Was Matthew

No sooner had she finished than I was ready to fuck her senseless. I didn't have a condom but she said she was on the pill. I told her to get up and lean over the dining room table, where I fucked her doggy style with gusto. I came after no time at all, heaving and thrusting and shooting my load into her well-used cunt. A virgin she most certainly was not.

Our little romp was followed by giggles and a quick clean up, before we got dressed and smoked another cone. To say we were high was an understatement. We were off our fucking heads.

'You know, I always thought you were so fucking gay,' Hannah giggled.

'No way,' I exclaimed. As I said, my rendezvous with men were secrets that I shared with no one. While one of my high school friends had recently come out, I wasn't yet stupid or brave enough to do the same.

'No, really.' More giggles. 'You act like a girl, do you know that?'

I bluffed another 'no way', even though inside I was secretly pleased. Yes, I thought. Because I should be a girl.

'I'm so fucking high,' she said. 'What was I saying? Where's Kimberley?'

I tried to remember where her friend was. It took me a while to remember, because my brain had been stuck thinking about how wonderful life would be if I'd been born in the right body.

'Maybe with Jakob?' I guessed.

'Yes! Oh my God. She's going to fuck him. Let's go and check on them.'

It was a great plan, but we were greatly off our faces, so it took us a couple of minutes to coordinate ourselves enough to stand up and walk down the hallway.

'I can feel your sperm,' Hannah said. 'It's in my panties. Are my shorts wet? Feel them for me. Is it wet?'

I grabbed her cunt through her shorts. 'It's wet.'

'Oh fuck.'

'It'll dry.'

She fell to the ground in a fit of laughter. 'Oh my God. What are we doing?'

'Um,' I hesitated. 'Checking on Kimberley?'

'Yes! Checking on Kimberley! Let's go,' she ordered, looking her arm through mine, Oktoberfest style, and marching me down the hall.

We burst into the bedroom where our friends were both completely nude. But they weren't having sex, and neither of them looked happy.

'He can't get it up,' Kimberley announced.

I was only nineteen and the whole concept of erectile issues or not wanting to have sex with someone who was offering it, was beyond my understanding. It took very little stimulation for me to get hard, and seeing a woman naked was more than enough to get me cracking a fat.

Not for Jakob. He was hunched up, naked, in the corner of the bed looking dejected.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I was twenty-two I met a lovely, open minded woman to whom I was intensely attracted. The love was mutual and with all the 'it'll be right mate' attitude of two Australian artists, we decided to have a baby.

Cassie was the first person I told of my desire to be a woman. Before we had Luka, she was happy with it. After Luka was born, however, something shifted. She didn't give two shits if other people were gay or transgender or polyamorous, but she wanted a traditional family. I was deeply unhappy. Although I hadn't made concrete plans to transition, I felt immensely betrayed.

Our relationship was over before Luka's first birthday. She was the one that ended it, even though we both wanted out. I'd just kept hoping and praying our relationship would somehow magically fix itself because I was terrified that once we'd separated I'd no longer be able to see my son. Everyone had a horror story about an unreasonable ex and stupid child support demands. I assumed that a Court battle would ensue, and that I'd either have to keep living as a man to prove I was 'normal' or have people laugh at me when I rocked up to hearings looking like a man in a dress.

Thankfully, Cassie and I were both dedicated to putting Luka first, and have managed to arrange and rearrange custody over the years to suit ours and Luka's needs. And when a year after our split I went to a doctor and told her I couldn't keep living like this, I was referred to a shrink and given the help I needed to start living as the woman I knew I was.

Luka call us both 'Mum' and treats us with that same mix of irritation and disdain, interspersed with periods where he'll be incredibly needy. The joys of adolescence, right?

When I ran into Jakob and Angel, he was living with Cassie and I was taking him to his extra curricular activities because they fitted in easier with my schedule than hers. On Thursday afternoon, two days after I stopped for Angel and Jakob, I took Luka to cricket training. He doesn't like me to hang around. He just wants me to drop him off, go, and come back to pick him up. The other cricketing mothers tell me they get the same instructions. We are wanted for our chauffeuring, not our presence.

After taking Luka to the club I went for a walk through a nearby park. I've always loved going for walks. Parks, wetlands, rainforests, as long as the scenery is peaceful and I'm in comfortable shoes, I'm happy.

This park made me think of my youth, and the evening trips to the park Jakob and I would take. When the kids had left the playground he and I would sit on the swings and share a joint. We'd talk about life and music and random shit as we watched the sun sink beyond the horizon. I'd be wearing my ratty old Doc Martens, tight jeans and flannelette shirt, and he'd be in Asics, cargo shorts and a Nirvana or Metallica tee.

One summer night the kids had stayed out late and while they played, their parents stood around in clumps, staring at Jakob and I and talking about what we might be up to. Jakob and I had a joint we wanted to smoke, but we knew that we wouldn't have a chance to consume it unless the parents and their offspring pissed off home.

'We should go to the bathrooms before they close,' Jakob suggested.

The toilet block was a hundred or so metres away. They were the usual green cinderblock affairs that our council likes to construct, and they were located in front of a small car park. There was a car in the parking lot with a driver at the wheel, but he didn't look like he was going anywhere, so Jakob and I went in.

He handed me the joint and searched for a lighter. There was no lighter in either his pockets or backpack, but we managed to find an old box of matches with just three matches left inside.

Jakob was about to strike one when there was a knock on the stall door. Jakob and I froze in terror. The knock was followed by another, along with instructions to 'open up'. We peered at the gap under the door and saw two brown boots. We didn't know how or why, but we knew we were in trouble and from the authoritative tone of the knocker, we guessed he was a cop.

'Fuck,' Jakob mouthed, quickly dropping the unsmoked joint in the loo and pressing 'flush'. We both watched in a combination of relief and horror as the paper tube and it's contents disappeared from sight.

Jakob's blue eyes met mine and we grimaced in unison. Then, as the policeman was knocking on the door for the second time, Jakob opened it and we stepped out.

In hindsight, I know that the cop was expecting to interrupt two homosexual men having sex. When Jakob and I exited the stall fully dressed, the surprise on the cop's face was clear.

'What were you two doing?' he asked suspiciously.

'Um, we were going to have a cigarette,' Jakob lied, nervously glancing at me out of the corner of my eye.

'Why would you go to the bathroom to do that?' the cop asked.

That was a good point. At the time of the incident the legal smoking age was sixteen, and the activity wasn't at that point banned in public parks.

'I don't know,' I shrugged. 'We were trying to remember what it was like back at school when we used to hide in the loos to smoke.'

The cop looked at us like we were crazy. Then he spoke.

'Get out of here,' he ordered, pointing to the door. 'This is a known beat.'

'A what?' Jakob asked.

'Fags,' the cop said slowly, annunciating every word. 'Poofs meet here for sex.'

'Oh.' Jakob turned red. 'Well, we'd better go.'

'Yes,' the policeman agreed. 'You'd better.'

The memory of the incident is one that has mostly been forgotten, but as I watched the sun slowly begin its descent, I mentally revisited that afternoon. At the time, Jakob and I were relieved just to escape without being charged with possession, but as an adult, it annoys me. What pious little fuck thinks harassing young, gay men is a worthwhile use of police resources? There wasn't anyone in the toilet with us. I could have sucked Jakob's dick and it wouldn't have harmed or affected anyone, anywhere.

My phone beeped and I saw there was a message.

Hi. You pulled over on Tuesday night when I was on the side of the road with Angel. I don't know where to begin or how to say this, but there are no words to tell you how angry, ashamed and embarrassed I am, and how thankful I am that you stopped. I also want to assure you that Angel and I are coping a bit better. There was a lot going on and unfortunately it just got too much for me. It won't happen again. Jakob.

I'd thought about texting him several times over the past few days. I had his number stored in my phone from when I'd texted him to let him know I was taking Angel home, and leaving his car keys underneath his car, but using those details to follow up had seemed inappropriate.

If I didn't know Jakob, I wouldn't have responded to his message, but I did know him, and I'd loved him for several years of my life, so it was impossible not to reply.

I'm sorry you're having a tough time. Angel told me a few details on the way home. I can't imagine how difficult the situation must be for you. I know this might sound out of line, but have you tried contacting Centrelink? They should be able to provide you with a social worker free of charge.

I didn't expect him to respond. Why would he? My message, upon re-reading, sounded both patronising and belittling. But respond he did.

Centrelink can't help. Until her mother and father both sign to say that she can't live with them, she and I aren't eligible to access any services. Mother is still claiming Angel lives with her for the government $$$. It's okay financially, I have a small mortgage and can support us. It is just emotionally taxing. Plus everyone gives me the stink eye when we are out together as they assume I am some knuckle-dragger out with his teenage girlfriend.

He obviously wanted to talk. I wanted to listen, too, but I couldn't let this go any further without telling him who I really was. It was I who cut off contact. It me who refused to come to the door when he came around, who ignored his texts, who hung up when he called the family phone, and who returned his letters marked 'undeliverable; return to sender'.

Jakob, I need to tell you something. I'm Matthew. Was Matthew. Was Matthew Henderson, am now Kaylee Evans.

There was no response. Did I expect one? No, not really. I knew I didn't deserve his forgiveness.

~~~~~~~~~

Within a week of the Kimberley incident, it was public knowledge that Jakob van der Mooren was impotent. It was the era of brick-like Nokia phones and twenty cent texts, and I dread to think how much money Telstra made off the back of Jakob's equipment failure.

Jakob was mortified.

I was furious for him, but I was soon having issues of my own. Taking a piss was excruciating and I had a weird discharge from my dick. It was gonorrhoea, as it turns out. A bulk billing doctor diagnosed me, gave me antibiotics and lectured me on the importance of condoms. The doctor also asked for a list of my past sexual partners, but I refused to give it to him. I said I'd contact my previous partners myself.

My reasons for not disclosing my previous partners' names were selfish; I was confident that if I told Hannah she'd given me a STD, she'd feel guilty, and would agree to tell everyone that she and Kimberley had only been joking when they'd said Jakob hadn't been able to perform. And, when I went to Hannah to give her the bad news, she seemed keen to go along with my little plan. 'Of course,' she said. She'd definitely get herself tested and she'd definitely make sure everyone knew Jakob wasn't impotent.

I should have known that my plan was ridiculously optimistic, and that the stupid little cow wouldn't stick to her word. What ended up happening was that she told everyone I'd given her a bug, and that I'd probably picked it up from Jakob, who was himself obviously gay if he couldn't get an erection for a beautiful girl like Kimberley.

Needless to say, we were soon even bigger pariahs than we'd been in high school. When people saw us walking down the road, they would hang out of their car windows, toot at us and yell out homophobic comments. We got nasty texts about HIV and STDS. People prank called Jakob's house at all hours of the day and night.

Jakob grew very quiet, very introspective. He was only working twelve hours a week for a local supermarket, and he had a lot of time to dwell on our situation. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't any happier, but I don't think I took it quite as hard as him. Perhaps it was because I wasn't quite receiving the same amount of abuse. Nobody was calling my house. I didn't have to explain to my parent's why there were rumours floating around that I was homosexual.

At night Jakob and I would go to a park (a different one to the one where we'd been shooed away from the men's toilets) and get stoned. We'd sit on the swings and push ourselves higher and higher into the air. We didn't speak because we didn't need to. We both wanted to be swallowed up into the abyss, but perhaps Jakob wanted it more.

I went around to his house one evening maybe three weeks after the Kimberley and Hannah incident. I normally just knocked on the front door and he came out, but this time when I knocked, his Mum answered.

'Come in Matthew,' she offered, holding the door open. 'Jakob worked an extra two hours this afternoon. He's still in the shower.'

Jakob's parents were Dutch immigrants. Their house always smelt like coffee and cigarettes, and they had a Keeshond called Neeltje and a glass jar of salted licorice in the middle of the coffee table. Jakob was their second child; he had an older sister called Annette, but she was eight years older than him and had moved out years before hand.

Mrs M, as I called her, told me to take a seat at the kitchen table. She lit a cigarette and offered me one, which I accepted.

'What's going on Matthew?' she asked me.

'I, uh...' I bent down to pat Neeltje. 'I don't know what you mean.'

She exhaled a long stream of smoke, tapped the ash from her cigarette, and crossed her arms on the table. Like Jakob, she had a very heavy, craggy face, but her hair was darker and her eyes were dark brown.

'I think you do,' she corrected, not unkindly. 'Matthew, are you and Jakob a couple? Are you romantically involved with one another?'

I was halfway through taking a drag, and her question made me choke on the smoke, even though I didn't get the impression that she was angry at the idea that her son might be homosexual.

'No,' I coughed. 'No, we're not a couple.'

Mrs M eyed me thoughtfully as she took another puff. 'Somebody has been ringing the home phone and telling me that you two are gay and have been swapping STD's.'

I wanted to die. I shook my head and focussed my attention on their dog. 'No. It's just stupid rumours.'

'Jakob seems to be taking it very personally.'

'It's a pretty shit... bad, excuse the language... rumour,' I argued.

Mrs M was about to speak when Jakob walked out, his hair still wet from the shower and his shirt damp. He took one look at me, one at his mother, and reached for her pack of cigarettes.

'Jakob,' she scolded, slapping him on the wrist.

He just grinned cheekily at her and pulled one out. She said something in Dutch, sighed, and smiled ruefully at me. I smiled back guiltily. I honestly found my friend's relationship with his parent's a bit baffling. Mine would have flogged me black and blue had I dared openly steal one of their smokes, and given how homophobic they were, the idea of them supporting a gay relationship was preposterous.

Jakob lit his cigarette then went to the pantry and emerged with a blue and white tin. Speculaas. They would be our dinner tonight.

'Before you go, I want to speak to you boys,' Mrs M said. 'You both need a holiday. My cousin has bought a piece of land out west. You should take the caravan out there for a few days.'

Jakob's parents had an old, seventies style, white and yellow van. They went on caravanning holidays once or twice a year, and kept the vehicle in immaculate condition.

Neither Jakob nor I could think of a reason to decline the offer. In fact, as we sat on the swings that night, smoking the cigarettes he'd pinched from his mother, we decided to go the very next day. Jakob hated his job, and I was getting only four or five hours a week work from mine. There was nothing to gain by staying in Brisbane.

We took off the next morning in his mother's station wagon, the van dragging behind us. We nearly lost it on a roundabout less than two kilometres from his house, and spent the rest of the journey laughing and joking about how his folks would react if we came home minus the van.

We had no idea how long we'd be away. We had no idea how to park a caravan, wash our own clothes or even cook a proper meal. We were just two nineteen year old losers off to escape reality for a while.

It was October, nearly two years to the day since we'd graduated, when we left. That camping trip was nearly sixteen years ago, and yet I remember that holiday so clearly, all of it from the very moment we first got in the car. I remember being so happy, so free from all the burdens of home, where my parents were always nagging me to do something with my life, to stop wearing make-up, and to, well, stop being me.

I was in skin tight black jeans, a singlet and red nail polish. My hair was long, the docs on my feet were on their last legs, and the love of my life was sitting in the driver's seat, singing along to the radio in his croaky, hoarse voice, while intermittently taking a pull on his smoke. He'd stolen his mother's weekly carton of cigarettes before leaving the house. He knew she'd forgive him. I, too, had something I'd secretly stolen; a month's worth of my mother's birth control pills. I wanted to see if taking them would make me less of a man, and more of a woman.

There's nothing like true love. There is nothing that can compare to staring at someone and wondering how the fuck they can be so perfect. Jakob was quite simply my everything. There was never a point in my day where he wasn't on my mind.

Jakob's father was a shift worker and had woken up that morning and done some shopping for us. We had everything we could possibly need, and then some.

It's funny, because as an adult I realise how much his family loved and cared for him. They knew he was struggling and there was no judgement whatsoever. They just did what they could to help pull him out of the depths of the depression that again, with the benefit of hindsight, I realise he was struggling with.

For the first day or two we just ambled around, figuring out how to work the generator, getting stoned, and cooking up basic meals. On the third night, everything changed.

We were lying on the double bed, watching television on the twelve inch black and white TV. There was a movie playing. God knows what, I don't remember, but I remember the sex scene. It was the prime time movie so it wasn't explicit, but it was certainly erotic. Both of us fell silent and stared at the tiny screen as the male lead, under the cover white cotton sheets, made love to his romantic interest. We saw a glimpse of the woman's breasts as she lay beneath him, her arms around his neck and her body moving in time with his. By the time they climaxed my cock was rock hard, and I looked away guiltily, embarrassed by how aroused I was.