Problems: NYC Book #1

Chapter One: Patricia Jones Part 1

*Patricia's POV*

       I wake up, alarm blaring. Barely able to get up from the night before. I think I might have drank a little too much. Fuck it. No regrets. Yolo right? I get up from my full sized bed like a zombie. Barely able to move but I force myself to. I can't make it obvious that I drank a lot last night. My father will kill me. He is already getting over protective about me returning to school after my transition. People are still used to calling me Ryan and they let it slip. Sometimes I wish that I could have just started over. New town or city. But I know it might have been harder to. At least the one person who knew I wanted to transition was Max SinClaire. He never judged me once. Unlike Bryan Mendoza who called me a cunt every day and bullied me all the time since the first time he heard I was going to transition.

I started to feel more like a woman when I was about 10 years old. I would slip on my mother's red heels and click them together as if I was in The Wizard of Oz. I was pretending I was Dorothy. Classic. One of my favorite movies. 

I would grab my mother's bra out of her dresser as well and begin to put it against my chest and strut as if I was on a runway. I always wanted to be a fashion designer, model and actress. It was my dream but my confidence began to get shattered with every bully that came after me. I felt like I couldn't be myself in this city. But Max helped me. He always took me through it. 

At the age of twelve I told my mother I wanted to transition while she was on her death bed. When I said that, she passed away. Sometimes I believed I made her die from a broken heart but Max made me realize that wasn't the case. I started to transition at the age of fifteen, three weeks before I turned sixteen. My father accepted me for who I am. He forgot about the name Ryan and started to call me Patricia right away. It made me feel less alone in this world. I chose the name Patricia because it was the name of my grandmother whom I still love and hold closely to my heart.

It made me happy every single day to know that he wanted me to be me. I started to realize it wasn't my fault that my mother died. After all she did have a ten year battle with cancer. But her journal made me stop blaming myself. There was entries about me, telling me to be myself and that she knew that I want to be a woman because it's how I feel. One entry was specifically a letter to me. 

It read:

    January 16th 2015:

         My dearest daughter,

    I know you feel more like a woman other than the gender you were born with. I have seen you walk in my heels and dresses. I never said anything because it's your choice to choose when you want to tell me. I shouldn't force it out of you. I want you to accept yourself and always know that me and your father would always love you and support you. The haters will always be against you but not us. I love you and I hope one day you can be your true self. You have a lot of love to give to this world. Don't you forget that. You can be whatever you want. I love you forever and always.

      Love, Mom.

Reading that over and over makes me just wish she was here. But cancer. Fuck cancer. Every day I regret not telling her earlier to share this moment with her. I always thought she wouldn't accept me but I am glad she always would have. 

....

I grab the Tylenol bottle and pop two Tylenols. I rush to the bathroom in my grey T-shirt and pink panties. I begin to chug water straight from the tap with my bare hands. I know gross right? But when you don't want to face your father with a pounding hangover headache you would've done the same. Don't lie.

I put some clothes on.  A black crop top with a gold dragon design in the middle that resembles one of my favorite anime characters and some skinny jeans with black Jordans. I take about thirty minutes straightening my hair and boom the Tylenol kicked in by the time I finished my hair. I apply Light makeup because I am not really into make up like that. My caramel skin doesn't really need it plus I look great without makeup anyways.