Indelible Marks
I put Fools Die by Mario Puzo back on the shelf and turn toward the rest of the thrift store. I came here to purchase used books, but I'm open to other items too. Is there something in home goods I could use? Or a hidden gem in electronics? There's a chair I like in the furniture area, but I don't have room for it at home. Maybe clothes won't let me down. Thrift store clothing used to be exciting to me, but that was back at the start of my transition, when I hungered for anything feminine to wear.
By the time I reach the end of clothing and apparel, being here feels like a mistake. Thrifting can be a crapshoot with no guarantees of finding anything, however it's rare for me to leave a store without purchasing something; the prospect of doing otherwise makes me nervous.
Experiences from my adolescence had left indelible marks on me. My appearance back then as a skinny long-haired androgynous teenage boy, most often garbed all in black, tended to draw suspicion from adults in my conservative community. I did my best to avoid trouble, but all the same, neighbors would call the cops after seeing me walk down the street, and I was wrongfully accused of shoplifting on two separate occasions. Thankfully, and perhaps a bit ironically, I don't stick out so much in my current role of mousey middle-aged trans woman.
I begin to consider the Puzo book again, but then I see it. A small canvas backpack for under $10.
I already have a backpack at home, but it's an unwieldly travel bag, huge and bulky with pocket after pocket, prone to smacking people in tight public spaces. This bag is a small single compartment bag with a leather top flap and shoulder straps. I imagine myself using it to store a book and snacks during day trips — the spring equinox is in two weeks, so surely fair weather is just around the bend. Ultimately, it's the thought of pending travel plans with my fiancée that sway me.
I met my fiancée three years ago, in our late thirties, back when both of our public transitions had barely just begun. Our first date was at a coffee shop and we've since done so many things together, including big trips with her family.
As a visibly trans couple, we have also faced public harassment together, on the road and in our home territory. I mean, the vast majority of people leave us alone, if they notice us at all, but there's always the potential for a routine moment to go horribly wrong. So, yes, that fear lingers, but we support each other. Once, on one of our early dates, she told me I was a badass for using the women's restroom, although, in truth, I was actually quite scared. Knowing that she was standing nearby in the hall was what gave me courage.
I pay for the backpack and leave, all without incident.
Previous Next