velvet paradise (ftm x fem)

Track 29

JAIRE

On this rare day in Malibu, rain showers grace the parched earth, composing a symphony of hushed echoes with their gentle pitter-patter. Within the serene atmosphere of Serenity and Leon's mansion, a profound silence envelops the space, allowing me to sit cloaked in my shame. Despite the sense of impending internal collapse, I hold my head high, bracing myself for the unfolding repercussions.

As the initial shock subsides, my sister finds her voice. Emotions spew from her in tandem with tears, her broken phrases carrying an air of disbelief. She grapples with the revelation of my past addiction, unable to comprehend how she missed the signs. The depth of her brother's hidden struggle leaves her questioning why he didn't trust her enough to share it.

My big sister, my devoted ally, has stood by me since my first steps. She supported, respected, and defended me, even before fully understanding the intricacies of gender dysphoria and the essence of being transgender. Serenity is the sole confidant who will babysit my darkest skeletons without loving me any less. However, shame and embarrassment held me captive, shackling me from unburdening my truth. My heart wrenches with a stabbing twist, witnessing the hurt and betrayal etched upon the faces of those I cherish most.

Dion's brawny arms envelop his wife, helping her discard her tears. "I am grateful you pulled through," she says. "I only wish I could've been there for you. You cannot hide anything like that again, Ja." Purpose and an intimidating vigor imbue her glare. It urges me not to lay a finger on another Xanax.

"I was self-centered, neglecting how my actions could hurt you and everyone else, Serenity," I say, meeting her gaze with sincerity. "I regret not telling you. You would've nipped it in the bud before it got too far. From this point forward, I'll be more honest and open."

"And if you need help, raise your voice," Dion says. As his booming tone occupies the dining room, he lovingly caresses Serenity's spine. "We're family. We can improve at leaning on one another. No one should be afraid or ashamed to express their shortcomings."

As Leon processes everything, he rubs his waves with care. He agrees with his cousin-in-law, transferring his stare from the tabletop to me. "Ja, as your cousin and protector, I aim to support you in every way possible. No more keeping things to yourself, alright?" I offer a nod in response to Leon's solemn demeanor. "You're not a burden; you have a tight-knit circle that cares about you. The fam, the band—we're all here for you. Stop holding shit in. I'm guilty of the same habit, but we need to break the cycle. Let's be transparent, more real."

"More intentional," Serenity adds. "Sharing your grievances doesn't diminish your masculinity; it makes you more relatable, approachable, and human. It's sucks feeling like I'm the only one navigating emotions sometimes."

"My therapist told me men have the right to experience emotions beyond just happiness or anger," Dion says. "If you boys need a shoulder to cry on, call me."

The tension in my shoulders dissipates as I absorb my family's responses. There are days when I retreat into seclusion, shutting out the world when I feel low. While needing personal space is valid, sometimes allowing a loved one in could have relieved my funk better than isolation. Dion's therapist's wisdom resonates; I haven't consistently practiced conveying sentiments beyond happiness or frustration in my relationships. I don't want Alaia to feel alone or misunderstood in her times of sadness or discomfort. Healthy partnerships involve parties willing to embody and welcome vulnerability, kindling a deep, authentic, and unshakable bond. The healing conversation Alaia and I had after our fight last night is indisputable evidence.

I gotta do better. I will. I am.

Following the emotional announcement, we meld in an embrace, vowing to operate as reliable family members. With the awarding scent of resolution wafting over us, I bid a farewell. My bandmates are next on my "These Are My Confessions" list. Serenity and I agreed to cross out our parents and Chance. They'll be better off not knowing. It's not like I'll lead myself down that path again. I'll save them from the trauma. Before I depart, I signal for Leon to follow me outside. The California sun has already dried the cobblestone driveway's water spots.