If you've run away once... can you run away again? For Taboo contest, October 2020. |
It's me, Zoe There was a strange sound coming from under the bed of course. Spot and Cookie always fought over the heating grate. They preferred that to warming my cold feet! My feet were forever cold. "Born blue", "My blue baby", my mother was constantly surprised that I'd survived. "We dressed him in red to warm him up", my father would add, "like a mini Santa". Yes my birthday was the 23rd of December. They named me Felix Navidad, their Christmas miracle. Now they never mention it without crying. "Felix was such a beautiful young boy until..." Until what mom and dad? Until the day I ran away or was it the day I told you I was trans and wanted you to call me Zoe? Or was it the day you got 'the call'. Do you want me to remind you? "So sorry but your daughter was in an accident." Accident-my-ass. My brakes were cut and everyone knows it. "It's better this way," your friends lamented. Better for whom? Not for me! I'd just had breast implants and now they were leaking like my spleen and the rest of my innards. I could show you pictures. Yes, they have pictures. But you didn't want to look, didn't even want to come to the hospital until grandma begged you. Were you sad when they told you I'd died? No, you just felt relief from the shame. Or sadder the moment I revived and gave grandma a heart attack? Sorry about that, Nana, but you wouldn't let me go! So, I stayed. As blue as ever. My feet forever cold. I'd ask Spot and Cookie to join me. They know I want them to. Cookie will lick my cheek in the morning and Spot meows as if I could answer. But cats... they do as they will even when they've been dead for over ten years. If I'm ever able to speak again... It's odd knowing what's going on and not being able to tell them it's okay and you 'where to go'. If I ever walk again I'll run, run away from you and 'Felix', your beautiful boy that never was. I'll take grandma with me. She sits with me you know. Never did leave me except for her funeral. I think she was curious. She smiles a lot now. Spot and Cookie knows she's there. Thankfully you don't. They're all I have. I'm flat on my back and hooked up like a Christmas tree, I plan. What else can I do? Last night I made a light flicker and rugs seem to slip out from under you. You change a bulb and swear you'll be careful next time you get out of the tub. You don't suspect it could be me. No, it couldn't possibly be your beautiful boy. And it isn't. It's me, Zoe. © Kåre Enga [177.275] (31.oktober.2020) 480 words ... more or less ... for:
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