Advent 2019, Day Two: What If the Annunciation Were Trans? (Part One)
By J. Rose
Late evening sunlight turned the air golden and gave it a weight Mary could almost feel as she breathed it in. It brushed the faces of the buildings around her with a radiance they didn't deserve, softening patchy paint and turning dirty windows into brilliant diamonds. The city was never exactly pleasant on this side of the tracks, but in moments like this, she could almost remember why she'd moved here in the first place (besides the relatively cheap rent).
It was a short walk up the poorly-lit stairwell to her apartment. Once inside, she let the door fall closed behind her, then pressed her weight against it so it would shut all the way. Her landlord kept saying he'd get it fixed, but he'd been saying that for almost a year now. Somehow, she doubted he was going to follow through.
"Hey, sweets," came a voice from the poor excuse for a kitchen. "How was your night?"
Her only response was a groan that sounded like it could have come from an irritated yak, and the kitchen voice laughed. "That good, huh?"
"I should have stayed in school," she called back. She should get moving, she knew, stop yelling halfway across the apartment. But the longer she stayed leaning against the door, the longer she was able to keep her weight off her feet, which were informing her of her pressing need for new insoles just as loudly as they had been for the past week.
She could stay at the door a little longer.
Thankfully, Joe decided to come to her. He emerged from the kitchen with half a slice of toast in one hand and what looked like most of the other half scattered in crumbs across his face. They scratched her when he leaned in for a kiss, and she wrinkled her nose. "That's it," she announced, wiping off the stray crumbs that had transferred to her chin. "You're not allowed to grow a beard."
He chuckled and took another bite. "Aww, c'mon," he teased through a mouthful of bread and peanut butter. "You know I look hot with some scruff."
"I do," she replied, "and the fact that you can grow a better beard than me is cosmically unfair. I just don't like being on the receiving end of scratchy kisses."
"What, you mean like this?"
Mary yelped as Joe wrapped his arms around her neck and pulled her down to his level, then proceeded to rub the crumbiest part of his face on her cheek until she shrieked with laughter and begged for mercy. They'd probably hear from Mrs. Next Door later – Joe swore her name was Janet, but she'd neglected to introduce herself when they met, having been too busy berating them for moving in too loudly – but for now, it didn't matter. She was home.
She was in the middle of folding laundry when her world was turned on its head.
It was almost meditative, in a way. The repetitive motion – grab, align, fold, put down – let her mind wander where it willed, yet it was still productive enough that she felt like she was actually doing something with her life. Nothing glamorous, but what else was new?
She wasn't quite sure when she became aware of the other presence in the room. But when she plopped the last of her shirts on the pile on the arm of the couch, glanced up, and noticed a person she'd never seen before leaning against the wall, it wasn't with any real sense of surprise.
The stranger smiled when she met their eyes – were they green? Brown? Hazel? White? Did they have any color at all, or were they every color, or just a color she'd never seen before? "Hey, baby girl," they said in a smooth voice that was somehow a sweet soprano and rumbly baritone at the same time. "It's nice to finally talk to you. God's got some big plans for you, lemme tell ya."
Mary blinked. Frowned. "I should be afraid," she announced.
The stranger's smile widened. "Probably," they agreed easily. "It's not every day someone randomly shows up in your home. But it's just me, not some axe murderer, so you're good. Besides," their eyes sparkled as if with some inside joke, "we've come a long way from the wheels-of-fire days. Tell me, you like the human form?"
"I-I…"
"No, you're right, it doesn't really matter. Long story short: yes it's weird that you're not scared, no you're not going crazy, and the important thing here is that God has plans for you, baby girl."
"I-I…what?"
The stranger sighed and gave her an indulgent smile. "You're gonna be a momma, Mary," they said gently. "And not just any momma. You're gonna be pregnant and grow your own little one, not just in your heart but in your belly too, and believe me when I tell you your child is going to be incredible."
Late evening sunlight turned the air golden and gave it a weight Mary could almost feel as she breathed it in. It brushed the faces of the buildings around her with a radiance they didn't deserve, softening patchy paint and turning dirty windows into brilliant diamonds. The city was never exactly pleasant on this side of the tracks, but in moments like this, she could almost remember why she'd moved here in the first place (besides the relatively cheap rent).
It was a short walk up the poorly-lit stairwell to her apartment. Once inside, she let the door fall closed behind her, then pressed her weight against it so it would shut all the way. Her landlord kept saying he'd get it fixed, but he'd been saying that for almost a year now. Somehow, she doubted he was going to follow through.
"Hey, sweets," came a voice from the poor excuse for a kitchen. "How was your night?"
Her only response was a groan that sounded like it could have come from an irritated yak, and the kitchen voice laughed. "That good, huh?"
"I should have stayed in school," she called back. She should get moving, she knew, stop yelling halfway across the apartment. But the longer she stayed leaning against the door, the longer she was able to keep her weight off her feet, which were informing her of her pressing need for new insoles just as loudly as they had been for the past week.
She could stay at the door a little longer.
Thankfully, Joe decided to come to her. He emerged from the kitchen with half a slice of toast in one hand and what looked like most of the other half scattered in crumbs across his face. They scratched her when he leaned in for a kiss, and she wrinkled her nose. "That's it," she announced, wiping off the stray crumbs that had transferred to her chin. "You're not allowed to grow a beard."
He chuckled and took another bite. "Aww, c'mon," he teased through a mouthful of bread and peanut butter. "You know I look hot with some scruff."
"I do," she replied, "and the fact that you can grow a better beard than me is cosmically unfair. I just don't like being on the receiving end of scratchy kisses."
"What, you mean like this?"
Mary yelped as Joe wrapped his arms around her neck and pulled her down to his level, then proceeded to rub the crumbiest part of his face on her cheek until she shrieked with laughter and begged for mercy. They'd probably hear from Mrs. Next Door later – Joe swore her name was Janet, but she'd neglected to introduce herself when they met, having been too busy berating them for moving in too loudly – but for now, it didn't matter. She was home.
* * *
She was in the middle of folding laundry when her world was turned on its head.
It was almost meditative, in a way. The repetitive motion – grab, align, fold, put down – let her mind wander where it willed, yet it was still productive enough that she felt like she was actually doing something with her life. Nothing glamorous, but what else was new?
She wasn't quite sure when she became aware of the other presence in the room. But when she plopped the last of her shirts on the pile on the arm of the couch, glanced up, and noticed a person she'd never seen before leaning against the wall, it wasn't with any real sense of surprise.
The stranger smiled when she met their eyes – were they green? Brown? Hazel? White? Did they have any color at all, or were they every color, or just a color she'd never seen before? "Hey, baby girl," they said in a smooth voice that was somehow a sweet soprano and rumbly baritone at the same time. "It's nice to finally talk to you. God's got some big plans for you, lemme tell ya."
Mary blinked. Frowned. "I should be afraid," she announced.
The stranger's smile widened. "Probably," they agreed easily. "It's not every day someone randomly shows up in your home. But it's just me, not some axe murderer, so you're good. Besides," their eyes sparkled as if with some inside joke, "we've come a long way from the wheels-of-fire days. Tell me, you like the human form?"
"I-I…"
"No, you're right, it doesn't really matter. Long story short: yes it's weird that you're not scared, no you're not going crazy, and the important thing here is that God has plans for you, baby girl."
"I-I…what?"
The stranger sighed and gave her an indulgent smile. "You're gonna be a momma, Mary," they said gently. "And not just any momma. You're gonna be pregnant and grow your own little one, not just in your heart but in your belly too, and believe me when I tell you your child is going to be incredible."
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