Transylvania

E L E V E N

He thought he had been wondering the city aimlessly, but apparently his feet knew where they were headed the entire time. Somehow, in his anguish, he had wound up standing in front of his old house. The home he had shared with Allison.

The neighborhood had changed. The corner market had new owners, and the video rental store was gone, replaced by a cafe. But the houses on the block all looked the same, except for some coats of paint. In the dim light of early morning, his old house looked almost exactly how he remembered it. Light green with darker trim and a royal blue door with white-painted panels. A flower bed along the front window added splashes of crimson and marigold. The new owners must have kept the colors and maintained the window garden. He assumed there were new owners. Allison was in her late seventies now, and while many people remained healthy and active until much later than that, he just couldn't imagine her still living in this same house decades later.

But if she wasn't here, where was she? In an apartment? With a new partner? The end to their relationship had been a clean break, with communication completely severed. Radio silence was helped along because he had also stopped pretending to be a lesbian which lost him all their mutual friends. So he hadn't been able to keep tabs on her over the years. As soon as they broke off their relationship, he'd moved across town and faded into the night.

That was one thing he loved about Shirley. Yes, he dared to admit it, even after so little time: loved. How affirming she was of his masculinity. Of his maleness. It wasn't something she was simply accommodating. She accepted it. Embraced it.

God, why did things have to become complicated?

He sat down on the front steps of his old house and put his head in his hands. Everything was going to shit.

Just as the first rays of sun reached into the sky, a runner came jogging up the hill, panting heavily in the cool morning air. Soon after, a man strolled down the hill, giving his dog a morning walk. A few cars drove by, too. Just as Alexander was feeling settled in himself, the front light switched on and the door behind him creaked open. "Can I help you?" came a voice from the crack in the doorway.

"Sorry, I was just leaving," Alexander said as he stood.

"Alex?"

He stopped, turned, and promptly forgot to breathe. He hadn't recognized her voice–it had thinned with age–but the woman standing in the doorframe was undeniably Allison. Her hair was short now, and completely white. And she wore glasses, which she hadn't before. But her face had hardly changed. Sure, she was older, with some more lines around her eyes and mouth, but she still stood with poise and radiated the same beauty.

"I didn't know you still lived here," he said apologetically, knowing that sounded stupid, but not able to muster up any other excuse for his presence.

"You haven't aged a minute in thirty years, have you?" she asked in awe.

He reflexively looked down at himself and held up his palms. "No, I guess I haven't."

"Come inside," she offered, stepping back and holding open the door.

He looked around, unsure of what to do at first. But why not catch up? For old time's sake? "Thank you," he responded, and stepped through the door and immediately felt transported to another era of his life.

Most of the furniture was different, but the setup was the same. New couch, same location. Similarly, the decor had been modernized, but not overhauled. A black-and-white photograph of a woman bathing in an old copper tub still hung in the hallway. In the living room, the bookshelf still featured the works of Gertrude Stein, Gloria Steinem, bell hooks. A curio cabinet displayed small sculptures and figurines that looked to be curated from womyn's festivals and street shows. A few personal photographs were also out and framed, including one of her mother, and another with her sister posing with a dog. Some other photos showed people he didn't know, or no longer recognized.