Margins and Murmurations

by Otter Lieffe

  She had taken several pebbles from the riverbank that morning and to complete her shrine, she started to lay them around the photo in a semi-circle. She brought herself into the moment, took a deep breath and—

  Suddenly—

  She was gone.

  Chapter twenty-four

  Ash stood in a massive, screaming crowd. Thousands of men and women in a park somewhere. She could smell their tension, excitement, and nervousness. She felt instantly overwhelmed, bombarded with sounds and smells and sensations. She was jostled by people on either side and someone near her was blowing a piercing whistle. She could smell popcorn. The sun was high and bright; it was summer.

  As she squinted against the sunlight and looked around her, Ash realised that she remembered this park. She remembered this day.

  Somewhere at the back of the crowd, she knew a seven-year-old version of herself must be right now eating candy and holding hands with her mother, equally scared and excited to be in such a large group of people. Ash looked around but couldn’t see herself.

  She already knew that while she was here she was almost unnoticeable to the people of this time. As if to prove the point, someone bumped into her violently and someone else pushed past her towards the stage.

  They look right through me as if I’m not here, but maybe it's better that way. What if I changed something?

  Suddenly there was a tussle on the stage and one of Ash's greatest heroines stepped out and grabbed the mic.

  Sylvia Rivera.

  She looks just like the photo.

  Sylvia Rivera. Latina, transgender and homeless from the age of ten. Radical in a world of people trying to hide and assimilate into the mainstream.

  Uncompromising, outspoken and committed and furious at the betrayal of her so-called community.

  I remember this day perfectly.

  It was 1973, barely four years after Stonewall: the Christopher Street Liberation day rally.

  Ash watched on as Mama Rivera—as she would one day be known—gave a speech that would rock the young Ash to the core.

  Sylvia Rivera, a vision of fury on the stage, called out the gay and lesbian community for ignoring their trans siblings in prison, for ignoring the violence that she, and others like her, experienced daily at the hands of the police.

  “You all tell me go and hide my tail between my legs! I will not any longer put up with this shit! I have been beaten. I have had my nose broken. I have been thrown in jail. I have lost my job. I have lost my apartment for gay liberation. And you all treat me this way? What the fuck’s wrong with you all?”

  Her voice was hoarse from screaming over the boos and hisses launched at her by the crowd.

  This crowd who were supposed to be her community and family. The same people who enjoyed the privileges they did only because of the hard work and fighting of drag queens and trans women at Stonewall and the other riots.

  This crowd who were only too eager to leave trans people behind, only too keen to denounce Mama Rivera as a 'man' and to keep her from the stage or put her at the front of the most violent demos until the press arrived and they took the mic back into cis-white hands.

  Ash was breathless as she watched. She remembered this speech by heart although for her it had been a lifetime ago. Years later, watching the videos recorded on the day, it had become a major step in her radicalisation, a log on the fire of her fury that would fuel decades of activism and hard work, of uncompromising confrontation.

  She blinked back a tear and took in the moment.

  I'm so glad to relive this again. Even if only for a short time. I could stay here forever, so many things happened at this time, so much changed.

  But already the world was fading in its familiar way. The colours of the park and its people started to disappear. Sounds became more distant and she felt herself spinning, falling. Ash reached out to steady herself, but what she grabbed was the kitchen counter. Her kitchen. Ash stood perfectly still; the final smooth pebble of her shrine still held tightly in her hand.

  Pinar and Jason were standing with her in the kitchen and Jason looked terrified.

  Chapter twenty-five

  “Everything okay, hon?” asked Pinar.

  “I was…I was with Sylvia!” she replied with tears running down her cheeks. “Can I be alone for a minute?”

  Pinar took Jason's hand and lead him out to the deck.

  Ash touched the photo frame tenderly. Not for the first time, she felt a deep appreciation for her gift, a deep gratitude for the memories that it kept fresh for her despite her ageing mind. She placed the final smooth pebble down and completed the circle.

  “What…what just…?” Jason attempted as he closed the door behind them.

  Pinar gestured towards his seat at the table.

  “Sit down. We need to talk.”

  * * *

  The evening meeting was about to start, and Danny was actually on time for a change. Since he left the hotel, he had thought of nothing else but getting to the meeting and reporting on what he'd learned the night before from his drunk client.

  He had asked the facilitator to put him at the front of the agenda, but he was still third in line. He tapped his feet impatiently and waited for the meeting to begin.

  “Evening everyone,” said a young trans guy Danny vaguely recognised. “I'm afraid the official agenda has been cancelled as we've just received some serious news from the forest.”

  Danny was immediately concerned.

  These people love their protocols. For them to cancel the meeting at the last minute, it must be something really serious.

  A woman across the circle began to talk. She was covered in dirt and looked like she hadn't slept in days. Danny figured she must be from one of the 'shoals' as the resistance groups in the forest were known.

  “Hi, everyone,” she said, smiling weakly, “My name's Michal. Most of you know me, I think. I've been out with one of the forest shoals in the south for the last month, securing the wells. I just got back an hour ago. Sorry to interrupt the meeting, but I have bad news I'm afraid—three nights ago our shoal was attacked by State troopers.”

  The room was silent.

  “We were okay,” she continued. “We got away. A couple of us even managed to track the troopers for a few days and we overheard them talking. From what we could gather, we're not the first—another shoal was attacked about nine or ten days ago. We haven't heard anything from them.”

  There were murmurs of concern around the room. Danny knew people out in the shoals.

  “There's more, I'm afraid,” continued the woman. “The State seem to be planning a more comprehensive attack on all the shoals they know about in the next few days and they want to bring the fighters in to work in the factories.”

  “How many of the shoals do they know about?” asked someone from the circle.

  There were around thirty shoals in the forest protecting the forest communities, but several of them had split into smaller groups and even the resistance wasn't quite sure how many there were anymore.

  “Right now, we don't know enough. Just that a major crackdown is being planned. Obviously, I got here as fast as I could. We don't have much time to plan a counter action. I propose we split up into working groups and…”

  In the shocking revelations, Danny's news was forgotten completely. He knew that an attack on the shoals took priority over everything else. Without the resistance fighters, the communities in the forest will be unprotected. The forest itself will be unprotected.

  Danny leaned forward into the circle to hear better.

  I'll help if I can. I just hope we have time.

  * * *

  “So you're a…time-traveller?” asked Jason, still visibly shocked. He ran his fingers through his thick hair and tried to avoid meeting Ash’s eyes.

  She sighed. She hated having these conversations.

  “Sure, kind of.”

  “Wow.”

 
; “Well, it's not all that.”

  Ash had only come out intentionally, or like tonight, been outed accidentally to a few people in all the years that she had been journeying.

  It's always the same process. Confusion followed by denial.

  Then later come the arguments for why such a thing definitely, absolutely can't exist. Why I can't exist. And finally, some kind of acceptance usually tainted with a search to explain me. They always want to pin it all down to biology, socialisation, mental illness or a mixture of all three.

  Ash had once described it as being exactly the same as 'the trans conversation' which she hated just as much.

  Jason was currently at the confusion stage.

  “I…had no idea such a thing was even possible,” he said. “Are you…sure. I mean, it's not some kind of—”

  He didn't have to finish the sentence; everyone knew he was going to say “delusion.”

  Pinar touched his hand gently and gave him a cautious look. Ash was famous for her short temper and nothing made her angrier than being accused of being delusional.

  She had known and worked with plenty of delusional people in her time—through her clinic, through mental health support work in the City—and although she learned to respect their alternative views on reality, she knew her journeys weren't tricks of the mind.

  Besides I have evidence.

  Almost every 'vision' she'd had of the future had come to pass exactly as she'd experienced it.

  Not least this guy himself turning up on our doorstep.

  There wasn't a doubt left in Ash's mind that it was all real.

  “Sorry,” said Jason. “That was rude of me. I guess I'll need some time to adjust my understanding.” He looked at Ash and said gently “Would it be easier for you if I continued this conversation with Pinar privately? I don't want you to feel like you need to educate me. And honestly I probably need some educating…”

  “That would be better, yeah,” said Ash. “Pin?”

  “No problem.” She gave Jason a generous smile and a squeeze on the leg.

  Such maturity from someone so young—I knew I chose well.

  “But later, okay?” said Ash. “I'm starving!”

  Chapter twenty-six

  That night would be Jason's last cleansing.

  Ash scrubbed the dishes while, on the deck, Pinar prepared the hot water with rose petals she had brought from the tenacious old plant that grew all over her roof and fresh yerba buena from the garden. Jason prepared himself and the space near the boat. He knew tonight was important. He knew he had to be ready.

  As he cleared the space and lit candles, he became aware of something he couldn't quite explain. A pulse of life within the land and within his own chest. Something new, and yet something very, very old.

  Ash stepped onto the deck and gave Pinar a silent hug. Without speaking, they stepped over onto the riverbank and began the ritual again for the final time that week. The forest itself seemed to fall quiet for the event. This time in spite of the wood smoke and the fresh bite of the mint leaves, Jason's eyes were dry. He had cried enough. He had moved through.

  Later that evening, as Ash and Pinar cleaned up, Jason took a walk alone along the riverbank watching the ducks and the still, low water. He heard a loud kee-kee-kee echoing through the valley and didn't need to look up to know it was one of the kestrels. I'm so lucky to have been in this place. I'm so glad that I got to meet these women.

  Jason paused for a moment at a curve in the river before turning and heading back to the boat.

  And now I'm ready to leave.

  Night fell and that meant it was time for Jason to return to the forest. He and Pinar stood together by the river, and could hear Ash off in the distance, watering her garden.

  “Are you sure you don't want to stay another night?” Pinar asked him. “I know you said you always travel at night, but it wouldn't hurt to rest your ankle a while longer.”

  “It'll be fine,” he said. “I'll be fine.” He moved a little closer to her. The moon was up early tonight, and her eyes looked even more beautiful in the pale light. “I'd love to stay longer, but I have to get back. I have to meet my shoal at the rendez-vous tomorrow.”

  “I know.” Pinar looked at the moon thoughtfully. “Come visit us sometime?”

  “Of course. I'll be back as soon as I know everyone's okay. And I'll send you a message soon.”

  Pinar smiled, but her heart was heavy.

  I'm worried about him. And I'm going to miss him.

  They fell silent for a while and listened to the rhythmic buzz of crickets.

  “Can I give you a hug goodbye?” he asked.

  “Please do.”

  They hugged then for three long breaths.

  Pinar pulled away just a little to look into his eyes.

  Wise beyond his years. I’d happily stare into those eyes forever.

  She moved forward to lightly kiss his cheek.

  Suddenly and violently Jason recoiled as if from a burning flame. Some memory had appeared, had forced itself upon him. For a few seconds, he was miles away in another time and another place—his heart pounded in his chest and his face was frozen with panic.

  Pinar stood still, unsure what to do. After a few seconds, he shook and came back to her.

  “Perdón,” he began, “I don't know why—”

  “Don't apologise. It's not your fault. I didn't mean to push you.”

  “I guess I'm not a hundred percent better yet, I just…”

  “None of us ever are. It's okay; I understand.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” He stood awkwardly for a moment then held her dark hands in his. “But I'd like to continue this someday. With you. If you—”

  “Yes. I'd love that,” said Pinar. Despite herself, her eyes were watering just a little. “Take care of yourself please. And if you need anything, just come back, okay?”

  She blinked back the tears.

  “I’ll miss you,” she signed.

  “Me too.”

  Chapter twenty-seven

  Desperate and half out of his mind, Prisoner 7485 searched the room for something to kill himself with. The pain and humiliation were all he could think of. He had to make it stop.

  He bashed his head against the wall. If he could do it hard enough, he figured maybe he'd die. Or at least pass out.

  After the third time, he stopped. He had a brutal headache, but he was still very much alive. He needed something with more of an edge, something more efficient. The room was empty except for the broken toilet which still overflowed onto the floor. He held his breath and knelt down next to it.

  He gagged, almost threw up from the smell, but it didn't matter. It would soon be over. Dramatically he lifted his head and prepared to bring it down with all his strength against the metallic edge of the bowl. Enough, enough of all this.

  He slammed his head down, but before it reached the bowl, his knees slipped on the filthy floor and skidded out from under him. He smashed down on the floor, landing painfully on his shoulder.

  Blinking and stunned, he stared at his reflection in the underneath of the bowl. He was wet, covered in his own shit.

  I'm too pathetic to even die properly.

  And yet, as he lay there for what might have been minutes or hours, something began to shift in him, something at his very core. He was too exhausted for anger, too broken to be scared. He had never cried in his entire life. Not since that time when he was a little boy. Not since his dad came home that afternoon…

  He had nowhere to go and no way out. Somehow as he lay, with his head practically in his own waste, he realised he was beginning to feel something new and unfamiliar.

  He felt grateful that they'd caught him.

  He had lost everything that he'd ever had, his money, his power, his dignity.

  But I don't have to hide anymore.

  The door to his cell opened. A trooper looked like he was going to step into the
cell, but seeing him lying there, semi-conscious in his own shit, he thought better of it and stayed in the doorway.

  “7485. Execution's set for next Tuesday. Public hanging.”

  The trooper turned and left, slamming the cell door behind him.

  Chapter twenty-eight

  A week later, Ash was taking the long walk back home along the river. She was tired and sweated in the morning heat. She passed an area where the bank had been washed away during floods last winter and plants were still recolonising. Forty days of rain without stopping! And now it's almost completely empty. I don’t know if this summer will ever stop.

  She passed tiny otter pups playing on the riverbank, oblivious to her careful footsteps. She heard the sounds of woodpeckers and wrens rattling through the trees. This land she belonged to was bursting with life, even with the drought, and she drank it in. She was happy.

  But she was also distracted. Days had passed since Jason had returned to the forest and they'd received no word. Pinar was putting on a brave face, but Ash knew that she was worried. There was nothing either of them could do but wait.

  Ash arrived home. The boat was deliciously warm inside. She curled up in her little bed for a siesta. All this walking is taking it out of me.

  She listened to the buzz of insects and the gentle splash of the river until she fell softly asleep.

  * * *

  Ash was standing at the base of a cliff. A sweeping landscape opened up before her. She didn't know this place, yet it felt familiar. She also knew that it was full of death.

  A waterfall cascaded into a valley burned red by the setting sun. Rain fell all around her.

  So much rain.

  She could never have imagined so much water pounding the earth. Buried rivers exploded from beneath the concrete. Their sounds deafened her.