Stop!

by Alison G. Bailey

  What was he doing in our bathroom cutting his hair? Was Abigail in there? Maggie was right, they are together.

  The picture of Abigail’s bed covered in his clothes and her suitcase flashed through my mind.

  Ew, had they screwed on my bed?

  I glanced toward my side of the room. Bed was intact. I should have walked out or at least made some type of noise to let them know they weren’t alone. Seeing Maggie and Chuck making out was enough for one weekend. I didn’t want to witness the afterglow of my roommate, who I barely knew, let alone her boyfriend. I willed my legs to move, to tip toe out of there unnoticed, but they didn’t listen. There was a part of me that was curious to see Abigail interact with this dude. I wanted to catch her in an unguarded moment. It would give me a better glimpse into the type of person she was.

  The clicking off of the razor jerked me out of my thoughts. His head tilted down and to the side as he lowered his arm. His hand ran over his dark blond hair, making sure the cut was just right. The style was similar to a Mohawk, with the back and sides cut close, but not completely shaved. Scooping out a small dollop of hair gel from a jar, he worked it into the strands on top of his head, spiking them up and slightly to the side.

  I didn’t know if it was the voyeuristic thrill of watching someone who didn’t know they were being watched, or the mystery that surrounded him, but I was mesmerized by each movement he made.

  Abruptly, the door swung wide open, our gaze locked, and my heart stopped.

  “DON’T FREAK OUT.”

  A cold sensation stabbed at the center of my core then surged throughout my body. I pushed to comprehend who it was in front of me. I flipped through my memory to see if there had been any blatant signs. But my mind blanked, fear took over, and instinct kicked in. I lunged toward the door. As my hand hit the knob, an arm hooked around my waist, pulling me farther into the room.

  “Let go of me!” I yelled.

  “I will if you promise not to run.”

  “I’m not promising anything! Get your fucking hands off of me!”

  Twisting my body, I flung my arms overhead, in an attempt to grab a handful of spiky hair.

  “Give me a chance to explain. Please.” The voice strained.

  I reared up and shoved my elbow back into a set of ribs. When I felt the arm loosen I made a break for it. I was one foot away from the door, when the body vaulted over the bed and landed in front of me, blocking my freedom.

  I stood firm, muscles tensed, jaw clenched, and demanded. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

  With hands raised in surrender, the person begged, “Please… please listen.”

  “You have one minute before I scream bloody fucking murder.”

  “I can’t do it in one minute. I… I… can’t explain this to you if you won’t calm down.”

  “Well, I’m not going to calm down until you explain this to me. What kind of a sick game is this?”

  I looked into watery eyes. Beads of sweat popped up along the person’s forehead and slowly slid down to a pair of trembling lips. Loud shallow breathing echoed around us.

  “It’s not a game, Hollis.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Look, can we sit down?”

  “No.”

  We held each other’s gaze for several seconds. Air pumped in and out of our lungs at warped speed. The sound of pulsating heartbeats thrashed in my ears. I needed information and I needed it fast or I was going to have a complete meltdown. The pale face continued to stare at me. Hesitant. Terrified. A visible tremor shook the body. The person pressed back against the door, bracing himself. I felt as if I were witnessing a trapped animal who was finally realizing there was only one option for survival.

  Wanting to prolong the inevitable, the person drew in a deep breath and let it seep out painstakingly slow. “My name is Benton.”

  I glared, waiting for more of an explanation.

  “I’m transgender, Hollis.”

  Like a pin popping an over-inflated balloon, the words caused the person’s body to immediately deflate.

  “I don’t understand.” My anger morphed into confusion.

  “Biologically I’m female, but I identify as male.”

  This was like one of those reality shows where the woman didn’t know she was pregnant until the baby popped out at a gas station or grocery store. I’d been living in close quarters with a pseudo-dude for two weeks and had been clueless. My thoughts were all jumbled. I understood the term transgender, but wasn’t sure how to respond. My silence must have made Abigail…Benton, or whoever this was in front of me, nervous because she/he started rattling off fun facts.

  “Transgender is when a person’s identity doesn’t match the biological sex they were born as. Gender is different from sexuality, you know. People get them confused all the time. A person’s sex is determined by what genitalia they were born with. Gender is who you are on the inside. Most people…”

  Closing my eyes, I raised my hand, stopping the crash course in transgender 101. “I need a minute.”

  “Sorry.” Pause. “I’m nervous.” Abigail blew out a deep sigh. “You can ask me anything, Hollis.”

  Question after question swirled around my head. It was almost impossible to choose. Like throwing a dart in the dark, I started with the first one that landed.

  I opened my eyes. “Can I borrow the white skirt with the big pink flowers on it?”

  A shock-filled gaze looked back at me.

  “Of all the questions you could have asked, you picked that one?”

  “It’s a really cute skirt.”

  The corners of her mouth curled into a smile. “Yes, you can borrow it.” She paused. “Can we sit down for the other questions?”

  I took a spot on the edge of my bed, grabbed a pillow and hugged it to me. Abigail sat across from me on her bed. With her gaze aimed down, she ran her palms over her thighs several times, as if they held the courage she needed to continue.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she looked up at me. “First, I’m sorry you found out this way. I was going to tell you, eventually.”

  “When exactly was eventually going to happen?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Playing it by ear, were ya?” There was an edge to my tone.

  My emotions kept flip-flopping. One minute I was angry, feeling betrayed and lied to. Then confused at how I could live with this person and not know. Then dazed and numb before circling back around to angry.

  “I understand you being upset. I needed time to get to know you better, so I could gauge how you’d be with this.” She paused. “How are you with this?”

  How was I with this? As I tried to answer that question for myself, I kept coming back to the same response. I was more pissed that I’d been lied to, especially after I had opened up to Abigail.

  “I don’t like being lied to.”

  “I don’t blame you. I hate that I had to do it.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I huffed. “You had to do it?” She looked away. “How do you know you’re not just an ordinary tomboy?”

  Turning back to me, Abigail said, “God, your questions are so random.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I don’t have them all organized and prioritized. It’s not every day I find out that I’ve been living with a dude,” I snapped.

  “Fair enough.”

  “I opened up to you and thought we were forming a real friendship, Abigail.”

  She winced at the use of the name.

  “Benton.”

  “What?”

  “My name is Benton. Please call me that and use male pronouns.”

  The sturdy tone of his voice contradicted his trembling expression. Not only did I recognize that look, I knew how it felt draped over my own face. Being called Abigail cut into him the same way being called monster, freak, and gross sliced into me. I knew deep down I wasn’t any of those things. But when hate was continuously dumped on you, it got harder and harder for your true self to dig its way to the surface.<
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  “Okay.”

  “Thank you.” He relaxed.

  “Were you planning on telling me soon or were you just waiting to be forced into it?”

  “Would I know about your scars now if you hadn’t felt forced into telling me?”

  “Is this how’s it’s gonna play out? You answer my question with a question? We’re not talking about me and this is way more different than scars.”

  “I don’t mean to be an ass. We were complete strangers, Hollis. I’m not pretending I’ve handled it well. Look, I’m two months away from being eighteen.”

  “Hold up, you’re only seventeen?”

  “I was able to skip eighth grade.”

  “Well, you’re just full of surprises today,” I said sarcastically.

  He tossed a shy smile at me.

  “So what’s with all the pink girly clothes and the wig and the…”

  Benton squirmed, shifting from side to side as his gaze darted away from mine. “Hollis, my parents don’t know what I’m doing. They only agreed to let me attend Chambers if I live by their rules.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  “They’re my guardians until I turn that magic number. When I first told them I thought I was transgender, they checked me into a treatment facility for the mentally unstable. I knew then that I’d have to play the game until I was free.”

  “So they think you’re here as Abigail, pink wardrobe and all?”

  Pausing, he looked at me with pleading eyes. “I can’t go back to living life as her. I’ll do whatever you want, just please don’t tell anyone.”

  Growing up, I never considered myself a judgmental person. I didn’t join in when that kid in class got picked on for not looking or acting like everyone else. I also never stopped others from teasing by standing up for that kid. After all, it was in good fun and a big joke. My laughter blended in with the others. When that kid ran to the bathroom in tears or didn’t come back to school for days, it was because he/she took things too seriously and needed to lighten up.

  It wasn’t until I became that kid that I realized I was just as guilty as the ones who actually made the snide and ugly remarks. The true character of someone is not visible with a brief glance from the naked eye. In that moment, the purpose of my past came into focus. The details of mine and Benton’s circumstances may have been polar opposites, but our souls craved the exact same thing. Acceptance of who we were and not what we looked like.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone… Benton.”

  His hand flew to his mouth as relief and gratitude flooded his body. The tears that had been begging to spill over rolled down Benton’s face.

  Lowering his hand, he whispered, “Thank you.”

  I responded with my own tears and a slight smile.

  Needing a break from the emotional last half hour, I teased. “So… what do you like to do besides becoming a dude?”

  Chuckling, Benton said, “I want to be a graphic designer.”

  “Cool.” I paused. “Heeey, you didn’t drop Algebra class.”

  “Nah. That first day, I was so focused on hiding that I didn’t realize it was you sitting in the next seat. I thought for sure you’d find me out.”

  “I was too nervous to pay you any attention.”

  “Apparently, staring at Risher for the entire class calmed you down.” He winked.

  “You know what?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

  “You’re more of a smartass than Abigail.”

  “I know.”

  “I like it.”

  We exchanged smiles.

  We sat silently for several seconds. Each of us waiting for the other’s next move.

  “Benton, did you always know you were…?” I stopped, wanting to be sensitive and politically correct.

  “You can say the word, Hollis. It’s not offensive. It’s what I am.”

  “Did you always know you were transgender?”

  “I always knew I was a boy. When I was a kid, I’d play with my cousin Luke and his friends. It felt normal. I was four or five years old the first time I was told it was wrong. My parents had family over for a barbeque. Luke wanted to go swimming. Before jumping in our pool, he took his shirt off. Since I wanted to be just like him, I did the same thing. Some of the kids that were around started laughing, which alerted my mom. She ran over, jerked me up into her arms, and carried me to my bedroom. She informed me quite sternly that what I did was not proper behavior for a young lady. After that day, she wouldn’t let me play with Luke anymore.”

  Benton’s shoulders dropped forward, his voice cracking on his cousin’s name.

  “You never saw him again?”

  “A few times during family gatherings. I miss him.” Wrapping his arms around himself, Benton’s eyes glazed over with sadness.

  “I’m not too surprised at their reaction, what with your dad being a pastor.”

  “It’s not really him being a pastor that’s the problem. Although, he does like to use that to hammer home what a sin against God I am if I continue this nonsense. He’s really into status and having the perfect-looking faithful family.”

  In the very brief time I spent around the Daniels it was obvious they were a family at odds. After assuming Abigail had cancer, I just figured they were overly cautious about their sick daughter being away from home.

  “And my mom…whenever I got caught “acting” like a boy, she’d tell me to recite, think pink, over and over. She actually believed that would straighten me out.”

  “That explains the cotton candy wardrobe.”

  “Yeah. I knew it would be hard for them to understand. In their eyes, it’s not just going against God. They feel like they’re losing a daughter. The thing is, they never had a daughter. Not really.”

  “So you’ve done what they’ve told you to do?”

  “I’ve tried but sometimes it’s unbearable. Two weeks before coming here, my dad checked the search history on my computer. I had been reading about hormone treatment. He completely blew up and threatened to pull the plug on Chambers. I was so angry, I shaved my head as a take that, Dad.”

  “How’d you convince him to let you come?”

  “The right amount of groveling and the fact that deposits had already been paid. I just want my parents to love me and be proud of the person I am.”

  I walked over and sat next to Benton. As I draped my arm around his shoulder, his body trembled.

  “You’re here now and can be yourself.” I reassured him.

  A sob broke free. “Thank you, Hollis. You’re the first person who has accepted me.”

  With tears rolling down my face, I said, “With Abigail out of the picture, I just doubled my wardrobe.”

  We both laughed, wiping our cheeks.

  “Hollis, I need a huge favor.”

  “Shoot.”

  “You’ve already been incredible and I’m so grateful to have someone to talk to.”

  “Benton. Ask.”

  “I found a doctor here who will give me testosterone shots. That way, the outside will start to match the inside.”

  It was hard not to smile at his excitement.

  “Before I can start the shots, I have to live as a male for six months. I have to dress the part, introduce myself as male, every aspect of my life has to be lived as Benton. By that time, I’ll be legal age and my parents won’t be able to stop me.”

  “How are you going to do that with going to class? I mean, Abigail Daniels is the student enrolled here at Chambers. What about your professors?”

  “I don’t have to change anything legally yet. Any assignments or exams will have Abigail’s name on them. The classes are so large and the professors don’t know one student from another. I’ve been under the radar for the past two weeks and none of them have noticed.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “Just don’t tell anyone.”

  I admired Benton for what he was doing and I wanted to help, but I also
didn’t want to get kicked out of school. “I guess I can do that.”

  “If I get caught, I’ll make sure they know you had nothing to do with it.”

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  “Be my friend.”

  “I can definitely do that.”

  Benton pulled me into a quick hug. He grabbed the baseball cap behind him and plopped it backward on his head.

  Standing, he said, “God, it’s going to be awesome sleeping later in the morning. I’ve been taking my clothes and changing in the bathroom at the gas station down the street.”

  “Except for today.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t think you were coming back until later.”

  He slipped his arm into his jacket and picked up his keys from the dresser.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To church.”

  My eyebrows shot up.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Hollis.”

  “I just thought since you’re… you know, and with your dad… that church would be the last…”

  “Place you’d find me?”

  “Kind of.”

  “The Lighthouse church on Main has a large LGBT membership.”

  I tilted my head to the side slightly, my lips pursing together. I knew the definition of transgender, but that was about all I knew. Benton clued in that I was oblivious to what the letters stood for.

  “Lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender.” He didn’t act offended or condescending toward me.

  “Oh. Good,” I said, nonchalantly.

  I’m not sure where or when I got the idea that God and people like Benton were mutually exclusive.

  “My dad may be disappointed and ashamed of me, but that doesn’t mean God feels the same way. Everyone has their own unique footprint and I believe God made me this way for a reason. You’re more than welcome to come with me.”

  “Maybe next Sunday. I’ve had enough new experiences for one day.” I threw him a quick smirk. “Besides, I want to go through my new wardrobe.”

  Benton removed the closet key from his keychain and handed it to me. “Knock yourself out.”

  He gave me a sweet smile before heading out the door.

  “SO TONIGHT’S OUR big night,” Risher said, grinning from ear to ear.