Unoutsider

It’s hard to feel like you belong in any particular place when all your life, you’ve been told you don’t. Staring down this cobbled pathway that seems to stretch on for eternity, lit up by ornate lamps that fade into a haze in the distance, I struggle to take any more steps closer to the house, buzzing with activity. I just know that the minute I step inside, all those feelings will rush back to me, and I will want to leave, but I promised myself I would do this, and I don’t break promises.

With one last glance over my shoulder, I set my sights on the front door, which is slightly ajar. It exudes a welcoming, yet daunting aura, beckoning me at the same time as it repels me. I drag my feet, as if through a swamp of my past mistakes, against the stones, staring straight ahead. Each crack in the walkway presents an opportunity to embarrass myself yet again, but I push those thoughts to the back of my mind and persevere. Nothing can be as bad as last time, anyways.

My sweaty hands unconsciously run themselves against my dress, smoothing out the wrinkles it gained from sitting in the back of my closet for so long. I bought it a long time ago, swearing that I would put it on and finally get out there again… eventually. Well, that time has finally come, and while the dress doesn’t fit the same as it did when I first tried it on, it has been with me through this whole journey, and I wasn’t about to turn my back on it.

The thoughts racing through my head increase their pace as I draw closer to the house, alight with the brightness of happy people. I can feel my breath catching in my chest, the bile rising in my throat, the dark side of my brain telling me to turn and run away. They won’t win this time.

Finally, I’m at the stoop. I climb the stairs, one by one, feeling the creaking wood beneath my feet. Just as I’m about to push the door open, someone on the other side pulls it out from in front of me. I stumble, but catch myself, and manage to squeak out a meek laugh with the drunk woman who offhandedly apologizes and continues on her way. Shaken from this encounter, I once again consider accepting the temptation to turn around before it was too late.

“Oh, hey! I haven’t seen you in so long, I’m glad you could make it!”

It was already too late.

“Hey… yeah, it’s been a while.”

“Well, come in! We’ve got snacks” my host said in a singsong voice.

“Ah, well, if you insist…”

I approach the kitchen, trailing a few feet behind my host. She was stopping every so often, smiling at every person she walked by, laughing in shared moments of joy. Meanwhile, I remained unnoticed by the rest of the partygoers, who returned to their conversations as soon as the host was out of earshot. How could one woman be so beloved, while I couldn’t even get a single glance from anyone else here? This was a mistake. I’ll just apologize and say my cat… broke into the neighbors house… and ate their goldfish. Yes. Perfect lie.

I tune back into the conversation that we arrived on in the kitchen.

“...and I’m sure you remember her, she used to be at all the events before… uhm… well, here she is now!”

I awkwardly wave at the people who are already standing in the kitchen. I can tell they don’t recognize me, as they give me those telltale squints and sideways stares that indicate they have no idea who I am. I politely introduce myself, making sure to say my name clearly and feign confidence as best I can. I don’t blame them for not remembering me. It’s been a long time. They say their names and politely begin small talk, which doesn’t last long until someone they do know approaches and joins the conversation. I slowly bow out, grabbing a handful of pretzels and slipping out of the circle. The gap where I once stood closes as if it were never there, and I know it is time to move on.

As I turn and begin making my way to the next room, I hear the whispers that I was so afraid of. The main, core reason I didn’t want to come to this party. 

“Why does she look so… weird?”

“I know, she doesn’t seem right.”

“Shhh, what if she heard you? That’s not polite, come on…”

I feel tears welling up behind my eyes, but I won’t let anything show on my face. This is good for me, to be here, and these people won’t take it away from me. I finally can show the world who I really am, and I feel good about it. For once, I don’t have to lie to myself about how I feel about these people. I can take their short remarks and snide comments in stride, and I won’t let them make me feel any type of way. I am strong, and beautiful, and no one can take that from me.

“...Ted? Is that you?”

I whip my head around, almost knocking over a woman tottering on her heels past me. She gives me a rude stare, but I hardly notice as I search for the source of the voice. 

“Ted?”

Oh no. It’s him.

“Hey… man. It’s been a while-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“My name isn’t Ted. I’m not your ‘man.’ Please, please don’t call me that.”

“O...K. I’m sorry?”

“My name is Emma. You know this. I told you this a thousand times. This is who I am.”

“Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. No, it’s not fine. But thank you for apologizing.”

“No problem.”

The awkward silence that hangs between us is disheartening. I can remember when this man was my best friend, when we would do everything together, and we were so happy…

Well, I wasn’t as happy as I may have seemed. I was hiding my true self under layers of toxic behavior, pretending everything was alright because it was easier than facing the truth. It was easier to be miserable in my body than to face the reality of what I really was.

“How have you been? I haven’t seen you since you began your transition. I missed you.”

Those words cut through the air, hitting me with an almost physical force. I didn’t know I needed to hear that. I didn’t know how much I had missed my best friend, how much abandoning him would hurt not only me, but him as well. The tears I had been so proud of holding back just moments before came spilling out, and I froze, unable to speak.

He looks at me with concern, but doesn’t move. He doesn’t seem repulsed, but rather, confused. I guess he doesn’t know how to handle a woman crying over him.

“Thank you,” I finally mutter out as I gather my composure. He keeps staring at me, with a face that says “I don’t know what to do here, please get me out.” I almost laugh at how ridiculous it all is.

With one last heartfelt, if not teary-eyed smile, I find my way out of the house onto the patio. The night air dries my tears, and I check my face in my phone camera to make sure my waterproof mascara has held up. Kudos to myself for being prepared for my inevitable meltdown. Sitting down on the stone wall overlooking the yard, I stare into the distance, mentally patting myself on the back for making it to this party. I may have only lasted five minutes inside, but five is better than none.