Wait

Prelude

"Why do I have to wear boy's shorts when I'm a girl, Mamá?" I quip. It bewildered me why I could not dress up in pretty party clothes, wear girly dresses and bracelets. My mum swallowed loudly. She kneeled down beside me, her warm face becoming distraught. Her right hand moves to cup one of my cheeks.

"Amore mio, there is a reason for it. I would love to see you dressed up as what you are: a beautiful girl, but the current situation does not allow it. For the time being, wear what is given to you and do not tell anyone what you really are, Sammy. Papá and I will tell you why we are putting you through this hassle when it is safe to do so." There she stood up again and wiped a tear cradled in between the cracks of her ageing skin. She had me when she was twenty-two, but stress and the manual hardship that came with her career meant she looked ten years older than she was.

When I began to mature and grow curves, my parents became even more worried about me. I did not understand why they still hadn't explained to me why I had to lie about my gender and puberty gave me the voice that I needed to keep reminding them that they'd better tell me if they didn't want to lose me. It was just silly pubescent talk but I was irritated that I couldn't wear skirts, and had to wear a boyish wig to hide my dark unruly curls. My mamá showed me how to use clingfilm and strong sellotape to flatten my chest and make me seem more boyish.

When boys started growing faster than girls and their voices began deepening, I began to get bullied because I wasn't developing in the same way. But I'd promised to both of my parents that I would keep up appearances and so I tried to deepen my voice whenever I was around anyone else bar my parents and I was ultimately accepted into a nerdy group at school full of boys. I didn't really have much to say to them, but they took me in out of pity at lunch and break times.

When the summer came, mamá would prevent me from wearing shorts because of my lady-like legs and lack of hair. So instead, I was forced to wear long khakis and therefore started avoiding going anywhere but the premises of our household. I couldn't even be a girl in our own home and when I turned seventeen, my parents told me I could only dress like a girl in the boundary of my room. They said they were suspicious that the house was bugged. It was then that I had to ask them, beg them, to tell me what was going on.

They sat me down around the diminutive round table that mamá cherished, and my papá hid his face behind his hands as he started to talk about going on a small trip somewhere so that we'd all get a bit of fresh air. I wanted to ask why we couldn't talk inside, but mamá gave me a pointed look before I opened my mouth to form words. So we went to a park that was over a hundred miles from where we lived and as soon as we stepped out of the truck, papá looked around to see if there was anyone around. No one was around and I wasn't surprised: the weather forecast man had told all listeners that heavy showers were to be expected from the noon onwards and it was past one o'clock already.

Papá led me to a nearby kid's play area and I ensconced on a swing waiting expectantly for one of them to give me an explanation. Mamá glanced at papá and sighed. She shifted from toe to toe as the icy wind encased us in its hold. She'd chosen to wear only a cardigan with a sporty shirt underneath as if we were going away someplace warm.

Papá cleared his throat and his eyes fell to the sand his trainers were smothered by, "I signed a contract when I was very young with a firm. I was ambitious and so stupid. I'd been looking for work aimlessly and this company was the first to call me back with news that I'd been successful. At the time, your mamá had fallen pregnant and so it was crucial that I'd find work as soon as possible. I took the bus to the firm and signed a contract I hadn't read properly because of my excitement and adrenaline. They promised me a good pay and great colleagues; they told me I would acclimatise to the expectations of the organisation with no problem."