Got kind of a 1-2 punch this weekend. The first was when I started bleeding. The second was when I got a text from my old phone number.
The first happened while I was at work. I guess I'll be in this body long enough to get used to this, to know what to look out for, but it took me completely by surprise and left a mess on my clothes. When I realized what happened, I turned to my co-worker Roz and asked if I could go home real quick to change. She gave me this look, like "You silly girl, you should be familiar with this by now." I was completely embarrassed.
So I got home, hurried to my room and just as soon as I'm ready to get dressed and go I hear Derek's voice: "Yo Cal, that you? Guess what, my pussy's bleeding!"
Great, so, we have that in common.
"Yeah..." I said weakly, "Mine too."
The tampons are in the drawer. I saw them right away when we moved in but I put out of my mind the idea that I might actually have to use one (or many!) It's a... a thing, that goes in you... that's not right. But I had to stop it up somehow, so...
I paused, with the thing in my hand. Derek calls in, "You need help getting it in there?"
"Shut the hell up!"
He comes closer to the door. "Just tryin' ta help, geez. Don't be embarrassed."
"God," I said, trying to work through it, "How do women go through this every month?" And the sad answer is that I'm about to find out. I guess you just grit your teeth and get through it.
The next day, I was off and I wanted to do nothing but sit around the house. Derek had the same idea, but that's his only idea. He's such a pain in the ass to live with, because Mona didn't leave him a job or really any other identity other than that body and this apartment. So he's turned out to be an incredibly lazy ass. And on days when I want to stay inn, we just sit around and drive each other crazy. I don't even know if he was doing anything, but our personalities just don't mix.
After I had enough of him, I went to my room. I hadn't checked my phone all day and I noticed there was a light indicating a new text. It asked if I was the real Cal Malloy, and if they were fully understanding what was happening back in Maine. My heart began to race and I bristled at the thought of that guy walking around with my body but... but I know he'll have an easier time than I am. I told him that if he ever needed anyone, I'd be there. Then I cried my eyes out because even though I knew it was going to happen, it still hurt and I'm just not strong enough to put up with this stuff. Everything I used to be is now being controlled by some stranger, and my future is completely dominated by whether or not that person decides to let me have it back (if that's even possible... see Matt and Lila.)
And then that was it. I was done. I am done. Done hoping that somehow this is going to go away anytime soon. Done screaming at the world... for now at least. I don't get to say "I don't want to go to Canada, be a girl and work in a hippie store." I don't get control over anything and it sucks. There is NOTHING I can do but be who I look like and learn to like it.
I don't know what that means, but I'm just going to keep doing what I'm doing and hope it all works out. It can't get any worse, right?
Ugh, 3 or 4 more days of this.