When the Stars Align

Gary sat at the kitchen table, one ankle crossed over the other, trying to eat cereal without getting milk on his blouse. The spoon clinked gently against the side of the bowl. He'd learned his lesson the day before: don't fight it, just get dressed in the clothes he had. It wasn't as if he had any options, either. His mother had been thorough, ridding his closet of everything that had even a hint of masculinity, leaving only the most feminine choices for him to wear.

But at least they wouldn't be on his back about his "weird new phase", panicking over whether or not he would be a blight on the family name.

Cold comfort.

The challenge that he had was to continually remind himself that, while he felt uncomfortable in his attire, to the world Gary had always dressed that way. If he wanted to fit in, to be accepted, and Gary always wanted to feel accepted, he had to battle his instincts and step out of the house in clothes he would normally never be caught dead in. And so, with that in mind, he'd dressed intentionally that morning. It would be a warm day, a day he might normally have worn a pair of shorts, and so he'd chosen a navy skirt, almost long enough to reach his knees. He'd accompanied it with a blouse soft and pale pink with a little bow at the collar.

He sighed, spoon halfway to his lips. "This is my life now."

"Morning, Lisa!" his dad said cheerfully, strolling into the kitchen with a travel mug. His mother followed, humming to herself. Neither of them looked twice at him.

Gary blinked. "Morning... What did you just call me?"

"Champ," his dad paused, looked at him sideways, "Sorry, I know you don't like that nickname. I'll try again. Morning, Gary."

"Big day ahead?" his mom asked, rummaging through the cupboards, ignoring that exchange. "You look very sharp. Very handsome. That shirt really brings out your eyes."

Gary stared at her. He glanced down at the soft pink blouse, then back up.

"Uh… thanks."

She smiled, oblivious. "I might have to borrow some of your fashion sense to help your father pack for our trip!"

"Trip?" Gary echoed, confused.

His dad grinned, waving a glossy envelope. "You are not going to believe this, but your mother won a contest from that local radio station—"

"The one that gives away toolboxes and fishing trips?"

"—and somehow, instead of another weekend up north, it's an all-expenses-paid couples' getaway to Banff! Five-star hotel, meals included, spa treatments. The whole shebang."

Gary blinked at them, spoon forgotten. "Wait. You're… leaving?"

"Just for a few days," his mom said, glowing with excitement. "We leave tonight! Isn't that wild? We never win anything. I can't even remember entering, but the station said my name was picked and they already booked everything."

"That's… great! Wow! Banff! I'm happy for you guys."

His dad clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine here, right? Or do you want to crash at Wyatt's while we're gone? It might be nice to have company."

Gary's spoon froze midway to his mouth, the image of Wyatt in her tiny robe flashing in his memory. "Wyatt's?"

"Well sure," his mom said. "You two are always working on those projects together. Besides, I don't want you rattling around in this old house all alone."

Gary's stomach twisted. The thought of staying at Wyatt's—after last night—made something flutter in his chest that he refused to identify.

"Uh, yeah, maybe. If it's okay with Wyatt."

His mom smiled like it was already decided. "Perfect! We'll pack tonight. Oh, and if you could make sure the dishwasher's emptied before we go, that'd be great."

He nodded absently. "Sure thing."

They bustled around the kitchen, talking about spa appointments and mountain views. Gary finished his cereal mechanically. Everything about the morning felt too neat, too arranged. The air even smelled weirdly fresh, like new paint.

When his parents left the room, he looked down at his reflection in the back of the spoon. The warped image of his face blinked back at him—eyes with a haunted quality, the universe conspiring to make changes in his life that he was far from ready to adopt.

"What the hell is happening to me," he muttered.

Still, there was one small bright side. If he stayed at Wyatt's, maybe he could tinker with what they had left of the rig. The parts they'd ordered had somehow become perfume and lingerie, but maybe there was still something salvageable in the old circuitry. Something that could reverse—or at least understand—what had happened.

He set the spoon down, staring into the faint reflection of his warped pink blouse.

"I'm going to fix this," he said quietly, to no one. "I have to."

Outside, a radio played faintly from a neighbour's car—static, then a cheerful voice:

Congratulations to the lucky winner of our surprise sweepstakes! Proof that anything can happen if the stars align!