I’m wanting to write, in honour of Wolff, By the time you read this, I will have left the ship… Do you remember that Tintin book, Explorers on the Moon? Wolff, who allowed Jorgen aboard and almost got them all killed, who left the ship in mid-space to save everyone else’s lives. No, it’s not what you think. I’m not topping myself. Blimey.
Sorry, this is coming out really disjointed. I have stuff I want to tell you, because you’re my best friend and I love you. And because I may never see you again, and this is breaking my heart into small sharp pieces.
Where to start? There was something you didn’t know about me. Now there are two.
You knew the one big thing, you were the first person I told I needed to transition. You’ve no idea how grateful I am for you – for you being the kind of person I knew I could tell that to, and for you being the kind of person who smiled and hugged me when I told you – you said, remember, “Who you are, and who you’ll be, I love you both.” You made me brave enough to tell the others, to tell my family, to go out and begin the beguine.
And now here I am, halfway through my journey back home to Womanhood, a country I was kidnapped from at birth. So happy to be going back, but also wondering what it’s like there. But you know all this, this isn’t what I’m writing to you about.
So. The one thing you didn’t know. And the two things you don’t. Fuck. I may have to toss a coin to decide which to tell you first. If this was music, I could run both tunes together. Blah blah. All right. The thing you didn’t know. I love you. Not just as a friend (not that “as a friend” is ever “just”). Ever since the day we met I’ve loved you, it’s like a great deep bronze chord playing in my chest, I resonate for you. Agh, behold the cheesiness. But this is a Now It Can Be Told moment, so I need to tell you. You’re magnificent. Watching you smile is like watching the moon rise. Gold, silver. Precious. You’re so precious to me. I wish I’d told you before.
You know I’m not transitioning for you, you know I’m doing it for me. But I dreamed, one day, I could be your wife. And you could be my wife.
But then this other thing. I’m almost afraid that you won’t believe this, but I know you, and you know me, and this happened. This thing you don’t know about me is this. I met someone. I met them and we got on like crazy, there was chemistry – and that kind of led to biology. And when I met them… well, I keep saying “them” because I didn’t know what gender they were until we ended up in bed together. Beautiful. Handsome. All of that. A trans man? Well, he goes by “he” so now I’ll say “he”, but he told me, as we lay together, he’s FTA, not FTM. Beautiful, complex, complicated passion together. And then he bit me.
So here’s the thing you didn’t know that isn’t me loving you like a supernova. I’m a transgender vampire. He should have asked first. Because now I’m never, ever going to finish my journey. Which is why I’m writing to you to say goodbye. I’m never going to be who I am, and I’m never going to stop being just on-the-journey. I can’t bear it. I know you (or who knows? Maybe there are things you haven’t told me too.) I know that you’d accept me, but I can’t. I don’t want to be with you forever – even if you wanted that – if there’s no journey. Live well and remember me. Try to remember me as less melodramatic than this, if you can. Exceptional circumstances, really.
Groove on, Sister Moon. xxxXXXxxx
Um, Happy New Year.
I haven’t done this before now on this blog-thing, exposing my fiction-self – but I just found myself writing this, and wanted to share it with you, whoever you are. I’m probably going to “flesh it out”, as they say, but this is the core of it. There are times (and this has been one) where being in mid-gender-transition feels like an eternal limbo I’ll never escape from. And I found myself wondering how it would be, since there are already the vampire story clichés out there of someone being stuck as a kid or a teenager vampire forever – how would it be to find yourself stuck forever in mid-transition? And the love stuff? Well, yes. Not saying more about that.
Some things to explain: Watching you smile is like watching the moon rise – I wrote that because it describes how I feel when a certain person I know smiles, because it felt more true than comparing their smile to the sun – you can look at it directly, it doesn’t blind, it’s gentle. And because I love the moon, I’ve always loved her. But after I wrote this, it struck me how a vampire might choose to compare their belovèd to the moon because the sun is not a friend any more.
And Sister Moon is the name of a song I love by the band Transvision Vamp – which was an inescapable choice, let’s face it, given the theme of this story. Here’s that song, for all of us who are on our way to somewhere but not there yet, afraid never to arrive. (Or to someone.)
[PS I saw the moon in a dustbin lid once, as you can see. It was full (the moon, not the dustbin).]