The Feminine Side

The first and last word Eleanor ever uttered in public was ‘mama’. When the waitress at the diner heard it, she dropped her order pad and gawked. Eleanor's parents quickly gathered her up and rushed from the restaurant. From that day forward they knew their daughter could never speak another word in front others. She would have to pass herself off as mute. It was tough. In high school she was teased and subjected to occasional insensitive remarks but, at least, she had friends and some semblance of normalcy. Had she chosen to speak, things would’ve been much worse. The cruelty of the bullying would’ve been beyond comprehension. Putting her condition aside, Eleanor was reasonably popular and one of the prettiest girls in class. She had a boyfriend, went to football games and the prom and engaged in the same social activities as the others. Then, came college.

This was different. Eleanor had to live there. She couldn’t come home to parents who she could talk to, share her day with and relieve the struggle of having to contain her voice all day. Here on campus, she had to live without words 24-7. Alone in her dorm room at night whenever she called her mother, she'd cry. Eleanor missed the hours of normalcy she was able to enjoy with her family. After earning a degree in chemical engineering Eleanor got a job at a major pharmaceutical company as a developer of new products. She created treatments for everything from overly dry skin to chronic joint pain and was paid well. Yet, even among her colleagues, she remained silent.

Eleanor decided to celebrate her thirty-third birthday by going to a pub called Grady’s. It happened to be a Wednesday, the slowest night of the week. She, a nearly inebriated middle-aged man and the bartender were its only occupants. The bartender asked Eleanor what she wanted, and she wrote it down on a note pad, ‘Vodka martini, two olives.’  The bartender thought this odd but went about making the drink. The drunk thought this odd and went about making a jerk of himself.

   “You two got something going?” Eleanor and the bartender ignored him, so he tried again. “I mean, what’s with the love notes, huh?” Ignored again, the inebriant stumbled over to where Eleanor was sitting, “Hey honey, whattaya say you write me a note, huh?” 

The man was becoming more difficult to ignore yet, he persisted.

"I tell you what sweet buns, I’ll write you a note, okay?”

Before Elanor could stop him, the man grabbed for her pen and notepad and started writing, laughing as he scribed. The bartender approached with the martini. The man gave the note, which no doubt contained some crude sexual suggestion to Eleanor. She read it and her eyes blazed with fury.

    “You fucking pig!” she screamed. 

The drunk tumbled and fell to the floor. The bartender dropped the martini. Glass shattered. It was the first time in over thirty years Eleanor had spoken a word in front of strangers and she immediately regretted it. The drunk got to his feet and rushed from the bar. Eleanor fumbled to stuff her notepad, pen and phone into her purse. The bartender put his hand on hers and smiled. Having regained her commitment to silence, Eleanor paused and looked at the bartender. Seeing she still felt uncomfortable, he permitted the smile to grow.

    “Sorry about the martini, I’ll make you another.”

As the bartender left to re-make the cocktail, Eleanor watched and wondered. ‘Did he not notice? Did he not care? Is business so bad they’ll sell drinks to any freak who walks in?’ When he returned, he set the drink down and picked up the note the tipsy tippler had written then commented.

   “Good thing you read this instead of me. I would’ve broken the son-of-bitches jaw.”

The slightest of smiles formed on Eleanor’s lips and the bartender was grateful. He held out his hand to shake.

    “My name’s Grady, I own the place.” Eleanor paused then shook Grady’s large muscular hand.  She wrote a note to Grady, and he read it aloud.

    “’I'm Eleanor. Sorry I scared away your customer.’ Customers like him, I don’t need. Customers like you on the other hand.”

Grady was at least thirty years older than Eleanor. She hoped he wasn’t hitting on her. Grady sensed the concern and chuckled.

    “Hey! Don’t worry about me! I’ve been unhappily married for twenty-seven years to a woman who can’t keep her mouth shut. You’re like a breath of fresh air!”

Eleanor blushed and wrote another note. Grady read.

    “’Thank you, you’re nice.’ Well, I think you’re pretty nice too and if you don’t mind, I think I'll call you Ellie. You okay with that?” Ellie nodded.

Grady and Ellie had the bar all to themselves. She spoke in notes with an occasional whisper to explain things too wordy for a single sheet of small paper. When the night was over, they had each made a new friend and Grady offered Ellie an assurance.

   “Look, Wednesdays around this place always suck. That’s why I work the bar. It beats paying someone to stand here for doing nothing all night. If you’re looking for a nice quiet place and someone you can uh, write notes to, this is it.”

Ellie leaned over the bar and kissed Grady on the cheek. All in all, it was the best birthday she ever had as an adult.

Weary of being silent, lonely and loveless Eleanor work on the side to find a chemical formula to treat her condition. None ever worked. Then came the epiphany. She had been looking at the problem from the wrong perspective. She studied up on the human voice and all the physical things that needed to happen to turn thoughts into words. Eleanor came up with her own Jekyll and Hyde-like elixir and shared the news with Grady. She needed his help. After nearly a full notepad’s worth of assurances that it would be safe, Grady reluctantly agreed. He took the vial of turquoise elixir and hid it under the bar. Then came the night, a Wednesday night, of course.

Ellie was the only one at the bar. Grady served her a martini.

    “You sure he’s coming?”

Ellie nodded and showed Grady a text on her phone. 

‘I’ll be there at six. Can’t wait. Love Eric.’ Grady was impressed.

    “Love Eric? Sounds, promising.” Ellie responded with fingers crossed.

Ellie met Eric on a dating app. They had been sharing texts and online messages for three months. When Eric suggested they talk on the phone, Ellie explained she was a mute. That didn’t dampen Eric’s enthusiasm for Ellie one bit. Her sense of humor, intelligence, down-to-earth outlook on life combined with her striking natural beauty were, to him, beyond words anyway. They agreed to meet at Grady’s. Ellie was waiting. Grady was waiting. Eric walked in.

He immediately recognized Eleanor and went right for a hug. Eleanor obliged.

    “Ellie! Finally, we meet. God, you look great.”

When she went to respond with a note, Eric stopped her.

    “That’s okay. I know what you’re going to say, I do too, right? Ellie nodded shyly; Eric reacted perfectly.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t care. You look good enough for both of us!” Grady, whose ears hadn’t missed a word, arrived.

    “You must be Eric.”

    “That’s right.”

    “I’m Grady, the owner.” They shook hands. “Ellie’s told me um, I mean, written me all about you.”

    Eric gave Ellie a naughty glance then teased, “I hope you didn’t put everything in writing!” She blushed.

    “So, what’ll it be?” Grady asked.

    “Crown on the rocks.”

    “Coming right up.” Grady left and Eric proceeded with the one-sided conversation.

    “Well, here we are. I have to say, this is going to be interesting.”

Ellie wrote a note. Eric read it aloud.

    “’I hope you’ll give me a chance.’” After a long, loving look into Ellie’s eyes, he counter pointed.

    “I hope you’ll give me a chance.” Ellie wrote another note; Eric didn’t read this one aloud.  Instead, he just answered.   

    “There’s lots of things you don’t know about me Ellie, just as there’s probably lots of things I don’t know about you, right?” Ellie nodded. Grady returned with Eric’s drink and a menu.

    “Here you go and uh, the kitchen’s closed on Wednesdays but if you’d like a snack, I can whip up an appetizer. Uh, anything but the artichoke thing.”

    “You hungry?” Ellie shrugged a positive shrug. Eric looked at the menu. “How about the wings? They any good?”

    “Do you like ‘em hot?” Grady asked. Eric looked at Ellie. Grady answered for her. “Oh, she likes ‘em hot.”

    “Then, hot it is.” Eric returned the menu to Grady. He turned back to the kitchen. Eric turned back to Ellie and raised his drink in a toast. “Here’s to loving each other’s imperfections.” Ellie tickled his glass with hers and was beginning to feel a glimmer of hope. “So, shall we start with the things we think are wrong with us or the things we think are right?” Ellie scribbled. Eric read and responded.

    “Right it is. I’ll start. I’d hate to see you get writer’s cramp on our first date.” Ellie tried hard not to laugh but somehow a little grunt slipped out. Eric attributed it to a sound a mute might make and went on with his eyes glued to Eleanor’s face the whole time.

    “Okay, here’s what I think makes us right for each other. It doesn’t matter to me one bit that you can’t talk. Over the past couple of months, I’ve shared things with you I’ve never told anyone. In a way you know me better than any woman ever has. I feel both safe and excited with you. Sure, you’re a beautiful woman and that means a lot to me. But what means more is, I think you’re the most honest woman I’ve ever known. Those eyes can’t lie.”

Ellie wrote a note. Eric read it aloud.

    “’I have my secrets.’ I’m sure you do, so do I. But secrets aren’t lies, they’re truths we keep to ourselves until we come to trust. I hope one day you’ll trust me enough to share yours.”

That day would come sooner than Eric thought. It was, in fact, coming down the bar holding a platter of hot & spicy Buffalo Wing’s at this very moment.

    “Here you go!”

    “These look great.”

    “That’s just how Ellie likes ‘em.”

    “That’s good enough for me!” 

Grady looked to Ellie for the high sign. She winked.

    “Say,” he said to Eric, “a couple months ago Ellie came up with a new drink and she’s been dying to get someone to try it.”

    Eric was mildly impressed.

    “Really? What’s it called?”

    “A Feminine Side.”

    “A Feminine Side? Hmm, I wonder if I have one.”

    “Maybe now’s a good time to find out.”

    “Sure, why not? Whip me up a Feminine Side.”

Grady rushed away to make the drink.

    “So, you’re an amateur bartender too?” Eric asked Ellie. She penned a response. He read. “’Hey, I’m a chemist. Mixing shit’s what we do.’” Eric laughed. Grady returned with a tropical looking turquoise blue cocktail, compete with fruit garnish, umbrella and straw. Eric laughed. Ellie gave Grady a ‘what the hell is this?’ look. He shrugged.

     “There you go, a Feminine Side!” Grady walked away, quickly to avoid any further eye-wrath from Ellie.

Eric removed a giant wedge of pineapple.

     “You should’ve told me you were a Jimmy Buffet fan.” 

He sucked on the straw then licked his lips.

“Not bad. I’m not all that big on…” he stopped and rubbed at his throat, “… these fruity things but...” he cleared his throat. Ellie wrote a note, Eric responded to it. 

“No, it’s good it’s just, uh...” he took another long sip… “uh, it’s got quite a kick!” The last three words came out sounding as if Sally Field had said them.  Eric put a hand to his head and appeared dizzy.

    “What’s happening to me?” His voice had totally changed. He sounded like Sally Field. His eyes bulged as he inspected the drink.

“What have you done? What’s in this thing?” That’s when Ellie finally spoke up in a voice that sounded like Robert DiNiro.

    “You said you wanted to share secrets so now you’re sharing mine.” Eric looked back at Ellie in shock.

    “Oh – my - God!” His new voice continued to horrify him. Ellie attempted to explain.

     “I was born with my mom’s looks and my dad’s voice. It’s called, transfeminine vocal gender dysphoria. It really sucks.”

    “You’re telling me!”

    Grady came wandering over, “So, how are the wings?”

    Eric went into a rage.

“How are the wings!!!?”

When Grady heard the voice, he gave Ellie a celebratory high-five.

    “Alright!! It worked!!”

    “We got ‘em!” she replied.

    “We got em?” Eric fumed, sounding like an angry Sally Field. “Is this some kind of trap? What did I do? What did I say? Why did you do this to me?” Ellie took Eric’s hand.

    “I did it for us.”

    “For us?”

    “Eric, be 100% honest. Would you still want me if you knew I was a freak?”

    “I said, it didn’t matter to me if you were a mute.”

    “A mute is not a freak.” Eric mulled over the question then said, mostly to himself.

    “I guess now, I’m a freak too.”

Grady who, as always, felt compelled to add his own two cents.

   “Ain’t neither one of you freaks! You’re the same people you were when you came in here except now you…” he pointed Ellie “…can stop pretending you’re something you’re not and you!" Pointing to Eric. “You said, ‘Secrets are nothing but truths we keep to ourselves, and you hoped one day Ellie would trust you enough to share hers. Well, she trusted you and shared it with you all right!”

    Eric rubbed his throat, “Yeah, I guess she did.” He sounded like a wounded Sally Field in distress. Ellie touched his arm.

   “Eric, I’m sure I love you and I’m sorry if you think I tricked you to trap you.”

Knowing it would take time to get used to hearing ‘I love you’ from someone who sounded like a longshoreman, Eric sighed.

   “I love you too Ellie but, I don’t know, this is all so sudden.”

   “I’ll tell you this pal,” Grady injected, “you ain’t ever gonna find another woman like Ellie.”

   “I ain’t ever gonna find a woman at all with this voice.”

   “You found me,” Ellie said as tenderly as a bricklayer's voice could.

   “It’ll be hard making love with a woman with a voice like that.”

   “Wear earplugs!” Grady suggested.

   “Yeah, I suppose that’d work.” Eric took a sip of the Feminine Side, “I’m a customer service rep for AT&T so, I guess I could just tell people my name is Erica.”

Just then the same middle-aged sot who had pissed Ellie off with his crude written suggestion months earlier staggered into the bar.

   “Escuze me, anybubbly here got the time?” 

Eric looked at his watch and answered with a Sally Field voice,

“Seven forty-five.”

The man stared at Eric with wobbly eyes and unsure ears. He wondered how someone who looked like Nicholas Cage could have the voice of The Flying Nun. Ellie suddenly recognized him.

   “Hey! I remember you! You’re the jerk who wrote that dirty note!”

   “He wrote you a dirty note?” Eric asked.

   “Yeah, he told me he wanted to…” Ellie whispered the worst part into Eric’s ear. His face reddened with anger, and he got up to confront the newcomer whose well-pickled brain was still trying to come to terms with the gender bending voices.

    “No one talks to my woman like that?” Eric clenched his fist and started toward the man. Fearing the man who sounded like Forest Gump's mother, the drunk fled. Eric still looked angry, “Who the hell does that guy think he is…” Ellie and Grady looked back at him and laughed. 

    Eric started laughing too, “You know what, this could be fun.” 

He returned to his seat next to Ellie and drank more Feminine Side through a straw. “You know, this isn’t that bad!” he said to Grady, “But next time, hold the pineapple.”

    Grady laughed, “You got it, pal,” and walked away.

Eleanor moved closer to Eric and put a hand on his shoulder.

    “Did you mean that?”

    “Mean what?”

    “What you told that guy about me being ‘your woman.’”

Eric thought for a moment.

    “Um, I guess that’s up to you. Do you want to be my woman?”

    “Sure, do you want to be my man?”

Eric caressed Ellie’s hair and looked into her eyes.

    “Those eyes just can’t lie, can they?”

They kissed then Ellie raised her glass in a toast.

"Here's to loving each other's imperfections."