My love has never read my blogs, until yesterday. Papi was very distressed about the lie, and then found out that I wrote about it. 'You', my imaginary friend, know that this is my place to tell you all about my journey.
The lie is part of my passage.
Sweety said, "I'm not sure I like the world knowing everything about me."
I giggled with the teenager inside for a second and said to myself, "Oh it's not the whole world, just people from the U.S., Denmark, France, Malaysia, United Kingdom, Russia, Australia, Slovenia, Germany and (**ahem**) a 'few' from Canada.
I assured Papi that there are other people who read this as well as 'you' who have no idea who my love is. I've never used a name and there's certainly no pictures of mi esposo. But, my love knows that there are a scattered few who know Papi and I that are reading about my venture on this voyage.
Still, I had to say, "This is my journey that I'm writing about, and you're the largest part of it. Sorry."
The giggling teenager wanted to chime in, "So don't piss me off, or Russia will know about it!" I kept her statement quietly to myself.
I hopped into the bath to fix myself up pretty for the evenings odyssey we were about to embark on. My love and I were to attend a dinner for hundreds of people in our city who are mentally ill. It's the annual Xmas dinner, always a month late.
It's really an amazing night. I love seeing the people I occasionally will see in the community being served and treated with dignity, instead of them humiliatingly begging for a scrap of change from myself and others.
Fittingly, it would be my first outing since I lost it from the male transition bomb that was dropped on me. It felt like a safe place to be because at this dinner I would never be judged for my insanity.
While I was in the bath prepping my tresses, I heard nothing but silence in the living room. Our place is so empty because of the sewage flood, that you can hear the echo of a cat promenading the barren floors.
The sounds I'm accustomed to hearing from Papi are the mad clickings of computer keys as mi esposo frantically chats with 2 or sometimes up to 5 people on Facebook. I really don't know how my love does it.
However, this time I heard nothing but the occasional sniffle or throat clearing.
When I got out of the tub, my love was just sitting with a glazed stare at the computer screen and said, "I didn't know all you wrote about was the transition. I didn't realize this was the cause of all your pain. I thought some of your pain was from the sewage flood and your back being re-injured from the fall."
"No sweety." These 'extras' were just salt on the wound.
I've tried to coddle my love during this time. I don't want mi esposo to hurt as much as I do. No need for 2 crazies in the house. I can fill the space just fine with my delirium.
But now Papi knows and said, "I really didn't know you were in this much pain from my decision."
My love was taking a moment to walk on my side of the path.
Then my cheeky love was exposed, "And just because I didn't say anything about the flowers doesn't mean I didn't know they were our wedding flower!"
Following this indignant statement came the part that made me laugh hysterically. My sweetheart mockingly said in such a way that brought the image of someone in a really bad commercial standing beside the flowers in a 'Ta-Da' pose, speaking in that uncomfortable monotone manner, "Oh, I see here you have bought our wedding flower to show love."
But, Papi did acknowledge that mi esposo didn't get what the cleaning and flowers was really saying. My love admitted that part was very much a 'male trait'.
Later that night, after the Xmas dinner was eaten, and all of us nutbars returned to our padded cells, Papi went to work and I received a text: "I've been selfish and haven't really thought about you, just myself and what I wanted. I don't want to ruin our marriage over facial hair and smell. You are too important to me. I realized that tonight. I just wouldn't want to be at that crazy dinner with anyone else."
I received my respect. Papi is giving it a year. If I haven't healed from this stretch of the tour, alternative choices will be made.
This brought me much closer to forgiving the lie.