Invalidation (A Very Short Story)
“Hi! How are you doing today?”
The words left my mouth with a smidge of hesitation. The customer had a look of bewilderment on her face. I had seen this customer several hundred times in the past handful of years, but she acted like we’d never met before.
“Oh, hi,” she said, with a hesitation mirroring my own.
I finished the sale silently, only mumbling when I had to explain transaction-related things. After I handed the customer back her change, she left in a hurry without saying thanks or goodbye. How awkward. We used to chat back and forth over the counter about our mutual daily drudgery every time she would wander in to shop. I would have called us “friendly acquaintances” even mere days before. Now, today, I’m a complete stranger to her.
Suddenly, I felt uncomfortable in my own skin, like those dreams you used to have when you were a kid about being suddenly nude at school. I felt naked, like some kind of freak who can’t wear clothing because she’s allergic to clothes, all of a sudden, overnight.
I closed my register and asked my manager if I could take a ten.
“Of course, Ry-I mean Roxie, for sure. Go ahead.”
I left down the hallway and arrived at the bathrooms. In the mirror, I stared and stared, and tried to see Roxie, but all I could see was Ryan. As a tear ran down my face, I slammed my fist into the sink and wished desperately that I could fast-forward in time a year from then, past all of the trials and tribulations necessary to be a better me, and skip all the pain and suffering along the way. A year from now, I'd be content.
Happy.
Beautiful.
Full of life.
Full-time.
I surely wouldn’t be trapped in this limbo of androgyny and almost something. Sure, I was being shallow, but I couldn't stop the spite; it was like a leaky faucet of or hormones, self-hate, and self-conscious second guessing.
I pressed my fingers against my chin and felt some unshaved stubble that I had missed that morning. It reminded me of the parasitic mold that grows on bad bread, or a poisonous blight on a newly-bloomed flower, trying desperately to grow and exist. My lip quivered and I could feel more tears coming. I reached into my pocket, and pulled out two round, white tablets and a small blue pill.
Medication.
Mouth.
Water.
Swallow.
Tastes like mint.
I wished again desperately that it was a year from then.
The words left my mouth with a smidge of hesitation. The customer had a look of bewilderment on her face. I had seen this customer several hundred times in the past handful of years, but she acted like we’d never met before.
“Oh, hi,” she said, with a hesitation mirroring my own.
I finished the sale silently, only mumbling when I had to explain transaction-related things. After I handed the customer back her change, she left in a hurry without saying thanks or goodbye. How awkward. We used to chat back and forth over the counter about our mutual daily drudgery every time she would wander in to shop. I would have called us “friendly acquaintances” even mere days before. Now, today, I’m a complete stranger to her.
Suddenly, I felt uncomfortable in my own skin, like those dreams you used to have when you were a kid about being suddenly nude at school. I felt naked, like some kind of freak who can’t wear clothing because she’s allergic to clothes, all of a sudden, overnight.
I closed my register and asked my manager if I could take a ten.
“Of course, Ry-I mean Roxie, for sure. Go ahead.”
I left down the hallway and arrived at the bathrooms. In the mirror, I stared and stared, and tried to see Roxie, but all I could see was Ryan. As a tear ran down my face, I slammed my fist into the sink and wished desperately that I could fast-forward in time a year from then, past all of the trials and tribulations necessary to be a better me, and skip all the pain and suffering along the way. A year from now, I'd be content.
Happy.
Beautiful.
Full of life.
Full-time.
I surely wouldn’t be trapped in this limbo of androgyny and almost something. Sure, I was being shallow, but I couldn't stop the spite; it was like a leaky faucet of or hormones, self-hate, and self-conscious second guessing.
I pressed my fingers against my chin and felt some unshaved stubble that I had missed that morning. It reminded me of the parasitic mold that grows on bad bread, or a poisonous blight on a newly-bloomed flower, trying desperately to grow and exist. My lip quivered and I could feel more tears coming. I reached into my pocket, and pulled out two round, white tablets and a small blue pill.
Medication.
Mouth.
Water.
Swallow.
Tastes like mint.
I wished again desperately that it was a year from then.