See Yourself Be Yourself

[49] Thresholds

“You two should go on your date tomorrow,” Lillis said from the backseat, her thoughtful mumble brightening into a lilting cheer.

Valerie almost looked back, then wobbled her head and kept her focus on the highway. Misty turned to ask, “Tomorrow?”

Overcoming a quick sniffle, Lillis continued, “Yeah! It’ll be sooo cute. The two of you. But you both need to dress up. We can touch up your nails. And we have to find something pretty for Val. Or handsome. Whatever’s comfiest, Valipop. And Mist-aroni, I have a cute necklace you need to try on. So pretty. Yeah, gotta do it. Mom’s orders… Better Aunt's orders, if you prefer. Okidoolieday?”

At the red light, Valerie and Misty shared a quick, concerned glance. Softly, Misty ventured, “…Lillis, umm…”

“Elisa is right, Liz is a better way to say my name. Itsa posed to be a nickname, but Lillian is easier to get out. And Elle ender lender islander. Shaw…like shawwwww. Who gave me that name? … I miss Lucy. Always so busy. Mmmhmm… I gotta a nap… sorry. Have fun.”

It took a little while for them to hear snores from the back, meek ones overwhelmed by the sound of the engine.

“Is she okay…?” Misty adjusted in her seat so the heater’s light touch spread over more of her legs.

“I don’t think any of us would ever know, one way or another. I can easily imagine her handling a severed hand with calm precision, staying three steps ahead in triage, arranging transport, and not involving a friend in such matters.”

Misty giggled, bright and clear, but tempered so she didn’t wake Lillis. “She doesn’t take any medication that could explain this, either as a side effect or from missing a dose?” Valerie gave a careful little head shake.

"This has happened before,” Valerie said. “She gets burned out. Stressed. Scared. Terrified. She’ll be more herself by tomorrow. Or at least more like the Lillis she usually presents."

Her phrasing hit Misty, tugging at the lingering sting of what the Administrator taunted her with. Despite the heat from the vent, Misty shivered before asking, “Concerned about her?”

Valerie let a small, unfocused smile of quiet ambiance drift across her face. “I’m concerned about so many things all the time, bouncing around in my head. Lillis is one. All I can do is trust her when she tells me she’s fine and keep my fear private.”

Misty adjusted her position in the seat, searching for confidence and comfort. "Don’t hold on to fear. And guilt. And suffering. Please. You can talk to me. You don’t have to carry it alone. You were so sad recently, but you truly smiled and laughed. I want you to have more of that.”

Valerie merged onto the freeway, dipping into a wide crevice lined with yellow warning lights along the half-finished edges of construction. Traffic clotted into a red sea of brake lights, then slowly cleared.

“I know. I want more of that too. And I wanna share it with you. The problem is I often feel afraid of so much. It locks me up. It used to be worse. I used to hide behind the characters I wrote. Tara was my bounding, unbridled cheer. Another character was my maternal hopes and playful flamboyance with the supernatural. My wish for this. My hope for that. Dreams given personality. It’s so hard to care about the character that is myself.”

A light whimper escaped Misty as she wanted to share beautiful words, words that might carry Valerie out of this moment and into a better one. “I…I love you.”

Valerie lifted her head slightly, still focused on the road, but a quiet calm surrounded her. “I love you too, Misty-moo.” They shared a friendly laugh, still reserved out of respect for their drowsy, delirious friend.

“I will always remember your promise of shared spoons to the moon,” Valerie said. “You don’t have to flood me with all of your heart. I will be sad. It comes and goes like the tides. And I’m afraid sometimes. Not even rationally. Just… viscerally.”

The road carved through a small mountain, crumpled layers of color rising beside them in tall walls, a blanket of ages frozen in a permanent ruffle. Misty listened and watched Valerie, the occasional stark lamp by the road drawing amber strips across their faces in the night.

“I am afraid that Lillis might change. That she might suddenly become someone else. Become twisted into something dark, cold, even cruel. And worse, I’m afraid the same thing might happen to me. And those I love.”

Carefully, Misty reached over to lay her hand on Valerie’s back. She didn’t brush across the hoodie, just let her palm rest there as quiet support.

With a sniffle, Valerie picked up her thought. “I know. It sounds ridiculous. But then I think about how delicate the human brain really is. One stray cosmic particle from deep space could hit exactly the wrong spot. Change the wrong cells, just right. Shatter part of the frontal lobe. Like that man who survived a metal spike through his skull, Phineas Gage, and came out a completely different, terrible person. Not by choice. Just by damage.”

Misty found words carefully. “Your aunt?”

“There is a family history of dementia. I don’t know why that aunt was like that, is like that, sometimes. And sometimes she can be the sweetest person you can imagine. Other times, she wants me to suffer and die. My great-grandmother in hospice had bad moments where she screamed that someone already came to visit her and that we were trying to trick her by doubling up her meds. She would fight and gnash and bite and scream. Especially at the end, she became like a different person. I was spooked when they talked about all that on the podcast I like.”

Valerie gave a quick gloss of the topic: a supernatural speculation that spirits lingered in a between state and, when human bodies were at their most vulnerable, could sneak in and use them for their own devices. She reiterated that she wasn’t sure it was true, but it still kindled fear.

"Like there's something waiting out there... in the shadows. Some creature, some force, might just... latch on, feeding, waiting for a moment of weakness. Like it could turn your ugliest thoughts into something real. Something overpowering. That's scary."

Her thoughts continued, rolling like a bundle of cobwebs gaining dark density.

“And the boutique, they’ve opened the door to other universes. What if a version of Lillis from somewhere else sneaks in? Waits until mine is asleep. Takes her place. Pretends for a while. Acts close enough. Then reveals something monstrous underneath. That’s the version of what you saw tonight that I’m scared of. Not being loopy and cute, but that actually being a cover for something cruel. That’s an old fear at this point. What they did to that little girl Nell, and all the other things they could do to any of us, are far worse.”

Tears appeared at the sides of Valerie’s eyes. She struggled to wipe them away quickly without distracting her view of the dark highway. Misty watched the traffic for her, but the truck followed its line. It didn’t wander, and the cars around them had given plenty of space. It was almost as though they were alone in the night.

Steadying and composing herself, Valerie softly said, “That’s what I’m scared of. Losing who I am. And losing those I care about…”

It was practically torturous that Misty couldn't take Valerie into her arms and lavish her with comforting kisses, kind words, and all the beautiful touches she deserved, because she had to drive. The best she could manage was to wear hope and joy in her wide, calm eyes. Valerie saw it, even though she couldn’t linger on it. The sniffles returned.

“But I also feel so happy…” Her voice broke, like puberty hitting her from all directions and possibilities. “It’s the silly things too. Lillis sleeping back there so calmly, with trust. They say if you really love someone, it’s so easy to sleep knowing they’re there. And last night it was so easy to fall asleep sharing the couch with you.”

“Let’s do that again. That’s our date,” Misty said, without gathering enough breath to fully say it.

Valerie still understood her meaning, but she held onto a frown. "Sleep as a date?"

"Well, eventually. Relax together on the couch. Your couch. Or whatever couch works. Watch a movie you like. Sketch together. Music. Whatever you like, just that calm happiness together. That would be better than any interesting place to eat. Just sharing it with you."

This time, the truck wiggled out of its line, but Valerie quickly corrected it. "Oh. But..."

"I just wanna spend time with you. No matter what."

The bright, flustered flush returned to her cheeks with sudden heat as all the words Valerie could have said fled her mind. Got her again. Another critical hit, as Lillis characterized it between giggles.

To punctuate the strike, Misty let her hand rest against Valerie, then traced down to her leg. A soft touch of comfort, not so much it became distracting. Still, the redness in Valerie’s cheeks deepened.

She could do more. But not right now.

They listened to scraps of music and the smallest slice of the podcast Valerie had referenced so many times. Neither was as bombastic or bold as Misty expected. Instead came quiet, cute, flowing melodies, and Australian-tinged ruminations on books, reports, and obscure articles of questionable authenticity, all delivered with candid humor and curiosity. Some points were clearly misunderstandings outside the hosts’ experience, but a few still raised Misty’s eyebrows.

Through it all, Misty didn’t let go of her yearning, her desire for closeness. It had to stay limited to scooting nearer and occasionally overlapping hands. The insistence remained. Valerie felt it, even while she kept her focus on the drive. They were close, even while they couldn’t get any closer.

Most remarkable was how flustered and affected Valerie was by her presence. Misty never imagined she could do anything like this. It wasn’t just her body or her voice, that tussle of learned inflection and physical differences. Her voice was different because she felt different.

Not a voice built to command armies or raise an empire like her characters in the game during their first not-yet-date. Not the timid, uncertain wanderings of Brent. Something else. Something new. Something all hers to share with Valerie, to comfort and embrace her the way she deserved.

The drive flew past and still felt excruciatingly long, while rough silhouettes of sandstone crags stood as the only real witness to their reserved affection.

Misty closed her eyes a few times, her mind holding Valerie’s image to keep her company. They repeated “I love you” almost in sync, then laughed softly after.

And no dancing around it, she was horny. The physical requirements Dina gave this rewrite of her reality included an altered libido. It hadn’t made much difference, even though Dina often dangled sexual rewards. Transactional, shallow, and often painful. One way or the other. This was a fire that warmed her heart and kindled her soul.

She wanted to show every tender touch she could imagine to Valerie. She wanted her to feel protected, wrapped up in everything she could give. Comfortable and close, laughing and smiling, silly and serene. She wanted to know what made both of them feel good, for the first time and forever.

Such a pretty way to say such naughty thoughts.

The imaginings were enough to pass the time and give her rumbling ripples that ached to burst loose. Crossing her legs did nothing but remind her of the intimately striking clock. She played a private lifetime of quiet possibilities until they were finally back in their area.

Lillis woke right at the tail end of their journey and leaned forward in her seat.

“Sorry. That was… weird. But timing-wise, Wednesday should be open for both of you, I’m assuming. Dawn will want to take care of hosting matters this weekend. And I do have a necklace, if Misty is interested. Yeah.”

Misty shared a look with Lillis. Her face wasn’t as flushed as when she broke out in laughter, but it still had unexpected color, both bright and bleached somehow.

She couldn’t remember ever wearing a necklace, so the idea both excited and concerned her. Would it hang low enough to accentuate cleavage if she decided to show that off? How would it feel? How low should she go? Her head swam with possibilities.

“Oops. I haven’t been watching the tank. We only have like a dozen miles before it’s empty. I’ll fill it up.” Valerie glanced down at the dash, eyebrows raised.

Holding back a yawn, Lillis leaned against the door and nodded in the dim road light as they took the nearest offramp. “I’ll pay you back when we get home.”

It was a small thing, but Misty appreciated Lillis saying “home” instead of “my apartment.”

“I’ll try to find somewhere that isn’t over five dollars a gallon.” Valerie watched the intersection and made a slow turn to the right.

Silence softly expanded around them until Lillis cleared her throat and said, behind a slight giggle, “I should hope so. If you find somewhere that’s charging five dollars a gallon and it isn’t a joke, that’s on you.”

Valerie didn't immediately answer, still going through the motions of her turn. Then it hit moments later.

“Oh! Haha. Yeah, oh wow. Where did that come from? I think we saw nine cents a gallon the other day.”

Misty reminded her of the game Dawn and Tracy played at Raleigh’s, the car-battles apocalypse one.

“Oh yeah, that’s it…” Valerie accepted swiftly. “What kind of hellscape would it be if it took more than $80 to fill up this truck?” Light, stray chuckles filled the cabin, but no one had anything else to add.

The best subscription gas spots weren’t worth the extra drive, so they filled up at a regular place nearby.

Misty lingered near Valerie as she pumped. Out here, even though no one of consequence was watching, her resolve still wavered. She remembered ruthlessly flirty couples back in high school, girls bumping boys like eager, barely contained pogo sticks. What she felt wasn’t for an audience. It wasn’t performative. It was just for Valerie. So she gripped her free hand, ignored the wafting gasoline fumes, and wished the tired grime of another day didn’t cling so close.

The certainty she shared felt like loose sand on the beach, pressed without enough water. Her body still pinged for closeness, but her mind drifted like a ship far from shore, doubting any lighthouse would bother to guide her.

Valerie turned and kissed her.

Misty’s heart stumbled, then pounded when it was over. Valerie’s promise. She would remember. She would bring water to the foundation, make it hold. A castle they could share.

She could cry, but that would be such a stupid thing to do over something sweet. Valerie wouldn’t understand. She’d just assume she’d done something wrong. Misty held firm in her quiet resolve. Later. Just wait a few more minutes.

Walking around the station, she felt both exposed and invisible, like a public blinking sign that said things she didn’t want to say. Worse, things she feared she was saying without meaning to. And then, somewhere under all that noise, an entire world of things she wanted to say, clearer and truer.

Being a girl now was a biological truth: uncomfortable, relaxing, frustrating, and friendly. The social truth hit the same notes anything always did: forgotten, studied, hidden, judged. Outside and within.

An absolute mess. But she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Staying at Val’s tonight?” Lillis’s voice came from behind her and didn’t feel like a question at all.

She was in such a state of fraying tightness that even hearing those words almost made her break. Her eyes sparked as she answered, restrained but flowing. “I will. I want to. If she’s cool with that… and you don’t mind either.”

The heartbeat-tempest of doubt spun her up as soon as she’d said it, leaving the words hanging, fearfully imperfect.

“Why would I mind?… Have fun.” Lillis offered a simple shrug and stepped into the market.

Misty would’ve joined her, just to break the aching dryness on her lips with a soda, even after that rejuvenating kiss, but instead she swiveled and thought too much about her breathing.

“I love you. I don’t have much to offer, and we’ll probably have to work together to troubleshoot the restroom and shower if you stay the night. But you’re welcome with me. Chaos, clutter, and all.”

She could kiss her again. She would kiss her again. She could do it right here without a care. And she did. Their hands kept trying to participate, urgent and clumsy beside what their lips already knew.

The shutoff click at the pump interrupted them for a moment when Valerie broke off to reset the nozzle. They leaned into each other with courteous wobbles and faint laughter. Just saying “I love you” again felt like it would reduce the power of those words.

What she wanted instead ran through her mind in a rush.

I want to live in you. I want to hear you ramble about everything on your mind. I want to play games that you like. Let’s split a blanket. Let’s share a dream. Let’s go clean. Walk together with me. Hold my hands so they don’t fly away. Help me make some pizza.

All of those words, and so many more, were things Misty wished with all her heart would never go cold.

Lillis returned with three sodas, slipping one toward Valerie, then pressing one into Misty’s hand and keeping the last for herself. Misty’s first sip made her lips feel both better and on fire. They enjoyed the drinks in quiet for several minutes before Lillis took the wheel for the rest of the drive, with Misty and Valerie sitting snug together in the back.

Back home, Lillis found a perfect parking spot, even on such a busy Tuesday night.

Once they climbed out of the truck, Misty’s radiant nerves lit up again. Walking together felt nice, but Valerie and Misty both looked ready to trip over each other’s feet if they weren’t careful.

They waved to Lillis, who ambled home with her standard, reserved disposition. Inside, Valerie’s apartment was less chaotic than Misty remembered, especially around the couch. Misty helped clear and settle more space for them. Guilt fanned across Valerie’s features as she took in the truth of her apartment. Misty eased back into cheerful comfort.

Tears framed the sides of Valerie’s face as she weakly chewed at her lip and wiggled her mouth. When she spoke, she sounded as if she were covering every opening that could make noise, afraid she might be too loud. Misty reached up, drew her to the couch, and proposed the wildest idea.

"Let's be loud."

Valerie flinched. She had neighbors and not the thickest walls. Her apartment sat in the crook of the complex, and she knew the place upstairs was empty. The neighbors on the left and right were still a problem. Even so, Valerie didn't completely reject the idea.

Valerie roamed the apartment with a few cautious steps around the lightly cleared space. After a slow survey, she judged the hallway next to the bathroom was far enough from any listeners that it shouldn’t be a problem. Bounding off, Misty soon returned with a bag of potato chips she’d noticed the other day and a glass of water.

Chuckling to herself, Valerie noted she had eaten noisily since everything with her aunt. Still, she took the offer and crunched down hard. Sloppiness didn’t come easily to her. Every motion stayed gradual and restrained, her teeth moving in cautious grinding more than enthusiastic chewing. Little by little, the tension relaxed. It didn’t get much louder. She wasn’t making noise with any overzealous intent. She settled into the snack and sipped deeply from the water.

“AAA… AAAAHAHAHA WOOOO HNNGGAAAHA RNNBGGGAAA ARROOOOOOO AROOOOOO HAHA!” The start of her yell faltered with fear before she launched into it again. Soon she was howling as though she meant to challenge the coyotes that roamed the desert.

Misty matched her with a rough-at-first, exuberant rooster crow, like something pulled from Peter Pan. Comical whale noises and other animals followed until they both had to clear their throats with water. After a few cycles, they flopped onto the couch and snuggled close.

Gently, they found each other’s eyes, crinkled by their smiles. No need to restrain what came next.

Their hands shared a single mind, flowing, caressing, seeking warmth and comfort. Misty surprised herself with how small Valerie’s shoulder felt when she looped an arm around it. Their chests pressed close, a ticklish spark that didn’t deter them. Valerie undulated beside her, seeking and imploring to be held closer.

The hoodie came off first, then Misty’s jacket. Misty loved the radiant rainbow pattern on Valerie’s undershirt. They didn’t stop there.

They still bumped and had to reposition between breaths and kisses. Misty marveled at how much love she could share. Not a transaction. Not a performance. Not an empty gesture. A needy cascade of bounding appreciation. They both wanted the other to feel so good it turned into an awkward tangle of limbs and love.

Lower down, Misty loved that Valerie wore pink underpants and a soft gray bra with white edging. Her own secrets didn’t feel quite so exotic, but Valerie delighted in them. Further still, Misty’s fingers found the place she’d so wished to commune with in the truck. Her fingers folded and curved like shaping tissue paper origami.

Despite their screaming session, Valerie still stifled a small, intimate squeak. Misty persisted, her touch wrapped in quivering warmth as she searched for the right notes. The world was at her fingertips, and she wanted to be the flower that bloomed within.

On a whim, Misty shifted her touch, miming a more masculine shape as she gently molded the pliable flesh. The realization of what she was doing made Valerie squirm, then break with a loud, blissful gasp. She crested with that first wave, grabbing Misty’s back like she was the only thing left on the open sea.

It was just the beginning of their night. Valerie had to return the favor.

Later, after a quick shower that became longer, some laughter, and a few silly YouTube videos, they rested on the couch, pressed together, neither caring whose clothes they wore. They brushed each other’s hair, scratching the little spots that hurt or ached.

“I’m really fucked up, aren’t I?” Valerie pressed her head against the cushion and sipped her water.

Misty waited for her to continue, not pressing with a question or even a soft noise.

“I feel so guilty about everything.” Valerie stared at nothing for a beat. “I’m scared everyone might turn on me for the smallest thing. A bad joke. A moment of accidental sincerity. A melody that doesn’t sound right.”

She swallowed. “I know. Old trauma. Protecting myself.”

Valerie’s fingers worked the edge of the cup. “Earlier today, I was looking at the group chat for the company, and the way Dawn phrased something turned into fearful fuel for my imagination. That she hated me. She doesn’t. I know that. But I always worry.”

Another sip. “I know Lillis is determined I’ll be the president of this thing. That I’ll be responsible for the company. But I can’t even figure out who I am some days. Whether I want to have boobs and be seen as a girl, or be stronger than I am. Be like a man. Be resilient."

Her eyes flicked toward Misty, soft and raw. “But I like your touch. I like holding you while you hold me. I’m so happy, right here. And it doesn’t matter if I know anything else, as long as I can love you.”

Misty wanted to redouble the sentiment of those words for Valerie, to imbue them with some greater mystical power. All she could offer was her own truth.

"I have no idea either. I thought I was a guy. Just a normal guy. But I was punished for that, emotionally before existentially. By my mother and my complicit father before landing in the lap of a horrible person who magnified the worst of it. I don't know how to be a woman. But I want to be your girlfriend, your best friend, and your reassurance that you don't have to apologize for existing. With all my heart. I love you, Valerie H Weber. All of you. No matter what parts of you you're still figuring out."

All Valerie could offer in response were incoherent squeaks, wobbly whimpers, and urgent snuggles. More than enough.

Hours slipped by as they talked about whatever came to mind, from the most random video game, to a Thanksgiving dish from years ago, to the best shampoo for fair hair like Misty’s.

By happenstance, they drifted into first memories. For Misty, there were vast empty years that only surfaced with precise associations. Something about birthday parties reminded her of spending a day with the only friend who came to Brent’s sixth birthday. The kind of friendship that feels permanent until elementary school ends.

Her first tangible memory was walking through a hallway at around three years old and seeing some war conflict on the television. Her parents told her it was very important to remember. Now she could only guess which one it had been, by timing and elimination.

Valerie took a few moments with her recollection before speaking.

“There’s this whole thing people say, that when they’re near death they see a tunnel of light and feel comforted and warm. My very first memory is a white place, but cold. It doesn’t feel comforting. It feels like a prison. There’s this falling sensation. People angry and screaming and, typical for me, when I think about it I just feel guilty. Like I’m the one responsible for everyone being angry and upset.

“Of course I asked if there was anything noteworthy about the day I was born, but Mom and Dad just say it was boring. Nothing exciting. I was born healthy, without complications. So it’s probably a confabulated memory. Or a mistake. I don’t know. But it’s so vivid and foundational that I can’t shake it.

“Not the most enjoyable first memory, but it at least makes for an interesting anecdote.”

She had a couple. Sitting up to share one more, Valerie found her head a little wobbly. Not hungry or thirsty, she blamed tiredness, or maybe shower water messing with the little ear crystals in her head.

“Or I’m simply lovestruck,” she added with a grin.

Misty fussed over her anyway, arranging the pillows so Valerie could sprawl comfortably on the couch, with Misty close by.

Valerie indulged in a few long blinks, then remembered the other story.

“Sometimes,” Valerie said, “I remember stuff that hasn’t happened yet. Sounds cooler than it is. Mostly, I just mix up my assumptions.”

She shifted her weight on the couch. “I was going to ask this nice math teacher about her baby shower, but I couldn’t remember when she said she was pregnant. Then she announced it, and I felt weird because I was sure she’d already told everyone. But I was mistaken.”

Valerie’s grin faded into something smaller. “I felt comfortable with you because I thought we’d already met. And I kind of knew you were going to get a splinter the other day at Raleigh’s.”

She shrugged. “Nothing useful. No lottery numbers. No big secrets. No resolution for your blue and gold mystery. Nothing for the boutique, either.”

Misty noticed Valerie glance away, as though something important hid in the remaining clutter and chaos across the room. Her eyes returned, above a careful smile.

It was presumptuous for Misty to think she could read Valerie after only a few days. Still, something flickered there. Nervous. Evasive. Insisting they move on.

She remembered Valerie's intense sorrow during the traffic jam on the way to Raleigh’s. Homeward Bound. Simon and Garfunkel. Except Valerie had softly sung her own version. That felt important, even though Misty didn’t want to bring it up.

Nor did she want to touch the moment with the Administrator, when she was sure Valerie moved.

What did it mean?

Nothing, Lillis would tell her, cool-headed. Valerie’s habit of losing track of what happened and what didn’t was just her mind running ahead: possibilities, predictions, expectations, fears. A normal girl. A normal person. Lonely. Introspective.

The nightmare was just a nightmare, packed with her fears. Fear that Valerie might be next. Might vanish with no one to remember her, not even Misty.

And the song was just a song, full of Valerie’s fear that the nice older man they’d met might have been hurt. That night, or some other night.

Valerie shifted her head against the pillow and announced the wobbles had cleared. She didn’t try anything adventurous. She just leaned against Misty’s shoulder, barely any pressure, clinging to a quiet smile of contentment.

They didn’t have to say anything else. If either of them fell asleep, it would be fine.

But Valerie chose to wrap the night with a consoling promise for what lay ahead.

“Whenever your girl junk wakes up,” Valerie said, “I want you to know I’ve got a care pack made just for you. Heating pad. And whatever else you’ll need.”

The future. Her fate. Coming for her, ready or not.