Edited Woke Culture

Chapter 9- USA

I had to actually buy a ticket. I couldn't compel one, because apparently almost all Ukrainians knew all the tricks to prevent compulsion. Consequently, my parents' credit card was dinged quite a bit.

I hadn't spoken to them in a while. I wanted to touch base to tell them I was dropping out of college to pursue my dreams in theatre, or some bullshit that wasn't the real truth. I couldn't tell them the truth, because they wouldn't believe me. And even if they did believe me, exposing them to the truth could, and probably would, get them killed. I couldn't risk that.

I got back to Maine, and my dad picked me up from the airport. My parents were staying in one of their many vacation homes. It was one of my least favorite I'd been to. It wasn't very cozy, and that seemed the point of having a winter home in Maine, to lazily lounge around inside all day enjoying the abundance of snowfall.

I didn't even know what city the house was in. It was a bit small for my taste, but I wouldn't be there long. Dad and I hardly ever spoke. All he would pretty much say to me was how much he loved me, which was good to know, but after I became Samantha instead of Samuel and quit playing sports, my dad had greatly lost interest in me.

I could tell he'd always wanted a son, and I could never be that for him. Because even at a young age, I exhibited signs of clearly being a female. Sure, I played some sports, but the sports I enjoyed most were typically girlier sports. Basketball was the roughest sport I'd ever played, and it was one of my least favorite, despite the fact I could dunk ever since I was in eighth grade. Even then, basketball was a sport women had their very own league as well.

We got back to the house, which was too large to be classified as a cabin, although it tried to be, and I found my mom and urgently said, "we need to talk." She was reading a book on her kindle, but she dropped everything immediately, as she typically would any time I needed her.

It wasn't so much that my parent were terrible people. In fact, when I came out as trans, they made sure to always refer to me as a woman. They had tried their hardest to raise a successful child. But as often as prodigy children went, I was totally burnt out on academics and sports from a very young age because of how hard they rode me. I didn't blame them, but I would never amount to much, especially what they wanted me to become. I wasn't the heir to their fortune, yet when they died, I would literally inherit billions, but I wasn't wanting them to die anytime soon. I loved them far too much to think any amount of money would be worth them dying.

"What's wrong, baby?" She said to me, genuine concern in her voice. She knew exactly how to make me feel important.

"I'm dropping out of college," I just came with it.

"That's okay, baby love, but you have to have a job," she said to me in her comforting voice, "do you have any idea what you'd like to do instead?"

"I want to be an actress," I said as she moaned and rolled her eyes.

"You hate the spotlight," she reminded.

"Maybe," I said, not wanting to totally agree, but she was right. My entire life I was always a sore thumb. I was always the first picked. I was always the most handsome. I couldn't escape the attention, and I absolutely hated it. My mom was on to something.

"Why don't you want to start a business?" My mom suggestively questioned.

"Is that what you and dad want me to do?" I asked.

"We can fund it," she encouraged.

"What if I want to open a bar?" I asked.

"A bar?" She moaned as she rolled over in the grave she acted like I dug her with that statement.