Sylvia slowly opened her eyes, the gentle shaking of her arm waking her up from a nap she hadn’t intended to take. Dakota stood beside her, hand still laying on her arm as she watched Sylvia slowly rejoin the waking world.

 

“How long was I asleep?” Sylvia signed, words still too much effort in her opinion.

 

“A couple of hours. It’s almost two.”

 

“I’m sorry for falling asleep.”

 

Dakota rubbed Sylvia’s arm as she spoke. “It’s fine, honey, really. I figured that you just wore yourself out and needed to recharge. If you’re feeling up to eating, I’ve got some goulash reheating on the stove.”

 

“I could eat.”

 

Dakota nodded at her and pulled her arm back as she spoke. “Alright, I’ll dish it up and have it on the table for you.” She shot Sylvia a smile as she turned and walked out of the bedroom as Sylvia slowly sat up. She yawned as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, reacquainting herself with the world. She walked through the small hallway that separated the kitchen from the bathroom and bedroom to find Dakota sitting at the table, already crumbling saltines into her bowl. 

 

“Yours is sitting in front of your chair and I put the hot sauce next to it. Although I don’t know how you can stomach this stuff straight, let alone with added heat.”

 

Sylvia sat before shrugging and signing “I like spicy food.”

 

“I know you do, dear. I just don’t understand it.”

 

Sylvia pulled her chair closer to the table before adding several dashes of hot sauce and digging into her goulash.

 

They ate for a couple of minutes in relative silence, the only sounds being the occasional scrape of a spoon on one of the ceramic bowls and Dakota’s quiet suffering from eating a food that was still too hot for her palette even with the crumbled in crackers. In between alternating water to try to cool her mouth and coughing from the spice, Dakota spoke up. 

 

“So, ahem oh lord this stuff is strong, are you feeling any better Sylvia?”

 

“Yeah, a little bit.”

 

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Seriously, how are you eating this stuff without a drink? It’s killing me.”

 

Sylvia ate another spoonful and shrugged before quietly answering. “It’s not really that hot to me. I’ve eaten a lot hotter.”

 

“I’m dating a crazy woman. But it is nice to hear your voice again.”

 

“It’s nice to have it back. You’re not mad at me for losing my voice when I did, are you?”

 

“No, absolutely not. I promise you, I’m never going to be mad for you for having a flare-up.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Honey, you don’t have to thank me for not being mad at you because of a medical condition you were born with. It’s just basic decency.”

 

“It might be basic decency, but it’s not common decency in my experience.”

 

Dakota sighed before continuing. “I know, but I promise I’ll never treat you like that. Now, please, finish eating. You need the energy.” Sylvia nodded before they both continued eating, the conversation continuing after only about a minute.

 

“I… I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

 

“Oh?” responded Dakota, happy for any excuse to take a break from the Slavic assault on her mouth that was still sitting in her bowl.

 

“I think I might stop wearing a purse. I’m really not crazy about how I look with one and it kinda makes me, um, not feel great. Honestly, I guess the closest word would be dysphoric, but not like the same dysphoria as like my facial hair? If that makes any sense at all.”

 

“Is it like a weaker dysphoria or is it just a completely different, but comparable, feeling?”

 

“I guess a bit of both. It’s like - I don’t know, it’s hard to put it into words. It’s like how I feel in a skirt. Like I’m not comfortable in the slightest, but I feel like I should be and I need to be so I feel awful that I’m not. I mean, I guess that is what dysphoria is?”

 

Dakota nodded. “I certainly wouldn’t call it a bad definition of dysphoria. Especially when talking about performing gender, like you are.”

 

Sylvia brought her head to rest in her left hand, her right hand fidgeting with the end of the spoon that sat in the now empty bowl. “I guess that is dysphoria then. Look at me, a trans woman who gets dysphoric over acting like a woman. I’m a walking contradiction.” 

 

Dakota sighed at Sylvia’s seemingly endless ability to turn everything into fuel for self hatred. “Hon, you’re not getting dysphoric at acting like a woman. You’re getting dysphoric at acting overly feminine. You don’t have to be feminine at all to be a woman. You could be, oh gee I don’t know, butch for example?”

 

Sylvia laughed at Dakota and brought her hand away from her face to rest on the table as she leaned back in her chair. “Look, I know my memory isn't the best in the world, but I do remember what we talked about this morning dear. I just…” She exhaled a shaky breath before continuing. “I just can’t even think of myself as someone who that label could even apply to. It’s just not computing.”

 

“Why not though? How is it different from any other part of your identity?”

 

“Well, uh, you can find stories and articles and comics about trans women who happen to be lesbians and who happen to be ace, but you don’t see anything about butch trans women. I know, logically, I can’t be the only one with a distaste for feminine stuff, but there’s safety in being like I’m expected to be. On top of that, knowing that I feel that way about feminine stuff is a completely different thing from giving those feelings a name, because a name gives them power and influence and acknowledgement. And I know I’m weak for it, but I just can’t deal with acknowledging them more than I am by even having this conversation at this moment to be honest.”

 

Dakota grabbed Sylvia’s left hand and gave it a comforting squeeze as she spoke. “Babe, you know what I’m going to say about that. You can’t just bottle up and repress your feelings. I know you know this, so I don’t know why you continually insist on trying it. All it does is hurt you and I hate seeing you hurt.”

 

“I know, but I just can’t at this moment. Look, lets just do small steps huh? I wanna stop wearing my purse, so I need a wallet that I can just fit in my pocket. I am gonna go through my box of old men’s clothes and hope that my old wallet is still in the back pocket of one of my jeans.”

 

“I thought you already got rid of all of your old clothes. I remember you donating that huge box of stuff.”

 

“That was just the stuff that doesn’t fit me anymore since I lost all of that weight when I got back into working out. I couldn’t exactly bring myself to get rid of the rest, so I just boxed it up and threw it onto the floor of my half of the closet. I mean, those were my good jeans and button-ups you know? I liked them, even on that old terrible body. I know it’s stupid, but I just didn’t want to donate them.”

 

“It’s not stupid. Look, why don’t you wash the dishes real quick while I put up the rest of this hellfire you call food that’s still sitting in the pot and then we’ll go through the clothes together. Maybe you can even do a little modeling for me, huh?”

 

Sylvia nodded. “I’d like that a lot. Thank you.”

 

Dakota stood up and kissed Sylvia on the head as she started walking towards the stove. “No need to thank me.”