SeptemberMorgan

TW:

Spoiler

panic attack

[collapse]

Stay Safe!

I don’t notice when winter arrives, not right away, anyway. It’s this creeping sort of change.

It’s a weird sort of realisation when I look at my phone and see that it’s only another week until Christmas and that the night brings temperatures close to the freezing point.

It never quite gets there. Because that would mean snow and wouldn’t that be weird, having a white Christmas?

Of course, that does little to dissuade people from getting in the mood for festivities.

Kim and Linea redecorate the classroom. They put up a whole advent calendar with twenty-four little bags that each contain a piece of decoration and every day the classroom gets a little more Christmas-y. My parents haven’t bothered with advent calendars in years but it’s not really like I care, either. Christmas has kind of lost its charm to me some time ago. It’s probably this mixture of knowing that really, there’s nothing mysterious or magical about it, and having dropped a good part of the traditions like carol singing or decorating the tree, or sitting together by the chimney and reading stories. And the snow. That’s definitely a part of it, too.

On the last day, Kim and Linea also organise a small party – though the term ‘party’ is a little ill-fitting because the teachers are present, it is during third period, and there isn’t so much as a drop of alcohol involved. It’s still nice, though. Kim baked two big trays of delicious apple crumble and everybody gets a piece. Linea also threatens to make us sing a few carols but we manage to weasel out of that.

It’s a little strange, watching Kim continue being the exact same person while I know her so much better than before. And all that just off of two conversations. Long ones, granted, but still. She’s still the same saint I used to look up to and even stranger, the people around her still act the same. It makes me feel really close to her, somehow, similar to the way I used to feel with Sadie when she knew my secret, except totally different because Kim gets me in such a different way.

Before I know it, the day is over and we’re saying our goodbyes for winter break. Well, not for all of it, Leon is throwing a New Year’s party at his place with the help of Kim and Linea, I’m pretty confident I’m going to be there. Everybody’s going to be there.

But for now it’s goodbye. Sadie, Henry and I take the bus home, Henry gets out before us, then it’s our stop and we walk up the street to our houses, the biting winter wind rushing in from the sea to tear at our hair.

We stop at the drive to her house to hug goodbye and she’s about to turn away when I say, “You could come celebrate with us, you know? I mean, if your parents aren’t –”

She shakes her head with a gentle smile. “That’s really kind of you but I don’t think I’d be comfortable intruding like that.”

“So your parents aren’t…?”

Again, she shakes her head. “They’re in Brazil at the moment. New project. Ever so urgent.” She rolls her eyes.

I feel a sharp ache in my stomach region. It’s so unfair that she has to spend the holidays on her own. “Not even for a meal?” I ask without much hope.

She shrugs. “Maybe sometime between Christmas and New Year’s? It’s just…” She wrings her hands. “I don’t want to be that girl without parents to celebrate Christmas with, sitting in a circle of people who already know each other so I’m the only thing to talk about.”

I’d probably feel the same way about it, so I try to give her a reassuring smile. “Alright. But text me if, y’know, you need me.”

She nods. “Yeah, thanks.”

I continue smiling even though I know that she won’t.

When I come home, Mum’s in the kitchen, preparing a marinade for our traditional Christmas dinner.

“Hi, Wells,” she says, waving with an oily hand. “Could you vacuum the living room, please? I haven’t gotten to that yet.”

Family is coming over for the next two days. Mum’s brother Robin, his wife Stella and their two kids Pascal and Deniz. I haven’t seen them in over a year, which also means that they haven’t seen me unfortunately. They used to live not too far away so we’d visit each other regularly but now they’ve moved hours away so it’s been some time. Pascal and Deniz seven and nine. They know that I have the virus, of course, because that would’ve been real awkward if not, but still. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t worried at all. Meeting new people when I don’t yet know how comfortable I am around them is always… a stressful occasion.

So I do Mum the favour and vacuum the living room. And then it’s two o’clock and the doorbell rings.

I’m the one to open the door. At this point I just want to get it over with.

All four of them are standing outside and as I come into view, their expressions change in this barely perceivable way. Well, the adults’ expressions anyway. Pascal and Deniz stare openly.

“Wells!” Stella says then, a split-second too late. “How nice to see you.” And she spreads her arms to hug me.

That kind of breaks the tension and it’s like the others get un-stuck from this moment of surprise.

I do look pretty different, after all. I’m even wearing a normal bra now. Mum offered to take me shopping and at that point, I kinda had to do it on my own to avoid the humiliation if nothing else. I could probably still get away with just wearing a sports bra all the time but now that I have them…. Yesterday, I caught myself looking in the mirror as I was changing and the little twisting sensation in my stomach wasn’t one of disgust or panic.

But now that they’re looking at me…. This is different. This isn’t me in my room, looking at the mirror. I feel suddenly uncomfortable in the somewhat tight T-shirt I put on this morning in a manic flash of overconfidence.

“Hey, Kiddo,” Robin says as he hugs me and that soothes me just a little. He always called me that when I was little and would visit them over weekends, back when Deniz and Pascal weren’t around yet. Robin told me that I was their way of figuring out whether they wanted children. Apparently, it was a nice-enough experience.

Then there’s a squeal. “Welllllls!”

I sometimes feel like a bit of a big brother to them. Whenever they used to come over, I would take them out to the beach or to the playground. They witnessed my beginnings in parkour. They’re cute. I used to like them. But now, after not having seen each other in so long…. I feel like an entirely different person and they’ve grown so much.

Still, I let the two boys hug me and pat their backs.

“Can we go outside and do parkour?” Pascal asks.

I force a little laugh and shake my head. “It’s all wet outside. We’d break our necks if we tried doing parkour now.” Well, that plus the fact that the last time I did parkour ended with me in front of a shop window, staring at a beautiful dress.

My face grows hot. I don’t like how the thought makes me uncomfortable, like they could see right through me.

Finally, I step away so they can take off their shoes and coats. Mum comes around the corner, finally having managed to transfer the kitchen into a state where she can be absent for more than just a few seconds at a time. The next round of hugs and hellos starts.

A few minutes later, we’re all in the kitchen, sitting around the small table with steaming cups of tea. Robin and Stella are telling us about the drive and the kids talk about school, and then Stella asks me how school is going and with a start, I realise that I’ll have to talk now. More than just words at a time, in a new voice.

I feel their eyes on me. Constantly, wherever I’m not looking there are eyes, staring, comparing, seeing all the ways I’ve changed. I notice that I’m sitting less straight than usual, slumping my shoulders to hide the noticeable bumps on my chest. My own voice echoes in my ears.

I’ll have tits by Christmas.

I wonder what they’re thinking as they’re looking at me and my throat constricts. I shouldn’t care! It shouldn’t matter to me yet still I want to crawl into myself. And I know that they don’t know how I feel about all of this. But what good does that knowledge do me when it feels like my thoughts are out in the open, swirling around my head in screaming voices?

Suddenly, I want to go back to hating myself. Because wouldn’t that be so much easier? They expect me to! I’m supposed to not like this! It would be an entirely different story then, having feminine eyes, a higher voice and developing breasts. Because it wouldn’t really be me and they’d know. But now it is a part of me in a way, maybe not just temporary, and they can see it. I feel naked.

And then, in a moment of natural silence after we’ve sat and chatted in the living room so long that it’s started to get dark outside, Pascal looks up at me and says, “You really have changed a lot, huh? Your voice sounds so different now.” And something inside of me breaks. Suddenly, there’s so little air in the room that I can only take shallow, hasty breaths. I try to just shrug and not say anything because my voice would betray me, all the while the walls are steadily closing in on me. I’m claustrophobic in this room, in my clothes, in my own skin. There’s nowhere to hide. They aren’t meant to see me when I’m not even ready to be me!

I only make it another minute before I get up. I think Stella reprimanded him for possibly triggering me and I think the whole room is still tense with fearful anticipation. But I can’t get myself to care. Their voices are blurred together like watercolours with way too much water. My eyes sting.

I go up to my room but even as I climb the stairs, the first tear pulls loose. I close the door to my room behind me and sit on my bed. I don’t know what to do with myself. I want some sort of outlet but what is there to do? I want to get out of my clothes and change into something that’ll make me feel better but what will? Men’s clothes? Women’s clothes? What do I want to be?

I want to be invisible. I want nobody to see me until I know the way I want to be seen and then I want to be just that.

But that’s not how it works.

My shoulders are tense. My hands are stemmed into my knees and balled into fists so tightly they shiver. I never just sit on my bed but I can’t lie right now.

I want to not think. I want to be invisible even to myself.

I want to call Kim but it’s the day before Christmas. She’ll have more than enough to worry about already.

There’s a knock at the door. When I don’t say anything for several seconds, the door slowly inches open. Mum pokes her head into my room. “Wells? Can I come in?”

I stay silent. My face is wet with tears and still I’m scared of speaking because my voice would shiver. Or because of the way it sounds. Like I’m turning into a girl.

Pain flares in her eyes and she comes in, carefully closing the door behind her. Like she’s worried she might frighten me. Then she sits on the bed next to me. Gently, her hand rubs my back but she’s too smart to make shushing noises as well.

“Do you think there’s anything I can do to help?” she asks then, in a low and tender voice.

I just shrug. There’s nothing I can do but focus on not falling apart.

“I’m so sorry I can’t be of more help,” she whispers. “I wish I knew more about how it feels or how to deal with it. I wish I could swap places with you.”

My diaphragm spasms but I don’t make a sound. I want to tell her that it’s not about that, or at least that I think that it isn’t but my words have left me. And so I just sit there in silence and my chest convulses in noiseless sobs. Mum pulls me into her until she’s hugging me and my tears are absorbed by her T-shirt.

SeptemberMorgan

I do love myself a little misery :)
Does this need a trigger warning? I feel like there are a lot worse scenes in this story...
As always, please tell me what you think and have a nice week!