Episode Three: The Egg #15

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Sophia found it odd when patients or guests expressed sorrow that she had to work Thanksgiving, or that they themselves couldn't be home for the holidays. She hadn't had a pleasant Thanksgiving in years.

There had been a shift in how Dad treated Mom when Sophia, then still Zacharious, was eight. At the time she had feared that Dad knew her secret, that she'd rather be a girl and not his son at all. A couple years later Ruth had tearfully confessed that she'd let another ten year old boy kiss her behind the church and she thought that was the reason.

Whatever the reason, Thanksgiving became another day for Dad to show up late and snipe about how this or that wasn't quite right, quite good enough. By the time it was over Mom would be in tears and the kids would be going to bed early.

It wasn't until they were teens that it occurred to either Sophia or her sister that that had been the year that the elders of their church had awarded Dad his second wife, a girl half his age. After they made the connection, Ruth started praying every night that the elders would allow her to marry her boyfriend shortly after high school, so she could get out of the house for good. Sophia had stopped praying altogether, started sneaking off to the library and surfing the unfiltered internet. A year later she ran away.

Thanksgiving after she ran away was even worse. The first had been at a homeless shelter, a turkey loaf, dressing and canned cranberries. Her roommate at the shelter was an alcoholic. He fell off the wagon that night, got drunk and groped her, nearly raping her. She'd left the shelter the next day with Tamela and never looked back.

By Sophia's standards their Consortium hosts had done a fair job. The girl from the US consulars office and her boyfriend, Mark, cooked a huge turkey. One of the cooks was Shoshone and she made a wild rice dish that was incredible. Indeed the main serving tray groaned under the weight of all the food.

And for all their annoyance at not being home, the patients had a lot to be thankful for and they knew it. Most of the children had been dying or looking at lifetime of disability and now they were recovering. The mood was jovial even.

Lucinda stalked through it all in an imperious state, ordering the cooks and other staff around, as though it was her own home and this was her party she was coordinating. Knowing she was confused and probably did believe that, most of the staff went along with her many request with wry smiles and much head shaking when she moved off.

She, too, seemed to be improving. She moved better and she remembered Sophia's name most of the time.

When everyone had gathered, Charles called for silence and led them in a short prayer of thanks. He, too, seemed to think he was in charge of the gathering, Sophia thought to herself as she found her seat, just down the table from him. Still after the prayer was over, he immediately started talking to a young child next to him, joking around like a jovial old grandfather and it was hard to be mad at him for long.

"Doing anything with your family?" Randy asked Sophia as she ate. She startled, this was one topic she'd rather avoid.

"No," she replied.

"They don't accept," he said. It was a statement. A powerful one. She nodded.

"Don't get it," Bankim commented at her other side. He waved his fork as he spoke. "I mean, I get it. I've seen the news and stuff. But I don't get it. Why does it bother them? It's your life."

"What bothers them?" Charles asked.

Sophia froze. Most of the new arrivals didn't know about her gender identity. She wasn't exactly hiding it, it was just easier. Or that's what she told herself.

"She's transgender," Randy said before Sophia could think of a way to deflect the conversation.

Sophia looked up and found many people staring at her, reassessing her now that they knew. It was one of the things she hated about being transgender.

Charles gave her a long hard look and then went back to eating. "I was in the service," he said suddenly. "Back before most of you were even born."

"See any action?" Randy asked.

Charles nodded. "Yeah, Operation Blue Bat. Beirut. 1958."

Sophia hadn't realized the government had been involved in the Middle East even back then.

"I was just out of boot camp, marines. We were the first in, as always."

"As always," Randy echoed.

"Anyway there was this guy in our unit, one gung ho mother— man. The toughest man I ever met, I bet." He thought. "Roger? Yeah, Roger was his name. Saved my life more times than I could tell you. Saved us all, over and over. Best soldier I met. By the time we got out, he was the best decorated, too. Fine soldier, fine man."

He paused and ate another bite. Sophia wondered what this change of conversation was about. Then he took up his narrative again.

"Then, about ten years later, I went to our unit reunion. Soldier's name was Grace then." He shook his head. "Said she fought so hard to prove her manhood. In the end the one person she couldn't convince was herself. So there you have it. Now they act like these transgenders are all new. All confused kids or something. Truth is, it happens. Don't know how, don't know why. But it happens." He looked at Sophia. "I'm sorry your family doesn't accept. It's a big adjustment. Maybe they'll come around."

Sophia shook her head. "I doubt it," she said. "But thanks." She meant it too. To hear someone of Charles's age be even a little accepting was something.

The conversation turned to other topics. 

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