Best Friends Forever

As I lingered over the most recent dress of Mom’s I wore, a week ago, my thoughts wandered. I liked the length of the dress, just above the knee. And the color-block design, was both fashionable and pretty. Not so long ago, it was my go-to dress. The one that cheered me up the instant I put it on. However, last time, it didn’t seem to fit right—it was the dress of a grown-up woman, not the girl I saw myself as. I yearned instead for the cute outfits the girls at school wore. That's never going to happen. I thought to myself as I buried my head in my hands.

There was a time when dressing up in solitude gave me comfort. Seeing myself in feminine clothes; picturing myself as a girl – it made me happy for a while, though I couldn’t explain why. Yet, as time passed, wearing Mom’s dresses lost it’s former appeal and gave way to a sense of emptiness. I needed more than this, but exactly what, I wasn't sure. 

Emily's words echoed in my mind, This was the first time you told me that you wanted to be a girl. Her statement hung in the air, laden with the implication of a question left unasked. Do I still feel that way? For years I had been hiding this from the world and even from myself. The very idea of the world finding out, filled me with shame and dread. And yet, I knew that I needed to tell Emily. I just had to share what was in my heart with one other person. If there was one person who would listen and not judge, it was Emily.

~~~~~~

Stepping out the next morning, it was absolutely pouring, transforming the neighborhood into a treacherous, watery scene. The relentless rain created makeshift streams along the sidewalks, forcing me to sidestep puddles. This dance of avoidance mirrored the way I've been sidestepping the chaos inside.

Looking up the street toward Emily’s house, I spotted her silhouette. She sat perched on the step, shielded only by a small umbrella—a solitary figure amidst the deluge. Her posture, even from a distance, spoke volumes of dejection, isolation, and loneliness, reflecting my own feelings over the last several years.

I hurried to cross the street, but the makeshift rivers seemed determined to keep us apart—a watery barrier too deep to simply step through. Taking a few steps back for momentum, I leaped across the stream on the near side, landing with a splash as I successfully cleared the deepest part.

Emily looked up, spotting me through the curtain of rain, but the deluge obscured her expression, making it impossible to read with any clarity.

I ran the last few steps across the street, using my momentum to leap over the stream on the far side, landing neatly on the sidewalk before taking the last steps to stand in front of Emily’s hunched figure.

“Hey, Emily!” I called out, mustering a friendly smile as I approached.

She lifted her gaze to meet mine, and the rawness in her eyes was unmistakable. Her cheeks, whether streaked with rain or tears, were flushed with distress.

“Emily, are you okay?” I asked, concern edging my voice.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t do it to embarrass you or make you feel bad. I won’t bring it up again.” The din of the runoff from her roof falling on the pavement nearby was so loud as to nearly drown out her apology. In spite of the racket, I understood her. Her sincerity and distress, difficult to hear, were easily read in her demeanor.

“Emily, I’m not upset anymore. Yesterday, I just… I freaked out. It’s just that…” I bit my lip and my words faltered, the admission lodged like a lump in my throat. Emily was the one person who I trusted enough to share the truth with. The secret I’d harbored was clawing for release. “I’ve kept it a secret for so long that when you mentioned it, I lost it. But I’ve been thinking, and I want to answer your question.”

“You do?” Her voice was a mix of hope and lingering sorrow, her eyes searching mine. “What question?”

“The one you wanted to ask me.” I said.

“Okay!” She breathed out, optimism and curiosity beginning to replace her earlier despair.

“Then ask,” I encouraged, my heart hammering with the weight of the moment.

There was a long pause. “Do you still feel that way, Terry? Do you still want to be a girl?”

“Yes. I’ve never told anyone except you.”

Emily nodded and stood up, moving her umbrella so that it covered us both, the space between us dwindled to nothing. I hesitated as I recalled a time when we were two little girls, best friends, who hugged everyday. I longed to step back in time, to ignore the rulebook for guys that held me back.

Emily seemed to read the tension in my stance. She adjusted the umbrella, her left arm finding its way around my shoulders in a half-embrace that invited me in. I relaxed and gave in to the pull, my arms gently encircling her, silently communicating a redefinition of our friendship. She too relaxed as all the years of alienation vanished in that moment.

A gust of wind shook the trees above us, causing the water-laden leaves to suddenly unload on us. Despite the elements' upheaval, they couldn't disturb the tiny sanctuary formed by our umbrella, where I huddled with my best friend.