Fiction Series

She Moves in Mysterious Ways

It was a summer evening; the twilight had just yielded to the dark. The city was lit with the cornucopia of brightly colored lights befitting a Friday night.

In her two-inch heels, Cassandra towered over Lynn as they both clapped down the sidewalk. Cassandra, with her balance good but not great, paid extra attention to cracks and undulations in the sidewalk.

“We’re going to do this?” Lynn asked, in a rhetorical tone.

“Tonight, we’re going to be fire” came the reply.

Cassandra’s A-line dress was covered in red sequins with an ornate bodice; her first and only formal dress had only one function, and that was to POP. Cassandra loved A-lines for how they accentuated her recently acquired curves, assets in every meaning of the word. The sequins were selected specifically for this bar — she knew how the light from behind the bar would make her dress sparkle. She wore gold hoop earrings, a snug and thin gold bracelet and a pendant consisting of two pieces of whittled wood, in the shape of a “Y” centered with a pink tourmaline gemstone. Lynn pleaded for her to forego the pendant in favor of something more befitting of the outfit, but that was a no-go for Cassandra, who vowed to always wear the pendant close to her heart.

The walk was a short three blocks. The Cardinal was one of those trendy places in the Third Ward, the kind of place that was both a haven for the young urban professional and a respite for men and women yearning to relive their muted youth. It was a popular place, with a crowd having formed outside.

Cassandra ignored the gaze of the men lined up at the corner of the building diligently dragging on their cigs and proceeded to the doorman. Lynn breathed something cheeky to a man dressed in black smiling with pearly whites as they made their way to the front of the line. Cassandra glanced among the accumulating crowd of men waiting outside; she recognized no one, but that didn’t stop her from making eye contact with a tall leather-jacketed man in his twenties, winking at him as she progressed to the door.

No words were exchanged as the doorman glanced and waved Lynn inside. He stopped Cassandra, and looked her up and down, briefly pausing before motioning that she could enter as well. No place hoping to remain relevant would object to the sight of either of them; Casandra’s large build was more than compensated by her appearance and her objectively hot companion.

The entrance to the place was unassuming, a simple door and hallway into the dimly lit and well-mirrored gathering place inside. The night was early, and the place remotely smelled of disinfectant, with workers likely having spent the daylight hours cleaning the beer, food and whatever else that habitually fell to the floor. It was rare for such places to diligently erase their sins, a mark of a place worthy of the virgin appearance of Cassandra.

Cassandra. To her friends she often went by “Cass” or (albeit grudgingly) “Cassie”, but tonight both Cass and Cassie were put to bed, yielding to the take-no-prisoners attitude that is uniquely Cassandra. They occupied the same body, a concept not new to the woman who had lived in the body of a man for way too long.

In most life situations Cassie was passable. Muted in appearance, sporting wholesome locks and mired in pastels and floral prints, she intentionally blended into the brambles. Having spent three decades as Shawn, she spent three years in a chrysalis: hormones, hair removal, voice training, makeup and other necessities. Opaque to all except the most privileged confidant, Cassie was also meticulously creating her pièce de résistance, Cassandra. Tonight, Cassandra would emerge into the world a vibrant butterfly — and a social one at that.

The only thing that clocked her anymore was her size — she wished she was 25% smaller in every possible way. Her voice was passable but sometimes problematic, a problem of little concern in tonight’s noisy arena.

They made their way to the bar.

“Get you a drink?” Came a deep smooth voice from behind the bar.

“Cosmopolitan — two” Lynn replied with a smile.

Cassandra turned away from the bar, scanning the room that was starting to fill up with patrons. Patrons were there, beyond any other pretense, to hook up. To Cassandra the purpose in attracting the male gaze was not to be “hit on”, propositioned, or otherwise enticed, but to be validated that she could, for once in her life, be in control of this game. Having lived in a man’s world and be belittled by these testosterone-laden men, this was sweet justice; her rampant rejection of such men would constitute her objection into the void of modern masculinity. And she came armed with the confidence and knowledge unlike any cis woman — she not only knew the playbook, she lived the playbook.

Lynn sighed in a dismissive tone.

“Tell me again why I agreed to do this?”

“You’re my best friend, and I won the bet.” was Cassandra’s reply, scanning the room, eyeing her prey.

“But you were one of those guys. I’m sure you hated girls that played these games”

Cassandra sipped her drink. “Shawn was never one of those guys. He tried but failed. Humiliated, unable to stand that testosterone-laden cesspool”

Lynn looked back at her with concern. “Yeah. We gotta get that chip off your shoulder.”

“If I find a dude named Chip, he ain’t going to be on my shoulder long.”

Lynn was the best of the besties. She was the perfect blend of sweetness that turned complete bitch when any of her friends were in harms way. An open heart that actively helped a desperate ex-boyfriend become someone completely different. And she complemented that spirit with a killer body and an immutable flair. Her silver straight-line single-shoulder dress did not pop like Cassandra but was definitely noticed by the opponents.

And opponents there were, with Cassandra noticing the first one slowly approaching from her right.

“Hi sweetness”, came a breathy moderately deep tone in the direction of Lynn.

Cassandra gave a slight chuckle as she traded glances with Lynn. Not bad for a first catch, she thought. Short and thin, blonde, clean shaven and probably 25, although that boyish face would get him carted for cigs anywhere.

“Hiya” came the reply from Lynn, with a cheeky smile and a level but warm attitude. “You interested in buying me and my friend a drink?”

“Of course.” the young man said, motioning to the bartender. Lynn gracefully used her right hand to move her long black hair away from the side of her face and curled behind her ear. That was the same signature move that enamored Shawn a decade prior.

“My name’s Dempsey, and I’m just visiting this wonderful town” he retorted.

Yeah, amateur move Dempsey (or whatever your name is). So convenient to be a ‘visitor’. Cassandra thought, annoyed but not surprised. At least she would cop a vodka gimlet by just being a sidekick. She smiled politely, remaining interested (but silent) in conversation.

Dempsey looked Lynn in her eyes, which were a similar level as his. He continued with complimenting her earrings, the décor of the Cardinal, and the hospitality of the city. His blue eyes were so intense they should have been a controlled weapon. After a minute he looked at the back of the room and raised his index finger.

While it is certainly within the realm of reason for someone to be attracted more to Lynn, even when paired with her as a red glitter bomb, something panged at Cassandra’s heart on a couple of levels. She tapped Lynn on her shoulder to grab her attention.

Another man approached. Tall, about the same 6-foot height that Cassandra was in heels, relatively young with dark curled hair and stocky but angular features.

“This is my friend Weston”, Dempsey said. “One of my best friends and a hell of a host.” he motioned to Cassandra and Lynn. “Weston, this is Lynn and…”

“Cassandra”. She replied.

“Cassandra. What a wonderful name; it is a pleasure to meet you” Weston replied and offered his right hand. He too made direct, and somewhat uncomfortably long, eye contact.

Cassandra was ready for this, or so she thought. But one can never know how much confidence and composure one has until the battle has started. Her pulse started to race as she could feel the starting pangs of sweat along her sequined torso.

“Thank you. You are so kind” came her reply, with a cheery toothy smile.

The next ten minutes was filled with routine small talk. Weston was older than Cassandra gave him credit for, which led to not unpleasant conversation. Musical interests led to local summer concert talk. Some sports and some video games. Talk of his engineering adventures blended with her (intentionally brief) finance stories.

The ‘gaze’ remained in Weston’s eyes, which were hazel like hers — a point he remarked upon twice. She was so intent on the conversation with Weston that she forgot about Lynn. Thankfully she was reminded of her presence by a tug on her back.

“Excuse us” Lynn said to both men. “We’re going to use the ladies’ room”. Cassandra put the drink down, picked up her purse and followed Lynn into the restroom.

“Cass, he is sooo cute!” Lynn exclaimed. She took a couple breaths and looked at her. “um, I don’t know how to tell you this, but… I’m not going to shoot him down.” Her face was bubbling with joy that Cassandra hasn’t seen in — well — a long time.

“Lynn… we agreed…?”

“I know, I know sweetheart. But it’s been such a long time since I felt like this — like back to when you and I were first dating.” It wasn’t until after the end of the sentence that she realized what she said. “Oh, I’m so sorry Sha — Cassandra!” Tears poured out of Cassandra’s eyes as she retreated into a stall and closed the door.

After a long while Cassandra emerged from the stall and positioned herself in front of the mirror, trying to re-establish makeup so she could respectfully walk out of the establishment. She didn’t know what happened to Lynn, and quite frankly didn’t care.

She re-emerged into the bar. She did not see Lynn or Dempsey but did see Weston talking to two girls in the corner. Weston made eye contact and motioned that the two were in the adjoining room that had the dance floor.

Cassandra was in no mood for dancing, or for pursuing this any further. Her enjoyment of the night — which was supposed to be an outright rejection of men in the name of all things good — was not going to happen.

She was crestfallen. The very end of the bar, the end adjoining the wall, was open, and Cassandra decided to make it her home. A drink from the burly bartender produced two shots of whiskey — a fallback from her days as Shawn — to which Cassandra abandoned illusion of ladyhood and drank to her sorrow.

A man approached from behind. Medium height and stocky. Probably a bit older than Weston and moves with an apparent swagger. Loud disposition.

“Hi beautiful, I’m Aaron” his voice, deep and loud, with the same swagger as a used car salesman. He wore a black leather jacket and was, without question, drunk.

“Not a chance buddy” Cassandra replied in a lower deadpan voice indicative of sheer exhaustion, waving her arm in a dismissive action toward the man, refocusing her attention to the whiskey that remained on the bar in front of her.

The man formed a stern look on his face, the kind of look that conveys both adrenaline and disgust, for a couple seconds and then retreated. Cassandra felt a minor ping of success — she succeeded to reject at least one man tonight, even if the man was probably the most pathetic of the bunch, hitting on an upset woman huddled over the bar with two drinks in front of her.

The room had started to clear out, as more people were headed to the dance floor. The scatter of people eased her claustrophobia, but the added room made her feel extra vulnerable, not to mention a bit cold. She would make her exit as soon as she felt calm enough to walk across the room, out the door and find an Uber without dissolving into a pool of tears.

A man approached and sat on the stool next to her and ordered a beer. He was short and slender, wearing a brown patterned shirt with the top button buttoned. Hair short and moussed to one side. Somewhat older than the rest of the guys assembled. He stared forward toward the bar with his beer.

After a couple minutes of silence, the man talked.

“Hi, my name is Zak”, the voice moderate pitch with a compassionate tone.

“Hi Zak, I’m Cassie”, She replied in a despondent tone, garnering a smile and turning her head to Zak.

“Say I just wanted you to know that I saw your pendant” he responded. Acting uncomfortably, he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, pulling out a necklace, holding it closer for her to examine.

Cassie’s eyes popped open, and she gasped as she saw that Zak had a pendant that was nearly identical to hers, save for a green center stone.

“Bb…bbb…but how?” Cassie was visibly cracked, shaking almost immediately as she clutched her pendant.

Without speaking another word, they hugged, with Cassandra full out crying on Zak’s shoulder. Although she was consumed with her emotions, she felt Zak’s tears fall on her exposed shoulder.

This story is continued here:

— nova grace ❤️