Bailey's Back

The sun shone brightly on the Alabama Gulf Coast that day, sparkling like a string of diamonds on the deep, blue-green water. Bailey stole glances at it as she drove, mostly because she just couldn't help herself. She hadn't seen the Gulf of Mexico in over ten years. Not since she left home and traveled north for college.

Those white-sugar beaches along the boulevard were just the same as when she left, and so were many of the hotels, restaurants, and stores dotting the boardwalk. Some had been repainted - all bright, neon colors in typical Gulf Shores fashion - but everything carried the unmistakable aura of familiarity; of home. Even the smell was the same: a blend of salt, sand, SPF 50, and fried oysters that immediately took Bailey back to her childhood. A smile played on her lips when she drove past that old souvenir shop with the giant, gaudy purple octopus over the entrance, glad that it was still there after all these years. It was ugly as sin, but the sight of it was a welcome one all the same.

The beachside city wasn't exactly like she remembered, however, as over two dozen brand-new hotels, restaurants, and souvenir shops had sprung up like daylilies while she was gone. More honeyed traps laying in wait to squeeze every last penny out of naive, wide-eyed vacationers with loose wallets. Traffic was much worse than she recalled, too. The roads were clogged by the thousands of tourists, flocking to the beaches like flies on a fresh carcass. Bailey was surprised there were that many even in late September. Probably trying to squeeze in one last trip before summer officially ended.

Yep, Gulf Shores had surely gone through some changes over the years... but then again, Bailey had changed quite a bit herself. That was the whole reason why she'd broken off contact with her family for so long. Why she'd waited almost three weeks to respond to her mama's invitation to the reunion. Why her palms were sweating so badly around the steering wheel of her rented convertible, and why her heart hadn't stopped pounding since she crossed the Alabama state line.

The invitation had knocked her for a hell of a loop. As far as Bailey knew, the LaMonte-Bradford family hadn't had a reunion since she was in diapers. Most of her extended family she hadn't even met. Seeing the handful of cousins and aunts she remembered from her childhood filled Bailey with so much dread, her chest felt like an over-inflated pool float. Her mama sounded so loving and insistent in that letter, though, Bailey just couldn't say no.

All she kept thinking was that she hoped her mama would understand.

Bailey still had a few miles to go before reaching her mama's beach house, but a wave of anxiety forced her to whip into the first parking lot she saw: a Wal-Mart that also wasn't there when she left. After taking a few deep, shuddering breaths, she untied the flowery scarf from around her head, shaking out her long, dark tresses. Everything was going to be fine. She just needed a second to relax, and catch her breath first. She sat in her car for about five minutes before getting out, thinking a few quick laps around the store would clear her head and help her calm down. If anything, it would be a welcome break from the sweltering heat, and it would give her the chance to pick up something for the reunion.

As Bailey strolled up and down the crowded air-conditioned aisles, dodging tipsy tourists in their bathing suits, she was starting to feel a little less anxious. It didn't really matter what her family thought; Bailey was happy, and surely if they saw how happy she was, then they'd understand. While repeating that to herself mentally - and trying to decide between a pre-packaged fruit salad or a deli tray - someone accidentally bumped Bailey from behind.

"Oh, 'scuse me, Honey," an old lady smiled. "My depth perception jus' ain't what it used to be."

Bailey blinked at the elderly woman for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise. It took her a second, but that warm smile and those sparkling brown eyes were unmistakable. As was that perfectly coifed, blue-tinged silver perm, and the ratty alligator skin handbag on her arm.

"Mrs. Simmons?" Bailey blurted, beaming with delight, "Wow; it's so good to see you again!"

Mrs. Simmons paused, narrowing her eyes suspiciously as she looked the tall, skinny young woman over from head to toe. "Do I know you, Honey?" she asked.

"Yes," Bailey giggled, unable to stop the words pouring out of her, "It's Bailey: Bailey LaMonte! My parents are Joanne an' Leroy. I was in your Sunday school class at Holy Waters Church for years! How've you been?"

Mrs. Simmons' eyes widened with realization before she suddenly took a big step back, drawing up and clutching her bag to her saggy chest defensively. "I'm sorry, Honey, but I think you have me confused with somebody else," she said crossly. "The only Bailey LaMonte I ever taught was a little boy."

Bailey's heart sunk into her sandals as she watched the old woman shuffle off, biting her lower lip to keep it from quivering. She should have known better than to open her mouth. Mrs. Simmons was a kind woman, but - like many people from Bailey's youth - she was perpetually cursed with closed-mindedness. Trying not to let her hurt feelings show, Bailey threw both the fruit salad and the deli tray into her cart and moseyed toward the checkout.

Her run-in with Mrs. Simmons did little to alleviate her nerves. Then again, she didn't know what she expected. Outing herself to Mrs. Simmons was like skipping all the smaller enemies in a video game and charging right for the boss without leveling up first. Her mama would surely be more accepting; she had known Bailey all her life, after all, and a mother's love was unconditional. At least, that's what Bailey hoped.

It was true Bailey had been assigned male at birth. From the age of six, however, she knew without a doubt that she was born with the wrong set of plumbing. As a child she was deeply ashamed of being different, often thinking that God was punishing her for some reason. God didn't make mistakes after all, as Mrs. Simmons was fond of saying, but Bailey sure as hell felt like one. That was part of the reason why Bailey stopped going to church with her parents, and why she wasn't religious as an adult.

Out of fear and and in the interest of self-preservation, Bailey had no other option but to live her first eighteen years as a boy. Masculine clothes and a crew cut couldn't hide Bailey's obviously feminine nature, though. Her bubbly, energetic personality and girlish habits eventually led to false and inflammatory rumors that Bailey was gay. Rumors she was forced to live with, as it was better and safer than admitting the truth. It was a miracle she survived long enough to see her senior year of high school. After enduring twelve straight years of hell at the hands of her classmates and fighting a never-ending battle of self-hatred, Bailey chose to leave home on graduation night and never look back. If she hadn't... well, she really didn't want to think about what could've happened if she'd stayed.

Bailey had no regrets whatsoever about starting her life as a woman the second she left home, but she never came out to her parents. She was so afraid of telling them the truth, she didn't even attend her daddy's funeral. Bailey had just undergone top surgery right before he passed, and she thought it would be too much for her mama to handle at the time. Now, however, she regretted that choice deeply. Bailey couldn't live like this any longer; she missed her mama something fierce, and it was way past time to come clean.

Twenty minutes and a short ferry ride later, that old, aquamarine beach house came into view. The porch was sagging a little and the bright white storm shutters desperately needed a fresh coat of paint, but it was pretty much exactly like Bailey remembered it. Plumes of smoke billowed from behind the house, carrying with it the mouth-watering aroma of steamed crabs and boiling shrimp. The twangy strains of country music rode on the salty breeze, along with bubbles of raucous laughter. Bailey was late, it seemed, as the reunion was already in full swing.

Her convertible's tires crunched softly to a stop on the crushed limestone driveway, squeezing between a rusty Jeep and a jacked-up Ram truck that was way too big to be street legal. Taking off her scarf and tying it around her neck with trembling hands, Bailey finally found the courage to walk up to the house. Instead of trying the front door, because the music was too loud for anyone to hear her knock, she cautiously made her way along the wraparound porch to the back deck. When she reached the last corner between her and the deck, however, she stopped dead in her tracks because she suddenly couldn't breathe.

Tremors wracked Bailey's entire body. The edges of the flimsy plastic containers in her hands dug into her fingers until they bled she gripped them so tight. The warm wind felt colder than ice as it guttered around her, cutting through her sundress like it was made of rice paper. She couldn't take another step, no matter how hard she wanted to.

This was a mistake.

With tears in her eyes and her heart about to explode from panic, Bailey spun on her heel. Planning to hoof it back to the car as fast as her wedge sandals could carry her. Before she made it more than three steps from the corner, however, the sliding glass doors on the side of the house suddenly glided open... and a familiar face walked out directly into her path.

Joanne LaMonte's proud, suntanned face slackened with shock, echoing the look that was probably on Bailey's. Her long blonde hair had a lot more white in it than when Bailey left, and she'd lost a few pounds over the years. The crows' feet around her eyes had deepened with time, but their vibrant green hue still had that fierce Bradford sparkle in them. Just like Bailey's. After a minute of stunned, awkward silence, the petite older woman set down the bag of ice melting in her grip, drying her hands on her crisp white pedal pushers cautiously.

"Bailey?" she asked, although the tone of her voice suggested that she already knew the answer.

"Hi, Mama," Bailey smiled weakly, blinking back nervous yet happy tears. "It's me. I'm sorry I've been away for so long. I missed you."

She looked down at her polished toes, unable to bear her mother's shocked gaze any longer, and tucked a windswept strand behind her ear. "Mama... I know this might be hard for you," she murmured, "...but I'm still the same person on the inside. This is who I am; who I was always meant to be. If you don't want me to stay, I... I-I'd understand."

Footsteps pounding across the porch made Bailey's head snap back up again, just in time to see her mama running right at her like an NFL halfback. Bailey was so shocked that she immediately backpedaled, forgetting to hold onto her containers. They hit the porch and broke open at her feet a second later... right before her mama's arms wrapped around her in a bone-cracking hug.

Bailey just froze on the spot, as her brain hadn't caught up to her body just yet. Joanne LaMonte was sobbing like an infant, stroking Bailey's long hair and lavishing kiss after kiss on her cheek. When she found the courage to look down at her mama's face, Bailey was struck dumb to see the older woman grinning ear to ear.

"Oh, Bailey," Joanne snuffled, giggling through her tears. "My sweet baby girl... I missed you so much!! You're so beautiful... if only your daddy could see you now; I know he'd be so proud!"

For a full minute, Bailey forgot how to breathe. Her arms slowly curled around her mama on their own, returning the hug with equal vigor. She didn't even realize she was crying until the wind kissed her damp cheeks.

"None of that now," Joanne chided, still grinning like a possum as she pulled a kleenex from her pocket and dabbed Bailey's face with a sniff. "Your makeup is so pretty; ain't no sense messin' it up." After blowing her nose and stuffing the tissue back into her pocket, Joanne finally noticed the broken containers on the porch. "Oh, shoot... well, never mind that; it was sweet of you to bring a dish, but there's plenty to eat already."

Mother and daughter made quick work of cleaning up the mess. The fruit salad was a complete loss, but most of the deli tray was thankfully still salvageable. After fixing it up in the kitchen, Joanne linked arms with Bailey and led her back through the side door proudly.

"What're we waitin' for?" she grinned. "It's time the family finally met the real Bailey."