You Invited Me In
A Work of Fiction
Lizzie went without makeup more than with. Most days she didn’t see the use. She used makeup on special occasions. Tonight, was a special occasion. The occasion was a feeling. Something out of reach. Lizzie didn’t have a date, or plans. Tonight’s makeup and dress combo was in the moment.
Lizzie lived in the moment. Her social media encouraged it. Lizzie always had her phone in her hand. Social media was such a blessing.
Before the transition, Lizzie was alone. She felt alone, rather. Her mother said her feelings were valid. Lizzie’s mom was always understanding. That didn’t stop Lizzie from having feelings. Before the transition, Lizzie felt alone.
Her feelings changed when she went online. Online she discovered she was trans. She didn’t feel alone anymore. She felt comfortable admitting she was a she. Her mother was very understanding. Lizzie was happy, so her mom was happy.
Lizzie’s curled brunette hair had body. It bounced and flounced off her fingers.
As Lizzie finished styling her hair there was a ring. Someone was at the door. Lizzie didn’t know who it could be. She didn’t have plans. Lizzie slipped on a pair of pumps before answering.
“Why not?” She thought to herself. The cream-colored heels completed the outfit. Now she had an audience! Lizzie answered the door. A choir of crickets sang in the night.
Lizzie did not recognize her caller. Lizzie knew she was trans right away. The tallest woman Lizzie had ever seen. Her long blond hair fell past her shoulders. Trans beauty is distinctive. Lizzie knew this admiring her own reflection. She was smitten by this stranger. This towering beauty wore a camo jacket, and doc marten boots.
“Can I help you?” Lizzie asked the tall beautiful blond woman.
“My name is Christine,” as she introduced herself, Christine produced a crimson pamphlet from her jacket, “I’m sorry for bothering you, you look terrific, like you’ve got a big night planned. I was just going door to door.”
“Actually, I don’t have plans,” Lizzie corrected.
“Oh,” Christine responded.
“I just like getting dressed up,” Lizzie giggled.
“I do too,” Christine returned the smile.
“What are you going door to door for?” Lizzie asked.
“Now I’m afraid you’ll slam the door in my face,” Christine grinned, “I’m here to talk about politics.”
“Get out! I’m just kidding,” Lizzie was too quick to reveal her sarcasm. She was afraid it would be misunderstood. The joke was well received. Both women laughed.
“Do you have any political concerns?” Christine asked. Lizzie noticed her finger the crimson pamphlet. As crimson as blood.
“I care about trans issues,” Lizzie shrugged.
“You’re a girl after my own heart,” Christine winked.
“Do you want to come inside?” Lizzie invited.
“Oh, I don’t have to come in,” Christine blushed, “I’m really sorry for bothering you, I was just here to hand out a pamphlet.”
“I would love for you to come in, and hear all about your politics,” Lizzie pounced, “I might even read that pamphlet of yours.”
“Well…” Christine paused and smiled, “if you insist.”
Lizzie let Christine into her home. She went to fluff the cushions on the sofa. As soon as her back was turned a steel grip snatched her up. Her feet kicked her cream-colored pumps in different directions. A massive hand jerked Lizzie’s head to the side. Lizzie felt a twin prick at her neck. She couldn’t see.
“You invited me in,” the voice was snarling and ancient. All trace of Christine was gone.