Felony Jones

Skint

     Born Franklin Joseph Jones, in New Castle Indiana in October 1959, Felony learned from an early age that conformity, structure and reliability were abstract ideas in the Jones' household. Normal, applied to other people. Moving from place to place around the Midwest taught young Franklin to be self-reliant and steely when it came to interacting with the rest of the world. A loner by nature, Felony never completely broke those patterns set early on.

As far back as she could remember, she had an aversion to the name Franklin. She always thought it too formal and old fashioned. She thought it made her sound like an insurance salesman whose wardrobe consisted of one, white button-up short sleeved shirt, one black tie, (wide) and one pair of black slacks and matching belt. She started calling herself Frankie in her early teens, thinking it fit her better—and it sounded gender neutral enough to make other people feel comfortable. Making other people feel comfortable by sacrificing her own dignity and happiness was a habit she eventually broke. Franklin was a ghost to her now, existing mostly in a few old photographs she rarely looked at, and memories she mostly wanted to forget. Felony took a few quick drags off her cigarette, looked at her watch and noticed the time.

"Oh shit!" she started the car, flicking the cigarette out the window. A few minutes later she was weaving in and out of traffic making her way to the office building Elizabeth worked out of. She missed the years she had spent with Margaret, the therapist she had been with at the start of her transition. Felony didn't like change, but Margaret had recommended Elizabeth. She was a new breed of therapist, always trying to be much more experimental than traditional ones like Margaret. Felony questioned whether she was the right person for her, but trusted Margaret's judgment when it came down to it.

She could feel the air getting cooler as she got closer to the professional offices. The one bright spot about seeing Elizabeth was that her office was only a few blocks from the ocean where she could relax for a bit after her sessions when she had the time. The smell of seawater permeated the air as she sped down the last four blocks, barely using her breaks. She pulled into the first open space she saw and jumped out of the car, bounding up the stairs to the second floor. She stopped in front of the door taking a few deep breaths, glancing at her watch. "Two minutes late!" she said, trying to calm herself down. Felony always got nervous before her sessions with Elizabeth. She had only had three so far, but she was still uncomfortable with her. Something she never experienced with Margaret. She took to Margaret right away. Felony frequently thought about calling her and begging her to come out of retirement just for her, but that ship had sailed.

"Fuck it!" Felony opened the door quietly and walked into the waiting room, sitting down quickly, hoping the receptionist wouldn't notice her. She was safe, Angela was on the phone. Felony was almost militant about being punctual. It was part of the obsessive-compulsive behavior she tried to shake, but never could. It bothered her when people didn't manage their time well. It bothered her even more when she didn't. Felony liked showing up for her appointments early, not only to acclimate to her surroundings, but to redecorate the waiting room in her head while she waited. The only thing she liked about this waiting room was the large fish tank. The rest of it was cold and sterile, like Elizabeth. Felony loved Margaret's office. It had always been warm and inviting, filled with oversize furniture and knickknacks. It felt more like a home than an office. Elizabeth's office had modern furniture and white walls, void of any personality, just like Elizabeth. Margaret, on the other hand, was like a caring, nurturing grandmother. The only thing she could imagine about Elizabeth's life outside the office, was a home filled with things—fancy things, and a very good looking, but dull husband. She probably had severely boring friends who stood around in a circle at parties, sipping their expensive wines, talking about all things uninteresting and unimportant. Felony wondered if Elizabeth talked about her to her friends. She pictured Elizabeth prancing around a gleaming new townhouse with white walls and white carpet, never using the appliances, and over emphasizing every s when she spoke. That was about it. Elizabeth was a very striking woman in appearance, even though she reminded Felony of a broomstick with jet black hair, but she seemed so phony. It definitely took away from her beauty as far as Felony was concerned.