Moonlit Waters

I stay by the lake until the sun has risen.

I don’t think. I just sit by the water silently, listen to the sound of chirping as the birds wake, stare at the reflection of shifting branches in the water.

I have stopped crying a few hours ago. The skies did, too.

Everything is so beautiful. Plants around me brim with new-found life, their leafs a deep and radiant shade of green. Mist rises from the ground as the world warms and sunlight cuts through it.

The heatwave has passed, but it’s still summer. It will be warm today. But right now it’s simply nice.

The real world catches up with me when I realise that I will have to return at some point.

Right now, Timothy is missing. He ran outside in the early morning hours and left the front door wide open.

There’s simply no way my parents could have overlooked that.

And then there’s the matter of the coming night.

Once again I feel fear rising up my chest, but I swallow the lump in my throat, even as it’s building. There’s nothing to be done about the inevitable.

I still have a few more hours before I will change back into Timothy.

And until then I’ll have to somehow make myself presentable again.

Clenching my jaw, I get to my feet. My forearms and shins are dotted with bruises, there are several small cuts on my feet. The skirt of the dress is torn in places. Lucky I’m wearing boxers underneath, otherwise everybody would be able to see quite a lot more than I’m comfortable with them seeing. Even so, the prospect of walking into town looking like this, is a mortifying one.

What luck I won’t have to walk into town. The only place I can go for help is the hostel anyway.

And then I remember the way I left Isa yesterday.

Well, fuck.

I’ll have to go and apologize, hoping she’ll forgive me. Because there’s no way in hell I’ll walk through the door at home looking like this.

Wincing, I take the first step. My feet are sore. There’s nothing to protect them from the uneven ground and I know the wounds will open again Well, there’s little to be done about that, either and I’ll have to properly clean them anyway.

It takes me longer than usual to leave the forest. After the panicked sprint only hours ago, and really not that much sleep, I feel exhausted.

After maybe an hour of carefully placing one foot in front of the other, I arrive at the path. This time, I don’t sprint through the thorns, but instead balance over the dead tree.

I have to do a little jump in the middle, but I land safely and manage not to fall off.

The rest of the way is easier. Because there are no leafs covering the path, I see where I’m placing my feet and what places I have to avoid. Soon, my bruised skin meets warm asphalt and I speed up a little.

I’m not sure what I should expect Isa’s reaction to be. I know how badly I treated her yesterday. I should expect her to hate me, shouldn’t I? The prospect makes my stomach queasy. What am I supposed to do without her? Whom can I talk to when everything gets overwhelming me again?
I need her.

Isa is sitting on the same bench we sat on yesterday, when I walk up the street to the hostel. Immediately, she gets up and comes running towards me.

My heart jumps a little, when I see the worry in her eyes.

“Gosh, what happened to you?” she asks, stopping before me, cupping my face in her hands to look at scratches I didn’t realise were there.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice raw. My throat is a little sore.

She halts at the sound of my voice. “Was this… Was it because of me?” she asks then.

“Huh?” I give her a confused look. “No, I-” I look around. “Can we please talk about that inside? I’m sorry I was such an asshole yesterday, but I can’t go home like this. Please.”

She nods hastily. “Yes, of course.”

She takes my right arm and puts it around her shoulders, supporting me with her left arm around my hip. Walking like this is way more comfortable.

With quick steps, she leads me into the hostel and up the narrow staircase. I’m glad to see there are no burns on the walls and the house looks just the way it should, still I find myself throwing glances over my shoulder, making sure it’s not just an illusion.

“Don’t worry,” Isa mutters under her breath. “My parent’s aren’t around. We’ll be fine in our room.”
She must’ve mistaken my jumpiness for paranoia. I don’t correct her, though, and wait until she has closed the old wooden door behind us.

She locks the door, turns the key once, then guides me to one of the bunk beds and sits me down.

Crouching before me, taking one of my hands in both of hers, she meets my eyes and asks, “What happened?”

I look away. “I had a bad dream,” I say meekly.

“About what?” she asks. Her voice is kind and soft. Guiding, not prying.

“Apocalypse?” I’m not sure myself. “Everybody was gone. Houses were burnt down, there were craters everywhere. I ran around looking for anybody, but Alex house was gone and the youth hostel had burned down. And then I went to the lake and found Selena’s dead body.” Just barely, I manage to keep my voice from catching. Intently, I stare at her hands and concentrate on the naked facts, ignoring the attached emotions.

“I woke up and had a total breakdown. I was still wearing this dress because I’d put it on yesterday evening. I didn’t mean to fall asleep in it… And I just ran out and into the forest and to the waterfall. And there I went into the water because… because I was just so scared-” This time I’m not fast enough. My chest convulses and I bring up my hands to hide my face.

Gently, Isa pulls me forward, off the bed so that I’m kneeling before her, and puts her arms around me.

I cry a little, but without tears. There are none left.

Isa holds me until I’ve gotten a hold of myself again. Then, as I sit back down on the bed, she opens one of the suitcases and produces a first aid kit.

Wordlessly, she sits down at my feet, takes one of them and begins cleaning it. First, dabbing it with a wet handkerchief, then with a sterilized cotton pad. The disinfectant stings, but I try my best not to flinch.

“I’m sorry for what I said yesterday,” I repeat. “I was really being an ass…”

She looks up at me briefly to give me a stern look. “Stop with that!” She looks back down and takes my other foot. “I know you’re going through a lot right now. So I didn’t really take it personally.”

Pause. “I was worried about you, though. So I guess I’m glad you’re back now. By the way. I’m sorry about what I said too. It wasn’t my place to say. It was really none of my-”

“You were right, though.”

I only realise I’m saying the words as they leave my mouth. And it’s only then that I know that I mean them.

She halts, a band-aid hovering above a small cut on my toe.

“I mean… I’m not sure about the trans-thing, but suppose I do feel more at home in this body.”

I don’t meet her eyes, stare at my dress’s torn hem.

“But it doesn’t really matter, does it?” I give her a short-lived smile and look back down.

“Well, maybe. But maybe it does?” She puts on the band-aid and wipes her hands on her shorts. The shorts that I only now realise are the same I wore a few days ago. “You know, my parents always said that realisation is the first step towards betterment. Now that you know why you’re feeling sad, isn’t that a good place to start looking for the cure?”

“But what could be the cure, if Selena’s body will leave next night?” It feels a little hopeless, honestly. “And wouldn’t getting a gender-affirming operation be running away from the person I am? Because I am Timothy, even if I may hide in a different body I feel more comfortable in.”

Again, her hands gently touch mine. “You see, that’s where I think you are mistaken.”

She pauses, waits for me to contradict. When I stay silent, she continues. “I don’t think you are Timothy Crow. You might not even be Selena for that matter. You are you and that doesn’t have to contain any specific gender or name. And you will continue being yourself, even if you take hormone replacements or change your body to Selena’s or whatever. You are you and you can’t run away from that. But you can make being yourself easier, or even enjoy it. And personally, I think there’s nothing wrong with wanting to enjoy life.”

-

Later, once I’ve turned back into Timothy and Isa has lent me some of her unisex clothes, I return home. I don’t bring the dress. The only occasion it’s useful for at this point, is when there are no more clean cloths and you want to clean the bathroom or wipe spilled juice from the floor. So Isa kept it, planning to throw it away when a good opportunity presents itself.

My condition has worsened once more. Wearing Timothy’s body feels straight-up wrong now. I have honestly no clue how I could manage it before.

I also don’t quite know what to expect, once I arrive. Will my parents be mad I left the door open, or scared that something serious happened? Have they called the police or set out to look for me themselves?

The house looks normal when I walk up. The door is closed, a window in the kitchen is open.
I walk up, crouch and move a flowerpot next to the doormat. I’ve told my parents they shouldn’t leave the spare key there. It’s the most stereotypical hiding place for a key there is, but now I’m grateful they didn’t listen.

I open the door slowly. It doesn’t creak.

I put back the key and enter slowly. There are voices in the kitchen. Mum and Pearl. She must be on her lunch break right now.

I pull the door closed behind me. Shoes are the one thing I couldn’t borrow from Isa. I did get a few strange looks on my way here, probably because of the band-aids, rather than my bare feet, but nobody asked me about it.

Now I head upstairs with quick and quiet steps. I change into my own clothes, shorts, t-shirt and socks. Boring and standard, colours mismatched. But it’ll have to do.

Then, swimming trunks and trousers in hand, I sneak back downstairs. When I’m certain Mum isn’t aware I’m here yet, I open the door again and close it behind me like I normally would.

The voices in the kitchen pause for a moment, but Pearl resumes her chatter only a few seconds later.

Did they not know I was gone?

I walk up to the kitchen, stopping at the door frame. Mum is sitting at the breakfast table, an empty plate before her, a coffee mug in hand.

“Oh hi, Timothy,” she says with a pleasant smile. “How was it outside?”

Casually, she gets up and puts her plate in the dishwasher.

Lucky me she’s not looking because the confusion must be more than obvious on my face.

It takes me several seconds to regain control over my features, then I say, “Good. The weather’s a lot better now.”

“Awesome.” She halts. “What happened to your face? And your knees?”

I shrug, blushing. Isa told me what to say now. “I fell. It’s a really stupid story, I’d rather not tell.” I manage a weak grin and she smiles back.

“Okay. Did you clean the wounds yourself?”

I nod.

She closes the dishwasher and stops by me just a moment, to give me a fleeting kiss on the forehead.

“Glad to see you’re doing better now.”

And just like that, she picks up the mug and leaves.

“I’ve got to get back to work. Have a nice day, you two.”

When she’s gone, I turn to face Pearl. The grin she’s clearly failing to conceal speaks volumes.

“Do you have anything to do with this?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

She giggles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sitting there, grinning at me openly, my little sister is so cute. She can’t fool me, though. Not anymore. I can see it in her eyes that she knows exactly what I’m talking about.

I walk closer and crouch next to her. As I do so, she stops giggling and drops the childish demeanour, looking at me with a serious expression.

When I speak, my voice is barely more than a whisper. “Did you close the door this morning?”
Silently, she nods.

“Did I wake you when I left?”

Again, she nods.

“Did you see me?”

“Only on the street, from far away. You looked like you were wearing a dress.”

I stay focused on her and resist the urge to glance over my shoulder. She’s matching the volume of my voice with hers.

“Yes, I was.” I nod. “It’s a long story. I had a bad dream and really needed to get outside.”

“So you’re doing better now?”

“Yes. I think I am.” I pause. “Why are you helping me like this?” I search her calm face for something, anything that would explain her behaviour. “You know, I can’t help but feel like you’re secretly a lot more grown-up than you let on.”

Her face cracks up in a grin and she giggles a bit. “Don’t be silly, Timmy. I’m eight years old, you know that!” Then her face gets more serious again. “I guess I can feel when you’re not happy and then I just try to make you happy again.”

“So you closed the door after me?”

She nods. “I waited for some time, but when you didn’t come back, I closed it. Figured you needed some time on your own.”

“Yes. Yes I did.” Suddenly, my breath catches and I blink hastily so I don’t tear up. Quickly, I get up on my knees so that my head is level with hers, and put my arms around her.

Again, I feel her little heartbeat against my chest. Her hair smells of her favourite raspberry shampoo.

“I so don’t deserve you,” I whisper into her hair.

She wriggles a little, then her arms come around me as well. “Of course you do, Timmy. I wouldn’t be your sister otherwise.”

When finally, I let go again, I say, “Pearl?”

“Hm?”

“I know I promised we’d watch the comet together and I’m really sorry to say this, but I don’t think I’ll make it tonight. I promised Alex as well and he’s not doing good right now-”

“Okay,” she says with a quick nod.

“Okay?” Really? That easy?

“Yes!” A devious grin tugs at the corners of her mouth. “You’ve got to play with me until then, though.”

“Okay.”

“Aaaaand you’ll make me breakfast in bed tomorrow.”

“Gladly!”

-

“Hey man, how you doing?”

It’s Alex. Once more, I didn’t hear him walk up behind me.

Like several nights before, I’m sitting on the trunk of a dead tree, looking out at the lake.

The sun has set maybe twenty minutes ago. It hasn’t been dark for long.

Isa offered me to spend the evening with her as Selena, so I could properly say goodbye to that body, but I know I’d have an absolute breakdown if I felt her melt away once more.

So instead I opted to hold true to a promise I’d almost forgotten over all that has happened in the last week.

“Hey,” I say, my voice breathy, as Alex sits down next to me.

There are still a few clouds left in the sky, but they only partially cover the stars.

The comet is still visible. It’s grown smaller, but it’s still there. In maybe an hour, it’ll have disappeared, forever leaving earth behind. And a part of me will go with it.

For a while, we sit next to each other silently, our heads put back to look up at the stars.

Tonight is not about the lake.

“How did you do it?” he asks then, suddenly.

“Huh?” I reply, confused. “What do you mean?”

“How did you become happy again?” His voice is calm and detached.

My heart leaps. What do I reply to that?

“You helped me a lot. And Isa. Just having friends is really helpful.”

“But before that?” There’s just a tad of suppressed frustration in his voice. “I mean, what made you come out of your shell in the first place?”

“Why do you ask?” I know I can’t lie to him. He’d know.

He takes his time before replying.

“I met this girl, out on the rocks. Her name was Selena.”

A pleasant shiver runs down my spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I went out there every night to meet her and we talked. She reminded me of you a little. Soon after I’d met her the first time, you got better. It’s like she knew me without my having to say anything or like I’d met her sometime before. I fell in love like the biggest idiot and a few days ago she told me she had to leave.” He sounds sad, but in a contained way. Like he’s plastered a smile over the sadness so it wouldn’t affect me negatively. “I’m never going to see her again. How do you move on from something like that?”

Just like that, all my plans are forgotten. Maybe because of the way he’s finally opening, maybe because I’ve asked myself the very same question over and over, and couldn’t come up with an answer.

I get up and walk towards the water. The comet is barely visible anymore, but maybe it’ll be enough just to let him know.

On the next step, cold bites my skin and water soaks my shoes. I take another step, another and another. Until the water reaches my hip. For a few seconds, I stand without moving, as shivers of cold run up and down my spine. But nothing happens.

“Alex, do you remember,” I begin, turning around, “when I told you that I wanted to be real?”
Just barely, I can make out the expression of surprise on his face, before I let myself sink underwater.

Just standing in it wasn’t enough. I need more water. I need more.

I can feel my body react to the cold enveloping me. The blood vessels in my skin contract and it grows a little numb, my heart rate shoots up and so does my blood pressure. I feel the oxygen filtering out of the air stored in my lungs rapidly.

But I don’t swim back to the surface.

I want to be happy.

I want to be happy.

I want to be happy.

I repeat in my mind, over and over, like a mantra.

My lungs sting and my head spins, but I stay underwater. With all my might, I force my limbs to stay motionless.

And then I hear it, the voice, weak and frail, barely audible from a far-off corner of my mind.

Do you want to be happy?

My heart jumps and it is all I can do to keep my mouth and nose closed.

Yes! God, yes!

I can feel the change. I can feel it and I want to laugh and scream with joy. But I don’t. Instead, I stay motionless for what seems like hours.

And then, when finally I know that the change is done, I try to move my arms.

But I can’t.

There’s no power left in them that could carry upwards. My legs are too far out to pull them back and stand.

My lung spasms. I need air. Now.

Hands grab me by the waist and pull me up. The movement is so sudden, that I reflexively gasp.

Not much water gets into my lungs, but it’s enough to keep me coughing for several seconds as Alex holds me pressed against him.

Only when I can breathe properly again, do I realise how tight his grip is around me.

That’s right.

I’m Selena.

With a breathless smile, I look up at him.

“Do you understand now?” I ask in a voice barely more than a whisper and he nods.

Deep down inside me, I can feel it.

The comet has left and it has taken with it a part of me. But that part isn’t Selena.

I’m alive.