Conviction

As the song says, it's been a long strange trip.

It started on an ordinary day, the last ordinary day I would have.

I was walking home from work when I heard a scream.

I froze, and couldn’t figure out what to do. Part of me wanted to go help whoever it was who screamed, but the rest of me wanted to ignore it and not get involved.

But before I could follow through on that cowardice, a man came out of an alley - from the direction of the scream.

He bumped into me, and in that moment, I saw he resembled me. Not an exact double, but close enough he could be a relative.

Before I could process that, he was gone, and my curiosity overcame my cowardice and I went into the alley he had exited.

The young woman laying on the ground had clearly been attacked, and almost certainly raped, and if her condition wasn’t bad enough when she saw me, she clearly thought I was her attacker and screamed again.

And then things got even worse when the police arrived.

My trial was fairly quick, as those things go, or so I was told.

The speed was assisted by my having a public defender, but mostly because I couldn’t find the urge to defend myself. I also wanted to spare the victim, whose name was Anita, from having to testify.

I saw myself as getting what I deserved for not coming to the woman’s aid earlier, and therefore found hearing “Jacob Anthony Marshal, you have been found guilty” almost a relief.

My only knowledge of prisons before my incarceration was what I had seen in movies, and the reality was much different, maybe because it was a Canadian prison rather than an American one.

I found if I kept my head down and followed the rules, the time passed without any serious problems.

Still, I was startled when at my first parole hearing I was allowed out.

But to balance any pleasure I might have felt, the local police actually put out a public warning about me, which while I understood, didn’t exactly give me a lot of confidence in my ability to stay out of trouble.

But I managed to do just that.

My parole officer found me a job at a junkyard, and it was the perfect place for me to do as I had done in prison - do my job, and keep my head down.

And time slowly passed.

I had been out for about 7 years when my parole officer said that was officially done with my sentence. I was shocked, because I remembered being sentenced for longer, but my parole officer just waved off the questions I had and wished me luck.

Not long after that, I finally broke out of the empty rut my life had become, or rather was broken out of it.

I was coming home from work to find two women sitting on the steps leading to my apartment.

One I recognised immediately, even though it had been years since I had seen her, as she was Anita, the victim of the crime for which I was convicted.

And seeing her, especially with her looking guilty, confused me so much I almost missed looking at her companion.

Which would have been a shame, as she was simply the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen - as well as the most frightening.

For the first time, I understood why “awesome” really meant a source of both wonder and terror.

She had dark brown skin, raven black hair, and was wearing an asymmetrical dress that reached down to her feet, which were encased in flat sandals.

I managed to croak out, “What are you doing here?”

Anita stepped forward, and said, “Jacob, I’m here to ask for your forgiveness.”

“I’m the one who wronged you. I didn’t come to your aid.” I replied, but even as I said it, I found myself embracing her, as we forgave each other, and I felt my guilt lift.

Finally, Anita turned to her companion, and said, “Thank you so much.”

I asked Anita, “Who is she?” and then asked the woman directly, “Who are you?”

“I am . . . an emissary. You may call me Petra. I am here to repay a debt.” The woman responded.

Anita said, “She ... told me one of my ancestors helped her - about a thousand years ago. I know how that sounds, but we are here.”

“A debt was owed, I had to repay it.” Petra said.

“So what happens now?” I asked.

“The Lady Anita had two requests. An opportunity to apologize, and to give you a chance to undo the mistakes made.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I can take you to a different timeline. You will be what is in from your perspective the past.”

I wasn’t sure I understood that, but the opportunity to get a do-over sounded pretty good, and some instinct told me I could trust her, so I said, “I’m in.”

I saw a flash of light, and then we were gone.

When my eyes cleared, I seemed to be standing on a street corner not far from where I had grown up, and Anita was also there looking around, and Petra was with her.

Anita saw me, gasped, and then called out to me, “Jacob?”

I felt off, but I couldn’t figure out why, and I asked Petra “What’s wrong with me?”

My voice gave me my first clue - it was higher and softer than it had been since I’d gone through puberty.

I noticed clues two and three when I glanced down and saw I had breasts.

Then Petra put up her hand, and somehow stopped me from having a full-on panic attack, and began to speak.

“Do not be afraid. I searched thousands of timelines where Anita was not raped and you were not falsely accused of the crime. This timeline had the best outcome for you both.”
I felt the truth of her words, and asked, “So how did this timeline’s version of me end up a girl?”

She replied, “Do you remember borrowing a dress from your sister at five years old?”

“Yeah,” I answered, “My dad beat me silly for it.”

“Well, in this timeline your parents had a very different response. Which led you to begin a transition to becoming a woman.”

“And Anita?” I asked.

“She had gotten involved with a local LGBT support group, and the two of you have become friends. Whether you two become more than friends will be up to you both,” Petra stated.

“But what about my memories of my original past?” I asked.

“They will fade in importance as you adjust to this timeline. You will not lose them, but they will not interfere with you making a life in this timeline.”

Anita spoke up and said, “And you wont be alone”

“Anita? Are you okay with this?” I asked.

“Yes. In our old timeline I had become closed in, selfish. In this one I came to grips with being bisexual. In doing that, I found purpose, and now friendship, and perhaps more”

And as she spoke some of the memories that belonged to me in this timeline came pouring in, and I remembered how she had been a pillar for this version of me as she (She!) began taking the first wobbly steps towards wholeness.

I found myself thinking back to my trial. Then I had received a conviction, but now, I have a very different kind of conviction.

I had a conviction that this timeline, this life, this transition, this growing friendship and perhaps more with Anita - this was where I was always meant to be.

I turned to thank Petra, but she was gone.

It was just Anita and I, standing there.

So I took her hand, and we began to make this life as good as it good be.

Together.

End.