Love Letters

Chapter 2

My eyes shot open as I scrambled to find my phone, wanting to turn off the raging alarm in the background. Once I finally found it, I jabbed my thumb repeatedly on the 'stop' button to turn it off. After it concluded I hazily rolled over and pulled my blankets over my head. To my surprise I felt a tug on my arm, I groaned exaggeratedly and rolled over once more. The covers we pulled from over my face, and I ever so grumpily questioned, "Why, who, and more importantly whyyy?"
I opened my eyes to find Delilah standing over me, "Dude your-, wait is it okay if I call you dude?"
"Yeah," My eyes remained closed as I talked lowly because tiredness still consumed me.
"Okay, great," her face became straight, "Dude, your alarm has been going off for like minutes." I pulled the covers back over my face and gave a groan like noise, ultimately defeated and not wanting to argue. "Get up bonehead, you have stuff to do," Delilah said, pulling the blankets off of me completely this time. I threw a very large tantrum huffing, and stomping into our bathroom which was adjacent to my desk, I slammed the door shut. I turned the water on and after a couple of minutes steam filled the bathroom as I brushed my teeth awaiting my desired temperature. After I finished brushing I got in and let the warmth of the water consume me, about 30 minutes later I exited the bathroom to find Delilah on her bed. She glanced over, noticing I was only in a towel. I became visibly flustered having assumed she left after waking me up.
"Want me to leave for a little so you can get dressed?" she asked with a furrowed brow.
"Please, I'm sorry," I said frozen in the same spot.
"Don't be the circumstances are a little different, just text me when I can come back in, and I'll get a soda out of the vending machine." She exited after grabbing her keys and I exhaled as I heard the door lock. Once my breathing returned to regular I got dressed and then threw on a rugby polo and khakis. I texted Delilah to let her know we were all clear. I sat at my desk looking into a mirror I had bought last night. Turning the chair to face the bags I not-so-elegantly sat on the floor I rummaged through them until I found the bag with hair products. My hair was a rather long length, because my traditional conservative parents had ruled that cutting it would take away an aspect of my 'womanhood and femininity'. I sat the products on my desk pausing coming to the realization that they were no longer in control. As I stared at myself in the mirror the locked turned, alerting me to Delilah's return. My gaze never leaving the mirror, but I still noticed Delilah plop on her bed.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
"I think I want to cut it" I said to her, toying with my hair, but still focusing on my reflection intently.
"Right now?" She asked I gaged her reaction through the mirror's reflection, her brow furrowed again. I mentally noted that this would be her typical response for when she was genuinely and seriously inquiring about something. I simply nodded. She got up and walked over to her desk, opening a drawer. She reappeared over my shoulders, standing behind me with scissors in her hand. "You want to or shall I?" She questioned, grinning, tapping her fingers together as though she was a villain plotting world domination.
I let out a cackle, and she followed, her hands falling to her knees trying to catch her breath. "You can Joker." We both laughed hysterically, trying to pull ourselves together. "Never heard a more spot on impression, I promise."
"Yeah, years of comic obsessions have finally paid off," we let out a couple more snickers. "Okay but you might want to wet it so I don't mess up the pattern."  She said towards the end of our laughing fit. I simply got up and pointed you're right finger guns at her. I grabbed the water spritz bottle and a wide tooth comb as she sat down on her bed.
I stared at the mirror as I combed my hair. My chocolate like skin looked smooth, my eyes were their typical hazel brown, the 3C curls flowed over my shoulders, as I sprayed them with water, and tried to take the comb through them. I will not miss this part. Was I really about to do this? My eyes zoned into my reflection, dissociation was something rather normal for me. I was a mix of anxious, excited, and scared. My parents had consistently told me that I wouldn't look good with short hair, and pointed out flaws that would be enhanced if I did so. I know deep down that that's probably not true, and that they were just conservative and didn't want me doing anything that would 'ruin my femininity'. The battles with them never ended, I know if my mom saw me in my rugby and cargo chinos, she'd have some backhanded comment about, "boys not finding that attractive." Confidence had always been something I struggled with, at least anything that was remotely masculine appearing, being that it wasn't allowed growing up, until I really started to fight them on it freshman year. What they would think if I returned home on fall break with all my hair gone. I gripped the sink and my previously tan knuckles turned white.
I inhale a long deep breath, and blinked until everything was no longer blurry, "Look buddy, you can either live your life in fear, and trying to consistently please everyone but yourself. Or you can live for you, be happy for YOU, love YOU." I said to myself in the mirror. After I finished combing through my hair, I took a deep breath, pulled my phone out, took one last photo with the hair that fell over my shoulders and onto my back. My eyes burned a little, I blinked away the tears trying to break through. And proceeded in the dorm room with Delilah, "Ready, let's do this." I sat down and exhaled. I gripped the edge of the wooden chair, trying to ease all the anxiousness that had built up inside me.
Delilah walked over and began to snip, after about 10 minutes hair covered the floor, I looked up into the mirror. My curls were short enough that they didn't drap to the sides of my head, but long enough that they formed a full shape. "Now let's see if we can find a real barber to shape you up." She said, pleased. I had not yet stopped smiling at myself in the mirror, when she announced that she found one. She called the number, "Hi yes, I was wondering if you had anything open for today." she paused. "Okay great," she paused again, "Mhm, yes I believe a taper and just correcting the DIY home cut?" she looked at me and shrugged. I put my thumb and pointer finger together to give her the 'perfecto' hand gesture, and chuckled slightly at her flusteredness. "Okay great, thank you."  She hung up, and sat the phone down. "We have an appointment in an hour my friend."                                             
"Want to find our classes together after the appointment?" I asked her while getting out of the chair and dusting the clothes of the hair that had clung to me. I started to sweep the hair with my foot into one area.
Delilah handed me a piece of paper to get it all together, and I ushered it into the trash can. "Sure, I could actually really use that."  She said plopping back on to her bed. She began to play music from her phone and laid back staring at the ceiling. After I gathered all the hair into the trash can, I did the same on my bed. "Want to order some food?" she asked.
"Ordering is expensive mi amigo, let us go and sit down and have something cheap." I said.
"Wise is the yoda." She said in an odd raspy-ish voice.
"Is that star-trek?" I laughed questionly.
She sat up grabbing her chest in a dramatic motion, "You have got to be kidding me." She unclasped her chest, "Please tell me they did not room me with someone who doesn't know the difference between the 2 biggest sci-fi enterprises," she huffed and got up crossing her arms as if demanding I tell her that I was joking and I knew the difference between the franchises. I chuckled and got up and put on a pair of vans that matched the rugby polo. Stuffing my keys into my pocket and held the door for Delilah as she finished squeezing into her shoes.
We headed to the cafe, when we got there we stood to the side scrolling over what they were serving today, through the online menu. "Ou, look at this, Chicken Alfredo, yum."
"That sounds good. But these chicken strips are looking to die for." I rebuttal. "You ready?" I asked, Delilah nodded and we headed to the line. When we stepped up, I could feel my hands clamming up. "I'll take the chicken tenders combo with BBQ sauce." The person behind the counter told me my total, I swiped my card, saying thank you when I was given my cup. Delilah ordered and then we waited for our number to be called, then sitting down after retrieving it.
"Bro, this Alfredo is godsent for it to have been made by a school cafe." Delilah said in between fork-fulls of pasta.
"These tenders are rather crispy if I do say so myself, kissed by the chicken gods." I said, and we both laughed a little.
"So, you excited for your appointment?" Delilah said, her brow furrowed yet again.
"Yeah, I guess so. A little anxious, which I don't know why because we already cut most of it off." I laughed off.
"Yeah, I think you look good though, and the haircut will just add a little more pizazz." She said doing jazz fingers. Once we finished our food, we threw away our containers, and headed out to campus. Walking across the lawn, it was as if they were reshooting the brochure. Frat boys throwing the football around, bookworms and the studious types either looking over the books sprawled in front of them taking notes or eyes glued to a novel. And small groups of people walking in their various directions to their various places. I chuckle at how everything has fallen together to look like this, almost orchestrated, rather than organic.
We got to the cross walk and I kicked the button with my shoe, "Hi-yah," I exert. We both chuckled at me acting like a little kid. "I must confess, I'm a kid at heart." I looked at her and shrugged.
"That's okay. That just means we can make this year one big sleepover talking about our crushes, and watching movies, having concerts and talking about how much we hate school, all the while we are in our pj's." She looked at me smiling, like she genuinely thought it would be the time of our lives.
"You make excellent points," I agree, and move to the walk on the outside of her as we cross the street. "But I get to pick the movie." I shrug. She rolled her eyes noticeably, but not in annoyance, it was more-so, heart-felt. We got to the other side of the cross walk, it was quite aside from the passing traffic. This was the first time things had really been quiet since we had moved in. It wasn't an awkward, or bad silence, just both of us bustling to our destination, thoughts pre-occupied.
We make a couple of turns, and walk down the sidewalk of a street that has a historical aesthetic. I look up and a few buildings down there's one of those spinning, red and blue tubes that signify a barbershop. "Is that it?" I say looking over at Delilah.
"Yup," she says while we approach the door. I pull open the door for her, we enter and find six barber chairs, three to the left, and three to the right. Each station individualized having pictures, frames etc. around them. Delilah starts approaching the middle chair to the right, where a woman with a taper is sitting in the chair. "Are you," Delilah looks at her phone, "Simone?"
The woman stands up from her chair, sliding her phone into her pocket. She's dressed in some black jeans, with rips scattered down both legs, a black, blue and purple floral button up, and black shoes. Her sleeves were rolled up showing some white, and she wore a gold rope chain that matched her stud diamonds, outlined with gold. Damn, she is fine as hell. "Yeah, that's me," she smiles wide, revealing a smile, one side slightly higher than the other. "Are you the one getting a cut?" She asks, raising a brow in my direction, I nod. "What kind of look were you trying to go for?" She questions while turning toward her set-up.
"I think a taper, and just shaping my curls a little more." I say bouncing on my toes.
"Okay, sure. Go ahead and sit down." I sit in the chair and she flaps a cape around me buttoning it around my neck. "You can go sit down in those chairs over there," she says toward Delilah. She put a white paper around my neck, and Delilah turned around to go sit in one of the chairs, giving me a subtle thumbs up. I smile slightly, and start rubbing my hands on my jeans, feeling how clammy they are.
I take glances in the mirror as she spins me periodically to get a better angle. After about 45 minutes of sweaty palms, racing thoughts, and quick glances, Simone hands me a mirror. "What do you think," she says as I stare at the reflection of this new person.
"I like it," I tell her, releasing a breath I hadn't realized that I'd been holding in. "Thanks so much, how much do I owe you?" I couldn't really grasp how I really felt, it was still new, but yet a quick smile escaped me.
"No problem, and it'll be twenty dollars. Anytime you need another cut, your girlfriend has my number, and my booking app." She says as I pull out the money and a small tip.
"Oh she's not my, uh girlfriend. But thank you." She chuckles, her dark skin makes her perfectly white smile glow even brighter. I head next door to the pizza parlor that Delilah said she went to get something to drink from. I gauge the restaurant and find her at the bar, not facing me. I walk up to her and lightly tap her shoulder.
"You likeee?" I ask, overly emphasizing the word 'like'.
"O-M-G, I loveee," she says, extending the word 'love', it was a genuine 'valley girl' accent. I smile and we embrace in a hug. She tussles my hair a little, and we share a smile. With any other person, especially after only knowing them for two days, I probably would've been tense and felt weird. But it wasn't like that with Delilah, I felt oddly comfortable, and accepted. "Do you like it, how does it feel, are you excited to enter this new journey, please tell me." She finishes her sentences all running together.
It takes a second for me to rebuttal, "I think I do, ask me after I've had to really live with it." I finish, "But it does feel new," I pause. She looks at me intently, "Just realizing that this is a new part of my life, for so long I've been looking forward to freedom, and to finding a place where I can be me. Maybe I've found it," I say in a questionable tone more than certain, my eyes focusing on the soda Delilah was stirring, not sure enough to maintain eye-contact.
"Well, you can always be you with me, okay?" She says leaning down slightly to make eye-contact, it felt genuine. In a way that I'd never truly felt before. The way her big brown eyes looked at me as I held my head back up, gave me a sense of comfort that made me trust what she was saying. "Why don't you sit down, have a soda before we go. Maybe you can get someone to pay for our drinks with that new 'do'?" She nudges me with her elbow, and I roll my eyes at her, and we smile.
We sat and finished a couple sodas before leaving the parlor. It was still light out as we headed down the sidewalk back towards campus. "Oh my god, Ryan. You are literally littered in hair." Delilah said laughing, swiping some off my shoulder. "Sheesh, I hope it's not like that every time you go."
"I'm sure it will be, because it's a 'hair'-cut," I say, emphasizing 'hair', then shaking my head and dusting myself off as best I could for the time being.
"Oh, you smartass," she says, rolling her eyes. She pushes me without any real means of harm. "You're like a husky or something."
I howl at the sky, it's cut short by my laughter, and Delilah joins in. "I'm just saying it's in the name," I shrugg, and chuckle a little more.
"Sure, wise-ass." We're back around the lawn area and the sun is due to set in a little, but hasn't sunk beneath the clouds just yet. "Hey, pull up your schedule." Delilah instructs as she stops and sits on a little brick wall structure that loops around the lawn. I sit down next to her and do as instructed.
"Here madam," I say, handing my phone to her. Usually I might be a little nervous handing my phone to other people, especially people who don't know about me. But Delilah knows and being non-binary is my only 'secret', even though it probably shouldn't have to be.
She scrolls through the classes, their various times, days, and courses. "Oh, okay. So we have a creative writing 101 together, and algebra 150. Thank God, because my math is shit," she says laughing a little.
"Hey! Don't expect easy access to answers okay," I say pointing at her.
"Yeah, yeah. I know where you sleep bucko, you better hand those answers over," she's furrowed her brow, and has a very seriously unserious expression on.
Rolling my eyes, and throwing my hands up in defeat, "I'll think about it jeez, ya dark weirdo."
Standing up with a grin plastered on, "This way to math-landia, where grades, paper and hope go to die." I stand up to follow her and she loops her arm into mine.  
"Jeez, what math teacher gave you nightmares in high school?" I ask, half-serious, half-joking , and half-concerned.         
"Mrs. Phelps, she was a mean old hag, assigned 20 questions or more a night, explained everything terribly, gave a test every Friday, and made calls home just for kicks." We make a left turn.
"She sounds," I pause searching for the right words just in case I'm talking about someone's grandmother, "unpleasant."
"To say the least," Delilah retorts, while reflecting on something. "Especially when she's your last class of the day, senior year, and she speaks in a monotone voice that makes you wonder what you did to imbalance your karma." I nod, not having much of a response. She pulls me toward a building's entrance, tripping slightly. I pull the door open for her, unlinking our arms, stepping in and looking up, the building is modern, mostly plexiglass windows with conference rooms.   
I peek into one placing my hands around my eyes, pushing up on the glass. There's a table with about eight chairs around it, a nice size white board on one wall, and a window on the other side. "I think these are the group study rooms," I say to Delilah who's peering into the next room.
"Yeah, they all look the same." She says, taking her hands off the glass, and revisisting her phone. "Says that our class is upstairs." We continue down the hall and find a black door labeled stairs. She beats me to the door and starts up the steps. I follow, and we go through the door at next level.       
"Shit, I'm going to have to come a little earlier to conquer those steps." I say, breath slightly hitched, and hands on my waist. Delilah starts to cackle at my lack of athleticism.
"I get I'm an athlete, but come on it was like what, thirty-two steps."
"Oh so you do know math dipshit," I say calming, looking up, noticing the signs above the door with teacher names.
"Hey, the average flight of stairs has sixteen stairs, and we went up 2, so, guesstimate." She pauses, "Definitely not math."
"Yeah, whatever." I roll my eyes, "What's the professor's name, Debout? De-boot?"
Delilah starts to laugh again, "It's Debates. How, and I mean this in the most genuine way, did you get 'de-boot'?" She says with more laughter.
"It has been a long day, okay, lay off." I start to chuckle too. We head down the hall, looking up at the signs. "There it is," I say after passing a couple classes. We approach the door and peer into the skinny rectangular window. The class isn't too small or big, seating about 70. The front wall is covered in white boards, and a projector is on the professor's desk, which stretches the length of the whiteboard.                     
"Nice," Delilah says to me as we ease off the window. We head for the stairs again.
"Yeah, it's alright." We begin down the steps and through the first floor hallway. As we exit through the doors we came in, I look towards the sky and notice the sun is beneath the clouds slightly. "We've got like 30 minutes tops, before it's dark."
"Okay, the creative writing class is on the way to the dorms, and then we can call it a day." She looks at me for my agreement.
"Lead the way, ol' wise one," I look over her shoulder at the map she has on her phone. It's not too far I tell myself, following closely behind Delilah. I slide my hands into my pockets, as I followed her my gaze shifted back towards the sky. It's so beautiful all the different hues of pink, orange, and the slightest of purples blended together.
We weave through various buildings, staying in close proximity, the buddy system at it's finest. "Uh, one more right," she spurts, we turn and there's a building to the right of us that we'd previously walked the side of. I turn to fully take it in, it's huge, with ruffled pillars in the front, and the slightly dramatic staircase that's infamously associated with libraries. The building's hours of operation are listed on a podium sign a few feet away, I approach it , and Delilah follows. "Aw, they're closed," she sighs, "We just missed them."
"The building though, wow." She looks at me looking at it in awe.
"Yeah, it is really pretty, all the marble, and the pillars, and with all those windows the light has to be amazing." She finishes.
"Read my mind. Are you ready to head home, roomie, don't want it to get too dark," I say turning toward her.
"Let's do it Ry," she says, and giggles a little.
"Oh, so we're at the nickname stage already are we?" I say with a smile on my face, as we start back in the direction we came.
"Hey, when it happens, it just happens you know?" She nudges me a little.
"Well thanks," I snicker a little and we continue on our way. As our building falls in sight, the snickers naturally come to a close.
"So," Delilah says, her voice a little shallow. "I have a question but I don't intend it to be rude, triggering or anything."
I pull the door open for her after scanning my key tag, "Okay, ask away." She passes in front of me and my attention falls directly on her, as my heartbeat begins to pick up a bit. My palms are getting more clammy by the second. I wipe my hands on my jeans before pressing the elevator button.
"Could we take the stairs actually?" Delilah says.
"Sure." I pause, "I assume that isn't your question."
"No, my question has to do with you," She finishes. I push the door open, she crosses, and we start up the stairs. "So I understand your pronouns are they and them." She pauses, "And I understand your name is Ryan." She pauses again, without missing a stair.
"Alright" I cough out, my voice a bit hoarse.
"So do you label yourself," a brief pause and she spits the next sentence out quickly like she's ripping off a band-aid, "You know, like girl, boy, sir, ma'am, gentleman, lady," she finishes her breath a little short. "I know you said I can call you dude, but I didn't want to assume."
"Well, first thank you for asking. Second like I said earlier, you can always ask, you know? Everyone isn't equipped with knowledge of the lgbt community, and people such as myself." One more flight of stairs. "So I'm non-binary, which literally means outside the binary, binary being male and female." Her brows furrowed, and she nods looking at the stairs. "I'm okay with dude, because I'm a bit more masculine, however, sometimes I like to wear skirts, crop tops, and heels. Things more traditionally feminine."  
"Okay," she says.
I continue on, "I really don't prefer ma'am, lady, or girl just because it makes me feel small, but that has more to do with my family." I glance over at her, I know I shouldn't, but I feel bad talking down about them. "Anyways, words like partner, bud, and mx., like 'm' 'x' are kind of what I refer people to. For me, it's a spectrum, some days, I wake up and feel like binding, and be 'traditionally masculine' and other I find myself wanting to wear a skirt, and be 'traditionally feminine'. All in all, it's really confusing," I let out a rhetorical sarcastic laugh, "And is never linear."    
"Okay, that makes sense actually," She pulls her phone, as she does I pull the door open for her and she leads us toward our dorm. "First, you know that you don't always have to open the door for me right? And secondly, I'm sorry if that made you feel a way, I noticed you kept rubbing your hands on your jeans as we walked up the steps."
"Well that's just my good ol' southern manners," I bow and tip my imaginary hat toward her. "And it's okay, it's good to have these tough conversations, and I'm always down to have them, anxiety aside. I have just had a hard time with my family, and being who I really am. But I'm trying to get past that."
"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks as we approach our door and she jiggles the key in.
"Um, not tonight, it's been a long day, a lot to unpack as is." We sit in our desk chairs and face each other. "Do you want to shower first?" I ask as I untie my shoes.
"Gee, you're the best. I'm going to start taking advantage of this southern charm thing you got going on Ry," We make eye contact and she chuckles. I roll my eyes at her. "Thanks."
"Yeah, yeah. No problem." I grab my journal and pen from out of my center desk drawer. "I'll be out in the hallway, and just let me know when you're done." We exchange smiles, and I shove my keys into my pocket, and walk out the door. I slouch on the right side of the door and open my journal. 'This Journal Belongs To...'
They shouldn't but I can feel my eyes watering a bit. Shit. In cursive I write Ryan Carson Hart. Next to the start date I write in 'August 19th, 2018.' 
Journal Entry-August 19th, 2018;
Dear Ryan?,
Or maybe I should say future Ryan? Is it weird that I'm writing Ryan instead of... It's feels weird to be writing to myself. But I mean hopefully, that's the only person who'd be reading this, so in a way it makes sense? I'm currently sitting in the hallway outside of my dorm. I've met my roommate, she's pretty chill. She and I cut my hair today, I know, shocking. It was a rush, I mean after I got over the paralyzing fear, we also walked around and found some of our classes. It was fun, she kind of helped to take the edge off. Yesterday when I got here, it was nothing like I'd imagine it'd be. I haven't talked to mom or dad yet. I should probably call before they get worried, if that's a thing they do about me. I bet they're relieved I'm gone. No more problem child, with their weird, androgynous, unholy temptations.  I feel hopeful though, I mean Delilah respects me, I filled out a form online so in attendance my name will be 'Ryan'. Obviously mom and dad don't know about that. Hehehe.  But, so far so good! Tomorrow will be great! We got this! #officiallyincollege #newyorknewyork!
Love, newly,
Ryan Carson Hart
I close my journal, and extend my legs across the floor. I lay my head on the wall, closing my eyes a little, replaying the day in my head and imagining what tomorrow will be. I open my eyes, as I hear the door creak open.  It's Delilah, "Hey, I'm out." She said softly.
I push myself up, and walk through the door as she holds it open. "Thank you," I say passing her, opening a drawer I pull out a pair of pajama pants and my 3rd favorite comfort hoodie. It's black with Rick and Morty's heads on them, with a quote on the back, and the episode information on the sleeve in cool green and blue lettering. The pants are also Rick and Morty, there's something about matching, that has always given me a sort of calm.
I go change in the bathroom before coming back out and climbing in the bed. I sprawl out under my weight blanket, with the fluffy one on top. My head sinks into the pillow. I stare at the mostly dark ceiling, except for the light that glows above from Delilah's phone. As it plays indie music, and she snores quietly but still enough to hear. I blink a few times and yawn, I start counting sheep, backwards from a hundred to fall asleep.