For once I want a moment that belongs to us.
I’ve been saving myself for you because without you I would be nothing.
I wait for you under the full moon at night and ignore all the parasites because I knew you were the one who would come back to me.
You make me feel like I’m in some kind of fairytale because right now,
only you can save me.
To: D
Dear Diary,
I have just completed life as an undergraduate at the University of Guam as of May 23rd, 2021 and now I feel I’ve accomplished a lot. I have yet to go into the Graduate program to get my M.A. degree, that is my master’s degree in the College of Liberal Arts and Social Sciences. It was as it feels, a long walk amongst a rocky road. To be honest, I never would have thought that I would be able to make it this far. Wish me luck for Grad school on this new chapter in my life. It’s been a long time coming.
I will be giving an examination to the interpretation of Saddam Hussein’s speech. In this paper I will also identify fallacious statements used by Saddam Hussein from Chapter 11 on fallacies in Understanding Rhetoric. On September 3, 1996, the United States raided Iraq with a missile attack which triggered Saddam Hussein to give his speech in retaliation to the Americans who bombed Iraq with an air raid strike. Hussein calls upon fanatical believers of Islam, the religion which lies in the center of the Iraqi people, which is defined as dogmatism; a common fallacy found in Chapter 11 of Understanding Rhetoric, which he uses in his speech, along with the use of code, calling forth future attacks on the United States. In this paper, we are going to go through what marked the war of a decade starting with Hussein’s speech to the Iraqi people in rhetoric, which is a persuasive way of speaking. The method of analysis that I shall be using is ethos, pathos and logos, fallacy and interpretation in Hussein’s speech to the Iraqi people.
Saddam Hussein’s Speech To Iraqis
In the name of God, the most gracious, the Most Merciful; oh, great people; oh, honorable members of our armed forces; oh, sons of our glorious Arab nation; oh, honorable people of the world: Once again, the hopeless cowardly Americans were back to repeat their cowardly act hiding behind a technological advance that God, most gracious, wanted it to be their curse and cause for shame. The aggressors came back launching their failed cowardly raids to commit a damned third attack which has very significant implications. The courageous resistance and great steadfastness of the noble Iraqi people gave the aggressors what they deserved. They will be taught a lesson and their wanton attack will be resisted. The missile attack on Iraq took place around 9 o’clock this morning, 3rd of September 1996, corresponding to 20th Rabi’ Athani 1417 Hijri. This is going to be a glorious day. The Iraqi people will, in the name of God, add to their honorable record. It will be a day when the cowardly aggressors will be condemned by both history and the whole world, having been condemned by God Almighty. Oh, Iraqi people and members of the brave Iraqi armed forces, the apple of our eye, this is another day you can call your own. So, resist them as you have done. God Almighty wishes you to take your pride of place under the sun and on the heights of your good land. We have come to expect you — and your people and the Arab nation are calling upon you — to resist them and teach them a new lesson full of meanings their weak and empty souls do not know. Oh, men of our air defenses and our air hawks, from now on consider as non-existent their damned imaginary no-fly zones above 36 parallel and below 32 parallel. Strike with efficiency and competence, in the name of God, any of the aggressors\\\’ planes which violate the air space of your great country and everywhere in Iraq, now and in the future. The free peoples of the world and the sons of our glorious Arab nation can rest assured that proud, glorious and defiant Iraq is safe. Iraq is as powerful as high mountains. It will not be shaken by the winds of evil; neither will it be frightened, God willing, by the hiss of vipers. The sons of the Land of Two Rivers were more than a match to the enemy; they downed a large number of its missiles. God foiled the aggression and the aggressors and, thanks be to God, we only suffered light losses in the failed attack. May God bless the souls of our honorable martyrs. God is greater, God is greater. May the cowards be defeated.
Hussein says, “in the name of God, the most gracious, the Most Merciful; oh, great people; oh, honorable members of our armed forces; oh, sons of our glorious Arab nation; oh, honorable people of the world,” in his piece to persuade the people of Iraq to listen to him and invest in his war. Hussein assumes that the entire Iraqi nation, all its citizens, desires a war against the United States. Under his military regime, many civilian Iraqis suffered. His regime tightly controlled the economic and political structures. Those who opposed him, were imprisoned and tortured. Hussein then transitions with “once again, the hopeless cowardly Americans were back to repeat their cowardly act hiding behind a technological advance that God, most gracious, wanted it to be their curse and cause for shame.”
Why does he do this? He does this to call upon the Iraqi people’s pride, giving them a false sense of authority and again, plays upon their religious logos in which he states that the Americans are cowardly. Hussein plays on the Iraqi people’s faith in their religion, using the bandwagon fallacy which claims that every Iraqi citizen must agree with him, even those whom he imprisoned and tortured.
With the transition mentioned above, Hussein then uses another fallacious statement called a false dichotomy in which his whole speech oversimplifies the issue. Notice how he uses dogmatism as the first fallacy in the first paragraph quoted above.
He uses authority of religious spectacles and authoritative figures. Hussein then makes a statement that he believes is irrefutable, that Americans are the aggressors and that they are cowardly because he personally attacks Americans in general saying that “the aggressors came back launching their failed cowardly raids to commit a damned third attack which has very significant implications. He then praises the Iraqi’s, stating that they are courageous, and their resistance and great steadfastness are noble, and that the fight against the Americans is what they deserved because they caused the war against the Iraqi people. “They will be taught a lesson and their wanton attack will be resisted.”
He then plays on pathos, ethos and logos which is, coming from pathos, the loss of parts of their country on the American raid in 1996 where he wishes to invoke violent feelings. Using ethos and logos, he states throughout his speech feelings of courage against the Americans and their condemnation and invokes it because of the missile attack of 1996 on the Iraqis. He states the fact that, “the missile attack on Iraq took place around 9 o’clock this morning, 3rd of September 1996, corresponding to 20th Rabi’ Athani 1417 Hijri. This is going to be a glorious day. The Iraqi people will, in the name of God, add to their honorable record. It will be a day when the cowardly aggressors will be condemned by both history and the whole world, having been condemned by God Almighty.”
But why does he depend on God to amend the strikes of the Americans or to reassure his people that the American people will be condemned by God the almighty because of the attack in 1996? He says that because Saudi Arabia is the center of religion. According to World Atlas, “the constitution of Saudi Arabia, which is based on the Quran and the Sunna, establishes the country as an Arab Islamic State. It recognizes the Sunni Islam as the official religion and Sharia law as the legislature. The state does not legally recognize the freedom religion and neither the state government nor the society recognizes the separation of religion and the state. The county is opposed to the Muslim reforms of the 21st Century that seek to reinterpret the Islamic Law to recognize the social and economic developments, personal autonomy, gender relations, and democracy. The law recognizes the children born to Saudi fathers as Muslims and must be integrated into Islamic culture. In other words, as the center of religion, they are considered amongst themselves, a holy people because they are in America, like an institute where their laws are strictly their religion.
Hussein then says, “oh, Iraqi people and members of the brave Iraqi armed forces, the apple of our eye, this is another day you can call your own. So, resist them as you have done. God Almighty wishes you to take your pride of place under the sun and on the heights of your good land. We have come to expect you — and your people and the Arab nation are calling upon you — to resist them and teach them a new lesson full of meanings their weak and empty souls do not know.” The rhetoric or the persuasiveness suddenly peaks. Hussein speaks rhetorically to persuade his people to fight with him for the war against America. Hussein arrogance demonstrates his lack of understanding of the personal suffering of the Iraqi people. He believes that he is well loved, but he isn’t. Note also that he speaks with the fallacies of dogmatism and false dichotomies. How do we know if the soul of America is empty? It isn’t. The heart of the American military, as we are told, is to spread Democracy for all oppressed citizens around the world. This is one of the tenets that defines the United States in the world.
Again, Hussein calls on authority and says “we have come to expect you — and your people and the Arab nation are calling upon you — to resist them and teach them a new lesson full of meanings their weak and empty souls do not know. Oh, men of our air defenses and our air hawks, from now on consider as non-existent their damned imaginary no-fly zones above 36 parallel and below 32 parallel. Strike with efficiency and competence, in the name of God, and of the aggressors’ planes which violate the air space of your great country and everywhere in Iraq, now and in the future. The free peoples of the world and the sons of our glorious Arab nation can rest assured that proud, glorious and defiant Iraq is safe. Iraq is as powerful as high mountains. It will not be shaken by the winds of evil; neither will it be frightened, God willing, by the hiss of vipers.” Hussein calls for the Iraqi people to take up their weapons and fight for their existence; calling on the Iraqi people to fight by any means necessary, to show no mercy, and then portrays the bandwagon fallacy that all of Iraq is going to help him, including the good Christians, by his definition, and non-terrorists being the citizens of Iraq, who are not part of his military regime, and citizens of the Middle East.
The Code
He states that “The sons of the Land of Two Rivers were more than a match to the enemy; they downed a large number of its missiles. God foiled the aggression and the aggressors and, thanks be to God, we only suffered light losses in the failed attack.” This quote from Hussein must have been a code to call the Iraqi people to attack through the two rivers, being the holy land of the Euphrates and the Tigris, attacks of the Al-Qaeda in future generations of American soldiers to fight against. It could be a code for just that the land of two rivers were made for the geographic location of attack. “Al-Qaeda in Iraq (AQI) is a Sunni insurgent faction referred to in Arabic as Tanzim al-Qaeda fi Bilad al-Rafidayn (Al-Qaeda in the Land of the Two Rivers or Al-Qaeda in Mesopotamia). Originally founded by Abu Musab al-Zarqawi as Jamia’at Tawhid wal Jihad, or the Monotheism and Jihad Organization, the group began referring to itself as Al-Qaeda in the Land of the Two Rivers in the Fall of 2004, when al-Zarqawi pledged his loyalty to Osama bin Laden and Al-Qaeda. Unlike other nationalist or nationalist-jihadi factions of the Sunni insurgency, AQI has adopted a radical religious program aimed to imposing an interpretation of Islamic law known as Wahabbism, based on the teaching of Muhammad ibn Abd al-Wahab.”
From what we know about Al-Qaeda, is that they are a large group of terrorists that assisted in bombing the World Trade Center or the Twin Towers on September 11th who may have attacked from there. Hussein appears to harness his eloquence in speaking, by hoping to instill a sense of urgent nationalism to rally the Iraqis against the Americans. The death of Hussein in December, 2006, has not deterred religious military organizations, and they continue to have a stronghold in the region. “Although one of the smallest factions in the Sunni insurgency, it has been perhaps the [deadliest,] claiming responsibility for some of the highest profile attacks against Shi’a targets, including the bombing of the al-Askari Mosque in Samarra in February 2006 and the massive car bombings in Sadr City in November of that year. Although the group is principally Iraqi, there is some foreign presence at the leadership and operational levels. Currently led by Abu Ayyub al-Masri (Abu Ayyub the Egyptian), AQI has been under tremendous pressure from coalition operations in Ninewa and Diyala province which began in early 2009. While many popular accounts of the sectarian violence between Sunni and Shi’a organizations in Iraq date the explosion of violence to the bombing of the al-Askari Mosque in February 2006, organized violence between religious communities began much earlier. Whether Al-Qaeda in Iraq was responsible for starting this cycle of violence with spectacular attacks against Shi’a targets in order to embed itself in Sunni communities, or whether these attacks were actually responses to earlier Shi’a militia activities, Al-Qaeda in Iraq had become the major Sunni participant in the war between sectarian militias in and around Baghdad by summer 2005. It developed safe havens throughout West Baghdad and in Anbar province. In addition to attacks against Shi’a targets, Al-Qaeda began laying the basis for the future turn by the tribes. In areas of Baghdad, they began actively targeting other Sunni insurgent factions in order to establish control over neighborhoods, and their behavior in Anbar, in Diyala, and [the Northern region of Iraq] began to alienate their partners in the Sunni insurgency.”
In his closing remarks, Hussein calls on God again who is a religious and authoritative figure. “May God bless the souls of our honorable martyrs. God is greater, God is greater. May the cowards be defeated,” which is a fallacious statement because religious dogmatism in which Hussein preached, is premised on absolute truth, where blind obedience is expected, and in which, the religion declares a Holy War. These are fallacies that lead to a nation’s pain and suffering.
The code mentioned, and as believed, will, by any means, uphold the fallacy of dogmatism in rhetoric which proves that no matter what the odds are, one voice among the people shall be heard among the masses and cause destruction to a great and powerful nation and her vulnerable and powerless citizens, no matter how evil it was. Hussein and his military regime preyed on the fear of the Iraqi citizens, using religion and its holy places and its historical monuments as the vehicle, no matter how contradictory it was to the holy teachings. That is a terrorist’s logical allegory after all.
Works Cited
CNN. Transcript of Saddam Hussein’s Speech to Iraqis.
edition.cnn.com/WORLD/9609/03/saddam.transcript/.
“Northern Iraq.” Institute for the Study of War,
http://www.understandingwar.org/region/northern-iraq. Accessed 4 May 2021.
WorldAtlas. “Religion in Saudi Arabia.” WorldAtlas, 29 Nov. 2016,
http://www.worldatlas.com/articles/religious-beliefs-and-freedoms-in-saudi-arabia.html.
You seeped into my veins very much like you seeped into my earth.
There was only one place to look. Little Italy. I can hear the sound of Tony Bennett playing from the radio as I took the car back to the old apartment.
She wasn’t there.
I checked the local penitentiaries.
Still not there.
I finally called the hospital.
Sheena was there and she was barely breathing.
I had waited in the waiting room for the longest time and they finally admitted me in because I told them that I was her old family friend. There my Sheena lay. She was in a coma. I had silently started to cry. Over sniffles and sobs, I asked what had happened.
Apparently, Sheena was drunk and was at a party and someone found out that she was a man so he had actually beaten the fuck out of her.
I cried even harder.
The pain was so excruciating that I couldn’t stop crying. For some reason it was because she was badly beaten and for a second, I knew Sheena was going to die alone.
The next morning, she woke up to the sound of my voice.
I could’ve sworn to God that she was going to die on the ventilator.
She had a cut lip, a black and blue eye and bruises.
“Sheena!” I gasped. I got up and called for a nurse.
The nurse took her off the ventilator. I had a small towel ready with hot water, and I dabbed her eyes.
We both cried.
She had to stay in the hospital longer, so I fed her with fork and spoon and let her drink this went on for a couple of weeks and on the last day, she began to talk.
“Maria honey?”
I looked up.
“Yes Sheena?”
“Can you stop babying me?”
I looked at her and glared and she started laughing so I sighed.
“Sheena. You got beaten up.”
She stopped and looked at me.
“I thought you had left.”
She looked at me like a lost child.
“Are you crazy?” I looked doubtful. “Girl?”
I got up and quickly sat down on her bedside to the left.
“Sheena? Who did this to you?”
“Well, outta all the trashy things to ask.”
I could quickly tell that Sheena had not wanted to talk about it to me. I suddenly felt shunned and really bad so I shut my mouth and cleaned up her face.
We were out of the hospital quicker than you can say Ah.
We went back to the pent. Sheena was quieter than usual. I looked like a wreck as I looked into the mirror.
Sheena sat quietly on the bed. I looked into the room.
“Maria, read me more of your poetry.”
“Sure.”
I began to read what I have written.
War and love are a very dangerous combination of instruments if played right and played well. You are like water and I am like soil.
You are a mortal instrument among men and women who can only be touched and played by the Gods.
But it is you I do not touch for you are like glass. You; my silver lining of a harp amongst the clouds.
I love you. I wish to hear your sweet music.
But;
I think they knew that.
But you don’t, do you?
My love,
Maybe when all this white noise is done and gone,
Maybe then we’ll be together,
The new normal, and then maybe after all this love and romance;
The last of the romantics.
My love, you take my heart and I swear that I will have you in my dreams tonight.
Sheena sighed and asked.
“Maria?”
I stood solemnly still.
“Do you believe in true love?”
“Sheena, at this point….”
I looked at her.
“No.”
Sheena and I changed into our PJ’s after a quick shower and slept.
***
I wondered as I awoke to find Sheena sleeping, about what else was going to happen.
The telephone rang twice.
“Sheena! I oughta fuck you dead!”
Once again, a death threat.
The telephone rang again.
“Listen missy, Sheena’s not what you think she is she’s a man and it just doesn’t fit. Perhaps we can convert her to our Christian faith.”
A missionary on a mission to give that phone call. Bleh!
I slammed the phone even harder.
The phone rang again.
“Hey baby!”
I hung up and yawned. I laughed at the thought of Sheena actually having a fan.
The phone rang again. I hung up.
Sheena was still asleep thank God.
Finally, Sheena woke up. When I told her there was a fan of hers who had called, I was very thankful Sheena was not angry. Sheena then said specifically that if you want something you have to prolong their suffering and make them want you more. Sheena was getting better. Her bruises were healing and so was her eye. I leaned against her chest as she kissed my head.
‘Sheena? You’re going to get revenge, right?”
“Absolutely darling.”
“How do you plan to do it?”
I looked up from Sheena’s embrace.
“I’m going to shoot them dear.”
I started to sob. Not only for my friend’s life but for the next time she would leave. Sheena is precious to me. More precious than gold.
“But Sheena.” I sobbed. “You can’t leave! You’re gonna die out there!”
Sheena rolled her eyes.
“Nonsense darling the night is young!”
I sat down as Sheena held my shoulders. “Darling, you know I have business to do. Shoot me. What life is this when the night is young?”
I trembled.
“Darling, don’t you want to be happy? I’m a woman!”
She exclaimed.
“Can’t you see?”
She looked at me with round, brown sad eyes and gently sat me down. She took off her wig as she went silently out of the building and drove off. I cried as I watched her go. I believe she cried too.
***
Sheena had died. It was all over the news.
The headlines wore dead bodies. Sheena being one of them.
Sheena was finally in peace. I tried to make out a smile on my face but that was it. She was gone. I made my way towards the television set and there it was, Sheena’s lifeless face onscreen. I hated what the headlines wrote.
“Mad Transexual Raids A Manhattan Pent.”
I cried and I ripped the paper. Sheena was mad I suppose but a good friend and although I fought my tears back, I visited her grave often knowing she would never come back.
***
Five years later….
Age thirty-five and I couldn’t get my life together. I woke up to the sweet smell of Georgia pies and walked from my homestead to the local library where I worked. Ahhh, how I loved the smell. Also, the smell of maple leaves as they lined every bend down the road. I finally saved up enough to move from the pent in New York working as both a singer and a waitress at the clubs and then take the train to Georgia. It had been years since Sheena’s death. After that, the war had followed and accursed industrialism began to take place. It was during World War 2 that I had decided to become a singer singing duets with the military men and then boom! Proposal after proposal.
Dear Sheena,
Nothing is the same without you.
Maria
I was at the local coffee shop and I saw one of my new friends who had married in the military, a marine after he was back from the attack of Pearl Harbor. Some of his shipmates had been stationed on an island called Guam and others at other harbors that were attacked by the Japanese empire. By then I had changed my name to Mary and life was swell. That’s when I met him.
“Yoo-Hoo! Ma-ary! Yoo-Hoo!”
I looked up drowsily form my newspaper.
I found Barbara Donna Wilkis hanging out with our friend Patsy May Clymer with their husbands, Jack Daniel Wilkis and Danny James Clymer. Two of many survivors. With them another man who looked three years older than me. He was the one. His name was George Craig Kramer. One of the renowned generals of a navy ship that sailed across the Atlantic.
“Well Georgie.” Patsy said while chewing her bubblegum. “Tell ‘er about what happened.”
George was a brilliant talker and had a soft, boyish expression about him that mad you think, gee, that boy’s something and he is bound to get married someday.
Sheena would say, “Better grab him before I do darling.”
But who was I kidding? Sheena had gone into a faraway land but hadn’t come back unlike this one did. It was the end for Sheena but a beginning for me.
“Georgie, tell her!” Patsy chided.
Barbara nudged him.
“Miss Mary Marie Angelo….” I tried not to smile. “Will you Miss Angelo, take the honor of being my wife?”
A timid grin swept over my face.
“Go get ‘im girl!” I could hear Sheena say.
“Yes.” I blurted.
He picked me up from the dining table and carried me to the door. Barbara winked at me and Patsy kissed her husband as they all seemed to hold each other.
Suddenly, I became Mrs. Mary George Craig Kramer and we lived happily ever after.
I was nine months pregnant and I had two loving little boys who loved me as much as my husband. I no longer suffered from loss and I had found love with a man who had belonged to the sea and now belonged to me.
“Georgie!” I called.
“Yeah honey!”
I could hear George’s footsteps falling on the wooden floor boards.
“Is Pierson and Peter goin’ off to school yet?”
“Yes honey!” he peered through the door and came into the kitchen and twirled me around just once and kissed me.
“Mom! Mom!” Pierson ran up to me laughing, “Mom! There’s a giant squid in the yard, he’s comin’ to get me!”
Peter, my youngest was laughing up a fit and spit was gurgling form his mouth as he waved his arms teeter-tottering over the floor.
“Oh Peter!” I laughed aloud. “My little turtle-dove!”
“Oh you two!”
They were still in their pajamas.
“Apparently, someone has to be responsible for them….” I said sarcastically.
George just kissed me and said, “One second.”
“I’ll go upstairs and dress them up.” He added.
I went upstairs to the attic where my stationary set was and wrote.
Dear Sheena,
I have two loving little boys and a wonderful husband. My heart now belongs to somebody and he is a wonderful man. Wherever you are Sheena, I can only hope that you are in a better place. He and my children are everything I wanted. I know that you would be so proud of me because I have achieved what I had set out for. I am proud to be his wife and if you ask me, true love really does exist.
Mary Kramer
I looked up and peered in the window to see my husband and my two beautiful boys walking down the path through the maples where we lived. Past the sycamore tree, the local library, the bakery, past the barber shop and off to school.
I stood up from my chair and went downstairs out of the house passed the maples.
I looked up at the sycamore tree and sometimes I saw Sheena there and as my mind swept back to when I was thirty, I can remember the sweet silent sound of Sheena’s crooning voice over a microphone.
“Sing much?” I asked the sycamore.
I touched its trunk and reminisced.
“It’s a pretty empty street.”
“Yes…. I agree.” I said strangely.
“Do you sing often?” She asked.
I looked down at my feet. “No, Not really.”
“Oh, not really? Not often then.” She said completely ignoring the fact that I was agoraphobic.
“Why?” I had asked.
“You wouldn’t happen to sell your soul for a bit then.” She said.
“Atta girl Sheena, there there.” I said tenderly. “Your soul is finally at rest. Atta girl.”
I looked up and smiled.
Sheena would be looking down proudly and smiling down on me.
I no longer suffered from loss and I had found love with a man who had belonged to the sea and now belonged to me. Maria was no more. I am Mrs. Mary George Craig Kramer and I am happily married with two small young boys who may grow up to be taller than me.
Plus, it was everything Sheena would have wanted. And I loved her. Still; on the pursuit of happiness.
I gawked. I was completely not amused. “Oh Sheena.” I muttered to myself. We were in her new pent. Verona Delisle’s pent and I was shocked. It was painful to hear her say that.
“I’ll get your bath ready.” I said quietly as she let her arms collapse around her built, muscular waist.
Sheena looked at me and said “Maria, I’d rather shower. Go write Nikki and Verona a letter for me darling.”
***
It took me a long time to recover and think about what she did. Sheena had just killed her friend. I loved her and she knew it. She saved me form abduction, she killed Nikki. I wrote a letter to Verona and Nikki that night and saved myself from vomiting.
Dear Nikki,
I am impressed and half awed that Sheena would do such a thing. It took me a while to figure out this riddle. Sheena after all is a professional and it is hard to believe that she is your well…. your sister. You would still use the pronoun brother, but Sheena is like a friend. I feel like nothing really had happened between you and Sheena, but I do feel that you had to have loved her in some ways. Please forgive me for I am writing to a man I do not love. It is you. You would never have the balls to stick up for me, and yet Sheena did. Nikki, I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate your father and your grandfather for everything and I’m sure Sheena would agree with me.
Sincerely I hate you,
Maria
I sighed and put the pen down.
I thought about what was going to happen next. I wrote to Ms. Delisle.
Dear Verona,
I am so sorry that this had to happen. I know you love Sheena but you should understand that Sheena is what she is and I love her for what a strong woman she is. Please forgive me but, as much as I would love Sheena to love me, she never really will. I understand that Sheena can only be my friend and nothing more.
A sniffle came from my nose and an aching pain formed in the back of my throat. “Oh Sheena.” I muttered. “Why couldn’t you leave it alone?” I was so unsure that Sheena had felt bad about it.
***
There was Sheena smiling on the sofa with her robe ten minutes later with her original hair all disarrayed.
As she sat there smiling, I threw up in the bathroom’s toilet. How could she?
“Sheena, I cannot finish the letter.” I said softly.
Sheena looked up after seriously long pause.
“Why not love?” She asked.
She went on. “Write me something. Poetry. Do you write much love?”
“Yes. Yes Sheena.”
“Good.” She said.
“Begin.”
I was very distressed and concerned.
So, I sat down and wrote about Sheena in a villanelle.
After I was done, I crept up to Sheena and put my head on her lap like a child.
“Sheena?” I asked as she looked down and stroked my hair. “Do you ever get tired of killing?
“Of course, not darling. I did this for you and for my own reasons, and the reason is this. She could not grasp me for who I truly am and I know the pain must be unbearable for you but you I can handle. Plus, she totally disgraced you darling dove.\\\”
I looked up at her and saw her staring into the distance. I then nestled my head again on her lap.
“We could almost get caught.” I said breathlessly.
I got up quickly and gave her my poem.
He is the never-ending maze I want to love endlessly.
He is the book I want to read.
The love I’ve searched for secretly.
I watch him breathlessly.
Thinking how the dancing ends without heed.
The road I want to pursue oh so painfully.
I go on about my days uselessly.
But there is a book I wanna read.
I think of you and pick up your maze of a book and die in it delightfully.
I love you madly.
When we meet, I shall plant you my seed like many other men and women before me so take heed.
I love you truly.
As I waltz into your maze silently
As I plant the maze of my seed
With my love I shall leave you easily.
And I shall love you steadfastly.
When she was done reading it. I took off my clothes as she leaned in to kiss me and with that, she quietly fucked me.
What felt like forever in her arms was totally rendered useless. The next thing you know, she was gone during breakfast time probably going out with another man or a woman. Sometimes she would bring in other men, sometimes she wouldn’t. Sometimes there were women and sometimes there weren’t. Sheena was very picky on who she was going to have sex with because Sheena liked dominating her men when it came to sex roles.
In other words, she liked hearing them squeal and moan from time to time. When it came to humping someone’s butt it would be Sheena. When it had come to women, she would usually save them for later as a snack.
Sheena was very clean. OCD if you must. I figured because everything was orderly and clean. Sheena was a neat freak. I would often let her clean on her own as she preferred doing, but sometimes I had helped her out.
On some occasions she’d kill a person and ask me to help her clean when the sex got rough. Interestingly enough, we’d never really get caught.
I kept writing poetry. One time I caught Sheena sitting outside beneath a full moon and got inspired.
He looked at the moon and looked at her possessing a power so deep that at once, he was in love. He was in love with Selene.
For once in his life, he knew that women could bring down the stars and make hurricanes out of small gusts of wind.
He called to his lover.
As he called to her in the wind, he looked at the moon and thought of the goddess Selene.
Clouds flooded throughout the night cluttered against the moon.
he felt himself disintegrating, flying into the sky.
He had the wings of Icarus.
Only his wings were attached to his body.
He was made of stardust.
Sheena loved my poetry and I didn’t mind sharing it with her. She was like some secret waiting to be held. But she never shared with anyone why she was what she was and I respected her privacy.
One night a drunk businessman came in and paid her to fuck him as usual. He stayed for a couple of nights as I served breakfast until one night, he found Sheena without her wig on and got so fucking pissed that he started Puchong the fuck out of her. I took a knife quickly from the kitchen and stabbed him to death. I didn’t care how many times I stabbed him but Sheena panted really hard.
I was irritated.
“Sheena!” I yelled. “Are you okay? Is this okay?!”
Sheena turned wild at me and I had expected her to hit me but this time I did not care.
“Sheena you fucking idiot! Did you notice how drunk he was! Didn’t you use your pronouns correctly?!”
I then looked down and shook wildly with my bloodstained fingers and my hands covering my face. Sheena looked mortified as I stalked off into the room. Sheena ran after me.
“Maria! Maria! It wasn’t like that!” She yelled.
I locked the door to the room.
“Maria honey! I promise I’ll be more responsible!”
We didn’t have girl’s night tonight and we certainly didn’t share our bed as usual.
The next morning came. I awoke to hear I’ve Got a Crush On You by Frank Sinatra. While Sheena was singing or rather belting it out. I went out of the room to the smell of burning bacon and eggs.
Sheena turned of the stove and turned around.
“Ah! Darling there you are!”
I noticed her wig was off.
“Where’s your hair?”
‘Honey,” she smiled. “no more visitors for now.”
My eyes twitched.
“Sheena?” I asked sternly but quite calm.
“How are you ever going to be a woman when you cannot cook?”
“Well, darling life of the party ja ja.”
We looked at each other across the marble countertop. We both laughed. He went around the countertop and took me in his arms as we began to dance.
***
Finally, Sheena told me the whole situation.
Sheena and her friends one night were out drinking and this obese businessman was hitting heavily on her, and that the two were not easily acquainted. He kept yelling loudly over the music that he wanted to get to know her, to know where she had lived. Sheena then told him that she was a man and in one way had a way of tracking her down.
***
Sheena was never into games but she said something about him sparkled in him. I didn’t know what that meant after all that bastard did, but it seemed very genuine for the businessman to have an interest in her. Sheena was a murderer no doubt but she loved people who had this spark.
“So, you did use your pronouns correctly on him but he still said he wanted you?” I asked inquiringly.
“He reminded me of my father. I guess I have a knack for pointing that out in men.’ She just shrugged.
“That is exactly why I get so angry. People who take advantage of you.” I said loosely staring into the distance. I never thought that his father hit home.
“So, you loved your father?” I asked as she went into the kitchen and got a wine bottle out.
“He loved me in some ways.” She said, “You remind me of my mother.” She said as she drank the wine.
I stared off into the distance.
“You know I would never take advantage of you Sheena. I love you as a friend and I would never think of letting you go downhill.”
Sheena suddenly put the wine bottle down.
“You know what? Do you even know what it is like to go fucking downhill?”
“Jesus Sheena. Here we go again.”
“No. All I’m saying is I’m lucky to be alive other than out on the streets! And here you are saying that you would never let me go downhill Maria?”
I stopped looking into the distance.
“Well then what exactly do you mean?”
“Maria love, I have always been downhill. Right from the beginning of the time my father pulled me out of a bar and told me that it was no place to be a woman! Ever since my mother died! You have no idea what it’s like to be alone! All of your life!”
I looked at her.
I got up and took her hands into mine.
“Sheena.” I said weakly. “I understand.”
I sat back down and Sheena followed as she was being held by me. She cried silently and I could tell that this adorable woman in a man’s body was on her own pursuit of happiness. And so, I was on mine.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m trying my best to be strong mom.”
Sheena was hysterical. Sobbing and gently pounding the floor on my lap.
“I am trying to preserve my mother! It’s so hard!” She wailed.
“Sheena it’s alright. Shhhhh.”
I held her really close to my heart. She was the sweetest transsexual one could ever meet. I finally understood. She had to be strong for her mother, God bless her soul. I had to be strong for Sheena. Sheena’s life was a wreck, and I wanted to fix her. I wanted to cheer her on and be with her. I wanted to explore her mind. To delve deep into the cracks of her soul and create bridges in them.
I wanted more of her mind in mine. I wanted to be the type of person that she could rely on instead of me having to rely on her all the time. I loved her for who she was as a man and a woman. I wanted to be leveled with her; to fill her void.
I did not just want her to have me for her sexual entertainment, I wanted to be a mother-like figure for her to be strong for and I also wanted her to be strong for only herself.
For the next few days, it was pretty stagnant. Sheena kept pushing me away, and for some odd reason after she had confessed that I was like her mother she started fighting with me instead. I didn’t care. I now know she didn’t mean it because she had a habit of sleeping in the bed with me and snuggling up to my breasts.
She was like a kitten. Always combing and braiding my hair. Styling it and applying careful dabs of makeup.
“My mother used to wear makeup you know.”
“Really?”
“Mmm Hmm.”
“Sheena? Do I really remind you of your mother?” I asked carefully.
She looked at me as though she might fall apart.
“I’m sorry.” I said. “I was just wondering.”
Sheena sighed.
“I do wish sometimes to see her again at least.”
She patted my head and went into the bathroom and dabbed her eyes with a towel and came back with eye shadow.
Before I knew it, it was time to go.
***
It wasn’t really a party. Kind of like a soiree. Sheena this time did not put on her wig and wore men’s clothes instead. When it was time to dance, Sheena stood leaning on the wall.
***
We went back to the pent as soon as we left the party. Sheena was very tired and so was I. Sheena and I lay in bed with our party clothes on and slept.
***
I was very grateful for Sheena’s hospitality but I just couldn’t stay there forever. Everything seemed like a blur. I awoke and I made coffee for breakfast along with some biscotti. I was hoping Sheena would come back soon. Hopefully she had not been man-scoping again.
Three whole hours.
I went downstairs hoping that I would find something to distract me from my impatience. I went for a stroll in the car and went into Central Park. The smell of oak and pine was very nice. I savored it wondering what Sheena was up to.
Six whole hours plus three and counting.
It took me six hours to walk around the whole park. Three hours to sleep for a while. It was already nine o’clock in the evening. I had been getting ready to go to sleep.
***
The next day, still no Sheena. I couldn’t find her anywhere. I went downstairs into the lobby which was crowded with people. It felt like a dream. I went back upstairs because I found that there was a function going on.
***
I noticed that there was something wrong. Sheena was not there. I burst into her room with her things. Had it all been a dream? I wished that Sheena would have left a note. I missed her at times when it was night. I missed cuddling against her. I missed the smell of her perfume.
It just lingered there in the penthouse until it was gone. I kept checking the man at the desk downstairs. No letters; there was nothing.
***
I picked up cleaning utensils and started cleaning the pent. There was nothing like utter silence to get me through the day. Sheena’s motorcycle was gone. Ere was a letter for me
***
I went downstairs only to find that that there was a letter for me from Sheena.
Dear Maria,
I am sorry but I cannot afford to be playing games with you. After all, I am a woman and I am very sure that you can handle everything on your own since we are both. Understand me when I say I never meant to hurt you or anybody. You may think my actions childish and irresponsible but I left out of the conscience of my heart. I cannot stay here with you knowing that I may love you till I die and that is just not for me.
I cannot stay here anymore with you. I have to be true to myself in my pursuit of happiness.
Love,
Sheena
That was when she broke me, and when she broke my friendship. But she had also broke my heart and had left me to cry.
When I was a much younger version of myself, I never thought that I would become a transsexual. In other words, a woman. Everyone who knew me would have thought that I would be happily married with a good wife and astounding children. No one would have thought it. I changed like a fish in the night waiting to swim amongst the other fish. To be…. A woman. It was the hardest thing I have done not knowing what my mother who had died would think. I was very good at singing and the only person I had ever truly cared for besides Maria who was Nikolas, my half-brother’s wife was my own mother who tried her best to raise a good son. Not that I wasn’t a good son, but I had hated my father for every reason that my mother had died.
***
I clearly had a deep voice and I was able to sing at deep tones although I often wondered what I would look like in a fashion magazine, all buffed up, a sudden thought occurred to me. I could be a body builder and show off how buff I was with my already lithe small and frail body. I was a well-rounded boy becoming a man growing up but I sadly never had any friends to depend upon and share my most beloved secrets with.
***
It started in elementary school when I found out I was pre-mature but healthy as a boy. No, no. being premature had nothing to do with change of sex or how I dressed but how I had seen the world. I wrote my first poem to a lovely little lady and I had found that I was easily laughed at in elementary.
I thought she would be sweet about it but, coming to think of my past, I had never been lucky in love. The first thing she had called me was a faggot and so, I got up off my seat and took my poem and crumpled it. I had never wanted to speak since then and as I got up off my seat, I slumped while the other boys trashed my bag.
Mother who was very sick was fascinated by me. Every birthday on the hour she would give me a book in which I would be delighted and read all day long till I finished it. Every time there was a finished book, another one would reappear and my mother would leave me a note:
My Dearest Angelo,
You are not like other boys. You have a kind heart and a smart mind. You will grow up to meet someone who loves you all the same. Don’t ever doubt yourself and keep reading. Maybe one day you will find someone who truly loves you for who you are.
Love, Your Mother
I was always immediately entranced by books. I had loved to read and my only passion was to read and keep on reading. I was already in middle school when I was getting built. My father Richard once stormed into the room and hit my mother across the face and pushed her down so I got up immediately and pushed him out of the room and punched him smack dab across his own face. He got mad every day because we did not have enough money to pay for rent and I had found out after that my mother had bought me books with the money we needed, so I studied hard and on the side during my middle school years I was a local filling station attendant who washed cars and pumped gas. For a while, nearing my high school years, I became a singer for a nearby club and we began to become prosperous. My mother was surprised at all the money I got just by singing and was very proud. So proud, that we finally left Richard and set out to Staten Island, New York and made our new house a home.
As I got home one day, I happened by coincidence to be reading a circus book when imagine! A real circus came along! I had no reason to think my mother as being sickly that day but as I went up to her bedside, and told her of the wonderful news. She had smiled and patted my head. In between coughs she said, “Angelo, be a good boy and be proud of yourself.” With what little money she had, she sent me five quarters for the show and a half dollar for popcorn. I will never forget this as this would have been my last day seeing her.
For as stupid as Richard was, I had decided to invite him to mother’s funeral. After, I said goodbye to our home in Staten Island and moved over with my father to Manhattan. It had been a long while since I had last embraced my father. Go figure.
In high school, I had a lot of offers for marriage despite my damaged past. Easily I could refuse because I did not want to share myself with the rest of the world yet. I needed to belong. I could easily weave my way in and out of the library without being seen and keep reading. I took to books so much that I had time for school, body building and a quiet place to read.
If I was being cocky, I would have said that even in college I had women gushing over how tall, built and yet how slim I was. My cocoa brown skin also made them blush. I hope I didn’t sound as cocky, but there comes a time in every child’s life where the world lies solemnly still and the world they begin to realize, is full of starlight and their future full of unfulfilled dreams. There comes a time in a young man’s life where the feeling of euphoria and the way of being that becomes a way of life subsides with his thoughts. It’s a transcendental way of daydreaming where a man feels subliminal and doesn’t want to think but not to the point where he becomes experimental. It is to the point where he becomes to an extent, decently, deceptively mad. It is subliminal whether he chooses to stay that way becoming more philosophical and more emotionally inclined to love. There is no feeling but the sound of the chirping of birds, and the way of life in the way that he chooses. There comes a time in every man’s life where ambition becomes replaced with melancholic fear, but little does he know that that is when life happens.
Here I was being a little philosopher quoting on life when I had not even been given the chance to collaborate with being. Was I so selfish to become who I had wanted? Of course not! It was by choice!
***
Nikolas was only my half brother by my father who had sexual intercourse with another woman. He was five years younger than I but still an asshole. I had to endure him during my high school years as a young adult. As much as I would have liked to, I could never change my past. Not even for my mother. My father was a cheat and a hitter. He would hit my mother until she cried and dropped to the floor. My father was not one to hit his other wife and what I could not understand was how he could just hit my mother.
***
My mother was a sweet woman. Always cleaning, cooking and doing housewife duties. She had never wanted nothing more than a family. The way she thought very much resembled Maria’s way of living which was probably why I was so drawn to her. I could not resist but feel sorry for her for those times Nikki had cheated on her. I just wanted every woman to be happy with their lives but as for Maria, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I was not in love with her although I knew she was infatuated by me. She loved me but I just couldn’t love her back. I felt that I was not being true to myself however the situation that it was, was for. I could never be true to myself because I kept having sex with her. Who am I to toy with a young girl’s mind? Especially like that. As for Verona, she could give a shit less about life and what it had to offer. I felt drawn to Maria because she was in fact like my mother. A faithful housewife whose heart crumbled under Nikolas.
***
I had no choice but to save her. I’ve always been fascinated by how quickly she regenerated a picture of my mother. Was I obsessed? I was confounded that in some ways I had to save her. She is gorgeous; no doubt, but she forgets I have had to save her three times. From my stupid fucking father Richard, and my grandfather. Now I am prepared for consequences that may ruin our lives. Maria is too in love with me to even speak. I never thought that being a muscular transsexual would be so tiring. After all, men were my bread and butter. Just the type I’d want. Maria was a younger version of my mother but I could never partake in her life. So many things were going on that I could not partake in joy with her as a young man, but as a woman. I am not accustomed to taking my body parts off in surgery, but perhaps it would fare well if I wasn’t so frightened of bleeding to death on the table.
***
I was so afraid of meeting Maria at breakfast because I would never have wanted to get too close to her. But, as we talked, I could feel her pity and her sorrow. She hadn’t had much to say but as we conversed, I could feel myself doubting if I had ever been in love with men and or in love specifically before. But what is love anyway? It shall take me a long time to figure it out.
***
I never had much respect for Verona Delisle. She was never there for me and I was never there for her. She could not even respect me for what I was. She was in love with my goddamn muscles. Verona and Maria just weren’t my type. Maria had known for years what I was and had respected me for that. It was after college that I had changed my appearance. I would never wish for anything more but only for someone who could respect me like that and still be in love with me.
***
For one thing, I could never bring myself to blame who I was on either Nikolas, my father or my grandfather. It was because I believed that I am who I am today because of myself. To place blame on them for anything would be disembowelment of the truth. Because the truth is, I felt comfortable being a woman. To blame them for my comfort would be to praise them immediately and don my identity over to them. I couldn’t blame them for this version of myself and neither could I blame them for my wondrous revelation. That I was a woman! As for Maria, I celebrate her because she like my mother is so strong and she endures the most pain given to her from fucking Nikolas and I doubt he has any appreciation for the woman she truly is. I mustn’t always fuss about not having her breasts and her body but I don’t because Maria accepts me for who I am.
It all started when my mother had died that I wanted to truly become who I am today. I was starting to look at my mother’s things and I found a makeup bag. I kept it to preserve her essence along with some of her other things, much like berets and ribbons made of silk. I also kept her vintage clothing and tried to re-use what had been given me by making her dresses twice as big for my body to fit in. As for her wedding dress, I burned it. I burned it in the hopes that those ashes might bring her spirit back to life. At the same time, I met Maria.
***
Maria and Nikki had been dating since forever since high school and Maria was insanely gorgeous. Was it the ashes of my mother’s wedding dress that gave her that resemblance? No, I’d think to myself. But I couldn’t help wondering if Nikolas knew that she was the only person in my life to give enough of my respect to.
***
Nikki was always the favorite. I despised Nikolas because he described Maria as his toy. Something he could blandly sexualize. The sad thing about my half-brother was that he could never read between the lines. I hated the fact that he could just use someone like that and leave her for another woman. He constantly wrote me letters on how she couldn’t fit his demands and although she was gorgeous, he could never keep her in line. It was like he wanted to entrap her into his cock! What a moron! The Maria who was never disobedient only to find out that at one of our family gatherings Richard and Ricardo who was my grandfather had tried to rape her! I knew one day Maria was going to be gang-raped and re-raped by one of them. Oh, the audacity! To make that poor woman become small. Wasn’t she already in shambles!? In shame!? I felt badly and wanted to help her again until the time came.
***
I had a blurry distortion of how it had happened. I thrust my strength onto Richard and started punching his face. I pushed him down, got up, kicked his stomach in and started punching his face. “Old man! Old man!” I yelled. After I punched his face, I had gotten up and pulled his collar near my chin and spat, “Don’t touch my mother!” I collapsed and almost had a mental breakdown when Maria was raped. I could never bring myself to know why I said that but I did. I had cried myself to sleep just knowing that I could never have her. She resembled my mother and boy, as I went upstairs, I knew Maria had smiled looking delirious. I heard her footsteps up the stairs and I think she heard me sobbing quietly; because she went downstairs again and left me alone.
***
Outside, the rain was pouring. As I can recall, I pulled the makeup bag out of the secret drawer I had in the room and started wiping my face when I had decided to put on my mother’s makeup. All in the middle of the night.
***
I started experimenting with my mother’s lipstick, her rouge and her eyeliner. Carefully, very slightly I dabbed on the lipstick onto my lips and there I was. I made a beautiful woman going to makeup salons to do my makeup. I studied how to apply makeup through beauty school. I had quit becoming an English major with a minor in psychology. I dropped out and went strictly to beauty school. My colleagues thought I was perverted and preferred to stay away from me as I lied and told them I wanted to become a beautician when it came to my surprise that they knew already what I was there for. No doubt, it was for my own benefit.
***
I thought of going into sewing school and I did. I learned also how to sew although it was a woman’s job. I was born on June 1st 1951 and I knew a lot to know about how to survive the streets without them knowing; without them seeing who I really was and why. I loved the fact that it was my dirty little secret and although I walked like a man, I could feel empowerment with just that secret. Soon there were clubs that represented transsexuals secretly and I went to every pageant until I got into some on my own. I even stripped half naked for a magazine called “Fit-Guys.” Although I was never a stripper, I knew that Maria would see me somewhere on fitness magazines. After all, I was a secretly gay body-builder. I wondered what my mother would think and often thought of Maria who was soon to be Nikolas’s wife. I hadn’t been jealous but when I had received a letter of recommendation to be best man, I simply refused to go because I knew Nikki was playing a trick on me and how much Maria would mean to me in her bridal dress happily smiling next to that stupid idiot Nikolas.
Some may think I was doing all this to play a trick on Maria, but in fact, it was for my mother. To preserve her essence. I wanted to be a woman. So, I decided to go upstate to find black platform shoes. Something that might back up my newly sequined black dress that I had sewn myself. It was a halter top dress without straps or sleeves and it was my most girly creation yet. So, I stayed uptown with my friends Stacey Kent and Verona Delisle. After I came out, I went clubbing almost every night. My father and I were not getting any closer. He kept ignoring me and praising Nikolas instead of me. I had my mother’s eyes he’d say and then he’d disappear with his new family. Barbara and Nikolas. Barbara and Nikolas.
Barbara was nothing like my mother. She wore too much makeup and heavy eyeliner. Barbara was only twenty-nine and I couldn’t stand her. I guess it was because she kept all my mother’s things except her clothes and the makeup bag my mother owned. I was never expectant of her to do anything or to find time for me but Nikolas liked torturing me and defending his mother every time she hit on me. The bitch was twice below my mother’s age and my father’s. I guess he had a fetish for young foreign women.
The bitch was beautiful. Without her makeup.
***
Barbara was sadly the first woman I’ve ever fucked. I found her one day coaxing my father to have sex with her. I guess it was on special occasion that she had been asking what she was going to get. After that, the next thing you know, my father found me fucking her in bed as she was moaning. I had never before had this experience and I sadly had given in. I wasn’t highly sexually active and I soon found myself waiting in the night with my things over in duffel bags over my shoulders. My mother’s things, and her picture. All the other shit didn’t matter at all. I had wanted to kill Barbara and as it turns out, I had decided to do it while my father and Nikolas weren’t home.
***
I got scrubs for my feet just in case anyone would like to track my footprints and put them over my shoes. I wore gloves and carried a bottle of Clorox, got my wig in a purse with a new set of clothes and walked to the building. Barbara was sleeping so I took a pocket knife and slit her throat. The wound was deep so I wiped it up and covered her to make it look like she was sleeping. I then kissed her lips and left to the next apartment downstairs only to wake up to hear my father’s petrified screaming and Nikolas’s wailing.
In my court hearing, my father knew who did it. Me. She, Barbara was my first kill. My father pulled me to the side and told me distinctly that he knew. I looked at him as though he was drunk. And I understood. In some ways he loved me and my mother. But in a very distinctive manner.
After, I spent my days in the college dorms with the money my father took from Barbara. My father you can say didn’t just not love me. I’m sure the bastard loved me in some ways due to the fact that I got away with it. Although it had taken him about three weeks to figure it out, I was sure I got my shit together for I had been a very good actor.
***
My father praised me for all the money I made. I took up singing at nightclubs like I used to in high school. One time I dressed in drag and started singing or rather belting out the song “Mambo Italiano” and “Quando, Quando, Quando,” and my father had caught me and threw me to the ground. I could still hear him say “This is no place for dragsters! Be a man!”
The more he pursued me to dress like a man the more I wore makeup and my mother’s newly sewn large plus dresses. Then Stacey, coming back from Hollywood, California came back and gave me a pageant ticket in New York and asked me to model.
Refusal of that, was not an option.
I practiced my catwalks and got onstage in different suits until I started wearing my dresses on them. A new life, a new future. Happy to be obliged to be onstage.
Stacey Kent for as beautiful, funny and fruity as blonde as she was, was married to a war veteran named James. She was secretly a lesbian and soon died all because Verona Delisle told on her so James nearly beat her to death. Her last words as she died were “Don’t be like me Angelo. You are a child of God and deserve happiness. Be yourself.”
I took it to heart and I silently cried.
I could have killed James but we were never really close. The reason why I never blamed James was because she was caught poisoning him every night to have sex secretly with Verona. She invited me five times for a threesome and I solemnly, plainly looked into her eyes and said vigilantly, “No” may God go with her soul for the umpteenth time. I solemnly swore that I would try to be myself and as I looked into the mirror, I saw a woman. I looked at myself and there was no one left to console me but a phone call from Verona saying, “I want sex and I want it now.”
I rolled my eyes.
I hung up.
I did not want to break off to Verona that I didn’t want to ever see her again, but I needed a friend and some whiskey to keep me company until I awoke to find Verona moaning on top of me.
I hated that bitch.
For some reason she was always wanting sex and my body. If I could stop working out, I’d do it but I guess I kept my parts. I kept my body fit and dressed like a woman to show how true I was to my identity. I decided I will keep my parts and tidbits till the very end.
Finding an identity for myself was very hard for me. The pain to grasp the essence of a woman; to grasp the essence of my mother. I missed her dearly and I have never told Maria that. Neither Stacey Kent nor Verona Delisle. The mere truth I acted would shatter me. Especially knowing Maria was very much like my mother. It is an egg I cannot crack. A wave that cannot break a wall. What is done is done. I couldn’t fall in love with her.
It was my destiny to be a woman.
I always was one.
Although Maria was in love with me, I just could never reciprocate that love back except but feel a pain, a sort of sorrow for her as I had felt for my mother. I had tried my best to understand it but my end product was to become who I really was. A “WOMAN.” I never got hit on because I was one of those women who could hold her own. I was not one to fall to pieces. I was as tough as they come. I would never let down Maria I had decided. Call me evil what you will; I loved her like a sister and a mother. She was something, but not something I had wanted to explore. She was not the love of my life but like a child. She smelled of roses in Spring, she was a woman who was scared and loved me. I was a murderer who smelled of perfume and blood, alas! I could never love her back.