Healing through story

Tag: LGBTQ

shortfiction24 – Ashley plans for her transition

Searching for a college is a daunting task for Ashley. A poor GPA and an upcoming gender transition narrow her choices dramatically.

College night at her high school is a bleak experience until she meets an unlikely possibility.

Ashley Plans For Her Transition

Bob Gillen

Megan pulled her Prius into a spot in the school’s lot.

“College night, Ashley. Seniors rule.” She killed the engine.

“Let’s wait a minute.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“I’m nervous.”

“No worries, Ashley.”

“Easy for you to say. You got your pick of almost any college in the US, with your GPA. Me, I could double my GPA and not come close.”

“Remember what our counselor said. There’s a school for everyone.”

Ashley shrugged. “I have to limit my search to schools in fifteen states, the fifteen that are LGBTQ-accommodating.”

Megan punched Ashley on the arm, slid out of the car. “Come on. Let’s find our schools.”

Inside Ashley followed Megan to the Duke table. Out of her league. Ashley left Megan there and walked the aisles. She found herself getting discouraged quickly. A number of the smaller colleges were in states Ashley would avoid.

Ashley wandered to the rear of the room. Her classmates crowded the UC system table. At the end of the row, Ashley spied a table with a banner that read: Vancouver. Discover Canada. The rep behind the table was reading what looked like a well-worn paperback copy of Kerouac’s On the Road. She looked up as Ashley approached the table.

“Hi. Can I help you?”

The rep had black curly hair to her shoulders. She wore a simple black dress, a necklace with a turtle hanging down.

“If you take students with a 2.6 GPA.” Ashley managed a weak smile.

The rep wobbled her head for a moment. “That might be doable. Talk to me. What are you interested in?”

“Wildlife conservation.”

The rep nodded. “My name is Jennifer. You are?”

“Ashley. Hi. Glad to meet you.”

“I represent three different colleges in Vancouver.”

“I didn’t know we had Canadian options.”

“We welcome international students…and yes, America is considered international for us.”

Ashley fingered her list. 

“I see you prepared for tonight. Mind if I see your list?”

Ashley handed Jennifer the list. 

Jennifer glanced at the items on the list. She nodded.

“I know this list. States favorable to LGBTQ, right?”

Ashley felt her face redden. She nodded.

“You can add Vancouver to your list.”

“Oh.”

Jennifer glanced around. “You know what, I think it’s snack time. Will you watch my table for a moment while I get coffee?”

“Sure”

“What can I get you?”

“Coffee…black. Maybe a brownie bite?”

“Done. Be right back.”

Ashley looked around the room. There was a soundtrack of dozens of voices, all animated, excited. A big moment for many of the seniors. Searching for their leap into the future.

Jennifer returned, juggling two drinks and a plate of snacks. She grabbed an empty chair and set it beside her. “Come. Sit with me. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Ashley slid behind the table, grabbed a snack.

Jennifer sipped her drink. “Let me start by saying the colleges I represent tonight do not offer much, if anything, in wildlife conservation. Can I ask what appeals to you about that career?”

Ashley shrugged. “I’ve always liked animals. I don’t have the grades to go for a veterinarian degree.”

Jennifer peered at Ashley. “What really appeals to you about wildlife conservation?”

Ashley sipped her coffee. She looked directly at Jennifer. “It looks like a quiet way to make a living.”

“Quiet how?”

Ashley took a breath. “Away from a lot of harassment.”

Jennifer smiled. 

Ashley found herself spilling to someone she just met.

“I’m trans. My parents are giving me a breast reduction surgery as a graduation gift. Once I get out of here I’ll change my name to Asher. And I need a school in an LGBTQ-accommodating state.”

Jennifer smiled. “I’m trans too. Made my transition five years ago.”

Ashley stared open-mouthed. “Wow. you fooled me.”

“Yeah, the docs did a good job.”

Ashley brought the conversation back to its purpose. “Your schools don’t have a wildlife conservation program.”

“We don’t. The bigger schools in Vancouver do, but honestly, I don’t think they would look at you with your GPA.”

Ashley nodded.

“Let me ask you this. Would you consider a different major if it suited your lifestyle?”

“Like what?”

“Film and television, for example.”

Ashley frowned. “Never thought of it, but the work involves lots of people, right?”

“If you mean, a lot of people collaborating on projects, yes.”

“I don’t know…”

“One of the schools I represent is Columbia College. It has a strong media program. Film, television. Good internships. Are you aware they are calling Vancouver Hollywood North?”

Ashley shook her head.

“Tons of film and television production going on. Plenty of jobs and internships.”

“I don’t know…”

“You certainly don’t have to decide tonight.”

Ashley picked up her list from the table.

“Before you go… have you considered a gap year?”

Ashley squinted. “How would I do that?”

“If I am getting too personal here, stop me. You said you’ll have surgery as soon as you graduate.”

“Right.”

Just then two classmates stopped at the table. One said, “Ashley, are you already a college admissions rep?”

“I’m repping for our high schools. You two morons want to repeat senior year? Lots of perks.”

The two laughed and moved on.

Jennifer continued, “With a gap year you can manage your transition more effectively. Take the summer to recover, and start your transition. Columbia College will admit you as a delayed admission. You may have access to student housing. I would have to look into that. I should add, Vancouver is an expensive city to live in. Rent and housing are among the highest in Canada.” 

She sipped her coffee. “With your admission and initial leave of absence, you can get an entry level job in film right away. I told you, Vancouver is quite LGBTQ-friendly. You can explore the city, find groups that will support your transition. And with the job you will have insurance. That may pay for at least some of your hormone therapy.”

“This is too amazing to be true.”

“All true. After a year you can decide if you want to continue with Columbia. You will be admitted as a full-time international student.”

Ashley said, “That’s a lot to think about.”

Jennifer handed Ashley a business card. “My phone is here. Call or text anytime.”

Back out in the parking lot Ashley met up with Megan. “Duke, here I come,” Megan said. I can get early admission if I want.”

“Sweet.”

“How did you do?”

Ashley pulled her list from her pocket, ripped it in shreds.

“Fuck the US. I can go to Canada. Take a gap year and work in film and television while I manage my transition, then attend Columbia College. As an international student.”

Megan stared at Ashley for a moment. Broke into a grin. Hugged Ashley hard.

“Friends forever.”

Ashley’s phone chirped. A message from Jennifer. So happy to meet you tonight. Call if you need more info or just want to talk.

Ashley texted back. Thanks! I’ll be in touch soon. I already feel safe about my future.

Jennifer replied. Safer, yes. But safety will remain elusive. We are always vulnerable.

***

shortfiction24 – voiced by a lesbian comic

Milo finds a new voice in a lesbian standup comic. Change doesn’t come easily.

I’ve mentioned before, some of my stories have turned into series. The characters keep talking to me. I don’t have a story or character arc planned out. The continuing stories arise as they do.

Milo lost his beloved Maurice on stage one night. He was abandoned to the floor of a dressing room closet. He had a few adventures, with Maurice’s spirit helping him out of tight spots.

He has now been thrown together by serendipity with standup comic Moneen. They start a life which may be brand new for each.

Voiced by a Lesbian Comic

Bob Gillen

Standup comic Moneen Quirk waved to the audience, grabbed her water bottle, and left the stage to a healthy round of applause. Backstage the club manager called her over. 

“You did good. I’d like to have you come back. Call me in a month or two, when I have a fresh audience.”

He paid Moneen in cash. “Don’t forget. Call me.”

Deeper backstage in the deserted dressing room, Moneen counted out the cash, stuffed it in her jeans pocket. She wiped makeup off her face, ran her hands through her hair to soften the gel in her spiked blond tips.

“Time to hit the road,” she said aloud.

She reached into the closet for her jacket. The hanger broke, the jacket landed on the floor atop a pile of makeup-stained towels. Moneen reached down and her hand struck something hard. She took out her jacket, reached back in to find a head. The head of a dummy. 

A ventriloquist’s dummy. 

She pulled out the dummy. “Hey buddy. Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Waiting for someone to find me, Milo thought.

Moneen set the dummy on the counter, grabbed a cotton wipe and dusted off its head and shoulders. 

She studied the dummy. “Hey, you look pretty spiffy. Navy pants, striped shirt. A continental look. Can’t imagine anyone leaving you here.”

Moneen smiled, dropped her voice. “I spent a year working a ventriloquist routine. Couldn’t make a go of it. Never found the right dummy.”

 She glanced around the empty room. “How would you like to take a road trip with me?”

Anything but this.

Moneen threw her backpack over her shoulder, tucked the dummy under her jacket, and dashed out the rear exit before anyone spotted her.

In the parking lot sat her white Chevy Silverado 1500 all-wheel drive pickup with a low profile camper in the back. She set the dummy in the passenger seat, climbed in, fired the engine and hit the road.

A few miles ahead she pulled in at a McDonald’s drive through, ordered a Quarter Pounder and a coffee to go. 

As she ate in the truck, she said, “My next gig is tomorrow night. A three-hour drive. How about you and I just ride, see if we can get comfortable with one another.”

I can do that.

Moneen settled in behind the wheel.

“One thing is non-negotiable, Milo. I love driving the night roads.” She reached for the radio. “I prefer good old rock when I drive at night. Anything with bass, and lyrics that touch me…you must enjoy feeling the fresh night air, buddy. Been a long time, huh?”

Amen to that.

Moneen reached over to stroke Milo’s head. “Here we go.”

An hour down the road Moneen spoke. “Hey, buddy, I am so sorry. I haven’t introduced myself. Name is Moneen. Full name Moneen Felicity Quirk. I’m a standup comic. Travel mostly the northeast US, sometimes Montreal when the weather is warm. I live on the road six to eight months a year. This truck is my home. Wifi and internet is my lifeline.

“In the morning I’ll google you, see if I can find out what happened. At least I can find your name.”

My name is Milo. I can’t tell you that because I can’t speak without someone else’s voice. But I have feelings. They’re locked inside.

The wonderful silence of nights on the road fell over them.

After three hours they pulled off the road into a free camp site. Moneen turned the music off. “Have to move quietly in here, or they’ll toss me. We can sleep here. Clean restrooms and good showers.”

The two moved to the camper shell. 

“You can bed in here with me. Hope I don’t embarrass you. Don’t know if I snore. Been a while since I was with anyone.” 

Moneen set the dummy on a seating ledge, then nestled into a sleeping bag on her bunk.

“This is my life most nights. You’d think I can’t come up with any comic material living a boring life. But the humor is here. Gotta look for it, listen for it. I usually take the deep winter months off. Otherwise I play colleges and towns big enough for snow clearance to be a priority.”

In the morning, shortly before noon, Moneen stirred. “Morning, buddy. Let me hit the showers, then we can talk.”

Half an hour later Moneen searched the Internet for clues to what happened to the dummy. 

“Aha. You worked an act with Maurice. He died on stage at the club we just left. Almost two years ago. They left you there…your name is Milo, right?”

Yes.

“Milo, I know you must have been close with Maurice before he died. I hope I can be a friend too.”

Okay.

“I have an idea. We don’t know one another yet. I can’t pretend to be your voice. How about this? My next few gigs you can sit in the wings. Absorb my act, how I connect with audiences. After a while, you can come on stage with me. Remain silent for a bit if you’re not ready. When you are, we’ll try out an act.”

Okay.

“And we’ll spend time on the road getting to know one another. That will help.” 

Better than sitting in a closet.

“You know, I started my career as a ventriloquist’s assistant. Worked my way up to ventriloquist for a short time, but I transitioned over to standup and never looked back.”

Moneen put on a jacket. She ran her hand over the dummy’s control mechanism. 

That feels good.

“Let’s go for a walk. We can talk for a bit.”

The two set out on a path that led to a small lake.

“I should tell you something. I’m a lesbian. Part of the LGBTQ community. I hope that doesn’t put you off. Being voiced by a lesbian.”

Milo spoke through Moneen. “I don’t do well with change. I guess it would be okay.”

“Ah, there’s your voice. Okay, we’ll try it. Might work. A lesbian standup comic voicing a straight dummy.”

They walked for an hour, tentative voices exploring one another’s personalities. As they approached the camper, Moneen said, “I am really slow on the uptake. Milo, you must be feeling a lot of pain. Losing your partner suddenly, in the middle of the act. In front of an audience.”

“It hurts like hell. We were together for a long time. Maurice’s wife divorced him. Said he talked to me more than to her. I was his best friend.”

“Alright, let’s hit the road. There’s a good diner near the next venue. Early dinner, and then we can scope the audience before we go on.”

That night Moneen set Milo on a chair in the club’s wings. She ran through most of her routine to a strong audience reaction.

Moneen glanced over at Milo. Nodded. Turned to the audience.

“Hey, you guys have been great. Before I finish I want to introduce a friend to you all.” She walked over, set Milo on her arm, and brought him out on stage. The audience stared.

“This is Milo. A new friend. I rescued him from the bottom of a closet.”

She had Milo face the audience. “He’s kinda shy.”

“Not shy,” Milo said. “Never been voiced by a lesbian before.”

The audience hooted and clapped.

“Okay, maybe not so shy. A new world for both of us. I worked a ventriloquist act a few years back. My dummies were all gay.”

Moneen unbuttoned the denim overshirt she wore, to reveal a white tee shirt with large bold letters that read: The Future is Female Ejaculation.

The audience erupted. A woman down front yelled, “I hear you, sister!” In the rear another woman stood, shouted, “You rock!”

Moneen sucked in the audience reaction. 

Milo spoke, “I’m a straight guy. This is all new to me.”

“Uh oh,” Moneen said, “I think I embarrassed you.”

Later, sitting in her truck, Milo balancing on her knee, Moneen said, “I owe you an apology. Too much too soon.”

“I told you, I don’t handle change well.”

“Milo, would you consider a costume change? Would you be more comfortable in a different outfit?”

Milo turned to glare at Moneen. “Okay, so we had an awkward moment, and already you want to change me. I’ve worn this outfit for years. Been this character since I can remember.”

“No, no. Just a thought. If you would be more comfortable…”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

The two lapsed into silence. Moneen whispered, “I’m sorry. I don’t do change well either.”

Milo did not answer.

Moneen set Milo in the passenger seat, pulled out onto the highway.

“No gigs till the weekend,” she said. 

They drove in silence for hours. At the next campground, they tucked in for the night.

In the morning, Moneen drove to a pancake house for takeout. In the camper, she said, “If I said again I was sorry, would you hear my voice?”

She reached for Milo’s controls. Silence.

Moneen laughed. Milo turned to stare at her.

“I had a crazy thought. We could dress you in a monk’s robe. You could hold a jar of jam. You have a vow of silence. You never speak onstage.”

Milo snickered. 

“Aha, you’re hearing me.”

Milo said, “I’m this guy. I won’t change. Don’t try to make me something I’m not.”

Moneen nodded. “And I won’t change either.”

Milo said, “A straight and a queer. We can make it work.” He blurted out, “Okay, if one of us has to change, how about I take on a James Dean look? Jeans, white tee, cowboy boots, slicked back hair.”

Moneen laughed. “Yeah. Jett Rink from Giant.”

Milo reached over, hugged Moneen. “A straight and a queer with the same sense of humor.”

***

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