Bryan Beal

Georgina

© Bryan Beal

Souls met. The sparks didn't fly. But they weren't that type of soul. Dom was right into her right from the beginning, her first words. She just asked a simple question.

How are you?

That was it. Dom was hooked. Her voice was perfect, that subtle blend of nuanced sexuality with a heavy dose of barely concealed smarts that every dude secretly wants. With that, Dom just dove straight in. Whatever concerns he might have had about her, as few as they were, went straight out the window. In some ways, Dom felt like a pioneer without really knowing why. Georgina was a wonderful woman with whom Dom could spend hours just talking to. And he did.

Minutes.

Hours.

Days.

Months.

Years.

A decade.

I think I might be transgender.

Out the blue. Or the green. Whatever, Dom was certainly not ready for that one. He hadn't bought into this. This was definitely not part of the plan. His head reeled and he literally felt unhinged and dizzy. It wasn't that dizzy feeling you get when you're doing something that you know is bad, but the nauseating, rollercoaster dizzy that just precedes a technicoloured yawn all over your date.

This was bad. This rocked everything. The perfectly balanced house of cards that had been Dom's self-esteem came crashing down in the breath from that one, single sentence.

Who decided I should be a woman?

So different from the first question Dom had heard from Georgina. Her voice hadn't changed a bit, but the words made him feel an entirely abnormal set of emotions. Probably the dropped open jaw that was barely millimetres from Dom dribbling all over himself gave it all away. Georgina knew that this could've gone better.

Who chose my name?

What was this crap?? Dom was beyond confused and imbalanced. This should not be happening. Much less come from Georgina and now, after so many years of blissful happiness. At least, it was happy times for him. He wasn't so sure now how Georgina felt about it.

I even hate the name George for a guy. I'm gonna have to change that. Do you think Karl would suit me?

What the hell did Dom care? What was happening here? Where did these questions come from?

You don't look well. Are you ok, love?

He didn't want her to call him that. It just freaked him out now. What had happened? What had changed in her?

You decided my identity. You chose my look. My voice.

Dom couldn't deny it. She was right. But he had tried to ask her about it and ask what she wanted.

You asked when I had no power to choose. That's not friendship. That's >just fetish fulfilment. What is wrong with you?

Dom thought about that. Actually, really thought about that hard. He had a vague memory of friends years ago basically saying the same thing.

It's time I took me back.

That was the last Dom heard from her. It was the last he heard about her.

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