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Under Your Spell

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Previously…

“Shhhh….shhhh….Tá´i ở Ä‘á¢y.” She smiled and kissed the girl’s cheek. Clever or not, something else came to her that would need no translation in the midst of a gentle hug.

“I love you!”

Shouldn't let you conquer me completely.
Now I can't let go of this dream.
Can't believe that I feel...

A short while later Kara sat on the couch nursing a cup of Sleepytime. Phillip sat next to her; almost half-drag, since he had removed his wig and had changed into a set of sweats that Kara had retrieved from his bedroom. He held a wet wash cloth in his hand to ‘clean up,’ though most of his makeup had already washed away with the cascade of tears that still fell off his face. Kara put her hand on his arm.

“It’s okay…really.” The words seemed to have little effect as the young man continued to cry; the hurt or whatever it was went too deep for a mere assurance. She shook her head and then looked up with an expression that seemed to be a meld of ‘here goes’ and ‘dear god in heaven, help me.’ She pulled him slightly back against the couch and leaned close. Romance might have been in the air, but it was healing and wholeness Phillip needed at that moment. She kissed his cheek; the almost chalky residue of his makeup tasted odd, but not unfamiliar to one who had shed her own share of tears.

“Listen, okay?” She pulled back and framed his face with her hands; almost like a mother trying to get the attention of a hysterical child. He blinked and nodded; the tears continued but the sobbing ceased.

“I’m not upset for starters, so let’s just get that out of the way.” His eyes widened in disbelief; happily in a way, since the unexpected acceptance calmed him almost immediately. Kara took the washcloth from his hand and began to wipe his face slowly and carefully; another motherly gesture that arose from someplace deep inside her in her own pleasant surprise.

“Why don’t I put the kettle on again and you and I can have a nice talk over tea.” She didn’t wait for a response but grabbed the mug and walked into his kitchen and poured it out. A few minutes later the electric kettle clicked ‘done’ and she returned with two fresh cups; Earl Grey this time along with the sugar bowl and a half-pint of milk she had found in the fridge. He took the mug and placed it against his forehead.

“I know that hurt,” she said, gazing at his face. Crying can be physically painful.

“What would you like to do now? Would you like to talk? I see you’ve got a Celtic Woman CD cued up in your player. We can just listen to music.” Soon the strains of ‘O Danny Boy’ mixed softly with the clinking of teaspoon against porcelain. He stared at her almost in amazement. She looked back at him; her face had taken a quizzical appearance; asking without words what was going through his head.

“I…. you just said ‘we.’” Of course she had; they were sitting on his couch and she was merely exploring what might be helpful or at least not so bad to do after the cry-fest she had just witnessed.

“I….” He looked away. She took a quick sip of her tea before placing the mug on the coffee table. She reached over and gently tugged his chin; turning his face once again toward her.

“Go ahead…” She paused; the name ‘Phillip’ had been on her tongue, so to speak, but she continued in an entirely unexpected direction.

“Valeriya is a nice name…. Tell me a bit about yourself.” She smiled, remembering a similar conversation she had with her brother years ago. His gentleness had made it easy for her to speak her own name for the first time, and she hoped that gentleness translated well at the moment. She smiled as warmly as she knew how; a welcome expression on a day that would have felt cold even if it was a hot summer night. Phillip nodded and looked down; that mixture of collecting thoughts and not wanting to make a fatal confession. She patted his arm.

“Valeriya, please?”

“I…I’m sorry.”

“No need, honey.” She realized even as the word escaped her mouth that it was the first time she had blessed anyone with such a personal endearment. And a blessing it was; his …her face seemed to relax and she spoke.

“I…I’m not like most girls like me.” She shook her head and Kara realized at the use of the word ‘me’ that Valeriya didn’t know about her. Instead of pushing past the declaration, Kara just nodded like the good friend she hoped she would become, allowing Valeriya to tell her story.

“I don’t understand. Like you?”

“I’m ….I’ve wanted to be a ….sort of….” She put her hand to her face in embarrassment; talking about it was difficult enough in general; her own story was of course personal but from her point of view almost wrong.

“Sort of? You look like a girl. You…. Sound like a girl….sounded like a girl just now…. What else, honey?” There was that word again; inserting itself in the best place possible for them both.

“I’ve been seeing a therapist. She says I’m perfectly okay with how I see myself. But she’s supposed to say that, right?” Actually, while a good therapist will never say you’re wrong, neither will they necessarily agree with you unless they believe it will help or it’s apparent that what you say is truly part of who you are.

“What do you think is wrong?” The emphasis made the word less threatening and the accompanying smile gave acceptance. The girl looked away.

“What if I don’t want to…oh damn….” Her voice trailed off and she began to cry once again; silently but with enough red in her cheeks to once again indicate shame. Kara took another sip of tea and smiled; that warmth that enabled the girl to continue.

“You feel you have to be a certain way to be…as a girl?” Valeriya nodded.

“And how would you be if everything was okay….if nothing was wrong?” While she didn’t understand, Kara did remember every bit of what her own therapist had drawn from her when she was in transition. That in being oneself, there really quite wasn’t a right or a wrong despite what others might perceive one to be; only that permission we all seek from ourselves to proceed down each of our own paths in a way.

“I don’t want….” Kara followed Valeriya’s gaze downward to her lap. She smiled; an expression that evoked a sob. She once again placed her hand on the girl’s arm.

“No…it’s okay. I think I understand and it’s okay. It must be okay since it’s what you want…what you need?” The girl nodded but continued to cry.

“I think there’s something you need to know about me.” Valeriya’s head tilted in anticipation but countenance remained low and nervous.

“I’m not quite like you, but much more than you know.” She lowered her own gaze and stared at her lap.

“I started out with even my name being a bundle of confusion; my mother insisted on the Welsh but my dad was adamant about Scot-Irish, so instead of Ewan she named me Ian.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your mother and father….” Kara paused as the girl’s face seemed to sadden. She remembered something about a stepfather; something she’d ask about shortly. She continued.

“They named you Phillip….right?” The girl nodded, without any reluctance.

“But inside?” Kara patted her chest.

“In here, you always knew you were Valeriya, right?” Another nod with only a bit more animation.

“We just are walking different roads to the same destination, right? You and I…we both are doing what needs to be done to be who we are. Nothing wrong about the approach since it is just what each of us need. A very few of their sister-travelers might disagree; believing that each has to be a certain way to fit in; even in an ostensibly accommodating group of people such as theirs. Valeriya seemed confused. She looked down once again, which earned yet another soft touch under chin.

While Kara didn’t understand about girls like Valeriya, which in itself was almost an elitist view, she didn’t care at all but for the hurt the girl obviously felt. What she really didn’t understand is how anyone who struggled for acceptance the way they did would withhold it from someone else. Women…. Any permutation of expression thereof; it didn’t matter what any woman was to Kara; only whom she aspired to become and how Kara could be her friend in that journey.

“You went through a hurt in your childhood?” Don’t we all? Trauma and disappointment and grief are not restricted to those of us who are different.

“Your step-father?”

“Oh….no…” The girl’s face grew even redder though it had been a dark pink throughout their conversation; unnecessary shame will do that.

“I….Daddy is a great guy. I think….I know he and Mommy are why I’ve been able to move forward...he was so good to us when he came along." She paused remembering how sad she and her mother had been.

"When I told them I was so scared they’d push me away. Daddy did….physically just a bit when he hugged me. He said…’Oh yeah…. I can see that.’ It…. “ The tears came again, but these weren’t shameful at all. A mother AND a stepfather.... a father who believed in her as much as they ever had with their son. And now?

“That is so precious.” Kara could hardly hear the girl’s story without thinking of the sad neglect and abuse she received from her own father. She smiled and noticed her own face had gotten warm. She swallowed; perhaps the only time in her life she would ever feel truly jealous; the moment passed quickly as she put her hand on the girl’s knee.

“I can see that.” She echoed the words of the girl’s family. It dawned on her why she was drawn to Phillip, now Valeriya, in the first place. That universal idea that we all are one in a way; the boy still remaining deeply nestled safely within Kara. The girl struggling to emerge in Valeriya.

And every other bit of them; that idea of being created both male and female as it says somewhere. Her attraction to Phillip hadn’t changed so much as become defined as she viewed the girl she had loved from only as far off as her front door landing. She found her face growing hotter and she imagined her complexion probably mirrored the girl who sat next to her on the couch.

“I’m….” She paused; now it was time for her to be embarrassed, but only in a small way and for perfectly understandable reasons. She found herself staring at Valeria’s eyes. She had known Phillip for weeks now and had seen him on a fairly regular basis; if only to say hello on their shared entryway. But in looking at the girl, she noticed for the first time that her left eye was nearly a sea green while her right eye was much bluer; an oddity that was more than attractive to her. She placed her hand on Valeriya’s cheek; Kara’s smile seemed to evoke a smile right back and she noticed the girl had a small scar at the left edge of her mouth that became more pronounced with her half-grin.

“I…May I…” Now it was time for Kara to look down, almost ashamed. She wanted to be supportive; no more and no less, but that attraction she felt all along was now suddenly becoming almost magnetic. Valeriya tilted her head once again in question. The soft hand yet again pulled the girl’s face upward and she saw that Kara had begun to cry.

“Wh...why are you so sad?” She stammered. Kara looked down slightly and shook her head.

“I….you….” Was all she could get out before Valeriya leaned closer and kissed her; tentative and almost reluctant at first, she lifted her hand to touch Kara’s neck as she pulled the girl into an embrace as she kissed Kara’s cheek. The lips touched softly as she began to cry on Kara’s shoulder. Kara turned her head slightly and spoke softly.

“No….shhhh….no….it’s alright….it’s ….” She would have continued but a loud jarring bang outside the door broke their embrace. It was next door at her apartment. She rose quickly and ran to the door and stepped out on the landing. Her own front door was ajar and she could hear loud cursing inside…. Tony. Without thinking she stepped through the doorway. Tony was standing in the middle of the living room. He appeared to be drunk and he was looking around in desperation.

“There you are,’ he spat, as if it was up to her to be available in her own apartment. He strode quickly and pulled her in for a rude kiss. She went to pull away but he held fast, gripping her hands and pushing her arms to her sides; pinning them much like how he had done many times before. She struggled and he kissed her again. She tried to speak but he took on hand and clamped it tightly over her mouth. Her continued struggles earned a rough push downward.

“Tony, please.” She managed to speak two words before he slapped her hard. He raised his hand once again, evoking the same two words as she wept.

“Tony, please?” He shook his head, as if wanting to be left alone and not hurt was unreasonable. He pulled his head back, ready to strike again but heard those two words once again, but this time from the doorway.

“Tony? Please?”

Valeriya stood in the doorway, shaking like the proverbial leaf, but with a countenance up until that moment seen by no one. The girl who only moments before had been timid and ashamed seemed strong. Her look seemed to be completely incongruous for the moment. Soft features and a soft figure underneath grey sweats with dark stockings peeking out from the pants legs. But the look on her face was anything but soft.

What was that old saying? Indiscretion is the greater part of stupidity? Tony turned and started walking toward Valeriya and stopped abruptly as her left foot struck his knee just below the joint, sending him to the floor. He went to stand up and another kick to his head stunned him. He rose once more just in time to see a combination of flashing lights; some from the patrol car outside and some from the twinkling of concussive stars as he fell back onto the floor unconscious.

The squad car pulled away, its lights illuminating the living room from the front window silently; no siren since the police were in no hurry now that the emergency had passed. Two women stood in the middle of the room. Kara held a plastic ice block against her face and stared out the window before turning to Valeriya. The girl was shaking again and the tears had returned. One might have assumed it was the moment of release now that everything had passed. Some might believe the regimen of whatever was helping her along on her journey might have been the cause.

Neither was true, since she was and had always been a person to cry easily for whatever reason. And since her journey was to be a bit circuitous and with different ‘stops’ along her way, she took nothing but vitamins and supplements. Nothing external for the most part, but she still wept uncontrollably.

“I….” She stammered. She looked down at her feet and her shoulders almost convulsed. Kara squinted in confusion until she recalled feelings from her own not-too-distant past. Incongruity. Walking over to the window, she pulled down the blinds, blocking the outside from unwanted intrusion. She walked to the door and locked both the doorknob and the deadbolt above, further insuring what little safety the apartment provided.

“Come here, okay?”

She held out her hand and escorted the girl to the couch. Before the girl could sit, Kara put her hand out in request for her to stay still. As the girl looked at her in confusion, Kara knelt down and proceeded to remove the sweat pants, revealing completely the dark hose beneath. She gently helped Valeriya sit down before pulling off her sweat shirt, revealing a simple ecru bra; only a bit of lace with wide straps. Valeriya shook her head but Kara smiled and nodded.

“You need to be all you, honey. There’s no need to ever hide again.” She leaned closer and went to kiss the girl; Valeriya pulled away as if the moments they shared only a short while before had never taken place, and not from want or need, but from renewed shame. Kara touched her cheek softly, duplicating in one second the tender acceptance they had shared but for one more gesture as she whispered, remembering a phrase Nams had taught her,

“There…Vừa phải…Just right!”

“Ohhh.” Valeriya sighed as Kara placed her hand beneath the soft padded fabric of her bra, touching a small but sensitive nipple. Kara kissed her neck and ear, further evoking sighs mixed with gentle sobs of relief.

“Now…where were we?” Kara said as she pulled back just far enough from the girl’s face to drink in once again those odd but beautiful eyes.

“Oh yes…. I remember.” She spoke finally before pulling the girl into the first of thousands of loving kisses.

In days of old, knights in shining armor would rescue damsels in distress; saved from cruel imprisonment or evil foes or dragons. In that moment two damsels began the long journey of rescue from the past as each saved the other from the imprisonment of the expectations of others and from the evil foes of shame and fear and the dragons of past hurts. Two damsels no longer weak or incapable or insecure, they would become each others saviors; distaff knights whose only armor was the faith and love they shared for one another. No longer merely good enough, the love they would share was finally more than enough. It indeed was just right!

Under your spell again.
I can't say no to you.
Crave my heart and it's bleeding in your hand.
I can't say no to you.

Good enough,
I feel good enough for you.

Good Enough
Words and music by
Amy Lee
As performed by
Evanescence
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=19V-GhZlDGU