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Memory 9

She was everything I had hoped for and more.

I arrived a little early, of course I did, and I was the first there. She arrived a little late, only by a few minutes, but every second that ticked past 6PM had my anxiety spiking. A wholly non-proportional reaction, obviously, but I had been waiting a long time for this. Longer than a few minutes, longer than a day, longer than a year, and I was terrified of it going wrong, of her never turning up, of being sat there alone with my thoughts and fears. God knew I had a lot of fears.

But she turned up. And when she did I took in her everything. She was well-dressed and stylish, glamorous. Different. So different. But radiant. So radiant. I'm ignorant of fashion to the point that I couldn't even confidently name half of the garments she had on, but it all looked good on her, better than good. Her feathers were as breathtaking as ever: that same gorgeous gallery of colors I had fallen for years ago still proudly on display.

To me that was her signature feature, it was what set her apart. You could pick her out in any given room, even among other blue birds. There was something special about her beyond that though - something ethereal and ephemeral and impossible to pin down - that made her more. And she was so much more.

Her body had changed since I'd last seen her. Plainly put, she was now physically feminine in ways she once was not. I was so happy for her. She deserved every good thing that came her way.

She looked well too, both in health and spirit. She projected a newly acquired aura of self-assured pride and kept her beak raised and her head high as she walked. Upon seeing me she offered a small nod and sauntering over at her own pace. She sat down opposite me without ceremony. My heart was pounding.

"Hey Sophie," I said, halfway fearing that my heart would bust its way through my chest.

"Ribbon," she said. "It's been a long time."

Even that was enough to render me speechless. She was actually here. With me. Now.

It took all I had to maintain any sense of composure.

Sophie didn't let the silence last.

"Have you ordered?" She asked, snapping me out of my stupor.

"Uh, no, not yet."

She nodded and got to her feet. I followed her. We went to the counter together, ordered our coffees and sat back down. I used the moment of reprieve to center myself and by the time we were back at our table I had found my voice.

"Sophie. I wanted to start by saying, in person, how sorry I am for the way I acted when we last met. I was ignorant, I was acting on idiotic, selfish impulse, and I was wrong. I want you to know I'm no longer the person I was that day."

"Yeah," she said. "You said as much in your voicemail." She offered a momentary, conciliatory half-smile and nothing else. I couldn't read her anymore, but from what little I managed to gather I could only conclude that I'd fucked up. I felt that I was on thin ice, that I didn't have her trust or affection. It hurt, but it came as no surprise, I was ready for it. I thought I was ready for anything.

I swallowed and nodded and gave myself a moment to think.

"I missed you," I said.

"You said that in your voicemail too."

I knew that. Still, I couldn't not say it.

"Yeah," I said. "Sorry," I said.

"Why are you apologizing?" She asked.

Our drinks arrived.

I took a sip and burnt my tongue and tried not to show it.

She left hers where it was and stared at me cooly, giving nothing away.

I decided there was nothing else for it. I had to be honest.

"I'm apologizing because I'm nervous." I say. "Because I fucked up real bad and I want you to know I know that. Because I fucking- Because from the day I met you until the day I said all those awful things you were one of the most important people in my life. Because I burned all of that to the ground for nothing, and I've never forgiven myself for it. Because," I love you. "Because I want to make things right. That's why I'm apologizing."

Okay. 99% honest.

She closed her eyes. I wondered what was going through her head. I was scared that I might have said the wrong thing. I was scared that I had said anything at all.

"You want to make things right?" She asked. Her voice was unstable, near breaking point. The antithesis of her appearance and the exact opposite of what I'd expected. It was clear that she was fighting to hold back tears, and losing.

"I do. I really do." I said, stumbling over my words in attempt to get them out of my beak as quickly as possible.

She said nothing.

"Sophie, are you okay?" I asked.

And she said nothing.

"Blue?"

And she wiped her eyes. Her body stiffened, she sipped at her coffee, then she shook her head.

She began muttering under her breath: "what exactly did I think I was-?" Then she stopped. She looked me right in the eyes and she said: "You know what? I missed you too Ribbon."

The way she said it set my stomach aflutter.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah." She said

"I-" love you. "You're-" always on my mind.

I couldn't say those things.

"Don't you-?" Both of us were struggling to string together a sentence. "God, this would be so much easier in private." She took another gulp of her coffee. I didn't touch my drink, my tongue was still burning.

"W-well I would offer you hospitality, but I'm still living with my parents. I- It wouldn't exactly constitute as privacy."

She looked at me like I was fucking insane.

"Really Ribbon?" The question was rhetorical. I didn't understand.

"I-I mean w-we could go for a walk, sit in a park somewhere, away from other people."

"Like the old days?" She asked. This time I wasn't sure if it was a real question or not. I couldn't tell much about her anymore. "We used to go at night and lie under the stars. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember. I think about it often," all the time. "I remember you telling me about the stars and how chance is a fickle thing. You taught me so much, but at the time it all flew over my head. I didn't understand back then, but I do now. I really do."

She didn't say anything immediately, as was quickly becoming her habit. She just nursed her drink and eyed mine. I finally found the courage to gulp some down but I could barely taste it, my tongue was half numb from the burn and I couldn't focus on anything so inconsequential as flavor anyway.

"So, what? You want us to drink our drinks, then go for a little walk in the park, is that it?" Her tone was neutral. I felt helpless. I had no idea what she was thinking.

"Y-yeah, I mean if you'd like to have a little privacy that could work right?" She didn't react at all. "Unless you'd rather us go back to yours or-" Her fingers noticeably tightened around her cup. I stopped speaking. That was body language I could read. I was saying the wrong thing. "Dumb idea." I said. And I meant it, though I wasn't quite sure why.

"You think?" She asked. Her eyes were boring into my skull.

"Yeah," I said, choosing to take her question at face value.

"Last time I invited you to my place didn't go so well, did it?" She was patronizing me. There was no point answering another rhetorical question so I just frowned, looked down and felt an utter fool for ever making such a suggestion in the first place. I worked away at my drink in silence. She placed her empty mug carefully in the center of the table and said: "I always wondered what happened to you after you left that day, Ribbon. Tell me, how have you been?"

It was a big question. It took me days to relay the details to Cecil, and almost three months had passed since then. I felt I had to be concise with Sophie. I wouldn't dare waste her time with my ramblings. I took a deep breath and gave it my best shot.

"I spent some time being a hateful idiot. I hung out with Ruben for a while, but he was too vile even for me. I went through this big self-destruction phase after that, got in with a new crew, got really into drugs and fucking myself up. I wanted to forget who I was, to burn it all to the ground, to start over. It didn't work. I couldn't forget about you, or Cecil, or even fucking Ruben no matter how hard I tried, and trust me I tried. I was full of regrets and vacant of resolutions. One night I was lucky enough to run into Cecil. We got to talking. Everything changed after that. That was maybe three months ago now. With Cecil's help I worked through all the hate and ignorance that was swirling about inside me. I figured some things out about myself, and the world, you know, all that good stuff. Basically, I got better. And I missed you, badly. Every day. And I wanted to make things up to you. So I called, maybe I shouldn't have, but I did."

"And now you're here."

"And now I'm here. I tried meeting with Ruben recently too, but that blew up in my face. He had a colorful assortment of language to greet me with, I'm sure you can imagine, and it got no better from there."

"What the hell did you think you'd get out of that ball of hatred in the first place?"

"I don't know. I guess I thought he might change. I guess I thought I could change him. I was an idiot. It didn't work out, obviously."

Sophie nodded, slowly, considering something. After a few seconds she made a decision and spoke up.

"Did you know Ruben set a whole forum of bigots after me once? They came crashing through my social media with a colorful assortment of language, as you so eloquently euphamized."

I was caught entirely off guard. "Oh god, I had no idea Sophie, I'm-"

"Do you know how I knew it was Ruben?"

"No, I-"

"All of them knew my deadname. They fired it off at will with a perverse, sadistic pleasure. They seemed to get off on my pain."

"I'm so sorr-"

"At first I thought you were the one who'd set them on me."

My heart stopped.

"You...?"

"But then Ruben went and gloated about it on an alt account of his, as if he were giving a fucking supervillain speech, the brainless twerp."

"Jesus that's-"

"It was a pretty awful time to be me, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"Of course, I mean, that's horrible."

I was breathless and beat. I had a lot of catching up to do.

"Yeah."

"I'm so sorry Sophie. I wish- I wish I was there for you."

"But you weren't." She said. And I was silent. What was there to say? "Nobody was there for me. I only had myself, and when I'm in a bad place I'm not good company."

"Sophie, I'm-"

"To say the least, being constantly harassed online wasn't good for my mental health. I mean, the internet was meant to be an escape for me. So, for weeks after Ruben's mob went after me, I was cutting myself."

"Oh god. Sophie, you-? Sophie..."

I put my mug down, losing any intention of finishing my drink. I could barely believe what I was hearing.

"More than usual, I mean. Don't worry Ribbon, it's nothing new. I've been cutting on and off for years."

"You've-? Sophie, I never knew. I-"

"You had no way of knowing. Nobody knew. Do you have any idea how easy it is to hide scars under feathers? It just takes a little finesse with a knife and voila. Invisible. It didn't take long to learn the right way to do it. I was already a pro by the time we met."

"Are you-? This-"

I was welling up. I couldn't take it. This was way more than too much.

"So, yeah, the harassment from Ruben's alt right e-buddies put me in a dark place. Being subjected to the sort of shit people like that spout on repeat all day, every day isn't easy. There were times when I began to believe their rhetoric. I thought I was a freak. A monstrosity. A worthless failure of a person. Helpless. Defenseless. Disgusting. Wrong. But, at other times, I felt like there was nothing wrong with me at all."

"And you were right. You-"

"But that was no better. I felt like there was so much wrong with the world, more than I could ever fix, more than could ever possibly be fixed by anyone, and that I was doomed to be hated and hurt from then until the end of time. I thought the universe itself was fucked up beyond all repair, and I wanted out."

I was at my absolute limit.

"I had no idea, I- Oh god. I-"

"I had a lot of suicidal thoughts around that time. They would pop into my head unannounced and fester for days."

This all had to be some sort of sick joke, right?

It had to be.

"God, Sophie, I-"

"Don't get me wrong, this wasn't some sort of all time low, it was far from my first experience with suicidal thoughts. And, on the whole, I've been a lot happier since my transition." I burst into tears right then and there in the cafe. Patrons turned to look at me. Sophie flinched, but readjusted quickly. "Let's go," she said, standing. She beckoned for me to follow.

As if possessed I stood, devoid of thought, and followed her up and out of the cafe. Across roads. Along pavements. Anywhere. Everywhere.

"Tell me this isn't real, please."

I was pleading.

The streets weren't busy, but of the few pedestrians that did pass us by, most stared at me, or at least stole a timid glance.

"It's real, Ribbon." She said. She didn't look back. "I was borderline suicidal for years. Since before I knew you, right up until the day I made the decision to transition, barely a week went by that I didn't think about ending my own life. I would fucking daydream about it. I'd think of the quickest way to do it, the easiest way, the most painful, the most messy. Any way. Every way."

I couldn't stop crying.

"I'm such a fucking-"

"Ribbon, there's no way you could have known. I didn't tell you. I didn't tell anyone."

"I could have fucking listened! You told me so much. If I had actually listened to you Blue, if I had fucking thought for one minute then maybe I could have helped."

She paused before responding, then uttered only a single word.

"Blue."

The word came out slow and lingered on her tongue.

I hesitated, then shook my head, sending tears flying toward the pavement.

"Sophie," I said.

She took in a sharp breath, then exhaled.

"Since my transition I've only had two bouts of suicidal thoughts. Going from constant existential despair to being able to say that is a huge improvement, I'm sure you'll agree."

"All this time you've-?"

But I couldn't finish my sentence. It wasn't because she interrupted me, it was because I didn't want to say what I was thinking. I didn't want this to be real.

There she was, calm, collected, and talking about... this.

It made no sense to me, but there was logic to it: she had lived with this all her life. These weren't revelations to her, or even really confessions. This was nothing more than her reality laid bare.

To me it was more than shocking. With all I had learned, with all I had done to better myself, I was still so blind.

It was getting dark. We reached an open gate and she quickly passed through it, leading me into the park. We continued our walk in something close to quiet as I did my best to quell my crying. I mostly succeeded, finding myself in a position of relative stability by the time we stopped.

She led me to a bench at the edge of an empty stretch of grass and we sat down, side by side. She didn't look at me, but rather out at the grass, and beyond, at the city. Her expression was glassy and obfuscated in layers of practiced cold.

"So," she said. "We're here. Under the stars."

And she was right, in the fresh twilight the stars were out and visible, if only barely. I got lost in them.

"I'm so fucking sorry Sophie."

"For what?"

She turned to me, finally, having not so much as glanced my way the entire time we were traveling here.

"For what you've been through. All of it. I- I had no idea."

And once more she looked away. She sighed.

"I'm alright." She said. "Now."

I pointed up at the stars.

"I wish things were easier," I said. "I wish your stars aligned. I wish you were born who you wanted to be, that the lottery of life was kinder to you."

She hummed a vague affirmation. I felt helpless. Defenseless. Wrong.

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"I- I don't even know what I don't get Sophie. There's so much I don't understand. I have no idea where to start."

"Then why bother?"

"Huh?"

"Why even call me in the first place, after all this time? Why not just pick yourself up and move on?"

Because I love you, because I-

"Because I- Because you matter to me Sophie. Because I care so much about you, and us, and I want to be a part of your life and I want to make things right and I want to- I want to- Dammit, I-" I struggled and stopped. I failed.

"I'm sorry to say it, Ribbon, but your words ring hollow."

It felt like I had been stabbed.

"What do you-? Why would you say that?"

"If you can't figure that out, then it's not worth explaining," she said, pained by her own declaration.

"I want to know more Sophie, please, about who you are and who you've been. I want to prove that I'm better than I ever was, that I'm still ready and willing to improve. I want to be close to you again. I've missed you so much."

"Ribbon - oh hell - Ribbon, are you serious?"

Now she was the one close to tears. Or, rather, we both were.

"Of course I'm serious Sophie. Bluebird. Please, let me learn, let me improve. Let me in. Tell me what I'm missing. Tell me how you've been since I last saw you. Help me understand. Please."

"You want to know about me, Ribbon? About my life? You want to know how I've fucking been since you last saw me?" She projected her questions through tears, her tone drenched in both despair and rage. The rage came as a surprise.

It shouldn't have. It really shouldn't have.

"Of course I do Sophie. Of course I do."

I was confused and scared, but determined.

Seconds later, my world shattered.

Moment 5

"You think I can ever trust you again?" You ask. "You think I can ever let you in? After what you did to me? Fuck, Ribbon, you keep telling me how much better you are now, but you're as self absorbed and blind as you've ever been.

"A week after you last saw me I was fired," you say. "They made their excuses, sure, but I got the crystal clear impression they didn't like the idea of a trans woman working there. It didn't help that I was already at one of the lowest points in my life.

"Ribbon, do you have any fucking idea what you did to me?"

"Sophie I-" I try to butt in, to defend myself, to explain, but you're having none of it.

"You know that day I invited you over, at the beginning of my transition? You were the first non-paid-professional I came out to. The very first. I chose you because I trusted you. Because I felt closer to you than anyone I had ever known. In spite of everything, in spite of all our bickering and our on-again off-again relationship status, you had been my best friend.

"You weren't just my ex-lover, you were somebody I was still fucking halfway in love with and you came into my home and you destroyed me. I told you who I was, I bared my soul to you and you fucking spat on it, poisoned it. Every word you spoke was venom. You heard what I had to say and took it upon yourself to dismantle me. You treated me like I was trash for the crime of opening up to you, for the crime of staying true to myself.

"How do you think that fucking made me feel? Have you ever actually thought about that Ribbon? Not just in passing, but in detail?

"Do you think I just forgot about it? Do you think those wounds just up and healed? Do you think I got over that quickly and fucking easily? Jesus Christ Ribbon do you have any sense of perspective at all?

"You call my number from your new phone with no warning and leave a message saying you're sorry, as if that fucking makes up for everything. You come here, meet me, and tell me you're sorry, as if that fucking heals all wounds. I get it Ribbon, you're sorry. You know you did wrong, great, but it seems to me you have no fucking idea how wrong you did.

"You act like you've figured it all out now, but you've barely scratched the surface. Your empathy lacks any depth. You're sorry? Great. What did you expect? A big thank you and a cuddle? A kiss and a blowjob? You fucked me up and you want thanks? Fuck, Ribbon.

"You know how I said I've only been suicidal twice since my transition? I told you about the second time, with Ruben's harassment campaign. The day you visited was the first. In fact that was the closest I ever got to killing myself. I made an attempt on my life twice over the next few days. I got everything ready, tore out a bunch of feathers from my underarm, put a knife against my vein. I was all primed to slash down the length of it and bleed myself dry, but I chickened out.

"The second time I ended up in hospital after an intentional overdose. I chickened out that time too. Called an ambulance on myself moments before I lost control.

"I thought I was a coward for not following through with it. I felt that way for a long time. Then I got better. I saw clearly. Largely thanks to therapy. No thanks to you. In spite of you. But that's not the worst of it.

"The worst part is that I still fucking cared about you, that I tricked myself into thinking I actually missed you, that I tricked myself into thinking you deserved the space you occupied in my mind, that all this time - right up until you called me yesterday - I was tricking myself into believing you were worth something, that you were worth all the stress and all the torment you'd put me through, that you must be so much better now, that you were worth my longing and affection, but I was wrong. So wrong.

"You call me Blue like you know me, like we're still close, like what happened back then never happened, and part of me wants to give into it, to lose myself to the nostalgia of that name, of the days and nights we spent together, but you don't deserve it. You don't deserve me. You have no right to call me that. That name is for close friends and loved ones. You are neither. We haven't spoken in fifteen months and the last time we did you damaged me. At absolute best you're a stranger. Who the fuck do you think you are coming back into my life and calling me Blue?

"Forgive me, Ribbon, if I don't think of your miraculous transformation from a bigot to no-longer-a-transphobe as the second coming of fucking Christ. You're a see-through sham, top to bottom. You want me to believe you're here to make things right, but that's a lie. You're here to claim me. You're here because you never got over me. You're here to tie loose ends. You're here because you can't let me go. You're not here for my benefit, and you never fucking have been.

"I guess I've known that for a long time, but today is the day I finally admit it. Now it's your turn to stop lying to yourself. You say you're so much better now, but you still can't think outside of the little box you've placed yourself in. The world must seem so simple to you. The truth is you're still the same self-important asshole today that you were when I used to know you.

"And that's just it: I used to know you. There's no reason for you to be here, for us to be talking. You don't have to prove yourself to me. You don't owe me anything and I don't owe you. You're nobody to me. Nobody at all. And the sooner you wake up and realize I'm nobody to you too, the sooner you can get on with your fucking life and celebrate not being a transphobe somewhere else, because frankly, Ribbon, I don't give a damn. Meeting the bare minimum requirements for common decency doesn't make you a good person, it just makes you slightly less of a dick."

You point at the stars and shake your head. "And don't you dare tell me you wish I was born who I wanted to be. I am who I am, and I'm proud of that now. Maybe you thought I was some sort of genius when I told you all that shit lying in a field those years ago. Well, I wasn't. I was a dumb kid, Ribbon, just like you are now. It's time to grow up." You stand up and look down at me, your eyes containing nothing but pity. "And, please, don't reach out to me again. I want nothing to do with you."

"I won't," I say. More than defeated. Razed.

"One last word of advice: don't get obsessed with your next crush the way you did with me. It's not healthy."

"I love you," I say. And it's the wrong time. It's the worst time. And it's stupid. But I have to say it.

You shake your head, slow and certain.

"You cant love me Ribbon. You don't even know me."

I sob. And I sob some more. And I say: "I'm so sorry."

And you frown, Sophie, and your eyes catch mine one last time.

And you walk away.

And you leave my life forever.

And the minutes pass.

And...

You're...

Sophie...

Sophie is gone.

But she's still on my mind.

At least I'm not imagining she's up here with me anymore.

She was right: it's time to stop pretending.

I wipe my eyes, stand up and walk home.