Disclaimer: Based on the novel 'Orlando' by Virginia Woolf. No profit being made.
Notes: Written for a class. Therefore, based heavily on minor things in the book. I've heard there's a movie version, but I haven't seen it.
1. Sex: Are you Male Female
Orlando stares at the form. The form does not return her scrutiny. It sits on the bench top, blanched and benign and official. Orlando's pen hovers. Wavers. Drifts from one little box to the other without touching down.
On the other side of the bench, the secretary looks on, bemused. Orlando wonders what she's thinking. Notes idly that she's very pretty as secretaries go. Orlando smiles at her, but the secretary merely returns to her typing, leaving Orlando alone with the form.
The two little boxes gaze up at Orlando. "Pick me!" says one, while the other cries, "No, pick me!"
There is something about this particular form that tells Orlando she can't have both. It's one of those things where you have to choose. And Orlando isn't sure. It's like a quiz show - Orlando needs to phone a friend. But which friend could tell her what she really is? A boy all through the dark ages, a man in the courts of Queens and Kings, a woman among gipsies and all through the trials of the stifling nineteenth century. A woman, too, through the changing twentieth century, when women fought for their rights and seemed to win. Orlando has changed a few times since then, back and forth. It's been happening a lot lately. It's lucky that these days the difference in clothing styles is not so great. Orlando finds she misses the flowing gowns of her younger days. Orlando considers fashions of the new millennium. The little boxes remain unfilled. The attractive secretary glances over at Orlando again, impatience writ large upon her pretty face, as though with a crayon.
Orlando bends over the form again. Orlando wonders if other people agonise over such a choice as this. Orlando traces the outline of the boxes. Orlando sketches a lacey pattern around each, reminiscent of the ruffs people wore when she was a boy. Orlando hums a Rocky Horror Show melody. Orlando jots an ode to empty boxes in the margin of the form. Orlando closes her eyes and jabs the pen blindly at the paper. It lands in the blank space at the top of the form, above where she's scribed 'Orlando' neatly on the line marked 'name'. This will cause the secretary great confusion later on. She will have to determine if this is a given name or a surname. But it's Orlando's name, and in her opinion, not a matter of choice.
Orlando thinks 'is this a trick question?' Orlando wonders 'does it really matter anyway?' Orlando reads the form again. 'Sex' it says. Which is a lovely thing to say, Orlando decides. If that had been all, Orlando could have put 'Yes please' or 'No, I have a headache' or 'Now that you have my attention...'
But then there's the troubling question, little boxes, which would likely be a blue one and a pink one if the form wasn't photocopied in inky black and off-white. Orlando prefers green. The colour of Nature. The colour of life. The colour of the Oak Tree at home, under the sky. Orlando wants to go home, to lie beneath the oak tree and feel the spine of the world beneath her. She wants to be there now, not here with the form and the secretary ignoring her. The secretary reminds her of Sasha. Orlando knows that this is not a good thing. Orlando wonders if Sasha is still alive. If anyone is still alive, or if they've all just disappeared, the people she loved as a boy, then as a woman. She wonders if she's the only person alive who has trouble pinning her life inside little boxes.
1. Sex: Are you Male Female
Orlando ticks both boxes.
Orlando writes 'Yes. I am Orlando.'
The next question has two little boxes, too.
2. Age
Orlando thinks of her life, of the way the whole sky changes with each new century, and the way the air feels different, as the spirit of the age permeates the land. Of the different clothes she's worn, the ruffs and breeches and codpieces, the flowered paduasoy and bonnets and ball gowns. Of the trees that have grown and the leaves that have fallen and the clouds that have passed by high above. Orlando smiles to herself. At least this one is easy.