The Green-Eyed Maid Inn

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“Whoa,” I said, “Hey. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s what Avery keeps telling me, but,” she threw a hand out and gestured wildly at the air. “All evidence to the contrary. I’m homeless, half my family hates me for existing, they hate my gramma for not taking a side, they hate each other for not voting ‘the right way’. Maybe it’s not my fault but I am the match that started the forest fire.”

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Dad took the whole thing incredibly well,, far better than I could have hoped. Literally just going about his day like nothing unusual was going on and then said in passing, “By the way Rye, Congrats on the Hostessin promotion.” I didn’t even know he knew I’d gotten promoted. “Your Grandpa Rory said to tell you we’re all proud of you, and Grandma June says you look adorable,” he’d added. And that was how I sort of came out to my entire family, apparently - entirely by accident.

I soon found out that my sister Fiona had a friend who was like me, too, and, not to say I had a solid idea of who it might be, I really wasn’t expecting it to be her best friend from high school, Marilyn Swanson either. Head cheerleader, actual prom queen and homecoming queen, Marilyn was the all american girl next door who just so happened to be drop dead gorgeous, and had even taken on professional modeling to absolutely no one’s surprise.

What did surprise me though, was that she even had the time to meet with me. Not only that, but after Fiona told her about me, she had called me up and we talked for probably four hours straight before she dropped everything to come and visit.

She claimed it was just because she wanted to see Boston again, but she showed up with an actual briefcase full of information for me, resources, therapists she ‘personally trusted’ to use her words. She had really gone all out, and it honestly blew me away.

When I asked her why she had done all this for me, she said simply “Because it’s what someone else did for me, and I wanted to pay it forward - especially for my best friend’s sister.” I didn’t realize just how soon I would get to pay it forward, myself, just, not in the same way exactly.

It had been about two weeks since Shannon and I had started dating. I just snuck up to see her on a quick trip toNewport with my dad because I had never been to Rhode Island, and did not feel comfortable traveling alone as a newly out of the closet transgirl. Luckily he not only had the time, but was actually excited that I had asked him. He had just finished a big contract job there a couple of weeks ago and lamented not getting to see much of the city proper, so we made a day of it before I met up with Shannon later that day.

We had just gotten back, and I was carrying my small backpack and suitcase from the cab to the house when I saw Megyn sitting on the front porch swing.

Now, it wasn’t like Avery and Megyn were joined at the hip or anything, but it still struck me as odd for some reason. I put my suitcase down by the door and walked over to sit beside her. Dad picked it up and brought it inside for me as I let a moment of silence pass before saying something.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I said. She blinked, like she hadn’t even heard me come up and sit down.

“Oh,” she said somberly. “Hi Rye.” She leaned into me and I put an arm around her. “Sorry. Just... Trying to figure things out.”

“Like what?” I asked. She shook her head.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’ll just start crying again,” she sighed. “You guys have all been so incredible through all this, and poor Avery, she’s just been an absolute rock. But I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

Despite her best efforts she started to cry anyway. I hugged her close letting her put her head on my shoulder and slowly rocked the big bench swing a little without saying a word.

“My whole fucking family is at each others’ throats now. My aunt Kendra and uncle Johnny don’t want anything to do with Mom now, understandably, but then Grandma Stacey is trying to play devil’s advocate and pissing everybody off in the process, my uncle Derrick is saying nasty shit about “the gays” on Facebook and it’s just...” she trailed off into quiet sobs. “I’ve torn my family apart.”

“Whoa,” I said, “Hey. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s what Avery keeps telling me, but,” she threw a hand out and gestured wildly at the air. “All evidence to the contrary. I’m homeless, half my family hates me for fucking existing, they hate my gramma for not taking a side, they hate each other for not voting ‘the right way’. Maybe it’s not my fault but I am the match that started the forest fire.”

We sat in silence for awhile longer. Mom came outside to join us, sitting opposite me on Megyn’s other side. She wordlessly placed a cup of hot tea, chamomile by the smell, into Megyn’s unresisting hands.

“You know,” I said, “You are wrong about one thing.”

“What’s that?” Megyn asked, sniffled, and then took a sip of her tea.

“You’re not homeless. Whatever else is going on, whatever happens with your life, your family, or between you and Avery, you will always, always have a home here. Friends are the family you get to choose.”

“Really?” she asked and sniffed again, looking up at Mom for confirmation. She nodded, putting her arms around Megyn now.

Honey, of course you do. You’ve been as much a part of our lives as any of my other daughters. You’re a Sullivan in spirit if not in name, and you always will be.”

“Thank you,” Megyn said, trying to wipe at her eyes, but she might as well have tried to stop Niagara Falls. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow and let the tears drop.

“I’m not okay,” she said, “and I know that. I’m... I need...” she trailed off, and then silently reached into the pocket of her jeans. She took out a brand new razor blade, still in the blister pack, and handed it to Mom.

Mom hugged her even tighter. “There’s always another way, baby girl,” Mom said. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but I promise it will get better. We’ll get you whatever help you need.”

I was already on my phone, texting Dad. He was the only one I could think of in that moment, partly because of our recent trip, and I asked if he had the suicide prevention hotline for Megyn.

I really hurt for her. I’d been living this amazing, charmed life for the past two weeks, getting to hang out with celebrities, albeit while dressed like a Charles Dickens character half the time, going to concerts every weekend - since Midnight Dolls were trying to stay close to the area until their big Halloween concert in Salem next month. And Megyn had been slowly falling apart.

Whatever it took, whatever I had to do to help her, I didn’t care, I’d do it. Right now, that just meant making a connection with a counselor for her, but there was a little more that I could do, it turned out.

~oOo~

Maybe it was serendipity, maybe it was fate, or karma, or whatever, but after working with the suicide prevention people, Megyn agreed to see a therapist, and her new therapist was actually in the same building, same floor, and I cannot stress just how wild this coincidence was, the same time slot as my first therapy session with Dr. Logan.

She was coming to see Dr. Kalm, which, if that wasn’t just the best name for a therapist ever, I didn’t know what was.

“You okay?” I asked her as we got off the elevator and stepped into a hallway that felt more like a hotel than a clinician’s office. Soft stained oak paneling and a thin burgundy rug immediately put us both in mind of one of those ritzy hotels - nothing like the old Inn, but a modern upscale place, like a Hilton.

“Just nervous,” Megyn sighed. “God I wish Avery was here.”

“She almost skipped school,” I laughed. Megyn nodded.

“I know. I had to talk her out of it twice. She has a huge Calc II exam and she’s been looking forward to that lecture on ReactJS for a month. I couldn’t do that to her,” she said. I hugged her.

“It’s going to be okay. I’ll cancel my appointment if I have to so I can go with you.”

“What?” she looked at me. “Riley, no way. If you cancel with Dr. Logan I will personally dip your hand in warm water every night for the next six months while you sleep.”

We heard an older woman, probably in her mid-30s, burst out laughing at that. We looked up to see a smiling red haired lady watching us from the nearby hallway, leaning casually against the corner. She gave us a friendly wave.

“That sounds like a serious threat. You’d better do what she says,” the woman said, grinning.

“She’ll do it, too,” I laughed. “My sisterAvery says she played for keeps when they used to play truth or dare.”

The woman giggled. “Would one of you happen to be Riley Sullivan?” she asked. “Or Megyn Coldwell?”

“That’s us,” we said in unison. “I’m Riley, and this is Megyn,” I added.

“It’s great to meet you both,” she said. “I’m Stephanie Logan. My colleague Beth Anne Kalm, had a... bit of a minor emergency so she’s running late, and asked me if I could meet with you, as well, Megyn. I know you’re here for very, very different reasons so our one on ones will be private, but I understand the two of you are friends?” she asked.

We nodded. “Like sisters,” Megyn said, smiling at me briefly. “And... Well, Riley’s the one who found me, stopped me from...” she trailed off. I hugged her tight.

“Let’s step into my office and talk for a bit,” Stephanie said, giving Megyn a warm, soft smile. I tried to give her my best understanding smile back. I had already told Megyn I’d cancel if I had to, and I think Stephanie even heard me say as much, although that ended up not being necessary.

By the time it was time for our one on one portions, Dr. Kalm, Beth Anne, was back in the office and apologizing profusely for the trouble her car tire had caused. Apparently it had suffered ‘an explosive disassembly event’ on the interstate. Thankfully no one was hurt, but she single handedly had stopped two lanes of traffic for a good 10 minutes while a couple of good samaritans helped her get her car over to the shoulder.

“Quite an eventful start, huh?” Stephanie said as we sat back down in her office again, while Beth took Megyn to hers.

I hadn’t actually taken in the office until now, so focused on Megyn, or Stephanie, or the session in general, and I admit I was kind of relieved not to see a single stereotypical Sigmund Freud couch in sight. I thought the Harvest of Hearts poster on the wall was a bit much at first, until I realized - it had the band’s actual autographs on it.

She followed my gaze, grinning. “You’re a fan, too?” she asked.

I laughed. “Oh my Gosh yeah, my aunt Rose works with them so we get to hang out backstage when they’re in Boston or the surrounding area. I was just surprised you are - no offense.”

“None taken,” Stephanie giggled. “We’re actually from the same hometown, Alpine Springs,” she said. “It’s pretty much the polar opposite of Boston,” she laughed. “Everything’s all spread out, but they have the cutest little covered bridge leading into town. Ah, anyway, you’re not here to talk about me,” she teased.

We talked for what felt like both only a few minutes, but also several hours. In reality it had only really been about 45 minutes. Mostly I talked. Stephanie listened. I rambled about life at the Inn, Stephanie asked me about high school, if I ever consciously felt like I was really a girl, and that was the thing that confused me the most.

“It never occurred to me, until after it happened,” I’d said. “It’s like, this subtle little switch in my brain got flipped. It wasn’t a “Yes I’m the girliest girl who ever girled” kind of thing,” I said and paused while she fought back a giggle. “More like... Yeah, this feels right. Especially the first time I went out with Shannon and Sinead that afternoon. I wasn’t like, playing the role of a cleaning girl anymore. I was just being me, but I was still Riley Denise, you know?”

“It was sort of an ‘a ha’ moment, huh?” Stephanie asked. I nodded.

“Things moved pretty fast after that with Shannon. We started dating that night, the infamous pink glove photo,” I said, and she nodded in understanding. She’d definitely seen it, though whether naturally or as part of case research preparing to meet with me, I wasn’t sure.

I hated to admit it, but it was such a great photo of us too. We were turned slightly to the side and Shannon had her arms around me, exhausted, and you could see the water bottle in her hand so it almost looked like she was just catching her breath while talking to a really close friend, except for the fact that my gloved hand was resting on her hip.

The other photos were of us looking panicked, trying to get away, which only fueled the fiery speculation. There was also the Sweet Sixteen photo op that consisted more or less of Shannon and I standing together in front of a ‘Sweet Sixteen’ branded white cardboard thing. I was listed in the photo caption as ‘Mystery Ginger’ wich I admit, I got a kick out of when I found out.

“A lot of transgirls like to get on HRT before they ever think about socially transitioning,” Stephanie said, “But some do it the other way around, and, some never get on HRT. Is that something you’ve thought about?”

“A lot,” I said. “I’ve been trying to research it online in prep for meeting with you, and I’m super lucky my sister Fiona’s friend who’s also trans has been there to help me talk through some of it. For some girls it’s like, there’s no question, it’s what they want. I’m still not sure yet, but I also don’t want to shut the door on it either, you know?”

“I do,” Stephanie said. “Uncertainty is understandable. You would actually be surprised to find out how many people get on HRT and then, a couple of months in, as they realize their libido disappears and they can’t get an erection anymore, it might not actually be what they wanted after all.”

“Really? I think I’d rather that than the current alternative of wearing very, very baggy jeans,” I said, and finally managed to break her professional composure, if only for a moment, as she brought up her hand to giggle politely the way Shannon sometimes did.

“Would you like to do a 2 month trial and see how it goes? The effects up until that point are reversible. After that, at around 3 months, you’ll start to notice breast growth, and by six months things start to get even more permanent.”

“I didn’t know that was even an option,” I said. “Yeah. That would be incredible. There’s just one thing,” I said. She wrote something down and then showed it to me. It was just a big stick figure happy face. I laughed out loud.

“Sorry,” she said. “Everyone expects their therapist to always be writing things down, but sometimes I just do it for the look of the thing. What was your one thing?” she asked.

“Oh,” I said, still giggling. “Well I already mentioned I’m dating Shannon. We’re keeping it low key right now. We’ve done one photo op together for Sweet Sixteen Magazine, but as far as the internet is concerned, I’m ‘the mystery ginger’ or ‘Glammed up Willow Rosenberg’. But what if people, you know, do figure out who I am?”

“You’re worried about a very, very public transition,” Stephanie said more than asked, and I nodded firmly. “Then I’ll be right here by your side to help you through it. You could always wear shapewear in the interim,” she added. “Push up padded bras and butt lifting panties that add the illusion of being more there than there is. That way if you decide you want to keep going with transition, your body will naturally fill out into that shape. And if you decide not to, then you have the option of increasing or decreasing your feminine appearance physically whenever you want.”

“That almost feels deceptive,” I said, frowning. Stephanie nodded.

“Yeah, that’s totally understandable. But, think about it this way. Are your lips naturally that pink?” she asked. I shook my head. “It’s my favorite shade of lip gloss, my friend Claire introduced me to.”

“And my eyes aren’t this smokey,” Stephanie grinned. “I know it’s not a perfect analogy, but, it’s a little similar. People assigned female at birth enhance their appearance through all kinds of clothing, makeup, even the way they talk can change depending on their situation. I had to learn to lower my voice when dealing with male colleagues to be taken more seriously before I partnered with Dr. Kalm here.”

“Wow, really?”I asked. She nodded.

“It isn’t deception, I don’t think, so much as just augmenting , doing what you have to do to navigate social situations in a way that represents your truest self.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” I said. “Thank you so much Stephanie. I’m really excited to move forward with this now.”

“I’m so glad I could help,” Stephanie said, beaming.

I stepped out of her office with a letter and an appointment to have bloodwork done, but I had plenty of time to wait for Megyn, who was still talking with Elizabeth - understandably, honestly.

I sat down in the waiting area, snapped a picture of the letter, and sent it to the GEM’s work group chat. ‘I got a letter’

‘Hope it wasnt from ur dead wife mary ;)’ Kendra, of all people, responded. I nearly belted out laughing when I saw that. I adored all things horror, and of course that included the classics like Silent Hill 2. I just didn’t expect that from Kendra.

‘Omg u literally made me laugh out loud and im still in drs office lmao kendra! Na im getting hrt started this afternoon just waiting for megyn now shes meeting with her therapist still so ill be a tiny bit late to work.’

‘Congrats! Don’t worry about being late just take care of Megyn,’ Erika replied, and after a moment another message popped up, this time a private chat from her.

‘Hey do you need a lift? I know your bike is still dead.’

‘Lol yes riding public transit as a girl is way different even just little changes like wearing makeup and nail polish have totally changed how ppl treat me thank you,’ I actually typed out, rather than my usual shorthand. I wanted to emphasize how much I appreciated the offer, and gave her the address.

‘Hey np I need to pick Evie up from the airport anyway so you’ll finally get to meet her!’

I looked up as Megyn came into the waiting area, and stood up to give her a hug. She smiled a little.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Beth wants me to try Sertraline, and if that doesn’t work she’s got some other ADs I can try instead. We’re going to get through this,” she said. I nodded.

“Erika’s going to swing by and pick us up since she has to pick up her fiancé at the airport anyway.”

“Yay,” Megyn said, giving me a genuinely excited smile as we stepped onto the elevator. “I finally get to meet the infamous Matron,” she teased. “Maybe I’ll ask her for a part time job so I can make some extra spending money. Not that I need money exactly, between you guys and Avery, but it’d be nice to be able to do something nice for her.” As the doors opened, she sang softly, “Don’t it always seem to go, you never know what you got till it’s gone?”

I hugged her tight for a moment, but she put her head on my shoulder and smiled again. “I’m okay. I think it’s called gallows humor,” she said.

“You have an amazing voice, Meg,” I said as we walked outside to wait for Erika. She actually blushed.

“You’ve never heard me sing before?” she asked, and I shook my head, so she sang a few more bars. A couple of tourists who were walking down the street stopped to listen. “I want to be a singer songwriter like Joni Mitchell someday,” she said and shrugged.

“You should go for it,” I said. “Put what you’re experiencing, your anger, heartache, even the love of the family into your lyrics,” I said reassuringly. She smiled thoughtfully.

“You really think so?” she asked. “Beth-Ann does want me to try and find a hobby, something I can pour my heart into and distract me from what’s going on.”

“I think my Grandma’s old guitar is up in our attic. I’ll dig it out for you when we get home.”

“Rye, you’re the best,” Megyn said as Erika’s British racing green BMW pulled up. She honked once and waved at us. I couldn’t help laughing.

“Van Laderman women do love their green,” I said playfully, getting a giggle out of Megyn as we hopped in the back.

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Author’s Thoughts:
I normally put these as an Author’s Note at the start of a chapter, but it was important to me to present the story as it is first, and then talk about why I made the decisions that I did, when I did.

First of all, Riley, writing in the first person, is inherently limited. She even flat out states that she hasn’t been paying attention to what’s been happening as Megyn’s been falling apart behind the scenes. That’s why she’s so desperate in the therapist’s office to get Megyn whatever help she needs. She feels terribly, painfully guilty.

As some of you know, this isn’t the first time I’ve eexplored this topic. The first time was in the Becoming Robin main series, through the character Crystal, and what her death did to the people who knew her, Natalie and Rachel, and how it even affected Robin, who never met her.

This time, I wanted to explore what if someone was able to get there in time, to say the right thing, and to get them the help they needed. It’s catharsis for me because, again, if you know me, you know that I never got that chance with the friend that I lost. It’s been almost 27 years now, but I still miss her dearly and wish that I or anyone else could have done something, anything to ease the pain she was feeling.

So if this chapter felt like a sudden emotional turn, that was intentional. If you feel like the payoff that their therapy sessions being coincidentally timd feels forced, well, that’s because they were. Riley calls it karma or serendipity. I call it an author’s prerogative. :D

In any case, I just hope that it doesn’t detract too much from your enjoyment of the story as a reader - because I am, at the end of the day, an entertainer trying to tell an enjoyable story. I just hope you’ll forgive me a little self indulgence from time to time, too.
All my love,
- Zoë

PS: if Stephanie seems familiar, it’s because she appeared in Everything’s Sunny, and, she’s the daughter of Cheryl Logan, Robin’s endocrinologist. I loved the character too much to let her languish in a series that I am never going to touch again. She’s a lovable goofball, and one of my all time favorite supporting characters (as evidenced by her drawing a big smiley face on her notepad!)