She sat on the cheap government carpet, her spindly legs curled under her. They were the first thing he noticed about her: skinny, caramel colored legs that seemed to go on for miles before they disappeared under her frayed shorts. Her face was tilted up to the bookshelf, the look on the brown surface almost reverent as her long fingers gently brushed the spine of a book. Curls, every color ranging from dark gold to glinting brown, were pulled carelessly away from her face, tumbling towards her shoulders haphazardly. From what he could see, she had a decent chest, considering her slouch. She chewed on her lip.
Ordinarily, there would have been nothing remotely interesting about her: a random chick sitting on the dull carpet of a shoddy library in a little town in the middle of nowhere. But it was either her or the old Indian who’d been here longer than Connor had. The people of this town, it seemed, had a thing for sitting on the floor.
Connor scratched distractedly at his collar and frowned, his eyes glued to the empty dusty street. This town, if anything, had a lot of dust. He missed his dust free streets of London, the dull gray drizzle that would have ordinarily dampened his spirits. Here he wanted it. This place looked like it never got any rain. Everywhere looked burnt, even the people. Especially the people. He’d been the darkest one in his family since he began sailing. But here, in this library, he was pale. His skin, he realized in horror, practically glowed in the fluorescent light.
He set his jaw and angrily tugged on his tie. Screw sailing. A lot of good that had done him. Sailing was the whole reason he was in this god awful mess. If he never saw a boat again, it would be too soon.
A sound jarred him from his reverie. He looked up, meeting the gaze of the old Indian.
“Connor Pembroke?” there was a lilt to his speech, his wrinkly russet skin stretched into what seemed like a friendly smile, and a weathered hand hovered pleasantly in front of Connor’s face. There were certain things he noted about the Indian. One: there was a scar cutting through one gray eyebrown and extended well past his cheekbone. Two: He knew the girl on the floor.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
A Tale of Androgyny
Alexandria Buckwheat propped her chin on her thin white hands and imagined that Riley Anderson’s eyes were the color of the Caribbean Sea. The smile was returned; a row of creamy white straight except for that one crooked one in the bottom row.
It was unladylike to stare, she reprimanded herself. Oh! Elbows off the table. She glanced at Riley, noting his casual elegance and smiled again.
“I’m so happy to be here, Rye,” she gave him the look she’d practiced, pouring her love into her eyes. Rye’s smooth face moved into a gentle smile.
“Anything to make my baby happy,” Riley’s soft, warm hand covered hers for a moment and she blushed on cue. Like she always did.
It was hard to believe that she was so innocent, especially after that night. Riley smiled and raised the glass. She’d never forget the way Lexy’s hand had travelled up her thigh, the way she boldly sucked on Riley’s lower lip. Lexy’s small hand had been a breath of fresh air since the operation.
“I didn’t see you at church on Sunday,” Lexy smiled, the skin around her eyes crinkling.
She’s quite beautiful, for a Buckwheat, Riley mused, even if she did have that daft look in her eye. Her hair fell like a golden waterfall around her bare white shoulders, and she had pretty brown eyes, the color of mud made from good soil. Her snubbed nose bore a couple freckles but it was her firehouse red lips that caught Riley’s attention.
“Church isn’t really my scene,” Riley grinned back. “I hung out with Michelle.”
Alexandria flashed a quick smile and looked down, hoping that Riley didn’t see her face. Transsexual, the word tasted bitter in her mouth. That thing better not be gettin’ any ideas. I snagged this one. He’s mine.
“How is he?”
“She,” Riley corrected with a small nod, “is great. Excited about the wedding.”
Alexandria’s head popped up, blocking out a piece of the sunset. Riley, used to Lexy’s moments, paid attention to the coral and purple sky and missed the look of horror that washed over Lexy’s face.
Bertanelli’s had been the best choice. Michelle was right, the lighting, the food, the height of the building had made the $150 reservation worth it. Lexy was breathtaking, her black dress matching the little black glass scones that covered the centerpiece: a candle, the glow of which brought the highlights out in Lexy’s hair.
The velvet covered box leaned heavily against Riley’s thigh. She smiled, running her hand along the silky edge of the table.
“Michelle’s real excited,” she continued softly, “she likes you a lot, you know.” Riley’s hand slid into her pocket. Lexy’s oval face was a wreathe of smiles, her eyes crinkled.
“She does?” Yeah? Well it disgusts me, Lexy seethed. If only Riley wasn’t so attached to that… thing. Lord knows, I don’t want her at my wedding.
“Yes,” Riley gripped the box tightly under the table, “She can’t wait to go dress shopping with you.”
All thoughts of Michelle left Lexy’s mind. She stared into Riley’s Caribbean Sea blue eyes in wonder. For a guy, Riley’s eyelashes were awfully long. She almost envied him.
“Dress shopping?” Alexandria’s voice was faint, her little hand pressed against her chest. Riley noted that her nails matched her lipstick. It stood out against the black silk of her dress.
“Why yes, of course,” Riley smiled and placed the box, open, on the table. The sun was setting behind Lexy’s head, the color glorious. Lexy’s hand was trembling.
Riley’s soft hand enveloped hers and the cool metal of the ring made its way closer to her knuckle. Lexy looked up to find Riley on his knee.
“Do say you’ll be mine.”
With a sobbing laugh, she reached out and caressed her fiancé’s smooth baby face. “Of course. I was always yours.”
Riley’s soft lips covered hers for a moment. She sighed, her smile seeming permanent.
“Michelle’s never been a bridesmaid before.”
The smile left. “Darling, I’m not sure about that. The church doesn’t really support her…type.”
“Her… type?” Riley froze.
Lexy’s face heated up. She searched her lovers face.
“I’m not quite sure I understand,” Riley sounded faint.
“Transsexuals, dear. It’s against our religion.”
Riley gripped the stem of her wineglass. Her face felt clammy, cold and she raised a trembling hand to brush her mouth. She realized, her heart sinking, how horrible the situation is.
“Oh, dear,” Lexy’s hand covered hers, “I thought you knew that. She can come to the wedding. I’m not sure the Reverend will approve of her being a part of the bridal procession, but she can give a speech at the reception. Isn’t that a good idea, love?”
“The Reverend won’t approve?” Riley’s voice shook.
Alexandria felt the tips of her ears heat up. She gripped the napkin, and struggled to keep her voice light and soothing.
“No, darling, I’m afraid he won’t.”
“I’m afraid he won’t marry us then.”
Alexandria’s mouth dropped open. “Why ever not?”
Was it possible? Did she really not know?
“Lexy, what do you know about me?”
Her brow dipped in genuine confusion. “Well, now, I’m not sure how to answer that.”
“About my childhood.”
“Oh, but you’re not a disappointment. Rye, your parents were the worst. They couldn’t accept who you are.”
“Not who, Lexy,” Riley groaned. “What?”
“I-I’m sorry. But I don’t understand.”
“I,” Riley struggled with the words, “I used to be girl.”
Alexandria found it hard to breathe. “What?”
“I was born Riley Andrea Anderson.”
“But… that’s not possible. You’re… You’re a man!”
“As of two Augusts ago,” Riley whispered,” but that doesn’t change anything.”
Alexandria stared at him. “What are you talking about? This changes everything!”
It all made sense now, his always smooth, baby face. The long lashes, the soft hands. The soft lips, the small bulge. Lexy had blamed it on lack of arousal… but now she knew. She worked the ring off her finger, scowling. Riley had tears in his eyes- no, her grey- blue eyes.
“We can make this work, Lexy,” her soft voice almost made Lexy gag. “I love you.”
“You...” Lexy threw the ring at the table, “disgust me.”
It was unladylike to stare, she reprimanded herself. Oh! Elbows off the table. She glanced at Riley, noting his casual elegance and smiled again.
“I’m so happy to be here, Rye,” she gave him the look she’d practiced, pouring her love into her eyes. Rye’s smooth face moved into a gentle smile.
“Anything to make my baby happy,” Riley’s soft, warm hand covered hers for a moment and she blushed on cue. Like she always did.
It was hard to believe that she was so innocent, especially after that night. Riley smiled and raised the glass. She’d never forget the way Lexy’s hand had travelled up her thigh, the way she boldly sucked on Riley’s lower lip. Lexy’s small hand had been a breath of fresh air since the operation.
“I didn’t see you at church on Sunday,” Lexy smiled, the skin around her eyes crinkling.
She’s quite beautiful, for a Buckwheat, Riley mused, even if she did have that daft look in her eye. Her hair fell like a golden waterfall around her bare white shoulders, and she had pretty brown eyes, the color of mud made from good soil. Her snubbed nose bore a couple freckles but it was her firehouse red lips that caught Riley’s attention.
“Church isn’t really my scene,” Riley grinned back. “I hung out with Michelle.”
Alexandria flashed a quick smile and looked down, hoping that Riley didn’t see her face. Transsexual, the word tasted bitter in her mouth. That thing better not be gettin’ any ideas. I snagged this one. He’s mine.
“How is he?”
“She,” Riley corrected with a small nod, “is great. Excited about the wedding.”
Alexandria’s head popped up, blocking out a piece of the sunset. Riley, used to Lexy’s moments, paid attention to the coral and purple sky and missed the look of horror that washed over Lexy’s face.
Bertanelli’s had been the best choice. Michelle was right, the lighting, the food, the height of the building had made the $150 reservation worth it. Lexy was breathtaking, her black dress matching the little black glass scones that covered the centerpiece: a candle, the glow of which brought the highlights out in Lexy’s hair.
The velvet covered box leaned heavily against Riley’s thigh. She smiled, running her hand along the silky edge of the table.
“Michelle’s real excited,” she continued softly, “she likes you a lot, you know.” Riley’s hand slid into her pocket. Lexy’s oval face was a wreathe of smiles, her eyes crinkled.
“She does?” Yeah? Well it disgusts me, Lexy seethed. If only Riley wasn’t so attached to that… thing. Lord knows, I don’t want her at my wedding.
“Yes,” Riley gripped the box tightly under the table, “She can’t wait to go dress shopping with you.”
All thoughts of Michelle left Lexy’s mind. She stared into Riley’s Caribbean Sea blue eyes in wonder. For a guy, Riley’s eyelashes were awfully long. She almost envied him.
“Dress shopping?” Alexandria’s voice was faint, her little hand pressed against her chest. Riley noted that her nails matched her lipstick. It stood out against the black silk of her dress.
“Why yes, of course,” Riley smiled and placed the box, open, on the table. The sun was setting behind Lexy’s head, the color glorious. Lexy’s hand was trembling.
Riley’s soft hand enveloped hers and the cool metal of the ring made its way closer to her knuckle. Lexy looked up to find Riley on his knee.
“Do say you’ll be mine.”
With a sobbing laugh, she reached out and caressed her fiancé’s smooth baby face. “Of course. I was always yours.”
Riley’s soft lips covered hers for a moment. She sighed, her smile seeming permanent.
“Michelle’s never been a bridesmaid before.”
The smile left. “Darling, I’m not sure about that. The church doesn’t really support her…type.”
“Her… type?” Riley froze.
Lexy’s face heated up. She searched her lovers face.
“I’m not quite sure I understand,” Riley sounded faint.
“Transsexuals, dear. It’s against our religion.”
Riley gripped the stem of her wineglass. Her face felt clammy, cold and she raised a trembling hand to brush her mouth. She realized, her heart sinking, how horrible the situation is.
“Oh, dear,” Lexy’s hand covered hers, “I thought you knew that. She can come to the wedding. I’m not sure the Reverend will approve of her being a part of the bridal procession, but she can give a speech at the reception. Isn’t that a good idea, love?”
“The Reverend won’t approve?” Riley’s voice shook.
Alexandria felt the tips of her ears heat up. She gripped the napkin, and struggled to keep her voice light and soothing.
“No, darling, I’m afraid he won’t.”
“I’m afraid he won’t marry us then.”
Alexandria’s mouth dropped open. “Why ever not?”
Was it possible? Did she really not know?
“Lexy, what do you know about me?”
Her brow dipped in genuine confusion. “Well, now, I’m not sure how to answer that.”
“About my childhood.”
“Oh, but you’re not a disappointment. Rye, your parents were the worst. They couldn’t accept who you are.”
“Not who, Lexy,” Riley groaned. “What?”
“I-I’m sorry. But I don’t understand.”
“I,” Riley struggled with the words, “I used to be girl.”
Alexandria found it hard to breathe. “What?”
“I was born Riley Andrea Anderson.”
“But… that’s not possible. You’re… You’re a man!”
“As of two Augusts ago,” Riley whispered,” but that doesn’t change anything.”
Alexandria stared at him. “What are you talking about? This changes everything!”
It all made sense now, his always smooth, baby face. The long lashes, the soft hands. The soft lips, the small bulge. Lexy had blamed it on lack of arousal… but now she knew. She worked the ring off her finger, scowling. Riley had tears in his eyes- no, her grey- blue eyes.
“We can make this work, Lexy,” her soft voice almost made Lexy gag. “I love you.”
“You...” Lexy threw the ring at the table, “disgust me.”
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)