Tomorrow

by Tabitha Cornell

  “Hunny, it’s important that we follow Dr. Hibner’s plan for you. You’ve just started on some potent medications and he needs to monitor you closely. Especially in the beginning to make sure they are the correct regimen for you.” She sounds like she knows what she is talking about. It makes me want to cry.

  “Please don’t make me go today. I just can’t do it. I will go tomorrow.”

  “Okay, I’ll call him and let him know. We have to go tomorrow for sure, though. I love you.” She shuts the door.

  I allow my mind to wander to places unknown. I have so many feelings and emotions that it’s almost numbing. No normal and sane person can possibly begin to decipher what’s happening in my skull. I feel like I have to force myself to push all of it out so I can have some peace, even for a moment. I don’t feel alive anymore. I’m going through the motions minute by minute, hoping no one realizes it’s all fake. I know they notice, though. How can they be so naive not to?

  I find myself wanting to escape. I want to walk out the front door of this shitty apartment and leave forever. I see myself doing just that. I don’t even turn to take one last look at anyone watching me. I feel their eyes on my back and I feel the need to put a little extra pep in my step. I can see myself hopping on a plane and going somewhere beautiful. Somewhere that I can breathe again. Maybe I could go to California and spend time lying in the sand and listening to the ocean.

  I can hear the waves crashing onto the shore, slowly coming closer and closer to my feet. I let the spell dance over me. My skin begins to warm from the sun penetrating my weakened pores. I hear kids in the distance, running in the sand, playing Frisbee. I adjust my head so I can watch them through my sunglasses. I watch the bluish-green water steady after a speedboat goes by. I can smell the sunscreen dripping from my skin.

  I return from my daydream when I hear Sean’s voice outside the door, frantic. He is yelling my name but I don’t respond. I can’t move. I won’t move. I want to go back to the ocean. I want to smell the sunscreen again, and the salt in the air. I didn’t even get a chance to get my feet wet in the coolness of the water. He yells my name again. I don’t care. Seconds later, he barges into my room.

  “Janny, there is something wrong with your mom. I think she is having a heart attack.”

  The wetness is on my toes; the salt absorbs into my skin as I step further into the cool water.

  “I called 911 to come get her. She is having chest pain and can’t breathe. You should go with her Janny. She’s scared.”

  The waves crash roughly against my thighs and I feel something flicker next to my leg. I look through the almost clear water and see a tiny fish swim hurriedly away into the depths. It makes me smile. Someone tells me to take another step. Further into the water I go. The more water that presses my skin, the more relaxed I become. It rises from my thighs to my stomach. Another step I take, the deeper I become. The coolness covers my chest. I feel the goose bumps rise from my skin. I can taste the salt on my lower lip. One more step and I’ll be complete.

  I hear knocking at the door. I hear Sean yell frantically for them to hurry. I hear them asking questions. Then they leave. I hear the ambulance siren start as they speed off into the night with my mother. I pull my weight out of bed and lock the bedroom door. I don’t want Sean in here right now.

  I lay in my bed and close my eyes once again. My last thought before I drift to the darkness is that I really need a drink.

  Sex

  One or the other.

  Why are we forced to choose?

  Is it even a choice?

  Some would dare to ask.

  No one is better.

  Some would beg to differ.

  How you are raised, church in mind might sway your thoughts.

  Taken aback, another day, another time.

  In the day our mind is made.

  Influence your thoughts, you’re still the same.

  In and out we bleed the same.

  What you see is what you get.

  Own it or lose, lost in time we fail.

  Commit and reside.

  Those who adore will follow.

  Some won’t relate and hearts will break.

  Truth be told, learn your greats.

  Be the dream and don’t regret.

  Lives will impress, you will forgive.

  Be pleased with your world and your place.

  Do you identify?

  Mark

  Her gray eyes stare back at me, waiting for me to piece this puzzle together. The scars on her breasts. The female hormones I found in her medicine cabinet. The evasive nature of our relationship. Star Trek movies in her movie collection. It all makes sense.

  Lana isn’t a woman.

  I stare down at the picture on my cell phone until I see the resemblance. This Facebook picture is Lana as a handsome young boy. How could I not see this? She has a vagina, though. I know because I put myself inside her, over and over again. It was real. This has to be a mistake. The puzzled look on my face must have been prominent because she begins to explain to me what I’m attempting to understand.

  “Marcus. Five years ago, I transitioned from a male to a female. I changed my name. I moved away from home. I made myself into the woman I have always wanted to be. I was born into a male body, but my mind was always female growing up. I knew at a very young age that this is who I am.”

  I can’t even look at her, at him. I feel sick to my stomach. I get up and I walk out the front door to my car. I manage to drive a few blocks away. I park along the street, sit in my car, and think.

  I screwed a man. I screwed a man several times. I open the door to my car and vomit onto the pavement. I let a man suck me off. Vomit. She, he lied to me. It all makes sense now. She gave me the best head I have ever had. It’s because she used to have a dick. She knows the right things to do to get me off.

  Vomit.

  Twenty minutes ago, I was prepared to take my relationship to the next level with a man. What if I had never found the hormones? How long would it have gone on? Would he, she have told me? I’m in love with a man. Correction, I was in love. He tricked me into being in love with him.

  I drive to Joni’s to replenish my supply of the Admiral.

  I need a drink more than ever.

  High

  You feel it once and you’re hooked.

  No hope left in the days for your sanity.

  The clutches of its tips drag you along.

  Leaving you breathless for more.

  Your need is fierce.

  Thoughts unclear, seeking its next fix.

  Hands thrown from the wheel only to find them shielding your glaze.

  What you’ve sought is no longer important.

  You have a new target.

  The chaos erupts within you.

  You let it.

  There is no living without it, you’re bent.

  Done for, as they say.

  A lost cause on the way to fulfillment.

  Crave what you must.

  It changes you, embraces you tightly.

  You decide out of desire.

  A destructive force walking its path to the next home.

  For a moment you let it embrace.

  Feel the presence, flirt with it.

  Let it think like it’s in control.

  Then it is.

  What’s your dope?

  Adam

  Before I do anything, I want to buy myself something nice with my newfound cash in hand. I want a gun. Not just any gun, but a 9mm to be exact. I’ve been wanting something to protect myself ever since those spicks pinched my wheels last year. I’ve never had the extra cash to get something decent. I’ve always carried a pocket knife with me, but I crave something more powerful now. Something quicker. Something louder. Since I have to legally be 21 to buy a firearm, I search Craigslist on my phone for a decent 9mm. I get numerous hits. I contact a guy who is willing to meet me this morning and show me his piece. I’ve only shot a gun once in my life and it
was a BB gun I got for Christmas when I was nine years old. I mostly shot at cans in the backyard and the occasional bird in the tree.

  I toss some eggs in the pan and add a splash of milk while I whip the yolks. This is the only way to cook decent scrambled eggs in my home. They have to be slathered in ketchup, too. That sweet tomato goodness is my aphrodisiac. I sit on my bean bag chair and eat my breakfast in peace. I am pleased with myself for taking charge and making some money. Maybe it is possible to survive this hell.

  I throw on some jeans and head down the block. I find my Craigslist guy waiting for me on the corner, parked in his yellow S10 truck. He appears to be discreet, so I walk around the passenger side and slide into the truck. He hands me a beautiful 9mm Beretta pistol and my dick gets instantly hard. He offers to throw in a couple boxes of extra ammo he has leftover to sweeten the deal. The sweet coolness of the metal pierces my fingertips as I slide my fingers down the barrel. It’s heavier than I thought it would be. I toss the weight between my hands to get a good feel. I place it in my right hand and aim for the floorboard. This gun is calling—no, screaming—my name. I buy it for $350 and load the clip in his truck. I tuck it in my waist strap and drop my shirt over it.

  “Thanks, man.”

  I want to try out my new toy. My first instinct is to walk home and uncover my truck that’s been parked for months. I could throw some gas in the tank and drive outside of the city. I can practice shooting road signs. I wouldn’t mind finding a wooded area and going for a quiet walk in nature’s home. Maybe I will see a squirrel or bird I can practice my aim with. I imagine my aim is not great these days. The bird will probably get away anyway. Maybe I can get really good and take Russ out when he gets old enough. We could go hiking and shooting together. That sounds like something a decent dad would do, right? I want to do those things with my son. Of course, a day like this wouldn’t be complete without the taste of whisky on my tongue.

  I continue walking down the street and decide on Jack Daniels for a beverage of choice. That shit will put hair on my balls in a minute. Not that I don’t have enough hair on my balls these days. I see a ragged looking woman with a table set up on the sidewalk. She is selling bouncy balls and stickers for 50 cents each. I pick up a green bouncy ball and a bunch of stickers to give to Russ the next time I see him. He will be thrilled to get a present from his dad. It doesn’t happen often, that’s for sure. I want to buy him more presents. I want to be a good dad for him. I’m going to try to be a good role model for him. He deserves a caring dad, which is something I never had in life.

  I make a phone call to Jason to see if his guy will front me another ounce to sell off. He is appalled that I need more already and he is happy to oblige my request. My plan is to hit up some of the street girls working near my apartment. I’ll really have to scope out the area, though. The last thing I need is to be caught on someone else’s turf. These Detroit gangs are no joke! At least I have my 9mm close by, so I might have a fighting chance to survive.

  I have to adjust my pants a bit to make up for the extra weight in the back. I brush my hand across my shirt and feel for the outline to make sure the gun is really there. I smile when I feel the handle with my thumb.

  I know the guy who runs the liquor store, so I never have a problem getting what I need there. I head into the store and go for the whisky section. As I’m passing through the aisles, I see beer in the cooler and I contemplate if I would rather have beer today. I compare between the two, then think about the wad of cash still in my back pocket. I realize that between the gun and the liquor, I’m going to have spent almost half of my hard-earned payment in a matter of an hour. I pretty much have to save the remainder for next month’s rent and bills. Damn it. I do all this sketchy shit only to still be poor.

  A ping comes across my brain. I know how to add to my plummeting cash stash. It’s easier than I ever would have imagined. I feel the adrenaline begin to sweep through my body. My heart rate starts to rise. I feel for the gun again, still perfectly sitting in its spot. I look around and assess my surroundings.

  I see two people in the store, an older fella and a young woman. The cashier person is a new face I’ve not seen yet. She would ID me for sure. There’s no way she would sell me my Jack, even if I paid her off. I wonder how much money is in the cash register at 11:00 a.m. It doesn’t matter. It would be more than I have now, plus I could take my Jack Daniels free of charge. I have a gun, so I might as well use it. Besides, I’m technically already a criminal. I’ve broken that virginity, so why would it matter? I won’t actually shoot anyone, but they don’t know my intentions.

  I long for that rush one more time. That feeling of magnificence that allows me to be the opposite of the person I really am. That feeling that turns me into someone I can only wish to become. The feeling that gives me the okay to make bad decisions. I want to feel in charge. I want the urgency. I crave the chaos within me, and before I think to talk myself out of it, I’ve donned my hood and pulled up my gun.

  That beautiful Berretta is aimed square in the face of a pale, red-headed woman standing behind the counter. I yell for the two customers to come up front and hit the floor. They do as they are told.

  My eyes are open wide; I can see everything right now. The colors are real. The fear is lingering in the air. I am the man. I yell for her to empty the register. I watch the two people kneeling on the concrete. I made them do that, me. The old guy is shaking; he looks like he needs a drink. His face is stubbly and wrinkled from time. He looks smart with his sweater vest and khakis. His skin is pale and he looks like he is going to be sick. I glance to the left and see the woman kneeling next to him. She is a large woman with a round face and long legs. I wonder if she is crying because of me or if those puffy eyes are from earlier in the day. She looks disheveled and lost in her thoughts. I can’t help but see the unknown in her eyes. Her mystery makes her sexy. I resist the urge to ask for her phone number. I turn to the cashier and tell her I want the money hidden in the safe too.

  “Sir, I don’t have the safe combination. Only the owner has it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry” She manages to stammer.

  She’s not lying. I know the owner and he is a cheap bastard. He wouldn’t trust anyone with his funds. I look at the sack of cash and think for a moment. I’m doing this for Russ. I want him to have a better life than I did. I need to give him the things I didn’t have as a kid. He needs me. I convince myself for a second that what I am doing is okay. I grab the bag of cash and reach beside the counter to grab my bottles of Jack. As I turn to leave the store a richer man, I hear an explosion followed by an excruciating pain in my back.

  I feel my body hit the floor.

  I see bright lights in my eyes.

  As my head falls to the side, I see Russ sitting on the floor playing with his drool-infested toys. He is happy. He is handsome like his Daddy. He brings so much joy to my heart. He looks into my eyes and says,

  “Bye bye, Daddy.”

  Liquor Courage

  One sip and you’re taken over.

  The knowing is what matters inside.

  You didn’t think you could do without.

  Once it’s there you feel astride, nothing inside.

  Make your move and don’t think twice.

  Pay the consequences or don’t.

  Second yourself and be the one.

  Change your ways for the moment.

  Knowing soon enough it will be back to the start.

  Ride the wave, feel the smoothness.

  Pick your choice, play it well.

  Normalcy is jealous of your new friend.

  Feel the looks of where you were.

  Swallow the heat, beat the burn.

  Only seconds it takes to surrender.

  Respond to the peace.

  Swig it to the bottom, then contemplate the dose.

  What’s your shot?

  Mark

  I stagger into Joni’s with the events that just took place still stuck in my head. The pit in m
y stomach is begging to be puked up into a heaving mess of bullshit. If I had a knife, I would cut it out just to feel better. I know it’s going to be there for a very long time. I find the Admiral sitting in his usual spot, patiently waiting for me to oblige to his constant nagging. I glance at the rows of bottles with every type of liquor you can imagine. I can’t help but think to myself that it would be nice to have one of everything available to me. I wonder how much it would be to buy every bottle in the store. I would be set for an entire year of just straight drinking, no sleep or food. Just liquor.

  I would start my binge with whisky. I would taste them all until the supply vanished, then move on to the brandy. After the brandy chews me up and spits me out, I would need something to liven up my buds again. I think about fruity drinks, which remind me of Lana. The pit wells again. I cancel my endless order of fruity shit and stick to the hard-man shit. I feel an over-exaggerated urge to prove something to myself. I know I am a man, but now I am questioning whether I am really a man since I apparently now like men. Fuck. Does it count if you were tricked into loving a man?

  At that moment I hear shouting and glance to the front of the store to see a kid with a gun standing next to the attendant. My heart pounds. He yells for me and another woman nearby to come to the front or pay his price. This kid looks like a wimp, I could probably pop him once in the skull and he’d be done for, but I don’t know him or what he is capable of. I decide to play it safe. I slowly make my way toward him but not before loosening the cap and taking a rather large swig of the Admiral. I approach the front of the store and drop to my knees next to the kid with the gun. The attendant looks terrified as the barrel is pressed to her left temple. I can’t help but be thankful it’s not pressed against mine. She manages to keep her shit together miraculously.

  The gunman looks like a child, but that gun is no toy. I used to have one identical to that. The way he holds the piece sideways, like he’s a thug, really pisses me off. I wonder how many times he practiced that pose in the mirror before his balls finally dropped enough for him to make it a reality.