Creative Writing On Belonging

My name is Stephen Bild. I turned twenty-eight last January. I still remember that day for it was unlike any other I had experienced in my life. This night would change my life forever. Lying on this bed, I cannot tell whether my life would turn out better or worse.
I was partying with three of my female friends at an uptown pub in Philly. I had not told anyone at work that it was my birthday, save for the receptionist Lucy and Johnny, the janitor. I doubted those two would show up anyway. Lucy did not like me much while Johnny must have been too inebriated to understand what I was saying when I told him the good news. My life had turned out great in terms of achievements but deep inside, I craved to be understood. My parents were too uptight for my liking and so when I left our house ten years ago, I never returned. Apart from the occasional call from my sister and only sibling, Anne, I had totally alienated myself from my family. Anne would call me occasionally to check that I was still alive but interestingly, she never sent greetings from my parents. I figured that they were still resentful. The reason for my departure was that I had defied them on their wish to pursue a law degree, not to mention that I had impregnated the daughter of my father’s boss.
My dad was ashamed of me. He believed in living a life by the book. He was a lawyer at a famous law firm when I left home. Four years later my sister had told me how he had started his own firm. I now understood why he had wanted me to study law so badly. Two years ago, my sister called me to tell me that she and her husband now had a son. Between feelings of envy and shame, I felt lost. I promised her that I would visit them but the tone in her voice spoke volumes. She knew that I was lying as usual.
On the night of my birthday, a burly man spilled his drink on my shirt. Before I could get hold of my reaction, we were punching each other. After a few punches and a fat lip, I was thrown out of the club. I was a bloody mess and very drunk. As I squatted to sit on the curb, I felt a soft hand on my forehead. It was Lucy, the receptionist. There she was, as beautiful as ever, looking at me with those dangerous eyes. She took me to her apartment and washed my face in cold water before giving me a bag of frozen peas for my head. I stood up to look at myself in the mirror. I looked so different. I could be different. I could be anyone I wanted to be. As this realization hit me, I wanted to go back to the club. I walked out of Lucy’s apartment in slacks and a low-cut top. I felt free. I was a woman. Lucy hurriedly walked behind me as I swung in my new-found freedom. Once we were inside the club, the partying continued. It was the best day of my life. All the regret from leaving my family so long ago seemed to fade in that moment in time. The old me had died.
This was the beginning of a new life for me. I was slowly testing the waters for my new persona. My wardrobe changed completely. I had fought this feeling for a long time. I had always felt that I was a woman trapped inside a man’s body. Every time I was about to walk my house, I would look at the mirror with approval. In two months time, I had changed my demeanor completely. I was so resolute in this new lifestyle that not even my workmates questioned me. A great burden had been lifted off my shoulders. I was becoming what I was meant to be. Then it all started to dawn on me. I had never really liked girls. Every few months, I would get a feeling of self-loathing that would be so intense that I would need counseling.
A few days ago, I decided to call my parents. First it was my dad and then my mum. I could not tell whether they knew that my eyes were full of tears as I spoke. My dad did not shout or curse at me like he had done so many times when I was seventeen. He spoke apologetically and told me that he had never forgiven himself. Lying on this operating table, I feel much better. As the medication starts to kick in, I can see their faces as they arrange a trip to Philly. I am ready for them. By the time the plane touches down, I will no longer be a man. I will be a happy woman. I cannot wait. I belong.