“What do I wear?” I said to myself.  Do I go fancy, like a nice dress, or keep it simple, like jeans and a blouse.  Gah!   Karen sat down on the edge of her bed, and sighed.  I know an outfit sends a message, but dammit, it’s a language I haven’t learned yet.  What message do I want to send?

 

                I thought about it for a while.  While Malcolm was very handsome, and we did seem to bond this afternoon, I really didn’t know much about him.  I wasn’t on the prowl – hell, I wouldn’t even know how to prowl as a pretty young lady at the moment!  I thought.  And more importantly, what would Eddie think?  I know we weren’t exactly dating – but he likes me, and I like him, and we’ve been friends for years.  I think tonight should just be about talking and getting to know each other with Mal and I.  Until I sort things out with Eddie, and know where we are, I don’t see anything happening between Mal and I.

 

                Oddly enough, rationalizing that out made me feel relieved.  I didn’t have to worry about it anymore.  I decided to just pick out something nice that I wanted to wear, and not worry about any mixed messages.  That’s for Malcolm to sort out.  I looked through the clothes I had brought with me, and found a grey and white wool sweater dress that looked really nice – with some leggings it would be perfect.  The gentleman I got the sweater dress from had good taste – it was made from Marino wool!  I got dressed, and put on some fancy winter boots – which had a small heel that I would have to get used to.  They were more for fashion than practicality, but they looked good – and were rather comfortable, which I gathered didn’t happen too often.  I liked those boots!  I kind of felt they made my legs look a bit longer.  Is that a thing? I wondered. 

 

                I checked the time – damn!  6 o-clock already?  I had killed almost two hours waffling about what to wear.  I couldn’t believe it.    I had better feed my kitty before I head out, I thought.  I went to the kitchen, and looked through the tins of cat food I had brought.  “Hey, Pepsi!  Tonight is Turkey Guts!  Woohoo!”  ‘Turkey guts’ – or more specifically Turkey and Giblets dinner – was one of Pepsi’s favorite flavors.  When I opened the can, my little girl came running, and started headbutting my legs and rubbing against me. 

 

                “Careful, Pepsi!  I don’t want to accidentally step on you!”  I said, struggling to not hurt my kitty.

 

                “Mrow!”  Pepsi moved away, and sat down, watching me.

 

                “Oh right.  You understand me now.  Here you go, Pepsi.  I hope you like it!”  I put the food down, and she raced over to the bowl, and started eating – keeping an eye out for the clumsy human mom in the room.  I smiled, and carefully left the room.  Time for this human to get dinner.

 

                Dinner was rather sparsely occupied – it looked like Cliff, Krissie and Ellie had decided to eat out during their trip to the mall, and Kumar seemed absent too.  Maybe he went home to visit his wife and kids?  That would be the obvious answer.  In the cafeteria I could see Jimmy and Emile, Michael and Rain, Ben, Malcolm – and Jessica, who was still sitting off by herself.  Let her, I thought.  Good riddance.  I grabbed some food, and went to sit with Malcolm.  I couldn’t help but notice 6 pairs of eyes watching me, and it was a bit disconcerting to hear their hearts beat faster when I entered the room.  Apparently I made an impression.

 

                As I approached, he stood, and smiled.  “You look amazing, Karen.”  He was wearing some slacks, and a white button down shirt with a red tie – it looked dramatic and kind of sexy.  He was wearing cologne, and it just confirmed my worries that he intended this to be a date.

 

                “You look great too, Mal.”  I replied.  “Any idea where we’re going after dinner?”

 

                “I had thought we could go to a place called Jason’s – it’s a pub, with food if we get hungry, plus live bands on Friday and Saturday.  There’s dancing, if that’s your thing, and it’s supposed to have good drinks if we just sit and talk.  To be honest, I don’t have a lot of preconceived notions about how tonight is going to go.”

 

                I smiled.  Well, that’s a relief!  “Okay, Mal.  If they have food there, maybe we should eat light, and order something while we’re out?”

 

                “Good idea, Karen.”  He replied.  His plate didn’t have much on it – a few chicken fingers and some fries, with a dab of plum sauce.  My plate had a garden salad (with extra simulated bacon bits) and grilled cheese sandwich, with a dab of ketchup. 

 

                As we picked at our food, I was again struck with how damn handsome Mal was – and I could tell he was checking me out too.  It was a bit of a weird feeling – not many people had checked my out, especially when I was Kevin.  I realized I kind of liked the attention and the affirmation that I was attractive as a woman.  It felt good.  I wondered if Eddie looked at me like that.

 

                Soon, dinner was done, and we tossed our trays in the receptacles.  “So what now, Mal?”  I asked.

 

                “Well, I wasn’t sure how long it would take you put your face on, so I figured  8 o-clock for heading out.”

 

                “Put my face on?”  I asked.

 

                “Oh, crud…  My wife used to call putting makeup on ‘putting her face on’.  Sorry.”  His sad wry smirk made melt a bit. 

 

                “Um…  I don’t have any makeup, Mal.  I haven’t been like this long enough to have any.”

 

                Now he looked chagrined.  “Damn, I’m batting 0 for 2 tonight, then aren’t I.  Sorry, Karen.  I didn’t mean to imply you needed it – I just assumed.”

 

                I smiled – it was hard to see him look that way, and I wanted to cheer him up.  “It’s okay.  It’s not a problem that I used to be a guy?”

 

                “Not really.  The way I understood it was that you were always a girl, but your body didn’t match your brain, right?  Well, now it does.  That’s what the scientists say, isn’t it?  That transgender brains are the gender they identify as?”

 

                Oh my god, he gets it!  Awesome!  I smiled what felt like a mile wide.  “You’re absolutely right, Mal.  And thank you!”

 

                “No worries, Ma’am.”  He replied politely.  “Back in the 1950’s we respected science and what the doctors claimed.  Not like the anti-vaxxers or people who think the earth is flipping flat!  I mean we went to space, and saw the planet was a globe.  How much more proof do you need?” 

 

                “True.”  I grinned at Mal’s rant.  I could relate quite a bit to his point of view.  “We could go out now, instead of waiting, if you like.”

 

                “Sure.  I’ll call us a Taxi.  If I can figure out this electronic phone Jimmy told me I needed.”

 

                “If you need help, I can show you.”  I offered.

 

                “Thanks, but I’d like to figure it out.  I know I’m an old fogey, but I should be able to figure out how to make a phone call.”  He smiled wryly. 

 

                I smirked.  “Okay.”  I followed him to the foyer of the dorm – he had retrieved a blazer jacket from the cafeteria as we left, and was wearing it for warmth. 

 

                Mal turned on his phone, and futzed with it a few moments, trying to unlock it.  A few moments later, he dialed – and got the cab company.  The cab would be maybe 20 minutes.

 

                “Yay!” I said, smiling and cheering a little.  “You figured it out.”

 

                He smiled ear to ear.  “Yep, I sure did.  That’s me, Mr. Cell Phone.”

 

                I winced, and laughed.  “Please, no.  No Mr. Cell Phone.”

 

                “Okay.” He grinned.  “At least I figured the stupid thing out.”

 

                “True.” I smiled.  “I really liked our flying lessons today.”

 

                “I liked them too,” Mal began.  “Although I was a bit worried when you jumped so darn high.”

 

                “You were worried?!  I thought I was going to make an impact crater!”

 

                We both laughed, and I realized I was already having a good time, and we hadn’t even got to the bar he had picked.  Huh?

 

                “Thanks for the save, by the way.”  I said.

 

                “No problem at all, Karen.  It was my pleasure.”  He smiled again, and we waited quietly for the cab.

 

 

*              *              *

 

                Jason’s pub was not too far from Humber college, which was nice – we could walk back if we really needed to, although I suppose with flight that rendered the point moot.  It was a nicely appointed pub with a bar, tables, and several televisions showing sports games of various kinds.  One kind of neat thing is that every table had a small private screen, which could be changed to the channel of your choice.  I thought it was cool, anyway.  There was a nice patio to sit outside, now mothballed with winter coming, and we could hear the band in the back playing away.  They sounded pretty good – a group calling itself  “MTB” or “Minx Trio Band” or something like that.  The lead singer/guitarist was a pretty brunette, and the keyboardist was a slender, blond haired man.  The drummer looked kind of wild – like Animal from the Muppet show – literally – and acted as frenetic.  He was crazy, and the music the band was putting out was pretty good – a mix of classic rock from the 1960’s and 1970’s, with a smattering of original songs.  Mal and I went and sat at a table.

 

                “Noisier than I expected.”  Mal said, grimacing.

 

                “It’s okay.  The music is nice.”  I replied.  “Not to your taste?”

 

                “Nah – I guess it’s just I  haven’t been in a bar since I was 65 – which would be… oh god damn. I guess it would be 1982, I think?”  Mal smirked.  “I’m a wee bit out of date.”

 

                I laughed.  “Try not to worry about it.  To be honest, this is the first time I’ve been out on a date or something like it in maybe 15 years.”

 

                “Oh god!  It’s got to be at least that for me too!  I feel old.”  Mal replied.  “Is this a date, or is it something like it?”

 

                I Blushed.  If it weren’t for Eddie, this would for sure be a date, I thought.  “I’m not sure, Mal.  Things have been moving really fast the past few days.  I’d like to start by getting to know you better – and have you get to know me too.”

 

                “That sounds like a great idea, Karen.”  He replied, smiling.

 

                A waitress arrived next to us.  “Hey, guys.  I’m Sandra. Welcome to Jason’s Pub!  Can I get you menus or something to drink?”

 

                “Yes please, Sandra – to both.”  Mal began.  “I’ll have a Bronx Cocktail.”

 

                “…and I’ll have a Caesar, with a pickled bean and a piece of bacon.” Karen finished.

 

                “Um… I’ve never heard of a Bronx Cocktail, sir.  I’ll see if our barman knows it.”  Sandra replied.

 

                “Don’t worry about it, Sandra.  I’ll have a martini with a twist of lime and some orange juice instead, if he doesn’t know it.”

 

                “Okay – thank you, sir.”  She headed off to take our drink orders to the bar.

               

                “Okay,” I began.  “What’s a Bronx Cocktail?”

 

                “Something popular after the war. World War two, I mean.  It was my old standby back in the day.  I think it was 6 parts gin, 3 parts sweet red vermouth, 2 parts dry vermouth, and 3 parts orange juice.  It was something the more irreverent guys in my unit called ‘panty remover’, but I liked the taste and kept the recipe.  God… I haven’t had an alcoholic drink since I went into the damn nursing home.  I hope I’m not a lightweight.”

 

                “Well, I hope I’m not a lightweight in my new body, too.  We’ll make a fine pair if we both show up drunk as skunks.”  I smirked.  “I don’t even know if I can get drunk.”

 

                “Well, I suppose if we stay long enough, both of us will find out!”  Mal smiled too.  “So… Do you want to talk about yourself first, or shall I tell you about me?”

 

                “Why don’t we start with you?”  I suggested.

 

                “Okay, then.  Well, I was born in 1916, and grew up during the first world war.  My mom, Kelly-Anne Driscoll, had me and a sister named Christina to raise, and times were very hard.  Our dad didn’t come home from the war, and my mom remarried when I was about 8 years old.  John was a nice guy – and I eventually learned to call him dad, which I think he really felt grateful for.  I went to trade school and learned to be an electrician, and met a pretty young woman who stole my heart around the time I was 21 years old.  Wendy was her name – short for Gwendolyn, and she was a damn fine woman.  We fell in love at first sight – she was tall, leggy, and topped with a carrot top of red hair, and tons of freckles.  We decided we’d wait until after the war to get married – I didn’t want what happened to me and my mom, to happen to her.  She wrote me letters every week.  I think my grandkids still have some of them.  I still have a few of them too.”

 

                He looked sad, remembering these old times. “The war was brutal – beyond anything we were prepared for.  There was so much violence and death.  I’d rather not talk about that part – but I do have a ton of war stories for another day, I promise.  After the war, I stayed in Europe a while, hunting down Nazi’s that escaped justice, and in 1947, I came home, and Wendy and I married that same year.  I started working as an electrician again, and damn if there wasn’t an entire world to rebuild from scrap.  I had a lot of work, and did pretty well.  Wendy and I had nearly fifty good years together, and we made some pretty darn good kids.  My son, Thomas, and my daughter Sarah, and then later, our grandkids and great grandkids.  Wendy passed away in 1997, from ovarian cancer.  They weren’t that great at treating it back then, I guess.  Since then, I lived in my house as long as I could, and missed her dearly.  A few years later I lost my driver’s license due to being old – my eyesight wasn’t so good anymore.  A few years after that, Thomas and Sarah convinced me to go into the nursing home.  I’ve been there ever since.  I guess I thought I’d die there, too.”

 

                “Wow.”  I replied.  “It sounds like she was the love of your life!” 

 

                “Yeah, I guess she was.  But I know damn well she’d want me to keep living, especially now that I’m young again.  And I know she wouldn’t want me to be alone, if I could help it.  I still miss her, every day – but I know I can’t live in the past.  She’d want me to be happy.”

 

                “I think you’re right, Malcolm.  I’m afraid my story isn’t so happy.”

 

                “I’d still like to hear it.”  He replied.  He sipped his drink – a martini with orange juice – which had arrived sometime mid story.  I had also gotten my Caesar, but had only had a sip of it. 

 

I nibbled a piece of bacon, and nodded.  “Well, I was born in 1970, and my Mom and Dad were okay-ish parents.  I felt neglected and alone a lot – they worked a lot, and were never home.  I found out I was trans about the age of 14, and I told them – and they freaked the hell out.  Sent me to conversion therapy.  Needless to say, it didn’t work.  When I turned 16, I got emancipated, and moved out.  I worked odd jobs, and tried to put myself through college – that didn’t go well.  When I was 20, I met the girl that would become my wife.  Her name was Penelope, and I suppose in the early years we were as much in love as anyone would be.  We dated a while, and eventually got married – and I worked a string of factory jobs that paid peanuts with limited advancement opportunities, while hiding the fact I was trans, and tried to be a man for her, since that was what she wanted.”

 

I shuddered.  “It went bad.  She knew there was something wrong – and I told her.  She told me in no uncertain terms was she ever going to be a lesbian, so I should sort my shit out or leave.  I stayed – god that was the biggest mistake I ever made.  The next few years were tense – and I could tell she was stressed.  She eventually started taking tranquilizers to relax – and then more of them.  She became abusive and violent, and I still stayed.  I loved her, or thought I did.  I guess it’s hard to tell who is right and who is wrong when you’re stuck in an abusive relationship.  I felt like I was always wrong, and I walked on eggshells to keep from getting her angry, so that she wouldn’t pitch a fit and maybe beat the hell out of me.  She wasn’t a fragile flower – she was strong, and I can’t recall how many times she hit me – or how many times I blamed myself for causing her to hit me.  She even raped me twice.  Eventually her drug use became more intense, and she would spend hours a day – sometime whole days – in a drug induced haze.  Eventually she took too many pills, and didn’t wake up.”

 

I took a ragged breath, trying to catch my breath, and control some of the violent emotion that had snuck into my speech as I talked.  “We had 17 years together – and maybe three of them were great.  The rest, I don’t want to relive.  As odd as it may seem, part of me still loves her…  Loves the woman I met at the beginning of our relationship, not the woman she became.  Anyway, after that, I couldn’t afford to stay in our home, without her income helping pay for it, so I moved out, and lived on my own ever since.  I guess that was 11 years ago, now.  I haven’t been with anyone since she died – and not for 10 years prior to that too.  She didn’t like me touching her – and after a while I was glad of it.”

 

I paused and took a drink of my Caesar.  The tomato juice was nice and spicy, and the vodka helped too.  I felt a bit warm, and sipped it again, letting the flavors play across my tongue.  “I left the town we spent the last 17 years in, and moved to Toronto, and did what I could to pay the bills.  Eventually I got a decent job at a telecom company doing technical support for cell phones, and just lived my life.  I made a few friends, and was very frugal with my money.  The day the emergence happened, I had just decided to transition, from male to female, in my workplace.  And then this happened,”  I said, motioning to my new body.  “I don’t know if it’s an act of chance or an act of god, but I got what I always wanted.  I’m still trying to process all that.”

 

“Wow!”  Malcolm exclaimed.  “That sounds really intense.  You sound like you’re a survivor though.  I get the impression if you weren’t, you’d be dead already, wouldn’t you?”

 

“Yeah,” I replied sadly. “Probably.”

 

“Well, I for one, am very glad you’re alive.”  His damn smile was infectious, and I found myself smiling in return, and my mood lifting. 

 

“Sorry for being all negative.  Sometimes It’s hard to dredge up the past.  Thanks for cheering me up.  I’m glad to be alive too.”

 

“Cheers!” he said, raising his glass.  “To outliving what tries to kill you!”

 

“I’ll drink to that,” I said, and raised my glass.

 

 

*              *              *

 

                We talked for several hours, after breaking the ice with our truncated life histories.  Mal used to have a Shelby GT Stingray, but gave it to his son when he lost his driver’s license.  He was a bit bummed out too, because he had to apply for a drivers license all over again, starting with a learners permit, because he hadn’t driven in 20 years.  We shared a few laughs about that, and after a few more drinks, I noticed that neither of us was getting very tipsy.  I chalked it up to my ridiculous fortitude – and I assumed that either he had a similar power, or was somewhat immune to toxins.

 

                We even went dancing for a few songs… It was awesome, and a glorious mess.  He was trying to do the twist, and I was dancing like it was the 1980’s all over again.  We probably looked insane together, but it was hilarious.  I even learned a few dance moves from the 1950’s, courtesy of Malcolm!  We had a good time.  Eventually the night came to a close, and we grabbed a cab home.

 

                As we pulled up to the Humber College dorms, I smiled and handed the cabbie our fare, before Mal could complain.  “You paid for dinner and drinks.”  I said.  “The least I can do is pay for one of the cabs.”

 

                “Alright, Karen.  I suppose that’s fair.  I’m just old fashioned, I guess.”  Mal replied.

 

                “You know, Mal.  I think that’s part of your charm.  You’re all the good things about old school – without the bad things about old school.  I had a great time tonight.”

 

                “I did too, Karen.” 

 

We got out of the cab, and headed towards the dorm – his arm around my waist protectively.  I could easily imagine him holding his wife that way whenever they went out.  It was possessive, in a way – but not badly.  It felt very different to the way I was treated as Kevin, that’s for sure.  I kinda liked it.

 

We went inside, and headed upstairs to the dorms.  “I really did have a good time, Malcolm.” I said, looking into his face.  It kind of surprised me, but in my boots, we were almost the same height, so I was staring right into his baby blues. 

 

“Me too, Karen,”  He said, looking back into my eyes.  “I had the best night out in decades.”

 

I thought back over the last twenty years, and had to agree.  “I did too, Mal.”

 

“Want to do it again, sometime?”  He asked.

 

I… I did.  Mal was fun, smart, and a lot more like me than many of the people on the MRT.  I felt like neither fish nor fowl – for most of the MRT I was too old to relate – and for Mal I was almost too young to relate.  I wondered how Eddie and I would relate, too.  He was literally young enough to be my son.  I didn’t know what to do about any of it, so I just smiled.  “I’d love to, Mal.  Definitely.”

 

Mal nodded, and stood there a moment, like he was unsure of himself, something I gathered didn’t happen too often with him.  “Well, I guess that’s good night, Karen.  I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

“Of course!”  I replied.  “And it was a good night.  Mal?  Can I give you a hug good night?”  After all the emotions I’d been dredging up all night, I felt I could use a hug.

 

“Sure thing.”  He said, and wrapped me in his arms.  He was strong, and sure, and I just let him hold me for a little bit, until the raw hurt of the memories I’d dug up went away a while. 

 

“Thanks, Malcolm.”  I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

 

“You’re very welcome, Karen.  Good night.”

 

“Good night, Mal.” 

 

He waited while I unlocked my door, and went inside; outside the door, I could hear him walk away.  I leaned up against the door, and let out a breath.  Somehow, tonight had turned into a date.  I hadn’t planned on it, but it had happened… and I had enjoyed myself.  I didn’t know what to think.  My thoughts were awhirl with thoughts of Mal and Eddie, and I realized I was both tipsy and tired.  I resolved to deal with my thoughts in the morning, and headed to bed.