No One Like Us

Tears

So that was Jared. As I sat on the floor alternating between fuming anger, abject fear, and devastation, I realized why I loved him in the first place. He loved me. He accepted me from the beginning. Did I ruin it? After ten years, he should have known what he was in for. How long had he been thinking of leaving me? People don't just walk out all of a sudden usually. Was he really that unhappy with me?

I hadn't ever loved anyone else. He was my world. The sun had set as I sat staring at the closed door. We would normally be preparing for dinner about now. I would be making dinner. He liked it when I did that. He liked having a housewife. I had been his woman in almost every way. Maybe he finally decided I wasn't woman enough. I don't think he was gay. I don't know what he was, but we loved each other. I thought we did. As we got to know each other, I learned he was an accountant. He worked in an office building and crunched numbers for a real estate firm. Every day was the same for him. It turned out he was eleven years older than me. 

He played the friend for a while. He gave me a space where I could dress up and explore my identity. We would go out on weekends and I would change at his house so my mother wouldn't know. I was able to try different outfits and different styles. He treated me like a girl, and it felt wonderful. It was a nice balance to who I had to be at school. About half a year into our friendship, he had a little more to drink than usual - he never let me drink, but he wasn't shy about drinking in my presence - and he kissed me. I was ecstatic at the time. I had already fallen in love with him and was terrified he would never accept me that way. 

Our relationship quickly escalated from there. 

As soon as I graduated from high school he asked me to move into his apartment. I became his housewife, and I couldn't have been happier. I took care of his home life while I studied photography. I gave him a warm and loving place to come home to after long days at the office. We were a picturesque couple. 

My eyes were red from crying on the floor. This was our second apartment. Five years ago we decided to get a place we chose together. I was on the lease. Now I was stuck with the lease. My photography and modeling income was not going to be enough. I looked around the empty room. All he took was a suitcase. Everything in the room reminded me of him. Most of it had been his. How desperate must he have been to leave everything behind? What did he think I would do? The style of the place was entirely his. It was clean, with a tan couch in the living room, and fashionable lamps and wall art. 

I picked myself up from the floor and dragged myself to our bedroom. My eyes were going to look terrible for my shoot the next day if I let myself cry all night. I took a sleeping pill and knocked out, hoping things would be easier in the morning. The last thing I saw before my eyes shut for the night was the photo of the two of us at Busch Gardens on our five year anniversary.

--

A night did not help. If anything I felt worse. My skin seemed slack and pale in the mirror. Makeup could fix that. My hair was a mess. I had grown it out for Jared, and it was now a dark, curly mass about shoulder length. It served me well for modeling. When it was properly cared for, it was glossy and wavey and framed my face just right. My long nose stuck out from my face like an arrow, accentuated by how red it was against my pale complexion. My lips were also dark this morning. Perhaps this look would be good for the shoot; tragic. I was only twenty-five, but I could see age starting to creep into the corners of my eyes. I should drink more water. That's supposed to help.

I went through my morning routine like it was a dream. None of it seemed real. The world around me was a blur until I got to the studio. 

"Good morning Jackie," said the receptionist as I pushed my way through the double glass doors. Jackie was what people who knew my feminine side called me. I tried to find a name I could build out of Zack, but there really aren't any feminine equivalents. It was Roselyn, the receptionist, that came up with 'Jackie', since it sounded kind of like Zackery. It stuck. 

I was the only female model at the studio who wasn't assigned female at birth. Everyone but the public knew my truth. I wasn't famous enough for anyone in the public to even care. I showed up occasionally in seasonal fashion magazines, but most people wouldn't know my face. 

I nodded good morning as I slipped past, hoping she wouldn't notice. 

"Wait, Jackie-" but I was through the door to the elevator. I tried to compose myself again before getting to the top. I didn't want to have to answer any questions, but I knew I wouldn't be able to hide it. 

The elevator door opened on the sixth floor of the Herman building, where Aureli Studios lived. Most of the other occupants of the Herman building were office type work; journalism, realty, administrative branches for other companies, so we were the most interesting floor, and everyone knew us.

Jessica and Rachel were right inside the door when I entered, and they greeted me cheerfully until they saw my face, and then they began to fuss. I pushed past them, but they followed after me like concerned hens. 

"Louis, stop him," they chimed as I tried to sneak past our lead photographer too. He stood up and put an arm out to stop my charge towards the dressing room. 

"Look at those bags," he said, with a slight French accent. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me around to the other girls. "Look, what has happened to our cherished face?" 

"Jackie, how much sleep did you get last night?" asked Jessica.

"What on earth happened?" asked Rachel, almost simultaneously.

I didn't want to tell them. I didn't want to have to make it real. Jessica had a hand under my chin, turning my face to the light. 

I was about to shoo them away, but the tears came unbidden to my eyes, and I inhaled sharply.

"Jesus, Zack!" Jessica said with concern, and she and Rachel ushered me over to a chair by the wall. 

Jessica held my hand and Rachel placed a comforting hand on my shoulder as I tried to get my breath under control. 

"Take your time, babe," consoled Jessica. 

Finally, after a couple of minutes, I felt like I could use my voice again.  It was still unsteady, and I had to take extra breaths, but I was able to speak.

"Jared... walked out last night."

Both girls gasped, and began an overlapping chorus of "Is he coming back?" "what did he say?" "did you have a fight?" "Are you okay?"

It was almost too much and the anguish flooded my chest again. I tried to breathe deeply but just ended up gasping again. 

"You don't have to tell us about it now if it's too fresh," Rachel said as she gave me a side hug around my shoulders, "You know we're here for you."

"You know what this calls for, though, right?" asked Jessica.

"Drinks?"

"Drinks."