Unsent Letters

[PunkPrince]

Marilyn lay on her back in bed. She had hardly gotten any sleep the night before. She'd spent the night tossing and turning. She felt the woman next to her snuggle closer to her side. At least Tammie seemed to be sleeping well. One of them would have some energy for the day. Good. Marilyn rested her arm across Tammie, gently rubbing her girlfriend's shoulders.

She was mostly just trying to keep from having an anxiety attack over today, and Tammie helped. Her daughter was coming to stay with her. She had lived with her adoptive parents for her entire life, they were dead, and now she was to stay with Marilyn. Marilyn hadn't seen the kid in years, though she had longed to. And now that she was to see the girl again, she wasn't sure she was ready to.

The last Marilyn had seen her, she'd only been about two, but the girl's foster parents had allowed her to visit every day. Marilyn had loved that kid, but knew she couldn't care for her. It wasn't like they'd been some picture perfect nuclear family. Marilyn had come out as transgender to her parents, they'd kicked her out. Having no money and no job, she'd been forced into prostitution to keep herself live. Her pansexuality had meant she was open to basically anyone. Women were rare, but she did see them on occasion. An hour of nervous fumbling with a woman she had hardly known for ten dollars and a loaf of bread had brought the girl into existence.

Her mother had given her up, and if she could have, Marilyn would have taken her. She'd known better. The girl deserved to be raised by somebody stable and well equipped to do so, not a transgender prostitute stuck in a motel room who was constantly having her life threatened by people who were not so open to the way that she was. So she'd let the child go.

She had a box of letters in her closet written to the girl over the years. Most of them never sent. Mostly out of fear of what her daughter might think of her. The few she had sent had been sent back to her unopened. The letters were filled with nervous apologetic ramblings and expression of love for the girl she hadn't watched grow up, splatters of ink from her pens and scribbled out sentences. She missed that kid so much.

Tammie stirred beside her and sat up. "Hey," Tammie said softly, leaning over to kiss Marilyn's cheek. She pulled Marilyn up into a sitting position and gently stroked her hair. "You look awful, honey. Didn't you sleep?"
"No," Marilyn mumbled. "I'm freaking out. I couldn't sleep. It's been so long. I don't know what's gonna happen when I see her again. I feel so bad. I practically abandoned her. I know she doesn't know it, but I feel horrible. I just...I wish I could've kept her."

"You did what was best," Tammie said gently. "You didn't abandon her. You weren't allowed to talk to her. You did what you could. She grew up best because you gave her up. What if she had stayed and something had happened to us? Or her? What then? We weren't exactly stable in the way we lived. It wasn't a good way for anyone to grow up. I loved her too, and I wish we could have kept her and raised her together. You'll have her back soon enough. I know you're nervous, I am too. But we're all she's got right now."

Tammie stood up and began to dress herself. "I'll go downstairs and make breakfast while you get yourself ready. Take your time. Try to calm down and then come down whenever you're ready, Kitten." She pecked Marilyn on the lips and then she was gone.

Once she had showered, Marilyn stood in the bathroom looking at her reflection in the mirror. She ran her fingers gingerly over her face, which she had just finished shaving. It was smooth. For now at least. Her hormones had redistributed her body fat–given her hips and a more feminine figure, and she had slowly begun to develop small breasts. Tammie, who had been on hormones for much longer, had larger breasts and a feminine figure. She just about passed by this point. Hormones had not, much to their displeasure, eliminated their body hair. It had made it thinner, but the only way to be rid of it was laser hair removal. It had not changed Marilyn's broad shoulders, nor affected her height–nearly six feet tall–and it had not changed her voice. It had never been particularly masculine, but it had always had a bit of a boyish huskiness to it.

She thought about what Tammie had said as she did her makeup. Deep down she knew her lover was right. She'd done what was best. But God damn it did she miss that kid. All those letters in her closet were proof. She wrote a new one every few days. She had never gotten to have any real contact with Kimberly after she'd left. The most she'd been allowed was to send small packets of the girls favorite candy. She did it on holidays, and the girl's birthday of course. She wished she could have afforded to buy her real presents.

Tammie was in the kitchen making french toast on the stove. It was Marilyn's favorite, and she hoped that maybe the meal would help destress the other woman a bit. She knew Marilyn had missed Kimberly. After the girl had been adopted Marilyn had spent about a week and a half alternating between sobbing and sleeping. Tammie had had to coax her into eating, and even then it was always only just a few nibbles.

Tammie looked up as she heard a knock on the door. She was hesitant to answer. She didn't know anything about the girl, and the girl knew nothing about her. Tammie wasn't even sure if Kimberly knew she and Marilyn were trans. Stepping away from the stove, she walked over to the door and opened it, smiling as she saw the girl standing there. "Hi," she greeted. "You must be Kimberly." She stepped aside to let the girl in. "I'm Tammie. Marilyn is upstairs getting ready. Come in."

 

[thatoddball]

The car accident had taken her parents lives, and Kimberly didn't know how to feel about it. She knew she should be sad. Everyone who attended their funeral kept telling the girl it was okay for her to cry, but she didn't feel like crying. Kimberly was confused. Her parents hadn't treated her very nice and put way too much pressure on her. Kimberly felt guilty for feeling relieved. She was glad she didn't have to disappoint them anymore. She knew they wanted her to be perfect, and should couldn't keep up to their standards.

Since the accident, Kimberly had been staying with a good friend of her mother's. It was only a temporary arrangement. The social worker had explained to the child she would be taken elsewhere the day after the funeral. Kimberly was worried now that it was the day after the funeral and the social worker, Mrs. Colt, had shown up to take her to her new home. Mrs. Colt had told the girl she would be going to stay with two transgender women, but didn't tell her anything more.

Mrs. Colt first took Kimberly by the home the girl had lived ever since she could remember. Kimberly had been told to fetch some of her things, just what she could carry. The rest could be picked up on another day. Kimberly stuffed some clothes into an old suitcase she'd found in the hall closet and grabbed her school bag along with her violin. Kimberly took a long look around her room. Trophies and ribbons decorated it, but Kimberly didn't care about any of them. "It's time to go, Kimberly. Have you got everything you need?" Mrs. Colt asked from the doorway. The girl nodded and followed Mrs. Colt out to the car.

It hadn't been all that long of a drive. Kimberly had stared out of the window and stayed quiet the entire ride. As she stood at the door, she looked back at Mrs. Colt. The social worker hadn't gotten out of the car. The paperwork had all been dealt with already, so Mrs. Colt just waited for the door to open before driving off. Kimberly looked up at the woman who greeted her.

"Hi," Kimberly responded, picking up the suitcase she'd put down before knocking. Her voice was soft. This was still so very strange to her. All these changed were happening in such a short timespan. Kimberly was having difficult processing it all. She stepped inside, taking several small steps before setting down the suitcase once more and placing her backpack and violin case beside it. Kimberly looked back to Tammie. "Mrs. Colt said you were born a boy. Is it true?" Kimberly was curious. She instantly regretted asking. Kimberly didn't know if these people were nice yet, and she immediately mentally scolded herself for asking such a bold question right away.

 

[PunkPrince]

Kimberly greeted her, clearly nervous. She stepped inside before putting her bags down and off to one side of the hallway. She was slightly surprised by the girl's sudden question, and this was one of the times that she didn't mind the question much. Kimberly was just a kid, after all, and it's not like she had grown up around them. "I perfer to say I was assigned male at birth, but yes, it's true. You probably shouldn't ask people that though. It's a touchy subject." She glanced over at the staircase as she spoke. Where was Marilyn?

Marilyn was standing in her bedroom doorway, fully dressed with her hair still just slightly damp. She could see them, but they couldn't see her. She had to go down there. She couldn't just hide in her room forever. And she really did want to see her daughter again. God, she'd gotten so tall. Even from a distance she could see that the two of them looked alike, particularly in the face. Marilyn took a deep breath before slipping out of her bedroom and walking down the stairs.

"Hi," she greeted, smiling at Kimberly as she spoke. "Sorry it took me so long." What she really wanted to do was hug Kimberly, shout, "I've missed you!" and never let her go. She didn't though. It took all her willpower not to.
Tammie grinned at her. "There you are," she said. "I thought you'd run off." Tammie moved to stand next to Marilyn. She was the smaller of the two at 5'9.

"Are you hungry?" Tammie asked Kimberly. "I made french toast. It's not as good as the stuff Marilyn can make, but I don't think it's bad." Without waiting for an answer she bounced off into the kitchen. Marilyn laughed softly and gave Kimberly a smile before following Tammie.

Tammie had moved the pieces of french toast onto three seperate plates. She put the plates on the table and pulled the syrup out of the cabinet. Once they were all sitting around the table Marilyn looked over at Kimberly. "Is there anything you want to know about us?" she asked. "Or anything you want to tell us about yourself?"

 

[thatoddball]

"Oh. Sorry. Assigned male at birth then." Kimberly nodded. "I didn't know it was possible to be assigned a different gender than what you grow up to be until Mrs. Colt tried to explain it to me." Kimberly's parents never discussed such things with her. They kept her from anything they felt would corrupt her and that included anything LGBT related. Kimberly once saw two women kissing, and she was promptly grabbed by her father and taken elsewhere. This would be a major adjustment. Kimberly had lots of questions she wanted to ask about the two, but she decided it was best not to ask most of the ones that came to mind.

Kimberly offered a faint smile upon seeing Marilyn. All this was weird for her, but she thought that this might be a chance for something better. Though she had just met them, so they could be worse than her parents for all she knew. Kimberly glanced around for a few seconds before following Marilyn and Tammie into the kitchen.

As she sat at the table and stared at her place for a moment, she thought of what she wanted to know about them. Of course she had questions, lots of them, but it was best she held off on those until she knew them better. Kimberly didn't always have much of a filter, but she was getting better. She'd been scolded so many times for asking or saying the wrong things. Her parents discouraged her curiosity unless it was concerning a school related topic or something related to one of her activities.

There was one major thing she wanted to know. "Why did you two agree to take me in?" Kimberly questioned casually before taking the first bite of french toast. As for anything she wanted to them to know, she couldn't think of much to say except the usual boastful monologue her mother had taught her. Since her mother was no longer around to correct her, she decided to put a more honest twist on it.

"Whenever someone asks about me, my mom always tells me to say the same things: I've competed in national level Gymnastics competitions, I've received straight A's for the past four years. I've performed in multiple ballet recitals and my instructor says I'm the best in the class, I've done several successful violin concerts, and my room is filled with ribbons and trophies," Kimberly paused to take another bite. "None of that really matters to me though, besides maybe the good grades and the violin concerts."

 

[PunkPrince]

Tammie smiled as Kimberly apologized to her. "It's okay. I don't blame you for not knowing. Lots of people don't know. You can ask questions, just try to be nice about the ones you have." Tammie herself hadn't known that people like her existed until she'd read about it in a book around the time she was fourteen. It had been such a relief to find that she wasn't the only one like this, that she wasn't completely crazy. It had been another four years before she had said anything to her mother, or anybody else for that matter."

She looked at Marilyn, who was presently drowning her french toast in powdered sugar and syrup. The girl asked why they had agreed to take her in, and Marilyn looked up. "Why not?" she asked. "Not like we can have kids by ourselves, and there's no reason we shouldn't take you in. You seem like a good kid, not like much of a troublemaker. I like you so far."

The arrangement had been that if anything happened to Kimberly's adoptive parents and Marilyn had happened to find a stable living situation, she would become the girl's legal guardian again. Not that Kimberly knew about any of this. When Marilyn asked Kimberly about herself, the child was quiet for a moment before speaking.

"You must be pretty smart if you can manage straight A's," Marilyn said. "I never could. I used to play violin. I'd still be doing it if I still had the violin." When her parents had kicked her out she hadn't been able to take her violin with her. She had never been able to go back and get it.

"Why did you do the ballet and the gymnastics then?" Tammie asked. "If you don't like them?" She paused. "Is there anything else you want to tell us? Besides what your mother always has you say?"