Remember and Rewind

TW- transgender experiences (including gender-affirming surgery), self-harm, suicide ideation, trauma, hospitalization, grief, and death.

I open the box, dust coating my striped blouse. I place it on the floor as they stare back at me, willing me to press play on the iPod. I place it on my lap and look at all the dried flowers, confetti, prom proposal, wishing it all were happening right now. I plug the headphones in and let their voice seduce me. I climb down the metal ladder, landing on the soft carpet. I grab their sweater, weather floods in through the winter. I shut it and head out. I take her hand as we dance down the street.

We walk down the street, “I wanna hold you close.” He gets closer, the street vanishes as his lips touch mine. We race to the woods behind the school and run till we reach our hideout. I climb first, and he follows me up. He pulls me into his embrace, we look down to the floor. He looks at me, letting me see the future looking in your eyes, replay over and over.

Jessie rushes into my room, tears streaming down her face. She falls into my arms, struggling to breathe. She lifts her shirt to show a random needle and thread. The scar red raw. I stroke her head as her breathing starts to fall into pattern with mine. She starts to fall asleep. I slowly pull her hoodie off, then I see the scars that bury deep inside her wrist. My heart sinks as some are brighter than others. I continue taking her clothes off and grab her some joggers and a new clean t-shirt. I dab the wound, I trace the scars, following them, brushing the hair out of her face.

The next few weeks, every time we dance, I felt like it would be our Dernière Danse. Her fighting with every inch, even the inch she wasn’t meant to have. The surgery fixed, she became the bad girl of the village again. Date night every week, the diner here, the picnic there. She talks and she walks like a woman that she was always meant to be.

The rain shatters against the window as I lay looking at the ceiling. The doorbell wakes me up from creating doodles on the ceiling in my mind. She looks me up and down, reading me like nobody else. She pulls me into the rain, instantly my black bra is on full display to the world. She pulls me close, her stare’s bout to kill me. We race up the stairs. She changes into my hoodie as I change into a top. We lay on my bed, hands just tapping each other.

3 A.M., 10 missed calls. I look through my messages and see one that stands out: “Jessie needs you.” I jump out of bed and shove on any clothes that I can find. I run down the road, every second ticking down, like time had stopped but also moving way too fast. I reach the reception, I see her mother and go over, we speed walk to the room.

My heart stops as she is lying there covered in bruises and cuts. I fall through the door and grab her hand, begging that she would make eye contact with me again. The tears fall, creating an ocean, only us on an island. I look up and see Jessie smiling at me. I kiss her and I feel her flinch. “Sorry” I must have repeated that many times, then she pulls me in and kisses me. The island disappears as a knock comes from the door. I whisper to her, “Promise me you will fight this, no drugs or alcohol.” “Promises are hard to keep.”

I tell myself I'll be alright. I look at the world through the dark sunglasses as videos of her play. I wish I could pause every frame to see you smile again. I feel the tears fall. I head out and kneel by a gravestone and stroke the name Jessie. The people look and walk away till it is only me and the gravestone. I feel a hand on my shoulder. I can hear her whispering and holding my hand, “Your story’s not over yet...”