Ginger Fox Part 3
"You... You didn’t do that, Ginger. You would never do something so..."
"Inappropriate?" I raise my eyebrow, questioning him. "I think there must be about five or six people who disagree, since they watched me sit as long as my legs could handle on a pole."
"GINGER!" Tom runs his nervous fingers through his hair, then adjusts his crooked tie. "I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear your craziness and that you didn’t terribly offend me, and we’ll move forward with our wedding. Nothing that happened in the past will happen again once we say yes."
"I’m not marrying you, Tom." My voice comes out calm, with all sincerity. "Not because you’ve been cheating on me, only God knows for how long. I’m not marrying you because I don’t love you. Because I want more than to be the perfect wife of the future anchor of the seven o’clock news."
"God! What have they done to you? Look at how you’re acting..."
"I’m acting like I should have acted a long time ago, like the inappropriate woman I am." I hold the hem of my dress in my hands, clutching the plane tickets between my fingers. "By the way, Tom, before I forget, I also had sex with a transgender woman, and it was the best vanilla sex I’ve ever had in my life!"
I turn, leaving him with his mouth open, feeling my heart pulse with life since that night at the inn. My arm is grabbed, I look back, seeing Tom’s nervous face, grinding his teeth.
"You’re doing this because of him, aren’t you?" he spits like venom, speaking softly. "The guy you kept calling out for while you were delirious in the hospital bed. Jonathan. That’s the name of the son of a bitch who turned you into this slut!"
I pull my arm sharply to make him release his grip on my skin. I don’t speak that name anymore, I just hear it in my thoughts. For a brief moment, my whole body remembers every second I spent with Jonathan. Everything I lived, every instant, touch, sound, and taste, all comes to my mind like a deluge, hitting me, making me vibrate with all the memories.
"Jonathan didn’t turn me, Tom." I look toward the exit at the end of the hall, filled with a profound sense of longing. "He freed me!"
I walk quickly, leaving him standing at the door.
"This is madness, Ginger!" My fingers tighten the fabric in my grip to free my legs.
I glance at the floor for a moment, knowing it’s much more than that; it’s liberation, the true act of feeling in control of myself. Even knowing that my heart and soul belong to a single Master, and that even from afar Roy will be present in every second I live. And this is the gift he said he would give me at the end of the game: to own my essence, to be the inappropriate woman I’ve always been, to let myself choose which mistakes and successes I’ll make. Even being far away, but still omnipresent within my soul, waiting for the day I find him. Someday, with no set time or date. I smile, drawing in all the air I can. I turn my face over my shoulder, staring at this fool.
"No, Tom. This is SODOM!" I shout, drawing the attention of many of the guests, who turn to see the bride running, holding the hem of her dress through the hall toward the exit.
My hair, which has come loose from its hairstyle, falls down my back with every second I speed up my legs. The blood flow increases through my body, with adrenaline taking over. I only stop after getting into a taxi and asking to go straight to my apartment. My fingers release the dress, looking at the ticket, with no clue where I’ll go or what I’ll experience. But I’m going back to the beginning. Before the rushed marriage proposal, the hysteria with my mother’s craziness, before Jon, before Baby, and especially before Jonathan. I’m going back to the beginning to find my end, to discover what lies beyond, to venture out of Columbia. A backpack and me. With this thought, I enter the apartment, grabbing only the backpack, a few pieces of clothing, and my passport with the rest of my documents. I only stop when I enter the bathroom, after taking off that damn dress. I look silently at the strands falling into the sink, one by one, while the scissors in my fingers trim away until I see no more curls, no resemblance to Sonja besides my color. And I am amazed by the woman who stares back at me in the mirror. I don’t know who she is, but I’m heading toward discovery until I can find my Master again.
The end!
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