The 20th of September, 2025, My First Life
Sunlight filtered through the dense green canopy and down upon a massive fallen tree covered in oyster mushrooms and emerald moss. I took my mother's hand.
She let out a deep breath, then said, "I promise I won't."
"Won't what?"
"Cry." She rolled her eyes in embarrassment.
"Mesdames Quinn?" came a voice behind her.
"Yes?" we said to the event coordinator standing down the stone walkway.
"Everyone is seated," she said with a smile stretched across her face and a clipboard in hand. "Five minutes until showtime."
"Thank you, Anahita," my mother said and Anahita gave us back our privacy.
"You can cry, mom," I said.
"I know. You're right. I know. But you... you've been through so much and you deserve this... you really... really deserve this." The corner of her mouth twitched as she held back emotion. Her makeup was impeccable because she'd done it herself – nearly invisible while enhancing the best of her natural features. But life – and motherhood especially – had weathered her face with the wrinkles, bags, and sunspots of a woman pushing fifty.
I smiled and said, "So do you."
She covered her mouth with her free hand as her eyebrows trembled. The implication was clear – though it was my day, guiding me here as best she could, through ups and downs, warts and all, meant the day was hers as well. We both deserved happiness. We both deserved our day in the sun – or at least as much as the redwoods would grant. A whistling thrush broke the silence. My mother blinked and a tear escaped down her right cheek, a black line of mascara cutting through her perfection.
"Damnit," she whispered as she reached into her purse for a solution.
"Mom," I said and grabbed her hand again, then blinked out a tear I'd been saving, letting it run to my chin.
She regarded my matching black line then nodded a clenched smile. "Perfect."
A ukelele began playing the Beatles' "Two of Us," reverberating through the forest and signaling our cue. My mother and I linked arms before starting down the stone walkway leading to the ceremony.
Tasha and I had flipped a coin to decide who would walk first. Neither of us were the man in the relationship, so an arbitrary determination felt appropriate. While I'd never been a plan my wedding down to the last detail type of girl, I admit to daydreaming a time or two about my father walking me down the aisle. But as soon as the coin had settled, having my mother at my side just felt right.
She'd supported me when I opted for community college over her beloved UC-Berkeley and cheered as loudly at my nursing school graduation as if I'd been made chief of surgery. She was elated upon hearing I'd met someone at the hospital and didn't miss a beat when I told her the someone was a she. Of course, my father offered as much support and acceptance, but still there was something...
Maybe it was as simple as our shared gender – or, at least, as I had perceived it growing up. For as long as I could remember, she'd been my impossible model of womanhood. Gaining her approval, and thereby my own, had been my greatest struggle. As a twenty eight year old in their first life, however, I was finally old enough for perspective, and I knew – her approval was never in question. I'd always had it.
The stone path veered around an especially giant sequoia and the ceremony came into view. White rose petals speckled the flattened dirt aisle that lay before us. On each side, a dozen or so guests stood at their seats, smiling at us in joyous reverence. Tasha and I had wanted to keep the ceremony intimate. The only child of only children, I barely had any family and she'd had none since she told hers who she was, so the attendees were mostly friends. I'd let my parents invite a few guests, as long as none of them were famous. The one exception to that rule was waiting for us at the altar beneath the floral birch wood archway in his place as our officiant. Because I just couldn't say no to Uncle Barack.
My mother and I proceeded, passing the smiling faces of co-workers, childhood friends, and secret service agents. At the altar, I turned and we embraced.
"Thank you," I said.
"What for?" she asked as we released one another.
I shrugged my shoulders. "All of it."
She swallowed, closed her eyes, then took a slow, deep breath. "Okay, this is cute," she said and pointed at the line of mascara, then waved her hand over her whole face. "But I'm not ready for it to be everywhere. So... I think I'll just take my seat. I love you so much, sweetie." She gave me a final hug then went to stand next to her father.
Behind me, I heard, "Absolutely breathtaking, Serafina."
I turned to our officiant and blushed. "Thank you, Mr President."
He smiled and shook his head. "Now, now... we talked about this. To you, I'm..." The ukulele transitioned to The Temptations' "My Girl" and Uncle Barack caught himself. "No time for old lectures," he said and nodded up the aisle.
Tasha and my father, arms linked, came into view. Lucky to be unburdened by mascara, my father had let loose the proverbial floodgates, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks. But in an instant, my eyes locked on her...
Chocolate brown, almond shaped eyes smiled over olive cheeks sprinkled with freckles like flecks of cocoa and made my chest burn with delirious elation. It didn't matter what happened before this moment, nor after. All the pain and torment was justified by the look in her eyes, sharing my euphoria.
She wore a white, tea-length dress, identical to mine, though she filled hers out quite a bit better. For most of her life, Tasha had felt insecure about her weight, but every inch of her was perfection as far as I was concerned.
At the altar, they stopped and embraced as my mother and I had. My father whispered something to Tasha. Her chin quivered as she smiled and nodded, then he turned to me. I swallowed back a sudden lump in my throat as he wrapped his arms around me. After a moment, he released and regarded me in silence. Words weren't necessary as pride radiated off his broad smile.
My father joined my mother, then Tasha and I turned to Uncle Barack. He smiled at the two of us silently, allowing the moment a breath of oxygen rich forest air, then began the ceremony.
∞ ☆ ∞
"That was beautiful," James said. The story was perfect. He'd asked for 'happy' and his daughter certainly delivered. She's simply amazing... His eyes had adjusted to the darkened closet and he could make out Martha and Serafina holding hands. Serafina gently stroked their mother's knuckle with their thumb. "Tasha sounds wonderful."
"She was," Serafina said, then dropped her head. "Until..."
"Did something happen?" Martha asked.
"Time. Entropy," they said, their voice tiny. "We weren't who we thought we were. It was complicated."
"It always is," James said. "I'm really sorry it didn't work out. Did you have any children?" Serafina didn't answer and the stupidity of his question became evident. Of all people, I should know. 'Hey! Got any dead kids you wanna talk about?' "Sorry, we don't have to-"
"Two," they answered solemnly. "One each. Both from sperm donors. But yeah, maybe I can tell you about them some other time."
"Sure, of course," he said, still kicking himself.
"Have you... always been a lesbian?" Martha asked, thankfully changing the subject.
"Mmm-hmm. For as long as I've felt anything for anyone, I've been strictly for the ladies."
"Just like your dad," James said.
"Ha! We both know that's not true," countered Serafina.
"Excuse me?" Martha said.
"Okay, for as long as I've known your mother, I've been strictly for the ladies, er... lady. Look, it was a long forty lives before I met you, okay?"
"Sure, it was," Martha teased. "I wouldn't know. There was no time for experimentation. Your father snatched me up at sixteen in my first life.
"Hey," James protested. "It was a... complicated situation."
"Okay, groomer," Serafina said.
"Well... well, what was I supposed to do?"
"Calm down," Martha said. "We're just messing with you."
"You would've made a great lesbian, Mom. Anyway, it wasn't until college that I realized I was nonbinary."
"They them?" James said. "That's cool. Oh no. Have we? I'm sorry, have we been..."
"Yeah," Serafina said. "Here and there. But it's okay. How could you know?"
"Well, it won't happen again," Martha promised.
"It never does," Serafina said and squeezed their parents' arms. "You guys are great."
"Can I ask..." James said. "Was there a reason for the switch?"
"Sure. And not really – at least, not in any intellectual or political sense. It was just a feeling. It felt honest. It felt right. Like I'd been wearing my shoes on the wrong feet my whole life before someone said, 'Here, try it like this,' and then... boom! The words fit."
"That's great, sweetie," Martha said.
"And people will misgender me. Again and again. Life after life. I've grown a thick skin, but... every time it feels like they're binding me – whether they know it or not."
"I'm sorry," James said. "We'll help however we can. So would you like us to introduce you as our child?"
"Actually, I don't mind being called your daughter, strangely enough. It's... kind of like a title. Like I'm the Duchess of House Quinn and somehow, it's unattached to my identity? I don't know... I'm sorry it's not more consistent. Like I said, it's not intellectual..."
"It's a feeling," Martha finished. "Which is enough."
"Without a doubt," James agreed. "And my question was pure curiosity, not interrogation. You don't owe us an explanation."
"Thanks," Serafina said.
"I'm guessing we've had this conversation before?" Martha asked.
"Yeah. Well... never in here, in the dark like this. But... yeah."
Serafina's gender nonconformity was a non-issue for James. He had the benefit of living through the first half of the twenty-first century hundreds of times and had the pleasure of knowing thousands of genderqueer individuals – and also because of... you know, basic human decency. More than anything, he was happy to be learning about Serafina. "So, if it unfortunately didn't work out with Tasha, was there anyone – a girl, a person – that stuck? You know, like me and Ol' Whatsername over there?"
"Ol' Whatsername, is it?" Martha countered in her best Jackie Gleason. "One of these days, Jimmy Quinn. One of these days..."
"Okay, I take it back. I take it back," James said, laughing with the love of his lives. But when he looked down, he saw Serafina's head had dropped again. They no longer held their mother's hand but crossed their arms in front of them as their posture curled inward slightly. Clearly, James had triggered something in them once again. I'm really on a roll... Dad of the year...
Martha had noticed as well. "Everything okay, sweetie?"
Serafina remained silent for another moment, then inhaled sharply and stood. "Yeah. Totally," they said cheerfully. "Everything's great. But I think I'm ready to leave your closet. Get some fresh air. And... um... you know what? We haven't made your famous guacamole yet, Mom. And we've suddenly got a whole bag of avocados, so no time like the present, right? But if you need more time in here, don't let me rush you. Take all the time you need and I'll just uh... go get everything set up. Okay, bye." They opened the door only as far as their tiny frame required and quickly slipped through, closing it behind them.
Martha and James stared at the door and then each other. "That was..." James began.
"...Yeah." Martha agreed.
"Do you think..."
"...I don't know."
James was perplexed. Serafina had been willing to discuss their dead children, however briefly. But asking if they'd ever made and sustained a deeper connection was a bridge too far? He stood to follow them, but Martha grabbed his hand and pulled him back down.
"Hey," she said. "Sh... I mean they will tell us when they're ready. So sit with me a while longer, then the three of us can make my supposedly famous guacamole."
"Yeah," James said. "Yeah, you're right." He put his arm around Martha and was thankful her panic attack had passed. His buzzing curiosity, however, remained unquelled.
Author's note:
I'm so glad to finally have Martha and James caught up to speed! If there are any non-binary readers or allies more plugged into the community than this old geezer, I welcome any and all feedback as to how I'm handling Serafina's journey.
Thanks again for reading!!