Transformation

Penelope was late.

She could feel the pressure of an invisible clock ticking above her head, but she had to get this just right. She had to look just right.  The bathroom’s dim lighting made the small space feel cosy and intimate, but it was also inconvenient.

Penelope fluffed out her light brown hair, unhappy with how flat it lay against her skull and checked over her outfit. She twisted side to side a little. Plain black trousers, slightly uncomfortable smart shoes, and a sapphire blue shirt that made her grey eyes pop. The outfit she’d agonised over for days looked good. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached down and loosened her black leather belt by two notches. She always bloated after a big meal, better safe than sorry. She fussed with her sleeves - rolling them up to her elbows, then shoving them down and buttoning them hastily. Nothing felt right, but it was too late to fix.

Time ticking down, Penelope’s hands fluttered uselessly in the air for a moment before she stuck them in the sink and washed her hands needlessly. The bar of soap was fancy, with little bits of flowers sticking out of it. The paper towels to the left needed to be replenished.

“Get a grip of yourself,” she whispered to her reflection. Penelope was delaying. Focusing on silly little things. She couldn’t stall any longer. “Stop putting off the inevitable and get out there.” 

She reached for the bathroom door and froze, her fingers grazing the wood. The seconds ticked down. She knew what was waiting out there - who was waiting. In here,  she was safe. In here, she was her. But as soon as she left this bathroom, she would have to be him.

Penelope pushed it open.

The restaurant was bustling with the New Years crowd. The air was thick with perfume and aftershave, buzzing with bursts of laughter, loud conversation and even louder cheering. It was still early in the evening, barely six, but the sky outside the large windows was dark. The biting chill of a Scottish winter was barely held at bay, helped by the roaring fire against the right wall and the mass of warm bodies.

It was a relatively new establishment, having opened only a few months ago. It had proven popular with the younger crowd thanks to their rotating cocktail menu and large food portions. It was inside an old schoolhouse - made modern with heavy wooden tables, sleek burgundy fabrics and brass decor. 

“Paul! Over here, we're over here.” The words came from a table at a window near the front, laden with people and drinks. An older couple, a young woman doing her best to blend into the patterned wallpaper behind her and a younger couple still taking off their coats surrounded the dark wood table. “Look who finally arrived. Bastards brought the cold in with them too!” The older woman in a sparkling black top with a half-empty wine glass cackled at her own statement, waving a wrinkled hand in the arriving couple’s direction. She took a sip before adding, “Thought you were never coming out, boy. Must’ve been nice hiding in there.”

Paul ducked his head and wove through the throng of sparkling patrons. He was pulled into a hug as he got close to his older sister. The smell of wine and the sharp bite of air from outside wafted over him. He patted her back awkwardly. “Happy new year, Gabby. Jack, how you doing?”

Greetings and small talk about the weather and traffic passed around the table as everyone got settled. Paul got a seat at the window, not minding the chill at his elbow, next to his older sister and across from his younger. Kelly offered him a small smile and kept to herself.

After their order was taken, talk moved on to discussion of the newly weds honeymoon. They’d returned only a few days ago, having spent their Christmas abroad. Something that their mother had been endlessly bitter about ever since their plans had been announced. Now though, the wine and the company seemed to have softened her edge.

“Oh mum, you would have loved it! We spent every day on the beach, didn’t we?” Gabby turned to her husband, clinging to his arm with one hand while rapidly working through a large glass of white wine.

“Well, not every day-” he tried. 

“It was close enough! Anyway, it was gorgeous. Expensive, but so worth it,” she gushed.

Their dad shook his head, the older man’s cheeks ruddy from the pint of lager he was cradling. “Can’t get over the price of a pint. How do they get away with that? Absolute nonsense, that was.”

“I know! Jack couldn’t get over it, either. We had to,” she burst out laughing, rocking against her husband who was valiantly trying to keep her upright. “We had to actually explain to the bartender how to make a sex on the beach. I mean, come on!”

Paul sipped at his water as Gabby wound herself up, only half-listening. She was too loud to ignore entirely. His family was often like this. A loud whirlwind that swept away private musings, and forced interaction. Movement from outside caught his attention and he glanced at the window. It was too fogged up to really make out anything but his blurred reflection.

He hated it. Outside that bathroom, he looked completely different. Here, he was a man in his thirties with a paunch at his stomach. His brown hair was too short and already thinning at the crown of his head thanks to bad genetics. His shoulders were slumped, his posture terrible, the blue of his shirt washed out his pale skin, and his grey eyes were as dull as dirty snow. It was like he was looking at another person entirely.

As dinner came and went, the conversation became more targeted. Lately, it was almost an expectation for family dinners to turn like this. It started with an innocuous question from their dad, “Kelly, how are the studies going?” 

From that innocent and normal question, it only took a couple minutes before it became viscous. 

“You never call me!” their mum shouted, her neck a bright red to match her husband's face. Tears wobbled in her eyes, threatening the thick layer of mascara. “What do I have to do to get a fucking phone call from my baby? Is your life so busy and full you can’t take five minutes to call your only mother? What do I have to do?”

“Mum, it’s not-” she attempted, reaching out.

“Do you want me to kill myself? Will that finally get a fucking phone call?” The woman let out a laugh as  cutting as her words. As Kelly’s face paled, Paul finally stepped in. 

“That’s enough, mum.” His voice was quiet, but no one else was speaking up. The woman turned her suddenly sharp gaze to her only son. He shrank back a little.

“No. You know what’s enough, Paul?” She waved her hands dramatically, her beaded bracelet clicking every movement. “I have had enough. I-I worked for years, years at that stupid hairdresser and what do I get? Huh? For-for breaking my back over fucking hair just for you ungrateful brats to ignore me? I don’t deserve this. You work at a fucking computer. The hardest thing you have to do is type some letters! At your age, I was already married with a mortgage and two children. And you! You-you have an apartment. You have a pet. Do you even have a girlfriend, Paulie? It’s pathetic!”

He, like everyone at the table, stayed silent in the face of her tirade. Her wrinkled face flushed a deeper red with every slurred word. Dad quietly slid her wine glass away, but no one spoke up. When she got like this, it was best to just let her exhaust herself.

Normally, Paul could ignore her harsh criticisms. She only got like this when she drank, and she didn’t drink often, so it was easy to pretend that it was the wine talking. Easy to pretend that this horrible woman was still their mother. But tonight, those words hurt. He pressed his lips tight, kept his eyes on her crumpled napkin and clenched his fists to keep the tears at bay. She’d only get meaner if she saw them.

She’d calmed down by the time dessert arrived, cooing over the slice of chocolate cake. Conversation had picked up around the table, and a glass of water had replaced the wine. She was back to being their mother, and not the harsh stranger. A bowl of fruit sorbet slid in front of Paul and he wanted to throw up. 

After poking around the bright dessert for a few minutes, he excused himself to the bathroom. But instead of retreating into that small room he’d felt so confident in before, he swung a left and went outside. 

Stepping into the night felt like breaking the surface of the sea. He gasped in a breath of cold air, head tilted towards the star-coated sky. The door swung shut behind him and the world quieted to a murmur. Out here, without being forced to face his reflection or his family, he finally felt human again. Felt like he fit inside the skin he was trapped in. 

A few minutes later, Kelly stepped outside. She found her brother sitting on the steps, uncaring of the cold evening air, staring at the sky. She tucked her hands into her pockets and sat beside him.

In a move comfortable and familiar, she rested her head on his shoulder. Silence stretched between them, the hum of the restaurant muffled behind thick stone walls. 

She broke it first - speaking a truth that had been circling her mind for weeks now, too important to ignore yet too terrifying to voice.

“I have a girlfriend.”

Paul didn’t say anything at first, but he let the side of his head rest against hers. 

That was enough.

Feeling almost validated by his quiet acceptance, she kept talking, her words shaky but determined. “Her name is Natalie. She's from Finland and she’s so smart and so kind. She makes amazing food, and her family is so nice. I met them when she went home for Christmas. She’d told them all about me.” A quiet exhale. “I haven’t told anyone in there.”

Paul turned his head slightly, glancing at her. “Why?” he asked softly. 

“They would still love me.” A pause. Then, softer, “But that doesn’t make me less afraid.”

Paul inhaled sharply. Something shifted inside him - not some dramatic revelation, not an epiphany, but a quiet, slow understanding. All night, he had been watching his reflection, feeling the weight of it. In the mirror, he was someone. Someone he wanted to be. But the moment he stepped outside, that person was gone. Out here, there was no reflection to hold onto. Just expectation. Just fear.

His voice was barely a whisper. “I’m afraid too.” 

Kelly stilled. The world shrunk around them until they became a sanctuary, safe for quiet confessions. 

He swallowed convulsively. “I’m afraid that who I want to be and who I am aren’t the same person..” He blinked rapidly, trying to fight off the burning behind his eyes. “I… I’ve never told anyone my story before.”

Kelly sat up and looked at him properly now, searching his face. There was something in they way he spoke that unsettled her. But she didn’t press.

Instead, she reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Well, you just told me.” Paul let out a shaky laugh.

Then for the first time that night, he let go.

The tension left his shoulders as he breathed out, letting the tears finally fall and feeling the cold winter air bite at his skin. His fingers squeezed hers back. Kelly eventually stood, brushing the chill from her jeans. She hesitated, watching him for a moment longer, something unreadable in her gaze. Then she offered him a smile - small, but warm. 

“I’m going back inside before Gabby steals my dessert.” Paul let out a quiet laugh, wiping at his damp cheeks with his sleeve. Kelly took a step back, giving him one last glance before turning towards the door. Just as she reached for the handle, she paused.

“I love you, Penelope.”

She didn’t look back, didn’t wait for a response. She just let the name sit between them, a truth spoken into the cold night air.

Penelope smiled. A real, soft, private smile. “Love you too.”