I
The Reality: an Introduction - Jesse
The phrase �C�mon, be a man� always made me cringe. Although I didn�t feel anything against men � as I am a boy myself - I didn�t feel anything for men, either. Life�s impression on me was that there is a gender mold, and you have to fit into it, not the opposite; if you differed with the slightest hint of androgyny, then something was wrong with yourself. That was what I felt, maybe slightly exaggerated, but it is and was how I perceived the world before me.
Righteously, I could say that I was androgynous. Some aspects I couldn�t control, such as the polarity of my voice, which at sixteen, sounded the same as when I was ten. In another aspect, I could say that I longed to be female, shedding my lanky body and flat chest, too. As hard as I tried to appear masculine in the past, I couldn�t fit into the masculine mold. For the past year, I had been growing my hair long, and, ever since I was eleven, my older sister let me wear some of her old clothes and makeup once she found out when I desired to become more feminine. She was one of the only few people that discovered my desire. She seemed indifferent to that aspect of me; only if I ventured outside in her attire from the past would she object.
Although I kept my feminine side inside, the rest of the world seemed to assume my hidden desires. My classmates, the taunting ignoramuses they were, always knew, as they talked behind my back as if they were omniscient of my state. Of course, they only judged by my long hair, effeminate voice, and the name of �Jesse� that I was born into. Constantly, as a joke, they would write �Jessie� or �Jessi� on my locker or desk. They didn�t want to believe that I was, in any connection, a part of the male sex. And, that was where the �be a man� phrase, almost a clich�, came in to play. Perhaps I was just divergent from adolescence�s steady stream of conformity, but the mold I was cast into - or more appropriately, the mold society cast me into- did not seem to fit right, like a pair of pants that were too loose or a shirt that never stayed buttoned at the collar when you tried to tie a necktie around your neck. Thus for a period of time, I attempted to be �normal� - something that I was not - but failed. I couldn�t fit in to any position, so why appease them, I asked myself in analysis of my failure to become a �man.� I was not they and they were not I, and thus, we did not have to agree on any position to function.
Several times, I constantly analyzed myself, but if there is ten to one, one will always be the loser, I always knew from my experience after watching sports games with my brothers; I was the �one,� therefore I usually am the �loser.� If you are haplessly the loser, you will always end up being the loser because there is no way to surpass and overcome the other �ten.� And, usually the loser is a coward. Who wouldn�t be, especially if ten fiends are hiding in the shadows to bludgeon him? At the moment, I was the Coward. Here I was, hiding in the boys� bathroom after school, waiting for everyone to leave outside. No one was ever in here at this point in the day, and thus I waited in here until everyone left before I started the long trek home. As I waited here, leaning up against the green walls, I began to grow tense with each minute sound echoing in the tiled room. In the pockets of my black trench coat, my palms grew sweaty in the balls my fists made. Like a repeating drum, my heart thumped faster, harder, and louder, pounded inside of my chest, and resonated in my ears in the silence of the room. When will they embrace the desolate streets again, I nervously wondered.
Discreetly with each step, I walked over to the mirror, which was on the center of the wall in the room, across from the toilets, reeking of urine. There I stood and eyed my timid reflection in the metallic glare of the mirror, and merely by my reflection, I wouldn�t blame anyone for fearing of me. My reflection, horrific, was like the visage of a ghost. My skin, pasty white, was dotted with several red pimples. My hair, originally dark brown, was dyed dark purple and parted to one side, shading half of my hideous face. My parents had qualms about it, but dealt with it later. The worst, or most grotesque, part of me was my eyes - dark, almost black, like the frozen glass lumps embedded in a doll�s face, and piercing with every stare. Sometimes, when I looked at myself through those frightening eyes, a chill went up my spine and permeated the rest of my back. Along with my small nose and thin lips, I could frighten the most audacious person. And, wearing my black trench coat around everywhere I went, I could scare a myriad of people. Truthfully, they didn�t have to like me, but I didn�t want them to detest me to the point of outlandish mocking, either.
The only person that did not mock me was my friend Glynis. Unfortunately, for both of us, she was still repeating eighth grade for her third year in consecutively in junior high at sixteen. She could frighten several people, as well, but she was the antithesis of I, however. While I am always looking gloomy, she is assertive and audacious. While she kept repeating eighth grade, I was an honor student in tenth. Emotionally, she behaved like a wall of impermeable bricks, while I was timorous and sensitive to anyone that crosses my path. Although we appeared to be opposites, we were the best of friends.
Timidly, I look at my watch. For the past fifteen minutes, I cowered away in the bathroom. Perhaps I should go out, in to the cruel, insensitive world, I questioned. With that in mind, I buttoned my coat up, opening the door to the desolate hallway. No one was around, besides for the janitor, cleaning the floors in a plaintively way. Maybe he was like me in high school, a freak and an outcast. Now he has a job in his detested vision of the past that any degenerate could do efficiently, I thought sarcastically, shuddering in disgust.
As I demurely, and cautiously, walked down the hallway, looking both was at every juncture for fiends, I felt loathsome in the whole place. From the outside, it reminded me of a giant block of bricks, a monochromic cube. From the inside, the uniformity was still predominant. The identical gray shade of the lockers lining the halls to the beige pattern of the floor, chaffed by the years� worth of treads. How I wanted to escape it all, to never come here again, heinously laughing in all the people�s faces that despised me in the past. But, that would never happen, and I�d be stuck in the base of the hierarchy for my existence in this form.
The entrance door stared me straight in the face; I wasn�t afraid of it. I stared it down intensely, wishing that it would perish before me, burning up the whole building in flames with it. The fiasco would not harm me since I created it, and it would not harm Glynis as well, if she were passing by. Once, I had to talk to a psychiatrist about these strange visions, everything bursting up into flames. They thought something was seriously wrong with me, including the desire I vaguely explained to them about being feminine. Fortunately, for me, my parents took me out. Too much money, and I seemed to be getting worse, even if something was wrong with me. Then, I opened the door, without haste, starting my long walk home.
The brittle, harsh wind hit me in the face, blowing my hair, and filling my coat with its frigid breath. The sidewalk was littered with gray snow, piled on the sides to make a path for the pedestrians. From the cloudy sky came a falling powder of snow, dusting my black coat and hair, sticking to my mascara-laden eyelashes. None of the lights were on across the street in the stores, and few people were roaming the sidewalks. How I wanted to revel in this picturesque moment, where everything seemed to be serenely desolate and perfect. I wanted to sit on the front steps of the school, smoke, and silently watch the snow fall upon the sidewalk. Reacting on that thought, I gingerly took a cigarette from my pocket, placing it between my quavering lips, and lit it. At least, here, I could live half of my momentary wish.
In gray, transparent clouds, the smoke blew in my face from the wind. The scent of cigarettes and ashes filled my nose and throat as I inhaled deeply. I closed my eyes, thinking of a time and place when everything was different. The cold was nonexistent, even though I could still feel its bite at my ankles, where my shoes and coat didn�t cover. In the distance, the blaring sound of a car�s horn could be heard, spoiling my thoughts. Disgruntled, I looked down at the cigarette between my lips, which had burned down to a stump of paper by now. Carelessly, I tossed the stump aside in to the snow, restraining from looking at it. Now I could start to walk home, for there was nothing to revel in anymore, let alone look at. Veering to my left, in the direction of my home, I started to walk.
Whenever the weather became darker, I always felt more morose than usual. The dark, cloudy skies accompanied by the dreary weather were like weights upon my spirit, pulling me down. When the sky became brighter, I felt a bit less moody, to a certain extent. However, sometimes when the weather became bright, it got warmer, too, thus I couldn�t wear my coat anymore. My trench coat was like my armor, protecting me with its shield from the rest of the world. Once it was off, I felt uneasy and vulnerable. The wounds scoured into my arms were exposed from all the times in the past when I tried to hurt myself. Everyone could then laugh at me, for they had obvious reasons in front of them.
Before I would come home today, I decided that I wanted to go to see Glynis, if she were home, and to stop at the library. What was there to do at home anyway, I wondered. Watch television or risk someone catching me in drag? Today, I wasn�t in the mood to play the generic game of hide-and-seek. If I went to the library, I could read, which, for me, was much more involving and engrossing than staring at a radiating screen. The atmosphere there was quiet and tranquil, which I needed at the moment to break away from the hectic day. At home, I would have to cope with the noise � created by my father�s demands and my two younger brothers� voices of youthful conformity.
Glynis lived closer to the high school than I did. Once, she said that if she went there, she�d vandalize the place, then run home and hide so no one could find her. I couldn�t blame her for thinking that and knew that Glynis would probably do that, too. Often, she was doing something crazy or inane. On the other hand, I knew I wouldn�t be able to, and don't plan to, hurt anyone. I contemplated it several of times, definitely, but never have I carried out my fantasy. However, I could imagine Glynis shooting someone, without any qualms about it. In a sense, she had the courage and audacity to do something of that degree, but I hoped, inside, that she wouldn�t.
The street on which Glynis� house was located was extremely narrow, with cars parked on one side, allowing only one car at a time to pass through. The sidewalk had a width for only one person, maybe two, to walk down it at a time. Today, although the snow was a foot deep, no one bothered to shovel a path for pedestrians to walk. The majority of the residents on her street just threw out their trash in to the snow in front of their homes, making the walk more impeding to reach Glynis� house at the end of the block. Like most of the dwellings - in row house form, lining the streets - Glynis� house wasn�t much different. In fact, although our homes were about two miles apart, they looked almost identical. The only differences were that her bricks were reddish in color, while mine were brown, and the front steps of her house were more worn away. Gingerly stepping through the snow, trying not to ruin my coat and pants, and stepping over garbage bags, I slowly progressed down the street to Glynis� house. Today, I thought, I didn�t want to walk up her street in this weather, only to find that she was still at the junior high in detention.
Glynis� house was located second from the corner, which was how I always managed to remember her house from the others. Once I stood in front and looked inside, I noticed that someone was home. A light flickered inside, casting sepia-colored shadows against the yellowed walls, but then I realized that her mother was always home. My mood plummeted, from the realization that Glynis might not be home. I hoped that she was there, anyway, lying on the couch before jumping up to answer the door as soon as I approached the door. Up her steps, I climbed, pressing the doorbell when I reached the top stoop. Instantly, her mother - a portly, middle-aged woman who oddly didn�t resemble Glynis - answered the door. Across her face was an irked look, as if something perturbed her.
�Jesse,� she said with a sigh, �Glynis isn�t home. She got caught cuttin� again. I just don�t know when she�ll ever learn.� She rolled her eyes and leaned on the frame of the doorway.
�D-duh-d�you know wh-when she�s going to be back?� I asked. Whenever I was around adults, my voice slightly stuttered. The teachers at school caused this habit � almost a reflex � of mine, I believed. Ever since I was young, they always frightened me for some reason � perhaps from their tyrannical manner or abuse of their powers of authority - and thus in time, I developed a stutter from my fear of them.
�Don�t know,� she replied. �She�s probably in detention or in that damn principal�s office. Like he knows what to do with her. Heck,� she said, throwing her arms up in the air as she talked, �I don�t know what to do with her; I swear, if all of my kids were like her, I�d scream. She�s not stupid, just belligerent, that�s all � you�d know.� I nodded. Then, she squinted her eyes at me, frowning. �Do your parents know you�ve got purple hair and wear black mascara to school?� she asked. I nodded in response. �What�s this world come to? The good kids now look like punks and the punks are going to be the next criminals on those television court shows.�
Unwittingly, I must have been staring blankly at her, because she gave me one of her squint-eyed looks again. �You don�t watch television much, do you?� I shook my head. �Figures,� she mumbled. �What�s Glynis doing with an intellectual like you, I�ll never understand. Ah well, go to the junior high; she�s probably there doing some shit. Make sure she comes home, hear?� I nodded again. The, she closed the door on me. Her footsteps still echoed in the house with the door closed. Then, I turned around, walking down the street towards the library. Today, I wasn�t in the mood to wait after school for Glynis; all I wanted to do was find solace in my solitude, in a quiet place, and read.
The library was closer to where I lived than to Glynis� place, but I was not planning to pass by my house anyway. Once, I actually did, and my mother thought that I couldn�t remember the correct house in which I lived. Then again, on a similar note, she always thought that I was slowly becoming crazy, ever since I dyed my hair purple and she caught me in my room in a dress with makeup on. After, she did not know what to make of me anymore, thus every move I made around here was regarded as either �sane� or �crazy�; most of them, to her, ended up being the crazy kind.
About when I was ten, I started to wear my older sister�s clothes. The cause or source of that may have been one night, the night before she went to college. That night, I remember quite clearly, I couldn�t sleep, and she let me sleep in her bed for the rest of the night, just to keep me calm. At the time, perhaps I was too young or too attached to her, I didn�t want her to leave, especially because she was my best friend before I met Glynis. That night, she let me sleep with her, but I didn�t have any pajamas to wear, she didn�t want her sheets to be ruined by my dirty clothes, and, maybe on impulse or delirium, she lets me wear one of hers. After she left for college, I never felt the same since, and maybe to feel better about the whole loss, I started to wear some of her old clothes, which then led to using some of my mother�s makeup. A year later, my sister-more mature- came back home on her spring break, but obviously, she had changed, in good and negative ways in my eyes. Now, she didn�t want much to do with me, as if I was an impediment to her. I can hypothesize that she forgot about that night since she caught me wearing some of her old clothes. �It�s not what you think,� I remember telling her in a remorseful, melancholy way, but those words didn�t touch her mental thoughts. By my actions, she was horrified, telling my mother about it later. My mother then spied on me in my room later on that disappointing day. On compromise, my sister said that I could �borrow� some of her old clothes once she calmed down. However, inside I never felt the same emotional attachment to her again; my mother never felt the same about me either. At home, she always acted like something was wrong with me or I wasn�t �right� in some aspect somehow; always walking around egg shells around me, supposedly a volatile or disturbed person. None of my brothers were treated that way, I observed.
The library was right across from the junior high school where Glynis presently attended. Maybe I could catch her later, I thought, for I didn�t want her to think that I was mad at her. Usually, I crossed a vacant parking lot near a building that collapsed years ago, to go to the library. Walking through that lot made me feel insecure, since people from school usually smoked and drank there on weekend nights. After school, however, no one was there, and for the moment, I decided to cross over the lot to the library nonchalantly. Still, a feeling lingered inside making me feel uneasy and timid about the scenario crossing to the library. Should I cross the vacant lot? I questioned, looking around only to see all of the adjacent sidewalks congested with snow. The lot was only covered with a powder dust of snow, making the walk across easier. There were no foot tracks, I noticed, maybe no one is here. Thus, on impulse and the desire to go to the library, I held my breath, and started crossing the desolate lot.
My heart was beating rapidly inside my chest as the sweat trickled down my face. Cautiously, I looked around the lot, from one side to the other side where the collapsed building stood. Then, suddenly I froze in my path. A sound, like the quiet steps of a predator lurking behind before its about to catch its defenseless prey. Timidly, I turned around, and in a flash, a cold, icy snowball abrasively crashed against my cheek, already sore from the bitter cold. The ice was like a frigid, harsh slap to my face, stinging like nails were being dragged down my cheek. Behind me, I caught a glimpse of someone from school, from one of my classes, a fiend whom vehemently despised me, holding another tightly packed crystal ball of ice in his gloved hand. Following him were other tormentors in similar nature clutching their snowballs in their fists.
I started to panic and cry with fright, but I was stolid in my stance, not moving from where I stood in jeopardy. Their taunting laughter could be heard from behind me, but my legs still refused to budge from where they stood, frozen in motion. Now I was a coward to them. They could trample over me, and they�d still step on my over and over again some more just for their own enjoyment. Then, another snowball was thrown in my direction, thrown harder than the last, irritating more than before.
�Look, it�s the She-man,� mocked one. That was the name they called me, like I was an apathetic, inhuman freak to them. All I wanted to do was to rebuke back at them, or run away as fast as I could without looking behind me, but I couldn�t. The situation was one to five, with one always the loser.
�Jesse with an �-I,�� taunted another, laughing.
Now, they surrounded me in a loosely formed circle, all packing snowballs in their hands. How did they get here? I asked myself. Then I realized that they must have followed me at a distance from school. Morosely, my heart sank, feeling my helplessness and failure. I didn�t want to feel anything right now, to toss my sensitively aside, becoming as strong as Glynis. But, I was Jesse, and I was stuck inside of Jesse�s body, making me the ideal object of their mockery. The snowballs were cast, pummeling me with their icy needles, but not as nearly as demeaning as the homophobic remarks shouted at me.
One of their snowballs hit my nose, scattering its icy fragments into my eyes. For the moment, I couldn�t see from the sudden impact. My mascara, laden on my eyelashes before, now turned to a black liquid, dripping down my face. Another snowball hit me from behind, right into the back of my head. Loosing control, I nearly fell prone into the pavement. Frightened, I pulled my knees up to my chest in comfort, crying. Why couldn�t they just go away and leave me alone? Why did they even have to mess with me anyway? I thought. Surrendering to their dominance, I closed my eyes, waiting for their game to end.
Off in the distance, not too far behind, I could hear someone�s voice, sounding a bit like Glynis�s. Why would Glynis be here? I wondered. She should be in detention, from her mother�s words. Perhaps that voice wasn�t Glynis�s after all; maybe it was the voice of one of their sisters or mothers.
�If you mess with him, you�ve got to mess with me!� yelled the voice. Following that statement, I could hear a dry slap, breaking the tension and silence of the air.
�It�s the blue-haired retard who can�t get out of junior high,� mocked one, in a ridiculing tone. Glynis was here, I realized. Despite, I couldn�t sit up from the ground.
�This is when the sane criminals come in to play. Didn�t your mommy ever tell you not to mess with a sane criminal?� vexed Glynis, sounding far away with a haughty, belittling tone. �Didn�t she?� No answer. �Look who�s sorry now, and it�s not me.� There were more slaps and curses following. Meanwhile, my head was pounding with pain, and my eyes stung from the mascara.
After a while, there was a scamper of footsteps, and Glynis was yelling something nonsensical. Behind me, I heard the lone footsteps of someone walking in solitude. A hand, lightly touched my shoulder, and the voice could be clearly heard- it was Glynis�s.
�Jesse, you okay?� she asked softly in a whisper, close to my ear. �I hope they didn�t hurt you much.� I didn�t stir or say anything in response. �Jesse, are you okay?� she asked again, more seriously this time. �They�re gone; I scared them away.�
Still frightened, I opened my eyes, staring up at Glynis. Her dark blue, shoulder-length hair was littered with snow. In the white-coated cityscape surrounding us, her pale face was still visible, sunken eyes staring down at me. Oddly, she wasn�t wearing a coat, but despite, she wasn�t shivering in this weather either. I sat up in the snow, dusting off my coat, staring back at her.
�Your mom said you�re suppose to be in detention; said you were cutting,� I told her.
�My mom and the school say a lot of things, but they�ve never dealt with a truly sane criminal.�
�Huh?� I asked curiously, confused about her metaphor.
�All the delinquents are crazy, but I�m sane. No one can put me in a cage without the notion that I�ll devise a way to get out sooner or later. Eventually, �cos I�m sane, they�ll have to deal with me,� she replied, standing up. Looking up at her, from my spot on the ground, with the snow falling upon her, she reminded me of a goddess overhead.
�C�mon,� she said, helping me up. �I don�t want anyone to catch me here. If I can see you from the school, why can�t they see me? And, you know someone�ll tell on me.�
�Your mother told me to make sure you came home,� I told her again.
Her face slightly twitched around the eyes, giving me the squint-eyed look her mother gave me. �Like I said, my mother says a lot of things. Don�t mean they mean anything.� From the time I have known Glynis, that facial expression was the only resemblance I had noticed between her and her mother. Besides for that one trait, I could see no resemblance through looks or even language between them.
�Where do you want to go?� she asked.
I remember in junior high, after everyday of school, she used to ask me that question, as if there was some place to go. �I can�t go back in to school; suppose to be in detention, but y�know, doncha?�
I nodded in response. �Any place but home,� I groaned. Right now, I didn�t feel like being at home with all the noise, my parents and siblings behaving cautiously around me. For the moment, I didn�t want to feel like an oddity; I just wanted to be where I was accepted. The library, perhaps, but Glynis didn�t like the library. She wasn�t into books, or anything found at the library.
�Good idea, but eventually we�ll hafta go there, or else we�ll be arrested,� she replied, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans.
Together, we left the lot, crossing the street to another snow-deluged sidewalk. Annoyed, Glynis trudged down the street, begrudging the snow, kicking it up with every step. I followed, lifting my coat up, stepping gingerly into her tracks.
�Next time, don�t go through that lot alone,� she advised. �Those morons will always be after you when you�re all alone.� She laughed, �That�s one motivation to get me into high school.�
I laughed with her. �Yeah, it�ll be like junior high again.�
�You said it, dude,� she answered genially. �They got so scared just in that lot. I bet they really think I�m crazy. I�m not the girl of their girlfriends.�
She was right about that. I could never picture her as someone�s girlfriend. Too tough and too aggressive to be someone�s girlfriend. Girls, in my opinion, were usually in the victim position in a relationship. Glynis could never be a victim; she was the person usually making the victims out of the other people. Compared to any girl, Glynis was more masculine than any girl I�ve known. Strong, assertive, and tough, always speaking her mind, but winding up into trouble because of it. Always, I could see her as my friend, but never as a girlfriend. On the same scale, I couldn�t see myself as a boyfriend to any girl.
After walking for about two blocks, we came across a cleared intersection. Across the street from where we stood, there was a cafeteria, selling coffee inside. Glynis glanced at it, motioning that we should cross the street.
�Got any money on you?� she asked.
�Dollar,� I replied.
�C�mon, we�re getting coffee,� she stated. What was my other option, I wondered. Not to follow her across the street? If I were cold, why would I want to stay outside, freezing? With that notion, we crossed the street to the cafeteria.
The cafeteria was not crowded with many people at this time of day. Adults usually came here during their lunch breaks to get a decent, cheap meal. Glynis and I used to come here after school a lot, when we used to go to the same school. Outside, we�d smoke, then go inside to buy a meal with the money we pooled. The food at the junior high school cafeteria was awful, to say the least, so we used to save up our money, and buy lunch here after. Now, since we didn�t go to the same school, we didn�t do that often. She was usually in detention, while I had to go home because my parents were worried about me more than ever. The purple hair and the makeup really set them off then.
Inside the cafeteria, we found a booth near the front window. I left my books on the table, then walked up to the front counter for coffee. The coffee, in Styrofoam cups on the counter, gave off an intoxicating aroma. Its aroma reminded me of the feeling I get from inhaling cigarette smoke. Both intoxicate me, making my thoughts lost in my world of euphoria. As long as there was coffee to drink, I could live. Without cigarettes or coffee, I�d probably die mysteriously. There would be no more euphoria or any way to become lost in myself. If there were no more coffee and cigarettes, life�s cheap pleasures would be defunct, in my opinion. Inhaling the steam for the millionth time, I closed my eyes and smiled. The warmth of the room and the scent of the coffee started to lull me into my world of euphoria. I would never actually see my world of euphoria because if I opened my eyes, I was afraid that the feeling and the picture would disappear. As best as I could, I tried to picture it, but there was nothing avail. My world of euphoria remained as complete darkness in my mind. Then I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. Hastily, I opened my eyes to see Glynis with two cups of coffee and donuts. �Let�s go,� she said. �My treat.� I didn�t have to use my dollar after all.
We sat back down at the table. From the window, the snow seemed to be falling harder now outside. Absorbed in the scenery, I took a sip from my coffee. The taste of the coffee was not as good as the aroma, but I dealt with that the same way I dealt with cigarettes: they were not good for you, but the scent compensated for that notion. I inhaled deeply, the steam flowing up my nostrils into my lungs.
�Euphoria,� I mumbled to myself, closing my eyes to absorb myself in my haven.
�Are you high or something?� she asked.
Startled, I opened my eyes. Glynis held a coffee cup in one hand, a donut in the other. Her black eyes bore into me with her stare. Her blue hair contrasted to the pallor of her cheeks. Her hands, dainty in appearance, yet full of force, I knew, held the cup nonchalantly, as if it was weightless. For that moment in time, staring at her, to me, she looked beautiful, humanly beautiful.
�Jesse,� she asked again, �are you high?�
�No,� I replied shortly.
�Then why are you acting like you�re intoxicated?� she asked curiously, leaning closer towards me from across the table.
�Glynis, you�re beautiful,� I told her in a soft whisper, leaning closer towards her, until I was a couple of inches from her visage.
�And the sky is also pea green, too,� she retorted sarcastically. �Reality check: beauty to me is nothing, you know that. If I were beautiful, I�d be shallow. I�m not a shallow person, you know. I�m not stupid; I�m just a slacker. Beauty may be one thing, but I�ve see a guy at a bar call a can of bear beautiful.� She paused in her speech, her eyes moving back and forth. �Of course, he was probably drunk out of his mind.�
After she finished speaking, I looked at her again. She wasn�t that beautiful, let alone pretty. Perhaps my mind was just playing tricks on me, or else my euphoria had finally become my reality. Now she looked like the same Glynis I�ve known, the plaintive, but vexing person I knew. Beauty, I had to agree, was only a matter of opinion. However, I knew what was inside of her. From her words, she was part, �sane criminal,� but her real beauty came from her mind and instincts, which I had to admire in awe. On the surface, in a depth perspective, she seemed to have no identity crisis or a mold to fit of what everyone and their ethics expected of her. Although she wasn�t book-smart, she had created the �mold� of herself, being as unruly or calm as she wanted to be, just as long as it fit whom she was. Glynis knew whom she was, with right to rebuke it, too. For some strange reason, she amazed me. She did not possess an enigmatic-type of amazement, however, but more of an awe-inspiring amazement. Truly inside, perhaps, she was the reason above all that I wanted to be female now, surpassing my sister.
If I was a female, I hoped to see eye-to-eye with her, diminishing the gender boundaries. Glynis could see on everyone�s level, I knew from experience. I�ve seen her level with her mother, yet often rebellious at times with her. She�s seen on the level of teachers, I remember from junior high, but from that level, she had to defy them. Perhaps their outlook wasn�t her ideal, thus she had to rebel, but I was only guessing. I knew that she could see on the same viewing point as me, but at the same time, I couldn�t envision what she saw. It was as if I was blind, and she was describing to me what I was seeing. Like a boy, she could posture her emotions, but I�ve seen her get more emotional than my sister. Did she have a split personality, I asked myself about her once, contradicting that soon after. What I saw was, she could identify and empathize with whomever she chose, almost omnipresent, like the thought-of god. Glynis was no god, I knew for a fact, since she was mortal in characteristics. Having god-like characteristics? Possibly, but she wasn�t perfect. However, who said that all-powerful, omniscient beings are? To me, that was more of a matter of opinion. For those reasons, on the level that I could see from, Glynis was amazing.
Glynis was giving me one of her squint-eyes looks again. She chuckled, her eyes shaping into turned-down crescent shapes. Whenever she laughed, her face wasn�t pale, as if laughter gave her life. Her face, almost as ghostly pale as mine, became a rose shade of pink whenever she laughed. Anyone mortal could do that, just as long as they could laugh. Perhaps I wasn�t very �mortal,� since I didn�t laugh much, and my face still stayed pale. I remember chuckling or giggling, but not laughing. Maybe laughing doesn�t distinguish a person from being dead or alive, only if they have a sense of humor or not. And, Glynis, with all her fights and pranks, still had a sense of humor.
�What�s so funny?� I asked her.
�Y�know when your mascara drips down your face, you look like one of those Goth-rock stars,� she said, taking a sip from her coffee, then leaned back in her seat.
Self-consciously, I remembered the snowball hitting me between the eyes. My mascara, caked on my lashes, became a liquid, dripping down my face, like black tears. �Where is it?�
She indicated with her index fingers the black lines of mascara trailing down my face. �Come here,� she said. I leaned closer to her side of the table. Then, she took out a napkin, wiping the black marks away. �Man, I thought they gave you a black eye until it started to drip,� she said in the midst of wiping away the mascara. After, she took out her mascara and coated my lashes black again. �Frankly, I think you look better with makeup on. Makes you look very feminine. Me, on the other hand, I�m nowhere near feminine in any way.� She laughed slightly. �Looks like we�re the antithesis of each other and the antithesis of our born sexes. Ironic, isn�t it?�
I didn�t think about what she said. �Yeah, pretty ironic if you think about it.�
�Truly. If you look at it.� She took a long drink from her coffee. �I�m here, acting like a guy, dressing like a guy, et al. My soul is masculine, but I was born female. You, however, are really a guy, but you act more feminine. Go figure. Who said that there�s a certain requirement that each person has to fit to be a certain sex? In that case, if that was true, I�d change into a male, and you�d change into a girl. But I�m not one-hundred-percent masculine, and you�re not one-hundred-percent feminine, either. If there was a certain way we were supposed to be, we�d defied it by now. I�m not typical; you're not typical. If labels have to be used, we�re both androgynous opposites. Doncha agree?�
�Agreed,� I replied.
Glynis continued to talk. �It�s all about ethics, I tell ya. Ethics, what�s appropriate or not. They�ve become so influenced by religion now, so that�s all they seem to be based upon. Homosexuality is wrong, heterosexuality is correct, for example. That probably was some homophobe�s opinion that got published a few millennia ago, now becoming the thoughts on the �correct� was to be. What if he reconciled, changing his mind? What would everyone think then, or even better yet, how would the future have been changed? Who knows, maybe if that guy did change his mind, homosexuality would be accepted, for example. It is the same for androgyny. If there�s one aspect of a person that�s different, then the person is singled out and tortured for differing, possibly leaning towards the opposite sex. It�s not right, in my opinion.� She stopped in her speech to think, her eyes darting back and forth. Whenever Glynis talked, especially when she was angry or speaking out against something unjust, her hands always moved in the air. That, to me, always seemed to animate her words even more. Her arms never moved, but always her hands. They would move back and forth, her fingers dangling, as if from strings, just like her eyes whenever she thought. Whenever she was angry in her speech, or saying something profound, her fingers would curl, eventually balling into fists as her monologue became climactic.
�Take yourself, for example. I mean, no offense, but if you were more masculine, then those inane fiends wouldn�t have thrown snowballs at you. But, hey, that�s their opinion. In their views, you have to fit be able to fit a certain characteristic to be worthy of masculinity-� she became lost in thought, painfully wincing her eyes shut for the moment.
��Be a man�-type stuff?� I suggested.
Instantly, her eyes opened, looking like vibrant gems, as if she had just found an excellent solution to a puzzling problem. �Thank you, Jesse. That�s it! It�s the whole �be a man� thing. What qualifies a man? To absorb in sports, beer, and to make lewd, sexist remarks at women? If that were the case, I�d want you to be a girl from the start. I can�t picture you any other way or with any other personality. Heck, if you bleached your hair and didn�t wear makeup, something�d be wrong. I may be a bit masculine, but I don�t fit that ideal, do I?� I shook my head. �Yet, the girls always give me nasty, contemptuous stares. If that were the case, frankly, I wouldn�t mind being an asexual person. No ethics or ideals to live by; create your own. That�d be the life.� She leaned back in her seat with ease. � I just don�t understand anything anymore,� she sighed, throwing her coffee against the glass of the window. The coffee - a transparent, brown liquid - dripped down the glass. Outside, no one was out. No cars drove by, and very few people were roaming the street. The sidewalk, once a mottled gray, was now covered with a layer of white snow, which would have to be shoveled soon. Inside the cafeteria, I glanced around the room. Not a person, besides the workers, was inside. The workers were cleaning up, except for a lady in a white uniform, giving us a dirty look, I guessed, for the spilt coffee. Glynis saw the lady, too, saluting her loosely. The lady, rolling her eyes at us, muttered to herself as she counted her change, �Damn kids.� Glynis and I couldn�t help but snicker.
�Maybe we should go,� I asked Glynis, spying a clock on the wall, above the lady�s head.
�You�re right,� she sighed. �Don�t want to get caught in all that snow.�
Leaving the coffee still dripping down the glass, we left the cafeteria, back into the cold again. The sudden change in temperature surprised me, like a slap in the face from the cold winds, almost knocking me down. The wind blew up my trench coat, inflating it as if I was wearing a long black dress. The brittle coldness of the wind made me shiver compared to the warmth of the cafeteria. Under the coat, all I had on was an old shirt, and jeans, dotted with holes, to keep me warm. Looking over at Glynis, standing next to me, in only jeans and a flannel shirt, I noticed that she wasn�t shivering a bit. Perhaps her spirit was as hard as steel and as comforting as a blazing fire. Or else, she was the sane criminal she said she was, immune to pain and as crazy as pain itself. Then, I remembered what her mother said about making sure that Glynis came home. �Um, Glynis?� I asked.
�Yeah, Jesse?�
�Your mother told me to make sure you came home. I was on her steps talking to her and-�
She cut me off. �Already told me. I�ll go there now. Deal with her, and that stupid school on my back. Get caught smoking, skip detention, and pay for it for the rest of your life. I bet they were all like me, maybe even worse than me, in junior high. I sure as heck know that my mother was no angel in high school.� As we walked on, getting closer to her house, she kept babbling on about anything that was on her mind. But, that was Glynis, and she wasn�t anything less. Like she said, she couldn�t picture me in any other way, I felt the same about her. Glynis just wouldn�t be Glynis if she didn't babble on, act on impulse shamelessly, or be the boisterous friend that I have come to know.
Her house stood the same way it did just a few hours before, only now, the snow was deeper, covering the strewn garbage bags. The light was on in her house, so I guessed that her mother was home, waiting for Glynis. As Glynis approached her doorstep, her words tapered off into a slight sigh. Inside of her, I could tell, she knew that she was in trouble.
Before she stepped on the first of the snow-covered steps, she turned towards me. �One last thing,� she said. Then, she embraced me, holding me tightly around my waist, and seemed to never want to let go and face the reality she led herself into. In a split second, she loosened her grasp, looking up at me mischievously. �Y�know, I never said that I was sorry for those guys messing with you, but I am. And, I�m also glad for seeing you, or else you�d still be in that lot. Next time, just make sure that I�m there before you cross there again.� I nodded, my head still spinning, wandering past my world of euphoria in to a new dimension I never encountered. �I hope you�ll be okay, you know what I mean. Of course I�ll be okay, y�know that.� My world of euphoria was far behind me, my eyes seeing things I had never seen before. Colors, jumping from the blackness danced in the air, but soon disappeared as Glynis embraced me one more time. �You know what that was for,� she said, scuttling up her steps once the visage of her mother appeared in the window. At the top, she waved, opening the screen door. Then, she disappeared from my sight.
Actually, I didn�t know what that embrace was for. All I knew was, that it interrupted my ventures into a far off, almost unreachable place of utmost euphoria. Glynis had never really embraced me like that before, so indeed, I was surprised. But, that was Glynis. Never expect the expected from her, which was something I�d learned from her. Perhaps I�d never be able to see from her perspective, but who really can from a sane criminals�? A sane criminal isn�t like anyone else; they�re like everyone else dragged out to the extreme. Glynis, indeed, was everyone in some way, dragged into one person, extremely volatile in nature, sometimes like everyone was bound to be. From the sound of her mother�s voice yelling and Glynis�s vexing, I knew I had to leave. The snow smothered the street, but under that snow, there was some type of concrete sidewalk was waiting to be treaded on again.