He is the type of person who regularly lay restless, enclosed and engulfed in his own horrors. Again, again, and again replaying the looks that his coworkers had given him ever since he made the gender transition, thrashing and toying with his mental health. Sanders is the clear plastic wrap that covers a sandwich, people seeing through its purpose so effortlessly, yet the combination of bread and meat would be nothing without it. Frequently, he glances down at himself from in his office, yet glances quicker to make sure no one catches him doing so. Sanders’ view is the round lump that carries the kicking baby feet he feels in his protruding stomach, covered by his suit. This newborn will be his infertile daughter’s one day soon, and the child will cease to be a part of him. He is the type of person whose sentimentality can easily be seen through his actions. He knew what he wanted to do, he wanted to be the male he is, just without changing every part of him. He could not let go of what he once was. He could not let go of her.
Often, he awaits for the first Tuesday of every month to have homeless humans, although he calls them lost souls, over for dinner, just for the reality of having company in his life. When he spontaneously decides to ride public transportation, his seat is only given up to others based on the expression he receives from them. He needs no woman in his life, yet smiles when awaking at 5 am each morning to a recording of a female’s voice that reminds him of his daily tasks to come. He is by far the enter key, but nevertheless will forever envision himself as the caps lock.
Today was unlike any other because he was hoping to be the plus sign. His adopted daughter, Sherry, wished to express her gratitude towards her father for carrying her child, so she took him out to lunch to his favorite place. The two had atypical father daughter relationship. Their bond wasn’t just mutual because Sanders would do just about anything for her. She was the only female company he had in his life. Sherry had chocolate brown eyes and chestnut colored short hair, reminding him nothing of what he used to be. It was here at Wong’s Sushi Bar on 24th Street, where Sherry knelt down to wipe up her father’s spill when it came across her that this liquid was far from tea. It was her father’s water breaking. In that split instance, Sanders fainted and his body flopped onto the floor like the restaurant's month old fish onto the chef’s cutting board. His frail, tan body lay against the cold tile and his slightly grey curls were now atop leftover pieces of rice. The horrid stench, appearance, but decent Japanese food attracted Sanders here in the first place. Although his share of money is plentiful, he felt as if he belonged here.
His mind was gone, so far gone that he was a girl again. Wavy blonde hair brushes over her ocean blue eyes and softly drapes onto her porcelain skin. She is a people pleaser, walking with a slight pep in her step. And oh, her smile, oh boy is it bright. She shows that “slice of heaven”, as the high school boys call it, quite often. Not because she wants to drive them wild, but because her personality made it imperative to. Because her moral and physical beauty is so overpowering, every girl in the whole school loathes her, making it extremely tough for her to keep her positivity high anymore.
Being the people pleaser she was, she did the unimaginable and changed her whole appearance. It wasn’t just the constant intentional isolation from her peers, but countless rumors that teared every inch of her beautiful soul apart. It truly pained her classmates to see her strive in every subject, catch every teacher’s attention, and act in a way that pained them even to dislike her. She was humble though, never thought twice about her accomplishments. In fact she almost felt nothing of herself, but was proud of who she was. It was all until the deep rooted and sinful envy of the girls at school legitimately caused her to change her life. Change it for now and forever. Especially the many years she was planning to live, as a he.
The notes compiled in her locker were more than vicious, but morbid and left her miserable. Almost like receiving tons of coal that overfilled a stocking on Christmas morning, but worse. Only because it wasn’t going to be New Year’s a week later, because for her, there was no fresh start. She wanted one, needed one, but not for her own happiness. Her perfect smile, delicate skin, beautiful blonde hair, and profound blue eyes made her do this. She still loved herself, but she was too much for others to handle. She wasn’t similar to a depressed teenage girl. She just wanted people to be happy with her, all of her. It was a single, slightly crumpled sheet of lined paper that caused her to make this life lasting change. The chicken scratch letters and ripped edges of the note gave away its author was a heartless coward. This anonymous classmate forever changed her life when she decided to write this note. It stated how everyone would be better off if she was a boy. The suggesting comment of everyone being better off pushed her decision into motion. Except that this motion only helped the others, and made them happy. On the inside, she hated her newly changed outsides.
Just as Sanders was about to relive his whole childhood in his brain, his senses began to tingle again and he saw a shape of half black and half blue. The black half was his eyelids, but slowly turned all blue at the sight of the doctor’s scrubs. He had awoken to the sight of a hospital room crammed with doctors, suddenly relieved that he was alive. His initial exclamation pertained to the newly born’s well being. His heart stopped as he saw the relief turn into despair from the men and women in scrubs.
“I’m afraid that your child was unable to make it,”  they cried, struggling to even sound out the words.
Sanders did not speak for a full five minutes, expressionless.
He was frozen all but for a few seconds when he asked, “What was it?”
“A girl, beautiful blonde wisps of hair, ocean blue eyes,” spoke the doctor softly.
He began to walk out of the room to give Sanders time to himself and attempt at processing this new information.
This is when the doctor whispered aloud, “weirdest part, the baby girl seemed to have an impeccable grin. Some glistening smile sure was lost today.”
It was clear to Sanders that his past identity, embodied in this baby girl, was now dead.
In the end, now all he would ever be is the question mark.
Weeks continued to pass, but to Sanders it seemed like the days themselves had reached absolute zero. His restless nights transitioned into motionless mornings and even more pointless hours in the office. Sanders would find his body relying on the mere one hour of sleep he received each night. He hated the thought of admitting the loneliness he felt, to himself. Ever since that very day in the hospital, much was different. He once was the whole cookie, then broken into crumbs. The unspeakable day the baby had passed, the cookie crumbs that Sanders was, were swept right off the lunch table onto the ground. Sanders hoped someone would be his janitor and sweep the crumbs, as he felt he was, somewhere else. This would give them a fresh start.
Most days he felt as though he was not falling apart, but holding together. Which was even worse because no one could see the longing and despair that flooded his soul and ran through the intertwining rollercoasters of his blood. Sanders knew it would be best to start piecing the crumbs of the cookies back together, starting with revisiting Wong’s Sushi Bar. Despite the highly unfortunate event that occurred after he last went, he felt compelled to fulfill his longing of decent Japanese food and a sense of connectivity to his daughter. After the horrible day, Sanders’ relentless calls and numerous letters to Sherry, went unanswered, but so did most things in his life.
He slowly opened the cold metal door and the wretched scent of raw fish came over him, as it was already embedded in his mind. Again, he felt like he belonged here. Sanders took less than five steps following his server, with his head down as usual,  when a familiar presence startled him. It was Sherry, but to his surprise, it was the woman she was with that truly started him. She was the most gorgeous specimen he had ever laid eyes on. He could not even fathom the feelings her beauty gave him. He felt an instant attraction to her. Maybe it was because her beautiful blonde hair stretched past her porcelain skin, to about shoulder length. Maybe it was her deeper than ocean blue eyes that melted him into what he felt to be the cookie dough. The crumb, he once was, was now replenished into cookie dough. Soft, vulnerable, and ready to be made into something even better.
She must have noticed his blank stare because she giggled, opening her mouth to a brighter than life smile. Sanders knew he couldn’t let this go because he needed to have her, all of her. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do, or at least he thought, until Sherry finally spoke.
“Hi,” she spoke softly and hesitantly.
He was only acknowledging her presence to ask,  “Who is this with you?”
“This is Karen, she is my biological mother.”
Sanders knew that Sherry would never allow him to pursue her biological mother. He could not even feel the sharp pain of neglect that Sherry caused him for the time she had shut him out after the death of the baby. He did not care. He was still in this moment. It did not matter to him that she would be upset, that the shaggy carpet had a full California Roll buried in it, that there was a poisoning smell of Mai Tais to the table to the left, or even the fact that he once was a girl. His whole life he was selfless, but that changed now. He stared at her silky blonde locks, her blue raspberry slushie colored eyes, and her shining smile.
Just like eating an oatmeal cookie, it was a pleasant surprise finding a chocolate chip. He must have hit one of these chocolate chips, especially one that corresponded to his courage.
Causing Sherry’s jaw to drop, Sanders spoke, “Karen, it is quite a pleasure to meet you. May I apologize for my prolonging of introducing myself. Your beauty was truly startling.”
Her cheeks becoming a pale pink, she said, “Oh my, thank you, you are too kind. It is very nice to meet you, too. Sherry was just telling me about you.”                The number of irrelevant fortune cookie messages from the Japanese bar couldn’t even compare to the number of thoughts flooding his head. Karen must have noticed the concerned expression on his face because she began to speak again.
“Sanders, all good things I have heard. In fact, I would like to get to know you more. You are the father of my daughter. Why don’t you come over tomorrow night.”
By now his face was stuck. It wanted to beam through the cheap ceiling panels of Wong’s Sushi Bar, yet wanted to drop deeper than the cracked tiles. His response was bland, but underneath were more emotions than he could take.
“That would be nice,” said Sanders as he felt Sherry’s eyes glued to him in disgust.
    The next night Sanders dressed himself in his best clothing. Dark brown corduroys, a burnt orange and cream checkered button up, and chestnut suede shoes. His slightly grey curls appeared to look better than on an ordinary day. A tiny amount of wispy chest hair peeped out from his button up, which gave him a sense of manliness. He started his engine and for the first time, he smelt the gas, he felt the stickiness of the steering wheel, and heard the 70’s rock music playing. He was aware of his surroundings and he felt grounded. He was alive. He enjoyed the fact that Steven Tyler was motivating him the whole ride to Karen’s house. He felt like he could “dream on.” When he arrived, he was unsure what to expect.
His knock on the door was hard, almost forceful, but meant to be eager. When she opened the door, her gorgeous blonde hair draped over her apron. He liked how she looked, a lot. Before he could walk in, a smell overtook him. It was unfamiliar, almost foreign. It made him feel whole, complete, finished.
As he tried to place this scent, Karen spoke, “Come on in, I just baked us some cookies.”
Right before he entered, he thought to himself. He was the period.