Chapter 1: Part 1

 

There is a time that comes once a year. Celebrated by some, despised by others. An ancient evil so nefarious that it lures an entire civilization into its clutches, and disappears without a trace as fast as it came. It was only the day after Halloween when it began, yet we suffer, pretending it holds no power over us as we go about our lives. But it marks the start of the most anxiety inducing time of the year. 

I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there’s just one thing I need, I don’t care about the presents, underneath the Christmas tree, I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know, make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas, is you…

“Oh my god, please babe, turn it off. Can we just get one year with no Mariah Carey?” I said exhaustedly. 

“Ugh fine, I guess I’ll get high to Tegan and Sara. Like the fucking lesbian I am.” My girlfriend muttered in between bong rips. 

She had every right to be salty with me. It’d been two years since I came out as trans. To be fair, they were two great years. I learned a lot about myself, a lot about life, and had begun to unpack more shit than a farmer on a manure run. There was one problem however, I hadn’t quite figured out how to tell my family. I’d like to say that it was for good reasons, but to be honest I was just scared. My relationship with my relatives was…complicated, to say the least. 

“Babe, I promise, after tonight we’ll either go together, or not at all. I just–can’t in good conscience subject you to another awkward as fuck family event.” I took the bong which she had held out for me and took a hit as well. 

“I told you, it’s okay. It took me way too long to come out to my folks. I get it. I just want to be there for you. Trust me, it wouldn’t be the first time I’d be blamed for turning someone's kid gay…or into a girl.” She looked away. In that way that spoke louder than any words could. 

I put my hand on her shoulder. “This is something I have to do by myself. I won’t ever fully break free from them if they have someone to pin the blame on. Plus there’s no way I could make you suffer through the attempt at edible food again. Seriously, have none of them heard of salt?”

“But, I’ve seduced you with the gay agenda and woke moralism! I’ve force femmed their good christian boy! A heathen like me will burn in the lake of fire for eternity! You know,” she shrugged, “as I peg Satan with my beelzedong.” 

“Noooooo! How could I have succumbed to such debauchery?! My fate, to grow rockin 'tits and kiss cute girls for the rest of my life!” I said in my most dramatic tone. “We must storm the force femme headquarters and put a stop to this new fangled wave of liberalism!” I couldn’t help but break into laughter. “Where do you think the force femme headquarters is anyways?”

“I dunno, some basement in the UK probably.” She shot me a grin. 

We both launched into a giggling fit and cuddled, which then turned into an impromptu makeout session. 

 

The clock struck noon and it was time for me to be on my way. In my boymode best. Or as my girlfriend called it, “Boymoding: the hottest girl you’ve ever seen, but in a hoodie and jeans.” Sure, it was just a hoodie, but the only thing any of my family seemed to notice was the fact that my hair had gotten longer. People just see what they wanna see at a certain point. Still, Christmas was always the hardest time of the year. 

The snow started to dust the ground as I got into an Uber and began the trip to what was certainly going to be a spectacle to end all spectacles. It might even overshadow the worst Christmas we’d had. What a fuckin time that was. I leaned against the cold window of the car and dissociated while watching the snowfall and letting my breath fog up the glass. 

About a decade prior, my Mom died. It was sudden, by the time I’d gotten a call, it was already over. She was the youngest of four, and in a heavily religious family. So naturally, everything became about prayer and God’s plan. The biggest issue wasn’t even the religion, it was the way I had been treated ever since. 

Anything I achieved, my accomplishments, were all looked at from the lens of the poor orphan. Graduated High School, “Oh he’s been through so much, it’s nice to see him doing so well.” Graduated College with honors, “That’s so nice. I wish your Mother was here to see it. You’ve had such a tough time.” Going out to dinner with family members, “Oh this is our nephew, his Mom died.” Like the fucking server needed to know that. I was the only cousin/grandkid to not have an accidental kid or go to jail, yet, I was still that poor little kid.

I took a deep breath, even thinking about it all made me irrationally annoyed. My Dad was never really in the picture so my Grandparents took care of me until I moved out on my own. But in all honesty I hated going to the get togethers. There was like, one cousin I liked talking to, and that’s because he was a giant nerd too. And my Grandma, out of everyone she was the only one I really cared about. 

With impending doom building up in my chest, the car pulled up to my Grandparents house. I thanked the driver and tried my best to tuck my ponytail into the back of my hoodie. As I walked up to the house where I’d spent the latter part of my adolescence, I couldn’t help but think up excuses to use for not saying grace before the meal. My Grandfather always called on me to say it for everyone. Me, the anti-theist, lesbian, trans girl, who hadn’t said a prayer since she was nine years old. Granted he didn’t know. But I often wondered if my half assed prayer was like some kind of anti-prayer. Did it work in negatives? If I said a bunch of them, would it cancel out everyone else's? I wonder if that would be a racket I could sell to people? Gay little evil-prayers to use against a religious rival or some weird fuckin church version of first chair in the orchestra. It’s either that or I go to my Jesus themed BDSM gear idea. All the true Christians have to be a good bimbo slut slave for Jesus. 

I had reached the door, and also realized I’d forgotten to brainstorm an idea for getting out of saying grace. Fuck. I was gonna have to resort to the second lowest form of comedy to get me out of it. I was gonna have to improvise. 

The door flung open, startling me as my Grandfather greeted me with one of his world famous hugs. See, Grandpa hugs were one of a kind experiences. You get the firm masculine handshake, which he then uses to pull you in for a full blown hug. Somewhere lingering just before the too tight danger zone, but never quite reaching it. Was it because he was old, or because he always stifled his enthusiasm just before realizing he was gonna squeeze you too hard? My guess was as good as any. Then there was the smell, the old person smell that seems to permeate every Grandparents home, clothes, and probably bones. But one thing was for certain, it smelled like home. Home where a scared kid was taken into and raised to be respectful and kind to others. Home where I learned to cook with Grandma and make my own additions to recipes, (mainly just actually adding salt to things.) Home where I could smell the love and warmth, even if we had arguments, disagreements, or spats. Where I hoped that if anyone could accept me, it would be them. 

“Merry Christmas! How’re you doing sir?” He said in his overtly jolly voice that I had heard countless times of him dressing up as Santa. 

“Hi Grandpa. I’m doin alright. Just the same ‘ol same ‘ol.” I said back in an attempt at my old guy voice. 

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He nodded and gestured for me to come inside. “C’mon in, everybody else is here and the food should be ready soon. Mama’s in the kitchen finishing up everything.” 

“Sounds good. Um, actually I was hoping I might talk to you and Grandma alone about something.” My chest tightened up as I made my way inside. 

He stopped and turned around. “Is everything okay? Did you and that girl of yours break up? She was awfully sweet, but I did have some suspicions…” 

“No, no! Me and Evie are fine.” I interrupted before he could possibly make things somehow worse by correctly identifying that she was in fact, a hella lesbian. “She just had another engagement and couldn’t make it. This is just–something personal that I wanted to talk about with y’all.” 

“Of course, son. You know you can always tell us anything.” He smiled as we were bombarded by the sound of a dish breaking in the other room and a couple people shouting, “Obah!” 

He went to check on the kitchen while I made my way into the living room to see most of the men watching whatever sport was playing. My uncle Jim, a couple of In-laws who I never quite bothered learning the names of, and several of my little cousins running around Fortnite dancing and talking about minecraft streamers. I’d always found it easier in the kitchen with all the women. It was just, simpler? I guess. They always talked about food, work, local politics, and a multitude of things rather than trucks, guns, and sportsball. 

I stopped for a moment, frozen in the realization that I had always gravitated towards the women at parties even from a young age because I’d always felt closer to them than any of the men…That uh, that was gonna be a fun thing to bring up in therapy. Hashtag “there were no signs” 

“Sup cuz!” I heard a familiar voice call out. 

I turned around to see the only person close to my age that I ever cared to talk with. My nerd of a cousin, Vinny. “Hey dude! How’s it going? Merry Christmas.” 

See, my cousin Vinny was the only other one in my family that played video games after the age of thirteen. We would talk all the time about Zelda and trade tips on how to clear bosses and puzzles. Not to mention he was a pretty decent artist. He’d even made a few logos for local bands. Though his best work was most definitely his fanart. I remember seeing one he did of Zora Link one time and the detail work on every feature was immaculate. I even told him he should get a booth and sell his art at conventions. But he was always super shy about it. We had spent a lot of time together and bonded after my Mom died. He was like a sibling to me. I was planning on coming out to him too at some point tonight. I just hoped the rest of the family would take it well. 

“Oh you know, just working at the music store still. And working on some drawing commissions.” He said.

“Oh yeah? You’re taking commissions now? Hell yes! Do you have a Twitter, or Tumblr, or DeviantArt? I was actually in the market for a new profile pic to use.” It was true, I was in dire need of a new pfp for everything. You can only use trans Miku for so long.

He had a look of ‘oh fuck’ in his eyes. I could recognize the panic of realizing you might have said too much. “Um…woah, dude, your hair has gotten so long. It looks good on you.”  

“Oh gosh, thank you. Yeah I’ve been growing it out for a while now. Just wanted a change you know?” I knew I didn’t need my usual deflection or excuse with him at least. 

We both kind of stood there awkwardly for a second before he was called into the dining room to help set the table. To be completely honest it sucked having to navigate these kinds of functions. Most of the people there were only ones I saw on specific holidays, or when someone died. There was the occasional shotgun wedding, but I stopped going after my cousin George had three of them. Not only did I have to dance around what was actually going on in my own life. But, I had to pretend to give a fuck about who was pregnant, who was in jail, and who was selling the new MLM scheme. Imagine my disappointment when I learned that MLM didn’t stand for Men loving Men. I’m not into dudes, but I would absolutely invest in that. 

As I walked into the kitchen, thinking up my new business plan of MLM and WLW marketing, I was promptly pulled aside by my Grandma for the classic, wiping hands on apron, grabbing my face and giving me a kiss on the cheek followed by a hug. I was forever grateful I made the decision to wear a sports bra under my hoodie. With all the hug’s, things could’ve gotten awkward. 

“Hi Teta.” I said while getting the full aroma of the food sitting in the kitchen, mixed with the chemicals from her Perm, causing my nostrils to try and flee from my face. 

“How are you hon? It feels like it’s been months since I’ve seen you.” It had only been about two weeks in non old person time. “Look at you, that jacket is swallowing you up. Have you been eating? Let me get you some Grape Leaves and Sfiha.” She turned to go grab a plate in her usual fashion of making sure I always had food in my hands. 

“Teta, it’s okay. I’m fine, I can wait, I promise. I’m eating plenty. Though, you know I'd never say no to some of your famous baklava.” I gave her a smirk.

As I stood there, receiving all the usual fifty reasons why I needed to eat my actual dinner before dessert because it would ruin my appetite. I couldn’t help but think about how much I would miss all of this if things took a turn. The smell of cooking, the overprotective Grandma rants. The warmth that this home had brought me for so long. Most of the rest of the family I didn’t care about. But not being able to call Teta up and talk and see how she’s doing, listen to her go on about her turf war with the crows and her citrus trees. Grandpa teaching me how to hold a flashlight, while he worked on the plumbing before realizing he needed to call an actual plumber. It was home, and losing that would be hard. I’d already lost one. I didn’t want to lose another. But, no matter what, I had people that loved me. Relatives or not, I wasn’t going to be alone. Though, it didn’t make it any less terrifying. Especially when my cunt of an Aunt walked over.

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