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Salamon2 — What Remains - Chapter One
#ftm #grief #magic #magicaltransformation #parenthood #transformation #tg_transformation #tgtransformation #ftmtransformation #tg_story #tg_stories #ftm_transformation
Published: 2026-06-30 08:10:02 +0000 UTC; Views: 24327; Favourites: 9; Downloads: 0
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Chapter One - Desperate Enough
“Did you remember to stop by Walgreens?” Mel asked him lightly, hoping he couldn’t hear the worry underneath her words.
“Yes, I got my little blue pill. We won’t miss our chance this month,” he assured her, giving her hand a squeeze as he steered the car with the other.
She sighed and flashed him a quick smile that he reciprocated before returning his eyes to the windy rural connector just outside of Ithaca. The afternoon sun glistened off of Cayuga Lake as they drove past the outskirts of Union Springs toward the destination just outside of Auburn. The bright reflection shimmered indifferently to the quiet dread gathering in the car.
They turned northeast, losing sight of the lake as their Volvo XC90 was swallowed by the verdant forest. The AC was still on full blast to cool the cabin. It had been a sweltering sauna when they’d first gotten in forty-five minutes ago.
Mel was freezing in her linen red, white, and blue summer dress, enough that she regretted not bringing a sweater for the drive, but one look at Justin who was still sweating despite leaving the top button of his bowling shirt unbuttoned and having one of her ventilators pointed at him and she said nothing. He kept her extra warm in those cold snowbound winter nights, the least she could do was freeze beside him in summer. She’d freeze beside him a little longer. That was marriage in a nutshell—balancing discomforts.
Justin looked over at her and bit his before saying, “Mark and Dana’s oldest will be home from college, you might want to prepare—”
“Oh, Evan’s home? He’s a good kid. It’ll be good to see him,” she said too brightly—enough that she didn’t even believe herself. She appreciated that he was trying to prep her for what awaited them in his own way, but Evan being home from college was a given, and his growth over the years had sometimes been a source of comfort. After all, if Cameron had lived, he and Evan would’ve been about the same age.
“We don’t have to go. We can still turn around,” he said, mistaking her silence for reluctance. She wished she could take the out he was offering. But she couldn’t—not today. They’d think it was because of another false alarm and the last thing she’d needed was a parade of sympathy calls from their friends to check in on her. That was worse than the minefield awaiting them.
“No, I didn’t make this Waldorf salad for nothing,” she said, adjusting the covered Tupperware bowl in her lap a bit. It needed the AC as much as Justin did.
They pulled into the gravel driveway of the Harts’ place in a small cul de sac outside of Auburn just past noon. The summer air was thick with humidity, the kind that makes shirts cling and hair frizz. As they got out, his loafers and her kitten heels crunched over stones warmed by the late‑June sun. Justin’s light brown hair was already damp at the temples. Mel’s auburn curls were already rebelling against the heat, springing loose from the clip she’d used to tame them.
The fenced-in backyard beyond the house was already alive: kids shrieking through sprinklers, parents clustered around folding tables. Platters of burgers and hotdogs were already being picked over by a line of men in Hawaiian shirts and women in breezy summer dresses. The smell of charcoal drifted lazily through the humid air.
It was the familiar scene Justin and Mel had attended dozens of times over the years — and the kind that always left them quietly gutted. But they told themselves they were good at hiding it. And all their friends wanted to believe that as well. They’d had decades of practice, after all. Today would be no different.
“Justin, Mel! It’s so wonderful to see you both!” exclaimed Dana as she emerged from the crowd in a baby blue sundress and practically threw her arms around them both, pressing her slightly swollen belly into them both.
“You’re expecting… again?” Justin said as Dana pulled away from the hug.
“I know, can you believe it? Mark and I weren’t even trying, I swear.”
“How’d Evan take it?” Mel asked.
Dana chatted away thoughtlessly, as she was want to do, flipping her long raven hair off her shoulders. “He should be ecstatic. He’s finally getting the little brother he wanted when he was five. It almost took fifteen years, but we eventually came through. Though, the joke’s on him now, everyone’s gonna think he’s the father when he wants to spend some time being a big brother.”
Mark called from the grill, dressed in a white apron that said “where’s the beef?” in black lettering. “There’s my favorite lawyer! Get over here Travers, I need back up about the Giants, Kevin’s going on about the Bills again.”
Justin gave Mel a look, one that Mel noticed Dana couldn’t help but observe. She needed to cut that right off at the pass if she was to have any chance of a bearable time this afternoon.
“Oh, go on, you have my permission to go and play,” Mel teased as though she were a mother urging her son.
Justin gave her a side eye and a smirk but didn’t wait for any further encouragement to join Mark in a debate about football teams.
Dana gave Mel a bright smile and then entwined her arm with Mel’s as she guided her to one of the picnic tables after depositing the Waldorf salad on the mostly untouched fruit and vegetable table. “Come on, you’ve got to meet Jessica. She should be done nursing by now.”
Conversations bloomed around Mel like dandelions: light, cheerful, oblivious — and yet as prickly as a thistle’s stem.
They’d hardly sat down when Jessica, who was dressed in a sunflower‑yellow dress leaned toward Dana, not even glancing at Mel.
“Dana, how old is Emma now? Seven? Eight?”
Dana laughed. “Nine going on nineteen. She’s got the attitude already.”
“Oh, I believe it,” Jessica said. “Emma’s such a sweetheart. My Lily adores her.”
Mel kept her smile fixed. Her hands were folded neatly on the red and white gingham tablecloth in front of her.
A dad with a beer ambled over, nodding at Dana.
“Hey, didn’t your oldest just graduate? Big milestone!”
Dana beamed. “No, Evan’s just a rising sophomore this summer. Though, he’s already talking about internships.”
“That’s awesome,” he said. “You must be so proud.”
“Oh, we are,” Dana said. “He’s a good kid.”
Mel nodded along, invisible in the exchange, her chest tightening.
Two women stood beside the picnic table, chatting as they refilled their drinks.
“Oh, we’re thinking about trying for another,” one said, adjusting her sunhat. “I mean, why not? The first two were easy.”
Her friend snorted. “You’re insane. I’m done. Three is enough.”
“Come on, you know you want a fourth.”
“God, no. I told my husband I was done after Riley, and I mean it. Thank God for the pill.”
Kevin, who had the audacity to show up to a barbecue in Cayuga county wearing a Bills jersey, sat down across from Dana, wiping mustard off his fingers from the hot dog he’d just finished. He glared over at Mark and Justin who were giving each other a high five at having successfully defended their beloved Giants.
“Tell me Dana, three kids are enough of a handful,” he said with a chuckle, “what possessed you and Mark to try a fourth battle with the stork?”
Dana laughed, “As much as they’re little needy little terrors… they’re worth it. Every tantrum, every mess — I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s chaos, but the good kind.”
He nodded. “You’re lucky. You’ve got a full house. Not everyone gets as many as they’d like.”
Mel couldn’t take it any longer. Her smile faltered. Her throat tightened. Her fingers twitched on the edge of the tablecloth. She pushed herself up.
“Excuse me Dana… but I think I need to use your… uh… powder room.”
She didn’t wait for the usual pleasant dismissal from her hostess, but instead shuffled her way through the crowd only to have a bare-chested towheaded little boy about nine or so nearly knock her over. He was dressed only in a red and white striped swimsuit and blue crocs. His blond hair plastered to his forehead from the sprinklers.
“Oops! Sorry!” he blurted out before an olive-skinned little girl about his age grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him back toward the shrieking chaos of the sprinklers.
It took everything she had to pull back the sliding door and step into the dining room, her movements stiff and uneven. She then made her way to the old powder room right off the tiny excuse for a foyer. Only once the door clicked shut did Mel lean against it and let herself cry.
She remained there for at least a few minutes before she heard a knock at the door.
“Mel… it’s me.”
She didn’t bother to wipe the running mascara from her cheeks as she unlocked the door and buried herself in his arms. His forest-green eyes looked over her with worry. He wrapped his arms about her and held her close enough that she could smell the mint and antiseptic from his aftershave mixed with his own musky scent. She felt herself melt in his embrace.
“I should have feigned being sick,” she admitted after her breaths had slowed to match his.
He didn’t say that he’d told her so, though she wouldn’t have blamed him if he had, only once. Instead, all he did was hum in response, the deep resonant vibration from his Adam’s apple causing her head to buzz.
“No one will eat my salad anyway… I don’t know what possessed me to make a Waldorf salad,” she laughed, the sound thin and shaky, trying to keep from crying again.
Justin squeezed her just a bit tighter. “You know I love apples, grapes, and nuts — at least I’ll have lunch covered for the next few days.”
A soft knock sounded, followed by a reedy voice behind Justin. “Everything all right?”
Justin turned, allowing Mel to see Mark and Dana’s eldest standing at the foot of the stairs, barefoot. He had his mother’s raven hair, though he kept it messy and short like Mark. Mark’s greenish blue eyes stared at them from his face, which was adorned with a bit of dark-haired scruff that looked like a pitiful attempt at growing a goatee. He was tall, thin, and a little loose limbed. He wore light khaki shorts that matched his fitted navy and white striped polo shirt.
“Oh, Evan! How you’ve… you’ve grown!” Mel said, launching herself into a motherly hug despite herself. She could still remember when he and Cameron had shared a crib.
“Thanks, Aunt Mel… if only it were true since graduation, maybe I’d make the basketball team,” he joked with a gentle smile. Mel pulled herself back to wipe the running mascara from her cheeks.
“Northwestern treating you well?” Justin asked.
“I kept my grades up,” Evan assured with a grin.
“I should have known we’d find you in here, you always hid away during the parties.”
Evan when he’d been younger had always been easily overwhelmed by loud noises—enough to warrant ear protection during the early years of elementary school. His sensitivity had led the boy many times over the years into Mel and Justin’s path at parties. As he’d grown older he’d built up a tolerance and didn’t need them anymore, or at least that’s what he told people after some kids had stolen his noise cancelling headphones and hung them from the rafters of the gym—how anyone had gotten up that high was still up for debate.
“It’s my cross to bear for being born to two extroverts,” he said with smirk. It softened a moment later. “You guys, okay?”
Justin and Mel shared a look and both launched into assurances that neither bought the minute they left their mouths, least of all Evan.
“I hear you’re finally going to get the little brother you’ve always wanted,” Mel blurted out keep Evan from asking any more questions.
“Yeah… and maybe if Hannah had been born a boy, I’d have actually gotten to grow up with him. As things stand now, it’s almost too little, too late.”
Evan leaned in closer, “But what about you two? Did my Mom put her foot in her mouth again?”
Mel opened her mouth, another deflection on the tip of her tongue, but Justin touched her arm — a gentle signal.
“It’s all right,” he murmured. “It’s Evan.”
Mel exhaled. Her voice was tight.
“It’s just… hard sometimes being around your mother when she’s... expecting. The rest of the world doesn’t matter and she just makes everyone talk about their kids. And after Cameron… we tried for so long…”
Justin added quietly, “We’ve tried everything. The doctors are no help, nor were the fertility clinics. We got lucky once… on our own… so we’re back to trying that.”
“And the clock’s almost run out for us,” Mel admitted.
Evan met her eyes at that. He nodded, not pitying, not awkward — just present. He then pulled her into a hug of his own.
“I get it,” he said quietly. As he should, seeing as he’d asked them at age four why they didn’t have any kids, point blank in that direct way children always ask everything.
This time however, Evan added something else. “My friend Parker went through something kind of similar. Not the same, but… desperate in her own way.”
Justin frowned. “Parker? I don’t recall you talking about a friend named Parker”
Evan hesitated — and then the sliding door slammed shut and footsteps were heard approaching before they stopped and a girl called out from where they came.
“Evan!”
A pretty girl with sun‑streaked hair and bright hazel eyes emerged from the dining room and threw her arms around him. Evan blushed so hard his ears turned red.
“Hey, Parker,” he managed.
Parker beamed. “I’ve been looking all over for you outside! I’ve been dying to catch up — you have to tell me everything about Northwestern.”
She was radiant. Confident. Effortlessly joyful.
Justin and Mel watched the exchange, and something clicked — the way Evan’s eyes softened, the way Parker’s hand lingered on his arm, the way he looked both thrilled and terrified.
Mel leaned slightly toward Justin.
He murmured, “He likes her.”
Mel whispered back, “And she has no idea.”
Parker finally noticed Justin and Mel and smiled warmly. “Hi! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I thought Evan’d be hidden away inside like he always is at these things.”
“You’re fine,” Mel said, still studying her.
Evan cleared his throat, trying to regain composure.
“Uh — Parker, this is my Uncle Justin and Aunt Melissa. No relation, they’re just two of my parents’ oldest friends.”
If meeting in Lamaze class counted as “old friends” then Mel hated to think what Evan thought her high school friends should be categorized as on his scale.
Parker waved cheerfully. “Nice to meet you!”
She tugged Evan’s wrist. “Come on, I want to show you something!”
Evan hesitated, then looked back at Justin and Mel — the look of someone who had more to say.
“Give me a sec,” he told Parker.
“Just don’t keep me waiting long,” Parker said with a joking wink that she clearly had no idea made Evan weak in the knees and yet grip the stairs bannister.
She nodded and hurried off to the sliding door.
Evan turned back to Justin and Mel, voice low.
“She’s… Parker Simmers. The friend I told you about.”
Evan continued, choosing his words carefully.
“Back when we were freshmen in high school, Parker was miserable. Hated her body. Hated herself. She was… she was about to take her life.”
Mel’s hand went to her mouth.
“But then we went to see Isabella,” Evan said.
“Isabella?” Mel questioned.
“The woman who lives out on the edge of town. People call her a witch,” Evan clarified.
“I got set up on a blind date with her once over fall break,” Evan admitted. “She’s… strange. Looks younger than she really is. Acts a bit ditzy too. But it’s just an act. She sometimes will sell charms, crystals, or potions, but she only helps the desperate.”
Justin’s skepticism flickered across his face.
Evan saw it — and reached into his wallet.
“Look,” he said quietly. “I know how this sounds.”
He pulled out a worn photograph, edges softened from years of being carried. He handed it to Justin.
In the picture, Evan — younger, about fourteen — was climbing a tree beside a blond boy with the same hazel eyes, the same smile, the same face as Parker. The boy looked immediately familiar in a way that Mel couldn’t explain. She knew she should know that boy, but every time she tried to think of how… it was like her mind slipped the thought out from under her.
“That’s Parker,” Evan said. “Before.”
“So, she’s a transwoman?” Justin asked as he looked up slowly, the photograph trembling slightly in his hand.
“No, she’s fully a woman… now, but she wasn’t always.”
“What do you mean?” Mel asked.
Evan continued, voice barely above a whisper:
“I’m the only one who remembers both versions of her. Before and after. But for everyone else… reality just shifted—even for her. It’d be different if she remembered, but she doesn’t. One day he was my best friend since preschool… the next, we were friendly, but it was like we hardly knew each other.”
He glanced toward the sliding door that Parker had left a few moments ago.
“That’s why it’s complicated,” he said. “She’s happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen her. And don’t get me wrong, I want her still here… but I… I miss my best friend…”
Evan began to cry himself, silently, tears treacherously escaping his glistening greenish-blue eyes. Mel couldn’t help herself as she pulled the taller boy down into her arms for a hug.
Justin, clearly could follow the story no further. “So… you’re saying that a witch turned your best friend into a girl and no one, not even us remembers how things used to be except for you?”
“I know I sound crazy,” Evan admitted as he tried wiping his cheeks clean. “But it’s the truth.”
Justin pulled back once he heard the word crazy. “Clearly something happened, but I’d like to think we know you well enough that if your best friend went missing, we’d remember that, right Mel?”
Mel looked between her husband and the boy who might have been best friends with Cameron had he lived long enough to see his first birthday and beyond.
“I don’t know, Justin. I hear what you’re saying, but then I look at that photo of that boy and I can’t help feeling I’ve seen him before, but I can’t remember where. You feel it too, don’t’ you?”
Justin bit his lip and then shook his head. “We live in a college town. There’s gotta be at least three boys we’ve encountered since we moved here that look close enough.”
Mel’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t mean close enough, I mean I’ve seen this boy before, and I know you have too. You just don’t want to say it.”
Justin huffed and bowed his head.
Evan crossed his arms, his face narrowing into a frown. “Look, if missing means that every day for four years I heard his name, but heard her respond and had no one I could talk to about it, then yeah, my best friend went missing.”
Justin looked up with an odd look in his eyes that Mel couldn’t quite understand what it meant outside of some sort of recognition.
“I should go,” Evan said. “But… if you’re desperate enough, Isabella can change your life. For better or worse.”
He turned, stuffed his feet into a pair of flip flops and headed out the sliding door after Parker.
Justin and Mel stood in stunned silence for a moment. Because for the first time in his life, Evan Hart had walked out disappointed in them. And that hurt Mel harder than she knew how to bear.