Can I have some Brown Sugar for my Damper? Chapter 1.
Can I have some Brown Sugar for my Damper? Chapter 1.
There’s days that I just hated my life and everything in it and there’s times where things just come right out of left field. Like the letter I’d been holding here curled up in the window seat of my chilly Montreal apartment.
I thought we were good, I thought she loved me and that she could handle who I really was. Sylvie just kept poking and picking away at my defenses, and It was just choking me off like a slow death not being able to be me.
It was just three nights ago…we went out, dancing, went to some clubs had too much wine. It had just happened….. I loved her or though I did, I trusted her.
“Morgan, my love, why do you not open up to me?”
“I am open with you honey, I let you in to parts of me no other girl has ever seen.”
“No, there ess something else non? I see eet sometime and you close up like ze jiant claw eef you think that someone see you with that face.”
“Thee face you have that say you are not here, you are off in some dream and when you come back there ees pain there. Please Morgan I love you.”
So that became the beginning of the end of us.
I had said. “Okay, but please, please don’t hate me….”
Then I had gotten up and went into our bedroom where I took out my stash of things from my hidey holes and took an hour to get dressed.
She loved the girl me.
I fell into this thing where I honestly thought she still loved me. We sort of became lesbian lovers and I became the bottom. And I went through all the jumps through the hoops to get my transition started and while I was working and living outside our home in stealth home I was Sylvie’s girl.
Then like she became this bad villain out of a forced femme TG story she got even more domineering, and abusive. I think she was getting off on this emasculating mean power trip. It was like I was the venting for all of her frustrations against men.
The fact I loved her got less important.
The fact that I was never a man never seemed to sink in with her.
Then she brought a guy home, she wanted to have sex with him, she wanted me to dress up in some moronic maids outfit, she wanted me to have sex with him.
I said. “No.”
“Non, why not you are a leetle faggot nes pas, you like me and my toy in you.”
“No, I like making love with you and only you. I’m not like that.”
“Yes you are you know you want thees, now go geet dressed.”
“I said no.”
Then the guy grabbed me by the arm and said in French. “Go get dressed now you little bitch.”
I yanked my arm free and pointed to the door. “Get the hell out of my house.”
He slapped me and knocked me to the floor and Yelled at Sylvie. “I’m not going to take this, get your little fuck toy in line. I’ll be out in the car!” He left and I through the bottle of red we’d been drinking at him. I missed but it smashed when it hit the doorframe. I think I got him sprayed with the glass and contents.
That’s when She slapped me. Three times in a row as she was screaming at me. “I was doing this for US, but no you had to spoil this, like everything else you’ve done! I loved you, you were my girl, but you ruined our old relationship, you had to be this fake woman but I still loved you so I took my needs elsewhere and I was ready to share my lover with you…but you had to fucking ruin it!”
I looked at her face smarting tears running down my face and asked. “You’ve been with him since I came out to you?”
“Oui! You we’re a man anymore but I still loved you so I made it work, this was going to be the three of us!”
I screamed back. “You were cheating on me! I loved you, I wanted to make you happy dammit that’s why I put up with you’re bullshit!”
She screamed back. “I hate you! You ruined everything! Why couldn’t you just go along with it!? We would have been happy!”
“No, oh fuck no Sylvie, you would have been happy but you’ve been nothing but a nasty, angry person and have been taking it out on me. I’m not just some fuck-toy-punching bag for you and your ego-stroke!”
“I hate you!”
She punched me in the face this time and would have again but I caught her wrists and held them and forced her out the door.
She screamed and yelled and beat on the door and yelled for me to let her in. Then yelled for Steven. “I’m calling the cops.”
And she kept it up right up until the police came. We both got separated and she was charged with assault and yes I pressed charges. I had to go to the hospital to get some glass out of my foot and when she came to get her things there was an officer with her. She wasn’t happy with that but she had to abide by the TRO I got too.
Yes, I kicked her out and even though she took me to court over it I was the one in the police pictures take at the ER with the swollen face, the black eye and bruises on her arm.
She wanted me to be the bottom…well guess who got to stay in the house.
There might be a whole lot of religion in Quebec but they’re a very liberal kind of place too or at least in the cities. But while I was living in stealth I stopped after that, my lawyers idea. There’s this whole thing about hitting women they really from on here and even if it’s two women, and even if it’s me not being really that far along in my transition it’s just not done. Spousal abuse they called it even if we weren’t married.
………………………… So that brings me back to the letter.
*To Morgan Spencer
We have the unfortunate duty to inform you that you have been named the sole heir to the estate of your younger brother Mathew. We regret the timing but it had taken some time to find any of the late Mr. Spencer’s family. Many records were lost or damaged in the flooding we have had here earlier in the year. There is contact information enclosed ans will await your decisions regarding the property.
Sincerely and with our condolences.
Augustine Howell and associates. *
My younger brother had taken off and got into all sorts of adventures working all sorts of odd jobs all over the planet. When I told the family about my intention to transition they all sort of freaked on me except Mat.
Dad had gotten mad and quiet and told my mother to make sure I had everything I needed before I left. He’s still not talking to me. My sister is quiet about it and never said too much about it only she gave me funny looks. My older brother just lost his shit and called me a faggot and took his kids and left with his wife. He said he won’t come to any family even with me there. Mom was and is as stunned as dad but nicer about it. Actually she looked scared.
And after the stuff with Sylvie I can get why.
But Mat god bless him when I had told him over the phone he just kept right on talking about his work and the girls he’d been seeing and how much he really liked it in Brisbane.
His last words to me were. “I Love You Sis.”
Excuse me a bit I have to cry some more.
……………………….. It’s here looking at the letter I’ve made up my mind. I’m going there. Brisbane, Australia.
I know next to nothing about Oz as I’ve heard it called. Crocodile Dundee, Men without Hats, Midnight Oil, all the North American stereotypes but Montreal has just gotten too small for me. I know it’s a big city but there’s Me and Sylvie all over the place and I keep running into people we know and while there’s no drama and stuff.
I need a fresh start, I need something else.
God, scary though starting over again at thirty two.
I’ve got a few blessings though. I’m a radiologist, and that means a good chance of work anywhere. I own my apartment so There’s money there I’ll need to start over and some modest savings.
…………………. Two weeks later and I’ve got my surgical appointment…No not SRS I can‘t afford all of that yet but actually a chin implant…I‘ve always hat a weak chin for a man and from the before and after stuff I’ll get a nice normal female shape to my face. Nothing major but it’d make a big difference to me. I’ve got a serious dental one too. I want to get all the dental stuff I’ve put off for too long done and I really want and am getting those porcelain veneers. I’ve really wanted a nice smile. And I’m finally growing my hair out.
I’ve landed a job in Brisbane at Mater Hospital and I have to be there in four months to start. I was even given a travel bonus from them too. Even my trans-status wasn’t a problem. I submitted that along with my resume.
That was scary.
The visa’s and passports and work permit all are pretty boring stuff and standard fare but there’s a lot of other details in selling my place, dealing with my things. I’m not taking a lot actually. I send word to my brothers lawyers and get them looking for a storage place for my things and send them off ahead of me. Just my books, movies, my records and some beloved knick-knacks.
I’m heading to Vancouver in a week then overseas, I’m going to Hong Kong and Tokyo as a bit of a mini vacation before heading to my new home, my new start, and my new life.
Just thinking about it I’m really scared, excited but scared.
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