Chris & Jane

I

It started when I was seven, I think. It’s the time when I realized that I don’t enjoy playing Molly anymore, the little doll that mom bought me when I was three. I started to play the little soldiers of my older brother Chris, instead. It didn’t came out as much of a surprise to mom, not until I told her that I want to drop my ballet class. I told her I don’t like to dance with the snotty little girls who wear laces in their socks. I told her I like to play football instead, like Chris when he’s still with us. Mom cried and cried and talk to dad after that. They had this huge fight which only stopped when mom had a breakdown. Dad called an ambulance which took mom somewhere. From then on, I never see mom again and I was left with dad, who supported me throughout all the changes that occurred to me.

I love dad, and I know that he loved me more than ever now. He never accompany me to the mall whenever I needed some clothes. It’s always mom who happily shop with me, but now, he’s more than glad to accompany me to the clothing center where he and Chris used to shop. He would buy me bunch of football shirts and I would be very happy. And when I told him that I want to cut my hair really short just like how short Chris’s hair back then, he went nuts. He’s so happy he took me right away to Chris’s favorite barber shop. The barber happily welcomed us but when dad left to buy some hotdogs, he got really anxious. He asked me if I really want to cut my long, black shiny hair so short I would look like a little boy. I think that’s the first time I had a seizure. I don’t know. I can’t remember what happened except when the blood spurt through my nose and I fell to the floor. I remember how shocked the barber was until dad came and picked me from the floor. He whispered something to me until slowly, I closed my twitching eyes. When I woke up, my hair was short.

And now, ten years have passed. I am already seventeen and people are calling me gay. I don’t mind it so much, but dad, he can get a little rough about it. He would curse some classmates of mine whenever he hears them calling me gay and he would insists that I am a boy, he’s one and only boy. Like I said, I love dad so much and I would do anything to make him happy but there are times when, I find it hard to believe him. Actually, it’s even harder to believe in everything he says nowadays.

If you’re going to ask me, I would say that the most difficult part is whenever he calls me Chris, like my older brother is still alive. One time, I suggested him to keep on calling me Jane but he got so mad that he slapped me. From then on, I never insist him to call me in my given name. I thought I’ll get used to it just like how I get used to so many manly stuff throughout the years, but I was wrong. I don’t know, but whenever he addresses me in my brother’s name, I am almost sure I could hear a little voice inside me protests.

The next difficult part is when he joined me in the male football team in school. The coach laughed and all the players laughed but dad bet that if I beat all those other huge guys in a game, the coach should recruit me in the team. The coach, as a joke, agreed. Dad had me on an intensive training throughout the years and so just like what he expects, I beat all the other guys in a barely 15 minute football game. The coach was so mesmerized, the next thing I know, I was a part of his football team and I was training with these huge dudes who hate me to the core. I guess they were both threatened and mortified to play alongside a girl that they did all they can to shut me off the team. They pulled really horrible pranks at me, harassed me, and some others even try to hit on me but I’ve survived all that. I guess, I was beyond whatever they think of me and whatever I think of myself. As a revenge, I continue to show off my skills in every game and every possible way I can, until they’re merely a shadow of me. I am the reason why we won the games we won and although they were bitter at first, they realized that they also benefited from all my efforts, and that’s when they grew a little kinder to me. Although, there are still some who hate me, I succeeded to have made some friends.

You see, I don’t have any girlfriends.  All my friends came from the football team.  We would hang out, talk about manly stuff. But still, at the end of day, I’ll go home, take a bath, study my body, and I would sleep disappointed because I couldn’t find a trace of manhood in myself. This is when I would question myself and all the parts that compose me. What am I? I don’t understand why I have to live this way when obviously, I ought not. I am different from what my dad wants me to believe, and act, and live. I could feel it in every fiber of my body, I can even hear it, that I am different. So, what am I doing?

“Maybe you just need to get laid,” Tom, one of my football buddies, openly joke one time I told him about how I feel. “I’m willing to help you with that.”

“Jerk,” I snapped. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Oh,” he grinned. “So you want the help of my girlfriend then?”

I could punch Tom for being both a pervert and a sexist but I didn’t. I shook my head and left him instead. He caught me while he’s still catching his breath.

“Okay, dude, seriously,” he said. “Why don’t you tell your dad how you feel?”

“He’ll kill me.”

“What about your mom?”

I stopped, as if my feet caught some imaginary wire. My mom, I haven’t seen my mom in such a long time, and honestly, I haven’t thought about her either. I mean, I sure does think about her sometimes when I went to bed but when I wake up, it’s like my whole plate’s clean again. It’s like all the memories from when I was born until I hit seven was gone somewhere I can’t totally reached.

II

“Dad?” I approached that night. “Is mom still alive?”

Dad did not answer immediately. He stared at me instead, looking suspicious. It’s like he’s searching my eyes for something and when he failed to do that, he sighed.

“Why are you suddenly asking me this, Chris?”

I flinched. There he is again, calling me Chris. Addressing me as his favorite dead son. This is a bit too much to handle. I don’t deserve this!

“What?” dad said, looking infuriated. “What did you say?”

I blinked. I don’t remember saying anything to him. What is he talking about?

“Tell me what you just said!” he grabbed both my shoulders and started to shake me. “Tell me!”

“B-but, dad!” I was shocked. “I didn’t say anything!”

“Yes, you did!” he insist. “You just said here I am calling you Chris again, addressing you as my favorite dead son. Chris is not dead and we both know that!”

I was shocked. I have no idea I said those things out loud. What is happening to me?

“Okay, that’s it,” he said. “We’re going to put an end on this!”

I was so scared. I’ve never been so scared to dad. He’s never been this angry and strong. He’s so strong that he carried me with just one arm. He tied me to this grim chair, and sealed my mouth with his hanky. He’s never done this or maybe he did. I can’t remember now. My head is spinning. There are voices all over the place – dad’s voice, my voice, Chris’s voice and another girl’s voice. I’m not even sure where I am anymore.

“You’ll never take my son away from me again,” he keeps on saying. “You naughty little girl, you’ll never take him away from me!”

And that’s it. That’s the last thing I heard from him before I got myself into trance. I’m sure I am breathing and that I am alive but everything is dark. It feels like I am floating or is it just my head? I don’t know. It’s so dark and I couldn’t think properly when it’s so dark. I don’t like dark places. I’m scared of it.

“No, you’re not,” said a voice. “You’re not afraid of the dark, you little coward!”

It was Chris. I am a hundred and one percent positive it was Chris. I know his voice. He used to scream at me when he’s still alive and we’re still little kids.

“C-Chris?” my voice is shaking. “Where are you, Chris?”

He laughed. He laughed that little mocking laugh he used to do when I couldn’t keep up with him. I hate it when he does that.

“I’m here, you dumb-ass!” he said, still laughing.

“Where?”

He just laughed again.

“You’re so pathetic you think dad loves you,” he said, mocking. “He’ll never love you, you know.”

I started to cry.

“He’ll never love you because you’re weak,” he emphasized the word weak. “You can never live out his dream just like me.”

I covered my ears with my hands but I could still hear his laugh.

“Stop it!” I scream. “Stop it!”

He didn’t stop. His laugher grew even louder. I know he’s enjoying my misery.

“You can never be a football star,” he said. “A girl can’t be a football star.”

“Stop it!” All I can do is appeal. “Please stop it…”

And that’s when everything grew paler. The darkness started to fade and the silence takes over. I could hear my own breathing, even the beating of my heart. Where am I? I wanted to ask but I can’t move my lips. What happened? I try to remember but all I’ve experienced and heard start to become part of the distant memory again, so distant I couldn’t even touch them. I don’t know how to.

“Yes, breathe,” I heard my dad said in his soft, calm voice. “Just breathe it all out…”

I opened my eyes. He’s there, smiling at me as if I’m a new person. As if I’m Chris, his favorite son, and I was born again.

“Now, slowly, go to sleep, darling,” he told me. “Everything will get better tomorrow when you wake up.

And I did as what he ordered.

III

I’ve never been the same since that incident. It’s like a different entity has possessed me. The things I find interesting back then, I don’t find interesting now. I don’t even like football so much that I would do anything to skip the practice. In my fifth consecutive day of being absent, coach was so mad that kicked the table in front of me.

“Pull yourself together, Jane!” he screamed. “Stop acting like you’re some silly little girl!”

But what if I am?

“What?” coach asked me, shocked. “What did you say?”

I didn’t say anything but I figured, this maybe one of those random cases when people actually heard me saying my thoughts out loud, just like what happened between me and dad a few days ago.

“Oh, oh my goodness!” coach starts to panicked. “Y-your nose’s bleeding,”

“What?”

“Your fucking nose is bleeding!” he repeated. “Santiago, get the medicine kit!”

Coach helped me get into the right position. I could see the skies. It’s blue but the random speck of blood in my glasses made it look like the sky has a bloody polka dots.

“Just keep your head high, okay?” he said. “Are you feeling dizzy?”

Actually I am. Everything is spinning. Suddenly, it seems like someone is whisking the sky like a pancake batter. The speck of blood goes with it, mixing them together. I closed my eyes. I am in a trance again. I found myself in this dark place again, but unlike before, I don’t feel as if I was floating. I could actually feel my feet this time. Staggering, I started to walk while swatting my hands in the air, afraid to bump into something. Suddenly, there’s a light – a light shone and reveal the back of a petite little girl wearing a rainbow-colored dress. Who’s this little girl? Oh, wait, it’s me. I’m sure it’s me. I remember this scene. It’s the day before I hit seven and before Chris died of Pneumonia. We were staying at the house by the beach and I used to pick up shells every morning when the ocean seems to be sleeping.

“H-hi,” I approached the little girl. “Hi, Jane,”

I was ecstatic. I’ve never been this ecstatic seeing my past self; the innocent, little girl who likes to play with her beloved doll, Molly. I approached further. I am dying to see my face – the face of that little girl who I lost somewhere between dad and Chris. I want to talk to her and know her again. Because maybe if I did, I’ll realized who I really am.

“Jane?” I could almost touch her little shoulders now. “Talk to me, Jane.”

The girl is crying. I could hear her sobs. It’s sharp and painful as if someone keeps on stabbing her on the chest. Her pain and sadness envelop me that I suddenly found myself crying as well. That’s the time when she looked back. I held back my tears the moment I saw her. There is nothing, nothing on her face. Not a single feature. They’re all gone. All that’s left is this oval-shaped face illuminated by the bright lights from somewhere. I was scared, not for myself, but for the little me. I don’t want this little memory to be gone just like what happened to others. This is the only memory left that I could hold on. I couldn’t afford to lose it. I couldn’t afford to lose myself.

“Please, protect me,” she managed to communicate to me despite missing her mouth. “Don’t let him take me away.”

“W-what?” I was confused. “Who is going to take you away?”

Her little finger pointed to the lights above. I held up my chin. I couldn’t see anything but bright, hypnotizing lights.

“You’re not your brother, Jane,” she said, holding my chin. “Chris is dead.”

Of course, I know that Chris is dead! I was seven then and he’s twelve. He’s suffered from a really bad case of Pneumonia that he grew so thin, he can barely lift his pillow. I remember to do his own bed for him and he would shout at me.

“You, stinky little bitch!” he would call me. “You should be the one suffering in this death bed and not me!”

“Big brother, please!”

“Don’t call me, big brother!” he’ll snapped. “We both know that dad doesn’t want a weak girl in the family, and you know what? I don’t want you either!”

“But I love you.”

“Shut up!” he’ll scream with all his might. “This body may die but I’ll continue to live somehow.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“You, bitch.” He’ll grin at me. “I’m talking about you.”

“Me?”

“Dad made a promise.”

“What promise?”

And that’s when the conversation stopped. Everything starts to grow pale. The little girl, slowly fading, and I could not do anything about it. Suddenly, I feel like I do not own my body again. I would open my eyes, filled with tears, and I would see dad holding a small flashlight right in front of my eyes, blinding me a little.

“It’s okay,” he’ll say as I continue to sob. “It’s okay, Chris.”

IV

“Coach told us you had a seizure,” Tom approached on the way home. “Are you okay now?”

I’m not listening. To be honest, I don’t feel like I’m here at all. My head is floating somewhere, somewhere far. Tired, I stopped walking and sit under a roof of an abandoned house. Tom followed me and sat beside me.

“Tom?” I approached. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, bruh,” he shrugged. “What is it?”

I looked over the road. I saw the sun; it’s setting. It made my head spin a little.

“Have you…” I shook my head a little. “Have you ever feel like you’re not yourself?”

“Whut?” he chuckled. “You mean like I was a different person?”

“Yes,” I answered, a little distracted by the setting sun. “Like you were a different person.”

“Um, gee, I don’t know,” he laugh tensely. “I guess, we all feel a little different sometimes. Why don’t you ask your dad? He’s a neurosurgeon, right?”

I stopped blinking. I looked at Tom. He stared back at me and it’s pretty obvious that he’s pretty creep out by my reaction.

“D-Dude, are you okay?” he asked. “You’re creeping me out. Don’t you know your dad’s job?”

“He’s a neurosurgeon.” I answered, absent-mindedly.

“Exactly, brotha.” He said. “He specializes in brain.”

“And he does hypnosis.” I said still absent-minded.

“Yeah, I heard.” Tom nod. “Wait, are you really okay?”

Memories flood in. For some reason, I suddenly remember everything about that night when dad and mom had a fight about me. I was there by the door, I was watching them.

“Charles, you can’t do this!” mom yelled, crying. “You promised me!”

“But I made a promise to Chris, too.”

“Charles, for goodness’s sakes! Chris is dead! You can’t make him come back to fulfill your broken dreams!”

“You!” Dad held mom’s collar. “Don’t you forget I’m a neurosurgeon! I can make anything! I can make my son back through that worthless little daughter of yours!”

“She’s your daughter, too…”

“Not anymore,” He grinned, and I remember that was the most frightening grin I’ve ever seen in my entire life. “Check her head.”

“N-no,” she whispered.

Mom was devastated. Suddenly, her knees grew weak and she fell on the floor. I ran to mom but I suddenly got dizzy. I fell and when I raised my head, I found little droplets of blood on my forehead. Something in my head is bleeding.

“Come on,” Dad said when he found me. “Your head is not yet fully healed.”

He picked me up and I looked back at my crying mother as we descend to stairs.

“OH MY GOODNESS!” I was pulled back to the present by Tom’s voice. “Dude, your nose is bleeding!”

But I don’t seem like I heard him. I absent-mindedly groped my head. I searched every inch of it until I found what I’m looking for.

“I-I have a scar,” I told Tom. “I-I have a scar on my head, Tom,”

“Dude, you have that since forever!” he shouted, tense. “What is happening to you?”

But I am not sure if I really know what’s happening to me.

V

I had another seizure, or so dad say. I woke up and found myself in this dark, messy clinic of him. I was lying in bed with straps all over my body. I couldn’t move any part of it. And even my head has a strap all over it. Dad’s in front of me wearing his scrubs and sanitizing his medical needles.

“You’ll be good,” he said. “In just a minute or so, you’ll be good.”

“Why aren’t you calling me Chris, daddy?”

“Because you’re not yet, Chris,” he told me. “But in a minute, sweetheart. In a minute.”

Tears start to swell in my eyes. As I look at him right now, I couldn’t see a trace of the father I’ve loved throughout the years. Yes, I did love him, but Chris was right, he never felt the same affection towards me, his daughter. He only loved me when I was living the life of his beloved son, Chris.

“I could see that you have succeeded perfecting brain transplant, daddy,” I told him. “Am I your first patient?”

“Yes.”

“I possesses Chris’s brain,” I said, sobbing my tears away. “And you love me for that.”

“I do.”

I cried my heart out. All this time, I was living the life of my older brother. It is not me who likes his little soldiers or his football. It was him, all this time it was him. And somehow, the little girl inside me is crying for taking away Molly and everything that I used to love before dad decided that I am not worthy of my own self, my own life.

“You should thank me,” dad said. “I saved you from being weak.”

“No, daddy,” I answered. “You didn’t save me – you changed me.”

Dad didn’t answer. He’s fixing the headlights. He made it tilted to my head.

“Don’t you love me, daddy?”

No answer.

“I love you.”

He stopped and stared at me. There’s nothing you could see inside his dark, gloomy eyes. Nothing but the desire for Chris, his one and only son and one and only child.

“If you do love me, you should be willing to sacrifice.”

Knowing that I have no chance to change his mind, I nod.

“Now, close your eyes, darling,” he said. “And stop crying.”

He wiped the tears off my eyes. I close my eyes as he said. In the darkness, I saw the crying little girl again.

“Now, do you remember what I told you when we were walking by the beach before the operation?”

I nod, and together, we recite the painful lines.

“One day I would open your skull,” we recited. “One day, you will be Chris.”

And the little girl fades. I fade. I don’t know where but somewhere maybe. Somewhere, maybe.