Story

I think Neal is secretly a woman. He’s trapped in a man’s body and he daren’t tell. I got him a skirt. I’m on the way to his house with it now. A skinny skirt for his skinny hips. It’s one of my favourites with little flowers round the bottom, a subtle colour for a brand new woman.

I can’t wait to tell him I know his secret, he’s going to be so pleased to finally realise there’s someone out there who thinks it’s ok, and we can be lesbians together.

I walk down his street, his is the house with the big tree. Sometimes I just come and stand outside and I know he won’t see me because of the tree. I know he’s sick of me coming round all the time. He ignored all six of my texts today but I know why. Neal is secretly a woman.

I knock on his door and his face falls when he sees it’s me. Normally it makes me a bit nervous but I’ve worked it out now. I follow his long legs into the house and he slumps on the sofa, picking up the joystick for his computer game. The smell of overturned cans with cigarette butts in hits me. I have to breathe through my mouth. Guess what, I got you a present. His eyes look to Heaven then back to the TV monitor. He’ll be happy when he sees.

I got you a skirt. He looks at it, an eyebrow raised. His face looks disgusted, mouth upturned, as if he would never wear a skirt. He’s prepared. I didn’t think he would be. I thought he would be shocked that I knew. He shakes his head at me and tells me I’m mad, sitting there with his legs wide open. It’s just an act. He wants to swivel his hips wearing my skirt. And I’m really worried about him because he seems so unhappy, and every time I come round he seems so distant and cold. I know it’s because he’s a woman.

And I’m stroking his arm and telling him, it’s OK, it’s amazing what they can do these days. I don’t know why he’s getting so angry, he should be happy I know the truth. Finally he can be free. He chucks the computer game on the floor and grabs me by the arm, pulling me towards the door.

And when he says, just leave, I get angry at him. You’re a woman, I tell him. You’re a woman. Don’t open the front door, I’m not going until you admit it. You’re a woman. He shakes his head at me and pushes me gently till I’m out of the door and the door is shut and I don’t think I’m going to see him again. I thought he was ready. He told me I was mad, he’ll tell everyone I’m mad. They’ll believe him. I text him as I walk away, ‘It seems so unlikely but I’ve seen it in your eyes.’ He won’t reply. He never replies. And he’s a woman. I don’t care about the beard, forget the beard, underneath the beard, I know he is a woman.