A Dream

I can't sleep tonight. Fell asleep early, managed to get a spot on a roof of some office building with wifi. I've been trying so hard to keep writing, to keep sharing the story, but now I'm drawing to it's close and all I can think of is his body, chopped into bits and stuffed in trash bags... It was the most horrific thing I'd ever seen in my life. My guess is whoever did it was trying to dispose of the body and got scared away...

But tonight I dreamt of Sam. Standing there on the roof, same as always, crying and hugging me and telling me how much he loves me and how much he misses me. It was beautiful and wonderful and everything I could've wanted.

It felt so real! He was so firm with me, telling me I had to keep going, that I have to find something to live for, since he's not there with me anymore.

I woke up crying.

One more post left of his life.

I'll be getting back on that soon.

Telling Secrets

Apparently I have followers now. I wasn't expecting that, I kind of figured I'd tell Sam's story in silence. I mean, he definitely deserves to have people reading this. Poor guy deserves to have everyone in the world remember him. He was an amazing man. So, welcome, I suppose.

Secondly, in the spirit of this post, I'd like to draw all of your attention to this. Both because it's important /and/ because it's a story that hits close to home for me-as you're all about to find out. I actually went into a book store and dealt with the glares while I read the entire article-I was so shocked, and thrilled, and... Well, I guess I have a bit of a new hero. She's got guts.

The story I want to tell, as I said, is related to that. The next big landmark between us happened one night sitting around chatting on a rooftop, as had quickly become our habit. He always preferred being up high, and as I had no objection, that became our standard.

For the life of me I can't remember what we were talking about. Something random, probably pointless except for entertaining us for a little while. But we'd ended up sitting close together and leaning in talking about it... and next thing I knew, we were kissing.

It was cheesy, cliched, and so stereotypically Hollywood. Or at least it would've been, if it weren't two dirty, unkempt homeless 'men'. The kiss was sweet and loving and so very, very eager on both sides. But I pulled away. Because I wasn't being honest with him.

"Sam, there's something you should know."

He flinched, thinking that I hadn't wanted the kiss. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

I shook my head. "No, I wanted it. But. I'm not quite what you think I am..." At Sam's look of confusion, I continued. "I'm not exactly a man..."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever heard the term 'genderfluid'?"

"No..."

"Sometimes, I am a man. Sometimes, I am a woman. But, biologically, I'm female, and I know that's not what you're into."

It took him a minute to process. "So. What were you when we kissed? A man, or a woman? Because. That's all that really matters. Biology's not important."

I couldn't look him in the eye. "I was a woman. I /am/ a woman tonight."

"... We can stay friends, right?" He looked about as heartbroken as I felt.

I attempted a smile, for his sake. "Of course."

"... What should I call you? When you're a woman, I mean."

I paused, uncertain. "Lily. My dad named me Lily."

"Well, then, Lily. You'll always be my friend. Man or woman."

After that, he offered to help me steal some clothes so that I could be a girl when we were alone and the mood struck me, but I knew it wasn't safe. A woman on the street is at risk of a whole category of things that a man never has to worry about. That's why I stay a man, these days. At least outwardly. I don't have enough curves for anyone to be able to tell what's underneath.

He tried to give me the clothes anyway, because that's just how sweet he really was. He was so sad for me, that I couldn't be who I want to be.

Things were awkward for a few days, but we really only had each other, so we got over it quick. A failed romance was far less important than having someone we could count on.

Friendship

When I saw him again, it was in this one little coffee shop that managed to survive in spite of the army of Starbucks and the like. It was known among the homeless folk for having donuts and kolaches for under a dollar-a pretty sweet deal for us. Even the worst busker could make that much in a day.

Sam hadn't figured out that much yet, he just knew they didn't shoo him out for not ordering anything and they had free wifi and outlets for laptops. Which is why I ended up giving him half of my donut. Only food I had all day, but seeing the heartbroken way he eyed the thing-and how baggy his clothes were-I couldn't hardly eat the whole thing in front of him. And the way his eyes lit up... I'll never forget it as long as I live.

I think even more than the donut itself he was so excited to have someone being nice to him. He always said he had problems making friends, even moreso than most of us. Probably because he was a little bit crazy, as he proved that day. We decided to go to the comic shop nearby. I'd never been but apparently it was one of his favorite hangouts and I really liked the idea, it'd been a while since I'd done something just for fun like that.

We got about halfway there before he got quiet and scared, staring off into the distance before apologizing and telling me he needed to head to a roof. Sam was so jittery and scared, and there was nothing there. But he was far more comfortable on the roof, so we went and spent a couple hours talking up there.

It was really nice, having a friend, even if he was a bit certifiable.