-Chapter 9: Unavoidable Reality-

The chirping of my alarm woke me around 6:30 in the morning. Today was Monday. The sun was up, albeit behind a layer of clouds, the birds were singing, and the civilized world was gradually coming to life to start another week. Sitting up and resting on the edge of my bed, I yawned, stretching out my arms and legs. As I stood up, I suddenly noticed that I had been smiling as I got out of bed. When was the last time I'd woken up for work with a smile on my face? Had I ever even done that before? Oh well. I dismissed the thought, idly checking my phone. The weather app warned that an early monsoon storm would be rolling in this evening. I hoped Anna would be okay on the road, and, as if on cue, my phone buzzed, the notification displaying a new message from her. She'd sent me a 'good morning' text and said that she was just leaving. I returned her 'good morning' and wished her a safe trip, before setting my phone back down and heading to the bathroom.

I let muscle memory carry me through the start of the process: brush teeth, take pills, use toilet, get in shower. I had gotten up a bit earlier than I would have before, since shaving my legs, washing my longer hair, and putting on my makeup would take a bit of extra time James had never needed. More work, maybe, but definitely worth the effort. Those steps weren't baked into my subconscious yet, but they'd get there eventually. So I washed, and shaved, and scrubbed, and rinsed, drying off and wrapping a towel around my hair. Stepping up to the vanity, I got ready to put my makeup on. I was a bit nervous doing it sans my dutiful instructor, but I'd manage. Following the steps we'd gone through yesterday, I took my time to make sure I didn't make any mistakes. Everything went smoothly; even the eyeliner, much to my pleasant surprise. I had only done it one time before, but I was already getting used to it, just like Anna said I would.

It felt weird to put on the same uniform I'd worn before, albeit now in a smaller size and more feminine cut. The aprons we wore were one size, so that didn't need replacing at least. Before it had only stopped about mid-way down my thighs, but now it reached to the tops of my knees. Everything looked more or less the same, but the name badge that said "James" would have to go. The last thing I had to do was fix my hair. Returning to the bathroom, I removed my towel and ran a brush over my still slightly damp locks, carefully adjusting my bangs, and, with that finished, I hung up the towel and gave my reflection one last look-over.

I glanced at myself for a while. A bit too long, in fact, as I eventually noticed how intently I'd been staring at my reflection. Realizing how weird I was being, and with no one around to see, I stuck my tongue out jokingly at the mirror, and watched the me on the other side reciprocate. Seeing my own silly expression made me laugh. It's good to laugh at yourself sometimes, you know? I couldn't help but smile as I watched myself. It was still so hard for me to believe. I actually liked my body. I was actually happy and comfortable in my own skin. It was wonderful and uplifting. Once again, I felt joyful. And I felt… something else. A strange sense of deja vu. But that didn't make any sense. I'd never been in this situation before, obviously; I'd only been a woman for two days. So why did this feel somehow familiar?

I searched my memories, trying to dig into the deepest recesses of my mind searching for an explanation. I thought and thought but couldn't come up with any answer, until, suddenly, I remembered. It was a dream. I had dreamt something like this before. I'd tried to put the memory out of my mind, hoping to just forget it had ever happened, but I remembered;

I must have been 17 or 18 at the time. I know I was still in high school when it happened. I couldn't remember how the dream started, but I know I was in a locker room. I was on a sports team (which was weird since I'd never played sports,) and my teammates had all finished dressing out before me. I remember going to leave with them when I stopped at a sink to rinse off my hands. As I did, I glanced at the mirror, and when I saw my reflection, something clicked. The dream suddenly became lucid, and I was aware of myself. I was looking at a girl. I knew I was James Fuller, a boy, but the person in the mirror was a girl. I was that girl. I suddenly became aware of my body. I could feel the differences in my physiology, as if I was actually awake and I really was that girl. I took stock of those differences, and, for some reason, I liked the way I felt. 

And I looked at my reflection, and stared at the cute girl in the mirror's face. I studied her features, and smiled, watching her do the same. She was so pretty, and adorable, and she was me, and it felt amazing. So, I made faces to see what I would look like. I grinned. I pouted. I scowled. I glared. I bared my teeth. I smirked. I stuck my tongue out. And, after realizing how silly I looked making all those expressions, I started to laugh at myself. And I saw the girl in the mirror laugh, and she was cute, and that only made me laugh more. It was like magic. I'd never known I could feel this way. I'd never known my own face could make me happy and make me laugh. I felt so alive. And everything felt real, like I was actually there. I was aware I was dreaming, but it was real.

After a moment, one of my teammates called out to me, telling me to hurry up. She didn't call for "James," but she used a name my female self identified with. I yelled back that I was coming, and took one last glance at my reflection, smiling contently, before I stepped away from the mirror and walked outside, into the bright afternoon sun. 

Then, it was over. I woke up. The dream had felt so real, so genuine, that before I had fully regained consciousness, I believed it had actually happened. But, gradually, reality set in. I was in my bed. I was a teenage boy named James. Just like I had always been. And my chest hurt. Why? Why did I have that dream? Why had it made me so happy? Where did it come from? I couldn't understand, but, the more I thought about it, the worse I felt. So I told myself to forget. To banish that dream from my mind and never think about it again. I wouldn't let myself remember it. Eventually, I got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. It was only then, when I looked at the mirror; when I saw my actual reflection, that I noticed there were tears running down my face.

And, now, however many years later, I was standing in the same bathroom, looking at the same mirror, and seeing a woman.

"Why…?" I whispered, gingerly touching my cheek to make sure I was truly awake.

"Why did I have that dream back then…?"

I still couldn't understand. Why had that happened? Why had that dream made me so emotional? Why did I want so badly to forget it? None of it made sense. I couldn't find any explanation. I felt like I was on the cusp of a realization, and it made me… scared. I was afraid. I didn't know why, or what I was afraid of, but I was afraid all the same. Not just afraid… terrified. It was like there was a hand clenching my heart; a loaded gun pressed against the back of my head. Just thinking about everything was working me into a panic. I didn't even know why, but I felt like if I kept going; kept thinking about this, I was going to have a nervous breakdown. I clenched my teeth, inhaling sharply and blinking the still forming tears out of my eyes. 

"What is wrong with me…?"

I shook my head to snap myself out of it. I had to get to work. I had wasted too much time and was worried I might be running late. Whatever this existential crisis was, it would have to wait. Still a bit shaken, I put on my shoes, grabbed my keys, phone, and a granola bar, and left the house. I drove with the windows down and the radio on, hoping the cool breeze would refresh me, and the background noise would keep me from thinking. 

Banishing all thoughts of my earlier episode from my mind as best I could, I parked my car and somewhat nervously made my way into the coffee shop. There were only a couple customers there, and the usual crew was manning their stations. Lisa was the first to notice me, exclaiming in a voice quiet enough to not disturb the cafe's patrons;

"Holy shit, James! Is that actually you?!"

She had never been the most subtle person. I shyly rubbed the back of my neck;

"Well, it's Sophie now, but yup, it's me…!"

"You look… I mean, wow!"

I blushed and scratched my cheek.

"Haha… thanks! It's been a weird couple days, that's for sure."

"Are you sure you're okay to work today? I don't want you doing this if you're not ready."

"I think I'll be alright. I'm gonna need a new nametag, though. I'd rather not have to explain my situation to every customer I serve, you know?"

"Yeah, I can get you a new one in a couple days. Just do without one for now. That should work right?" she asked, and I nodded in agreement. "Just let me know if you're not feeling up to task, okay? There's no pressure, seriously."

"I will! And thank you."

And so I went to work, going through the usual chores; washing mugs, cleaning tables and filling the occasional order. Courtney, reserved as ever, just looked at me in disbelief for a while, before quietly telling me I looked pretty, which I thanked her for. Isaiah jabbed at me, giving me shit for leaving him as the only guy working there, and I just laughed, unsure what to say. Some customers came and went, and I helped brew and mix their drinks. Everything was routine for a while, but business was still slow, and that was a problem. The quiet and lack of engaging tasks let my mind wander, and those questions I'd been putting off started to creep back into my consciousness. What the hell had that dream I'd had as a teenager been about, and why was it such a sore spot for me? Why did I feel like this? Why was being a woman so much less challenging for me to accept than I had thought it would be?

I was starting to get anxious, my mind pulled to other places. The answer to those questions was becoming more clear, but I couldn't accept it. I couldn't believe it. It wasn't possible. And those thoughts made me uncomfortable. It was too much for me to process, and it was beginning to show in my work. I almost dropped a couple mugs I'd been cleaning, I kept bumping into chairs and tables, and I found myself blankly staring out the window over and over. By about a quarter past 10:00, Lisa had obviously taken notice, and she pulled me into the office in the back. I was nervous I was about to get chewed out when she called me in, but her tone was more concerned than harsh;

"Look, James- I mean Sophie; it's clear you've got a lot on your mind. I have no idea what you're going through, but I know it's a lot to handle. I'd like you to go home for today, alright?"

I shook my head nervously;

"N-no, I'm sorry! I'll pull myself together!"

She sighed, dropping the professional attitude;

"Dude, you don't need to apologize. I'm not mad at you or anything. I'm just worried about you, and I want you to take some time off. At least the next week. We can touch base next Monday and see how you're doing."

"I'll be alright, really! Besides, I don't want you guys to have to pick up my slack."

"Sophie, I'm not asking. You're not in trouble or anything like that, okay? So just take the time off. And, since I'm making you go home, it wouldn't be right for me to make you use your sick time. I'll be giving you sick pay while you're out."

"Lisa, are you sure? I don't want to be a burden or anything."

"Sure, I'm sure. I don't want you here if you're not at your best, and you need to take some time to recuperate. Besides, the summer crowd hasn't gotten here yet, so it's not like we're understaffed right now or anything. We'll be fine, and if we're really in a bind, I'll give you a call."

I nodded, setting my pride aside;

"Alright, if you're sure. And, thank you, Lisa. I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it! Now get outta' here! And when you come back, I'll have a new name badge for you."

I thanked her again before finally leaving. With nothing else to do and a sudden surplus of free time, I drove myself back home. Setting my stuff down and hanging up my apron, I figured I might as well slip into something more comfortable. I wanted to look somewhat presentable for my facetime call with my mom, so I resisted the urge to put my pajamas back on. Taking off my work clothes, I changed into a white sleeveless blouse and a black pleated skirt. I hadn't worn one outside of the changing room, but, damn, I really liked wearing that skirt. It was so light and breezy, and I loved the way the soft material of the hem gently swept across my thighs. But, enough about that, I needed to have that talk with my mom. I texted her saying I'd gotten off work early and asking if she was free now. It would have been around 1:30-2:00 in the afternoon for her, and she said she had just finished lunch, and that she could get on Zoom in just a minute.

So, with a nervous sigh, I sat myself in front of the desktop, booting it up and putting a pair of earbuds in. I was feeling really anxious about the call. How would she respond? Would she be okay? Would she freak out? Would she accept me as a woman? I knew she said she loved me, but I couldn't help but worry. But, I'd get the answers to those questions in just a minute. So, I started a Zoom call with her and waited, staring at my image in the webcam window. And I waited. And waited. And waited. In reality, it was definitely less than five minutes, but to me, it felt like an hour. The relentless ticking of the analog clock on the wall drummed incessantly in my ears while my stomach did cartwheels like it was in a gymnastics competition. Then, she picked up. I saw her face on the screen. She looked around for a second, adjusting some settings, I assumed. She saw me, and looked uncertain. I was the first to speak;

"Hi, mom…"

She stared for a moment, looking on in disbelief, before she finally answered;

"James…? Is that really you…?"

"I guess it's Sophie now," I answered, smiling shyly. "But yeah… it's me."

She gave a hesitant smile,

"Sophie, huh? That was always my favorite name for you when we didn't know if you were gonna be a boy or girl."

"I remembered," I responded. "I'm glad you like it…!"

"Yeah…" she said, pausing for a moment. She looked at me briefly before offering another half-hearted smile, "It's funny; I can still see your same features when I look at you. You've still got your father's nose and hair, and you've still got my eyes and cheeks…"

"That's good…!" I replied, unsure what to say.

Sensing my discomfort, she began apologizing;

"I'm sorry! That was probably a weird thing to say…"

"No, it's okay, mom! It's… a lot to take in, isn't it?"

"Sure," she responded, "but I should be thinking about your feelings, not my own."

I shook my head;

"No, it's alright. I wanna know how you feel." 

There was a brief pause, neither of us quite sure what to say. My mom asked what she'd been meaning to ask;

"The most important thing right now is you. I can't imagine what you've had to deal with these last few days. How have you been holding up?"

I realized I'd heard a lot of 'I don't know what you're going through,'-s the last couple days, but I put that aside.

"Honestly, it's been a lot easier than I would've thought. The hospital handled all the legal stuff, as far as I'm aware, and Anna's helped me with basically everything else. She's really been helping me adjust. She took me shopping, and helped me with my makeup, and- sorry, is it weird that I'm talking to you about makeup right now?"

"Honey, it's fine. Back to Anna; I didn't know she was in town. You said you had something to tell me about her?"

"Yeah, that's right! Anna's gonna be going to grad school here, so she's moving back to Tacoma."

"That's good to hear! She was always such a good friend to you."

"Yeah, you're right," I said, smiling sheepishly. "Honestly, she's been such a lifesaver these last few days. She was with me pretty much from the moment it happened till last night. I have no idea how I can ever repay her for everything she's done."

"I'm sure she's not worried about any of that. She probably helped you because she wanted to."

"Yeah, she said as much, heh…" I laughed, shyly rubbing the back of my neck.

There was a brief lull in the conversation before I asked the question I'd been meaning to ask;

"What about you, mom? How have you and dad been handling this?"

She let out a sigh. Not one of frustration or anger, just exhaustion.

"I won't lie… it's been hard for us. This just came up out of nowhere, and we've been really worried about you. And I feel bad for being so caught up in my own feelings about your SIS, when you're the one who has to live with it. I want to help you, truly, but I don't know how…"

"Mom, it's okay!" I said, shaking my head. "I really am doing alright, surprisingly, and I know this is a lot for you guys. Like you said you don't know what I'm going through, but I don't know what you guys are going through, either. I'm worried about you, too. But, I just want you to know, I… I think I'm gonna be okay. Really."

"That's really wonderful to hear…!" she answered. I could tell she was genuinely happy, but a moment later, she sighed again; "It just… it feels like I've lost my son…"

That hit me. I'd known my situation would cause my parents pain, and that confirmed it. In a way, I almost felt guilty, as weird as that sounds. Like I was hurting them. But, this wasn't my choice. It wasn't my fault that I was a woman, and I had no reason to blame myself.

My mom paused for a moment before shaking her head.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that!"

"No, it's alright. I'll admit… It does hurt to hear those words, but I don't blame you for feeling that way either. But, no matter what, I'm still me. I might look different, and dress differently, and act differently, but I'm still the same person. At least… that's how I feel. And, even if it's not as your son, I want to make you guys proud. I want to be the best daughter I can be!"

"I know, James- er, Sophie… It's just a lot to take in all at once. I think I just need some time to adjust… that's all."

It wasn't just adjusting. It was grieving. She needed to grieve the loss of her son. Of the hopes she'd had for him to be a husband or a father. I could be a wife or a mother, but those hopes hadn't formed in her yet. James had left a void, and Sophie didn't perfectly fit it. I didn't understand what that felt like for her, but I knew she'd push through it. My mom wasn't a quitter, and I know she was trying. At this point, that was all I could ask for.

"I know…" I replied after a pause. "And I want you to take as long as you need. It's okay."

"Thank you…" she said, donning a bittersweet smile. "And, I want you to know; I am proud of you. You've been incredibly brave and strong, and I'm so happy you're adjusting to everything so well. Your father's proud of you too."

"How's he been handling this?"

"Your father's had a… harder time coming to terms with everything… You know how he can be. But he's getting there, and I know he wants to support you in his own way."

"Yeah, that sounds right…"

I wasn't surprised. My dad had always been something of a "man's man." Not really a chest thumping dude-bro, but he seemed to chase a version of the 'masculine ideal.' Apparently, he'd been a bit of a misogynist when he was younger; a 'men belong at work and women belong in the home,' type. But my mother had zero patience for that kind of talk, and he loved her enough to outgrow it. Still, he clung to a pretty traditional idea of masculinity, and it was clear he'd wanted his son to grow into a real manly man. He was always trying to get me to do "guy stuff." He tried to get me to join the football team, to work on cars with him, to watch sports, to take up carpentry, to study engineering in college, you name it. And, every time he'd try to get me into something new, I'd mix with it like oil and water. He could see when I was uncomfortable, and he never forced me to do anything he knew made me unhappy. But, I could tell he was always a bit disappointed every time I failed to fit that masculine image he loved. So, yeah, the idea of his son becoming a woman must have hit him hard. The man he wanted me to be was gone. That had been his dream for me, and it was all but unreachable now.

"But, he really is trying! He wants to be there for you, but he doesn't know what to say yet."

"I know, mom," I said, reassuringly. "I know he can be stubborn, but he's always been supportive of me, even though I… I wasn't the man he wanted me to be."

"He doesn't think of it like that. He's proud of you for being yourself, and when he sees how you've been doing, I know he'll be even prouder. We both love you, honey, very much. And we always will."

"Thanks, mom," I said, smiling warmly. "I love you guys, too. Thank you for everything!"

We talked for a little while after. We talked about my plans going forward, and I told her about the last couple days in greater detail. I told her about spending time with Anna, and how she was doing. I asked her about work, and she said the story she was working on would air soon, and that she would be coming home for a while in a couple weeks time, which was great to hear. It was nice, just getting to talk to her. 

As we got ready to say our goodbyes, she stopped for a moment;

"Sophie…?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

She paused briefly, her expression thoughtful before she said;

"I just want you to know, I think you're a beautiful young woman, and I know you're going to lead a healthy, fulfilling life."

Those words reached me. In the past, she'd called me handsome plenty of times, and while I was always grateful for the compliment, I never really felt anything. Yet, for some reason, being called beautiful got through. I felt proud and happy. Even though it was my mom, and parents often praise their children, it moved me in a way her compliments hadn't before.

"Thank you!" I said, talking through the lump I suddenly felt in my throat. "I can't even tell you how much that means to me!"

She smiled a gentle, reassuring, motherly smile;

"I love you, Sophie."

"I love you too, mom!"

And, with that, we said our goodbyes and ended the call. I sat there for a minute, and processed all the different things I was feeling. I was relieved; our talk had gone well, and while they were having some difficulties, my parents were gonna be okay. I was happy; her words at the end really did lift my spirits. I was hopeful; I really was gonna make this whole 'living as a woman' thing work. Shit, I wasn't just going to make it work; I was going to thrive. And, there was something else;

Why did being called beautiful make me so happy? Why did I have that dream when I was a teenager? Why did I always play as girls in video games? Why did I like my appearance so much now? Why had I always felt so uncomfortable with myself ever since I was a teenager? Why was becoming a woman so easy for me to accept? These questions I'd tried to avoid were front and center in my mind. There was an answer. They were all pointing in one, singular direction, at one singular thought. And that thought was one I didn't think I would ever have. It scared me. I didn't want to accept it. I didn't even want to acknowledge it. But what else could it be? What other possible explanation could there be than the one thing I was so utterly terrified of thinking. That thought- that inescapable feeling couldn't be ignored. But I wasn't certain yet; I had to know for sure.

I was nervous. Anxious. I was staring down something I'd been afraid of for a long time. Something I'd been so afraid of, I hadn't even realized I was afraid of it. Something I'd buried in the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind, hoping to never, ever think of again. It felt like some eldritch, lovecraftian truth that, if acknowledged, would destroy my very being. In a way, that's not even an exaggeration.

I took a deep breath, held it in my lungs, and let it out. Then I did it again. And again. I was terrified, but I calmed myself. It was going to be okay. I was going to figure this out. I was going to get through this, and get on with my life. I stood up and went to the kitchen. I wanted to calm my nerves, and I figured some tea could help. I stuck a mug of water in the microwave, took it out once it was heated, and dropped a tea bag in, placing a saucer over top and seating myself at the counter while I waited for it to mix and cool. Despite my anxiety, my mind was perfectly clear. I felt calm, in a strange way. My contradictory emotions were unsettling in a sense, but weirdly comforting. Something was ending. Something was beginning. Nothing was changing. Everything was changing. In those moments, I felt like a bundle of contradictions, and I had no choice but to accept that.

After a few minutes, I took my tea and seated myself back in front of the computer. I turned to the internet to find my answers. I wanted to put my doubts to rest. Finally. For good.