The Longest Road Pt. 04

Fencing is a difficult and dangerous job. To be effective, fence posts need to be in straight lines and spaced evenly. If there is a five tonne rock or a one hundred year old gum tree where the fence post needed to go, then too bad, the fence needed to be straight. Barbed wire needs to be tight, and applying tension to it is risky. Fencing was normally done by a gang, but if you wanted to make some real money, and you have the skill, you can do it alone. This was the dangerous and desperate path Paul had taken.

He'd had his share of near misses. There were times when his heart was pounding so hard from exertion he thought it would burst. There were days where he didn't get time to eat. Often he would collapse into his swag in the dark, only to get up before it was light and start again.

Despite how hard the work was, and how hard he pushed himself, Paul could not rid himself of the images of Monique. He worked his anger out quickly, hard work can do that to anger. But his heart could not be so easily dismissed. At his worst moments, like when then wire snapped and the flying barbs tore his shoulder apart, his mind drifted to her. As he sowed his wound together he thought of her gentle hands holding his, her sad green eyes reflecting her concern, the comforting cuddles they would have as they lay together in the darkness.

---

Monique was working in the store that morning. Mrs M came through with some drinks to stack in the fridges.

"Paul must have left early this morning." Mrs M observed.

Monique had wondered where he was. She was dreading seeing him again. She had kept an eye and an ear out for his voice, planning to duck out if he was coming in. She couldn't bare seeing his face. She was prepared to see his disgust, his anger, his feeling of betrayal and deceit, but she did not want to. Nothing had prepared her for the news that he had left, and most likely, was never to return.

She found herself retching horribly, and she raced into the toilets to violently throw up.

"You right love? You got customers coming!", shouted Mrs M as she passed by the toilet door.

"I'll be right Mrs M. Must have been something I ate. Can you serve them while I go grab some Alka-Seltzer from my room?", Monique shouted back.

"Righto!", replied Mrs M, putting down her load and trudging back to the store. Muttering 'Alka-Seltzer won't fix what you've got!' to herself, as she went.

---

A soft tapping on her door awoke her. She dismissed it as one of the drunken ringers trying his luck. She heard it again. She got up, threw on a big t-shirt that she used as a nightie, and cautiously opened the door.

Paul stepped into the room, firmly shut and locked the door, then embraced Monique like she had never been embraced before. No words were spoken but as the moments passed they felt less and less like strangers. As if secretly their souls were kissing and making up, the tightness of his bear hug softened to a warm embrace, then they separated, each quietly sitting at opposite ends of the bed.

"This is the last place I want to be, but I just can't get you out of my head." Paul said, his voice soft yet deep and crackling with emotional energy.

"I never wanted this to happen." Monique replied in a trembling voice.

"I know that. But it has. I can't get you out of my mind."

"I know. I have feelings for you Paul, feelings that I don't want."

"You can't help how you feel any more than I can." He replied.

Monique nodded, happy that Paul had acknowledged her as a human, and not some freak show.

"Can I ask you about, ...it?" He asked nervously in the darkness.

"I never talk about it, but I am ok talking to you. What did you want to ask?"

Paul paused, trying to find the words, trying to shape them into questions. In the end he just blurted it out. "Does it work? You know, like a guys?"

Monique had had this question asked of her before. "As a means of urinating, yes. As a sexual organ, no. I am not a functional male, nor am I a functional female. I'm one of nature's freaks, a girl with a penis, a chick with a dick, if you please!"

"Were you ever a boy?" Paul replied.

"Physically I have always had male genitals, but I have never felt like I was male. Even as a young child I identified as being a girl. It didn't matter so much, growing up in the country with only a big sister. I spent a lot of time with her, doing girly things, nobody ever really noticed me. I never realised that other boys were different to me, I just thought they were weird and rude. It was only when I went to high school that I realised I had to pick a team."

"That must have been tough?"

"Yes, very tough." A tear formed in Monique's as she thought back to those horrible days.

"Did they give you a hard time?"

"Yes, you could say that. The Principal didn't want me there, he convinced my parents to send me to a strict boarding school. That's when the real horrors started."

"I've heard about what some of those boarding schools did to young kids."

"You don't know the half of it! They must have thought all their Christmas's had been rolled into one when I turned up. "

"That must have been hell."

"It was, but I they let me be a girl there, so it wasn't all bad."

"Were you abused?"

"Yes."

"How did you cope?"

Monique paused to choose her words carefully. "I learned to detach myself from what was happening to me. My body was having something done to it, but my mind was miles away."

"That must mess you up inside?"

"It did. Eventually the physical side of things ceased to horrify me, and I realised that I was either going to remain a victim or that I could be a player. I'm ashamed to say that I began to be what they wanted me to be. I learned how to please them, to make them feel special. I learned how to play on their jealousies and insecurities. I guess I learned how to play them to my own advantage."

"You learned how to survive."

Monique nodded, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

A long silent pause ensued whilst each of them reflected on what she had just said. Paul broke the uneasy silence.

"What happened after you left school?"

"I went to university. Things were better there. I got a degree in social work. I wanted to help little kids who get a rough time."

"Kids like you?"

"Uh huh."

"So why did you end up here?"

"Well, like yours, it's a long story, but to cut it short: I got a job in Sydney as soon as I graduated and things were going really well. Then someone in the office started spreading stories about my gender. I got fired. Everywhere I went it was the same thing. Even though I was good at my job and even though I looked and acted like a female, the stigma of being transgender meant I got discriminated against. So I decided to go somewhere where I could save lots of money so that I could have the surgery. That's why I'm at Long Bore."

"Wow. So how is that going for you?"

"Pretty good, I've got about $20,000, so I need about another $10,000 and I'm outa here!"

"So does the surgeon just cut off what's there, or do they give you a proper, ... thingy?"

"You get an all singing, all dancing, full bells and whistles vagina, apparently."

"Wow. I mean, that would be great. For you, I mean, to, you know, finally have the right bits down there. You could be who you really wanted to be." Paul could barely disguise his excitement that one day this beautiful girl would actually have the right bits. His enthusiasm was not completely selfless.

"Well, I look at it as me being what I was meant to be. It's all about how you define gender and sex. I was born male because of my genitals, but my gender was always female. I never wanted to be a girl, I always have been a girl. I was just born with the wrong bits. Soon I will have the girl bits to make my body right. I never have liked the term 'transgender', I much prefer gender dysphoria or gender identity disorder, since my gender was the opposite of my sex."

They smiled at each other in the dim light. Paul felt like a knife had been pulled out from his heart. Loving her was OK! She was REALLY a girl. Her bits didn't matter. His relief was only matched by his longing for her.

Paul stood up.

"Come here." He said sternly. She stood on shaky legs and walked slowly toward him. He swept her into his arms and kissed her softly on the lips. She could hear her heart pounding as her body went numb. All she could feel was his strong warm lips against hers. His kiss became stronger, more probing, more needy. Their tongues danced. His aftershave overloaded her senses. She collapsed into his body and let his tongue and lips possess her.

They woke up. They were both still dressed but lying on her small bed, tangled in each other.

"Oh Paul", she gasped, seeing he had orange all over his face, "my lip balm, it's all over you!"

Paul smiled, pulled her close and whispered, "I've been dreaming of orange lips."