Transfiguration
By Vivi Nguyen
The crushed fall leaves relented to the pressure as they rippled further under the heavy boots of men, women, children, dogs, cats, bugs, smaller bugs, spiders, and other creatures lurking throughout the day. The pumpkin-y scents of seasonal beverages in paper cups wafted in the air, bringing more oranges, reds, purples, and browns out of the already festive-feeling day. Sniffles of about-to-be-severe-but-at-the-moment-light colds and coughs were politely guarded behind coated elbow sleeves. The parallel lives of the busy street crossings and cars passing felt like an even mix of hopefuls starting their day and cynics ready for it to end. The morning calls of avian artists could either ring in your head or make you nod in rhythmic time. Appearing out of thin air like a magic trick no one asked for was the short and stubby twenty-something clothed in an oversized coat in the not-fashionable-nor-fun-way, adding to the lump/hump of her hunchback-like posture. She ignored the blaring honks as she crossed the street during a red pedestrian light, the only circling thought from hearing chirps at 9:34 a.m. being, “I want to buy a hunting rifle with a sniper dot that can trail moving objects or living things.”
She went by the name of Avery Sawyer-Sho and was more commonly referred to by anyone that was displeased to make her acquaintance “Ass.” However, it wasn’t ever simply stated in a calm or factual manner.
“You ASS. I wish we never met!” said the name of someone that Avery couldn’t remember at the moment.
“I hope the door hits your ass on the way out, you ass!” said a cloudy figure with a question mark for a face.
“You will die alone, you ass,” said the love of Avery’s life.
That one, that one had actually stung a little. So what if Avery forgot a birthday, an anniversary, a wedding they were invited to, a date that would have ended with a proposal? She was only human. These justifications swam and drowned and revived and got lost in the whirlpool where Avery’s thoughts slid between extreme ends of I will not die alone and I should probably start looking for singles-only cemetery plots. At the very second that Avery finished her half-sprint down the crosswalk, she was deciding between an obnoxious shiny pink and a matte black for her beautiful, luxurious casket. She further decided it would be an open casket, for some fresh air before the y’know.
Her crumbling cave of worrying wonders of unwilled hatred got plucked from her head like a fresh strawberry at the sight of her only friend. Instead of continuing with her plans to sit in some places and walk in others, she focused her magnifying glass on the human fairy that was currently charming another random stranger that just had to know them, they couldn’t help themselves.
Avery tucked her unkempt hair behind her ear before making her way towards them like a movable slab of boulder if it figured out how to inch and inch and inch.
“…and that’s how you make the banana bread moist,” Emilia said. She grinned as the passerby patted her shoulders in appreciation, sparkles momentarily speckling her eyes.
“Yo, flabby butt,” Avery stated. The tone of her voice was booming and possibly alarming, as that had sent the stranger power walking in the opposite direction.
The fairy dust settled as Emilia craned her neck at an impossible angle, a twitch in her eye that came naturally at the sight of her very close friend. They both squinted like westerners before realizing neither particularly cared about the degree of familiarity that would tear the skin off most people if they came to touch it. With a happy-go-lucky arm linking, they entered their usual coffee spot like kindergarteners… except they were grown women, so it wasn’t cute anymore.
If a caricature artist was asked to paint the faces of Avery Sawyer-Sho and Emilia Perez, their knuckles would turn white with anticipation as they curled their fist, their bodies not matching the speed with which they would zip and zap to draw their best and easiest work. Avery carried a dead-eyed look that would trick a mortuary assistant into cremating her body by mistake. She rarely made the time to dress up, instead choosing to roll around her bed reading books about fellow horrid people and tossing them aside before they learn their lesson and better themselves. She also had a comically simple looking face that could be drawn with, if we were being generous, five strokes.
Emilia Perez floated instead of walked and if she were to enter a fairytale, would probably be able to convince the main villain to self-reflect. The care and nurturing tone of her voice, appearance, and overall warmth could end wars. She had doe eyes and knew to bat them, she had a soothing voice and knew to be gentle with it, she had an attractiveness and knew to get free stuff from it. If manipulation were a desired trait to put on your portfolio, she would have it in bold red letters. After an hour of masterful work, a caricature artist could only wish to capture the wonders of her being.
Avery stirred the matcha latte in her porcelain teacup with her miniature spoon, a repetitive ring of tink! tink! tink! that stopped when the barista stared her down with a you-come-here-too-much-to-keep-acting-like-you’re-new Level Five anger. Avery chose to pick her battles, and today she would pick a different one later on. Emilia scratched lightly at her reddened nose with the same delicateness as a doe in the forest. In the near distance, you could hear a quiet Aww. The two interlocked their legs underneath the booth seats as they swayed back and forth mindlessly. With the weight of a thousand tons suddenly lifted off Avery’s back like a miracle, she reveled in the fireplace effect of loveliness and peace brought by the mere presence of her eternal companion. The mirthful silence could go on for the rest of this early Saturday, and usually it would. Until Emilia had something important she needed to say.
“I think this new… friend… I made is… really nice,” Emilia muttered. “I might have to rain check a few times from now on so I could share time with them too.”
Her eyes studied the wooden swirls on the table instead of the somehow more barren void in Avery’s eyes. Suddenly, the muted background erupted in a booming sound as Avery unlearned the feeling as if they were the only two people on earth. Her shoulders squared and rose like an elevator lift, automatically rising. Emilia reached for her hand across the table to steady it from shaking so violently but before she could, the matcha stained as it spilled, splotching Avery’s skin underneath her shirt. But she couldn’t feel it. The considerably hot drink clung to her cottony, baggy shirt, giving the same discomfort as a wet sock. But still, she couldn’t feel it. Emilia could only stare wordlessly, trying her best to form the words that would make things any better. She came up short. Avery straightened her hunchback and walked out of her seat, out the door, down the streets, and back to her place. Emilia didn’t leave until closing time.
***
The spring smelled like a massive flower had bloomed and its overly large petals blew away in a romantic breeze that could perfume every last human being. It meant lighter clothing and less careful steps and more gleeful sprints and cold sandwiches and cold drinks and pretty skies. Kids laughed as they spent every minute outside and every minute inside begging to get to go back out. The looming anticipation of a summer sky and plans that were yet to be made brought out smiles that were hidden away for the last season. Eagerness to talk about the weather replaced the oh, I hope it’s not too cold out’s.
Avery Sawyer-Sho was stuffing her face with a slice of margherita pizza to get an equal balance of basil and mozzarella in one bite. Her straightened back and lively eyes attracted everyone within a one-mile radius of her. She had brushed her $100 haircut in a way that made her hair reflect light like a diamond being inspected. She giggled and spoke eloquently to every person that wanted to make her acquaintance. She wiped her face with a napkin and no longer used her sleeves… too many 65% cotton soldiers had fallen victim to their new role of “sweater napkin.” Huzzah! Alas, sweater napkins they were no longer, Avery was a new woman, it was spring, and the pizza was adequate!
Emilia rubbed her dried-out hands together to satisfy her daily sick need to hear her calluses stoke fires. She was rudely interrupted, as Anwar made a grab for her hand and interlocked their fingers, which warmed her heart and quickened her pulse. They leaned into each other in a way that made people in their vicinity wish they would get a room or die in a cave. Their go-to pizza place for the past 90-something days had a block to hold the door open, and a jolly mascot painted on its window that called out their name.
Emilia wrapped Anwar’s arm around her shoulder as she got the usual, which would make a corpse turn over, so they didn’t have to deal with all that. He kissed her cheeks which sent her into a spell of stutters, which in turn made the server sigh. A heavier, louder, somehow manmade but possibly from a different realm, doomed, hell-spawn-like sigh erupted from behind them, causing them to turn around slowly.
“Avery…” said Emilia.
“My god,” she replied.
Avery and Emilia walked toward each other as if two magnets turned on their backs were flipped back around and immediately reconnected. Anwar’s understandable questions went unanswered as the entire world faded to black.
Avery had been adamant on the reinvention of herself. Stained sweaters and holey jeans were trashed. Flattering blouses that included bosom and skirts that included leggy-ness took their place. The tone of Emilia’s voice had shifted her entire world to the point where she decided she needed to find another human being capable of managing her. The Operation What Would Emilia Do and Wear and Say was a go. Undying love and attention from Emilia forever was a stretch, but now it was plain gone.
Avery had asked others about their interests and hobbies and likes and dislikes. She wrote people loving texts that they would save to look at when they wanted to think of her kindness.
Her eyes could shimmer in a windowless room. This was as easy as it looked. Just be good. Droves of wannabe lovers were confused as they were all turned away.
Soon, Avery realized she didn’t even know what she wanted. It dawned on her that the upkeep to be seen as a loving person just wasn’t necessary. The eyes on her lessened in number one-by-one. Avery could no longer keep up the faking, but she kept the cute clothes.
Emilia had entered her first serious relationship, ever. It had occurred by chance when a bearded, brown-eyed man named Anwar checked all her boxes, seemingly walking into her life and getting a place in it. Usually, Emilia was the enchanting stranger you wish you could get to know but never would. She would smile in your face and get back to whatever she was doing when the conversation was over. An unreachable dream accessible as a payphone, but you couldn’t call her your home. After you made your introductions and swapping of similarities, Emilia linked her arms with a dead-eyed girl, went on her way, and it would be like you had never met. Any intention of wanting her to reach her hand out and grab yours too was futile. She was just being nice for the sake of it, wanting nothing else from you… until the day you passed her again, and suddenly the love she gave the man by her side made you want to gag and choke. Don’t worry, because the feeling was universal.
Avery and Emilia shared their seasonal tales with excessive hand gestures, miming of undecipherable jerking movements usually only made by FDA-unapproved foods, and whispered shouts. The earnestness Avery had faked exhausted her to the point where she threw her phone into a sewer drain. Emilia was so isolated by the reckoning that came with her relationship status change that she had to delete Facebook to stop receiving hate comments on her relationship status change post. They cupped each other’s faces while tearing up at the thought of the other suffering alone. Anwar was on his third slice of pizza while waiting to have his existence remembered. The sky had changed from bright amber and orange to dark blue. The two girls touched foreheads to reinstate their forever friendship.
The turned-off neon “Open” sign didn’t deter them from staying in a frozen hug. Anwar tugged their bodies along as he chatted with Sal and Hammy, who had already clocked out and were headed in the same direction. The three had become somewhat chummy in the hours Avery and Emilia spent trying to combine souls, and the three men deepened the furrow in their brows as they brainstormed how to get Avery to open up.
The conversation shifted; the topic had changed to the importance of having a notable presence to not be forgotten because of a powerful friendship. Suggestions included: wearing colors with more pop, surprising Emilia with gifts, or getting Avery’s approval. The night ended with Ahaa’s and you-kill-me’s as Sal and Hammy made their way to their respective rides while Anwar continued dragging Avery and Emilia, who had since combined physically by interlocking hands and legs.
Avery droned about the many suitors she forgot the general description of and drawled out educated guesses.
“They…wore… clothes? And had some sort of hair, I believe.” She continued to guess. Emilia nodded in agreement with the idea that they probably did have clothes and hair.
They leaned with the physicalness two statues would, the strength in which they held onto each other so strong that Anwar could easily load them into the trunk if need be. Townspeople and out-of-towners alike rejoiced at the reunion and made plans to pray Anwar out of the picture.
Avery was the first to snap out of their collected daze. She realized it was no longer midday, she was no longer chewing on a crust, and that she was being carefully pulled by a bearded man that considered her instead of loathed her. Emilia was stuck on her high of being in proximity to Avery again after months apart, and stared into the distance, probably thinking up more ways they could enjoy each other’s company. Avery lightly nuzzled into Anwar’s hand as a thank you, and he returned a grin.
***
It had been hard to get out of bed. Avery had just been dumped again. Another anniversary or date (?) she was supposed to remember, but her brain just didn’t have that file in storage. She had forgotten forgetting it… the grenade was in her grasp and her throwing hand was out of practice.
She molded her pillow into a dome, punched it until it was flat and deflated, only to fluff it and repeat it all over again. Punch, mold, punch, mold. Emilia came in and out of her room with cups of water she refused to drink, plates and bowls of food she refused to eat, and hugs she couldn’t bear getting up to receive. The only thing she mustered the strength to use was her shot voice.
“Please… don’t ever leave me alone.” She hoarsely whispered.
The cracking of her voice only made Avery feel more and more small. Emilia at once sat by her side as she rubbed circles on her blanketed back. The perfect amount of pressure eased the stiffness Avery had been building up from not moving. Her body relaxed like a seesaw after the beach day was over and all the cars made their way home.
***
Anwar was a bearded, brown-eyed friend to Avery. Like ice breakers on the first day of class, they had—with actual enthusiasm—introduced themselves to each other. My name is, I like to, I enjoy... Emilia gathered them by holding each one of their hands, an unneeded action as they had already been leaned against each other’s shoulders. All the seasons started to blur together. Avery never paid attention to the current time of the year. She turned her back on it and chose to face the world with—and sometimes without—her loving friends.
***
Three people made their way to a patch of grass that was calling their name. Avery dusted her lap before curling in front of a great big oak tree. Emilia and Anwar both faced her, sitting criss-cross-applesauce. Emilia stretched her legs out a tad, uncrossing her legs to form a bigger gap. She slowly lowered her arms to allow room for another. Anwar petted the head with a reserved touch meant for motion detection.
Avery tilted her head in adoration at the sight of these two, these two people who she was mad at, one for a distant season and the other by association. It felt like she was looking through a kaleidoscope, viewing mesmerizing colors and hypnotizing images. The couple smiled at her, and all three started to sway in their seats like the cheerful titular Plants in Plants vs. Zombies.
A beautiful sound came from Emilia’s lap. The sweet creature’s gaze wandered between human and pretty flower and other human and big tree and other human and provocative cloud.
It landed back on Avery.
The inventor of the menstrual cycle was currently burning in a fiery pit of despair and will never be let out no matter how much they claw at nothing until their fingernails split apart. That agreed upon theory is widely accepted by all parties. Emilia had that very thought when her stomach felt like a circus act of freakishness, a pain invoked that felt so visceral it could not be real. A period cramp had been known to kick her while she was down, but to actually bring her to her knees in the middle of a workday felt like overkill. Emilia thought of the bright side for as long as possible. That was, until the remnants of her oatmeal breakfast made their way back up