That’s the thing, Gina told herself in between replying to e-mails at her desk. I’ve had many years of practice at this—even if I’ve only been out as trans for less than one. Gina glanced at her calendar in her office and realized that her one-year anniversary of coming out as Gina was in a few weeks. The personal meeting she had had with her boss, Sam, had occurred right after the January break—and her office had been her last place on her list. For much longer, she’d been Gina at home and going to a therapist and psychiatrist in order to get hormones for much longer than that. Those hormones had done what makeup and clothing never could—they made her feel okay in her body. Gave her breasts, softer skin, and brighter eyes. They made her feel that something, for a while at least, was finally made right.
Over her last Christmas holiday, she’d changed her name officially to Gina Andrea DiMarco. And when she returned to work, she walked right into Human Resources and Accounting and got everything switched over to her proper name. She’d prepared a speech, along with a portfolio worth of references and resources. She knew she was over prepared for her meetings, but that was part of Gina’s nature by now. That was why she had been hired at one of the most cutthroat PR places in Toronto. She was dedicated to her job and did it well. Even when she was going through a life-changing transition privately, she was still better than most people at her job.
No one had made her transition that big of a deal. There were a lot of awkward pauses and tripping up with names and pronouns, but that wasn’t just because she was trans. She was sure of it. It was just hard for people to go from calling here Gary to Gina. It was just like the elevator; people who didn’t know any better said stares instead of stairs. And people who didn’t know better at Lederman sometime said “Hey Ga—Gina” instead of getting it right on the first try.
Then there were people like Felicia who always got it right. If Felicia wasn’t already so pretty, Gina’s crush would have been based solely on how nice she was. But no, Felicia was also pretty and smart and wonderful. And completely out of Gina’s grasp. Is Felicia even gay? Does she want to be in a relationship with another woman? Even if she is into women, Gina reminded herself sadly, there’s the fact that you’re not like most women out there.
Deep down, she really was a woman, and she didn’t take crap when people tried to convince her otherwise. But being confident in her identity was a lot different when she was faced with the prospect of dating. Gina could accept herself—but could other people? She wasn’t so sure. Gina had to buy her clothing online to find the right sizes, and still walk up two more floors in order to use the proper bathroom. Why would Felicia—or any other woman out there—want a woman like that?
Gina glanced over her shoulder, evaluating the rest of the office space. Felicia’s cubicle—a space she shared with four other online tech and social media gurus—was to the side near a big office window that looked across at a bank and a coffee place. Gina was on the other side, closer to the boss’s area and the conference rooms. There was small chatter from people working on projects together, wrapping up a few Christmastime accounts, and then a sudden peel of laughter. Gina glanced over to see Felicia and Alexa, two interns who had somehow survived this long in the PR world, laughing and slapping high fives. When their touch lingered, Gina felt a sudden pang of jealousy and recognition.
Maybe Felicia does like women. But that still doesn’t mean she likes me.
Gina glanced at her e-mails again. Most of her correspondences had piled up since she wasn’t actually answering them, opting instead to ponder bathroom ethics in her head. She rolled her eyes at her behaviour. She really, really had to pee, but was still stubborn enough to not walk up another two flights of stairs.
After soothing an angry client, Gina could wait no more. She threw her purse over her shoulder and walked across the office space. Gina swore she felt eyes on her the entire time. When she was brave enough to look up, she saw Felicia staring at her carefully. She quickly looked away, and Gina nearly walked into Sam, her boss.
“DiMarco. Great. I was looking for you.”
“You were?” Gina asked, gripping her purse strap. “I’ve been here. Just answering e-mails before closing out some accounts.”
“Oh please, you’re better than that. Have you hired an assistant yet? She should do your e-mails.”
“I…Uh…”
“I get it. Christmas. It’s hard to find people around then. Well, we will delegate some funds so you can have someone else answer your e-mails, and I can use your brilliant brain to strategize. Think of yourself as a coach, you know? The higher you get, the less work you do!” Sam smirked, and was about to pat Gina on the arm when he held back. A minor gender infraction, Gina noted. You don’t slap female coworkers on the arm for a good job—even if they are in the position of a coach. Sam was learning, albeit slowly.
“Well, I’ll keep the assistant idea in mind. Now if you don’t mind.” Gina motioned ahead of her, toward the stairwell, and Sam stepped out of the way.
“Oh, sorry! So, where are you headed, DiMarco?”
“Um. Just to the fourth floor.”
“The elevator is broken.”
“Yes, I know—that’s why I’m headed toward the stairs. I could use the walk.” Gina smiled weakly, and Sam ran a hand through his thinning gray beard.
“Well, do me a favour while you’re up there? I’m pretty sure the Christmas decorations are there. And if you’re already walking…then I see no need to go myself.”
“Right.” Gina’s breath shuddered, suddenly knowing exactly what Sam wanted to talk to her about. “I can do that. Get the decorations, I mean.”
“Thanks, DiMarco. You’re a very important part of the team. Get back by 11 a.m., so we can have the big meeting. Then the fun can really begin.”
Gina nodded, her back stiff, and headed toward the stairs again.
Gina located the decorations easily. In spite of all the high tech advances in their current office space, she actually found it quite quaint that most of the Lederman staff thought it was appropriate to store all types of festive decorations in cardboard boxes with XMAS or SPOOKY written in big bold letters, as if the fourth floor was the attic in a childhood home they all shared.
Gina’s former partner, Mark, used to joke with her that being a PR person was basically like being a giant party planner, so really, Gina could understand the need to preserve decorations in this manner. It allowed them to feel as if they were setting up for something much more monumental than just a holiday time around the office. There would also be a larger office party about a week from now where their clients would come and mingle among the Lederman staff, and Sam would make sure there was oh, so much alcohol as he handed out the Christmas bonuses. The large Christmas party was also where Gina usually played Santa Claus.
Gina sighed as she caught sight of the red and white Santa suit at the bottom of the box. For the past five years, this had been her legacy. She knew how to do voices quite well—from years of trying to make her own deep baritone sound soft like a woman’s, on the phone—and so she was naturally a good fit for the role of Santa Claus for a night. She’d don the beard, the baggy suit, and then walk around and wish everyone a jolly night and a happy new year.
Truthfully, she never minded it. She got to pretend to be someone else for a little while—and the beard hid her face. Instead of being sucked into awkward conversations, she got to disappear.
But now she didn’t want to disappear. She didn’t want to pretend to be a jolly fat man because well, she wasn’t a man anymore. She never was a man to begin with. To be Santa again felt strange and disingenuous. She worked so hard these past eleven months for her coworkers to see her as Gina, not Gary. To slip on the Santa suit this time would feel closer to failure than Gina wanted to admit.
She shoved the suit deep into the box and piled Christmas lights on top of it. There were two other small boxes of gar
lands, and a small tree for the corner of Sam’s office. She could bide her time by taking those boxes downstairs first.
Maybe I can even hide the suit, Gina thought. Just shove it into the broken elevator and never see it again. Who would know? She pushed the thought away. Just because she didn’t want to be Santa anymore, didn’t mean that everyone should be deprived. She just hoped, as her therapist had encouraged her to do, see could speak up during the meeting and say no when Sam inevitably asked.
Until then, there was the matter of two flights of stairs and two more boxes to carry down to Lederman’s office space. She found a hair tie in her purse, pulled her black hair behind her shoulders, and began the trek.
“Is everyone here?” Sam asked. He clapped his hands together eagerly as a few more people from the finance department filed into the largest conference room for the full staff meeting. Several people in the media department, including Alexa and Felicia, tried to respond to e-mails on their phones until Sam gave them a stern look.
“What?” Alexa asked. “Clients are going nuts right now.”
“I know, I know. And you’re all doing a wonderful job. But focus here, okay? This meeting will be brief—but we have to decorate and plan the Christmas party.”
“Will it be here?” James from finance asked.
“Yes, of course. Why not?”
“Well, that damn elevator needs to be fixed before then. Can you imagine CEOs taking the stairs when they’re completely hammered? It would be a legal nightmare.”
Sam placed his finger on the cleft of his chin. “You make a good point. Has someone called the repair people?”
A few people murmured and ticked, but no one answered. Gina pulled out her phone and began to compose an e-mail. “I can do it,” she said, then finished her request and hit send.
“Thank you, DiMarco. I’m sure we’ll have it done by the end of the week, then.”
Gina nodded, keeping her phone out by her side. She was sure that, if she focused on something else, she could avoid the question of who would be Santa Claus all together. So far, it was working. While Jay, another person from finance, and Meredith from the media department bickered about the catering, no one seemed to notice Gina. When Alexa finally picked up the boxes of decorations and began to paste some of the transparent wall decorations onto the clear conference windows, Gina took this as the end of the meeting.
She rose from her seat, headed toward the back, and was almost free when she heard her last name from Sam’s mouth again.
“DiMarco! Can we count on you?”
“Yes, I was just about to call the mechanic for the elevator.”
“No, not about that. For—you know—the special duty?”
Gina swallowed hard and turned around. She could see the red fabric in the bottom of the box. Even Sam wasn’t calling it a Santa suit anymore. Special duty? What the hell did that even mean?
“Um. I was actually hoping that…”
“If this doesn’t fit you anymore,” Sam cut in, seemingly able to see how uncomfortable Gina was, “then we can make some alterations. Right? I know some of you people sew; I see it on your Instagram accounts all the time. And don’t even act like you don’t go on them during work hours.”
Gina couldn’t listen anymore. Her phone started to ring, and she saw the mechanic’s number come up. Saved. She clicked accept and held her phone to her ear as she walked out of the conference room.
“Hello? Jerry? Yes, this is Gina DiMarco from Lederman’s.”
“Really? I thought it was Sam. Anyway, never mind, we had you guys scheduled for the elevator already. We just had a few delays today because of the weather; we should be over tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”
“Sounds good. Uh-huh…” Gina nodded along to Jerry, even if his tone made her unnerved. It doesn’t matter, Gina insisted. The elevator was being fixed, and Gina was out of the room. Even when she reached the hallway and the conversation with Jerry was done, she couldn’t face everyone again. She kept walking toward the stairwell and hoped the silence would calm her.
She got about halfway up the third flight of stairs before her legs trembled. So, so much walking. All this estrogen from her new hormones had completely changed what her body could do. For the better, she knew, but her testosterone-built muscle mass had disappeared, and she grew tired much easier now. She sat down on a step, after brushing it off, and sighed with her face in her hands. She was so busy trying to stay calm, she didn’t even notice when Felicia joined her.
“Hey,” Felicia called.
Gina jumped slightly. She took her face out of her hands and gave her a weak smile. “Hi—sorry—I didn’t hear you.”
“I’m quiet. You okay, though?” Felicia asked. She walked over to where Gina sat and then, lifting an eyebrow, pointed to the small space next to her. “Can I sit?”
“Sure.” Gina moved to the side. Not knowing what to say—or what to do with her hands—she wrapped them across her stomach. “How’s the meeting going?”
“Oh, it’s a riot. Sam and Kelly are bickering over music, so I figure there will be time before they even notice I’m gone.”
“Definitely. That was my plan, at least. I don’t anticipate getting much other work done today.”
“But that’s what the holidays are for, right?” Felicia leaned back, crossing her feet at the ankle. “We’re always so swamped, working double-time, and then it suddenly peters out just after Christmas. I kind of like it here for that reason.”
“Really? I thought most people found it annoying.”
“It’s only annoying if you have a family you’re missing during that time. I don’t, not really, so I figure I’m enjoying what I can.”
Gina was struck for a moment by the sudden confession. Felicia was usually open about most things, but that was when the topics were fashion or TV choices. Not when discussing nonexistent families.
“You?” Felicia asked suddenly.
“Me?”
“A family. Are the late work hours keeping you from them?”
“Oh. Um.” Gina trailed off, wondering how much to reveal. “Yes and no, I guess. My family lives a couple hours from here in Barrie. I used to see them once a year, but in the summer. I claimed weather was too bad in the winter. And when I had my partner Mark, well, things were difficult.”
Felicia nodded. “And now?”
“Well. Now I don’t have Mark. But I still won’t go.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Nah, it’s not so bad.” Gina tried to smile, and it was genuine. Losing Mark had been hard, but she knew that they weren’t destined to be together. Mark was gay, only interested in men. Gina had felt gay for most of her life, but it had taken her a long, long time to realize that she felt gay because she wanted to be with women. As a woman. So she was a lesbian, with a bit of a precarious past. But then again, who didn’t have a precarious past nowadays? Apparently even Felicia, perfect and charming Felicia, didn’t have a family to go home to over the holidays.
“Can I ask,” Gina said after some silence, “why you’re alone over the holidays?”
“Pfft,” Felicia said, laughing little. “I’m not alone. I have so many people. They’re just not related to me by blood.”
“Right. Of course. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m fine. My family is just…a long line of drunks. I don’t like to go home to that. So I don’t.”
Is it really so simple? Gina wondered. She looked down at her red shoes, the shoes Felicia had liked, and thought that maybe it was that simple. If you don’t like something, you just don’t do it anymore. You don’t be a man because you think you have to be. And if you don’t want to go home and see drunks, then you don’t, either.
“I have another question for you,” Gina confessed.
“I might have
an answer for you. You first.” Felicia smiled, and it was enough to make Gina feel confident enough to go forward.
“You never screw up pronouns. You never screw up my name or find odd ways of getting around saying Gina by addressing me by my last name.”
“Oh, man. I’m glad someone else noticed Sam did that.”
Gina shrugged. She had long ago made her peace with Sam’s odd behaviour around her. “You always seemed to get it, though. Why?”
“Why not? It’s simple.”
“It’s simple for some people—like the ones that came after I transitioned. They have no basis of comparison and are usually cool. But you saw me as Gary, and you still don’t screw up.”
“I may have seen you as Gary, but I didn’t know you then. I don’t think anyone did.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Gina had been quiet—even more than now—when she was Gary. Always at a desk, always doing work, and then going home to be someone else. Now that she had merged the worlds, she was happy, but there was still a small, quiet void.
“As far as I’m concerned,” Felicia went on again, “we all get second chances. You’re allowed to start something again if you realize the first time it didn’t work. And if you can’t do that on Christmas, when can you? Isn’t that what Dickens was all about?”
Gina snorted. “Yeah, I suppose so. I guess that’s the point of Christmas ghosts.”
“Right!” She laughed. “Of past, present, and future. Well, sometimes the ghosts are different. But they’re all you, you know?”
Gina nodded. She really wanted to reach out and touch Felicia; only inches separated their hands, but it was still too much. When Gina’s phone rang again, it was a client, and she excused herself.
Do You Feel What I Feel. a Holiday Anthology Page 6
