Chapter 1 The long con begins
POV: Thistle Reed
“I don’t know why everyone always bitches about life not being fair.
Of fucking course it’s not!
I mean think about it. Really think about it. What are the two things we NEED to live.
Water and oxygen.
Corrosive in their own right.
What is a major component to how our bodies function?
Iron.
Leave iron in water and it corrodes, leave it out to oxidize and it corrodes.
So, by all rights two of the essentials for us to survive are corroding us with each breath.”
I lean back in my chair and shrug.
“Long story short, I don’t know why I’m in this damn group. I’m not acting out for attention; I’m not even acting out. I’m expressing my individuality because we live we breathe we die. And we could die tomorrow from a piece of space junk or in fifty years from old age.”
The group leader shifts I’m treading on a thin rope and I know it, but I’m tired of these stupid groups. I’m tired of my step-witch making me attend them. But if I don’t go she’ll kick me out and my dad is too pussy whipped to tell her no.
“Seriously though, can someone tell me. What difference does it make in the grand scheme of things if I wear girls clothes and make-up?”
I point to Heath who’s already starting to look cagey, he doesn’t like me for the obvious reason. well obvious to them.
“Is it going to cause a fracture in time and space and summon trans-Hitler in kitten heels to subjugate the cis white men, Heath?” He shakes his head looking away.
“you’re right, No it’s not.”
“Thistle.” Matron Letty leans forward. “calm down, there’s no need to lash out. The reason that you’re here is because you’re showing maladaptive habits that make you a danger to yourself or other.”
I scoff at her saccharine tone, she thinks labeling me with Maladaptive coping will make my stepmother Evelyn happy by giving my fashion sense a diagnosis, it won’t not until they convince me to stop wearing the clothes that make me happy. Which I won’t. I’m twenty-one and I’d have been out of the house already if Evelyn hadn’t convinced my dad to cut me off and started convincing the ladies at the swap meets not to buy my photography.
“no Letty, I’m here because Evelyn thinks that being gay and leaning into feminization means I’m mentally ill, and while I definitely do have MCD my skirts and heels aren’t it. It doesn’t fucking hurt anyone if I wear heels and booty shorts Letty, but it does make me happy and hiding who I am behind denim boot cut tragedies and flannel just pushes me closer to deciding to just end it all, because there aren’t any healthy coping strategies to use if I have to hide myself. That in itself is too toxic! if I can’t be me why should I keep trying tell me that Letty? If I’m not ALLOWED to be me. if I have to fake it every day to make other people happy. What’s the fucking point.”
Letty sighs and hits a button on her necklace.
Fuck.
My foot slipped, off the tight rope I was walking trying to make my point and right into my mouth.
Fuck.
I drop my head back and cross my arms over my scrubs, the only clothes I’ve worn for the last two weeks because Letty and my mother agreed that I’d just dig into the girls box in the lost and found.
The fact that this is a ‘Christian based in-patient therapy’ makes me laugh. It’s such an obvious lie. Everyone here just doesn’t conform to the Christian standards their parents believe in.
Two orderlies walk in and flank me, with a dramatic eye roll I stand.
“You know good and well that was a rhetorical question Letty. I would never kill myself babes. I’m too rare to live too young to die baby.” I sent her an air kiss and sauntered off toward my room.
~
Three hours and some talk therapy later I’m free, well from my room at least. Just in time for din-din. Or what they call dinner here. A protein that may or may not be animal based, a starch, and a choice in vegetables. The only think I look forward to is the cake. Chocolate cake with chocolate fudge icing.
“Hey, Thistle, they let you out of confinement already?” Madie walks over with a smile leaning against me as she plucks a plate off the conveyor before following me to the cakes.
“Yeah, hey, can I get your help with something Mads?” I ask smiling over at her. She shrugs and looks up at me. one of the few people I’ve met who can look up at my below average five foot four inches.
“Sure Thistle. What can I do for you?” she leans against my shoulder with a smile resting her head on my shoulder as she bumps her hips against mine.
“Well, and this is going to sound really bad for half a second. But, will you go out with me. Just-” I hold my finger up cutting her off before she can interrupt me.
“Just for six months. Convince your mom and my step-bitch that we’re both cured. And that we’ve found our people. Establish our independence, maybe even by moving in together. And then a mutual separation. We do our things and if anyone asks. We’re still living together because we aren’t quite ready to give up the idea we can make it work.”
I shrug popping a piece of popcorn chicken into my mouth or at least what I’ve been telling myself is popcorn chicken, the flavor is debatable.
She stares at me for a heartbeat and then flashes me a smile.
“You know what I was about to tell you where to shove it, but you’re actually pretty enough for me to kiss, especially if you put on your eyeliner and leather like when you came in kicking and screaming.” I laugh a low sultry sound that turns heads in our direction and make my first move sliding my hand across the table and grabbing hers.
“Deal, I’ll let you dig through my closet and dress me every day, how are they going to judge me for what I wear when my girlfriend is picking my clothes?” We laugh a moment longer before matron Letty wanders in and looks towards us eyes immediately dropping to our hands still clasped as we eat sharing conspiratorial looks and leaning as close as the table will let us get.
“Mr. Reed, Ms. Boone you know fraternizing is strictly prohibited.” Her voice was clipped but I caught the small smile she was fighting, so I decided to go hard. Dramatic and hard, the only way I knew how.
“Oh, come one Matron! First I’m too gay because I’m not interested in women and like to wear their clothes Now I’m too, what, too straight to be trusted in plain sight. I finally find a woman who doesn’t make me want to die a slow death, who’s actually intelligent and funny and nice and makes me want to try for her, and now that’s wrong too?” Madie squeezes my hand firmly and I stop looking over at her.
She’s blushing and pushing her food around her plate. I sigh.
“Sorry Mads, it just- it feels like I can’t get it right. Maybe this won’t work.” I start to let go, and she looks up all devastated eyes and a sudden flash of tears that even convince me for half a second.
The Matron bites.
“well…I guess it does prove that you’ve both made progress with your personality disorders while here. And this is definitely a much better coping mechanism to loneliness Thistle.” She pats my shoulder and I smile awkwardly up at her biting back the feral grin fighting to break free.
“so- uh, we’re- it’s okay? We can- we can date even though we’re not supposed to?” she bites her lip clearly torn.
“How about this sweety, we’ll set up a conference with both sets of guardians and see if they approve. And if so we’ll see about moving you both to outpatient so you can go be a proper couple, that way you’re not breaking unit rules by touching and dating a fellow patient.” I give her a genuine smile as she offers her solution. I grab Madie’s hand again flashing her a fierce grin.
“Did you hear that Mads she’s going try and help us talk to our parents. I’m sure with the Matron on our side they won’t say no.” she smiles back at me as I finish my impromptu pep talk. And the Matron clears her throat looking directly at my hand. I snatch it back with a sheepish smile and she laughs walking off.
I sink back in my chair and lean forward to shovel the starch that claims its mashed potatoes into my mouth swallowing each bite quickly so the oddly sterile taste can’t sink into my tastebuds too much.
“wow. Oscar worthy.” She purred leaning in with a smile.
“You too, the devastation and tears? Iconic. I almost apologized and begged you not to cry. Damn I should have huh.” I tapped my fork to hers as we laughed keeping our heads close and our voices down.
“Now, step two. They’re going to start checking our rooms sometime tomorrow. And if they don’t find anything they’ll do a body check the day after at lunch after another room search. Write two weeks worth of letters to me. start with an introduction letter, follow up with things we’ve already talked about throw in things I’ve told you. After a four or five days worth sprinkle in some flirting up it at a week in, and then make it even more in your face during this weeks. It’ll explain why I’ve basically been lashing out about my clothing, insecurity or whatever, sprinkle in how you liked the look when they let me have it but maybe more pants less skirts would be something you’d bee more comfortable with.”
She’s staring at me flat.
“I know how to flirt via note and make it seem like a steady progression I’ll have them to you at breakfast. You have me yours by dinner. We’ll tuck them under our mattresses after bed and make sure someone sees us tucking them in before breakfast and you’ll fumble your note pass.” she smiled and stood looking around and making sure the Matron was pretending not to watch when she scurried up kissed my cheek and giggled hurrying off.
Maybe I was insane, maybe this was going to crash and burn. I absolutely hate needing a damn beard just to gain enough independence to get the hell out of my dad’s house. But fuck if it doesn’t feel like the only option at this point. I mean this is my fifth stay at St. Vincent’s I really didn’t want to come back if I could help it.
