The Key of Life

My Jo

Linda's hands shook as she reached for the tap and turned it on. The gush of the water that flowed into the sink sounded strangely distant. Perhaps she was the one who was distant. She felt distant, even from herself, no longer sure exactly what part she was supposed to play in the world. For so long, she had thought that her role had been cast, and now...

She took a deep breath and reached for one of the mugs, plunging it into the still-filling bowl of foamy water and rubbing it with a yellow sponge. Thank God for dishes. Dishes were simple, dishes were unending, almost reassuringly Sisyphean in their nature. Things could change all they wanted, but there would still be dishes to clean, and she would still be the one to clean them. As was to be expected as a mother of four... As a mother of four.

Linda had always wanted a big family, ever since she could remember. She had grown up a lonely only child, reading stories of siblings that she didn't have: of the twins at St Clare's, of the Bennett sisters, of Scout and Jem Finch, of the four March women. She had been delighted to have been blessed with four daughters of her own. It was too late for her to be one of the Little Women herself, but at least she could be Marmee.

She had read that book to all of her girls at one point or another, and each time she had remarked on how similar their family was to that of the March sisters. She had asked each one which little woman they would be, though she already knew exactly who was who in her mind. Steph was sensible and pretty like Meg, Katie sweet and caring like Beth, Olivia artistic and demanding like Amy, and then there was Natalie. Natty was funny, feisty, and fierce, she was bold and beautiful and brave. Natty was her Jo.

She never told Natalie this, she had never told any of them this, because she hadn't needed to. Because of course she knew which sister they were each like. They were her girls. She had carried them and bore them and raised them. She knew them better than anyone ever could or ever would.

Or so she had thought, until today, when Natalie decided to drop the bombshell that blew holes in the illusions of her own reality.

Natalie no longer wished to be one of Linda's little women. She no longer wished to be a woman at all, in fact, she said that she had never been a woman at all. She wanted to be, she believed that she was, that she always had been... a boy. Linda hadn't known that, had never even suspected it. It was no wonder that her hands shook the way they did. Everything had been shaken up in a way she had never even considered, and she wasn't sure that she yet understood.

She was Natalie's mother. She should have been the first one Natty told about how she - they? - were feeling. Or perhaps, she should have noticed. She should have noticed. How could she not have? She had always prided herself on how well she knew her children. She had thought that she had each of them pegged, but she had been wrong.

Natty wasn't her Jo. Natalie was her Beth, the girl who would be lost and leave her to mourn.

Linda felt bereaved, and she felt like a failure, and she felt guilty for her failures, and she felt guilty for the part of her that could only think about how her own identity was affected by this. She had always been the woman with four daughters. That was who she was. She was Marmee. Now who would she be?

"Mum?"

A voice from the kitchen door. Linda put the mug she had been washing for far longer than necessary down on the draining board and turned to see her youngest child standing in the doorway. Natty was fidgeting, her - no, their - front teeth grazing their bottom lip as they looked at her.

"Mum, are you okay?"

Linda knew better than to let her children - any of her children - see her emotions getting the better of. Her. She was a mother, it was her job to be the strong one in the family. If not her, then who?

"I'm fine, Natty," she said, as breezily as she could muster. "Everything's fine."

"Really? You seem..." Natalie's voice tailed off, and their eyes lowered to the floor. There was a look of hurt resignation on their face that made Linda's heart ache.

She softened as she looked at her child, her youngest, her baby, so small and so scared looking. And no wonder. The world could be a cruel place, especially when it came to the things and people that others didn't understand. And though Linda still didn't understand why her daughter would not want to be her daughter anymore, she knew immediately who she was. Regardless of who or what Natalie wanted to be, who they were, she was still their mother. She could not be the first one to show Natty cruelty.

"I'm just worried about you," she said. "I'm worried about how other people might treat you, and how much harder your life might be because of this."

"Yeah. I'm worried about that, too."

"And I wish that you had told me before. Or maybe I should have realised before. I feel bad that I didn't."

"In fairness, Mum, it's taken me a long time to realise it myself," Natty half-laughed. "I am sorry I didn't tell you before now, though. I was scared of how you might react. I was scared that..."

"That what?"

"That you might not love me anymore."

Linda walked across the room towards Natalie, and placed her hands gently on either side of the face she knew as well as her own.

"Natty, I am your mum. I will always love you, no matter what."

Natalie blinked. Their eyes were filled with tears. Linda smiled and removed her hands.

"It's just going to take me some getting used to, that's all," she admitted. Natalie nodded.

"Me too."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Natty inhaled slowly before replying, "Well, I'll need a new name."

"A new name?"

"How many blokes called Natalie do you meet, Mum?" Natty rolled their eyes. "I just thought you might like to help chose one. I mean, you've got more experience at naming people than anyone else I know."

Linda did not want to help Natalie choose a new name. Doing so felt wrong. It felt as if she were betraying the little girl she had known and raised, as if she were helping to bury that girl. Her girl. It was hard enough that she was losing Natalie to this stranger, to this new boy child, without that. She could not do it. She would not do it.

She opened her mouth to tell Natty this, and as if they already knew what their mother was going to say, Natalie's face stiffened. They stood up straight with their chin jutted, their eyes blazing and defiant, and Linda's words died in her mouth.

It was a moment, a mere moment. It happened in an instant, and in that instant, Natalie had gone. There was someone else in Linda's daughter's place, someone who looked like Natty, but wasn't. A boy, old enough to almost be a man, but certainly not a stranger.

Linda blinked. She knew this boy, this little man. She had always known him. How could she not? He was still the same child that she had born, but now he had become the person he was born to be. He was still hers. He was her boy; her funny, feisty, fierce, bold, beautiful, brave boy.

There was only one name she could think of to give him.

"Joe."

"Joe?" Linda's son wrinkled his nose. "You think I look like a Joe?"

Linda wrapped her arms around him and murmured into his hairline:

"My darling, you have always been my Joe."