Don't Talk To Strangers (nanowrimo post um...4)
AN: I'm having trouble getting him anywhere, this I am not all that happy with, but I thought if I posted it, I could get some ideas from you?
He threw the dress and bra and nylons in the washer. When he went to move them to the dryer he found out you can’t just throw nylons in the wash, they had several holes. He’d get more tomorrow.
In the evening when he woke, Chris got ready for his day as Kris. In the shower he tried to shave his legs. Because he never had it took several passes to go over them and actually remove the hair. Then again to actually get them smooth. He thought: Women do this every day?
He also almost fell over a couple of times. Holding one leg up while shaving the other took skill he did not have. He nicked both his ankles and they bled. The makeup only took one application, still a bit smudgy, but the blush was even this time, and the shadow. The bra felt better now that it was washed. The nylons went up much smoother than they had when he had hairy legs. Though he still hopped around the room a bit while adjusting the top of them. The top was not built for a man’s package, and they needed some adjustment.
He looked at the wig, maybe he could curl it? He knew you didn’t use a curling iron on a wig. Maybe his mother had some curlers? He looked in the cupboard under the sink, yep. Some pink foam things. It took him much longer than he thought to just put some in the bangs and the ends of the wig. Maybe he’d wear the black one today? It already had a style. He opened it and put it on. Stragglers again. He took it off, grabbed the ruined hose and cut them off to put on his head. He flattened his hair with it and put the wig back on. Not bad, but with black hair he’d need to color his eyebrows and put mascara on.
He shook the mascara bottle and started to apply it, watching the videos had helped. Short even strokes. They looked, um, well they didn’t look as bad as last time.
He laughed when he looked at himself, standing in the mirror in a bra and nylons , a made-up face. He put the rice balloons in the bra and adjusted it. He grabbed the dress and put in on, this time pulling it over his feet first. Getting the zipper up in back was difficult for him, tiny zipper pull and large fingers.
He looked in the mirror, he looked better than yesterday. He finished the look with the earrings . Then realized. No shoes!
He had some white tennis shoes, they’d have to do. He ran downstairs for the shoes and Margo meowed at him, she was very confused.
He decided that he’d test this look in the town an hour away. No one knew his car there. No one knew him.
***
He went to a little diner on the edge of town for breakfast. No one gawked when he walked in and sat down. So far, so good. She asked if he wanted coffee.
He ordered with the voice he’d been practicing all yesterday. “Yes, thank you.” The waitress didn’t start at the voice, or even seem to care. She poured his cup and handed him a menu.
Chris was so self conscious he held it up like he was reading it, but was looking around the diner. Wondering if anyone could see his nervousness. When she came back for his order he said, in the same practiced voice:
”Just something small, a pancake and some sausage; please.” and then “Where is the ladies room?”
She pointed to it and walked away to get his order started.
He rose from the booth and, again, no one seemed inclined to tell him he was heading to the wrong one. He almost forgot the purse! He’d looked through his mother's things and had found a white one. It had all the make-up he’d used that day, and his wallet. Chris realized he’d need it when he was done dressing and had nowhere for it. He reached for the purse and walked on to the restroom.
On the way he overheard a small child say. “Mommy, why did that lady order breakfast ?” The (he supposed mother) answered. “Maybe she has a job at night, dear.”
This was going better than he thought. Now to just keep it going for the rest of the morning. To the store, to the gas station, and to eat lunch.
He went into the bathroom and checked his “face” in the mirror. He hadn’t wiped it off yet, although he was so nervous he was really sweating under the wig. He locked the door (it was a small diner) and had to pull up the dress and the hose down to pee. It was really annoying! And them pulling them back up, without snagging them. He did it, but he was sure he was in the restroom far longer than he should have been.
He came out and walked lightly (because he’d been practicing that too) back to his booth. The waitress brought his order. He put his napkin in his lap and tried to eat daintily. He was concentrating so hard on looking like a woman just having a normal breakfast in a diner, he didn’t even hear the first “Miss?” The man repeated it “Miss?”
Chris started a bit. Oh yes, he was the miss!
He turned to the voice while saying (also in the practiced voice) “Yes?”
“Is this yours?” he held out a small red clutch.
“No, sorry.”
“Oh, well we thought we’d ask.” he indicated himself and his son.
They walked away, and Chris was feeling really confident as Kris now.
He finished his meal and went up to the front to pay, attempting to sway his hips on the way. He hoped it didn’t look too forced.
On the way to the car he got a wolf whistle. In this dress? Maybe he looked better than he thought. Or the workers were making fun of him. He wasn’t sure. Either way it took him a second to even realized it indeed was to him. This was easier than he’d imagined. People really do judge a book by it’s cover, don’t they.
He drove to another shelf-mart. On the way in, the greeter said “Cart, miss?”
This time a confident Kris said “Yes, please.”
He went back to the ladies section, he didn’t feel nearly as self conscious this time, the knee highs were much easier to select. No sizes, just colours. He bought two packages of ‘nude’. He also bought four packages of regular hose. He hoped he could get at least one pair of these on without running them.
He also checked the shoes, this shelf mart had one pair of twelves. Some white sling backs, he tried them on and, forgetting completely about the dress, he had his legs open. An older woman walked by and said. “Dear, where is your slip?” he closed his legs. Embarrassed, and hoping she hadn’t seen up enough to know he wasn’t actually a girl, he turned red and said:
“I was in a bit of a hurry this morning.”
“Well, then, you should be mindful ,” she looked at his feet “those shoes do look nice though. Such large feet. You poor thing, it must be difficult to find things.”
As Chris took off the shoes and put them in the cart. He said, as Kris:
“Yes, yes it can be. I had a pair I loved with this dress, and they broke today. I usually order on the internet, but they take awhile to get here. I was already dressed when they broke.”
He hoped this was believable, thinking on his feet, as Kris, was hard!
The woman answered him “I’m sure, and dear…” She paused to look at him, and leaned in for apparent girl to girl secrecy.
“Yes?”
“Your make-up is smudged.”
He attempted a giggle, and leaned in to her in the ‘secret’ mode “Well, I am just having a day, aren’t I? Thank you. I’ll go fix it!”
He walked towards the rest room, that sentence had gotten him out of a potentially embarrassing situation, and given him even more confidence. He looked in the mirror, the one eye was smudged, he must have rubbed it inadvertently while trying on the shoes. He reapplied the shadow, and decided he’d skip the fiasco of peeing here. He’d just gone at the diner anyway.
He also thought. Slip? That was just taking it too far. Or was it? He went over to the lingerie again. They did have some slips. The sizes on these were slightly easier. Small, Medium, and Large. With lengths. He held on up to the skirt of the dress as a sales woman came over.
Need some help?”
“Well, yes, My dryer ate my slip, and I don’t remember how long it was…“
He thought: Good one Kris, first your shoes break, and now the dryer ate your slip? Get it together!
Chris looked at her nametag, it said Agnes.
Kris said: “What do you think Agnes?”
“I’d go with a medium length beige, that way you can have it for more than one dress, considering you aren’t wearing one now. I’m assuming you only had the one.”
He thought: How does she know I’m not wearing a slip?
He tried the confidence thing with her, leaning in and almost whispering “Is it that obvious?”
She smiled and whispered back :
“Your dress is going in between your legs when you walk. So, yes.”
Oh, that’s how, whew. He was getting worried. Maybe he’d buy two.
Kris said:
“Maybe I should splurge and buy two, so I don’t have this happen again?”
“I think that’s a lovely idea.”
He grabbed the one he had, and another shorter one. The blue dress he’d ordered was much shorter than what he was wearing.
He walked to the checkout and bought everything. He made it to the car. Unlocked it and put the purchases in the trunk. Opened the door, got in, started it, put it in reverse…then noticed himself in the mirror. And had an anxiety attack.
What was he doing!?
That was really easy, and he was starting to like being Kris.
No.
No.
No, he wasn’t.
Kris looked back in the mirror, who was this? Where did he even get this idea?
Kris said to him, in his mind.
“I have always been here.”
What the fuck! Voices in his head?
His mind's voice said:
“Oh, no you haven’t”
“Yes, I have, think.”
His mind took him back, back to when he was very young.
Voices, all women’s voices, saying what cute baby, then later, when grandma (Dad’s Mom) had let her sleep with him, holding her silk pajamas in his hand to fall asleep, and her even letting him wear them.
Around ten, playing at Craig’s. Craig was allowed to be in his mother's room, and they were playing with her make-up, they had painted each other like clowns. It was fun, Craig told him he looked pretty, and teased him. He told him he did too. They giggled. A ten year old painted Kris turned from the mirror memory in his mind told him.
“See, I was here then. And I am here now.”
His mother hadn’t let him go to Craig’s after that, he remembered.
He slipped out of the memory and back to being in the car. The Kris voice gone. He looked at the image in the mirror. Kris was very pretty. And…he was Kris.
The planning, the detail, for some reason applying it, hadn’t occurred to him, to BE Kris, to fully embody her state of being, not just acting like a girl, but BEING Kris. How had he missed this crucial step?
Because he was worried it’d make him gay? That was his mother talking. Stevie had taught him a lot about how wrong his mother was. Oh, Stevie. He missed chatting with him. Why had he done that?
Because Chris finishes what he starts. Chris always finishes.
And then he did something he hadn’t done since that day. He cried, cried for the mistakes he’d made with him, cried because he missed him. And he could, because he was Kris, and Kris can cry in the middle of a shelf-mart parking lot at nine o’clock in the evening, and no one even notices.
***
“What was sundered and undone, shall be whole , the two made one”
A puffy eyed Kris got out of the car, dug through the trunk and found the slip; tore off the tags, looked around, and pulled it up under the dress. She then and walked back into the shelf-mart to reapply her face. The greeter didn’t offer her a cart, just pointed her to the bathroom with a look of sympathy. In the bathroom Kris washed her face with the cold cream , for she’d brought that too. A woman is always prepared. She’d need more.
Several other ladies came in and out of the bathroom while she did her make-up, none of them commented.
She walked out of the bathroom, and went looking for the cold cream, and while reading the bottle noticed she still had dull red fingernails. She went to cosmetics, and picked out a run festive red, an electric blue, a plum purple, and - just for fun- a neon green.
Kris’s cell phone rang, and (because she couldn’t very well answer Chris‘s phone) she dug through her purse and turned it off.
When Kris got back to the car, he looked at the phone: Marcy from work, a package had come for Chris.
She’d get it later. She stopped off for gas, and almost paid with Chris’s credit card, but then remembered and walked over to the booth to pre-pay with cash.
Kris decided to go and eat, she drove down the street, not really looking for anything particular. The was an independent coffee shop , “The Empire” it looked to have comfy chairs. When she walked in she noticed they had a checklist system, you mark what you want on the paper, pay, and then they call your name when it is ready, there were three people in line ahead of her, so while she waited she surveyed the rest of the shop. It also had free wi-fi and advertisements for open mic nights. When it was her turn she ordered a non-fat mocha single shot latte, and marked down a ham and gouda cheese, on a croissant, with ranch dressing. The clerk asked her for a name “kris, with a “k” she said, and went to sit down.
A song finished and a new one started on the stereo it had a melancholy feeling , and Kris listened to the lyrics…
No the doctors didn't tell you,
that you were dying.
They just collected their money,
And sent you on your way.
But you knew all along,
went on pretending nothing was wrong,
you said “I will keep my focus, till the end.”
And in the journal you kept,
by the side of your bed.
You wrote nightly in aspiration,
of developing as an author.
Confessing childhood secrets,
of dressing up in women's clothes,
Compulsions you never knew the reasons to,
Well everyone, you ever meet or love,
be just relationship based on a false presumption,
despite everyone, you ever meet or love,
in the end, will you be all alone?
As the disease spreads slowly through your body,
pumped by your heart to the tips of your arms and your legs,
your greatest fear was that your mind wouldn't last,
your coherency and alertness would be the first things to fade,
as your hair thinned, as the weight fell off, as your teeth blackened,
as the lesions spotted your skin,
as you fell to your knees in the center of the stage,
as you offered witness to mortality in exchange for the ticket price,
as the lights blended into the continuing noise,
as all hope was finally lost.
Adrenaline carried one last thought to fruition.
Let this be the end.
Let this be the last song.
Let this be the end.
Let all be forgiven.
The song made her think, and Chris was crying somewhere in the back of her mind. When her order was ready, she went up and asked the song name and title.
“It’s ‘Searching For a Former Clarity’ by ‘Against Me!’, isn’t it great? You should really check them out if you haven‘t.”
Kris said “I will, thanks.”
She walked back to her table and sat down. Other songs played, but Kris didn’t hear them. Chris’s crying was loud, and then when it turned to anger, it was even more distracting. She was concentrating on remembering who she was, where she was, and how to eat like a lady. The sandwich was excellent. She’d have to remember this place.
When they got out to the car Chris said “That song bothered me.”
Kris replied in a soothing tone “I know, but I’m here now. Everything will be alright.”
Kris drove home got onto the computer, and went into friends chat. She chatted for hours. With Sarah, Salem, Edi, Ash, R., Huluman, and Iantric. She asked them questions, and even flirted a little. Salem, Sarah and R. she talked with privately. R. was evasive and judgmental as usual. They might have to do something about him.
But not tonight. Tonight was just making an appearance, building confidence.
Everything really would be alright. Chris would see. They’d be alright.
A song came to her head, and she hummed it, not realizing she‘d heard it in the coffee shop. She’d have to go back there.
Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right.
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!"
Rise up this mornin',
Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
She went to look for it. ‘Three Little Birds’ by Bob Marley came up. She played it.
Chris was soothed. They realized they were tired.
Kris went upstairs and undressed in Mother's room. She put her wig on the mirror, her dress on a hanger, the nylons in the garbage. (for they had run earlier), the bra and slip on the bed. She went to the bathroom for a bath. She sat in the bath, just soaking and thinking for a while. This had been an eventful day. She played it over in her mind while shaving her legs again (we need to practice, said Chris). Once out of the bath she went into Mother's room and pulled out a flannel night gown, and donned it.
***
Chris went downstairs in the soft flannel gown and got a glass of blood before bed. It had been a very strange day, a strange day indeed. He felt more connected than he ever had, and was sure this would work. He also felt alive, and aroused?
He put some music on, and let it take him to another plane. He reached under the gown to pleasure himself. Having climaxed, he fell asleep to the sounds of 65daysofstatic, having been turned onto them by Robert a few months ago.
Chris woke to his alarm and the realization that another work week was starting. At the end of his shift the nurse handed him his package. The shoes had come. Kris smiled in his head.
He realized when he got home that he hadn’t unloaded anything from the store the other day. He brought the shelf-mart purchases and the new black heels into the house.
Kris urged him to change, and so they did. Back on the computer, complete with a freshly painted face, dress, and the curled blonde wig, Kris went to ‘Just a friendly chat‘.
The chat was talking about going to the doctor, convenient.
He threw the dress and bra and nylons in the washer. When he went to move them to the dryer he found out you can’t just throw nylons in the wash, they had several holes. He’d get more tomorrow.
In the evening when he woke, Chris got ready for his day as Kris. In the shower he tried to shave his legs. Because he never had it took several passes to go over them and actually remove the hair. Then again to actually get them smooth. He thought: Women do this every day?
He also almost fell over a couple of times. Holding one leg up while shaving the other took skill he did not have. He nicked both his ankles and they bled. The makeup only took one application, still a bit smudgy, but the blush was even this time, and the shadow. The bra felt better now that it was washed. The nylons went up much smoother than they had when he had hairy legs. Though he still hopped around the room a bit while adjusting the top of them. The top was not built for a man’s package, and they needed some adjustment.
He looked at the wig, maybe he could curl it? He knew you didn’t use a curling iron on a wig. Maybe his mother had some curlers? He looked in the cupboard under the sink, yep. Some pink foam things. It took him much longer than he thought to just put some in the bangs and the ends of the wig. Maybe he’d wear the black one today? It already had a style. He opened it and put it on. Stragglers again. He took it off, grabbed the ruined hose and cut them off to put on his head. He flattened his hair with it and put the wig back on. Not bad, but with black hair he’d need to color his eyebrows and put mascara on.
He shook the mascara bottle and started to apply it, watching the videos had helped. Short even strokes. They looked, um, well they didn’t look as bad as last time.
He laughed when he looked at himself, standing in the mirror in a bra and nylons , a made-up face. He put the rice balloons in the bra and adjusted it. He grabbed the dress and put in on, this time pulling it over his feet first. Getting the zipper up in back was difficult for him, tiny zipper pull and large fingers.
He looked in the mirror, he looked better than yesterday. He finished the look with the earrings . Then realized. No shoes!
He had some white tennis shoes, they’d have to do. He ran downstairs for the shoes and Margo meowed at him, she was very confused.
He decided that he’d test this look in the town an hour away. No one knew his car there. No one knew him.
***
He went to a little diner on the edge of town for breakfast. No one gawked when he walked in and sat down. So far, so good. She asked if he wanted coffee.
He ordered with the voice he’d been practicing all yesterday. “Yes, thank you.” The waitress didn’t start at the voice, or even seem to care. She poured his cup and handed him a menu.
Chris was so self conscious he held it up like he was reading it, but was looking around the diner. Wondering if anyone could see his nervousness. When she came back for his order he said, in the same practiced voice:
”Just something small, a pancake and some sausage; please.” and then “Where is the ladies room?”
She pointed to it and walked away to get his order started.
He rose from the booth and, again, no one seemed inclined to tell him he was heading to the wrong one. He almost forgot the purse! He’d looked through his mother's things and had found a white one. It had all the make-up he’d used that day, and his wallet. Chris realized he’d need it when he was done dressing and had nowhere for it. He reached for the purse and walked on to the restroom.
On the way he overheard a small child say. “Mommy, why did that lady order breakfast ?” The (he supposed mother) answered. “Maybe she has a job at night, dear.”
This was going better than he thought. Now to just keep it going for the rest of the morning. To the store, to the gas station, and to eat lunch.
He went into the bathroom and checked his “face” in the mirror. He hadn’t wiped it off yet, although he was so nervous he was really sweating under the wig. He locked the door (it was a small diner) and had to pull up the dress and the hose down to pee. It was really annoying! And them pulling them back up, without snagging them. He did it, but he was sure he was in the restroom far longer than he should have been.
He came out and walked lightly (because he’d been practicing that too) back to his booth. The waitress brought his order. He put his napkin in his lap and tried to eat daintily. He was concentrating so hard on looking like a woman just having a normal breakfast in a diner, he didn’t even hear the first “Miss?” The man repeated it “Miss?”
Chris started a bit. Oh yes, he was the miss!
He turned to the voice while saying (also in the practiced voice) “Yes?”
“Is this yours?” he held out a small red clutch.
“No, sorry.”
“Oh, well we thought we’d ask.” he indicated himself and his son.
They walked away, and Chris was feeling really confident as Kris now.
He finished his meal and went up to the front to pay, attempting to sway his hips on the way. He hoped it didn’t look too forced.
On the way to the car he got a wolf whistle. In this dress? Maybe he looked better than he thought. Or the workers were making fun of him. He wasn’t sure. Either way it took him a second to even realized it indeed was to him. This was easier than he’d imagined. People really do judge a book by it’s cover, don’t they.
He drove to another shelf-mart. On the way in, the greeter said “Cart, miss?”
This time a confident Kris said “Yes, please.”
He went back to the ladies section, he didn’t feel nearly as self conscious this time, the knee highs were much easier to select. No sizes, just colours. He bought two packages of ‘nude’. He also bought four packages of regular hose. He hoped he could get at least one pair of these on without running them.
He also checked the shoes, this shelf mart had one pair of twelves. Some white sling backs, he tried them on and, forgetting completely about the dress, he had his legs open. An older woman walked by and said. “Dear, where is your slip?” he closed his legs. Embarrassed, and hoping she hadn’t seen up enough to know he wasn’t actually a girl, he turned red and said:
“I was in a bit of a hurry this morning.”
“Well, then, you should be mindful ,” she looked at his feet “those shoes do look nice though. Such large feet. You poor thing, it must be difficult to find things.”
As Chris took off the shoes and put them in the cart. He said, as Kris:
“Yes, yes it can be. I had a pair I loved with this dress, and they broke today. I usually order on the internet, but they take awhile to get here. I was already dressed when they broke.”
He hoped this was believable, thinking on his feet, as Kris, was hard!
The woman answered him “I’m sure, and dear…” She paused to look at him, and leaned in for apparent girl to girl secrecy.
“Yes?”
“Your make-up is smudged.”
He attempted a giggle, and leaned in to her in the ‘secret’ mode “Well, I am just having a day, aren’t I? Thank you. I’ll go fix it!”
He walked towards the rest room, that sentence had gotten him out of a potentially embarrassing situation, and given him even more confidence. He looked in the mirror, the one eye was smudged, he must have rubbed it inadvertently while trying on the shoes. He reapplied the shadow, and decided he’d skip the fiasco of peeing here. He’d just gone at the diner anyway.
He also thought. Slip? That was just taking it too far. Or was it? He went over to the lingerie again. They did have some slips. The sizes on these were slightly easier. Small, Medium, and Large. With lengths. He held on up to the skirt of the dress as a sales woman came over.
Need some help?”
“Well, yes, My dryer ate my slip, and I don’t remember how long it was…“
He thought: Good one Kris, first your shoes break, and now the dryer ate your slip? Get it together!
Chris looked at her nametag, it said Agnes.
Kris said: “What do you think Agnes?”
“I’d go with a medium length beige, that way you can have it for more than one dress, considering you aren’t wearing one now. I’m assuming you only had the one.”
He thought: How does she know I’m not wearing a slip?
He tried the confidence thing with her, leaning in and almost whispering “Is it that obvious?”
She smiled and whispered back :
“Your dress is going in between your legs when you walk. So, yes.”
Oh, that’s how, whew. He was getting worried. Maybe he’d buy two.
Kris said:
“Maybe I should splurge and buy two, so I don’t have this happen again?”
“I think that’s a lovely idea.”
He grabbed the one he had, and another shorter one. The blue dress he’d ordered was much shorter than what he was wearing.
He walked to the checkout and bought everything. He made it to the car. Unlocked it and put the purchases in the trunk. Opened the door, got in, started it, put it in reverse…then noticed himself in the mirror. And had an anxiety attack.
What was he doing!?
That was really easy, and he was starting to like being Kris.
No.
No.
No, he wasn’t.
Kris looked back in the mirror, who was this? Where did he even get this idea?
Kris said to him, in his mind.
“I have always been here.”
What the fuck! Voices in his head?
His mind's voice said:
“Oh, no you haven’t”
“Yes, I have, think.”
His mind took him back, back to when he was very young.
Voices, all women’s voices, saying what cute baby, then later, when grandma (Dad’s Mom) had let her sleep with him, holding her silk pajamas in his hand to fall asleep, and her even letting him wear them.
Around ten, playing at Craig’s. Craig was allowed to be in his mother's room, and they were playing with her make-up, they had painted each other like clowns. It was fun, Craig told him he looked pretty, and teased him. He told him he did too. They giggled. A ten year old painted Kris turned from the mirror memory in his mind told him.
“See, I was here then. And I am here now.”
His mother hadn’t let him go to Craig’s after that, he remembered.
He slipped out of the memory and back to being in the car. The Kris voice gone. He looked at the image in the mirror. Kris was very pretty. And…he was Kris.
The planning, the detail, for some reason applying it, hadn’t occurred to him, to BE Kris, to fully embody her state of being, not just acting like a girl, but BEING Kris. How had he missed this crucial step?
Because he was worried it’d make him gay? That was his mother talking. Stevie had taught him a lot about how wrong his mother was. Oh, Stevie. He missed chatting with him. Why had he done that?
Because Chris finishes what he starts. Chris always finishes.
And then he did something he hadn’t done since that day. He cried, cried for the mistakes he’d made with him, cried because he missed him. And he could, because he was Kris, and Kris can cry in the middle of a shelf-mart parking lot at nine o’clock in the evening, and no one even notices.
***
“What was sundered and undone, shall be whole , the two made one”
A puffy eyed Kris got out of the car, dug through the trunk and found the slip; tore off the tags, looked around, and pulled it up under the dress. She then and walked back into the shelf-mart to reapply her face. The greeter didn’t offer her a cart, just pointed her to the bathroom with a look of sympathy. In the bathroom Kris washed her face with the cold cream , for she’d brought that too. A woman is always prepared. She’d need more.
Several other ladies came in and out of the bathroom while she did her make-up, none of them commented.
She walked out of the bathroom, and went looking for the cold cream, and while reading the bottle noticed she still had dull red fingernails. She went to cosmetics, and picked out a run festive red, an electric blue, a plum purple, and - just for fun- a neon green.
Kris’s cell phone rang, and (because she couldn’t very well answer Chris‘s phone) she dug through her purse and turned it off.
When Kris got back to the car, he looked at the phone: Marcy from work, a package had come for Chris.
She’d get it later. She stopped off for gas, and almost paid with Chris’s credit card, but then remembered and walked over to the booth to pre-pay with cash.
Kris decided to go and eat, she drove down the street, not really looking for anything particular. The was an independent coffee shop , “The Empire” it looked to have comfy chairs. When she walked in she noticed they had a checklist system, you mark what you want on the paper, pay, and then they call your name when it is ready, there were three people in line ahead of her, so while she waited she surveyed the rest of the shop. It also had free wi-fi and advertisements for open mic nights. When it was her turn she ordered a non-fat mocha single shot latte, and marked down a ham and gouda cheese, on a croissant, with ranch dressing. The clerk asked her for a name “kris, with a “k” she said, and went to sit down.
A song finished and a new one started on the stereo it had a melancholy feeling , and Kris listened to the lyrics…
No the doctors didn't tell you,
that you were dying.
They just collected their money,
And sent you on your way.
But you knew all along,
went on pretending nothing was wrong,
you said “I will keep my focus, till the end.”
And in the journal you kept,
by the side of your bed.
You wrote nightly in aspiration,
of developing as an author.
Confessing childhood secrets,
of dressing up in women's clothes,
Compulsions you never knew the reasons to,
Well everyone, you ever meet or love,
be just relationship based on a false presumption,
despite everyone, you ever meet or love,
in the end, will you be all alone?
As the disease spreads slowly through your body,
pumped by your heart to the tips of your arms and your legs,
your greatest fear was that your mind wouldn't last,
your coherency and alertness would be the first things to fade,
as your hair thinned, as the weight fell off, as your teeth blackened,
as the lesions spotted your skin,
as you fell to your knees in the center of the stage,
as you offered witness to mortality in exchange for the ticket price,
as the lights blended into the continuing noise,
as all hope was finally lost.
Adrenaline carried one last thought to fruition.
Let this be the end.
Let this be the last song.
Let this be the end.
Let all be forgiven.
The song made her think, and Chris was crying somewhere in the back of her mind. When her order was ready, she went up and asked the song name and title.
“It’s ‘Searching For a Former Clarity’ by ‘Against Me!’, isn’t it great? You should really check them out if you haven‘t.”
Kris said “I will, thanks.”
She walked back to her table and sat down. Other songs played, but Kris didn’t hear them. Chris’s crying was loud, and then when it turned to anger, it was even more distracting. She was concentrating on remembering who she was, where she was, and how to eat like a lady. The sandwich was excellent. She’d have to remember this place.
When they got out to the car Chris said “That song bothered me.”
Kris replied in a soothing tone “I know, but I’m here now. Everything will be alright.”
Kris drove home got onto the computer, and went into friends chat. She chatted for hours. With Sarah, Salem, Edi, Ash, R., Huluman, and Iantric. She asked them questions, and even flirted a little. Salem, Sarah and R. she talked with privately. R. was evasive and judgmental as usual. They might have to do something about him.
But not tonight. Tonight was just making an appearance, building confidence.
Everything really would be alright. Chris would see. They’d be alright.
A song came to her head, and she hummed it, not realizing she‘d heard it in the coffee shop. She’d have to go back there.
Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right.
Singin': "Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right!"
Rise up this mornin',
Smiled with the risin' sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
She went to look for it. ‘Three Little Birds’ by Bob Marley came up. She played it.
Chris was soothed. They realized they were tired.
Kris went upstairs and undressed in Mother's room. She put her wig on the mirror, her dress on a hanger, the nylons in the garbage. (for they had run earlier), the bra and slip on the bed. She went to the bathroom for a bath. She sat in the bath, just soaking and thinking for a while. This had been an eventful day. She played it over in her mind while shaving her legs again (we need to practice, said Chris). Once out of the bath she went into Mother's room and pulled out a flannel night gown, and donned it.
***
Chris went downstairs in the soft flannel gown and got a glass of blood before bed. It had been a very strange day, a strange day indeed. He felt more connected than he ever had, and was sure this would work. He also felt alive, and aroused?
He put some music on, and let it take him to another plane. He reached under the gown to pleasure himself. Having climaxed, he fell asleep to the sounds of 65daysofstatic, having been turned onto them by Robert a few months ago.
Chris woke to his alarm and the realization that another work week was starting. At the end of his shift the nurse handed him his package. The shoes had come. Kris smiled in his head.
He realized when he got home that he hadn’t unloaded anything from the store the other day. He brought the shelf-mart purchases and the new black heels into the house.
Kris urged him to change, and so they did. Back on the computer, complete with a freshly painted face, dress, and the curled blonde wig, Kris went to ‘Just a friendly chat‘.
The chat was talking about going to the doctor, convenient.