Serenity
I don't care, I'm still free; You can't take the sky from me...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebA-RPfD07k
River looked around at the growing crowd of men. All of them filled with mean resolve while their hands were filled with swords or guns. Seven to one; she almost felt sorry for them. The first came at her from her right and she dispatched him with a kick to his chin. As his sword fell from his hand, she grabbed it and stabbed the man approaching from her left. One by one they came and one by one they fell until she was left alone with the biggest and meanest of them all. She looked at him and shook, but not only in fear. She turned to seek some advantage only to find a wall barring her way. She laughed.
The man echoed her laugh with a roar.
“Bá¡i chÄ«” he said in Mandarin…” (idiot)
“Yes,” she said with a smile.
As the man stepped close for the kill, she backed even closer to him and ran again, right toward the wall….and up it. Doing a back flip, she passed his shoulders where she dispatched him cleanly with a thrust through deep into his heart……as she fell rudely into her desk, knocking her laptop onto the bed...
“Georgie? Have you finished the ironing? You know I have to have my uniform ready for work in an hour and I’m busy with the wash.”
“Yeah, Mom…I’m hanging the clothes in the closets now.”
“Thanks… you’re a dear.” He was. As he went from room to room, he stopped and lingered at his sister’s closet. Her room was directly across the hall from his room, and he spent time there every Saturday when the ironing needed doing. He looked at her clothes and sighed.
“I’ve decided.” The voice came from behind. He turned and saw his sister standing with her arms folded, looking almost self-satisfied.
“Oh?” He put his head down. She smiled wryly before stepping closer to him.
“Yes….The yellow floral dress. I think with the lime cardigan, don’t you? That should do just fine.” He began to tear up in anxious anticipation. She stepped next to him.
“Yep, Georgie…the yellow will look just fine at the party. Yep…with some nice accessories it should look just fine.” She repeated with confidence as she kissed him on the cheek and smiled.
“You can have it for keeps if you do me one favor, okay?” He winced.
“I want to be there when you tell Mommy….for support, okay?” He sighed.
“I’m afraid to tell her…you know how she feels about…” He looked out the door and his thoughts took a stroll down the hall to the living room. Walking on imaginary heels, he trembled as he stood by the coffee table where his mother’s Bible lay. As he looked at the book he shook even more as he thought of the imaginary skirt and top he was wearing; what would she say if she knew her son wasn’t a good boy…an evil twisted boy? But Mom wasn’t like that, was she?
“Mommy loves us, Georgie. I think we’ll be okay. Besides, sis…I’ve got your back.” Their talk seemed almost juvenile. At nearly nineteen and twenty respectively, Georgie and Frankie were in the midst of their segue into adulthood. Not like some siblings; they weren’t ‘nearly’ twins. He was 5’11 and was of average build for a young man. She was 5’10” and nearly lithe. And their personalities were nearly completely opposite.
Frankie’s confidence seemed to grow day by day as she prepared for her second summer after college. A fellowship awaited her in Milan as she continued working toward her teaching degree in voice. A Master’s in Music Education would follow; perhaps at Julliard.
Georgie continued working toward his ultimate goal of finding out what his ultimate goal actually was. He languished on the vine, as they say; an Associate of Arts, maybe followed by a transfer to State once he determined what he wanted to do with his life. Smart enough to go anywhere on a full ride, he still felt like the little brother even though he would turn nineteen in six weeks. With the dance in less than two weeks, he felt he had a lot of growing up to do. Or she did, he remembered with a sigh as he looked in the mirror, disappointed at his image as the little ‘sister.’
“It’ll be okay, Georgie…I promise.” Taking the clothes basket out of his hands, she placed it on the bed and grabbed his hand. Walking him over to her dresser she opened the top three drawers, revealing her lingerie and hose.
“Look through here and pick out what you want, sweet…I think tomorrow would be a good day to tell her. Sunday.”
“You mean get dressed…I can’t, Frankie. I just can’t” He bit his tongue and looked back out the door once again.
“After church…when she’s getting dinner ready, I’ll get you ready and we can have our Sunday meal for once with all of us at the table.” He put his head down at the last few words.
“Listen…you know you’re going to have to tell her eventually, and I think it should be as soon as possible. You know what Dr. Cheung said, right?” At nearly nineteen, Georgie had almost waited too long. As it was, he cried at the thought of facial surgery, but looking like a girlish boy had been one thing; looking like a man in a dress was something completely different and altogether too sad for a girl. He began to cry.
“Hey…with the right makeup, you’ll still look pretty.” She took his long hair in her hand and piled it on top of his head. Putting her head next to his, she smiled as she gazed in the mirror and saw the frightened tears streaming down his face. Her smile faded quickly as her own tears began go flow. She spoke softly in his ear, almost as a prayer,
“It’s not your fault that things took a bit longer to get from here?” She touched his chest by his heart, “to…here?” She touched the top of his head.
“I should have said something a long time ago.” Looking at both their reflections, he began to shudder, forgetting everything except the fear that lived inside of him for so long; the reason for the fear was even one more thing he still had not the courage to share, even with his sister. Time would tell.
“It’s too late, Frankie…It will never be right. I waited too long…It’s never going to be right.”
Disappointment comes in degrees. Missing a favorite program… losing the championship soccer match? A huge gap between. But those were mere bumps in the road of life; leaving them all behind, Georgie was convinced his life was over before it had begun. No amount of good jobs or places to live or favorite books or fine meals or wine or fortune could ever mend the wound in his heart that would remain even as he remained a man. Georgie desperately needed to be herself; Georgina Pasquale. All roads should have already led from a hospital in Montreal, but she staggered down frustrating paths; going down the wrong roads to doom as Georgio Anthony Pasquale instead.
The woman droned on about how conformity was the best of all possible choices. All of the children looked back at her with adoring smiles as she extolled the virtues of sameness and doing well. River put her head down on the desk and started singing to herself...
"Frá¨re Jacques, frá¨re Jacques, Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous? Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines! Din, dan, don. Din, dan, don...." As she sang the woman approached; her voice soothing with a scold behind.
"Now, River...it's not time for play...why don't you lift your head and pay attention, I think you'll enjoy the next..."
"Song we'll be singing is a new one...We'll sing it through and then you can all join in, okay?"
Agincourt Church…Toronto….
“You two have been awfully quiet all morning.” Marie said as the pastor dismissed the congregation. She looked over at her children…her two adult children…with a bit of playful dread. “What have you two been up to?”
“Oh…gosh…maybe a nice meal for our lovely hard-working mother.” Frankie kidded back.
“What? No sandwiches and soup? I’m crestfallen.” She laughed as the service started. The worship leader was especially animated, which was a stark contrast to Georgie, who just sat in his seat with his head down.
“Not feeling well, hon?” Marie leaned closer. “You guys can skip a big meal when we get home.” She put her hand on her son’s back and rubbed it before returning to the music. Frankie looked over and made eye contact with her brother, raising her eyebrows slightly as if to say,
“What’s going on?” He shook his head no. She made a mock threatening sideways glance at him before sighing and putting her own hand on his arm. She leaned closer.
“Trust me…it’s going to be okay.” He looked up and tried to smile, but the tears in his eyes wouldn’t let him. Frankie shook her head and frowned sadly as she rubbed her brother’s back. Like mother, like daughter…daughters, she supposed as her hand came In contact with her mother’s as they both cared for Georgie.
“I’m going to go up for prayer…If you like we can just go out to Tim Horton’s for coffee. I think a nice restful Sunday would do us all a world of good. Why don’t you two go bring the car around and I’ll meet you up front. Frankie took the keys as Marie stepped into the aisle, but not before looking back at her son; the son who was now weeping. She sighed and stepped forward into the short line of congregants seeking prayer.
The Pasquale home…a while later…
“Not a bad idea; I rather like Burmese cuisine much more than a doughnut and coffee; good job, Frankie.” Marie laid out some dishes and silverware before sitting down.
“Where’s Georgie?” Marie said with a bit of concern in her voice. She didn’t know if Frankie had seen him crying in church, and it worried her. Frankie put a bottle of Merlot on the table and sat down.
“Umm…I guess he’s in his room.” Frankie looked down the hallway anxiously before turning back to her mother.
“Mom…we wanted to have dinner at home because Georgie has something he needs to talk to you about, and we figured it would be easier for him if we did it here.” Marie turned away and thought, “We?” Just then a figure appeared in the dining room archway. Both women were surprised since brother and son stood there, as always, save for the McGill University sweatshirt of Frankie’s that he had put on.
“Dinner looks great.” He said as he sat down, his expression a bit nervous, but he was a fairly nervous young man to begin with.
“Your sister tells me you want to talk about something…” She grinned slightly. She leaned toward him and smiled the nicest smile ever; just like every other smile she had given them both since they were born. She sighed softly and held her hand up, as if to stop him before he started.
“I need to tell you a few things with you first, if you don’t mind?” Frankie looked at her and at Georgie and back, trying to downplay any urgency she might detect in their expressions.
“Sure…that’s okay.” Georgie tried very hard but was unable to hide his relief. Marie sighed again, and her expression turned sad, but she still had the trace of that smile of hers.
“I went up for prayer this morning…I don’t want you to worry, but I found a lump in my right breast last month. I hadn’t said anything until I was sure.” She looked away, seeking strength, but not for what she was about to say right then.
“It’s benign. But it scared the hell out of me.” She smiled and blinked out some tears. Georgie looked at her; dumbfounded. Frankie began to cry. She stood up and hugged her mother while reaching a hand out to her brother who continued to look stunned.
“Oh, God, Mommy…thank God.” The tears flowed and Frankie kissed her mother over and over. Marie pulled her closer and hugged back and kissed her cheek.
“It’s okay, baby…I’m alright…I’m…I’m okay.” She shrugged her shoulders in relief and turned to Georgie. He was shaking his head and crying; his lip quivered and he had folded his right arm across his chest while he covered his face with his left hand. Marie reached over and grabbed his hand and put it against her face.
“I’m not going anywhere, honey…okay?” She pursed her lips and began to cry, and it wasn’t over herself.
“Georgie…honey…I went up for prayer for you….I need to tell you something, and I needed strength to do it.” Frankie sat back down and held her mother’s and brother’s outstretched hand.
“With that scare, I had to look at my life…and my death…it will come…you know…just not now, God willing. But when I thought about the possibility of leaving you two I couldn’t wait…” Frankie tilted her head. Georgie stared off, fearing the worst.
“Frankie…honey…I am so proud of you. You are the best daughter a mother could ever have…I am so excited about what the future holds for you.” Frankie smiled through her tears and nodded with a slight shrug.
“Georgie? Honey… I am proud of you… don’t forget that…I couldn’t be happier with you, but I don’t think you’ve been happy for a long time. I know you go to Marcia for help, and I know that talking has done you good. But it’s time for honesty between us. I’ve failed you…horribly and I can’t begin to apologize for what I’ve neglected.
“I don’t understand, Mom….” Georgie shook his head and wiped his tears.
“I’ve wanted so much for a son in whom I could be proud…too much…wanting for something that would never be. When your Dad died he only had two wishes…a parting blessing and hope for us.” She paused and looked back and forth between her two children.
“He wanted me to be happy, and if I found someone…you know how close Carmine and I have become in the past year…well…we talked about it and he wants your permission to marry me.” Frankie practically shot back out of her seat and began showering her mother with kisses once again, this time joyful and hopeful. Georgie sighed before smiling at his mother, trying hard not to start crying. She smiled back and nodded.
“But your Dad said also...'Raise them good, Marie.' Not because he worried that I wouldn’t; he was sure I would.“ She smiled again but started to cry again as well.
“You’ve done a great job, mom…a great job. I couldn’t ask for a better future and hope, and it’s all because of you.” Marie nodded with a smile, fighting back her tears, but she gave in and began to weep.
“Mommy…what’s wrong? Mom?” Frankie pulled her mother’s hands out and held them, looking her in the eye. She looked at Frankie but then turned her gaze to Georgie. He sighed.
“That’s what the prayer was about…me…Daddy wanted a ‘fine son.’ He said it all the time.”
“Yes, honey, he did. The prayer was about you, but not in the way you think.” He put his head down, inconsolable. She reached over and lifted his head up with her hand; her face was awash with tears, but her voice was steady and comforting.
“No, mi figlio, Georgio…mi dolce figlio.” My sweet boy… Much of the Italian Marie had learned from her mother was for terms of affection…Di affeto…
“Honey…I failed you because I did exactly what your Daddy asked me to. I am so sorry. He didn’t understand and I didn’t understand.” She pouted as if she had been chastised, but her chastisement came from own heart. Frankie grabbed her hand.
“Mommy…what are you talking about?”
“I raised a son and a daughter…a good thing, you know?” She looked back and forth at Georgie and Frankie.
“But we knew…and we didn’t want to accept it. Frankie? You did, honey, and I owe a great debt of gratitude for the way you’ve loved Georgie. I loved him too much….in a way, you know?” She spoke to her as if her son wasn’t in the room. And from her perspective, in a way, she was right about that.
“Georgie…honey…I know about you…how Frankie has been helping you…I came home a few months ago after my shift that morning. I had planned on going to your Uncle Phil’s to pick him up for his appointment, but it got canceled. When I got home I guess you didn’t hear me… you and Frankie were in her room…it was just like when you were little.” She choked back a sob.
“Mommy…Frankie made me pretty.” Oh I know I never yelled at you or got angry. Your Daddy was always kind and caring. But we didn’t recognize what you were trying to say. When Frankie dressed you up…’It’s just a game, Mom…we’re just playing a game.’ So I put that away in my head as if it was a silly game between brother and sister. But when I saw you that morning? I knew then in my heart that it wasn’t a game or a phase or a problem.” She smiled at Frankie as if she knew something she wasn’t supposed to know.
“Georgie…take off the sweatshirt…I know…" Georgie's eyes widened in fear and confusion. Marie smiled and gave him a "Moms always know" look.
"I know. Your sister’s voice…it carried through the heating vent downstairs into the laundry.” She patted him softly on the arm and his face turned red. He sat still, fearing how her mother would feel if she saw the teal top and bra underneath the bulky sweatshirt. She folded her arms as if impatient, but the tearful smile she wore said otherwise. He relented and pulled off the shirt, revealing his sister's clothes...his clothes beneath. He frowned and shook his head but she shook back.
“Okay…It’s okay, honey...please…but now you see why I asked for prayer?” She smiled but Georgie’s face turned frightened and ashamed.
“You…asked for prayer for this?” Georgie put his head down on the table and began to sob.
“Oh…no..no…no….not that…no, honey…nobody knows. I just asked Tara Noonan to pray for me for strength…so I could ask for forgiveness …with someone. She doesn’t know who…just that I wanted to say I’m sorry, and I didn’t know how.”
“Forgiveness? I…I don’t understand, Mom?” Frankie had stood up and was rubbing Georgie’s back like she had earlier in church.
“See how sensitive your sister is? She knows….and I didn’t…I should have known, honey. Can you forgive me? Please say you’ll forgive me?” Marie began to weep, almost without hope. Georgie lifted his head, not even understanding for what his mother sought forgiveness, but he spoke.
“Mom…Mommy?” Placing his hand on her’s, he said softly,
“I forgive you…whatever it is that you did to me? I don’t know, Mommy…but I forgive you, okay. Please be okay?” By now the three were almost weeping in unison. After a few minutes Marie sighed once again.
“Mom…what is it that you didn’t do for me? I don’t understand.” Georgie said haltingly. Marie looked at him and frowned sadly, still feeling guilty even though grace was present at that moment. She looked at Frankie and then at Georgie and spoke.
“I did a good job of raising a daughter and a son, you know?” She began to cry again and spoke haltingly and finally,
“Mi dispiace molto figlia...I should have raised two daughters.”
“Jeez, Mom…I’m only just figuring this out.” Georgie put his head on his mother’s shoulder and began to cry.”
“Yes, but I saw the signs…I should have had you talk to someone…have someone listen to you. I never listened, baby…not to either of you.” Frankie raised an eyebrow at that, and spoke,
“Since when, Mom? You’ve always listened to me.”
“For your sake, of course, but whenever you asked about Georgie…what he was? Who he was. You saw what he was becoming and I just wrote it off. I don’t feel guilty so much as I feel regret; you know. Who Georgie could have become, my baby?” She was getting very choked up.
“Mom…it’s okay…we’ll work things through.” Georgie rubbed her arm softly and kissed her cheek.
“It’s not that. I just wish for your sake…well, you’re not old, of course, but I read that the sooner you start…you know…taking care of things.” She put her head down.
“Face it, Mom…even if you started earlier, it’s not like I was going to look like a model or a rock star. I’ll be happy to look as nice as you or Frankie.” He realized what he had just said, and his face grew very warm.
“Oh…I know what you mean. Like that girl on that show you liked so much…what was that called?....’’
“Firefly!” The petite girl looked pretty but almost tomboy-ish due to the grease smudge above her right eye. The older man smiled and looked up the ramp into the hold.
“That looks….used. Will it...fly?” He shook his head.
“Fahng-sheen! It’ll get you where you need to go…Best ship sitting here right now or any other time, for that matter. Come on. You’ll be wantin’ to settle in shortly, and there’s the matter of payment and all. I’m sure things will be just fine.” She looked back at the ship with a pride you might find usually reserved for a favorite niece or nephew.
"Well, River, are you still struggling with our debate? Thank you, by the way, for returning the book to me." Shepherd smiled and shrugged his shoulders; the cut and paste and marking of his Bible was a bit unnerving, but he was more concerned with River's growing uneasiness.
"Don't hardly feel comfortable right now...like they're going to come and get me soon. Simon's worried, but not me. They can't catch me if they can't find me. I'm invisible, you know?" Shepherd shook his head. Was this a clever savant-like code or did she honestly feel she was invisible?
"Let me ask you this. Do you feel like you can't be seen...or that people ignore you?"
"Georgie????"
The office of Andrew Sorvino, Pastor of Agincourt Church, Toronto...
"Oh...I'm sorry, Pastor Andrew. I...I wasn't paying attention." Georgie put his head down apologetically.
"That's okay. Your mom says you've been on some new medication for the ADD. Do you feel ignored...invisible?"
"More like I want to be invisible. I wish no one would notice me. How different I am?"
"How are you feeling right now?" Andrew Sorvino had known the Pasquale family for nearly fifteen years, and was as caring a shepherd as they would have found anywhere.
"Medicine works, but not for the other stuff. Just learning how to pay attention and keep eye contact...not so easy, you know? And..."
"Put the Asperger's together with everything else and it's bad enough, but I bet the whole gender thing is making things much more difficult. If folks pay more attention than you'd like already, how much more when you transition?" Andrew leaned closer and smiled a welcoming smile.
"Why didn't you come to me sooner? You know I care about you and Frankie and your Mom?"
"Didn't want to be kicked out, Pastor Andrew...this is my home. Maybe being a boy isn't so bad. Being retarded is bad enough."
"Come on, Georgie...you're smarter than most folks I know, and I'm friends with a professor of Astrophysics at McGill. It's just a matter of getting the face-to-face stuff sorted out, which I think you're doing just fine. Why do you think you'd be kicked out?"
"Because I'm an abomination...the Bible says so, and I don't want to be kicked out." Georgie repeated himself.
"Son..." Andrew paused and thought better of the word.
"Child...you're not an abomination. The Psalmist says that body and soul...you're wonderfully made. The soul; the inner you. The body; the outer you."
"But what about my body. It doesn't fit, Pastor Andrew? What do we do about that. How can I fix it if it's wonderfully made?"
"That means your creation is wonderful; inspiring awe in the Creator. But we fix children with heart defects and birth marks and problems with their lungs, don't we? You're okay just the way you are means that you can and should be accepted for what and who you are, but it doesn't mean you can't address this. Georgie, do you follow me?"
"I don't want to hope, Pastor Andrew...It would hurt too much to start and then stop. And what would everybody say if I just show up some Sunday as a girl? Won't they hate me?" He put his head down and the thought caused him to start to weep. Andrew patted him on the back.
"Jesus said, 'If they hate me; they will hate you, also.' You're in pretty good company, I'll say. And If they have a heads up from the pulpit that we'll be welcoming a new member of the Pasquale family, maybe that will go a long way to ease any concerns, okay?"
"I guess. Did I tell you I'm not changing my name? At least not all the way. Georgia sounds nice and it makes it easy for my mom to remember, you know?"
"Yes, Georgie, I do believe you told me that, but it's okay to repeat yourself. Georgia is a nice name. It suits you." He smiled at the young man and handed him a box of tissues.
"I think it will be okay, Georgie. I've known you since you were little, and there was always something special...unique about you that we couldn't figure out."
"I'm honest?" Georgie smiled at Andrew. Georgie was quite aware of his assets; some might call them symptoms, but for a non-linear, he felt comfortable about his almost guileless personality. His honesty and candor may have made it difficult on occasion, but everyone who truly knew him trusted him implicitly for his dependability and loyalty.
"Yes, you are. But it goes beyond that. I think you're more of a blessing than you know, child. Now we know that you're a woman, right? It will help you determine how and to whom you wish to bless others."
"You just called me a woman?" Georgie said and smiled.
"Yes, Georgie, and a rather fine woman at that. You've got a lot of work ahead of you, child, and and I'm confident that you'll make the right choices. Wonderfully made, right?"
"Right."
“Just a bit to the left,” the man in the white smock and mask said to the nurse, a smiliarly clad woman who looked very anxious; perhaps because of the men with the suits and blue hands that looked over both their shoulders. He manipulated the probe, keeping his eye, not on the screen, but on the men behind him.
“Are you sure this will work, Doctor,” The stern, taller of the two men said skeptically.
“I’m quite sure, but she’s going to need monitoring throughout this whole phase,” the doctor half-smiled, confident that he’d at least have a job for the time being…maybe even a longer life, from what he’d heard from others in the facility…the rumors about a decided reduction in medical staff that seemed to occur on a regular basis whenever the two men beside them visited the complex.
“Just be sure that she’s monitored; we don’t want anything to go wrong….”
The Pasquale home…a few days later…
“Georgie, have you heard from Dr. Avigne?” Frankie asked as she sorted through the mail. Georgie looked down and back again at his sister.
“She says the protocol demands another physician ‘be advised and agree to the plan of eventual surgery after a sufficient period of time for the candidate to acclimate his or herself to the rigors and challenges of a gender change.” Frankie smiled to herself at Georgie’s uncanny ability to recall even the most banal or nondescript conversations, feeding them back with the same tone and inflection as the original speakers. She caught herself and immediately frowned in sympathy to Georgie’s plight.
“She’s saying she won’t even sign off on a year’s time of living as a woman unless you get another doctor to agree? I thought that had to do only with surgery.
“Gorram Doctors.” Georgie blew out a breath. In an instant he was doing a spot-on imitation of Summer Glau ala River in Firefly. Georgie was an oddity, even in a non-linear world, because he already had demonstrated at least to his family physician and his pastor that he could indeed live as a woman for a year…forever, in fact, since he was…indeed a woman; albeit without the ‘REQUISITE PLUMBING” as he liked to say.
“Well, then I guess it’s up to me and Mom and you to find a doctor who knows what the hell they’re doing?”
The office of Dr. Nancy Pellier, PhD, PsyD….
“Georgie? May I call you that?” The woman sitting across from him asked; her tone was welcoming and warm. She adjusted her glasses back against the bridge of her nose, making yet another mental note to have them fixed. She brushed her hand unconsciously through her salt and pepper hair.
“Yes.” Georgie crossed his legs, not like a man with the ankle resting on the knee, but with leg draped over his other leg. His body language changed almost immediately and his arms unfolded as he…now she…sensed the doctor’s acceptance of her…as her. She smiled.
“I noticed the change…is that something you did to accommodate your request? Any one can act a part if they’re good enough, but that doesn’t make them Ophelia or Nellie Forbush.” The comment would have been insulting but for the growing grin on Dr. Pellier’s face.
“No, I’m not acting. I think maybe that the other way I present myself is acting?” Georgie’s demeanor and body language changed once again, presenting the young man who had originally entered the office. He smiled at her.
“Okay, so we know you can behave…present yourself as a woman, as it were.” She smiled back. Nancy Pellier had been a psychologist for nearly twenty-two years, and had never seen anyone quite like Georgie Pasquale, even with all of her experience working with autistic children and adults.
“What I need to know, and you’re aware of it, Georgie, is, are you in fact, a woman who requires gender confirmation surgery?” Like many of her colleagues, Nancy had come to recognize that the term ‘reassignment’ was not only inadequate, but unfair in describing the surgical procedures involved, since there wasn’t any ‘reassignment’ at all, but an adjustment of the physical attributes to match the emotional and psychological and even neurological characteristics of the candidate.
“I think so.” Normally an answer that would beg the follow-up question, “What do you mean? You think?” Georgie had heard that question almost a dozen times in the past month alone. But when he said, ‘I think so,’ it reflected cognition rather than supposition; He didn’t ‘feel’ he was a woman, he thought…knew he was in fact a woman. Nancy nodded.
“Well then, Ms. Pasquale, it seems we’ve got to get some paperwork taken care of so that you can begin that real life test the powers that be require. In your case, it seems it will be like a confirmation as the folks actually intended.”
Nancy had gotten used to the mundane and boring so much that it was actually a thrill to see the broad smile cross Georgie’s face at her remark. She needed no in-depth review or comprehensive questionnaire to determine Georgie’s status. She was completely convinced that Georgie Pasquale was an excellent candidate for GCS…now the task was to persuade at least one other colleague that she was correct, or the poor woman in front of her would either be consigned to a long struggle seeking help far away from home or doomed to a life of miserable loss of self; stuck in a body that was ill-suited for her life as a woman.
“Here…let me…” She sat in the chair as the girl behind her grabbed her hair softly. She began to weave a three-stranded pony tail for River, who sat quietly while humming softly to herself.
“Na qu, Tai hao? This is nice, don’t you think…I bet you’ll be turnin’ heads ‘fore long, “ Kaylee said as she held the mirror up for the girl who nodded but began to cry softly.”
“Oh…don’t you worry…It’s okay to feel odd…fact is, I sometimes feel sorta odd and outta place. ‘Cept sometimes when I see your brother Simon.”
The Pasquale home....
“I don’t know. I guess he looks okay.” A voice came from behind Georgie.
“She, Stella…she…gotta get it right.” Frankie corrected her best friend. The girl smiled. She really was much more sensitive than that, but she had almost grown up in the house along with Frankie and Georgie. Her parents had separated when she was beginning middle school and the Pasquale home was much more welcoming than an empty house when her mother worked two shifts.
“I’m sorry, Georgie. You look great. I think the pony tail is pretty.” Stella looked at Frankie and shrugged as if to say, “Was that okay?” Frankie smiled and nodded.
“Dr. Pellier is supposed to call about the other doctors. Gorram Doctors!!!” Georgie sighed.
“She’s gonna find someone…she just has to!” Frankie said, trying to be optimistic. But the lack of success over the past week didn’t bode well for her erstwhile sister, and she was getting frustrated and really running out of the energy to be optimistic for them both.
“Why can’t you just go and get it done someplace else?”
“She could, but then things get complicated and maybe even difficult, since you never can tell.”
“Gee, Georgie, I’m really sorry.” Stella put her hand on Georgie’s shoulder and said softly.
“I think you look great.” This time, she wasn’t saying it for Frankie’s benefit or even for Georgie, but for herself. She had to keep saying that because she wanted the best for her best friend’s sib, didn’t she?
Stella had a crush on Georgie that dated back to when she was in seventh grade; he was so smart and she was so geeky, so they fit, from her perspective, even though he was a year younger than her and her best friend’s brother. So now to see the boy she always loved wanting to be girl?
“I’m going to live the way I want no matter what the doctor’s say.” Georgie declared. Stella pulled her hand back suddenly; she hadn’t meant to be so reactive, but what could she do with a statement like that. Georgie took note, but thankfully misinterpreted her action.
“That’s okay, Stel…I’m not worried. It’s the alliance I have to worry about?” A curious reference to their favorite TV show?
“The Alliance? We don’t have any alliance around here, and you’re wearing a cream colored cotton blouse, sis, not brown!” Frankie half-joked, wondering if Georgie was having an ‘episode’ over remembering an episode.
“NO…Jeez, Frankie…I’m not…the doctors…will any of them break ranks and endorse my RLT?” Both Frankie and Stella sighed at the same time, almost a duet since Stella’s sigh almost sounded mezzo to Frankie’s deep alto gasp. Frankie was relieved. Stella wasn’t. The doctors would give Georgie just what he wanted but take away what she had hoped for all along.
“Dear God in heaven, I hate myself,” she thought.
“I am so fucking selfish…okay…whatever…I’m letting go.” She bit the inside of her lip hard enough to evoke a painful bleat; ‘owwwww.’
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing…just a cold sore…I’m okay.” She blinked back her tears after turning away quickly, fumbling awkwardly in her purse for a small tube. She did have a cold sore, but it wasn’t half as painful as watching the boy she dreamed of marrying since she was twelve just simply fade away.
River sat on her bed, her legs pulled close and hugged. She wanted to be safe but she felt she wasn’t.
“Two-by-two…hands of blue…Two-by-two…hands of blue…..”
“What to do???” Georgie stared out the front window of their home; the first snow had begun to fall and she shivered from the cold breeze blowing through the cracks in the window insulation. Her mother came up from behind and draped a crocheted blanket over her shoulders.
“What do you mean, honey…What to do?” She asked as she set a mug of hot cocoa on the window seat next to her daughter. It felt odd and unfamiliar but right as rain, as her mother used to say, to refer to Georgie as her daughter, even if the shrinks still hadn’t come to any conclusion. What was there to decide?
“I’m not so sure; he seems awfully unstable to consider such a life altering operation.” One had said.
“Not very bright, is he,” the first psychologist in the long line of referrals had said; her lack of experience with non-linear thinking coupled with her absolutely obtuse views on gender dysphoria made it near impossible to get the required okay for a real life test followed by gender confirmation.
“Mom?” Georgie put her hand over her right shoulder and Marie grasped it.
“What do they think I’m going to do; do they think I’m stupid? That I’m retarded” Sadly, some of the doctors had little experience with autistic kids, and a near-twenty-year-old gender ‘confused’ male threw them for a loop, as the expression goes.
“I’m sorry, Baby…but yes…some of them do. I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t taken that medicine when you were…you would have had it so much better.”
“No, Mother!” She said almost roboticly.
“Some researchers and people with Asperger's have advocated a shift in attitudes toward the view that it is a difference, rather than a disability that must be treated or cured,” she quoted.
“It hurts when they refuse to fix the things that really are wrong and try to fix the things that are me…”
“I know, honey. But Nancy is confident that she will get you the support you need for the go ahead. Oh… I forgot to tell you. M.I.T. called today to set up an interview. I know it’s hard to think of school at a time like this, so why don’t you work something up to be included for the Fall semester next year. This way you can attend as yourself, okay”
“Mom… I’ve got to get this sorted out.”
“Sure thing. Oh…your sister asked you if you wouldn’t mind spending time with Stella until she gets home from class. We’re just having dinner together, and I’ve got to run a few errands.
“Sure. I should help her with her wardrobe; she dresses horribly!” Georgie winced at the sound of her own words as her mother playfully slapped the back of her head.
“Georgie…you didn’t tell Stella that, did you?
“Give me some credit, Mom. I did learn some things about being honest at the wrong time. But her taste in clothes is appalling. I mean she’s such a pretty girl.” She stopped talking abruptly and looked out the window.
“You ever tell her that? You seem to have no problem with telling the truth at other times…” Marie laughed at their inside joke. If there was something to be said about Georgie, it was that she could be too honest; even with the schooling and prompts she still rehearsed, she still had the tendency to say the right thing at the wrong time. She never intended to insult or hurt Stella, and the girl had come to a place of understanding that Georgie’s ‘honesty’ might be a part of her temperament and personality for a lifetime.
“She’s too nice for me. And she likes boys…I’m not a boy….Never have been.” Georgie sighed and stared at her mother as if some magic solution for her loneliness would emanate like a spell from her mother’s mouth; a real life version of her online games.
“You owe it to yourself to be honest with her. Imagine you not being honest. That’s a first!” The two of them both began to giggle. Marie had learned long ago that Georgie was light-hearted in regard to her ‘condition,’ and that while they worked hard at helping her cope, neither of them took things too seriously.
“Honesty…hmmmm. Not a bad idea. Maybe I’ll try it sometime.” The two of them started laughing when they heard a third voice from behind echo their laughter.
“What are you two laughing about?” Stella asked as she walked into the living room from the kitchen.
“Oh, hi, Stel…we were just talking about honesty.” Marie smiled at her and rose to give the girl a hug.
“Never in short supply around here. Don’t I know?” She said and plopped herself down on the window seat next to Georgie.
“You gonna babysit me while Mom’s out and Frankie is getting back? I promise I won’t give you any trouble at all.”
She laughed but her heart wasn’t in it; the seeming levity her only way of trying to keep things at ease in what was a very tense and painful situation for her. She loved the girl enough to be with her and hated to be with someone who would never return that love at the same time. She sighed and Marie noticed the expression on Stella’s face; something to talk about at another time, she supposed.
“Yeah…we can watch Hitchhiker’s Guide or LoTR if you want?” Georgie smiled at her. The girl seemed amiable to the suggestion until Georgie announced,
“I’ve got it…let’s watch Firefly…” The girl beamed with a smile before hopping off the window seat and over to the TV. Stella sighed and frowned before turning to see Marie staring at her with some intensity.
“Stel… we should talk, maybe after dinner? Just you and me; mother to daughter?” Marie treated Stella like her own; Frankie’s best friend had become a part of the Pasquale family long ago, and her presence was not only welcome, but had become a necessary and vital part of the family the older Georgie got. She was like the objective voice in an otherwise hugely subjective household, and her matter-of-fact attitude was almost a mirror of Georgie’s candor.
“Okay, Mom…” Stella nodded her head and started to walk away until Marie added.
“There’s a box of Kleenex on the top of the DVD player, honey. Okay?” Stella nodded once again as her hand unconsciously wiped her nose.
A short while later...
“Why do I even care?”Stella thought to herself.
The girl sat in the bathroom; the only privacy she could expect since she had no way of getting away from the boy she loved.
“It’s not like anything could happen. He was never going to stay a boy. And I’m such a fucking ditz….I’m not even in his league. And the stupid way I stare at him….Mom must think I’m a fucking….I hate this. It’s not fair….” She was practically praying at that point. A knock came at the door.
“Stella? I’ve started dinner. Would you like potatoes or rice with the chicken?” Georgie called from the hallway.
“Uh…I don’t mind either. Potatoes I guess,” She said half-heartedly.
“I don’t care about fucking potatoes. It’s you, you fucking …I don’t even know what to call him.” She thought. She grabbed some tissue off the roll and blew her nose.
“Fuck….this hurts. I wish sometimes something would take my life…please.” She looked down at herself; her top obscuring the view of her abdomen; the womb that would never bear his children….little Stella and little Georgie would never see the light of day…would never even come together…the dreams she dreamed since she was twelve would evaporate into thin air.
“I don’t mind making rice. It’s no problem at all.” Georgie called once again. Whether or not it was fate or an accident or just a slip of the tongue, Stella said out loud what she meant only to voice in her head.
“Georgie….I don’t fucking care. It’s you I want!”
Later that afternoon...
“What’s for dinner?” Frankie asked as she put her backpack on the kitchen table.
“Apparently I am,” Georgie said, ignoring that Stella was sitting right there. The girl looked at her once and got up and ran down the hall to the bathroom, sobbing all the way.
“What did you say to her?” Frankie asked, ignoring the immediate context of tears and slammed doors and awkward stares.
“Nothing…it’s what she said. Don’t get mad at me. I don’t know what the fuck is going on.” Georgie said even as she sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. She rested her head on one arm while drumming her fingers on the table.
“What did she say?” Frankie had an idea just from Stella’s reaction, but the need for clarification superseded any speculative version of twenty questions.
“She said she wanted me. Instead of potatoes.” Georgie pointed to the pot on the stove and sighed once more.
“Stovetop Georgie…huh?” Her fingers stopped drumming just in time to coincide with the beginning sobs that came from her mouth. The cheap laminate door did nothing to deaden the sound of Stella’s sobs, and her crying, coupled with Georgie’s sobs, sounded like a very bad duet.
“Oh shit…” Frankie turned at the sound of a voice from the door to the garage.
“They talked...didn’t they?” Marie said as she placed a few bags of groceries on the counter. Frankie nodded. She looked at Georgie at the table and down the hall once more before saying,
“Gorram Heartache!”
Marie walked down the hall a few minutes later when things quieted down. Georgie sat on the floor, her head up against Frankie’s bedroom door, whispering softly to herself,
“Two by two…two by two…”
The sobbing on the other side of the door had subsided, and Marie just nodded to herself before speaking,
“Honey…get up and come back to the kitchen, okay?” She tapped Georgie softly on the shoulder before lifting her to her feet. All the while Georgie kept repeating the odd mantra over and over. They walked back down the hall to the kitchen, where Frankie was just pouring some water into the electric teapot.
“I’ll go talk to Stella in a while. She hasn’t cried like that in front of us for some time, Mom.” Frankie went to continue but Marie put her hand up as a caution and mouthed,
“I know… talk later, okay?” Frankie nodded. Meanwhile Georgie had sat down at the table and was doodling with her finger on the placemat. She hadn’t stopped repeating but the voice was almost sing-song.
“Honey, talk to me.” Marie gently placed her hand on Georgie’s chin to get her attention.
“Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh bun ur-tze!” (Stupid son of a whore and a drooling monkey!) She blurted it out and banged her fist lightly on the table while repeating,
“Two by two…two by two…” She was crying.
“Mom…I’ve got an idea…be right back,” Frankie walked into the living room and returned quickly with her laptop. She placed it on the table and began to type. A moment later she looked up at them both and smiled.
“Well, I think at least I know where my sister’s affections lie. Georgie? Honey, Sweetie, look at me.” Her voice was firm and even.
“Oh….yes?” She seemed to almost ‘snap out’ of whatever had been bothering her. She grabbed a paper towel off the roll sitting on the table and wiped the remaining tears from her face.
“Which episode? ‘Our Mrs. Reynolds’ or ‘Ariel?’” She smiled and Georgie smiled back.
“Sorry… 'Our Mrs. Reynolds.’” Georgie replied, referring to the episode of Firefly where her mantra had arisen. River Tam was not only a character in the show, but a role model of sorts for the girl. River as an self-realized outcast and non-linear thinker for certain, but the quote made no sense to Marie until Frankie repeated the quote in its entirety.”
“’Two by two…Everyone has a match, a mate, a doppler. I love you.’ Granted it’s not entirely in context…You mean this about whom, Georgie?” The girl looked back at her sister as if she should already have known and answered,
“Oh…Stella, of course.” She smiled almost proudly until the three noticed a slightly disheveled figure standing at the archway leading into the kitchen. Stella stood there, shaking nervously, her face resembling an attractive attempt at a Fur-Con Raccoon, the dark eyeliner having run a bit from her crying for nearly fifteen minutes. Her eyes darted back and forth between the three until Georgie smiled at her and repeated one more time,
“Everyone has a match, a mate, a doppler. I love you!” Stella burst into tears and ran back down the hallway and slammed the bedroom door behind her once again, her sobs sounding like a sad aria for the opera that was playing out at the Pasquale home as Georgie blurted out,
“Bá¡i chÄ«!” (Idiot) She burst into her own crying jag and put her head down on the table once again and sobbed.
“It’s okay, honey…” Marie rubbed her back, not knowing what to do. Raising a brilliantly talented musician who was also a linguist, a performer, a trans-gendered woman, and now to add an interesting turn to the whole situation, was apparently a love-sick lesbian as well. And of course, her autism was the straw that stirred the drink, as the old saying goes. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled at Frankie who nodded and smiled before grabbing her mother’s hand off of her sister’s back; squeezing it gently before getting up from the table.
“I think I’ll go see how she’s doing,” she said softly before walking down the hallway to check on Stella.
“Frankie?” The girl looked up at her friend and the cosmetic damage had gotten worse, with Stella’s face streaked with black lines, which had transferred nicely onto the pillow underneath her face, which was turned only enough to reveal one eye.
“Honey…talk to me.” Frankie went over and sat down on the bed next to her best friend and hugged her once, helping her to sit up.
“You look terrible!”
Stella laughed; the words were a quote from Legolas to Aragorn in the movie, The Two Towers. It was ironic that she used that particular quote. When the girls first watched the movie on DVD, both of them fell in love with Orlando Bloom, whose long blond locks seemed almost out of place in a ‘man’s tale.’
“Why did he have to change, Frankie? Why?” The girl buried her face in Frankie’s shoulder and sobbed. Frankie patted her back awkwardly while looking around the room, almost as if she could find some explanation on a plaque or a poster on her walls.
“Stel….he didn’t change….we just never saw that this is who she actually is.”
Frankie felt a shudder go through her shoulders as she shrugged. It was a confession of sorts…confession…to speak with…to hold the same words or opinion or meaning. She was speaking the same thing as her sister; no longer viewing her as someone new or different, but realizing that she was realizing the truth about her sibling.
“But…Oh Frankie…I love him….I’ve loved him since we were little. I wanted to get married and grow old and have kids and…and….”
She broke down once again; a grief over taking her like nothing else. Even the death of her father hadn’t affected her like this, but then her father succumbed to cancer; a long and painful departure that everyone expected. Georgie’s death, in a way, was sudden, since Stella never anticipated in a million years that her dream would die at the hands of a few shrinks and a surgeon.
“I know, Stel….believe me….I know!”
Frankie had lost her childhood dream when the love of her life swore allegiance to another in a ceremony in front of family and friends; she felt compelled to be an ‘adult’ and attended her ex-boyfriend’s wedding, her whole life’s dreams vanishing as the happy couple was introduced for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Break-my-heart.
“I can’t tell you what to do, Stel…and I’m not gonna try. But I’ll hold you and kiss your nose and tell you you’re the best friend I’ve ever had or will have. Okay…” She rocked the girl in her arms, feeling more like a mother than a friend, which was okay as well.
“But what can I do…how do I get rid of this?”
“Rid of what, honey…the pain? I don’t know…I still got mine locked up in my heart and I can’t find the fucking combination.” She stroked the girl’s hair.
“No…not the pain…the love…it wouldn’t hurt… if I could just stop loving her. Her…” She paused for a moment, realizing which pronoun she had used and her face clenched in absolute grief as her sobs grew so heavy as to shake the bed. Her crying grew so loud that Marie appeared at the door a moment later, wondering what was going on. And a figure stood behind her.
“I'll go.” Georgie said and three sets of eyes focused on the face of someone else wracked with pain and grief. Stella looked briefly and turned away, unable to bear the sight of the one she loved. Frankie tilted her head slightly and squinted her eyes before turning to her mother in question. Marie knew exactly what Georgie meant, and she shook her head, wondering how she could fix things for her ‘adopted’ daughter Stella and her new/old daughter who stood next to her, since someone was going to lose, no matter what happened, if things stayed the same.
“I'll go.”
The girl repeated. She put her sleeve to her face, rubbing vigorously as the makeup came off on the fabric. Marie put her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp as Georgie’s motions confirmed exactly what she feared. Her eyes fell upon her child’s face, which had matched the grief that Stella had displayed only moments before.
“No, honey,” she said gently, putting one hand on Georgie’s wrist and pulling her sleeve away from her face. With her other hand, Marie gently stroked Georgie’s cheek as she repeated herself,
“No, honey.”
Even as she said the words, Frankie’s eyes widened at the realization of what Georgie had meant. Frankie sighed heavily and got up from the bed, but turned quickly and kissed Stella on the cheek as if to say, ‘Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.’ And she quickly walked to Georgie and hugged her.
“No, no…no…kiddo…no.” She began to cry at the implication of the moment. Either one dream or the other had to die so that at least one heart wouldn’t be broken. Georgie wasn’t going anywhere, per se, but her dream of finally realizing completely the life she sought as a woman would have to die in order for her to be with the one she loved. Or so they thought.
“No…don’t go…no…please don’t go.”
A voice came from behind. Stella slowly got up off of Frankie’s bed and walked over to the other three. She stood there and Frankie stepped aside. Stella stepped closer and looked into Georgie’s eyes. Amor Vincit Omnia isn’t just a saying or a credo or a philosophy; it’s something that has worked from the beginning of time. There would be some things to iron out and straighten out and fix, but at that moment, love was conquering all the fears and doubts they had.
“Stay, Georgie…stay for both of us, okay?” The girl sobbed as she put her face against Georgie’s. The two ‘looked a sight,’ as they say, the geek-girl’s mascara and eye-liner streaked face rubbing softly against the smeared blush of the Asperger’s girl.
“We’ll work it out somehow, but don’t go.” She said as her sobs waned. She put her hand on Georgie’s other cheek and turned her face and kissed her. Not a romantic kiss in the truest sense, but one still of romance since that starts sometimes and ends sometimes with sacrifice and friendship.
Marie looked at Frankie and nodded, her face relaxed as a relieved grin appeared. The entire ‘scene’ only took seconds, but all four were exhausted from the sheer emotion of the moment. Frankie smiled back at Marie and said,
“I’ll order out…Kim Kim okay, Mom?” Marie smiled and nodded. She put her hands on both Stella’s and Georgie’s shoulders and started to guide them down the hall to the kitchen.
“Buona idea e' stata una lunga giornata giá . (Good idea...it's been along day.)
Frankie nodded…it had indeed been a very long day already.
"I think we should all have a cup of coffee, eh?” Marie said. Frankie held up the phone and said,
“Chinese-Hakka coming right up!”
Finale!
Several days later...
“I feel so…” The girl looked in the mirror, a standup, antique gilt and wooden framed which seemed right at home in the opulence of the room. Curtains of brocade of all colors and textures adorned the walls, which were hard and cold save for the decorations. The bed was laid out in similar fashion, with a very pretty satin comforter in a dark teal floral. The smell of incense filled the air with freesia, symbolizing the new beginnings of the couple.
“Must be funny….you look nice, but you also look so scared. What’s it like to be scared of clothes?” The other girl sat on the bed, kicking her legs and looking idly at a glass blown dove she held over her head.
“I’m…not …this feels so…silly? I’m sorry… I want to fit into your world.” She looked down at herself, feeling so uncomfortable and out of place. The flowing robes ended at her sandal shod feet, the toes of which were painted a royal blue. Long drapes of silk adorned her sleek body, surrounding her with pink and marigold and canary yellow folds of soft fabric which caressed her. Draped around her neck was a gold thick braided necklace that held a single large drop of onyx, matching her earrings and nose piercing. Her hair was unusually long, and was bound up in a twist at the back of her head, held with combs of tortoiseshell. She was surrounded by the aroma of roses from the perfume she had just dabbed lightly behind her ears.
“You smell nice…it’s good to smell nice. Hygiene is important.” The girl on the bed nodded as she patted the cushiony cover beside her.
“Yes…hygiene is important, my dear.” She tried to stay in character, but the words seemed stuck in another room, locked in an external hard drive along with her physics homework. She began to cry.
“Hey…stop that. No crying in space.”
“This isn’t working. I’m sorry.” Stella pulled off the wig and tossed it on the bed and ran out of the room. Georgie shook her head, feeling lost and alone once again. She looked at the open door, as if Stella would make a quick return, but the doorway remained empty. She shook her head once, trying to make sense of it all, but the pieces still didn’t seem to all belong to the same puzzle. She lay down on her back on the bed and pulled up the long skirt of her gown and covered her head and began to cry.
Several days later...
“Sacrifice, honey. You both love each other, so it’s a matter of giving, not taking, right?”
“I know, Mom,” Georgie bit into the apple she held and sighed. Stella was trying hard to fit into Georgie’s world, but the matter and anti-matter clash of her non-temporal amygdala kept clashing with Stella’s logical hypocampus-driven mind.
“What did Nancy say at your last session?” Marie looked at her daughter and smiled. A week of prayer would sorely test her faith with little progress; how much more would she be on her knees. It made little sense; a sweet child in love but feeling lost like Alice in Georgies’s Wonderland, Stella wanted so hard to please.
And Georgie wanted so hard to think in terms of time and convention, and in most cases, she had fit into Stella’s world, which was only a bit to the side of what most folks considered normal. But to fit in such a way that they dove-tailed? They were still moving the pieces of the puzzle around, trying desperately to make the edges fit. So far they barely had the border connected.
“I don't know, Mom...Maybe I shouldn’t be a girl after all.” Georgie shuddered at her own words; the shock almost like having icy water thrown in her face.
“No, honey…that’s not the solution, and you know that. You start from who you are, both of you. How you express yourself after that’s established? That’s what you’ll figure out.” Marie remained positive and hopeful, and not just to encourage her daughter, but she really believed the two girls would find a way.
“But isn’t she …didn’t she say she wanted to have children?” Georgie bit her lip; the thought hurt on too many levels only recently discovered. She wanted children just as much as Stella, but it hurt to know that she wouldn’t be able to contribute for one thing. For another, she was realizing just how much of a woman she was, and it hurt to know that even before she ever said I do, that she was barren.
“Does Nancy have any suggestions?” Marie asked hopefully.
“Yes…but I don’t think they would be a good idea to…” Georgie shook her head. Having the blessing of her sister and her mother was one thing, but what would God say? Marie knew where she was headed.
“It’s okay, honey. I think that the person who made you the way you are won’t have any problem with you finding out and using whatever they left you to make things work…anything that you can do?”
Some days later...
“Are you sure about this, Georgie?” Stella looked into her love’s eyes, wanting so badly to be accepted. Too many years of her own oddity and pain made it hard to feel loved and accepted, but if anyone could, it would be the strange girl she so desperately adored. She smiled and raised her left eyebrow slightly.
“It’s …how it fits…how we fit, okay?” Georgie looked down at her body, nervous and frightened of the feelings of rejection she felt for herself.
“It won’t last forever, right? We want two…doesn’t matter what kind?” She said it as if the future Pasquale offspring were a commodity rather than a possible expression of genders.
“Girl or boy or both….nope, doesn’t matter.” Stella began to cry.
“Why?” Georgie touched Stella’s face, questioning her tears.
“It isn’t fair. We…both.” Stella looked down at her own body, her breasts were small and almost boyish. Further down the differences were glaring and almost at odds even with the compatibility established eons ago.
“We fit…it doesn’t matter what’s there as long as we know we fit, right? Afterwards...there's plenty of time.” Georgie said with a smile; the need to convince herself was long established and past. Only the foolish shame and guilt to dispense of.
“Gorram gonads,” Stella said with a laugh, but she began to weep, feeling entirely lost in guilt over the sacrifice that her future bride would have to make.
“No… it’s all good! Juh jen sh guh kwai luh duh jean jan. I love you!” Georgie gathered Stella in her arms and kissed her, their tears mingling in a mixture of abating fears and growing faith.
Several years later...Centre Mont-Royal...Montreal....
The lobby was filled with guests, all dressed in an array of costumes. Bright colors adorned beautiful young women and a few daring young men. Others wore browns and grays, looking determined and brave, their allegiance to their crews and their cause. A few young men sported worn, nearly dirty tee shirts and bright orange wool hats, while some girls wore brown jackets, carrying fierce menacing weapons. One enterprising girl came dressed in similar fashion, but carried a large wrench instead of a gun.
There were all manner of ages, shapes, and sizes. Even a few much older men wearing the garb of a Shepherd, carrying bibles and sporting gray hair. And in the midst of it all, a couple stood, holding each others hands as well as the hands of two children.
The couple was dressed in nearly identical fashion. One wore her brown hair in a ponytail, but still as long as her partner’s dirty blond hair. They both wore long gauze dresses, one grayish green, the other the palest of blues, sleeveless, with leather cords tied like bands on their upper arms. Each wore a necklace, also made of leather, with one gem. The blond liked turquoise while the brunette favored topaz. Both bantered on occasion in what sounded like Chinese, much like the other folks in the lobby.
“Ooooh, Mommy, is that…” Stella felt the tug on her hand. The little girl was about seven. She wore a brown leather vest and a long-sleeve blue shirt and looked ready for anything.
“Yes, Zoe, it’s Adam Baldwin.” She smiled as the man nodded. He walked over and leaned down and shook the little girl’s hand before signing her program.
“Thank you.” Stella said as the man nodded once again before walking up to another child across the room.
“Momma? I’m really thirsty,” Georgie felt the squeeze on her hand. The child was about nine and wore a long flowing gown just like Inara Serra, Morena Baccarin from the show.
“Okay, let’s go find a water fountain.” The two walked down the hall by the lobby and stood in a short line behind other parents and children with the same idea.”
“Momma? I’m glad you and Mommy brought us here. He’s here this time, isn’t he?” The child pointed to Nathan Fillion’s picture on the program.
“Yes, honey…I think he is. Maybe we can get to talk to him.” She smiled and tossled the child’s hair. Just then there was a commotion as a tall man walked out of the Mens room down the hall.
“Momma…it’s him…It’s him!” A brief wait proved the child right as Nathan Fillion stayed and talked to the fans. A moment later the two gained his attention. He stepped closer and smiled.
“Hello Ma’am…I’m glad you came,” the man said warmly.
“Hello. I’m Georgie and this is my son Mal.”
"GÇ’urá¬de!" Nathan said with a laugh and shook the boy's hand.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebA-RPfD07k
Mal's Theme (Ballad of Serenity)
composed by Joss Whedon and Greg Edmondson
Serenity Suite
Compilation from the Score to
the Motion Picture, Serenity
composed by David Newman
Comments
Serenity - the Novelette
Thanks for posting.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
Glad I found this at last.
Browncoats never really beaten. And you don't mess with River Tam.
"Reach for the sun."