Trouble and Her

As he got off the boat he breathed a huge sigh of relief, glad that that part of it was over. Lesson learned, he and the sea didn’t go too well. He shuddered at the thought that they both would be in close proximity for the next couple of days, if he could make it till then. Damn being spontaneous was tough, never ever would he try to be spontaneous again.

As he collected his backpack he noticed her get off the sailboat and kiss the sailor. She was same female that was holding up the ferry on the dock and who had missed the boat because of her carelessness and delayed everyone else. How did she get here so fast? Some girls have all the luck. He was so busy looking at her that he didn’t see the bag in front of him, and so tripped and fell, hurting his knees. He sat there biting his tongue refusing to howl out in pain, but he did let out a couple of expletives. But she didn’t even notice him, typical of girls like her, the popular ones. When the pain finally subsided he hobbled off to the enquiry box (if you could call that one). He purchased a map and made his way to the nearest hotel. He booked a room and spent the rest of the day in hotel  icing his knees and ordering room services.

Next day he took a rusty old jeep on rent that was one accident away from falling apart. Apparently they didn’t have cars on the island, just two wheelers, which he couldn’t ride to save his life. So in the end he had to rent out this dilapidated jeep. He made a note of the places that he wanted to visit, which was not much, and was on his way. But before that he had to stop over for a quick bite.

He found a quaint little cafe just around the corner but then the service had a lot to be desired from. The service was slow and the waitresses were sloppy and took forever to take his order and to top it all one spilled water all over him. And it was her again. Why did bad things happened when she was around. He infuriated and asked for the manager. When he didn’t get the response he wanted he stormed out from there.

If things couldn’t get anymore worse, it began to rain and the jeep didn’t have any cover, so he was soaking in the rain. And then without any warning the jeep began to smoke and came to a halt. Apparently engine had overheated. How ironic, an engine overheating in the rains. That’s it, he thought, that was as spontaneous as he could get. He was going to get this monstrosity up and running, take the next ferry off this island and the next flight from the mainland and back to his structured ordered life.

The rain didn’t relent, so he got off and tried to wave down passing vehicles to get a lift to the nearest house or shop from where he could call for help. As luck would someone did stop, but to his dismay it was her. He would rather stay out in the rain then get on a bike with her but then he had no other options as he began to shiver and knowing it would be detrimental if he continued to be out in the rain. So reluctantly he got on the bike with her.

Now the rain began to pour making it dangerous to continue any further. They took shelter in an abandoned stable. He began to shiver uncontrollably. Fearing that he would catch hypothermia, she started a fire. But somehow his shivers didn’t quite subside down so she came and huddled beside him. He hated being the damsel in distress (it bruised his male ego) but it seemed to work. So when she asked his to take off his wet shirt, he reluctantly complied.

This seemed to work as he began to breathe normally and his shivering had finally died down. Now he noticed that she  was the one shivering, so he put his hands around her waist and pulled her closer. She put her head on his shoulder and he was grateful for his presence, her touch, her warmth. For the first time, since he got on this island, he felt nice, he felt happy.

Instinctively he looked at her, she was leaning towards him. He felt drawn towards her, his breathing slowed down, filled with anticipation. And without a second thought, they kissed, letting their burning passion ignite a flame, setting the night on fire.

A Rainy Night

The moment she set foot on the dock she knew this was the place for her, this was where she was meant to be, this was the place where she could spend the rest of her life here, if that was ever possible. She paid her handsome sailor with a kiss and promise to dine and sail with him the next time he sailed to the island.

She spent the rest of the day going around the city, exploring it, taking in what it had to offer. This was her adventure, this was her life, and she wanted to make the most of it. She wanted to soak it all in, enjoy every moment, soaking in the culture, tradition, cuisine of this little island that she hoped to call home. The air was fresh, and the smell of this quaint little town left her feeling intoxicated, light headed and dizzy with a sense of elation.

But then she was very aware that she couldn’t live on love and fresh air alone. She knew that very soon she would be down to her last penny. Once more she used her charm and secured a job as a waitress and with it lodging. So she was set, ready to live life on the island. And yes she could sing too. What more could she want.

She had no qualms waiting tables but was not very good at, after all her only experience in waitressing was helping serve drinks at her friend’s party (if that could be counted as experience). So she muddled up orders, found it difficult to navigate through patrons while balancing trays with orders, often mixing up orders, spilling orders, in short not doing a great job. 

The patrons were often cheery, and didn’t mind her clumsiness, willing to give her chance (also they were enamoured by her charm). That was until she saw him seated at his table, complaining about everything. Typical city dweller, she thought to herself (but then so was she) but she was nothing like him. 

As luck would have it, she tripped and spilled water on her (thank god it was just water and not anything else but then she wouldn’t have mind if she spilt something else). She apologised as she tried to wipe off the water, but he was too furious to listen to her apologies (in fact, she didn’t care). He spoke with the manager, and when he didn’t get his way, he stormed out. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him leaving, she managed to dodge a bullet. The manager didn’t reprimand her, just told her to be careful of such finicky customers. 

That night as she closed the cafe and left for the day, it began to pour. She wore her windsheeter and got on her bike (which she had rented) and was off. It was pouring steadily, not too heavy, quite manageable. As she made her way she saw headlights and someone frantically waving their hands to get her attention. As  she got closer she saw that the same obnoxious fellow from the cafe. She had half a mind to let him suffer in the rain, for his rudeness. But she saw him soaked to the bone and shivering, and took pity on him. She wasn’t quite the mechanic, did all she knew. But when that proved futile she offered to drop him to the nearest house or shop, from where he could call help. As she rode carefully the steady rain had now become a downpour making it difficult to ride, affecting visibility.

Finally, they had to stop and take shelter in what looked like an abandoned stable, waiting it out, waiting for the rains to pass. She noticed him shivering uncontrollably so she quickly searched about for anything she could get a fire going. When she was finally able to start a small fire they both sat next to it trying the best to keep warm, but their wet clothes made it difficult. He was still shivering, so she snuggled up next to him hoping their body heat would keep them warm. At first he flinched, was taken back when she snuggled next to him, but then he relaxed. When she suggested that he remove his shirt and let it dry, he was initially hesitant but did as she said. She removed her blouse and sat there in her underwear.

They huddled together before that fire and it seemed to be working. Heat from the fire combined with the heat from their bodies provided the warmth they needed. She lay her head against his shoulder, and he put his around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Out of of nowhere she felt drawn to him. The person who had earlier repulsed her was now attracting her and she was powerless to this attraction. She leant forward till she could feel his breath on her face, she could feel his body close to hers, something awaking, like the passion she felt within her. And as she slowly moved closer to his face she felt his face draw closer to hers, and then they kissed, setting the night on fire.

An Acceptance

As she rose to the mike, at the front of the altar, she could feel the butterflies in her stomach. As the choir formed behind her, she turned to face the congregation. She could see them staring at her, their eyes burning into her skin, piercing her soul. She knew that there were those out there who would love to see her fail, but many more who willed her to succeed. She had worked so hard for this, fought for it, to be accepted. But now that it was here she could feel her nerves getting the better of her, fear in the pits of her being, a cold chill running down her spine. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She remembered a time when all this was different.

She was not always female and in fact was born male, a label she wasn’t too comfortable. She always knew she woman, but in a man’s body. After two boys, her mother wished for a girl, only to have another boy. She wasn’t disappointed but in a very masculine household she wished for a feminine company. Maybe this was the reason why she was more girl than boy.

As a child she used to wear her mother’s pearls and make up and used to parade in the house and entertain guest with her singing. At first this was all amusing, all funny, all very entertaining. But when it got to be an habit it turned into bit of annoyance to her father. He scolded her for not being like the other boys and constantly reprimanded his wife for being too protective and encouraging of their son.

At school she was the butt of every joke, not very well accepted. Her effeminacy was ridiculed and made fun off. She was often at the receiving end of their bullying. Her brothers stood up for her, often getting in scraps with other boys, but there were times when even they couldn’t understand her, couldn’t take her behaviour.

Finally her father decided to pack her off to a boarding school so that they could make a man out of her, away from the influence and protection of her mother. Life at the boarding was another nightmare. In a building filled with testosterone she stood out like a sore thumb. Once again she found herself being bullied, being harassed mentally, physically and sexually. There were other effeminate boys but they too fell in line with the straight boys.

Once while showering at night , she was accosted by her tormenters. They tried to force her  to perform oral acts on them and when she refused they nearly raped her. When she begged and pleaded and cried they finally let her go. Not before kicking her and beating her, especially in her privates saying that she had no use for them and threatened that if she ever opened her mouth to anyone she would face a worse faith.

This was the final straw, she couldn’t take any longer. But she didn’t know who turn to? Who could help her? Who would believe her? She did the only thing she thought was right and ran away from there. Her father flew into fit of rage when he saw his son standing at the door. If it wasn’t for his mother he would have physically harmed him. That night his parent got into a huge argument. She could hear them no matter how much she tried to drown them out. She decided to put an end to it all. If it weren’t for her mother’s timely intervention, she would have been six feet under. And when she saw all the bruises and marks on her body, she swore to stand by her son, no matter what, even if it meant crossing sword with her hubby, with society, with the world at large.

From that day onwards she became her biggest supporter, her advocate, the one who stood by her, the one who fought for her. She wouldn’t spare anyone. Even though she was deeply religious, she accepted her son for who he was and who he wanted to be. She gave the local parish priest, who spoke to her about her son, a piece of her mind, or for that matter anyone who spoke ill of her son. Knowing how maternal and protective that she was of her youngest, her father didn’t dare to rub her the wrong way. He made his peace, even slowly beginning to accept his son the way he was. People spoke, made fun, cooked up stories, it just rolled off her back. If she would have to go against the world for her child, she would. She would even give up going to church if it weren’t for her staunch faith. She always told her children, especially her youngest that Jesus loves you all no matter who she chose to be and how she chose to live. It was this faith that stayed with her and kept her going and believing in god and Christ, no matter what people or even the priest and other religious said.

When she went to college she happened to come across the choir, a bunch of kid from all walks of life, all strata of society who came together to sing. They were in their own way an outcast to social  but they held their own. She found her voice here, the thing she would love to do. They accepted her for she was without any prejudice and it was with them she came into her own. Together with their melodious voice they grew in popularity and fame.

As the years went by people became more accepting of who she was and what she represented. There were still those religious bigots who passed judgement on her. The parish priest changed and 

 in his place came a more open, tolerant and accepting and wiser priest. He had heard her and her choir before and encouraged her to come more often to church, much to the delight of her mum. He finally invited to sing for the Christmas midnight mass. And it was here where she found herself.

As she opened her eyes, she saw her mum wearing the biggest smile, her chest swelling with pride for child. She saw her father and brother and their families, who were smiling and waiting for her to sing. There was anticipation in the air. She drew in a deep breath and began to sing Oh Holy Night, starting slowly and then building a crescendo, soaring on every note, with the choir behind her giving her able support. When she belted that final

Note there wasn’t a dry eye in the church. The whole congregation rose to their feet and greeted her with a rapturous applause. She couldn’t help up but tear up, and in that moment she whispered “Praise you Jesus, thank you Jesus!” Like her mother taught her.