Moonlit Waters

 

Rain is pattering against my window. What little light the clouds let through is bleak and dimmed even further by the constant downpour.

With a grunt, I turn around to face the wall beside my bed. At least the weather matches my mood.
I feel lethargic. I didn’t sleep much throughout the night, but I’m not tired. For what must be hours now, I’m trying to stop thinking, so I can stop seeing his face in my head, or remembering the sound of his voice. Or the feel of his stubble against my lips.

I press my eyes shut as hard as I can, trying to force the memory away. But it doesn’t go away.

Selena left in the early hours of morning and since then it has only gotten worse. Tears have stopped coming a long time ago, but my face still feels swollen and my skin is sore from wiping them.

I get up and turn on my computer, open the League client and stare at my friend list for a long while. Alex is online, currently in-game.

He’s playing so he won’t have to think.

I hover my cursor over his name, left-click and click on spectate.

He’s playing Xayah, one of his favourite champions. But he’s not doing well. Two kills, six deaths and four assists. And it’s only the twentieth minute.

He ends up losing only five minutes later. His team engages in a promising team fight and he fails to see the enemy assassin in the flank position. If he’d seen him, I know he could have carried the fight, but as it is, he dies, all of his team dies and the opponents end the game.

When I return to the client – three minutes after Alex, due to the spectator’s delay – he’s there waiting for me.

GragasIsBae: Hey, long time no see :)

GragasIsBae: I’m still not fully recovered, but we could duo, if you wanna

Timothy: I spectated your game just now

GragasIsBae: Oh

GragasIsBae: So you don’t want to risk your rank?

GragasIsBae: Understandable.

GragasIsBae: We could play normals instead?

Timothy: Or we could meet up with Isa and Pearl and play Mario Kart all day.

Timothy: With the weather outside, I’m sure both of them must be bored to death.

Do I want Pearl or Isa to be around when I’m feeling like this? No.

But with how both of us are feeling, it would turn out worse if it was only Alex and I. Alex would certainly realise that I’m not doing well either, and that would raise questions – or at least make him feel bad for having problems of his own.

The other two might be able to distract him from that and who knows, maybe they’ll even distract us from the events of the past days altogether.

GragasIsBae: Sure, yeah, we could do that

GragasIsBae: Gotta warn you tho, I don’t have a lot of energy rn

I text Isa and she agrees gladly.

Pearl is downstairs, sitting at the kitchen table, colouring a mandala when I walk in.

She looks up with a smile, but the smile loses its lightness the moment she sees my face.

Wordlessly, she gets up, pads closer and hugs me around the waist.

I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t at least make me feel a little better.

“Are you sad again?” she asks, her voice muffled by my shirt.

I shrug and pat her little head.

“A little maybe? But I was hoping you could change that.”

She looks up at me with an eager zest for action. “Tell me!”

A small smile moves the corners of my mouth. It feels a little weird.

“Well, Isa and I are going to Alex’s and we still need a fourth to play Mario Kart.”

Her beaming smile forces the corners of my mouth even further up and spreads a feeling of warmth in my chest. “Yes, I would like to come.”

-

She waits patiently until I’ve eaten my breakfast, then the two of us put on our raincoats and shoes, and step out into the rain.

I’m really tense. My steps are small, not because I want Pearl to keep pace, but because I’m afraid of getting my jeans wet. I have both hands hidden in my pocket and walk with my head down, just to make sure.

I know a little wetness won’t change me. I have, after all, been cleaning myself with nothing but a washing cloth for several days now. But with this downpour, I don’t want to take any chances.

“Don’t you think the rain’s beautiful?” Pearl asks, dancing and twirling beside me. She hasn’t put on her hood and now her hair is hanging in wet strands as the water pours down her face. “You should put back your hood, Timmy, I’m sure it’d make you feel better.” She giggles as she loses her balance and stumbles into a puddle. “Ooops.”

And suddenly, I’m grinning and I stop and say, “Pearl?”

“Hm?” She looks back with an innocent smile, in no apparent hurry to leave the puddle. Her shoes must be absolutely soaked by now.

“Don’t ever change, okay?”

I feel like her smile grows a little more serious, but that might only be my imagination.

“If that’s what makes you happy, okay.”

Alex lets us in so quickly that I suspect he waited close to the door.

“You look better,” I say as Pearl hugs him, getting his frontside thoroughly wet. I’m lying, though.

God, he looks awful. His hair is a mess and his eyes look like he hasn’t slept in days, which isn’t even that improbable.

But I’m here to help him get better, so I ignore the fact that his shoulders keep slouching and that his smile doesn’t even come close to reaching his eyes.

He gives Pearl a towel and a change of clothes that are way too big on her, but only make her look all the more cute. The sweater is like a dress, only that her body completely disappears in it. She also puts on his joggers, pulling the cords so far out they dangle at her knees.

She didn’t hike up the legs, so she has to walk really carefully.

Once she has settled down on the carpet in front of the TV in Alex’s room it does look pretty comfortable, though. Like she’s wearing a huge, grey blanket.

Both Alex and I can’t help but laugh when we see her emerge from the bathroom, and for a moment, everything’s alright again. But the moment passes and by the time Isa arrives and I open the door for her, she doesn’t have to ask how yesterday went.

Her face falls, she hugs me and I whisper, “You were right,”

and she replies, “I’m so sorry.”

We don’t talk about it anymore after that. There’s nothing to add to it and she’s considerate enough not to ask for the details.

When we arrive upstairs, she can’t help but going, “Awwww,” as Pearl waves at her, her sleeve flapping around wildly.

“I heard you two are a thing now,” Alex says awkwardly as Isa hugs him hello.

My stomach drops. Isa and I haven’t told anybody that we decided to put our relationship on hold for the time being. But when she throws me a questioning look over his shoulder, I give the tiniest of nods and she says, “Yeah. Thanks to you, I heard.”

To make it short, the day doesn’t do much to lift my overall mood, but it is a good distraction.

We spend several hours playing match after match of Mario Kart. Of course, Alex and I don’t play our best, and after maybe an hour even Isa sometimes gets ahead of us. Pearl, of course, takes great pleasure in absolutely destroying us.

Later, Alex’s parents bring us food and snacks and we watch two action movies that certainly aren’t age-appropriate for my little sister. She loves it.

And then we say our goodbyes and walk home through the rain.

-

When I wake up the next morning, I feel even worse.

It’s this feeling that you usually only get when you’re really sick, when your skin feels just uncomfortable and somehow disgusting. My shoulders are tense and my head aches. But I don’t have a fever, I’m not coughing and my nose isn’t running.

Pearl is meeting up with one of her friends today. She asked me whether she could leave and I said yes, confused because she usually went to our parents for permission. I realised only half an hour later that it hadn’t been about that at all.

Because Alex is busy today and Isa is on a trip with her parents, I spend most of the day playing League.

And yes, I absolutely suck. It’s miserable. I don’t eat anything for lunch.

I survive the day simply due to the knowledge that soon, there won’t be any temptation. How would you be tempted to do something you don’t have the ability to do in the first place?

Isa texts me around the afternoon that she’s back and I don’t even wait until the game has ended before getting up.

I’ve never been one to rage-quit or go afk, but right now I simply don’t care.

I close the game, turn off my computer get up, and leave.

Isa waits on the porch of the youth hostel. There’s a roof there and from the bench she’s sitting on, she can see the lake’s surface ripple under the impact of thousands of droplets.

I sit down next to her and put back the hood of my jacket.

At least, with the sound of rain and nobody out here with us, we can talk freely.

“Do you think the rain would be enough to change you?” Isa asks after a while.

I shrug. “Haven’t tried it.”

Another pause ensues.

“You don’t look like you’re doing too well.”

I nod. It must be pretty hard to overlook that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The glance she gives me is cautious. She leans forward, her elbows propped onto her knees.

Again, I shrug. “I just hope it’ll get better once the comet leaves.”

She furrows her brow. “Yeah, about that. Are you sure you won’t be able to change into Selena once the comet has left?”

Am I? Yes. But how? “I just know. Don’t you sometimes have these feelings about your body, like that you’re going to be sick the next day? It’s a bit like that. Once the comet has left, I know that I won’t be able to change anymore.”

“Are you feeling worse today than yesterday?”

This time it’s me who furrows their brow. “… Yes? Do I look that bad?”

“Well, yes, but that’s not how I got the idea.” She turns her head to face me. There’s worry in her eyes. “Do you want to hear my theory?”

I nod. By now I know how observant she can be. So, although I myself have no clue what she could’ve figured out this time around, I do want to hear it.

“I think,” she begins, choosing her words carefully, “that if Selena should leave, the whole situation with Alex might improve. But you won’t be feeling much better.”

I give her a confused look. “But why?”

“Haven’t you been wondering why you feel so different, when you’re Selena? You’re so much more lively, you laugh more, you have an easier time talking about yourself… It’s almost like you’re a different person entirely.”

I have thought about that. “That’s probably because Selena has a different brain, right? I think it’s just wired differently, so she has an easier time being happy. Or mine is too damaged or something.”

The look she gives me is uncomfortable, almost pained. “Don’t you think it’s possible that you were happier in her body, because you felt more… at home?”

More at home? “What do you mean by that?” I give her another confused look. Clearly, she’s trying to make me get what she’s referring to without having to say it. But I don’t get it!

With a small sigh, she breaks eye contact, looks at the lake and readjusts her posture.

When she looks back at me, there’s determined calmness in her eyes. “Do you know what the term transgender means?”

Well, that certainly does the job of breaking the news to me.

For a few seconds, I just stare at her, then I laugh, for lack of any better way to react.

“Yes,” I say then, still unsure what feelings my mimic should express. “But I don’t identify as a woman. In fact, I never thought about it before the comet came. I simply feel better in the body I got without having asked for, because it is more beautiful and the brain works differently. That’s a totally different story.”

Isa raises both her hands, trying to conciliate me. “I know this might be strange, but think about it. Please. Doesn’t it make sense?”

“No it doesn’t,” I shoot back heatedly. “I’ve told you before, I don’t like myself. But that doesn’t mean that I’ll just run away from the person I am. That’s simply not an option. I am not a coward!”

The pain in her eyes intensifies and is joined by a hint of desperation. “I never said you were a coward. And I never said you were trans either, okay? All I’m doing is asking you to consider the option. Please. It might save you a lot of pain.”

I shake my head. “This is stupid. I’ve got bigger problems right now. Aren’t you supposed to help me get through until the comet is gone?”

Tears glitter in her eyes. “But I am trying to help you! Why can’t you-”

“NO!” I interrupt her. “No! You’re not! Why can’t you accept just once that you’re wrong? You come here with all these preconceived ideas that because I live in a small rural town I must be transphobic and therefore never admit to myself that I might be trans? What is wrong with you? I’m not scared of being trans, I’m just simply not!” I get up. “And if you can’t accept that, I’m out!”

A single tear has pulled loose from the corner of her eye, but I ignore it.

With an angry huff, I turn around, put up my hood and stomp off into the rain.

-

So many pieces missing. Most are tiny, but their absence leaves the picture in shambles.

So many pieces missing for my face to become Selena’s.

It’s been several hours since the fight with Isa. It’s gone dark and I’ve calmed down.

Now, I’m standing in the bathroom. I just finished brushing my teeth and now I’ve found myself staring at the face in the mirror. Timothy’s face. Timothy’s imperfect face.

So many tiny pieces missing.

My nose shouldn’t have that beak, it should be a little smaller. My jaw shouldn’t have that angle. My lips shouldn't be dry and cracked. My eyebrows are too thick. My eyes are missing that lively intensity.

Selena doesn’t have stubbles. That I can do something about.

Decidedly, I pick up the shaver, spread just enough shaving foam over my face and get to work.

But removing the hair doesn’t make me feel better. It doesn’t bring life to my eyes.

I can feel my shoulders go tense as a light shiver runs through them.

My legs.

I swallow down the knot in my throat, step into the shower and get to work.

I shave all of my legs, leaving only my pubes, because I’m trying really hard not to look at my ugly, imperfect privates. I end up cutting myself several times, especially on the knees, and when I wash off last traces of foam the hot water burns on my skin.

Having smooth legs feels a little better. But only on the surface level.

Life hasn’t come.

So I leave the bathroom, shut the door to my room behind me, and open the closet.

There, in the very back. Wrapped in a towel so nobody can possibly find it on accident, are the clothes Isa and I bought. The beautiful clothes Isa and Selena bought.

Solemnly, I put the bundle on my bed and open it. With tender fingers, I pick up the dress and hold it against my body. Then I undress myself to my boxers and pull the dress over my head.

But the mirror against the wall doesn’t show Selena. It shows a lanky boy with shaven legs, who’s wearing a dress. And still, there is no life in his eyes.

I don’t cry. Not a single tear leaves my eyes when I lie down on my bed and curl up in a ball. But that doesn’t mean I’m feeling good.

The opposite is the case.

I feel sick. I feel empty. I feel ugly and imperfect. I feel lifeless.

Could Isa have been right? Can running away make me happy?

I didn’t plan on falling asleep in the dress. I only meant to lie down a little, until nausea left me. But it doesn’t and soon enough, I’m asleep.