Michelae was drenched in the train’s shitty atmosphere. The morning had started with a rushed breakfast and heavy delays on the northern line. The unwashed pits and terrible morning breath that surrounded her every morning left her wishing for her own car. A bike, even. Anything that saved her from her daily commute.
In the office she adjusted her seat and headset. Her cubicle was decorated with sticky notes and the occasional sweet wrapper. She scrolled through her emails and began looking through the numbers she needed to dial. She sold health products to unwilling people, but she had a knack for persuasion.
“Good morning, Mrs Peach. I am calling from HealthyU. We have a–”
“I am not interested!”
“Ma’am. We have a promotion on a range of vitamin supplements that I am sure you will find most–”
“I said I am not interested! It’s 8.30 in the morning! Get a real job!”
Most of the time – as here – they did not give her the opportunity to work her magic. It used to affect her, but she soon toughened up and let the brush-offs pass her by. She cleared her throat and dialled the next number. “Good morning, Mr Van de Merwe.”
“Hello.”
“I am calling from HealthyU and we have a–”
“Wow. You have a sexy voice.”
“Thank you, sir. We have a promotion on a range of vitamin supplements that will give you value for your money and leave you feeling energised and ready for any challenge.”
“Oh, vitamins? Do you get enough vitamin D?”
“Sir, we have vitamin D tablets for only R39.99. Those are the 30 packs. If you want a larger–”
“No, no … do you get enough vitamin D?”
“Sir …”
“Yeah, because I have loads for you. Loads!”
He breathed heavily, then fast, then let out a satisfied sigh. “Thank you. I needed that,” he said. The line died.
Michelae was used to the occasional male using her as a tool to get off. She left her cubicle and went to the toilet. Her makeup was intact, but she reapplied her red lipstick anyway. She was tall, thin, with lovely dark curls framing her beautiful features.
“This is not forever,” she said into the mirror.
Her job was awful, but the money was good enough for her to save for her sex reassignment surgery. It made dealing with perverts somewhat acceptable. She hadn’t been able to get any good jobs, even with her degree in Physics, and she was tired of her father calling her Michael. She was a woman. He had to come to terms with that. Everyone would have to, soon enough.
Her phone vibrated. It was a message from her boyfriend. He didn’t have a clue about her penis. She just hadn’t found the right time to tell him.
“Hey, babe.” Gif sounded so happy to be speaking to her. “Entourage for a jol on Friday?”
She needed something to look forward to and Gif always knew how to cheer her up. She accepted the invitation and smiled at herself in the mirror. “You can do this, girl”.
Back in her cubicle, Michelae adjusted her headset again. She thought of the nights she’d lain awake confused and troubled, not knowing what was wrong with her, what to do. It had been so fantastic when she discovered a whole online community of people like her. Now she knew. She wasn’t a freak. Nothing was ‘wrong’. She had found out what she could do and was focused and ready to become who she truly was.
“Good morning, Mr Gupta …”
***
Tell us: More and more we are all starting to understand how fluid the idea of ‘gender’ really is, and that every society has people like Michelae. You can read a story and information about being transgender here.