X Marks The Man

Sensitive- gender identity, homophobism, racism

Being a human was fun.

Every week day I went to work for an accounting firm in Birmingham, England. Robert worked there too. He wore beautifully intricate silk and satin ties. His socks were bold and bright and his shoes beautifully clean and polished. When his boss made borderline racist comments he would yawn, check his watch and leave the room. I knew he hated Steve, we all did.

My name is Sara. Yes. I am that black Madonna that Catalonian gypsies carry over the water every year and venerate. It is my true identity so I named my human form accordingly. If an omnipresent concept can have an identity! In Yoruba, I am called Yemaya. I know Steve only hired me because I am beautiful. A Goddess in human form will always be beautiful. I overheard him telling Colin from Advisory that it was good for company morale. I've had a crush on Colin since he started. But I need to focus on my purpose. For me to stay human on Earth I have to use my powers of psychometry every three months to help a human in some way. And I'm not allowed to tell anyone that I am a Goddess!

I have an unusual gift. I am bonded with the power of water. Water holds memory. If I touch someone's bare skin I instantly know all of their fears and all their desires in the form of memories. Robert skin is bursting with his. Which is why I found out more about him than he wanted me to.

So; on this particular day Robert was wearing a short sleeved shirt. As the only two black people in the office we had a silent but shared understanding of the intricacies of British identity. We were in the kitchen enjoying the peace. As I reached for my tuna baguette which I was looking forward to going into the coutyard and eating by the ancient water fountain, our bare arms brushed. I was inundated with a series of images.

As I reeled from the sheer volume of downloads I sat down briefly. I see the scenes as the person experiencing the memory. I surrendered to the images behind my eyes.

I see his small arm in front of me slowly dragging on and then off a single silk navy blue glove. The kind one would wear to a ball or a costume party. Given the feel of it this was for an elegant ball. As he feels the softness on his skin he hears his mother's voice and tread on the stairs and pulls it off quickly. He stuffs it in his pocket. Then, he is putting pretty pink butterfly clips in his little Afro in front of the bathroom mirror after carefully locking the door. And then taking them out again reluctantly to put in his pocket. Suddenly, he is staring disappointedly at his broadening shoulders during puberty. Shaving so close to his face until it was raw and red. Hating his beard. Hating the feel of it growing. The scenes become more real and speed up. Watching the girls get changed backstage for theatre club feeling confused and jealous. Trying on dresses with them. Wearing heels and parading up and down in his home hallway with a girl friend from school when he was thirteen and giggling so much until Father comes in, his eyes terrible and disgusted.

Starving himself to look more feminine. His father finding out and trying to understand. No, no, Father, I do not think I want to be a woman, I just enjoy the feel of female clothes.

Does he enjoy intercourse with women? Yes, yes, Father, I have always been attracted to women and no, I do not understand why I do it myself it has always felt better for me to sometimes wear feminine clothes. No, Father I do not hate being a man. That last statement was lie. His father badgers him with questions and they make Robert feel more confused and judged.

Then very clearly and closely a beautiful woman's face, smiling, kissing him and a thought like a piercing needle in the heart; will she still love me? I gathered that this was his daily torment; he loved and cared for his wife deeply and knew that she would be repulsed by him if she ever found out.

The images stopped abruptly and I exhaled sharply and slumped in the chair, my eyes closed.

“Sara! Sara!! Are you okay?” I hear Robert dash to get a glass of water for me.

I accepted it gratefully and gulped the pint of water down in three big mouthfuls. I wiped my mouth while he regarded me with raised eyebrows.

“Well, you certainly needed that. Can I ask what just happened?”

I nodded slowly, tired by the images and implications.

“Yes, but not here. Have lunch with me? In the courtyard?”

We went out together and sat in the slant of light that was rapidly shifting from the bench we were on. Together we quietly contemplated the gushing water.

“Well, Robert, I could lie and say I have amazing intuition but that would be a lie. I have just witnessed many of your most painful and happy memories about your identity. I can help you. Honestly, I really can but first you must be honest with me. And trust me. I know we are only really acquaintances but I ask this of you now. I mean you no harm.”

I turned to watch him. His face was sparkling golden in the sun, his eyes narrowed watching the water spurt and join the pool below, rippling and cascading in an endless motion. He inhaled in deeply and dropped his shoulders breathing out and blowing his lips, thinking. He scratched his head and then examined the palms of his hands, his mind occupied and scanning for the right words.

“Strangely Sara, I do trust you. I knew you would be pivotal in my life somehow. I'm not lying when I say I do have amazing intuition.”

Smiling at me wryly he turned his face to the sun ,

“Care to tell me what you saw? Then I can decide if can help me.”

I told him all I saw and tentatively asked him if he still felt that way about his identity. I did not tell him anything about being a Goddess.

“It does not matter what I feel,” he declared passionately, his Ghanian accent shining through. He leaned back to feel more of the sunlight putting the weight on his hands behind him. His relaxed body displayed an ease that his voice betrayed. I silently chewed my baguette. He spoke again softly,

“Thank you for your offer of help. I have been in a bind for many years and this weekend will make it worse. Can you come to my house this evening around eight? My daughter will be sleeping and my wife will be at choir practise. We can say we had extra books to balance. Okay? But please, I can see it is very tiring, do not over extend yourself.”

I smiled at him, relieved. I would be able to stay human for three more months at least.

“It is only tiring when there is no chance of me resolving it. I'll be there.”

He smiled back but there was a deep pain in his eyes.

I arrived in time to see him pulling his curtains closed. He ushered me into their painfully neat, neutrally coloured sitting room. It seemed at odds with his shimmering rainbow bright aura, taste in ties and socks. As if answering my thoughts he said,

“I am the tidy one and she needs mental rest when she comes home. She is a lawyer.”

“Ah,” I replied, settling comfortably on his sofa. I offered him my arm and he sat down next to me. I closed my eyes and he rested his hand on my arm.,

I watched a man older and bigger than me shout at me. I felt thin, diminished somehow.

“I thought you were done with this nonsense, son. You will shame our family and our whole community. Now; I either beat this disgusting perversion you have out of you or we make the pact right here right now.” The tall dark man loomed closer for second but I could not see his face as my eyes were blurred with tears. I could feel the navy blue silk ball gown against my thighs and legs. I had thought, as eighteen year old Robert, that my Dad would be out all evening and had seized the chance to wear the coveted ballgown my mother owned now that I was tall enough. She was working nights so I was alone with Father. He was pulling a red pen out of his drawer. He got his glinting silver envelope opener and grabbed my hand slapping it down on the desk like it was a piece of raw chicken. He put the chunky red pen next to it. It was shaped like a woman.

“You must agree,” he said roughly glaring at me,

“My Father gave me this pen as a gift. I will bind your unnatural desires to it with the blessings of our ancestors.” He put his huge hands on my thin shoulders,

“Put your pain, your desires, your fears into this pen and you will be healed. And the family name saved in this community. And your name saved so help you God.” As he said 'God,' he pierced the palm of his hand and let the blood drop on the pen staining it briefly before oddly being swallowed up. No blood was left on the desk.

“Your turn;” he grasped my wrist tightly and told me urgently,

“Think about all of the things you feel when you do these strange things. Then think about all the pain you will cause everyone when you get found out. You will never be loved like this. Think, son, think on it now.” He tightened his hold and plunged the tip of the letter opener in to my palm then pulled my hand over to hover above the pen. The blood fell thick and fast. Again, not a drop on the desk. As Robert, I wept, the tears from my eyes causing the dress to cling to me ever more closely.

A new scene was unfolding. My hand still hurt. Father had made a gift of the binding pen.

“Write it all down, son,” patting my back. I look down and see Robert has written in some kind of code. Still not able to express himself fully. Then I am zoomed out of the huge house and I am above looking down at the huge estate Robert will inherit. The picture clears. I am back on the sofa as me, Sara, sitting next to Robert. He smiles at me sadly.

“But only if I keep my secret. From my community, my child, my wife. Especially my wife.”

“Oh, Robert, can you not tell her? Maybe she would understand?!” I was suddenly sorry to see him in so much pain.

“I write Sara. That helps,” he patted my hand fondly forgetting about my gift. So I was suddenly observing a scene where I was observing his wife soon after they were married.

She was watching a programme about drag queens. She turned to me as Robert her face lit up with amusement,

“Aren't they ridiculous darling?! Mistakes of Nature!! Some of them actually believe they are really women! Ugh, look at them?! What is wrong with them? Ugh, this is grotesque!” leaning in she whispered to me,

“Why can't they all be real men like you Robert?” I made some excuse to leave the house and drove for miles. I stopped the car. I wept.

I opened my eyes and removed contact with Robert's hand.

“Oh, dear Robert! That is why you feel so trapped! Tell me, where is the pen now?”

“It is in my desk at home. It's the right thing, Sara! Only occasionally I get terrible bouts of depression.”

“And what would happen if you didn't have the pen or the pact?” I asked him curiously.

“Luckily, I do not have to consider that. But because I have been doing much better lately I have considered hiding the pen somewhere in the house.” He smiled proudly. I felt doubtful but focused on his happiness.

“Oh, Robert I am so pleased for you! I had no idea you and Jeanette were trying for another!” He rubbed his neck.

“Not trying exactly, but we are happy. Betty is the happiest! She will get a baby sister! She is five now, so we could not have timed it better if tried.” I felt genuinely happy for him. His face suddenly got serious.

“This weekend, we are going to visit Father. He still lives on that estate that will all be left to me if I keep my promise. Father made sure I inherit it all. But..... he made me promise to bring the pen. He is not well. He wants to renew the pact to be sure his legacy is safe.” And then as happy, smooth and shining as his face had been before, it suddenly crumpled. He leaned forward and put his fingers on his eyes wiping away tears.

“I don't know if I can go through that again Sara,” he whispered through his tears.

“It felt like dying a little. Or like cutting off my hands somehow.”

I rubbed his back through his shirt where there was no skin to skin contact.

“Can you go and not take the pen?” I asked feebly. I saw how daunting his father was. A deathbed would not lessen that kind of force.

“It's no good Sara. I have to do it. My wife, my kids, well, they deserve the best. I want to give them the best.”

“Robert, I just really think it would all be better if you told your wife. Then you could handle it together.”

“Handle what together?!” I heard an unfamiliar voice speak from the doorway. His wife Jeanette stood there her face aghast at me sitting so closely to her husband. We knew each other from work do's. I hastily stood up and grabbed my bag.

“Yes, you had better go now and let me speak to my husband.” She spoke patiently. I think she would wait to hear the truth. That was her power. She would be formidable as a lawyer for this very reason.

“Goodbye Sara. And thank you.” Robert's irritated voice disrupted my thoughts and I realised I had been staring at Jeanette. Jeanette's bump was showing slightly as she showed me to the door with a polite smile. I walked slowly to my car wondering and worrying like humans do.

At work the next day, Robert was absent. When he turned up on Friday I observed him slyly. He seemed more talkative than usual. We met by the fountain at lunch..

“Well?!” I asked him, my eyes nearly bulging out of my head..

“She understands!” he told me shyly, his eyes full of wonder.

“Well, she understands about the female me. Not about the pact. She wants me to destroy the pen, but I'm going to take it tomorrow. Everything feels easier now that she knows about it!”

“That is brilliant Robert! Well, I do agree with her about the pen. I fear if you made the pact again it would make you seriously ill. But of course. It is your choice.” He went on to explain that this would be the last time he would see his father and he wanted to respect his wishes. He explained that he was just going to pop home after work to grab it. I nodded placidly.

I went inside before Robert and hurriedly left a Post It note on the boss's desk saying I needed to pop home for my special painkillers. I giggled as I got into my car and raced to Robert's house. Goddesses don't get headaches! I was excited about using my Goddess etheric magick. I walked round to their back door, melted through and retrieved the pen from his desk. I clutched it in my hand as I melted out of the back door and raced back to the office, hiding it in my purse as I ran back up the stairs. It felt heavy.

Robert popped his head in at five o' clock to say bye. I hugged him hard and told him,

“It's going to be okay. And it's not Jeanette's fault. Okay? Just remember that when this weekend is over. Sara knows best.” I released him and pushed him out the door. His face was bemused and puzzled. I waited by my window and watched his wife pull in, the cute daughter strapped in at the back.

Jeanette got out, stretched and kissed him, then walked round to the passenger's side. He looked up at my window and waved. I waved back and sighed happily. He wouldn't have time to do anything but drive straight to his father's when he couldn't find the pen. Jeanette would be happy. Robert would not get ill. And he could honestly say that he did not know where the pen was to his father. I listened to their car drive away as I sat down at my desk and opened my purse. The pen lay there fatly. Gleaming.

I shut the drawer and went to go and flirt with Colin.

Being a human was fun.