Transitioning

This is a short bit about coping.

His first thought was that she looked like sleeping beauty. She had thrown her curls up over both of their pillows so she wouldn't crush as she slept. The hair waved out and surrounded her in an auburn halo that was bound to leave stray strands for him to pick off later. Her false lashes laid thick on her cheeks that were caked in rosy blush. Her collar bones stood out above her tattered sports bra and he examined the white pink stretch marks across her stomach lovingly. Her baggy pants crested with the emblem of her favorite fictional school lay rumpled up by her knees and he eyed her toes with amusements. The sky high heels she donned for this week's play had left marks across the tops of her feet where they pinched her but they didn't reveal her toes. Since they wouldn't be seen they still showed remains of chipped red and blue from the festivities that had come and gone few weeks before.

Joseph's second thought held on those toes. Amanda loved holidays. She had outfits and pins and decorations for even the most ridiculous celebrations. Not for the first time he found himself wondering if she had ever missed an Independence day celebration before. It was easier to feel guilt at stealing fireworks from her than it was to recognize the fury he felt at the cause.

Slowly he backed out of the room and drifted back to his office. He had closed his eyes and laid back on the couch when he heard her come home. He had known that if she saw him awake she would stay up with him instead of snatching at the few moments of sleep left during her break that their daughter was still napping. More than that he didn't want to awkwardly sputter through a conversation about how he was handling whatever he was supposed to be handing on the first birthday his sister would not grow older.

His hands itched to sketch Amanda's current contradictions. As his pen hit the paper in front of him Joseph knew it was not his fiance that flowed out.

Slowly the shapes formed. His own jaw appeared and he had to force himself to soften the cheeks. The deliberateness of the change to his sister's features made the drawing more real. Her eyes refused his stroke. They came out blunt and sharp like his own. He felt anguish deep in his stomach and fought it down as he stared at the image he had never seen in person but knew must have existed at one time. This is what she must have looked like halfway through her transition. Not familiar with the makeup that would later help her become herself but still changed by the hormones she fought so hard to afford.

He hastily picked up one of his daughters crayons and slashed on a birthday hat. Jonathon stood up and went to go move Amanda's curls off his pillow and climb in next to her.