Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Sally
Wanting to be away from my birth home in any way, I find myself back in the only other place I’ve found comfort.
Adrien offered a sad smile when I walked into his flower shop. I didn’t even need to ask if word about my identity had spread throughout the town.
Small towns talk, after all. One step onto Alliance’s streets, and I was met with stares. Before, I was the center of attention for being the new girl on Oliver’s arm, and now, I’m the trans girl that invaded their home.
“How have you been, sweetheart?” Adrien asks.
“Could be better,” I grumble, taking my spot on his front counter.
Adrien gives me a sad look before walking to the right side of the store. Once he’s back, a small bouquet of sweet peas is placed in my lap. I look at him, and there’s something in his smile that breaks me down.
“Why am I still so afraid of people knowing I’m trans? I’ve spent the last six years dealing with this shit, yet here I am, hiding from people.”
Adrien taps the counter next to me, and his forehead wrinkles like he’s thinking of something.
“I’ve found that a lot of trans people want to pass. The concept of passing might have its roots in a toxic mindset, but many of us just want to live life without our gender being questioned. You spent all of your transition with people knowing you’re trans, right?”
I nod.
“Then you come here, and suddenly, people aren’t questioning you. It makes sense to not want to lose that, but you did, and it wasn’t your choice. I don’t think you’re afraid of being trans. I think you want the power to decide who knows.”
Just like that, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. Not the kind that signals the end of your life, but the kind that shows you the way out.
I never thought about having the ability to choose who knows me and who doesn’t. That power has always been taken away from me.
“What do I do now?”
“Take your power back. Be yourself on your terms.”
All his words make sense. I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to be free. I want to have a choice.
The market is just as busy as ever with people trying to sell their products to make a living.
Art. They are making art.
Sure, there are the food product vendors that come here from the neighboring farms, but my eye is drawn to the jewelry, the clothes, and the canvases of unfamiliar landscapes.
The inside of the Louvre on a busy day. The Great Wall of China. Even just a simple meadow. Looks just like the same one Oliver and I frolicked through on our all-nighter. The way the sun rose and gave the flowers a glittering look from the dew. It was like a disco ball sparkling around us.
The same day, I decided to trust him with my body.
“How much for the meadow canvas?”
“That one is twenty.” The vendor gives me a wary look. Maybe I’m his first sale of the day.
“Are you the artist?” I try to offer my best reassuring smile. It feels fake. I’m still not great at comforting people. Type D personality and all.
“I am,” he says.
He swipes his hair to the side, giving me a perfect view of his features. He’s young, probably only a few years older than me, and he’s out here trying to make it with his passion.
Do I have a passion? I’m going to college for film, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I just like my video journal. The same journal I’ve been ignoring all summer.
I pull out thirty from my purse and hand it to the man.
“It’s only twenty.” He tries to hand the money back, but I don’t take it.
“Tip the artist, am I right?” I try to laugh, but something catches in my throat at his glistening eyes. “Do you have an Instagram? I’d love to follow and commission some pieces.”
I bet a family portrait of all the Reeds together would be a great Christmas present for Moms.
The man just nods and lists off his handle. With a quick follow, I’m walking away with a piece of art that can remind me of my time here and one of the few good memories I’ll ever have.
We really are a tenacious existence, using everything we can to survive. These people are doing everything in their power to survive and maybe someday thrive.
My body just wanders the market for another thirty minutes, but nothing else catches my eye. At least, not until I see a couple giving me what I assume is a disapproving look.
I’ve never pushed myself to be unapologetically out. Even in Darien, being in public was nerve-wracking.
But if I want to truly move forward, I need to be okay with people knowing I’m trans. Living in fear means never moving forward, and I want to live for the future.
I refuse to hide myself anymore.
“Sally.”
I turn to find Dalton standing just a few feet from me.
I was so absorbed in my thoughts that he snuck up on me for a third time.
My feet take a step back before reassessing the surrounding area.
It’s light out, so he wouldn’t try anything.
Not in front of all these people. Not when he was so afraid of people knowing we have a past.
“What do you want?” The question burns my mind. “Haven’t you hurt me enough?”
“No,” he says like I’m dumb for even thinking this was over. We were over.
My eyes wander around until it lands on the black-and-purple bruise on his cheek. The mark suits him—something ugly that shows his true nature.
“Especially after your guard dog attacked me.” He gestures to the bruise with gritted teeth.
“Looks like you deserved it,” I snap back.
His jaw ticks, and a vein bulges on his forehead, red hot with anger. He steps forward, ready to grab me, but stops himself like he remembered where we were.
The busy market full of prying eyes is my safety net. If we were anywhere else, he would hurt me. Being the center of attention makes him calm down a bit.
“You better watch your fucking mouth,” his voice comes out just above a whisper, but every word drips venom.
“What the fuck do you want, Dalton?” My boldness surprises me, and it must surprise him because his eyes widen slightly.
“You better not tell anyone about me.”
Seriously, he’s out here in public, threatening me over that? I don’t even want to be within miles of him.
“I don’t need my reputation at Grace Hill ruined by some tranny.”
My mind freezes.
Grace Hill. He’s going to the same college as me?
“You’re going to Grace Hill?”
“Duh, my dad’s an alumnus there. Don’t ruin this for me.”
My legs move away from him, not knowing how to handle the new information.
I hear his voice call after me. “If you say anything, I’ll spread those pictures of you. No one’s going to hire a freak with nudes surfing the web.”
The thought of spending another four years with the possibility of seeing Dalton makes my blood boil so much that steam might be rolling out of my ears.
Should I drop out? Find a different school next year?
What about Ella? She’s been wanting to room together in college since we became best friends. One of the few things she breaks her shell of unfeeling for is the idea of us experiencing college together.
I want to go to Grace Hill. I want to see what college is all about.
Dalton can’t ruin that for me.
I can’t live in fear anymore. I need to see the future.
With whatever determination I can muster, I turn to see Dalton still looking at me, but the anger is replaced with a smug smirk. He thinks he’s won.
“You know I was seventeen when those photos were taken.”
“So what?”
“You can clearly tell I was unconscious in the photos, but even so, I’m still a minor in them, meaning if they get sent to people, you’re distributing child pornography.”
His eyes level with mine, but recognition flashes through them. He’s starting to pick up what I’m talking about.
“I’ll tell people you willingly took them. That you asked for it like a whore.”
“Okay, but your reputation might be called into question. Do you really want to risk that? People will definitely wonder why you were taking pictures of a nude trans girl.”
His face falls, paling with the thought. His image means everything. Even if he won the lawsuit, which he might with how bigoted people are, his name would still be recorded on the internet. People would talk, and he would forever be associated with me.
I’ve won.
I’m doing the one thing I promised myself I’d never do.
The Alliance graveyard sign sends a chill down my spine. The way the font makes it look like some sort of happy place, cursive lettering where there should be something you’d see on Friday the 13th.
The only funeral I’ve ever been to was Ma’s parents, my grandparents. Though, I don’t think we viewed them as such. Mama held her the whole time as she tried to keep her stoic expression, but the minute my aunt and uncle left, she broke down.
Ma didn’t have a good relationship with her family. It wasn’t until she found Mama that her genuine family was born. I remember standing off to the side because we were considered outsiders. So, my view of the service didn’t leave a good taste in my mouth.
I look over at some of the graves as I walk through. Some are full of flowers, jewelry, and even some beer bottles. Then you have the ones that didn’t seem to get shown love, with moss growing around the edges. Some of them are even so badly damaged you can’t even make out the names.
Gordon.
My birth last name. Finding the graves, still freshly made and without moss, doesn't take long. Still, the site is empty, void of any love that friends and family might show off to the other visitors.
I’m not even sure why I’m here. Maybe for some kind of peace of mind.
Oliver forgave his mom after she abandoned him. Even after ten years of being alone with his absent father because of her, he still finds some place in his heart for her. Miguel has the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. He’s moved past what his father did to him.