Cherchez la femme - a LGBTQ+ short story

Sex is power

' Further to some excavations conducted within the Camden borough this afternoon, a team of builders has discovered what appeared to be the remains of a woman...'

I can barely hear what this news reporter says, behind the veil of clouds confusion is forming in my mind...

'... It is indicated said remains were trapped between two walls and would not have been discovered, save for the renovating work the council has launched earlier this year...'

It is indescribable. It's as if, even though I'm standing in my kitchen, I am floating in the deepest and bottomless ocean. My body does not answer to my will. I am petrified.

'It is unsure as to what this person has died of as Metropolitan police have declared to do everything in their power to discover her identity. An autopsy is to be conducted later this week.'

Suddenly, my entire body shivers as I see, through the safe, protecting the screen of my TV, a place I had long forgotten. It is a torn down pub with only its facades remaining. On one of them, it reads 'The Red Swan'. This once was a prison I belonged to, some 25 years ago. I never believed it would come back and telescope itself in my memory so violently. Throw a boomerang as far as you can, make it go around the Earth, it always comes back to your face, eh?

Tears run down my cheeks. I can't hear my children in the background, their voices muttered by the sound of my own frantic heartbeats. I feel like I'm drowning as everything around me starts decaying, turning into a grey, goo-ish matter dripping from my cupboards, my counter, my chairs, table and TV... The news carries on. I see the Parliament. They're interviewing a politician in the foreground.

'Mom? Are you alright? Mom?'

The glass I was holding falls from my hand and smashes to the ground in a billion of tiny stars. The kitchen cloth escapes my grip. I shiver but keep still as I cannot get rid of the thought that runs in my head...

They've found her. They've found Gloria. It's her, I know it. There is no denying and no mistake. Who else could it be?

Oh my God, it's her. I know it, I know it! They did that to her, the bastards!

As I close my eyes and my knees collapse, I feel closer to the ground. It's a safe haven where I can finally rest. My breathing slows down, and the tiles cool down my burning cheeks. In the background, I can now hear the muffled sound of my children's panicked voices. I surrender to the dark. There is nothing more delightful than giving up. My head now rests on the floor, motionless. A pitch-black cloud envelops my being. It's dragging me back there, I feel it. It's telling me to come back. Suddenly, I'm called out by someone I had nearly forgotten the voice of.

'Ania?'

I blink my eyes. 

'Ania?'

Her voice like a defibrillator. 

'Ania??'

My eyes are now wide open. I glance around. Blink some more. I'm dizzy. I'm tired. Morning sickness has achieved killing me, making my stomach numb. I adjust my gaze a little, still fuzzy with dreams. I hear a laugh, crystalline, beautiful, free from fear as she's always been.

'The fuck happened?', asks Gloria, 'Did you just doze off?'

I acclimate myself to this new environment. I'm in a diner, heavily decorated with flowers pattern. It was all the rage in the 80s, and this is the period of my life I have been transported to. The smell that rushes at my nostrils is that of grease, bacon and eggs as well as cigarettes. On the other side of the table, Gloria smokes without a care for the world. She releases it in the air with a smile. I rub my eyes. I'm still a little bit giddy. Being pregnant does that to women. The first hours of the day are unforgiving to us all... I believe my baby is so tiny it could fit in the palm of my hand, but it creates such a change in my body it's like a real Armageddon. How can something so little cause so much damage? Gloria laughs once more.

'Oh, Lord', she says, 'I'm so happy to be a woman without all the devasting disadvantages of our sex!'

I shake my head. Her arrogance... it's killing me. 

She asks suddenly: 'D'you need to go to the loo?'

I nod. No, I don't need to. My nausea is gone. I'm on the safe side of the spectrum now. However, I'm not hungry despite the massive English breakfast she ordered for me. My friend notices my glance of disgust. Without further ado, she switches her empty plate for mine and starts digging.

'I'd figured you'd not be hungry...', she adds, 'it's alright. Got enough room for two meals!'

I'm not surprised at all. In fact, if it were up to her, Gloria could eat all the leftovers from this place's kitchen. She has such an appetite! This is not surprising given how tall she is... My friend is also something else which explains the dirty looks other clients are giving us. Gloria is a man. This latter moans, appreciative of the bacon she just shovelled into her mouth. Two old ladies sitting behind us frown and look elsewhere. Despite her masculine appearance and, somewhat, manners, she is gorgeous, elegant and feminine. She symbolises it even more than I, being with child, could. A monument to grace and sass, to style and class... fearless and proud. Gloria hails a waiter carrying a pitcher of orange juice.

'More, please!' she demands, perfectly poised.

A contemplative smile slides onto my friend's lips as the waiter passes her by. Her eyes are dreamy with a desire I had never quite witnessed in her... Without even noticing, Gloria scratches the side of her jaw with her red-lacquered nails. She seems deep in thoughts. This didn't strike me before, but a thin blond duvet covers her cheeks, a painful reminder of her manliness. I guess running away from the people that abused you makes you forget about those details...

She meets my eyes and smiles again, amused as if she'd caught precisely what was in my mind.

'I know', she exhales, 'Should buy some blades and find a bathroom... I look like shit!'

'This... this is not what I wanted to say!' She scoffs.

'Of course not, darling. Of course not.'

The silence dawns on us. However, Gloria is quick to break it. 

'So', she sighs, 'was it the idea you had of a little town by the sea?'

I divert from her piercing, malicious gaze to now focus on the windows. It's pouring rain outside. The beach is just down the road. It is the first time I am going to see it. I smile, softly, trying to be as encouraging as can be. I know Gloria drove here just for me. I don't want to disappoint her after all she's been through...

'It's pretty', I utter.

She shrugs and looks outside too. The waiter comes back and fills our glasses. This time, Gloria barely notices him. Instead, she takes a deep breath and fixes her green eyes upon me.

'Ania... I have something to tell you...' 

I turn and meet her worried face. 

'Sex is power', she articulates, 'Sex. Is. Power.'