Finding Tranquility

by Laura Heffernan

  No one was at the ranch house when I arrived, so I dropped the envelope of cash into the post box next to the front door and kept going down the driveway. Turning left when I reached the main road, it wasn’t long before I found the rest stop Val had mentioned.

  Although doctors were trained to perform well in high stress situations, crossing the border took a toll on Jess’s nerves. This wasn’t exactly the same as performing surgery. She drove to the rest stop as planned, but got out and insisted I spell her at the wheel. She crawled into the back and promptly started snoring, while Ethan joined me in the front seat.

  He shot a couple of glances over his shoulder while playing on his iPad, as if he had something to say that he didn’t want his mother to hear. Instead of pushing him to speak, I turned up the radio and sang softly under my breath. On the third song, Ethan joined me, sneaking me a glance across the console. Our voices blended, filling the car, and breaking the ice.

  When the song ended, with another glance back at his mother, my son finally told me what was on his mind.

  “Do you ever wish you’d been born a woman?”

  “I didn’t understand it when I was younger, but I was born a woman,” I said gently. “A trans woman.”

  Although the size of a grown man, he was still a kid, so I couldn’t expect him to grasp all the nuances. Less than three months ago, he’d thought his father was dead. Finding out that I was a woman wasn’t the sort of confusion that evaporated after a good turkey dinner and a duet.

  He shrugged, making me wonder if I underestimated how much a seventeen-year-old knows and understands. “Sure. But if you could go back, would you put yourself in a woman’s body to start?”

  I thought about this for a moment, because he deserved a real answer, not a flippant one. “I don’t know. If I’d been born any other way, I might not have the strength and resilience I have now. Your mom and I might have been friends, but we might’ve been too scared as teenagers to fall in love, and I wouldn’t give that experience up for anything. And then we wouldn’t have had you. Definitely, you make it worth all the shit I went through. I’m so glad to have met you.”

  We sat in silence for a long time.

  “How’s school?” I finally asked. “Have you made any decisions about college yet?”

  “Harvard, if possible,” he said. “Or BU. I’m going to be a surgeon when I grow up. E/R, though. Orthopedics is boring. All sports injuries and old people.”

  A doctor. My son, the doctor. Ethan Cooper, M.D. My heart swelled with pride, although I didn’t raise this child and deserved no credit. For all I knew, if I’d been around, I’d have screwed everything up.

  “Are you two going to be a couple now? I mean, are you going to be my moms and be married and stuff?”

  “I don’t know.” When I first transitioned, it seemed like I was supposed to date men, but it never felt right, and I’d only been with women for the past few years. Jess loved me, but I wasn’t sure if she was ready to dive back into our marriage, and I couldn’t speak for her. “Would that bother you?”

  “Not really. Lots of kids at my school have two moms or two dads. Erin’s dads bought everyone bee..…I mean, um, milkshakes, at her New Year’s Eve party last year.”

  He looked at me nervously. I made a mental note to suggest Jess have a talk to with Erin’s dads, but decided to lecture my son on underage drinking later. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. There’s this kid in my calculus class, and his moms have a bakery. He gives me stuff when I help with his homework. He doesn’t need much help, but the cupcakes are good, so it’s cool.”

  Ah, to be a teenager again and have your impressions of people based on whether they bought you cupcakes or threw good, illegal parties. Things used to be so simple.

  “Things were a lot different when I was your age.”

  “I know.” He paused for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek the way I used to when thinking. “I’m the only 9/11 baby I know. People treat me different because I don’t have a dad. Last year, one of the sixth graders lost her mom. I didn’t know her, but everyone wanted me to talk to her, anyway. She told me it wasn’t the same, because I’d never met the parent I lost.” He paused for a moment, so I leaned over to ruffle his hair. “Strangers have treated me different my whole life. Things will change, but it don’t really matter. I’m still me.”

  This poor kid. Without even knowing it, I’d forced him to grow up so much faster than he should have. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I had no idea Jess was pregnant. If I’d known—”

  “You’d have stayed and been miserable and it woulda been my fault. No, thanks.”

  Another look into the backseat. Jess always slept like the dead, so I wasn’t overly concerned with her hearing us. Besides, we’d said nothing I wouldn’t tell her later, anyway. But Ethan lowered his voice.

  “What would bother me,” he said, “is if you hurt her again. She’s been happy the last few weeks, ever since we scheduled this trip.”

  “She’s been the most important person in my life since I was fourteen. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love her, even when I was gone.”

  “Then why’d you leave?”

  “Because I couldn’t be the partner she needed when I was denying part of myself. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of us.”

  “Why didn’t you try? Coach always says you can’t win without trying.”

  His words were a knife in my gut, and I didn’t know what to say. My seventeen-year-old, who I played no part in raising, was smarter than me. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Sometimes, even when you love someone, you can’t be with them. The world was a lot more prejudiced before you were born.”

  “It’s been pretty bad since the election. Lots of hate crimes.”

  My heart clenched at the words. “I’m sorry you have to see that. But I want to try to make things right with your mom.”

  “Does that mean you’ll stick around?”

  “Yes, I’m sticking around, for as long as the two of you will let me. As a friend or a parent or whatever.”

  “We’ll see,” he said. “If she’s happy, we’re cool. If not… I’m pretty strong.”

  His protectiveness of his mother only made me love him more. I vowed to do my best to keep her happy, then went through a drive-through for donuts to seal the deal. In the backseat, Jess woke up long enough to accept a bag of doughnut holes, apparently oblivious to the agreement Ethan and I forged.

  Hours later, after a stop for lunch and another seat rotation, we pulled up at the Tranquility Cooperative Bed and Breakfast. It looked nothing like I remembered. Weeds grew wild near the road, nearly obliterating the entrance to the dirt path that used to be a gravel driveway. Jess drove right by it, backing up only when Ethan spotted a tiny sign I missed.

  Potholes pitted the road, reminding me what Val said about leaky pipes. Tranquility wasn’t doing so well since Henny died, apparently. The front porch sagged. Crooked blinds hung in several of the windows, but only a dim bulb shone through here and there. Vines grew up the sidewall.

  “Is this place even open?” Ethan asked. “Mom, can we stay at the Best Western? They have HBO and Wi-Fi. I want to watch Game of Thrones On Demand.”

  Jess’s eyes were on me as she replied. “This is the right place, kiddo, but we’re just going to say hi to an old friend. We won’t be here long.”

  Tears blurred my vision. Never had I imagined, even after talking to Val, that Tranquility had fallen into such a sorry state. Whatever I expected to find here, the red “FOR SALE” in the window slammed a lid on those hopes.

  Grabbing my purse, I opened the door and got out. “Why don’t you guys go to the Best Western and check in? Come back for me when you’re done.”

  The door creaked open, and a familiar woman appeared in the doorway. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re all staying here. Come in, come in.”

  Chapter 21

  Jess

  The thought of my husband hiding in this dilapid
ated, moldy old building while I lay on the couch, crying, and eating cheese-flavored crackers all day filled me with despair. Something about seeing it for myself changed everything. I’d let myself believe that Brett left for a better life, but it was impossible to wrap my head around this place being that better life. Instead, it felt like my husband abandoned me to hide out in a filthy slum and avoid responsibilities like having a wife and a real job.

  Behind me, Ethan exited the car and wrinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?”

  “Chickens and cows,” Christa said. “There’s a barn around the back. Tomorrow morning, I can show you how to milk a cow, if you want.”

  “Cool.”

  All I wanted was to dive back into the car and keep driving, but I forced myself to place one foot in front of the other. When the porch steps didn’t disintegrate beneath my feet, I breathed a little easier. Although I never thought of myself as a snob, my entire body screamed for me to run away from this place. There must be spiders hiding in every corner.

  Instead, I called on my bedside manner and greeted the plump, grandmotherly-looking woman standing inside the doorway. “I’m Jess. Nice to meet you. This is my son, Ethan.”

  “Val.”

  The inside made me feel a little better about the accommodations, if not my situation. The front room was homey, if not luxurious. Fresh pine scent filled the room. Gleaming wood floors led to a staircase that curved up and out of sight. The scarred front desk and lumpy old couch had seen better days, but so had the furniture in my basement. We could stay here. As long as my room wasn’t full of spiders.

  Christa took our bags upstairs to our rooms while Val explained what “cooperative bed and breakfast” meant. Ethan perked up when Val mentioned picking apples, mashing them, and learning to make donuts and cider. “We’ll need someone to taste test and let us know when we’ve got the consistency right. Know anyone who might be interested?”

  “Heck yeah,” Ethan said.

  All questions about Wi-Fi and free HBO stopped. Good thing, since he’d watch Game of Thrones over my dead body.

  He followed Val down the hall toward the back of the house, peppering her with inquiries about apple types, how to reach the high branches, and how many bushels you needed to make a gallon of cider. A couple of days here might do my son some good, after all. It couldn’t hurt to see how other people lived, how much work went into creating the food that appeared like magic on our table at home.

  Upstairs, I found Christa putting sheets on a double bed. “Where did you learn to do that? Think of all the time I could’ve saved having you make the beds when we were married!”

  “I learned it here, back in 2001.” She flushed, keeping her eyes focused firmly on the bottom sheet as she smoothed it across the mattress.

  We navigated such awkward emotional ground, neither of us knew what to do or say when the conversation drifted into “unsafe” territory. Awkward silences didn’t feel like the answer, but I wasn’t even ready to think the “d” word, much less have a conversation about ending our marriage. Or not ending it. I still didn’t know which I wanted.

  “You learned a lot here, right?” I picked up a pillowcase and smoothed it over a softer pillow than I expected to find here. “Hotel management and housekeeping and stuff?”

  “Yeah. I learned how to cook and garden, which was good for me. But I also learned how to manage a front desk and do check-ins and a lot of stuff that helped me find a job later.” With the fitted sheet stretched smoothly across the double bed, she moved on to the top sheet. I grabbed the other side to help. “And… this is where I met Bo.”

  The name she mentioned when talking to Val about setting all this up. I overheard enough of the call to gather that something horrible had happened, but was waiting to bring it up until we got settled. Or until Christa gave me the perfect opening.

  “Who’s Bo?” I asked.

  “The only friend I had after I left.”

  Her words slapped me in the face. My natural instinct was to lash out, remind her that she had a friend in me, that it was her own fault if she’d been alone. But that wasn’t what she meant; she wasn’t trying to hurt me. Reestablishing our connection and getting to know each other again was more important than my pride. I bit my lip and waited for her to continue.

  “Oh, Jess,” she said, noting the look on my face. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know. It’s okay.”

  “No, I mean, when I walked away, I was lost without you. I didn’t know what to do. I had no one to talk to. I hid in a hotel room, shaved my beard, bought some crappy clothes so I’d look like a student. Wandered Boston for a few days—”

  Her words sparked something, deep in my memory. “Oh my God. That was you!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “A few days after the attacks. They were interviewing people on one of the local news stations, and someone shoved a mike in this young guy’s face, and I thought, ‘He looks kinda like Brett.’ But you were dead, and I hadn’t seen you without a beard in years. I figured it was just hormones and the stress of losing you making me hallucinate. I never dreamed… I should’ve known. I should’ve kept looking until I found you.”

  She walked around the bed and put her arms around me. “No, you shouldn’t have. Where would you even have started? I left Boston the next morning. Besides, if you’d started looking, I’d have kept running. You’re my best friend, and I love you with all my heart, but this was something I needed to do on my own.”

  “You mean, with Bo.” My voice still held a trace of jealousy that I hated.

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “What happened to him?”

  “The two of us went to a bar—as friends—and we were jumped by two rednecks. They were offended by the idea of men dressed as women, assumed we were gay, and freaked out.” I gasped in horror. “I was pretty strong, and I fought off the one who attacked me. The other one smashed Bo’s face into the pavement, knocked him out, put him into a coma that lasted weeks.”

  My heart broke for her. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Her eyes glazed over, and when she spoke again, she was lost in memories. “Bo arrived at the hotel a couple of months after I did. I’d been keeping to myself—milking cows, collecting eggs, chopping wood. I stuck to manual labor so I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. But it’s like he recognized me for how broken I was, and made it his mission to fix me.”

  “It’s nice that you had someone.”

  “Thanks. Bo worked as a drag queen, with this great character he needed to retire. He was hanging out here to save money while he came up with a new act. He recognized that I wasn’t happy. He showed me how to use makeup, taught me that it was okay to wear women’s clothing.” She blinked and swallowed. “Showed me that being myself, no matter how difficult it was, beat living a lie.”

  “And that’s when you changed your name?”

  “I chose the name when I started venturing out in women’s clothing. But after we got attacked, I didn’t want to be here anymore. Vermont was always one of the more liberal states in the United States. If Bo could be almost killed for being a drag queen, if I could get beaten up for walking around in makeup and a dress here… no place in the country felt safe.”

  “You would’ve been safe in Boston.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe I’d have gotten off the T in the wrong neighborhood one night and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I didn’t want to find out.”

  I nodded.

  “And I couldn’t risk running into you. I needed to get away, figure things out somewhere safe. Tina’s passport was still in my backpack, and our basic features were similar enough. Henny helped with my makeup. Then I drove Bo’s car as far north as I could, hitchhiked across the border, and got a job working in a small inn outside of Montreal. The owner was a friend of Val and Henny. Hired me right away, no questions asked.”

  “Henny helped you a lot.
I’m sorry I never got to meet her.”

  “Me, too. She had a kind soul.”

  “So what happened to Bo after you left?”

  “The hospital wouldn’t give me any information, but Val eventually found out that his parents moved him to a place near their home in Buffalo to recover. He woke up a few weeks after I left, but he never had a cell phone, so I couldn’t call. His parents hung up on me, and I’m assuming they didn’t deliver my messages. I don’t know where he wound up, but I’m sure he didn’t stay with them.”

  Something in her story sounded so familiar, I wondered if I’d read about the attacks in the Boston papers at the time. Or maybe it just reminded me of Brokeback Mountain or Matthew Shepherd. Bo’s story was sadly all too common.

  “I’d guess he went to New York City, probably, or Chicago. Maybe Los Angeles. Bo liked the big cities. But when I checked Google a few years ago, I couldn’t find anything. Not knowing her new stage name didn’t help.”

  “I’m sorry that you lost touch.” I leaned forward and kissed her, gently. Not with passion, but with friendship and understanding. “I should go find my room.”

  “Will you stay here with me?” Her tone may have been casual, but the pleading in her eyes gave away her true feelings. “Just for a bit. Being around you makes me feel better.”

  I kicked my shoes off and leaned back on the bed, reaching for her with one hand. “Of course.”

  She wrapped her arms around me, and I sank back into her, just like when we used to watch TV together as kids. The rightness of being in her arms made all the strangeness of this day, of this place, fade away. After a few minutes, I rolled over, put one hand on Christa’s hip, and kissed her. It felt like coming home again.