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Chapter Four:

Drowned Rat-Girl

The next morning, despite all the tension and silence between Emily and me, we went down to the beach and set up our little Komori family play area.  Mrs. Komori tried to talk to us, but gave up after a while.  Probably tired of one-word answers or indecipherable sounds.  She sat in a beach chair and tried to read, her eyes hidden behind large, dark sunglasses, her body slumping like someone near defeat.

“You want some sunscreen?” she asked me.

“Uh huh,” I answered, totally uninterested.  She coated me in it and I sat on my towel watching the clouds.  I tried not to think of anything at all.  A cloud for my brain.  Nothing in it.  A cloud in my chest.  Nothing there, either.  Not a heart.  Nope.

Emily stirred beside me, a Rolling Stone magazine occupying her attention.

When I got bored, I went down to the water and played in the surf.  I quickly found my new, practically bird-weight form was a bit more vulnerable while body-surfing than my old one had been.  Storms out over the Gulf had stirred up its usual placid, mirror-like surface and turned the water into Chop City.  Several times, the merciless waves did me like a cigarette and stubbed me out on the sandy bottom. Not fair.

One time, I came up sputtering, salt water burning my eyes, snot running out of my nose, my knees sore and bleeding a little from the vicious sandpapering they’d received.  I couldn’t see much, just dazzling lights everywhere and then I got blindsided by another wave and tumbled ass-over-teakettle in the white foam.  Underwater, I saw green and a froth of bubbles, brine gagging me as sea water went down my esophagus into my lungs.  I might have even been yelling, but my ears were also full of sea water and all I could hear was Neptune’s roar.

Then someone was splashing near me and pulling me close.  It was Emily.  She kicked until we were out of the breakers and bobbing up and down where the bottom dropped away.  I coughed until I felt I was about to puke.  More mucus poured from my nose.

“You okay?” Emily asked.

I was afraid to open my eyes because of the burning and I couldn’t speak, so I nodded.

“You don’t look it.”

“I’m fine,” I croaked.  I wanted to add, “Since when do you care?” but obviously she did or she wouldn’t have been holding me up, her legs thrumming down below to generate buoyancy.  I pushed away from her and started kicking, my arms outstretched on the water’s surface.  “Thanks.”

“I thought you were going to fuckin’ drown, dude,” Emily said.

Wiping my face did nothing but rub more salt and sand into my already overloaded eyes, but I opened them against the pain and looked at her as best I could.  Her own dark eyes were wide, her black hair smeared across her face like thick ink.  She looked crazed.  I knew she was scared, maybe more scared than I had been.

“I didn’t drown, so don’t sweat it.”

“You almost did!  Don’t try to play it off like you didn’t.”

I swept my own heavy bangs out of my eyes and smiled at her.  “It’s casual,” I said.

Emily recognized the line instantly.  It was from the stoner flick “The Wild Life,” one of her childhood favorites, one we’d watched a few times back when I was her boyfriend.  She grinned, stuck out her tongue at me and ducked me underwater, as if to complete the job the Gulf had started.

“What the fuck, dude?” I gasped when I bobbed back up.

“Don’t you ever fucking die on me,” Emily said and we swam back to shore where we plopped ourselves down on our towels and trembled despite the scorching heat.  The rawness was still there between us, but now we could talk again and be around each other without dwelling on it.

I sat with my legs pretzel style and Emily stretched out and put on her sunglasses.  On the table next to us, her little CD stereo played one of her special mix disks, some Pixies, some Bratmobile, some Jane’s Addiction and a couple of songs by Frente.  “Accidentally Kelly Street” just happened to be on, a jaunty little song that kept me from feeling overly sad while I watched the waves pounding other swimmers.

So this is what a Komori beach trip is like, I thought.

A whole week far from home and the miserable past.  I wore the green one-piece at first, but gave it up because it just felt too awkward and I couldn’t get used to it.  I switched to the blue two-piece and found I could just kind of ignore the top.  My high, chubby Japanese cheeks got rosy from the sun. My body darkened, especially my elbows and knees. As Martin, I'd been one of those instant burn-and-peelers.

Emily wore several tantalizing suits that showed off her long, slim Emily-self, and she got beautifully brown. I had a few emotional moments when we rubbed sunblock on each other. One day, Emily got sand down her bikini bottom and when she pulled the waist out to brush out the grit, I caught a glimpse of her pale tan line and what I thought were a few dark, curly hairs. I had to go back to the house to use the bathroom and I tried doing something I'd read about girls doing, but I must've been too young for it to really work. Or maybe I was just doing it wrong; it's not as though I could ask anyone.

There were a couple of more close calls with that Todd character and some guys-- and once, this chubby kid who looked like a hairless pink seal let me try his skimboard, but when he asked me to come to the pier with him that night, I took off running-- but for some reason, Emily held back. It may have been to avoid hurting me anymore than she already had, and I suspected it was just killing her inside. I think I mentioned before, Emily really liked to do it.  During our time together, I’d come to the conclusion Emily was just sort of like a guy about sexual matters.  Now I imagined that was making my transition difficult for her.  Not just end of our emotional closeness, but the lack of It, the withdrawal of the physical.

My little family got into a sleepy rhythm at the beach, no more arguments.  I dealt with the vacuum inside where my love for Emily used to fill me and just pretended to be her cousin, or sister.  It wasn’t that difficult as long as I went with that beachy rhythm.  Some nights, we'd come in with our skin hot from all the sun and just collapse in a heap, exhausted. Mrs. Komori cooked for us and we relaxed in the air-conditioned coolness and watched "Nick at Night." We loved “The Adventures of Pete and Pete,” and “Are You Afraid of the Dark,” plus all the cartoons.  “Ren and Stimpy,” “Aaahh!!!  Real Monsters.”  Fun stuff that prevented troubling thoughts.  Emily would braid my hair and I'd let her. Sometimes, she'd make a couple of short pigtails, and sometimes, she'd go crazy and braid it all up as many times as she could.

"You should get it cut so when it grows out more, it'll be cute," Emily said. "You know, bangs and sort of a pixie cut."

"Uh huh," I said absently, just enjoying the feeling of her hands in my hair. We both sat cross-legged on the couch, me in front, Emily behind. She would play with my hair endlessly, but not endlessly enough for my taste.

We dined out. I got children's plates wherever we went. And we shopped, which was still stultifying as fuck, but when Mrs. Komori found out I wasn’t enjoying it at all, I was able to guilt her into buying me a skimboard.  Then I managed to skin my ass on the wet sand- it felt just like concrete. I would've been uninjured if I'd been wearing sensible swim trunks instead of that stupid blue bathing suit.  I made a mental note to ask for board shorts or something.

Embarrassment time: tan lines. Sure, I turned a nice rosy brown, but I stayed pale around my chest and groin. I had this irrational fear people would know I'd been wearing a bikini. Of fucking course I'd been wearing a bikini; those women in Macy’s were right, after all, I decided.  I was a black haired, dark-eyed, broad-faced, chubby cheeked skinny little shorty girl.  Bikinis-R-Me.  A million bikinis for Amy Komori.  Dresses—especially that stupid Macy’s sundress.  Bring them to me.

Before and after showers, I practiced looking mean in the mirror, but could only look silly. I had to remember to wrap the towel around my chest, not that I had anything to hide. Yet.

And so it went. Up at dawn, breakfast, into our swimsuits, down to the beach, back for lunch, down to the beach, showers, supper, twilight walk along the water's edge, then back to bed. Emily and I spent the week half naked, and got incredibly dark all over.

Friday night, Emily and I sat out on the beach in lawn chairs and watched the sun set. I felt something touch my hand, and then we were holding hands, just like we did in the old days, before my change. I squeezed and she squeezed back as the sun dipped below the horizon, half over water, half over land. The stars came out. The next day, we packed it up and went home.

The End. (Complete)
Amy K is the author of 3 other stories.

This story is part of the series, The Ridiculous Destiny of Amy Komori. The previous story in the series is Amy Meets World. The next story in the series is Little Orphan Amy!.
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