Standing on the Edge of Forever

Stevie stood on the roof of her family’s old apartment building, staring down at the city lights that flickered below like distant stars. Her bare feet gripped the cold concrete, holding on while the wind nipped at her skin as it passed. Being completely devoid of all emotions, both internally and externally, she hardly noticed it. 

She reached into the back pocket of her faded jeans and drew out a stack of creased papers. Stevie carefully unfolded the crinkled pages, still held together by a single rusty staple. Her fingers tightened around the worn sheets as she read the bold, red marker scrawled on the front page. 

Gazing down, a tear splashed onto the large ‘A+’ at the top. Teetering on the edge, her mind drifted back through the tangled web of memories that had brought her to stand on the edge of forever. 

Growing up, Stevie’s family was anything but conventional. Her father, a woman who lived as a man, and her mother, a man who embraced the identity of a woman, had always told her that she was born the “normal” way. In her young mind, that meant something very different from the other kids in school. 

While every other kid in her kindergarten class was born from their mommies, Stevie announced, “Well, I was born from my daddy.”

“You mean your mommy?” Another child asked. 

Stevie froze in confusion. Luckily, the teacher was privy to her parental situation and was wise enough to not explain but change the subject. “Hey, kids! How about we paint pictures of our favorite family moments?”

For Stevie’s sake, her parents drawn on paper still looked like a typical mommy and daddy. 

It wasn’t until middle school that Stevie noticed just how different her parents were from others. Especially when the other children pointed it out. 

“Look, there’s Stevie! She came out of her dad!” A student would yell at her which was always followed by boisterous laughter. 

For Stevie, that first year of middle school was spent mostly in the girls’ bathroom, sobbing until the bell rang. However, it was in those stalls that Stevie had discovered an outlet for her hallway harassment and increasing domestic confusion. 

If she had an issue at school or at home, Stevie would unsheath her mighty pen and rush to penetrate the problem head on in her notebook. Using the power of self-reflection through writing, Stevie could discover the true source of a problem, rather than blaming others. Yet, she couldn’t figure out exactly why other kids treated her differently. 

With the next school year starting off the same, she realized the only way to answer her question was to somehow find the courage to ask her parents. What exactly did everybody mean when they laughed at her? 

Stevie walked into the kitchen on a Saturday morning, with her dad making breakfast and her mom sitting at the table watching the news. 

“Those damn Trump supporters are at it again with their racisms and bigotries.” Her mom exclaimed before sighing. “What is this world coming to? I swear.”

Stevie sat down at the table quietly. “Um… hey Mom…”

“Yes, baby.”  “Uh, hun.” Both answered simultaneously, further confusing the matter. 

“What is it, sweetie?” her Dad at the stove asked. 

Stevie felt sick. If she had anything in her stomach, she would be on her way to the bathroom. She put her head down and waited it out. 

“Hun, you okay?” her Dad asked. 

Nothing. 

“Steve—“ her Mom now concerned. 

Stevie swallowed but kept her head down, eyes staring at the floor. “Why do the kids make fun of me?”

“Who’s making fun of my baby?” asked her Dad. “I’ll kill them!”

“Well, we’ve been learning about the human body… and babies. And—“

“Ugh!” Her Dad piped in. “I told you we should’ve looked at those other schools. They were more progressive and less hypocritical with their bigotries.”

“Shh, shh, honey,” her Mom motioned to her Dad before focusing back on Stevie. 

“Don’t shush me!” Her Dad yelled in the background. 

“Now, Stevie. What exactly are you confused about?” Her mom asked in a calm, collected voice. 

Stevie looked up at her mother. Tears began to well up in her eyes. 

“Excuse me!” Her Dad still yelling from the other side of the kitchen. 

“Who…where did I come from?” Stevie asked, holding back the ocean of tears waiting for her to break. 

Her Mother leaned back in her chair and set her tablet down. She drew in a long breath. “Sweetie, you came from—“

“Ugh, excuse me!” Her father interrupted. “Why doesn’t anyone listen to me here?!”

Both Stevie and her mother turned to look at the aggravated person on the opposite side of the kitchen. 

“Well, that’s better,” he said. “Now that I have your attention, how dare you shush me!”

Stevie and her mother both sighed in annoyance and then looked at each other. Her father turned back to face his wife. “Are you done, yet? Our daughter has a question.”

“I heard her!” Her Mother peered down at Stevie. “Honey, there’s no way anyone can prove how you came to be. Whether it be from me, your father, or a tube…”

Stevie’s father quickly interrupted. “Honey! That’s enough!”

However, his wife kept talking. “What? It’s about time she knew where she really came from.”

“I… What?!!” Stevie yelled, frozen in disbelief. 

“I can’t believe you,” her father sneered at his wife, shaking his head. 

“I’m a test tube baby?!” Stevie shot out of her chair and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her. 

Stevie’s parents explained that she was still their child and that the eggs and sperm used did indeed belong to them. They told her to be proud of her unique origin; however, she knew the world outside their home didn’t share that same sentiment. They ridiculed it.  

In school, the taunts and whispers about her being a “test-tube baby” were relentless. Stevie tried to ignore them, but the words cut deep. Each one was a reminder that she didn’t quite fit into the neat boxes the world expected. She fought back when she could, but each clash left her feeling more isolated and misunderstood.

Home was her only refuge away from a hateful world not willing to understand. At home, Stevie was able to be herself without the social pressure. Also, at home, there was Robert. 

As she grew older, Stevie spent a lot of time with her parents’ close friend, Robert. He was in his thirties but looked no older than twenty-five when he shaved. Stevie loved to spend time with him because he wasn’t judgmental of her and her family and was interested in her life, listening to her stories and seeming interested. Once it was time for Stevie to go to bed, Robert would then hang out with her parents, particularly her father. 

Lying in bed, Stevie dreamed of being with Robert. Even though he was older, she imagined that not being a matter, picturing them together and even married at times. 

After one bad day at school, Stevie slammed a boy’s head in a locker for another test tube baby comment. The school phoned her parents but neither one answered. 

“We have to release you to someone since you’re still a minor.” The school principal had informed her once again. 

“I’m aware,” Stevie sighed, looking out the window. 

The principal took a deep breath before asking, “Is there anyone else you could call?”

Stevie knew her parents could pick her up but this was their way of punishing her. She’d have to figure it out herself. There was one person she could call, but she didn’t know if he would even answer. 

“Yeah, try this number…”

Stevie waited outside of the school for an hour before Robert’s red pickup truck pulled up onto the curb in front of the school. 

Robert stuck his head out of the window, with black aviators covering his eyes. “Sup, kiddo.” 

“Hey.” Stevie blushed. 

“So, do I need to talk to somebody or can we just get the fuck outta here?”

Stevie tossed her backpack in the truck bed and hopped inside, grinning from ear to ear. 

“So, am I just taking you home, or what?” asked Robert. 

Stevie sat there, nervous. Home was the last place she wanted to be. She wanted to be in Robert’s arms, wrapped in his warm embrace but didn’t know how to tell him. 

Robert shifted in his seat, giving her whatever time she needed to make up her mind. He peered out the window hoping to escape the awkwardness Stevie was creating. 

Without the right words, Stevie took a shot in the dark and used something else. Robert nearly jumped out of his seat when he felt her hand squeeze his inner thigh. 

“Hey!” he screamed. “What are you doing? You can’t do that.”

Stevie recoiled like a scared turtle in her seat, but was still surprised at his reaction. “What do you mean?”

Robert put the truck in gear and stepped on the gas. “It isn’t right. I’m taking you home.”

Stevie could feel her face beaming bright red, but it was nothing compared to the invisible knife he had put through her heart. “What? Because I’m too young? Then why do you hang out with me?”

Robert stayed silent, intentionally focusing on driving the simple highway. 

“Why are you always at the house then? I know it’s not to see my parents!” 

Both sat there listening to the wind rush against the old pickup until her house was in sight. Stevie began to cry silently. 

The truck came to a stop in front of the house. Robert reached across her and opened her door. “Please go, Stevie.”

She looked at him, tears streaming down her face. He couldn’t bear to make eye contact with her. “I’m…. Sorry.”

“Fuck you.” Stevie jumped out of the car and slammed the door shut. 

Robert kept his distance from her and the family. She hadn’t seen nor heard from him in over a week. 

One afternoon, after being suspended from school for fighting yet again, Stevie was sent home early. With music blaring in her headphones, she wandered through the house with frustrated footsteps heavy with anger. As she passed by her parents’ bedroom, she saw their door was open. Curious, she slowly peeked inside to see Robert and her father together. The sight seared into her mind, unraveling the fragile fabric of her understanding as their actions were unmistakable and intimate.  

Stevie fell over clutching her sinking stomach, nauseous, like she was about to paint the walls if it wasn’t for her heart being lodged in her throat. She crept back slowly the same way she came in and after hitting the front door, she turned around and ran. 

Confronting her parents, the truth spilled out in a torrent of pain and betrayal. The story of artificial insemination was a lie. Robert was her biological father. The revelation was a knife to her heart, but it wasn’t everything.

In the days that followed, Stevie’s world continued to implode. Digging through old papers and medical records, she uncovered a truth that was more horrifying than anything she could have imagined. She had been born a boy, but her parents, driven by their own distorted beliefs and desires, had surgically transitioned her at a young age. Her identity, and her body, had all been shaped by their hands without her knowledge or consent.

The weight of these revelations crushed Stevie’s spirit. As her true self was buried beneath layers of lies and manipulation, she felt like a ghost in her own life. The world that had never truly accepted her had now been revealed as a place where even her parents, the ones who were supposed to protect and love her, had betrayed her most profoundly.

Standing on the rooftop, Stevie’s mingled with the cold night air. The wind seemed to whisper around her, a haunting echo of the silence she had endured for so long. She closed her eyes, took one last deep breath, and stepped forward, leaving behind a world that had failed her at every turn.