Sex, love, and fried okra

Descent

And there she was,

looking so pretty, shaded in a crevice between two buildings across the café. Her curly brown hair flowed past her shoulders, resting on a porous brown knit. As I approached, she flashed a brilliant toothy smile embraced by sun-kissed rosy cheeks, and at once I felt at ease…

Over coffee, she spoke of riots and protests in her home country. Of disillusionment with the world, and her plans to fix it. Of fantastic plans for flying machines and biomechanical fish. Of grandiose plots for world domination. In a moderately thick European accent she spoke, its origin I couldn’t place, but with each word she uttered I was drawn further in. There was something about her that was wildly charming. She fascinated me, like a puzzle I couldn’t quite figure out but had to solve. I wanted- No, I needed to know her…

We writhed and wriggled under bed sheets, her breath hot on my skin as she touched me. In the afterglow, our bodies entwined into a messy knot, and she whispered softly into my ear:

“Can I see you again?”

Crescendo

Click! She secures the collar around my neck, and I bite my lip. Ruby giggles.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” she croons.

I look into her eyes and nod silently. This taxi driver needs to hurry the fuck up. He doesn’t seem to understand the urgency of the situation he’s found himself in: two raging lesbians in his backseat are just a few minutes away from doing unspeakable acts to one another. Yet, he tools along like it isn’t Pride month, which it is. Asshole.

The cab’s interior is softly illuminated by intermittent streetlights, and is silent save for the soft hum of the engine and the pitter-patter of small raindrops on the windows. Ruby’s hand rests on my lower thigh, the half exposed by my miniskirt. I can sense her impatience rapidly building, and she looks at me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Something stirs below: her hand disappears under my skirt, and she begins rubbing against me. I return the favor and feel her getting wet.

At last, the taxi stops and the car door swings open. Arigato-gozaimasu, the taxi driver croaks. Ruby fumbles with her wallet and practically throws money at the man, then shoves me through the door and onto the rainy street. She drags me to a nearby gray building, and pushes me against its wall.

Her tongue is down my throat, and we’re not even inside her apartment. It feels so good. God, I needed this. The two weeks since I last saw her have been near-incessant foreplay and yearning, but finally she is here with me, in the flesh.

She feels for her keys and clumsily swings her apartment door open while her other hand is up my skirt, and we collapse into a crumpled mess in the doorway. Slamming the door shut, she throws me against the wall, kisses down my neck, and sucks on my chest. Her arms slide down my waist and wrap around my thighs, lifting me off my feet and into her bedroom. I’m tossed onto her futon, my skirt and undergarments torn off, and flipped onto my stomach. Ruby presses herself into me.

Oh, fuck. I thought it would be good, maybe even very good, but not like this. I can…

barely…

even…

think anymore.

hrnnnnngggghhh

After what could have been five minutes or five days, there is a release of pressure and Ruby collapses beside me with a large sigh. I look down and see a viscous liquid stretching out from between my thighs, making a puddle on the sheets.

“Oh my god, baby,” I mutter while trying to catch my breath. “Fuck, I needed that so bad.”

She giggles, pulls me by my collar, and kisses me. “Good girl,” she purrs. “You took it so well.”

Epiphany

“See? Look around, we already live in a cyberpunk society,” Ruby says.

Great monoliths of concrete and glass tower above, while hordes of flesh push past one another on the cramped streets below. Steel death-boxes zip this way and that, screeching at any sorry flesh-beast that’s bold enough to cross their clearly delineated paths. The air is thick and smells of rot, coffee, fried foods, and sweat. In macro, it’s strangely beautiful, each individual a part of a greater organism. In micro, the grime and filth reveal itself: the mystery goo mashed into the pavement; crushed cans and plastic wrappers cowering in little corners and crevices; dried vomit from the night-before baking in the morning sun.

A woman with bright pink pigtails and ribbons in her hair, dressed in a tight crop top, barely-there skirt, and several inch-thick platform boots up to her mid-thighs; pushes through the crowd while tapping away on her personal communication slab. Click, clack! Her acrylic nails rapidly smack against the thing’s surface, while she chats aloud with some unseen interlocutor via plastic inserts in her ears.

I nod. “Cyberpunk, just without all the fun stuff that makes it maybe-kinda worth it, like cybernetic implants and hover cars,” I say.

“And half-naked, holographic girls dancing everywhere,” Ruby adds.

Just across the train station, we enter one of the gray monoliths and consult its directory, confirming the dermatologist’s office on the sixth floor. Proceeding into the structure’s guts, through a dizzying array of hallways we find the elevator hub. Within one of the lifts, an advertisement plays on the inside of its doors via a small projector mounted on the wall opposite. So cyberpunk.

“So stupid,” Ruby whispers in my ear.

The doors slide open and we bumble around the myriad offices in search of the dermatologist. It’s tucked in a dead-end, ominous and uninviting. Inside is a claustrophobic corridor-turned-waiting-room; at its far-end lies the front desk.

“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asks.

“No,” I reply.

“It might be a little while before we can see you.”

I turn to Ruby. “Are you sure you don’t mind waiting? You could go do something else, or I could come back another time.”

“Absolutely not,” Ruby says firmly. “We need to take care of you.”

I blush, and turn back to the receptionist. “That’s fine.”

She instructs me to fill out some intake forms by scanning a QR code with my phone. Ruby and I grab a couple of seats, and I begin inputting all of my information. Name, age, address, nationality… I smile to myself as I mark my gender as female.

The waiting room is baking, so Ruby leaves to find us some cold drinks. A few minutes later, I receive a message from her: a picture of her sticking her tongue out and exposing her breast. I hastily reply: do not get us kicked out lmao

After a wait that is long by Japanese standards but not so long by American standards, my name is called, and I enter one of the patient rooms. The doctor is already there. She asks where I’m from. I say America.

“So, English?” she asks in Japanese.

“Yes, or I can get by with Japanese,” I reply.

“Oh, okay.”

I tell her about my eczema flare-up, that I’m staying with my partner and using their products, so that’s likely the trigger. She agrees and writes a prescription.

A pharmacy is just down the hall, so Ruby and I waltz in and pick up my prescribed goods.

“Thank you for coming with me,” I say to her. “I know this probably wasn’t what you had in mind for our first weekend together.”

“Your health comes first,” she states matter-of-factly.

“Wow.”

“What is it?”

“No, I just-“ I start. “I’m not used to someone caring like this.”

She gives me a sad look. “Baby girl…”

We take the elevator down and emerge from the megastructure’s intestines. Ruby guides me down the street and through a train station toward her apartment. On the way, we cross a bridge with a tree at the end. Small, pale green fruit hangs from its limbs. Ruby stops and picks some, munching on one as she does.

“What is that?” I ask.

“I forget the name, but it’s safe to eat.” She tosses me one of the fruits. “Try one!”

I bite into it. Its skin is leathery and its flesh chewy, with a slightly floral, sweet taste. I shrug my shoulders. “It’s okay,” I say.

“What? They’re delicious!” Ruby fills a small plastic bag with about ten of the fruits.

I giggle. “I don’t know anyone else who would stop and pick fruits off a random tree on the street. You’re like a witch!”

“I’m gonna make a love potion,” Ruby says with wink.

We resume walking home. The buildings here are much shorter, only three stories tall at most, and the streets are far less busy. Here, the steel death-boxes are the main inhabitants. Sidewalks shrink and expand awkwardly, rudely interrupted by telephone poles and extruding buildings. This is a no man’s land; accommodation for creatures of flesh are an afterthought.

Ahead is a “My Basket,” a small neighborhood grocery store run by a large mega-corporation, with the corp’s logo shining in bright pink LED lights, so as to not-so-subtly remind that even small corner stores aren’t really local anymore. Crates of various vegetables line the front of the store, their prices printed in a faux-handwritten font.

“Let’s grab some bread for dinner,” Ruby says.

Inside, we pick up bananas for breakfast and bread for tonight. On the way to checkout, we scan through the ice cream selection, but nothing piques our interests. Instead, Ruby grabs a chocolate bar and says it’s for my train ride home tomorrow.

It’s extraordinarily mundane, yet weirdly romantic. I can see myself walking through the grocery aisles alongside Ruby years into the future. She’ll tell me about her day, I’ll tell her about mine, and none of it will be very interesting but that’s not the point. We’ll be happy to simply be in the presence of one another; to do life together. I really want this future.

I tug on Ruby’s arm. “Hey,” I say.

“Hi,” she says, smiling.

“I love you.”

Ruby makes a high-pitched squeal. “I love you, too!”

We embrace and share a long kiss. Then, we bring our bananas, bread, and chocolate to the checkout counter and walk the rest of the way home, her hand in mine.

Whiplash

“Oh my god, I’ve never cum from anal before,” Ruby says between heavy breaths. “Wow.”

I look to the bulbous toy in my hand, dripping with a clear substance, then to Ruby, now a crumpled mess on the futon. My lips curl into a smirk. I’m quite pleased with myself.

“Why don’t you go hop in the shower before dinner?” I suggest while massaging her back.

Ruby protests with an annoyed groan. “In a minute,” she mumbles. “Come here.”

I curl up beside her, claiming my place as little spoon. Ruby is always so warm and I’m always so cold, so we make excellent cuddle buddies. As her arms wrap around me, I immediately feel at peace. I could get used to this.

Eventually, Ruby loosens her hold on me. “Okay, I’m getting up,” she says sleepily and exits the room. A second later, her head pops around the door frame, like Kilroy.

“After my shower, I’m making you fried fish and okra!” she exclaims.

Her face disappears, and a couple of minutes later I hear the shower’s familiar hiss. I lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling, no doubt with a dumb smile plastered across my face. Fried fish and okra? I haven’t had it in years. Catfish and fried okra, the fish and chips of the South, are an old favorite of mine. Growing up, it was a staple comfort meal after church on Sundays. Two huge styrofoam boxes would be sat on the kitchen counter: one full of delicious, cornmeal-encrusted catfish (don’t forget the tartar); the other piled high with oily fried okra. I mentioned the dish to Ruby once before, but offhand. I never expected her to make it for me.

I’m not used to being romanced like this. This girl must really like me.

Ah, lesbians. Stereotyped for moving fast, and Ruby and I are no exception. Things have been progressing quickly between us. Really quickly. We’ve passed relationship milestones over the course of a couple of weeks that most couples don’t reach until months later. Despite all that, it’s felt natural. Right.

But also scary. I’m not ignorant of the myriad ways this could blow up in my face. What if I’m stepping into something I’m not ready for? What if Ruby isn’t who I think she is? What if I’m not who Ruby thinks I am? Everything feels so exciting right now, but when the novelty of it all starts to fade, will there be anything left? I think so, but I can’t be sure.

I met Ruby under the assumption of sex. We matched on a queer dating app one night and briefly exchanged messages. The following morning, we met at a café, chatted for about an hour, and went straight to my hotel afterward.

I expected her to see me as just a cut of meat: she would use me to get off, leave; I’d never hear from her again, and I’d feel shitty and embarrassed about the whole affair. Instead, she was a total sweetheart. She was patient and kind, constantly checking in with me, and asking for my consent. Her soft demeanor made me fall for her almost immediately. Ruby just felt safe—safer than anyone else in my life. It was easy to trust her.

If things go well between us, we can look back at our origin as a cute accident, an unlikely love story, evidence for “love at first sight.” But if things don’t go well, then it’ll be all too easy for someone to say, “Well, what did you expect?” And I wouldn’t have a good answer. To be moving this quickly—it is undeniably reckless.

But sometimes recklessness is exactly what is called for. After all, I found success in my transition by being reckless. I’ve refused to bend to anyone’s idea of who I am or what I should be, and I now reap the harvest of my efforts by living each day completely and fully as myself. To throw caution to the wind, to take a risk: sometimes rash decision-making lead to the best things in life. And maybe Ruby is one of those things.

Maybe.

My vision goes blurry and I feel my cheeks become moist. I hide myself under a blanket.

In January, my world flipped upside down after learning I was passing. In February, I realized that not only was I being perceived as a woman, but as an attractive woman, no less. A few months later, I have a gorgeous girlfriend and it’s getting very serious, very quickly. I’m getting everything I wanted, but on a timeline I never anticipated. It feels like my life is moving at light speed.

The hiss stops and Ruby walks past the doorway, humming a happy tune. I let out a sniffle a little too loudly, and she doubles back.

“Baby girl?” she says softly.

I grunt in a way to tell her I’m fine, which she ignores. Ruby lays down beside me and wraps her arms around me tightly. We stay like that for a while, saying nothing, just feeling each other’s warmth. It’s so nice.

After a time, she whispers into my ear, “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

I swallow. “It’s just a lot,” I manage.

“What is?”

“Everything. Us. It’s all happening so fast.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a good thing! I’m happy. It’s just…”

“Overwhelming?”

“Yeah.”

Ruby squeezes me. “I understand, baby.”

I bury my face in her arm. “I know you’re about to start on dinner, but can we just lay here for a while longer?”

“Of course,” she says, and kisses my cheek.

In these arms, I could stay forever.

Sanctuary

“I’ll have an iced coffee,” I say to the barista.

They tap at a screen behind the counter. “That’s six fifty.”

Fishing through my purse, I produce a few coins and set them on a metal plate on the counter. The entry door chimes behind me, and I hear a familiar voice: Ruby.

I didn’t tell her I was coming today, so I decide to have a little fun. My outfit—a pink tube top, denim jacket, and a chiffon miniskirt—is brand new, so Ruby shouldn’t recognize me. She’s face blind. The only thing that could tip her off is my voice, so I remain quiet with my back to the door. This is a stealth operation.

The barista places my coffee on the counter, and I jam a straw between two ice cubes. Ruby chats idly with a couple others seated at the counter. I don’t know them. In fact, I don’t know anyone here except for Ruby. I’m a newcomer to this space.

I turn toward the sound of her voice, take a sip of my coffee—a bit watery for my taste—and stare at her. Ruby grows quiet and stares back at me with a confused look.

“Hey,” I say with a smile.

Her brow furrows. “Wait…”

She approaches me and scrutinizes my face. “What’s going on?” she asks. “Sage?”

I giggle. “It’s me!”

Ruby embraces me. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to surprise you!” I exclaim, and reach for some flowers wrapped in parchment on the counter. “Here, these are for you.”

Ruby looks as if she’s about to cry. “No one’s ever given me flowers like this before.”

I frown. “I’ll make sure you get many more in the future.” I lean in and kiss her on the cheek.

“Wow,” Ruby says. “I can’t believe you’re here.” She stares at me and smiles, then grabs my hand. “Come on, let’s introduce you to everyone.”

We work our way around the narrow café: this is so-and-so, and they do such-and-such, and I met them at someplace, yadda yadda yadda. Each time we encounter a new face, Ruby introduces me as her girlfriend, and my heart skips a beat. Yes! Not only do I have a girlfriend, I am a girlfriend. Finally.

“Okay everyone, we’re going to start Ruby’s presentation,” a voice booms. “Find a cozy spot.”

Ruby plops herself at the back wall of the café, adjacent to a large projector screen displaying her presentation slides. Bold text reads: SMALL ACTS OF EVERYDAY RESISTANCE.

She gives some background on herself and her home country, then presents some alarming data about the rapidly deteriorating state of LGBTQ+ rights around the world, and offers some ideas on how we can fight back in small ways.

I haven’t seen this version of Ruby before, but I like her. She’s relaxed and well spoken; a natural presenter. It’s very attractive.

We break into small groups to discuss ways in which we can resist in our personal lives. I explain how I fought to use the women’s restroom at work. Someone else laments the callousness of their workplace’s leadership. Another discusses their trans partner’s difficulties living in Japan. A voice from across the room shouts, fuck AI!

I agree, disembodied voice. Fuck AI.

Eventually, Ruby’s presentation-turned-workshop ends, and the conversation drifts toward where to eat lunch. Ruby tugs on my arm.

“So, you’re staying the night with me, right?” she says emphatically.

“Um, well, is that okay?” I ask. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Absolutely! You must stay with me.”

I smile. “Okay,” I say and kiss her lips.

We bid the others goodbye, exit the café, and walk to the nearest train station. (Un)lucky for us, it’s the busiest train station in the world: Shinjuku Station, its labyrinthian halls infamously difficult to navigate. As we arrive at one of the behemoth’s entrances, Ruby turns to me with a pained expression on her face.

“I feel sick. Like, bad,” she moans.

“Do we need to find you a bathroom?” I question.

“I- I don’t know.”

She becomes unresponsive. I recognize what is happening: like me, Ruby is Autistic, and this is a classic example of a shutdown. No worries, I know what to do: take charge, give clear directions, ask yes or no questions, and get somewhere safe.

“Follow me,” I state.

Despite Shinjuku being a nightmare to navigate at times, I’ve been through the station enough times to know where I am. The closest restroom to us is near a shopping center. Taking Ruby’s hand, I push through the hordes and make a beeline for the restrooms, announcing each turn aloud in case we get separated.

Left. Right. Straight. Left. Left again. Straight. Up the stairs. Right. Here we are.

After some time, Ruby emerges from the restroom.

“Feel better?” I ask.

Ruby nods. “You were amazing!”

“What do you mean?”

“How you handled that. You took charge when I couldn’t make decisions. Thank you.”

I give a her a hug. “I can take care of you, too.”

Ruby smiles at me with stars in her eyes. I stare back. She’s so pretty.

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go home.”

Submersion

Today is our first proper date, and we’ve already sort of botched it. We spent our entire morning sleeping, fucking, sleeping some more, and fucking again. By the time we stepped out of the house, it was hours later than we’d intended, and a torrential downpour had drifted in. Streets became rivers, and we had to shout just to hear one another over the storm. I asked Ruby if she wanted to turn around and spend the rest of the day inside, but she said no. She was determined to finally get out of the house and do something other than our usual routine of eat, sleep, fuck.

Also, Ruby was excited. She’d never been to an aquarium before, but she loves the ocean and everything in it. Aquariums are a rather cliché date spot in Japan, but it felt like a perfect choice for Ruby nonetheless.

And it seems I was right on the money. The moment we stepped into the place, Ruby’s eyes lit up. She looked at all the fish around us and gave me this look, like she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to press her face up against the glass or my lips. (She did both.)

Now, she’s enraptured by a tubular tank with silvery fish swimming in a circle, creating a mesmerizing display as the lights above reflect off their metallic scales. Ruby stares into the tank with a childish smile plastered across her face. She’s so cute. I tell her there’s a glass tunnel that runs through one of the tanks ahead, but I don’t think she hears me.

A child shrieks and breaks Ruby’s trance. “What?” she asks with wide eyes.

“There’s a glass tunnel ahead, where all the fish swim around you,” I repeat. “Look!” I point to an observation window, showing a large open fish tank below filled with all sorts of marine life and wavering silhouettes of people beneath the water’s surface.

Ruby looks she is going to explode with excitement. “Let’s go!” she screeches.

We descend a stairwell and emerge into the tunnel. A shark flys past us on our left side, an eel slithers past our right. The tunnel darkens as a massive manta ray soars above us, blocking the overhead lights.

Ruby is so absorbed, she doesn’t notice me admiring her, illuminated in pale blue as the surrounding water’s refractions dance across her face. She seems to get prettier each time I look at her, and in this light, she’s downright gorgeous.

Past jellyfish and crabs and lobsters and octopi, we end our time at the aquarium with the seal habitat. A round viewing platform looks down into the seal’s tank, with tall rocks jutting out from the water. One seal snores loudly on a rock, swaying back and forth with the waves. It looks like a gray oval with a face. Adorable.

The seal’s flipper slowly rises into the air, and quickly crashes down against its belly, making a loud smack! that reverberates off the enclosure’s walls. Ruby and I giggle for several minutes like schoolgirls, and my sides start to hurt.

These moments are a dime a dozen with Ruby. Each hour I spend with her is filled with laughter and smiles. Life is simply lovely with her.

We exit the aquarium, plunging into the wet onslaught once again, and I lead Ruby through the flooded streets in pursuit of dinner. Our destination: an upscale shabu-shabu—or hot pot—restaurant, its interior dark and moody with wood panel accents. Perfect for a date night.

We order the standard all-you-can-eat course, and engorge ourselves on pork and veggies, all the while talking about this and that. Our chatter is interrupted by occasional bouts of silence, as I stare into Ruby’s big brown eyes and she stares back into mine, and we stay like that for a while. These aren’t looks of mere admiration or lust. Ruby sees me in a way no one else does. She understands me: my convictions, my values, the way my brain works. With most people I feel like a mystery, but not with her.

Two hours later and a few pounds heavier, we brave the downpour once more and return home. We make love, then drift asleep in each other’s arms. In the morning, I awake enveloped in her warmth and it hits me:

I don’t have to be alone anymore.

Jubilee

I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass-

“…and I’m all out of bubblegum,” I quote along.

Screams echo through the bank’s marbled interior as a blonde mullet-ed man in sunglasses fires an impossible number of shotgun blasts into a panicked crowd while dramatic bass thumps along, like a heartbeat.

“Wait, this movie is where that quote is from?” Ruby asks, cackling.

John Carpenter’s They Live was a good choice. It’s the perfect mix of action, silliness, and anti-capitalist messaging that’s right up Ruby’s alley. The movies I’ve played for her in the past—like Clueless or The Devil Wears Prada—failed to hold her interest, but today she is glued to the screen.

Mr. Mullet is chased through the city by alien invaders, has a run-in with an attractive newscaster, and rallies his buddy to make a stand. The pair force their way to the news broadcast building and shoot their way to its rooftop. Then, a betrayal! The femme fatale has sided with the aliens, and kills Mullet’s partner. She shoots Mullet, too, and the camera zooms in on him as he bleeds out. He smiles, knowing his sacrifice isn’t in vain, as the broadcast’s antenna lies in pieces around him, interrupting the broadcast enslaving the human race. 80’s synth and electric guitar wails as credits swim up the screen. What a classic.

I close the laptop. “Do you want to open your birthday present?” I ask slyly.

“You got me a present?!” Ruby exclaims.

“Of course,” I say matter-of-factly. “I’m your girlfriend.”

I rummage through a closet, locate a bag concealed deep in its corner, then present it to Ruby.

“Happy birthday,” I chime.

Ruby has never really gotten anything for her birthday before, to the point where she preferred not to celebrate or acknowledge her birthday at all. I can relate. Growing up, my birthday was a reminder of all the things I tried so hard to forget: my lack of friends, the dysfunction of my family, another year passing while being no closer to feeling happy. As with Ruby, my birthdays became less about me and more about others: doing whatever was expected of me to just get through it. Birthdays became a chore; something to check off a to-do list each year. But no more. I was determined to break the cycle this year.

Ruby plunges her hand deep into the bag, spilling confetti on the floor. Inside is some jewelry, makeup, and an envelope. She carefully lays the contents out on a table, stares at it for a while, then looks at me with teary eyes. I give her a smile.

She slowly picks up the envelope and examines it closely. Its surface has her name in my handwriting, with a little heart. “No one has ever written me a letter before,” she says softly.

I give her a hug. I’m starting to get teary, too.

Ruby opens the envelope and reads the letter. It’s written using my usual formula: start off sarcastic and unserious to lower the stakes, then end with a strong emotional finish. It’s a home run. Ruby sets the letter down and her shoulders begin to tremble as tears rush down her cheeks. I wrap her up in a big hug and feel my shoulder become wet.

“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper softly. “We’re not going to have any more bad birthdays.”

She squeezes me tightly. “Thank you,” she mumbles, her voice hoarse.

After nearly an hour, Ruby collects herself. She lifts a pair of earrings off the table and smiles. “I love these,” she says, and inserts them into her ears. Two blue whales smile and dangle amidst her curls. She looks in the mirror at herself and beams.

“Let’s go on a walk,” Ruby decides. “There’s a nice park nearby.”

The outside air is hot against my skin, and so thick it feels less like walking and more like swimming. Not exactly ideal weather for a walk, but Ruby’s presence makes it just bearable enough. She leads me down the road to a set of a stairs built into a steep hill. At its top is a pleasant park encapsulated by bushy trees, its landscape dotted with fountains and benches. Children run this way and that, while bikers zip by on sidewalks, and a few scattered couples share private moments in the park’s shaded corners.

Ruby and I stroll over to a lookout point and gaze at the sprawling cityscape below, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. I pull out my phone to take a selfie and Ruby rests her head on my shoulder, looking so tranquil. I don’t want this moment to end.

We stay there for a while, then make our descent from the opposite side of the hill and plunge into the city depths. The sun has just stooped below the horizon and the air is slightly cooler, although it’s still just as thick. Ruby leads me through several streets, then guides me into a fishing store hidden in a basement.

Fishing is one of Ruby’s hobbies and, naturally, one of her special interests. The moment we enter the shop’s threshold, Ruby ceases being my girlfriend and is immediately engrossed in the hundreds of fishing hooks, lures, poles, and various other doo-dads. I hover close to her, amused, until she lovingly tells me to go entertain myself elsewhere.

I was too distracting, I suppose. Hot girl problems.

Emerging from the shop’s depths, I locate a coffee shop, order a blended iced coffee, and plop down by a large window looking out at the street. The sun has fully set now, plunging the streets into darkness. The coffee shop’s bright interior reflects clearly on the glass, and a pretty girl stares back at me. She used to be a rare sight, but now I see her every day. So does everyone else. No one really sees a boy anymore. It’s nice.

I used to think of my current self and my pre-transition self as one and the same, but these days I see them more as separate entities. While my body has changed, so has my mind. I can’t see myself as a man any longer, even if I try. Likewise, I don’t think about being trans all the time as I once did, because it is an increasingly irrelevant detail in everyday life.

I’m just a girl.

I always assumed it would take years to reach passing status, if I ever did. But one year into my transition and I realized I was passing, forcing me to reckon with what was next. I came to understand that while the success of my transition felt good, it also felt hollow. I was lonelier than ever: isolated from most of my family, with a lack of friends, or anyone who understands what life is like as a trans woman. Essentially, my new body and mind didn’t mean anything without anyone to share it with.

Then I met Ruby and everything started to fall into place. Suddenly, all the pain and heartache I had undergone to realize my true self was worth it. Ruby understands me: the Autistic side of me, the trans side of me, and the uniquely Sage side of me. She’s my person. Life feels wondrous and exciting with her.

My phone rings: a FaceTime from Mom. I answer and tell her Ruby will join us soon. Mom is excited; it’ll be her first time meeting Ruby. Despite having only mentioned Ruby offhand to her a couple of times, Mom somehow recognized Ruby’s importance to me within our first month together. I was nervous she wouldn’t take us seriously given the relatively short amount of time we’ve been together, but she reassured me, saying, “When you know, you know.” Mother’s intuition, I suppose.

We chat about our week for a few minutes, and I spot Ruby enter the shop’s doors. She sits next to me, takes a sip of my coffee, and says hello to Mom. She shows us the things she bought at the store—hooks, lures, shiny things—and tells Mom about her birthday, flashing her whale earrings proudly.

The call goes well. Mom says Ruby and I are cute together before ending the call. I look over to Ruby, who is smiling at me. There’s so much love in that smile.

“Let’s get out here,” she says.

I take her hand, and she leads me from the coffee shop to the harbor nearby. A well-kept, urban park runs along the shoreline, and a few scattered couples have tucked themselves in little nooks. Ruby takes me to the harbor’s edge, right up to the railing, the sea waters quietly sloshing a few meters below. She takes my cheek in her hand, looks into my eyes, then pulls me close and kisses me.

We stay there by the railing for a while, holding each other close. Watching the harbor’s waves glimmer in the moonlight. Sharing silence. Enjoying the calm together. In this moment, I am completely at peace.

My head resting on her shoulder and her hand massaging my arm, I start to speak just as Ruby does the same.

In perfect unison: “I love you.”

Giggling, we begin walking back home, both of us relieved at finally having found someone to do life with.

Coda

Do you know why I love you?

It’s the way you delight in little critters.
It’s the way you melt when I say you’re pretty.
It’s the way you put me at ease no matter the situation.

Your eyes, big and brown, wondrously expressive.
Your hair, thick and curly, cheerfully bouncing as you step.
Your lips, pretty and soft, lovely when pressed against mine.

You bring out the best in me.
You help me be the woman I want to be,
and steer from the woman I was taught to be.

With you, I see a future big and bright.
One filled with smiles, laughter, and happy memories.
Hardships, too, but together we can overcome anything.

Strong, brave, intelligent, beautiful, kind —
You are all of these things and more.
I am so lucky to have met you.

For loving me,
for trusting me,
for sharing your light with the world —

I love you.