from the walk into the building. She went on to tell Ariel that cervical cancer ran in her family, so she was due for a screening. Annie was eventually called back, leaving Ariel to sit alone in the waiting room, occasionally checking her phone for notifications. One of her first thoughts was to text Tori, but what would she even say? She had so many questions for her, so where to begin? Most importantly, how the hell was she going to explain that she wanted to bring Rylee up here?
That was the burning question, wasn’t it? Supposedly, Rylee was happy down there, going to school or whatever, but she should be with her family. Ariel wanted her to experience this place with her, to live in the same house like they’d always planned. They’d talked about it so many times, discussing how they’d decorate the living room, how Rylee would finally have the room she always wanted. God, life sucked sometimes.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening as someone new was buzzed in. Ariel looked up in shock as Chris nervously strolled in, his head on a swivel but somehow missing Ariel as he approached the receptionist desk. Ariel frowned, leaning forward as Chris spoke quickly to the receptionist in a low, mumbling tone.
“Chris?” Ariel said aloud; Chris froze for a moment and then spun around, an object in his hand falling to the floor as he froze in place, eyes fixed on Ariel who rose from her chair, eyebrows furrowed. “What are you doing here?”
“Um…” Chris stared at her, frozen for a moment before he bolted toward the door, pushing through and vanishing into the crowd of protestors with Ariel shouting at him to come back. She gawked after him, her confusion more than evident as she turned back to the reception desk. The receptionist shrugged as Ariel approached, frowning as she spoke.
“What was he here for?” Ariel asked.
“Ever heard of HIPAA?” The receptionist rolled her eyes. Ariel sighed and turned around again, looking toward the door where Chris had bolted. Then, on a whim, she looked down toward the object that he’d dropped. Crouching down, she scooped it off the floor; there was nothing special about it; just a blister pack of pills. She looked at it with some confusion, and then gasped as she flipped it over and read the label on the back: Estradiol.
Chris was trans. Just like Rylee.
“How was your first day of school?” Tori asked Rylee the moment she stepped in the door. Rylee had arrived home shortly after Tori, probably by design, and found her in the living room sitting on the couch still wearing her chef jacket, unbuttoned and hanging loose.
“Awful,” Rylee whined, drawing a snort from Tori.
“Learn anything?”
“Yeah,” Rylee nodded. “Everyone is horrible.”
“They can’t all be horrible, Rylee,” Tori laughed. “What about Kelly?
”
“She’s okay,” Rylee admitted. “But Carrie Ann dragged me into the bathroom, and there’s this other girl there like me.”
“Trans?” Tori raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Rylee said quickly. “She just showed up like that today, I guess she was a guy last year, but now she’s a girl and everyone was laughing. Kelly told me I should be friends with her, but I don’t want to be friends with her just because she’s like me, and if people see me with her, what if they figure out I’m like her?”
“Uh…” Tori froze, blinking as her mouth twitched a little. “Not a problem I was expecting you to run into, but it’s high school, so…”
“So?”
“So weird shit happens in high school,” Tori shrugged. “I can’t tell you who to be friends with.”
Rylee stopped, staring at Tori from the other side of the coffee table, disbelieving.
“Tori, that’s…that’s exactly what you do!” Rylee moaned. “You’re supposed to tell me what I’m allowed to do!”
“Correct,” Tori stood and walked toward the kitchen, giving Rylee a quick glance before she stepped behind the counter and grabbed a can of Diet Coke from the fridge. “That extends to your friends outside school, computer access, curfew, phone usage, whatever. What I’m not going to do is tell you how to handle your social life at school. Get good grades, make friends, learn how to socialize, that’s your job, Rylee. Don’t do drugs.”
“This isn’t fair!” Rylee huffed; Tori looked at her in amusement. “How am I supposed to know what to do?”
“The same way I did,” Tori shrugged. “Just play it by ear, fail a bunch, and relive the trauma memory over and over post-graduation.”
“How is that advice?!” Rylee whined. “What if--”
“Come over here.” Tori motioned to her, setting the Coke can on the counter and walking toward the couch. Rylee groaned and walked over to her, immediately bending over and helping her to move the coffee table toward the back wall.
“Do we have to do this?’ Rylee pleaded. “We did it yesterday.”
“Yep.” Tori pointed to their normal spot in front of the couch; Rylee walked over and stood in front of her while Tori looked her up and down. “Okay, I’ll start with the shoulders, as usual, then move down your arms, okay?”
“Okay.” Rylee nodded quickly, her voice quiet now.
“Don’t tense up,” Tori warned. “Just relax, okay?
“Okay,” Rylee said, not relaxing in the least.
Tori carefully laid her hands on Rylee’s shoulders and began to rub, softly at first, then harder, doing her best to maintain eye contact to judge Rylee’s condition. She moved down her body, rubbing her left arm, but avoiding the cast on her right. Rylee’s eyes twitched away and began to glaze over as whimper after whimper escaped her lips at the contact. Even through her clothes, this was killing her.
“Hang in there, sweetie,” Tori said, her tone much softer now than it had been a moment ago. Ever since she and Anette had learned about Rylee’s autism, this had been one of the daily rituals. Rylee, like most autistic people, had high sensitivity to light, sound, and of course, being touched. While all of these were a problem, the one they were most interested in addressing was touch, which meant rubbing her down daily to help desensitize her. In the past month she’d gotten better at handling it, but she was far from perfect and they had a long way to go.
Rylee squirmed uncomfortably as Tori ordered her to raise her arms and began to rub her lower body, enduring Rylee’s pained and terrified whimpers as she did so. She spent a full thirty seconds rubbing her sides and then moved down to her legs, making sure to look up and keep eye contact with her as much as possible. Finally, she finished and took a step back, to which Rylee immediately responded by bolting toward the couch. She launched into the cushions, drawing herself into the fetal position and whimpering quietly as she lay there, burying her head in the fabric. Tori stepped away, taking a yellow box of Dots gumdrops from the kitchen counter and placing it on the coffee table before dragging it back into place.
“You did good, Rylee,” Tori reassured her before stepping away. Every bone and instinct in her body told her to run over and comfort her little sister, but, practically, she couldn’t; Rylee needed to be alone for a few minutes at least, processing what had just happened to her. At least she had her favorite candy.
Tori returned to the kitchen and grabbed the Diet Coke, taking a long swig to finish the can and then dropped it into the recycling bin beside the trash can. She kept a close eye on Rylee as she stepped over to the counter and began to sort through the mail. It was mostly junk, a few bills, and a newsletter from the school. The joys of being a ‘parent,’ apparently. She dropped the mail and continued watching Rylee as she continued to whimper, but loosened up considerably until finally she moved herself into a sitting position.
“You okay?” Tori asked her from the counter. Rylee shrugged. “I’m going to set your pills on the counter. You don’t have to get up and take them right now, I just want you to know they’re here, okay?”
“Okay,” Rylee nodded. Tori opened a drawer and pulled out Rylee’s daily pill container, setting it on the counter alongside a glass of water. She found it was always better to let Rylee know she didn’t expect her to get up and do things right away. She’d learned a lot about dealing with her in the last few months.
When she didn’t move from the couch, Tori grabbed a plastic bag from the counter and made her way over to Rylee, sitting on the couch beside her. Rylee didn’t flinch or try to move away; instead she turned her head slowly and looked at Tori with puffy, bloodshot eyes, then looked away just as quickly. Tori smiled and looked at her encouragingly.
“You’re doing a lot better,” Tori said honestly. “You really are, I promise.”
“Are you sorry you kept me?” Rylee asked quietly, keeping her eyes fixed on the coffee table and the cellophane-wrapped box of Dots.
“Never,” Tori whispered, finally extending her arm and wrapping Rylee in a partial hug. Rylee accepted the hug, leaning into Tori rather than pulling away; more proof that she was in fact, doing better.
“I’m broken,” Rylee said pathetically. “I don’t want to be like this.”
“Not broken,” Tori whispered. “Not to the right people. You’re my adorable little sister. Cute, brave, sometimes crazy, but never, ever broken.” She leaned over and planted a kiss on Rylee’s cheek, getting a giggle in return as Rylee fully leaned into the hug, wrapping her arms awkwardly around Tori’s waist, her right arm jutting out in the cast. Tori smiled and laid her chin on Rylee’s shoulder, whispering reassurances to her little sister until they separated and Rylee sat there, hands clasped on her lap with a bright smile on her face.
Tori patted Rylee’s arm and reached for the plastic bag, handing it over to her; Rylee looked at her questioningly.
“You’ve been playing that game so much, I figured you must be tired of it,” Tori explained. “So I got you a new one.”
Rylee beamed brightly as she opened the bag and pulled out a copy of Final Fantasy VIII for the Playstation. She turned it over in her hands a few times and then embraced Tori in another hug. They sat in silence for a few moments, until the front door opened and Anette announced her presence before leaving the foyer. Tori hugged Rylee again and waited for her mother to enter the house and drop her purse onto the counter.
“You ready?” Tori asked her. Anette returned her question with a nod before walking out of the kitchen and taking a seat on the glider chair near the couch. She folded her hands onto her lap and cleared her throat.
“How are you doing, today, Rylee?” She watched her carefully, trying to assess her current state. Rylee responded that she was fine, and Anette nodded. “Okay, we’re going to have another family meeting, just you, me and Tori, okay?”
“No Fiona?” Rylee asked, almost sarcastically; it was pretty true that Fiona was always present at these meetings.
“She’s working a double today.” Tori lightly flicked Rylee’s shoulder. “Otherwise…”
“Rylee, I’m just going to say it outright,” Anette said, finally. “We found your sister.”
It took Rylee a long moment to process the statement; her brow furrowed and her eyes flicked back and forth as she tried to understand, but finally, she spoke.
“Ariel?” Rylee’s voice was quiet, weak, sitting on the edge of tears as she tried to make sense of the situation.
“Yes, sweetie,” Tori told her. “She’s living in Michigan. She survived, and she wants to see you.”
Tori and Anette allowed the conversation to halt for a moment as they gauged Rylee’s reaction; she seemed to be deep in thought, her breathing becoming more labored by the second. Tori rubbed her back and took her hand; Anette observed from her position on the glider.
“Ariel?” Rylee said again, disbelieving. Anette confirmed it again; Tori wrapped her arm around Rylee’s shoulder.
“I spoke to her on the computer,” Tori said. “We’re paying for her to fly down here next week. She probably won’t stay here permanently, but you’re going to see her more often.”
“And…and that’s okay?” Rylee finally looked at Tori, her eyes wide, pleading and glazed over. “You won’t mind?”
“Sweetie, why would I mind?” Tori frowned.
“Because….you’re my sister now, right? Are you sure you want me to see her?”
“Sweetie, you can have other family, and if everything you’ve told me about Ariel is true, you need her in your life. You wouldn’t be here without her.”
“This…this is…she’s okay?” Rylee could barely speak; her eyes began to fill with tears. “She made it.”
“She made it, sweetie.” Tori hugged her again. “You’ll see her soon.”
Rylee tried to choke back her tears and failed miserably; she buried her face in Tori’s chest and sobbed, tears of joy for the news she’d waited so long to hear.
It didn’t take Ariel long to find him; Ypsilanti was only ten miles across, and if he wasn’t hanging out near Eagle’s Market, he had to be near one of the parks. She checked Riverside first, but when that came up empty, she crossed the wooden footbridge to Frog Island.
She spotted him from a distance as she walked down the footpath; he was sitting out beside the track atop one of the concrete steps built into the side of the hill. Gravel crunched beneath her feet as she walked briskly through the night, paper bag in hand. It was dark now, and the expanse of Frog Island’s soccer field lay out in front of her, nearly shrouded save for the spots bathed in moonlight. If he saw her coming, he didn’t give any indication, not even when she sat down beside him, looking out over the soccer field, toward the lights of Depot Town high above.
“I guess you know I’m a freak now,” Chris said, after a moment of silence.
“I know you’re a person,” Ariel corrected. “Just like any other.”
“Did you come here to make fun of me?”
“No,” she said softly, reaching into her jacket pocket and pulling out the blister pack of pills; she handed it to him, along with the bag. “I got you dinner.”
“I don’t need charity,” he said sharply. “I need a job and a place to live. I can handle the rest.”
“Pardon me, but you do need charity.” Ariel gave a swift lecture. “You’re out here homeless in the park. If you’re not going to take the food, at least let me take you to a shelter.”
“Tried the shelter,” he pointed out. “You know what happened.”
“That was just one shelter,” Ariel reminded him, “There’s still the Hartley Center.”
“How about you stop making promises you can’t keep,” Chris said, standing up. He walked off into the night, leaving Ariel to sit alone under the stars.
Ariel awoke to frost on the window – a bit odd for September, but not an unusual occurrence this early in the morning. She climbed out of bed and took a quick shower, pulling on her black pencil skirt and a lacy gray top. There was no way she’d be able to concentrate on work today; she’d be seeing Rylee in less than a week! The tickets were on the way, according to Tori, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to approach the topic of bringing Rylee back with her. She had little doubt that Rylee would agree; her real concern was with this Tori person. She had to let Rylee leave, she had to. She hadn’t even known Rylee for that long, and it wasn’t like she could hold her there.
A quick cup of bad coffee and she was out the door, descending the metal stairs toward the lot behind Depot Town’s storefronts. He was there, waiting for her.
“Lucas!” she called out as she neared the ground. “You stalking me?”
“Small town,” Lucas shrugged. “It’s not so hard.”
“I see, I see,” Ariel laughed. “Well, I’m on my way to work.”
Ariel breezed past him, shooting him a grin as she headed toward the building and into the alley toward Cross Street; she sensed him following.
“You didn’t really impress me the last two times,” she called back.
“What does it take to impress you?” Lucas asked, struggling to keep up with her. Ariel laughed.
“Well, it takes me fifteen minutes to walk to work, so you have that long to figure it out.”
Depot Town barely qualified as a town, though telling the locals that really only served to piss them off. Two long storefronts constructed more than a hundred years ago, each of them several stories, flanked the two sides of Cross Street, towering over them as they walked. Ancient storefronts transformed into barely modernized shops passed by in quick succession as she made her way toward the bridge over Riverside park, the morning sun glaring down at her as she passed a bait shop.
“I’m an artist, you know,” Lucas said, catching up. “I do abstract art.”
“So you doodle,” Ariel grinned. She crossed the bridge and headed uphill, Lucas kept pace beside her.
“It’s way more complicated than that.” Lucas sounded almost offended.
“So, tell me something else about yourself,” Ariel suggested. “What do you do for work?”
“I doodle, I guess,” Lucas laughed.
“And that pays the rent?”
“Ya know…” Lucas laughed. Ariel laughed in return.
“So what else,” she asked, quickening her pace and laughing internally as Lucas struggled to keep up.
“Well, my dad wanted me to be a lawyer,” he offered.
“That’s a tired, old story,” Ariel teased; they passed a few older buildings, including the Ypsilanti Historical Society, as the Downtown area came into view. “Daddy wanted you to be a lawyer, you decided to paint, heard that one before.”
“What about your dad?” Lucas pried. “What did he want you to be?”
“My dad was a bastard,” Ariel said, coldly. “I don’t care what he wanted.”
“You know you only get one dad,” Lucas reminded her. “I’m sure he did some dumb things, but–”
“Lucas?” Arial stopped, turning around at the intersection of Huron and Michigan Avenue. “You need to stop. We’re done here.”
“Okay, okay.” Lucas raised his hands and took a step back. “I’m sorry if I said anything–”
“It’s not your fault,” Ariel said quickly, “it’s just not a good time.”
“Well...” Lucas nodded quickly. “Can I get another chance to impress you?”
“We’ll see,” Ariel told him.
“Get my number from Amber?”
“Sure,” Ariel said sharply, turning and leaving him behind. She cursed as she crossed the street, heading toward The Haven. The fall air faded as she transitioned into the heavy air conditioned environment, making her way toward the empty desk. The sound of keys clacking could be heard behind the partition as she made her way over, wondering if it was Miles or one of the other four people who worked there. She decided she didn’t care and took a seat at her desk, booting up her computer and waiting for Windows to load.
“Hey, Ariel.” Miles peeked around the partition; Ariel offered a practiced smile as he stepped around, making his way to her desk. “What’s good?”
“Not a whole lot,” Ariel sighed. “Some guy is trying to get to me.”
“Get to you like…”
“I think he just wants to go on a date or something,” Ariel admitted. “But I really don’t have time for all that.”
“You need me to fight him off?” Miles was only half-joking; Ariel looked up at him, considering, and then shook her head.
“I’ll be fine, he’s pretty harmless.” She smirked and then turned to her computer, which now sat at the Windows Login screen. A few keystrokes and she was in; her desktop loaded and the first thing she did was open Outlook. “We’re being dropped by The Reserves Network.”
“What’s that?” Miles leaned in, staring over Ariel’s shoulder.
“The temp agency off of Fountain.” Ariel shrugged. “The building was owned by Accusource for a while, remember?”
“Oh, Jesus, yes,” Miles shuddered. “Weren’t they the ones who kept sending temps to work at that cardboard box company? The one where they won’t let the employees have water?”
“Yeah, three applicants with heat stroke,” Ariel confirmed. “Good day all around.”
“What happened to Accusource?”
“Moved,” Ariel shrugged. “Over to the old Parker building. They have industrial work, like working the line at that salad factory.”
“Tossing salads all day? Jeez, I’d pass on that,” Miles grinned, causing Ariel to roll her eyes.
“Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Not really.” He shrugged.
“Ariel.” Sandra poked her head out of her office. “Talk to you for a minute?”
“Duty calls.” Ariel shrugged to Miles, who chuckled and returned to his desk as Ariel made her way down the hall, taking a quick left into Sandra’s office. She leaned against the door frame, watching Sandra peck away at her keyboard for a few moments before finally looking up at Ariel.
“Ariel, sit down,” Sandra instructed. Ariel gave a slight sigh and crossed the small office, taking a seat in front of the desk. Sandra hesitated and then seemed to come to a decision. “Ariel, the young man you were helping, Chris. I’ve been informed he was taken into custody last night.”
“Custody?” Ariel frowned. “What are you talking about? For what?”
“Vagrancy, for starters,” Sandra said emotionlessly. “Doesn’t help that he was intoxicated. Look, Ariel, you offered him help, he left the shelter and decided to sleep in the park. He was given help, he refused. There was nothing else you could have done.”
It took everything within her not to curl her fists and scream ‘She!’ at the top of her lungs. It was a stupid thought; Sandra didn’t know, there was no way she could know. Still, the pronoun tore through her like a drill, stirring up all-too-fresh memories of her sister, Rylee, and the years of misgendering endured under her parents’ care. How hard was it just to treat someone the way they wanted to be treated? To respect their identity?
There was, somewhere in the back of her mind, an underlying sense of hatred for Sandra. She was a good person; there was no arguing that, but she didn’t get it. She couldn’t possibly understand how many times Ariel had listened to her little sister cry herself to sleep, and she couldn’t understand Ariel’s frustration and horror as she’d watched the life and the light fade from Rylee’s eyes day after day. The light she now saw in the photographs Tori had sent her. She couldn’t know. She couldn’t know, and that somehow made Ariel furious.
“So what are we doing?” Ariel frowned. “Can we bail him out?”
“If we bail him out, we’ll have to bail out anyone who does something stupid,” Sandra pointed out. “They’re probably going to do a psych eval and let him walk; if he reaches out to us after that, we’ll see what we can do.”
“Look, Sandra,” Ariel said, exasperated. “Don’t we help people here? How is this helping?”
“I told you, Ariel, they have to want to help themselves, we don’t have infinite resources. In any case, how’s your trip planning going?”
“My trip?”
“Your sister,” Sandra said. Ariel’s eyes widened, and then relaxed as she recalled the trip, which had been sitting in the back of her mind since entering Sandra’s office and hearing the news about Chris.
“Jesus, right.” Ariel nodded, breathing heavily before re-composing herself. “It’s um…they’re going to send me the plane tickets. I guess I’ll have to buy another ticket, for Rylee, so we can come back here together. It’s all kind of a lot, I haven’t seen her in two years. Look, Sandra, the situation we were in, together, it was nasty, and I wish someone could have helped us. There was that social worker, but she could only do so much. That’s why I get so upset when we can’t help someone like Chris.”
“You have to get your own house in order, Ariel,” Sandra advised. “The Haven is your job, your sister is your life. Help her, help yourself, then help others.”
“Yeah.” Ariel nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I get it.”
“Good.”
Ariel returned to her desk and took a seat, immediately noticing the flashing LCD screen on the front of her phone; the device was on silent, but the flashing indicated a call. She squinted, looking at the blocky text between flashes and was able to make out Lucille’s name. Quickly, she snatched it up and flipped it open, holding it up to her ear.
“Hello?’
“Hi Ariel, it’s Lucille,” Lucille said, as if Ariel didn’t already know. “I’ve been talking to Tori over text and we were hoping we could set up a meeting between you and Rylee today, when she gets home from school.”
“Today?” Ariel repeated it, though it was more of a hushed statement than a question. “I can talk to her today?”
Ariel experienced a range of complex emotions over the next several seconds; first there was excitement, then nervousness, then apprehension as she seriously contemplated the idea of actually speaking to her sister for the first time in years. She swallowed the lump in her throat and did her best to re-compose herself for the phone call.
“When, uh…when does she get home from school?” Ariel managed to blurt out. She hoped to god Lucille didn’t notice how much of a wreck she was.
“Well, she gets out at 3:30, but then she goes over to her friend’s house because Tori doesn’t allow her to be home alone–”
“Isn’t that a little controlling?” Ariel interjected. “She is an adult.”
“She got drunk and jumped off a Ferris wheel once,” Lucille said in a tone that was way too matter-of-fact. “Draw your own conclusions. Anyway. Tori picks her up by five, they get home by five-thirty, so Tori wanted to do around seven PM.”
“She…jumped off a Ferris wheel?”
“Is seven okay for you?”
“Um…” Ariel thought for a moment. “Yeah…I mean…yeah, that’s fine. Uh…is there anything I should know?”
“Well, Ariel, as you know, she’s been through quite a bit; serious trauma that started with her home life, and then a history of sexual abuse throughout her time in between. I don’t have all the details, Tori wasn’t able to pull everything out of her, but we do have some idea. Some. The truth is, you may have to coax it out of her, if and when she’s ready.”
Ariel began to shake, clenching her fist and staring blankly at her computer monitor until the icons on the desktop began to blur. She bit her lower lip, swallowed, and gave a nod that Lucille couldn’t see.
“Listen, um, Lucille,” Ariel said, swallowing again and closing her eyes as she tried to clear her mind and speak clearly. “I…appreciate everything you’ve done for us…I…I know we’re not your responsibility anymore, since we’ve both moved out of state and…”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ariel,” Lucille said sharply but comfortingly. “You may have left, but my responsibility to you didn’t end at the state line, any more than our responsibility to each other as people did. I’ll do what I can, Ariel.”
Rylee watched in the mirror as Tori slid into the bathroom behind her and studied her reflection. She’d done her hair in the same way as always, even though Tori always told her to try something new. Now, she stood in front of the mirror, scrubbing her teeth with the pink toothbrush Tori’d just gotten her. The bathroom was silent, save for the regular brushing sounds; Rylee threw an occasional glance at Tori as she ran her fingers through her newly-brunette hair and scrutinized her outfit choice in the mirror.
“You really have to try something different,” Tori remarked. “We buy you so many outfits and somehow you always manage to go the conservative route. She nodded to Rylee’s outfit which consisted of a lightweight maroon hoodie and a knee-length black skirt atop a pair of leggings. “Always the leggings…”
“I have more to hide than you do,” Rylee muttered; a stark reminder to Tori that she was transgender, and that hiding her identity, especially in a high school, was paramount.
“You pass better than you think, Rylee,” Tori reminded her. “If you could fool me for two months–”
“I wasn’t fooling you!” Rylee suddenly snapped, spinning around, and then stumbling back into the vanity as her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, Tori, I didn’t mean to–”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” Tori smiled widely and reached a hand out, lightly rubbing Rylee’s arm. “You’re allowed to get mad, okay? I said something stupid; you weren’t fooling me, this is who you are, okay? I’m glad you corrected me.
“You’re stressed, you’re nervous, you’re in a pretty scary situation; high school is hard enough for normal people, Rylee. If you weren’t freaking out a little, I’d think you were a sociopath or something.”
Rylee’s knees wobbled and her vision blurred as she stumbled again, saved only by the vanity behind her. Tori grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close, embracing her in a comforting hug before guiding her out of the bathroom and toward the living room. She didn’t quite make it; her knees buckled and Tori carefully guided her to the floor, leaning her against the wall as she drew her knees to her face and wrapped her arms around them. She rocked back and forth, whimpering into the folds of her skirt while Tori crouched down beside her and lightly touched her shoulder, careful to give her space.
“Rylee?” she said softly. “Sweetie?”
“I thought I was going to get hit.” Rylee’s voice was muffled by the cotton material; Tori could tell she was on the verge of tears. “When I yelled at you, I thought…”
“Those days are behind you, Rylee,” Tori reminded her, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “No one will ever hurt you again.”
It wasn’t something she could believe; wave after wave of violent flashbacks invaded her waking mind as she sat there gripping her shins and rocking against the hallway wall. That time in her bedroom when she’d slammed the door, that time when her father had stormed into the bathroom, pinned her behind the bathroom door and shaken her until she screamed. The same faces, the same locations, years apart; the same open palm coming down across bare skin, the same voices screaming, years removed but still fresh in her mind. Finally, she managed to look up and to her right, into Tori’s softened eyes as her breathing normalized.
“Sorry,” she managed to choke out. Tori shook her head.
“Never apologize, sweetie.” She pulled Rylee into a tight hug and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Do you want to stay home today?”
“No.” Rylee shook her head and released her knees. She allowed Tori to help her to her feet. “I don’t want to sit around all day thinking.”
“As good a coping strategy as any.” Tori nodded. “Okay, go ahead and finish getting ready, I’ll put your breakfast on the table. You good on lunch money?”
“You gave me a ten on monday,” Rylee reminded her. “Lunch is like a dollar twenty.”
“Right, yeah,” Tori said. “It’s probably worth about that much too.”
“I don’t mind it.” Rylee smiled. “It’s food.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Tori said. “Okay, finish up.”
Rylee disappeared into the bathroom and re-emerged fifteen minutes later with her hair re-done and light makeup applied. She ate a quick breakfast and followed Tori out of the house, backpack slung over her shoulder.
The morning air always agitated her senses; the scent of petrichor and the stuffy moisture-laden air that pressed against her skin. She hated it, but sleeping in was rarely an option with Tori. She pressed on, walking down the driveway past the box truck, and peeked around the back. Marcus was in there, scrubbing something off the front wall of the trailer.
“Hey,” Rylee called out to him as she clasped her hands together, drawing her arms into a ‘V’ in front of her. Marcus glanced back for a moment, then returned his attention to the stain that he’d been working on.
“Hey,” Marcus said back, his voice almost devoid of emotion.
“So…what’s up?”
“Cleaning the truck, obviously.” Marcus rolled his eyes, though Rylee couldn’t see it. “Don’t you have school?”
“Why are you always so pissed at me?” Rylee demanded. “Ever since you found out–”
“Before you say it,” Marcus snapped, turning around and dropping his hands to his sides. “It’s not because you’re trans. That’s not the part that bothers me.”
“Then what is?” Rylee demanded. “Why do you suddenly hate me, after everything you did to get close to me?”
“Have a good day at school, Rylee.” Marcus turned away and resumed scrubbing the stain; Rylee huffed and turned away, storming down the driveway toward Tori’s waiting car. Rylee breathed in the smell of exhaust before pulling the door of Tori’s car open and sliding into the passenger seat. She set her backpack on the floor in front of her and clicked her seat belt into place. She could feel Tori staring at her.
“You should really leave him alone,” Tori advised. “He’s going through his own stuff, you know.”
“I just don’t get why he hates me,” Rylee said, looking down at her feet, which she wiggled back and forth. “It started when he found out I was trans.”
“Rylee, if I thought that were the reason, I wouldn’t have him around.”
“Sure you would.” Rylee said, resigned. “Who else is going to clean your–”
“Rylee?” Tori said, looking at her sternly. “I care about you far more than I care about getting the stupid truck cleaned, got it?”
“Yeah,” Rylee said quickly, her tone softening as her eyes dropped to the floor of the car again. “Sorry.”
“I’m not mad, Rylee.”
“I know,” Rylee’s whispering voice cracked a little. “It’s just hard.”
“I know it is,” Tori said softly. “We’ll get there, okay?”
“Well, give me the details,” Mrs. Hetrick said, leaning forward and folding her hands on her desk as she looked Rylee over. “How’s school going?”
“Fine,” Rylee mumbled. She was leaning forward in the chair, her face practically in her knees as she gripped the wooden armrests. She offered no more than that single, muttered word, causing Mrs. Hetrick to frown.
“I’m going to need more than that, Rylee,” Mrs. Hetrick said.
“Why?”
Mrs. Hetrick shifted in her chair a bit and then shuffled some papers on her desk before looking hard at Rylee. Rylee turned her head, gazing through the metal-framed triple-slatted window to the road far beyond. Mrs. Hetrick said her name again and again until Rylee finally turned her head and paid at least partial attention to what she was saying.
“Rylee, I’m going to do you a favor that no one else around you is doing. I’m going to talk to you like an adult.” Mrs. Hetrick observed Rylee’s eyes flicking toward her, full attention acquired. “As the school guidance counselor, I’ve been made privy to a few things in your history. Not everything, but I do know something of what you’ve been through. I know enough to know that if I were you? If I were sitting right there where you are? I’d think all of this is stupid. I would think ‘Gee, I’ve been out in the real world, I’ve seen horrible things, and now I’m here surrounded by a bunch of idiot kids that have no idea’. That’s what I’d be thinking, and I’d bet real money it’s what you’re thinking. How close am I?”
Rylee let the silence permeate between them for a moment, her labored breathing the only sound in the room as Mrs. Hetrick watched her closely. Finally, Rylee pressed her lips together and sat up in the chair, hands clasped tight and body tense as she answered.
“Close,” she whispered. Mrs. Hetrick nodded.
“And you have every right to think that,” Mrs. Hetrick acknowledged, “but once again, Rylee, I’ll be honest with you, because no one else is: You’ve been given an opportunity – no, a gift. You’ve been given a gift. High school dropouts don’t get a second chance normally, Rylee. They can go for a GED, but that just doesn’t carry the weight of a high school diploma. It doesn’t give you the social experience or the memories. Your sister is giving you all of that. Don’t ruin it, Rylee, just because you can’t pull your head out of your butt. Got it?’
“Yeah, okay,” Rylee muttered.
“How’s school going, Rylee?”
“It’s okay,” Rylee shrugged. “Boring, kinda.”
“Did you meet the new transgender boy? No, sorry, transgender girl. Sorry, Rylee, it’s easier with you because you…well…frankly, Rylee it’s impossible to tell that you were ever a boy.”
“It bothers me a little,” Rylee suddenly admitted; Mrs. Hetrick raised an eyebrow at her. “The principal and everyone else that knows…they tolerate me because I look like a girl and I don’t cause trouble. The new girl. Izzy. She’s going to be trouble.”
“How so?”
“People like us make trouble just by being around,” Rylee said, matter-of-factly. “If she’s trouble, then I’m trouble.”
“I’d like to think that’s not true, Rylee,” Mrs. Hetrick said. “So, you plan to just never talk to him -- sorry, her?”
“Yes,” Rylee nodded. “I’ll mind my business and hope you don’t get rid of me when you get rid of her.”
“I don’t know if that’s the right way to go about it, Rylee,” Mrs. Hetrick shook her head. “It seems to me you need friends.”
“I have friends.”
“I mean friends like you,” she corrected herself. Rylee resisted the urge to glare.
“I’m not going to be friends with her just because she’s trans,” Rylee shot back. “It doesn’t work like that. I just want to finish the year.”
They wrapped up their rather unproductive conversation and Rylee headed out into the hallway, shutting the door behind her as she walked toward her class; she was already late.
Slinging her backpack over her shoulder again, she tore down the hallway toward the intersection, fully intending to take a right turn up the stairs when she heard the unmistakable ‘thud’ of wedge heels behind her.
“Hey! New girl!” Cathy shouted out from behind her. Rylee groaned as she looked back to see the other girl, Sheila, was walking beside her. Somehow, even in their heels and pencil skirts they were gaining on Rylee; she sped up, rushing toward the intersection, but to her surprise was cut off when Izzy emerged from the corner in front of her, blocking her exit. Rylee stopped; Cathy, Sheila, and two other girls overtook her from behind, one on each side of her.
“Really?” Rylee said, looking at Izzy. Izzy immediately looked away.
“Hey, new girl,” Cathy said, taking a step toward Rylee. “Why’d you blow me off at lunch?”
“I don’t have to talk to you,” Rylee snapped. “Just leave me alone.”
“I don’t see why you have to be rude about it,” Sheila shot back. “We just wanted to be friends.”
“Like that?” Rylee nodded to Izzy who had stepped away and was staring at the floor.
“Oh please,” Cathy smiled sweetly. “Isabelle is one of us now.”
“Okay, look.” Rylee stepped away from the wall, rolling her eyes as she turned to walk toward the stairs. “Whatever you’ve got going on here, do it to someone else. I don’t have time.”
Rylee sped up, walking away at breakneck speed toward the stairs; she was aware of the wedge heels thudding hard against the linoleum tiles as they tore down the hall after her. Rylee sighed and quickened her gait, skipping the stairs entirely and ducking into a side passage flanked with lockers on either side. She walked a bit, took another left into another side hallway, ultimately spotting an unmarked door and ducking inside.
She pressed her back against the wooden door as it clicked shut, breathing heavily and staring at a row of fluorescent lights interspersed with cracked asbestos ceiling tiles. As she collected her senses one by one, she took in the room around her; it wasn’t a huge space and as far as she could tell, it had been a science lab at one point. She could see the wooden black-topped benches with high stools along with the wood and glass cabinets lining the walls. The cabinets, however, had long been emptied of their beakers, scales, and other equipment that might have marked this as a laboratory. In fact, it looked like a poorly conceived storage space with cardboard boxes stacked up against the front wall. Rylee pushed away from the door and took a step across the tan linoleum tile, content to hide in here until the danger had passed. Presumably, Cathy, Sheila, et al. would stop their search eventually.
If there was one thing Mrs. Hetrick was right about, it was how Rylee felt about this entire thing: it was stupid. Four months ago she’d slept in an abandoned building and the day before that, she’d scavenged through a dumpster for scraps of food. Today she was running from the school’s wannabe ‘Plastics’ squad. Talk about a downgrade.
She walked through the room, dragging her hands across the surface of the tables and glancing between each one; she noticed, rather quickly, that several of them had vinyl chessboards laying across them, green and white-checked in tournament fashion. Frowning, she noticed that a few of the boards were fully set up. Walking along the rows, she came to one board; the pieces were fully deployed and in a complex position. She studied it for a moment, both sides, white and black before finally grunting and turning away.
“Who you hiding from?” A girl’s voice spoke up, nearly causing Rylee’s soul to leave her body. Gripping the table to keep her balance, Rylee turned to see a black-haired girl with a white, freckled complexion, even thinner than she was. She was wearing a white sweatshirt and a pair of black jeans, and was overall kind of lanky. Cute, but lanky. Rylee gawked at her, nearly stumbling backward as she tried to reassert herself.
“Um…hi,” Rylee said nervously. “I, um…didn’t see you…”
“Because I was busy sulking in the corner,” the girl quipped. “I’m Beth; you?”
“Rylee,” Rylee said more than a bit apprehensively. “What is this?” She gestured widely to the room around them.
“It’s an old science lab,” Beth said, stating the obvious. “The chess club meets in here.”
“In a science lab?”
“Former science lab,” Beth corrected. “Now it’s a chess club. The school can’t be bothered to give us tables, or proper boards, or…anything really. We have fun though.”
“Looks like it.” Rylee looked around at the dilapidated room, resisting the urge to shudder. “So you guys just come here and play?”
“We did a tournament last year,” Beth said, almost proudly, but then deflated. “We lost, of course.”
“That sucks,” Rylee nodded. “Yeah, it’s a hard game.”
“You never did tell me who you were hiding from.” Beth took a step backward and hopped up on the nearest table; she swung her legs back and forth, watching Rylee curiously. Rylee watched her, fixated on the freckles, the large, rounded ears poking through her stringy black hair. The girl’s expression was hard, but not mean or annoyed; she seemed to just be sort of existing. Relatable.
“Cathy and Sheila,” Rylee said, finally. “They’re doing some weird bullying thing. I don’t have time for it.”
“Yeah, who does?” Beth stopped just short of laughing. “You’re not afraid of them?”
“I’ve had worse,” Rylee shrugged. Beth nodded.
“Makes sense. They think they’re really something, but…they won’t be around after we graduate. Then they’ll probably just be sad.”
“Yeah,” Rylee agreed. “Whatcha got going on on that board over there?”
“Oh, that?” Beth glanced toward the board on the nearest table; the pieces looked to be mid-game. “Trying to get everyone to…well…play the game right. I set up that problem for them. Bunch of knuckleheads.”
Rylee turned her head for a brief moment, studied the board, and then looked back to Beth.
“It’s a bad problem for high school,” Rylee said.
“Yeah, why’s that?” Beth asked, cocking her head. Rylee stepped over to the board and grabbed the queen. She moved it three squares across the file.
“I put the king in check here,” Rylee explained. “The queen is captured, but the file is open, so the rook moves here; white doesn’t have a good move, probably advances a pawn, and then the bishop takes the diagonal. Checkmate.”
Beth’s eyes widened; she dropped from the table and stepped over to the board.
“What the heck?” She stared at Rylee, who simply stared back with a blank expression. “I just…you don’t look like the type…”
“The type?”
“I mean you’re just…you’re pretty, and…”
“Pretty people can’t play chess?” Rylee raised an eyebrow.
“Basically, no,” Beth said. “Everyone in the club…I mean there’s only one other girl, and everyone else either carries a pocket protector or has a bad case of acne. You just…you don’t look the type.”
Rylee blushed, and then beamed, doing her best to repress a wide smile at being called pretty. She quickly collected herself and returned to the matter at hand.
“The problem with this kind of puzzle is you have to sacrifice the queen,” Rylee explained. “It’s the most important piece on the board, and people think that if they lose it, the game’s over. They don’t understand that giving it up opens up the file for the rook to checkmate. You’re asking a bunch of high schoolers to understand sacrifice.”
“You know you’re a high schooler too, right?” Beth looked at her curiously.
“Yeah, obviously,” Rylee nodded with an internal sigh. “I’m just saying that--”
“You’re smarter than the rest of us?” Beth smirked. Rylee’s eyes widened.
“No, I didn’t mean--” As Rylee spoke, Beth began to reset the chessboard, smirking at Rylee.
“Let’s find out.”
“Marcus! What are you doing?” Tori stalked down the driveway, head cocked at the sound of roaring water; she rounded the corner to see Marcus going at the grill of the box truck with a pressure washer. She stood there, hands on her hips, observing as the pressurized stream tore through a layer of caked-on gunk that had adhered itself to the chrome grill. A moment later, he stopped, pulled off his goggles and looked at her.
“I borrowed your credit card and rented a power washer.” He shrugged.
“You what? That credit card is for emergencies!”
“This is an emergency!” Marcis pointed to the fender and glared at Tori. “You see that? That dirt caked onto the bumper?”
“Yeah, I see it,” Tori nearly shouted. “I gave you a pack of sponges, and a bucket!”
“A pack of sponges,” Marcus spat. “A pack of sponges! You think a couple of sponges is going to get this shit off? You’re acting like my dad!”
“Okay, you take that back right now,” Tori snapped. “I am not your dad! I’ll have you know--”
“You can do whatever you want to the inside,” Marcus gestured to the back of the box truck. “Put a range in, get a cooler, whatever, it. Doesn’t. Matter. So long as the outside looks like shit. Do you want to buy a burger from a truck that looks like it just came out a landfill? That’s fine if your customer base is a bunch of racoons, but I’m guessing it isn’t!”
“Okay, okay, fine, Marcus.” Tori raised her hands in front of her. “I get it, you’ve made your point.”
“Look at you, Marcus!” Addy called out from behind them. “Growing a backbone and all!”
Tori turned around slowly to see Addy sitting there on a plastic lawn chair, dressed in a dark blue one-piece bathing suit with a bright floral pattern. In her left hand she held a plastic cup full of yellow liquid; Tori guessed it was lemonade.
“Addy, what the hell are you doing?” Tori asked, exasperation permeating her tone. Addy grinned.
“Watching Marcus do your bitch work,” she laughed. “You should pay me for this.”
“Yeah, okay, I’m not even getting paid yet,” Marcus reminded her. “No one’s going to pay you to sit on your ass and--”
“Hey, I might.” Tori rolled her eyes. “Alright, do what you have to do.”
“What I have to do is get a better angle on this thing.” Marcus gestured to the truck. “This is killing me. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Got sent home.” Tori shrugged. “The lunch rush wasn’t rushing.”
“It’s like that lately.” Marcus nodded. “Wait till the summer’s over, they’ll start coming in droves once they all get back from vacation.”
“How the hell do people in Springfield, Ohio afford a vacation?” Tori wondered.
“Same way they afford to eat out,” Marcus laughed. “Hold on, let me back this thing up.”
Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys as he began walking toward the driver’s side of the box truck; Tori took a step back, standing beside Addy.
“Hey, Addy,” Tori said, looking down at Addy as she sipped her lemonade through a straw. “You want to take Rylee up to Applewood this weekend? Her sister’s coming down on Monday and I really want to get her mind off of things. You know?”
“Hmm…” Addy said thoughtfully. She sipped at the straw again and then set the glass on a small metal table next to to her chair. She folded her hands on her lap and then looked up at Tori. “I was going to go this weekend, but I’m heading up with a few of my friends. I don’t think you’d like that, approved social circle and all, right?”
“Right.” Tori nodded. “It was worth a try, I guess.”
While she wasn’t willing to give up on it, restricting Rylee’s social circle was getting to be a hassle. When she’d taken Rylee in, she’d had time to learn about her, and her conclusion was that the girl was a terrible judge of character. Years of abuse and neglect atop multiple learning disabilities had left her ill prepared for the real world, and upon entering it for the first time, she’d been exposed to even worse abuse than she’d experienced at home. Tori, in all her wisdom, had made the choice to restrict Rylee’s social circle to herself, her mother, Fiona, Addy, and Marcus at times, school notwithstanding. It was worth it, but it did mean she needed to be babysat constantly.
She looked away from Addy and toward the truck; Marcus had turned the engine over and was in the process of backing it up. Tori nearly cringed as she heard the ‘clunk’ of gears being shifted from her vantage point by the garage.
The hum of the engine changed noticeably as Marcus shifted it into reverse and began to slowly back up.
“You talk to Rylee lately?” Tori asked.
“Little bit,” Addy said. “She’s pissed about school.”
“What did she say?”
“Said it was bullshit,” Addy picked up the lemonade and took another sip. “Said she could just get a GED.”
“What did you tell her?” Tori asked without taking her eyes off the truck.
“Told her it was for the social aspect. I don’t think she gives a shit. Truthfully, if I’d been abused as a child, then sex trafficked as an adult, and then kidnapped by some crazy chef, I probably wouldn’t be too eager to go back to high school either.”
“She needs normalcy,” Tori said, simply.
“I think high school is the wrong place for that,” Addy replied. “Do you have a chair that leans back?”
“Did you look?” Tori asked, sarcastically. Of course, if Addy had actually looked, she would have found a number of reclining pool chairs hanging up on the wall of the garage.
The truck backed up a little further, and Marcus cut the wheel to keep the rear tire off the grass; as he did so, the truck emitted a horrible groaning sound, and then a horrifying snap as it shifted toward the hedge line and dropped a foot.
“What the f–” Tori said as she dashed toward the truck. She rounded the front just as Marcus threw the door open and hopped down in a panic. The driver side rear tire of the vehicle was jutting outward and the trailer itself was at an angle, perpendicular to the ground. “What the hell happened?!”
“Well I don’t know, Tori!” Marcus threw his hands up and gave Tori a mocking quizzical look. “Maybe, just maybe you spent a grand on a piece of shit truck with rotting axles?! Did you have it inspected first?”
“Inspected for what?” Tori demanded. “What did you do to my truck?”
“Oh, you know...” Marcus rolled his eyes and spoke loudly, making wild hand motions to accompany his sarcastic words. “I sped up time and rotted the axles; you know me, it’s in my nature! I can’t help myself!”
“Okay you know what, Marcus?” Tori leveled her index finger at Marcus’s face, shooting him the nastiest look she could conjure. “There’s no reason to be a smartass about it.”
“There’s not?” Marcus began to laugh. “How about you get off your period and stop blaming me for shit that’s not my fault?!”
“Oh, is that how it is?!” Tori shouted back, stepping closer to Marcus – close enough for him to feel her breath. “You’re just gonna blame it all on my--”
With no warning, Marcus shoved her, pressing both palms against her chest and pushing her backward. She stumbled, glaring at him and then shoved him back, hard. He stumbled farther, nearly slamming against the trailer of the box truck.
“Okay, you bitch,” Marcus snarled, lunging at her, but instead of shoving him back or hitting him, Tori grabbed him, planting a kiss directly on his lips; Marcus easily relented, leaning into her and returning the kiss. She pressed him against the side of the box truck, pinning his wrists with her hands, and then, ripping herself away mid-kiss to stare at him in horror – a look that he returned.
“Uh…” Tori said, wide-eyed.
“Um.” Marcus bit his lower lip, and they both slowly turned their heads to look at Addy, who, with a look of utter amusement took another sip of lemonade before lowering the glass and looking at the two of them expectantly.
“No, no,” she said, intrigued. “Keep going.”
Rylee walked through the front door and immediately dropped her heavy backpack on the floor with a thud.
“Nope!” Anette called out from the kitchen. “Put it in your room!”
Rylee resisted the urge to groan, and instead grabbed the backpack by the strap and carried it down the hall to her room. She set it beside the door and returned to the kitchen, where Anette was busy dicing a pile of bell peppers.
“Okay, it’s in my room,” Rylee quipped. “Now what?”
“Eat your snack, smarty-pants.” Anette gestured to the kitchen table with her knife, and upon walking over, Rylee found a ham and cheese Lunchable; she took a seat at the table and peeled the cover back, immediately assembling the crackers and the small ham slices.
“How was school?” Anette called out as she began to throw bell pepper chunks and kielbasa slices into a skillet. She peeked around the hanging microwave to catch a glimpse of Rylee, who sat now at the table, nibbling on an assembled ham and cracker sandwich whilst staring blankly at the front window. She knew that look; Rylee was disassociating. She repeated her question. “Rylee, how was school?’
“Huh?” Rylee started, looking around, then looked over at Anette who repeated her question again. “Oh, it was fine, I just…um…normal school stuff.”
Anette chuckled and walked back to the stove, twisting the knob for the front burner.
“Even after everything you’ve been through,” she said, loud enough for her voice to carry out to the dining room, “you’re still just a normal teenager.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” Rylee shrugged, chewing on another cracker.
“It’s refreshing, love, don’t worry,” Anette reassured her. “Do you have homework?”
“No.”
“Do we need to have Tori check your backpack?”
“Uh…I think they’re handing some out tomorrow,” Rylee said thoughtfully. “I think something for science, maybe?”
“Keep those grades up, missy,” Anette advised. Rylee giggled a little.
The front door opened and Tori breezed through the foyer and into the living room; she glanced over to the open dining room to see Rylee sitting at the table. Removing her shoes, she walked over, a shopping bag in her hand, which she set on the table before heading over into the kitchen.
“Everyone okay with the truck, dear?” her mother asked.
“Yeah, just having some work done on the axle.” She shrugged. “Mr. Jenkins owes me a favor anyway.”
“Mom, is it okay if I play the Nintendo?" Rylee piped up.
“No,” Tori interjected before Anette could answer. “Need to talk to you.”
“Ah, yeah, today’s the day,” Anette recalled, smacking Tori’s hand as she tried to snatch a piece of sizzling sausage from the pan. “You’re video chatting with your sister.”
“How do you feel about that?” Tori stepped around Anette and headed toward the table.
“I don’t know,” Rylee shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
Tori walked to the other side of the table, opposite Rylee, and pulled out the chair, taking a seat and doing her best to meet Rylee’s eyes.
“I need more than that,” Tori said quietly. Rylee stopped eating, dropping the cracker into the plastic tray. She stared at it for a long moment, and considered simply not answering, but past experience told her that Tori would make her answer one way or another. So she did her best to collect her thoughts, well aware of Tori sitting across the table watching, studying her. Rylee also knew from past experience that Tori would watch her every facial expression, every twitch of her eyes, every single movement of her body, and within minutes, she would have surmised, roughly, what was going through her mind. She was getting good at it.
“I, um…” Rylee cleared her throat and did her best to get her breathing under control as she brought the upcoming video call to the forefront of her mind. “I’m…afraid.” Tori already knew that, no doubt.
“Can you tell me why you’re afraid?” Tori’s line felt rehearsed; she’d had the week to watch Rylee, to gauge her moods and to prepare herself for this moment.
“I, um…I think she hates me,” Rylee said quickly and quietly, looking away and fidgeting with her hands.
“Why do you think she hates you, sweetie?” Tori said, concern now seeping into her tone.
“It’s just um…I don’t know,” Rylee said quickly, brushing off the question as quickly as she could. “I just…it’s dumb.”
“Nothing about this can be dumb, Rylee,” Tori told her. “These are your feelings and this is a very nerve-wracking situation. Your feelings are perfectly valid here.”
The dining room was silent save for the sizzling of the skillet still on the stove and Anette occasionally shifting kitchen utensils or ingredients around, though Rylee was certain she was at least keeping half an ear on the conversation. Thoughts of shame and memories of betrayal filled Rylee’s mind as she tried to work up the courage to say what needed to be said. The one thing she knew for sure was that her sister wouldn’t want to talk to her, at least not for long. How could she even want that? Why would she want anything to do with Rylee?
“She was bleeding,” Rylee said suddenly, and quickly; her words were almost uttered at a whisper. Tori leaned forward. “The night I ran away. She was bleeding and I didn’t help her. Because I was afraid. I looked at her and she saw me, and I ran away. He was hitting her and I ran away.”
“What could you have done differently?” Tori asked in an even tone, watching Rylee closely.
“I could have fought him,” Rylee said, though she scarcely believed it.
“Rylee, do you remember the morning after you broke into my house?” Tori asked; Rylee winced at the memory, more shame coming to the surface. She nodded to Tori. “You came out and Fiona was there. Why didn’t you leave?”
“Sh-she wouldn’t let me,” Rylee stammered, looking down again, her face red.
“And you really tried to get away?”
“Yeah,” Rylee said, remembering. “I…I ran for the door, but…she was too fast and she held my arms.”
“Have you ever been able to overpower me?”
Rylee shook her head.
“Are we bigger than your dad?” Tori raised an eyebrow, leaning more forward.
“No.”
“A lot smaller?” Tori asked; Rylee nodded. “Were you just not trying to get away from Fiona?”
“What? No!” Rylee said. “I tried!”
“If you tried to get away from Fiona, with all your might like you say you were, and you couldn’t, then what were you going to do against your dad?”
Rylee’s eyes began to glisten and glaze as invasive, conflicting thoughts ran through her mind. Tori was right. There was nothing she could have done, but why hadn’t she tried?
“If you had tried, he would have hurt you too,” Tori said softly, standing from her chair and walking around the table. She took the chair next to Rylee and grasped her hand; Rylee’s immediate reaction was to recoil at the physical contact, but checked herself, and instead leaned over, resting her head on Tori’s shoulder as her breathing increased and she did her best to fight back tears. “He was a monster, Rylee. He is a monster, and the things he did to you were his fault, not yours. Never, ever yours.”
“I want to believe that,” Rylee sniffed. “I…”
“I’ve talked to Ariel, sweetie. She left a trail for you to follow. She wants to talk to you. She doesn’t hate you. Far from it.”
“Rylee, sweetie.” Anette stepped out of the kitchen and began to lay plates and silverware on the table. “You’re going to talk to her tonight, after dinner. You’re one step closer to seeing her again, and do you know why? Because you survived, Rylee. You, and she, did what you had to do in order to get out of there. You survived a horrible situation and then you survived again, against incredible odds, to make it here, to the two people who would care for you, and make sure you found your sister again.”
“I don’t believe in God, Rylee.” Tori squeezed her little sister’s hand and ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t usually believe in fate either, but honey, you’re supposed to be here. This isn’t an accident. Too many things fell into place.”
Rylee went over it in her mind now, as she had done again and again in the days since she’d gotten here. The day she’d broken into Tori’s house to steal a few cans of food, Tori catching her, Tori resolving to take care of her and to help her with her transition. Tori had lost someone years before; a daughter with a name similar to Rylee’s. This had been Tori’s second chance, albeit a strange one, and Tori’s second chance had been Rylee’s salvation. They had saved each other, pulled each other from the depths of despair, seemingly right in the nick of time, when their need was greatest and all hope seemed to be lost. Tori was right; too many things had fallen into place at just the right time, and they were both alive. Rylee had survived to be Tori’s sister and Anette’s adopted daughter.
“Okay,” Rylee said. “I believe you.”
“Good.” Tori smiled, squeezing Rylee in a partial hug. “Mom and I will always be here for you, no matter what. I know it’s hard to believe, Rylee, but we aren’t going anywhere. Ariel is your family, but so are we, and we’ll be here with you, every step of the way.”
Anette brought dinner to the table and Tori filled their glasses with lemon-flavored water. They ate in relative silence with Rylee chewing thoughtfully, disassociating through most of the meal as she both anticipated and dreaded the upcoming call. The ‘reunion’ she’d been waiting for for the last two years, but the face she’d dreaded seeing ever since that one, last time when it had been prone against the dining room carpet, red with blood and covered in forming bruises.
‘Run,’ Ariel had mouthed at her. ‘I love you.’
She had abandoned her, the sister who had given her the world. The sister who had taken her under her wing, who had helped her with her transition, given her clothes, taught her to be a girl, even in public. Ariel had given her everything. Everything. And she’d betrayed her.
It was time to face her.
“Ariel, calm down,” Amber called out from the couch as she watched her best friend practically tear the apartment to shreds. The call was in less than ten minutes, and somehow, against all odds, Ariel had managed to lose her laptop charger. “Can’t you just use your laptop on battery?”
“Oh, come on!” Ariel said, on the verge of snapping. “You know it’ll last like thirty seconds!”
“Okay, fine, yeah, but stop freaking out!”
Ariel stopped mid-search to throw a glare in Amber’s direction. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“That you’re about to talk to your sister for the first time in two years? Yeah, I get it, Ariel.”
“That’s not even it!” Ariel grabbed a cardboard box and overturned it, spilling the contents onto the floor behind the couch. Various odds and ends scattered across the thin carpet, but none of it was her laptop charger. She let out a primal huff and threw the box aside, planting her palms firmly on her hips as she turned to Amber. “She’s going to hate me, she has every reason to, and I can’t make it worse by showing up late or…not showing up! I have to find this thing!”
“Ariel, why the hell would Rylee hate you?” Amber glared at her, wondering why her best friend was acting like a moron. “You saved her life like ten times over. You taught her how to be a girl, you took her for her mandolin lessons, you did…everything a big sister should.”
“I wasn’t there for her at the end,” Ariel pointed out, drawing an eye roll from Amber. “She ran off barefoot into the snow. She bled. I didn’t do shit to help her, Amber. She ran off and she…she was sold, for sex. She was beaten, held hostage, she went through a living hell, and I did fuck all to stop it, Amber. Why would she forgive me for that?”
“Are you serious?” Amber demanded. “I picked you up on the side of the road drenched in your own blood. You could barely walk. Why the hell do you think you could have done anything to stop it?”
“I’m her big sister.” Ariel overturned another box. “I was supposed to protect her.”
“You did,” Amber reminded her. “As best you could.”
“Just how did I do that?” Ariel demanded.
“She’s obviously been out there living as a girl,” Amber pointed out. “If she survived that, it’s because of the skills you gave her. You taught her how to walk, talk, blend in. She’s alive right now because of you. She’s Rylee right now, because of you. You did good, whether you want to admit it or not.”
Ariel grabbed a plastic milk crate from beside the door, overturned it, and shouted ‘Ah-ha!’ as the charger fell to the ground along with a dozen other miscellaneous items. She snatched it up and made a beeline for her room.
“She’s still going to hate me,” Ariel called back to Amber. “She has every reason to.”
“Okay, drama queen,” Amber called out after her.
Ariel wasted no time getting the computer set up. She booted it up, logged into Windows and immediately started the Netmeeting application. As soon as it opened, she read the IP address from the notepad on the desk and typed it into the address bar. Once it was in, she hovered her mouse over the Call button.
She breathed in, she breathed out. Her other hand tapped the desk nervously, and breathed in again. Finally, she clicked the button and waited.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three.
Four.
Five
.
The connection established, the image came into view.
“Oh my god.”
“Do you know how to use Netmeeting?” Tori gestured for Rylee to sit down in front of the computer, and she didn’t fail to notice the recognition in her sister’s eyes as she laid her hands on the palm rest of the laptop and ran her fingers lightly over the keys. The computer, to Rylee, was familiar, and something that she’d been deprived of for some time. Ever since the ‘new rules’ had been established, Rylee’s computer access had been restricted, and today was the first time in a very long time she’d even touched one. Rylee, not really answering, awkwardly used her casted hand to double-click the Netmeeting icon on the desktop and reflexively typed in the IP address, which was written on a small notepad beside the laptop. “Guess that’s a definite ‘yes’.”
“Your computer’s slow,” Rylee said offhandedly, distracted.
“Well, I’m sorry, Rylee, it’s a little old.”
“I could fix it,” Rylee said. “Maybe defragment the hard drive and run a spyware scan.”
“You will not.”
The laptop was set up on the kitchen table; Tori normally kept it in her room, but this setup allowed for Anette to sit out of sight at the other end of the table. To make it slightly less suspicious, Tori would make occasional appearances in the background, but they would both be listening. It wasn’t that Tori didn’t trust her, but it was more that they wanted to get more of an idea of what they could expect when those two inevitably met.
Anette sat at the other end of the table, a mug of green tea in front of her. She sipped lightly and watched Rylee’s face carefully. The girl was nervous, there was no doubt, and Anette couldn’t really blame her for that.
“Okay,” Tori said finally. “It’s seven, go ahead and hit the call button.”
Rylee complied by moving the mouse cursor over the yellow phone icon, hesitating with her finger over the mouse button.
“Rylee?” Tori asked as Rylee hesitated. Rylee took a deep breath and looked up at Tori.
“What if she hates me for running away and leaving her?” Rylee asked, her voice filled with apprehension and fear.
“She won’t,” Tori said firmly.
“But what if she does?”
Catastrophizing. The girl was catastrophizing. It was something she did a lot – she’d get a particular, usually unlikely, scenario stuck in her head and use it to extrapolate some intricate doomsday scenario as she imagined every single thing that could go wrong. It was why they never left her alone for too long.
“Rylee, she won’t hate you,” Tori said, adamantly. “But if she does, if your sister is in fact that cruel, then you still have a family.”
Tori took one of the kitchen chairs and scooted it beside Rylee, taking a seat, and subsequently grasping her left hand.
“The day you walked into my house was the day you stopped being alone, Rylee.” Tori held eye contact with a now-trembling Rylee. “You have me. You have Mom. You have Fiona and Rebecca and all your aunts and uncles; I am here, Rylee. I’m not going anywhere. Make the call, little sis.”
Rylee couldn’t help but crack a smile at being called ‘little sis,’ the same smile she got when Anette referred to her as her daughter. Both implied a sense of belonging, and both were what she’d desperately needed to hear. As Tori left the table, Rylee pressed the Call button and waited for it to connect.
She didn’t have to wait long; the ringing stopped and the call connected, the screen revealing a face that Rylee hadn’t seen in well over two years. She looked almost exactly the same; that same flowing blonde hair, the thin features, the wide eyes that now stared at Rylee from a state away.
“Oh my god,” Ariel said, eyes going even wider. “Rylee?”
“Hi,” Rylee said with a shy smile. “I missed you.”
“Oh my god, oh my god, Rylee I missed you too but look at you! You look so good! I love your hair, and you…you look so much better than you did when I made you up. Did you…I…oh my god, I can barely tell you’re trans. You look like any other girl! How did you do it?”
“Well, right now it’s probably makeup,” Rylee said sheepishly. “I don’t always look this good.”
“Yes, she does,” Tori’s voice chimed in from off camera. Ariel shook her head and then craned her neck in a futile attempt to see where the voice was coming from.
“Hi, Tori,” Ariel said with an elevated tone.
“Hi, Ariel, sorry, I’m doing some work in the kitchen, I’ll come say hi later,” Tori called out.
“She spying on us?” Ariel smirked.
“It’s what big sisters do.” Rylee grinned. Ariel laughed.
“So she’s really your big sister, huh?”
“They adopted me,” Rylee shrugged. “Um…I don’t know if Tori told you? I changed my last name…”
“Really?” Ariel frowned. “No, Tori didn’t tell me that. You changed it to Blackburn?”
“Yeah,” Rylee nodded. “I hope it’s okay.”
“Well,” Ariel shrugged. “It’s not like ‘Skye’ had any real meaning for you, and the further you distance yourself from Mom and Dad, the better. Um…what have you been up to?”
“I had school today,” Rylee said dejectedly. “I don’t like it.”
“Are the other kids being mean to you?” Ariel frowned. “Did they figure out you’re trans?”
“No,” Rylee shook her head. “It’s just school. I don’t like it.”
Ariel snorted. “It sounds like life is finally normal for you then. Did you have dinner already?”
“Yeah,” Rylee nodded, happily. “We had this sausage stuff, with peppers and um…potatoes.”
“Is Tori a good cook?”
“Ane-- I mean Mom made it, but Tori cooks too. She’s a chef. She’s going to run a food truck.”
“It sounds like they’re taking pretty good care of you. So um, I heard you can’t leave; can you tell me about that?” Ariel’s brow furrowed; Rylee watched her facial expression change through the film grain of the Netmeeting window.
“Oh,” Rylee said, frowning. “Um, I kind of made a deal with them. I mean they gave me a choice. Um, to um…”
“I heard about it,” Ariel said quickly. “I just want to make sure you’re really okay with it.”
“I am,” Rylee nodded. “They’re taking care of me.”
“Okay,” Ariel said hesitantly. The look on her face, if Rylee could have discerned it, would have said ‘Well, I guess it could be worse.’
“Ariel,” Rylee said suddenly, taking a deep breath and bracing herself. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“What?” Ariel frowned. “Sorry for what?”
“For…for leaving you,” Rylee said, choking back tears. “You…you were bleeding and I…”
“Rylee, no!” Ariel said, suddenly. “There was nothing you could have done. Nothing.”
“But I--”
“Stop it,” Ariel commanded. “You did what you were supposed to do. You survived, and you found me. Okay? That’s all you needed to do. I’m sorry it took so long, and I’m sorry it hurt as bad as it did, but you did it, and I’m proud of you, little sister. Okay?”
Rylee tearfully accepted her explanation, and they spent the next hour catching up. Rylee told her as much as she could about Tori, while Ariel told her about her job in Ypsilanti, working at a sort of aid center for LGBT people. Amber was with her, somehow. They’d moved to Michigan together and they were both working. Eventually, Ariel announced that she needed to go to bed.
“I have school tomorrow, too.” Rylee shrugged. “Can we talk again?”
“Of course we can talk again!” Ariel said, smiling. “I’m coming up next week, too, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” Rylee grinned wide. “You can meet Tori!”
“I should hope so!” Ariel laughed. “Okay, sis, sleep tight, I’m going to talk to Tori for just a minute before bed, okay?”
“Okay,” Rylee said happily. “Goodnight.”
“Love you, sis.”
“Hi, Ariel, my name is Anette Blackburn.” Anette slid into the chair next to Tori facing the webcam; they’d sat back a little so that the grainy camera could capture both of them. With Rylee safely tucked into bed, it was time to answer some questions. “I’m Tori’s mom; I know we’ve never officially met, but I’m really glad Tori found you.”
“Yeah,” Ariel nodded. “I have some questions, though.”
“Of course.” Anette nodded, looking to Tori, who also nodded. “Ask away.”
“Rylee, um…she looks a little thin; is she okay?”
“Oh, that,” Tori said. “So, when she came here, she was a lot thinner. I think the people she was with…maybe they didn’t feed her a lot, and then she was living outside. She was basically skin and bones when she got here. So, the first night she was here, I had her sleep in bed with me because she was shaking like a leaf and I was afraid she was going to hurt herself--”
“You slept in the same bed with her and you didn’t figure out she was trans?” Ariel raised an eyebrow.
“--Okay, Ariel,” Tori said, annoyed. “Nobody’s perfect. Anyway, she got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and I noticed she had a lot of trouble lifting the comforter.”
“We didn’t really discuss it with her, but we did adjust her diet to make sure she’s getting a decent calorie intake and proper nutrients,” Anette explained. “It’s not going to be an overnight thing. She looks better, but we have a long way to go.”
“I appreciate that,” Ariel said, though she still looked concerned. “Do you have her on any medication?”
“Yeah,” Tori confirmed, nodded. “She’s on estradiol, spironolactone, and progesterone. Now she is autistic, Ariel, no way around that, so we want to get her in to see a psychiatrist who can prescribe something like buspirone or Concerta.”
“Concerta?” Ariel frowned. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“It’s like a time-release ritalin. It’s not specifically for autism, but we know she has ADHD.”
‘We’re also working on her sensory issues,” Anette added. “We’re trying some things, and once we’ve made some headway there, we’ll try to tackle her executive dysfunction.”
“How do you know about all this?” Ariel frowned and shook her head. “I don’t understand, you just…took her in and figured her out that fast? Hasn’t it only been a few months?”
“I had help.” Tori gestured toward her mother.
“I’ve been a social worker for more than twenty years,” Anette explained. “And Tori’s best friend is in nursing school. Your sister stumbled on to the right group of people, though it didn’t happen on the first try. She went through a lot to get here.”
“Speaking of,” Ariel said. “You changed her name?”
“We did,” Anette said. “We adopted her. Tori is her power of attorney now.”
“Was she able to consent to that?” Ariel furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand.”
“Ariel, it’s no offense to you, please don’t take it the wrong way,” Anette explained. “We looked for you, we did everything we could. You didn’t exactly leave a good trail behind; she never thought she would see you again. Don’t get me wrong, Ariel, I’m glad we found you, I’m glad she has you, but steps had to be taken to make her feel as if she belonged, because she does belong.”
“You belong too, Ariel,” Tori added. Ariel looked at her, confused.
“What…do you mean?”
“Ariel, as far as we’re concerned, you and Rylee are a package deal,” Anette told her. “I’m guessing you don’t have any family left, especially if what we know about Rylee’s last night at home is true. No one should be alone, and you’re not. Understand?”
“Um…” Ariel blinked, pressing a hand to her mouth and then putting it down on the desk. “I didn’t, um…expect…”
“Ariel, we’re going to get to know each other quite well in the next few months,” Anette told her. “The hard part is over. It’s time to start the healing.”
September 2000
Ariel finished her song and pulled the microphone away from her lips; the karaoke machine clicked as the tape reached its end. Bending over, she pushed the rewind button and was rewarded with an intense whirring sound as the tape ran back.
“How many times you gonna sing that?” Amber asked from her position on the couch. Ariel shrugged.
“It’s a good song.” She grinned back at Amber. They were in the basement at Amber’s house; it was a partially finished space, the floor was mostly bare concrete but there was a fairly large area near the wall where a thin carpet rug had been laid. The spot played host to a wood and glass entertainment center and an older television – both cast-offs from the upstairs living room that still worked fairly well and often provided Ariel and Amber a much-needed escape from the world outside.
Behind the improvised entertainment area, and past the basement’s red support pole, was a green pool table which Ariel knew to be slightly off balance, though that never stopped them from from using it for hours on end when they were bored. Ariel pushed the play button, and the song ‘Incense and Peppermints’ started for probably the fifth time that day. She was well aware of Amber rolling her eyes, and Ariel responded by turning and making exaggerated motions as she sang, even dropping to her knees once and singing loudly next to Amber, who reached out and palmed Ariel’s face, pushing her away in irritation. Ariel snickered and proceeded with the song, all the way to the end.
“We need more songs,” Amber said, her voice pitched up as she lay back on the couch, staring at the floor joists above.
“You got money for a new tape?” Ariel asked as the song finished. “They’re like six bucks.”
“CD,” Amber corrected her. “That thing has a CD player.”
“Even more expensive,” Ariel reminded her. “They’re like thirteen bucks.”
“I know, I picked up the Dixie Chicks album. Wide Open Spaces. Great sound, but now I can’t afford foundation.”
“You really into country?’
“I’m into girl power.” Amber let that hang in the air for a minute and then added, “Shania Twain, Dena Carter, LeAnn Rimes... I have a LeAnn Rimes one, pop it in.”
“Yeah, I definitely wanna sing "One Way Ticket" again,” Ariel laughed, but she reached down into the tape basket anyway and retrieved the LeAnn Rimes karaoke tape anyway.
“I downloaded some new ones, on Limewire,” Amber informed Ariel. “Some of the tracks were fake, but I got enough.”
“That thing’ll give your computer AIDS,” Ariel quipped. “Ryan says to use Bearshare.”
“Your little brother knows how to use a computer?” Amber raised an eyebrow. “With the way your parents keep him sheltered, I would think…”
Ariel paused; she turned the tape over in her hand and then dropped it back into the basket as a thought that had sat at the back of her mind began to work its way to the front.
“Ryan is…surprisingly good with computers,” Ariel said thoughtfully. “My parents don’t really shelter him, it’s…more extreme than that. It’s almost like they think he doesn’t deserve certain things; I don’t know. It’s more like neglect.”
“Okay.” Amber sat up, situating herself on the middle cushion and placing her hands on her knees as she leaned forward and frowned at Ariel. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t most families dump on the sister if they have to pick between the two?”
“Ryan’s not Mom’s biological child,” Ariel explained. “Okay, so basically, Dad slept with another woman–”
“Like an affair?”
“Not like an affair,” Ariel corrected, “an affair. When I was two years old, this woman gives birth to Ryan, raises him until he’s three, but Mom can’t stand the thought of her husband sowing his wild oats out there or whatever. She convinces Dad to go for custody, which is easy, because the woman’s homeless at the time.”
“Um, how did she end up homeless?”
“Bad luck,” Ariel explained, drawing a look of curiosity from Amber. “She had a rough winter, power bill was more than she could pay, her power gets cut off and she gets evicted. So she ends up living in her car and someone tips off Child Protective Services, and the rest is history. Of course it doesn’t end there; someone broke out the window in her car, it got towed for some reason, so she ends up living on a sidewalk; can’t even try to go for custody.”
“Who called CPS?”
“I’ll give you a guess,” Ariel said grimly.
“So let me get this straight,” Amber cocked her head, thinking over everything Ariel had just imparted to her. “Ryan had another mom who actually loved him, and your parents took him away out of spite so they could treat him like crap?”
“Yeah, that’s really about it,” Ariel nodded. “I feel bad for him, really, but we just don’t have that much in common other than…”
“Other than what?”
“This is going to sound really weird...” Ariel bit her lower lip and leaned with one arm against the entertainment center as she tried to decide how to phrase it. “Ryan’s been trying on my clothes.”
“Really?” Amber raised an eyebrow, and then, slowly, a look of amusement crept onto her face. “Well, boys do that, I think. I hope he didn’t ruin your underwear.”
“Yeah, I hope not either,” Ariel agreed. “Thing is, though, it wasn’t just once or twice. It was…a few times. I mean, actually, I don’t think he ever stopped.”
“That is kinda weird,” Amber agreed. “You’d think he’d grow out of it if it’s a phase. What’s he wearing?”
“Little bit of everything,” Ariel said, thinking back. “He thinks he’s pretty slick, but he never hangs anything back up right, leaves deodorant stains on my tops. Thank god we’re the same size practically; he doesn’t stretch anything out. He’s wearing dresses, skirts, tops, it’s not just…one type of thing. It’s mostly formal stuff, though, like my Easter dress from last year.”
“So he’s jacking it in your Easter dress,” Amber laughed. “You’re gonna have to burn half your wardrobe.”
“Yeah, that’s the funny thing, he’s not.” Ariel frowned. Amber’s attention was captured. “He’s…okay, so there are deodorant stains and he definitely sweats all over my stuff, but…there aren’t any cum stains.”
“Do you even know what a cum stain looks like?” Amber laughed.
“I…do not,” Ariel admitted. “But, I’ve looked them over and I don’t see anything that could be remotely that. It’s like he’s just trying them on to try them on, but the weird thing is, it’s entire outfits.”
“Uh…what do you mean?”
“I mean he’s not just…grabbing shit at random. I can tell what he’s put on and it’s usually one or two outfits every time, and they’re actually coordinated. Like I have this brown floral dress with spaghetti straps? He actually made sure to wear the right shirt underneath.”
“So he pays attention to what you wear,” Amber shrugged. “You’re saying he has eyes?”
“Amber, why is my little brother watching how I coordinate my outfits, and then, why is he emulating me?”
“Okay,” Amber said, taking a deep breath and standing up. “I’m gonna make a suggestion.”
“I’m all ears,” Ariel said. “This is just…getting to be too much.”
“You need to confront him.”
“Um, that’s not going to work,” Ariel said, staring at Amber incredulously. “He’s just going to deny it to hell and back, and I can’t exactly prove it. Even if I could prove it, Dad would just beat him when he found out. I mean, it’s just a few outfits every few weeks, I can probably let it slide.”
“I’m kinda curious what he does when he wears the clothes,” Amber mused. “If he’s not rubbing one out, what is he doing?”
“You’re putting too much thought into this.” Ariel rolled her eyes again. “He’s just being a little shit.”
“Maybe.” Amber pressed a finger to her lips and her eyes went distant as if she were deep in thought. “I have an idea. Do you know when he might do it again?”
“Uh, yeah,” Ariel nodded. “Mom and Dad have a date night coming up; they’ll probably go to the mall or something? They usually go on weekends and leave him home alone. Sometimes he does it, sometimes he doesn’t. He hasn’t done it for like a week, so…I’d say he’s about due.”
“And if he does, I want to catch him," Amber grinned. Ariel looked at her curiously.
“Why’s it so important?” Ariel frowned. “It’s annoying, but it’s not hurting anyone.”
“Yeah,” Amber agreed. “Except for him.”
“Um, what are you talking about?”
“We should really make lunch,” Amber said. “I’m starving, but uh…do you remember my Uncle Joseph? The one that’s Aunt Mary-Ann now? I’m thinking Rylee might be like that.”
Ariel frowned, then her expression turned to anger.
“Amber, absolutely not!” Ariel snapped. “He’s not…um….he’s not transsexual!”
“Transgender,” Amber corrected. “And honestly, I don’t know, I really don’t know, but I think you owe it to him to find out.”
“Why?”
“Because, Ariel, if he’s really transgender, then he’s hurting, and if he’s hurting then he’s going to hurt himself. I know you guys don’t get along, but–”
“Of course we don’t get along!” Ariel said angrily, now pacing the floor. “He’s…arrogant, and moody. When he gets on a topic he’ll talk for hours and there’s no stopping him. He had this obsession with Garth Brooks – actually he might still have it. He’s obsessed with chess players like that weird Bobby Fischer guy. We have nothing in common!”
“Except your clothes,” Amber pointed out. “And maybe more than that.”
“Yeah, okay, I find that hard to believe.” Ariel said, disbelieving. “But sure, I’ll humor you.”
“Great.” Amber walked over to the entertainment center behind Ariel and pulled open the glass door, reaching onto the third shelf and pulling out a black canvas case. “It’s my dad’s old video camera.”
“We going to shoot some home videos?” Ariel asked, half serious, half sarcastic. “Maybe get onto America’s Funniest Home Videos?”
“You said your parents are going out this weekend,” Amber reminded her. “So, around the time they leave, you leave, and leave this camera running in your room. Hide it somewhere.”
“And just hope that I catch him? What can it record? Like an hour?”
“No,” Amber said. “You’re going to put the tape in EP mode, that’ll give you about six hours of recording time. Put some electrical tape over the light in the front so he doesn’t see it, and make sure it’s behind something.”
“Okay,” Ariel said, staring hard at the case. “Let’s say I do catch him, what do we do then?”
“Well, then you have a decision to make,” Amber shrugged. “You can ignore it, really confront him, or tell your parents. I’m not going to tell you what to do, but you probably should figure out what’s going on.”
“What’s going on is he’s being weird,” Ariel said. “Nothing else to it.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see.”
September 2000
“Alright, so I have it.” Ariel waved the tape in front of Amber as she descended the stairs into the basement. Amber looked up from the couch, her eyes traveling from Ariel to the small black cassette she was holding.
“Well, you’ll have to put it back into the camera,” she said. “We’ve gotta hook the camera up to the TV.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Ariel.” Amber said. “Unless you’ve got a tiny VCR that plays tiny cassette tapes.”
Ariel snatched the tape up and popped it back into the camera, handing it to Amber, who walked it over to the TV and plugged the A/V cord in.
“You know who talked to me at school?” Amber said, making idle conversation as she plugged the camera in and tuned the television to the correct channel. “Literally Brian Luke. Literally.”
“Isn’t he friends with Joey Lafferty?” Ariel raised an eyebrow. “He’s a creep.”
“Yep.” Amber nodded. “I hope they’re not like…super close, though.”
“Do you remember what he did with Amanda Mernard last week?”
“Who? Brian, or Joey?”
“Uh…Joey,” Ariel said, thinking hard. “He’s been asking her out for ages, she says no, he keeps it up, it’s dumb. So the other day he starts walking beside her in the hall; when she slowed down, he slowed down, same if she sped up. They get to the end of the hall and he’s like ‘Now I can say we walked down the aisle together.’”
“Are you freaking serious?” Amber asked, incredulous. “What a creep!”
“Yeah,” Ariel agreed. “Hate it. What did Brian want?”
“A date. Probably wants more.”
“Yeah, probably,” Ariel agreed again. “Even if he doesn’t…he’s friends with Joey, they’re both basically the same.”
“Brian plays basketball, Joey is just retarded,” Amber pointed out. “Not really the same.”
“Who was that creepy kid last year who swiped everyone’s number from the back of Allie Forest’s agenda book?” Ariel tried to recall.
“Nathan? Yeah, that was creepy. He actually had a massive crush on Allie and just wanted her number, but got ahold of a bunch of other people’s.”
“Not mine,” Ariel shuddered. “Thank god. Okay, let’s watch this.”
They settled onto the couch beneath the harsh glow of two overhead fluorescent lights affixed to the ceiling with barebones fixtures. Ariel drew her legs up underneath her, criss-cross style as if they were about to watch some romantic comedy, while Amber pulled a comically small remote from the canvas bag and aimed it at the camera. Using the tiny membrane buttons, she navigated the on-screen menu and pressed the ‘play’ option.
The screen flickered and Amber made a comment about making popcorn; Ariel shushed her and watched as her room came into view on the screen.
“Nothing’s happening,” Amber observed.
“I recorded six hours of footage,” Ariel reminded her. “Fast forward.”
Lines appeared across the screen as Amber fast-forwarded through the recorded footage. The time stamp in the bottom left corner of the screen jumped forward and the light inside the room shifted until finally, it hit 7 PM, and the bedroom light flipped on. The camera’s lens was momentarily blinded, and then the aperture adjusted as Ryan appeared in frame. He walked in, failing to notice the video camera set up on the dresser. Ariel leaned forward, watching him as he hesitated in the center of the room, his eyes traveling between the makeup vanity and the wardrobe. Finally he seemed to settle for the wardrobe, opening up the twin doors and peering inside.
“I have some Jiffy pop upstairs,” Amber suggested. “Wait, no, I have that popcorn tin from Christmas that I never opened, we should break into that.”
“Oh. My. God.” Ariel glared at her. Amber shrugged, chuckling a little. “Okay, does it have caramel?”
Amber went to fetch the popcorn tin and Ariel kept her eyes on the screen; Ryan reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a sky-blue sundress and a pair of white hose. Well, at least they matched.
“Anything good?” Amber asked as she returned with the tin.
“About to see Ryan naked, I think,” Ariel said with more than a mild hint of disgust in her voice.
“Mm….yeah, I’ll fast forward.” Amber held the remote up and pressed the ‘fast forward’ button until Ryan was clad in the blue dress. “Open your eyes, Ariel.”
Ariel moved her hand away from her eyes and watched as Ryan sat down at the makeup vanity.
“He’s not great at it,” Amber observed.
“Classic newbie mistake.” Ariel nodded. “He thinks more foundation equals more girly.”
“The outfit, though.” Amber pointed at the screen, shaking her index finger up and down. “The white hose with the blue dress? And look, he has your wig on. He doesn’t even look like a guy in a dress. He just…looks like a girl.”
“Yeah,” Ariel agreed. “That’s disturbing.”
“Uh, it would be more disturbing if he looked like a guy in a dress. Hey, Ariel, your brother’s cute.”
“Stop that!” Ariel threw a piece of popcorn at Amber, which she easily dodged. She returned her attention to the screen, watching as her brother inspected himself in the vanity mirror, straightening out the wrinkles in the dress and touching up the makeup. “He really cares about looking good.”
“For nobody,” Amber reminded her. “Well, maybe himself.”
“Well, I was right, he’s not jerking it,” Ariel shrugged. “But it’s still creepy. Hey, what was that?”
“What was what?” Amber asked, becoming less and less interested by the second.
“On the video.” Ariel jabbed a finger toward the screen. “He said something to the mirror.”
“You sure?” Amber frowned. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Run it back!”
Amber pointed the remote toward the screen again; white scan lines appeared on the fuzzy screen. Ryan moved backward at a comically fast speed with jerky motions until she hit the play button again. They both leaned forward watching closely until the moment had passed.
“I saw it that time,” Amber said, running it back again. “Let me turn it up.”
She ran it back, hitting play and increasing the volume until the basement was filled with the ‘hiss’ of ambient background noise. They both leaned forward even further, watching closely as Ryan walked to the vanity mirror and muttered a phrase into the glass. They still couldn’t make it out.
“Let me put my ear to the speaker,” Ariel suggested, but Amber stopped her.
“Hold on, I have an idea.”
Amber hopped off the couch and snatched up the video camera, disconnecting it and bounding up the basement stairs with Ariel in tow.
“What are we doing?” Ariel asked as they walked briskly through the kitchen, the living room, and then down the hall toward Amber’s room.
“Hold on, I’ve got this,” Amber assured her. She turned left, into her room and stepped over to her dresser, grabbing a Walkman and pulling the headphones loose. “Here.” They sat on the bed together, each of them taking one side of the headset and pressing it to their ears. The moment on the video came and went, but still sounded like muttering. Amber ran it back and adjusted the gain, then cranked the volume all the way up.
Ambient noise filled their ears, and the exaggerated, almost deafening sounds of Ryan scooting the chair, opening a bottle of foundation, or closing a drawer filled their ears every few seconds. Finally, the moment came again, and they both sat there, waiting with bated breath as he looked up at the mirror. Finally, the words came: "That’ll never be you." Ariel took pause at the statement as she studied her brother’s face in the mirror. Utter contempt for whoever he was looking at on the other side of the mirror. But wasn’t he looking at himself? Ariel frowned, and stole a glance at Amber, who seemed just as confused, though the confusion was clearing from her face by the second.
“Wait, what’s he doing now?” Ariel asked, watching the tiny screen intently. Her expression of confusion morphed into one of horror as Ryan began to sob into the mirror. It started quietly, just a few coughs and a sniffle, but quickly, very, very quickly, the sobs began to erupt from his mouth, each one almost like an impact, several of them followed by broken screams. He slapped his hand against the makeup vanity and shouted “Why?!” a few times before slapping himself hard across the face; Ariel recoiled.
They watched the rest of the video playback, up to the point where he finally stood up, put the dress back in the wardrobe and exited the room. Amber stopped the tape and they sat there on her bed in silence, both of them thinking hard about what they’d just seen.
“What was that?” Ariel asked, finally.
“I think you know,” Amber said quietly.
“No,” Ariel said, “I really don’t. Why don’t you explain it to me?’
“It’s just like I thought,” Amber said without a hint of triumph or ‘I told you so’ in her voice. “Ryan, your brother, is trans. He wants to be a girl and it’s killing him that he can’t be.”
“The…person on the video...” Ariel gestured toward the camera. “I don’t know that person, that’s not my brother. Something about it, the facial expressions, the way he moved, it was all just…off. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Some people,” Amber told her, "have a gender that doesn’t really align with their physical gender. Ryan’s a boy on the outside, but inside, definitely a girl. You saw it on the video. He wasn’t doing it for a sexual thrill, he was doing it because he wanted to dress up as a girl. He was acting like a girl, wearing makeup like a girl. That outfit he put on was the most plain and mundane he could have gotten his hands on. And then, what he said into the mirror, it all just adds up.”
“Okay, let’s say that you’re right,” Ariel said. “Let’s say I humor you, what does it mean?”
“Means exactly what you think it means.” Amber shut the camera’s viewscreen and dropped it on the bed beside her. “Outside, boy, inside, girl, and the girl is probably screaming to get out. This is something I’ve read about online…a lot. If Ryan’s actually trans, then he needs to find a way to express it, or he’s going to be hiding it for his entire life.”
“Okay, but I’ve never heard of this.” Ariel frowned. “I’ve never seen any adult transgenders.”
“A lot of people are transgender, Ariel,” Amber said in a serious, even tone. “They just…don’t have support. Imagine what your Dad would do if he found out that Ryan was wearing a dress? Lots of other families are just like that. Truth is, they just live sad lives and die. Like normal people, but sadder.”
“That person on the video,” Ariel said, drawing her legs up beneath her and scooting back on the bed. “He wasn’t Ryan. Ryan doesn’t show any emotion; when he talks, he’s sarcastic. He…just doesn’t feel. That person, the one we just saw? That person feels, and they look like they’re suffering. I want to do something, but…”
“So do something,” Amber shrugged.
“Like…what?”
“For starters, let’s head over to the computer,” Amber suggested. “I have some stuff we can read, and…I think what we should do is come up with a plan.”
“A plan?” Ariel frowned. “What kind of plan? A plan for what?”
“Well, if you ask Ryan about it, he’s going to deny it. I mean, a family like yours? I’d take it to the grave too. He’d probably be afraid you’re going to tell on him.”
“You’re probably right,” Ariel nodded. “We aren’t really that close.”
It was the truth, unfortunately. They’d been close for a few years, of course, but they’d drifted apart rather quickly. It wasn’t that Ryan was a boy’ it was that he was into things that Ariel just couldn’t relate to. Actually, he was hard to relate to in general. He had quickly become an emotionless husk, occasionally deflecting with humor, but mostly keeping to himself. He was completely unreachable and as a result, Ariel had quickly latched onto Amber. These days, she barely gave Ryan a second look and he didn’t seem to mind. But what if he was screaming on the inside?
“You could give your little sister a name,” Amber suggested. Ariel snapped her head around, looking at Amber with an expression of utter confusion.
“Little…sister?”
“Here’s my idea.” Amber turned toward Ariel, sitting cross-legged on the bed to face her. “You’re not going to get him to admit it, but you can catch him. You know the times he’s most likely to do it, so why don’t you tell everyone you’re going out, and then wait for him to do his thing, and walk in on him?”
Ariel studied Amber for a moment, then leaned back against the headboard, resting her head on the hollow metal bars and focusing on a Boyz 2 Men poster above the dresser. God, Amber had bad taste.
“And then what?” Ariel asked, quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“So I catch him, then what?” Ariel shook her head. “Do I just go ‘Ah-ha! Gotcha!,’ do I ask him to stop? What? What’s the point, Amber?”
“I don’t think that would be productive.” Amber was dead serious now. “People like this need love and acceptance; it’s not something your family excels at.”
“Amber, I get it, my family sucks, you don’t have to keep reminding me.”
“I think I do,” Amber reminded her. “Your dad…”
“I’m well-fucking-aware,” Ariel snapped. “Do you honestly think I don’t remember what he did to me?”
“And you know what he’s capable of. Ryan’s at home playing dress-up in your clothes; what happens when your Dad catches him? That person I just saw on the camera? That’s a real person, not the emotionless husk that you keep describing. That person is sad, afraid, tiny. That person needs your help, Ariel.”
“How do you propose that I help him?” Ariel demanded. “What can I even do?”
“We can start,” Amber said, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and standing up, “by giving your little sister a name.”
“This is insane,” Ariel said, her voice nearly a whisper. “Ryan is…”
“A girl,” Amber finished the sentence for her. “Come on, we’ve got some research to do.”
December 2000
Ariel stood with her arms wrapped around her body, still shivering even through her winter coat which was buttoned and tied at the waist to combat the oncoming wind that bit at her face with unyielding ferocity. She was positioned at the back of the house, peering down the snow-covered gravel driveway as the red tailings of her parents’ Dodge Caravan slowly made its way toward the gate. Black against the night, it was briefly rendered its normal blue by the floodlights mounted near the top of the fence line as they approached. A sight both oppressive and ethereal at the same time, the van rolled past the gate and vanished into the night.
They were gone; Ariel was left alone as snowflakes blazed past her face and stuck to her hair. She pushed against the wind, crunching through newly-fallen snow in her tan Uggs as she made her way around the house, taking a step up as she reached the garage. It took her a moment to work her way across the driveway, past the ice-covered flagpole, and across the icy walkway that led up to the front porch. She stood there, staring past the porch at her bedroom window as the wind howled and her legs began to buckle with cold.
“Come on, little sister,” Ariel said through chattering teeth. She shoved her hands in her pockets, lamenting that she hadn’t thought to put on a pair of gloves before leaving the house, and gripped the cordless phone she’d borrowed from the house. She probably could have used her cellphone for this, but it was tucked away in her dresser, and she hadn’t felt like retrieving it. Just as it entered her mind to give up, her heart leapt as her bedroom light came on. She waited a few moments, until she could see a shadow moving beyond the slated blind, and then pulled the cordless phone from her pocket. She pressed the ‘talk’ button, then quickly dialed the number to Amber’s pager. Holding the handset up to her ear, she waited a few moments as it rang, then pressed ‘talk’ again, hanging up. There was no need to leave a message for this.
Keeping an eye on the window, and watching the shadow move back and forth, she shivered in the cold and dialed another number. Nearly breathless, with quickly-numbing lips, she called Dominos and ordered a large pepperoni and cheese pizza. God, she hoped they brought garlic dippers.
“Okay,” she said, taking a breath and straightening up. “Let’s do this.”
Trudging back through the snow, she came to the back door, opening it as silently as possible to walk into the laundry room. A few minutes later she was out of her coat, and her Ugg boots were discarded behind the door, leaving her in her stocking feet as she reveled in the warmth of the whole-house furnace.
She walked quietly through the laundry room, taking a right at the door to the garage and padding slowly down the carpeted hallway. From this vantage point she could see her room pretty clearly, and he was in there. Ariel smiled softly; he’d grabbed her brown floral dress, the one with the spaghetti straps, and paired it with a sky blue floral top. The ensemble was kind of childish, but it did go well.
Ariel stepped forward, making her way to the door as Ryan examined himself in the mirror. It didn’t take him long to see her; he froze, watching her reflection closely in the mirror. She froze in place for a second, and then willed herself to keep going, understanding that the person she was about to meet wasn’t Ryan.
“What’s your name?” she asked, breaking the increasingly awkward silence. Her brother shook his head, frowning.
“I–” He began to speak, but then stopped, shrinking back. Ariel gave another soft smile and stepped toward him, taking his hand.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Ariel said, the smile still on her face to put Ryan at ease as she lowered him into the vanity chair “You probably want something close to your old name, so what about Rylee?”
“You’ve…you’ve been thinking about it?” Ryan croaked. “But you couldn’t--”
“Know?” Ariel smiled again and then proceeded to apply makeup to her little sister’s face. “Of course I know. You do a sloppy job of putting my clothes back. And who do you think cleans up your Internet searches?”
“Oh my god,” Ryan stammered. “I…I’m sorry.”
“Hush,” Ariel whispered as she worked on the makeup. “I’ve been waiting to meet my little sister for a long time. I’ve known for a while, but it’s not like you would have told me if I asked. I had to catch you in the act, so I told everyone I was going over to Amber’s, and then I waited. This is a very special day for me.”
“I--it is?”
“Like I said,” she said. “I get to meet my little sister. I’ve been waiting for so long, and I’ve known you’re in there. I thought about a lot of ‘R’ names. Rhea, Rhianna, Ruby, Rebecca, different spellings for Rylie, and you know what? Rylee, with two E’s, is pretty unique. What do you say?”
“I–” Ryan was stammering now, his head shaking from side to side; Ariel reached forward, taking his chin in her hand and holding it in place so she could apply the rest of the makeup. Finally, she let him see himself in the mirror. Ariel did her best to keep the nonchalant expression on her face, but internally, something was unfolding as she recognized the change in her brother’s expression. He’d been waiting – waiting for someone, anyone to come along and save him, to rip the girl, Rylee, out of her hiding place deep within. Her prison.
Ariel retrieved the cosplay wig from the bottom drawer of the vanity, affixed it to her sister’s head and turned her around, allowing her to face the mirror.
“Don’t cry, Rylee.” She wiped a stray strand of hair out of his face and acknowledged the increasingly glassy eyes. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”
Ariel cast a glance toward the open wardrobe and pursed her lips before stepping over, her hand on Ryan’s arm as she peered inside at the space where the brown floral dress had been borrowed from.
“See this pink hanger here?” Ariel pointed to a pink plastic hanger that sat to the far left. “Everything to the left of the hanger is yours.
“You can’t keep them in your room, obviously, but it’s all my old dresses, a few skirts, some tops. Old underwear down at the bottom in a shoebox if you want to experiment. Makeup, left side of the vanity, second drawer down.”
“You did all this for me?” Rylee stared at her incredulously. “I…when?”
“I started as soon as I figured it out,” Ariel said softly. “I was confused at first, but it didn’t take long to figure it all out.”
What she didn’t tell Rylee was the details of the nights she and Amber had spent searching the Internet, chatting in the weirdest fucking places the Internet had to offer, and browsing medical journals. Finding out that Rylee was transgender, for real, was a good first step, but knowing what to do about it was something different entirely. She and Amber had decided that this was the best approach, even though she knew the next part of this experiment was going to be the hardest.
The knock came at the door sooner than Ariel would have liked, and even through the makeup, she could see the color drain from Rylee’s face. Almost reflexive, her new little sister’s hand shot down, toward the hem of the dress; she gathered it up in her hands, prepared to yank the garment up, over her head. Ariel, with her own reflexes, placed her hand atop Rylee’s and gave it a quick squeeze, offering her a reassuring smile. In that moment she discovered how much stronger she was than Rylee, and through their brief skin to skin contact, she registered the trembling and the fear practically resonating from her little sister. She forced her to drop the hem and submit to Ariel’s will, and her look of terror said it all.
“It’s okay.” Ariel smiled. “Come on.”
“No, no I can’t.” Rylee was no match for her, even as she pulled gently, guiding her from the room.
Rylee’s feet dragged just a little as Ariel guided her past the couch and toward the front door. She opened it to reveal Amber, who gave Rylee a cursory glance before walking into the house, plastic grocery bags in hand and dangling at her knees.
“Okay,” Amber said. “I got candy, soda, and the movie. Did you order the pizza?”
“Cheese, pepperoni, and sausage,” Ariel confirmed.
“Girl, you’ve gotta get your shit sorted.” Amber poked a finger at Rylee. “I don’t like coming over here; your parents act like you’re all in a fucking cult.”
“I promise we’ll come over next time,” Ariel said to her apologetically. “I just wasn’t sure if tonight was the night until I paged you.”
“What’s the plan next week?” Amber asked as she pushed one of the grocery bags into Rylee’s arms.
“We’ll come over to your place.” Ariel guided Rylee to the kitchen, Amber followed. “The week of Christmas it’ll be hard, we have family stuff and, well, you know. New Year’s is hard too, because Mom and Dad throw their annual party for all the people at church, but I bet we can sneak her away for a few hours.”
“You know...” Amber took the grocery bag from a frozen and stunned Rylee, set it on the counter and began to unpack candy, chips, and a few soda bottles. “You did really good on this makeup. With a better wig and maybe a more coordinated outfit, we can just take her out to places. Like the mall or whatever.”
“Wait, no.” Rylee’s eyes widened. She suddenly grabbed onto Ariel, who drew her into a partial hug to keep her from falling to the kitchen floor as her knees began to buckle. “I can’t go out like…like this. People will see me, what if Mom and Dad--”
“You’re fine, Rylee,” Ariel reassured her. “You look a lot like me. No one’s going to know. If you were by yourself, maybe, but the two of us are like camouflage. We know what we’re doing.”
“I…I’m not sure,” Rylee stammered. “I--”
“It’s out of your hands now.” Amber rolled her eyes, then waved a DVD with the Hollywood Video logo printed on its cover. “Come on, let’s watch the movie.”
“Movie?” Rylee frowned.
“Coyote Ugly,” Ariel said. “You wanted to see it, right?”
“H-how did you know that?”
“Because I pay attention, Rylee,” Ariel said as she grabbed some snacks and led Rylee over to the couch. “I knew my little sister was hurting, and I planned this night very carefully. Now, what I want from you is for you to sit down, relax, and be Rylee. It’s time.”
She watched Rylee sink onto the couch, her eyes wide and vulnerable, watching her movements as she popped open the DVD case and placed the disc in the player. Making her way back toward the couch, she dug in the bag and handed Rylee a box of Dots – her favorite. Rylee took it, and looked up to her sister questioningly.
“Let’s just watch the movie,” Ariel told her. “Just relax.”
Relaxing was, apparently easier said than done; Rylee squirmed on the couch, looking nervously between Amber and Ariel, then occasionally down at her own outfit, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, even as Ariel did her best to comfort her. Finally, Amber pressed pause on the movie and stared hard at Rylee.
“What’s the problem?” Amber demanded.
“Amber, come on, go easy,” Ariel pleaded. “Don’t scare her.”
“Rylee, you’re a girl, you understand that, right?” Amber pressed. “We’re having a girl’s night.”
“I just…I…I didn’t think there would be anyone else here.” Rylee squirmed; Ariel squeezed her hand and regarded her softly.
“This shit is complicated, Rylee,” Amber said, turning to Rylee and leaning forward on the love seat. “Look, Ariel can’t handle it all on her own and you can’t keep trying on her clothes every time the house is empty. What happens when you get caught? You can’t say you were jacking off in her clothes, because even if that is weird, I don’t think you could say it with a straight face. Even I can tell there’s more going on here, and we’re not going to let you fuck yourself.”
“Why?” Rylee whispered, her voice cracking.
“Why what?” Amber demanded.
“Why would you care about me?” Rylee shook her head at Ariel. “I…we…we don’t…”
“I know we don’t talk a whole lot,” Ariel said quietly. “and I know we don’t really know each other, not that well, but Ryan isn’t a real person, is he?”
“No,” Rylee choked out. “He’s…no, he’s not.”
“I know.” Ariel squeezed Rylee’s hand again. “I didn’t want to know Ryan, but I do want to know you. And now that I know you exist, I’m not letting you go. I always wanted a little sister, you know.”
“Y-you did?”
“What girl doesn’t?” Ariel laughed. “But there are going to be rules now, you understand.”
“Rules?”
“Yes, little sister.” Ariel looked at her intently. “First of all, you don’t provoke Mom or Dad. I’ve seen you do it to see how far you can push them. Stop it. Second, stop dressing up when I’m not here.”
“When else am I supposed to do it?” Rylee frowned. “I mean, not that I–”
“Save it,” Amber shook her head at Rylee. “We know you dress up practically every time you’re alone. You don’t need to cover that up now.”
“Don’t worry too much,” Ariel advised. “You’re going to dress up a lot more now that I know. Any time you can conceivably be with me and Amber, you will be. That’s not negotiable. To me, now, you’re Rylee. Sound good?”
“I, um…I…” Rylee’s eyes began to water; Ariel pulled her into a hug, patting her back and then pulling back to look into her eyes.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said softly. “I know you now, I can see you in there, okay? You’re going to be okay.”
“Can we watch the stupid movie now?” Amber demanded, rolling her eyes. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“Yeah,” Ariel nodded. “Yeah, play the movie.”
January 2001
“It’s cold in here.” Ariel wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, as Amber counted the money in the till. They were sitting in the Woodhaven Hair Salon, which was actually just a leased storefront in the mall. Amber had busied herself with her closing duties while Ariel had situated herself on one of the thick stylist chairs near the front. The salon was pretty small; just two rows of chairs, each one facing a mirror surrounded with heavy duty light bulbs from top to bottom. The floor was a tan, flecked tile, and the overhead lights delivered a subdued atmosphere that was supplemented by the low hum of departing customers on the mall concourse outside. Ariel spun around in the chair, eventually coming to a stop in front of the mirror. She examined her long golden locks and then turned back to Amber.
“Wear a sweater next time,” Amber advised. “You wanna help clean up or what? The sooner I get out of here, the better.”
“Yeah no, you’re the one that works here.” Ariel smirked. “I’m just going to sit here and watch.”
“Suit yourself.” Amber slammed the register shut and stalked past Ariel and Rylee, who was seated on a chair across the aisle.
Ariel watched her little sister closely; they’d manage to convince her to come out dressed as herself, but it was still difficult to get her to talk. The girl hated her voice and Ariel could scarcely blame her.
She was wearing a sky blue dress that extended down past her knees, probably to the middle of her shins; this one was sleeveless but supplemented with a black cardigan, and the blonde wig really made the ensemble.
“Rylee, you okay?” Ariel called out. Rylee looked up, torn out of her immediate thoughts, and nodded. “Come over here.”
Rylee looked around and clenched the armrests of the chair, almost as if she’d been afraid to move before, and then quickly rose from the chair in a jerky motion, trotting across the floor and joining Ariel in the chair beside her.
“You nervous?” Ariel asked her, almost teasingly. Rylee nodded. “Gotta get used to it, sis, there’s going to be a lot more of this.”
“How are we going to do that?” Rylee asked, fidgeting with her hands as she sat. Her voice was low as she tried to keep it from carrying too far. “Mom and Dad…”
“They leave you home alone every weekend,” Ariel pointed out. “And trust me, I can sneak you away more often than that. I’m going to say we can do this twice a week.”
“Twice a week?” Rylee said, her voice trailing off as she contemplated the implications of that.
“You were already doing it twice a month,” Ariel pointed out. “And this is way better than you doing it alone and crying when you think you can’t be a girl.”
Rylee’s eyes went wide, but anything she had planned to say was cut off when Amber walked by with a black-handled broom and dustpan.
“Here,” she said, pushing them into Rylee’s hands. “Make yourself useful.”
“Come on,” Ariel protested. “She’s not going to–”
To Ariel’s surprise, Rylee happily took the broom and hopped out of the chair. Amber looked to Ariel smugly as Rylee immediately began to sweep the floor, starting at the back corner of the salon.
“She needed something to do,” Amber explained. “You had her sitting there like a bump on a log; she was going stir crazy.”
“I wanted her to rest a little,” Ariel said, staring intently at Amber. “She’s going through a lot.”
“And you prolly don’t want her sitting around and thinking about it, so giving her some random bullshit to do is the best thing for her. How are you holding up?”
“Surprisingly fine.” Ariel shrugged, and then nodded. “Rylee isn’t fighting with me on any of this.”
“Of course she isn’t.” Amber rolled her eyes. “It’s what she wanted. Probably dreamed about you catching her and doing exactly this. Though she’s probably shitting herself about now.”
“Gotta wonder, though...” Ariel peered past Amber as she watched Rylee dutifully sweeping the shop. “Why is she doing that? We could have, like, given her something fun to do. She’s never liked doing chores, why is she so happy doing that?”
“You’re really forgetting that’s not your brother,” Amber pointed out. “This is a whole different person. Okay, enough of that, what are you doing tomorrow.”
“Saturday? Work.” Ariel shrugged. “From like nine to two. After that, nothing really.”
“Okay, have Rylee finish up her chores or whatever and we’ll go out to see a movie. Then maybe head over to the music store?”
“That’s not a horrible idea,” Ariel agreed. “I want the new Shakira album. Laundry Service or whatever. Can we let Rylee wander around Circuit City?”
“You should really get her used to more feminine settings,” Amber warned. “Have you seen the way she hides behind us when we’re walking through the clothing section at Wal-Mart?”
“I mean, yeah, but that’s to be expected.” Ariel peeked past Amber to see Rylee still hard at work sweeping beneath the counters at every station, seemingly lost in her own little world. It took everything within her not to smile as she realized that her sister was not only working diligently, but actually enjoying it, as if they’d managed to awaken something within her. No, not the weird desire to do domestic work, but a person. A whole, entire person that had always existed within her but had never been seen.
“That can’t happen,” Amber told her. “You’ve gotta get her used to it.”
“Okay, why?” Ariel asked, suddenly.
“Why what?”
“Why does she have to get used to it right now?” Ariel turned her attention back to Amber, who was now leaning against the stylist station nearest Ariel’s chair. “We’re doing this twice a week, it’s not like it’s her entire life, god, let’s let her get used to it.”
“Yeah, okay, what if you’re not around, suddenly?” Amber asked. “I’m not saying you’re going to die, or like…get swooped off to an alternate universe like Jet Li, I’m just saying, things can happen. Do you think she’s going to stop dressing up and being Rylee just because you’re gone? She’s going to get hurt if you’re not helping her now.”
“That’s really, really dark.” Ariel resisted the urge to glare at Amber, barely managing to keep her face from contorting. “I…I’m not going anywhere.”
“College,” Amber reminded her. “Unless you’re planning to stay local.”
“I can always go to Woodcrest,” she pointed out. “It’s only an hour away.”
“You think you can get back here in an hour if something goes wrong?” Amber raised an eyebrow. “You’ll be busy with classes, social stuff, probably a boyfriend, because your parents won’t be around to tell you you can’t have one.”
“Please.” Ariel snorted. “I’m not going to get a boyfriend.”
“Please.” Amber rolled her eyes right back in a mocking fashion. “Some cute guy’s going to walk right up to you in the quad or whatever they have at Woodcrest, or, I don’t know, maybe some hipster in a coffee shop. You’re going to fall in love, you’re never going to come back here.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Ariel said firmly. “I’m not going to abandon Rylee.”
“You just met Rylee,” Amber pointed out. “Is she that important to you?”
“Um, yes.” Ariel threw another glance at Rylee, who was finishing up the sweeping. Outside the shop, the noise had died down significantly as the last of the mall patrons were filtering out the front door. The mall was taking on an eerie silence and soon they would be among the last ones left in the structure. In an hour, maybe less, Jeff, the security guard would make his rounds, asking them if they needed a little more time. He might even walk them to their car. Ariel stared off into the blackness of the concourse beyond the shop for a moment and then looked back at Amber. “Yes! She is that important to me! Look, Amber, I always wanted a little sister and now I have one.”
“You just like bossing her around,” Amber pointed out. “I’ve seen the look on your face.”
“Be that as it may,” Ariel said firmly. “I like having a little sister and yes, I boss her around, because that’s what big sisters are supposed to do.”
“Did you see me objecting?” Amber laughed. “Have fun with it, just don’t forget her when you’re off at Woodcrest dating Sam or Peter, or Jen, or whoever you fall in love with.”
“Rylee!” Ariel called out. Rylee immediately set the broom aside and walked over to Amber and Ariel; she might have been smiling if she didn’t look like she was about to shit herself. “It’s almost time to go home; Mom and Dad are probably there, so I’ll have you change in the back.”
“I…I don’t have my clothes.” Rylee looked around nervously.
“I do,” Ariel told her. “I have a change of clothes for you in Amber’s car.”
“My clothes?”
“Obviously,” Ariel laughed. “I grabbed an outfit out of your room. Okay, so we’re going to head out to the car, get the clothes, and come back.”
“Um, can I stay here with Amber?” Rylee looked around nervously.
“We’re all going together,” Amber told her. “Girls don’t walk through dark parking lots alone.”
As they stood and made their way toward the back of the shop, Rylee stuck to Ariel like glue; she never liked to walk on her own, it was almost as if she thought that staying near to Ariel would camouflage her. While it could be a nuisance, Ariel took the whole thing in stride; it was far better than Rylee running off by herself. She took her little sister’s hand and smiled encouragingly, giving it a squeeze and giving her a once-over.
“Let’s get your coat on,” Ariel suggested. “It’s still freezing outside.”
“Oh, right, yeah.” Rylee let go of Ariel’s hand for a second and rushed toward the coat rack at the back of the salon. There were three coats on it, two of which belong to Ariel; she’d given Rylee one of her old winter jackets. It wasn’t especially girly, but it was far better than having her traipse around in her male coat and a maxi dress.
Rylee returned with both her own and Ariel’s coat. Ariel took it out of her hand and gave her sister a very serious look.
“Stop waiting on me hand and foot, Rylee,” Ariel scolded. “It’s bad enough that Amber just made you sweep the floor.”
“I don’t mind,” Rylee said, very quietly, wincing at the sound of her own voice.
“I know you don’t, and it’s weird,” Ariel said. “Thing is, I know Ryan; I don’t know Rylee. You’re a completely different person. Ryan never would have lifted a finger to help someone else.”
“I don’t know,” Rylee said, seeming slightly distracted. “I just…I guess I feel a little more free like this.”
“So you’re saying that being a guy repressed your personality, and your personality is like…some kind of Susie homemaker?”
“No! No,” Rylee said, shaking her head violently. Ariel smiled softly and rubbed her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” Ariel said, looking directly into Rylee’s eyes. “I’m just surprised, is all.”
“You are?”
“Yeah,” Ariel laughed. “I’m surprised that we pulled off the mask and this is what was underneath. It’s so much better than what we had before.”
“Uh…thanks? I guess?”
“You two done yet?” Amber demanded. “I have to close up and–”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re done,” Ariel said, shrugging into her jacket and zipping it up. “It’s just that Rylee and I don’t really get to talk like this a whole lot.”
It was true; when they were at home, if not absolutely alone, it was critical they kept up their facade of rival siblings, annoyed with one another’s presence. To Mom and Dad, nothing had changed and it had to stay that way. Ariel knew that Rylee was growing to hate it; keeping to her old personality, a mold which she was quickly outgrowing, until on the designated days, she was allowed to break out of that mold and truly be herself. There was fear, especially when Ariel prodded her to leave the house, but there was also a new brightness in her eyes, and an adoration for her sister that Ariel had never expected to see.
She stopped briefly to straighten the collar on Rylee’s coat and then snatched her hand up again, walking toward the exit.
“Ariel, we have a problem.” Amber’s voice was even, but her tone suggested panic. Ariel turned around, meeting Amber’s eyes, which flicked over in the direction of the mall concourse.
“Oh shit.” Ariel’s eyes widened as she looked beyond the threshold of the salon and toward the concourse where, to her horror, she saw Mom and Dad walking hand in hand on the other side of the concrete planter boxes that ran down the center of the main concourse. “They weren’t supposed to have their date night here!”
“Well, it looks like they did,” Amber said, urgency filling her voice. “Rylee, out back, now!”
Amber didn’t wait for Rylee to acknowledge her, she snatched her arm and began to drag her toward the back exit. There were two doors between them and the back of the mall; the first one led into a back hallway where most of the supplies were stored, and a second door, directly to the left, would lead to the parking lot behind the shopping mall. Ariel watched them as Amber practically manhandled Rylee and pulled her through the door, wondering if they should simply go all the way to the parking lot. Before she could give any real input, they were through the door, into the storage room, slamming it shut behind them. Before it closed, Ariel could see the sheer panic on Rylee’s face as she was confronted with what had to be her greatest fear. She took a deep breath and turned around; as expected, Mom and Dad had taken a right turn, through the gap in the planter boxes, and were making their way to the salon.
They made eye contact with Ariel, Mother walking as confidently as ever, chest puffed out as if the world owed her something. Dad was just…sort of there, as he always was. Ariel feigned looking at her phone as they approached and flipped it shut as they crossed the threshold into the salon.
“Hey,” Ariel said, speaking first to gain control of the conversation.
“Where’s Ryan?” Mother asked, her question was nearly a demand.
“Sent him to the car to get my purse,” Ariel shrugged. “He didn’t come back, so I sent Amber to look for him. Probably got lost.
“He shouldn’t be carrying a purse around,” Father said with a hint of warning in his voice.
“And I shouldn’t have to walk across a dark parking lot by myself.” Ariel placed a hand on her hip, looking at Father with disdain. “You want me to die?”
“Well,” Mother said, apparently dismissing the entire thing. “Your father and I had a wonderful night. We had dinner at Rovello’s, and of course we walked the mall a little bit.”
“She wanted to visit that new teacher store,” Father added. “Just wanted to look at all the stuff she doesn’t need.”
“Hey, mister,” Mother said sternly. “The same goes for you when we go to Sears. You certainly don’t need a power drill. You have plenty of them at home.”
“See how she is?” Father said teasingly.
“You and your toys.” Mother rolled her eyes. “Ariel, we’ll be cleaning the house tomorrow; you and Ryan will be there. Be ready bright and early.”
“Amber and I have plans in the evening,” Ariel reminded her. “I’m studying at her house.”
“You think you are,” Father said sternly with that upward inflection that implied sarcasm.
“We’ll see about that,” Mother added. “If you do your part.”
Before Ariel could say anything, Rylee, now Ryan, and Amber walked through the store entrance, thankfully with the purse – they’d anticipated that nicely.
“We got it,” Amber said, walking past Ariel’s parents and handing her the purse. “Hi, Mrs. Skye, Mr. Skye.”
“Ryan, it’s past your bedtime,” Mother declared. “Come on, let’s go home.”
“He can come home with me,” Ariel said as nonchalantly as possible. “We’re just finishing up here.”
“I think not, he’s been out long enough,” Mother said. “Come on.”
Ryan managed to throw a longing glance at Ariel as mother took him by the arm and pulled him from the shop.
“Cleaning tomorrow,” Father reminded her. “No going out with your friends until you take care of that filthy room of yours.”
“I’ll remember,” Ariel promised.
Mother and Father left, leaving Ariel and Amber in the silence of the shop. The lights in the main concourse had been extinguished, and now the little salon was a last, glowing beacon in a concrete sea of darkness. They stood there for a moment, regarding each other quietly, and finally, Ariel’s fist curled in anger.
“Calm down, Ariel, she’ll be at home when you get there,” Amber said quietly, careful not to trigger Ariel’s mounting anger.
“She gets to be herself twice a week, if that, and when we’re at home we have to watch what we say because they could be fucking listening at any time. Amber…for god’s sake, she has to not only hide who she is, she has to add another layer to it. Mom and Dad want us both to behave a certain way, and if we deviate just a little, we get interrogated. They watch us like we’re criminals, especially her. How are we supposed to survive until she’s eighteen? It’s amazing she never got caught trying on my clothes. How is it possible she didn’t slip up once?”
“Probably more paranoid than you are,” Amber shrugged. “There’s not a whole lot you can do, other than what you’re already doing.”
“Yeah, I wish it felt like that.” Ariel turned around and stepped over to the stylist chair; she sat heavily in it, the hydraulics giving a little and then returning to their original position.
“What she needs is an actual girl’s night,” Amber said thoughtfully. “All we do is drag her around to our stuff. We haven’t really had one since that first night and she was too anxious to actually enjoy it.”
“Okay, what do you suggest?” Ariel crossed her arms, looking at Amber sternly.
“Have you looked at the weather for next week?” Amber asked smugly. “They’re calling for a blizzard.”
“Okay, and?”
“And I suggest we get snowed in.”
Muggy air filled Ariel’s lungs as she took a breath outside her apartment door. The old train station stretched out before her, partially vanishing into a wall of gray mist. She placed both hands on the wooden rail, leaning forward and surveying the lot below her; he was there. Lucas, dressed in one of his polo shirts, looking up at her balcony expectantly. Ariel wanted to tell him to go away; she wanted to hate him, or at least have a strong dislike for him over his commentary last time, but in spite of herself, she found a small, subtle smile forming on her lips.
“Are you going to stalk me for the rest of the year?” Ariel asked as she stepped off the staircase and walked toward him. He held a Styrofoam cup out to her: coffee, and she was never one to say no to free coffee.
“Just until you tell me to go away." Lucas grinned, falling in step beside her as she began a brisk walk toward the brick-laden alley toward Cross Street. “Don’t you drive?”
“I, in fact, do,” Ariel told him. “I have my car over there, but it’s a really short walk to work.”
“From Depot Town to downtown?” Lucas frowned. “I suppose, but you could save yourself ten minutes.”
“I like the walk,” Ariel told him. “It gives me time to think.”
“And what do you think about?”
Ariel turned her head, giving him an almost mischievous smile before sipping her coffee. “A lot of things, really. Mostly about work, but now my trip next week. I’m going down to Ohio.”
“Ohio?” Lucas nearly reeled in shock. “Why on Earth would you do that to yourself?”
“Why would a promising lawyer become an abstract painter?” Ariel teased. She suddenly wondered if she was flirting with him; not that it would necessarily be a bad thing, but like she’d said before, she had baggage. Baggage that took the form of a young girl marooned in Ohio.
“Changing the subject, huh?” Lucas laughed. They stopped on the bridge overlooking Riverside Park and the Huron River; the fog hadn’t begun to lift and in the morning light, the expanse of green took on an eerie quality.
“About yesterday,” Ariel said, taking her attention away from the park for a moment to give Lucas her full attention. He was maybe an inch or two taller than her, his thick brown hair was wavy today, and there was something about those eyes….
“You don’t need to explain.” Lucas waved his hand dismissively. “I said something that hit a nerve; that’s on me, you know?”
“There’s gotta be something wrong with you,” Ariel said as she resumed walking along the bridge; they began to ascend a hill toward the Fire Station Museum.
“How’s that?” Lucas laughed.
“You’re polite, you bring me coffee, you’re not too bad looking… What’s your deal, Lucas? Do you kill puppies? Rob banks?”
“I have super cliche conversations with girls I just met,” Lucas said with a shrug. “And I cheat at Bingo.”
“You cheat at Bingo?’
“Naturally,” Lucas said. “I go down and hustle the senior center every week. Those geriatrics never stand a chance, and the best part is, most of them don’t remember me.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” Ariel frowned; they passed a row of historical buildings, then came to an intersection. If the fog hadn’t been so dense, Ariel likely would have been able to see The Haven from here; a place that, at least in the back of her mind, she was beginning to hate.
“About the Bingo? Absolutely not,” Lucas said. “I don’t mind the cliche conversation either.”
“Is it a cliche?”
“Uh, yes,” Lucas said. “This conversation, in its entirety, is an absolute fucking cliche.”
“I don’t really see it that way.” Ariel shrugged. “And again, I’m really sorry about yesterday.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Ariel thought about that for a long moment. Did she want to talk about it? About her parents? About Rylee? About this strange, mysterious benefactor named Tori and her family that had come to Rylee’s rescue? About the things that Rylee had gone through before finding this Tori? Come to think of it, she did want to talk about it with someone. She’d unloaded on Amber so many times, but Amber had gone through it, right there with her. Truth be told, she wanted to unload on someone new, someone that didn’t expect it, someone who would recoil at the details and experience the hurt for the first time. God, she was kind of a sadist, wasn’t she? Well, maybe this was a bad time, standing at the intersection on Michigan Avenue.
“I might.” Ariel nodded. “I just might. You have my number, right?”
“Yeah, I got it from Amber,” Lucas confirmed. “Here, let me text you.”
“Alright,” Ariel said. “We’ll set up a date. Not a date-date, but, you know.”
“I know.” Lucas smiled. “Any chance to get to know you.”
“You say that now,” Ariel laughed.
“Well,” Lucas said, glancing over toward The Haven and recognizing that their time was almost up. “Don’t count me out just yet.”
They went their separate ways; Lucas heading back toward Depot Town and Ariel walking across the street toward The Haven. Inside, she found an empty lobby, as per usual, and the sound of keys clacking behind the partition. She peeked around and saw Mariah over in the corner, lost in her work.
“Mariah,” Ariel called out, stepping around the partition and heading toward her desk. Mariah greeted her with a half-hearted smile. “We got anything today?”
“The rental company we work with, Townes & Holmes, they’re mad because the tenants are talking about abatement. The units are in kind of bad shape, so I don’t blame them, but it’s throwing everything for a loop. Townes is mad because the tenants all have major lease violations that the property managers overlook.”
“Like what?”
“Things you’d expect in low income housing.” Mariah shrugged. “Smoking, unauthorized guests, high traffic, you name it. They’re threatening to go scorched Earth on us.”
“Scorched Earth?”
“Terminate all our tenancies, probably displace like fifty people. All of them probably deserve it; I mean, they knew the rules going in, but it would suck. Most of our clients have trouble getting housing in the first place.”
“Well, some are higher on the list than others,” Ariel said, annoyed. It was true – there was an internal spreadsheet maintained by the team that listed clients in order of priority. While all LGBT people were included, trans people tended to be pushed toward the bottom as a lower priority.
“Money’s gotta come from somewhere,” Mariah said, echoing Sandra’s infamous line.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ariel said. “Just seems like if we’re going to help people…”
“Such an idealist,” Miles said, entering the office and tossing his coat on the back of his chair. “I really don’t get the transgender thing anyway.”
“What’s to get about it?” Ariel turned, crossing her arms and looking to Miles expectantly.
“They want to become girls, to sleep with guys, so why don’t they just say they’re gay? Wouldn’t that be easier than getting a ton of surgeries?”
“I think you should really ask why they’d go to the trouble of going through ridicule like that if they didn’t have a good reason,” Ariel pointed out with a scowl. Miles nodded.
“Well you know, people don’t take the LGB seriously,” Miles added. “Add the ‘T’ and we look like a goddamn clown car. I, for one, don’t want to wear the plastic shoes.”
“Jesus,” Ariel muttered, and headed back to her desk.
Rylee wanted to die. Well, that or at the very least be shot into space where she could no longer hear the chanting of the school motto or the cheering-on of the football team. They were packed like sardines into the auditorium; the walls were covered in Kenton Ridge’s colors, red and white, while a line of cheerleaders performed practiced choreography on the court below. Teachers flanked the gymnasium on either side, and the students cheered, clapped, screamed, or performed poorly planned and executed dance moves.
To Rylee, it was a sea of people and a consistent, horrific source of noise. Her eyes scanned over the people, the lights and colors all running together as her ears were assaulted by what she perceived as a high-pitched hum. As the cheerleaders finished their performance, they were joined by a few members of the football team; someone was giving a loud, emotional speech that demanded a response from the student body. Rylee cringed as the crowd roared back at him.
“Hey!” Kelly tapped her arm excitedly. “You having fun?”
There were a lot of words that Rylee could use to describe this experience, but as she stood there, skin crawling and head pounding, ‘fun’ was definitely not one of those words. Her discomfort was amplified tenfold as the school marching band emerged from the back of the gym, bursting through the steel double doors and marching toward the center of the room. She looked at Kelly and shook her head; Kelly laughed. Beside her, Carrie Ann screamed, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down.
Rylee reached her personal boiling point and began to work her way through the crowd, moving past one body after another until she managed to reach the end of the row she had been standing in. She emerged onto a concrete stair with students on either side of her still cheering, still screaming, still clapping. It felt surreal as she descended, one foot in front of the other, hurtling toward the gymnasium floor, toward the marching band and their blaring brass instruments, toward the cheerleaders and their choreography, toward the football team and the jocks and the teachers. The world around her was a hurricane of sound and she was at the center, making her escape.
Anxiety quelled as she reached the bottom and turned left, past the bleachers and toward the bank of double doors that spat her out into the hallway. The sound of cheering ceased, and she was left only with the muted sound of brass that now resonated along the walls as a dull thud. She stepped away from the doors and out into the hall, resting her back against the cold brick wall next to a heavily papered bulletin board. The anxiety that had risen up inside her began to retreat back within the deepest recesses of her mind, and a second layer of noise began to subside as her body normalized. Anxiety was replaced with exhaustion and frustration as she tapped the wall with her left hand, breathing evenly in and out as she tried to normalize herself.
“You okay?” Kelly was beside her, looking concerned.
“Do people really care whether or not the football team wins?” Rylee jerked her head in the direction of the doors, toward the pep rally that was still going strong.
“Yes, Rylee,” Kelly said as evenly as possible. “People care if the football team wins.”
“Why?” Rylee asked sharply. “How does it even matter?”
“Because things like that matter to us,” she said simply with no further explanation.
“I didn’t want this.” Rylee’s voice was pained. “The world is more complicated than this. It’s bigger.”
“Yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kelly shook her head. “But you’re here now, right?”
“Yeah, unfortunately,” Rylee grumbled.
Kelly gave her a long, hard stare before casting a glance off to the left, down the hallway. She frowned and nodded in that direction. Rylee took the cue and turned her head, immediately seeing Isabelle, the other trans girl, making her way toward the stairs.
“You think she’s okay?” Kelly looked over with uncertainty.
“Are any of us?” Rylee shrugged.
“Come on, let's go check on her.” Kelly began to move in that direction, despite objections from Rylee.
“She’s probably fine,” Rylee interjected as Kelly’s pace quickened.
“You really don’t want to get involved with her, do you?”
“No,” Rylee shook her head as they passed a bank of lockers. “I don’t want people to think I’m like her.”
“You are like her.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to hang out with her,” Rylee said for what she thought must have been the hundredth time. “I just want to be me. I’m a girl. I don’t want–”
“Up here.” Kelly took a quick left, hopping onto the stairs and ascending to the first landing. “Isn’t the staff bathroom up here?”
“Yeah,” Rylee confirmed. “I’m supposed to be using it, but Carrie Ann pulled me into the regular bathroom yesterday and now I don’t know what to do.”
“Really?” Kelly frowned. “Okay, that might be a problem.”
“No one’s said anything.” Rylee shrugged.
“Okay still,” Kelly said. “I told her not to do that. She doesn’t know why, though. It would help, Rylee, if I could tell our friends why we’re protecting you.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” Rylee said, suddenly. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Come on,” was Kelly’s only response; she headed off the landing, up the stairs toward the second floor. They passed into another hallway at the far end of the school’s west wing, another white cinderblock corridor with lockers lining either side. A bulletin board stood in front of them with fliers advertising boosters, bake sales, the prom committee, student council, and a few other clubs that Rylee didn’t bother to read over. They stood only for a moment before turning right and heading down the empty hallway; the sounds of the pep rally still raged below them, the distant ‘thud’ of snare drums drifting up through the vents.
Rylee idly extended her right hand and allowed her fingers to drag along the surface of the lockers – a simple gesture to stabilize herself, and something that she’d had to do for as long as she could remember.
“Here.” Kelly pointed to the door that said ‘Staff Bathroom,’ right next to the student bathroom. Rylee gave her one last look that clearly said ‘I don’t care,’ and Kelly pushed into the Staff Bathroom. “Izzy?”
Kelly and Rylee gave each other a wary glance as the space appeared initially empty. The staff bathroom was very small with just two toilet stalls and no urinals; the space was meant to be unisex, and generally off-limits to students. Rylee laid a hand on the porcelain sink to her right and dragged her palm along the flat surface as she moved forward through the small space. Though smaller, it was very much the same as the other bathrooms with the smooth brick walls and blue wooden stall doors. At the back, a high frosted window let in some natural light, helpful considering no one ever turned on the overhead lights in these bathrooms.
Rylee, reluctant to even get involved, pointed a finger at the second of the two stalls; the door was closed, and Rylee thought she could see movement through the crack between the door and the frame. Kelly nodded and stepped over, calling Izzy’s name again. She pressed her hand against the stall, throwing another glance at Rylee before pressing on it, pushing it open and revealing Izzy who was sitting on the toilet, head in her hands.
“Izzy?” Kelly said softly. “Are you okay?”
“Leave me alone.” Izzy’s voice was muffled in her palms; Kelly took a knee and gently wrapped her hands around the girl’s wrists. As she slowly pulled her hands away from her face, the first thing Rylee noticed was the carefully applied makeup, very well done, and secondly, the poor cosplay wig that didn’t mesh with the cosmetic job at all. Kelly seemed to be more interested in the girl’s newly-christened black eye.
“Who did this?” Kelly demanded. “Did someone hit you?”
No answer.
“Look,” Rylee said, looking around the bathroom nervously, “if she doesn’t want to talk about it–”
“Rylee!” Kelly snapped. “What is wrong with you?”
“It’s just not our problem,” Rylee muttered. Kelly glared.
“Okay, Izzy, it’s safe, you can tell us,” Kelly said softly, looking into Izzy’s eyes. “Who hurt you?”
Before Izzy could answer, the bathroom door flew open and Rylee closed her eyes as she heard the familiar click of platform heels against the concrete floor.
“What’s going on in here?” Cathy demanded. Rylee, opening her eyes, slowly turned to face Cathy, immediately taking in the perfectly applied makeup, silky pink blouse, and lightly curled blonde hair that draped over her shoulders. Sheila was with her, of course, looking equally amazing. They were both icons of femininity that drove Rylee’s dysphoria through the roof, and she could do nothing but stand there and bite her lip with the realization that she could never be like them.
“Let’s go,” Rylee said to Kelly, who was still kneeling in front of Izzy.
“No, who hit you?” Kelly demanded again. Izzy simply stared back, trembling.
“She’s with us now,” Cathy said, one hand on her hip and a grin tugging at the edges of her lips. “We’ll take care of it.”
“What are you talking about?” Kelly shot up, spinning around and storming toward Cathy. “We have to take this to the principal!”
“Whatever.” Cathy rolled her eyes. “Izzy, come on.”
“Are you kidding me?!” Kelly’s eyes were wide. “You can’t just–”
Rylee took a step back, watching as Izzy stood from the toilet and walked toward Cathy.
“What are you staring at, freak?” Cathy demanded, looking in Rylee’s direction.
“Nothing,” Rylee said softly. “This isn’t my business.”
“If it’s not your business, then why are you here? You had your chance to hang with us.”
Rylee simply watched, doing her best not to interject, but as Izzy stepped over to Cathy, she was shuffled over to Sheila, who immediately snatched her by the arm. Cathy stepped forward, moving in Rylee’s direction and coming eye to eye with her.
“Mind your own business, freak,” Cathy snapped, and in a single motion, she wound up her fist, slamming it into Rylee’s stomach. Rylee let out a yelp, stumbled backward and fell against the wall, immediately sliding down toward the floor, tears forming in her eyes.
“Rylee!” Kelly shrieked. “What the hell, Cathy?!”
“You want the same treatment?” Cathy demanded. Kelly stepped forward, and in a dark way, it was almost comical as she wasn’t even close to Cathy’s size.
“Kelly!” Rylee choked out from her position on the floor; all four in the bathroom looked over to Rylee, crumpled against the wall and clutching her stomach. “Leave it!”
“Better listen to your friend,” Cathy smirked. “New girl’s smart.”
Kelly wavered, her fists clenched and her teeth gritted as she prepared to face down a girl that she was clearly no match for. Rylee struggled, coughing and sputtering as she tried to peel herself off the floor.
“Stay down, bitch.” Sheila stepped forward around Cathy and made a beeline for Rylee; she swung back her foot and slammed the toe of her heel into Rylee’s stomach. Rylee reeled, letting out another pained shriek and clutching her midsection as she fell over sideways, sinking onto the floor.
Kelly wavered, throwing a horrified glance at Rylee who was nearly in the fetal position, whimpering and moaning as the side of her face pressed against the concrete floor.
“Come on,” Cathy said to Izzy. The trio left the bathroom, and Kelly looked over to Rylee who managed to pull herself into a seated position, head against the wall, as she clutched her stomach and choked on each ragged breath. Kelly turned and stood before her, arms crossed in the afternoon light resonating from the window overhead.
“What the hell?” she demanded of Rylee, whose breathing had begun to normalize, though she still wasn’t quite able to stand. “Izzy is just like you!”
“So?” Rylee demanded. “She’s with them!”
“Because they got to her first!”
“If I stand up for her, they’re going to start thinking I’m trans,” Rylee reminded her. “The school is okay with me because I look like a girl. If I start causing trouble…”
“You’re unbelievable.” Kelly gawked at her.
“Yeah?” Rylee placed a palm against the wall, working to struggle to her feet. “Well, I’m still alive.”
Tori’s purse felt heavy on her shoulder as she strolled into Mrs. Hetrick’s office. She’d managed to put herself together pretty nicely today; her hair was straightened, and she’d thrown on a low-cut black blouse to complement her form-fitting jeans. Mrs. Hetrick looked up as she entered and greeted her with a broad smile, standing to offer her hand.
“Tori!” Mrs. Hetrick said, shaking her hand as they both took their seats. “I’m so glad you could make it today!”
“I just have a little bit of time,” Tori said, apologetically. “I have to get back to work, but Mom couldn’t come and this seemed important…”
“We’ll be having a lot of these meetings,” Mrs. Hetrick said with a nod. “Just standard progress reports; Rylee’s situation is unique after all. How does she seem at home?”
“Well,” Tori said, clearing her throat and folding her hands on her lap. “Rylee is, first and foremost, a teenager. In other words, she doesn’t talk to me about school.”
“At all?”
“She tells me what I want to hear.” Tori nodded. “I remember being a teenager, always had my own thing going on. If she has a few secrets, that’s okay.”
“But she seems okay?”
“She seems stressed,” Tori said. “More so than usual, but what teenager isn’t stressed in school? Just comes with the territory, really.”
“What about friends?”
“What about them?” Tori frowned.
“Her friend group seems to be very insular,” Mrs. Hetrick pointed out. “She’s not reaching out to new people; is that really healthy?”
“Oh, right,” Tori said, nodding and thinking hard before she answered. “Mom and I…we pre-selected her friends before we sent her to school. This is going to sound bad, but if we hadn’t, she wouldn’t have talked to anyone. She’d just be isolated, probably bullied, and it would have been horrible for her mental health. I don’t expect her to make many connections this year, other than the ones she already has.”
“How did you choose these friends, exactly?” Mrs. Hetrick frowned.
“Well, it started with the Andersons,” Tori explained.
“Right, Kelly.” Mrs. Hetrick nodded.
“During ninth grade, Kelly was being bullied and my mom advised the district on a no tolerance policy. She was instrumental in getting that implemented.”
“Oh, I think I recall that,” Mrs. Hetrick said thoughtfully. “So they owed you a favor?”
“More or less,” Tori said, shrugging. “So Kelly is helping Rylee get acclimated.”
“Well, Tori.” Mrs. Hetrick clasped her hands together, laying them atop her desk as she spoke. “There is little doubt that Kelly can help Rylee here, but what about the real world?”
“The real world?”
“Okay, I’ll be candid with you,” Mrs. Hetrick said. “Rylee looks like a girl right now. She blends in perfectly. The hair, the face, the voice, right down to her mannerisms, but how long can that last, exactly? You can probably attribute some of it to her stunted growth or malnutrition, but at some point, her body is just going to catch up. Exactly how much can those hormone pills do? The world isn’t kind to people like her, Tori. There just aren’t that many people like her; before she came here I’d never even met someone like her and now we have two of them. What happens after she graduates? Who would hire her?”
Tori opened her mouth, then closed it again as she contemplated what Mrs. Hetrick had said. Granted, her words were a bit angering, but it was nothing that she and Anette hadn’t discussed. Of course Rylee would face some serious problems; none of it was preventable, but then again, Rylee had an advantage that others didn’t.
Taking a deep breath, she allowed the silence to hang in the air between her and Mrs. Hetrick as she turned her head, and focused her attention on the road outside; the sky was blue, for once, and wind lightly rustled the leaves of the trees planted near the school’s driveway. Finally, she turned back to Mrs. Hetrick, who waited patiently for an answer.
“Rylee’s life will be hard,” Tori admitted. “As far as her physical features go…we don’t know. The hormones could do their job, or she could start to develop more male features. Right now she’s pretty androgynous, and with makeup she looks very much like any other young lady. If…she does start to slide in the wrong direction, I don’t know. Surgery is an option, but she doesn’t have insurance and even so, I don’t know if insurance would even cover it. Truth is, I have no idea about any of it, but I do know that Mom and I will be there for her every step of the way. She’ll never have to worry about being alone or dealing with life by herself. Not while I’m still breathing.”
“Then she’s lucky to have you,” Mrs. Hetrick said, an undertone of seriousness in her voice.
“We’re lucky to have each other,” Tori corrected her. “She saved me just as much as I saved her.”
The meeting ended and Tori left the office, striding through the halls of Kenton Ridge. She stopped briefly outside the trophy case in the main lobby, taking a look at an old picture of herself with her team in the Kenton Ridge colors. She’d only attended this school for her last two years; she and Rylee would have that in common. Originally, she’d been a student at Northwestern High out in the county, though sending Rylee there definitely wasn’t an option. Those kids were brutal, or at least they were when Tori had been a student. She turned away from the case and walked past the stairs, toward the entrance. Outside, she spotted her car in the distance, tucked between a Saturn and an old Ford F150.
She climbed into her car and fumbled with her keys, reveling momentarily in the stagnant heat emanating from the dash, and then, slowly, she lowered the keys and felt her body go slack as she dropped back against the seat, her eyes focused on the blue UV strip at the top of the windshield.
“Fuck,” Tori muttered to herself as the details of the meeting began to sink in. Yes, she would be there for Rylee, but holy fuck, it was going to be tough. Getting her through school would be a challenge in and of itself, but what about college? What about getting a job? Her own apartment? Would she even be able to live on her own? Mom had pulled her aside not so long ago and told her that in social work, there were boundaries. The moment you offered someone direct help, the moment you held out your own resources to them, that was the moment you dived in, and there was no coming back up. What looked like a simple problem on the surface would always prove to be an iceberg extending for thousands of miles beneath a sea of trauma. One issue would lead to another, and another, and another until you were finally too exhausted and too spent to go on.
Mom had told her she’d gotten lucky with Rylee; that Rylee’s problems were manageable compared to others she’d met in the foster care system. She wasn’t violent, she didn’t have extreme mental illness, and her propensity toward self-harm wasn’t unmanageable. Despite the learning disabilities, the autism and the whole ‘trans thing,’ Rylee was, for the most part, a normal teenage girl. But still.
Tori took a deep breath and jammed her key into the ignition; the engine roared to life and she pulled out of the parking lot, taking a left at the end of the road and heading back toward Springfield proper.
Technically, Rylee’s free period should have been spent in the cafeteria with the other students; it was normally reserved for studying. Instead, she tended to wander around to decompress from the day. Sometimes she could get Carrie Ann or one of the others to accompany her, but today she was on her own, wandering the empty halls, Trapper Keeper tucked under her casted arm as she used the other to drag her fingertips along the surface of the lockers.
The school was silent now, save for the sound of teachers instructing beyond the closed wooden doors of the classroom. She had no hall pass, but she was fairly certain that no one would stop her, even as they saw her through the plate glass windows of the classrooms.
She passed a geography classroom, then a science lab, then history. Each time, she gazed through the glass for only a moment, catching a glimpse of the students within. Boys and girls, none of whom had a thing to worry about. Of course, she thought, that might be a little presumptuous on her part, something about the whole ‘everyone is fighting a battle’ philosophy, but still. For many of them, perhaps for most of them, their only real concern was school. Parents. This year’s prom. Football. Grades. Trivialities that they could afford to lose themselves in. Their world was small; they had no idea what could happen beyond the walls of this place, and as Rylee passed them, looked at them, she desperately wished she could be like them.
Just as she was about to turn and head back to the cafeteria, she heard the unmistakable sound of dribbling from the gymnasium down the hall. The hollow ‘thud’ of a rubber ball against the wood floor, and then the ‘whoosh’ of a hoop. She took a brief pause and then turned toward the gym; slowly, she made her way toward the bank of double doors and peered in through one of the rectangular windows, pressing her hand against the surface as she leaned forward.
“Huh,” she said, leaning back and grabbing the door handle with her free hand. There was no quiet way to enter the gymnasium; the ‘click’ of the door would always resonate across the open space, and so it was this time. Richard, one of Kelly’s friends, was at the half-court line, ball in hand. He partially turned and acknowledged Rylee as she came forward, one tiny step at a time.
“Where’s your bodyguard?” he called out; as he spoke, he bent his arms and expertly tossed the ball. It sailed through the air and arched into the hoop, whirling around the inside of the rim for a second or two before dropping, whooshing through the white nylon and thudding to the floor. It bounced three times before Richard retrieved it and walked back to the half-court line.
“My what?” Rylee asked as innocently as she could.
“You’ve always got someone with you,” Richard said, bending his arms for the throw once more. “It’s kind of the thing, isn’t it?”
“Not right now.” Rylee shrugged. She looked from left to right as Richard glanced back to her, arms still bent and body still poised to throw. She smiled sheepishly and then pursed her lips. “All alone.”
Richard laughed lightly and gave the ball another toss; it bounced against the plexiglass backboard and veered to the left, toward the bleachers.
“You’re distracting me.” Richard raised an eyebrow almost accusingly; Rylee shrank back.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’ll, um…I’ll go.”
“Didn’t say you had to leave,” Richard pointed out. “Just said you were distracting me.”
“From what?” Rylee asked cautiously. “Are you…on the basketball team?”
“Nah, I don’t think I could deal with the schedule.” Richard shrugged. “I just do this to relax.”
“Is it really relaxing?” Rylee asked, perking up. “Can I try it?”
“Um…” Richard took pause, looking at her casted arm. “Isn’t your arm broken?”
“It’s been on for like four and a half weeks.” Rylee nodded at the cast. “So probably not.”
“Do you, uh…break your arm a lot?” Richard laughed; Rylee shrugged.
“I broke both of them a few times,” she explained. “The cast only stays on for like four to six weeks, but it’s probably healed by now. They just haven’t taken me to get it off.”
“Well, still.” Richard gestured toward the cast again. “It’ll be hard to throw in that.”
Rylee cocked her head, puzzling for a moment, and then came to a decision. Dropping the Trapper Keeper, she held her arm out in front of her, and then wrapped her free hand around the plaster, twisting it to the left and right as Richard looked on, his expression growing more and more horrified by the second. After a few twists, and feeling that the cast had significantly loosened, she held it out to him.
“Okay, pull.”
“Excuse me?!” He gawked at her, as she waggled the cast. “I’m not pulling your cast off!”
“Why not?” Rylee frowned. “I’ve had broken arms before, I can tell I’m healed.”
“Because it’s your cast!” Richard looked at her in horror and took a stumbling step backward and stared at her in horror. “A doctor put that on! It’s like…there for a reason!”
Rylee dropped her arm and looked down, dejected.
“I always do this,” she muttered.
“Do what?” Richard asked, still horrified, though his horror was starting to shift toward concern.
“I meet a new person and it goes okay for a little bit and then I say something weird and they think I’m a freak.”
“I don’t think you’re a freak!” Richard exclaimed. “I just…oh my god!”
Rylee sniffled and rubbed her eyes with her functioning arm, hand balled up into a fist.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a cracking voice. “I got weird, and now you feel weird, and I’m just…I should go.”
“Wait, no!” Richard interjected quickly. “Okay, look, if you think it’s safe…”
“It is.” Rylee’s eyes lit up. “I’ve had broken arms before, it’ll be fine!”
“Okay…” Richard said, apprehensively. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, though.”
“Just pull!” Rylee pushed her arm out toward a startled and wide-eyed Richard who gingerly wrapped his hands around the cast. Rylee smiled and immediately began to pull backward. On cue, Richard began to pull as well; Rylee grunted and Richard’s eyes widened as he watched the exertion grow on her face. Just as he was about to object again, the cast came loose and Rylee stumbled backward, tumbling toward the floor and sliding on her butt past the half-court line, causing her to break out into a fit of giggles.
“Oh my god!” Richard exclaimed, dropping the cast and bolting across the floor. Within seconds he was crouched down beside a giggling Rylee trying to figure out if he should help her out, comfort her, or laugh with her. “Oh my god, are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” Rylee laughed hysterically and began to rub down her arm, scratching the dry skin and pinching it to feel the sensation. “And oh my gosh, this feels amazing!”
“A-are you even sure your arm is healed?” Richard was still wide-eyed and clearly in shock at what had just transpired.
“Isn’t it too late to ask that?” Rylee laughed, holding her arm up and wiggling it in response. “It’s fine.”
“I’ve just…never seen anyone do that,” Richard dropped down, sitting beside her at the half-court line. “How did you break your arm, anyway?”
“Fell off my bike,” Rylee lied.
“Wow, that must have hurt.”
“A little.” Rylee shrugged. “Feels okay now. Can you show me how to throw the ball, or whatever?”
“I don’t think that’s a great idea, with your arm and all,” Richard said, working his way to his feet and offering Rylee a hand up. She held out her formerly casted right arm; Richard shook his head and she rolled her eyes before thrusting out her other arm. She grasped his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
“I feel fine,” she insisted. “I just want to do something different; everyone’s protecting me, and I’m glad they’re doing it, but I just want my own thing.”
“Why are they protecting you?” Richard frowned. “Is it just because you’re new?”
“What did Kelly tell you?’
“Um, she said you were nervous, because you’re new.” Richard shrugged as he walked to the edge of the court and retrieved the ball. He thought for a moment and then lightly tossed it to Rylee. She leaped to catch it; it bounced off of her fingers and she found herself stumbling. Richard rushed over, placing his hands on her upper body to stabilize her. For a moment, he looked into her eyes, his own eyes wide with embarrassment. “Uh…”
“Yeah,” Rylee said, wiggling out of his light grasp. “I’m not very coordinated.”
“Practice makes perfect.” Richard smiled.
“Yeah,” Rylee agreed, though she didn’t believe it.
They watched each other for a minute, and then, Rylee heard an ‘ahem’ over her shoulder. Richard’s eyes flicked behind her, toward the door, and Rylee quickly turned to see Beth, accompanied by six other students, all staring at her.
“Rylee,” Beth said. “A word?”
Mitchell’s was quiet, far too quiet for the lunch hour. Tori grimaced as she walked in, listening to the sounds of silence interspersed with the occasional tapping of forks against ceramic or scattered conversation throughout the dining area. It was like Marcus said – people were still on vacation, though that was expected to end in a few days. A full house at Mitchell’s, especially later in the year, was to be expected.
Despite the lack of patrons, the lunch buffet was still laid out; Tori turned left from the back hallway and emerged into the dining room, eyeing the buffet as she moved closer. She started at the end, looking over the tray of green beans, then the fried chicken, the wings, mashed potatoes, and other food items, squinting at the baked beans. She cocked her head, bending over and squinting before standing up straight and marching into the kitchen.
“Mariel!” Tori’s voice echoed across the kitchen, intermingling with the clanging of utensils and the occasional shouts from the line. “How long have the baked beans been out?”
“That’s Tyler’s job!” Mariel shouted back from her station.
Tori grabbed her white coat from the rack, shrugging into it as she sped across the kitchen.
“Tyler!” Tori marched over to the prep station and took up an authoritative position near the newest hire. “How long ago did you put the baked beans out?”
“Uh…a few hours, when I got here,” he said nervously, looking up from his station.
“And what’s the rotation time?”
“Three hours!” Tyler shouted back, his statement nearly an objection.
“Did you stir them?” Tori demanded.
“What?” Tyler shouted over the noise.
“Did. You. Stir. Them?!” Tori shouted, moving her face closer to his. “Get out there and swap them out! You know your job!”
“Yes, Chef!” Tyler dropped his knife on the steel work bench and took off running across the kitchen, slipping on the tile floor and nearly sliding into another prep cook. Tori rolled her eyes and headed toward the back of the kitchen, throwing open the freezer and stepping in. She took a brief moment to acclimate to the drastic change in temperature as frigid air enveloped her, then, almost immediately began taking inventory. She moved from shelf to shelf, doing a visual inspection, and then paused when she heard what sounded like a whimper from the other end of the walk-in.
“Hello?” Tori raised an eyebrow as she stepped past the end of the shelf and peered down the back wall. Nothing. “Anyone in here?”
Overhead, dim lights burned in wire cages and wisps of cold air danced in front of her as she took another step, standing adjacent to the frozen produce shelf. Tori exhaled, watching her breath take form in front of her; taking careful note of the cold seeping into her jacket. Another step forward into the dimly lit freezer, and finally, to the end of the wall where she took a right turn and peered down, toward the end.
“Marcus?” Tori frowned, looking down the aisle. He was hunched against the back wall, head resting on one of the wire shelves. He wasn’t wearing a coat, but he didn’t seem to be shivering. Tori walked down the aisle and crouched down in front of him. “Marcus, what gives?”
“Go away,” Marcus said quietly, his voice cracking.
“What happened?”
“I said go away!” he said a little louder, banging his head deliberately against the shelf.
“Woah, no, Marcus.” Tori scooted forward and laid her hands on his shoulder; he looked up at her with puffy eyes, though the tears had long stopped. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
“He hates me. They all hate me!” Marcus said loudly before looking down again. “He yelled at me again.”
“Who did? Chef Quinn?”
“Yes!” Marcus spat. “I’m never good enough for him! He yelled at me because I burned a steak!”
“Which steak?”
“Uh…one of the filets,” Marcus recalled, pursing his lips and looking away from Tori again. “All he cares about is his stupid restaurant!”
“Marcus--” Tori began, but as she spoke, Marcus flailed, swinging hard and knocking several plastic containers from the shelf. They clattered against the floor, spilling their contents. He screamed and swung again, but Tori caught his wrist, immediately feeling the trembling of his body as it transmuted his rage into physical form. Even in the darkness of the freezer, she could see the mixture of rage and hurt on his face. “Marcus! Fucking control yourself! What’s going on?!”
“I told you what’s going on!” Marcus shrieked. “He wants me to be like him! Well, I’m not like him! I’m a shitty cook, I’m stupid, I’m not even going to college!”
“Hey!” Tori snapped, giving Marcus a shake. “You are not stupid, and you’re not a bad cook either! Listen to me! Marcus, look at me! He doesn’t know shit! Okay? I’ve worked here for three years; your dad is a moron! He can crunch numbers, he can probably make a grilled cheese, but he fucks up on day to day operations here, so don’t you dare try to live up to his idiocy! You understand me?”
They sat there in silence for a moment, both grateful for the ambient hum of the freezer and the heavily insulated walls. Their words wouldn’t carry beyond the threshold; all anyone would hear was raised voices, and employees coming into the freezer to scream was just a matter of course.
Marcus breathed heavily, finally, looking up at Tori, who stared at him intently.
“You’re not going to kiss me again, are you?”
“No, Marcus.” Tori shook her head. “That’s never happening again. What is happening is that food truck. Pretty soon, you won’t have to be here. Just hold yourself together, okay?”
“I still have to live with him!” Marcus nearly shouted. “I still have -- I still…I…”
He finally stopped speaking, as if he’d run out of energy, but his words devolved into all-too-familiar sobs. Like she’d done with Rylee so many times before, she gathered Marcus in her arms and held his head against her chest as his body convulsed and he choked on his intermittent sobs.
“It’s okay, Marcus,” Tori said. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Why do you care?” Marcus said suddenly, pulling back as Tori kept a firm grip on him. “You kept trying to get rid of me, back when you first got Rylee, and you always treat me like--”
“Marcus? Shut up.” Tori rolled her eyes and pulled him close again. “Shit happens, it doesn’t mean we can’t care about each other.”
She continued to hold him in the darkness of the freezer, his sobs lost to the frigid air as Tori contemplated what to do next.
“So what are we doing here, exactly?” Amber sipped her coffee and looked around the crowded cafe. She was dressed in a black peacoat, tied at the waist, and yet, somehow, wasn’t even sweating. Ariel had traded her skirt for a pair of jeans and a form-fitting blue t-shirt. “We’re a long way from our usual coffee spot.”
“So you know that guy from The Haven,” Ariel said. “The one I’ve been trying to help?”
“Chris?”
“Yeah,” Ariel nodded. “So, he was taken into custody and put on psych hold a few days ago. Well, when I went out for lunch today, there was a message from him on my voicemail; I guess he got out early.”
“Is that even possible?” Amber frowned. “Don’t they like, lock you up?”
“You usually just go to the psych ER and they evaluate you so…either he’s a really good actor, or not crazy,” Ariel explained. “He didn’t leave a number, but I do have his last known address.”
“Um…and where is that?” Amber took another sip and looked to Ariel with concern.
“His dad’s house, I think,” Ariel shrugged. Amber raised an eyebrow.
“You crazy, girl?” Amber asked, concerned. “You know what your dad was like with Rylee.”
“You can’t really assume everyone’s dad is batshit crazy,” Ariel argued. “Besides, I have you with me.”
“Why the hell does this mean so much to you?” Amber asked with an exasperated sigh.
Ariel looked down into her cup of coffee, her thoughts lost within the swirl of brown liquid for a moment before turning her head to look outward, into the cafe. There was nothing terribly intimate about this place, not at all like the tiny shops they visited in Ypsilanti. The menu was printed on a four-pane light box above a long laminate countertop spanning the front of the shop. Baristas worked busily and haphazardly behind the register, at the vats, and behind rows of flavor bottles as customers shouted out their orders. The entirety of the scene unfolded beneath rows of fluorescent lights, complemented by bright surfaces designed to visually expand the space. There was nothing cozy about this place, and Ariel began to feel disgusted.
“Ariel? Hellooooooo.” Amber waved her hand in front of her friend’s distracted face. “Why are we doing this? Can’t he figure his own shit out?”
“He came to me for help,” Ariel said, finally. “I should have been able to--”
“Ariel! He came to The Haven for help! Not to you, not specifically!”
“I still feel responsible.” Ariel shook her head. “I can’t help anyone! I keep trying and…he…you know, Chris is just like Rylee. Just like her.”
“Oh sweet Jesus.” Amber rolled her eyes. “Okay first of all, you can’t save every trans girl, and secondly, shouldn’t you be calling Chris ‘she’ at this point?”
“I…yeah, probably.” Ariel nodded. “I haven’t dealt with a lot of trans girls, not since Rylee.”
“On the subject of Rylee,” Amber said, “she’s waiting for you, in Ohio. She needs your help, and if you’re going to bring her back here then you need to not do crazy shit. You have a family to take care of, Ariel.”
“Yeah,” Ariel agreed. “I do, but before I go, I just need to do this one last thing, to take my mind off of….ugh. Amber, I’m worried about this whole ‘Tori’ situation.”
“Oh?” Amber raised an eyebrow. “What’s bothering you about it?”
“That woman, Tori’s mom, you know Rylee calls her ‘Mom’, right? That Anette person? And she calls Tori her big sister. That’s like…super creepy.”
“Well...” Amber took another sip and then looked longingly down into her nearly-empty cup. “She thought she was never going to see you again, so she got a new family. It could have been worse, you know?”
“It’s…crazy.” Ariel’s eyes widened as she thought about it. “Who just…snatches someone up and says ‘Okay, you’re my sister now’ and then tells them they can’t leave? They’re literally keeping her there, she doesn’t have a choice! I have to get her away from them.”
“And…you’re going to.” Amber was clearly unbothered, a disposition that was quickly fueling Ariel’s rage. “But, for right now, she’s safe, right?”
“Yeah…she is, I think.” Ariel nodded. “I just worry.”
“Focus on getting down there, then focus on getting us a bigger place so she can have her own room. It’s what you guys always wanted.” Amber reached across the table and grasped Ariel’s hands, looking into her eyes. “A week ago, it was impossible, you didn’t know where she was, but look, Ariel, look at what’s going on! She’s alive, she’s healthy, she’s herself! That’s more than you ever dreamed of!”
“I know, I know,” Ariel conceded. “It’s just…ugh…I don’t know. She shouldn’t be with them.”
“Okay, you know what?” Amber gathered her purse and stood up from her chair. “You do need something to take your mind off of this. Come on, let’s go see this girl’s dad.”
Ariel settled the bill, and then the two of them headed out to her blue Charger, right in front of the meter that was just about to expire. They drove in silence through the city of Ann Arbor, down Zina Pitcher and taking a right turn on Observatory. A mile later, they took another right, pulling into a residential area.
“Which house is it?” Amber asked, craning her neck to see the passing addresses.
“Uh, this green one, up here.” Ariel pointed. “I think. Yeah, that’s the right address, let’s see if anyone’s home.
“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Amber reminded her. “People work.”
“Yeah, well…” Ariel trailed off as she pulled the car parallel to the sidewalk, next to a black mailbox with white numbers on the side. After sitting for a moment, Ariel removed her seatbelt and stepped out into the summer air, joining Amber in walking up the driveway. The house before them was green with wooden siding, two stories with a front porch that spanned all the way to the attached garage. Ariel couldn’t help but glance upward as they passed beneath an iron lamppost that was a full two heads taller than they were.
“This house smells like money,” Amber commented.
“Smells like shit,” Ariel muttered.
“That’s the next yard over, I think.”
They climbed up a set of three steps, landing on a porch comprised of painted wooden slats, and enclosed by a white waist-high latticework fence. Ariel looked around, considering the stereotypical nature of the home’s design, and then turned her attention to the door. Both she and Ariel glanced at the buzzer, then at each other. Ariel, being closest to it, pressed down on the backlit button, listening to it buzz just inside the door.
“Why do you think some people use buzzers?” Ariel mused as they waited. Amber looked at her incredulously.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well like, some people have doorbells, some people have buzzers. Why do you think that is? Do doorbells cost more? Like, are you paying for having a little tune? Which one do you like better?”
“Ariel!” Amber hissed. “Not the time!”
Ariel started to answer, but was interrupted by the sound of the deadbolt sliding and the door opening. Behind the storm door stood a man that was a head taller than her, black haired with a hint of gray, though not necessarily muscular. His face was leathery; someone who’d probably spent most of his life outdoors, and his blue eyes glared through the screen as Ariel tried to decide what to say.
“You see the sign?” the man demanded. Ariel frowned; the man pointed to a sign next to the door that said ‘No Soliciting’ in golden, raised letters.
“Oh, no,” Ariel shook her head. “We’re not selling anything, we--”
“Then what do you want?” the man demanded.
“You, uh…are you Mr. Palmer? Chris…Palmer’s father?” Ariel watched the man’s face through the screen, scanning it for any sign of recognition as she said the name, but his expression remained stoic.
“Are you one of his queer friends?” the man demanded, confirming his identity and his relationship to Chris within the same breath.
“I’m from an organization called The Haven,” Ariel explained as calmly as she could. “We’re a subsidiary of--”
“Yeah, that queer place,” the man snapped. “Look, I did my best and raised a good, Christian boy. A straight boy. Then people like you come along, put all kinds of ideas in his head--”
“Hey!” Amber stepped forward, rage flickering in her eyes. “We didn’t put any ideas in his head! You taught him to hate himself, so why don’t you tell me who’s putting ideas in his head?!”
“Amber!” Ariel hissed, then turned to Mr. Palmer. “Sorry, Mr. Palmer, she gets a little…passionate sometimes.”
“You fags are all the same,” Mr. Palmer said, disgust permeating his tone. “You want to find Chris? Look under bridges, or in abandoned buildings. Maybe inside a refrigerator box. You won’t find him here; he’s not my son anymore.”
Fiona ran her fingers along the surface of the glass table, one of the many things that Tori had left when she moved. The guest room had been emptied, as had her bedroom and much of the kitchen, but she’d had no need for a dining room table, and it was the same story with the couch. Fiona couldn’t help but smile to herself as she looked toward the empty chair opposite the table where she’d once questioned a terrified Rylee, the day after she’d broken into Tori’s house. She remembered the conversation vividly and allowed it to play back in her head.
“So what’s this?” Fiona had held up the pill bottle that Tori had dug out of Rylee’s backpack. It was an unremarkable bottle with the word ‘Premarin’ on it. She’d rattled it around, causing the remaining capsules to shake inside.
“It’s…birth control,” Rylee had said. “Can’t be too careful.”
Fiona, of course had know that Premarin was not only not used for birth control, but that there was only one reason someone as young as Rylee would be taking it.
“I know a bit about prescriptions. I know a lot about this one, but you know what I’m about to say, don’t you?”
Rylee had been tiny, thin, basically emaciated. Her long, stringy hair hung in clumps about her shoulders and the left side of her face had been obscured by a bruise, black and blue. The physical features had been one thing; what Fiona couldn’t forget was the fear in Rylee’s eyes as she sat across the table from her. It wasn’t just the fear of being caught robbing someone’s house, it was a fear of her own shadow, a terror that ran deep and could only have been the result of a severe trauma that no one her age deserved to experience. Fiona had held it together. Barely.
“It’s all fixed,” Max said as he stepped out from the back hallway, a gray toolbox clutched in his right hand, which he deposited onto the kitchen counter with a thud. Fiona glanced at it and stepped around the table; as she watched him, the air conditioner roared to life.
“What was wrong?” Fiona asked quietly.
“Coils were frozen,” Max explained. “I used a heat gun to thaw them out, chipped away at what was left, and bam, air conditioning.”
“Nice,” Fiona nodded.
“Yeah,” Max agreed. “I don’t know how they froze like that.”
“Well, we know how Tori is about home maintenance.” Fiona shrugged. Max chuckled.
“Boy, do I ever. So what’s the deal with the girl?”
Fiona did a half turn as she stepped backward to lean against the counter, studying Max for a moment to decide if she really wanted to give him that tidbit of information. Max was Tori’s ex-husband; while Anette had insisted that the pair had never been happy, Fiona had witnessed a different story entirely.
Max was a year or two older than Tori; he was conventionally handsome though not muscular. In fact he could have been described as average, though Tori always balked at that description. Their relationship had been a good one. Tori had a light in her eyes and a happiness that couldn’t be matched. Their relationship had begun to rot from the inside the day their child, Riley passed. Crib death, or Sudden Infant Death they called it. There was no reason for it, no one to blame other than nature itself, and with the dissolution of their marriage, Tori’s happiness, too, had dissolved. Fiona had all but given up hope, except…
“She wandered in here,” Fiona said suddenly. Max raised an eyebrow.
“Wandered in here? As in here?”
“This house, yeah,” Fiona nodded. “Tori caught her raiding the pantry, wearing her clothes, heh. Instead of calling the police she took her in, treated her like her own sister.”
Max snorted. “She would, wouldn’t she?”
Fiona raised an eyebrow and then cocked her head, looking to Max with curiosity. “I didn’t think you paid that close of attention to her.”
“You know, Fiona,” Max said, leaning against the wall. “I’m not heartless. I did love her. In some ways I still do. I took vows, Fiona; you were there, at the wedding.”
“If you took those vows so seriously, then why did you abandon her?” Fiona’s words were soft, even, without a hint of anger. The anger had left her years ago, now she just had questions. “She got the divorce papers in her hospital room.”
“You know what’s interesting about all this, Fiona?” Max offered a half-hearted, highly insincere smile. “No one ever asks how I felt in all of this. Do you think I wanted to have her committed? Do you think I wanted to send the divorce papers? Ever been in love, Fiona?”
“You gonna get all sappy on me? Not a good look, Max.” Fiona’s patience was beginning to wear thin, but Max continued.
“People like to feed you bullshit about it being a chemical reaction, or magic, or whatever, but it’s none of that. When you fall in love with another person, they open themselves up to you. They give you access to a part of themselves that they don’t show anyone else. That part? It’s all for you, and just for you. It makes you feel amazing, and you can find yourself inside that person; you’ll learn things about yourself that you never thought possible. When that person falls out of love with you, you lose that. They’re still there, they look the same, they sound the same, they usually dress the same, but it’s nowhere near the person that you knew. That part of themselves? It’s closed to you, and it’ll never open back up again. When Riley died, I watched her slip away, bit by bit and there was nothing I could do. I stayed with her until I didn’t recognize the person I loved. Fiona, there’s no sense holding onto a sinking raft. At some point, you’ve gotta swim to shore.”
“Huh.” Fiona pondered over Max’s words for a moment. “That’s really deep, Max.”
“She’s not the only one who lost someone,” Max reminded her. “At least Tori has you, her mom, and that new girl she picked up. Who do I have?”
Fiona pondered Max’s words, trying her best to process them. Of course Max had lost, but he’d never really expressed it. He’d always maintained a pretty good emotionless front throughout the ordeal. Of course, serving Tori her divorce papers while she was locked in psych was probably a bit tactless, but he, of course, had his own issues to work through.
“Alright, Max, I get it.” Fiona nodded. “Tori is my best friend, always has been, and I’m sorry, but her feelings take precedence over yours. But I get it. If you need to talk, I’ll be here.”
“Thanks.” Max nodded. “I don’t want to put you in that position, but Tori won’t talk to me, and who the hell else is going to get it?”
“You tried therapy, Max?”
“Do you think it would help?” Max raised an eyebrow.
“It helps Rylee. New Rylee, I mean. She was pretty messed up when she got here. She’s still messed up. Maybe a little less so.”
“That bad, huh?” Max shook his head. “What happened to that girl?”
“Trusted the wrong people,” Fiona said sadly. “And was betrayed by people she was forced to trust. I’m hard on her, but I love her just like they do. I hope she pulls through.”
“Well,” Max said, lifting the toolbox and taking a half-step backward, toward the door. “She sounds like a special girl.”
“She is,” Fiona said. “I think she was what we all needed. I hope you find what you need.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“Absolutely not,” Rylee said to Beth, who stood there in the chess club room with her arms crossed. “I can’t play with you guys.”
“Why not?” the short kid named Nathan asked, his voice high-pitched, almost whiney. “You figured out her dumb puzzle!”
“That puzzle was not dumb,” Beth snapped, turning her head and looking down to glare at Nathan. “I got it out of a book.”
“Well, it was a dumb book!” Nathan huffed and collapsed heavily onto a nearby chair.
“You’re a dumb book.” Beth rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out.
“It’s not a dumb book.” Rosie spoke up from across the room; Rylee’s eyes widened as she recognized the girl from her special ed class. Rosie was seated on a stool next to one of the long tables, a chessboard, fully set up on the table beside her. “It’s just a bunch of chess problems written by an anti-Semite that aren’t even that hard today. That’s why the t-girl figured it out.”
“What’s a t-girl?” another boy, Ron, asked. The color drained from Rylee’s face and she was forced to grab onto a nearby table to keep her balance. Rosie rolled her eyes.
“Nothing,” Rosie sighed, keeping eye contact with Rylee, who looked at her in horror. Rosie brought a hand up to her own throat, giving it a tap. Rylee’s eyes went even wider when she realized that Rosie was indicating her Adam’s apple. Jesus, was it that noticeable?
“Look,” Rylee said. “My mom doesn’t let me do extracurriculars, but I guess I can show you some things.”
That was probably a lie; she had no idea if Tori or Anette would allow it.
“Okay,” Beth said. “So show us some things.”
Rylee looked at Beth, then turned to look at the rest of the room. The old science lab was in poor shape and looked like it had just been dumped out of a 1950’s photograph. Wooden cabinets filled with defunct scales and other scientific equipment, black-topped tables, a pile of cardboard boxes at the front of the room, all of this under the watchful gaze of two rows of bright fluorescent lights affixed to the tile ceiling.
“This room isn’t really great for a chess club,” Rylee remarked. Beth shot her an exasperated look.
“What uh…do you suggest we do? Every room in the school looks like this. Do you want us to go to Lowes and do a remodel?”
“Might be a start?” Rylee said to Beth. “Okay um…like, what are you doing? Just playing for fun?”
“We want to play against another school!” Nathan piped up.
“What, you mean like a tournament?” Rylee raised an eyebrow, looking around the room at the assembly of misfit students.
“Yeah, they want to play in a tournament.” Rosie rolled her eyes. “They couldn’t figure out the stupid puzzle, but they want to play in a tournament.”
“Okay, you know what?” Rylee turned toward Rosie, glaring. “Why don’t you teach them?”
“Me?” Rosie laughed and rolled her eyes.
“She’s not in the club,” Beth explained. “She just thinks we’re funny.”
“Yeah, well, what’s funny about us?” Ron demanded.
“Uh…let’s see,” Rosie put a finger to her chin in a mock ‘thinking’ pose before using the same hand to point to each member of the club respectively. “Daddy issues, wets the bed, you two think you’re dating but don’t know what that means, you’re still freaked out over that time you stole a dry erase marker from--”
“I don’t wet the bed!” Ron shrieked, his cheeks burning.
“You smell like pee.” Rosie made a show of scrunching up her nose. “You always smell like pee.”
“He doesn’t smell like pee.” Beth frowned.
“You’re nose-blind.” Rosie shrugged. “Rylee, does he smell like pee?”
“Um…” Rylee fidgeted a little before answering. “I can’t smell.”
“Really?” Rosie raised an eyebrow.
“Uh…when I was like ten I got hit by a car,” Rylee explained. “I was never able to smell after that.”
“Could you smell before that?” Rosie asked.
“What? I don’t remember,” Rylee frowned. “Who remembers stuff from when they were nine?”
“I do!” Angela raised her hand. “I had a My Little Pony Themed birthday party when I was seven!”
“No one cares,” Rosie snorted. “But see? People do remember.”
“How did you get hit by a car, exactly?” Beth looked at Rylee. The room fell silent, and Rylee nearly went numb as all eyes came to rest on her.
“I was…riding my bike,” Rylee explained. “I heard a car coming and tried to switch lanes, but I guess you’re not supposed to do that on a bike, so the car just hit me and I flew off.”
“Sheesh,” Beth said, giving a low whistle. “And you’re still alive after that.”
“I’ve had worse,” Rylee shrugged. “There’s nothing easier than falling off a bike.”
“Um, okay, so chess,” Beth said, bringing them back to the original topic. “Why don’t you want to play with us?”
Rylee stood in the midst of the group, partially feeling bad, but also partially wanting to give them the real answer. What real answer, though? There were so many; she could say that she had far too much on her mind to worry about competitive chess, or maybe she could tell them that chess tournaments inevitably drew television cameras and she had good reason to avoid being seen on nationwide television. Or she could take the third option and make herself look like a snob.
“I…just don’t play a lot anymore,” Rylee shrugged. “I guess I’m all played out.”
“All played out?” Beth laughed lightly. “You’re like what, sixteen, seventeen? You’re standing there like ‘I’ve seen some stuff man, I’ve seen some stuff.’”
“Okay, look, I can show you guys some stuff,” Rylee offered. “I just…don’t want to join, okay?”
“Jeez, fine,” Beth snorted. “Why don’t you explain the puzzle to them?”
“Oh my god.” Rylee rolled her eyes and walked over to one of the boards; the members of the club gathered around. “Okay. So, the first thing you need to know is that this puzzle is from a really old book called Bobby Fischer Teaches Chess, and it’s more about learning how to think in chess terms. So to start, let me explain the queen sacrifice.”
Night had fallen, the air was chilled and Ariel had grabbed a fleece hoodie from the car before heading out into the darkness with Amber. The blue Dodge Charger had been parked on Observatory Street and they’d made their way through the Michigan University campus, toward State Street. They walked in silence beneath towering educational buildings, some more than half a century old, through the tunnel of the alumni structure and past an ominous statue. At night, the campus was surreal, a labyrinth of concrete pathways interspersed amidst a sea of grass, all occasionally augmented with a round concrete bulletin board papered with student events, sales, clubs, and jobs.
The path they walked on now was lined with evenly spaced lamps atop wrought iron posts, emanating deep yellow pools of light across the concrete until they finally passed onto a larger, open area flanked on all four sides by darkened buildings. In the center, there was an arrangement of short hedges, all casting long shadows even in the darkness.
“This is a bad idea,” Amber said for at least the tenth time as they passed beneath the shadows of century-old buildings and made their way toward the pathway between two of them, toward State Street. “You’re not going to find her.”
“Gotta try,” Ariel said quickly. “He’s like Rylee.”
“She,” Amber reminded her.
“She,” Ariel agreed.
“What are you even going to do if you find her?” Amber asked her, a serious expression on her face. “The Haven doesn’t have anything for her.”
“The Haven thinks she’s a gay man,” Ariel reminded her. “We get her to keep up that front for a while, they’ll place her somewhere, get her a job.”
“They already tried that,” Amber reminded her as they passed through the two campus buildings and onto State Street. “She got into a fight, they kicked her out. It’s going to be the same everywhere.”
“Yeah, only because you can’t put a trans girl in a room full of men, it never works, even if she looks like a dude,” Ariel argued.
“And how’s it going to be different now?”
“I don’t know,” Ariel admitted. “Come on.”
They headed down State Street, which was a bustling center of social activity at this time of evening. The streets were lined with shops, and consequently lined with droves of people of all ages. Ariel and Amber drifted through a sea of night life, as conversations and ambient noises flowed through the streets like waves on a turbulent sea. Pushing through with her elbows and the occasional cry of ‘excuse me,’ Ariel moved forward to the arcade.
“Let’s try there!” Ariel shouted to Amber, taking her by the arm and crossing the street toward the pillared archway of the Nickels Arcade. The arcade was a narrow passage comprised of a brick pathway and shops on either side, all with plate glass window displays and old-fashioned signs extending over the passage. Up above, a steel-framed glass ceiling lined with globe lights that canceled out the night sky looming just above the glass plates.
The arcade was largely abandoned at this time of night; the shop windows were dark save for a few that had left their window lights on for display.
“What are we looking for, exactly?” Amber asked as they walked in near silence beneath the globe lights; she turned to examine her reflection in the window of the University Flower Shop.
“Remember that guy we talked to back on Observatory?”
“Yeah, the scruffy guy in the army coat,” Amber shrugged. She recalled perhaps an hour ago they’d been approached by a scruffy, bearded man in a thin, ratty army coat. He’d asked for money, Ariel had demanded information; an even exchange.
“He said he saw Chris over this way,” Ariel said matter-of-factly.
“He did not say Chris,” Amber reminded her. “You asked him to point you toward the lanky white guy who looked like he had a silver spoon up his ass. That could be anyone.”
“Yeah, but…” Ariel quickened her pace, moving toward the pillars at the end of the arcade. Just before she could exit the walkway, Amber grabbed her arm, pulling her to a halt just beneath the archway. “What?”
“What’s the real reason you’re doing this?” Amber demanded. “I get that you started working for The Haven because you felt guilty over abandoning Rylee – which you didn’t, by the way– but Rylee has been found. Rylee is safe, and she is waiting for you. Don’t do dumb shit. Go to your sister, bring her back here. That’s the mission right now.”
“I don’t abandon people anymore,” Ariel said, yanking her arm out of Amber’s grasp and stepping away. “Chris came to me for help.”
“Oh, you don’t abandon people anymore.” Amber’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head. “You’re twenty years old and you’re acting like you’ve made made a career of it. It was Rylee, just Rylee, and you didn’t abandon her, you were being beaten within an inch of your life! And she’s fine, Ariel; she made it. You can stop beating yourself up over it!”
“Come on,” Ariel said, ignoring the confrontation and heading toward the Maynard Parking Structure suspended across the street and connecting buildings on both sides. They passed beneath it and Ariel pointed to an alleyway to their right. Amber looked down the alley, then shot Ariel an apprehensive look. This street was a stark constant to State Street, which they had just left by way of Nickels arcade. There was a chain link fence blocking off the left side of the street, and the cracked sidewalk played host to numerous oil stains, garbage, and weeds that jutted up through the cracks. The air here smelled of smoke and gasoline, and the sounds of the bustling city had faded; they were truly alone.
The pair walked silently into the mouth of the alley, painted green bricks on both sides displaying bold acts of graffiti. More than once, Ariel had to dodge a pothole on their way toward a ninety degree bend. As they passed out of the shadow of the Maynard Street parking structure, they were greeted by white moonlight reflecting in the puddles ahead and illuminating the walls around them. They passed a pair of dumpsters and took the hard left into an expansive back alley flanked on either side by trash bins, waist-high fences, and even wooden steps that led up to an aging trash compactor.
As they walked forward, they were immersed in a completely new environment accented heavily by white steam erupting from grates around them, giving way to an eerie atmosphere that unnerved them both.
“What the hell is this?” Amber whispered as they moved through the steam, past rickety fire escapes and corrugated metal buildings.
“It’s the back of State Street,” Ariel explained. “See all these doors? They go to the back of the shops.”
“Jesus Christ,” Amber muttered. “It’s like a parallel universe!”
“You and Rylee are going to get along so well,” Ariel shot her a side-eye. “All that geek shit.”
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a low whistle that nearly made Ariel’s soul vacate her body. They both spun to their left, hearts pounding as a man stepped quietly from the shadows, looking them both over from head to toe.
“Well, well, well, what do we got here?” the man asked in a voice that felt optimistic and complimentary, but one that masked dark intent. “What’s two young ladies like yourselves doing out here in this dark ole’ alley?”
“Keep moving,” Amber whispered to Ariel, taking her by the arm again and quickening their pace. The man followed them, his features cloaked by the night; a specter in the shadows.
“Hey! Young lady!” the man called after them. “Why you runnin’? I’m just looking out for your welfare, ya know? Couple young ladies out here in the dark at this hour! Why don’t you stop and let me take you somewhere safe?”
“Ariel?” Amber said sharply.
“Keep going forward,” Ariel whispered. “This’ll spit us out onto East Liberty, we take a right and we’re back on State Street.”
“Okay, okay,” Amber said, tightening her grip on Ariel’s arm. They passed the trash compactor; East Liberty was in sight, the street lights beckoned them as they increased their stride, doing everything but an all-out-run toward the traffic.
“Hey now, you don’t have to run!” the man’s voice was getting closer, Ariel cringed. “Why you bein’ all rude? You could at least answer me!”
“Fuck it, run!” Amber shouted, but before they could, Ariel felt a hand on her arm; she was jerked backward and pulled straight into the man’s arms. She screamed, struggling to pull herself free as Amber rushed the man, pepper spray in hand. Her shot missed, and the man hurled Ariel toward a metal staircase; she smashed into the railing, screaming out and falling onto the blacktop. He lunged forward, knocking the pepper spray out of Amber's hand; it clattered against the ground.
“Now that’s really rude.” The man sounded genuinely offended. “Attackin’ me while I’m just tryin’ to make sure you’re safe! Oh, you’ll pay for that! You’ll pay for that real good.”
“Ariel!” Amber shouted, trying to wrest herself from the man’s grip; he shoved her up against the wall on the opposite side of the alley as Ariel struggled to regain her feet. “Ariel, run! Get help!”
Ariel worked her way to her feet, swaying and stumbling as she held onto the stair rail. Through blurred vision she saw Amber on the other side of the alley, pinned to the wall by the man and revealed only by the moonlight. She took a staggered step toward them, her hand leaving the rail as she made her way forward. Her purse, where was her purse? Her pepper spray was in there, she could…
Her vision blurred again and her stomach lurched as she moved forward, one labored step and one ragged breath at a time. She could taste blood on the insides of her cheeks.
In that moment everything came together. Everything Amber had been saying. It wasn’t her problem, she’d made it her problem. Her number one priority should have been getting to Rylee. She should have listened, she shouldn’t have made Chris’s problems her problems. Now it was too late. Tears streamed from her eyes and she let out a cry as she took another step forward with no idea what she was going to do when she reached them. Fortunately, she didn’t have to.
Chris came into view, a blur in the night as he rushed forward, toward Amber. The man screamed, releasing her as Chris struck again. He crumpled to the ground; Chris grabbed Amber, pulling her back toward Ariel.
“Come on, run!” Chris said frantically. Ariel staggered forward, embracing Amber in a quick hug, but pulling away at Chris’s insistence; she gasped when she saw the bloodied blade in his hand.
“Oh my god, did you kill him?!” Ariel shrieked, not sure if she should be grateful, shocked, or angry.
“Here!” Chris picked up Ariel’s purse and shoved it into her arms. “Come on, we have to go before he gets up!”
“Okay, okay, hold your horses.” Amber scanned the area for a moment, then ran a few feet to the left, picking up the pepper spray cannister. “Let’s go!”
“What the hell?!” Ariel demanded as they quickly made their way toward the end of the alley.
“This is what happens when you get involved, Ariel!” Amber snapped. “Come on, hurry! Fuck, he’s getting up!”
“Imma kill all of y’all!” the man screamed after them as they shot from the alley and onto East Liberty. “Imma cut your guts out and feed em’ to ya!”
They burst from the alley and moved quickly toward State Street with Ariel trudging along at a limping pace.
Amber was right. Only one thing mattered now.
Rylee.
“So what’s eating you?” Anette asked Tori from the other side of the table. Tori looked up at her, eyes heavy and body racked with exhaustion after the events of the day.
“Are we having dinner?” Tori asked quietly, ignoring Anette’s question.
“Pot roast,” Anette said simply. “What’s eating you?”
Tori ignored her mother for a moment, wrapping her hands around her tea mug and bringing it to her lips. The herbal remedy, great as it was, was no saving grace from Anette’s piercing stare from the other side of the oak table. She looked up over the rim of the mug; her mother was still staring, and she was still expecting some sort of answer. Tori leaned back in her chair for a moment, taking a deep breath in through her nose and then setting the mug down on the table with a light thud.
“Why does something have to be eating me?” Tori asked casually as she glanced around the dining room, then back to her mother.
“I’m your mother,” Anette explained for some reason. “I know what you look like when you’re worried.”
“What, uh…isn’t there to be worried about?” Tori pursed her lips and widened her eyes for a moment, deep in thought for a split second, and then snapped her attention back to the table. “We adopted a trans girl. I’m bound to be worried about something twenty-four seven.”
“Autistic trans girl with a history of severe PTSD,” Anette reminded her. “And you’re the one that spearheaded that effort. I told you to call social services.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Tori rolled her eyes. “You were onboard from the moment you saw her.”
“Doesn’t mean either of us were right.”
“Mrs. Hetrick, the counselor at her school,” Tori quickly redirected the subject. “She’s worried about what Rylee’s going to do after high school. Does she get a job? Can she get a job? Is she going to be dependent on us for the rest of her life?”
“No, probably not,” Anette shrugged. “The world will eventually be kinder to people like her, so just keep pushing her to better herself. She’ll get there.”
“And what if it isn’t kinder?” Tori argued. “What if…she’s never able to take care of herself?”
“Tori, it’s what you signed up for,” Anette reminded her. “You don’t get to write her off just because it gets hard. She’ll be fine, though. She’s at school learning social skills, you’re helping her at home, she has more support now than she’s ever had in her life. I’m not worried.”
“Well,” Tori said, picking up the mug again. “I’m glad you can be that optimistic about it. I worry about her.”
“Don’t you have other things to worry about?” Anette took a sip of her own tea and gave her daughter a prodding look. “How’s the food truck going?”
“Christ,” Tori said, exhaling and gripping her mug hard. “I have the business plan ready. There are three locations that’ll let me sit in their parking lot, all high traffic, so long as I give them a cut, obviously. More to it than that, but once I get approval for the loan, we have to get the equipment installed. It’ll work, it's just a lot of work getting it off the ground.”
“Bit off more than you could chew?” Anette suggested. Tori shook her head.
“I have a good feeling about it. I’m more worried about Marcus. Chef Quinn is kind of treating him like shit.” Tori chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment and then continued. “Verbal abuse is par for the course in the kitchen, but he’s getting it at home too. Kid’s at his breaking point.”
“What are you going to do?”
“The food truck will be ready in a few weeks, I think, so that gets him out of Mitchell’s. That’s only part of the equation, because he still has his home life to deal with, but unlike Rylee, he happens to be an adult. He can take care of his own shit and it’s nowhere near as bad as what Rylee dealt with.”
“So you’re filing that under ‘not my problem.’.” Anette nodded.
“To an extent,” Tori confirmed. “I’ll get him out of Mitchell’s. That’s all I can do; I’ve got my hands full.”
“Fair enough.” Anette nodded. “You do what you can do, and you’re right, Rylee is a full- time job.”
“Full- time sister,” Tori reminded her. She sipped her tea and looked to the center of the table, noticing a green cylindrical object. “What is that?”
“Rylee’s cast,” Anette said, shrugging.
Tori sat there for a moment, trying to comprehend what her mother had just said. The object was light- green, definitely a cylinder, and she slowly but surely began to recognize the writing scrawled across its surface. Tori had signed it, so had Wendy, Addy, and Fiona. Everyone but Mom. She cocked her head, processing, and then, finally slammed both palms on the table, pushing herself out of her chair as Anette chuckled.
“Rylee Blackburn! You get your ass out here right now!”
Reality came crashing down as Ariel’s eyes flew open and the embrace of a turbulent dream was violently replaced by her tiny bedroom. She inhaled heavily, barely resisting the urge to shoot upright in bed. Instead, she concentrated on her breathing, making sure to calm herself as she took visual inventory of the room.
There wasn’t a lot to it; it was a small space with just enough room for a bed and a bit of walking space by the door. A writing desk had been shoved between the end of the bed and the wall; her laptop lay closed on top of it. Moonlight streamed through the window, past the slatted blinds and the unlit fairy lights stapled to the wooden frame. It was quiet here – that was one thing she really liked about this location. On the other side of the building the bustle of crowds on Cross Street might be heard until the wee hours of the morning, but her small room was tucked on the far side overlooking the old rail yard. It was a blessing, really; she’d grown up in a rural home, in silence, and this was as close as she was going to get to that without moving to the township.
She pushed the idle thoughts aside along with her sweat-covered blankets and forced herself into an upright position. Twisting her torso to the right, she peered over the side of the bed, taking in the space between the bed and the door. He was there, curled up on the floor, one of Ariel’s stuffed animals serving as a pillow. She waited barely a minute before sucking in another breath and clicking on the bedside lamp. The room filled with a dull yellow light from beneath the tan lampshade, and Ariel was almost immediately out of the bed, fighting sleep for what she knew she had to do.
“Wake up,” she said, giving Chris’s right foot a kick. He stirred, groaning as his body came to life and his eyes opened beneath a strand of matted hair, which he hastily pushed out of the way. “Chris, wake up, we need to talk.”
“What is it?” Chris’s voice was groggy, his eyes were barely open and he began to flail his arms as he tried to figure out the best way to extricate himself from the floor. “What time is it?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ariel quipped, though she cast a glance at her bedside clock which displayed ‘4:33 AM’ in thin green numbers. “Get up, we need to talk.”
“Can it wait?” Chris sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking up helplessly at Ariel, who stood with folded arms, shaking her head.
“Nope, get up.”
Chris struggled to his feet and sat on the bed at Ariel’s direction. He looked up at her; she stood over him dressed in a pair of pink and white pajama pants and a fitted Hello Kitty t-shirt. He immediately looked away, causing Ariel to raise an eyebrow.
“I’ve seen that look before,” Ariel commented. “But we’ll get to that in a minute. I got you a spot at a shelter and you screwed it up. Did you even go to the temp agency?”
“No,” Chris said, hanging his head in shame. “I just…I probably wouldn’t like any of the jobs and I wouldn’t be any good at them.”
“You’re living on a sidewalk surviving on handouts,” Ariel said sharply. “You don’t get to choose your damn job. Go stack boxes at the salad factory or make boxes at the cardboard factory. How long have you been on hormones?”
“Um…about three months,” Chris muttered, his cheeks flushing. “I guess…I was just going to take them until I looked like a girl.”
“And then what?”
“I…I don’t know,” Chris admitted. “I guess I was thinking I could convince my dad it just…happened.”
“He definitely seemed like he’d be accommodating,” Ariel said quickly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s a piss-poor plan and you know it.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“I don’t know, maybe get a support network in place? Have a friend you can talk to? Anything is better than transitioning under the nose of someone who's probably going to beat the shit out of you!” Ariel huffed.
“You know I saved your life, right?” Chris’s voice held a slight upward inflection that made Ariel roll her eyes.
“Yeah, and only because we were looking for you,” Ariel pointed out. “If you hadn’t been off being stupid…well, no point in arguing that now, I guess. My point still stands.”
“That I should have a support network?” Chris shook his head incredulously. “What do you want me to tell my friends? That I’m a freak? That I like to prance around in dresses? Fuck off, Ariel. You have no idea what it’s like.”
“I don’t have any idea, huh.” Ariel gritted her teeth and summoned all her strength to resist the urge to scream. Instead, she settled for pacing the small space, walking from her position in front of Chris, to the door, then back again. “I have more of an idea than you think. You need to--”
“I don’t need to sit here and let you interrogate me,” Chris said, standing up from the bed and moving toward the door. Ariel stood aside, prompting a look of surprise from Chris.
“I’m sorry,” Ariel said in a condescending voice as she let her arms fall to her side. “Are you expecting me to stop you? You want me to block the door and tell you there’s a better way? Is that what you’re waiting for?”
“Well--” Chris started, then stopped, his mouth opening, then closing. “I--”
“It’s not going to work that way,” Ariel informed him. “I have too much shit going on, ‘Chris’. I’m not going to make you take my help. You can walk out that door, go back to the streets, sleep in whatever ditch you want, but if you walk out, it’s over. You understand? Over. I don’t have time to chase you, Chris. I’m going on a trip soon to see my sister who I haven’t seen in over two years, and I have so much emotional baggage that I just can’t take yours on. You walk out, don’t come back here, don’t go to the Haven looking for me. Find someone else, because I don’t have time.”
Ariel’s statement carried a hint of finality to it; Chris backed up and sunk down, onto the bed, burying his head in his hands.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, defeated.
“What do you mean, what do I want you to do?” she demanded. “Why don’t you start talking?”
“This isn’t how I pictured something like this going.” Chris shook his head and drove his forehead further into his palms. “Like…I don’t know, I thought that when a girl found out and got close to me, she’d be like ‘Hey, let’s play dress up!’ and we’d just…have a girl’s night I guess. I don’t know.”
“You’re saying you want me to dress you up?” Ariel’s eyes nearly rolled out of her head. “You been reading weird fiction online?”
“Um…” Chris’s face turned a shade of crimson that Ariel never thought possible.
“It’s not about clothes, Chris,” Ariel said angrily. “It’s about what’s in here.” Ariel pointed to her head. “And here,” placing a hand on her heart. “If this is a fetish for you, then I can’t help you.”
“It’s not a fetish!’ Chris protested.’
“It’s not?” Ariel raised an eyebrow. “Because what you just described sounds like a fetish. Look, I’m not stupid. I’ve read the shit online, the forced fem stories, I found all that when I was figuring out how to help my sister. Shit, I know more about this than she does. Someone I love is trans, Chris, and the whole subject is very near and dear to my heart, so if you’re just making a game out of it, if you’re just looking for someone to get your rocks off and shove you in a dress, you can get the fuck out. Go be homeless, do the world a favor and get hit by a train.”
“It’s not a fetish,” Chris said quietly, raising his head from his hands and looking Ariel in the eye. “It’s not.”
“Prove it.” The entire word from Ariel’s mouth sounded like punctuation. There was a moment of silence, and then, she repeated the phrase at the level of a shrill scream. “Prove it!”
“I can’t!” Chris shouted back. “How the fuck am I supposed to prove it?!”
“Then get out,” Ariel’s voice oscillated, an expression of hatred forming on her face. Chris began to object, but Ariel screamed again.
Chris climbed off the bed, the fear evident in his eyes as she shuffled past her; she followed closely behind, stalking through the apartment, past a startled Amber who had wandered from her room in nothing but a black bathrobe.
“You want me to prove it?” Chris shouted as Ariel shoved him out the door.
“Not really,” Ariel snapped. Chris reached for the sleeve of his shirt and quickly rolled it back, revealing several scars that ran along the length of his arm, from the top of his wrist, down. Ariel’s attention was more than captured as she realized that some of the marks were recent; still bright red or barely closed. She looked at Chris, her eyes wide, jaw slack.
“This isn’t my body, Ariel,” Chris said, his eyes filled with desperation as he held his wrist out to her. “I’m wearing it, but it’s not me and because it’s not me, I want to hurt it! I want to punish it, I want to hurt because whatever I am, I deserve to hurt!”
“Wait, Chris,” Ariel stammered. “I didn’t--”
“Fuck you, Ariel,” Chris said, his expression turning to stone. “Fuck you for thinking I just wanted…ugh!”
“Chris,” Amber said, stepping forward. “We should talk about this.”
“Nothing to talk about,” Chris said defiantly, taking a step backward, onto the porch.
“Chris, get back in here!” Amber said firmly, taking another step to stand beside Ariel. “I am not asking.”
“Amber!” Ariel hissed. “We can’t just make him--”
“Shut up, Ariel,” Amber said sternly, taking another step toward Chris. “Chris, back in the house, now.”
“Look,” Chris said, taking a step back. “I don’t think--”
“In,” Amber said insistently, grabbing his arm, and despite his nonsensical objections, he was yanked back into the living room and ushered toward the couch. At Amber’s instruction, he sat down, visibly shaking, and Amber glared at Ariel. “Ariel, what the hell?”
“He said some of that weird fetish bullshit,” Ariel explained. “Like…he just wants me to dress him up and stuff.”
“Chris?” Amber glanced to him; he shrugged, bowing his head and folding his hands on his lap. He looked incredibly small now; he was a bit lanky, and maybe an inch taller than Ariel, but now he seemed to be shrinking. “Alright, Chris, go to my room, it’s next to the bathroom. Wait for me there.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, suddenly timid. “I mean, I--”
“Go.” Amber pointed toward the back hallway. Chris looked at her nervously, then stood from the couch and disappeared down the hall.
“Amber, I really think I made a mistake with him,” Ariel said quickly. “I think he--”
“Ariel, you need to go help your sister,” Amber said in a flat tone. “You’re not helping with this situation.”
“What’s your plan, exactly?”
“Never mind what my plan is,” Amber snapped. “Go back to bed, and tomorrow, start packing. Your sister needs you.”
“Did Tori get mad at you?” Kelly asked as she poked at a slimy substance on her lunch try. Rylee sat across the table from her, trying to discern whether she was looking at mashed potatoes or cream corn. “For the cast, I mean.”
“Yeah,” Carrie Ann said. “What happened to your cast?”
“Forget the cast.” Rylee continued to stare at Kelly’s tray. “What is that?”
Kelly glanced at Rylee, then down to her tray; she began to idly swirl the yellow substance with her plastic fork and then simply shrugged.
“Wednesday,” she responded. Rylee frowned.
“We don’t know what it is,” Carrie Ann said helpfully. “We just know we get it on Wednesday. You have some too, look at your tray.”
Rylee looked down at her tray, staring at the grainy, sloppy substance that occupied a section of her tray. She looked back up at Carrie Ann and shook her head.
“Look, I’ve eaten some things, but I’m not eating that.”
“Suit yourself,” Carrie Ann shrugged. “It’s edible.”
“She pulled her cast off,” Kelly said, returning to the conversation point from earlier.
“Correction,” Richard said from the other side of the table. “She tricked me into pulling it off.”
“Tricked you?” Kelly said, failing to resist the urge to laugh. “How did she trick you?”
“She just did,” Richard stated. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”
Rylee couldn’t tell if Richard was speaking in jest or not, so she chose instead to turn her attention to the rest of the lunchroom. At the table to the far left, just in front of the bank of windows, Cathy, Sheila and a host of other conventionally attractive girls sat, speaking with exaggerated hand motions and laughing in tandem with Cathy, stopping when she did. Apart from that, she noticed Izzy there at the end of the table, sitting without a lunch tray, dressed in a ridiculously bright orange sundress that was at war with her skin tone. Rylee watched her intently as one of the girls said something to her and she immediately jumped from her seat, picking up something the girl had dropped. She then watched as the girl dropped it again, whatever it was, and directed Izzy to repeat the same action. Rylee sighed internally and returned her attention to her own table.
“You look really cute today,” Kelly remarked, gesturing to Rylee’s outfit. Rylee couldn’t help but crack a grin; the black corduroy jumper and turtleneck ensemble was quickly becoming her favorite. It was knee-length, easy enough to wear a pair of white or black hose underneath, and she had an assortment of lightweight turtlenecks that wouldn’t kill her in the summer heat.
“Thanks,” Rylee managed to squeak out. Kelly laughed.
“Well you do,” Kelly reinforced her statement. “Don’t you have that dress in tan too?”
“Yeah,” Rylee nodded, embarrassed at the attention.
“Do you ever like, wear regular clothes?” Carrie Ann interjected. “I only see you in dresses or skirts.”
“Maybe she likes them,” Kelly quickly interjected. “They look cute on her anyway.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Carrie Ann shrugged. “Gotta be uncomfortable, though, dressing up all the time.”
“I will re-iterate.” Kelly’s voice went up an octave; her expression conveyed her insistence. “She looks cute.”
“Do I, though?” Rylee cast a concerned glance from Kelly, back to Carrie Ann.
“Take the compliment and shut up,” Kelly told her. “What’s your next class?”
“Special ed,” Rylee said in defeat. “I can probably skip it.”
“If you skip class they write you up,” Kelly warned. “Then Tori will find out. Speaking of which, what did she say about your cast?”
“Uh…she yelled for a little bit.” Rylee shrugged, easily remembering that it was more than a ‘little bit’. She in fact vividly recalled Tori shouting something like ‘I’ve done too much for you to have you end up with a crooked arm!’
“I sprained my wrist once,” Kelly mused, her eyes wandering to the left, indicating memory recall. “It was at the fair.”
“Why does all the weird stuff happen at the fair?” Rylee mused, drawing a strange look from Kelly.
As Kelly was contemplating that question, Rylee noticed Ron Vanhook trudging across the cafeteria, making his way toward their table. He pushed awkwardly past a guy in a letter jacket and nearly stumbled over his own feet. He finally reached their table, looking around nervously, barely making eye contact with anyone.
“You uh…alright there, Ron?” Rylee looked at him with at least some concern.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ron said, looking around nervously as if he’d crossed into an area of the cafeteria that he wasn’t supposed to be in. “I just um…I upgraded.”
“Upgraded?” Rylee frowned, then turned to Kelly, who shrugged and turned her attention back to her food for the moment. Carrie Ann seemed distracted by something else.
“Here.” Ron dropped a black object in front of Rylee; it clattered to the table, and he quickly walked back to his own table where Beth and the others were waiting for him. Rylee leaned back and noticed Beth shooting her a small wave, which Rylee returned.
“You think he has a crush on you?” Kelly partially asked, and partially suggested. Rylee flushed.
“I hope not?” Rylee had to force the words out. “I’m not really…looking for anyone.”
What she didn’t add was that if she were looking for someone, it wouldn’t be in a high school where everyone was one to two years younger. She instead settled for stirring the mystery food on her tray and tried to zone out.
“He’s not bad looking,” Kelly remarked. “Just a little awkward. You should ask him to prom.”
“Prom’s tricky,” Rylee remarked as she picked up the object and looked it over. “I have to find someone that’s not going to kill me and dump my body in a water heater after. Anyway.”
“What is that?”
“Um…” Rylee turned it over in her hands and realized it was some kind of handheld device. She pulled back the screen cover and her eyes widened slightly. “It’s a Palm Pilot. For um…like…notes and stuff, and it has a calculator.”
“That’s neat,” Kelly nodded. “And he just gave you that?”
“I guess,” Rylee said absentmindedly as she looked it over. It was no wonder he’d upgraded; the plastic texture was rubbed nearly smooth in some places, but in others it was clear that the device had taken a beating. Scratches and dents marred the edges of the device and the clear plastic window on the cover bore a crack as if the device had been dropped. Rylee smirked, noting that the thing looked like how she felt half the time. She pressed the power button near the ‘M100’ logo and the device came to life; a green-backed monotone screen greeted her along with a number of applications. There was a calculator, a notepad, fax, e-mail, and a few random games. “I think Mom has one of these.”
“Oh! You were asking how I sprained my wrist!” Kelly suddenly recalled their conversation. “So um, it was at the fair.”
“Everything happens at the fair,” Rylee confirmed.
“I was like ten and I wanted to ride the carousel, but my mom said it was time to go home. But I’d been waiting all day. There was this one horse on there, he was white and gold, I really wanted to ride him.”
“How do you know it was a ‘he’?” Rylee smirked.
“So I ran off, climbed over the fence and tried to grab onto one of the poles while it was moving. It wasn’t going very fast, so I thought I could do it. Well, I couldn’t, and we spent the night at the emergency room.”
“So you’re saying it would have been faster if she’d just let you ride the carousel?” Rylee wondered aloud.
“I never thought about it that way, but yeah,” Kelly nodded. “We spent six hours waiting for them to put a splint on my arm.”
“That’s horrible,” Rylee frowned, trying to emulate empathy, though it was always hard for her. “When I broke my arm I just woke up in a cast.”
“I still don’t know how you broke your arm,” Kelly pointed out. “You have to tell me that story sometime.”
“Maybe,” Rylee nodded, trying to decide if it was really appropriate lunch table conversation. She opened her mouth to speak again, but they were distracted momentarily by the clatter of a tray against the lunchroom floor several tables away. Kelly, Rylee, and Carrie Ann turned their heads, looking over toward Cathy’s table; the entirety of the lunchroom had fallen silent as Izzy stood there in her orange dress, shaking.
“I said carry it to the trash, not drop it on the floor,” Sheila said sharply, standing up and glaring at Izzy. “Clean it up!”
“She knocked that out of his..er…her hand,” Carrie Ann observed, making a slight pronoun slip, which caused Rylee’s eye to twitch.
Another girl, dressed to the nines, stood up abruptly from the table and shoved a handful of napkins at Izzy.
“How long are we going to let that go on?” Kelly glanced to Rylee, who looked back with a blank expression.
“She can take care of herself,” Rylee said, returning her attention to the Palm Pilot.
“How do you know?” Kelly craned her neck to see past Rylee. Rylee turned her head again; Izzy was out of sight, presumably on hands and knees, trying to clean up a tile floor with paper napkins. “She doesn’t look okay.”
“Okay, look,” Rylee said with an exasperated huff. “Cathy and Sheila are like…I don’t know…Kelly. They don’t matter, like, they just don’t. If Izzy let herself get enslaved by those two idiots, then…I don’t know. Plus, if I stand up for her, people are going to wonder if I’m like her.”
“So you’ve said.” Kelly nibbled on her food. They both turned again, watching as another girl dumped her tray in front of Izzy and commanded her to clean.
“Shouldn’t a teacher step in?” Carrie Ann watched the exchange with concern as Izzy began to wipe up more and more food. Cathy stood over her with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face; the rest of the girls laughed hysterically.
“Um…probably not,” Rylee said, looking away.
“Doesn’t this bother you? Like, at all?” Kelly asked her insistently.
“Okay,” Rylee said finally, putting the Palm Pilot down. “Why do I have to be the one that does something?”
“Well, I mean…I’d think you’d want to,” Kelly said. “Because, you know…she’s like…”
“I’m not doing this.” Rylee snatched up her tray along with the Palm Pilot and began to head toward the four trash cans at the back of the cafeteria, intent on heading anywhere but there. She paused momentarily to try to stuff the Palm Pilot in a pocket, but then realized that she was, of course, wearing the skirt that had no pockets. She huffed and stormed toward the trash cans, coming to a halt when Izzy shot right in front of her. Rylee froze in her tracks, watching Izzy, who gave her a defeated look, and then grabbed the underside of Rylee’s tray and shoved it. Rylee barely flinched as her blouse was covered in creamy mashed potatoes and the mystery substance, though her table gasped behind her. Rylee followed Izzy’s gaze, turning her head toward the front of the lunch room where Cathy, Sheila, and the other popular girls were in hysterics over the incident. Rylee turned back to Izzy. “What do you get out of that?”
“I’ve never had friends before,” Izzy said, refusing to elaborate further. Rylee gave a slight eye roll and turned away, walking back to her table.
“You’re really just going to let that happen?” Richard asked from across the table. Rylee glared.
“Didn’t you?” she snapped. “I didn’t see you doing anything about it.”
“Yeah, but--”
“But what?” Rylee demanded. “Eat your goop and shut up, if you’re not going to help.”
Richard glared, but inevitably, went back to his goop.
It was all the same, all of it. But it wasn’t.
He was sitting there on the porch. Not in a chair, and not on the glider, but on the concrete deck with his back against the red brick wall, head laid back, eyes closed. Fiona looked at him over the dashboard as she brought the car to a stop and took pause, the engine idling as she considered what to say. Nothing particularly useful came to mind, so she simply switched the car off, stepped out, and walked over to the porch. She placed her left foot up on the concrete step and leaned forward, resting her elbows on bent knee, hoping to draw Max’s attention. He stared off into the distance, seemingly at nothing, his gaze tearing through the horizon.
“Max,” Fiona said. “It’s been eight years. I hate to be the one to say this, but get over it.”
“Why?” Max broke his gaze with the nothingness and looked up at Fiona, a nonchalant look of defeat painting his expression. “It’s not like anyone actually cares about me, right?”
“That self-deprecating shit isn’t going to work on me,” Fiona informed him, shaking her head. “There’s someone who's way better at it than you, and ninety percent of the time, she doesn’t affect me.”
“I mean it, Fiona,” Max said in a tone that matched his defeated expression. “She’s out there, all happy and shit, while I’m stuck here in this shithole of a house waiting for something to happen!”
“She hasn’t been that happy,” Fiona reminded him. “And you can’t call me every time you have an existential crisis. I’m not your therapist. I can recommend one, though.”
“Funny, Fiona, funny.” Max pressed his palms against the side of the house, using the bricks to push his way up, into a standing position. “Look, I called you over here because I need help with something.”
“Just a minute.” Fiona took a deep breath and crossed her arms. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for a long time.”
“Well, this sounds bad.” Max sighed and leaned against the wall next to the heavy oak entry door. Fiona studied him carefully before continuing; he was just a year older than Tori, but unlike her, he wore that extra year poorly. Dark circles beneath his eyes and ragged hair, cut poorly along with all the other signs of neglected hygiene. To say he’d been having a bad time would not do justice to the situation. Still, it had been eight years.
“Your problem is you think you were the only one affected when Rylie died,” Fiona said bluntly. Max immediately frowned and shook his head.
“That’s not true,” he said, still shaking his head. “I know that--”
“Do you? Though?” Fiona frowned back. “Because to me it seems to me you’re not focusing on the big picture. It tore the entire family apart. Tori was so distant, her mom nearly had her committed when she found out about her addiction. Mom and Rebecca were fighting over the best course of action. Steven, well, he just kind of disassociated from the whole thing. Yeah, Tori pushed you away, I get that, but a marriage is like…I don’t know. A stew.”
“A stew,” Max repeated, staring at her intently.
“A stew,” Fiona repeated back, nodding. “You put everything you have into it. All the spices, all the seasonings, vegetables, maybe a few pieces of steak, and you stir it, and stir it, and stir it.
Then, no matter how good that stew tastes, it just can’t survive having a dead baby thrown into it.”
“Fiona, what the fuck?!”
“I’m just saying!” Fiona raised her hands, palms out as if it negated the effect of her words. “Everyone was hurt, the family was shattered. We all had problems. I had to watch my best friend get worse, and worse, and worse. There was nothing I could do about it. Anette paid for therapy, it didn’t help. Until a few months ago, she really was on her last legs.”
“And she’s doing better now?”
“Arguably,” Fiona nodded. “She’s found a reason to live.”
“That girl, Rylee?”
“Yeah,” Fiona confirmed. “I’m not going to sugar coat it, it’s a little creepy, and a little ‘on the nose’, but it’s working for her.”
“Look, I don’t doubt you,” Max said. “But you still have Tori. Anette has Tori. Tori has Anette. Rebecca has all of you. You all still have each other. Who do I have? Most of my friends were hers; I was just some lonely guy she picked up at school. She made me feel special, like I could do anything. I wasn’t anything before she came along, and now that she’s gone, I’m nothing again. You all went through a lot, but I was the only one who was left alone.”
“There are six billion people on the planet,” Fiona pointed out. “Find another Tori.”
Silence thickened the space between them; Max pushed away from the wall of the house and took five slow, deliberate steps toward the stairs where Fiona now stood, but walked past her, standing shoulder to shoulder as he leaned against the white railing to the right. His eyes were fixed steadily on the road beyond the concrete walkway, watching car after car slowly creep by.
Fiona turned, listening to birdsongs and rustling leaves punctuated with the sound of a handlebar-mounted bicycle bell attached to a pink huffy that rushed by, followed by three others. She took a moment to reach behind her head and straighten her ponytail, tightening the tie and pulling any flyaways through. Then she waited.
“I don’t have a ton of time,” she said, a hint of warning in her voice. “I do have stuff to do today.”
“Stuff with Tori?”
“You’re obsessed,” Fiona quipped.
“I just want my life back. Any life. Anything would be better than this.”
“Eight years, Max,” Fiona once again reminded him of the amount of time that had passed. “You been to a bar? Arcade? Done any online dating? Tried picking girls up at a homeless shelter? Any normal adult activities?”
“Okay, Fiona?” Max said. “Tori just replaced our dead daughter with some girl she found on the street. I don’t want to hear about my shitty coping skills.”
“Hey, it might have started that way, but Rylee’s not so bad,” Fiona pointed out, noting that Max winced at the use of Rylee’s name, similar as it was to his dead child’s. “She needs a lot of help, Tori needs a purpose. It works out.”
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t pay rent,” Max pointed out. “Otherwise Tori wouldn’t have been late every month.”
Fiona nodded; before she’d rented the Thackery house from Max, Tori had lived in it with Rylee.
“She can’t pay rent,” Fiona said softly, yet sternly, meeting Max’s gaze. “She’s not capable.”
“That broken, huh?” Max said, shaking his head, his voice devoid of sympathy. “She’s taking in strays.”
“Don’t do that, Max,” Fiona warned, her voice still and quiet. “You’re talking about someone Anette calls her daughter.”
“Daughter,” Max repeated, chewing over the word and trying to comprehend. “Why would she do that?”
“It’s none of your business,” Fiona said, simply. “So did you just call me here to whine?”
“No,” Max said after a long pause and a sigh. “I…I need help with something.”
“You called me for help?” Fiona raised an eyebrow. “That’s different.”
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t think of anyone else,” Max shrugged. As he spoke, his complexion paled and he set his jaw, motioning toward the front door. “Look I…I just need you to understand, things happen, especially when you get depressed, you know?”
“Max, what the hell is it?” Fiona placed her hands on her hips, doing her best to suppress a glare. Max sighed and pushed open the front door. Fiona stepped up to the threshold, peering into the darkness, allowing her eyes to adjust. “Max, what the f--”
The sound of Anette’s soap operas greeted Tori as she stepped into the house, home early from Mitchell’s again. She walked in a straight line from the foyer to the kitchen, dropping her purse on the island and then heading toward the hallway to grab her laptop.
“Tori,” Anette called out; Tori stopped in her tracks and turned her head toward the living room. Her mother was there, of course, watching General Hospital and sipping a glass of tea. “Home early?”
“No customers,” Tori shrugged, stepping away from the hallway and making her way toward the living room where Anette motioned for her to join her on the couch. Tori slipped out of her shoes and crossed the carpeted floor, sinking onto the far side of the couch and half-turning to face her mother who until moments ago had been engrossed in the day’s episode of General Hospital. “Everything okay?”
“Mostly,” Anette shrugged, turning away from the television. “Rylee asked to take photography classes.”
“Really?” Tori perked up, her full attention now focused on Anette. “Her pictures have been getting a lot better.”
Photography was one of Rylee’s few creative outlets; Tori had given her a fairly new camera, and as soon as Rylee had figured out how to use it, Tori had discovered that the camera’s WiFi connection would send copies of any photograph Rylee took to her e-mail. Predictably, the first pictures she took were blurry, sometimes too dark, oftentimes too bright, but over time, they had become far better and Tori had dutifully moved them to a special folder.
“I’m going to check with Clark State on Monday,” Anette told her. “They should have a class for undergraduates. That aside, we need to talk about Ariel.”
“Yeah, I guess we do,” Tori nodded and sighed. “It’s going to be a shit show.”
“If I were Ariel Skye,” Anette said, “and I just found out my sister was alive, my first thought would be to get her away from the crazies that scooped her up.”
“But how are we supposed to stop her?” Tori asked. “What if Rylee wants to go with her?”
“She can’t,” Anette said quickly, shaking her head.
“Look, I know you want to believe that, but she is her sister,” Tori argued.
“So are you,” Anette reminded her. “And I’m her mother. And Rylee can’t make that decision. I’m sorry, but she can’t. And her new therapist agrees.”
“What?” Tori raised an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Last month we started taking her to a new therapist,” Anette reminded her. “It was unethical for me to treat her, and honestly, after my heart attack, it wasn’t a good idea. The new therapist gave a statement that Rylee is incompetent and potentially a danger to herself. I have a similar letter from Lucille detailing her history of self-harm. We have her scars to prove it, and you’re her DPOA. If Ariel tries to take her away, you’ll petition the court for emergency guardianship, and you’ll win.”
“Holy shit,” Tori’s eyes went wide. “She really is stuck here.”
“Correct.”
Tori let out a long, slow breath before clapping her palms against her knees and rising from the couch. She stepped around the coffee table and began to pace the room. Muttering a few choice words to herself, she stopped at the foyer, placed her hands on her hips and then quickly walked back to the coffee table, standing before Anette.
“Why are we doing this?” It wasn’t a demand, just an honest, curious question. Anette regarded her softly.
“I know you probably have reservations, Tori,” Anette lectured quietly. “But let’s not forget that you put a gun to her head and told her that she was your sister now.”
“You know it wasn’t that simple.”
“Yeah, but that was the end result, wasn’t it?” Anette smirked; Tori couldn’t argue. “No matter how you feel about it, Tori, you gave her everything. She has a home, she has a family, a real family that doesn’t abuse her. She’s going to school, she has friends, a future, and hope. It’s our responsibility to make sure she keeps all of that. Don’t you agree?”
“I do, but--”
“Tori,” Anette continued her sharp lecture. “Rylee and Ariel are two scared little girls from abusive backgrounds. Ariel seems a little better off than Rylee, but they’re both trauma victims and they’re both still processing. Rylee’s not an inconvenience to us, hell, I enjoy taking care of her, but to someone like Ariel? She’s just not equipped for it. Rylee stays here, end of story.”
“And Ariel?”
“Wouldn’t mind roping her in either,” Anette confessed. “Which reminds me, I’ve cleared out Steven’s room, what was left in it. I threw a new sheet and comforter on the bed, and sometime today we need to go pick out some cheap furniture so she feels more at home.”
“You building a terrarium?” Tori raised an eyebrow. Anette looked back at her with a serious expression.
“More or less.”
“She has her own life up there,” Tori pointed out. Anette shrugged.
“I don’t care; come on, let’s look at the room.”
The room was like the other bedrooms in the house, but even though it stood empty, the connotations were clear. Tori crossed the threshold and allowed her eyes to scan the mostly-empty space, more than aware of her mother following silently behind. There was something about this room; it felt cold and empty now, even with golden afternoon sun shining through the windows and refracting off the glass to create an asymmetrical pattern of shadow and light on the carpet.
They moved slowly, methodically, even taking controlled breaths as if they might inadvertently disturb the air within the space. They hadn’t lived here for Tori’s entire childhood. They’d lived in Urbana for a time, but eventually Mom and Dad had brought them to Springfield with the promises of a better school, a safer environment, and lots and lots of corn. The very real downside of having lived here so long was the way she saw the room as they entered. Mom had cleaned it out completely; the blue sheets had been replaced with a pink and white duvet, and the worn-out end tables had been transposed for a pair of cheap particle board bedside tables, white to match the duvet. A pink alarm clock, classic in style, had been set below a coral-colored lamp; light colors made the space seem more open, the sunlight from the outside doubly so. But, in spite of all the changes, she saw the room as it was, not just a few years ago, but a few years before that, and before that, and before that.
The room had changed configurations so many times; he was ten when they moved in here, Tori had been fourteen. Or was it fifteen? He had this stupid racecar bed; not the kind that you buy from the store, but one Dad had made for him. Painted wheels, painted frame, a checkered flag for the headboard. He’d outgrown that, and many others, and as Tori turned her gaze toward the bedroom window, she could always see them, Steven, and Dad, tossing that ratty old ball around in the backyard. A different time in another life.
She could see the floor littered with Star Wars action figures, then with the DC and Marvel toys when he’d had a change of interest. The toys had given way to a rack of CDs and rock band posters, the names of which she was unable to remember. The posters had come down as his tastes had changed once again; as he entered college for his psychology degree he’d left the room startlingly bare. Empty walls, a wooden desk with a silver HP laptop, stacks of notepads on his desk, a bookshelf full of titles both fiction and non-fiction that had eventually been relegated to three cardboard boxes on the far wall of the sunroom. Massive changes over a short number of years; Steven was a fluid, changing person and then at the age of twenty-three, all of those changes came to a halt; a life punctuated by the sound of screeching brakes, and the wail of sirens against a stormy night. What she knew of him was what she knew, and it would never change. The boy frozen in time, and her, here, continuing on as if all was normal. Changing, evolving, becoming in a way he never could.
“I know it’s a lot,” Mom had said, standing on the opposite side of the bed and gesturing broadly toward the wall. “We could throw a dresser here and maybe repaint the closet later.”
“You should probably get the dresser before she gets here,” Tori suggested, her voice distant and distracted. “I…yeah sorry, I’m just thinking about…”
“The anniversary’s coming up,” Mom said, looking to Tori empathetically. “We could do what we usually do.”
“You mean light a candle, say a prayer to a god neither of us believe in, and then get drunk off our asses with cheap shots?” Tori raised an eyebrow.
“We could always get the better stuff,” Mom suggested. Tori snorted.
“I don’t want to do anything,” she said; Mom raised an eyebrow.
“Really?”
“Look at us,” Tori said, raising her hands in an exasperated gesture. “Remember how this house used to be? You, me, Dad, Steven, Rebecca? God, do you remember that? Dad got Steven that Domino Rally Explorer set. He was bouncing around in his pajamas pretending to be Captain Power or whatever. Or what about when Dad bought him that stupid nerf bow, the one with the yellow handle, and he just chased Rebecca around the house with it.”
“Rebecca with her Barbies,” Anette recalled fondly.
“She kept them in that old briefcase,” Tori nodded, a tear forming at the corner of her eye. “And then there was me…”
“That kitchen play set suited you when you were younger, and when you were old enough you graduated to the real kitchen.”
“You taught me how to cook eggs. It was the first thing I taught Rylee too,” Tori recalled, laughing a little. “That girl was…is such a mess.”
“Our mess,” Anette reminded her, smiling softly.
“I want this to be the last year,” Tori said, adamantly. “The last year we light a candle, the last time we get drunk off our asses over…ghosts. I don’t think we should forget Steven, or Dad, I just…don’t want Rylee and Ariel caught up in some ritual that means nothing to them, and I don’t want them to think they have to live up to someone that’s not here anymore.”
There was a long, drawn out silence from Anette, who folded her arms, unfolded them, and paced about the room, looking from corner to corner, back to the bed, to Tori, no, through Tori as if she were seeing her own ghosts from the past. Finally, she unfolded her arms for the last time and turned to Tori.
“One last time,” she said; Tori’s face showed a mixture of relief and anguish. “You’re right, Tori. You’re right. It’s a funny thing when a person dies. For the first few days, the pain is…unbearable. You think they’re going to walk right through the front door, scoop you up and tell you everything’s okay. After a few days the pain gets stronger, like the twisting of a knife, but eventually, it just kind of fades. We don’t forget them, but…they become a memory, a box of old photographs--”
“A sunroom full of crap.”
“--an empty space in your heart that you can’t fill. You did the impossible, Tori, you filled that space. In a weird, weird fucking way, but you filled it. You brought us Rylee, and now Ariel. You and Rylee…you were two very broken people who needed each other, desperately, and in your moment of greatest need…there you were. So let’s build our new family, Tori. Rebecca has her adorable nuclear family with the white picket fence, the dog, and the mortgage, but we…we have this, and I, for one, am beyond grateful.”
Her suitcase was small on her bed – just a carry-on, just enough to carry a few clothes, cosmetics, her phone charger and maybe a book for the plane. Ariel stared at the few clothes that she’d stuffed in there; just a few blouses, a few t-shirts, skirts, and a couple pairs of yoga pants. Nothing flashy, nothing that screamed ‘I’m staying’. She had to get in there, get Rylee, and get out.
That wasn’t going to happen, was it?
She sighed and threw another t-shirt into the mix along with her travel makeup bag. Closing the suitcase, she zipped it, and her eyes flicked to the plastic ‘foot’ at the end of the bag, noticing the old, dried blood on the rough plastic surface. A plethora of memories flooded in, and she turned her hand over, giving a passing glance to the tiny scar at the base of her thumb.
“Packing light?” Amber asked, having suddenly appeared at the doorway.
“Yeah,” Ariel nodded. “In and out, right?”
“I think your assessment of the situation kind of sucks.” Amber leaned against the doorway and folded her arms, hands tucked beneath the arms of her thin black cardigan. “She’s safe, they want her, they’re letting her talk to you. What’s the problem?”
Ariel gripped the handle of the battered suitcase and hoisted it easily off the bed, dropping it at the foot near her desk and then turning to Amber, who was watching her intently. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes and scoff, she did the best she could to empathize with Amber’s seemingly cavalier attitude about the entire situation.
“This wasn’t the plan,” Ariel said simply. “She…wasn’t supposed to be living with a bunch of random strangers. We were supposed to live together, we were supposed to have an apartment together. This whole…I mean…calling this ‘Tori’ her ‘sister’? No, it’s not right. She’s my sister.”
“She’s in school, she’s on hormone treatments, they like her…it seems like they really bent over backwards to help her, so again, I ask you, what’s the problem, exactly?”
Ariel looked away from Amber and took a long, lingering glance at her laptop, wondering if she should take it or not. Finally, she settled on packing it in the morning and instead stepped over to her vanity; grabbing a silvery-pink scrunchie, she grabbed her back-length hair and bundled it into a high ponytail, using her free hand to wrap the scrunchie around the base of it just before letting the tail fall. She turned her attention back to Amber and pressed her lips together, deep in thought as she formulated a response.
“Amber, I…” She paused, contemplating Amber’s question, and attempting to find a way to defy the logic that she presented. “Amber, you can’t just…grab random people off the street and keep them!”
Amber unfolded her arms and cocked her head, staring at Ariel for a moment before raising her hand, index finger extended in the ‘just a minute’ gesture. She spun on her heel, dropping her hand and walking briskly down the hallway; her footsteps echoed loudly, each footfall thudding hard against the floorboards, growing softer as she gained more distance from Ariel’s room. Moments later, she returned with her hand wrapped around the arm of a confused and terrified-looking Chris.
“What the hell is this?” Amber demanded, pointing a slim finger at Chris as she glared at Ariel.
“What are you talking about?” Ariel asked, confused. “That’s Chris.”
“And this whole thing,” Amber said. “About not grabbing random people off the street?”
“What’s going on?” Chris asked apprehensively. “I’m…a little sc--”
“Shut up, Chris,” Ariel and Amber said in tandem.
“It’s not the same,” Ariel said, shaking her head. “Chris is an adult, h-she…was in trouble. We’re just helping her.”
“Your sister is an adult. She was in trouble. They’re just helping her.”
“It’s not the same,” Ariel argued. “Rylee couldn’t have known what was going on, at least…not from how they described her.”
“Look, this is getting weird,” Chris said, looking from Amber, who still maintained a death grip on his arm, to Ariel who appeared to be collapsing in on herself, at least intellectually. “I should just…like, go. Thanks for helping me and all, but--”
“Shut up, Chris!” both Ariel and Amber shouted again.
“Okay, okay! At least let go of my arm!”
“Right, fine,” Amber said, releasing his arm. “Go take a shower, you reek.”
“Um, I don’t have any clothes…” Chris said, turning pale.
“How about some of that fetish fiction shit you read?” Ariel said, accusingly. “Isn’t this like, a scenario you fantasize about? ‘Oh, but I don’t have any clothes!’ and she says ‘That’s okay, you can wear mine!’ and then you just pretend to hate it, but secretly you’re getting a bon--”
“Shower, Chris,” Amber said, giving him a shove out of the room. “Get something out of my pajama drawer, they stretch.”
“See?” Ariel mocked. “Your fantasy is already coming true.”
Chris turned red as he bolted down the hallway and Ariel shook her head.
“If you’d treated Rylee like that, I would have thumped you,” Amber said, almost in disgust. “You’re the one who wanted to save Chris. Now look at you.”
“Yeah,” Ariel sighed. “Look at me. Just look at me. Okay, how do I explain it? Rylee is special. I could see the pain in her eyes, and I could see that she…was something different, you know? I just…if Chris is faking it, I’m offended, like really offended.”
“How do you know she’s faking it?” Amber folded her arms again and looked intently at Ariel.
“I don’t know,” Ariel admitted. “I just…the whole thing is special to me. Close to my heart, I guess.”
“Ariel,” Amber said, taking a step forward and laying a hand on Ariel’s shoulder as she looked into her eyes. “I say this lovingly, as lovingly as possible: you don’t know what you’re doing. You think that…because you helped Rylee, you can help anyone in a similar situation. You came up here, you took that job that you have no idea how to do, you’re not even being effective at it! You think you’re an expert because you helped your sister a few years ago and now you’ve made it even worse! You tried to replace your sister with Chris, and when Rylee resurfaces…you suddenly try to find a reason to get rid of Chris. Do you see how bad this is?”
“That’s not fair.” Ariel was beginning to stumble over her words. “You know that’s not fair--”
“How is it not fair?” Amber demanded. “Tell me exactly where I’m wrong.”
“I…” Ariel stood there, struggling with her words as Amber continued to stare her down. “I don’t know.”
“Okay, come on.” Amber switched positions, moving her hand from Ariel’s shoulder to her arm, pulling her down onto the bed. Ariel instinctively laid her head on Amber’s shoulder, closing her eyes and trying to calm herself. Amber leaned in, rubbing Ariel’s arm and giving her a squeeze. “You can’t save the world, Ariel, but you can help your sister. And by help her I don’t mean run in there and drag her out of a stable situation. If she’s being abused again, sure, by all means, but Jesus, Ariel, don’t do something stupid.”
“I don’t think protecting my sister is stupid,” Ariel said into Amber’s shoulder, though the conviction was slowly leaving her voice as she stared at the wall across from the bed, allowing her vision to blur as she watched a line of twinkling fairy lights suspended from the ceiling. “Amber, what am I supposed to do?”
“Alright, look,” Amber said, giving Ariel one last pat before straightening up, forcing Ariel to pull away and look at her. “Let me give you my assessment of this situation. You ready? Good. I think, Ariel, that you set up that e-mail account two years ago and you’ve been waiting for someone, anyone to send something to it. And I think this entire time, you’ve been ready for a fight, some dramatic rescue where you’d swoop in and save your sister. Problem is, it looks like the swooping’s been done already.”
“And I wasn’t there to do it,” Ariel said, dejected. “What kind of sister am I?”
“You’ve fought hard enough, Christ,” Amber reminded her. “Jeez, why not be glad someone else did all the hard work?”
“How the hell did we get here?” Ariel asked, suddenly. “Like, do you remember when Rylee was Ryan? Remember when she was just…a pain?”
“I remember you talking about it, yeah,” Amber smirked and nodded. “She always got you so riled up.”
“Understatement.” Ariel let out a low whistle and leaned back, supporting her weight with her palms against the mattress as she recalled. “Remember when I tried smoking?”
“I don’t think I can forget it,” Amber snorted. “Fake ID, Marlboro Lights because you liked the gold box better…”
“Okay, but how can you blame me?” Ariel laughed along with her. “Old men smoke the reds. Think like…greasy mechanics with a soft pack in their shirt pocket.”
“A cig’s a cig,” Amber pointed out.
“Whatever. Remember how Rylee found out and stole the whole pack because she thought she was…I don’t know, doing something?”
“Parents had her brainwashed with that church crap,” Amber reminded her. “Thoroughly, I might add. They wanted her to be just like them.”
“Yeah, it would have worked if…” Ariel stopped mid-sentence, contemplating the gravity of the situation. It was absurd, wasn’t it? Rylee being trans had saved her from their parent’s machinations, but at the same time it had thrust her into a whole other world of trouble. It was always a trade-off, one thing that was slightly less worse than the other.
“It’s going to be okay,” Amber assured her. “Just go there and be with her. It’s what you’ve been waiting for.”
“Okay, can anyone tell me what the next move should be?” Rylee gestured to the projector screen, on which a large chess board was being displayed across the wall. The overhead projector had been borrowed from the library, and with Kelly’s help, they’d managed to print out a basic representation of a chessboard onto clear laminate sheeting. For the pieces, Rylee had simply scribbled letters with a magic marker, where P stood for Pawn, Q for Queen, and so forth. She stood in the glow of the projector’s lens, the heat to her back as she studied her sloppy depiction of a chessboard on the wall. Finally, she turned, squinting past the harsh halogen light at the puzzling chess club members.
Nathan and Ron had taken up position at the table nearest the door; Ron was hunched over the table, fists supporting his chin as he stared hopelessly at the screen while Nathan tried to work the problem out on a small magnetic board in front of him. Meanwhile, Angela and Beth were at their own table trying to work it out in their heads. Rylee paused, taking a look at Beth. She was exactly one year younger than Rylee, mid-way through seventeen, and her face was pale white beneath stringy black hair that was slightly longer than Rylee’s. Her rounded ears poked out from beneath her hair, and Rylee’s eyes were immediately drawn to hers, large and brown, occasionally flicking from the board on the wall, to a book she’d laid open before her.
Rylee bit her lip as her upper body seemed to go numb; she jerked her head away from Beth, instead focusing on Ron, whose hand was shooting up above his head. He spoke before Rylee could think to call on him.
“I would capture the castle!” Ron said excitedly. “You can just shoot across and take it!”
“No.” Angela shook her head. “If you do that, then that other bishop can take the queen.”
“Oh, that’s dumb,” Ron frowned.
“Unless it’s another queen sacrifice,” Susie said unhelpfully from the back of the room.
“You know it’s not,” Rylee said pointedly. Susie unleashed some kind of demonic snort-giggle and returned to whatever book she was reading. “Okay, look, this is easy; if white uses the bishop to pin the knight--”
“Pin?” Richard frowned. “What’s pin?”
“It’s um…” Rylee glanced over to Beth, intent on asking her if this was the chess club she wanted to take to tournaments, but instead found her heart nearly beating out of her chest as she looked at her. “Eh…a pin is like…I mean…um…”
“When you threaten one piece with another,” Beth cut in helpfully, suddenly making eye contact with Rylee, who began to tremble. “So if you have like a queen on the other side of a rook, and your opponent attacks the rook with a bishop, you can’t move the rook, or you lose the queen on the next turn.”
“R-right,” Rylee stammered; Beth raised an eyebrow. “Um…this is actually really effective if you can pin the king because your, um…your…the…opponent can’t choose to sacrifice because um…the king…”
“The king can’t be captured, obviously.” Beth pushed her chair back and stepped forward to join Rylee in front of the projector. “What Rylee is trying to say is that if you pin the knight with the bishop, the player can choose to sacrifice, but it’s not a good idea because with the next move, bishop takes pawn, checks the king, the king has to move, and then loses a rook.”
“R-right,” Rylee stammered, managing to tear her gaze away from Beth. She stepped away, furiously wiping sweaty palms against her skirt and attempting to compose herself. “It’s um…okay…the thing about chess is that it’s…not a game of chance. The opening can be like…random, but when you get to the mid-game you have to, um…you don’t want to just make moves, you want to make moves that force your opponent to respond in one way or another, you know?”
“So it’s all about forcing people to--”
“Jesus Christ!” Rylee sputtered; the chess club members looked at her quizzically as she brought her hands to her face and tried to control her breathing. “Um…I forgot that um…I have a thing, with the guidance counselor…”
“You made printouts for us, right?” Beth took a step closer; Rylee nearly shrieked.
“Yeah, yeah, they’re over there,” Rylee blurted out, hoping to god that Tori wouldn’t somehow find out she’d used a computer. “It’s just…a few basic problems. I’ve gotta go.”
Turning on her heel and nearly stumbling in her clogs, she bolted toward the club room door, the whir of the overhead projector following her into the hallway until she managed to shut the door and throw her back against a nearby locker, heart pounding, sweat forming on her brow. She slapped the locker with the palm of her hand and let out a squeal so shrill she thought that she probably alerted every dog in the neighborhood.
What the hell? she thought to herself. Why was she just now noticing that Beth was attractive, and why did it matter so much to her?! She’d seen her like a million times before, so what was the difference now? Even more than that, Rylee had tons of attractive women in her life; she wasn’t attracted to all of them! She thought hard; she wasn’t attracted to Tori…no, that was more fear than anything else. She certainly wasn’t attracted to Fiona, or Addy, or anyone else. Why Beth?
“Jesus, no,” Rylee shook her head violently. “No, I’m not getting involved with anyone here!”
“Involved?” Beth said, from her new position in the doorway. Rylee looked at her, wide-eyed.
“I…I don’t know,” Rylee said quickly, her face flushed. “I was just talking to myself.”
“Right,” Beth said, shaking her head. “Look you’re not the first person to have a crush on Ron, but you can still help us, right?”
“Ron?”
“Well, he’s kind of cute,” Beth shrugged. “A little slow, though.”
“Look, I uh…have to go,” Rylee gestured down the empty hall. “To see the um…guidance counselor.”
“Right,” Beth laughed. “Well, have fun with that. Maybe dump a bucket of cold water on yourself before you go.”
Rylee gave her only a seconds-more glance before bolting down the hallway and taking a hard left towards the stairs, which she nearly tumbled down head over heels before managing to grab the side railing and steady herself. Cursing silently, she sailed down the steps as quickly as she could in a skirt and turned down the second flight, one foot after the other until she emerged into the first floor hallway. A left turn, past the entryway stairs, and then a right took her to the main office where Mrs. Hetrick’s office sat.
She bolted past a receptionist who voiced a brief objection and then quite literally burst into Mrs. Hetrick’s office, doubled over and nearly choking on her own breath. Mrs. Hetrick looked up from a stack of papers and cocked her head at Rylee, who now stood in the doorway panting, her blouse soaked with sweat.
“Rylee?” she asked curiously. Rylee looked up and nodded, her hair matted with sweat and each breath more of a wheeze than anything else. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rylee said breathlessly, nodding and doing her best to stand upright. “Just…stuff.”
“Stuff,” Mrs. Hetrick repeated. “Okay, want to have a seat?”
Rylee nodded and made her way over to the padded chair opposite Mrs. Hetrick’s desk, still panting. She reached up with her right hand and wiped a bead of sweat from her eyes, then immediately straightened her back and straightened her skirt before resting both hands on her lap with practiced precision. Mrs. Hetrick watched her intently for a moment, and then spoke.
“You’re very proper, even when you’re out of breath and wheezing,” she observed. “You know this is a high school and not a job interview, right?”
“I just…it’s habit,” Rylee said, struggling to make eye contact. “I don’t know why.”
The truth however, was more or less that Rylee had trained herself to be feminine, but also unnoticeable. She had studied the way women walked, sat, moved, and even subtle hand movements during conversation. Her number one rule: never deviate.
“I see,” Mrs. Hetrick nodded. “Well, how have you been getting along?”
Rylee shrugged, immediately lowering her eyes.
“Has anyone figured out you’re…not actually a girl?” Mrs. Hetrick asked, causing Rylee’s heart to skip a deep; her eyes flicked upward toward the guidance counselor as a million and one thoughts tore through her mind.
Not actually a girl. That’s what she’d said. Not actually a girl. Though she resisted the urge to clench her fists or even flash an expression of disgust, she internally lamented the fact that others could so easily discard the identity she’d worked so hard to forge. Even more so that no matter how hard she worked, and no matter how she felt, a few words from a stranger could wipe it all away and leave her feeling crushed.
“No,” Rylee said quietly, doing her best to push down the feelings that she was experiencing. Now’s not the time, she thought to herself.
“Your math teacher, Mister Carol says….that you missed a homework assignment this week?”
“I…I did,” Rylee admitted, looking down again. “I just…forgot I guess.”
“And your special ed class, how are you doing with that?”
“Oh, yeah, um…Mister Crabill helps a lot. He sits in the back of some of the classes and helps us out with assignments,” Rylee nodded. “And um…I like the books in the special ed classroom.”
“Good, good,” Mrs. Hetrick nodded. “One thing I’m concerned about though, Rylee, before the school year started we discussed the staff bathroom; what happened with that?”
“Um,” Rylee gulped. “I have been…using it…”
“I heard you used the regular girl’s bathroom on the first day,” Mrs. Hetrick said, her statement delivered in an almost accusatory tone. Rylee squirmed.
“I…didn’t mean to,” she said, recalling vividly how Carrie Ann had dragged her in, and how she’d managed to pass out on the tile floor. “My friend, she just…went and I went along with her and…”
“Can you make sure it doesn’t happen again?” Mrs. Hetrick asked; her question didn’t leave much room for argument, and the implications were clear.
“I’ll…try,” Rylee said nervously. “I really didn’t mean to, I swear.”
“Okay, Rylee,” Mrs. Hetrick nodded. “I do need you to understand that your presence here is tolerated because you follow the rules, and you don’t make a big deal about your…situation. We’ve never had this happen before, and now we have two of you.”
“Yeah,” Rylee muttered, looking down again. “I don’t…really talk to her much.”
“Other than the altercation in the lunchroom?”
“I…I didn’t start that,” Rylee stammered. “She just…I don’t know, she just…did that…”
“You were still involved,” Mrs. Hetrick pointed out. “We want you to get an education, but we can’t have you disrupting the learning environment; it’s unfair to the other students, do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I…I’m sorry,” Rylee offered, her voice squeaky and tears forming in her eyes. Mrs. Hetrick seemed unmoved by the display, regardless of how genuine it was. “I really didn’t mean to--”
“Rylee,” Mrs. Hetrick said firmly. “Let me explain the situation to you. You’re eighteen, legally an adult. You don’t have a guardian, it’s just you. If you go too far, if you disrupt the learning environment, I’m not going to call Tori or Anette, I’ll just going to call you to the principal’s office, and at that point we’ll have to start discussing your other options. You could always go through a GED program.”
Rylee nodded numbly, thinking hard about the potential repercussions. Truth be told she would rather go through a GED program, but Tori wanted her in school, and for some reason, that made it important to Rylee; the last thing she wanted was to let Tori down. Not after all this. So she nodded, again, listening as Mrs. Hetrick outlined a few more issues, each one compounded against the threat of expulsion. Rylee left the office dejected and defeated, wondering what was coming next.
“Well, the axle’s repaired,” Tori said to Marcus, sitting across the table from him. “The biggest hurdle is the loan from the bank.”
“What’s holding it up?” Marcus asked. He chewed on the end of a pencil in his right hand; Tori snatched it and gave him a disdainful look.
“That’s bad for your teeth,” she lectured; Marcus stared.
“I’m not Rylee,” he reminded her. “You don’t have to mother me.”
“I sister Rylee,” Tori informed him. “Mom mothers her. I need to go to the bank and present our business plan; I have an appointment the week after next. Whole thing is outlined, I just have to sell it to them. That’s not why you’re here, though.”
“It’s not?” Marcus looked around the table, grabbing onto another pencil, which Tori immediately snatched out of his hand.
“No chewing on the pencils,” she lectured again. “They cost money. We have to wrap this up, Rylee’s going to be here in a few minutes and I need to talk to her. Okay, let me show you something…”
She sorted through a stack of papers, moved part of it to the side, and then grabbed a manila folder, which she set in front of Marcus and laid open.
“These are, uh…” Tori scratched her head, shaking it violently to rid herself of an itch before continuing. “It’s the initial menu items for the truck. Most of it’s pretty straightforward, you have your hot dogs, hamburgers, pasta salad. It gets complicated when you start moving into the club sandwiches and the roast beef. The sauces are my own recipe, so we have to make most of it from scratch. It’s nothing we can’t handle, but it does require prep. That’s an everyday thing. Same as at Mitchell’s, you make a batch, date it, three days and it’s bad. Everything, and I mean everything has to be dated. I’ve got a roll of green tape and a box of sharpies to start us out with that.”
“Isn’t three days a little steep?” Marcus frowned. “Give it like a week, maybe; you’ll eat through your budget.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want turkey sandwiches that taste like piss,” Tori said abruptly. “That brings me to prep. Um, there’s not a whole lot of space in the truck, so we’ll have to put a tiny-ass prep station in the back, probably near the fridge. Are you ServSafe certified?”
“Obviously,” Marcus said, thrusting his index finger into his hair, twirling it in lieu of having something to occupy his hands with.
“Okay, good, what I need you to do is read over the menu and the recipes, really, really get to know them.”
“Yeah, fine, sure,” Marcus took the folder, closed it, and folded his hands atop it. “I’ll take it home tonight. We’re launching in a few weeks?”
“Correct,” Tori confirmed. “I have deals with a few businesses, particularly the Bechtle shopping center to park in the lot. I’m working on the mall, but they’re being stingy. Your dad wants me to park in front of Mitchell’s, but I’m worried about what kind of cut he’ll take. Oh, on that subject, though…let’s talk about your dad.”
“Do we have to?” Marcus cringed. Tori studied him closely, trying to read his emotions.
“Is he just yelling a lot?”
“I mean, define ‘a lot’,” Marcus shrugged. “He’s always yelled. At home, in public, and now at work. I guess I’m just getting a lot more of it since I work for him. I didn’t go to college like he wanted, you know? I wanted to take a year off, he didn’t like that. He wants me to move out, but where? I don’t make enough money at Mitchell’s and I don’t know anyone that needs a roommate. I’m kind of screwed.”
“Uh, you should make enough at Mitchell’s to move out,” Tori pointed out. “Are you spending your money on video games or something?”
“My dad makes me pay rent,” Marcus explained. “How am I supposed to save for a new place if he’s making me pay rent and buy my own food?”
“Jesus.” Tori rubbed her eyes and glanced toward the clock; it was nearly 4 PM; Rylee would be home before she knew it. Time to wrap this up. “Okay, okay. Um, give me a few days, we’ll figure something out. In the meantime, work on memorizing those recipes.”
“Look, I just…” Marcus spoke, then paused as if trying to process something; the frown on his face and the forlorn expression in his eyes spoke volumes on their own. Tori waited patiently for him to speak while throwing occasional glances at the clock. “I’m supposed to be able to handle stuff like this.”
“Explain,” Tori said curtly, looking at him intently.
“I’m a dude.” Marcus shrugged, presenting his hands as if it was all the explanation needed. Tori continued to stare, unsatisfied with the so-called explanation. “I’m supposed to be able to handle this stuff. Yelling doesn’t hurt me, you know?”
“It looks to me like it’s hurting you,” Tori pointed out. “Being a ‘dude’ has nothing to do with it.”
“Yeah, but my dad doesn’t really mean anything by it. Guys just yell sometimes, it’s not like he hits me.”
“Okay, look,” Tori sighed. She folded her hands in front of her and studied Marcus closely. “I’ve got my hands full, Marcus. The food truck, Rylee going to school, Rylee’s family shit, stuff around here…it’s a lot. You understand, right?” Marcus nodded; Tori continued. “So I can’t help you unless you want my help. I’m looking at your situation from the outside; I can see it for what it is. I can help you, but you have to stop arguing, you have to let me do my thing.”
“Like you did with Rylee?” Marcus’s tone bordered on an accusation. “You kidnapped her, right? Now she can’t even scratch her ass without your permission.”
“Rylee was given a choice,” Tori snapped. “She chose to live that way. She could have just been a normal roommate.”
“Why the hell would anyone choose to live that way?” Marcus asked, incredulously. “I’ve seen her around you; you make her act like a child.”
“Marcus, focus,” Tori said, agitated. “Figure your shit out. If you want my help, let me know, if not, I’m going to back off, but study the recipes.”
Rylee strolled in around 4:30; Tori glanced at the clock as she entered, and Anette was already busy in the kitchen, dunking drumsticks in bags of Shake n’ Bake. Anette shouted something to her about her backpack; Rylee snatched it up off the floor and made her way to her room with it. Tori chuckled.
“How was your day?” Tori asked her as she returned from the room. Rylee slunk over to the table and took a seat at the end where Anette had left a small plate of cheddar cheese slices and olives.
“It was okay,” Rylee shrugged, stuffing one of the cheese slices into her mouth.
“What did you do in class?”
“Learned,” Rylee said, shrugging again.
“What did you learn?” Tori pressed further, ignoring a laugh that drifted over from the kitchen.
“Stuff,” Rylee said as she chewed on the piece of cheese. Tori shook her head.
“Are you excited about tomorrow?” Tori watched Rylee’s expression briefly change to one of panic before somehow managing to return to normal as she looked down at the plate of cheese. “Your sister’s flying in, remember?”
“Uh-huh,” Rylee nodded.
“Okay look, Rylee, we do have to talk about this,” Tori informed her. “What are you thinking? How are you feeling? Are you worried about anything?”
Rylee shrugged again; Tori reached over and slid the plate away just as Rylee was going for one of the green olives.
“Feelings, Rylee,” Tori said insistently, waiting semi-patiently until Rylee managed to raise her head to make eye contact. “Tell me how you feel about tomorrow.”
Rylee’s eyes were fixed at the spot on the table where the plate of cheese and olives had sat a moment ago; her fingers were interlaced and she was beginning to squeeze her hands together while flexing her joined wrists. Her body began to sway from left to right as her breathing intensified. Tori was aware of Anette watching Rylee over the counter intently as she somehow managed to continue with her dinner prep.
“Rylee,” Tori said quietly.
“Scared,” Rylee said finally. “I’m scared of what she’ll think.”
“She already forgave you for leaving her behind,” Tori reminded her. “You didn’t have a choice.
Rylee gave a hard shrug in response. Tori watched her for a moment more, observing her very telling body language before speaking.
“I’m worried that she’ll make me go with her.”
“She can’t,” Tori reassured her. “We already thought of that.”
“You did?” Rylee looked up, frowning.
“Of course we did,” Anette said from the kitchen.
Tori reached her hand toward Rylee, laying it on top of hers; Rylee slowly looked up to meet Tori’s eyes.
“You’re part of this family, Ry,” Tori reassured her. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“I…just don’t want things to change,” Rylee mumbled, looking down and away. “I like it here. I like my room…I like everything and…”
Tori sat back in her chair, taking a moment to study Rylee. Her hair was partially pulled back and held by a plastic clip; she’d been using the straightener, at least. Strands of her brown locks hung loosely at the sides of her temples, accenting her red, puffy eyes. Tori lamented the fact that no matter how much she tried to take the burden of stress away from Rylee, it somehow always found her, and she seldom talked about it without prodding. They were due a conversation tonight.
“Rylee?”
Rylee gave another shrug before looking back down at the table. Tori looked over to Anette, who beckoned her over; she gave Rylee a pat on the shoulder and went to join Anette behind the counter, as her little sister gingerly took the plate of cheese and olives and slid it back toward her.
“It’s too much,” Anette said quietly as Tori joined her behind the counter.
“Too much?” Tori put a pot of boiling water on for the macaroni, and then turned back to Anette.
“Was barely four months ago she broke into your house, you put a gun in her face and told her she was part of our family--”
“Mom--” Tori glared daggers at her – she hated to be reminded of how she’d handled that situation.
“Think about everything that happened before that,” Anette reminded her. “Abusive home life, and then, somehow unlucky enough to be trafficked. Her brain is used to assuming the worst. We gave her a family and a home, she’s in school, she’s living a normal life and she’s waiting for it to crash down around her. And that’s fair, Tori, that’s totally fair given her history.”
“But it’s not going to crash down!” Tori argued. “We’ve got this under control, we really do!”
“You’re gonna have to show her that,” Anette explained as the water came to a slow boil. Tori took a bag of elbow macaroni and cut it open with a pair of scissors from the mason jar near the toaster oven. “Use that cheese by the oven.”
“How am I supposed to show her?” Tori asked, exasperated as she dumped the elbow macaroni into the boiling water. “We gave her all this and she’s still paranoid?”
“Tori--”
Tori held her hand up and stepped away from the stove, walking around the counter and moving toward the entertainment center in the living room. Bending over, she grabbed a gray photo album and headed back to the table where Rylee was dissociating into a slice of cheddar.
“Rylee, did your parents have photo albums?”
“Uh…yeah,” Rylee said, looking surprised. “We had like five of them under the TV.”
“We have them too.” Tori pulled her chair out and scooted it closer to Rylee, sitting directly next to her; the photo album now on the table. Rylee looked at it intently as Tori pulled open the cover. “Ours goes back pretty far. Look here’s a picture of Mom back in 1964; she was--”
“Skip past that!” Anette called out from the kitchen.
“She was super into the whole hippie thing. She has pictures of herself at Woodstock in here somewhere.”
“Woodstock?” Rylee frowned. “What’s that?”
“Big musical festival,” Tori smirked, giving Rylee a quick, partial hug. “Lots of drugs.”
“Drugs?!” Rylee’s eyes went wide as she turned to look at Anette, whose expression of annoyance could not be properly described in words.
“No one’s a saint, Rylee,” Anette said flatly. “Tori, you want to get to the point?”
“We should talk about your senior prank,” Tori called out. Rylee began to giggle; her eyes lit up and she doubled over the table with laughter. Tori gave her another hug, laughing out loud and shooting a smirk over to Anette, who was now giving a death glare over a tray of coated drumsticks. “Okay, okay, Rylee, let’s look at some other things.”
“Yes, let’s,” Anette snapped; Rylee snickered and leaned over, burying her face in Tori’s shoulder.
Tori waited for her to finish laughing and then flipped a few pages, occasionally going ‘nope’ as she came across more pictures of Anette. Finally, she stopped on one page she found to be at least somewhat appropriate.
“This is…was my brother, Steven.” Tori tapped one of the photos. “We grew up together, he was…really something.”
“What was he like?” Rylee asked curiously as she stared at the picture and then looked over to Tori.
“He was a lot like you, actually,” Tori smiled. “He loved Star Wars, had all the action figures.”
“Even Boba Fett?”
“Uh…I guess?” Tori searched her fragmented and distant memory of the movies. “Is he the one with the laser sword?”
“The green guy.”
“Oh! The guy that Luke had in the backpack!” Tori smiled, proud of herself.
“That’s Yoda.”
“What the fuck is a Yoda? Okay, whatever, Rylee. He loved Star Wars--”
“What about Star Trek?”
“Wasn’t really a fan,” Tori shook her head. “He loved to read, though. He read some of the same books you did. Shit, we should bring his box of books in from the sunroom for you. Um, he was in Boy Scouts for a while too.”
“He made Eagle Scout,” Anette reminded her; the tray of chicken clattered against the rack as she slid it into the oven.
“Eagle Scout, yeah,” Tori remembered. “God, he was so proud of that. Okay, um, you know Rebecca, obviously. Hah, look at this, she played Mary in the church nativity scene.”
“You went to church?” Rylee’s eyes went wide.
“Don’t read too much into it, Ry.” Tori nudged her. “There wasn’t a lot to do in the 80s. I sang in the choir.”
“You sang?!”
“And smoked behind the church,” Tori snickered. “Don’t tell Mom.”
Rylee stole a glance at the kitchen where Anette had leaned against the counter and buried her face in her hands, shaking her head slowly.
“What’s this one?” Rylee pointed to a picture of a younger Tori dressed in a loose t-shirt and jean shorts alongside Rebecca and a few other girls.
“That’s when we went to King’s Island…one of the times, I mean,” Tori explained. “That’s Rebecca, obviously, oh, Heather and Sarah. I have a few of us at Six Flags and Cedar Point too. Fiona’s in some of the others, as we got older. Okay, now...” Tori grabbed the page, turning it and explaining a few more of the pictures until she reached the back of the album. Rylee gasped.
“That’s me?” Rylee frowned, reaching out and touching the edge of a photograph of herself alongside Fiona on the couch, laughing at something off-camera.
“Lots more in here too,” Tori commented, pointing to another photo of herself and Rylee in front of the house. “You took this one when you first got here, remember?”
“Oh my gosh, I remember that!” Rylee grinned widely. “With the camera you let me borrow!”
“Gave you,” Tori corrected. “I gave you that camera, and you’re really, really good with it. Look, Rylee, there are like four pages in here with you, me, Mom, Fiona, Rebecca. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you don’t belong here. Especially don’t tell yourself that you don’t belong here. Understand?”
“It’s…hard,” Rylee admitted, slowly. “I…I guess I never really felt like I belonged anywhere. When I was at home, I had my room, but it didn’t have a lot of stuff, and it was the only place I was, I don’t know if that means a lot or anything, I don’t know. And anywhere else I went I was just…there for a while.”
“You’re staying here, Rylee, for a long time. We have plans and you’re part of them, understand?” Tori smiled and gave her another partial hug. “Besides, for Christmas we’re going up to Akron to see Rebecca and you don’t want to miss that.”
Rylee giggled and leaned into Tori again as they continued to flip through the photo album, Rylee occasionally laughing lightly at pictures, and Tori providing commentary. Tomorrow was going to be a good day.
Rylee awoke to Fiona lightly rubbing her shoulder; she slowly opened her eyes and beheld a view of her own hand, bathed in morning light as her face resided in a puddle of drool she’d made during the light. With a small moan, she managed to flip over onto her back and look up into Fiona’s eyes; she was rewarded with a brief smile and a shoulder pat as Fiona adjusted her position to make herself a bit more comfortable. Rylee laid there looking up at her for what seemed like an eternity; she had her hair down today, which was a stark contrast to the high ponytail she usually sported, and she was dressed in a black form-fitting,-long sleeved t-shirt. Casual, as always, but effortlessly feminine in a way Rylee felt she could never be.
“Tori woke up early and started cleaning,” Fiona said, keeping her voice low. “Anette left to pick up your sister at the airport.”
“Did I sleep too long?” Rylee suddenly panicked, scrambling to sit up; Fiona patted her on the shoulder, shaking her head to silence her.
“No, just relax for a minute, breathe,” Fiona instructed; she waited patiently as Rylee’s breathing slowed, and she dropped her head back against the pillow. “How did you sleep?”
“Okay, I guess,” Rylee lied; she’d tossed and turned for at least a few hours after climbing into bed the previous night. “Is it time to get up?”
“Tori went to get breakfast for us.” Fiona moved her hand to Rylee’s face, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. “No one wanted to cook this morning, and Tori wants to do hamburgers for lunch, after your sis gets here.”
“I like hamburgers.” Rylee yawned hard and stretched; Fiona sat back and allowed her to re-orient herself with the physical world.
“She’s really good at it,” Fiona assured her. “She’ll probably grill out.”
“We have a grill?”
“Anette does,” Fiona nodded. “Have you ever been to the back patio?”
“You know I’m not allowed outside by myself, right?” Rylee smirked. Fiona rolled her eyes and patted Rylee’s cheek.
“Come on, get up, let’s decide how we want to do this.” Fiona stepped away from the bed, allowing Rylee some space to sit up as she pulled open the closet and began looking through the clothing options. “Good grief, I remember Tori wearing a lot of these.”
“Yeah.” Rylee yawned, stretching her arms upward. “She gave me a bunch of her old stuff.”
“She really loves you, you know,” Fiona said as she pulled out a dark blue dress and looked it over before thrusting it back into the closet. “Even if her reasons for taking you in were kind of shitty.”
Rylee couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so she sat on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around her torso as Fiona cycled through outfit after outfit, shaking her head as she tried to make a decision. The ‘shitty’ situation that Fiona referred to was a bit more complicated than her tone let on. For several months after Rylee’s arrival, Tori had had no idea that Rylee was transgender and likewise, Rylee hadn’t known that once upon a time, Tori had had a newborn named ‘Rylie’ who died suddenly one night. When confronted, Tori had confirmed that yes, Rylee had essentially been a replacement. The news, while it should have technically upset Rylee to some degree, had actually helped her to be more accepting of the love Tori was trying to give her. While the others had been confused, Rylee had been able to rationalize it to herself over and over. Yes, the love was meant for someone else, but didn’t that make it easier to accept? It came with less guilt as she knew she was fulfilling a role rather than being a burden.
“I think we’ll go with a hoodie and a skirt,” Fiona said, pulling out a thin pink hoodie. “Kind of casual, that way it doesn’t look like Tori wrapped you up like a fucking present. We can still make you look cute. Here, take this, and this, and grab a bra out of your dresser.”
Bras were something that Rylee had in abundance; Anette had made sure to buy her twelve pairs, and then Tori had added another half dozen to the pile. For all of Rylee’s problems, the one she wasn’t going to have was finding a clean bra to wear every single day. She grabbed a pink and white one; it would go well with the white cami and pink hoodie that Fiona had chosen for her. She was quickly ushered to the bathroom and instructed to shower, which took nearly half an hour, and required Fiona’s intervention as Rylee had simply stood beneath the running water, staring at the wall. The curtain was ripped aside, and Fiona quickly twisted the knob to cut off the water.
“You asleep in here?” she asked, tapping Rylee to bring her back to reality. Rylee blinked and looked over to Fiona, sopping wet, water dripping from her hairline, down to her nose, and tapping against the floor of the tub.
“Sorry,” she said, her voice dropping an octave or two, much to her embarrassment.
“We’re still on schedule,” Fiona said, dismissively. “Just dry yourself off and get dressed.”
“You’re being really nice,” Rylee murmured, noticing that Fiona’s behavior was a stark contrast to her usual. Fiona smirked and shook her head before tossing Rylee a fluffy blue towel to dry off with.
“Are you saying I’m not usually nice?” Fionna snorted, squinting in the humid aftermath of Rylee’s shower. “I don’t even have a resting bitch face, Rylee.”
“You’re just…I don’t know,” Rylee looked away, embarrassed at her own statement, and partially self conscious over the fact that Fiona was in there with her while she was naked. Not that it should have mattered at this point, they’d all seen her naked numerous times by this point.
“It’s an important day for you, Rylee,” Fiona said, answering Rylee’s lingering yet unspoken question. “Did I ever tell you I was adopted?”
“Adopted?” Rylee turned, towel in hand and looked at her in amazement. “I didn’t know that…”
“Not adopted like you,” Fiona shook her head. “My mother loved me, my adopted mother, I mean. She raised me like I was her own, loved me like I was her own. Your…experience with adoption and family in general was…well, it was fucked up, Rylee. Mom and me, we’re more like Tori and Anette. Someday you’ll be like that, with Anette. Not right now; see, Rylee, the whole point of motherhood is to raise someone you can be friends with, not in the early years, but later. You see what I’m saying?”
Rylee nodded.
“You never would have had that with your mother, back in North Carolina; that’s not how they saw you. You could never be on equal ground with them. Anyway, my birth mother, she…um…well, I was an unplanned pregnancy and she couldn’t afford me at the time, so she opted to give me up. She got some money from the adoption agency I guess, probably not a whole lot, and off I went with a new family. Cool, huh?” Fiona smiled half-heartedly as Rylee struggled with her bra and then pulled on a back midi-length skirt.
“So it was a good thing?” Rylee asked.
“Sure, it was a great thing. I grew up in a happy, loving household, graduated high school with honors, I’m going to be a nurse. I have an amazing brother and sister, all my needs met, it was wonderful. I wouldn’t trade the relationship I have with my mom for anything in the world. But, Rylee, when I was eighteen years old, the adoption records were unsealed, and I learned about my birth mother. She didn’t get any updates on me, that’s not how it usually works unless it’s agreed upon, you know? She had to give me up and hadn’t a clue where I was or how I was doing, but that didn’t matter to me. You know what mattered? To me, anyway? The fact that she’d started another family a few years later. I guess she got a better job, met a guy, got stable. She had two kids, a boy and a girl. I should’ve been happy for her, but you know what I actually felt?”
Fiona stepped over and helped Rylee straighten out the hoodie, then handed her the skirt and waited for her to step into it, after which she guided her over to the vanity and went to work on her hair with a dryer at low-heat, brushing as she dried.
“God, your hair is so…so….anyway.” Fiona switched the hair dryer off and continued to brush. “I felt angry, Rylee. I was so angry because I wasn’t happy for her, I felt like she’d forgotten me. Like she’d--”
“Replaced you?” Rylee suggested. Fiona stopped brushing, studying Rylee’s face in the mirror for a moment. Rylee’s eyes flicked upward, catching Fiona’s gaze just before she resumed brushing.
“Yeah, replaced me,” Fiona agreed. “I should’ve just been happy for her, but I…couldn’t bring myself to talk to her. She lived a few miles from me in Springfield, actually. I went over there once, stood across the street, watched her with her new family. They were all so happy. So happy without me. But how dumb is that? They didn’t know I existed, well, probably. Good thing I’m older and wiser now, right?” She said it with a hint of sarcasm.
“So what happened?” Rylee asked as Fiona finished brushing and gave her a few squirts of heat protectant before grabbing the hair straightener. “Did you ever talk to her?”
“She died two years ago,” Fiona said abruptly. “Bone cancer, apparently. I was too late. That’s kind of the point, Rylee. I know you’re probably nervous; I’ve listened to you, I know you have regrets, but you’re full of ‘could haves’. Don’t let the ‘could haves’ take over, and don’t wait. You have a chance, right now. Don’t waste it.”
“I’m sorry,” Rylee said quietly as Fiona finished up with her hair. Fiona turned her around gently, inspecting her work.
“Why?” Fiona asked absently, inspecting Rylee’s outfit again. Rylee frowned.
“Um…I’m just sorry,” Rylee stammered, looking away.
“Do you care, Rylee? Like honestly. I’m not mad or anything, I just know you’re autistic, and I didn’t tell you the story to make you feel bad for me. I just want you to understand that you need to take advantage of the opportunity before it’s gone. So, let me ask you again, and be honest, do you care?”
“No,” Rylee whispered, looking away again. Fiona gave her a pat.
“Good girl,” she said, nodding. “Come on, Tori’s going to be home any minute.”
Rylee squinted in the heavy morning light as they walked through the dining room and headed toward the living room; she took a seat on the couch, drawing her legs up underneath her and leaning back against the cushion. Fiona sat on the opposite end of the couch, opening her phone, presumably to check for text messages.
“Did you get a new phone?” Rylee peeked over.
“Yeah,” Fiona glanced up. “It’s a Blackberry.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s like…a phone that has a personal organizer, e-mail, internet, instant messaging…it’s pretty cool.” Fiona flipped the device around so that Rylee could see it, and then resumed checking her messages.
“I wonder if Tori would let me have one of those,” Rylee mused, glancing at her own phone over on the countertop. It was a fairly sleek flip phone, one that Tori had bought her a few months ago. It had basic e-mail and some internet capabilities, but surfing was incredibly slow, and the browser barely supported any websites. It was, in fact, so abysmal that Rylee had simply given up on using it for anything other than text messages and calls.
“You know you’re not allowed to use the internet, Rylee,” Fiona warned, making eye contact and causing Rylee to shrink against the cushions. “And you know your phone usage is itemized; she can see you opening the browser on there.”
“Oh…” Rylee’s cheeks burned and her eyes widened. “I didn’t know she could…”
“Relax, you’re not in trouble,” Fiona shook her head. “But you did promise.”
“Yeah,” Rylee nodded. “I’m…sorry…I…”
“She left the internet enabled so you could read the family forum,” Fiona reminded her. “Have you been using it?”
“Not really,” Rylee admitted. “The browser is really slow.”
“Well,” Fiona said. “For that, and only that, she might let you use the computer. You have a whole extended family that definitely wouldn’t mind talking to you.”
Rylee cringed, not at the idea of the family forum, but at the fact that Tori could see that she’d broken the rules. Though she was technically, legally an adult, there were a number of rules in place for her safety, one of the most important being that she couldn’t use the internet. Or computers, for that matter. It seemed overly restrictive, but it was well established that use of the internet had gotten her in trouble in more ways than one.
“Yeah, um…I will,” Rylee promised, her cheeks now bright red. “Am I…are you sure I’m not going to get in trouble?”
“Not today,” Fiona shook her head. “Just think before you act. Very important.”
Their conversation was cut short as Tori walked through the front door, Burger King bags in hand. She glanced at Rylee and then over to Fiona as she passed by, walking toward the dining room.
“What’s up, Rylee?” Tori called back as she deposited the food on the table. “You look terrified.”
“Told her about the internet thing,” Fiona said, over the back of the couch; she then motioned for Rylee to follow her to the table. Rylee stood up slowly, hands clenched together and eyes to the ground as she made her way to the dining room.
“I called and had that turned off,” Tori said, reaching into the bags and distributing food. “You still have e-mail.”
“I’m…sorry,” Rylee murmured, her voice squeaky and distant as she sat down at the table.
“Rylee, love, consequences will happen, but not today. Today is too important, understand?” Tori looked at her insistently. Rylee nodded.
“What kind of consequences?” Rylee managed to squeak out.
“Well if you must know,” Tori said, sitting down. “I’m going to have you do some journaling. You need a creative outlet.”
“Journaling?” Rylee frowned. “That’s my punishment? No sentences?”
“Sentences are useful, occasionally,” Tori said, unwrapping a sandwich. “But not in this case. Come on, let’s eat.”
There was a moment of silence followed by the sounds of crinkling paper as they unwrapped sandwiches and hash browns. Rylee took a sip of her orange juice and continued to stare at the table, making eye contact only with her sausage biscuit. Tori looked at her from across the table, and then to Fiona who shrugged.
“Let’s go over the plan today,” Tori said, helpfully distracting Rylee from the catastrophizing that was going on in her head. Rylee looked up nervously as Tori launched into a quick detail session. “Mom is on her way to the airport right now, she’ll pick up your sister, they’ll come back here. They’ll probably grab coffee or something on the way back, so we have a few hours for sure. We want to meet your sister and talk to her, obviously, but this afternoon you two are going to be on your own. I want to give you guys time to catch up. We’ll have lunch and dinner, obviously, but try to remember that this is probably the first time the two of you have really been together…in any real manner. No one’s spying on you, you don’t have to rush, and you don’t have to go back to being a boy at the end of the day. This is a safe environment for you, Rylee, and a safe environment for your sister, understand?”
“In other words,” Fiona said after taking a bite of her sandwich. “We’re going to see who you are without your parents around.”
Ariel stepped out of the jetway, following a thick crowd of people into the terminal. She clutched her carry-on bag in her left hand, her right hand held her cell phone, hyper aware and awaiting any buzz that would indicate a message from Anette. She’d already received five since waking up at four in the morning. One confirming that she was awake, a few more checking to see if she had everything she needed. For a stranger, this Anette was being more than vigilant about Ariel’s wellbeing.
She walked with purpose across a carpeted floor, past rows of blue chairs and out onto a tile concourse flanked on one side by terminals, and the other by various shops and restaurants. The murmur of the crowd, the shouts of children, the aura of morning light enveloping the concourse from the glass ceiling overhead, all of it representing a living, breathing, moving world that had left Ariel behind.
One step at a time, one breath at a time, she observed a happy family emerging from another jetway; a mother, father, brother and sister. All happy, all getting along – the type of family that Ariel would have liked to have had. Happy families, and even happy people were a reminder of the life that was stolen from her and evoked a longing for something that had never happened to her. Nostalgia for a phantom past.
Her feet carried her to the end of the concourse, down an escalator and to a lobby that boasted a gargantuan ‘Birth of Flight’ mural just above the exit. She stepped off the escalator, leaving the noise of the concourse behind and standing before a display case that contained three hand-crafted models of the Wright Flyer along with several information plaques establishing Ohio as the ‘Birthplace of Flight’. Ariel held her hand to the glass, running her fingertips over the surface as she briefly scanned a placard discussing Kitty Hawk; memories of North Carolina, her home, came crashing through her carefully crafted mental defenses.
“Ariel?” a familiar voice said from behind. Slowly, Ariel turned and met the eyes of a middle-aged woman, jet black hair pulled back into a messy bun with hints of gray at her temples. She was dressed casually like Ariel in a blue fleece zip-up hoodie and black slacks. Ariel regarded her cautiously, her mind making the connection. “It’s me, Anette. Are you okay?”
“Um…hi,” Ariel said nervously, taking a step forward and swallowing hard as she tried to think of a follow-up. Fortunately, she didn’t have to; Anette smiled gently and stepped forward to meet her, outstretched her arms and enveloped Ariel in a quick hug before taking a step back and smiling again.
“Let’s get out of here, why don’t we?” Anette motioned toward the exit and Ariel nodded violently, bringing a hand to her face and wiping her eyes.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ariel nodded. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m…sorry, I’m just a little flustered.”
“Take all the time you need, sweetie,” Anette assured her as they walked toward the exit. “How was your trip?”
“I…don’t really remember,” Ariel said truthfully. “I’ve just been on autopilot, been a big ball of anxiety all day.”
“Have you eaten yet?” Anette asked, drawing a blank stare from Ariel as they stood before a row of steel and glass doors leading to the lobby exit. “You have to be hungry.”
Ariel, in truth, hadn’t eaten anything since the day before; her stomach was in knots when she woke up this morning, and she’d barely managed to get a few sips of water in. The idea of seeing Rylee for the first time in two years, the anxiousness and anticipation of seeing just what had become of her sister had consumed her. Most of all, the realization and understanding that she hadn’t been there for her like she promised. All of their plans had come crashing down around them and she’d done nothing to stop it.
“I, um…I’m not hungry,” Ariel shook her head. “I just want to see my sister.”
“Coffee then,” Anette suggested. “I insist, you look a little faint.”
There was no arguing against it, so Ariel fell silent as they exited the concourse and emerged into the cool morning air. They walked through a concrete parking garage, taking in the scent of motor oil and exhaust beneath cool white fluorescent lights. Their footsteps were hollow and the air around them was dead, as if they’d been sucked into a parallel universe where they, and only they existed amongst a sea of cars.
“Here we are.” Anette indicated a white SUV; she pulled out a key fob and deactivated the alarm, unlocking the door for Ariel.
“Is she okay?” Ariel asked as Anette navigated the parking garage. “My…sister, I mean.”
“Ariel, I know you’re worried, but I assure you she’s doing well. She’s kind of a wreck about school, but that’s normal teenage stuff. I’m more worried about you, to be honest.”
“Me?” Ariel frowned. “Why me?”
“You’ve been through a lot, Ariel,” Anette said firmly. “I know you’re going to downplay it, maybe even say Rylee had it worse, but you both grew up in the same environment and faced many of the same challenges. Rylee wasn’t in good shape when she came to us; I know you can’t be doing much better.”
“I guess…I try not to think about it,” Ariel admitted. “After it all happened, I left home and lived with my friend Amber for a few months, but my parents, they…kept causing problems, so I left and followed a job lead up to Michigan. I didn’t know where I was going to stay…I kind of planned to stay in my car. It didn’t work out that way, but I took a job at this place called The Haven, helping people like Rylee. Well, no, not like Rylee. Gay and lesbians…they weren’t really interested in helping trans people.”
“They usually aren’t,” Anette agreed. “For all the philanthropic bullshit they spout, they like to pretend trans people don’t exist.”
“So you have…a lot of experience with it then?” Ariel’s brow furrowed, turning toward Anette as if trying to assess her.
“Social worker,” Anette confirmed. “For most of my life, actually. When I saw Rylee for the first time, my first inclination was to call social services, get her assigned to a group home or something. Then I saw how my daughter, Tori, was with her and honestly, Tori’s been a mess ever since her daughter died. Rylee gave her hope, a purpose, and I started to have hope of my own. Then, when we were at the mall, she told me something and slipped up, basically told me she was trans.”
“Sounds like her,” Ariel muttered. “We told her mistakes could get her in trouble.”
“I went home, did some searching, found missing persons reports from Woodcrest, your hometown, and it didn’t take me too long to find her. As soon as I confirmed she was trans, I knew we could never turn her over to social services.”
“Yeah, I…I’m glad you saw it that way,” Ariel admitted, watching the road ahead as Anette took an exit and pulled into the parking lot of a Waffle House. “She wouldn’t do well in the system.”
“No, she would not,” Anette agreed; she switched off the engine and unbuckled her seatbelt. “Come on, let’s get you fed.”
“You really don’t have to do this,” Ariel said insistently. “Can just--”
“Ariel,” Anette said, cutting her off. “You’re having breakfast, that’s final, come on.”
Moments later they were seated at a table near the window amidst the aroma of bad coffee and the conversation of travelers, long haul truckers, and a half dozen others. Ariel glanced around, taking in the view of the regulars, some of whom stared into their cups of subpar coffee as if trying to mitigate the hangover from the previous night’s indulgence.
Ariel ordered a single pancake, while Anette ordered hash browns. While waiting for their food to arrive, Anette finally broached the tough part of the conversation.
“So, Ariel,” Anette said, sipping a cup of black coffee. “Now that we’re here, there are some things I really need to discuss with you, concerning Rylee.”
“Oh?” Ariel looked to her with concern, hand clenching the ceramic handle of her coffee mug.
“You asked how she was doing,” Anette took a sip and met Ariel’s gaze. “She’s doing well, far better than she was when we first met her. She was timid, afraid, she used to flinch at the slightest touch. I don’t know where that behavior was learned; maybe it…was from her life at home, in North Carolina, or maybe it was something that happened to her when she was on the run. It’s hard to tell, but she’s doing better. Not perfect; we haven’t had a lot of time with her, but she laughs now, she smiles, she’s stopped cowering. But, Ariel, despite being eighteen, she’s a child. I can’t gloss over that and neither can you. She ran away from home at sixteen, her…education was lacking and emotionally, she just hasn’t reached adulthood. There are so many things that she hasn’t learned. She will, but she’s just…not there yet.”
“And you think you can teach her those things?”
“She was a mess, Ariel,” Anette told her. “A big fucking mess, and it got bigger as we figured out what happened to her. We took her in, we made her a part of our family, a real part. Just…I’m asking you to give us a chance, Ariel. You’re here as a part of this family, just like she is.”
“Yeah that’s…what I’m having trouble understanding,” Ariel admitted. “You don’t know her…or you didn’t. She’s just…someone who showed up. Why would you go so far as to declare she’s a part of your family?”
“Despite the world’s best efforts, Ariel, Rylee is a sweet girl and she helps my daughter,” Anette explained. “We’re glad to have her, even if she can get frustrating from time to time.”
The food arrived, and Ariel stared at her pancake for a moment before reluctantly digging in. Abandoning the conversation at hand for a moment, she found herself looking through the window, toward the parking lot and to the freeway overpass beyond. Of all the places she thought that she might end up, Ohio certainly wasn’t one of them. To think of how far she’d come, and how much she’d learned, and feared; it had all been for this moment, the moment that she would find her sister, find Rylee. She’d come here to take her away, to bring her back home, to live the life they’d both always dreamed of, but what now? If Rylee was truly happy, if she was cared for, what right did she have.
She’s your sister, you have the right, her inner voice urged. Yes, that was right, it was not only her right, it was her responsibility to get Rylee away from here. They’d had plans, god dammit. Despite her better judgement, however, she sighed, and momentarily relented, turning back to Anette.
“Alright,” Ariel said softly. “I’ll trust you, for now.”
“Rylee, stop pacing, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” Tori told her, watching her pace from one end of the room to the other. Rylee practically glared at Tori, which nearly caused Fiona to break out into a fit of giggles. “Rylee, seriously, sit down.”
“I can’t!” Rylee exclaimed. “I…I just feel…I don’t know!”
“Rylee,” Tori said, moving toward her and gently laying a hand on her arm. Rylee jerked away, frustration and anger evident in her expression as she shrank back and wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her forearms and shaking her head violently. “Rylee, you’re fine, just breathe.”
“Don’t touch me!” Rylee shrieked. Fiona stood from the recliner and quietly crossed the room, taking up a position behind Rylee.
“Rylee,” Fiona said firmly. “I know you’re freaking out, I know you’re worried, nervous, whatever, but you need to calm down. Take a seat on the couch.”
“Get away from me!’ Rylee snapped, spinning around and taking a step backward from Fiona. “I’m fine, just leave me alone!”
“Rylee...” Tori stepped a little closer, reaching out to her. Rylee lashed out, smacking Tori’s hand away, and stumbled backward over the coffee table. Fiona managed to catch her before she tumbled into the glass, which caused Rylee to react even harder, letting out a shriek and flailing her arms. Tori gave Fiona a glance and nodded; they both took a step forward, Tori placing her hands on Rylee’s shoulders while Fiona pinned her arms and dragged her toward the couch. Rylee tried to kick, but all at once, she was on the couch and Fiona had expertly wrapped her legs around her, practically immobilizing her. Rylee’s face was red with frustration and anger as Tori talked her through the meltdown.
“Rylee, look at me!” Tori snapped her fingers, drawing Rylee’s attention. “You’re okay! I know you’re scared, I know you’re frustrated, but look at me! Look at me!”
Slowly, gradually, Rylee began to calm down; she fought less, the aggression faded from her eyes, and her breathing normalized.
“Sorry,” Rylee whispered through tears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”
“It’s okay! It’s okay, Rylee!” Tori said insistently, cradling her sister’s cheeks. “You’re okay, everything’s okay!”
“I sh-- I…I shouldn’t have done that.” Rylee was sobbing now, her lower lip quivering, her eyes puffy with tears. These meltdowns had been a matter of course since early on in their relationship, and Tori, along with Fiona and her mother, had learned to deal with them. A good part of it was anxiety, but another huge factor was her aversion to being touched. During her worst periods, the air itself was enough to set her off. “I j-just…”
“No, no, it’s okay, I promise.” Tori nodded to Fiona, who slowly released her; instead of pulling away, Rylee melted into Fiona’s arms, sobbing and convulsing as Tori rubbed her back. “It’s going to be okay, Rylee, I--”
Tori and Fiona were suddenly interrupted by the all-too-familiar clearing of Anette’s throat; they’d been so distracted that they hadn’t seen her stepping through the front door, Ariel in tow.
Tori stood upright and froze, looking from Anette first, and then to Ariel. Rylee’s sister was much like she’d expected and much like she’d seen on the video chat; long blonde hair, straighter and better kept than Rylee’s. She was wearing a simple white t-shirt beneath a black jean jacket with a cute, form-fitting cut and a pair of blue jeans, also form fitting. Combined with her light makeup and demeanor, she was a picture of beauty, practically angelic, and Tori couldn’t help but stare.
“Um…hi, you must be Ariel.” Tori did her best to compose herself, straightening the wrinkles from her v-neck top and standing up straight, aware of Fiona behind her trying to get Rylee to stand. “I um…sorry, we were just--”
“Rylee,” Ariel said, breathlessly as she stepped away from the foyer, crossing the room and stopping halfway to Rylee. “It’s you. It’s really you.”
Rylee was still hanging onto Fiona, eyes puffy, cheeks red as she turned her head to look at her long-lost sister. Despite the build-up to this reunion, the disbelief in Rylee’s eyes was unmistakable. Blinking through the tears, she stared at Ariel, her sister, in the same room at last. Ariel took another step forward, offering her right hand and giving Rylee a nod. Rylee slowly, gingerly reached out and laid her hand against Ariel’s, allowing her sister to pull her to her feet where she stood, head down, tears flowing as Ariel pressed a hand to her cheek. Slowly, carefully, she raised her head to make eye contact, offering a warm smile.
“It’s okay, little sister,” Ariel reassured her. “You did it. You survived, and you’re here. It’s over now, okay?”
There were a myriad of things that Rylee wanted to say in this moment. She wanted to tell Ariel that she loved her, she wanted to apologize for leaving her behind. She wanted to thank her, for helping her to become Rylee. So many things, so many thoughts, and words, and ideas and emotions and no words or ability to express them as she stood before her sister for the first time in two years among friends and family. The emotions and history present in the room were enough to fill a book, each of those present recalling the events that had taken place right here in this living room. Most recently, the family meeting where Tori had discovered Rylee’s true identity and had sworn to love and protect her nonetheless. The moment they had learned her past, the horrors she’d faced, and now it all came full circle as Ariel, a face from the distant past and her sister, had come here against all odds.
Slowly, carefully, Ariel drew Rylee into a tight hug, Rylee laying her head against Ariel’s shoulder and allowing the tears to flow freely; all of her thoughts and unspoken words transformed into one display of torrential emotion as the world around them faded away. For a moment, perhaps more, it was them and only them, sequestered in their own private universe. Tori, Anette, Fiona, the living room, all of it vanished as their emotions intertwined and two years of pain, longing, and regret swirled around them. No words were spoken, they simply stood in that long, warm embrace that served to say: I know. Me too.
“I’m really sorry about that,” Tori apologized again. “She has hard days sometimes, and today…”
“No, don’t worry about it,” Ariel reassured her. “You handled it really well.”
“Thanks,” Tori nodded, her voice empty as she looked at Ariel and Rylee. They’d opted to sit in the living room, Ariel beside Rylee at the end of the couch, her little sister wrapped in her arms as Rylee made futile attempts to dry her eyes with a Kleenex. Fiona sat at the opposite end of the couch and Anette had taken the recliner while Tori sat lightly on the ottoman. Rylee had recovered from her episode, mostly, but had opted to remain mostly silent. Ariel continually rubbed her shoulders, giving her the occasional squeeze and reassuring her as Tori and Anette looked on. “I’m, uh…really glad you decided to come.”
“Well yeah, of course I came,” Ariel said. “I mean…I’ve been looking for Rylee for two years. Can you tell me…more about what happened, though? How did she end up here?”
“Um…” Tori scrambled for an explanation that didn’t involve the word ‘gun’, but Anette raised a hand, silencing her.
“Honesty is going to be best here, Tori,” Anette informed her before taking a deep breath and looking to Ariel. “Ariel, I’m going to level with you, it wasn’t…the best first encounter. Rylee had been homeless for a long time; she was surviving by breaking into houses, stealing food, clothes, taking showers, whatever she could do. I can’t really blame her for it, no one should. We know what happened with your parents, we’ve seen the social work reports, and we know that she was lacking the skills she needed to survive. Of course, Tori didn’t know that, at the time, so it’s understandable that when she found an intruder in her home, she took…measures.”
“Measure?” Ariel frowned. “What do you mean, measures?”
“She means I put a gun in her face,” Tori said abruptly, drawing a horrified stare from Ariel. “I’m not going to sugar coat it--”
“But I am,” Anette interrupted her. “Tori felt the need to protect herself, but the moment she realized Rylee wasn’t a threat, she made efforts to make her feel safe, and the rest followed.”
“The rest?” Ariel raised an eyebrow. “This all sounds…kind of horrifying. You forced her to stay here at gunpoint?”
“That’s an oversimplification of it,” Anette corrected her. “Tori brought me in, because of my history as a social worker, and we realized that if we allowed Rylee to leave, she would simply continue with her current course and likely be killed or fall back into the same situation she had before, when she first left home. If we turned her over to social services, she could end up in jail or a group home. When I discovered she was transgender, our options were narrowed even further. Now, before you blame Tori or me for our actions or this situation, I want you to think about what it was like when you lived at home with Rylee. Think hard about how much she went through, and think about what you were able to do for her.”
“I…” Ariel frowned, her eyes darting from left to right as she recalled a history of violent abuse, despair, and helplessness. “I gave her…her name, and I gave her chances to be herself, and…I…”
“But it was all temporary,” Anette said, nodding. “You did the best you could, and so did we. Ariel, we have more resources than you do, we have jobs, we have money, I have my connections as a social worker, Fiona is training to be a nurse and we still couldn’t help as much as we wanted to. There are no adequate resources for someone like Rylee; the system is cruel to people like her. The best thing we could do was offer direct help.”
“I’m going to jump in here,” Fiona spoke, which surprised everyone in the room. All eyes turned to her as she folded her hands on the other end of the couch, adjusting her position and turning to Ariel. “What happened here is…abnormal. You don’t normally just…keep a home invader, let alone make them part of your family, but as a fairly neutral observer, Tori needed Rylee, and Rylee needed Tori. That’s all there is to it. They were both in bad places, pushed to the edge, and they saved each other in a way that me, Anette, and any number of their other friends couldn’t. I’m hard on Rylee, a lot, because I know that she can be better, she can be more than what she is, but what she is, right now, is amazing. She’s loving, she’s caring, and she’s very very smart. But she’s hurt, and she needs people to guide her, people with experience. You’re not going to find anyone better than the people in this room right now.”
Ariel took a deep breath and looked around the room. From Tori, to Anette, then Fiona, and finally back to Rylee, who was comfortably tucked into the corner of the couch next to her. Finally, she spoke again.
“Can…I talk to my sister alone?” Ariel asked.
“Absolutely.” Anette smiled. “Rylee, why don’t you take Ariel back to your room?”
“Her room?” Ariel asked, surprised. “She has a whole room?”
“Did you think she was sleeping on the floor?” Tori raised an eyebrow; Anette glared at Tori.
“I guess maybe…I thought you had an air mattress for her or something, I don’t know.”
“A whole room,” Tori confirmed. “Rylee, you want to show her?”
“Yeah.” Rylee nodded, pushing herself off of the couch and waiting for Ariel to join her. As she did, she looked to Tori, who nodded her approval.
“Go ahead, Ry.” Tori smiled. “We’ll be out here when you guys get done.”
Hand in hand, Rylee and Ariel made their way out of the living room, down the hallway, turning left into Rylee’s room, where they separated and Ariel stood in the doorway for a moment. Rylee stepped forward, toward the center of the room, and turned toward Ariel, offering her a quick smile as she watched her step inside. Ariel’s eyes traveled the room, from the white dresser with pink trim, to the perfectly made bed, to the writing desk in the corner. Slowly and carefully she made her way around the room, running her fingertips across the surfaces, rotating the miniature CD tower on the dresser and mouthing the titles silently. She moved to the closet, pulling the doors aside and taking in the huge selection of clothes, and finally turned back to Rylee who was watching her not with confusion, but curiosity.
Ariel stopped her survey of the room to regard her sister, standing there timidly in the center of the room, silent, except for the millions of questions that burned behind her perplexed expression. But still, there was something different about her; when she’d been at home, in North Carolina, there had been brief moments of happiness, but they were always overshadowed by fear and pain, both of which had been present in her expression at all times. An innate sense of paranoia and trepidation had preceded her personality and overshadowed her every movement. Today, as she looked at her sister, she felt as if she were truly seeing her for the first time. The fear was gone and replaced by contentment and a sense of belonging. She looked…like a normal teenage girl.
“Hi…Rylee,” Ariel said cautiously.
“Hi,” Rylee said softly with a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Look, I’m…I…have to say this isn’t what I expected to find.” Ariel looked around and gestured to the room. “They gave you all this?”
“It’s my room,” Rylee shrugged. “Tori lived in it when she was a teenager, but…she gave it to me. It’s got all her old stuff in it.”
“You look…really good,” Ariel stepped forward and studied her little sister. “You grew your hair out?”
“Yeah,” Rylee nodded. “It didn’t take long; it was really messy at first, but Tori showed me how to take care of it. I have to use conditioner now; I never did that at home. And she has me put some other stuff in it.”
“Rylee…I…came here to take you home with me.” Ariel frowned. “I…have a job in Michigan and we could live in an apartment together, just like we always wanted…but…”
The room sat in a stagnant silence for a moment save for the sound of Rylee’s irregular breaths and the beating of Ariel’s heart that filled her ears. Finally, it was Rylee who spoke.
“I…dreamed about you,” Rylee said, breaking the silence; Ariel tilted her head, listening intently. “When…I was out there. On the road or whatever. I used to fall asleep dreaming that you’d find me. I was hungry and cold, and everything hurt. But…I would dream these dreams where I’d wake up and there you’d be, holding out your hand, and you’d take me somewhere safe.”
“I’m here now, Rylee,” Ariel said softly. “We can still do that, if you want.”
“I never forgot about you.” A tear trickled down Rylee’s cheek. “I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. When I was asleep in the woods, or when I found some abandoned building to sleep in. When…when those people…were doing things to me. I thought about you and I stayed alive because I knew you wouldn’t stop. Not until you found me.”
“I tried, Rylee.” Ariel wiped a tear from her cheek and sniffed. “I tried every day, I did everything I could, I promise--”
“I know,” Rylee said softly. “I know you did. But there’s something…here. When I lived at home with Mom and Dad, I didn’t…really live there. I don’t know what I’m trying to say, I guess. It’s just…I didn’t really…I don’t know. I was always waiting for the next thing, always waiting for the day I could leave. They included me, but they didn’t. I didn’t belong. If I disappeared, it wouldn’t make a difference. When I’m here, though, I feel like…I’m a part of it. Like I’m supposed to be here. Like…if I left, people would miss me. I…want to be here, Ariel, and…I don’t know how to do that. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“And this…Tori person,” Ariel said, wiping away another tear. “She’s nice to you? She doesn’t hurt you?”
“She took care of me,” Rylee said, biting her lower lip and doing her best to keep eye contact with her sister. “She helped.”
“I should have helped,” Ariel said simply. “I should have…been there for you. But I wasn’t, and some stranger had to do my job for me. That feels…it hurts, Rylee. It fucking hurts. I just…need a minute.”
Ariel could see the wave of anguish as it crashed over Rylee like the evening tide. Her face transformed from that expression of newfound hope to utter despair as Ariel made her statement. They had been two years separated, desperately searching, and now that they were here, standing in the same room, they were suddenly worlds apart.
Rylee nodded softly and stepped out of the room, disappearing into the hallway and leaving Ariel to her thoughts. As soon as her sister was gone, Ariel collapsed onto the bed, burying her head in her hands. How could she have failed so badly? She’d promised to protect Rylee, to keep her safe, but some stranger, this Tori person had to step in. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It just wasn’t! She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream. She wanted to break something, but as she looked around the room, all she could see were Rylee’s valuables, gifted to her by Tori Blackburn. This place, this room, all of it was put together with so much love, so much caring, so much more than they’d had at home with their parents. It wasn’t possible, it just wasn’t!
“Breathe, Ariel,” she muttered to herself. “Just breathe.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Anette said from the door; Ariel looked up to see the petite, black-haired woman leaning against the door frame, shaking her head insistently. “It wasn’t, Ariel.”
“Then whose?” Ariel asked, weakly. She no longer had it in her to yell or demand.
“The monsters that raised you.” Anette’s statement left no room for argument. “The two people that should have loved you for you and not the people that they were trying to mold you into. A parent’s job is to give guidance and to protect their child from harm. To provide. They don’t manipulate, they don’t abuse and they don’t resort to loving only the image of themselves that they project onto you. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault. Understand?”
Ariel sobbed softly as Anette took her hands, and crouched down in front of her, looking into her eyes.
“I feel so useless,” Ariel admitted, unable to contain her tears. “I’m her big sister, I should have…I should…I…”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” Anette reassured her. “You left a trail for her to follow, we picked it up, we found you, you came here. You found a way, against all odds, and here you are. Listen, Ariel,” Anette continued. “Your sister needed help, she found help, and she found a family, just like you did today, if you’ll have us. Lots of people need help, Ariel. Every single day, someone is in a dire situation. Life or death, win or lose. And Ariel? Right now, it’s you.”
“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Tori assured her. “She’s got a new game to play and she needs some time to disassociate. It’s been a day for her, so far.”
“Mom and Dad never let her play games,” Ariel said thoughtfully. “They always said it would be bad for her ADHD or whatever. I snuck a few home for her from school to play on our old computer, though.”
“She told me,” Tori smiled. “She talked about you a lot. The game thing, though…Mom and I did some experimentation with it; she does fixate if she’s left alone, but we put time limits on her gaming. We usually give her an hour to two hours a day, but more on the weekends. We don’t want to take it away because she sort of needs something that’s hers, and it’s relaxing for her.”
“Something that’s hers?” Ariel asked, curiously as they began to walk past Anette’s car and toward the open garage door.
“I don’t know how to put this,” Tori said, shrugging. “The situation…I mean, her being trans and all, it’s made it so everything she is, every single thought, secret, personality quirk, all of it’s been laid bare. She has nothing to her that’s really ‘hers’ anymore. Some of that…could have been avoided; I mean, if she’d come right out and said, ‘Hey, I’m trans and I have a history of abuse that I’d rather not talk about’, we definitely could have worked with that, but she made us drag it out of her piece by piece until every part of her was exposed. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was the only way to take care of her.”
“That sounds…awful.” Ariel shuddered. “And she’s okay?”
“It was awful on both sides,” Tori assured her. “There were a lot of tears, for sure, and it was frustrating but…Jesus, Ariel, things happened to her. I read the social work reports and…I…I honestly admire her for surviving, but she needed help. She needs help.”
They stopped at the threshold of the garage, staring out at the driveway. In front of Ariel, maybe a dozen feet away, Tori’s box truck stood, shining in the afternoon sunlight, freshly cleaned. Her eyes traveled to the left, surveying the front yard: a green lawn ensconced behind a row of high shrubs that protected it from the outside world.
“She’s been here four months and you know her better than our parents ever did,” Ariel said, shaking her head incredulously. “I guess…I just don’t get it. How?”
“She was a hard nut to crack,” Tori admitted. “But I had help. My mom’s social work experience, Fiona’s medical training, friends, family, all sorts of advice. I didn’t do it alone, you understand, there are a whole lot of people invested in helping your sister, people she hasn’t even met.”
“But why?” Ariel frowned, bringing a hand to her head and twirling a strand of hair. “You don’t even know her, none of you do.”
“Why do you?”
“Um, she’s my sister,” Ariel said, matter of factly.
“Half-sister,” Tori corrected. “You didn’t have to help her, you could have just let her rot. Even your parents encouraged you to. What was your motivation?”
“I…guess…when I saw who she really was, I just couldn’t let her suffer like that.” Ariel struggled to come up with a viable explanation, and simply stopped there.
“There’s a saying,” Tori said. “That you ‘don’t owe anybody shit’. I get the sentiment, but Mom always told us that we owe each other a lot. She also told us that if you can help someone in need, and it won’t hurt you, then you must help them. I try to live by that as much as she does.”
“But helping Rylee,” Ariel said. “It had to hurt you. But you kept doing it?”
“For better or for worse, Rylee is my sister now, and so are you,” Tori said firmly, making eye contact with Ariel. “She’s a little messed up, or a lot, but we’re all messed up in our own ways here.”
“I…wanted to take her home with me,” Ariel admitted, “I…got a raise at my job, and I was going to look for a bigger apartment and…I…”
“I know you were, Ariel.” Tori turned to her, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder and maintaining eye contact. “I know you love your sister more than anything in the world, but she can’t work. You’d end up supporting her, and it sounds like you can barely support yourself. I’m not insulting you, but you’re two years older than her; you haven’t had time to establish yourself and you didn’t get the help you deserved. It would be bad for both of you.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” Ariel shook her head. “I’m supposed to protect my sister. I can’t even do that?”
“You’re here,” Tori said reassuringly. “She thought she was never going to see you again, but you’re here. You’re alive. You’re doing amazingly so far. It could have gone so much worse, Ariel.”
“So what, am I supposed to just leave her here?”
“Come on,” Tori smiled. “I want to show you something.”
Tori placed a hand on Ariel’s shoulder and smiled softly as she led her from the garage, down the driveway, and toward the back of the truck. The back door was open, and as Ariel peered in, she was shocked to see someone asleep on the floor; a guy with dark hair, dressed in a maroon t-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans, one arm tucked beneath his head as a pillow.
“Um, who’s that?” Ariel frowned. “You got a homeless guy back here?”
“That’s Marcus,” Tori explained. “But, unimportant. This is going to be a food truck. I’m going to the bank next week to try and get a loan; once it comes through, I’ll start getting this thing set up. There’s a lot of work to do, but we can manage it. How would you feel about being a cook, Ariel?”
“You’re…going to run a food truck,” Ariel said, a question phrased as a statement.
“Hell yeah, I am.” Tori nodded toward the truck. “I’ve got a menu planned out and everything. Marcus is going to work the truck and…maybe you can too. If you want.”
Ariel turned to look at Tori and then glanced back to the empty box truck and Marcus, snoring on the floor. Finally, she turned back to Tori.
“I’m supposed to just abandon my whole life for this?” She shook her head, her eyes wide. “What if you don’t get the loan?”
“We’ll manage,” Tori assured her. “In the unlikely event that this falls through, we’ll find something else for you to do.”
“But you’re still asking me to abandon my whole life,” Ariel reminded her. “I left my best friend back there; she kind of relies on me to pay rent.”
“Ariel, you want to ask your sister to abandon her whole life for you,” Tori reminded her; Ariel’s face fell with recognition. “And your roommate is a big girl; your sister isn’t. Who needs you more?”
“This is such bullshit,” Ariel shook her head. “This shouldn’t have happened!”
“Yeah well, in some ways, I’m glad it did,” Tori said, prompting a look of surprise from Ariel. Tori gestured toward the edge of the edge of the truck bed, sitting down and waiting for Ariel to follow suit. “I’m glad I know your sister, Ariel. She’s sweet, she’s polite, she’s a joy to have around. She’s damaged, of course, but Ariel, people love her.”
“It’s weird, you know?” Ariel looked at Tori who cast a questioning expression at her. “People know my sister now. Back then it was just…me and Amber. We knew about her, hell, we kind of made her, but no one else knew. She was kind of our dirty little secret, I guess. I…I didn’t know if anyone else would ever know her. I didn’t know if she’d survive. I thought maybe Ryan would survive, but Rylee? I…wasn’t sure that her identity would make it. Now you know her, and Anette knows her, and Fiona, and…probably that guy back there--”
“Marcus.”
“Right,” Ariel nodded. “Marcus. It’s like…she’s real. She’s finally real. I guess I should stop bitching at you. You made that happen, didn’t you?”
“You brought her out,” Tori pointed out. “I can’t take all the credit.”
“I brought her out, but I didn’t make her her. When we lived with our parents she couldn’t really be herself. I don’t know who she was on the road, but she…became Rylee here, didn’t she? In a way she was born here with you. I don’t know what to think, Tori. I’m her sister and I couldn’t even give her that.”
“I think you did the best you could.” Tori reached over and rested her hand atop Ariel’s. Ariel looked up, her eyes glazed over. “I think you had limited resources, and I think…Ariel, I think you saved your sister’s life. I think you helped her find herself, even if it was in a dark place, and you gave her the courage to become herself away from home. Don’t diminish your accomplishments, Ariel.”
“You’re really her sister, aren’t you?” Ariel said, after a long moment. Tori squeezed her hand.
“We both are,” Tori said, “and my other sister, Rebecca. Anette is our mother; we’re a family. For better, or for worse, we’re stuck together now.”
Ariel took a deep breath, contemplating the weight of Tori’s words as they sat there at the edge of the truck, having a heartfelt discussion to the cadence of Marcus’s light snoring. There was pain in Ariel’s eyes, the memories of a time long past intermingling with the hope for a future she never imagined. It was strange, and this certainly wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen, but could she have hoped for any better outcome? Reunited with her sister, against all odds. A family, simply handed to her, another thing that she couldn’t have dreamed of.
“Thank you, Tori.”
“Rylee! Off the Nintendo!” Tori snapped her fingers. “Come on, get over to the table!”
“A little hard on her, aren’t you?” Ariel frowned from the other side of the table, her hand resting on the back of a wooden chair. Tori gave her a soft smile.
“She’ll stay on that thing all night,” Tori explained. “She’s got school tomorrow.”
“Wait, I have to go back already?” Rylee turned from her position on the floor, controller still in hand. Tori smirked at her.
“Don’t wanna fall behind,” Tori laughed. “Besides, your friends probably miss you.”
“Rylee has friends?” Ariel said, softly enough for only Tori to hear. Tori turned around, nodded and smiled to Ariel.
They’d just finished dinner, a meal consisting of green bean casserole and pork chops. Tori had made the porch chops while Ariel and Tori had shown Rylee the finer points of making green bean casserole. Now that dinner was over, Tori and Ariel had set about gathering the dishes and moving them to the sink, and subsequently the dishwasher. Rylee, on the other hand, sat quietly on the living room floor playing one of her fantasy games.
“Rylee, help us with this,” Ariel called out.
“Don’t you dare,” Tori snapped to Rylee. “Go shower and brush your teeth.”
Ariel looked to Tori questioningly as Rylee’s shoulder slumped and she turned, walking past Ariel, down the hall toward the bathroom. Tori immediately stacked the plates and silverware, walking them over to the sink as Ariel’s eyes burned into the back of her head. Tori dropped the plates into the sink and looked up at her from across the counter.
“When she first came to my house,” Tori said to Ariel, “her first instinct was to wash the dishes. She grabbed for a scrub brush just because we were in the vicinity of the sink. I put a stop to that right away. Mom’s been a social worker for most of her life, I’ve heard enough stories, and now I know Rylee’s history. I’m not going to have her thinking her worth is tied to what she can do for us. Chores included.”
“When we lived at home,” Ariel said, picking up the glasses from the table and heading over to Tori. “She did the dishes. It wasn’t a chore that Mom or Dad gave her, she just did it because she wanted to do something. It just…became a thing, and I guess everyone expected her to do the dishes. So then, one day, Dad brings home this movie from Hollywood Video; it was called Willow, I think. She wanted to see it, but her bedtime was nine. So she skipped the dishes. It wasn’t really one of her chores, so she figured she’d leave it until morning. They got about halfway through the movie, I guess, before Dad walked over to the kitchen to get something, and he saw the dishes…”
“She has reactions to things she shouldn’t,” Tori said, filling the silence that hung off the end of Ariel’s last statement. “She flinches at the lightest touch, and she’s just…afraid, in general. She’s afraid of her own shadow, and I’m trying, I’m really trying, but I kept her here because she just wasn’t ready to be out there.”
“You know, I was mad at you, at first,” Ariel said, resignation in her tone. “I wanted to hate you because…you kept her here against her will. I mean, that’s what you did. You can call it whatever you want, but you didn’t allow her to leave, and I was so angry. I came here…dead set on grabbing her and taking her back home…”
“We figured.” Tori smiled and took the glasses from her, setting them in the sink. “She’s your sister, you love her, and you’ve been looking for her for two years. I get it, Ariel, but we wouldn’t have let you.”
“I know that,” Ariel nodded. “I…Tori, I just…when I saw her, there was something so much different about her. After you talked her through her meltdown, I mean. She seems brighter; there’s this light in her eyes, and she smiles. It’s like she’s come to life; you did something that I couldn’t.”
“You kept her alive,” Anette said, stepping out of the hallway and toward the kitchen. “You couldn’t have been expected to do much more than that. It’s time for you to stop beating yourself up.”
Ariel turned away from Tori, stepping back toward the living room and standing behind the couch. She peered out the window, past the porch and toward the front yard. The evening light was beginning to fade; the sky bursting with color as night began to set in. Ariel leaned against the couch, trying to process every little, and big thing that had happened today. She’d had plans when she came here, plans to take Rylee, to get her to Michigan, to build the life that they deserved to have together. But it was different now, wasn’t it? Rylee had a life, she had a family, the same family that was being offered to her now. The opportunity to start over, to join her sister here. Her apprehension was slowly fading.
“It was right here, you know,” Tori said, stepping around the couch; she gave Ariel a thin smile as she gestured toward the couch. “I brought her here, and that’s where I learned everything about her. Well, almost everything, I mean there’s still a few tidbits that I haven’t figured out yet. But the night I found out she was trans? I brought her here and she was…she was so scared, Ariel. She was trembling, sobbing, she kept saying over and over again that she was going to tell me. She thought I was going to get rid of her or kick her out or whatever. It was in that moment, Ariel, that I realized what a commitment we’d made. What I’d made. She’s someone that needs to be protected. The worst has already happened to her, and we need to make sure it never happens again. She’s…put so much time and effort into becoming the person she was meant to be. Hell, I don’t even know how she learned half of it.”
“She had help,” Ariel wiped her eyes. “I showed her some, and then there was this woman, we met her online. She transitioned in the eighties; I guess she went to some finishing school in Almsworth. It’s over in England. She…went at her hard.”
“She did was someone hit her until she learned to walk properly,” Anette snorted. “Your friend?”
“Yeah,” Ariel nodded, wiping her eyes again. “It may have saved her life.”
“Maybe,” Tori agreed. “When I found out about Rylee, I told her that this wasn’t going to make me push her away, it was going to make me more protective of her, because of how unique she is. We’ll do what it takes, Ariel, whatever it takes.”
“You know what sucks, is I’m starting to believe you,” Ariel sighed. “I don’t want to. Every instinct in me is saying to grab Rylee and run, but…I think I believe you. That you really have her best interests in mind.”
“We do, obviously,” Anette said, stepping forward. “But there’s more to it than that.”
“More?” Ariel raised an eyebrow. “What more could there be?”
“You,” Tori said, flatly, simply.
“Me?” Ariel whispered. “What about me?”
“You didn’t face the same challenges as Rylee,” Anette said, regarding Ariel softly. “You didn’t have the autism, or the learning disabilities. You don’t have the spatial awareness issues. You aren’t transgender, obviously, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t endure the trauma. You were raised in the same house, by the same monsters, and you had to watch out for your little sister. You spent years keeping her safe and then you went off and had to take care of yourself. You never caught a break. Now, Ariel, it’s time to let someone take care of you.”
“I…” Ariel stammered, looking between Anette and Tori. Tori folded her arms while Anette stepped forward again, this time, arms outstretched. Ariel twitched, her eyes watering again as she went slack, allowing Anette to embrace her. She buried her face in Anette’s shoulder as the tears began to flow freely.
“Welcome home, sweetie,” Anette said.
January 2001
“You really called it,” Ariel remarked, more than a little impressed. Amber only nodded in response, leaving Ariel to peer through the glass of the front window, taking in the view of the frozen wasteland beyond the driveway. The front yard was coated in a layer of white snow, windswept and iced over, its shape frozen as further beyond the road was coated in a layer of translucent ice, uneven and covered in divots as far as the eye could see. The world had been transformed, and the only evidence that it had once lived and breathed was the bright white glow of street lights illuminating the ice in puddles of light gaped with shadow in between. Through the dead of night, Ariel could faintly see the lights of other houses, shadows of movement beyond the windows. The world outside, beyond Amber’s street had ceased to exist.
Ariel turned around to see Rylee – no – Ryan sitting in front of the television in the other room. Home Improvement was on, or something. He looked so out of place in his blue jeans and black t-shirt, like a shadow of the person that Ariel knew him to be. They’d arranged this so nicely, or at least Amber had. Ariel had simply told her parents that Amber’s dad needed help rearranging the garage, but in truth, Ron, her father, was off on some business trip. Amber had watched the weather forecasts, predicted easily that tonight would yield a massive snowstorm, and she was absolutely right.
“They declared a level three emergency,” Amber said, smiling a bit. “No one on the road except for emergency workers. Did you call your parents?”
“They know where we are,” Ariel nodded. “And they know we can’t come home. And they can’t come get us.”
“You sure?” Amber asked, slightly concerned. “I wouldn’t put it past your dad to show up in a bulldozer.”
“They told us to be careful, and thanked us for the free date night,” Ariel smirked. “Funny how that turned out.”
“Well, let’s get started then.” Amber gave Ariel a pat on the shoulder and walked through the room, past the vacant couch and down the brief hallway toward the living room. Inside, Leo, Amber’s older brother was regaling Ryan with tales from his time at Woodcrest University; he’d come back for the holidays, and he was probably stuck here for at least another few days. Ariel threw a glance to the kitchen where Amanda, Amber’s younger sister, and their mother Linda were hard at work preparing dinner. After all, even in the middle of the apocalypse people had to eat.
“Woodcrest has basically everything,” Leo was saying. “Law, science, whatever. I’m pre-med.”
“So you’re going to be a doctor?” Ryan asked with at least some interest.
“That’s the plan,” Leo nodded. “We’ll see how it works out, though. If I don’t like it I can go into healthcare administration or something. Always good to have a backup plan. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know yet,” Ryan admitted with a shrug. “Do they have computer stuff?”
“You like computers?”
“Yeah,” Ryan replied, nodding. “I’d really like to learn how to make games, but I don’t know how good I’d be at the math.”
“Woodcrest has computer stuff,” Leo assured him. “I don’t know about games, though; you could probably look it up online.”
“Ryan,” Ariel said, interrupting them. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Ryan looked up at her from the couch, apprehension more than evident in his expression.
“Oh, um,” Ryan looked around, to Leo, then over to the kitchen where Amber’s mom and sister were prepping. “We’re going to eat soon though…I think…aren’t we?”
“Food’s not going anywhere,” Leo pointed out as he grabbed the TV remote and began to channel surf.
“Come on,” Ariel said insistently, reaching out a hand for Ryan, who finally, reluctantly took it and allowed himself to be pulled off of the couch. He walked between Ariel and Amber through the archway that led to the brief hallway between the front door and the living room. They walked silently across a white tile floor and stopped at the foot of the stairs. Ariel gripped the edge of the white wooden bannister and climbed upto the darkened upstairs.
As they reached the top, Amber flipped a light switch on the wall, revealing a long hallway with doors to the right and left. Ryan swallowed, realizing he’d never been up here. He and Ariel had come Amber’s house a few times together, but the upstairs had always been a mystery.
“What are we doing up here?” Ryan asked, his voice a sharp whisper as if afraid someone might hear.
“Come on,” Amber’s voice was a bit softer, a bit more understanding, but still firm as she gestured down the hallway, toward the third door on the right. She pushed it open and ushered Ryah in, flipping another light switch to reveal her own bedroom. Ryan stiffened a bit, freezing in the doorway until Ariel gently took his hand and gave him a reassuring smile.
The room, unlike Ariel’s, was equipped with a four-poster bed, makeup vanity, a dresser with a small television, a DVD player, and even a Super Nintendo. Ryan gaped at the television, unable to imagine any scenario where he or Ariel (even with all of her leeway) would have been able to have one of those in their room. It was true that Amber no longer occupied this room; she’d taken more of her belongings when she relocated to her own apartment as soon as she turned eighteen, but still.
Ryan watched cautiously as Amber walked to the closet, aware of Ariel closing the door silently behind him.
“Okay, Rylee,” Amber said, giving Rylee a mischievous grin. “You didn’t get to wear a Christmas dress this year.”
“Um…Christmas was kind of a mess,” Rylee recalled, her voice unsteady as she looked between Ariel and Amber, respectively. Ariel nodded beside her sister as she recalled the day in vivid detail, of their father dragging her through the living room. The shouting, the threats both spoken and implied, and the hours it had taken Rylee to recover, shivering and whimpering in Amber’s tiny studio apartment. The words Ariel recalled speaking to Rylee: “You have a responsibility to me, little sister.” It didn’t go one way, they had a responsibility to each other, and on Ariel’s end, it was becoming heavier and heavier as she watched her new little sister develop mentally, but not physically. She was going to outgrow her cage soon, and Ariel knew that neither of them were ready for that.
“It was,” Ariel agreed, pushing aside all other thoughts. “But come on, I want to see you in this dress.”
The dress that Amber pulled from her closet was made from black velour with a red chiffon skirt, the collar thin but not low. The long-sleeved top slid over Rylee’s arms easily and the skirt fell effortlessly around her legs. Amber handed her a pair of white sheer hose, and Ariel swiftly did her makeup.
“Here, I brought one of your wigs.” Ariel pulled a ziplock bag from her purse and opened it to remove the blonde wig, which she carefully placed on Rylee’s head before brushing it out.
“Adorable.” Amber grinned, taking Rylee to the full length mirror on her closet door. Ariel watched Rylee carefully, noting the spark of light in her eyes as she surveyed herself in the mirror. They’d done a good job on the ensemble, and the dress made it even better. Amber opened the other side of the closet and reached in, presenting Rylee with a pair of shiny black Mary-Janes as she came out. Rylee slid into the shoes, wincing a bit as they were perhaps half a size too small. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Rylee nodded.
“You want to take them off?” Ariel offered. “Does it hurt?”
“A little,” Rylee admitted. “But I like the way they look.”
“I don’t get how you’re so much smaller than me but still have a bigger foot.” Amber looked down at the shoes.
“I’m not that much smaller,” Rylee smirked; she was more confident, all of a sudden. Far more so than when they’d walked into the house hours before. That was probably about to come crashing down.
“You…are,” Amber told her. “The dress is a little loose on you and it shouldn’t be.”
“Which is why we should get downstairs for dinner,” Ariel pointed out. “What’s your mom making again?”
“Grilled chicken, Caesar salad, mashed potatoes,” Amber said, thinking hard. “Probably dessert too.”
“Yeah, let me take this off,” Rylee said in resignation; the look on her face was familiar to Ariel. Rylee was always happiest when she was dressed as herself, but eventually it all had to come off; the girl beneath had to return beneath, and the male mask would always return. More than once, Ariel had seen her sister collapse in a puddle of tears as every ounce of her being was suppressed by the societal expectations that had erected a wall of expectation around her. It was for this reason that Ariel was happy to take her sister’s hand, squeezing it as it reached up toward the wig, ready to pull it off. Rylee looked at her, questioningly.
“Not today, Rylee,” Ariel said in a hushed tone, offering a warm smile. “Do you trust me?”
Rylee froze as she slowly began to recognize the meaning behind her sister’s words. Ariel asked it again.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Rylee said finally, trembling as Ariel drew her into a hug.
“You’re beautiful,” Ariel whispered as they embraced. “Don’t forget that.”
Rylee felt unable to give any answer other than her quickened, sharp breaths as Ariel released her from the hug and softly took her hand, leading her toward the door.
“Are you sure?” Rylee’s voice cracked finally, as they reached the threshold and pulled open the door. She froze, legs stiff as they stood before the empty hallway.
“I love you, Rylee,” Ariel said in response. “I would never hurt you.”
Rylee gulped. The words that Ariel had spoken were more than a promise; they were a request for trust. Rylee did her best to hold onto that trust, and to keep the tears and the terror at bay as her feet crossed the threshold into the hallway. She felt wrong, all of a sudden; when she’d looked into the mirror a moment ago she’d seen a girl – the girl that lived right beneath her skin. The girl that screamed and cried, pounding on the walls of her flesh prison, begging to be seen, begging to exist somewhere other than behind the eyes of a hurt, broken boy. Now, as the world expanded from Amber’s bedroom, to the hallway and the rest of the house beyond, she felt clumsy, she felt stupid, she felt like a boy wearing a dress. She felt afraid. She drifted helplessly in a sea of uncertainty, her only anchor being that of Ariel’s arm, her only beacon being her sister’s soft, reassuring smile and her promise that everything would be okay. She had no choice but to trust.
The girl that Ariel led down the hallway, one step at a time, was a fragile one; made of glass, ready to shatter at the slightest touch. She oh-so-carefully brought her down the stairs, one step at a time; a journey that was far too quick for Rylee. Then it was over, they had cleared the stairs, and Ariel offered her sister another quick smile as she felt her tremble at the start of the foyer.
“Rylee, sis, I have you,” Ariel said, squeezing her sister’s hand again. To Rylee, the archway to the living room ahead might as well have been a portal to hell. Ariel easily recognized that look in her sister’s eyes; the instinct to run was there; she gripped her hand and gave her as comforting a smile as she could muster. “I always wanted a little sister,” Ariel said softly. “And you’re more than I ever dreamed of, so tonight, just be Rylee, okay?”
“Okay,” Rylee said shakily after a moment’s hesitation, nodding. “Okay.”
Ariel smiled again and led her across the threshold.
Rylee’s breath vacated her body as she walked across the threshold into the common room. The living room and Leo on her right, Amber’s mother and younger sister in the kitchen to her left. She became hyper aware of everything in that moment: the low hum of the television, the clicking of Mrs. Baker’s knife against the cutting board, the sizzling of the oven. Even the air around her seemed to have taken on an oppressive quality; she stood there in the midst of everyone, beneath the white-hot spot lighting. She felt exposed, open, as if she’d been peeled like a fruit and left to rot. As her body tensed, she looked to Ariel and only Ariel, trying to block out the rest of the world as her sister gave her an encouraging smile.
“Everyone,” Ariel said happily but with a hint of apprehension in her tone. “I’d like you to meet my little sister, Rylee.”
Rylee was nearly ready to leap out of her body, or at least run from the room screaming in the face of the physical impossibility of the former, but it was Amanda who spoke first. The paring knife in her hand clattered to the cutting board and she strode from the kitchen, dressed in a black and white tunic top, scoop necked and tied at the back along with a pair of tight-fitting black slacks. She, like Amber, had long black hair and a slender build; her face was pale and cheeks dotted with pale pink freckles. She was only thirteen, a few years younger than Rylee, and that age was reflected in her somewhat innocent features. She stepped out in front of Rylee and offered a warm smile.
“Hi Rylee,” Amanda said, grinning from ear to ear. “Amber’s told me all about you.”
Rylee’s eyes widened, and it looked as if she might collapse; Ariel maintained a tight grip on her hand.
“Breathe, Rylee,” Ariel said quietly. “You’re all right.”
“This dress!” Amanda nearly squealed as she touched the chiffon material of Rylee’s skirt. “Amber, you never wear this anymore!”
“Not my style,” Amber remarked. “Rylee, you can have that.”
“I’ll put it on your side of the closet.” Ariel released Rylee’s hand for a moment to give her a light, playful shove. Rylee looked at her, still wide-eyed, as if she were trying to comprehend the situation before her.
“Rylee, can you help Amber set the table?” Linda, Amber’s mother, called out from the kitchen after watching the exchange in silence. Ariel grinned to Rylee.
“Being the younger sister means getting stuck with the crap jobs,” Ariel stuck her tongue out. Rylee looked from her, back to Amanda, and then to Amber, who gave her a prodding glance and a gesture toward the dining room table. Rylee, rather suddenly, broke out into a nervous grin; Amber laughed and took her hand, leading her toward the kitchen to retrieve plates and silverware.
“See?” Amber gave Ariel her patented ‘I told you so’ look. Ariel rolled her eyes.
“We could have told her.”
“Because telling her stuff works so well,” Amber pointed out. “You just wanted to give her a reason to freak out on the ride over here.”
Ariel pursed her lips in contemplation, considering Amber’s words. Yes, Rylee did tend to make a big deal out of things, but on the other hand this wasn’t exactly an inconsequential situation. Forcing her headlong into situations where her identity and secret would be revealed seemed bad, but so far it hadn’t yielded bad results. Ultimately, though, it seemed that they were in uncharted, untested waters where Rylee was concerned, so what was really right, and what was wrong?
As acidic thoughts burned at her mind, Ariel’s gazed shifted to the dining room, where Rylee was now helping Amanda to set the table. Rylee had broken out into a nervous grin as Amanda whispered in her ear. Somehow here, tonight, they’d managed to give Rylee a chance to be herself at least for a few hours. It had all been arranged a few weeks ago; Amber had spoken to her mother, who seemed more than amenable to treating Rylee as a girl for at least the night, given that her husband would be out of town.
“I can’t do this all the time,” Linda had warned. “But one night isn’t going to hurt anything.”
The whispers of the past faded and Ariel threw a glance to the sliding glass door, beyond which the porch was covered in an ever-increasing layer of white powdery snow.
“Leo!” Amber spoke to her brother, breaking Ariel from her trance. “Ariel wants to go to Woodcrest next year, what’s it like?”
“You know what it’s like.” Leo rolled his eyes at her, shaking his head. “I took you there, remember?”
“You didn’t take me.” Ariel crossed her arms and gave a mocking, mostly insincere glare.
“What are you wanting to major in?” Leo frowned, sitting back on the couch. “They have comp sci stuff, anthropology, arts, but they kind of suck when it comes to law.”
“Art, obviously,” Amber smirked. “Haven’t you seen her drawings?”
“Look, Amber,” Leo said. “I don’t know your friends, okay? I don’t know what all they’re into.”
“Actually, um…” Ariel cut in, drawing the attention of both Amber and Leo. “I kind of have a…well, something to tell you. Mister Reinhart, at school--”
“The art teacher,” Amber phrased her question as a statement.
“The art teacher,” Ariel confirmed, nodding.
“The one that smells like erasers?” Amber tilted her head, feigning that she didn’t remember.
“Amber!” Ariel nearly shrieked. “I’m trying to tell you something!”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Amber snorted. “Tell us what ‘eraser-man’ said.”
“He had me apply for that art scholarship a few months ago,” Ariel reminded her. “I didn’t think I did it, but…I did. It’s a partial scholarship and…I can apply for a grant for the rest. I…qualify, I definitely qualify so…after I graduate…”
“Holy shit, Ariel, that’s amazing!” Amber could barely contain her excitement; she broke out into a grin and clasped her hands together. “You get to get away from all this!”
“Yeah, but…” Ariel cast a glance back to Rylee. “What about her?”
“I can watch out for her,” Amber shrugged. “Me and Amanda. Amanda’s closer to her age, so it might be better that way.”
“It won’t be the same,” Ariel argued. “And your mom said--”
“Look, isn’t it your dream, to be some big shot artist? Like, didn’t you want to paint on walls or something?” Amber watched Ariel adamantly, tilting her head forward slightly to stare her down.
“Murals,” Ariel corrected her. “I want to paint murals. And yeah, it’s a dream, but what if something happens to her?”
“Woodcrest is three hours away,” Amber reminded her. “It’s not like you can’t come home on weekends.”
“This is all just…unbelievable,” Ariel remarked, looking from Leo, to Amber, then back to Rylee again for a moment. “It’s like…yesterday we were in middle school and braiding each other’s hair…now…”
“We can still braid each other’s hair,” Amber assured her. “Things change. We grew up, we’re getting ready to graduate, your brother’s a girl, things happen, okay? You have to take care of yourself, and getting out of here? It’s going to be good for you.”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with here.” Leo gestured broadly to to the house around them. “But Amber’s told me about your parents.”
“Yeah,” Ariel nodded. “My parents.”
“Ariel.” Amber’s mom, Linda, interrupted their conversation as she strode smoothly across the room from the kitchen. She was underdressed compared to the rest of them in a light blue robe atop a t-shirt and cotton pajama pants that matched the robe. Her long black hair was brushed to one side, the length of it hanging over her left shoulder, frayed ends dancing against the fabric of her robe; she cast a quick glance back to Rylee, then gestured over toward the table as she spoke to Ariel. “What’s going on over there?”
Ariel peered past Linda, toward the kitchen where Rylee and Amanda were now talking excitedly, laughing, and making hot chocolate from white Swiss Miss packets. Amanda whispered something to Rylee; she doubled over with laughter, a wide, happy grin on her face as her eyes lit up.
“What do you mean?” Ariel looked to Linda now, frowning. “They’re making hot chocolate. Um, for everyone, I hope. Do you have marshmallows?”
“I’ve met your brother a few times,” Linda told her, casting a wary and incredulous glance over to the kitchen. “He walks around like a zombie, barely talks to anyone, seems irritated all the time. That person over there is…it’s not the same person, Ariel. That person is happy and full of life, even if he…she’s a little nervous.”
“Scared to death,” Amber corrected, glancing over.
“Scared to death,” Ariel agreed. “Her hands are shaking.”
“Okay, but still.” Linda gestured broadly to the kitchen area.
“It’s one of the reasons I do this with her,” Ariel admitted. “It was awkward at first, and she…was scared of me, like really scared, but seeing her come to life? That’s the best part.”
“And what’s the worst part?” Linda asked.
“Seeing that light in her eyes go away when she has to change back” Ariel said, grimly. “I wish I could have her like this all the time.”
“Eventually,” Amber said encouragingly. “You won’t live with your parents forever.”
“Woodcrest has a couple of girls like her,” Leo said helpfully. “When I was going to school here…I never would have even thought about it. College does weird things to people, though. They’re away from home, suddenly they can be whoever they want to be. It’s kind of cool.”
“She’s sixteen,” Amber reminded Ariel. “In two years, you could have your sister full time.”
“This is so sad,” Linda said, casting another glance toward the kitchen. “She…seems so happy. I wish there were something I could do, I wish…she and Amanda went to the same school. I would have her over more, but Ron wouldn’t react well to this whole thing. He barely tolerates his brother doing the whole transition thing.”
“There’s nothing you can do.” Ariel shook her head. “But what we can do, right now, is give her a good night.”
“Right,” Amber agreed, nodding. “We can have dinner, watch a movie, let her be herself. Let her experience being with a real family. Look how happy she is.”
“And when it’s over, she has to go back to being that sad boy, at home, with…your parents.” Linda looked over to Ariel, who pursed her lips and gave a sad, resigned shrug. “That’s…wrong. She…”
“If you really want to help,” Ariel told her, “just keep the secret.”
March 2001
“Ariel, you okay?” Brian poked her, breaking her out of a deep trance as the bell for next period sounded. Ariel looked up from her desk wearily, her head heavy and her eyes stinging as she slowly managed to look over at Brian, who prodded her with his eyes. “Not getting enough sleep, huh?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Ariel muttered. “Do you have notes I can borrow?”
“Yeah, we’ll uh…make a copy or something.” Brian nodded as he handed a stack of loose leaf papers, notes printed neatly on them with bullet points and numbers, all in blue ink. Ariel looked around as the last of the students began filing out of the classroom. She looked back to Brian, who remained seated as he shuffled papers into a black Trapper Keeper and silently mouthed something to himself. He was kind of a typical jock; short hair, medium build, dressed in a purple and yellow Lakers jersey. They’d been friends for a while; not best friends, just friends, to use the term loosely. Ariel had found, lately, that close friends were something she couldn’t afford with the number of secrets she was harboring.
“Thanks,” Ariel said, her tone tight as she accepted the papers. “Alright, I’ve gotta go.”
“Hey,” Brian cut in as she zipped her own binder and began to rise from the seat. “I was thinking, for homecoming-”
“I don’t really have time,” Ariel said quickly. “Besides, dancing? Frilly dresses? Not really my thing.”
“So wear pants,” Brian suggested. “Or you wear the tux and I’ll wear the dress.”
It took everything Ariel had within her not to snort and then burst into laughter.
“You know what, I’ll think about it,” Ariel laughed. “No promises.”
“No promises,” Brian repeated. “It’s better than a no.”
Ariel left the classroom with a partial smile on her face and her books pressed to her stomach as she walked down the hall, following the throng of students toward the next class. She walked absentmindedly down the cramped hall, past red and white lockers and across a black and white checkered floor. The sound of her footsteps were drowned out by bother her own thoughts and the loud conversations of the students all around her, but all was quiet in her head as she thought on one thing: Why not Brian? There was nothing wrong with him; he was interested, and he was cute!
She answered her own question as she focused her attention on a group of girls that had gravitated toward one of the lockers; picture perfect girls dressed to the nines and chattering amongst themselves. Her attention shifted to another group, a more athletic one, volleyball players, she thought. So many cliques, so many groups, none of which she could belong to.
Why couldn’t she? There was nothing wrong with her; she was physically fit, she could play volleyball, she could be a cheerleader, she could fit in seamlessly with everyone else instead of remaining the nomad that she’d become. But, no, she couldn’t, could she?
She seemed to be caught between three different worlds; the world her parents wanted her to join, the world the school and its social situation was offering, and then her sister’s world. Her little, secret, unseen sister. Here in the hallway, amongst the different groups huddled about the lockers, bulletin boards, and trophy cases, were samples of the life she could have, but the pull of the responsibility toward her sister kept her from fully embracing any of them. Of course, there was Amber’s idea. Her stupid, stupid idea.
“You’re trying to teach her to be a girl, like a real, passable girl, but you can’t. You don’t have the time. But I have an idea,” was what Amber had said to her. A woman named Hayley, someone who was like Rylee. Someone who could help Rylee. It seemed so promising, but so dangerous. Bringing Amber’s mom, sister, and brother in on the secret had been risky enough, but a total stranger? Someone who could bring all of it crashing down? It seemed absurd.
Hayley. The woman’s name was Hayley.
Someone like Rylee.
The sentiment echoed in her mind as she made her way down the hall, the buzz of student conversation dwindling behind her with each twist and turn until she finally came to the intersection of the admin office and the two building exits. If she turned left she would head to the cafeteria, and if she turned right she would find herself in the parking lot. She stood there in the center, eyes closed breaths even as panic began to rise in her chest.
Fuck. Why couldn’t things just be normal? If Rylee was supposed to be a girl, why couldn’t she have just been born that way? Or better yet, why couldn’t she have ended up in a family that wasn’t a shitstain on society?
Too much.
Too much for her to be worrying about.
“Ariel!” a familiar voice called out, dragging her from the depths of her panic attack. She opened her eyes to see Mr. Hammond, the guidance counselor, standing half-in and half out of the admin office, beckoning to her. “Hey, Woodcrest sent a response, come on in!”
Shoving her feelings deep down where they belonged, she walked across the intersection toward Mr. Hammon, who enthusiastically waved her in.
“I just have a few minutes before class,” she said apprehensively as they walked down a brief hallway lined with green cinderblocks and took a right into a cramped office, nearly devoid of any personal touches Mr. Hammond could have placed on it.
“I can write you a pass.” Mr. Hammond waved dismissively as he took a seat behind his desk and motioned for Ariel to sit. “You’re not going to believe this; when I helped you fill out that scholarship application, I was expecting maybe a partial, but they want to pay for the whole thing.”
“The…whole thing?” Ariel gulped, then frowned. “What do you mean the whole thing?”
“I mean you’ve got a free ride,” Mr. Hammond shrugged. “What can I say? You deserve it.”
“H-how is that possible?” Ariel asked in utter shock. “Don’t tons of people apply for these scholarships? Like, why am I special?”
“Obviously they liked your portfolio,” Mr. Hammond said, playing the whole thing off as if it were no big deal. “The FFA business cards you did last year were pretty useful to Mrs. Quinn, and of course the art you did for that tech presentation. The one they did in Macromedia?”
“I mean…yeah…” Ariel stammered. “But I didn’t think…wow. This is…amazing, actually.”
“You have a few majors you can choose from, obviously,” Mr. Hammond reached into his upper left desk drawer and removed a smooth manilla envelope, which he passed across the desk to Ariel. “Take your time, figure it out; you’ve still got plenty of time before graduation.”
Ariel sat back and thought about it for a moment as she held the envelope in her hands. It wasn’t very thick; she turned it over in her hands, speculating at the contents. It was everything she wanted – a free ride to Woodcrest, an arts degree and most importantly, a way to get the hell out of here. But what about Rylee?
She pushed the thoughts aside, shaking her head subtly. Rylee would figure it out; the girl had existed since long before Ariel, and if all else failed, she could teach her little sister a bit more before she left for Woodcrest. It would all be fine, and then, eventually, they could move in together. It would all work out.
“If I…decide to do it,” Ariel said, almost a little too slowly as she mulled over the thought. “What…I mean, what would I do next?”
“You can start by taking a tour of Woodcrest,” Mr. Hammon suggested. “They have one coming up in the spring; you can talk to admissions while you’re there.”
“Sorry um…” Ariel stammered, clearing her throat and staring down at the packet now in her hands. “I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful, Mr. Hammond, I really, really appreciate this opportunity and--”
“Ariel, it’s a lot, I know,” Mr. Hammond assured her. “Take your time, you have plenty of it, okay?”
“Okay,” Ariel nodded her head vigorously, shifting her weight in the chair. “I will, thank you. Thank you so much.”
April 2001
She walked up an unfamiliar gravel driveway toward an unfamiliar house on a hill she’d never been to. All she had to go on was a phone call, a few cryptic e-mails, and a name: Hayley. For weeks, unbeknownst to Ariel, Amber had been talking to this woman, telling her all about Rylee. Ariel had been furious at first, but now she was simply annoyed. Sure, Amber thought that this ‘Hayley’ person could help them, to get a better handle on the Rylee situation, but Ariel was certain that couldn’t be right. Rylee’s situation was…odd, to put it lightly. How could anyone outside of her and Amber truly understand? The experiment with Amber’s mother, sister, and brother had gone fairly well, but it had been a safe environment and Ariel really didn’t want to take it much further than that. Still…
The house was a fresh construction, two stories set against the rural North Carolina landscape. Ariel had driven about forty minutes to get here, following instructions provided in their last e-mail interaction and now she hesitated before knocking on the wooden door, peering momentarily through the oval window to see inside. Even squinting, she couldn’t see much, so she let out an inaudible sigh and rapped her knuckles against the wood. Once. Twice. Three times.
She waited perhaps a few seconds before making the decision to turn and leave; no one was coming, this was all a mistake. As she made the motion to turn away and head back down the porch stairs, there was a loud click and the front door swung open. Standing there was a woman, perhaps in her mid to late thirties; dark chestnut brown hair that hung loosely about her shoulders and gorgeous features that made Ariel question whether or not she had the right house. This woman was supposed to be like Rylee, and Rylee, while pretty damn feminine, didn’t look that good. Her doubts, however, were assuaged slightly as the woman spoke in a soft, welcoming tone.
“Ariel, I assume?” She smiled and tilted her head slightly, putting Ariel at ease – at least a little.
“Um…yes, yes, Ma’am,” Ariel nodded. “I um…did I get here too early? I know it’s not one-thirty--”
“Nonsense,” the woman said, shaking her head and motioning for Ariel to come in. “My name is Hayley, my students call me Mrs. Gamble--”
“Students?” Ariel asked, curiously as they passed through a wood-paneled foyer and took a left, into a large sitting room filled with picture windows and natural lighting that illuminated a green couch, recliner, several rocking chairs, and a wood and glass coffee table.
“I’m a music teacher, actually,” Hayley said. “Over at the Woodhaven Auditorium. Have you been there?”
“I…have, actually,” Ariel said surprised, sitting on the couch at Hayley’s direction. Hayley took a seat across from her on a chair, folding her hands onto her lap. “My class went there on a field trip, actually. Um…we saw The Nutcracker.”
“Oh yes, that would have been a few years ago,” Hayley nodded. “What did you think of it?”
“I um…” Ariel struggled to think of something, anything to say about it. “I liked the costumes.”
“Didn’t understand a bit of it, did you?” Hayley chuckled.
“Rylee’s into musicals, the ones she’s been able to see, anyway,” Ariel admitted. “I’m kind of an artist, but…I wasn’t never good with musicals. I was in my school choir though, for a bit. We did ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.”
“Could you tell me a little bit about your sister?” Hayley asked, getting right to the point. Ariel swallowed.
“Actually, um…I was wondering if I could ask some questions about you.” Ariel turned the conversation to Haylee, who nodded with understanding.
“Of course,” Hayley nodded. “I’m a stranger, someone you met on the Internet, and now I expect you to tell me all about your little sister. Very well, Ariel. My name is Hayley Gamble, but obviously I wasn’t born Hayley Gamble.”
“Actually yeah, that was one of my questions,” Ariel interjected. “You said you were like Rylee--”
“Did I?” Hayle raised an eyebrow; Ariel fidgeted in her seat.
“Amber said you were like Rylee,” Ariel corrected.
“If your sister is transgender, then we have that in common,” Hayley agreed. “But you will find that I am my own person, with my own wants, desires, and dreams.”
“I…understand that,” Ariel shifted in her seat again. “It’s just…you don’t look like her. I mean, we dress Rylee up all the time, we do the best we can, but it’s never perfect. You…you’re…”
“I’ve had a number of procedures done, my dear,” Hayley explained. “I transitioned in the late eighties with the help of an organization that had ample resources. My experience is not typical.
Still, regardless of how ‘easy’ my transition was, there was still the emotional toll, and to be quite frank with you? I suffered.”
“Suffered?”
“I don’t need to tell you the emotional toll transition can take,” Hayley said, very matter of factly. “You see it in your sister, don’t you? Yes, transition can provide answers, but it also raises questions. ‘Who am I?’ or ‘Is this really the answer?’ Then of course the endless question of ‘why’? Why me? Why this? Why did God do this to me? If you believe in God, that is. Your sister is going through more than she’s telling you because she likely can’t formulate the words to tell you. But you are listening, so that’s a good first step.”
“I…I guess my big question is…how can you help my sister, exactly?” Ariel took a deep breath, crossing her legs as her eyes darted around, exploring the room nervously.
“If your sister is transgender, then she’s looking at a hard life,” Hayley said quietly. “It’s not just dresses and makeup, or voice training, or any of the other things you’ve come across. You have to take her mental state into consideration; understand that as we speak she likely wants to tear her own skin off. Every moment that she cannot be herself is devastating to her. For you, being a girl comes naturally; for her, it’s going to be an immense struggle and the world isn’t going to make it any easier. You can be there for her, but unless you understand her struggle, you’re just going to hold her while she cries. She needs to learn things that you can’t teach her.”
“And you can help her with that?”
“That depends on a lot of things,” Hayley stated. “First and foremost, it depends on your ability to keep a secret. Rylee is a minor child, and while you and I might understand what’s happening her, the world at large would consider it grooming. You and I can make the argument that we’re saving her life, but most people will not see it that way.”
“I promise you I won’t tell anyone,” Ariel shook her head. “I…wouldn’t do that.”
“Understand, Ariel, that if word of this gets out, I’ll cut both of you off. I’ll deny any part of this, and you two will be on your own. Do I make myself clear?”
Ariel froze, contemplating the implications of everything Hayley had just said. She was right; Rylee needed help, and she was in waters that neither of them seemed to be able to navigate. She could try and try, but in the end, helping Rylee would be nearly impossible. Dressing her up, doing her makeup, treating her like a little sister would only go so far. She had to learn to be a girl in the real world, not just behind closed doors, and with their home life, what the hell was that going to look like in two years?
“I…” Ariel began, closing her eyes, then opening them again. “I’m afraid for her…I…when she grows up…I mean, when she’s old enough to be on her own, is she going to live a normal life? When she’s dressed up, when she gets to be herself, it’s like…um…it’s a breath of fresh air. You don’t understand…well…I mean, maybe you do? When she’s…Ryan, it’s like she’s dead inside and…not really a person you’d want to be around. But when she’s Rylee, she’s different. Her eyes light up, she’s happy, totally different personality. But I…I don’t--”
“Ariel, I assure you, your little sister can live a happy, normal life, it’s just going to take some doing. I can see you’re worried--”
“Worried?’ Ariel said suddenly, frowning as she clenched the fabric of the couch cushion between her balled fists. “Of course I’m fucking worried! Why don’t you stop talking down to me?”
“Ariel--”
“No!” Ariel snapped. “You shut up and listen to me. You’re sitting there talking to me like I’m a child. I’m worried? Yeah, I’m worried!”
Hayley opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it, pursing her lips and leaning back in her chair as Ariel continued.
“I just…I just found out I have a little sister and she could be in serious danger and you’re sitting there acting like I don’t know what I’m talking about!” Ariel was standing now, waving her arms wildly as she aired her pent up frustrations, bottled up for weeks, and now fired in Hayley’s direction. “And what can I do? I can’t do anything! If our parents find out, they might kill her or something, I don’t know. If the wrong people find out, they’ll tell my parents. I’m suffocating, I’m lost, I’m confused, I don’t know what to do--”
“Ariel, sit down!” Hayley said in a commanding tone. Ariel paused, looking at her wide eyed. She looked up, past Hayley and made note of the man, roughly Hayley’s age who had appeared in the doorway. Hayley followed Ariel’s gaze, throwing a glance over her shoulder. “Ariel, this is my husband, Denton.”
“Husband,” Ariel whispered, sinking back onto the couch. The man who crossed the room was built, but seemed to have a gentle nature about him. His hair was a shade of dark red; a well-trimmed beard obscured many of his facial features. He was dressed head toe in denim; a nice button-down denim shirt and a pair of blue jeans to complement a set of leather work boots.
“Ariel, I have a pretty normal life, despite what I have working against me,” Hayley explained. “For most people it comes easy, relatively speaking. Someone like you…you’ll get a job, you’ll probably get married, you’ll get the white picket fence, the dog, probably the two point five children. You’ll probably have a minivan, and you’ll be picking your kids up from soccer practice. Easy stuff, it’s expected of you. If your sister, Rylee wants any semblance of normalcy she’ll have to fight for it every step of the way. She’ll have to manage her appearance, her behavior, she’ll have to become what society expects of her. What you want is peace of mind, Ariel. You want to know that she isn’t going to be dragged out of a bathroom at gunpoint, that she won’t be raped in a back alley or abducted by people who will use her body to turn a profit. You want to be sure that she’ll be treated with dignity and respect by emergency services and by those who work in governmental organizations. The freedoms and assurances that you take for granted will not come naturally to her.”
Though Hayley was only echoing Ariel’s thoughts over the last few months, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger. Rylee could do this, and this Hayley person was proof! On the subject of proof, Ariel glanced over to Denton, who had taken a seat on the arm of Hayley’s recliner, resting his hand on her shoulder.
“So, you two are married,” Ariel said; it was more of a question, though phrased like a statement with no upward inflection. “You guys…I mean…it…just works?”
“We met in high school, actually,” Denton said, surprising Ariel. “When she graduated, she went to study abroad, disappeared for a few years, actually, and when she came back…”
“I was a woman,” Hayley shrugged. Denton gave her the widest grin. “And Denton here couldn’t resist my charms. But you see, Ariel, it is possible for your sister to have a normal life, but she’s not just going to stumble into it.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Ariel nodded. “She’s not going to be nearly as lucky as you.”
“Lucky?” Hayley raised an amused eyebrow.
“Well, you went abroad and transitioned,” Ariel shrugged. “And it seems like it went really well for you. Unlike Rylee, who’s stuck in a shitty home with shitty parents and--”
“I had my fair share of difficulties,” Hayley corrected her; on cue, Denton gave her shoulder a squeeze and shot her a gentle, sympathetic smile. “In some ways, maybe it was more difficult than what your little sister is going through, but comparing one trauma to another? That’s not the way to go, Ariel. Remember: what Rylee is going through right now, is the worst she’s ever been though. What I went through, is the worst I’d ever been through. Trauma is relative to the person, Ariel, and the burdens we bear can affect us all in equal amounts, no matter how big, or how small.”
“I never thought about it that way,” Ariel admitted. “I mean…”
“Most people don’t,” Hayley nodded. “But let me give you a more poignant example. Imagine a toddler with a toy; she loves that toy more than anything in the world, and then an adult takes it from her. She cries, she screams, she acts irrationally over a toy. As adults we might look at her and say that the toy didn’t matter; she can always get another one. But to her, it’s nowhere near that simple. She’s never experienced that sort of trauma before. She’s never experienced that kind of loss. Will it get worse down the road? Certainly. She’ll have bigger problems, larger traumas, but right now, all that matters is that toy and the emotions she’s feeling. For Rylee, it will be much the same. She’ll experience larger, darker, more horrifying traumas all of which will warp her perspective, make her jaded, and hurt her deeply.”
“And…you can protect her?” Ariel frowned.
“Heavens no,” Hayley laughed, shaking her head. “Even with everything I could teach her, and tell her, and everything I could do to prepare her, trauma will find a way to manifest itself into her life. The cuts will run deep, Ariel, but how they heal is going to depend upon just how prepared she is.”
Silence fell over the room as Ariel contemplated Hayley’s words. She thought it over, and over as the quiet grew between them. For a long moment, the only sound seemed to be the ticking of a clock somewhere far off in the house. Finally, Ariel looked up to Hayley, who waited patiently.
“What do we do?” Ariel asked, her voice conveying a sense of defeat. She could swear she saw the edges of a smile tugging at Hayey’s dark lips.
“Now,” Hayley said, leaning back and folding her hands in anticipation. “You tell me everything about Rylee. Leave nothing out.”
Woodhaven Auditorium. The place where Hayley worked as a musical director. The place where they’d agreed to ‘teach’ Rylee the ins and outs of womanhood. There had been so much to it, as Ariel had learned from Hayley. Everything from learning to walk, talk, subtle movements, voice inflections, vocabulary, presentation, all of it played a role, and they were things that Ariel had never even thought about until now.
“These are things that young ladies learn from birth,” Hayley had told her. “To you, being a woman is as natural as breathing. For Rylee, it all must be learned.”
Imagine being taught to breathe.
Her purse weighed heavily against her, digging into the crook of her shoulder during her brief sojourn across the parking lot. Past a parked car, a light pole, an oval mulch bed with three trees, and finally to the front of Woodhaven auditorium. This was nothing new; she’d been here a few times already. Rylee had been relatively opposed to the idea at first, even if she hadn’t said much, but the one thing she was learning was that her protests would generally fall on deaf ears.
Ariel passed through a large lobby area with gray-carpeted floors, past a white staircase set into the wall, and around the bend of the oval-shaped interior. Overhead, natural light streamed through rectangular plate glass windows set around the top of the outer wall, creating light rectangular patches that reflected her shadow en route to the basement.
Her next turn was to the right, down a brief passageway that came to an intersection and the inner ring of the auditorium. Another right took her through a metal door and down a set of concrete stairs flanked on either side by a tubular metal handrail. The descent into the Woodhaven Auditorium basement was a stark contrast to the rest of the building and it became even more so as she stepped into the cinderblock hallway, a sense of dampness in the air supported by a line of copper pipes running the length of the ceiling. It was a short walk past electrical boxes and caged incandescent lights to the third door on the right, through which was Hayley’s other rehearsal room.
It was behind an unremarkable metal door across from a section of chain link fence that cordoned off a large emergency generator; Ariel turned away from the fence and pushed open the door, squinting momentarily as she stepped into the light. Hayley’s rehearsal room was much the same as you’d expect to find in a choir room at a high school; it was roughly as large, but it was cluttered as all hell. Racks of costumes to the left, a messy desk shoved against the wall, instruments here and there, seemingly discarded and forgotten at some point.
Across the room, Hayley had Rylee in a simple blue button-down shirt and a black, knee-length skirt. They seemed to be in the middle of one of Hayley’s drills where Rylee would straighten her skirt, sit, and then stand again. It was repetitive by nature, but Hayley had insisted that Rylee learn to ‘move like a woman’; whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. Walking, sitting, standing, running, apparently all of it was different, and Hayley had spoken similarly to Ariel regarding learned behaviors.
Getting Rylee in front of Hayley in the first place had had its challenges, but after that, it was all downhill. Their parents had jumped at the prospect of Rylee learning mandolin, especially for free, and as such, the first thirty minutes of these sessions was dedicated to teaching Rylee just enough of the instrument to be passable at home. What she didn’t realize was that she’d started to become good at it.
Hayley began to wrap the lesson up as she saw Ariel approaching, and Ariel took a moment to look Rylee over. Hayley’s outfit for her today was extremely simple; she’d never really gone all out on the clothing aspect of this. Rather, she seemed to be interested in teaching etiquette, behavior, and movement. Fortunately for Ariel, she’d been curating Rylee’s closet at home, meaning she was able to see her in a variety of outfits, including a few of her old prom dresses.
All seemed to be going well, which was why Ariel was caught slightly offguard by Rylee’s statement as they all sat together on the couches.
“Why are we doing this?” Rylee spoke up suddenly, prompting a look of surprise from both. “I mean, what’s the point?”
“Rylee…” Ariel said, a hint of warning tainting her voice.
“No, why?” Rylee demanded. “I’m allowed to ask questions at the end, right.”
“That’s correct, Rylee,” Hayley confirmed. “Though it’s more intended for transition-related questions.”
“What transition?” Rylee asked suddenly, looking from Hayley to Ariel. “Look at me. Look at me! I look fine now, but at the end of the session the makeup comes off, the pants go on and I’m him again! We’re not working toward anything! I’m not taking those fancy red pills you have, I’m not becoming a girl! I’m just coming to your stupid basement to play dress-up; I get to be happy for a little bit, and then I’m back to nothing! I’m nothing! I’ll always be nothing!”
“Rylee, please!” Ariel scolded, but Hayley raised her hand, requesting silence.
“Rylee, your feelings are valid. I remember, very vividly, having those same feelings when I was a teenager in the seventies. My home life…wasn’t dissimilar to yours. A father with a temper, an overbearing mother, a church community that operated as a High Control group and exerted its will on its members. That’s why you’re here, Rylee. I see myself in you. I can see you’re afraid, I can see you’re sad, and I surely understand what you’re feeling. But it does end. It’s going to hurt now, badly, I won’t lie to you, and when it’s over you’re going to need years of therapy to come to terms with what happened to you, but you can come out on the other side as a relatively normal, well-adjusted person. However…”
“However?” Ariel gawked at Hayley, her expression dangerously close to morphing into a glare. What the hell could she possibly mean? What else could her sister be, besides normal and adjusted? She grimaced as a thousand possibilities came to her mind in response to that question.
“However, Rylee...” Hayley turned her attention from Ariel to Rylee, looking at her sharply. “You made a promise two weeks ago, on this very couch, that you wouldn’t hurt yourself anymore. You’ve broken that promise, haven’t you?”
“Rylee?” She spoke that single word, her sister’s name, but the tone and inflection conveyed a million-and-one questions. Rylee looked back at her, her eyes briefly twitching in Hayley’s direction, and then back to Ariel. She squirmed in her seat, her mind racing to come up with a counter to Hayley’s claims. Hayley couldn’t know, after all. She hadn’t pulled her sleeve up, she hadn’t seen the fresh cuts, the barely formed scars. But all she had to do was walk over and check, right? She’d probably seen the way Rylee had grimaced with nearly every move, how she’d winced when she’d released tension on her arm when she stopped supporting the neck of the mandolin. Hayley had taught her nearly everything there was to know about body language, so why did she expect that she’d be able to hide anything from her? God, she was so stupid. Even so, her silence over the last several seconds had been enough, and Ariel cursed under her breath.
“Rylee, I’ve told you many times that if you’re hurting, you come to me, you go to your sister, you don’t self-harm. I also told you that if you continued to hurt yourself, I would be forced to take action. I cannot sit by while you mutilate yourself! This is unfortunate, but--”
“Wait,” Ariel spoke up quickly, her voice cracking as she did so. Hayley swiveled her head, doing her best not to contort her stoic, concerned expression into a glare as she regarded a now nearly-frantic Ariel. “You can’t call CPS. They’ll separate us. You know what’ll happen! She’ll go to some shitty foster home, or a group home, they won’t let her be herself or…she’ll get hurt. They’ll hurt her! You can’t do that to us!”
“You’ll be separated anyway,” Hayley pointed out. “You’re going off to college next year, aren’t you?”
“I don’t have to,” Ariel said without hesitation. “In fact, I won’t.”
“Let me try to understand this,” Hayley said, raising one eyebrow. “You’re going to throw away your entire career just to--”
“Oh, fuck off, I can always go later,” Ariel suddenly snapped, her temper lost. “Do you think I’d rather see my sister in a casket?”
“And you’re sure about this? Your parents will go along with it?”
“My parents!” Ariel suddenly laughed. “Mrs. Gamble, those people stopped being my parents when I stopped being afraid of them. It’s me, and it’s Rylee. That’s it. I’ll protect her. It’s what big sisters do.”
“I’m going to choose to give you the benefit of the doubt,” Hayley said, finally. “If only because I agree with you. I don’t want to see you two split up, but you need to give me your word now that you won’t leave for college until your little sister leaves.”
“Yes, fine, you have my word,” Ariel agreed.
“I’m increasing the frequency of these lessons. We’ll switch to three days a week; I’ll speak with your parents. Rylee, pack up your instrument.”
Surrounded by teachers and students, Ariel stood alone in the hallway of Woodhaven High. The previous year she’d been interested in extracurriculars; she’d even wanted to join choir. The hallways were plastered with fliers from different clubs, including the prom committee; streamers and pamphlets, all beckoning to a life that Ariel had left behind.
Moments ago she’d emerged from Mr. Hammond’s office, the look of disappointment following her even as she sped away from the threshold and into the hall. She’d told him that she ‘appreciated the offer’, but that she’d have to pass. She made an excuse about putting off school for another year, about ‘finding herself’. That was a load of bullshit, wasn’t it? She wasn’t trying to ‘find herself’, she was trying to help Rylee find herself! It was a job she hadn’t wanted, but it was what she got. She’d taken up the mantle that no one else would, that no one else could.
In that vein, she found herself cursing her parents a lot more than usual lately. In some ways she couldn’t blame them; they had no way of knowing that Rylee existed, but if they did know, their immediate instinct wouldn’t be to help her. Ariel had done her research as she tried to uncover the truth of Rylee; she’d found the stories of children just like Rylee who had been sent to conversion therapy, whether it was a traditional setting, or done under the guise of a summer camp, the latter of which could be far more traumatizing. She had seen her little sister, and she couldn’t abide the thought of her coming back from one of those camps, that dead look in her eyes, the robotic movements, the lack of self that her parents would undoubtedly perceive as more viable than the alternative. Still, it wasn’t her responsibility.
It wasn’t her responsibility.
She pushed forward through the hallway, step after lonely step until she emerged into the common area; a wide open space marked with carpet rather than the black and white tile found throughout the school; probably an effort at noise reduction. Round tables dotted the area, and only a few were in use right now. Too early in the morning.
She was standing there, across the quad, nearly hidden in the shadow of a locker. For the last few years, Ryan had taken to wearing a thin flannel jacket over a gray t-shirt. The same outfit every day. Every single day, like a goddamn cartoon character. That, in part, was why she reveled in forcing Rylee from her comfort zone, making her wear colorful outfits and different cut blouses – at least that was something she could enjoy.
They locked eyes for a moment, and then Ryan faded back into the shadows. They never talked at school; they had to keep up that cover of sibling rivalry. Even more so, Ariel had to keep up the cover of finding her little brother annoying. That, of course, was becoming less and less of a cover as she watched her future slip away.
Whatever future she had left was now intertwined with Rylee’s. Utter bullshit, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
She pushed the resentment deep down and made her way through the commons, past the floating wall of yellow lockers where Ryan had stood just moments ago. He’d scurried off now, probably toward his next class; the buzz of the period-ending bell sounded overhead and followed her as she walked slowly down the hall. The biology room was on the right, the art room directly beside it alongside a deep hallway that led to the building’s outer wall.
The inside of the art room bore a stark contrast to the rest of the school; black and white linoleum gave way to rough concrete floors flanked by dull gray walls, invisible now with the canvas boards and white drawing sheets etched and colored with soft lead. The room was empty this time of the day; art class didn’t start until the afternoon, so she stood there, staring at the art on display. Lots of art was created here in this room, but some of the drawings, the special ones, were put on display. She recognized a few of the drawings as her own; one of the first things they’d learned in art class was basic shapes, then shading, then three dimensional objects. Drawing a house, specifically your own house was an art class ‘rite of passage’ and she’d done it at least a few times. Many of her first attempts had been carelessly crumpled up and tossed into the waste bin, but she could see one now, suspended on a piece of thin wire that had been suspended from the top of a barely-used chalkboard. A dozen other drawings were there too, but this one stood out to her: their house.
It wasn’t a traditional home, more of a manufactured home that had been plopped down on a foundation and added onto later. Mom and Dad had done some work on it in those early days, back when Ryan…no…when Rylee had been three and she’d been five. She could still remember Mom and Dad up on the roof, fixing some kind of sealant issue. Ryan…no, Rylee. She had to stop thinking of her as Ryan. She had to. Rylee had climbed up a metal extension ladder and ended up there on the roof with them. Ever the avid explorer, it was the first time she’d invoked the rage of her father and it was all Ariel could think of as she stared at the drawing. The yard. The porch. The windows into hers and Rylee’s rooms. All of it there in vivid detail as she’d drawn it; the place that had destroyed her dreams in more ways than one.
The rage rippled, then surged, enrapturing her muscles, her bones, her conscious thoughts as she snatched the sheet from the wire, hearing it tear as she pulled it free of the pins holding it. It took a minimal amount of effort for her to tear it in half, then again, and again, and again. Sweat formed on her brow; she breathed heavily, nearly hyperventilating as she gave into the rage, turning to grab another drawing. It wasn’t hers of course; she didn’t know whose it was, but it didn’t matter. It. Didn’t. Matter.
She tore the drawing, then another, then another. She ripped, she tore, she smashed, she screamed. Shreds and ribbons of artwork, most of which wasn’t hers, sat in a pile at her feet, drawing paper seasoned with a mixture of soft lead and her own tears. She tore, and tore, and when she’d run out of drawings, she turned to the more physical art. Ceramic cups and plates that had been baked in the classroom’s kiln and painted, paper mache creations, other modern art that her classmates had been proud of and the teacher had thought good enough to display. She smashed, she cried, she smashed some more.
When all was done, she sat there in a pile of debris, head in hands as she sobbed uncontrollably.
“Fuck,” she whispered to herself. “Fuck!”
Monday morning was an absolute whirlwind at the Blackburn house, as Ariel found out the moment she stepped from her room. She nearly collided with a half-asleep Rylee in the hallway, at which Rylee profusely apologized and then scurried off in the direction of the bathroom. Somewhere off down the hall, a hairdryer whirred, and the kitchen yielded the sounds of sizzling meat and the clatter of dishes.
“Tori, I can’t find my eyeliner!” Rylee called from the bathroom as Ariel stumbled toward the kitchen.
She heard the front door open, and that boy from the truck wandered into the living room as Ariel made her way toward the dining room table. He looked a lot better when he was awake, but his polo shirt and jeans looked absolutely lived in.
“Marcus, do your laundry!” Anette shouted from the kitchen. “Ariel, help me set the table!”
“So what’s going on today?” an unfamiliar voice asked. Ariel turned to see a shorter girl with black hair that hung just above her neck, styled and held in place with a pair of sparkly clips. She looked at Ariel and couldn’t manage to suppress a look of utter delight. “You must be Ariel! I’ve heard all about you!”
“I um…haven’t heard anything about you,” Ariel admitted. “I…don’t think I know…-”
“Addy.” The girl stuck out her hand for Ariel to shake. “My name’s Addy. You’re Rylee’s sister.”
“Um…yeah…” Ariel said, a bit apprehensively, but before she could inquire more, Addy stepped around her, walking toward the kitchen.
“Am I taking Rylee today?” Addy called out into the kitchen where Anette was dumping a pan of bacon onto a platter.
“Yes!” Anette called out over the sounds of the microwave, the sizzling pancakes, and the whirring of the stand mixer.
“Yes,” Tori echoed as she walked down the hall, fully dressed somehow. “You’ll take Rylee over to Kelly’s house. Ariel, you’re with me today.”
“Toriiiii!” Rylee called out as she emerged from the hallway, looking to Tori expectantly.
“Your eyeliner’s on the counter in there.” Tori flung her index finger in the direction of the bathroom. “If it were a snake it would have crawled up your ass and died; hurry up!”
“What’s uh…that’s going on?” Ariel asked groggily as she observed the commotion around her. As if that weren’t enough, the front door swung open again and Fiona strode in. She was dressed in a tight black t-shirt with a pair of blue scrub joggers, both of which conformed perfectly to her body. She made a beeline for the kitchen where Anette handed her a plate with eggs, bacon and toast.
“Gotta eat and run,” Fiona said apologetically. “I’m already running late.”
“Don’t forget to drink your juice,” Anette told her as she continued setting the table.
“Rylee! No!” Fiona snapped as Rylee re-entered the room, seemingly dressed. “Put a bra on, now!”
“But they hurt!” Rylee complained in a whiny tone. “I don’t have any boobs anyway!”
“You have more than you think.” Fiona dropped her plate on the counter and moved toward Rylee, practically dragging her back down the hall. “And you know what hurts more than the bra? Flopping titties!”
“Nooo!” Rylee squirmed and squealed as Fiona tugged on her arm and they both disappeared around the corner.
“Rylee’s got school,” Tori explained. “Mom and I have work, Marcus has work then truck stuff. Addy, what do you have?”
“Work,” Addy shrugged. “Only for a few hours, though. Do you need me to pick Rylee up after school?”
“She has a thing after school?” Tori shook her head.
“Is she ever alone?” Ariel asked, her eyes widening with concern. Tori shook her head.
“That’s a conversation for the car,” Tori remarked, turning away from Ariel and walking back toward the kitchen. She reached toward the platter at the center of the table and scooped up a few pieces of bacon and scrambled eggs. “Rylee! Hurry up!”
“I’m here! I’m here!” Rylee practically gasped; she emerged from the hallway in a light blue v-neck top and a black skirt that fell mid-calf on her. She was chased jokingly by Fiona who made exaggerated footfalls, each one pounding loudly as Rylee stumbled and eventually ran toward the kitchen. “I’m here!”
“Gotta go!” Fiona waved to Tori, Anette, and Ariel before bolting out the door, plate in hand.
“She took your plate,” Rylee pointed out. Anette rolled her eyes.
“Rylee, are you okay?” Ariel stepped over to her sister, looking into her eyes with concern. “Isn’t this a lot?”
“Uh…yeah,” Rylee laughed. “I’m okay!”
“We’ve been working on sensory stuff,” Tori explained as they all sat down for a quick breakfast, Addy and Marcus joining them. “Marcus, did you wash that damn shirt?”
“Yeah,” Marcus nodded.
“It looks like you just dried it,” Anette said accusingly. “Look, if you’re going to live in the back of the truck, at least bring some more clothes over!”
“I’m not living in the back of the truck!” Marcus protested.
“Okay, today!” Tori raised her voice, drawing the attention of everyone at the table. “Rylee’s got school, as always. Marcus, after work, come give the truck a once-over so I can take pictures for the bank. Ariel, you’re going to come to work with me.”
“Um…” The color drained from Ariel’s face. “Work? With you?”
“Yeah, you can prep or something,” Tori shrugged. “If you’re anything like Rylee, leaving you alone to think is a bad idea. Rylee! Okay, listen up, Kelly texted Mom and wants you to go to a scrimmage with her after school--”
“What’s a scrimmage?” Rylee frowned. “Do I have to do anything?’
“Uh…no,” Tori smirked. “I don’t think you’d be allowed, by me or the school.”
“It’s a football game,” Ariel explained. “But like, not a game game. It’s like…a practice. The team plays against itself.”
“You’re letting me go out?” Rylee asked Tori, eyes wide.
“Addy’s going to pick you up,” Tori explained, casting a glance to Addy, who nodded. “And your sister will chaperone.”
“Oh…I guess that works,” Ariel said, stunned.
“It’s okay, Ariel,” Anette said, giving her a soft smile. “You get used to the pace around here. It’s not always like this anyway, Tori’s just in a hurry.”
“Yeah I have a reason,” Tori said, very nearly glaring at Anette as she jabbed a forkful of eggs into her mouth. “We’re really short on time.”
“Ever been late once in your life?” Anette suggested with a small smirk. Tori’s ‘near glare’ quickly morphed into a look of utter disdain.
“You know you raised me, right?” Tori said accusingly before turning her attention to Ariel. “Someone’s going to drive you to the scrimmage, haven’t worked out who yet. You’ll meet Rylee there. Just…make sure she doesn’t get into trouble. She’s your sister, you know what I mean.”
“Do I?” Ariel said, quizzically tilting her head as a thousand and one flashbacks of Rylee’s misadventures poured into her head. “I do.”
“Am I really that bad?” Rylee asked with at least some concern as she scooped the last of the food into her mouth. Tori, finishing her plate as well, rose from her chair and stepped behind Rylee, bending over at the waist to give her a quick kiss on the top of the head.
“Terrible,” Tori said at a whisper, loud enough for the entire table to hear. Rylee giggled.
“Rylee, you got your stuff together?” Addy asked, standing up from the table and straightening out the wrinkles in her top. As Rylee nodded and began to stand, Addy pushed her chair in. “Okay, let’s get going.”
Ariel watched as Rylee stood from her chair and crossed the living room, shouldering her backpack and looking expectantly at Addy, who took her time heading over.
“Hey, wait.” Ariel stood and walked over to Rylee, giving her a quick smile and offering a hug, which Rylee hesitantly and stiffly accepted. “Have a good day today, okay?”
“Okay,” Rylee whispered, more than aware that all eyes were on them. “You’ll be at the sausage tonight?”
“Scrimmage,” Ariel smirked. “And yeah, wouldn’t miss it.”
She watched as Rylee, backpack over her shoulder, left the house with Addy, leaving just her, Marcus, Anette, and Tori. Tori watched them for a second and then turned her attention back to Marcus.
“Work today,” Tori said to Marcus. “Then, after work, make sure the truck is ready.”
“It’s as ready as it’s going to get,” Marcus said flatly, leaving very little room for argument. “I’m mostly worried about water. You know the FDA regulations and all…”
“On that note,” Tori said quickly, taking her plate to the sink. “FDA regulations state we need three gallons of heated water, five gallons for hand washing, and fifteen for dishes, but those are the minimum. I am going to take it a couple steps further; we’ll have an external water tank, probably use a gravity delivery system. Oh, and the water heater -- ugh…I’m getting ahead of myself. You get the picture.”
“Got everything planned out, yeah,” Marcus nodded. “I could go to the bank with you?”
“Stop by your house and get something nice, something clean,” Tori reiterated. “Ariel, are you ready?”
“Yeah I just need to grab my phone,” Ariel said with uncertainty. “Are you…sure I can go to work with you?”
“We could use the help, and I want to talk to you more anyway,” Tori shrugged. “We have a lot to talk about.”
“Understatement,” Anette agreed. “I need to talk to you too, but we’ll let Tori have her turn.”
“All day,” Tori grinned. “Get your phone.”
“Rylee was laughing,” Ariel said to the road as Tori took them toward Upper Valley Pike. It was a foggy morning; overcast skies and few hints of sunlight. She focused on the field to her left and right after they passed the Crown Mini Mart. The place kind of reminded her of home. Kind of. “And I don’t mean that fake laugh she does to fit in--”
“I’m familiar with it,” Tori smiled, thinking back. “Took her a long time to even fake a laugh, though.”
“What was she like?” Ariel turned her attention to Tori who only gave Ariel the occasional glance. “When she…I mean, when she came to live with you?”
“I probably remember a lot of things that she doesn’t,” Tori said thoughtfully. “She was terrified, at first, I mean. Half the time she was shaking when I talked to her, which…is kind of a reasonable reaction since I held her there against her will.”
“That’s something we should talk about,” Ariel pointed out. “Why didn’t you call the police?”
“Gut feeling, mostly,” Tori admitted. “But what would the police have done? Locked her up somewhere? Turn her out on the streets? Neither one of those are good options. I could tell she wasn’t a bad kid, just scared; there was no reason to put her through the bullshit of a police investigation.”
“I wish I could be mad at you,” Ariel sighed. “But how can I be? I was, at first, back at home. I tried to find…so many reasons to hate you for keeping her like that, but now that I’m here…and…I see everything you’ve done for her…I wish someone had done that for me.”
“Not too late, Ariel,” Tori reminded her. “I don’t want to talk about Rylee anyway, I want to talk about you.”
“Me? What about me?” Ariel looked to Tori, startled, as they took a right turn on Upper Valley Pike, passing a Taco Bell and turning into Speedway. Tori pulled up to a pump and put the car into ‘park’, turning to look at Ariel.
“Biggest difference between you and Rylee,” Tori said, “is you can work. You’ve had a job for a while and you don’t shit yourself when people talk to you. You have trauma, lots of it, and you need to work through it. Therapy, meds, whatever it takes. You’re Rylee’s sister, that makes you my sister. Got it?”
“Okay, but why?” Ariel shook her head incredulously; Tori unbuckled her seatbelt and did a half-turn in her seat, reaching for her purse in the back. She grabbed the straps and yanked it through the seats, sorting through it to find her wallet. As she did so, she looked to Ariel questioningly. “Why us? You know what I mean. You haven’t known her for that long. You haven’t known me for that long. People don’t…just do this.”
“Do what?”
“Be nice to each other, I guess,” Ariel shrugged. “They don’t go out of their way to help each other.”
“Rylee said that. Almost exactly that,” Tori said thoughtfully, reminiscing. “You guys are a lot alike; you’ll have to just…accept that we grew up differently and we’re from completely different worlds. The way your parents raised you was bullshit, the way my mom raised us…well, we care about other people. That’s all there is to it.”
“This morning was…weird,” Ariel admitted. “Not in a bad way, I promise. It was just…at the table, at breakfast, everyone was happy; I mean, no one was laughing or joking, but I could just…tell. There was love, I could feel it, and…breakfast at our house wasn’t like that. No time was like that at our house. I just…at our house things were so stiff. There were always expectations and…I…there weren’t any expectations here, at your house I mean. I don’t know how to explain it. I just don’t. Do I sound crazy? I think I sound crazy.”
“You don’t sound crazy,” Tori assured her. “Everything is going to be fine, I promise. We need to get through today; we’re going to head to work and do the prep for lunch service, then you’re going to head to the scrimmage while I go to the bank. Just…relax, enjoy it, things are normal now.”
With a quick smile, Tori tossed her purse onto the back seat and stepped out of the car, debit card in hand. Ariel opened her door and squeezed out between the car and the pump as Tori came around and swiped her card.
“I looked for her,” Ariel said, looking straight at Tori and then turning her gaze to the road. “I…I really did. I…”
“And what do you want to do now?” Tori asked a leading question as she put the nozzle into her gas tank and pulled the handle into place. She waited for the pump to make that familiar ‘hiss’ before releasing and straightening up, leveling her own gaze at Ariel.
“What do you mean?” Ariel turned away from the road, her eyes momentarily flicking back to the gas station, and then to Tori. “I…I don’t know what I want to do.”
“What did you want to do before?”
“Before?” Ariel raised an eyebrow. “Before what?”
Tori studied her for a moment; the handle on the pump clicked and released. Tori lifted it and screwed her gas cap back on before motioning for Ariel to follow her between the pumps, through the foggy morning air toward the gas station. They walked side by side past two other cars, toward the double doors of the Speedway store. Stopping just beside a trash can, Tori held Ariel’s gaze, her lips pressed together, eyes betraying her determination to press forward with the line of conversation.
“What did you give up, Ariel? Rylee told me a few stories about you. Her perspective is skewed, but I can infer a lot. You were so busy helping her, keeping her secret, and trying to bring her out of her shell that you probably pushed your own dreams to the side. Now you work at a non-profit helping people like Rylee because you felt guilty over not being able to save her. She’s saved, you’re here, so what do you want now?”
Ariel bit her lower lip and exhaled softly before making a slow half-turn and facing the road, peering past the rows of pumps. The brisk morning air brushed her skin, helping to cleanse her mood even as Tori’s question burned at her soul. She knew the answer, but it was one that she’d buried long ago. There had been a passion once, a dream, and at one time, when she thought about it, her feelings had been indescribable. Now she struggled to feel anything. Finally, she turned back to Tori and spoke softly.
“I wanted to be an artist,” she said slowly. “I had…a free ride to college, but…Rylee…”
“You couldn’t leave because of Rylee,” Tori said, finishing Ariel’s half-finished thought. She waited until Ariel nodded her confirmation. “No one would have blamed you if you’d left.”
“Couldn’t,” Ariel said quietly, shaking her head. “She…she couldn’t make it without me. She wouldn’t be Rylee.”
“She would have shoved that shit deep down, yeah. Maybe even lashed out at other people. Who knows, but still, no one would have blamed you, Ariel.”
“How can you say that?” Ariel demanded, feeling the anger beginning to rise. “She’s my sister!”
“Half-sister,” Tori corrected her for the second time. “And I’m saying this because you keep questioning my motives for helping her, for making her my family. For wanting to make you my family. Sometimes shit doesn’t make sense, Ariel. You’re looking for a motive that isn’t…really there. You know what’s fucked up, Ariel? Society tells us we don’t owe anyone shit, but we owe people. I told you that yesterday, and the moment you figure that out, that’s when you become a person, a human fucking being.”
“I…I’ve never met anyone like you,” Ariel admitted, uncertainty in her expression. “Or your mom or your nurse friend. I’m just…having trouble believing…”
“That’ll happen,” Tori shrugged. “Come on, let’s get coffee.”
The inside of the gas station was as filthy as predicted; the floor was covered in muddy footprints, and the ‘slushie’ station was covered in a thin, sticky layer of juice that had probably persisted since the previous night. Despite this and a number of other imperfections, the tiny store was filled with people; some at the coffee maker and others standing in line waiting to pay for their purchases. Tori opted for black coffee while Ariel added French Vanilla creamer and sugar to hers. They waited in line, eventually reaching the counter where Tori conversed with the cashier – a woman named Brandy, apparently.
Moments later they were on the road again, taking a right onto Troy Road and heading toward Bechtle Avenue.
“Mitchell’s is on Bechtle,” Tori explained. “Used to be everything was over on Upper Valley Pike, but when Kroger moved to Bechtle, a ton of businesses started popping up on the east end. Then the city built the St. Paris connector to connect Bechtle to St. Paris Road. Eventually the Upper Valley Mall is going to close and everything will move over to Bechtle.”
“This city is weird,” Ariel observed as Tori came to a brief stop at an intersection.
“Yeah well, it’s boring, and boring is good,” Tori said, Ariel nodded in reply.
“So what am I going to do at your work?”
“Help prep for lunch,” Tori explained. “It’s just something for you to do until the scrimmage tonight. Someone will pick you up after and take you home so you can get ready. Don’t know who, yet.”
“You don’t trust me in your house alone, do you?” Ariel asked with a smirk, though her expression was somewhat accusing. “And you get free labor.”
“I don’t trust you alone with yourself,” Tori reiterated. “Just like I don’t trust Rylee.”
“So I’ll be like her, then?” Ariel asked, her tone suddenly very serious. “You’re going to keep me locked away? Never let me have a moment alone?”
Tori gave Ariel a quick glance before finally turning right, into the Mitchell’s parking lot. She drove to the side of the building, pulling into an empty space next to a red sedan. When she switched off the ignition, they were left in silence, broken barely, occasionally, by the sound of passing cars on Bechtle.
“That’s not going to last with her,” Tori said, adamantly. “Relegating her to the role of a child was an extreme move, and it’s our job to make sure she grows. Yeah, she acts like she hates it half the time, but she’s comfortable.”
“How do you know she’s comfortable?” Ariel frowned.
“You should have seen her the day we laid down the rules for her,” Tori laughed. “She was giddy, giggling, bouncing around like a little girl. First time I saw her like that, really.”
“And she chose it?”
“She did, and I’m glad,” Tori smiled. “She’s fun to have around and…she kind of gives me a purpose. I can’t wait to see what she becomes.”
“And…me?” Ariel asked uncertainly. “You trust me to make my own decisions, right?”
“Ariel,” Tori said evenly, though clearly becoming exasperated. “You know Rylee better than I do--”
“Do I?”
“--so you tell me, should she be making her own decisions?”
“Tori…” Ariel took a long pause before speaking, considering her words carefully. In the end, bluntness was her only option. “Tori you’re great, I mean it. You’re great, your mom’s great, Fiona’s…Fiona. You did a lot for Rylee. You took care of her, you found me, and you…you let her be herself. That’s huge; I don’t even know how to begin thanking you for that.”
“But?”’
“But you…I don’t think you understand that…okay, I mean, Rylee was sheltered for her entire childhood. Mom and Dad didn’t want her to know things, they just…treated her like an invalid. Now you’re sheltering her in another way. You’re protecting her from the world and in my head I get it. My heart is telling me something else. Does that make sense?”
“It does, Ariel.” Tori opened her car door and stepped out; Ariel followed suit. “I don’t want to be like that. Not always. I don’t want Rylee to feel helpless forever, I want her to be happy, strong, independent, but you know damn well what it’s going to take.”
“She’s not normal,” Ariel said quietly; Tori sighed, probably glad she wasn’t the first one to say it.
“She’s not normal,” Tori agreed. “But, luckily, neither are we.”
The skies were overcast and gray, but Rylee had only felt a few sprinkles of rain as she’d crossed the parking lot next to Kelly, Carrie Ann, and Ron. She’d hoped that Beth would have come, but she apparently wasn’t into football. Okay, Rylee couldn’t really blame her for that one.
At the end of the parking lot they came to the field, encircled by a chain-link fence and flanked on either side by a set of bleachers. The ‘home’ bleachers were on the near side and had been well cared for; painted in alternating red and yellow, and at the very top, the announcer’s box loomed over the field. A quick glance, far across the field showed that the ‘away’ bleachers were not nearly as well built. They were devoid of any color other than the brown of the wood, and the orange rust forming on the railing. Today, those bleachers were empty though and there were barely any onlookers on the ‘home’ side.
“It’s just a scrimmage,” Kelly explained as she noticed Rylee craning her neck upward to survey the perhaps twenty people sparsely placed amongst the seats. “There are never many people at these, but the marching band usually comes out to practice.”
“They’re awful,” Carrie Ann commented. “They’re barely any better than the middle school band.”
“Harsh,” Kelly laughed. “Accurate, but harsh.”
“I’m the most honest person I know,” Carrie Ann smirked.
They moved forward, down the gravel track, past the chain link fence and toward the home bleachers. The ground crunched and shifted beneath their feet, and shouts floated over from the football field to their left. The football team had been split in half, each side wearing a different color of jersey. Their scrimmage uniforms consisted of red and yellow jerseys and pants along with simplistic helmets. Everything about the scrimmage uniforms was unremarkable, save for the fact that they were worn, faded, and scuffed.
As they walked they were quickly joined by a girl Rylee hadn’t seen before, as well as two girls that she recognized but couldn’t quite place. One girl, a bubbly one with black hair skipped up to the group, smiling widely at Rylee.
“Heyyy girl! Remember me?” The black-haired girl embraced Rylee in a partial hug; Rylee looked helplessly over to Kelly, who shrugged. “From the bathroom, remember?”
“Oh, yeah,” Rylee nodded as the girl fell in step beside them. “You’re um…”
“Alissa,” Alissa reminded her, finally tripping Rylee’s foggy memory of the events. “You passed clean out, did you turn out okay?”
“I…guess,” Rylee said sheepishly, shrugging and offering a small smile. “H-how are you?”
“She’s shy,” Alissa said, glancing over to Kelly, who smirked. “I’m doing fine, heh. You mind if I walk with you guys?”
“I think you already are,” Kelly pointed out. “Rylee’s sister should be here soon too.”
“So…what are we doing?” Rylee asked Kelly, unsure as they passed the bleachers and the sparse crowd in front of it, moving toward the far end of the track.
“We’re just walking,” Kelly explained with a shrug. “No one feels like sitting down.”
“Just…walking?” Rylee asked nervously. “…where?”
“Around a few times,” Alissa explained. “Until we run into someone we know.”
“Like your sister,” Kelly interjected.
They continued walking, passing a red and yellow painted concession stand, the windows shuttered and locked. Their walk took them past the far end of the chain-link fence, a cinderblock building with a tin roof just a few hundred feet beyond; Kelly explained it was a small gym, for weight-lifting apparently. They reached the ‘away’ bleachers, which were eerily empty and an almost skeletal structure when held in comparison to the ‘home’ bleachers which now sat on the side of the field opposite to them. On this side, a few other groups passed them, but they were mostly alone as a good portion of the scrimmage was taking place on the far side of the field.
“Should we be over here alone?” Rylee asked nervously, her eyes scanning the forest beyond the bleachers. Kelly gave her a sidelong glance.
“We’re fine, Rylee,” Alissa snorted. “Do you think the boogeyman’s going to come out of the woods?”
Kelly snickered, the other girl did the same, and Rylee, unfortunately, was forced to internally acknowledge the fact that there were far worse things in the world than the boogeyman, even though she didn’t voice it aloud. As they passed the bleachers and started walking back toward the main area, Rylee breathed an internal sigh of relief, listening to Kelly and Carrie Ann’s idle conversation. Alissa chimed in occasionally as they talked about homework, boys, homecoming, and a bunch of other topics that went right over Rylee’s head.
Passing the goalpost on their left, Rylee’s eyes wandered to the space of grass between the end zone and the chain-link fence to their right. A group of boys, maybe eight of them, were dressed in makeshift football uniforms and tossed a football around, doing their best to imitate the players on the field. One boy, a blonde, body checked another and they both tumbled to the ground, rolling across the grass while another boy ran toward a makeshift end zone, only to be blocked by another. Pure rough housing. They were several years younger than Rylee, maybe thirteen or fourteen, and she watched them in wonder, recalling her life at that age. By that time, Ariel had intervened, but the way these boys were acting…she could never have gotten away with it. They were just having fun, but it was a type of fun she’d been denied. She wondered, quietly, who she might have turned out to be if she’d been allowed to be a child. If she’d been happy enough that the truth of her gender hadn’t worked its way to the surface. Would she be happy? Would she feel like something was missing? Somehow, it irked her that she’d never had the chance to find out.
Another realization hit her like a ton of bricks, however. She was here, dressed in a midi skirt and a blue v-neck top that hugged her at the waist conformed easily to her body. She looked like a girl and she was with girls. Girls who saw her as one of them, girls who, for the most part, had no idea. How many times had she dreamed of something like this at her old school, back in Woodhaven? She’d been given a chance to live again, a chance she never thought she would have, and despite everything, she was happy.
“Rylee!” As Rylee looked up, she saw Ariel stepping through the gate near the ticket booth, waving at her.
“Oh!” Rylee somehow resisted the urge to break into a run as Ariel trotted towards her, across the grass, then the gravel, meeting her halfway and embracing her in a quick hug. Rylee smiled widely as Ariel took her into her arms and gave her a squeeze before releasing her. Kelly and others quickly introduced themselves and the group made small talk before Ariel abruptly announced that she needed to ‘borrow’ Rylee. A few moments later, they’d broken off from the group and headed toward the bleachers.
“First football game?” Ariel asked as she led Rylee to a vacant section of the bleachers and gestured for her to sit. Rylee nodded, watching her nervously while throwing occasional glances out toward the field. “You should see a real game sometime, it’s a lot bigger than this.”
“I guess I never went to football games,” Rylee admitted. “But…you know that.”
“Mm….yeah,” Ariel nodded. “It was never really your thing, was it? I went to a bunch; I was into that whole school spirit thing, up until senior year.”
“I…still don’t think it’s my thing,” Rylee admitted. “There’s a lot of people here and--”
“And it looks like a lot of people who care about you.” Ariel gave a sideways nod to Kelly’s group as they passed the bleachers. “You should let them.”
“Let them?”
“Let them care,” Ariel said. “You got a second chance at high school, as yourself. No one gets that, Rylee. No one. So do the whole school spirit thing, make friends, go to prom, get the most out of it.”
“Tori said that,” Rylee said, distantly as she looked away from Ariel, toward the field. “Actually she keeps saying it. I don’t…know if that’s me though. I’m a nerd, you know? I play video games and play chess. I don’t…really do outdoor things or people things.”
“Remember when you took Taekwondo?” Ariel said helpfully. “You did okay at that, and it involved people.”
“I didn’t do that for very long,” Rylee argued. “And I wasn’t very good at it.”
“Rylee, you have a brown belt.” Ariel raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean you weren’t good at it?”
“It…was just relaxing,” Rylee admitted, suddenly looking down. “I liked the exercise I guess, and the forms. I was good at memorizing the movements, so I just kind of sailed through the tests, you know? I can’t really fight.”
“I…saw you spar,” Ariel suddenly laughed, catching Rylee off guard. “Yes, you can, you just have no confidence.”
Rylee allowed silence to fill the air between them for the moment, turning her head to observe the game. On the field, a man in a red and yellow tracksuit blew a whistle, shouting at players from both sides and signaling widely with his hands. The players returned to their starting positions, and Rylee watched their coordination with wonder. Finally, she turned back to Ariel and smiled.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Rylee said finally. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“How did you end up in Ohio of all places?” Ariel asked, her eyes traveling the field momentarily and then moving back to rest on Rylee. She brushed a long blonde lock out of her face and then folded her hands onto her lap, leaning forward as if to study her sister. “From North Carolina…I never expected you to get out of the state.”
“Well, how did you get to Michigan?” Rylee wondered aloud. “That’s pretty far from here, right?”
“It’s three hours north, Rylee,” Ariel laughed. “Geography much?”
“Just don’t tell Tori I messed that up, she’ll make me study or something,” Rylee warned. Ariel laughed again.
“Is she that hard on you?” Ariel smirked; Rylee giggled a bit.
“Sometimes,” Rylee said with another quiet giggle. Ariel laughed again.
“She doesn’t seem so bad. I wasn’t sure at first, but she really cares about you. Us, I mean. She cares about us.” Ariel smiled again, looking around the field, then toward the school several hundred meters away. “She has to care. She put your ass back in high school. That’s either someone who cares, or someone who’s trying to torture you. Could go either way I guess.”
“Torture, I think,” Rylee suggested. Ariel shook her head.
“You look really good; I think I’ve told you that before.” Ariel reached a hand up, brushing Rylee’s brunette hair aside and placing her palm against her cheek. Rylee tensed, but didn’t pull away; her breathing slowed at the contact, her limbs stiffening. Ariel watched her, eyes soft and warm. “It’s okay, Rylee, just breathe.”
“Sorry,” Rylee choked on a whisper. “I didn’t mean to--”
“No, I’m sorry.” Ariel pulled her hand away and gave Rylee a warm smile. “It’s always been hard for you. Mom and Dad didn’t really help with that, especially when it came to emotions.”
“That’s just my autism,” Rylee shrugged. “I can’t really feel things.”
“I think even without the autism, it would be hard for you to show what you’re feeling on your face, given that they punished you for ‘back talk’ whenever you made facial expressions.”
“I never thought of that,” Rylee said, considering.
“You know what else I’ve noticed? You’re a lot less jumpy. You don’t freak out when people talk to you or distract you. You are…definitely a new person, and I like this version of you.”
Rylee immediately averted her eyes, looking down and being forever grateful that her makeup was concealing the massive blush that had broken out across her face. Rylee started to speak, but the sound of raised voices drew her attention to the other end of the bleachers where Cathy, Sheila, and their gaggle of ‘popular’ girls were mostly cheering on the players on the field, but Izzy was there too. She watched the group closely; Ariel fell silent as Rylee observed Sheila shouting inaudibly at Izzy. Izzy responded immediately by handing Sheila a bottle of soda before moving back toward an isolated section of the bleachers and cowering.
Just as Rylee prepared to turn around, ignoring it as per usual, she saw Cathy rise from her seated position, storming over toward the section where Izzy had taken refuge. Cathy began to shout, barking orders, and Rylee could easily make out the words ‘hit yourself’. Izzy complied, striking herself across the face with an open palm, repeating as Cathy’s order was shouted again.
“What the hell is going on over there?” Ariel craned her neck to see. Rylee looked back at her, indecisiveness gripping her.
“I don’t believe this,” Rylee muttered as her eyes traveled from Izzy and the mean girls to the track where Kelly, Carrie Ann, and Alissa stood with a few other girls they’d picked up on their rounds around the track.
“Believe what?” Ariel asked, an edge of panic in her voice.
“That I’m about to do something.” Rylee stood up from the bleacher, maintaining eye contact with Kelly, who quickly ascended the ramp, walking past a group of seated students, and finally up the center stairs, where Rylee and Ariel met her.
“You finally grow a backbone?” Kelly asked, nearly smirking.
“Did you?” Rylee demanded; the smirk nearly faded from Kelly’s face. “Look, I have a lot going on, Kelly. My sister just found me, I have people at home watching my every move, it’s hard for me to think, okay? Let alone…”
“Yeah, yeah.” Kelly shook her head and looked over toward Izzy, who was now cowering near the edge of the bleachers while Sheila and the others ignored her. Rylee took a deep breath and looked to a confused Ariel.
“I’ll be right back,” Rylee tried to say with some measure of confidence. This was dumb, she thought to herself. Sheila, Cathy, and the stupid little gang were all high school girls. Why should she be afraid of them? It wasn’t like she hadn’t dealt with worse. Still.
Rylee moved forward, across the bleachers, stepping around a group of jocks, and a few other people before finally making it over to where Sheila and her cohort stood. Cathy took notice of them first, rising up from her position on the bleachers and giving Sheila a tap on the shoulder. Neither of them seemed surprised; they gave Rylee a sly smile as she approached; Rylee balked, her face flushing even as she stepped forward.
“You know, it’s too late to hang out with us,” Sheila smirked. “You picked your friends.”
Rylee paused for a moment to look back at Kelly and the others, all of whom looked at her, uncertain. Rather than giving an answer to the statement, she turned to Sheila, determined to speak, but unsure of what she should say. A million and one things happened at once while she stood there, primarily flashbacks to her old high school in Woodhaven where speaking to a girl like this would have sent her into an irrecoverable panic attack. It wasn’t that much different now; her tongue seemed to weigh a million pounds and her body felt tense as words jumbled up in her mind and refused to manifest into spoken ones. Finally, it was Kelly who spoke up.
Kelly took a step forward, standing beside Rylee and looking past Sheila toward Izzy, who was cowering by the railing, her eyes wide and body about as tense as Rlyee’s.
“Izzy, come over here,” Kelly snapped; it wasn’t a request. Izzy looked at her uncertainly and gave a silent, imperceptibly shake of her head as Kelly leaned forward, her expression of insistence intensifying. “Izzy.”
“Why don’t you get your own friends?” Sheila suggested. “Stop trying to poach ours.”
“Izzy,” Rylee said quietly, her voice nearly cracking. “Come over to Kelly.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to,” Sheila said firmly.
“Yeah, fuck off,” Cathy said. “Go get your own friends.”
Rylee gave one last look to Kelly, who looked at her expectantly; she then looked past Kelly, toward the bottom of the bleachers where a teacher seemed to have taken interest. Mr. Jacobs, one of the science teachers. He was peering up, probably trying to decide if the confrontation was normal teenage shit or an actual problem. Taking a deep breath through her nose, Rylee stepped forward in an almost threatening manner, which caused Sheila to react; she stepped forward immediately, shoving Rylee and shouting at her to back off. Her eyes were wide with panic. Rylee stumbled backward, immediately regaining her footing on the bleachers and stepping forward again. This time, as Kelly shoved, she dodged in a highly practiced motion, side stepping her and causing her to stumble forward. Kelly righted herself, glared at Rylee, and then grabbed her arms. Rylee shrieked as Kelly’s fingernails dug into her arm, but she made no move to stop her, even as Kelly gave her one last shove, hurling her backward, causing her to sprawl out against bleachers and mercifully, not tumble all the way to the bottom.
A whirlwind of events transpired next; Mr. Jacobs blowing his whistle, Rylee being helped up by Kelly and Carrie Ann, Sheila and Cathy being told to move to the other side of the bleachers. Finally, Rylee was left sitting on the bleachers, nursing her arm, and her eyes met Izzy’s, who had been left standing alone. Rylee looked up, cradling her arm at Kelly, who nodded; she stood up on unsteady legs and was immediately joined by Ariel, who laid both hands on her shoulders, turning her to look into her eyes.
“You okay?” Ariel asked uncertainly. Rylee nodded. “Who was that?”
“Bullies,” Rylee said simply, offering no further explanation. Ariel nodded, wide-eyed.
“Some things never change,” Ariel said quietly, throwing a glance back toward Sheila, then back to Rylee, who shook free of Ariel’s light grip and took a step toward Izzy.
“You can have real friends,” Rylee said quietly. “If you want.”
“Okay, come here.” Kelly and Carrie Ann took a step forward, past Rylee, and huddled around Izzy, speaking softly and bringing her over toward Rylee, Ariel, and the others.
“What happened here?” Ariel whispered to Rylee.
“I’ll tell you later,” Rylee whispered back.
Addy’s hair had grown out a little, that was something Marcus noticed as they walked along the river in Snyder Park. Maybe an inch, maybe more. It touched her shoulders now, and hung loosely, save for the spot above her temple where it was secured with a sparkly butterfly barrette.
“You’re staring,” Addy said, giving Marcus a sidelong glance.
“Obvious?” Marcus asked.
“Mhmm.”
“Sorry,” Marcus blushed. Addy remained silent as they continued down the path. To their left, down the embankment, a mother duck and her ducklings sailed past, quacking as an onlooker tossed bread into the water.
“I hear that’s bad for the ducks,” Addy observed. “Their digestive system or something.”
“What is?”
“Bread,” Addy said. “I heard it somewhere.”
“Oh,” was Marcus’s only response. He’d taken a beak from the truck; there wasn’t much more to be done at this point, and Addy seemingly had the the day off of work. Or maybe she’d called off, who knew. It was a a pretty nice day for a walk, Marcus had to admit. The sky was a bit overcast, and the air was holding moisture, but the temperature was tolerable, unlike the last few months which had been unbearably hot. It was a weekday, so where weren’t a ton of people there, just a few scattered couples, and a greasy old man with a shopping cart camped out on one of the benches. They walked down the winding path, past another family of ducks, and took a stop at a nearby marker, reading some interesting fact about a species of squirrel that apparently lived in the area. Wordlessly, they moved on.
“How’s the truck coming?” Addy asked, making idle conversation.
“It’s cleaned up,” Marcus said quickly, happy that the conversation had moved to something he was more comfortable with. “I replaced the floorboards. Tori paid for it, but doesn’t know that’s what she was paying for. She doesn’t know a whole bunch about how the truck works, you know? She’s distracted anyway.”
“Yeah, the whole Rylee thing,” Addy nodded. “Takes up a lot of her time.”
“Lucky for me,” Marcus chuckled. “She would have gotten in the way.”
“Yeah,” Addy agreed. “She knows about the things she knows, but the things she doesn’t know… Marcus, you’re staring again.”
“Sorry,” Marcus looked away, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to. I thought I was looking over at that um…playground thing.”
Addy followed his gaze over toward a play area, cordoned off into a square space by old brown 2x6 boards and filled in with pea gravel. The abandoned playground equipment was comprised of a platform with a slide and various obstacle courses branching off and ultimately leading back to the main deck.
“Come on,” Addy wrapped a slender hand around Marcus’s arm and gestured toward the playground. Marcus looked at her uncertainly but it was too late; she was moving quickly, keeping him in tow until they reached the platform. Addy quickly scrambled up the ladder and gestured for Marcus to join her.
“You sure we should be up here?” Marcus looked around the octagonal platform uncertainly, then back to Addy who chuckled and shook her head. “It’s just for kids, right?”
“I don’t see any kids around,” Addy stuck her tongue out. “Come on, let’s go down the slide.”
Marcus watched her as she climbed a narrow set of metal stairs, keeping a tight grip on the faded yellow railing, laughing lightly as she mounted the platform at the top and threw a look back toward him.
“You coming?” She asked, almost playfully.
“This is dumb,” Marcus said apprehensively.
“Then come be dumb with me,” Addy suggested. Marcus relented and joined her, climbing up the narrow stairs, and then took the brief ride down the slide until they both lay laughing in the pea gravel at the bottom.
“Okay, that was kind of fun,” Marcus admitted, rising into a sitting position and looking over at Addy whose hair was askew and shirt wrinkled. “We should do that again.”
“You don’t have to humor me all the time,” Addy snorted. “Besides, you’re always at work, or in the truck.”
“Just the truck soon,” Marcus said. “I get to quit my job as soon as Tori gets that thing rolling.”
“That’s gotta be exciting,” Addy nodded, rising to her feet and dusting off her black jeans. “Getting out of your dad’s place and just…doing your own thing.”
“Yeah, well,” Marcus said distantly, standing and doing the same. “It’s just another kitchen. I’m going to be doing the same ting for the rest of my life. My dad wanted me to go to culinary school, but I don’t want to work in kitchens forever.”
“So don’t,” Addy said. “Do something else.”
“Kinda looks like destiny though, doesn’t it?” Marcus leaned against the ladder, looping his arm around the rung and staring at Addy, who, this time, stared back. There was something about her that had become extremely attractive over the last few weeks. Maybe he just hadn’t noticed, or maybe something had changed. Either way, he couldn’t take his eyes off of hers. The black, wavy hair that swooped down across her cheeks, her rounded eyes, the pump, pink lips that accented her dark freckles, all of it creating a picture that was quickly becoming irresistible to him. Still, she couldn’t possibly be interested.
“You can be anything you want,” Addy reassured him. “I mean, Rylee just decided to be a girl one day and it worked out for her.”
“Don’t let Tori hear you say that,” Marcus warned. “She’ll flip your fucking pancake.”
“Oh my god,” Addy rolled her eyes. “I support her, one hundred percent, but let’s just call it what it is. She made a decision, it worked out for her. If she can do that, you can switch jobs. What do you want to do?”
“I…I don’t really know,” Marcus admitted. “I like construction but I don’t want to be a construction worker, does that make sense?”
“Not a whole lot,” Addy admitted.
“I like to draw, and plan stuff,” Marcus said thoughtfully, scratching his chin as they resumed their walk. “But I don’t like the actual building, you know?”
“I think you’re saying you want to be an architect,” Addy offered helpfully. “Like, a person who does blueprints, or whatever.”
“Yeah, an architect!” Marcus said, suddenly excited. “That’s what they do!”
“Yeah, you could even design restaurants,” Addy teased.
“Okay, back the hell off,” Marcus snorted. Addy laughed.
They continued their walk, down the winding blacktop path, veering away from the lake and past a nearly abandoned picnic area. A gust of wind cut through the trees and for a moment, the air chilled as a poignant reminder of the cold season that was ahead of them.
“I’m going to have to break out the winter coat soon,” Addy remarked. “Or maybe get a new one.”
“I’m not ready for summer to be over,” Marcus admitted. “It’s gotta be my favorite time of year.”
“Spring,” Addy corrected. Marcus looked at her, confused. “You like Spring, not Summer. Spring and Fall are the best months, really. Everyone likes Summer because we had it off when we were in school, three month vacation. Now that we’re out of school it’s just a bunch of hot, muggy bullshit that gives you under boob sweat.”
“Actually it just makes my balls sweat,” Marcus corrected her.
“Just glad it’s one or the other,” Addy said, smirking. “What would it be like to deal with both at once?”
“Ask Rylee.”
Addy burst out laughing, stopping for a moment to place her hands against her knees, catching her breath between bursts of laughter. She shook her head and stood upright, looking at Marcus with a lopsided grin.
“That was awful, Marcus,” She snickered. “you can’t just say stuff like that.”
“Please, she’d probably laugh.”
“Yeah, but Tori wouldn’t,” Addy pointed out. “Who are you more afraid of?”
Marcus acknowledged her point and they continued down the path until finally coming to the parking lot.
“So,” Addy said, turning toward him. “You going to ask me out, or what?”
“Sorry, what?” Marcus stumbled, literally and metaphorically as Addy posed the question that he’d wanted to ask, but couldn’t work up the nerve for. He became even more disarmed as she grinned and cocked her head.
“You’ve been ogling me for weeks,” Addy said. “you going to do something about it, or do I have to?”
Marcus froze, his body suddenly tense, cheeks flushed as he searched for something, anything to say. Addy raised an eyebrow as she observed his nervousness.
“You were okay with approaching Rylee but not me?” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “She was easier, huh? That’s not a good look, Marcus.”
“That’s not it!” Marcus stammered. “I just…I don’t know, okay!”
“So ask me.”
“D…do you…want to go out sometime?” Marcus managed to get out.
“Where?” Addy asked, coyly.
“Um…maybe the Starbucks on Bechtle?”
“That’s the most unoriginal thing I’ve ever heard,” Addy said. “But yes.”
“Max, how does this happen?” Fiona’s voice drifted down the hall; her question was accompanied by a few dozen other complaints, curses, and crashes as she worked in the living room. Max didn’t bother to respond; instead he focused on an old green photo album, vinyl covered and spotted with various multicolored stains. His feet crunched against a pile of old papers and wrappers as he moved across the floor and dropped the album onto the bed. For the sake of nostalgia, he once again pressed his hand to the sheets on Her side and closed his eyes. Fiona’s voice came again, louder this time. “Max, how does this happen?”
He turned from the bed, wringing his hands as he looked at her leaning in the bedroom doorway. Her blonde hair was hanging loose, but she’d tied a black elastic headband just above her forehead and her face was red with sweat and exertion. He looked around at the room, numb now. There was a time when he would have felt shame at the trash-littered floor, the stained walls, and unknown moistures soaked into the carpet. If he was going to be honest, this house had ceased to be a home shortly after Tori had left. Now it was barely even liveable; he hadn’t had a visitor in years, and now this beautiful woman was standing here in his doorway, blue latex gloves up to her elbows, clothes drenched in dirt and sweat. He should have been ashamed.
“I just…stopped caring, I guess,” Max struggled with the explanation. “You know, when she lived here, we kept it clean. I took care of the kitchen and living room, she did the bedrooms. We both…worked to keep it clean. After she was gone, there just…wasn’t anything or anyone to keep it clean for.”
“You keep it clean for yourself,” Fiona lectured. “Max, your house is a trash pit, it should have been condemned. Jesus fucking Christ, it’s like those soil dating periods. I can dig through layers of trash all the way to your breakup. I bet there’s a pizza box from the 90’s down there, and what’s up with all the liquor bottles?”
“Do you really need to ask?” Max’s numbness was beginning to fade and the shame was taking over. It started as a burning in his chest, and then a mixture of anger and despair as Fiona’s judgemental gaze swept over him. “Dammit Fiona, no one ever asked about me. Rylie was my daughter too. My daughter died, and then I watched my wife wither away into nothing. I had to watch the life leave her eyes, and then I had to visit her in that fucking mental hospital. Do you remember what she was like before? She was happy, bubbly, full of fucking life, Fiona! She was…a completely different person, and nothing in the world could change her.”
“She was different,” Fiona agreed. “I think in a way, the Tori we knew…sorry, the Vicky we knew died with Rylie. Maybe you did too. Maybe that’s why you grew apart. I miss her too, Max, but I pushed forward and you have to too.”
“I’m not like her. I didn’t have friends before her, I didn’t have friends after her. She…had things to live for. I didn’t. She just left me, everyone fucking left me, and now I have this fucking mess.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were this bad off?” Fiona demanded. “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were this bad off?”
“Would you have done anything?”
“No,” Fiona admitted.”Not back then. Girl code and all. But you and Tori are both pretty broken and believe it or not, I’ve learned a bit about helping others in the last few months. So, I’m here now, and we’re going to do something about this.”
Fiona turned, walking down the hall and Max followed after throwing one last glance at the photo album. The living room curtains were wide open for the first time in forever and natural light covered the trash pile that coated the entirety of the space. Food wrappers, food, piss bottles, liquor bottles, and probably literal shit formed an ocean of trash that swallowed every livable space in the house. He dreaded the day they had to start working on the bathrooms.
There were some useful items amongst the debris; he could spot an old laptop and a zip drive along with a salad shooter, TV remote, and a silver thermos that he used to carry with him to work. He had little doubt that if they were to dig a little deeper, they’d find plenty of long lost items that had once been important to him. He dreaded finding the things that reminded him of her. A thousand and one unwelcome memories ready to come flooding back.’
“What’s this?” Fiona was holding the zip drive in her hands; it was about as wide as two credit cards and probably half an inch thick.
“It’s a zip drive,” Max explained. “It’s um…like a floppy disk drive, but bigger.”
“Bigger?”
“Well yeah,” Max nodded, distracted somehow. “It’s like a hundred megabytes; a regular floppy is 1.44. I…used it for storing pictures; there should be a box of zip disks around here somewhere.”
“Under all the crap,” Fiona nodded. “What kind of pictures did you store?”
“Um…the good times, I guess,” Max shrugged. “Me, and Tori and…her…”
“Max, look,” Fiona said. “You…need to get it together. There’s just no way around it. Here’s what we’re going to do, you ready?”
“Yeah,” Max nodded. Fiona cleared her throat and dropped the zip drive back onto the floor, wringing her hands and looking Max in the eye.
“You’re going to rent a dumpster, we’re going to have it dropped out front. Then we’re going to go down to Lowes, grab a few boxes of contractor bags and that’s going to be the start of all this. You got that?”
“Start of…what?”
Getting your life together,” Fiona said. “We’re going to get rid of everything. All of it.”
“Um, I need some of this stuff,” Max waved his hand around the room. “We can’t just-”
“Pick ten things,” Fiona told him. Max raised an eyebrow. “You can pick ten things, put them aside, and the rest go into the dumpster.”
“Fiona-”
“You use any of this shit?” Fiona demanded, picking up an old t-shirt and holding it between two fingers. “Ten things, Max. Ten.”
“Fine…” Max relented. “I guess it’s better than what I’ve been doing.”
“You mean nothing?”
“You don’t have to rub it in,” Max glared at her. “I know, I’m a fuckup.”
“No,” Fiona sighed. “Not a fuckup. Not really. I’ve learned, over the last few months, that sometimes you just need other people, and you know what? You’re right, you were abandoned, and maybe that’s not fair. Tori had to live her life, but Riley was your daughter too. Maybe we could have checked in on you, or maybe…I don’t know. Maybe we could have done more than we did. But, no more Max. From here on out I’m going to help you, and hell, maybe I can get Rylee or Marcus over here to help.”
“I’d…rather not have people see this mess,” Max admitted. “It’s just…”
“We are well that point,” Fiona scolded. “Do you want your shit cleaned up, or not?”
“I…I do…”
“Then rent the dumpster,” Fiona snapped. “And get ready to work. From now on, no one’s abandoning you.”
“This is going to bruise,” Ariel ran her hand over Rylee’s arm, meeting her eyes and acknowledging a slight wince as she touched the affected area. “You slammed it pretty hard on that bleacher.”
“I was there,” Rylee smirked.
“So just bullies?’ Ariel craned her neck, looking over Rylee’s shoulder toward the far side of the bleachers where Sheila, Cathy, and her friends had been exiled.
“Yeah,” Rylee nodded, pulling her arm away and scooting back a few inches from Ariel on the bleacher. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Mattered to her,” Ariel nodded to Izzy who was now a few seats down and being fawned over by Kelly and Carrie Ann. “You did a good thing.”
“She should have been able to get herself out of that,” Rylee grumbled. “She showed up at school trying to transition, didn’t have any friends…or maybe she did before…you know. But she came here like that and those girls just…scooped her up I guess.”
“People suck,” Ariel wrapped her arm around Rylee, giving her a partial hug. “So what if you think she’s dumb? Stepping up for her says more about you than about her. I’m proud of you, little sis.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Rylee said, looking first to Izzy then out to the field where the scrimmage was still on. “How long do these things last anyway?”
“Not as long as a real game,” Ariel assured her. “They had these all the time at our old school.”
“They did?” Rylee frowned. “I never-”
“Rylee,” Ariel interrupted. “You missed out on a lot of things.”
“Yeah,” Rylee hung her head, deep in thought. She had missed a lot of things, in fact, it was another, invisible world that co-existed alongside her own back in Woodhaven, and she was just now hearing about it. Football games, fundraisers, bake sales, pep rallies, field day. All things that had been in plain sight and yet she’d failed to notice. Now, here in Ohio, she’d not only discovered this whole different world, but had been thrust into it. High school was nothing like she remembered, save for the bullies. “So…what happens now?”
“With the game?” Ariel frowned, looking out toward the field. “Well it’s a scrimmage so Kenton Ridge will probably win…”
“I mean with us,” Rylee said apprehensively, looking away from Ariel as she spoke. “I mean…you…live in MIchigan and everything and you have a job. Are you going to go back? Are you going to stay here? I…I just…”
“I don’t know, Rylee,” Ariel said quickly. “There are…a few things I do know, and the biggest one is that you have to stay here. If I wasn’t convinced yesterday then I was this morning. What you have going on at Tori’s house is the way your life should have been. I don’t know how you stumbled face first into it, but this is your home now.”
“You changed your mind on that awful fast,” Rylee pointed out. “You said you wanted to take me back to Michigan with you.”
“I’m just getting good at recognizing good things when I see them,” Ariel smiled halfheartedly and looked away, toward Kelly and Carrie Ann for a moment, watching them comfort a shellshocked Izzy. “Tori’s as good as it’s gonna get. That nurse lady is a little scary, though.”
“Fiona.”
“Fiona,” Ariel echoed. She looked back over to Izzy and nodded her head in that direction. “That situation is seriously weird. Who just…comes to school like that?”
“I did,” Rylee reminded her. “It wasn’t exactly my choice but…”
“It’s different with you,” Ariel explained. “You just…I don’t know…I can’t tell with you. But like, imagine if you’d shown up at school, as Rylee back then?”
“I think Dad would have killed me before the other kids did,” Rylee met her eyes briefly and then looked away, wringing her hands.
“Someone’s going to kill her if she’s not careful.”
“Yeah,” Rylee said flatly, following a long pause. She’d wanted to say something more, offer some kind of argument to Ariel’s brash statement, but her sister was right. Izzy had stepped into a world she knew nothing about, and not just the world of being a woman. Being transgender, in the world, had so many implications that she hadn’t been ready for. “I can’t judge her though.”
“No?”
“Bad things happened to me too,” Rylee shrugged, her eyes becoming distant as she recalled what seemed like a distant memory but was, in all honesty, far too recent. “It’s hard to live like this. Maybe it’s good that she’s trying.”
“But you’re worried?”
“About everything,” Rylee let out a long breath and then nodded to Ariel as she stood and headed over to the others. Off in the distance she could hear the marching band beginning to play the school’s fight song, and the coach shouting at players on the field. People had started to trickle out of the field, the bleachers emptying as the gray evening sky transitioned to darkness.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Kelly said as Rylee approached. Rylee glared.
“According to you, I did. You kept pushing me to do something.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to,” Kelly reiterated.
“She okay?” Rylee peered over Kelly’s shoulder to see Izzy sitting between Carrie Ann and Alissa; a number of other girls had taken up a position behind her, talking excitedly while others consoled her.
“Yeah,” Kelly nodded. “She’ll be fine.”
“Cool,” Rylee turned, stepping away from Kelly and fishing into her purse. She wrapped her fingers around her cellphone, pulling it from her purse. Ariel quickly stepped over and took her hand.
“What are you doing?” Ariel demanded, looking from Rylee’s eyes, down to the phone in her hand, and then back.
“Calling Tori to pick us up,” Rylee said defensively. “I don’t want to be here for this.”
Rylee nearly jerked backward as Ariel snatched the phone from her hand and dropped it into her own purse.
“No lifeline for this one,” Ariel told her sternly. “Do you know why Tori sent you out here? So you could socialize, and learn to do things on your own. Go talk to your friends.”
Rylee stared at her sister in disbelief as she tried to come to terms with the idea of actually dealing with this situation rather than running; Ariel understood that it was in stark contrast to how their relationship had worked in the past, but things were different now. She watched, almost in amusement as Rylee turned and walked toward her friends.
Addy switched off the ignition and stepped out of her car, the engine still beating beneath the hood even as she stepped away. Cool night air hugged her all the way up the front walk, until she used her key to open the front door and stepped into her mother’s house.
Muggy darkness greeted her at first, until she switched on the foyer light and the room was bathed in a dim luminescence that was easy on the eyes but bad for the mood. The entire house was a bit outdated; wood paneling stretched from the foyer, to the kitchen, and the living room beyond but it was the mess that really got to her.
After spending so much time at Anette’s house, she was starting to get an idea of just what kind of squalor she lived in. No, not squalor per say, but as her eyes traveled from the threadbare couch, to the piles of papers, mail, and other odds and ends across the home’s various surfaces, she couldn’t help but feel as if something was amiss.
She walked past the stacks of mail, the random displaced items, stepped around a discarded green dumbbell near the back of the couch, and made her way to the refrigerator. Inside, a drumstick in a small tupperware container stared back at her; she pulled it out and immediately headed over to the microwave. The whirring of the motor, the dull light from behind the plastic window, and the spinning tupperware within, all of it contributed to her immediate disassociation as she contemplated what this house had once been, and what it had become.
If she cared to turn away from the microwave, she would once again lay her eyes on the dining room table and if she stared long enough, she could recreate a scene from times long past. Ten year old her, sitting at the table with her older brother across from her. Mom and Dad, sitting at the ends. It could have been lunch, or dinner, depending on the day; they would be talking and laughing, or sharing details of their week. She could hear her older brother laughing, and she could see her father listening in contemplative silence. Mom was a different person back then, too. She was quiet, like Dad, but she had a sense of humor, and she loved to sing.
If she looked to the living room, she could see them gathered around the television, watching TGIF, or the movie of the week. A thousand phantom scenes could unfold around the house, depending on where she stopped to look. Some of those memories were crystal clear, others were muddled, but the one thing she knew, was that there had been happiness here at one point.
Father was gone; he’d left as soon as mother had gotten sick. Her brother, Rick, had gone too, off to California to live his life. She hadn’t heard from him in years.
The microwave dinged.
Her mind returned to the present and the ghosts of the past faded as her fingertips graced the sides of the tupperware container; a wince crossed her face as the heat burned her skin, and the vessel slipped from her hand, clattering against the microwave platter.
“Just where the hell have you been?” Her mother’s voice demanded. Addy spun around, less than surprised, but still upset that she’d somehow made enough noise to attract her. “Young lady, do you know what time it is?”
“Don’t you know I’m nineteen years old?” Addy demanded back. “I have work. You know I have work.”
“When I tell you to be back before a certain time-” Her mother’s voice was raised now, and her glare came from hateful, sullen eyes accented with dark circles.
“Have you been drinking again?” Addy accused, looking to her mother for any sign of intoxication.
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Mother demanded, still glaring. She was thin, almost absurdly so, and almost a caricature dragging her oxygen tank along behind her. “When you live in my house-”
“Yeah, I get it,” Addy snapped. “Your house, your rules. Do your rules involve letting me eat my chicken?”
“Your chicken? I cooked that,” Mother growled, taking a step closer. Her eye twitched and her expression grew accusatory. Addy turned slightly to look at the chicken leg sitting pathetically in its melting, plastic container within the grease-spotted microwave. “I do everything around here, and what do you do to replay me, exactly? Nothing! Nothing at all! You stay out till all hours with your little friends, then you come back here, eat all my food, dirty all my plates, run my electric bill up! Ungrateful fucking child!”
“Mom you didn’t cook that chicken,” Addy said firmly, her voice projecting an upward inflection. “That’s a fucking rotisserie from Wal Mart. You know that, you were with me when we bought it.”
“When did you turn into such a liar?” Her mother spat, shaking her head and rubbing the side of her face; the nasal canula shifted, and she squinted. “This isn’t how I raised you.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Mom,” Addy shrieked. She snatched the chicken from the microwave; the container cool enough to touch now, and slammed it against the floor. “You want the fucking chicken? Eat the fucking chicken. God, I’m so sick of this! Don’t you ever have anything positive to say?!”
Addy’s last words came out as a scream; the rage inside her had reached a boiling point as she glared at her mother, the anger nearly incomprehensible. Here was the woman who had raised her, the woman who had laughed with her, cried with her, taught her everything, and now she was just reduced to this…hollow shell of a person. Wasted away by alcohol meant to dull the pain.
I don’t recognize you anymore.
“So you’re going to just break my rules, stay out with your stupid friends, come home and make a mess of my clean kitchen?” Her mother shouted, pointing accusingly at the chicken leg now lying on the stained and filthy kitchen floor. “How dare you? How dare you?!”
Addy refused to move as her mother stepped forward and swung her open palm, landing a blow against her cheek. Addy cried out, stumbling backward as she took another blow, then another, then again. Tears flowed from her eyes as her cheeks turned red and she threw her hands in front of her face to ward off the onslaught.
“Mom! Stop!” Addy screamed, stumbling into the kitchen counter and sobbing. “Mom!”
“Ungrateful little bitch! Get out of my house!” Mother slapped her again, her eyes filled with rage and the nasal canula ripped out long ago. Her lips were curled in anger, and she showed no signs of stopping. Addy stepped away from her, moving away from the kitchen counter and toward the door.
“Mom stop it!” Addy cried, but her Mother came at her, full speed, landing another blow across her face.
“Get out! Get out! Get out!”
Without another word, Addy bolted toward the door, pushing through the screen and heading out toward her car. It took a moment of fumbling, but she managed to get her key into the ignition and backed out of the driveway; she was rewarded with the sound of breaking glass and a horrific crunching sound as she slammed into the mailbox at the end of the driveway. Cursing, she threw the car into Drive, moved forward a few feet, and then backed out, missing the broken mailbox and nearly spinning out on the main road. The engine roared as she sped down the road, taking the twists and turns through the looming dark and the thick forests flanking the road on either side.
The tears flowed freely as she drove; sob after sob erupted from her lips and her vision blurred. At some point, visibility of the road disappeared and she took the twists and turns, allowing muscle memory to guide her. Finally, she emerged onto Upper Valley Pike, sailing through the intersection and pulling into a gas station. She threw the car into park and continued to sob, now slamming her fists against the steering wheel.
“God dammit!” She shrieked, hitting the wheel again and again. “Dammit, dammit, dammit! Fuck! Fuck!”
It had been downhill since the diagnosis, ever since the pain started. “We’ll get through this together, as a family,” Father had said. And for a while, he stuck it out. God he’d been there through everything else, why the fuck had he left now?
“You fucking weak motherfucker!” Addy cursed the father that could no longer hear her as she slammed her fists against the wheel again. It was hurting now; pain gripped the edge of her hands and radiated outward. Her screams continued until they changed into sobs, then weaker sobs, and finally, she sat there in the driver’s seat, her vision blurred, her eyes stinging as her hand throbbed.
Breathing heavily, she managed to regain control of herself and threw the car into drive. Taking a left onto Upper Valley Pike, she came again to the intersection and then turned right onto Troy Road. She passed Bechtle and drove into one of the many residential areas of Springfield, passing Ferncliff Cemetery and ‘Video Outlet’ until she turned into an all too familiar driveway.
The lights were still on in the brick house; she could see movement behind the curtains, and she swore she could see someone peeking out just as she switched her lights off. It didn’t matter. She killed the engine and stood up, making a bee line for the box truck still parked in the driveway.
Quietly, she gripped the bottom of the door, held open a crack by a block of wood, and lifted it just enough to slide inside. With her phone’s flashlight, she found Marcus in a sleeping bag near the front of the truck.
“Addy?” Marcus said sleepily as she unzipped the bag and climbed in.
“Hush,” She told him. “Just scoot over.”
“Who’s in the driveway?” Anette called out from the couch. She looked over to Ariel who sat in the recliner, legs pulled up beneath her in a ‘criss cross’ position, dressed in a pair of pink pajama pants with a white t-shirt.
“Addy,” Tori called back, closing the curtain. “She went into the truck with Marcus.”
“That’s not obvious at all,” Anette remarked. She watched Tori turn from the window and walk over to the couch, sitting down heavily and looking over to Ariel.
“How was the scrimmage?” Tori asked her.
“Um well…some shit went down?” Ariel gritted her teeth as Anette looked up from her book and Tori raised an eyebrow. “Look, I feel kind of bad about it, okay? I know the whole reason you sent her out there was to let her socialize or whatever and-”
“Ariel? Breathe,” Tori said firmly. “She was your sister long before she was mine. Look, she’s adorable, I love having her around, but she does dumb shit from time to time. It’s no one’s fault.”
“What kind of dumb shit, exactly?” Ariel inquired. Anette snorted and Tori shook her head.
“We could start with the crime spree she went on that landed her here,” Anette suggested. “I’m not sure how many places she robbed.”
“She didn’t tell me she was trans for three months,” Tori said with a sigh, shrugging her shoulders. “It doesn’t change my feelings about her but god damn, that was a nasty surprise.”
“Jumped off a Ferris wheel,” Anette added.
“Dived into a flood zone and broke her arm.”
“You’re really painting a picture here,” Ariel allowed the tiniest smirk to tug at the edge of her lips as she considered the havoc Rylee must have wreaked in her absence. “I’m starting to see why you don’t let her make her own decisions.”
“Temporarily,” Tori reminded her, raising a finger. “It’s only temporary.”
“Anyway, at the scrimmage-” Ariel started, but then stopped as Anette raised her hand and shook her head.
“Don’t care,” Anette said. “Ariel, we love Rylee, but not every conversation has to center around her.”
“Yeah but-” Ariel started again and was quickly cut off by Anette.
“Did she kill anyone?” Anette asked. “Did anyone kill her? Is it something that’s going to get her kicked out of school or arrested? No? Then let’s talk about something else.”
“I can hear you,” Rylee said as she entered the kitchen from the back hallway and went to the refrigerator. Opening the door, she immediately reached for a can of coke, only to halt when Anette cleared her throat.
“There’s coffee made for you, Rylee,” Tori told her. “Just pour some out, no sugar.”
“Coffee, this late at night?” Ariel raised an eyebrow, turning toward the kitchen and peering at Rylee, who had already begun to pour a cup. “She has school tomorrow, doesn’t she?”
“She has ADHD,” Tori explained. “Caffeine has the opposite effect; puts her to sleep.”
Ariel eyed Rylee as she sipped the coffee and moved around the counter, heading over toward the couch and gripped the mug with both hands. She slowly, took a seat on the couch next to Tori, who instinctively wrapped her arm around her. Rylee leaned into Tori, laying her head on her shoulder while pulling her legs up beneath her. Ariel couldn’t help but grin as Rylee naturally snuggled up to Tori, eyes closed and body relaxed in a way that she’d never seen. Tori took notice of Ariel’s grin and nodded to her, mouthing ‘I know’ and returning the smile.
“So, Ariel,” Anette said, breaking the onset silence. “I printed you off an application to Clark State today, it’s the college downtown. If you’re interested in staying, I could grab you one from Wittenberg too.”
“I…I don’t know,” Ariel said. “I mean, I like it here, with Rylee, you guys are great, but I have my best friend in Michigan, and you know, we’re roommates so I don’t know what she’d do…”
“She’d figure it out,” Anette shrugged. “You guys are young, just give her thirty days notice and be done with it.”
“Why do you want me so bad?” Ariel asked, suddenly. “Like…what is it I can actually do for you?”
“Why do mothers want daughters, Ariel?” Anette met her eyes, her expression stern, but somehow soft as she gave Ariel a moment to think. “The real question is why you don’t feel worthy.”
“I…I don’t know what you mean,” Ariel admitted, her eyes moving to Rylee who had fallen asleep on Tori’s shoulder, the coffee cup still clenched in her hands as it rested on her lap. There was another brief pause with Anette quietly crossing the room and gently peeling Rylee’s fingers back so that she could move the cup to the coffee table.
“You’re a lot like Rylee,” Tori said to her; she chuckled a little before leaning over and giving Rylee a quick kiss on the top of her head. Rylee stirred a little before shifting and ultimately dozing back off. Tori eyed her for a moment, making sure she was actually asleep, then refocused her attention on Tori. “Look, your parents sucked, you had to fight to survive, mentally or otherwise. You think everything is transactional, that you have to give something to get something. Maybe it’s true, in some ways, but in this case, you’re enough.”
“I’m enough,” Ariel repeated, turning the words over in her head. “I…I still don’t get it.”
“Let yourself have it, Ariel,” Anette spoke up. “and let us have it, too.”
Another silence; Ariel leaned forward, placing her elbows on her crossed knees and burying her head in her hands as she tried to work it out. A long, hard breath came from her nose, and she rubbed her eyes with the tips of her fingers. She took another deep breath, her diaphragm contracting, and then expanding quickly in almost a huff as she pulled her head away from her hands and looked up, first to Tori, then to Anette. It was strange to her, that they both wanted it so bad. It was all so foreign to her, so alien that someone would want her just because she was…her; though maybe she had Rylee to thank for that. Maybe.
“Okay,” Ariel said. “Okay, I’ll trust you.”
Anette nodded slowly and stood up, crossing over to Ariel. Ariel stood to meet her and they exchanged a long, tight hug.
“You’ll be okay, Ariel,” Anette assured her. “We’ll all be okay.”
“We can make some plans now,” Tori said, drawing Ariel’s attention.
“Plans?” Ariel blinked through onset tears. “What kind of plans?”
“You got approved for your loan, right?” Anette asked as she stepped away from Ariel. “For the truck?”
Tori nodded. “Yeah, so I’m going to talk to some vendors tomorrow, get the kitchen set up in the back and whatnot. We should have it set up by next week, and by the time it passes inspection, we’ll have Marcus finish prepping the ingredients for the fridge. I’m trying to think of something for Rylee to do, just a small task. She’s not great with math so the cash register is out. I’m not going to have her do any cleaning, so…”
“Why not?” Ariel asked suddenly. Tori broke her brief concentration and looked at Ariel, her brow furrowed. “Okay look, I get that you don’t want her to do chores and that’s super cool, but this isn’t…a chore for the sake of a chore. Right? You’d be teaching her something useful.”
“And you ask why we wanted you,” Anette snorted. “Tori she’s right, and, it’s really time to start teaching our girl some house cleaning skills. What if she lives on her own someday and doesn’t know how to clean her stove burners or keep her carpet clean?”
“Yeah whatever, I’ll have her dust something,” Tori rolled her eyes. “What else?”
“School,” Anette poked Ariel. “I’ll get the application to Wittenberg too. We’re going to have to go there, physically, and talk to them about scholarships.”
“And I have to go back to Michigan to get my car,” Ariel reminded them. “But…I’m still worried. I mean, what if Amber gets in trouble without me?”
“She’s a big girl,” Anette reminded her. “She can handle herself.”
“Chris, get up here, you pussy!” Amber hissed down the ladder, suppressing a laugh as Chris nearly missed a rung. She grabbed his arms as he reached the top and helped to pull him through the trap door and onto the grated platform at the foot of the billboard. Like her, he was dressed in a black zip-up hoodie and a pair of yoga pants, both of which had been pulled from her closet. She hadn’t quite been able to get him into a dress, but baby steps were what it always took.
Instead of standing, he dropped to his hands and knees, hyperventilating at Amber’s feet as she reached into her canvas messenger bag and withdrew a can of black spray paint.
“You climb like a man,” Amber snorted. “Come on, get up!”
He scrambled to his feet, holding onto Amber’s shoulders as he peered out over the railing. The night was black around them, the stars blocked out by the three overhead lights that illuminated the ‘Little Cesars’ billboard. From the edge of the steel railing, Amber could see the occasional headlight passing Michigan Avenue heading toward downtown, and to the left, the plasma donation center. A patch of darkened trees stretched out beneath them, a black floral abyss that had masked their approach and guarded them as they ascended the rickety metal ladder. Ariel stepped away from Chris, steadying him and straightening his hood.
“This is insane!” Chris nearly shouted, stumbling as he made the mistake of peering over the railing and down into the forest. Amber reached out, steading him again. “What are we doing?!”
“Direct action!” Amber announced. “Ariel tried doing it the right way, now we’re going to do it the wrong way!”
Chris watched, wide-eyed as Amber grinned, shaking the paint can and going to work on the billboard.
“A…Amber I don’t think we should be doing this,” Chris stammered, looking at her, and then over the edge of the railing. “I-”
“You were all about it at the house,” Amber reminded him. “Just stand there, and watch for pigs.”
“Why would there be pigs?”
“Cops,” She clarified. “Watch for cops.”
The Upper Valley Mall was a dream to Addy half the time. It was a little smaller when compared to the Fairfield Mall in Beavercreek, but it still had its charm, especially in the evening. Marble floors and high accent lights helped to bring out the best in the mall’s aesthetic, which included neon signs, kiosk displays, and even arcade games set up along the center of the mall’s main concourse. People of all types, -- children, adults, teens, men and women -- wandered up either side of the concourse, talking amongst themselves, shouting, eating, talking to vendors, minding their children.
The sides of the concourse were lined with a variety of stores that ranged from video game boutiques to shoe stores, clothing outlets, and even a science store filled with puzzles and ‘science kits’.
Addy straightened out the folds of her dress, stepping away from Marcus momentarily to peer into a shoe store and then falling in fell in step with Marcus again.
“We should visit that music store on the other end,” Marcus commented. “You know, the one with the red neon lights?”
“Every store here has neon lights. K.B. Toys, Suncoast, Spencers…” Addy counted them off on her fingers as she spoke, grinning slightly at Marcus. “What do you want to see at the music, store, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Marcus shrugged. “Maybe there’s something new out.”
“What do you listen to?”
“Oh jeez.,” Marcus rubbed his chin and stepped away from Addy, out of the center of the concourse; she followed him to a concrete fountain. “I like a lot of things.”
“Enrique Inglesias?” Addy suggested. Marcus frowned.
“Are you saying that because I’m Latino?” Marcus frowned, but Addy remained stoic, refusing to take the bait. “Yes.”
“Thought so,” Addy laughed. “Just seems your speed.”
“You know,” Marcus said, trying to recover the conversation. “If you uh…want to know what kind of music I’m into, I…have a CD. In my pocket, actually. It’s um…”
“Marcus,” Addy cocked her head and grinned wider. “Did you make me a mix tape?”
“Well, I mean, not necessarily,” He said quickly, his words nearly slurring. “It’s just a CD of music that…you know…I like to listen to--”
“That you keep in your pocket?”
“It’s not a mix tape!” Marcus protested. “I just…like music, okay?”
“Let me see it.,” Addy held out her hand and Marcus reluctantly reached into his jacket pocket and produced a blue ‘mini disc’ roughly the size of his hand. Addy took it and read the label. “‘Mix for Addy’. You sure this isn’t a mix tape?”
“Okay, so I made you a mix tape,” Marcus said, defeated. Addy laughed and looked at him affectionately.
“I love it,” She said, to his surprise. “Come on, let’s go listen to it.”
“Listen to it?” Marcus shook his head, and to Addy it almost looked as if he barely resisted the urge to snatch the disc back from her. “H-…how? Do you have a Walkman in your purse or something?”
“No no,” Addy laughed, grabbing Marcus’s hand. “Come on, let’s check out that music store.”
The music store was another example of a neon-imbued establishment designed to draw in the crowds, or more specifically young people, and it worked. Addy noted that Marcus seemed mesmerized as they stepped through the entryway, his eyes focused on the neon signage and the accent lights along each gondola of CD’s and cassettes that ran nearly the length of the store. It was pretty packed, but that was to be expected on a late Saturday afternoon, and it would get even worse as the night wore on. Addy made a note to herself to maybe get out before that happened.
His hand clasped tightly in hers, they made their way down the center aisle flanked on either side by new releases in the front, and classics arranged neatly on wire racks hanging from the top of each gondola. As they moved further, they left the CD cases behind and passed a few rows of cassette tapes, taking a right and rushing past the front register, which was encumbered with two lines of people stretching back to the gondola. A cardboard display of some singer Addy couldn’t identify stood near the end of one of the rows that they passed.
She led them through a sea of bargain bins to a side wall that had a sign labeled ‘Listening Booths’. There were six doors, most of them occupied, but Addy quickly found one that was open a crack. They shoved themselves into the cramped, seatless space and Addy began to laugh hysterically as Marcus was shoved up against her.
“Hey, it’s not funny,” He argued, then paused and looked into her eyes. “Maybe a little funny.”
“Very funny,” She corrected him, holding up the mini-disc between them. “Let’s see what kind of person you are.”
“You can’t tell what kind of person I am by what I listen to,” Marcus argued, but Addy had already opened the CD tray and was handing Marcus one of the pairs of oversized earphones.
She grinned widely, putting on her own pair, and Marcus laughed, presumably at how comically large the earphones were compared to her head. Addy rolled her eyes and hit play.
There was a moment’s pause and she twisted the left side of her mouth into a grin, nodding as ‘Making Love out of Nothing at All’ by Air Supply began to play. Marcus looked down in embarrassment, but Addy quickly hooked the bottom of his chin with her index finger, lifting his head and shaking hers, the grin growing wider.
“You weren’t supposed to listen to it when I was right here,” Marcus told her, loud enough to hear over the earphones. Addy shushed him and played the next song, a pick from ‘Matchbox Twenty’.
“Okay, maybe not the greatest if you’re trying to impress a girl.,” Addy gave him a laughing lecture as ‘Back 2 Good’ started to play. Marcus closed his eyes, his body going slack with defeat.
“Hey! Don’t go all Rylee on me!” Addy said, giving him a shake until his eyes opened.
“All ‘Rylee’?” Marcus pulled one of the earphones away, his face contorting into a frown. “What does that mean?”
“You know what it means.,” Addy snorted. “Self- conscious, self- loathing, self- anything negative. Let’s not do that.”
“Do not compare me to Rylee,” Marcus said, a hint of warning.
“Then don’t act like her,” Addy smirked. “You couldn’t pull off the dresses anyway.”
“I wouldn’t want to,” Marcus said.
“Kiss me, you idiot,” Addy said, drawing him close. “Just fucking kiss me.”
“Come on, sit on the bed,” Anette gestured to Rylee’s bed, and Rylee, rather dutifully, plopped down on the mattress and leaned back, supporting her upper body with open palms on the comforter behind her. Ariel stood behind Anette and to the left with her arms crossed, looking at Rylee, then occasionally looking around at the contents of the room. “Okay, let’s get your shoes off.”
Ariel uncrossed her arms and stepped around the bed, taking her attention off of Rylee for the moment as she perused the closet, running her fingertips across the rows of clothing and occasionally plucking out a top or a skirt and looking at it before pushing it back into its original position. A lot of the outfits belonged to Rylee, but more than half had come from Tori’s high school days; Ariel could tell by the outdated styles, which never seemed to bother Rylee. Ariel moved away from the closet and to the dresser, going through the dated collection of CD’s while Anette chatted to Rylee behind her.
“You haven’t been taking care of your feet,” Anette lectured. “Have you been wearing nothing but flats?”
“No,” Rylee said insistently, though protesting a little too hard.
“Are you sure?” Anette lifted Rylee’s foot up, examining the sole. “You’ve got some pretty nasty calluses callouses, even on the ends of your toes.”
Ariel watched Rylee wince as Anette pressed against the heel of her left foot; she looked apologetically toward Anette before pressing her lips together and lowering her gaze to her knees.
“Rylee,” Anette said as Ariel turned away and continued to explore the room. “You have an arch, you need to give your feet a break. Wear something with an arch. You still don’t like heels, right?”
“Heels?” Ariel spoke up as Rylee wordlessly shook her head to Anette.
“Trauma,” Anette said to her. Ariel nodded and resisted the urge to sigh aloud. She hadn’t fully unraveled what had happened to Rylee in the years after she’d left home, but she was getting a pretty decent idea. “Here, I’m going to put this ointment on your feet, then we’re going to get you a pair of clean socks.”
“We should get you some new music, Rylee,” Ariel commented as she sorted through the CD’s Tori had left. “This stuff is old.”
“I like it,” Rylee said, giving a half hearted smile to Ariel as Anette began to run the ointment on her feet.
“Good,” Ariel said. The simple statement from Rylee meant much more than perhaps anyone outside the situation could understand. Admitting that she liked something, and standing firm on it was a huge deal for her. Ariel wondered if Anette had caught the significance of the statement, but her expression remained the same as she tended to Rylee’s sores and calluses. “Anette, do you guys do this a lot?”
“Her feet?” Anette said absently. “I check them every few weeks, yeah. She did a lot of walking before and she still hasn’t completely healed. Footwear choice plays a factor here.”
Ariel barely repressed the urge to give a massive grin at the situation; someone fussing over Rylee more than she did back in the old days…well, that was something, wasn’t it? She watched closely as Anette finished with the ointment and slid a pair of pink fuzzy socks over Rylee’s feet and proceeded to ask her a series of health related questions. Yes, she’d been taking her medicine, yes she was washing her face, yes, she was brushing her teeth every single day. A slew of other hygiene and self-care related questions followed with Anette reassuring her that she could be honest, every step of the way.
“What about a pair of sneakers?” Ariel suggested, pulling a pair from the closet; she frowned when she didn’t recognize the style. “These are some really old Converse.”
“Tori went to high school in ‘95,” Anette reminded her as she stood up and walked over to join Ariel at the closet. “Some of her stuff is from the eighties.”
“You sure?” Ariel frowned. “Wouldn’t that be small on Rylee?”
“Rylee’s small,” Anette said, offering little more, aside from a thoughtful glance at the closet.
“Right,” Ariel said, looking at the sneakers. “These are flat though, it may not work.”
“I can’t wear sneakers with a skirt!” Rylee complained. “it doesn’t look right!”
“No one on Earth said you had to wear a skirt,” Ariel pointed out. “Besides, there are jean skirts.”
“I can’t wear pants,” Rylee explained, probably for the millionth time. “What if I get an erection, or someone looks too close?”
“I really hope no one’s looking at your crotch.,” Ariel’s tone was somehow a mixture of curiosity and a subtly-delivered lecture. “Besides, you can just wear leggings and a really thick pad. Then you can be embarrassed about that instead.”
“I don’t think you take me seriously.,” Rylee’s expression was flat, but her eyes filled with worry. “I don’t want people to know that I’m a…a….”
“Girl,” Anette cut her off; both Ariel and Rylee gave Anette a passing glance before returning their attention to each other.
“Rylee, it's literally a matter of time before someone catches on. You’re really, really passable, but there are people who just catch onto this shit, you know? We just have to be ready.”
“Ariel, I don't want people to know!” Rylee said, dangerously close to anger. “I just want to be a girl!”
“You are! You obviously are!” Ariel grabbed Rylee’s shoulders, staring into her eyes. “But…but people are going to notice because there are things we can’t hide unless you want to get like, a thousand dollars worth of surgery!”
“A little more,” Anette interjected; they both looked at her again, then back to each other.
“But what if I start growing a beard or…what if my voice gets deeper?”
The room fell silent and Ariel placed one hand on her hip while looking to Rylee, slightly annoyed.
“Anette,” Ariel said. “Do you mind if I talk to my sister alone for a minute?”
“I’ll be in the living room, probably drinking,” Anette said just before leaving the room.
Ariel watched Rylee carefully, trying to ensure that her next words came out without sounding too mean. She failed.
“It’s never enough for you, is it?” Ariel asked a suddenly shocked Rylee. Ariel paused, sucking in a breath and shifting to her other foot. “Back then, at home, I helped you the best I could, but it was never fucking enough. I let it suck the life out of me, and it wasn’t enough. I gave up college for you, I gave up a potential career and it wasn’t enough for you. Now you’re here and these people are giving you everything they have, and you’re still freaking the fuck out. Does it stop at any point, Rylee? Does it stop? Do you ever just fucking appreciate what you have?”
“That’s not true!” Rylee managed to blurt out. “I’m just afraid because--”
“Shut up!” Ariel snapped. “I’ve been here less than a week and it’s the same old shit. Stop walking around acting broken and like the entire world is against you because maybe a lot of it is but you have friends. You have family. You have so much more than you would have had at home! Just fucking enjoy it, would you?”
Rylee stood there in stunned silence; tears began to form in her eyes as they watched each other, the only audible noise now the sound of killdeer singing outside the window. The white walls normally made the room seem more expansive, especially on a bright day like this, but now they seemed to be closing in, suffocating, and Ariel could easily see the discomfort on her sister’s face. In response, she tried to reel it back a little.
“Rylee,” Ariel said softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, but this place…this is perfect. It’s everything home should have been for you…for us, and you…you’re still putting up a fight.”
“So are you,” Rylee reminded her. “You wanted to take me away.”
“Because it was too good to be true, and because…ugh.,” Ariel squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again as she tried to process the situation. “Why would someone take you in after you broke into their house? Why would they give you a room? Why would they help you with your transition? Why any of that? But apparently, they just…are. I’m working on getting it, Rylee--”
“So am I,” Rylee said, causing Ariel to pause for a moment; she nodded to her little sister.
“I think it’s us,” Ariel said in a resigned tone, dropping to the bed and letting out a deep breath. “I think…that…maybe what Tori and Anette are doing for you…for us, is normal and we're just not used to people being kind. And Anette, she’s like…she’s like a mom. Like what a mom is supposed to be.”
“Like on TV,” Rylee added; Ariel nodded again.
“Yeah, like on TV. The truth…Rylee is…I don’t get how you stumbled into something like this. I spent years looking for you and you…you’ve been here, like, you got so lucky when you left home. I don’t understand, maybe I never will.”
“Ariel, I …” Rylee began to turn red and then instinctively rubbed her eyes, taking a ragged breath before she sat timidly on the bed beside Ariel. “I didn’t just…I…”
“Take your time.,” Ariel reached out and wrapped her arm around Rylee’s shoulders, pulling her close. Rylee took short, shallow breaths as her eyes darted and the memories came to her.
“I didn’t just stumble into it. There was a lot of stuff before this.”
“I know.,” Ariel nodded, squeezing her sister a little tighter. “Tori and Anette told me some, but they know there’s more. I know there’s more.”
“There is…was….” Rylee leaned into Ariel finally, her body tense even as she tried to relax. Her breathing increased; Ariel could feel her tremble. “I’m…just…I feel….like none of it should have happened.”
“Of course it shouldn’t have happened!” Ariel assured her. “People are cruel, they just are. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I’m technically not a girl,” Rylee said, leading Ariel to pull away slightly and look at her. “I…should have been able to take care of myself. I…should have fought back.”
“Rylee…”
“I want to tell you,” Rylee whispered.
“When you’re ready,” Ariel offered another reassurance. “You don’t have to now.”
“But I want to. Now.”
So she told her. Rylee told her every detail, and Ariel’s eyes grew wider as the moments passed. Ariel’s free hand found Rylee’s, squeezed it, and then used it to wipe away her sister’s tears. In the end, all she could do was hold her close and whisper that she was sorry, even though it wasn’t enough. In the end, it was Rylee who tried to reassure Ariel, telling her that it was okay, she was alive; she made it.
Ariel didn’t know how to tell her that sometimes, being alive wasn’t enough.
“You ever think about how weird this is?” Marcus asked her as they passed a black ‘Suncoast Video’. Addy looked to him questioningly, waiting for him to explain. “It’s just…I mean…before, we didn’t really talk like this and…I don’t know, I don’t think we were really ‘liking’ each other. I don’t know how to say it, I guess. Things just changed really fast all because of…”
“Because of Rylee,” Addy finished for him. “Yeah, I get it. We all changed.”
“Yeah, but why?”
“Marcus, we’re on a date,” Addy reminded him. “You really want to go that deep?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Marcus said, falling silent. Addy grinned at him and gestured toward the left; they took a turn, heading toward the food court. “What do you want to eat?”
“I’m dying for a soft pretzel,” Addy mused. “They’re greasy, though.”
“Isn’t that part of the appeal?”
“Hmm.,” Addy stepped ahead, just slightly, and she could feel his eyes on her as her own eyes traversed the food court, looking from menu to menu. She’d chosen an unusual outfit for today: a white cotton dress that tied at the waist and fell just above her knees. She threw a glance back at Marcus and grinned as his face reddened and he looked away, quickly. “Look over there, they’ve got pretzels.”
“I’d hope so.,” Marcus looked in the direction she was pointing. “Their logo is just a giant soft pretzel.”
“Sarcasm isn’t a great choice on a first date.,” Addy stuck her tongue out; Marcus looked taken aback. “But…about the Rylee thing, as much as I don’t want to talk about her on our date, she’s taught us both a lot, even if we weren’t trying to learn.”
“Like what, how to fail at being a master thief?”
“I think we came closer together, trying to take care of her,” Addy suggested. “aAnd…I learned a lot, myself.”
“Like what?” Marcus looked hungrily toward the pretzel stand; his stomach began to grumble. “She’s kind of a brat.”
“Yeah, I’m not going to argue with that.,” Addy shook her head. “She is a fucking brat, but she is a ‘she’, and that’s the part I had trouble with. I was freaked out at first, really confused, and I kind of stormed off, but I really got to know her and, like, there’s no way that could be a guy. I can’t even picture it.”
“Would it be bad if I told you I still had trouble with it?” Marcus wondered aloud; he then looked over to Addy, who was regarding him with a serious expression.
“Don’t tell Tori that,” Addy advised, shaking her head. “She’ll skin you alive.”
“Yeah, I know,” Marcus said. “She really is protective.”
“You know, you talk about her an awful lot.,” Addy’s tone bordered on accusatory, causing Marcus to raise an eyebrow, and then his eyes widened as he began to understand the context.
“Addy, I wouldn’t think of her like that,” Marcus quickly defended himself. “She’s…she’s too…”
“What?” Addy demanded. “She’s too what?”
“Um…old?” Marcus stammered, trying to choose his words carefully. Addy seemed to relax, but only slightly; she turned fully to face him, standing before the neon lights of some bougie donut shop.
“You’re sure you’re not attracted to her?” Addie demanded again. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”
“No!” Marcus sputtered. “She’s not! She’s…like…no!”
“Okay look, Marcus,” Addy’s tone calmed a little. “Tori’s pretty – no, don’t give me that look. She is. You don’t need to lie to me, I’m sorry if--”
“I don’t think of her that way,” Marcus insisted again, cutting her off. He looked to the left, toward the rows of densely populated tables. So far, their increasingly heated conversation was masked by the murmurs and shouts of the food court’s populace but as his eyes darted from left to right, he began to worry that at least some of them would take notice. He lowered his voice, nearly to a whisper. “Addy, I find you attractive, not her!”
“Marcus, it’s okay!” Addy insisted. “Look, she’s cute, we both know she’s cute. If we’re going to go forward with this thing, we have to be honest with each other, right? I mean, she kissed you, and I know that had to have an effect, of some kind at least!”
Marcus sighed and paused, recalling the distinct and highly detailed memory of Tori shoving him against the side of the food truck, pinning his arms, and kissing him, deeply, almost as if she thought he were someone else, even though the kiss had been purely reflexive. One hell of a reflex, though. Did he think she was attractive? He concentrated on the memory of her long, bright red hair,; straight up top with a natural curl near the bottom. She had this clear complexion that was obscured by dozens of tiny red freckles dotting her cheeks, and a pair of red, plump lips that nearly dominated the lower half of her face. Conventionally, yes, she was pretty.
“I um…yes,” Marcus said, nodding nervously. “I mean…I guess she is. A little.”
“A little.,” Addy’s face hardened again; her lip curling as she looked at him. “So you do like her!”
“That’s not -- come on!” Marcus said just a little too loudly; a few of the food court diners looked up from their plates and away from their friends to see the source of the commotion. He noticed, and immediately lowered his voice. “Addy, I didn’t ask her to kiss me.”
“You didn’t really stop her either,” Addy pointed out. “Not that I blame you;, I mean, look at her.”
“Addy!”
“Oh come on,” Addy scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t--”
“No! Do you know how old she is?”
“Oof,” Addy said. “Don’t say that to her face.”
“I didn’t kiss her,” Marcus reiterated. “She pinned me to the truck and kissed me.”
“Okay, but why?” Addy was staring at Marcus intently now. “She wouldn’t just do that for no reason. You had to give her some kind of signal.”
“Oh…my god.,” Marcus had to fight to keep his voice down. “She’s just crazy, okay? She probably doesn’t even know why she did it!”
“And yet,” Addy mused, cocking her head. “She did it, and you didn’t stop her.”
“Oh my god,” Marcus said again. “Can we just eat?”
Addy shook her head and patted him on the cheek, turning toward the pretzel display as if she’d simply dismissed the entire idea, but her expression said otherwise. They stepped forward, waited in the line and ordered two soft pretzels and two medium Pepsi fountain drinks. Addy noticed Marcus trying to get lost in the brief snack to avoid any further questioning from her and for the moment, it worked. She chewed on her pretzel as they made their way to an empty table near the edge of the food court and sat next to a long concrete planter filled with greenery. On the other side, the concourse and its growing crowds were visible and teeming with mostly couples in their twenties, holding hands and talking or laughing as they reached the end of the food court and then diverged from the crowd, taking a left or right on the concourse or disappearing into one of the dozens of stores or shops.
“Stop looking at other girls,” Addy said, taking a bite out of her pretzel and washing it down with a drink of her Pepsi.
“Addy, are you being serious right now?” Marcus frowned, setting his pretzel down. “This is our first date and you’re acting like a…”
“A what?”
“I mean…you’re getting jealous over someone I don’t even have feelings for!” Marcus sputtered out.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Addy said. “I get jealous sometimes.”
“Okay, you need to calm down.,” Marcus’s suggestion wasn’t so much a suggestion. “We’re on our first date, get jealous when we’re on our third. Or fourth. Preferably never, but if you absolutely have to…”
“You’re too serious,” Addie smirked and chucked, picking up her pretzel again as she watched the bewilderment on Marcus’s face grow. “I’m just messing with you.”
“Addy, it’s really, really hard to tell,” Marcus sighed, though still apprehensive. “I want this to work out, but…”
“But save the crazy until after we’re in a committed relationship?”
“Hey, that’s not what--” Marcus cut himself off mid-sentence, his face scrunching up as he thought about what he was saying. Then, finally, his facial muscles relaxed and his expression fell flat. “Yes.”
“Okay!” Addy said, clapping her hands as if the noise would clear the air between them. She gave Marcus a wide grin and then spoke again. “What’s your favorite movie?”
“What?”
“Favorite color? Food? I’m trying to get to know you!” Addy raised both eyebrows and tilted her head slightly forward urging Marcus to answer.
“Right,” Marcus nodded. “Um, I guess…The Last Action Hero.
”
“The last what?”
“Um, it has Arnold Schwarzenegger,” Marcus explained. “It’s about this guy, he’s a police officer--”
“Okay,” Addy raised her hand, silencing him. “We’ve gotta get you some culture. Action movies are so lame.”
“I’m Latino, I have nothing but culture. Besides, it’s a movie that makes fun of action movies. It’s about this kid who gets a movie ticket and ends up inside the movie and it’s…okay I guess it’s a little dumb, but I like it. What’s your favorite?”
“‘10 Things I hate About You’, but ‘Mean Girls’ is a close second,” She took another bite of her pretzel and looked around, her attention suddenly drawn by the darkness of a nearby arcade, it’s sleek, glossy black exterior endowed with a neon sign that read ‘Play Time’. “I bet you’re one of those guys that likes video games too, aren’t you?”
“Is this entire date just going to be you bashing the things I love?” Marcus posed the question in a serious manner, but kept his voice even. “Besides, Rylee plays video games.”
“Rylee’s a kid.”
“It’s kind of easy to forget she’ll be nineteen in a few months, isn’t it?” Marcus reminded her. “Video games are for anyone.”
“Anyone who’s whose a kid,” Addy shot back; Marcus looked at her hard until her own expression softened. “Okay, okay! Jeez, I’m sorry.”
“You should try it sometime,” Marcus suggested. “We could find a ‘Barbie’ game or something.”
“Okay, you know what?” Addy rubbed her hands and stood up. “Let’s ask someone.”
“Ask someone what?” Marcus asked, his voice rife with curiosity as Addy’s head swiveled around the food court.
“Here, this guy!” Addy pointed to a man on the other side of the food court; he was older with wrinkled skin and sporting a white beard that seemed to go well with his threadbare trench coat. He was sitting on one of the long concrete planters when Addy and Marcus approached him. They stood there in silence for a second, but finally, Addy spoke. “Excuse me, sir, I’m sorry to bother you, but we…well no, I had a question for you.”
The old man, who had been busy with unwrapping a candy bar, looked up at Addy in surprise. He frowned and cocked his head.
“Yes?” The old man asked.
“Should grown men be playing video games?” Addy asked, folding her arms. The old man looked at her, utterly confused as he attempted to comprehend the question.
“Never did play them myself,” The old man shrugged. Addy smirked and looked to Marcus in triumph.
“See?” Addy grinned to Marcus.
“Okay that’s really not fair,” Marcus protested. “This guy probably fought in the Civil War, he’s never even seen a video game.”
“Don’t be dumb,” Addy lectured. “The Civil War was hundreds of years ago.”
“Excuse me.,” The old man frowned, raising a hand and calling them both to silence. “I uh…er…don’t know a lot about video games, per se say, I mean, but I do know something about relationships.”
Marcus and Addy froze, looked at eachother and frowned before looking back to the old man who seemed to have given up on his candy bar for the moment.
“You like video games.,” The man pointed to Marcus;, his voice resembled a frog’s croak, almost. Marcus nodded. “Well, relationships last if you make compromises. So you play video games with him, and then he does something with you.”
“I could put makeup on him,” Addy suggested.
“I’m not Rylee,” Marcus shot back. “Besides we’re not in a relationship, we’re just out…on a date.”
“Definitely putting makeup on you.”
“Look, children,” The old man croaked. “I’m very busy here. If you could just…”
“Alright, Marcus,” Addy said, relenting a little. “Let’s go play video games, and then we’ll do something I like. Deal?”
“I never asked you to do that,” Marcus pointed out. “You don’t have to play them, just don’t get mad at me for playing them.”
“You’re not getting out of this,” Addy said insistently, looking back toward the arcade. “Come on, we’re playing something.”
Fiona stepped over to the pile that Max had accumulated over the last hour and snatched a ‘Wheaties’ box, shaking it to confirm that it was empty as she glared at him, immediately inquiring as to why he needed an old cereal box.
“Well they don’t make it anymore,” Max explained, uncertainty lacing his words as he confronted Fiona’s stony expression. “Look, look here, on the back. You can fold this flap down, and look, it’s a little cardboard basketball court. Cool, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” Fiona said, gently taking the box from him and looking it over. “And you…throw a ball through this cardboard hoop?”
“Yeah! It’s cool, right?”
“Totally,” Fiona smiled before dropping the box to the floor and stomping on it, much to Max’s horror. “You don’t need a fucking cereal box, Max! You need to get your life in order! What’s that?”
“It’s a stand mixer, it’s for-”
“You have one in your kitchen,” She pointed out. “Do you even cook?”
“Well this one’s broken, actually-”
“Trash,” Fiona snapped, pointing to a separate pile near the front window. “Come on, we don’t have all day. What’s this?”
“It’s a pencil case.”
“Trash it,” Fiona pointed to the two boxes of contractor bags near the door. “Come on, throw that away, then we’re going to work on the rest of the house. Anything you didn’t put in that pile is going in the trash.”
“Fiona-”
“Shut up!” Fiona shouted; Max cringed and stepped back, his eyes wide as Fiona suddenly kicked a pile of trash and stomped her foot against the floor. “You are living like a god damn racoon! Do you understand me? Max? Look around you! Look! I thought you just weren’t living your life, but apparently you’re taking your feelings and manifesting them as this fucking landfill! Start cleaning!”
“Okay, okay!” Max leapt forward, moving past Fiona to grab one of the trash bags. “Just stop yelling, okay?”
“If I’d found Tori living like this, I’d do the same thing,” Fiona practically snarled. “And if she found Rylee living like this…well she’d probably make her write sentences or something, but my point stands.”
“Yeah,” Max said, rubbing his hair. “I get your point, can you just…be a little nicer about it?”
“Max, I swear to god- is that a shovel?” Fiona pointed to a wooden handle jutting out of a trash pile near the entertainment center. Max turned to the right then looked back to Fiona, the embarrassment written all over his face.
“Uh…yeah…” He muttered. “I was-”
“I don’t care what you were doing,” Fiona cut him off sharply. “Give me the bag. Give it!”
She practically jerked it out of his grip, plastic crinkling as she yanked the trash bag toward herself and pointed toward the shovel.
“I’m going to hold the bag open,” Fiona told him. “You get the shovel, and start shoveling shit in here.”
“Wait, everything?”
“I told you, make a pile of the things you absolutely need,” Fiona reminded him. “The rest is going in the trash.”
“Fiona…some of this stuff is still good,” Max frowned and looked around the living room, his eyes following the floor to the doorway of the kitchen beyond which lay more piles. “Like um…that VCR over there…”
“Dude, if I dig deep enough I can find the paleolithic era; how much have you used any of this shit? How long has it been sitting on your floor? Come on, Max, start shoveling.”
“Okay, you know what,” Max said. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right, Fiona.”
“I know I am.”
Max big his lower lip, then set his jaw as he plunged the shovel in to the pile of trash. He dumped some into the bag and then continued. They went on, Fiona holding the bag, Max shoveling. They filled three bags and moved on to a fourth. Little by little, the living room floor started to become visible, and the mood became a little lighter as Max started to see the positive results. As the fourth bag was filled halfway, he stopped, holding the shovel, his knuckles white as he gripped the wooden handle and his eyes distant.
“Max?” Fiona attempted to draw his attention. A moment later, he looked at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Why are you doing this?” He asked; there was no anger or accusation in his voice, just pure curiosity. “You could be…off doing anything else. School, hanging out with Tori, but instead you’re here…helping me clean up a bunch of shit I should have cleaned up myself. Why?”
“You can’t do it yourself if you’re overwhelmed,” Fiona pointed out. “Most people can’t. Do I think you should have caught it before it got this far? Hell yes I do, but you didn’t, and the only thing we can do about it right now, is fix it.”
“But why help me? I don’t get it, Fiona.”
“Jesus Christ, Max, you sound more and more like Rylee. Maybe I want to, or maybe it’s the right thing to do,” Fiona took a deep breath and dropped the trash bag, placing her hands on her hips and staring hard at Max. “Or maybe, Max, just maybe I’ve recognized that no matter how hard Tori and I tried to push you out, you’re part of our fucked up little family. You, Rylee, Ariel, late additions maybe but you all belong here. You don’t have to be fucking Tori to be a part of it.”
“Who the fuck is Ariel?”
“Not important,” Fiona shook her head and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture as a befuddled expression formed on Max’s face. “What is important, is that Tori, Anette, and I…well, a few months ago our relationships were strained and now we’ve just…rallied around a cause. I guess.”
“Rylee,” Max nodded.
“Rylee,” Fiona nodded back. “Look Max, honestly? Tori and Anette could use the help, if you really want to get involved.”
“Hold on, involved how?” Max frowned. “Are you guys doing something weird?”
“Well, Rylee’s going to be starting some photography classes over at Clark State,” Fiona suggested. “Maybe you can take her to some of those.”
“Photography,” Max echoed. Fiona nodded; he stared at her, hard, though his expression conveyed a hint of confusion. “So you want me to be an errand boy?”
“We all run errands,” Fiona’s tone was very matter of fact; she placed one hand on her hip and returned Max’s hard stare. “and we also have family dinners, we do things together, we help each other. So do you…want to hang around your shitty house all day or what?”
“Not really,” Max admitted. “But I don’t want to spend all my time doing other people’s bitch work either.”
“Your choice,” Fiona shrugged. “But you should keep shoveling, we’re losing time.”
“Right, right,” Max plunged the shovel into another pile and delivered the contents into the bag; at one point he reached for something, but Fiona made a loud ‘Uh-uh,’ waving her finger in objection. “So, photography, huh?”
“We’re encouraging her to do the things she never got to do,” Fiona explained. “and as it turns out…that’s a lot of things.”
“She’s pretty messed up, huh?”
“It’s something we’ll have to talk about,” Fiona explained. “If you’re going to be around her, that is. Honestly I don’t know how Tori’s going to feel about this.”
“Am I that bad?”
“I don’t think so,” Fiona shook her head. “I think you and Tori fell out for a legit reason, but you were never the bad guy, and neither was she. Rylee though…Tori, Anette, and I pick up on things about her that she might not even know, and sometimes we don’t tell her. She’s afraid of men.”
“Afraid of men?”
“Yup,” Fiona said, gesturing toward the trash bag again; Max continued shoveling but didn’t break eye contact. “She still shrinks back from Marcus. Not as bad as she did, and she’s never said she’s afraid, but her body language tells us part of the story.”
“What happened to her?”
“That’s her story to tell,” Fiona said. “So, you think you’re up for this shit?”
“Being around your girl, you mean?”
“Any of it,” Fiona lowered the bag for a moment, looking into Max’s eyes. “Can you be around Tori? Can you handle showing up when you volunteer for shit? Don’t be a fucking disappointment Max. Show up.”
“I’ll try,” Max promised. Fiona nodded.
“You kicked my ass,” Marcus said, still disbelieving what had just transpired. “I-”
“You didn’t think girls could play games, huh?”
“That…is not the reason I’m surprised,” Marcus still seemed stunned; Addy cocked her head.
“Come on, let’s go do something I want to do…unless you want me to kick your ass again,” Addy shot Marcus a mischievous look; he blushed and gave her a half-hearted smile.
“What do you uh…want to do?” Marcus asked her; his eyes met hers in the darkness of the arcade. Pushed, jostled, and shoved by children, teens, and adults alike, they somehow managed to feel as if they were the only two people inhabiting the space. The sound of the crowds, the buzz of the overhead lights, the noise from the arcade cabinets, all of it faded momentarily, leaving Addy and Marcus with just the rhythmic sound of their own breathing, and their potent grins.
“I…I don’t know,” She admitted. “I mean, normally I like to go window shopping, but…I don’t really know right now. Maybe we could just walk a little?”
“I could walk,” Marcus reached down, giving Addy’s hand a squeeze; she looked up at him and pressed forward, embracing him in a hug.
“Do we really want to do this?” She asked him as they crossed the threshold back onto the mall concourse. “I mean, us. I…am I really ready for a relationship?”
“Has it been a long time?”
“I dated a guy in high school,” Addy said. “And a girl. Neither one ended well. I’m just worried that…it won’t work out.”
“I think,” Marcus said as they passed the food court and headed toward the center of the mall. “That I can do better than some dumb high schoolers you dated.”
“You were a high schooler like three years ago,” Addy reminded him,leaning in and giving his hand a squeeze. “Was there a huge change between now and then? Have an epiphany or something?”
“You’re funny,” Marcus said idly.
“So this is going to be us, then,” Addy allowed her thoughts to wander for a moment before they came back in full force, focused with a razor sharpness on the situation at hand. Marcus was someone that she’d known since kindergarten and sure, they’d become friends, but was he someone that she wanted to date? Until recently, absolutely not. What had changed?
“You’re wondering how this happened too, huh?” Marcus asked; Addy looked at him in surprise, as if he’d read her mind. Slowly, she nodded. Marcus watched her for a moment and then continued walking, slowly. “I think our parents had ideas of who they wanted us to date. Or marry, or whatever. I think maybe we listened to them way too long. And then comes this girl who knows who she is and what she wants, and she’s ready to die for it. It’s not a figure of speech either, I mean, if the wrong person figured it out, ‘bam’ that could be it. If she’s ready to die for who she is, then we should be able to date who we want, to be who we want. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Are you uh…sure you don’t still have a crush on her?” Addy asked, smirking and then raising an eyebrow. “You were going pretty hard there, for a while.”
“It’s not my fault she’s kind of cute,” Marcus pointed out. “But she acts like a teenager. A young teenager. Not my thing.”
“She’s come a long way,” Addy pointed out. “She looks at people when they talk to her, that’s pretty big.”
“So, if she can do it, so can we,” Marcus nodded, the resolution in his voice. “but I don’t know, is it what we want?”
“I’m game to try,” Addy nodded, smiling as she gripped Marcus’s hand and led him in the direction of a sporting goods store. “Come on, we’re going to do what I want now.”
“And what’s that?” Marcus allowed himself to relax, following her through the concourse as she quickly made her way toward the sporting goods store. The interior lights were on now; huge glob lights lining the walls of the concourse, mounted to the walls every five feet or so. The skylights overhead had gone dark with the passing of evening, and the mall crowds were now out in full force. Where the concourse had been relatively empty when they’d come in, it was now teeming with life and buzzing with conversation. The shouts of children and the loud inflections of high schoolers could be heard echoing through the space as they stood at the halfway-point between JC Penny and Sears.
“I want to-” Addy stopped speaking mid-sentence, her attention drawn to the old man from earlier, now sitting on one of the concrete benches between two stores. “Oh my gosh, we should talk to him!”
“Talk to him? About what?”
“We have to tell him he was right!” Addy said, excitedly. “About everything, about us! We did what he said, and look how happy we are!”
“I don’t think he had anything to do with it…” Marcus gave a weak protest but Addy was already heading over to the bench, a huge smile plastered across her face. As she neared the old man, he gave her a look of recognition that quickly morphed into one of utter horror; she sat down on the bench beside him.
“Oh god,” The man shook his head. “What did I do now?”
“You saved our relationship!” Addy explained, smiling wider. The man rolled his eyes.
“If I saved your relationship, it wasn’t in that much danger, little girl,” He sighed. “Now if you would be kind enough to leave me alone…”
“We will,” Marcus said, quickly. “Gladly. Come on, Addy.”
“Wait, wait wait!” Addy shook her head as the old man stared at her with an expression that closely resembled terror. “What should we do next?”
“Next?” The old man asked, frowning.
“Well, yeah!” Addy said excitedly. “You helped us figure out the other thing, you’re like…I don’t know, kind of like a father figure!”
“Holy shit, Addy,” Marcus muttered; the old man’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head.
“Well, you did something he wanted, now he should do something you want,” The old man shrugged. “Though I’d strongly suggest running.”
“He’s not really into cardio, and neither am I,” Addy explained quickly. “I want to go camping, I love the outdoors.”
“I really didn’t know that,” Marcus said dryly. “You’re such a…girly girl.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Addy lectured. “You know that by now.”
“Okay,” Marcus said. “How uh…do you propose we go camping, in a mall?”
“Don’t be dumb,” Addy rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand. “We can just go look at camping stuff.”
“See? Great idea!” The old man exclaimed. “Now you can go to the camping store and leave me to be old and miserable.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Tori quipped. “It’ll just be the same show next week.”
“Rylee, what are you wearing?” Anette looked to Rylee who sat beside Tori at the dining room table, peering at the computer screen along with Ariel who stood behind them, one hand on Rylee’s shoulder. Rylee was dressed in a pair of black leggings with a pastel, patchwork hoodie consisting of at least five different colors. It was almost too big on her; the sleeves drooping around her palms and her midsection nearly swallowed by the fabric. She looked tiny.
“It’s one of mine,” Ariel explained. “I brought it with me.”
“It’s cute,” Tori looked over at Rylee, who immediately blushed, then smiled and tightened her shoulders. “Okay, let’s start from the beginning…yeah, this week you took a hundred and ten pictures, Rylee.”
“That’s a lot,” Rylee said, less than helpfully. Several months ago, Tori had given Rylee a DSLR camera that conveniently connected to any wifi network that it was in range of, sending all of Rylee’s photos to Tori’s email address. Each week, they sat down at Tori’s computer, went through the photos, and decided what should be saved. In the beginning, most of her photos were blurry, but with a little help from Tori and a lot of experimenting, almost every photo was now crystal clear.
Tori clicked through the photos, asking Rylee what she wanted to do with each one. Here and there, Ariel gave input as she sipped on a mug of hot chocolate and gave Rylee’s shoulder a squeeze.
“I wish mom and dad had let you do this,” Ariel commented. “You’re so good at it.”
“They did let me have a camera,” Rylee noted. “I mean, kind of.”
“They gave you a shitty Kodak from the eighties, with that really weird film,” Ariel said, twisting her nose up.
“The 110, yeah,” Rylee nodded. “The film wasn’t really the problem though.”
“Uh, yeah, if it’s crappy film you get a crappy picture,” Ariel frowned.
“You would think,” Rylee shrugged. “But 110 is all mechanical; you can change the film speed with that slider on the side. It’s just that not all cameras can do it. You also kinda gotta remember that ISO is part of the film; you can’t change it on a regular camera so you have to be careful what you get. If you have a high ISO film and try to take a picture in a bright room, it might get weird.”
“See this is why they should have let you do this stuff,” Ariel said, shaking her head. “You’re so smart!”
“I just read a lot,” Rylee shrugged. “and I play around with the camera.”
“You are smart,” Tori said, clicking to the next picture. “It’s kind of been fun watching you regain your confidence.”
“Angering, really,” Ariel muttered; Anette shot her a look of warning from the kitchen, which was ignored entirely. “You used to…do so many things. You were so good with computers, you read a ton, you played chess, and I mean, you’re a brown belt in Taekwondo-”
“She’s what?” Tori and Anette said simultaneously. Anette froze in place, looking from Ariel, to Rylee, then back to Tori, wide-eyed. Tori’s hands stilled, her fingertips hovering over the keyboard as she whipped her head around to make eye contact with an embarrassed Rylee.
“Um…” Rylee stammered, shifting in her seat and wringing her hands. “I’m…not good at it. I just passed some tests.”
“You can fight,” Tori blinked, turning in her seat, her knees rubbing up against Rylee’s thighs as she stared at her. “Like, you really, really know how to fight.”
“Kinda of,” Rylee shrugged.
“So uh…when Marcus came over, to teach you some moves,” Tori stared hard at Rylee. “After you got attacked, that first time…was he…good?”
A dead silence fell over the dining room as Anette leaned forward on the counter while Tori and Ariel watched Rylee, anticipating her response. Rylee fidgeted, wringing her hands and darting her eyes from side to side before finally rolling her shoulders back and shaking her head quickly.
“No,” She said, nearly whispering. Anette snorted.
“Rylee,” Tori said, frowning. “If…you have a brown belt in Taek…whatever it is, why don’t you use it? Why do you let people just…hurt you?”
“She doesn’t want to hurt anyone,” Anette said quickly before Rylee could react. “She knows how but she can’t bring herself to do it. It’s admirable, but it also gives us another reason to keep her locked in the house.”
Ariel cringed.
“Speaking of,” Anette interjected quickly, again. “Rylee, we signed you up for your photography classes, it’s at Clark State on Saturday mornings, 10 AM to 1 PM. Ariel, when we take Rylee in on Saturday we’re going to talk to a career counselor. There’s a woman in the admissions office, her name is Brynn, very nice lady; she’s already looking into scholarships for you.”
“That was…fast,” Ariel was more than a little stunned; Anette simply shrugged.
“Life comes at you fast, or so they say,” Anette stepped over to the stove and placed the tea kettle onto one of the burners, twisting the knob and watching as the surface began to glow beneath the kettle.
“What about the food truck?” Ariel frowned. “I thought I was going to work there?”
“You are,” Tori clicked to the next picture; it was one of Tori and Fiona standing in front of the house. “But only when you’re not in school. Marcus and I have it handled, mostly.”
“Okay, enough,” Anette clapped her hands as the teapot began to whistle. “Checklist for tomorrow; Rylee, what do you got?”
“My backpack is ready, it’s sitting beside my door,” Rylee said.
“Outfit for tomorrow?” Tori turned from the computer and looked at her.
“I wanted to do a denim skirt and this pink sweater,” Rylee said.
“Okay,” Tori nodded and began the process of shutting down the computer. “And you set them aside?”
“They’re just in the closet,” Rylee lowered her head; Tori tapped her shoulder until she looked up again.
“Put them on the chair so you’re ready in the morning,” Tori instructed. “go shower and brush your teeth, okay?”
“Okay,” Rylee said, her voice low, nearly a squeak as she rose from the table. Tori gently took her wrist, stopping her from moving any further.
“Rylee look at me,” Tori said firmly. “I’m not mad at you, I’m not upset, I’m just trying to help you out. I know you’re tired when you get up, I know you’re kind of sluggish, so having everything out and ready is going to help you. Okay?”
“Okay,” Rylee whispered.
“Okay, come on, give me a hug,” Tori pulled her close, giving her a squeeze and letting her go. “You’re okay. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“She’s not okay,” Ariel said after Rylee disappeared down the hall. Anette poured tea into four separate mugs, distributing them amongst them and leaving one for Rylee.
“She’s never okay,” Anette said, almost offhandedly. “We’re working on it. But, the photography course is going to give her a chance to interact with people other than us in a safe environment.”
“You think she’ll be okay?” Ariel looked at Tori hard, the worry evident in her voice.
“Well,” Tori said, shutting the lid of the laptop. “At least we don’t have to worry about her running off anymore.”
“Was that a problem before?” Ariel frowned.
“She tried a few times in the beginning,” Tori said, sipping her tea. “The first night, I wouldn’t let her sleep alone, I just held her the entire night. Fiona had to physically stop her from running. She’s way more stable now.”
“Okay, so tomorrow is Friday,” Anette said, breaking a momentary pause in the conversation. “Ariel, we were thinking you could stay home and rest; Tori’s dropping the truck off in the morning to have initial work done on it. So, you’ll be here when Rylee gets home from school.”
“Okay,” Ariel said, nodding. “That sounds good.”
“Things to know,” Anette said, her voice slightly elevated as she looked at Ariel. “We installed locks on the windows after Rylee moved in, there’s only one key and it’s in the back of the junk drawer in a white box. The doors all deadbolt from the inside, especially at night. The key for that is-”
“You really keep her locked in?” Ariel raised an eyebrow, her face converting into a state of near-horror.
“She jumped off of a Ferris wheel to get out of an awkward situation,” Tori reminded her. “Plus, she agreed; we can take whatever measures we need to keep her safe.”
Ariel scratched her head and furrowed her brow, swallowing before looking back up at Anette, then to Tori.
“Do you uh…have a timeline, for how long she’s basically going to be a prisoner? Because…”
“We’ll lift some of the restrictions when she starts her senior year of high school,” Anette explained. “We’ll take the locks off the windows and doors, she’ll spend more time with friends, and we’ll allow her limited internet access. There’s more to it than that, though.”
“Right,” Tori pushed back from the table and stretched before rising from the chair and looking at Ariel with tired eyes. “When I first took her in I knew I’d be teaching her life skills. Basic hygiene, filling out applications, balancing a checkbook, doing laundry, whatever. What I didn’t anticipate was teaching her to navigate life as a trans woman. That one caught me completely off guard. I’ve been learning as fast as I can, and she’s good at it, but the life she’s chosen-”
“It wasn’t a choice,” Ariel interjected, suddenly. “She’s-”
“Yes!” Anette said quickly, her voice overpowering the conversation easily. “You’re right, Ariel, it wasn’t a choice for her to be transgender. It’s a part of her, it always will be, but she made a choice when she decided to bring it to the surface. She decided to live happily, as herself, she chose to live. But, Ariel, those choices have consequences.”
“You sound like Hayley,” Ariel sighed and looked down for a moment, deep in thought before returning her attention to Anette.
“It sounds like this Hayley had a point,” Tori nodded. “and a lot of experience. But, I’m guessing Hayley didn’t have enough time to show Rylee everything. Difference is we do have time. I don’t know everything; I’ll have to get help from time to time, but it’s going to get figured out.”
Ariel closed her eyes, squeezing them shut, then opening them; she took a silent step forward and slid into the chair where Rylee had sat just moments before and rested her head in her hands. Finally, she wiped her weary eyes and looked up at Anette; Tori placed a hand in the small of her back and gave a quick rub before stepping away.
“She…told me some things, today,” Ariel said softly, glancing down at the table before looking up to make eye contact with Anette again. “She…she went through some times. I know she…I…she told you some of it. You told me what you know, but the things…that she told me. I…she needed you. She needed you and you were there. I don’t know how but…you were. You’re doing all these things for her, and for me, and…I just don’t know what to think. I’m not used to it. Anette I’ve been so tired. When I left home I wanted to go to school but I had to get a job instead, to pay the bills, and I spent so much time looking for Rylee and…I’ve just been tired and I thought that was going to be my life. I thought…ugh….and now you’re here telling me it doesn’t have to be that way. I’m still trying to…wrap my head around it, you know?”
“Ariel,” Anette stepped closer to the table, watching her with concern. “I…don’t mean to constantly direct attention toward Rylee; you’re important too, but I need to know what she told you today.”
“If she told you something new we definitely need to know,” Tori echoed Anette’s sentiment. She may have told you in confidence, but we’ve been trying to coax it out of her for months. We need to know what happened.”
“I don’t know,” Ariel frowned. “She told me-”
“In confidence, yes, yes,” Anette waved her hand and shook her head; she took a seat at the table across from Ariel, their eyes locking as Tori moved closer, standing beside Ariel and looking down at her. “Come on, Ariel, this is important.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Ariel began to talk in a hushed tone to ensure Rylee wouldn’t overhear. It was difficult at first, but then the words began to flow and with them, the tears. From the corner of her eye she could see Tori’s hand turning to a fist, the knuckles white and whiter with each word; Anette’s face twisted into a scowl. As she finished her narrative, Tori commented that she was going to be sick, and Anette began to pace the room. As silence fell over the dining room, no one was prepared for Rylee as she trotted happily out from the hallway, dressed in a pair of pink cotton pajamas with a cat-eared hood, which she’d pulled up around her head; brunette hair jutting out, and an almost goofy smile on her face. She stopped short when she saw Ariel, Tori, and Anette staring at her.
“So uh…what’s going on?”
It was a pretty simple display that had been set up within the sporting goods store; a square of green Astro turf laid out on a concrete floor with a few colorful dome tents to the left and right of them. It probably wasn’t intended for what they were using it for, but no one made a move to stop them.
“Look at this,” Marcus pointed to a cardboard sign next to a pristine butane grill. “We could have one of…these for seventy-five bucks.”
“Yeah?” Addy smirked. “What would you use it for?”
“Camping?” Marcus suggested; Addy stared at him intently. “Okay, I don’t go camping a lot.”
“Hmmm…” Addy leaned against thim, staring off into the distant, though not-so-distant mountain scenery. “We could go there. Maybe.”
“There?” Marcus gestured toward the cardboard cutout. “I don’t even know if that’s a real place.”
“Has to be,” Addy reassured him. “Someone had to take a picture of it.”
“Right, right,” Marcus agreed. “But what if it's far away, like…in Indiana or something?”
“Do they have mountains in Indiana?”
“I…I don’t know,” Marcus admitted.
“We should look that up online,” Addy suggested. “On Alta-Vista or something. So what’s the deal with you?”
“Um…the deal with me?” Marcus frowned, pulling away from her a little. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, why are you living in the back of Tori’s box truck? I’d say it’s because you have a crush on her, but the way she kissed you? She’d probably invite you into her bed at this point. So why the box truck?”
“Yeah, I think she kissed me out of reflex more than anything else,” Marcus reddened a little. “Um…I’m just having problems with my dad. Like, he’s not violent or anything, he just…yells a lot. I don’t think he’s a bad person, I just don’t want to be around it.”
“Yeah,” Addy agreed, pulling Marcus close again. “My mom…she yells a lot too. She didn’t always. She was there for us when she was younger but…now I’m the only one left. And she’s sick.”
“I’m sorry,” Marcus whispered. “Is she…I mean…is…”
“Is she going to die?” Addy finished the sentence for him. “Yeah, probably, but not soon enough.”
“What?” Marcus frowned, pulling back from her a little. “You want her to die?”
“That’s not what I said,” Addy’s lip curled a little and her tone did little to mask the exasperation she was feeling. It was a sentiment that she’d whispered to herself so many times, but to actually say it out loud? That was something new altogether. “I…she’s not the person I remember growing up. I feel like…that person is gone, and I feel like…she’s a burden on me. Everyone left and here I am taking care of her. It’s not fair.”
“So move out?” Marcus suggested.
“And go where?” Addy raised an eyebrow. “The best you can do is a box truck. Where the hell am I going to go? Refrigerator box? Landfill?”
“You’d be the best piece of trash in the landfill,” Marcus said, distracted by a passing family who glanced at them. A moment later, Marcus’s eyes widened, realizing what he’d just said. “Oh my god, I didn’t mean to-”
“We could get a place together,” Addy suggested suddenly, apparently missing Marcus’s unintentional insult.
“What?”
“Think about it,” Addy said excitedly. “I don’t make enough money to get my own apartment, and neither do you, but together we can make it work, right?”
“Um…” Marcus fumbled for words. “I didn’t really think about…I mean…yeah. Yeah! That could work! How much does it cost to move, though?”
“Probably four hundred for rent, maybe four hundred for a deposit,” Addy shrugged. “And whatever utilities are. How much do you make?”
“Well…” Marcus leaned into Addy, seemingly thinking. “Every month-”
“Wait,” Addy cut him off, frowning as she twisted her neck, looking toward the store’s exit. “What’s going on out there?”
They abandoned their ‘camp’ and made their way out toward the main concourse which was now buzzing with activity – far more than a Thursday night should have warranted. Addy’s eyes followed four paramedics as they bolted down the concourse and they joined a small crowd of onlookers following them and a few white-uniformed mall security officers. There were no shouts; the situation didn’t seem urgent, but a crowd was gathering near one of the concrete planters, next to a kiosk selling Ray-Ban sunglasses. The murmuring of the crowd grew louder; Addy and Marcus pushed their way through, standing on tip-toes, trying to see over the shoulders of much taller mall-goers.
“Excuse me,” Addy said, her voice gaining more and more urgency with each passing moment. She was acutely aware of Marcus’s hand on her shoulder, half-heartedly attempting to hold her back, even as she breached the front line of shoppers and gasped.
“Oh my god!”
“Well he was old,” Marcus shrugged, taking a seat next to Addy on a metal bench adjacent to the entrance. “I mean…”
“People don’t just die,” Addie argued. “He was fine the last time we saw him!”
“I…we didn’t even really know him,” Marcus shook his head. “I’m sorry but…”
“Who cares?” Addy demanded. “He helped us! We wouldn’t have such a good relationship without him! Think about what we have, right now!”
“I um…we talked to him like three times,” Marcus frowned. “He was just…some old guy in the mall, I mean…”
Addy pulled herself loose of Marcus’s arm and rose from the bench, glaring at him.
“He helped us!” Addy sneered. “He was like a father to me!”
“F…Father?! You met him today!” Marcus stood up, mouth agape. “He didn’t even like us!”
“Seriously?!” Addy nearly shouted back. “You seriously want to talk about him like that?”
“He was probably just some homeless bum!”
“You’re a homeless bum!” Addy spat. “And his name was Malcolm! Malcom!”
“Yeah, I don’t care,” Marcus shook his head. “Look I’m sorry you’re upset, but-”
“Oh, you’re sorry?” Addy curled her lip again, her face twisted in an expression that encompassed both hurt and rage. “You know what? You don’t know what sorry is yet!”
Reaching into her purse, Addy retrieved the mini-CD that Marcus had given to her early in the evening. With a flick of her wrist, she chucked it at him.
“You can have your stupid mix-tape back!” She snapped. “I don’t want shit from you!”
“Okay, look, Addy,” Marcus’ eyes flicked to the ground, watching the mini-disc roll across the sidewalk. “There…isn’t…you’re making a huge deal out of this and it’s-”
“You know what?” She said, suddenly. “At least I’m dealing with my mom. At least I didn’t move into my lover’s box truck!”
“She’s not my lover!” Marcus shot back.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Addy growled. “That kiss looked pretty serious!”
“Addy, for the last time: I didn’t ask her to kiss me! God, you know what? I don’t even want to move in with you now!”
“Good!” Addy screamed, stomping her foot and waving her hands. “I wouldn’t move in with a psychopath like you anyway!”
“Oh, I’m the psychopath?!” Marcus screamed, unaware that he was drawing a crowd. “I’m not the one out here moping around over some old fart that dropped dead!”
“That’s it!” Addy shrieked. “Get the hell away from me!”
Addy turned on her heel and stormed off, toward the door of the mall, leaving Marcus to wonder where the hell he’d gone wrong.
“I can’t believe you told her,” Rylee glared at Ariel who looked back at her with a soft expression. “That was-”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not, Rylee,” Ariel shook her head, cutting Rylee off before she could finish the sentence. “You do not put that on me and expect me to keep it in!”
“I did!” Rylee reminded her. Her voice was strained, and her cheeks were red from the tears that had long since faded. “I never told anyone until you!”
“Yeah, well good for you for being stronger than me,” Ariel snapped angrily. “But I can’t keep that a secret, especially when it happened to someone I love!”
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have fucking told!” Rylee stood from the table, knocking her chair over and stumbling backward. She turned uncertainly toward the front door and then seemed to make a decision. She stormed off, away from the kitchen, past the couch, and toward the front door. Any and all intentions she might have had, however, were quelled when the knob turned, but the door wouldn’t budge.
“Sit down, Rylee,” Anette’s voice carried a commanding tone that caused Rylee to stop in her tracks, hand still on the knob. “Come back to the table, and sit. Stop yelling at your sister, she’s not in the wrong.”
“She is!” Rylee’s voice cracked. “I told her a secret and she blabbed!”
“Yeah…” Tori’s voice trailed off for a moment, and her expression turned thoughtful. “Okay, Rylee, let me explain to you what’s going to happen. You ready for this? First thing in the morning, Mom and I are going to go down to the courthouse and file for emergency guardianship. We can do that, see, all those therapy sessions you’ve been going to? It kind of sets up a pattern. You’re not mentally competent. That’s not your fault, but it’s the truth, nonetheless. They’ll have you in front of a judge within a week, and you’re going to agree, because if you don’t, they’ll just lock you up.”
“Oh, you mean like you did?!” Rylee demanded, gesturing toward the locked door behind her.
“Oh shut the fuck up,” Tori snapped angrily. “You know why we did that.”
“Tori, calm down,” Anette instructed. “Rylee, come here.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Tori glared to her mother, then at Rylee. “I am tired of the secrets, and the lies, and you thinking I can’t handle shit!”
“I couldn’t handle it!” Rylee screamed, stomping her foot; tears sprang forth from her eyes once again. “I didn’t want to say it! I don’t like thinking about it because it hurts! Okay? Okay? I can hear them yelling! I can hear…the locks closing? Okay? I…I didn’t want to do any of it but they made me, and it makes me feel dirty. I don’t want to remember that!”
“Rylee…” Ariel regarded her with tears streaming from the corners of her eyes.
“No! Shut up!” Rylee shouted. “You don’t get it! You can’t! You won’t! I want to be the person I was before all this! He was a boy but at least he didn’t feel…helpless! That’s what I am! Anyone can take me and do anything with me! I can’t stop them, you can’t stop them! I’m just a fucking toy!”
“Rylee,” Anette said, her voice low. “You are not a toy. They took your confidence, and they took your power, but now that we know what happened, we can start on the path to getting it back. You’re going to go to a support group, we’re going to talk to your therapist. If you didn’t tell her this, we’re going to. You want be confident again? You want to stop feeling helpless? Then it starts now, it starts today. You ready for it, Rylee?”
“I…” Rylee stumbled forward, away from the door. She looked at the three of them. Two sisters, her mother, all standing beside the table, watching her intently. Her eyes burned, her body shook. She felt more raw, more exposed than she had since the day they’d sat her down in this living room and laid bare everything they knew about her. Since her trans identity had been unmasked, since Anette had presented her with that thick folder of confidential information from her old social worker. That woman Lucille who had been too nosy for her own good. Her vision began to blur; an echo from the past sifted through her stray thoughts as she recalled Anette’s voice from a month ago:
“Rylee, that I will not allow you to leave. You’re in an at-risk demographic and you’re suffering from an Axis Three mental illness. You won’t make it on your own, not yet anyway. If you try to run, you’ll be stopped. If you fight back, you’ll be restrained. No one is angry with you, you’re not in trouble, but steps will be taken to ensure your welfare.”
And then another voice, creeping into her consciousness, a voice that she hadn’t heard in some time. Ryan. Her male self. Back from the dead.
“You’re no one. You’re nothing except what they tell you. They just want to control you,” Ryan sneered. He was standing there, on the other side of the couch, a satisfied grin on his face. Rylee clenched her jaw, shaking her head. “You’re a pussy. You keep letting them do whatever they want to you.”
“No!” Rylee shrieked, swinging her arms; her hand connected with a ceramic vase on a wooden table near the entryway. The vase toppled, thudding against the carpet. “No, no no! Leave me alone!”
“Rylee!” Ariel stepped forward, staring at her with a laser focus. “He can’t hurt you anymore. They can’t hurt you anymore. You. Are. Not. Alone. Not anymore, little sister.”
“She’s full of shit. She couldn’t help us back then, she can’t help us now.”
“Shut up,” Rylee said to the apparition of her male self. “Shut up!”
“Rylee,” Ariel stepped closer. “You don’t have to be afraid. We’re going to help you.”
“Yeah, she really helped us before,” The apparition said, voice positively dripping with sarcasm. “What did she do? Put you in a dress? Give you some stupid makeup lessons? Then what happened?”
“Shut up,” Rylee said again, her fists clenched, knuckles white as Ariel stood at a safe distance; she turned her head, looking toward the end of the couch where Rylee’s line of sight was focused. “You don’t know anything!”
“I know better than anyone,” The apparition laughed. “I’m you. You’re me. I’ve been there for all of it. You know what the dumb, stupid truth is? You let them do all that to us. You trusted them, you let them lead you to that cell, you let them lock you up. And then you helped them punish the others, because you’re a scared little pussy.”
“I…didn’t want to,” Rylee sobbed. “I didn’t…”
“Pussy!”
“No!” Rylee screamed, her voice nearly shrill enough to shatter the living room windows.
“Rylee,” Tori said softly. “I know almost everything about you. I’ve seen you, inside and out. I’ve seen more of you than those deadbeat parents of yours ever saw, and I can say, with confidence, that you’re broken, but you can be fixed. Not because I want you to be fixed, not because mom wants it, or Ariel wants it. Because you want it, because you deserve it. You deserve to be a whole person Rylee, not just the shell they made you. Are you with us, Rylee? Will you let us help you?”
For a long, agonizing moment, Rylee could near nothing but the sound of her ragged breathing, a rattling in her chest, air forced out between her teeth, past her lips. Someone was crying, sobbing. Was it her? She couldn’t tell. Why had Ariel told them? They already knew too much about her, now they knew she was…whatever this was. They knew. They knew! She looked from Ariel, to Tori, and then Anette standing just behind Tori. They watched her with those same, loving eyes, as always. Nothing had changed, right?
She couldn’t bring herself to say it, she couldn’t just ask for help. When she looked at herself in the mirror she couldn’t see him anymore; she saw the girl, Rylee, but just beneath the surface she could feel him writhing, boiling, desperate to escape. He was supposed to be able to handle it. He was the strong one.
Suck it up, Father had always told him. Be a man.
A man wouldn’t have let this happen. A man would have stood up for himself. A man would have killed them, before they could…before…
“Rylee,” Tori was in front of her now, holding her hands, looking into her eyes. Rylee looked back into those soft, blue eyes. The red locks of hair framing her face, soft, creamy skin, red freckles.
Rylee could feel her body shaking, her breathing accelerating with every passing moment. She could hear Tori telling her to breathe along with her, to match her breathing even as she dropped to her knees and very nearly rolled onto her side. Tori kept her upright.
“We probably should have been a little gentler with it,” Anette’s voice was a faint echo; Rylee’s vision began to swim as she coughed and choked on her own saliva.
“Rylee,” Tori said again, this time releasing her right hand and bringing a hand up to her cheek. Their eyes met, just briefly before Rylee looked away, clenching her jaw and choking again. “Stay with me, Rylee.”
Rylee pulled away slowly, dropping onto her backside and bringing her knees up to her chest with Tori just slightly above her. She looked up, eyes burning and face nearly rubbed raw. Her lips parted and after a few ragged breaths, she managed to speak.
“Everything is always almost fine,” She said, biting her lower lip and letting out a low whimper. “I just want everything to be fine. I don’t want to remember things. I just want to be here with you. Why do we have to talk about that stuff?”
“Because it’s a part of you, Rylee!” Tori lurched forward, placing both hands on Rylee’s shoulder, staring into her eyes again and speaking with intensity. “Because if you try to bury it, it’s just going to come back again, and again, and again! Because we can’t make you whole until we have every single piece of you! This is a piece, Rylee, what happened to you there is an important piece! Everything is important, Rylee!”
“Rylee, honey,” Anette took a step forward and then maneuvered around until she was beside them, looking down. “You’re exhausted. We’re going to have you clean up and get ready for bed, or at least wind down for the night. We can deal with all of this later.”
“How much later?” Rylee sniffed.
“Soon, actually,” Anette told her. “You’ll go to school tomorrow and when you get back we’ll discuss options.”
“Options?” Rylee frowned, dropping her legs and sprawling them out on the floor in front of Tori.
“We’ll talk to your therapist, first of all,” Anette said, clearly doing her best to keep her voice even. “She needs to know what she’s actually dealing with. Guardianship is happening, no question.”
Rylee looked up at Anette, then over to Ariel who stood with her arms crossed and mouth nearly agape. She looked at Rylee’s questioning, pleading expression and shook her head, narrowing her eyes.
“I’m not going to help you, Rylee,” Ariel lectured. “You’re not in trouble because of what happened, I just get what they’re saying. Stop. Hiding. Stuff. From. Them. They’re trying to help.”
“We all need to take a step back,” Anette decided. “Not physically, I mean we need to examine why we’re mad. Rylee, no one here, and I mean no one is mad at you-”
“I’m a little mad at her for keeping so many secrets,” Tori pointed out. Anette closed her eyes and shook her head slightly, almost imperceptibly before opening them again and continuing.
“What you told your sister is huge, Rylee,” Anette proceeded. “I suspected something like it, but what you told Ariel is…it’s angering. I’m angry that it even happened, and I’m not going to let it go. Now, we need to move on for tonight. Rylee, you’re going to get cleaned up, and you’re going to head to bed. Tomorrow’s a brand new day.”
Through some unspoken agreement, Tori and Ariel engaged in a game of paper, rock, scissors in which Ariel lost with her rock to Tori’s paper. Ariel nodded and took Rylee gently by the arm, leading her back toward the bathroom.
It was 9 o’clock at night; the traffic in the mall wasn’t as vibrant as it had been in the earlier hours of the evening, but it also didn’t seem to be dying down. The throngs of teenagers had been replaced by more reserved adult couples, and the ambient music seemed to have changed to match.
Marcus spotted her easily, seated between two other girls that he didn’t recognize and for a moment, he was apprehensive about approaching the concrete bench just beside the ‘Elder-Beerman’ entrance. She didn’t glare at him as he approached, but he seemed to have caught the attention of the two other girls flanking her. One of them, a cherry blonde with a round face looked up at him, and then whispered something to Addy who nodded. Both girls tensed, and then glared in his direction as he approached.
“What do you want?” The cherry blonde demanded, catching Marcus a little off guard.
“Um…” Marcus straightened the folds of his new leather jacket and then looked to Addy. “I…was hoping we could talk.”
“Talk?” Addy demanded. “I was under the impression you already said what you wanted to say.”
“I’m sorry,” Marcus said quickly. “I was insensitive. I…should have thought about your feelings. I’m dumb like that sometimes, you know?”
“Dumb?” The cherry blonde girl snapped, standing up and pushing a thin index finger against Marcus’s chest. “Her dad died and you didn’t care!”
“Dad? Malcom wasn’t her-” Marcus stopped as he intercepted a glare from Addy; he pursed his lips and nodded. “Addy, look, I…I know I was stupid, I just want to talk, okay? Can we talk?”
“About what?” The blue-haired girl beside her demanded. “Haven’t you done enough damage?”
Marcus looked to Addy questioning; her expression softened and she rolled her shoulders forward, speaking as she stood.
“Marcus, these are my friends, Skylar and Corrinne.”
“Friends?” Marcus frowned.
“Are you deaf?” The redhead, apparently Corinne asked, snarling.
“I didn’t know you had friends, I mean, I’ve never seen them,” Marcus frowned again. “I mean, you can have friends, obviously, it’s just…”
“We just met tonight,” Skylar explained, standing up to wrap an arm around Addy. “But I feel like we’ve known eachother all along.”
“Is that a new coat?” Addy asked, eyeing Marcus’s latest purchase.
“Uh…yeah,” Marcus said, feeling a little embarrassed. “I just…wanted to try something different.”
“Typical,” Addy rolled her eyes. “blowing money you don’t have.”
“Addy I…I missed you,” Marcus admitted. “When we went camping I…really felt something with you; something I haven’t felt with anyone else. When I agreed to this date, um…I didn’t really take it seriously, and that’s my fault, okay? I just…I wanted to go out and do something but I didn’t think we’d work out. But that’s just not how it ended up. I feel things for you, and I want to feel those things again, and again, and again. Addy, can we try again?”
“You hurt me,” Addy told him, staring hard. “I was already hurting and you just…you were selfish.”
“I know,” Marcus said softly. “Believe me I know, but god, Addy, I don’t want to lose you! Can we fix this? Can we try to fix this?”
“I hope you die in the bottom of a swimming pool, creep,” Corinne snarled. Marcus’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Woah, Corinne!” Addy waved her hands. “That’s a little too far!”
“It wasn’t too far a minute ago,” Corinne shrugged. “You wanted him to fall into a wood chipper.”
“What?!” Marcus’s eyes went even wider; Addy reddened with embarrassment.
“Don’t listen to them,” Addy said quickly. “Okay look, I’ve had…a lot of time to think about it, and I think maybe with some time, and maybe…if we do some work, we could…maybe get back on track.”
“Can we still move in together?” Marcus asked, hopefully.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Kelly?” Rylee said softly from the back seat of Elaine’s minivan. Both Kelly and Elaine nearly started; Rylee had barely spoken in the past on these routine trips to school, though they’d been doing it for weeks now. Maybe months. Rylee couldn’t keep track.
“What’s up, Rylee?” Kelly’s voice was slightly guarded; she did a half-turn, peering from the front passenger seat back toward Rylee who fidgeted in one of the back pilot seats. Rylee was well aware of Elaine, Kelly’s mother, watching her in the rear view mirror.
“I’m just…I’m sorry,” Rylee said quietly. Kelly turned slightly more in her seat, a frown forming on her face as she eyed Rylee, questioningly. “It’s just…you did all this stuff for me. You make sure I’m safe at school and…you guys bring here so I don’t have to ride the bus and…I’m not really…I guess I just don’t seem like I…I’m happy about it? I don’t know if that’s the right word?”
“Appreciate,” Elaine said. “The word is appreciate, and that’s…not true, Rylee.”
Rylee looked up, meeting Elaine’s eyes in the rear view rear mirror for a moment before looking over to Kelly, who turned away. Rylee’s stomach lurched and her heart fell as she looked pleadingly at Kelly, wishing for something.
“Kelly, I-”
“It’s fine,” Kelly said shortly. “Actually no, it’s not.”
“Kelly?” Elaine looked at Rylee, then frowned to Kelly.
“You haven’t tried to be my friend, or friends with anyone else that I’ve introduced you to. You just use us as Camoflauge. That other girl, Izzy? The one that’s like you? You didn’t do anything to help her until the last minute. You just watched her get bullied by those…witches-with-a-B. You just use people. That’s all you do.”
“Kelly, I couldn’t do anything for her, if I did-”
“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Kelly snapped. “You were afraid of people finding out about you. Sure. I get it. I’m bisexual, people know about that! Izzy’s transgender, people know about that! You pass for a girl so well that you can just pretend other people don’t have problems even when they’re right in front of you! God, you paint yourself like an innocent little victim but you’re not. You’re just using people and you think we can’t see it. Step up and do the right thing!”
“I did!” Rylee practically shouted; Elaine turned wide at the intersection, heading toward Kenton Ridge. “At the football practice thing!”
“After how long?” Kelly demanded, now glaring at Rylee from the front seat. “Would you step up for me if I were being bullied?”
“Well who stepped up for me?!” Rylee shrieked. “People don’t-”
“Tori fucking Blackburn! She stepped up for you!” Kelly slammed her fist into the console between the two pilot seats. “Maybe learn something from her!”
“Kelly!” Elaine hissed. “Language!”
“I’m sick of protecting her,” Kelly glared at Rylee again, then looked to her mother. “She’s not grateful and she’s not even trying to fit in!”
Rylee froze in her seat as Kelly turned away, glaring towards her mother, her words an incomprehensible whirlwind as Rylee automatically tuned her out in favor of the noise inside her own head. She became more and more distant as Kelly argued with her mother; Rylee’s body was frozen, it felt clammy, and her bones felt stiff. Was Kelly right? Rylee wondered what she could have done wrong but just as quickly as the thought entered her head, it morphed into the singular question of: ‘What had she done right?’
Nothing. She’d done nothing right, because she couldn’t. She couldn’t! Her mind drifted slowly from the current situation even as the minivan turned toward Kenton Ridge High School. How many times had she felt this, how many times had someone told her that she couldn’t do anything right? That she wasn’t smart enough? The minivan rolled to a stop in front of the high school; Rylee squinted momentarily as the vehicle passed through a sun shaft, nearly blinding her as the silver lettering of the ‘Kenton Ridge’ sign came into view.
You’re worthless, A voice said from somewhere inside her. You don’t listen. You don’t want to listen.
“I do,” Rylee muttered under her breath. She had to get out of here, out of this stuffy van. Away from Kelly, away from Kelly’s mom. She had to. She grabbed the door handle.
“Wait, Rylee,” Elaine, Kelly’s mom said, a hint of warning in her tone. Rylee ignored it, even as Elaine repeated the warning, and she pulled the door aside. Kelly was already tumbling out of the van as Rylee’s feet connected with the blacktop, as she began to run toward the front of the school. A crowd of students was already entering; maybe Rylee could lose Kelly in this mess. Maybe she could get to a quiet corner. Maybe she could disappear.
Go ahead and run. It’s what you do.
Yes, it was.
As Rylee neared the front of the school she was quickly able to discern that something was wrong; the crowd in front wasn’t a crowd of students, but adults. Adults that she didn’t know. Adults screaming, shouting, raging. Many of them held signs; to the left, near the secondary entrance to the parking lot, a blue, white and yellow ‘News Center 7’ was parked, antenna extended as a man and a woman unloaded equipment. She could read the signs as she got closer, almost within touching-distance of the crowd. One was a white posterboard that read ‘Keep boys out of girl’s bathrooms’. The rest of the signs were predictable; just more of the same with different variations, some indicating the the influence of God or whatever. Rylee paused, just momentarily as she clenched her jaw and looked at what she knew to be a familiar display.
“Rylee, come back to the van,” Kelly said loudly, her voice somehow resonating over the sound of the protestors who were chanting, screaming, and shouting. Rylee turned and looked at her, a dumb expression on her face. Finally, she shook her head.
“Izzy,” Rylee said, adding nothing else to her statement. Kelly shook her head in return.
“Get back to the van, now!” Kelly said urgently.
“No,” Rylee said softly. “I’m not worthless. I don’t just think about myself.”
“I’m sorry for what I said!” Kelly sounded as if she were on the verge of tears; her voice racked. “I was mad okay? I’ve been under a bunch of stress! I didn’t mean it!”
“Doesn’t matter,” Rylee said, barely loud enough for Kelly to hear. She then raised her voice slightly. “Come or go.”
“What?” Kelly asked frantically, looking to Rylee, wide-eyed, then back to the van.
“Come, or go,” Rylee said again. Kelly’s eyes widened even more. Rylee turned and walked slowly toward the group of protestors. The moment she reached the line, she was intercepted by two uniformed police officers who quickly ordered the crowd to clear a path and provided her an escort up the steps of Kenton Ridge.
“Protect our girls!” A woman shrieked to Rylee’s left.
“If it wants be a girl bring it out here, I’ll cut it’s dick off!” A huge man in a sleeveless shirt bellowed. The crowd cheered in response.
“Rylee!” Kelly shrieked out again from behind. Rylee glanced back to see that she was following. “What are you doing?!”
A protestor crossed in front of her, jostling Rylee and knocking her off her feet; she stumbled and dropped to the blacktop, her hands stinging with cuts. She screamed out in a mixture of frustration and fear as she quickly tried to regain her feet. The world around her made no sense; feet, hands, signs, voices, screams, shouts. A whirlwind of sensory information passed in front of her and it almost didn’t register when one of the police officers helped her to her feet.
You’re worthless, you can’t do anything.
“I’m not,” Rylee muttered back.
You don’t want to do anything.
“Shut up.”
“God made you a boy or a girl!” Another woman shouted. “You can’t just change!”
Rylee looked straight ahead, her jaw clenched as she watched the News Center Seven reporter push through the crowd, cameraman in tow. She stopped, turning to look at Kelly who shot a horrified look back.
“Go inside and get Izzy,” Rylee told her, standing close so she could hear. Kelly looked at her, confused. Rylee repeated her statement.
“Why?” Kelly demanded. “Let’s just go!”
“Go in,” Rylee repeated. “Get her, take her out the back. Get her into the van.”
“Rylee, I didn’t mean it!” Kelly shouted, her eyes wide now. “Whatever you’re going to do-”
“Go!” Rylee screamed with all her might, though her voice could barely be heard above the roar of the crowd. Kelly’s mouth was agape for a moment, and then she shut it, glaring at Rylee before turning on her heel and rushing away through the crowd. Rylee watched her until she she was no longer visible and then looked around at her surroundings. The crowd outside the school was thickening; a sea of angry people and cardboard signs affixed to wooden sticks, declaring their messages of opposition to…well…probably Izzy. The voices grew louder and Rylee winced as she was jostled by unfamiliar shoulders and deafened by angry shouts in her ears. She found herself pushed from left to right, her vision swimming and her limbs going numb as she tried to orient herself in an impossible situation.
The voices around her coalesced into one consistent hum that pounded at her eardrums and the world felt surreal as she did her best to push through the crowd. The panic began to rise inside her. What was she doing here? Why had she stayed? She knew what she wanted to do, but that sense of purpose was leaving her just as quickly as it had set in.
She found herself jostled and pushed toward the front of the building, and suddenly, she broke through the crowd only to find herself standing at the foot of the steps; to her left, the News Center 7 reporter stood with a microphone and to her right, up the stairs, she could see Cathy, Sheila, and their entourage standing near the front doors. Sheila looked around smugly with folded arms, and a second later, Cathy took notice of Rylee and drew Sheila’s attention. Rylee stood at the edge of the crowd, her gaze leveled at Sheila as the girl stared back, and then shot Rylee a smug grin. So whatever was happening here, Sheila had caused it. A rumor, word of mouth, a call to the news, that was all it would take. She couldn’t control Izzy anymore, so she was going take her out. It made sense, in a twisted sort of way.
Rylee’s head felt heavy as she twisted it in the direction of the reporter who was already making her way over.
“Excuse me, Miss?” The reporter called out as she neared. “Are you a student? Would you like to make a statement about the situation?”
“A statement?” Rylee said weakly, momentarily forgetting why she’d stayed behind. She instinctively looked away from the reporter and toward the front doors where Kelly had disappeared. Had she found Izzy? Were they on their way back to the van?
“Yeah!” A man shouted, stepping forward out of the crowd. “Tell them you don’t want boys in the girl’s bathroom, sweetie!”
“Oh god,” Rylee muttered under her breath, though apparently moved her mouth just enough to catch the attention of the man who suddenly demanded to know what she’d said. Just as he seemed ready to explode with anger, the news anchor pulled her away and began to ask her a series of questions. Who was she? Rylee. Did she go to school here? Yes. Did she know that boys were dressing up as girls and were going into the girl’s bathroom? Rylee closed her eyes and turned toward the mic.
“My…my name is…” Her voice cracked; she swallowed, blinked, and did her best to continue, even as Sheila smirked at her from the summit of the concrete stairs. “My name is Rylee Blackburn. I’m an eleventh grader at Kenton Ridge High school, and I…I…”
The newscaster watched her expectantly, and she could feel the crowd stilling behind her. She forced herself to say it.
“I am what you are afraid of.”
“You’re forgetting something,” Tori placed a latex-gloved hand on top of Melanie’s as she grabbed the ceramic plate and prepared to take it to the window. She looked over at Tori, questioningly. Behind them, the sounds of the kitchen continued as normal; a white-jacketed chef scooted behind she and Melanie, shouting ‘Behind!’ as he did so. The sounds of pots and pans against stainless steel rang out through the small space, and Melanie frowned, a tendril of her long blonde hair falling across her eye as she turned her head. “Asparagus,” Tori explained. “You plated the asparagus but you didn’t put any sauce on it.”
“Oh!” Melanie blushed and began looking around the shelves of the prep station. Her eyes darted nervously from item to item as she tried to figure out exactly what sauce she was missing. Tori waited patiently, perhaps a little more patiently than she would have with most new hires. Melanie reminded her of Rylee in many ways, though with bright blonde hair rather than Rylee’s dirty blonde. She seemed to have no problem keeping it tied up, either; today it was bound back in a gray scrunchie and covered in a black hair net. That was one way in which the two different; the second was that Tori could detect a hint of an Adam’s apple at the girl’s throat. She was a little older too, maybe twenty-one. Tori patted her hand again, commanding her attention; the girl looked up at her with wide, nearly frightened eyes.
“Hollandaise sauce,” Tori said, smiling encouragingly. “You don’t want to serve asparagus plain unless the customer asks for it. They asked for hollandaise sauce, even though they probably don’t know what it is.”
“I don’t even know what it is,” Melanie frowned. Tori chuckled and reached toward the shelf, grabbing the plastic squirt-bottle of light-brown sauce. She handed it to Melanie who began to apply it to the steaming asparagus.
“It’s an emulsion sauce,” Tori explained softly as Melanie worked with uncertain hands. “A butter emulsion, more like it. It’s like Mayonnaise, but it’s made with beaten egg yolks and clarified butter. Mayonnaise is an oil emulsion. Bearnaise is the same, sort of, but all three of them are emulsion sauces.”
“You’re like…so smart,” Melanie looked to Tori in absolute awe. “I…I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can,” Tori said, pointing toward the shelf where Melanie took the plate, placing it under the hot light. “What’s your plan though, are you going to college?”
“Yeah,” Melanie nodded profusely. “I’m going into uh…multimedia, I want to be a game designer. I’m learning 3Ds Max!”
“You’d get along with my sister,” Tori smiled softly at her. “She’s into all that geeky stuff.”
“I…I don’t really go out,” Melanie said nervously. Her brief smile faded and her thin lips laying evenly between her cheeks as her eyes took on a thoughtful, yet fearful property.
“Neither does she,” Tori smiled and patted Melanie on the back. “But I think we could set something up.”
“Tori!” She turned her head to see Chef Quinn making his way toward her, nodding to the new hire and then motioning for Tori to join him near the office. She apologized to Melanie and and made her way over to Chef Quinn, following him to the office. “You get that food truck set up yet?”
“Yeah, mostly,” Tori nodded as they passed through the doorway, into the small office that sat at the back of the kitchen. It wasn’t the nicest office Tori had been in; a cheap desk was shoved up against the wall just inside the door, and a small television sat in the corner atop an aging stand. Papers were pinned to various bulletin boards affixed to the wall, complimenting the mess of paperwork that was scattered across the desk. Tori sat of the edge of the desk, wincing as it creaked. Chef Quinn took a seat in the metal rolling chair. “It’s being outfitted today. I got the bank loan. The stove, sink, water supply, getting everything up to code, you know?”
“Don’t I know it,” Chef Quinn shook his head. “It was a nightmare getting this place started up ten years ago. You’re taking on a lot.”
“I have a lot of help,” Tori shrugged. “Marcus is pretty amazing.”
“Heh,” Chef Quinn grunted. “What’s your menu looking like?”
“Americana,” Tori said. “Burgers, fries, chicken patties, hot dogs, all with my own twist, obviously. But if we’re going to have it parked out front we’ll have to do a steak day. It only makes sense.”
“Good advertisement for you,” Chef Quinn agreed. “Just don’t fall into the trap of adapting to every single restaurant you park in front of. Don’t offer lobster bisque just because you park near a Red Lobster, you feel me?”
“Didn’t plan on it,” Tori smirked. “I wanted to talk to you about Marcus, though.”
“The boy not pulling his weight?” Chef Quinn asked smugly, crossing his arms. Tori raised an eyebrow.
“Do you have to be such an asshole?” She demanded; the smug look faded from Chef Quin’s face. “Look, he’s doing the best he can, but you’re not helping.”
“And what are you accusing me of?” Chef Quinn demanded, turning toward Tori. “I hold my son to the same expectation that-”
“Yeah yeah yeah,” Tori waved her hands wildly, cutting Quinn off. “you use generational trauma as a parenting style, got it, but he’s not a kid anymore, and he’s trying. He has hopes and dreams just like any of us. Okay look, Chef, what I’m saying is I’m already dealing with one adult…no, two adults that have parental problems and childhood PTSD. Do you think you could tone it down a little?”
“I think you’re out of line,” Chef Quinn said sternly. “I think- hey, is that your girl?”
Tori shook her head. “My girl? What are you talking about?”
Tori hesitantly followed Chef Quinn’s outstretched finger, turning slowly toward the television, absolutely terrified of what she might see. Her apprehension was justified, as she quickly found out.
“What the-”
“Fiona, can you help me out in sixteen?” Wendy called out from down the hall; Fiona looked up from her clipboard to see Wendy sticking her head out of room 16.
“What’s up?” Fiona called down the hall. “He need another boost?”
“Nah,” Wendy disappeared into the room the moment she confirmed that Fiona was on her way down.
Fiona passed by three rooms and the nurse’s satellite station before she arrived at sixteen, Mister Drier’s room. He was an older gentlemen, as most in this wing of the hospital were, though he was surprisingly lucid. She took a left into the room and was immediately offput by the high-pitched screeching and beeping tones of IV’s, pumps, brains, and the telemetry monitor mounted to the wall above the bed. Mr. Drier was properly positioned in the bed, so no need for a boost, but Fiona nodded as she saw that Wendy had brought a cath tray with her. The chuck pads had been laid beneath him, but Wendy seemed to be having trouble with the catheter itself.
“Can’t get it?” Fiona asked the obvious before taking up a position on the other side of the bed and reaching for the tubing. “Here, it’s actually pretty easy.”
“Easy for you,” Wendy pointed out, immediately settling into her trademark ‘resting bitch face’ as Fiona grinned and turned the tubing over in her hand. “You just do everything right on the first try.”
“Not true,” Fiona disagreed. “I do plenty of things wrong.”
“Could you not do it while you’re holding my dick?” Mr. Drier suggested. “Just a request?”
“I’m going to do the best I can, Mr. Drier,” Fiona assured him. “you just lie there and…think about home.”
“My wife left me!” Mr. Drier protested. “The only thing waiting for me at home is a restraining order!”
“Uh…why a restraining order?” Fiona frowned. “What did you do?”
“I put her lover in the hospital! She said he was our accountant!,” Mr. Drier cracked through chapped and cracked lips. “We don’t even have no damn accountant! So I took good care of him, moment I came home and saw those two in bed together! Bumpin’ old wrinkly ugly uglies together like they’ve still got some life left in em’!”
“Well Mr. Drier, you barely weigh a hundred pounds, I doubt you put anyone in the hospital,” Wendy lectured, garnering a look of warning from Fiona; engaging the patients like this was never recommended.
“I hit the bastard with my car!” Mr. Drier proclaimed smugly. “Waited till he came out of the house, and then, bam! Took ‘im out by his legs! Boy he flipped like a rag doll-”
“Okay! Here we go,” Fiona said loudly, looking to Wendy as she began to insert the catheter. “Watch what I’m doing, see? It’s like spearing a prune.”
“Hey!” Mr. Drier protested. “I take offense to that!”
“You’re a good prune,” Fiona smiled, leaning forward to pat him on the cheek.
Moments later the pair exited Mr. Drier’s room and made their way down the hall toward the nursing station, and the adjacent break room.
“I hear the call lights in my sleep,” Fiona said with a defeated sigh as they walked into the break room. The lights were low in here; there were overhead fluorescent but they were normally switched off in favor of softer halogen lamps positioned around the room. Fiona took a moment to check her mailbox and then glanced at the television; it was showing some soap opera. “Is that General Hospital?”
“Think so,” Wendy walked past Fiona and took a seat at one of the tables. “You been hitting the books?”
“Yeah, it’s taking up like all my time,” Fiona admitted. “the NCLEX handbook is huge. I don’t have any trouble with the practice tests but it’s a lot. I don’t want to be a nurse aid forever, though.”
“Who does?” Wendy laughed. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wiping butts!”
“I feel like I do that enough in my personal life,” Fiona sighed.
“How is Rylee?”
“Ya know,” Fiona sat on the edge of the table, drawing one foot up and holding her knee in front of her. “She operates surprisingly well without a gun in her face. I mean obviously the autism is still an issue, and the uh…other thing-”
“The trans thing,” Wendy filled in for her.
“-the trans thing,” Fiona agreed. “she’s fine with it, mostly. People can’t really tell. Hell, she goes to school and no one notices. But, you know as well as I do that it won’t last forever.”
“You don’t think?”
“She’s gotta start growing facial hair eventually, and her body will take on a more masculine shape. Everything she was deprived of, was what she had going for her. Malnourished, so she was thin. Delayed puberty…who the hell knows what caused that. Hormones will help but she’s got trouble ahead,” Fiona shrugged. “Or, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the hormones will do the trick and she’ll just stay like that. Maybe her voice will never drop, maybe she’ll never grow facial hair. Who knows?”
“You uh…like to pretend you don’t care,” Wendy pointed out. “But…”
“She’s just trying to live, Wendy, like the rest of us. She should be able to do that.”
“So you don’t care at all?” Wendy smirked, teasing Fiona who returned the smirk with an ice-cold glare.
“She’s part of our fucked up little family,” Fiona said, dryly. “Of course I care.”
“Aww that’s so sweet,” Wendy rested her cheek against her left hand and batted her eyelashes at Fiona who returned the gesture with a growl. Wendy laughed.
“Let’s get back out there,” Fiona motioned toward the door. “We need to check on Room Seven.”
“They’ve got a sitter,” Wendy reminded her. “Should be fine.”
“I had to wake that sitter up three times,” Fiona informed her. “And one of those times, the patient had literally taken a shit on her.”
“Taken a shit, on the sitter?”
“Girl didn’t even notice,” Fiona rolled her eyes.
“Okay god dammit, this place…” Wendy pressed her palms on the table and pushed herself into a standing position. “They keep everybody alive way longer than they should.”
“That’s kinda fucked up to say,” Fiona said in a non-committal tone.
“Is it, though?” Wendy rolled her eyes. “They bring them in here, they don’t have a DNR so they just sit here and shit on everything or they scream at nurses, hit nurses, and nurse aides. No one cares. Family doesn’t care as long as the patient is alive, patient doesn’t even know they’re alive. Christ, Fiona; they call it acute which is basically code for ‘should have been dead five years ago!’”
“Holy shit, Wendy,” Fiona’s eyes went wide as she turned toward the door; she glanced up toward the wall-mounted television, which had switched over to a news broadcast. Fiona squinted. “Holy shit!”
Ariel stretched out on the couch, watching the end of some soap opera before taking out her phone and flipping it open. The black and green screen greeted her, and she quickly opened up the address book to navigate to Amber’s number. Her finger hovered over the ‘send’ button, and then she found herself emitting a sigh as she dropped her head onto the arm of the couch. She had to tell Amber something, right? There were only so many ways she could word it, of course. ‘Hey Amber, you know that whole roommate thing we had going on? Psych!’. No, there was probably better way than that.
Pulling herself into a sitting position, she hopped off the couch and made her way through the kitchen, down the rear hallway, and toward her ‘room’. She paused in the doorway, peering into the room that was to be hers for the foreseeable future. Could she really stay here? It was clear, more than clear, that Rylee couldn’t be removed from her living situation here, but what about her?
Anette wanted to talk to her about college, Tori seemed to care far more than anyone she’d met in her life. Maybe, just maybe there was something to this. Ariel turned away from ‘her’ room and stepped down the hall, peering into Rylee’s. It was a strange place; there was some of Rylee in the organization and design, but much of this space had once belonged to Tori and it showed. Much of the room was outdated; clothes, music, the retro alarm clock on the bedside table. It had the mark of a girl who had grown up in a different era, but some of Rylee was beginning to slowly creep in. New clothes in the closet, a pair of running shoes under the bed, a few new CD’s, and of course Rylee’s newer books on the shelf near the window.
Ariel found herself walking slowly through the room, taking in the sight of the long pink and white dresser with the boom box and short CD rack, the book shelf, the open closet filled with dresses, skirts, and tops. The bookshelf, the sloppily made bed, and as she did so, she realized one very important fact: Tori was right. Ariel had given up her life to find Rylee, the long lost sister that had been the primary source of her guilt since finding out the truth and even more so when Rylee had disappeared. Rylee was safe, Tori and Anette had taken over; wasn’t it time for Ariel to live her own life?
After some heavy contemplation, she took her phone out again and navigated to Amber’s number in the directory. Her finger hovered over the ‘send’ button, and finally she found the will to press it. And then, somehow, she managed to stand there without hanging up as it began to ring.
She was going to tell her. She wasn’t sure how she was going to do it, but somehow she would tell Amber that she’d decided to stay here with Rylee. Her mind raced at the speed of light as the first ring sounded. How was she going to say it? She toyed with her phone as she looked over the titles on Rylee’s bookshelf; mostly young adult books ranging from Goosebumps to Animorphs, but she also had a healthy collection of ‘Babysitters Club’ and ‘Sweet Valley High’. Ariel smiled as she recalled a time when Rylee would discreetly borrow copies of ‘Sweet Valley High’ from her, to read away from the prying eyes of their parents and their weekly ‘room inspections’. To just have them, out in the open? That was practically revolutionary.
Biting her lower lip, she finally worked up the courage to press the green ‘call’ button and stared at the screen in silence as the word ‘Calling’ and three ellipses danced across the display. Finally, the call connected and Amber’s familiar voice came through the speaker.
“Sup girl,” Amber said in her usual punchy tone. “How’s Ohio?”
“It’s Ohio,” Ariel replied with the slightest undertone of sarcasm. She was relieved to hear her friend’s voice but the feeling of dread began to creep up on her. “You know…it’s kind…blah.”
“How’s Rylee?” Amber seemed distracted. “She good?”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s good,” Ariel said quickly. “She’s doing really…well down here.”
“Told you,” Amber quipped. “And how about that ‘Tori person’? She good?”
Ariel opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, and then dropped her arm to her side, letting the phone dangle by her thigh for a moment as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, she put the phone to her ear again.
“Amber they’re…all wonderful. There’s Tori, there’s her mom, there’s this other guy named Marcus…I think he’s homeless. Oh! And there’s Fiona, she’s in nursing school and…I…it’s weird. They just…they act like a big family, and Rylee is just…part of it.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“I guess, it’s just hard to wrap my head around, like, um…why? They don’t seem to want anything! Everyone wants something, but not them! It doesn’t make sense!”
“It’s kinda the way you grew up, well, the way we grew up, in a way, I guess,” Amber’s shrug was audible through the phone. “The people we were around, I guess they taught us that nothing is free, there’s no such thing as ‘something for nothing’, but sometimes I guess there is. Sometimes…people just want to help. It looks like Rylee fell backward into one of those situations.”
“It wasn’t exactly backward,” Ariel suddenly felt a lump in her stomach. “She…went through a lot before she ended up here. I feel…I blame myself-”
“Ariel-”
“No, Amber, I do,” Ariel said adamantly, cutting Amber off before she could even form her sentence. “And why shouldn’t I? Think about it! I could have done better, I could have found a place to stash her until she turned eighteen. I-”
“You tried,” Amber reminded her. “Hayley was on vacation, there was nowhere else to put her. You gotta stop blaming yourself.”
“I don’t see how,” Ariel sighed. She wandered out of Rylee’s room and down the hall, toward the kitchen as she continued to speak. “She was lying to Lucille, the social worker, I knew she was lying. I could have gotten proof or-”
“And then you’d have been separated,” Amber reminded her.
“We were separated!” Ariel argued, stepping into the kitchen. She immediately began to open the cabinets above the counter, closing them systematically as she tried to find the snack cabinet. It had to be one of these. She continued, one after the other was she spoke hurriedly to Amber. “Amber you don’t understand, we…she ran off, she fell in with some…awful people and…things happened to her!”
“Things were going to happen to her either way,” Amber reminded her. “the foster care system is shit anyway. Maybe not as bad as whatever happened but…shit, I don’t know Ariel, just be glad she’s okay now, okay?”
Ariel listened as Amber continued, diving into a lecture about…something or other; Ariel moved onto the next cabinet and saw a bag of Fritos, but her eyes were drawn to an upper shelf where a gray plastic box with a black handle was labeled ‘Rylee Emergency Kit’. Ariel frowned and stood on her tip toes to grab the handle and managed to dislodge the box from the high shelf, nearly dropping it; it was far heavier than she thought it would be. The box thudded against the counter and Ariel frowned, half-listening to Amber as she opened two metal latches securing the lid. Inside she found a small first aid kit, three boxes of candy ‘Dots’, three cans of split pea soup, a flare gun, a green handheld foam roller, and a box cutter. She frowned, furrowing her eyebrows and mouthing ‘what the fuck?’ before realizing that Amber was still talking to her.
“…and Chris is doing okay, I made him…her apply to a bunch of jobs on here, she’ll hear back eventually-”
“Chris is still living with you?” Ariel said, forgetting the box for a moment. “And you’re making her get a job?”
“Uh, yeah, I figure if she’s going to be here she might as well help with the rent,” Amber verbally shrugged again, her voice giving an upward inflection. “Plus it’s like I have my own slightly-less-fucked-up Rylee.”
“Are you seriously calling my sister ‘fucked up’?”
“You’ve met her, right?”
“Okay whatever,” Ariel rolled her eyes. “So I called because…there's something I needed to tell you.”
“What, you’re staying?”
“H…how did you know?” Ariel asked apprehensively. “Are you mad?”
“Girl, you went to find your sister that you lost two years ago,” Amber’s voice had that ‘well duh’ tone to it that carried very, very well over the phone. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t staying. Besides, I’ll just make Christine pay half the rent when she gets her job.”
“Uh…” Ariel’s eyes went wide as she began to fidget. “She wants to be called Christine?”
“Well, yeah, but she doesn’t know that, yet,” Amber said, another shrug in her voice.
“You…you can’t just pick a name for someone!”
“She’s my trans, I can name her whatever I want,” Amber said firmly. “Besides, you named Rylee, didn’t you?”
“That’s…you…god, Amber!”
“Fair’s fair,” Amber quipped. “So don’t worry about it, I’ll get by.”
“You…you’ll come visit, right?”
“Duh,” Amber said. “And you have to come back here to get your car, remember?”
“Right, right,” Ariel said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Look, you’re sure you’re not mad at me, right?”
“Girl, I expected this,” Amber said insistently. “And if you found your sister and decided to leave her-”
“But the plan was to bring her back!”
“Yeah that was never going to work,” Amber pointed out. “I tried to tell you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ariel sighed, moving into the living room. Her eyes came to rest of the television which had switched from the soap opera to something a little more disturbing, something that her eyes could see, but her brain didn’t quite believe. She nearly dropped the phone. “Amber, I’ve gotta go.”
“I am what you are afraid of,” Rylee said quietly into a padded ‘Channel 7’ microphone that didn’t quite carry her voice, but it caused enough of the onlookers and protesters to stop and turn. She felt her stomach drop, and a sinking feeling forming in the depths of her chest. She bit her lip, resisting the urge to cower beneath the quickly hardening gaze of the protestors. She could walk away now, right now, and pretend she’d meant something else. She hadn’t said it yet; maybe they only suspected right now. No, it had to be said. For Izzy, and any other trans girl that might or might not be in that school. “I…I am a transgender girl…woman…whatever. You’re worried about my friend in there, but you’re not…you’re not worried about me because I look like what you expect a girl to look like. If you don’t know…it doesn’t bother you, so it shouldn’t bother you anyway.”
The crowd began to fall silent; the reporter, a woman in her mid-twenties wavered with the microphone, frowning as she looked at Rylee. Rylee’s eyes began to scan the crowd, looking for potential exits. To her left, a huge man in a sleeveless shirt, to her right, an angry looking older woman, gray hair braided into a pony tail behind her head. In front, the crowd was thick as ever; if she wanted to run, she’d have to go right through them. As if they’d let her.
All or nothing, now.
“I’m sorry,” The reporter frowned and shook her head. “Are you saying you’re…a boy?”
“What uh…what do you think?” Rylee’s voice shook as she addressed the question.
“I think if you’ve got a penis, you’re a boy,” The sleeveless man said accusingly. “And if you’re a boy you oughta stop peepin’ on girls in the bathroom!”
The crowd of protestors roared in agreement, drowning out anything Rylee might have said; she stood there in stunned silence as the crowd began to chant, shout, and scream, pushing her from side to side. Rylee raised her arms, trying to shield herself as the sleeveless man grabbed her arms and flung her into the waiting arms of another protestor. A scream escaped her lips unheard as she was flung to the ground, her arms scraping, and her forehead connecting hard with the blacktop. Her world spun, and her arms shot out in front of her as she tried to regain her balance and stand. A foot connected with her ribcage and she sprawled again, her shoe gaining some purchase on the blacktop, even as she sobbed in pain. Around her, feet, legs, shoes, blue jeans, occasional glimpses of light.
“Do you think you deserve to be hurt, or are you just trying to get people to feel sorry for you?” There was a hint of amusement to Ryan’s disembodied voice as Rylee was jostled around again, kicked about, shoved, stepped on despite the shouts and orders of the police escorts that had quickly lost control of the situation. Rylee groaned and rolled over onto her stomach, pushing her palms against the blacktop in an attempt to regain her feet.
“Maybe you like to get hit because you’re used to it,” Ryan’s voice suggested. Rylee resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The kicking stopped, but it was followed by more shouts and suddenly, hands around her forearms pulling her to her feet.
“I’ve got her!” A familiar voice shouted. Fiona, pulling her away from the crowd, the police escort in tow, doing their best to hold back the crowd. “Come on, come on!”
Tori was waiting for them at the edge of the assembly, looking frazzled with her hair disheveled and one shoulder hanging out of a black cardigan. She grabbed one of Rylee’s arms and assisted Fiona in moving her across the parking lot.
“I’ll drive her,” Fiona said curtly. “Just get home.”
“You sure?” Tori asked hurriedly. “I can-”
“Go,” Fiona growled. “Her and I need to have a talk.”
“Elaine has that other girl, and someone else, black haired girl,” Tori said quickly. “We’re all heading back to-”
“Tori go,” Fiona insisted. “I’m handling this.”
“Okay,” Tori said with obvious uncertainty as she met Rylee’s eyes and have her a quick side-hug. “I’ll see you soon, Ry-”
“Go!” Fiona said again, pulling Rylee toward her car. She deposited Rylee in the front seat and then slammed the door, taking the driver’s seat and speeding away from the parking lot. Rylee sat in silence in the passenger seat, cradling a bruised arm and staring straight ahead as Fiona hurtled down the road. A few turns later and they sat in an empty parking lot set off to the side of the road. Fiona threw the car into park and flung her door open, walking around front toward Rylee’s side of the car. “Get out,” she snapped as she held the door open for Rylee. Rylee looked at her questioningly for a moment but pulled herself out of the passenger seat as Fiona glared insistently at her.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Fiona demanded after a long moment of silence. Rylee looked at her, dumbfounded. “Okay let me try this, what were you thinking? I think we’ve talked about this shit, Rylee! I told you not to put yourself in danger, I fucking told you! Do you not remember? Did you zone out during that conversation?”
“Izzy needed help,” Rylee said quietly. “I was tired of seeing people pick on her and-”
“There are ways to help her that don’t put you in danger, Rylee!” Fiona practically screamed; her heightened voice scared a nearby flock of birds out of the trees; their wings flapped overhead. “Who the hell put the god damn idea into your head-”
“You did!” Rylee suddenly shrieked, causing Fiona to recoil in surprise. There was a long silence; they watched eachother, and Rylee stood there, trying to formulate the words in her head as Fiona watched her expectantly. “You…” Rylee said, her voice cracking. “You and Tori helped me, back then, I mean. You didn’t and you didn’t have to. You showed me that people can be nice for no reason and that…that people could care. Then you made me read all kinds of books about how people help eachother and how we should care about eachother. I did that for Izzy because you would have done it for me! I…I want to be like you, because I want the world to have more people like you, and Tori, and mom in it! That Ghandi guy said to ‘be the change you want to see in the world’! I want to be the change, okay? I want to do good because good was done to me.”
Fiona’s lips parted as if she were preparing to speak, but fell silent, her eyes meeting Rylee’s as she pursed her lips. She turned away and walked to the other side of the small parking lot, staring off into the trees as she folded and unfolded her arms. Finally, she walked back to Rylee who was now staring at the ground, tears streaming down her cheeks as she hugged her body with both arms.
“I’m sorry,” Rylee said, sniffling. “I…I’m sorry, please don’t hate me. I know I shouldn’t have…I…I knew it deep down but I-”
“‘We need not wait to see what others do,” Fiona said quietly. Rylee looked up at her in surprise. “That’s the actual quote. Ghandi didn’t say ‘Be the change’, he said ‘We need not wait to see what others do’. The other one is paraphrased.”
“I…” Rylee frowned and shook her head.
“I get it, Rylee. I was mad before, but I get it now. We’ve been filling your head with ideas and they went straight to your heart, didn’t they? God, sometimes we’re so stupid. Rylee, look, I know what you’re trying to do, but you have to weigh the consequences. It’s okay to help other people if it doesn’t harm you, but if it does? You have to do more thinking about it and decide if what you’re about to do is worth it. I’m not saying that girl isn’t worth it, but there were other ways, ways that wouldn’t have put you in physical danger, okay?”
“Like what?”
“Like letting the police handle it. Like walking straight inside, getting that girl, and leaving with Elaine. You had options and you took the one that would hurt you and put the people you love in danger. Someday, Rylee, that might be an actual decision that you have to make. Someday, you might have no other options but today you did have options. That’s part of what we’re trying to teach you, Rylee. We want you to understand consequences, we want you to be able to make informed decisions and stay safe doing it. You have so much to learn, okay?”
“Okay,” Rylee nodded vigorously. “I…I get it, I’m too stupid to-”
“No!” Fiona snapped angrily. “You are not stupid! Get that out of your head right now. You’re just…uneducated. You were educated in the wrong things. There’s a difference between being ignorant and stupid, Rylee. Okay? You’re not stupid, say it.”
“I…I’m not stupid,” Rylee said, sniffling.
“Good. We need to get home. Oh, and Rylee? I’m proud of you.”
“What?” Rylee frowned, wiping her eyes. “Proud of…what do you mean?”
“Four months ago, a scared little girl broke into my best friend’s house. Four months ago she sat across a table from me and wouldn’t even make eye contact. She trembled when I touched her, she was scared of her own shadow. Today you stood up in front of news cameras and tried to protect someone more vulnerable than you. That little girl, the one I met four months ago? She would never. You’ve grown Rylee, you still need help, but you’ve grown. Proud of you.”
“I…um…” Rylee stammered, failing to resist the urge to burst into tears; Fiona stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close as she continued to sob, apologizing profusely. Fiona squeezed her gently and then pulled away, placing a hand on each side of her head, and giving her a warm smile.
“I know I’m hard on you, and I’m not going to apologize for that. You made a huge mistake today, but that doesn’t mean you were wrong. You made a decision, and now we have to go deal with the worst part of that.”
“What’s…what’s the worst part?” Rylee asked apprehensively. Fiona smiled gently.
“The consequences.”
January 15 2001
Ariel handed Rylee a plastic bag the moment they crossed the threshold into Amber’s apartment; Rylee looked at her questioningly.
“Get dressed,” Ariel said, nodding toward the bag. “Your wig is in there, get it on, put some makeup on.”
Rylee still looked at her, and then moved her gaze toward Amber who had stepped from the tiny kitchen, out to the main living area. She was still dressed in her plaid pajama bottoms with a tight blue t-shirt that read ‘Pound Puppies’. Amber crossed her arms, and Ariel gave her a quick glance, nearly shuddering at the ice-cold glare she shot Rylee.
“Get dressed, now,” Ariel said firmly. Amber looked on, the glare still set firmly across her unsympathetic face. “I don’t want to talk to Ryan, I want to talk to Rylee, so go be Rylee.”
“You should really do what she says,” Amber’s voice was stiff, her statement short; she was keeping a lid on her anger, but just barely. Rylee scurried off toward the bathroom, the bag of clothes in her arms.
“Out here,” Ariel snapped, stopping Rylee dead in her tracks. “We’re all girls here, come on.”
Ariel crossed her arms, mirroring Amber as she glared daggers at Rylee who consequently turned three shades of white before nodding and stepping toward the center of the living room. The two of them waited less than patiently as Rylee shrugged out of her baggy male clothes – a pair of worn-out blue jeans and a red tee – and into the contents of the bag which consisted of an orange sundress with ties in the back that dropped down to just above her knees, and a thin black cardigan which she quickly pulled over her arms. With the wig in place and rudimentary makeup applied, Ariel ordered her to place her male clothes in the bag and hand them to her. Rylee obeyed and looked nervously toward Amber, who had up to this point remained silent.
“Give it to me,” Amber said, reaching around Rylee and snatching the bag out of her hand. Amber watched her walk toward the kitchen, a cabinet slammed, and then Amber returned, taking up her position behind Rylee. She cleared her throat and then spoke as evenly as she could probably manage. “Let’s get to it.”
Ariel paused for a moment and then gestured to the dark-green sofa, giving Rylee a non-verbal instruction to sit. Rylee looked at her with both confusion and fear set into her expression, but she moved toward the couch, smoothing out the skirt of her sundress as she took a seat. As Rylee sat, Ariel reached into her pocket and withdrew a piece of crumpled looseleaf paper; she maintained eye contact with Rylee as she unfolded it. Rylee still looked to her, questioningly, and then, little by little as Ariel spoke, her resolve and complacency began to crumble.
“This is a note,” Ariel informed her. “That you wrote to Amber’s sister.”
“Amanda,” Amber said quickly. “Let’s use her name.”
“Amanda,” Ariel said, nodding in agreement. With each word, she witnessed her sister’s face falling until her eyes seemed to focus on her knees. Ariel commanded her to look up, which Rylee managed to do with great difficulty. “Do you know what this note says?”
Rylee nodded, her lips slightly parted, her body trembling as Ariel smoothed out the paper to make it more legible. She gave the note a quick scan and then looked up, meeting Rylee’s eyes again as she bit her lower lip and then looked to Amber who gave her a harsh, prodding look in return.
“Where did you hear this shit?” Ariel demanded. “I know it wasn’t from mom and dad, and it wasn’t from some TV show; I know what they let you watch.”
“I…um…” Rylee’s words were shaky, her body was tensing up, and her head began to shake from side to side. “I…I-”
“Look at you!” Amber suddenly stepped forward, her words like a blunt instrument, slamming into Rylee. Ariel watched as a tear formed in the corner of her sister’s eye and slid down her cheek. “You’re over there shaking! You know it was wrong! You knew it was wrong!”
“Do you have anything to say?” Ariel asked her, giving Amber a glance of warning as she waited for Rylee’s response. “Rylee?”
“I’m sorry,” Rylee said at nearly a whisper, her eyes dropping again.
“Look at me,” Ariel instructed, handing Rylee the note as she did. “Keep your eyes on me, and read that note out loud.”
Rylee’s trembling became even more apparent; her hands clenched the paper, nearly tearing it in half as she looked from it, back to Ariel, and carefully avoided glancing in Amber’s direction.
“You scared, Rylee?” Amber demanded, stepping closer. “You fucking should be.”
“Everything you said to her in that note,” Ariel said pointedly. “You’re going to say to me, your sister, and mean it.”
“I…I can’t,” Tears streamed down Rylee’s face as she looked away, squeezing her eyes shut and whimpering. “You’re my sister!” Her voice cracked on the last word.
“Amanda is my sister,” Amber said angrily. “She’s been nothing but kind to you, even before you knew she knew about you, and you do this?”
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Ariel asserted. “Rylee, you’re going to rewrite that note, as many times as it takes to fill a one subject notebook-”
“And you only took up half the page,” Amber reminded her. “So write it twice per page.”
“And when you’re finished, I’ll let you stand up and say it to my face,” Ariel gritted her teeth and focused a great deal of her energy on not screaming at Rylee.
“This isn’t fair!” Rylee suddenly exclaimed. “You’re not mom and dad, you can’t punish me!”
“Do you want mom and dad to punish you?” Ariel raised an eyebrow. “If you think that’d be better then be my guest, but you’re going home in that dress.”
“Nooo!” Rylee moaned, shaking her head violently from side to side. “I’ll do it! I’ll read it!”
“Write it first,” Ariel nodded to Amber, who came forward with a dark green, college ruled notebook and dropped it on the coffee table in front of Rylee. “Absorb every single word. I want you to understand what you said.”
Rylee nodded tearfully as Ariel dropped the scrawled note on the coffee table for Rylee to copy off of. Then, quietly, she stepped back, observing as Rylee sobbed quietly and began to copy the note, word for word, line by line into the single-subject notebook.
Amber waved Ariel over toward the kitchen, immediately pressing the ‘vent’ button on the exhaust overhead. The hum of the fan filled the kitchen, and Amber handed Ariel a can of Pepsi from the fridge. Ariel leaned against the counter, her finger on the silver tab of the can as she focused momentarily on the floor, and then slowly looked up at Amber who stared daggers into her soul, subtly shaking her head.
“Enough?” Ariel asked nodding toward Rylee over on the couch.
“Not even close,” Amber nearly growled. “That’s my sister.”
“Yeah I know,” Ariel nodded, staring back at her just as intently. “She won’t tell my parents, right?”
“You know she has to be punished, right?” Amber’s tone had a severe edge to it; she gripped her own soda can, turning it over in her hands and maintained eye contact with Ariel.
“We’re punishing her now,” Ariel said simply, popping the can’s tab with minimal effort.
“It’s not enough,” Amber replied.
“Then we’ll do more. I’ll ground her,” Ariel shrugged. “I’ll make her stay with me every waking moment when mom and dad aren’t around.”
“You really think she’ll listen to you?”
“She won’t like the alternative,” Ariel looked over at Rylee who was now shaking, struggling to keep her pencil against the paper. “Look, I know this is a lot but-”
“Don’t treat me like an idiot,” Amber snapped. “I know what’s at stake here.”
“Okay but she’s-”
“Your dirty little secret,” Amber snapped, then looked over her shoulder to make sure that Rylee hadn’t heard. “Your little sister needs to behave before she starts affecting everyone around her. Hell, Ariel, she already is affecting people. You wanted to go to college, she put a stop to that, didn’t she? Now she’s sexually harassing my sister! What do you plan to do about that?”
“If it happens again, we’ll have Hayley talk to her. For now…this should be enough,” Ariel said, resolved. Amber shook her head.
“Hayley’s on vacation.”
“Yeah, people come back from vacation,” Ariel pointed out. “Look, Amber, it’s hard for me too, I’m learning as I go.”
“Better learn fast,” Amber shook her head and glared first at Ariel, then at Rylee who seemed to have all but forgotten them. “If this happens again-”
“It won’t,” Ariel insisted.
“And if it does?”
“It won’t.”
Amber opened her mouth to speak again; Ariel ignored her walking along the counter to exit the kitchenette and took a sharp right turn into the living room. She sat on the seat across from Rylee and roughly pulled the pen from her grasp. Rylee looked up at her with red, swollen eyes, lips trembling as she tried to work up the courage to speak.
“Read it to me,” Ariel gestured toward the paper. “And say it to me, your sister, like you mean it.”
Rylee shook her head, trembling harder. Ariel locked eyes with her, holding her gaze for more than a minute before speaking again.
“Couple things you need to know, Rylee,” Ariel said. “You’re not a man. Men write this kind of shit. And women? They can be the most cutthroat bitches you’ve ever met but when push comes to shove, we’re there for eachother. You get what I’m saying?”
Rylee nodded slowly, eyes aimed at the coffee table; a few stray tears splashed against the wood. Ariel threw a sidelong glance at Amber who stood off to the side, arms crossed, expression stern. Ariel closed her eyes and let out a sigh that heavily paralleled the sound of a deflating balloon. She pursed her lips and finally leaned forward, taking Rylee’s hand. She gripped it tight, placing her other hand beneath Rylee’s chin, pressing upward and forcing her to meet her eyes. Ariel watched her silently for a moment, then squeezed her hand and spoke as Amber looked on.
“You’re in trouble, Rylee, but not the kind of trouble you’d get in with mom and dad-”
“Bigger trouble,” Amber remarked, drawing a quick, emotionless glance from Ariel.
“Big sister trouble is way worse, but it’s not going to be all bad.”
“I…it isn’t?” Rylee frowned.
“We’ll start with the basics, and go from there,” Ariel explained. “You’ve been lazy, lately. When you come home from school, in that two hour gap before mom gets home? You’re in my room, you’re dressed as Rylee, and you’re going to be quiet. Do your homework or read.”
“I can do that in my room,” Rylee said quickly, to which Ariel shook her head.
“When we’re alone, your room is off limits. You have everything you need in mine.”
“You’re grounding me?” Rylee frowned.
“You’re lucky I don’t pop you over the head,” Amber snapped. “Take your fucking punishment.”
“Yep, grounded,” Ariel confirmed. “But Rylee-”
Rylee erupted into another sob, looking away from her sister and toward the front window; Ariel tightened her grip on her little sister’s chin and drew her attention back where it belonged.
“Rylee,” Ariel said, more adamantly this time. “You’re a little shit, but you’re also my little sister and I love you. I’m doing this because I love you, even if you don’t understand it. What you are going to understand is that you’re not their daughter. You’re my sister and I say what happens next. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Rylee sniffled, dragging the edge of her free hand across her red and swollen eyes, nodding profusely. “I…I’m sorry, I wish I weren’t so stupid-”
“Stop,” Ariel said sharply, cutting her off. “‘I’m sorry’ is good enough. Any more and you’re using your guilt as a weapon. Understand?”
Rylee shook her head.
“Saying you’re stupid is just asking me to disagree to make you feel better,” Ariel explained. “Focus on what you did, don’t try to draw attention away from it.”
“Called out,” Amber said, tersely.
“We’ll get you straightened out, Rylee,” Ariel assured her, keeping a hold of her hand. “But don’t you ever fucking do this again.”
January 16, 2001
“Well, great news,” Ariel waggled the handset of her transparent, acrylic phone at Rylee who sat cross legged on her bed. “Mom’s working late, and Dad’s snowed in.”
“Snowed in?” Rylee frowned, looking up from the bed. She was wearing one of Arie’s older dresses, this time a light blue one with short sleeves, a shallow neckline, and ties in the back. Ariel had put her in a reddish-blonde wig that didn’t quite match her natural hair, and had adorned it with a blue clip-on bow that went with the dress. Rylee shifted uncomfortably and immediately looked down, her eyes focusing on the cover of a ‘Babysitters Club’ book Ariel had handed her to pass the time once her homework was done.
“You know how it goes,” Ariel shrugged and turned away from her desk, sitting sideways in the chair. She crossed her ankles and leaned forward, dropping the handset onto the receiver as she did. folding her hands together, she smiled softly at Rylee. “Dad works in another city, and mom has some parent-teacher meeting. I think she’ll be home around eight, maybe.”
Rylee looked nervously at the digital GE clock beside Ariel’s bed, which glowed ‘4:18’ in a dull green. Mom usually got home by six; Rylee looked over, toward the window and through the cracks in the slatted blind. The bright white of snow was just visible, and the roar of wind drove the point home. She looked sheepishly toward Ariel and pursed her lips before looking down again; Ariel nearly shook her head, still unable to get used to how timid Rylee was in comparison to ‘Ryan’, the male personality that was slowly dying. She fidgeted, rubbing her white stockinged feet against the comforter until she finally worked up the courage to speak again.
“Um…so…if they’re coming home late I-” Rylee began.
“You’re still grounded,” Ariel said quickly, cutting her off. “We’ll make dinner, though.”
“Um…I…was…” Rylee stammered, looking at Ariel and then quickly looking back down at the comforter. “Could I get on the computer?”
“And do what?”
“Um…play a game, maybe?” Rylee began to stiffen, her words less than certain.
“Nah, we’re going to have some quality sister time tonight,” Ariel said, decidedly. “We’ll make dinner, maybe watch a movie, or talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“Why you did what you did,” Ariel suggested, resisting the urge to grin widely as the color drained from Rylee’s face. “Or maybe we could look at apartments. I got an apartment guide; we’re going to look at somewhere farther away.”
“Apartments?” Rylee perked up a little. “Like to…move?”
“Mhm,” Ariel nodded and raised herself slightly so she could turn the chair around to face Rylee. “Once you turn eighteen, we’re getting out of here. I have some money saved up, we’ll get a studio, like Amber’s if we have to.”
“Won’t mom and dad be mad?”
“Probably,” Ariel nodded. “We’ll do it fast though, so they can’t do anything about it. We’ll leave most of your stuff here.”
“Can I bring my books?” Rylee frowned.
“Yeah, some,” Ariel said as reassuringly as she could. “Your interests will probably change though, I think. I don’t know. Maybe you’ll stop reading horror novels and read some romance.”
“Do I have to?” Rylee frowned. “I like my books.”
“You really need to read more girly stuff,” Ariel explained. “I can’t teach you everything, and books are a good way to learn. You really need to read more girl authors.”
“Does…being a girl mean I can’t like boy things?” Rylee frowned again. “I…kind of like some things. Like Star Trek, and um…the computer games I play sometimes?”
“I like Star Trek,” Ariel shrugged. “Do you like the Babysitters Club books?”
Rylee nodded.
“What about the other shows we watch sometimes?” Ariel smiled slightly. “Gilmore Girls? Dawson’s Creek? Roswell?”
“Yeah of course!” Rylee managed a nervous giggle. “Roswell especially! They’re all reruns, though.”
“Yeah, wait till I show you Laguna Beach,” Ariel smirked. “But, do any of your guy friends watch those shows?”
“No,” Rylee frowned. “I wouldn’t even talk to them about those. Like…Devin only wants to watch scifi stuff. I like Battlestar Galactica but…”
“You have really girly interests, little sis,” Ariel smiled again. “And you’re happiest when you’re Rylee, so liking a few scifi shows or whatever isn’t going to change you and it isn’t going to make you a boy.”
“Okay but Hayley says-”
“Hayley’s teaching you to be like her,” Ariel said sharply. “When we move away from here, you need to learn to be you.”
Rylee paused to contemplate that for a moment, shifting into a different position. She stretched her legs out for a moment, then dragged her knees to her chin until Ariel shook her head. Red-faced, Rylee lowered her legs and in compliance with Ariel’s continued stare, she straightened her skirt, pulling the hem of the dress below her knees and using her palms to straighten out the wrinkles. Ariel, in the meantime, rose from the chair and lifted Rylee’s backpack from beside the bed. Rylee watched her as she set it on the bed and unzipped it, scrunching her face as she sifted through the contents.
“This is a mess, Rylee,” Ariel pointed to the backpack. “We’re going to sort this out later.”
“It’s fine, I can find everything in-” Rylee spoke, then fell silent as she saw Ariel’s stern expression.
“Yeah I know, grounded,” Rylee muttered.
“It’s not a punishment, it’s common sense,” Ariel scooped Rylee’s homework off the bed and placed it in the appropriate folder before zipping the backpack and setting it down. “Keep your stuff organized, it’s better for you. You’ll be happier.”
Rylee let out a long exaggerated sigh which was cut short with another look from Ariel and a subtle shake of her head. Rylee fell silent and waited patiently as her sister took the book from the bed and returned it to the squat bookshelf situated beneath her bedroom window. Rylee’s head was on a swivel as Ariel walked back around the bed and picked up a few articles of clothing from the floor, which she tossed into the hamper near her wardrobe. Her eyes met Rylee’s as she continued to tidy up and then looked away for a moment, toward the door. She gestured to Rylee to follow her and they stepped through the doorway, out of the bedroom and into the hallway leading toward the living room.
“We’ll heat up the casserole from last night,” Ariel told her as they plodded along, down the hallway and toward the dining room.
“What if mom comes home?” Rylee asked in a nervous tone as Ariel led her into the kitchen. “I don’t want her to…”
“See you like that?” Ariel glanced back. “She won’t, you’ll be changed long before she comes in here.”
“Maybe I could like…put some pants on?” Rylee suggested, and Ariel could sense the fear in her little sister’s voice. It wasn’t just the embarrassment of being caught, it was something else entirely. Father’s anger, mother’s cruel, calculating punishments, all of it would be magnified ten times over.
“There’s a plan,” Ariel reminded her. “Do you have clothes set out in your room?”
Rylee nodded.
“Pants, underwear, shirt?”
“Yeah,” Rylee nodded again.
“Remember: First thing, you wipe the makeup off. Then you get dressed. Simple, right?” Ariel looked at her, eyes demanding confirmation, which Rylee gave with a terrified nod. “Great, let’s warm up this casserole.”
“I’m not really hungry,” Rylee remarked. Ariel smiled.
“You haven’t eaten all day,” Ariel reminded her. “Nerves or not, you’re going to get something in you.”
“Okay,” Rylee said timidly; she watched Ariel pull the nine by five casserole pan out of the refrigerator, and Rylee helped her scoop it onto two medium sized plates.
“You okay?” Ariel asked what, in hindsight, was probably a stupid question.
“Kinda?” Rylee’s voice trembled a little. “This is all still weird.”
“Weird how?” Ariel moved toward the microwave.
“You’re like a different person,” Rylee explained; Ariel folded her arms and leaned against the counter. “Different from how you were back before…before all of this, you know? We didn’t…really talk before this and I didn’t know you , I don’t think. And now we’re just…together and I’m kind of scared, but I feel safe. That sounds so stupid.”
“It’s called being a younger sister, Rylee. It’s my job to look out for you, even if I have to be a little controlling, understand?” Ariel drew a nod from Rylee and then continued as the microwave whirred behind her. “I know our relationship was kind of rocky at first-”
“Rocky?” Rylee’s eyes widened, one eyebrow raised as she gawked at Ariel.
“Okay, I was kind of a bitch,” Ariel admitted. “But I grew. You need to grow too.”
Rylee groaned, drawing a warm smile from Ariel, who pulled her into a quick hug.
“How long do I have to do what you say?” Rylee asked, her voice nearly a sigh.
“You mean the grounding? Probably a few months,” Ariel shrugged.
“No I mean…”
“Always, Rylee,” Ariel stared at her, dead in the eyes. “Always.”
January 19 2001
“What do you mean, Amber?” Ariel demanded, suddenly standing up from the bed where they’d both been sitting. Had she not been so shocked by what she’d heard, she might have clenched her fists, she might have screamed, she might have done anything other than standing there, utterly shocked. “You can’t!”
Amber looked up at her friend with solemn eyes and gave little more than a pathetic shrug of apology as she stood, walking to her bedroom window where a harsh wind pounded the frame. Beyond the glass, snow flakes fell steadily; a winter wonderland forming. Amber looked out the window for a second, and then returned her attention to Ariel.
“It’s her choice,” Amber said softly.
“I’ll talk to her,” Ariel insisted. “She can’t-”
“Your little sister sexually harassed mine,” Amber reminded Ariel. “And look…Ariel…she’s a girl, through and through, don’t misunderstand me, but I…she has to face consequences, you get that, right? She doesn’t get a pass just because-”
“She’s not getting a pass!” Ariel’s voice nearly turned into a shriek before she managed to compose herself and take a breath. She resumed speaking at a much quieter level. “She’s not getting a pass. I grounded her, remember?”
“Grounded,” Amber scoffed. “And what does that mean, coming from you?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” There was a sharp edge to Ariel’s voice as her glare intensified.
“I mean, how can you punish her? What’s going to make her listen to you?”
“She’s listening just fine,” Ariel said as evenly as possible. “Look I-”
“And what’s she going to learn? That if she fucks with people she gets to spend some time with big sister, and then all’s forgiven? Fuck that, Ariel. This is my sister!”
“You know my parents,” Ariel reminded her, her voice barely above a hiss. “You know what they’ll do! What happens if someone talks about her being Rylee?”
Amber fell silent, her eyes shifting to the right as her lips pursed and the room stilled, the argument temporarily quelled. Ariel stared hard at her, her eyes eventually widening. Ariel’s lips parted slightly as the question began to form in her mind. What have you done?
“Amber,” Ariel said, her voice steady. “No one talked, right?”
Silence.
“Amber,” Ariel said again. “Did anyone talk?”
“Mom,” Amber said finally. “Mom…was worried about her.”
“Worried?” Ariel shook her head. “What do you mean worried? What’s there to be worried about?”
“She…she doesn’t really believe in the whole trans thing,” Amber explained. “When Rylee came over, mom was…well she was kind of humoring her. I mean, she thought it was okay for her to play dressup but she doesn’t really believe-”
“What did she do?” Ariel’s voice grew quieter, her expression becoming more stern, almost stone-like.
“She was on the phone with your mom like an hour ago,” Amber said. “I…I don’t know what all she told her, but-”
“You bitch!” Ariel shrieked, taking a deliberate step toward Amber. “You fucking bitch!”
“Ariel I didn’t do it!” Amber took a step back, her hands now in a defensive posture, ready to block a blow if needed. “It was mom-”
“And you didn’t stop her!” Ariel hissed. “You let it happen?!”
“What was I supposed to do?!” Amber suddenly screamed. “How do you want me to stop my mom from making a phone call?!”
“You do whatever it takes! She’s my little sister!” Ariel reminded her. “You…you…you…”
“Amanda’s my little sister,” Amber reminded her, her voice quiet. “We have to protect her too. Or did you forget?”
A flurry of curses, spat from Ariel and deflected by Amber followed as their voices continued to raise. Ariel, in her growing fury finally shoved past Amber, moving toward the bedroom door.
“Where are you going?” Amber demanded as Ariel grasped the brass handle, turning it with a click.
“Where the fuck do you think?” Ariel demanded, turning around to glare at Amber again. “I’m getting my sister the hell out of this place, before Dad kills her!”
“Ariel, you should stay here,” Amber objected. “It-”
“You and me? We’re not friends anymore,” Ariel spat; Amber’s hardened expression drooped, her mouth opened slightly, then closed.
“Ariel, I didn’t do it,” Amber said quietly.
“Yeah? And you didn’t stop it either.”
The ride home was a crawl despite how hard she pressed the accelerator. Ariel barely registered the scenery beyond the windshield of the car even as it raced past her in an ethereal blur. Thoughts swirled in her head, and each bump and jostling of the car only served to fuel her rising anger.
Amber had told.
No, Amber’s mom had told. Linda. That fucking bitch!
There were factors at play; Amber’s little sister, did she deserve some justice? Well, yes, Rylee had sent her that disgusting note, or more like shoved it in her locker at school. Ariel shook her head – what did it matter? The car blazed along a backroad; over a low bridge and nearly scraping the guardrail before Ariel adjusted the wheel slightly to the left, skidding over the solid yellow line. She cursed and whitened her knuckles against the wheel as she reminded herself to pay attention. Yes, Rylee was in danger, yes, this was bad, but she couldn’t help anyone if she were stuck in a ditch or even dead before she got there. With that in mind, she eased off the accelerator and watch the speedometer needle drop as she neared the intersection. A quick right turn and she was in the home stretch, and soon enough, she found herself sitting in front of the wrought iron gate. Climbing out of the car, she walked hurriedly to the keypad, tapped in the numbers, and waited as gate slid smoothly to the left.
“Please don’t be home,” Ariel muttered, switching off the ignition and stepping out of the car. Of course Rylee would be home, it was a Friday night. Where else would she be? That was a whole other thing, wasn’t it? Rylee. Up until this point, only a few people knew that Rylee even existed and that was what allowed her to exist. He would take it from her. Both of them. In this world, you are who you are, until someone makes you become something else, and Ariel realized with a sinking feeling that mom and dad would extract it from her, rip it away, force her to be Ryan. She wasn’t Ryan. She never had been.
We’ll just drive, Ariel thought to herself. I’ll put her in the car and we’ll just drive. We’ll hide somewhere until Haylee gets back from her stupid vacation. Why was Haylee gone? What the hell kind of vacation was so important? She hurried across the gravel, toward the laundry room door and found it unlocked. Inside the laundry room it was dark; both the washer and the dryer sat in silence and the only sound came from the heating ducts overhead. Ariel hurried past the water heater closet, hanging a left into the main hallway. To her back, the upstairs leading into the addition where the family’s ‘game room’ and their parent’s bedroom was located. Straight ahead, Rylee’s and her room on the left, and the dining room which sat concealed behind a portion of wall. She cautiously walked along the wall, trailing her fingers along the faux wood paneling as she had seen Rylee do hundreds of times before. Just at the edge, she stopped short, wondering what she’d find when she rounded the corner. It was late; Rylee should be in bed asleep. Could she wake her up? Could they sneak out? She paused to listen, but her question was quickly answered by her Mother’s voice from around the corner.
“Ariel, is that you?” Mother called out in an almost pleasant voice. Ariel cringed, suddenly realizing what it must be like for Rylee to hear that voice. It was funny to think how quickly someone who loved, someone who was supposed to take care of you could become the enemy. Ariel swallowed and pushed around the corner, meeting the eyes of both her parents now seated at the table.
“Hey,” Ariel said as casually as possible, aware that her tone was guarded. She approached the table slowly, flashing a partial smile to them. “I just got home, how was your day?”
That was stupid. When had she ever asked how their day was?
“We just got a really interesting phone call,” Mother’s voice began to elevate, deploying that tone she used when she was about to win an argument. It was her ‘gotcha’ tone.
“Oh?” Ariel asked as innocently as possible, even though she knew at the bottom of her heart that the game was up. It was over.
“From Linda,” Mother said, almost smugly. “You know, your father and I had been wondering why you’ve been spending so much time with Ryan.”
“He’s my little brother,” Ariel said, as if she still had a chance. “Aren’t we supposed to-”
“What were you thinking, Ariel?!” Father suddenly shouted, standing and slamming his open palms against the dining room table.
“Calm down, honey,” Mother said with a hint of warning in her voice.
“You took him outside like that?! Where people could see him?! Don’t you care about our reputation?!” Father completely disregarded mother’s warning, and as Ariel’s eyes flicked to her momentarily, she could see she’d given up all semblance of control over the situation. Father’s rage was absolute, now.
“What reputation?!” Ariel shrieked. “You mean with the stupid church?! Is that all you care about? Why don’t you try listening to us for once? You just talk over us and-”
Ariel shrieked as Father’s open palm made contact with her face; pain radiated from the center of her cheek, outward, until the enter left side of her face stung and her eyes began to water. The impact sent her stumbling backward, tripping over nothing and tumbling to the floor. She slammed against the carpeted floor, bringing one of the kitchen chairs down on herself in the process. As she lay there, she made eye contact with Ryan who had stepped from his room and was peering around the corner, his eyes wide in shock.
“You took my son outside, dressed like a little fucking fairy!” Father continued. “What are you trying to turn him into?!”
“Dad!” Ariel said angrily, working to raise herself from the floor. Her efforts were momentarily halted as father snatched the fallen chair and hurled it toward the floor; it impacted the carpet next to her head, the wood cracking.
“You’re going to get out of this house, and you’re never going to see him again, do you understand me?!” Father roared again, this time bringing his fist down on the table. “Or do I need to drive the point home?!”
He struck her again as she tried to stand; blood trickled down her forehead, obscuring her vision as Ryan looked on.
Stay in your room, She thought as her mind swam. Don’t come out here. As if Ryan…Rylee…could hear her.
Something hard came down on her hand; the honing steel from the butcher block; father had retrieved it from the kitchen and was wielding it against her. A ragged scream erupted from her lips as bone cracked and white spots dotted her vision.
She tried to push herself up from the floor; her fingers screamed out in pain and she dropped back to the carpet with a thud. Her eyes found Ryan’s again. No, Rylee. Her hand was clamped over her mouth; she’d fallen to her knees in the doorway.
“Run,” she mouthed to him; he responded only by shaking his head – hand still clamped over his mouth. “Run!”
“I love you,” Rylee mouthed back, tears running down her cheeks.
Father had her by the hair now, but Rylee had shrunk back into the shadows, presumably heading toward her bedroom window. Ariel found herself hurtling back toward the table, her head slamming against its surface, and a futile cry as Mother stood by. All of a sudden, father looked toward the bedroom where Rylee had retreated. Had he heard something? Ariel cringed, bracing herself as her face went numb, and her vision warped between momentary total blackness, and a skewed, blurred vision of the world around her.
“Mom!” She gasped as Father barreled down the hall, heading toward Rylee’s room.
“You should leave,” Mother said simply as Ariel lifted herself from the table and tried to choose between cradling her broken hand, or her face. “You brought the devil into this house.”
“The devil?” Ariel said in a raspy voice as Father rushed back down the hall and toward the front door. “I brought the devil? There’s only one devil here and it’s you!” Ariel screamed the final part of the sentence. “Only the devil would treat their children like this!”
“Clean yourself up,” Mother said, coldly. “Then get out of this house. And you’re never to contact your brother again.”
“Mom,” Ariel said almost shakily. “Mom, listen to me-”
“No!” Mother shrieked, raising her hands as she stepped away from Ariel who had now placed a hand against her forehead, attempting to stop the bleeding amidst a rapidly forming headache. “I rebuke you! I rebuke you, Satan!”
“Mom-”
“Satan! Satan! Satan! In the name of GOD I command you, leave this house!” Mother’s eyes were wide, her lips pulled into a tight snarl as she glared at Ariel. Ariel began to back away, toward her room. “Where do you think you’re going?!”
“To pack a bag,” Ariel said. “You want me out? I’m out.”
“And you think you’re going to take the things your father and I bought for you?”
“You didn’t buy my clothes, or my car,” Ariel pointed out.
“You’re under our roof,” Mother snapped. “Everything you own belongs to us.”
“Pretty sure that’s not how it works,” Ariel muttered, taking a stumbling step backward. She glanced toward Rylee’s room, and then back to mother. The front door opened, and Father stepped inside, roaring that he couldn’t find ‘Ryan’ anywhere.
“This is your fault,” Father said accusingly, as if he were reminding her of something. “I told your mother, told her and told her that you shouldn’t be allowed to spend so much time with him.”
“And I vouched for you,” Mother said angrily. “I vouched for you and you still planted stupid, evil ideas in his head!”
“Sick ideas,” Father said, echoing the sentiment.
“Sick?!” Ariel lowered her hand, fingers balling into a fist as she glared at her parents. “You have a beautiful daughter! She’s kind, she’s curious, she’s happy, she’s nothing like the boy you raised. And you’d rather her be fucking dead than be happy. That’s the sick part. You’re sick, not me!”
“How dare you use that kind of language in this house!” Mother shouted.
“In the Lord’s presence, no less,” Father added
“The Lord?” Ariel looked around. “I don’t see him here, unless you mean that stupid fucking painting over there on the wall. Stop talking to the picture mom, it can’t fucking hear you.”
“You shut your mouth,” Mother took a step forward. “Don’t you blaspheme in this house!”
“Get out,” Father said stiffly. “Before I pop you again.”
February 8, 2001
Ariel fought the bitter cold as she climbed out of her blue Cavalier, a purple scarf wrapped around her neck, just above the collar of her gray peacoat. Her hands felt numb, even inside the nylon gloves as she closed the door and stumbled across an icy parking lot toward the roadside diner. It was a small spot, probably meant for truckers and travelers rather than the average diner, and Ariel was greeted by a blast of warm air as she stepped through the glass door, the entry bell ringing in her wake. She wiped her feet on a thin rug and surveyed the interior of the tiny restaurant. It was maybe half the size of the average ‘Bob Evans’, with two rows of tables set adjacent to a bar that ran the length of the restaurant. The atmosphere was cozy, homy even, but Ariel had no intention of staying here for long. She moved quickly past the tables and took a seat on one of the leather bar stools, drawing a few glances from the other patrons.
A gruff, older man in a faded denim jacket sat at the the other end of the bar, facing her and nursing a cup of coffee, and a younger man in a green John Deer cap watched her with hungry eyes as she ordered her own cup of coffee and eyed it eagerly as the waitress filled it.
“You look like you’ve been through it, sweetie,” The waitress said as she topped off Ariel’s mug. Ariel stripped the gloves off of her hands, shoved them in her jacket pocket, and wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic mug. The waitress was a middle-aged woman, deep lines around her blue eyes, and thin blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail.
Ariel realized that the woman was probably right – she’d been on the road for more than a month, sleeping mostly in her car, barely finding anywhere to shower and eating where she could with the funds she’d kept in savings. The funds for the apartment she and Rylee were supposed to share.
“Yeah,” Ariel agreed quietly. “I’m okay, though.”
“What are you doing out here?” The waitress asked. “This is kind of out of the way.”
“Yeah, it is,” Ariel forced a laugh. “It’s charming, though.”
“Well we appreciate the compliment,” The waitress smiled. “I’m Jeanine, what’s your name sweetie?”
“Ariel,” Ariel said, taking a shallow sip of her coffee and wincing as the hot liquid brushed her cracked lips. “I’m from Woodhaven.”
“That’s a fair ways away. You in some trouble?”
“Someone I know might be,” Ariel said, looking at the waitress, Jeanine momentarily, and then looking down into her coffee cup, staring at the reflection of the overhead lights in the deep black liquid. Steam vapors licked her face as she took a shallow breath and then returned her attention to the conversation. “I’m looking for my brother.”
“Your brother, huh?” Jeanine nodded, and then walked to the older man, refilling his coffee and then returning to Ariel. “Older?”
“Younger,” Ariel corrected. “He…ran away from home.”
“You call the police?”
“Parents did,” Ariel nodded. “But I don’t trust them.”
“You only get one set of parents, hon,” Jeanine said, a word of warning in her voice. “You oughta work things out with them.”
“I think we’re past that,” Ariel shrugged.
Jeanine nodded and walked off to serve a new customer, taking their order for the house special. Ariel glanced in the at direction, looking at another gruff, bearded man who had taken a seat three stools down from her. She looked back at her coffee, tracing the outline of a stain on the white countertop with her index finger as she considered the last month. She’d started at Woodhaven and driven first to a rest stop a few miles out of town, along the freeway. She’d shown Ryan’s picture, but no one had seen him. She’d stopped at gas stations, rest stops, convenience stores, truck stops, and at a few of them, she’d gotten lucky. A few gas station attendants, fast food workers, a bell-ringer for the Salvation Army, all had seen Ryan when he’d stopped for a cup of water, or to grab a few of the complimentary crackers from the salad bar of some no-name restaurant. He hadn’t said much, and he’d looked sickly, at least from what she could gather. She knew he had no money for food, and he had nowhere to stay, and she shuddered to think of where he…no…she was sleeping. Questions. So many questions and Ariel had answers to none of them. The one thing she did have, was a direction: West. Rylee was heading west. Ariel didn’t know why, or how exactly, but through countless stops, hundreds of miles, dozens of tanks of gas, sleepless nights in the front seat of her Cavalier, the direction had never changed. It was always west. And so, Ariel would go west.
“Who did you say you were looking for?” The gruff, older man asked from the other end of the bar. Ariel looked up slowly, meeting his eyes with uncertainty. Her first instinct was to tell him to ‘fuck off’, but she quickly quelled that potential knee-jerk reaction. After all, this guy could know something, right? “Your brother?”
“Yeah,” Ariel said, her voice nearly caught in her throat. “His name is Ryan.”
“Skinny blonde kid?”
Ariel perked up, her eyes wide. Did this guy know something? No, he could be making it up. How many ‘skinny blonde kids’ were there? Millions? It could be a lucky guess. Ariel decided to err on the side of caution, but her shocked expression had likely already given her away.
“Do you know…something?” She asked cautiously. The man shrugged.
“Buddy of mine,” He said, gravel in his voice. “Said he picked up a kid hitchhiking west of Piedmont. Looked to be sixteen, maybe 17.”
West. Rylee was still going West.
“Your friend picked up a kid?” Jeanine said loudly, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t he know that’s illegal?”
“Where was he going?” Ariel asked, ignoring Jeanine’s outburst and judgemental tone.
“Ole Huck was going down 40, towards Nashville,” The man shrugged. “Haven’t talked to him since then, don’t know where the kid got off.”
Ariel felt the excitement begin to rise up inside her. She had more confirmation. West. She had to keep going west. Rylee was out there somewhere. She was still out there. Still alive.
“If he’s a kid, oughtn’t we call the police?” Jeanine placed her hands on her hips, and Ariel noted that the conversation had drawn the attention of the other patrons at the counter. Some who were nodding in agreement with Jeanine.
“You can do that,” Ariel said quickly. “But I’m going to keep going.”
“Now sweetie,” Jeanine said with a warning tone. “You don’t look so much grown yourself, you can’t be a day over eighteen! Don’t you know how dangerous it is for a young girl to be gallivanting across the country all by her lonesome?”
“Jeanine, if it were your kin out there you’d go to the ends of the Earth too, wouldn’t you?” The old man said, shaking his head. He took a bite of his eggs, chewed thoughtfully and looked to Ariel. “You oughta be careful though.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Ariel muttered.
“I can give you ole Huck’s number,” The man said. “He’s got one of those cell phones.”
Ariel gawked at him, taken completely offguard at the notion of talking to someone who had not only seen Rylee, but had driven with her. How long had it been since she’d found a real, genuine connection? She hastily agreed, and the man scribbled a phone number down on the back of a business card for her while Jeanine looked on.
“It’s foolhardly,” Jeanine said, shaking her head. “You’re more like to run into a pack of crazies out there than to find your brother.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Ariel said, laying some money down on the counter. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
April 18, 2001
Road. Trees. Signs. The glow of street lamps, the constant hum of the engine, the vibration beneath the floorboards of the Cavalier. These were the sights and sounds that kept Ariel company as she drove ever westward. Her brief phone call with Huck had revealed that Rylee had gotten off near Pigeon Forge. She’d wanted to head north from that point, and so Ariel would take Route 75, north, toward Lexington.
Her cellphone sat silent on the seat beside her, the battery dwindling. Fast food wrappers, discarded cups, and other garbage filled the passenger side of the vehicle, and Ariel herself was far worse for wear than she wanted to admit. Hotel rooms too costly for her, and showers were out of the question unless she wanted to use a truck stop. So far, she hadn’t seen any that looked particularly appealing. The road stretched on before her; winter was fading into spring and with it, her hope for the future faded as well. College, jobs, careers, all of it was melting away. Everything that she had worked for, every single plan she’d had for herself was blowing away, like leaves on the wind. God dammit, Rylee. She shouldn’t blame her little sister, it wasn’t her fault, but Christ, how was it that one girl’s gender orientation affected everyone around her so profoundly?
She pressed her foot down on the accelerator, merging onto another highway, passing another intersection, another small town. Glowing fast food signs and the flood lights of gas station canopies had become a welcome sign as of late; they were the little contact with civilization that she maintained. She pulled over, taking a sharp right into a Sunoco gas station, filling up her car and showing Ryan’s picture to an exhausted clerk who simply shook his head.
Inspecting herself in the rear view mirror, she found a nearly unrecognizable face; dark circles seemed to have formed permanently beneath her eyes; her hair was matted, skin dry and cracking. Her hands tightened around the steering wheel and a tear slid down her cheek as her knuckles whitened. At what point should she give up? When should she admit that Rylee was lost for good? Three months. Three months she’d been on the road and she was already at her limit. Her right leg ached and cramped constantly from pressing on the accelerator, her eyes blurred every time she looked out the windshield toward the open road. Her world had opened up and narrowed at the same time; her entire existence consisted of lonely street signs, dark highways, wide open freeways, and the thoughts swirling around in her head. She longed for her bedroom, she longed to have a future. She longed for certainty. But, the obsession burned within her. The need to keep going. She had to find her, she had to find her sister. Rylee. They could be a family again, just the two of them.
There was $500 cash in the glovebox, and in her bank account, another $200. How much longer could she hold out? How long until she spent it all on gas, or food? How long until the Cavalier’s engine sputtered and died, leaving her stranded in the middle of nowhere? She would walk, if she had to.
She pulled out of the gas station, taking a right and pulling into the parking lot of an old church. She needed to sleep, but first she needed to walk. With some difficulty, she pulled herself out of the driver’s seat again, flexing her aching leg and raising her arms over her head, stretching out her body.
Her clothes felt lived in, and her body felt filthy. How long had she been wearing them? How long had it been since she’d showered? She brushed a strand of hair out of her face and rubbed her scalp before walking around the cavalier and toward the old church. The tall stained glass windows were dark and the oversized wooden doors loomed ominously in front of her. She walked up to them, a question forming in her mind; it was a friday evening, and sometimes, she knew people used churches as shelters, right? Maybe she could use a pew.
To her surprise, the door opened, and a hesitant step through the entryway placed her inside a fairly large narthex. A short walk down an eerily dark hallway led her to the glass double doors of the sanctuary which still had a few glowing emergency lights just barely illuminating the rows of pews that led up to a pulpit flanked by what looked to be two projector screens. How long could she sleep here? Would anyone come in by morning? Did it matter? It was a god damn church, right? She made her way to the pew closest to the door – at least she could make a quick exit, if she needed to.
The pew, even with its thin padding was far more comfortable than the front or back seat of the cavalier. She laid down, allowing herself to stretch out, wiping the raw skin of her face with the back of her left hand. Hundreds of thoughts filled her mind as she stared upward at the pain white ceiling, rendered a shade of cream by the unobtrusive emergency lights lining the walls of the sanctuary. How had this happened? Rylee. They’d both been betrayed. Anger flashed through her mind as Amber’s betrayal fell heavy on her mind. Her childhood friend, the person she’d trusted the most hadn’t raised a hand to stop it. Rylee, the girl who had just come into existence a few years ago. All of it had led to this moment – a moment where she found herself without hope, without friends, without anything but a direction. West. Then north. That was all that mattered.
Soon enough, she found herself in a dreamless sleep.