180 Days

by T. E. Ridener

  “Yeah.” Lydia smiled softly, listening intently.

  “I was in love with her from that moment onward. I had to have her and I proved it daily. I’d pick flowers from my mom’s garden to give her—almost got my ass beat over it.” She chuckled. “She loved chocolates. I’d save up my allowance for weeks at a time to buy her the best chocolate in town. That finally earned me my first kiss.”

  “How romantic.”

  “It was. I was crazy about that girl. She was many of my firsts as far as firsts go.” Tula fell silent and dropped her gaze to the floor. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she released a shaky breath. “I thought I could trust her with anything.”

  Lydia frowned. “You couldn’t?”

  “No. God, no.” She scoffed quietly, wiping a tear away from her eyes before it had a chance to fall. “She loved me as much as I loved her, but”—she closed her eyes—“she could never love the real me.”

  “The real you?” Lydia’s heart skipped a beat. For what reason, she’d never know, but it did.

  “Yeah.” Tula sniffed and gazed at her again, running a hand through her messy blonde hair as she smiled weakly. “She could only love the person she saw me as. I don’t know why I ever expected her to love the person I’d always seen in the mirror.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Yes, you do, Lydia. You, more than anyone else, understand.” Tula moved closer and pulled the drying towel out of her hand. Placing it on the counter, she reached for Lydia’s trembling hands and nodded. “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

  “No.” Lydia lied.

  But she did know. Somewhere, deep down, hidden away in a special part of her heart, she had felt the pain Tula’s younger self had felt. She had also experienced it, many times.

  “Cassandra was in love with Troy. She could never love Tula.”

  A small gasp escaped her lips before she could catch it and all she could do was stare at the woman standing before her. Could it be? Was it true? How had she not sensed it before?

  “Yes, it’s true.” Tula cupped her face in her hands. “I am just like you, Lydia. I was trapped in a body I didn’t want, but I finally took control and became the person I’ve always wanted to be. Just like you.”

  “But...”

  “I know it’s a lot to take in. Take your time. It’s not something a lot of people know about me.”

  “But...but you knew the truth about me? This whole time?”

  “Yes.” She whispered, nodding. “I’ve known for quite some time, sweetie. I’ve seen the patch you wear.”

  Lydia winced. So that’s what gave her away? It was easy to say her patch was either for birth control or nicotine, but she was certain she’d kept it hidden from Tula this entire time...

  “I guess that is why I am so fond of you. Everything you have gone through, I have gone through it, too. I know what it’s like.”

  As she pulled away, Lydia pressed a palm to her cheek and blinked rapidly, her mind racing a thousand miles per minute. It didn’t make sense. How many trans people could possibly live in Prairie Town?

  “Okay, well, I’m glad we got that out in the open.” Tula nodded, clapping her hands together and smiling. “So now you know about me and I know about you. We have bonded.”

  Bonded? Lydia wanted to laugh. Relief washed over her in bucket loads and it was all she could do to suppress the giggle trying to escape.

  But that giggle disappeared when she thought about the rejection letter Tula had gotten and the amusement she’d felt was quickly replaced by anger.

  “That’s why they won’t let you adopt?”

  “Heh.” Tula laughed nervously and began to fidget with her wedding band.

  Shit, Lydia. Keep your mouth shut.

  The last thing she needed right now was to bring up ill feeling that could possibly demolish the good progress the woman had already made, but the question slipped out before she even had a chance to stop it.

  Curiosity may get this cat skinned.

  “All I’ve ever wanted is a baby.” She confessed quietly, pulling out a chair and easing into it. “Paul and I have talked about it many times. I’ve always been open with him. He’s always known about my past and he loved me no matter what, but I know he wants a baby as much as I do.”

  “I think you would be amazing parents.” Lydia remarked, crossing her arms. “And it’s not like you can’t afford to give a baby a great life. I mean, look at this place.”

  “This?” Tula’s eyes roamed over the high ceiling of her kitchen and another sad smile graced her lips. “So many times I have imagined making breakfast in the early hours, waiting for my son or daughter to sleepily enter the kitchen, rubbing their eyes and whispering good morning.”

  The pain in Tula’s voice stabbed at Lydia’s heart as she listened to her.

  “You have no idea how often I’ve imagined helping my child with homework or reciting lines for the school play.” Sniffing lightly, she shook her head and then pulled something out of her pocket. It was the rejection letter. “But this piece of paper,”—her voice filled with disgust—“says I am not fit to be a mother and the woman who signed it...”

  “What about her?” Lydia needed to know.

  “I could have lied and told her I’ve always been a woman, but that’s not me, Lydia. I am not a liar. I can brew up the best stories you’ve ever read, but never will I make up a story about who I am or the battle I fought to get here.”

  She nodded in understanding.

  “I told her straight away about my past. She seemed okay with it at first, but then something changed. Somewhere between putting in the application, going in for the interview, and then receiving that letter—I don’t know what happened, but it smells fucked up to me.”

  “Me, too.”

  “But what can I do? It’s ultimately up to them. If they won’t let me have one of their children, where else am I to go? Discrimination runs deep in this country. People are cowards and they try to deny basic rights to anyone who thinks differently or acts differently. It doesn’t matter that I have a heart full of love to offer a baby. It doesn’t matter that there are thousands upon thousands of children in this country without parents. All that matters to them is the fact I was born with a dick and I decided to have it cut off.”

  “I’m sorry.” Lydia whispered. She wanted to hug her, but what if Tula didn’t want to be comforted? She switched so quickly between sadness and anger.

  “If I was still a man and Paul was my homosexual lover, we could adopt a baby without issue.” She glared through her tears. “But since I’m a trans-woman they won’t let me near a kid because I’m unfit. I’m disturbed. I’m what’s wrong with the world today. We aren’t supposed to change, Lydia. You and I? We’re supposed to suffer with the outside image we don’t want just so other people can be comfortable. Our issues cannot be fixed with a haircut or contacts—we need so much more than that. And we aren’t alone.

  “I know you keep up with the news. I’ve read so many horror stories online about kids killing themselves whether it be homosexuality or gender dysphoria. They feel helpless. They feel that no one cares and can you blame them for that?”

  Lydia shook her head.

  “Hell no, you can’t. We live in the twenty-first century for God’s sake. The time of acceptance should be here and now and what frustrates me so bad...out of all of this,”—she rubbed at her eyes in frustration—“is the fact that it’s taken so damn long for people to wake up and realize no two people are exactly the same. There are tons of people out there like us and they weren’t as fortunate to have supportive people in their lives. You, Lydia—you had that support. Your father and your siblings, your boyfriend, and your grandmother...”

  “My grandmother?” She echoed softly. “How do you know about my grandmother?”

  “I know more than you think I know.” Tula pushed up from the table and snatched a paper towel from the rack. “Like I said, I’m not a liar. I may choo
se what truths people get to see and what I feel should remain in the dark, but you’re not someone I want to hide things from. You’re a good girl, Lydia.”

  “Thank you for thinking so. I try.” Lydia shrugged her shoulders. Sometimes she didn’t feel very good at all. It was difficult for her—especially given the fact her mother practically hated her. She had every right to be who she wanted to be, but Lydia would be lying if she ever said it didn’t hurt. What kind of child made their mother hate them so much?

  What kind of mother doesn’t love her child no matter what?

  She sighed and rubbed at the back of her neck, glancing at the clock on the wall. Her shift was almost up, but she didn’t feel right leaving Tula home alone. Paul wouldn’t be back until almost seven.

  “Do you want to go get a drink?”

  Tula stared at her in surprise. Hell, it surprised Lydia, too. She was rarely the one to ask for drinks.

  We both need one.

  “I guess I could use a break from my manuscript for a few hours.” Tula replied cautiously. “But I’m buying, okay?”

  “Okay.” Lydia smiled. Pulling her cellphone free from her pocket, she sent Callum a text to let him know she was working late.

  ———————————-

  Jeb

  It was another long shift at the ice company and the only thing that would make his night better was a nice cold beer. Alcohol always made him feel good, helped him forget, and healed his heartaches, but beer was needed. Only a beer would suffice.

  He’d been working at the Rose Ice Company for almost a year and a half and it was truly one of the best jobs he’d ever had, but his blissful employment was turning sour no thanks to Devin Rose.

  The I’m-better-than-you punk ass currently dating his sister—and God only knew what was going through her mind to be dating trash like that—finally decided to join the real world and of course his father just had to partner him up with Jeb. They’d only been working together for a little over a week now, but Jesus H. Christ, if Jeb didn’t want to kill him.

  He could handle the snarky comments and he could even tolerate the laziness of his big-wig boss’ kid, but what he wouldn’t put up with was Devin’s tendency to talk to other girls when everybody in town knew he was dating Laney.

  What kind of stupid, idiotic douchenozzle did that, especially in front of her extremely overprotective brother?

  Apparently Devin Rose.

  Yep, a beer was definitely needed tonight. Maybe five.

  Dragging his tired feet across the hardwood floor that had been trampled on by five generations of McIntosh men, he eased onto a stool and waved the bartender over.

  “Start me off with a Bud,” he requested, resting his forehead against his palm and releasing a loud yawn.

  “Hard day?” Kevin the bartender asked.

  “Working with that loud-mouth idiot? You know it was.”

  Kevin chuckled and retrieved an ice cold bottle from the fridge, the condensation rolling down the side and kissing the top of the counter as Jeb reached for it.

  “Well, I’d say I pity you, but I don’t. Not one damn bit. That boy is trouble.” Kevin said beneath his breath, glancing around. “Need anything else right now?”

  “Nah.” Jeb tilted his head back and took a hearty swig, sighing as the cold liquid ran down his throat. “I’ll holler at you when I need more.”

  “Roger that.” Kevin gave him a two-fingered salute and moved on to other patrons, leaving Jeb alone with his thoughts.

  Aside from how crappy work had gotten lately, he had a lot to be thankful for. Lydia seemed to be happy and that meant a lot to him. He wanted her to be happy. He needed her to see that Prairie Town was a good place to live and no matter how many times she said otherwise, she was meant to be there.

  He’d missed her so much during their years apart. Short visits during the summer were never enough for him. Christmas wasn’t the same. Birthdays weren’t the same. Life without Lydia wasn’t really a life at all.

  But now it was different. Thanks to the cleverness of his grandmother, Lydia was stuck in their hometown for four more months and hopefully with Callum’s persuasion, they could get her to stay.

  He needed her to stay.

  Setting his empty bottle on the table, he waved Kevin over for another drink.

  And then another.

  Six beers later and his bladder screamed at him, so he got up from his seat and slowly made his way to the bathroom.

  He always enjoyed the warm fuzziness beer offered him. It was a lot like love, but at least the alcohol never disappointed him.

  Alcohol never let him down or broke his heart.

  If it was at all possible to marry a bottle of beer, he’d be the first man at the altar.

  “Good night, eh, buddy?” Old man Trosper asked as he staggered out of the bathroom. They nearly collided, but Jeb quickly caught him, patting his shoulder.

  “Yes, sir. It’s a real good night.”

  “Still working hard?”

  “Every day, sir.”

  “How’s your daddy?” He asked, squinting his eyes behind the thick glass of his spectacles. “He’s doing okay?”

  “Yes, sir. He gets a little better every day.”

  “Good. I’m glad. That’s real good.” Mr. Trosper ruffled his hair, as he had many times before when Jeb was young, and continued on his way.

  Watching the old man walk away, Jeb sighed guiltily.

  That’s one thing no one had told Lydia about yet: their father’s heart condition.

  Mr. McIntosh had been quite an example of good health for as far back as Jeb could remember. He was a hard worker and a good father. Jeb had always looked up to him, walking in his father’s footsteps to become the man he was now, but the strong, brave man he’d always idolized began to deteriorate during the fall of 2012.

  The first scare he gave them was when he collapsed at work and his co-workers had to call an ambulance. Jeb remembered that day more than he wanted to; it was one of the scariest days of his life.

  The doctor said he was only using twenty percent of his heart and that it had been getting bad for a while, but how had they not known? How did a person’s heart get bad without showing any signs?

  Mr. McIntosh was a stubborn man, much like his son, and went back to work a week later. He ignored direct orders from the doctor.

  “Bed rest?” He’d laughed. “That’s not for me. No, sir.”

  Jeb wasn’t sure why anyone was surprised by his father’s actions—especially his mother. She’d been married to him for half her life. Didn’t she know what a stubborn ass her husband could be?

  But his stubbornness eventually caught up with him and the second scare came only a few days after Christmas. Mrs. McIntosh was stirred from sleep by the raspy, desperate gasps of her husband.

  He couldn’t breathe. That was the last straw. Once again, Jeb found himself sitting in a small waiting room with Laney in his arms, patiently waiting for the doctor to appear. Their father had to have a pacemaker put in, which he was none too happy about, and that meant bed rest whether he wanted it or not.

  Jeb would never forget his father’s words when he finally got to see him.

  “Don’t tell Lydia.” He said weakly. “Don’t worry her with this, Jebson. I’ll be okay.”

  It wasn’t a promise he liked having to keep from Lydia, but he did as his father asked and kept the emails light and cheerful. She never knew about the late nights or close calls.

  He felt so damn guilty about not telling her, but it was one of the reasons he wanted her to stay home.

  Mr. McIntosh would need a new heart one day. It was inevitable. Some days were better than others, but it was a dark cloud that loomed over them; a constant worry that would never go away.

  What if there wasn’t a heart to give to him?

  “Fucking a,” he slurred, zipping his jeans and moving out of the stall. Why did most of his drinking nights turn into depressing thoughts about an unc
ertain future? It was a surefire way to kill his buzz.

  I can face whatever tomorrow brings as long as Lydia stays. He thought with a small nod. She can’t leave us again.

  And speak of the devil.

  Glancing around the small, stuffy bar, he spotted her almost immediately. She was sitting at the furthest end with a pretty blonde.

  That must be her new boss, he decided, putting one big foot in front of the other as he approached them.

  But he stopped mid-step when he realized they weren’t alone. Devin Rose was leaning against the counter with an arm around Lydia’s shoulders. She was trying to shrug him off, but to no avail.

  The discomfort in her eyes set Jeb off. His blood turned hot and his buzz dissipated almost instantaneously. He felt anger re-emerging that he hadn’t experienced in many, many years.

  He felt an urge he knew had never truly gone away; the urge to protect Lydia.

  “Hey, Douchenozzle!” He shouted.

  The noisy atmosphere of the bar suddenly became so quiet that one could hear a pin drop, but all he could focus on was the pounding of his heart as he stalked towards them, his hands balled into tight fists.

  “Get your fucking hands off her.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lydia

  It happened in the blink of an eye, but it seemed to play out in slow motion as her brother’s fist connected with Devin’s jaw. He fell to the floor and Jeb pounced on him like a vicious lion, snarling and growling as his fists pummeled his face.

  “Oh my god!” Tula shrieked, jumping up from her stool with such force that it sent her seat backwards, crashing against the floor as Devin’s howls of pain reached her ears.

  “Jeb, no!” Lydia wailed, watching with wide, fearful eyes as her brother beat him mercilessly.

  He deserves it. A small voice in her mind said. After all he’s put you through, he deserves it.

  Memories of Devin punching her in the gut and elbowing her in the ribs came flooding back, but she didn’t want them to. That part of her life was over for good and she was trying to move forward, but how could she if the past kept reappearing?

  It started out as a fun night between friends. Tula had been opening up to her about her transition when Lydia noticed her brother enter the bar. She wanted to wave him over, but she got distracted by a text from Callum.