BotC - Ch.51 - Family Reunion (T) (Patreon)

*** Content warning: bigotry, transmisia, mild violence ***

"Tara?" Sam asked softly. "Are you ok? We can always just leave, come back and try again some other time."

I shook my head. "If I can't go through with it now, I probably won't do any better coming back later. And we might be busy after we see Jess tomorrow. This might be my only chance."

The two of us were standing on the front step of the house I grew up in. It was an older two-story home surrounded by mature trees, in an expensive part of the city. Known as The Beaches for obvious reasons, we were just south of Queen Street East, about a block away from the lake. 

There was a luxury car in the driveway, it was a newer model but the same brand my dad always got. He tended to lease a new one every three years so this was probably the second or third upgrade since the last time I was here.

We left the SUV at the hotel, my parents' place was easy enough to get to by transit. For the last minute or two we'd been standing at the door while I worked up the courage to knock. 

It honestly felt kind of silly in a way. I hadn't been this nervous in at least four years. I wasn't even this anxious when I killed Isabelle and the two Slúag elders. On the other hand it did remind me of how uptight and awkward Sam was when we visited her mom last week.

The big difference was that meeting went really well. I was convinced this one would be a lot more difficult.

My girlfriend watched me but she stayed quiet for now. I knew she'd be supportive and back me up whatever happened.

Before I could chicken out, I suddenly reached up and knocked on the door. Then I glanced at Sam and asked quietly, "If things get really rough, try not to let me kill any of them ok?"

"Ok cutie," Sam replied with a warm smile. "If it gets to that point, I'll try and hold back too. If it all goes wrong I'll just get us out."

I smiled nervously, "Thanks Sam."

"Any time, Tara." 

I could already hear footsteps approaching from inside the house, so my attention returned to the door. A moment later it opened, and I was face to face with my mother.

She hadn't changed much in the past seven years. She was fifty-nine, she stood about five-foot-eight, and had some extra weight on her, mostly around her middle and behind. Her hair was still light sandy brown, but I was positive she'd been having it dyed since before I left. There wasn't a trace of grey in there. As usual she was dressed in casual but expensive designer clothes.

Mom looked at me and Samantha with a slight frown. The two of us looked very out of place. I was wearing my Doc Martens, well-worn blue jeans, and had a dark grey hoodie on. And not that mom could see it but I did have my forty-five on under the hoodie. Sam was in her typical 'trouble' outfit, including the torn-up faded black denim jacket with the chain over her shoulder. 

After staring at us for a moment she finally asked, "Yes? What can I do for you?"

I took a deep breath then forced myself to sound calm and confident as I replied, "Hello Mrs. Foster. May we come in? We're here to talk to you about your daughter."

Mom looked confused as she shook her head, "I don't have a daughter."

"Your trans daughter," I clarified. "She came out to you in twenty-eighteen."

"Oh..." Mom's eyes widened slightly and she actually looked a little anxious or uneasy. 

That almost surprised me, like she didn't immediately tell us to get lost or respond by saying something bigoted. 

"May we come in?" I asked again. Then added, "And is Mr. Foster here? It might be best if we spoke with both of you."

I already knew dad was here, his car was outside and I could hear the TV was on in the den.

Mom hesitated a bit more before she finally nodded, "All right. Come in."

Once we were inside she closed the door behind us, then led us into the kitchen. She gestured towards the table, "Have a seat. I'll get my husband."

Sam and I sat down next to each other, and she gave me a reassuring smile as we waited.

I heard mom in the den as she asked dad to turn the TV off so he could come and meet with us. Dad complained, he was watching one of his shows. Mom insisted, and said we were here to talk with them about the old me. Only she used my deadname when she said it. 

If me and Samantha had normal human hearing we wouldn't have heard that, but with our enhanced vamp senses we couldn't not hear it. I clenched my jaw, but kept myself calm. Then I felt Sam's hand on my arm as she gave me a gentle squeeze.

A few seconds later the TV was turned off and my parents joined us in the kitchen. Mom still looked uneasy, dad looked impatient and irritated. He hadn't changed much either since the last time I saw him. 

He was a couple years older than mom, and even taller than I used to be. He stood about six-foot-two, his hair was silver-grey. He'd got a new pair of glasses, these ones had a silver wire rim. And his hair was thinner than before. With my stature I couldn't see it but he might have had an actual bald spot by now, or maybe he was doing the comb-over thing. He was slim like usual, and dressed in black slacks and a pale blue button-down shirt. He probably had a tie and suit jacket on earlier, but he'd have removed them when he got home from the office.

Mom sat down across from me and Sam but dad stayed on his feet for now.

"So what's this all about?" dad asked in his typical abrupt demanding tone. "Who are you two girls?"

Once again I forced myself to remain calm as I replied, "Hello Mr. Foster. My friend and I are here to talk to you about your daughter."

Dad scowled, "If you're referring to my eldest son, save your breath."

I decided to ignore that for now. Mom looked like she wanted to hear what I had to say, and dad was going to hear it too. 

I stated, "Saturday July fifteenth twenty-eighteen, your trans daughter came out to the both of you and her younger brother Ben. All three of you responded with hate, bigotry, and intolerance. You said some pretty awful things, then you kicked her out of the house. I'd like to know if you ever wondered what happened to her? Where she went, what became of her? Did you ever look for her? Did you ever try to find her?"

Dad looked angry now, he demanded "Who the hell do you think you are, coming into my house and -"

"Shut up Ken," mom snapped at him, cutting him off. In an anxious voice she asked me, "Do you know what happened to h... To her?"

At that point I had the answers I'd come looking for. Dad obviously had no regrets about that night, he didn't care what happened to me. On the other hand, mom clearly felt very differently. Perhaps she regretted what happened, and she seemed worried about what became of me. And the fact that she was making an effort not to misgender me told me she'd changed since the last time I saw her. 

I ignored my dad and focused on mom as I replied, "After the three of you unleashed all your transmisic bigotry on her and threw her out of her home, she spent a few hours in a bar trying to calm her nerves. Then she decided to commit suicide, she decided to jump off the Bloor Street bridge."

Mom's face went pale and she sounded scared as she asked, "Did she...?"

"No," I shook my head. I took a deep breath and braced myself, then told her "I wanted to jump. And I almost did. But Samantha saved me."

I looked to my girlfriend and smiled, then looked back at my parents and stated "She saved me, and we've been together ever since. My name is Tara Foster, I used to be your child."

Dad scowled at me, he actually looked disgusted. Mom was staring wide-eyed and her jaw was slack as she put a hand over her mouth. 

Mom recovered first. She was still staring at me as she asked softly, "Is it really you?"

"Yes mom," I replied. "It's really me."

I fought not to smile too widely as I added, "I know I look a bit different from last time you saw me, but this is the real me. This is who I always was inside."

My dad finally got over his shock. He pointed at the front door and demanded "Both of you get out of my house! Now!" 

Neither of them seemed to realize my transition was impossible, the fact that I'd lost nearly a foot of height and become so much smaller didn't seem to register. Though I realized there was a very good chance neither of them had any idea what was possible and what wasn't, when it came to hormone therapy and gender-affirming surgery. 

They also hadn't realized yet that I looked too young. Same with Samantha of course, if she aged normally then looking eighteen now meant she'd have only been about eleven years old that night. I figured once they had time to calm down and think rationally about things, they'd suddenly have a lot more questions. Not that we'd be here to answer them, I didn't want to hang around that long.

I looked at my dad and calmly replied, "No."

Now that I'd got past the hardest part, the anxiety I'd been feeling was finally gone. "This isn't your house. As I recall mister accountant dad, you put the property in mom's name because of some minor advantage when it came to income tax. So it's mom's house, you're just a tenant here."

Dad growled, "You may have made yourself look like a girl but don't think I won't kick your ass, boy! Get out of my house now, or I'll make you regret what you've done to yourself!"

Mom looked torn, like she didn't want me to leave just yet but she also didn't want dad to hurt me. Meanwhile Samantha was calm as she sat next to me. She could tell I wasn't uptight anymore either, that I was calm and in control of myself.

I addressed my father again and in a level voice told him, "Call me 'boy' or otherwise insult me again and I'll break your nose. Lay a hand on me and I'll break your arm. This is mom's house and I'll leave if she asks me to. But I'm not scared of you anymore, and your threats are meaningless."

Apparently that was all it took to set my dad off completely. He stomped around the table as he growled, "That's it! And don't say I didn't warn you, you little tranny freak!"

"Ken stop!" mom raised her voice at him but dad ignored her as he came for me.

I waited till he grabbed me, his right hand grasped my left upper arm. Despite my strength I was still small and light, so dad was able to drag me out of my chair and onto my feet.

Then I reached over with my right hand and grabbed his wrist and squeezed. I didn't even put that much strength into it but I felt both his ulna and radius snap under my fingers, and dad let out a shriek of pain. 

"That was for grabbing me," I stated. 

Then I reached up and flicked his nose just hard enough to break it, "And that was for the slur."

My dad stumbled back till he was leaning against the wall the corner of the kitchen. His eyes were wide with shock as he held his broken wrist against his chest while blood ran freely from his nose. 

The smell of fresh blood filled the air, but I ignored it. I wasn't interested in his shitty bigoted blood any more than his shitty bigoted opinions.

Mom's eyes were wide and she had her hand over her mouth again. She looked like she didn't know what to do or how to react.

I looked at her and said, "Sorry mom. Thanks for not being a terrible person."

Then I smiled to my girlfriend, "Sam? That was extremely satisfying, but I think I'm ready to go now."

She got to her feet and put an arm around my shoulders as she smiled, "Ok cutie."

Before we left my girlfriend looked at my mother and said, "It was nice to meet you Mrs. Foster. I'm Samantha, I'm your daughter's girlfriend."

Mom just stared, still frozen in shock. Dad meanwhile was starting to groan as his own shock gave way to pain. Dad sounded equal parts angry and upset as he demanded, "Angela! Call the police! And a fucking ambulance!"

I just grinned and calmly made my way towards the front door, arm in arm with Samantha. As we let ourselves out dad started shouting some more, and mom was shouting back at him.