Gender Dysphoria: How it Feels to Live a Lie

I've had the worst writer's block known to man and on ALL my stories no-less! Anywho, I've shaken it off (knock on wood) and am ready to continue.

This chapter isn't so much light. Actually, it won't be too light for one or two more chapters. But it's only so the story can move on and eventually come to a close.

Chapter XVII

It was late Saturday night and I was at The House of Blues. It was a very chill atmosphere with local bands, singers, and blues musicians that come up on the small intimate stage and perform in the front, with rows and rows of buffet tables located along the back. The buffet was filled with traditional southern food that I couldn’t seem to keep my hands off of. Marcus was there with me—though define ‘with’, cause his cell kept ringing every 15 minutes—and was shocked at how much I was ‘putting away’.

“You’re gonna throw up if you keep eating all that.” Marcus said as the blues band played in the background.

I tossed down a fourth clean rib and reached for another that was stacked high on my plate along with macaroni and cheese, greens, and candied yams. Barbeque sauce covered my fingers, but I refused to wipe them off just yet—I wasn’t done eating, so what would be the point in that? “Never. I could never get enough of ribs.” I took a bite and made a “Mmm” noise. I smiled when Marcus rolled his eyes.

“Well then how about you’re gonna make me throw up?”

“You’ll be alright.”

“Glad to see you care so much.” I winked at him. His cell phone vibrated and he flipped the phone up. “I’ll be right back.” I watched him get up from his chair and walk out. Someone you love suddenly starts getting phone calls at all hours of the day and night. Their free time used to be unlimited, now it’s hardly often. He tells you it’s nothing but you know that it IS. It’s impossible to get used to this.

I had just finished my last rib and started to wipe my hands and start on the rest of my food, when someone took a seat in Marcus’ chair. Frowning, I looked up from my hands and saw a sight I never expected to see…..A sight I didn’t want to see. Carlos. I froze.

“Long time no see, eh?” Not much had changed appearance-wise in Carlos since I had last seen him. Still poorly dressed, still had the long brunette hair. But the loving—at least lustful—eyes he had for me were long gone. His mouth carried a downward tilt to it, like something disgusted him—me. In the months I’d known Carlos, I never would’ve thought that he could look at me with such distaste. I mean, after all the time spent together in our relationship prior to this, the way he was looking at me right then………you would’ve thought we’d been enemies all our lives instead of lovers.

“Carlos.” I replied. “It has been a long time. I was hoping to keep it that way.”

Overlooking my last comment, Carlos kept talking. “How’s the tranny changing going?”

“How’s your beating spree going?” I quickly countered. Carlos chuckled dryly.

“Look, what did you expect me to do, Gwen? Just act like I didn’t know you were a guy?”

What the hell did he just say? I frowned. “Where do you get off thinking that beating the hell out of somebody is justifiable just cause you didn’t know what else to do? ‘What did I expect you to do’? Leave. All you had to do was leave, Carlos. I’ve dealt with rejection a lot in my life, so I could’ve handled you leaving me. I’m a big girl.”

“But that’s just it, Gwen. You’re not a girl, you’re a boy. You think what you do is normal? News Flash—It’s not. You walk around here, perpetrating like you’re a woman, manipulating men in the process. And I’d be damned if I was gonna let you think you were gonna get over on ME.”

I was quickly seeing this encounter was getting nowhere but heated, so I tried to end it. “Leave me alone, Carlos.”

“Why? You afraid of the truth?”

“No, I’m just sick of looking at you.”

I saw a slight twitch in his eye, signaling to me he was getting a bit annoyed. “Don’t get bold with me. Just because we’re in a public place, don’t mean you can talk smart. I beat your ass once, I can just as easily do it again.”

I sighed. “Whatever, Carlos.”

Fed up, I tossed my napkin on the table and slid back my chair. If he wasn’t gonna leave, then I was. But Carlos wasn’t gonna have that. He grabbed my upper arm tightly, pulling me back down in my chair. He leaned closer and whispered to me in his threatening tone. “Did I say you could get up? I’m not done talking to you. You’re going to listen to what I have to say, understand?” I didn’t answer. He quickly reached for the back of my neck and jerked me hard, bringing my ear to his lips. “I’m talking to you, you fucking queer! I said do you understand?!”

“Yes.” I whispered back, wincing at the pain his grip on my neck was inflicting.

“Get this straight, Gwen or whoever the hell you are, you’re a boy. And you will always be one. I don’t care what you do to yourself, you could change your body any way you like and it won’t change the fact that your ass produces sperm like all the rest of the men in this world. To me, you’re nothing but a sissy little fag, who carried his girly ways too far just to trick men. So you keep doing what you’re doing and see what happens to you. The little ass-beating you got from me will be nothing compared to what another man will lay on you. You might just be six feet under….” We heard someone clear their throat and Carlos pulled away. There was Marcus standing at the table. He caught the ‘off’ look in my eyes and I saw his lips tighten.

“You’re in my seat.”

Carlos smiled at the brawny man in the nice clothes as he stood from the chair. “My fault, man. Just doing a little catching up is all.” He walked away. Marcus’ eyes followed him. Just as he was about to sit, I stood up.

“I want to go.” My throat was tightening and I could feel the tears coming.

“You want to leave now? You haven’t finished eating your food yet.”

“I don’t care. I just want to go.”

“Baby, what’s—“

My voice started to shake. “Marcus, please.”

Marcus saw how upset I was getting and rubbed my arms. “Okay. Okay, we’ll go.”

We walked out the House of Blues and onto the sidewalk of the Vegas Strip. The night was getting later and more people were out and about than when we had first gotten to the city earlier that day. The entire strip was illuminated in bright neon lights ranging in all colors and creating all sorts of shapes. Across the street I could see the pavilion area where a beautiful large fountain was shooting water in various directions with the larger one in the middle shooting in a starburst formation. It was a wonderful sight but the scenery was furthest from my mind at the moment. Carlos’ words were haunting me. My emotions were high and I couldn’t stop a tear from rolling down my face.

“What happened?” Marcus asked, wiping the tear away as we walked.

I shook my head.

“Something happened to you while I was gone. It was that guy, wasn’t it? Who was he?”

I sniffled. “He’s nobody.”

Marcus stopped walking and grabbed my arm. He looked me in my eyes and asked again, “Who was he, Gwen?”

There was no point in lying about it. Marcus was gonna weasel the name out of me anyway and he was gonna be pissed when he found out who it was. And to be honest, I really didn't care about saving the prick from his wrath. “………Carlos.”

He frowned. “Ca-Carlos?” I could hear the anger in his voice. Before I knew it, he started briskly walking back to the House of Blues. I took off to catch up with him.

“Marcus, wait. Marcus!”

When I reached the building, Marcus had already found Carlos sitting alone at a table eating and watching the band. “You Carlos?”

The Brazilian narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. Who are you?” As fast as a flash of lightening, Marcus grabbed Carlos by his shirt and pushed him chest-down on top of the table and food with a loud “SLAM”. He grabbed a death grip on his long hair and mashed his face harder into his plate of mashed potatoes and gravy, then grabbed an arm and twisted it behind his back.

“You’ll be calling me the undertaker if you keep puttin’ your fucking hands on things that don’t belong to you.” He replied in his deep baritone voice.

“What the fuck are you talking about?! Let me go!”

“So you’re the stupid shithead who beat up Gwen, huh? I’ve been waiting a long time to get my hands on you.” He twisted the arm higher, making Carlos yell out. “You like beating up people weaker than you? You too afraid to put your fists up to someone who could challenge you? Why don’t you try that shit on me and see what happens…”

By then, the attention got drawn away from the band on stage to the spectacle at table 12. The crowd of people watched open-mouthed as Marcus’ strong body leaned over Carlos’, turning his arm to the point of nearly breaking it. I squeezed my way through a few occupied tables until I reached them. I touched my lover’s flexing bicep. “Marcus, don’t.”

“You’d better listen to your little queer boyfriend, Marcus! Ow! The cops will be here locking you up before your eyes could blink!”

“You think I’m scared of the cops?! I’ve got the LVPD on MY payroll! I own their asses, just like I’ll own yours if you cross our path again! You understand that, Carlos?” We spotted the restaurant security making their way over and Marcus let him go. “Let’s go.” Holding his hand to my waist, he walked me out the door.

***

After making our own Las Vegas show, we didn’t feel like anymore entertainment. Marcus was driving us out of the strip and I sat on the passenger side, looking out the window. Carlos saying all those things about me, had me re-evaluating my path in life. I’m trying to be happy. I’m trying—with the help of this surgery--to be happy in my own skin. But deep down George will always be there. He’ll ALWAYS be a part of me. Carlos was right, no matter how much altering I do, I’ll NEVER be a full woman. If I was just born a girl, this wouldn’t be as hard as it is. Or just being born happy as what I really was would be fine too. Then I wouldn’t have had to run away from home. My father wouldn’t have been ashamed of me. I would’ve had friends growing up. I wouldn’t have questioned my sexuality. I wouldn’t have questioned my gender. I wouldn’t have questioned changing it. Carlos raised many thoughts in my mind and I started to wonder about what I was doing here.

Marcus’ comments in the House of Blues also raised a few new questions in me about what it is he really does. He told me he was an architect, but I’ve seen no blueprints scattered around his house. I’ve never been allowed to visit him at work. I’ve never seen any co-workers either. The constant leaving for out of town, late night phone-calls, even the cop comment earlier……Something is going on.

I noticed Marcus was putting his signal on so he could make a right turn towards his house. I spoke up. “No, take me home.”

He glanced at me. “You sure?” I nodded. He pulled the red Range Rover into the parking lot of my apartment complex. I reached a hand towards the door handle but stopped.

“Could I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you do?”

Marcus chuckled. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well it’s just….You say you’re an architect yet there’s no proof of it. Atleast none that I’ve seen.”

“What kind of proof are you looking for?”

“I don’t know, something. I haven’t even seen where you work. I mean…..well….is it me? Do you not want to risk your co-workers finding out what I am?”

He touched my chin. “Baby, you know I don’t care about that.”

“Then what’s with all the hiding? Are you an architect or not?”

“Why does this bother you so much?”

“…….I can handle the constant phone calls. I can even learn to put up with you having to go out of town a lot. Both of those I can chalk up to being a part of the baggage that comes along with an architecture job. But what you said to Carlos about how the police are on your payroll doesn’t exactly flow with it. Why would the police have something to do with your job?”

Marcus rubbed the light stubble on his cheek and sighed. “Why is it you keep bringing my job up?”

“Because you’re lying to me, Marcus!”

“I’m not lying to you!”

“You’re paying off the police! How the hell does that have anything to do with drawing houses?!”

“Look, you do not need to be involved in this, Gwen!”

“What ‘this’? What are you not telling me?!”

“I’m not telling you anything! Would you lay off it, please?!”

“No! You’re hiding something!”

“For your own benefit!”

“What? What the hell does that mean?!”

“Just…..just go inside already.”

“So you’re not gonna tell me?”

“……….No.”

I can’t believe he’s hiding from me. We love each other, certainly he could trust me enough to tell me what he does for a living. Apparently not. He’s a man who likes his secrets. I nodded. “Okay.” Getting out the car, I walked inside the complex and into my apartment.

***

Three weeks later…

Savannah’s POV…


“So you can’t come over today?”

“I seriously doubt it. Gwen’s boss at the diner called me today since I was listed as her emergency contact. She’s been missing days and he’s gotten worried about her. So, I gotta go play ‘mama’ today.”

“Ohhh. Well I hope she gets better from whatever she’s got going on with her.”

“Yeah, so do I. I’ll call you later, yeah?”

“Ok. Bye, babe.”

“Bye.” I hung up with Ian and grabbed my keys. I don’t know what’s got Gwen in this funk she’s in but I know I’ve gotten tired of it. She’s been cooped up in her bedroom for weeks now, doing nothing. The times I DO see her moving around, she’s wearing those same baggy ass shirts and pants she wore when she first moved to Vegas. I thought I burnt all those, hm. Anyway, she basically spends her time lying in bed, looking through that box her mama sent her years ago of old pictures of her family and her once old self—George. I mean sure, she’s down and out about something but I didn’t think it was enough for her to skip work.

I shut the door to my apartment and walked across the hall to hers. As I expected, there were a bouquet of flowers and a card sitting by her door. That poor sap. Marcus came by everyday—which was really a stretch for him considering how he had to leave town a lot—bearing flowers, or candy, or balloons, an I’m Sorry card, or a combination of the four, but it seemed to get him nowhere with Gwen. Marcus must’ve really pissed her off about something, cause he’d never get passed the door. But he kept trying. You had to give it to the man, he wasn’t a quitter.

I knocked on the door first. I knew I wouldn’t get an answer, just thought it would be considerate to knock first. Pulling out my copy of her key, I opened the door and walked in, grabbing the flowers and card on my way. For it to be such a beautiful Sunday afternoon, Gwen managed to successfully make her place look as depressing as possible. All lights were off, blinds were pulled closed, and dishes lay piled up in the sink. The place was shut up, closed off from the world and knowing Gwen, that’s exactly what she wanted. I placed the flowers and card on the table then walked into her dark bedroom. I spoke to the covered lump on the bed.

“Gwen?” I called out to her. The lump curled into a ball and I rolled my eyes. “Gwen, you alive under there?”

“No.” She mumbled back.

The bed dipped under me as I sat on the edge and placed a hand on my best friend’s covered shoulder. “I don’t think the dead talk, Gwenie-poo.”

“Well I wish I was.”

She wished she was……Huh? “…..What?” I peeled the sheets from over Gwen’s head and stared at her puzzled. “Why on earth would you say a thing like that?”

“Because I do.”

I shook my head, frowning. “Gwen, what the hell is going on with you? Why are you talking like this?”

I sat there staring holes in the girl as I waited for her to answer. She couldn’t bring herself to look back to me, instead she bit her bottom lip viciously while trying to hold back tears that began to form on her smooth face. However, she lost the fight and began to sob. “Because I…..hate…..my life. I’m being a…..a fool.”

“Why do you say that?”

Gwen wiped her eyes. “I ran away from home……with this stupid fantasy…….that I could be a woman.”

I looked confused at her. Had she lost her mind? “Honey, you are a woman. What are you—“

“No, I’m not! I’m a fucking boy and I’ll always be one! No amount of altering is gonna change that!”

“Just because you weren’t born a woman, doesn’t mean you’re not one now. In your heart and in your mind you know what you are.”

“Yeah, a freak.”

“You’re NOT a freak.”

“Well I’m sure as hell not normal.” Tears continued to roll down her face. “Who do you know says they were born a mistake? Who do you know thinks nature fucked up when they made them? Who do you know hates who they are so much, they’re willing to change their entire genetic makeup just so they can stand to look at themselves in the mirror everyday?”

“Me.” I answered instantly. “You’re not alone in this, Gwen. Don’t think you’re the only one who’s ever thought any of that. This is ALL a journey, honey.” I grabbed her chin and turned her face to look at me. “Including the part where someone plants doubt into your mind.” I expressed ‘doubt’ by touching the tip of my index finger to her temple. And that’s what it is. Someone has talked with Gwen and made her uncertain about what she’s doing. “This is the part where you start to develop your thick skin. Do what you came here to do, Gwen. You’ve known you were female since as far back as you can remember. So make it happen. And don’t let anybody stop you. I’ve had those little devils sitting my shoulder feeding me bull about how stupid I was being for doing this. They’re hindrances. So you weren’t born a girl…And? You know who you are, so keep your focus set on that and anything somebody tells you will roll right off your boney shoulders.” Gwen laughed and wiped at her eyes again. I laid down next to her and spooned her from behind, placing my chin on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For snapping out at you like that. I didn’t mean it.”

I smiled. “It’s water under the bridge, Gwenie-poo. As far as I’m concerned, it’s old news. Now go to sleep, I know you’re tired.”

She chuckled. “How do you know I’m tired?”

“Cause you start taaaaalllllking reeeeaaaallllly slooooowww.” I replied exaggerating……a little bit.

Gwen laughed again. “Shut up.”

But I was right. The girl was out like a light in mere minutes. I took that opportunity to try and straighten up her pigsty of an apartment. Getting up, I set to work pulling back curtains and opening blinds to let the sunshine in, tossing loose clothes in the hamper, straightening magazines, fluffing couch pillows, and bagging trash. I had just started on the pile of dishes when there was a knock at the door.

Drying my hands off quickly, I walked to the door and pulled it open. There stood Marcus with two balloons this time. His face was blank initially, but once he saw my face, he brightened up. I glared at him. “Finally. I’ve been making stops at the gift shop so often, the owner started to shake his head and tell me ‘Sorry, buddy’ every time I’d come in.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and placed my hands at my hips. “Oh really?”

He caught the flat tone in my voice and cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah really. Look, is Gwen here? I need to talk to her.”

“Why? Haven’t you said enough already?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“What did you say to her?!”