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Marcie Mardon.
That was a name that Mark hadn’t heard in a very long time. Not since he had decided that deep down he was a man, not the woman that his parents (mostly his mother) had so desperately wanted. He was sixteen when his father and brother, the only two who stood in his corner had taken him to get the sex change that he wanted. He was thankful to them, both of them. They were there for him as he went from Marcie to Mark, taking the name of his favorite author Mark Twain.
But all of that was in the past. He didn’t get why Ray was bringing it up now.
“Why do you want to know that?” He asked defensibly, a hint of fear in his eyes. Ray signed up to be with a man, not a woman. And if he found out that Mark used to be one he—he couldn’t handle not having him in his life.
“Because someone sent me a message asking for Marcie. I didn’t know who that was and then she said the last name. Is that your sister or something?”
Mark looked at the ground. He couldn’t lie to him anymore. That was worse.
“I’m Marcie. At least I used to be. I didn’t feel right being in a woman’s body and so I changed. I’m Marcie Mardon.” A tear fell down his cheek. He couldn’t look at Ray, couldn’t see the disgust.
Cool hands wrapped in his. “It’s fine. I know what you’re thinking and its fine. I’d love you no matter who you were.”