Spoiler
Out of Reach [1]
You looked through the window, your eyes half-opened. It wasn’t a stare that would prompt a yawn, and I wondered. Your mind. Was there something swirling in it? Was there a network growing in it? I couldn’t guess correctly, but I could see for sure gloomy clouds in your eyes. I didn’t like the sight. I knew what you had been through, and I was at the dead end when it came to helping you. The solution for your problem seemed to be buried in the ocean, hidden in its dark depth.
I touched your shoulder rested on the table, prompting a whistle from a group of boys at the other side of the class room. I looked at them, then you, and bit my lip. You turned towards me, looked at my hand, and said, ‘You can take it away. You shouldn’t suffer too.’
I retreated my hand – something I would regret later – and didn’t look at you. Didn’t look at the boys. Instead, I filtered my ears from hearing their laughter and absorbed the mix of sounds ruining the air – multiple conversations generalized into buzzes and hums, and I felt peace a little. I couldn’t think straight – couldn’t think of the storms and floods I had to handle once my mind had room for them. Right now, I let the noisiness invaded it.
My eyes couldn’t leave you who continued staring through the window. Powder lightened your skin, your lips painted red. You put on a subtle blush on your cheek and – and you didn’t need eyelashes. Yours were the kind all girls would dream off having. Somehow, my gaze dropped a little to your nametag: Adam Khair bin Azhar Affendi. If you could, you’d slap anyone who called you Adam. You preferred Ada. Kisses on the cheek instead of pat-at-the-back hugs. Perfume over fragrance. Shoulder-length hair. I sighed. You were beautiful. How could people frown at you? I closed my eyes.
It turned out the teacher who was supposed to be in charge had something else to do. It meant half an hour of free time before the bell would ring. Despite my effort to not think of anything, my mind refused to go into a sleeping state. I opened my eyes. I ought to tell you something - it was an exciting news to me - but it didn’t feel right at that time, not when I felt like being in night market.
‘Let’s go, Daniel,’ you said. You reached the bag you had put under the table and slung it around your arm. Even your bag stood out. It only had one strap, different from the normal two-straps bags that students used and was coloured with a faded peach. You changed your bag during the first month of your… transformation. Your face was clean of make up and your hair short at that time. None would think much of your voice and the way you said things; those had stayed the same since you were in the primary school. People were familiar with it.
‘Where?’ I asked, though I had a suspicion. Your appearance might be controversial - school would see it as a rebellion and had even given you warning letters twice - but you wouldn’t act like this.
‘Anywhere but here. This school - it’s toxic now.’ You said the last part with a bit more feelings.
‘Um… but the class -’
‘Is canceled,’ you finished, raising your eyebrow. ‘Haven’t you heard the class monitor? We’re just going to the canteen.’
I looked around, a bit hesitant, before relenting. ‘Alright.’ After picking my bag, I followed you out of the classroom and the noise it contained.
We reached the stair at the end of the balcony and went down two floors. Being in Form Five - the usual form for seventeen years-old students - our classroom was at the highest floor. Thankfully, the ground floor placed a canteen, which was deserted currently. Passing by rows of long tables, you led me to the middle of them and sat down. It was the perfect place, exactly between the teachers’ dining room at our back and the counter in front of us.
‘First time you break the rule,’ I said, grinning. ‘A bit daring, are we now?’
Your eyes rolled. ‘You forget I’ve gotten two warning letters already. All because of the way I look.’ You pulled your face. ‘“Dressing like a girl is indecent for a boy like you.” My ass! I am a girl. I know I am. It’s not my fault that my feeling doesn’t match with my body.’ You rubbed your chest slightly, sighing as if you were a treasure hunter finding nothing after your venture.
I was somewhat conflicted with the matter of you being a girl. Memories of when we were kids flashed across my mind, providing me a scene of when we used to play characters in your room. I would be the father and you the mother. Neither of us was worried about it, until your mother caught you using one of her dresses. Politely, she asked me to leave the house. Since then, you didn’t ask me to play the game and would even reject if I suggested it. If you felt like you were a girl, then I was convinced it was genuine - not something you’d do to gain attentions.
At the other hand, you were born with a male body. To say that it didn’t fit you - that you’d prefer to have a female’s sounded as if you were being ungrateful. You implied the design of your body was flawed, which meant its creator had made an error. And that was something I couldn’t agree even if you pointed a gun to my forehead. Allah didn’t make mistake; there must be a reason why They put you in a male body. You just needed to look carefully for it.
I sighed.
You looked through the window, your eyes half-opened. It wasn’t a stare that would prompt a yawn, and I wondered. Your mind. Was there something swirling in it? Was there a network growing in it? I couldn’t guess correctly, but I could see for sure gloomy clouds in your eyes. I didn’t like the sight. I knew what you had been through, and I was at the dead end when it came to helping you. The solution for your problem seemed to be buried in the ocean, hidden in its dark depth.
I touched your shoulder rested on the table, prompting a whistle from a group of boys at the other side of the class room. I looked at them, then you, and bit my lip. You turned towards me, looked at my hand, and said, ‘You can take it away. You shouldn’t suffer too.’
I retreated my hand – something I would regret later – and didn’t look at you. Didn’t look at the boys. Instead, I filtered my ears from hearing their laughter and absorbed the mix of sounds ruining the air – multiple conversations generalized into buzzes and hums, and I felt peace a little. I couldn’t think straight – couldn’t think of the storms and floods I had to handle once my mind had room for them. Right now, I let the noisiness invaded it.
My eyes couldn’t leave you who continued staring through the window. Powder lightened your skin, your lips painted red. You put on a subtle blush on your cheek and – and you didn’t need eyelashes. Yours were the kind all girls would dream off having. Somehow, my gaze dropped a little to your nametag: Adam Khair bin Azhar Affendi. If you could, you’d slap anyone who called you Adam. You preferred Ada. Kisses on the cheek instead of pat-at-the-back hugs. Perfume over fragrance. Shoulder-length hair. I sighed. You were beautiful. How could people frown at you? I closed my eyes.
It turned out the teacher who was supposed to be in charge had something else to do. It meant half an hour of free time before the bell would ring. Despite my effort to not think of anything, my mind refused to go into a sleeping state. I opened my eyes. I ought to tell you something - it was an exciting news to me - but it didn’t feel right at that time, not when I felt like being in night market.
‘Let’s go, Daniel,’ you said. You reached the bag you had put under the table and slung it around your arm. Even your bag stood out. It only had one strap, different from the normal two-straps bags that students used and was coloured with a faded peach. You changed your bag during the first month of your… transformation. Your face was clean of make up and your hair short at that time. None would think much of your voice and the way you said things; those had stayed the same since you were in the primary school. People were familiar with it.
‘Where?’ I asked, though I had a suspicion. Your appearance might be controversial - school would see it as a rebellion and had even given you warning letters twice - but you wouldn’t act like this.
‘Anywhere but here. This school - it’s toxic now.’ You said the last part with a bit more feelings.
‘Um… but the class -’
‘Is canceled,’ you finished, raising your eyebrow. ‘Haven’t you heard the class monitor? We’re just going to the canteen.’
I looked around, a bit hesitant, before relenting. ‘Alright.’ After picking my bag, I followed you out of the classroom and the noise it contained.
We reached the stair at the end of the balcony and went down two floors. Being in Form Five - the usual form for seventeen years-old students - our classroom was at the highest floor. Thankfully, the ground floor placed a canteen, which was deserted currently. Passing by rows of long tables, you led me to the middle of them and sat down. It was the perfect place, exactly between the teachers’ dining room at our back and the counter in front of us.
‘First time you break the rule,’ I said, grinning. ‘A bit daring, are we now?’
Your eyes rolled. ‘You forget I’ve gotten two warning letters already. All because of the way I look.’ You pulled your face. ‘“Dressing like a girl is indecent for a boy like you.” My ass! I am a girl. I know I am. It’s not my fault that my feeling doesn’t match with my body.’ You rubbed your chest slightly, sighing as if you were a treasure hunter finding nothing after your venture.
I was somewhat conflicted with the matter of you being a girl. Memories of when we were kids flashed across my mind, providing me a scene of when we used to play characters in your room. I would be the father and you the mother. Neither of us was worried about it, until your mother caught you using one of her dresses. Politely, she asked me to leave the house. Since then, you didn’t ask me to play the game and would even reject if I suggested it. If you felt like you were a girl, then I was convinced it was genuine - not something you’d do to gain attentions.
At the other hand, you were born with a male body. To say that it didn’t fit you - that you’d prefer to have a female’s sounded as if you were being ungrateful. You implied the design of your body was flawed, which meant its creator had made an error. And that was something I couldn’t agree even if you pointed a gun to my forehead. Allah didn’t make mistake; there must be a reason why They put you in a male body. You just needed to look carefully for it.
I sighed.
(1,080 words)
