As You Are: Chapter 9

TW for a brief transphobic slur mentioned in the context of a dating app.
Also, Hell's Kitchen is real, Moon's Embrace is fictional.

_

December 2015
New York City

"Darling, you look faaaaaaaaaaaaabulous."

"So do you! So handsome!"

I grinned and held out my arms; Michelle and I hugged and spun around and kissed each other on the cheeks.

After my top surgery - which was expedited due to the severity of my dysphoria - I decided to move to the States to start my new life, and visit family in the UK once or twice a year. It was easier for me to try to pass the bar somewhere in America and resume practising law - even though American law had some important differences from the British legal system, it was something I could adapt to more easily than trying to find work again after what happened at Lincoln's Inn and the threat hanging over me like the sword of Damocles that Steve would somehow retaliate for my transition, because it made him "look gay"; if I stayed in the UK I probably would have to go back to school and find an entirely new career and even then, live with the possibility of Steve finding a way to make problems for me wherever I went, since he had friends.

I tried to not see it as defeat, but a change of scenery. And here in New York I was living my best life, working for the American Civil Liberties Union as a civil rights lawyer specialising in LGBT cases. I rented a small studio apartment in Hell's Kitchen, which was a far cry from the nice old house Steve and I shared in Kingston-upon-Thames, or my uncle's cottage in Blackheath, but it was still a taste of freedom and I managed to fix the place up to my liking with some framed posters of fine art - Monet, Pissarro - and a collection of bonsai trees and houseplants in artisan-crafted ceramic pots, a couple little electric waterfalls, lava lamps and fiberoptic lamps and strings of fairy lights, and my bedding, curtains, couch pillows and throws and dinnerware were all in forest colours; Michelle had remarked my place had "Rivendell vibes", which was the sort of aesthetic I was going for and took as a compliment. I had a couple shelves of used books and DVD movies, had started rebuilding my vinyl collection and had surround sound for my record player as well as my large flat-screen TV, and I'd bought an electric keyboard and had taken up piano again, something I'd fallen out of practise with when I was married. My one complaint about my living situation [besides the astronomical cost of living in New York City] was that my lease wouldn't let me own a cat - I loved cats, I badly wanted one - but at least I could entertain a guest sometimes, as I was doing now.

Michelle and I met in summer 2014 while birdwatching in Central Park, chatting each other up, and had coffee together. Michelle Horowitz was a half-Black, half-Jewish trans woman, and we quickly bonded over being trans, but we also had interests and hobbies in common, including an appreciation of the arts; she worked for the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We started hanging out together on a regular basis, confiding in each other, and she became my best friend - the first real close friend I'd had apart from my cousin Judith.

Sometimes I thought it was really too bad that I wasn't more attracted to women - I had heard anecdotes of trans men going on T and becoming bisexual if they weren't already, and wondered if that would happen to me, being T made me horny all the time - but even though Michelle had a cock, and I like cock, she was all woman, and women still didn't do it for me. Michelle was beautiful, to be sure - she was five-ten, buxom and statuesque, with natural hair, a sweet face and warm expressive brown eyes, and tonight she looked stunning in an elegant black cocktail dress with gold hoop earrings and long simple gold necklaces - but I appreciated her aesthetically in the same way gay male fashion designers appreciated their female muses. And even if I had been interested, she liked women - she identified as a transbian, a word I thought was clever and wished there existed an equivalent for queer trans men.

It was New Year's Eve - tomorrow would be the first day of 2016 - and we were both single and decided we would have a night on the town together, enjoying each other's company. Living it up, because we had both been through hell and we deserved to celebrate our lives. So tonight we were on a platonic date, going to an exclusive gala at the Knickerbocker Hotel - first a black tie dinner at Charlie Palmer with lobster thermidor and beef Wellington on the menu, then a reception at St. Cloud, the rooftop bar, for dancing and watching the ball drop in Times Square.

We still had some time to kill before we had to leave. I made tea to calm my nerves. I was less antsy about the event than I used to be about big gatherings before I transitioned - transitioning gave me confidence in myself - but I was enough of an introvert that I still didn't do crowds often; even though the event at the Knickerbocker was limited to "only 400 people", I knew it would probably be close to capacity and that gave me a little anxiety. Not enough to make me back out last-minute, I was as excited as I was anxious, but I still needed to self-soothe a little.

As my electric kettle boiled the water, I looked at myself in the mirror for what must have been the twentieth time that evening. I was wearing a tuxedo, and I straightened my bow tie even though it didn't really need it, more of a preening gesture. It was still surreal to see a man looking at me in the mirror, even though I'd been living as male for close to three years. I could actually look at myself in the mirror without wanting to scream or cry. I smiled at myself, proud of having made it this far.

I wished I could take a snapshot of this entire moment and send it back to myself in 2012.

Michelle walked over and put a hand on my arm, as if she knew without me saying anything. "You look very dapper," she said.

"Thank you. And you, my dear, are beautiful." I gave her a squeeze.

I felt like celebrating a little before the celebration started. Once the kettle was ready and I poured our tea, it would need a couple minutes to cool down enough to be safe to drink, and I thought I would provide a little entertainment. I sat down at my electric piano and began to play a song from my 1980s childhood, called "Steppin' Out" by Joe Jackson; T gave me a baritone register - I sounded a bit like Rick Astley when I sang.

We
So tired of all the darkness in our lives
With no more angry words to say can come alive
Get into a car and drive
To the other side

Me babe, steppin' out
Into the night
Into the light

I lived across the street from a New Age bookstore called Moon's Embrace. Once every one to two months I bought some incense and scented candles at the store. I didn't do more than that - though I was agnostic, I liked the pretty rocks and some of the self-help and meditation books looked intriguing... but I had brought Michelle in there with me once and it didn't go well.

Michelle's Jewish father was an atheist and she had been raised secular, but these days she identified as a "Jewitch", blending elements of Judaism with elements of witchcraft - she bought hoodoo supplies at the botanica down the street next to the bodega where I did most of my grocery shopping. Instead of finding Moon's Embrace interesting, Michelle pointed out the various items in there that were cultural appropriation, like the dreamcatchers and sage smudging kits and books on "shamanism" and "shamanic" ritual items. It was really eye-opening, and I would have stopped buying from there altogether but I didn't have another source for the incense and candles I liked, and Michelle agreed to not give me grief about shopping there if I was only buying those particular items and only every once in awhile.

Since it was New Year's Eve, I expected most businesses to be closed, or at least closing early, and to my surprise, even though it was nighttime, Moon's Embrace was still open, with its lights on. It made me double-take, and I noticed a sign in the window. For New Year's Eve, the shop was offering free Tarot readings as a forecast for 2016. While I didn't believe in anything, I did stuff like read my horoscope for fun, and against my better judgment, my curiosity piqued.

Michelle saw me pause. She put a hand on her hip.

I glanced over at her. "Will you be mad if I go in there and get a free reading for shits and giggles? We've got time." I peeked through the store window. "And it doesn't look crowded." The store looked almost empty, save for a couple hippies and goths browsing.

"I bet it's not actually free." Michelle sighed. "You know this is bullshit, right?" While Michelle owned a few Tarot decks, Michelle had complicated feelings about it, mainly that most people offering the service professionally were frauds.

"Yeah, but we can make fun of them later."

Michelle laughed. She rolled her eyes and she said, "All right. So long as you're not giving these fake wannabe Playgans money -"

I put an arm around her and we walked into the store.

Michelle was right that the reading, which was for four cards only, wasn't entirely free - it was only free with a purchase of $35 or more. I decided to buy some of the handmade candles and incense I liked, which would necessitate running back to my apartment so we didn't have an unwieldy shopping bag at the event - Michelle had a purse, but it was small. Once I had my receipt with proof of purchase, we went to the back room that was used for various classes and rituals. Tonight one of the shop owners, a woman in her fifties or sixties with long grey hair, oversized glasses and a gaunt frame who usually wore baggy tie-dye shirts, gauzy broomstick skirts and lots of crystal necklaces, was seated at a table with a tip jar. Pay what you want, the tip jar read, which again made Michelle roll her eyes and mutter to me, "Told you it wasn't free."

Michelle didn't want a reading herself. I put a five-dollar bill in the jar, which I felt kind of stingy about, but I was myself annoyed at the reading being advertised "free" and it was only free with purchase and the "pay what you want" on the jar came off as guilt-tripping. I thought for a minute about just leaving without the reading but I had come this far and it felt like abandoning a mission.

The woman - Gloria, her name was - began to shuffle the deck. "Date of birth?"

"February fourth, 1980," I said.

She handed the deck to me to cut the deck. "Ahhh, an Aquarius. Such a good sign." Gloria turned to Michelle. "Out of curiosity, what's your sign?"

"Gemini," Michelle said.

I reflexively wanted to tell Gloria we're not together - I could tell she was assuming we were a couple, and testing "sign compatibility", meanwhile I was gay and Michelle was a lesbian - but I decided not to say anything about it and let Gloria do a cold reading and see if she made any relationship predictions for "us" which would confirm this was a load of shit, something else to laugh at.

After more shuffling, Gloria put down four cards. "Past," she said, laying one card face down. "Present," she said with the next one. "2016." Then finally, "How the events of 2016 will impact 2017 and long-term."

I braced myself, heart beating just a little faster even though I knew this was bullshit and I was only doing it for fun and games.

Gloria turned the first card face up. I saw the Three of Swords.

"This is your past," Gloria said, making a vague hand gesture. "It suggests that you've experienced trauma, very difficult times - especially that you've been hurt, betrayed in some way."

I thought of Steve and squirmed in my seat, but said nothing.

She turned the second card face up. It was the Nine of Cups.

"This is a card of hope, of fulfilling dreams, goals, wishes. Right now at this stage in your life you are very happy." She traced the rainbow arching over the cups. "You are basking in the colours of the rainbow after the long storm. Very positive card."

Once again, that seemed spot on, even as I kept cautioning myself, This is rubbish, none of this is real. But I was happier than I'd dreamt possible, these days. I was living as male, I was seen and treated as male by your average observer. My one major ongoing complaint in life right now was that I was single - I'd experienced frustration on dating apps as a trans man, seeing the endless barrage of "no fats, no fems, no trannies," or the ones who didn't have that on their profile still ghosted early into a conversation if I disclosed being FTM. And I'd been rejected in-person at a gay bar enough times to not feel comfortable going there anymore. But even though I was single and didn't want to be, I still had a happy, fulfilling life for the most part. I liked my job, I had friends, and I carried myself with pride and confidence.

Gloria turned the third card face up. It was The Tower, going up in flames, with people jumping out the windows into the fire below. Gloria's brow furrowed and she took a deep breath.

"2016 is going to be a difficult year for you," she said.

Now I lost my poker face. This is rubbish, I told myself but I still felt the pit of my stomach rise anyway.

"Something big, something catastrophic, is going to happen that will make this -" She picked up the Three of Swords. "Look like a walk in the park." She shook her head. "I'm really sorry. I would love to be able to tell you it's smooth sailing from here on out, but life often throws big curveballs at us." Gloria cocked her head to one side. "For twenty dollars I could lay down more cards on this one, to try to determine what area of your life this event will happen -"

I put up a hand, feeling a flare of annoyance; that seemed predatory and I was yea close to getting up and walking out. "That won't be necessary," I said sharply. "Please, go on with the final card." Now I just wanted to get the fuck out of here; the cynical part of me wondered if she had subtly marked the card in some way and did this to everybody.

But I kept that thought to myself and let her turn up the last card, annoyed with myself just as much as I was with her, if not more, for the oh shit oh shit feeling, my heart beating faster. Rubbish, I reminded myself. Bullshit.

The final card was the Sun. "While 2016 looks like it might be a hard year, it looks as if whatever happens will clear the way for you to find yet more joy and happiness in life - dare I say it, perhaps even happier than you are now." She tapped the flames at the bottom of The Tower. "You will go through the fire..." She tapped the rays of The Sun. "And will be reborn in light. Like a phoenix, rising from the flames." Gloria leaned back and smiled. "It's going to be all right, eventually, even if it doesn't seem like that at first. 2016 will be bad, but the choices you have to make, the things you have to do to adapt and survive those circumstances, will in the long run be exactly what your soul needs to evolve, to heal, to grow." She folded her hands on the table. "And for an additional twenty dollars, I can lay some cards down there and tell you the areas of your life where the positive energy of The Sun will manifest -"

I got up and walked out, not saying anything, not looking back. I was completely disgusted. I felt like this Gloria person was a scam artist and once again I wondered if she did this to everyone, making dire predictions and then happy predictions - life itself was cyclical, there would always be challenges to overcome, then better times; where I was at now compared to where I was at in 2012 was living proof of that.

Michelle followed and caught up to walk beside me. "Told you," she said under her breath in a singsong voice.

I was so irritated that just as we got to the door, I threw my bag of incense and candles in the rubbish bin next to the door. I liked the scents, and I was annoyed that I had just thrown thirty-five dollars of goods in the rubbish, but I was never buying from this place again. I would have to content myself with new scents from a more reputable seller. One who wasn't in the habit of trying to scam people.

Michelle and I arrived at the Knickerbocker on time and the rest of the evening was a lovely distraction - the food was delicious, and I enjoyed dancing with her on the rooftop to jazz music both before and after the ball dropped. Watching the ball drop and the fireworks was like a balm after the predictions of doom at the reading, a reminder of all the hope and promise and life of the coming year.

Michelle and I hugged each other after the ball dropped, then Michelle pulled me close, patted my back, and said softly, "For what it's worth, the few times I got readings before I figured out how many of those so-called psychics are scammers, things always went the opposite of how they predicted. So 2016 will probably be your best year yet."

I grinned, kissed her cheek and gave her a squeeze. "Thanks, I needed that."

It turned out she was wrong, and Gloria was right, whether Gloria truly saw the future or not - 2016 was my annus horribilis.

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