Chloe
The falling sensation won’t leave my stomach. Even five hours later, as I’m on the bus home from school, it won’t leave.
I’m falling. Constantly falling, falling, plummeting.
But I’ve been falling for years, haven’t I? I’m a blazing comet racing towards a prehistoric planet. I’m a dry leaf caught in the autumn breeze.
I don’t know when I’m going to land. I don’t know what’s going to happen then.
The words keep echoing in my mind.
I’m trans, okay? And every second I spend in the presence of somebody like you makes me want to claw my fucking skin off!
It made me want to be sick earlier. It made me want to curl up in the corner of my bed, underneath a blanket, and never come out again.
It almost took all hope away from me.
But I’ve thought about it since.
I’m still not sure what Noel meant with ‘somebody like you’, but it’s pretty clear that he… that she is a trans woman. So that would mean that I make… her uncomfortable because I’m a woman?
I’m Sisyphus, standing at the top of a steep mountain, and I just watched my boulder slip from my grasp and roll all the way back down to the bottom.
Ironic, how everything I did to deserve him might now be the very reason he- she wants nothing to do with me.
But that’s nothing new, either, is it? I have a way of messing things up.
But more importantly, now I know what the problem is. Doesn’t that mean that I have a foot in the door, now? It’s more than I had before, certainly.
It’s the ‘what now’ that still gives me trouble. I doubt Noel will just let me follow her around from now on without exploding in my face. But then, what can I do if she won’t talk to me? Would texting her be any better?
Idly, I get out my phone and open our chat. Our last message was four years ago. A simple, See you tomorrow :)
I had sent it. Noel hadn’t replied.
With a few swipes, I switch over to the notes app and begin typing.
Hey Noel
I hesitate, then change the Noel to Noelle.
Hey Noelle, I just wanted to say that I—
That I what?
I just wanted to say that you mean a lot to me, and nothing about you or your identity will ever change that. I understand your wishes and respect them—
No, that’s too formal. And she could think that I’m talking about leaving her alone and not treating her as a woman. Though, in all honesty, I should probably respect both those wishes.
I think it’s really cool that you’ve found out this part about yourself, and I would love to help you realise it—
I would love to help you in any way I can. If there is anything I can do to make you more comfortable while talking to me… or just being around me, please don’t hesitate to tell me—
No. Too desperate.
With a huff, I close the notes app. I don’t even bother deleting the text. Then I lean my head against the window, watching the houses wander past.
Why can’t it be easy? It used to be so easy, even when everythingelse was hard. If I could just… prove to her how much I care, and somehow overwrite whatever feelings my presence triggers currently—
With sudden purpose, I get up and press the stop button. I can’t go home right now. It might’ve been easier if today wasn’t such an empty day. Just school. Even drama club won’t take place until next week. No homework to speak of, yet. I could start studying for my role in the play, but it’s not even clear yet which role it’s going to be, even if Vivi says she won’t let me play anything but the lead.
But no. I know I don’t have the capacity for it right now. So I might as well go strolling around town and see if I find anything that could help me with Noelle.
The bus stops, and I get out, the cold immediately biting the exposed skin on my face. Fortunately, it’s not far before I can turn left and into the shopping mall. It’s a big place that does its best to evoke the feeling of luxuriousness. The ceiling is tall, and the white walls are pristine. There’s gold detailing along the tops of the pillars that probably don’t really support the ceiling, but look nice enough. There’s even a huge chandelier at the centre, where all the different levels form a huge open space to look up at the glass dome.
I walk idly along the broad balcony, the grand open space to my left, storefronts to my right. There’s a clothing store, and, on a whim, I turn and walk in. Wouldn’t it be nice to buy her something that could… make her feel better? Could feminine clothing make her feel better?
My fingers trail over the fabric of a dress. Could this make her feel worse, because she wouldn’t feel like she looked good in this?
Briefly, I close my eyes and picture her in my mind. She’s not especially tall. Sure, tall by women’s standards, but not by men’s. Maybe 1.80 metres by now? She doesn’t have a lot of facial hair yet, from what I can tell. Her chin is kind of angular, and her eyebrows could use a plucking… but I can see her turning into a woman.
In a flash, I see her, a tall girl with the lithe body of a runway model, with legs for days. She has long, dark curls and her blue eyes are piercing as she stares down the camera, her face just a little more rounded out to give her a slightly feminine look.
Green would go so well with her whole look.
The thought of seeing her transition makes me almost giddy with excitement. Isn’t that great, if she knows what’s giving her trouble? Doesn’t that mean that she can do something about it now?
But then, I don’t know how long she’s known. Could’ve been years, for all I know. But she still has short hair, wouldn’t she have grown it out?
I turn away from the clothing rack. No, I’ll have to find out more from her before giving her such intimate things. Something smaller for now. Maybe a necklace? Or a bracelet?
But they don’t have those here. Should I just give her one of my own? Would that change the meaning of it, somehow?
No, something small. Something with as little emotion attached as possible, to test the waters. Something she can throw away, if she wants to.
I leave the store. Wasn’t there a cheap jewellery shop on the lowest floor?
I take the escalator down, surrounded by the growing crowd trying to get in some after-work leisure.
Then I’m on the ground floor, and turn, trying to locate the glittery storefront, only to stop short.
There’s a rupture in the otherwise white and clean aesthetic of the mall. In between a wine store and a dollar store, there’s a storefront made of some dark, weathered wood. There’s no light on behind the window, but even so, I can make out all kinds of curiosities. Dream catchers, tall wooden staves, herbs hanging in bundles on string… there’s even a dagger displayed on a cushion of red velvet.
Edel Weis Curiosities and Remedies, the flaky writing above the window reads, and for some reason, I walk right up to the door. It’s a heavy, wooden thing with only a small window, and the only mechanical door in any store in the whole mall. Maybe it's curiosity. Maybe it’s the fact that nobody else seems to notice the door. But I push against the handle, and when it gives, I open the door all the way and step through.
The store behind it smells of dust and old, dry wood. An eerily low amount of light makes it through the glass shop window and into the store. Even so, I can see that the store is packed with merchandise.
There are painted masks, stands filled with jewellery, dresses, boots, capes, feathers, oddly-shaped glass bottles that look suspiciously like potions, and even paintings that almost seem to move when viewed from the corner of my eye.
My pulse quickens as I hear the door fall shut softly behind me. But I have no reason to be scared, of course. Magic doesn’t exist, after all, and I’m not in a horror movie. There’ll probably be an irritated clerk soon, telling me to get lost because I somehow didn’t see the closed sign.
But nothing like that happens, even a full minute later, and I begin to wonder if there’s anybody even working here.
“Hello?” I call, and my voice comes out small, almost like a child’s.
Cautiously, I walk further into the store, still looking around. There’s a counter at the far end, and a doorway behind it, shrouded by a heavy curtain.
I stop next to a shelf stacked with little pouches, and lean in, trying to decipher the labels. They look like cursive text, but even as I squint and hold my breath, the letters simply won’t make sense.
“Aah,” an impossibly old voice creaks behind me, and I flinch a little. Walking into a store like this without being prepared to be jump-scared would be foolish, I suppose. “A visitor.”
I turn, and find myself across from an old, old woman dressed in what I can only describe as a witchy outfit. There are so many layers and details to her clothes that I can’t make out exactly what she’s wearing, but everything’s coloured in some darker, muted shade of green or brown. Even her skin is tan and wrinkly, with only her dusty grey hair to provide any contrast.
I force myself to relax my posture as I meet her watery, blue eyes. “Are you Ms Weis?” I ask, choosing to produce her name with a German pronunciation.
She nods, and a halting giggle escapes her. “Yes, dear. How can I help you?”
“I…” I hesitate. I didn’t really come here for any reason in particular, did I? Really, I’d meant to just look and then leave again. “I was just curious.”
She waves it off with a soft laugh. “Nobody comes here out of curiosity, dear.”
I eye her dubiously. Because I did, didn’t I?
But she hasn’t finished speaking yet. “You need something, dear. Otherwise, you would not have found this place.”
A strange feeling settles at the base of my stomach. This couldn’t possibly… “You wouldn’t be able to give me what I need.”
She cackles. “You’d be surprised. Tell me, dear.”
I jut my chin out. “Well, can you do magic?”
She shrugs innocently. “Depends on who you ask.”
I square my shoulders, my muscles tensing at the turmoil in my chest. “I’m asking you.”
She tilts her head. “I give people what they ask for, and sometimes even what they need.”
My eyes narrow. I really don’t like it when people speak cryptically for no apparent reason. I really dislike it when I can’t read people.
“So, if I asked you to turn a trans woman into a biological woman, could you do it?”
She gives me a long look at that, as if she were appraising me. When she speaks, her voice is suddenly a lot firmer than before, sounding easily twenty years younger. “That is strong weaving you ask for, child. All weaving comes with a price. You should be confident that you are willing to pay it, especially if the weaving does not benefit you. It would be much easier and cheaper to turn you into the prettiest girl in town,” she adds, gesturing at a stand with jewellery.
In spite of her offer, there is no excitement in my mind. Only suspicion. This sounds too good to be true.
My hands tighten into fists at my sides. “Well, how much does it cost?” I have saved up a fair amount of money over the past years, even with all the social events I attend. My father gives me money whenever I get perfect scores on a test, which has become commonplace by now. Not that I particularly care about the money, but it is useful to have on hand in moments like this. If need be, I could probably just go home and steal from my parents. Or ask them for a loan.
The woman… the witch, laughs again. But it’s not an ugly, evil kind of laugh. It’s the gentle laugh of an elderly woman witnessing the naivety and inexperience of youth.
“Dear, you cannot pay for weave with money.”
Definitely not what a scammer would say. “Well, what is the cost, then?” I know enough about fairy tales to know that magic, especially a witch’s magic, always comes at a cost.
She looks straight into my eyes, then. “A life,” she says, and the hairs at the back of my neck stand.
My brow furrows. I most certainly won’t kill somebody for this. “What do you mean, a life? Like, literally, that I have to sacrifice someone? Because that’s sick—”
She waves it off. “No. It is an exchange of lives, I’m offering. That person you are talking about will need a body to move into. If you’re not willing to sacrifice another, it will have to be your own.”
“So, we swap bodies?”
She gives a slow nod. “That is what it boils down to, I suppose.”
I think for a short moment. Isn’t that exactly what Noelle wants? A woman’s body? It would be almost ideal, even. I’ve thought it myself, just earlier; I tried so hard to be… desirable, and that extends to my life. I have friends. I have perfect grades. I’m in good shape, even.
“I can tell this other person means a lot to you,” Ms Weis says gravely, her watery eyes taking in every shift in my expression. “But this is a tall price you are thinking of paying. Make sure you’ve thought long and hard about whether you’re really willing to go through with this. The weave should not be handled carelessly.”
Yeah, sure. I’d be giving up a whole lot. Everything, even, in a sense. My body, my achievements, my friends, my life…. But why did I work for all of those in the first place?
It was always for him. Shit, her. Everything was always for her, since the day I met her.
“I assume the spell is irreversible?” I ask, pinching my lower lip as I think.
She shakes her head. “Weave like this takes time to settle. If you repeat the ritual again on a full moon, at latest the sixth since the original ritual, the weave will dissolve and both of you will be restored.”
Well, that settles it, then, doesn’t it? If I even get the chance to change my mind, what could ever go wrong?
And anyway, I’ll have to ask Noelle first, if she even wants to do it. But if there’s a chance it’ll make her happy, I’ll gladly give her everything.