Darla, Darling, Dearest

Darla stared out the window of the ecovillage truck. She felt numb, the endless fields passed her by doing little to stimulate any feeling. She caught sight of girl partially reflected in the glass and frowned. There was an uncomfortable niggling in the back of her mind. If she met herself from a week ago, would he be able recognize herself? She shuddered, 'Sett's was horrifying, even when you benefited.

She had to ask herself again if this was what she really wanted. The visceral disgust she had felt for herself was gone, but it all felt too easy, like the box she was in now had been picked out for her. Danny was a good Christian son who did what he was told... Would Darla just be a good queer hippie who followed the will of what, Lavender? Joan?

She ran her hands over the patchy seat covers from the 90's, and hummed. Following didn't feel right. Still, she didn't know what would. Even the name Darla was not something she had picked for herself. What would be her name if she wasn't so fucking awkward on the phone?

She threw her memory back to her last years with Joan. The cusp of adolescence where childhood fantasies go to die. Danny had been so desperate to stay friends, she had secretly picked out Eve as her name post 'Sett's.

When she had met Evelyn it had been years of wandering through tall grass, picking out the heads of swollen ticks from her skin, for nothing. It was time to give up on childish things. It was not God's plan for her. Eve was the woman she could not be, Evelyn was right there in front of her. Her awful teenage mind said soulmates. The names were too similar to not be the voice of God guiding her. Now the space Eve could have taken was gone. It was unfair.

She could taste freedom, and yet, in every direction she could move lay nothing but chains. Binding her to a way of life, defining her, naming her, and using her. She looked up at pitted ceiling, cursing any being that might be influencing things. "Fuck off."

Joan coughed into the steering wheel. Mike shifted uncomfortably fiddling with the seatbelt strap. The truck hummed. Paul cleaned his glasses. Darla (yeah, lets stick with that for now) smiled around nervously. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that out load."

Mike pressed his lips together. "No go ahead, reject God." He made a sweeping gesture at the rest of the riders with his good arm. "You've certainly made more friends that way."

Joan banged the top of the wheel. "Hey! No faith-crisis shaming!" She shot a quick glare back at Mike. "Anyway, I'm still a Christian, mostly."

Mike leaned forward gripping Joan's seat with his right hand. "Mostly?" He said, raising an eyebrow. Darla breathed out, happy to lose the spotlight.

"Yeah." Joan deadpanned. Paul breathed on his glasses, fogging them up.

Mike let go falling back into the seat rubbing his eyes with thumb and forefinger. "How does that work?" Darla perked up, curious as well. If Joan had navigated a way out of this goddamn fear in Darla's head...

Joan smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?" God damn it.

"I know no ones asking me, but I'm not." Paul cut in, raising a hand distractedly.

"What, a Christian?" Mike asked, not following.

"I was born to white Hari Krisna's." Paul continued, wiping the last bits of condensation off his lenses with a practiced hand. "Hard to believe in anything when your parents believe repeating a single phase over and over will get them into heaven." He put his glasses back on. Spreading his hands out, he stared directly at Mike. "It sort of boils down religion to its dumbest parts, until all you can see is that all the silly rituals are stupid." His goggle-eyed grin gave Darla shivers.

Mike gave Darla a conspiratorial 'get-a-load-of-this-guy' face, and Darla suppressed a giggle. Mike gave a goofy smile and turned back to the herbalist. "You're an idiot."

Paul laughed him off. Folding his hands into his lap, he watched the road. Mike looked at Darla and whispered "Smug." Darla snorted.

They had determined Mike had lost a relatively small amount of blood. Paul had complained about how much of a nightmare quick clot was to remove, but it had saved Mike a stint in the Emporia ER, and sewed up just fine. After being told he was going to be okay, Mike began demanding to go home. Darla agreed, but Joan was leery asking for promises of non-retaliation.

Then Paul had pointed out as long as Joe knew Darla was his daughter, any problem would just be between Mike and Lavender. Besides what we're they gonna do, keep him here against his will? No, better to just get the facts on the table. Before Darla knew it, they had packed into the truck and were on their way.

As Joan drove across the east bridge into town Mike began bouncing his foot in anticipation. Darla, for her part, started to sweat. What if Pops still didn't see sense? What if he felt if Darla couldn't go through with it, it was up to him? How would she even integrate back into the town? Who would find her lack of will disgusting?

Mike looked at her and she met his eyes. He let out a single chuckle, acknowledging the absurdity of the situation. Relief flowed through her as she mirrored his smile. He was her buddy. No matter what, he had her back. It was gonna be okay.

Joan pulled into the curbside parking, shifting the gear stick with an audible groan, and turned to face them. "Y'all enjoying yourselves back there?" She clicked off her seatbelt. "We've arrived, its go time."

Paul pulled the lever to lean back in his chair, allowing the old shitty mechanism to creak as loud as possible. "You go ahead, I'm not wanted." He slipped his hands behind his head. "Call me if the gunshot wound starts bleeding during the meeting." He wrinkled his nose at the internal rhyme and then closed his eyes.

Mike shrugged wincing a bit. "I should be fine." He tried to look as nimble and cool as you could hopping out of the trucks single side door one handed after Joan put her seat up. Darla cursed realizing Paul wasn't going to let her out. She scootched her way over to the open door and squeezed out after her friends.

Mike ran over to the glass of the general store and peered in. "We're in luck: Joe's at the counter!" He called. Darla took a deep breath, steeling herself, only to jump when Joan slammed the truck shut.

"I'm not going in without my pistol." Joan said frankly.

"Ah." Mike said, as he wandered back to the group.

"Please don't shoot my dad?" Darla was pretty sure Joan wouldn't, but after last night... Nope, nope, think of anything else. Babies and puppies and bubbles.

Joan laughed. "I never shoot anyone." She patted the leather shoulder holster reverentially, before pulling her flannel over it. "I know him enough to know I don't need it" She scuffed her feet on the concrete sidewalk. "Its just deterrence. You really can't be too careful."

Mike looked at her and grit his teeth. "Fair's fair. I got mine too." He flashed his Deagal from a waistband holster. "Let's just get this over with." He strode back towards the door purposefully.

Darla stared chasing after him "Wait!" but he had already opened the door.

Mike strode up to the til. Putting his perfect muscled arm on the counter in a friendly way, he leaned in towards Joe like he was about to strike up a gossipy conversation about the goings on around town. Darla and Joan followed through the door, trying to catch up without looking desperate. Mike opened his mouth before anyone else could say a word. "Joe, I'd like to reintroduce you to your daughter."

Joe blinked.

"What?"

Mike leaned forward, leveraging all 6' 2" of corn-fed army dude, to force the older man back. "Joe Martin Kenton, I do believe you have done a great disservice to your child."

The patriarch continued to look confused. He was so small, an older veteran hunched on a stool; the vinyl tubes that ran from his nose to a green metal air tank vibrated slightly. It was hard not to look at Joe and not pity him. Darla found herself striding forward to bail her father out a bit. "Hey Pops, miss me?"

Mike shifted to let Darla have some of the counter and give Joe some space. The old man greeted her with a perplexed look. "So the funniest thing happened to me..." Mike continued, seemingly oblivious to the mix of shock and horror spreading across Joe's face as he studied Darla's facial features. "Y'see Tuesday night, I'm out late with Raymond, and I get this call from Danny." Mike smirks at how much Joe's squirming at this point. "Which is weird because it must be 4am and and he's a much better Christian then me." He paused for a beat as if waiting for a congregation to laugh. "...but you know what he tells me?"

Her Pops looked like he was going to tear up at this point. "What does he tell you?" He rasps refusing to meet Darla's gaze.

"He tells me he probably has 'Setts." Mike delivered the line with a sneer.

Joe stopped. The light drained from his eyes and he looked hevenward. "Oh, Holy Jesus in heaven, give me strength!" The elder Kenton wailed. Tears streamed down his face. Mike looked over at Darla and raised an eyebrow.

Darla looked at her feet. This was supposed to make her feel relieved... wasn't it? Joe looked terrible. The veteran clearly feeling threatened by a younger purveyor of violence, mourning the loss of a son that was never real.

Darla felt Joan's hand on her shoulder. Forcing her way between Mike and Darla, Joan smiled genuinely at Joe. "So, you have a daughter now... What are you going to do?"

The old man looked up grayfaced. "I... I though they kidnapped you." He shook and wheezed. "I thought you'd..." He trailed off. His face twisted in rage, then decaying just as quickly into fear, then pain. "Narragansett's is the ultimate test, you are more then righteous enough to give yourself to God..."

"You're also a much better Christian then I am, Mr. Kenton." Mike cut in, leaning towards the old man like a shark with blood in the water. "However, while your sentiment is not a marginal interpretation, it seems to have virtually nothing backing it up in scripture." Mike flashed Joan and Darla a 'just watch me' smirk. "In fact it's widely felt in the Methodist Church that that understanding was thought up by a televangelist who's son got 'Sett's and committed suicide. It's a post-facto justification, so that people didn't think he went to hell."

Joe stared at Mike unblinking. Darla stared at the counter. The smug barracks lawyer energy radiating off the younger man stung to look at. Joan coughed. "Listen Joe, would you really rather have a dead son over a happy daughter?"

Mike broke his self satisfied expression. "Oh yeah, that too." Joe looked down, still saying nothing.

This whole exchange was a trainwreck. Sure Methodist doctrine was very explicit about how suicide was not a valid response to Naragansett's, but treatment for gender dysphoria was officially banned along with being gay. To do either you just had to luck into a dissident church if you we're either of those things. Common enough in cities, but out here? Good luck.

Was the strategy really going to be to win on Christian terms? But that would mean...

Joe finally spoke. "I want grandkids."

Darla and Joan exchanged an uncomfortable look, but Mike was smiling like they had won.

Joe coughed and wheezed out "I'm not too old, but I'm dying before my time." He reached forward and grabbed Darla's hand. "I know your a gimme, but I'll pretend it was an accident." Darla felt dark lines of fear radiating from her stomach as she shuddered with the weight of being known. "It took me until now to realize it, but God knows, the signs were all there." He shook his head. "God works in mysterious ways, but when I look at you..." He choked up. "I just know you'll make a better mother than father." Really? That was what he was relieved about!? "I'll take you back if you promise to marry and have kids."

And that was it, wasn't it? Not only had her father accidentally tried to kill her, now, to get her home back, she had to start courting men. Forget even trying to make things right with Lavender. Forget how she blushed at the strong arms of Clair and how happy Joan looked these days. She looked at Joan, who quietly shook her head, and then Mike, who gave her a thumbs up. It made her brain hurt.

"Listen," The words came out of her mouth before she could think. "I want kids too." Joe smiled with pride and nodded. Mike chuckled. Joan stared at her in anticipation of the other shoe dropping. Darla looked down, she really didn't want to lose the shop, and Joe clearly still needed her. She read on the internet once that most women are bisexual... Fuck it, just lie. "If marrying early's the cost of staying in town, then so be it." Joan hid her shock well enough, but they had been friends long enough that Darla saw straight through it. She couldn't meet Joan's eyes.

Joe beamed with pride that she had not seen since her last touchdown. He spread his arms as wide as he could without worsening his breathing. "Welcome home, girl."

Darla couldn't help it. To see that expression on her father's face after all these years... To be accepted as a woman... She smiled, and cried, and laughed all at the same time. The sheer relief unburdening her from all her doubts and fears. All she had to do was be straight. How hard could that be? She was defiantly bi, most women are! This was going to be no problem.

"Thank you pops!" She hugged her father over the counter, raising a leg to extenuate her femininity. They cried together, each genuinely believing that the nightmare their family had become was over.

Joan tugged her sleeve, bringing Darla out of her revelry. Urgently she indicated that they should talk in private. Darla untangled from the Elder Kenton, flashing a questioning look.

"So Joan!" Pops turned toward the polyamerous lesbian. "How have you been? I don't think I've seen you since you left for college." Darla and Joan froze. Second hand fear was enough to send icy fingers down Darla's spine.

Joan took a deep breath. "Well me and some friends started a land project." Good, keep it vague, keep it believable. "I honestly have been working so much I haven't had time to say hi to anyone but mom and dad."

Pops looked... happy? Holy shit was this whole 'marrying off your gimme kid to get grandkids' thing making her old man nice? "That's great, it's always amazing to see the younger generation take over. Too many of you have abandoned your birthright for a pot of lentils." He coughed. "Too bad you're bothers're gonna sell off your daddies land, huh." As Joan grimaced at Pops' cavalier airing of dirty laundry, Mike wandered over the shop window. "Could've saved alotta trouble if ya didn't have to buy land in your own hometown."

Joan pinched the tip of her nose. "Thanks." She looked up at Pops with a blank expression, unreadable. "I'm glad at least one other person from his generation sees how destructive dad's being." She glanced at Darla. "But look, I gotta talk to your daughter a bit."

Joe smiled. His posture seemed to straighten, and he saluted. "I'll let you crazy kids keep on keepin on." He looked down at some papers behind the register. "Oh. What's your new name? I gotta add you back to the schedule."

There was a jingle as Mike left the store. Darla looked at Joan, and then back at her Pops. Was it really this easy? "Darla, till I think of something better or it sticks."

Pops smirked. "At least people are gonna think your mom was a narcissist." He laughed to himself and looked back to the schedule. "Well I'll give you a couple days off to get you situated with womanhood. Have fun you three." He winked.

Joan nodded back peevishly, and the turned to lead Darla towards the opposite end of the store where they could talk out of earshot. Just as they got close to the storefront and Joan opened her mouth to speak, there was a loud bang of someone what striking the hood of a car. She turned to look out the window away from Darla. "Shit! Paul!"