Mending Bridges
By
Rebecca Anna Coleman
Part III

Sometimes miracles fall out of the pockets of God. In this case I think two miracles had fallen out of the pocket of God. The first miracle was that Jamie had taken me out to eat, and the second miracle was the ice cream machine of McDonald's was working. Jamie though was just smiling as she placed three boxes of warm apple pies down in front of me along with a dish of soft serve ice cream.

Mending Bridges
By
Rebecca Anna Coleman
Part II

I took a deep breath as I watched Jamie collect the plastic brown tray that was heavily laden with a mountain of food that I'm sure contained enough calories to power a nuclear power plant. Feeling like a lost puppy I followed closely behind Jamie. A few seconds later she eased the brown, plastic tray down upon a nearby table and then she stepped around and pulled a chair away from the table. She then motioned for me to sit down.

“Why?” I said as I watched Jamie pull the chair out from under the table.

“Well, speaking of lesbians,” Haley said.

“Were we?” asked Kiko.

“We were. Anyhow . . . Does your mom know about you and Gabe?”

Gabe searched her father’s face anxiously. Desperately wanting to say something, but unsure of what. “You came.”

Just ‘cuz she’s got perfect blonde hair and cornflower eyes and big freakin’ bazoombas. AND long legs, the bitch.

 Margaritas, Beaches, and Bikinis

Chapter 3: The Nightly Bedtime Ritual

So I bought some new clothes, filled my black Ford Taurus up with gas. And last but not least my phone was on charge. And my outfit for tomorrow, a nice breezy sundress had been laid out along with a pair of boy shorts to hide the bulge and small lacy white bra to hold my girls.

“Last call everyone. You no have to go home, but you cannot stay!”

The bartender, Jakob Adamovich, bellowed. He was the sole worker, except for his wife and mother who worked in the back of house to deliver the best cheeseburger with a pretzel crust to ever grace the planet. I was able to try it once, three weeks prior when they had an extra one after someone mouthed off to the six-foot-three Jake who threw him out with absolutely no effort. Jake allowed me to sit at a table at the back of the bar so I could study as it was difficult to do homework by the dashboard light.

The next morning at the breakfast table a freshly grounded Tracie was almost shouting. "If I was a boy, I wouldn't be grounded, and we wouldn't even be having this discussion right now!”

Speaking through his teeth, Tracie's dad spat, "You ARE a boy!"

"No. No, she's not."

It was spoken quietly, almost unheard, but it had a force behind it that shut everyone up.

Corinne looked at her husband, "Face it, honey, she's not a boy and hasn’t been for a long time, if ever, really." He sat back down and put his forehead in his hands, staring at his plate.

There was a time in my childhood where I tried to embrace the dream of being a girl. They had the better clothes, they were, for the most part, more refined and they seemed to be ‘with it’—having the knowledge needed to live.

Emily Berrigan is a 23 year old transwoman who hasn't seen her twin in six years. Why? Because her parents threw her out when she told them who she really was. Now, her older sister Stephanie is getting married and wants Emily there - as a bridesmaid. Will sparks fly?

Stephanie is married. Will everyone live happily after? I know it’s been a while since I posted. Don’t you hate when real life gets in the way?
——

The wedding was winding down and Emily, Stef, Jordan and Liam stood waiting. “I dunno,” Jordan said to Liam, “they said come here, so I came.”

Mending Bridges
By
Rebecca Anna Coleman

I took a deep breath as I walked into the dinning room of McDonald's. The air inside smelled of greasy french fries, freshly brewed coffee, random pieces of cow that had been ground up and smashed into hamburger shaped patties. And mystery parts of chicken that had likewise been ground up and formed into nugget-like shapes that had then been deep fried in three or four week oil at temperatures that would boil the skin from your bones. All in all it reminded me of my childhood.

This Little Light of Mine
by
Rebecca Anna Coleman

“Ye are the Light of the World. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel, but on candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that in the house. Let your light  shine before men, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in Heaven.” Matthew 5:14 – 16

Being Samantha Masters

an homage-prequel to Being Christina Chase