Washington Square was busy, as usual. The many upscale stores and restaurants were bustling with activity inside and out as teens chatted on their phones, children threw change into the decorative fountains, and soccer moms power-walked around the small lake behind the shopping center. Kyle didn’t know when or how he got there, but he was thankful for a place to melt into the background. He had not gone to work, nor had he called in. He probably could have come up with a halfway believable excuse but he had far too much on his mind. Or would that be her mind?
He put his head in his hands and suppressed the urge to scream. Just thinking about it was driving him mad. Kyle always knew something about him was different, something wasn’t right, but the revelation that had been unloaded on him was unbearable. To find out that he had already lived one life and died, that his body was nothing more than a shell hiding his true self, that he wasn’t even from this world, that there were other worlds (magic or otherwise), and that he was supposed to have some kind of responsibility to fulfill to the people of that world, and that he had only a matter of days to try and make sense of it all and then come to some kind of decision was more than he could handle.
And yet, there was something else that gave him comfort. Something deep inside of him that gave him an odd familiar sense of comfort. Ever since the mysterious woman had touched his shoulder-
“I have released the seal…”
-he had felt it. If he focused his thoughts inward, found that warmth inside his very being, it brought him peace for a brief moment before he would again overwhelm himself with the confusion and doubt that seemed poised to rip him to shreds.
He stood up and walked away from the bench that he had been sitting on, following the sidewalk to wherever it would lead him. He examined the young women as he passed them. Some strutted on spiked heels, some bounced in short skirts, even the ones in simple t-shirts and shorts seemed to move with grace and elegance. Many chatted without a care in the world, either to each other or on cellphones. Some adjusted their hair in the breeze, others tossed theirs as if defying it. Some were pretty, some were slutty, some were modest, some were professional. Kyle studied them all and wondered in spite of himself which of the styles and characteristics he would have. He probably wouldn’t want to attract too much attention, at least, not the kind that would have every guy within a mile staring at him. But then, who knew what the guys in this other world were like? He decided it might be like riding a bike, once he got things going he would probably remember what worked best for him.
Kyle stopped. What the hell was he thinking? There was no way he could be expected to go through with all this. Yet, he found that his heart had been racing in his chest at his musings. After all, it wouldn’t be too weird, not really. He had lived another life as a girl-
“Well, technically, you’re still a girl.”
-so it wouldn’t be like, well, like being a guest on the Jerry Springer show or anything. He could see it now. “My next guest,” Jerry said in his mind, “may look like just another guy, be he’s really a magical girl from another dimension!”
“Bite me, Jerry,” he muttered, pushing the thought out of his head.
Kyle didn’t remember how long he’d been standing in the middle of the store. The middle was where the invisible line was drawn, the equator dividing the male hemisphere from the female hemisphere. It wasn’t too late, he could still turn around and run out the door. No, he had to do this. The only way to settle this once and for all was to prove to himself how ridiculous even considering this was, so he could get on with his life. The life he’d known until now, the life he would keep living once he put this behind him.
He took a trembling step over the imaginary line. There was no turning back now. Kyle tried not to look at any clothing rack for too long. He had a couple of t-shirts he’d picked up back in the guy hemisphere and hoped he looked like the other bored men who wandered around while their girlfriends spent all day in the dressing room. This is madness, he thought as he tried to steady his hand enough to appear casual as he picked through a rack of denim skirts. No, I have to do this. Then I won’t even think about actually doing… that thing she’s asking of me. It took longer than he thought it would to find something he thought would fit. What the hell is so wrong with Small, Medium, Large, and so on? I had no idea you needed a degree in physics to figure this crap out. Eventually, he’d pieced a few things together. He got about an inch from what might as well have been the gates of Hell as he approached it, the “intimate” section, but he decided he was already deeper in this than he wanted to be (at least, he thought that was still the case) and tried to bundle everything in the t-shirts he’d taken into No Man’s Land with him as he tried to make a discreet dash to the dressing rooms.
On second thought, this was like facing the gates of Hell. He should have realized sooner that a place like this would have locked dressing rooms. It was the kind of place that thought so highly of itself that it didn’t trust you with it’s beloved fashions. No, you needed its permission to even think about trying anything on.
“Not a chance,” he said under his breath. Momentum carried him forward one more step before he’d have turned around, one step that tripped the sensor in the entryway of the sacred dressing rooms, resulting in a loud musical tone that chimed throughout the area. “Oh fu-”
“Can I help you?” It was the voice of the guardian of the hallowed halls of the pretentious garment store’s dressing rooms herself, as if summoned out of thin air to appear before all who had the fortitude to cross the threshold.
“Uh… actually, I,” Kyle stammered, feeling his face turn beet-red.
“How many do you have?” She sure was polite, for a soulless corporate sentry.
“Um, well, I changed my mind, so-” It was too late. She had plucked the bundle of clothes right out of his hands. Never mind thoughts of what choices he was going to make about his life, he tried to will himself to die on the spot. It didn’t work.
“You can only take 6 items in at a time,” the saleswoman said. “Do you want me to hold a couple of these for you?” She must have seen the confusion about her reaction (or lack of reaction) in his face, because she gave him a warm, knowing smile. “It’s okay,” she told him gently, “you aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last. Relax. Besides, it’s our job to sell the clothes, not judge the people who buy them.”
Oh great, Kyle thought. He’d heard of stores having “sensitivity training” about people who lived “alternative lifestyles.” She must think that he… “Um, it’s not what you think,” he tried to explain. “I, uh, I’m not like, well, you know.”
“Is it your first time?” If she was getting some kind of sick delight in torturing him, at least she didn’t show it. In fact, it was more like a genuine empathy. “Really, it’s fine. She opened a dressing room for him. “Tell you what, just leave everything you don’t want in the room when you’re done and I’ll pick them up later, k hon?”
Kyle obliged, if only to seek safety behind a locked door. She said something before he closed the door, he didn’t catch what it was, but he saw that she was still holding the clothes. After taking them, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to find that the 2 items she had kept were the t-shirts. He sat down on the bench seat and stared at the things he had hung on the wall hooks. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might explode. No turning back now, he reminded himself. Just get it over with and get out.
He removed his jeans and t-shirt. Then, steeling his nerves, he took a skirt off the hanger. It was a dark blue denim skirt that was about medium length, with the 2 inches or so lightly frilled. The tag was on the side rather than the back, and the other side had a zipper. There were no pockets. Kyle wondered for a moment how in world you were supposed to know which way was the front, but then he remembered that the tag usually goes on the right side. He stopped a moment to try and figure out exactly how he remembered that to begin with, then decided he didn’t really want to know, and stepped into it, pulling the skirt up to his waist and zipping the side. It was a little loose, but more or less fit. It would do for this little sideshow, anyway. Next, he reached for a green tank-top but reconsidered. The lavender tunic would go better with this skirt-
What am I DOING?
-anyway.
“Okay. Now let’s see how stupid this is,” he said and turned to look at himself in the mirror. He stared at himself, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. On the surface, it was a guy in a flowy top and jean skirt, but on his small frame and lithe body they looked natural. For that matter, he wouldn’t have to do much with his shoulder-length hair to complete the look. But what shocked him the most was not how it all looked, but how it all felt. He expected to feel awkward, goofy, ashamed, or all three. Instead he felt comfortable, normal. He felt less out-of-sorts and more like he had remembered something he had long forgotten. Something in the back of his mind was screaming, trying to remind him that it just simply wasn’t right. But it felt right and for now that was all that mattered.
He left the store carrying his purchase in a large bag. He’d only purchased two of the three outfits he’d picked out (even got the right sizes with a little help from the saleslady), but it was a start. A start into what, exactly, he didn’t know. He had considered browsing the “Intimates” section after all, but decided it would be best to take things a step at a time. Again, he wasn’t sure what a step at a time would lead to, but he felt like a tremendous weight had been lifted from him and didn’t care.
“Madison?” A shocked voice startled him out of his thoughts of what may or may not lie ahead and brought him back to the here and now.
Kyle looked around and saw the familiar unmarked car pulled up at the curb. He had almost forgotten the tiny detail of the life he’d been leading so far and the responsibilities he already carried. “Graham, what-”
“Never mind that,” his friend interrupted. “What the hell are you doing here? The Captain’s going to go ballistic.”
“Um…” he said, trying to think of something to get him out of this.
“Just get in, we’ll think of something on the way.”