her name is lindsey, but she makes everyone call her nathan

photo by Ted Schuetz

This morning I drove Jamie and her friend Renee around the neighbourhood so that they could put up signs advertising their yard sale. The title is taken from something that Jamie said, but the rest is fiction.

♥ ♥ ♥


Someone was doing something to the house next door, and it woke her much earlier than she'd planned. She lay there listening to the scraping, buzzing and pounding while she came fully awake. She shifted under the weight of the clean sheets and blankets (bless her mother, who still believed in Spring Cleaning, and who had hung her bedding out the day before, while she was at school) and sighed because the heat from her sleeping body had created a delicious cacoon.

She didn't want to leave it, but threw aside the heavy comforter anyway. Still nude, she walked into her private bathroom and sat down to pee. In the next few moments her hands were washed and her teeth brushed, and she stood in front of the full length mirror, perusing her body while the tub filled with steamy water.

She had perfect breasts, which seemed ridiculous and incredibly ironic, considering her other problems. Problems that hadn't really been realized until she was sixteen and trying to have sex with the first boy she ever loved. Such pain! She didn't panic at first, because didn't every girl experience some modicum of pain at the start? As time went on, she knew it was something more and her doctor confirmed it. Now several years later, and she was trying to decide which way to go.

She could stay a woman, but actual intercourse was going to be an issue throughout her entire life. The surgeons had said (over and over) that reconstructive surgery could only do so much. There would always be pain, but she loved men. She adored her breasts, and the thought of removing them panicked her. She reached up and cupped them both, admiring how full they'd become just in the last year. Apparently college was good for them, and if she'd gained the freshman fifteen, so be it.

Of course, the only other option was to become male.

Apparently she had some evidence of male sexual organs, although she'd never truly felt "male", unless you counted the fierce competitive nature she'd shown during basketball season. And volleyball. Okay, track too. But who was to say that was a male thing anyway?

Sighing, she slipped into the tub and put the matter out of her mind. If anything was going to happen, it wasn't going to be for (at least) another semester. Just for today, she was going to stay Lindsey.

Just for today she wasn't going to worry.

stories from yesterday

story written for Bill on October 19, 2004
**a little explicit**

the coffee bar
She walked into the coffee bar absent mindedly, and moved to the right to join the shortest line. It had been a long day, and the thought of a 5 minute wait made her sigh and wiggle her shoulders in an effort to loosen up. Glancing around at nothing in particular, she noticed that there were two new counter people, rushing around to find things. A batch of muffins in the small commercial oven and a pot of decaf brewing made the air heavy and sweet.

Ahead of her, a small woman wearing jeans and a hairclip was picking out a dozen doughnuts, so she continued to glance around at the people in line. There were 3 or 4 teenagers finding enough money for icecaps and a man that looked like a truckdriver. When the door opened, a man walked in wearing dark blue fatigues and a nylon jacket. He was about her height, with startling green eyes and very short blonde hair. He moved with deliberate ease, stopping behind the truckdriver and pushing one hand into his pants pocket. Curiously, she watched as he pulled out a $20 bill, and glanced around to size up the wait. For a second, he looked directly into her eyes, and she felt a quiet heat rise up her chest. The line moved forward, so she shifted and continued to peruse him, from the black boots and following the curve of his legs up to his ass. There was an EMS embroidered on the sleeve of his jacket, so she assumed he worked for the city.

After ordering coffee and sandwiches, she stepped off to the side and thoughts of the man's eyes drifted through her mind. She wondered what would happen if she just stepped back towards him and ran her hands over his butt, and suppressed a low laugh at the thought. What if he led her outside, and leaned her against the building? She could imagine those hands on either side of her head, his face leaning in close to her. His breath on her cheek, and down her neck. She could see him dipping down to look at her, before gently pressing his soft mouth against her bottom lip. She'd press back - tentatively at first but soon deepening it until his tongue pushed into her mouth. Heat would explode in her belly, making her shiver suddenly, nipples curling up and pressing into his warm nylon jacket.

One of his hands would come down and curl around the side of her neck, pulling her in closer to him and pressing her closer to the wall. His thigh would push between hers, making them fit together and she'd run her hands down the front of his chest, then pushing beneath his jacket and across his back. Heat from his skin would make her moan, and he'd lift his head to look at her before bringing the tip of his tongue over her top lip.

Sighing, she turned to see that her food was ready, but the man with the eyes hadn't ordered yet. Not ready to leave, she moved over to the tables, and slid onto a chair to continue watching him. She pulled the lid off her coffee, and sipped while she pondered him naked. His shoulders looked wide, and she wondered what they'd feel like under her hands. She pictured him stripping off his shirt, and maneuvering himself over her. She'd want to taste every bit of his chest, and lick her way down his belly and up those strong thighs. She imagined the feel of hot skin and soft hair on her face, and she closed her eyes involuntary against the rush. When she re-opened them, he was handing the cashier money. He spoke quietly as he shoved his change back into his pocket, and moved around the people behind him toward the door. He looked directly at her, and instead of glancing away, held her gaze for a full five seconds before smiling and pushing through the door. Sighing, she picked up the lid off the table, and started putting it back on her coffee. A shadow moved across her peripheral vision, and she looked up to see him sliding in across from her.

"Hi," he said softly. "I'm Bill. And you are?"

"Yours," said Kate. "Would you like to sit down?"

an older story

photo by Graham Owen

I wrote this story last year and posted it on journalspace. Now, thanks to Google cache, I have it back. Obviously, I'm a sentimental romantic.

Tesoro mio, angelo Mio

Sophia could see him just as he was, if she closed her eyes. She could re-live the entire day, if she put her mind to it. That was the day that Mama had wanted her to go down to the market, to pick up an eggplant for the evening meal, and she hadn't wanted to go. The day wasn't as sunny as it usually was, but there was a nice wind, and she'd been busy hanging sheets on the line her Papa had strung up between their little villa and the pole at the back of the garden. She'd wanted to do some reading afterwards, before she started the afternoon cleaning, but instead she stored the wicker basket in a corner of the small kitchen and went out front to get the old red bicycle.

She waved to her neighbour, Salvatore, as she rode past, and gestured wildly at the driver of a grubby, three wheeled truck that veered too close to her. "Ma sei pazzo?!" - are you crazy?!"

Once she arrived at the market, her mood seemed to lighten. Children ran in and around the stands filled with fruits and vegetables, their laughter echoing off the old buildings in the background. Older couples walked hand in hand, and the young people - her friends, called out to her from where they sat eating in the piazza. It was then that she spotted the stranger, sitting at a table by himself. He didn't fit in, mostly because of his clothing. He was wearing a crisp white shirt and black trousers, but the others in the square had already stripped down to their undershirts, and many of the young men had begun wearing dungarees, made popular by American movies. She noticed him looking at her as she joined her friends, but had soon forgotten him as she laughed and visited with the girls she'd gone to school with. One of them had hoped to attend college, but her parents wanted her to marry. The other was already married, and was expecting a little bambino in the fall. Sophia wished silently for a family of her own.

A deep voice interrupted their talk. "Scusi, Per favore."

Sophia looked up to see the strange young man standing nearby, holding a piece of paper. He looked shy, and he was blushing. "Mi chiamo ... my name is William." William! She had never met a William before, and she'd had no idea how quickly her life was about to change. He'd stumbled over a few Italian phrases, telling the small group of girls about his trip so far (he'd been travelling with an Uncle, and they were both from a small community in Western Canada) and he had less than two weeks left before having to return home.

By that time, he'd had his Uncle visit Sophia's home and arrange a proper introduction, and they'd been out several times, enjoying the warm Italian weather under the watchful eye of her chaperone. Several months later, he returned to her little village for the first ceremony, and she cried copiously as her parents saw them off at the dock.

A second wedding ceremony took place in Leduc, with all of William's friends and family attending, and they'd settled into the little house on the edge of town. "Mio Dio!", she thought now. That had been fifty-four years ago, and it was hard to believe she was an old woman of seventy-two.

Her life played through her mind like an old movie reel - the babies, one after another. The lean years, when they were all little. The twins were both married, and had given William and Sophia five grandchildren and two great-grandchildren between them. Tomas wasn't married, but was an architect and travelled extensively. A few years ago he'd gone back to her village and had taken pictures of her old villa, which had been renovated extensively by a younger cousin. She'd hung it proudly in their bedroom, where she could look at it as she put her hair up each morning.

Today she sat in the over-stuffed chair in the corner of their room, watching William sleep. She wasn't sure how long he'd be here, as the cancer had progressed quickly. Every morning while her grandaughter watched him, she walked over to the little Catholic church and lit a candle for him. At the very least, his pain was being managed and she wasn't afraid for him. She was a little afraid for herself, as she'd never been alone since coming to this country. Hard to believe it all began because she'd gone down to the market for an eggplant.

Scooting over to the edge of her seat, she reached across and rested one hand over his. "Tesoro mio, angelo Mio - my treasure, my Angel. I love you so." She felt his fingers close around hers, and her heart swelled. Her home had always been where he was, and that would never change. "Scrivami una cartolina - I'll miss you so."