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I could never have dreamt that I’d be as lucky as I was. All those days robbing banks, all those days robbing my heart, I could finally call her mine.
I’ve known Annabelle since we were about 8— those years being the best of my life. She’d always been my best friend, and always will be, even after we’ve finally taken it further than just friendship.
She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever come across, even if it took me ages to finally realise that it was okay for me to think that. I love her, and I could never imagine loving anyone else— the beauty to my Butch.
I’d always been teased for how I presented, never particularly caring for dresses or the typical notions of femininity, often favouring simply a shirt and jeans. The way others had treated me often made me uncomfortable, occasionally ending in me caving in and suppressing some part of myself.
One of those things being how I felt about my best friend Annabelle.
I often talked about how wonderful and beautiful she was and is, going on extensive rants on how if I had to date any girl, I would date her. Was it prompted? No. But did I care? No. Well, at least until everybody started bringing up how weird and unnatural it was, how it was stupid that I could care for anyone but a man, but how couldn’t I?
Her long, blonde hair that’s waves gently curled outward at the end; her deep, brown eyes that any man, woman, or anyone really, could be hypnotised and put in a trance by; and don’t forget her smile, the smile that lights up any room she walks into— what’s not to care about? What’s not to love?
As well, she was the only person I ever truly felt comfortable being myself around, because she never saw me telling her how pretty she was as being weird, but rather complimenting. Not only that, she’d also tell me how handsome I was, because she knew I preferred being called that over pretty.
How I didn’t realise there and then how badly I was down for her I don’t know— it would take many years of doubt, introspection, fear and self-hatred, before I could even begin fathoming acceptance. It was kind of like grief, well, no, it was exactly like grief.
Doubt, because was it even possible for a woman to love another woman? As far as I was aware, Annabelle was just my best friend who I just had an extremely close, platonic connection with. And besides, even if I was, the fact I was so doubtful should mean that it can’t be possible. If I was in love with her, surely I’d know, right? Well, it seems not.
Introspection, because what if it was possible, and what if I did feel that way? That period of time included a lot of fantasies, a lot of anxiety— well, every stage made me extremely anxious— and still some doubt (though every stage was that way), because I could never be sure if any of it was ‘normal’ since Annabelle had been my only real friend. What if that was just normal for good, strong friendships?
Fear, because what if it wasn’t normal, what if I was strange and what would that mean for me? This is where I experienced the most crisis’. There were moments where I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t function, couldn’t think clearly enough because there were just too many panic-driven thoughts racing around in my mind. More often than not, Annabelle was there and eventually learnt how to help me with them, which was strange because usually she was the one vulnerable with me, not the other way round!
Self-hatred, because I clearly wasn’t normal, so I should be hated and didn’t deserve any love and kindness I was given, because the abnormal shouldn’t be rewarded but should be looked down upon. This stage was closely interwoven with fear, but distinct enough to clearly define them as different points. I wasn’t normal, so why should anyone care about me, and why should I care about me? During that point, I didn’t look after myself very well, and occasionally still Annabelle has to set me straight.
Finally, acceptance. This only came when she kissed me, and I realised none of it mattered. Why should I have to be normal when I could be happy instead? She was, and still is, my happy place and brings me more joy than anything ever. While I do kind of miss the thrill of robbing banks, I prefer the way I think, the way I talk about myself, the way I love myself now compared to then— and I believe Annabelle does too.
Admittedly, I still have moments of doubt. What if we’re weird? What if this isn’t natural? But every time I feel this way, she’s there. Annabelle’s there with a smile that could power a whole city, a hug, and the reassurance that even if we are weird, we have each other. What matters is that we love one another, and even if it makes us strange, at least we’re happy being with each other and in each other's arms.
Loving Annabelle is the best thing I’ve ever done, and it will remain that way.
She’s my pride and joy, and I like to imagine she feels the same way about me. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t think I’d ever be this happy; if it wasn’t for her, I don’t think I’d ever be this in love; if it wasn’t for her, I don’t think I’d ever be able to live with myself because I wouldn’t know her.
Being friends— and even more than that, being her partner in crime in more ways than one— was the best decision I ever made, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. The world is a cruel place, I know that, but she just makes it that bit more bearable.
Her kisses never fail to make my heart beat a million miles a minute, her hugs always warm me up, and her fingers truly are as fast as the bullets made them look. In short, she’s the best thing to ever happen to me, and I wouldn’t exchange her for the world.
We may never be able to share our love with anyone but us and her father, but I’m fine with that. As long as I have Annabelle, I don’t care if people just know us as “two very good friends”. She’s all I want, all I need, and I’m content with that and— more importantly— I’m content with myself.
After all, nobody knows or understands me like Annabelle. Strangers, and even acquaintances, often mistake me for a man because of my short hair and sense of style. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t care less, getting mistaken for a man doesn’t bother me in the slightest. In my mind, it’s a compliment!
When I’m considered a man, it feels kind of nice. It’s not like I’m not comfortable in my womanness, but it feels nice to be seen as more than that. People just see me as weird when I say I’m a woman, that it’s strange I don’t like dresses, abnormal that I couldn’t care less about being the height of femininity. I used to lie, get defensive and say that I was just going out to look for dresses and a husband, but now I just tell people the truth.
What stumps me, though, is when people ask whether I’m a man or a woman. Not because I don’t know the answer— I’m a woman, obviously— but sometimes I just wonder what it would be like if I just didn’t give them an answer. What would it be like if I just decided that I didn’t want to be either?
Of course, that’s not how it works. I was born a woman, so I am a woman, and it’s not like there’s another option beside man and woman, right? It’s strange how it feels nice when Annabelle’s father says ‘they’ when addressing me, and I can’t understand why.
He was one of the ones who asked if I was a boy or a girl, watched me hesitate as I said I was a girl. Annabelle got annoyed at him, of course. After all, we were both 8 at the time and I’m sure she must’ve talked about me before her father and I met.
This was a little after me and Annabelle had been playing together in his ranch, so he had told me that the entire time I was there he’d just been calling me a ‘they’. Maybe there was a look in my eye when he said that, because from that day onward, he often addressed me as that— or just anything really, he still forgets to this day I’m a woman, even now I’m dating his daughter!
All things considered, I’m glad he’s supportive. Even when he slips and says ‘they’ instead of ‘she’, or even ‘he’ sometimes! Maybe it’s just the thought that ‘they’ is this sort of in between man and woman— or maybe I’m just crazy. Guess I should really think about it more and start my grief cycle again— just for different reasons this time.
I was so lost in my own world, I’d completely forgotten about my surroundings, so you could imagine my surprise when a familiar voice piped up,
“Jo? Jo, you alright?” Annabelle asked, immediately pulling me from my thoughts and reminding me where I was. How I managed to get this distracted I didn’t know, but perhaps I’ve just been living in my head for so long I forgot that reality was a thing, even if it was now such a beautiful thing to me.
But Jo. It was still a name I would have to get used to, after all, I’ve been so used to being called Butch or Joanie my whole life. But since Annabelle is so special to me, it’s only right she has her own unique nickname for me— we’ve been best friends for somewhere around a decade now, it was waiting to happen. As well, I liked being called Jo. It wasn’t distinctly feminine or masculine, and I quite liked that about it.
But, desperate to not lose a hold on reality again, I simply looked down at Annabelle and smiled. She had her chin resting on my shoulder to talk me back into the present, her head once nestled into the crook of my neck. I had wrapped my arm behind her and rested my hand on her waist. She lay with her legs slightly curled whilst I sat more upright, both of us lying on her bed.
Gently, I placed a delicate kiss on the top of her head, squeezing her side ever so slightly as I drew back to reply,
“Never better.” I smiled, pouring all emotion I could into my words. Annabelle beamed back, sitting up slightly to guide a loose strand of hair out of my face,
“Well, I’m glad to hear, darling.” She spoke softly, placing an equally delicate kiss on my lips, cupping my face slightly as she did.
Even if it was short, I closed my eyes the second I could feel her breath on my face, intertwining my fingers with her hair once my hand reached the back of her head. Annabelle soon pulled back, hesitating in front of my face (if only momentarily) before burying her head back into the crook of my neck and resting her hand on my chest. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make my heart melt.
Well, when it was her, it was difficult for it not to.
“Anything on your mind? Wanna talk about it?” She asked, but I simply shook my head,
“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, just used to living in my own fantasies is all.” I responded, “Well, not fantasies no more, just my thoughts now I suppose.”
“Why’s that?” Annabelle inquired, once again resting her chin on my shoulder, but this time with a cute little head tilt,
“All my fantasies have come true, darling, what more could a simple ranch girl like me dream of?” I said truthfully, but spoke more humorously at the end, sliding my hand down from her waist to rest it on her thigh,
“You’re in no way simple.” Annabelle teased,
“Well neither are you!” I teased back, eliciting a small chuckle from her as she rested the side of her face on my shoulder again.
We were both aware we weren’t simple people. I was a girl who lived and looked like a man, and she was a girl who looked innocent but had a pretty darn good trigger finger. Besides, if we were simple, we’d probably be out in the town, looking for a husband and going clothes shopping. But instead, we were sitting on her bed, cuddling and exchanging the occasional kiss— which was a way better pastime in my opinion.
We stayed like that for a good while more, both of us perfectly content with staying fixed in place and never budging. If I could, I’d freeze time so we’d never have to leave, never have to part from each other’s sides. Annabelle was starting to try and snuggle into me more, adjusting herself constantly— usually a sign she was getting tired. Eventually, though, Annabelle sleepily piped up,
“Are you staying over tonight?”
“Do you want me to?” I asked,
“Always.” She responded, a small yawn following.
“I don’t know, only told mama that I’d be coming over, never said anything about staying the night.” I sighed,
“Oh, c'mon, we’re both adults now! You shouldn’t have to let her know about everything you’re gonna do!” Annabelle pointed out, sitting up and turned to face me. I was aware she had a point, and I agreed with her, but I was walking on eggshells around my mother enough as it was,
“I know, I know, but it’ll probably look weird if I don’t come home tonight. She’s already onto us and I don’t know how she’ll be if she found out; your dad’s a lot more accepting than most are!” I explained, turning to face her apologetically.
Annabelle sighed, looking down at her lap and fiddling with her thumbs,
“Yeah, you’re… you’re probably right, I’m sorry.”
“I’ll tell her at some point, just… not tonight.” I said sadly, also looking down at my lap,
“You say that every night, though. If you don’t want to tell her, that’s fine, I don’t care if we have to keep this from her, just tell me. I want you , I want to keep you safe and if that means you have to go home tonight, then that’s okay.” She said almost desperately, taking one of my hands into both of hers, adjusting herself so she crossed her legs.
I deliberated for a moment. As much as I didn’t want to, I knew I’d have to tell my mother eventually. She was a big part of my life, so I had to know if she would love me unconditionally and accept me for who I am, even if it would take a lot of courage to simply say anything at all.
“I know I do, but I mean it.” I paused again for a second, “If you want me to, I can stay here for the night, and if my mama asks me where I’ve been in the morning, I’ll tell her the truth. I’ll say I stayed here overnight and if she asks why I’ve been staying over so much, I’ll tell her about us.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get hurt, not again.” Annabelle asked, searching my face,
“I’ll be fine, I swear on my life. And even if I do, I know where to go.” I said, using my free hand to cup her face.
Annabelle let one of her hands move up to where I was cupping her cheek, gently gripping it,
“And I promise you,” I continued, “I promise you that I’ll get us outta here. I’ll save up all my money, buy us a nice little ranch near to your dad’s if you want, and we’ll live the rest of our lives out there. We won’t have to worry about anyone’s opinions, just live how we want to, be as free of judgement as we possibly can. I promise.”
“You don’t have to do that…” Annabelle shook her head,
“No, you don’t understand, I want to. I know you want to keep me safe, and I want to keep you safe too, and that’s probably the safest option we have.” I said, “I would promise you the world if I could, so please, let me promise you this one thing.”
Annabelle sighed, thinking to herself, before nodding,
“Alright… you better keep it, though.” She replied, to which I nodded, leaning forward so our foreheads were touching,
“Have I ever let you down?” I responded, closing my eyes as she placed the hand that rested on my hand onto my cheek, “Don’t finish that sentence.” I joked, receiving a small chuckle from her.
~
Not long after, Annabelle had gone outside to help her father with dinner, and I followed. I wasn’t any good at cooking, so I just started the fire and sat back to stare up at the stars that appeared that night, silently making shapes with them.
I had asked if either of them needed help cooking, but I was quite quickly brushed off, which was fair. The last time I cooked, I somehow managed to burn everything and myself, so it was probably a good thing I wasn’t anywhere near the food. Annabelle was a lot better at it than me, and I was grateful for it.
After a while when they'd finally finished cooking, I was handed a bowl of stew and a wooden spoon. They then started pouring themselves a portion, put the pots to the side, and sat around the fire too.
The stew was warm and hearty, just like Annabelle herself, and typical of her cooking. Everything she cooked, even if she was only helping her father, managed to have a very distinct taste— in the best way possible, of course. Her cooking was one of the best things I’d ever been blessed to try.
Honestly, she could probably find the most disgusting ingredients and somehow find a way to make them work well together and be edible. It was a strange but honourable gift she had, and that was one of the many things I loved about her; she was always full of surprises and gifts.
“How do you both manage to make it taste good and not burn it?” I asked, swallowing a mouthful before speaking,
“Well, I learnt from the best.” Annabelle smiled, looking over at her dad, “And some of us just have a knack for it.” She giggled a little, elbowing me and making me snicker a bit too. Something about her laugh was so contagious— and adorable.
We sat close together as her father sat on the opposite side of the fire, the three of us talking about whatever came to mind. It was a lot like when we were both little, me watching as Annabelle was being taught by her father how to cook, and then being given some of the best tasting food I ever had. Even then we’d be talking about nothing in particular, just whatever thoughts we had.
It reminded me of how at home I always felt at Annabelle’s ranch. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my mother and I clearly lived with her, but this was like a second home. Here, I was free to be myself, which made my mum sound like a bitch but I didn’t mean it that way; she could just be a little intense sometimes.
“So, when you planning on going home, Butch?” Annabelle’s father asked, to which I briefly hesitated,
“Oh, I was planning on staying the night if that’s alright?” I responded, my voice low,
“Uh, sure, does your mother know?” He asked, raising a brow, but he got no response, “I don’t know, she should probably know.”
“Oh, please daddy, we’re both adults now, surely we should be able to make decisions for ourselves now!” Annabelle pleaded,
“I’m aware, but it’s a bit different when they live with their mother.” There it was again, ‘they’,
“I live with you and you always let us go rob banks!” Annabelle retorted,
“Now, young lady, I didn’t let you do anything like that, I actively told you not to!” Her dad pointed out, resting his elbow on his thigh as he gestured to her, other hand on his hip,
“I know, I know, but still!” Annabelle continued.
“Look, I know I wouldn’t mind if you decided to stay around Butch’s without telling me because I think you both learnt your lesson about getting in trouble, even if it was the hard way.” He sighed, looking at me, “But I can’t be sure Butch’s mother’s the same.”
“I will take full accountability if her ma says anything, I swear!” Annabelle promised, “Please, just let her stay the night!”
Her father remained stoic for a moment or so longer, studying both our faces, before letting out a chuckle,
“Oh, daughter, you always were a stubborn one, even as a kid!” He grinned, “I suppose… I suppose if their mother causes any trouble about this, it would be time for her to learn that Butch isn’t little anymore, but you will take most of the responsibility, alright? It’s still partially my fault for agreeing.”
“Of course, daddy! Thank you!” Annabelle replied so gratefully and excitedly, I couldn’t help but smile and admire how much she enjoyed the little things in life.
She then turned around to me, eyes lit up brighter than the setting sun, smiling from ear-to-ear, and all I could do was silently thank everything and everyone that I got to call her mine. The way her hair fell in front of her eyes a little, the dimples that stretched either side of her face, and the freckles that only appeared when it was hot that day. Everything about her was the closest to perfection that something could possibly be.
“I’ll do the washing up then.” Annabelle’s father said, heaving himself up,
“You sure? Surely I should because I didn’t cook.” I frowned,
“No, no, it’s alright, I’ve got it. You girls can go inside if you want.” He said, but before I could respond, Annabelle immediately grabbed my hand and started dragging me back to her lodge— she was lucky enough that her father happily gave her her own individual space in the ranch.
The minute she dragged me in, she closed the door behind us and immediately pulled me into an intense kiss, hands tightly grasping my tie. Though I was originally caught off guard, I kissed her back and tried to match her intensity, though I was still a little in shock.
After a few moments, she pulled back and fully took off my tie, throwing it to the side as she pulled me onto the bed with her,
“Ann, your dad could walk in at any point, we’re not home alone!” I whispered, still in a state of shock but with the addition of being somewhat flustered,
“Since when have you cared about risk?” Annabelle asked, wrapping her arms around my neck as she fell back on the bed.
I stumbled a little at the sheer force she was pulling me, but found myself leaning over her once my head cleared a little, hands either side of her head,
“Yeah, but this isn’t the same as robbing a bank!” I retorted,
“You’re right, it’s not, the worst outcome then was jail, but now the worst that’ll happen is just an awkward moment and uncomfortable conversation! Plus, we both know my daddy doesn’t often come in here!” Annabelle argued, placing a soft kiss at the corner of my mouth.
My mind was becoming a mess of lust, fluster, shock, with only a small bit of logic banging around in there. My heart was screaming at me to just let it happen, but my head was telling me otherwise.
“I dunno…” I sceptically said,
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Annabelle tilted her head slightly, “but I did cut my nails.”
“Fuck it.” I sighed, any logic that once kept me in check had now completely flown out the window. I then closed the gap between us and kissed her with all the passion I’d mustered, her face clasped in both my hands as I roughly caressed her cheekbones.
“Knew it!” Annabelle pulled back momentarily, holding me by the collar of my shirt,
“Alright, alright, just be quiet!” I rolled my eyes,
“Yes, ma’am!” She quietly teased as she pulled me back in for another kiss.
~
One heated session later, we got ready for bed— which was just throwing back on what we wore that day— and luckily enough for us, her father hadn’t walked in. We’d then cuddled up under the blankets and just talked for a while, my hand gently coursing through her hair as she rested her head on my shoulder.
Afterwards, a few moments of silence passed us by. Well, at least until Annabelle broke it again,
“I’m glad you’re here.” She said,
“Well, I sure hope you would, you were practically begging me to stay.” I grinned, playing with her hair a little in my hand,
“Yeah, yeah, I’m trying to be genuine here!” Annabelle laughed slightly.
To that, I dropped my arm back by my side and turned to face her, propping myself up with an elbow as a way to signal that I would be serious,
“Look… I’ve known you for quite a while now, and I think I’ve liked you for even longer,” Annabelle started, “And I just wanted to say I appreciate you being here all those years. That’s all, really. Just wanted you to know that.”
I smiled, placing my head in the palm of my hand as I took her hand with my other under the covers,
“Darling, you tell me that everyday.” I spoke humorously, but she furrowed her brows a little at that,
“What do you mean? I don’t think I’ve really said that before— or at least not a lot.” Annabelle stated with confusion,
“Maybe not verbally, but you tell me everyday by being with me.” I explained, softly looking at her, and taking every feature of her face in, “And anyway, if anything, I should be the one appreciating you. After all, you had to help me through all those mini-crisis’ I used to have.”
“There was no ‘had’ about it, I did it all because I wanted to.” She smiled gently, also beginning to study my face.
I’ve admired her hundreds of times before. I probably already have her image burnt into my mind, but even still I can’t help but get lost in her eyes. It’s not like I don’t know how to get out, I have the map, but I just choose not to use it in favour of immersing myself in the nature around me. It’s all so beautiful, so why should I just be staring at a map the entire time, not looking at the bigger picture nor enjoying the moment?
She must’ve noticed me extensively looking at her, because she grinned and quietly spoke up.
“You’re staring.”
“Sorry, couldn’t help it.” I smiled back, “But we should probably get some sleep now.” I stated, wrapping her head and back in my arms as she snaked her own around my waist,
“Yeah, alright.” Annabelle responded, both of us pulling each other closer.
I placed a quick peck on the top of her head as I once again interwove my fingers with her hair,
“G’night, darling.” I whispered,
“Night.” She sleepily mumbled back, nestling herself into the crook of my neck.
She always drifted off quicker than I did, so after a few minutes, I was left in the waking world by myself. It was strange how we both slept easier when we were together— not like we got bad sleep otherwise. Maybe we just both exaggerated how much we helped each other drift off, but it definitely did help me at least a little.
So, I just laid there, thinking to myself about how we both managed to get to this moment. Most days, I was just astounded that I could've pulled someone as brilliant and beautiful as Annabelle, and others, I was just surprised that she had unconditionally loved me all these years. But every day, every moment, I was grateful to have her in my life, because I knew how lucky I was.
I just hoped she felt lucky to have me too.
Those were the thoughts that finally lulled me to sleep, leading me to dream of her and the future life we could potentially have. Maybe I was wrong in saying I didn’t have fantasies anymore, because while I did have her now, there was so much we had left to do in life— and I wasn’t going to let anyone potentially get in our way. Not family, not friends, no-one.
For all they knew, we were just ‘two very good friends’, and I was going to keep it that way because it was safer that way, and all I wanted was for her to feel safe and loved.
For I loved her, and I hoped she felt safe with me, because I certainly felt safe with her. I’d never let anything bad happen to her, and I’d like to think it would be the same vice versa.
For she deserved the world, she deserved to be happy, and I was glad I was the one who made her happy, because she was the one who made me happy.