A Man Discovered 10 Years Later That His Wife Was A Man, And Immediately Shot Her
…
It all started 3 weeks ago when a pipe burst in the basement of their house.
Bert went downstairs to assess the damage and found that the water had soaked several cardboard boxes in the far corner.
They were Alex’s boxes.
She had brought them when they moved and hadn’t touched them since.
“What’s going on?” Alex asked when she heard the noise in the basement.
The boxes got wet.
“I need to see what we can salvage,” Bert replied.
“I’ll take care of it,” she said quickly.
But Bert had already opened one of the boxes.
Inside were ordinary things, old photographs, letters, documents, but something about Alex’s reaction alarmed him.
She went down to the basement and nervously took the box from his hands.
“They’re just old memories, nothing important,” she said, but her voice was shaking.
That night, Bert couldn’t sleep for a long time.
In 10 years of marriage, he had grown accustomed to his wife’s reticence, her unwillingness to talk about the past.
He knew that she had grown up in a foster family, that she had no close relatives, that she preferred not to remember her childhood.
That explained a lot.
Her caution, her desire for privacy, her reluctance to draw attention to herself.
But the way she reacted to the boxes was something new.
In her eyes, he saw not just sadness or a reluctance to stir up the past.
He saw fear.
The next day, after Alex left for work, Bert went back down to the basement.
The boxes were gone.
He searched the entire basement, the attic, the garage.
They were nowhere to be found.
Alex had thrown them out or hidden them so that he couldn’t find them.
“Where are the boxes?” he asked at dinner that evening.
“What boxes?” Alex didn’t look up from her plate.
The ones that got wet in the basement.
Oh, those.
I threw them out.
They were just old papers that were getting soggy anyway.
Bert nodded, but something in her tone told him she was lying.
In 10 years of marriage, he couldn’t remember Alex ever lying to him.
She might have evaded questions or changed the subject, but she had never lied outright.
Since then, he had begun to notice things he hadn’t noticed before.
The way Alex quickly turned off the computer when he entered the room.
The way she avoided talking about her childhood even more than usual.
The way she flinched when he unexpectedly touched her shoulder.
In the workshop, Bert tried to concentrate on his work, but his thoughts kept returning to his wife.
“Tommy Rodriguez, the local sheriff’s deputy and one of the few people Bert considered a close friend, noticed his distraction.
You seem out of it lately, Tommy said, walking into the workshop during his lunch break.
Problems at home.
Bert looked up from the engine he was working on.
Everything’s fine, just a lot of work.
Tommy was 5 years younger than Bert, but they had become friends almost immediately after the Jackson’s moved to Madisonville.
Tommy was one of those people who got along easily with everyone, and his job with the police meant that he knew almost everything that was going on in town.
You know, if something’s wrong, you can tell me,” Tommy said, sitting down on a stool.
“We’re friends.
” Bert wanted to tell him about his suspicions, about Alex’s strange behavior, about the boxes that had disappeared.
But what could he say? That his wife had hidden boxes of old photographs, that she didn’t like to talk about the past.
It sounded ridiculous.
“Everything’s fine,” he repeated.
“Maybe I’m just tired.
” That evening at dinner, Alex was particularly quiet.
She had cooked his favorite dish, roast with vegetables, but she hardly touched her food.
“How’s work?” Bird asked, trying to make conversation.
“Fine, lots of reports to finish by the end of the month.
” “How’s Linda? She just got married, didn’t she?” “Yes, she did.
” Alex got up from the table.
“Excuse me, I need to sort out some documents for tomorrow.
” She went into their bedroom and closed the door.
Bert remained sitting at the kitchen table, staring at his uneaten dinner.
Something was definitely wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.
Later, when he went to bed, Alex was already asleep, turned away from him.
This had been common in recent years of their marriage.
They slept in the same bed, but it felt like there was an invisible wall between them.
Bert lay in the dark, listening to his wife’s steady breathing, thinking about how little he knew about her.
In 10 years of marriage, she had told him only the basic facts of her life, that she had grown up in foster homes, that she had no relatives, that she preferred not to talk about the past.
He had accepted this as a given as part of her character.
Many people don’t like to talk about a difficult childhood.
But now, her secrecy seemed to him to be something more than just a reluctance to remember.
It was as if she was hiding something, and that thought wouldn’t leave him alone.
A week had passed since the boxes disappeared.
And Bert couldn’t get it out of his head.
He watched his wife with new attention, noticing details he had previously taken for granted.
The way she always took showers with the door closed.
The way she never changed clothes in front of him.
The way she avoided medical exams, citing good health.
On Monday morning, as he was seeing Alex off to work, he noticed that she had put an envelope in her purse.
When he asked her about it, she said it was just bills to pay, but Bert saw her hand tremble as she closed her purse.
He was distracted all day at the workshop.
He almost cut himself twice while working with metal.
And by lunchtime, he realized he couldn’t ignore his suspicions any longer.
“Tom, I need some advice,” he said when Tommy Rodriguez came in after lunch.
“Sure, shoot,” Tommy said, sitting down in his usual spot on the stool and opening a can of Coke.
If you suspected your wife was hiding something, what would you do? Tommy raised an eyebrow.
Depends on what she’s hiding.
Secret shopping trips or something more serious.
I don’t know.
That’s the problem.
Bert put down his wrench and turned to his friend.
She’s always been secretive about her past, but lately, Tom, she’s been acting like she’s afraid of something.
Afraid of what? Me? That I’ll find out something.
Bert ran his hand over his face.
Sounds stupid, doesn’t it? Tommy looked at him intently.
In 5 years of friendship, he had never seen Bert like this.
Usually calm and collected, he now looked exhausted and confused.
Maybe you should talk to her.
Just ask her what’s going on.
I tried.
She changes the subject or just walks away.
Bert clenched his fists.
10 years, Tom.
We’ve lived together for 10 years, and sometimes I feel like I don’t know her at all.
After Tommy left, Bert thought about their conversation for a long time.
Maybe he was really getting himself worked up.
Maybe Alex was just having a hard time at work or had health problems she didn’t want to talk about.
But then, why hide old documents? That evening, he decided to try a different approach.
As they sat in the living room, Alex reading a book and him watching the news, he cautiously brought up the subject.
You know, I was thinking that we haven’t gone anywhere together in a long time.
Maybe we should go somewhere for the weekend.
Alex looked up from her book.
Where? I don’t know.
The mountains, the lake, or we could visit your family.
I don’t have a family.
Her voice was cold.
You know that? Well, your adoptive family then.
You grew up somewhere.
Alex closed her book and stood up.
I don’t want to talk about it.
Why? In 10 years, you’ve never told me where you lived before we met.
I don’t even know what city you were born in.
It’s not important.
She headed for the stairs.
It matters to me.
Bert’s voice was louder than he intended.
I’m your husband, Alex.
Don’t I have a right to know about your past? She stopped on the first step without turning around.
Some things are better left in the past.
What things? There was a long pause.
Then Alex went upstairs and soon Bert heard the bedroom door slam shut.
The next day, Bert made a decision that changed everything.
He couldn’t live in ignorance any longer.
If Alex didn’t want to talk, he would find the answers himself.
He remembered that when they first moved to Madisonville, Alex had immediately gone to Dr. Hayes to get a medical record.
Robert Hayes was the only general practitioner in town, and almost all the residents went to him.
If anyone had any records of Alex’s past, it was him.
Bert had never been particularly ill, so he knew Dr. Hayes only superficially.
He knew that he was about 55, that he had moved to Madisonville at about the same time as they had, and that he kept somewhat aloof from town life.
He was a tall, graying man with attentive eyes behind thin- rimmed glasses.
On Wednesday afternoon, citing headaches, Bert made an appointment to see Dr. Hayes.
The doctor’s office was located in a small medical center on Second Street, a block from downtown.
Mr.
Jackson, Dr. Hayes rose from his desk as Bert entered the office.
What seems to be the problem? Headaches.
I’ve been getting headaches a lot lately.
The doctor performed a standard examination, checked his blood pressure, and asked a few questions about his symptoms.
Bert answered mechanically, thinking all the time about how to bring up Alex.
Stress can cause headaches, Dr. Hayes said as he returned to his desk.
Are you having any problems at home or at work? Here it was, Bert took a deep breath.
Yes, there are some difficulties at home with my wife.
He watched the doctor’s reaction closely.
Alex has been acting strangely lately.
I’m worried about her health.
Dr. Hayes froze, his pen suspended over the prescription pad.
For a moment, something like alarm flashed in his eyes, but he quickly regained his composure.
In what way, strange? She’s become very nervous.
Avoids conversation.
Maybe she needs help, psychological or medical.
A long pause.
Dr. Hayes took off his glasses and rubbed them, clearly playing for time.
Mr.
Jackson, I can’t discuss medical information about other patients, even if it’s your wife.
If you’re concerned about her health, suggest she come see me herself.
But you know her.
You’ve been her doctor all these years.
Yes, but Dr. Hayes.
Bert leaned forward.
I can see you know something.
I can see it in your eyes.
Please, I just want to help my wife.
The doctor looked at him for a long time and Bert could see an internal struggle going on in his head.
Finally, Dr. Hayes stood up and walked over to the window.
Mr.
Jackson.
Some people move to small towns to start a new life.
They want to leave their past behind and live in peace.
Sometimes it’s better not to ask too many questions.
What do you mean? The doctor turned to him.
Your wife is a good person.
She hasn’t hurt anyone.
Perhaps you should just accept her for who she is.
But what is she hiding? I can’t tell you that.
The doctor’s voice became firmer.
And I won’t.
Your headache prescription will be ready in a minute.
Bert realized he would get nowhere, but now he was sure that Dr. Hayes knew Alex’s secret, and that secret was serious enough for the doctor to break his professional confidentiality and effectively warned Bert not to dig any deeper.
On the way home, Bert’s thoughts raced between anger and confusion.
What could Alex’s past be that even a doctor felt the need to protect her? A criminal record, mental illness, or something even worse? A surprise awaited him at home.
Alex was standing in the kitchen preparing dinner and looked more relaxed than she had in weeks.
“Hi,” she said, even smiling.
“How’s it going at the workshop?” “Fine.
” Bert sat down at the table, studying her face intently.
“How was your day?” “Good.
I finished a big report that I’ve been struggling with for a week.
” She placed a plate of spaghetti in front of him.
“Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday about being so harsh.
I understand that you’re worried.
Bert was alert.
Apologies like this were not like Alex.
Usually after an argument, she just pretended nothing had happened.
It’s okay, he said cautiously.
It’s just that my childhood wasn’t the happiest.
Foster homes moving around.
I’d rather not think about it.
She sat down across from him.
But you’re right.
I should tell you more.
We’re husband and wife.
Bert nodded, but something in her words sounded rehearsed, like a memorized speech.
He remembered Dr. Hayes’s warning that some people come to small towns to start a new life.
“Where did you live before we met?” he asked.
“Cincinnati.
” “I worked at a small accounting firm,” she began to eat without looking up.
“I rented an apartment in the north end of town.
Nothing special.
” “And your family? Adoptive parents?” A short pause.
They died when I was 25.
Car accident.
Bert nodded but noticed how she clenched her fork.
Even if it was true, something didn’t add up in her story.
It was too convenient that everyone who could tell him about her past was dead.
The rest of the evening passed in a tense atmosphere of feigned calm.
Alex even suggested they watch a movie together, something they hadn’t done in months.
But Bert saw how she nervously tugged at the edge of the pillow, how she glanced at him frequently as if trying to figure out if he believed her.
Before going to bed, when Alex went to the bathroom, Bert quickly checked her purse.
The envelope he had seen that morning was gone.
Instead, he found a receipt from the post office.
She had sent a registered letter, but the addressy was listed only by the initials DM.
When Alex returned, he was already lying in bed pretending to be asleep.
She stood by the bed for a long time looking at him and Bert could feel her gaze.
Then she lay down quietly beside him, but he knew she wasn’t asleep.
They lay in the dark, each pretending to be asleep, each thinking their own thoughts.
Bert thought about Dr. Hayes, about Alex’s strange reactions, about the registered letter.
Alex thought about how long she could hide the truth and what would happen when Bert found out everything.
The next morning, Bert woke up with a firm decision.
He couldn’t live in ignorance any longer.
If Alex didn’t tell him the truth, he would find it out himself.
He had connections in the city, friends, and the police.
Tommy could help with checking documents if necessary.
But first, he would try to talk to his wife again.
He would give her one last chance to tell him everything herself.
Because despite all his suspicions and fears, he still loved her.
and he hoped that whatever the truth was, they could get through it together.
He didn’t yet know how wrong he was.
Friday began as usual, but for Bert, it was the day he had mentally designated as the day of truth.
He could no longer live in limbo, not knowing who the woman he had shared his bed with for the last 10 years really was.
In the morning, as he was seeing Alex off to work, he noticed that she had taken an envelope with her again.
This time, he didn’t ask, but decided to follow her.
Half an hour after she left, he closed the workshop on the pretext of going to get some spare parts and drove into the city center.
Alex was standing near the post office, looking around nervously.
Bert parked across the street and watched.
She went inside, stayed there for about 10 minutes, and when she came out, she looked even more distraught.
As soon as she was out of sight, Bert went to the post office.
Clark Simmons, the local postmaster, had known him for many years.
Hi, Bert.
What can I do for you? Hi, Clark.
Listen, my wife was here sending a letter.
Do you remember if she said it was urgent? We had a fight and I’m wondering if it has anything to do with that letter.
Clark shook his head sympathetically.
I know how that is.
Yes, she was here about 10 minutes ago.
She was very nervous.
She sent it express mail to Cleveland.
It’s expensive, but she said it was very urgent.
Cleveland, so not Cincinnati.
As she had said about her past, Bert thanked Clark and returned to the workshop, but he couldn’t work.
His thoughts revolved around one thing.
What could be in that letter and who were DM in Cleveland? By lunchtime, he had made up his mind.
He had to talk to Tommy.
If anyone could help check documents or find information about a person’s past, it was the sheriff’s deputy.
Tommy arrived at the workshop around noon as usual.
But this time, Bert didn’t beat around the bush.
Tom, I need your help as a cop.
Tommy raised an eyebrow.
What’s going on? I think my wife isn’t who she says she is.
What do you mean? Bert told him about the boxes, Alex’s strange behavior, his conversation with Dr. Hayes, and the letters to Cleveland.
Tommy listened silently, nodding from time to time.
I know this sounds paranoid, Bert concluded.
But something’s not right here.
Something’s very wrong.
Tommy was silent for a moment, thinking about what he had heard.
You know, there are a few ways to check someone out.
You can look at their social security records, credit history, registration information, but you need grounds to do that.
What grounds? Suspicion of a crime, or a missing person report? Tommy looked at his friend.
Bert, are you sure you want to know this? Sometimes the truth is worse than ignorance.
I can’t go on not knowing.
Tommy nodded.
Okay.
Give me her full name, date of birth, everything you know.
I’ll see what I can find.
But unofficially, you understand.
Bert dictated all the information he could remember about Alex.
Alexandra Jane Smith.
Before she married, Alex had a fairly common surname.
She was born, according to her, on March 15th, 1986 in Dayton.
Smith.
Tommy grunted.
A convenient surname for someone who wants to remain inconspicuous.
Give me a day or two.
Bert spent the rest of the day in agonizing anticipation.
In the evening, Alex was particularly quiet at dinner.
She caught his eye several times and quickly looked away.
“Everything okay?” she finally asked.
“Yes, just tired.
” “Bert.
” She paused as if gathering her courage.
If you found out something unexpected about me, would you forgive me? Bert’s heart skipped a beat.
What do you mean? Just hypothetically, if it turned out that I’m not quite who I say I am.
He looked at her intently.
Alex, what’s going on? What are you talking about? She shook her head.
Never mind.
Silly thoughts, but it was too late to back down.
No, tell me.
What did you mean? A long pause.
Alex stared at her plate and Bert could see her struggling with herself.
“We all wear masks,” she said finally.
“We pretend to be who we want to be, not who we were born to be.
” “Alex, you’re scaring me.
” She looked up and he saw so much pain in her eyes that he forgot his suspicions for a moment.
“I didn’t mean to deceive you,” she whispered.
“But some things are hard to explain.
” “Try,” another long pause.
Then Alex got up from the table.
I’m not ready.
I’m sorry.
On Saturday morning, Tommy called early.
We need to talk.
Not on the phone.
They met at a small cafe on the outskirts of town where no one knew them.
Tommy looked worried.
Bert, what I found is serious.
Go ahead.
Tommy took out a folder.
There is no Alexander Jane Smith with these details.
At least not the one you told me about.
Bert felt his breath catch in his throat.
What do you mean? The social security number she gave when she was hired belongs to a girl who died as an infant in 1987 in Dayton.
A classic way to create a false identity.
My god, that’s not all.
Tommy opened the folder.
I checked the marriage records.
You got married here in Madisonville 10 years ago.
Alex provided an Ohio driver’s license in the name of Alexandra Smith, but that license was issued just a month before your wedding.
Bert stared at the documents, unable to believe his eyes.
So, I don’t even know her real name.
It looks like it, but there’s more.
Tommy pulled out another sheet.
I checked the medical records.
When she came to Dr. Hayes 10 years ago, she brought a medical chart from a clinic in Cleveland.
Cleveland? That’s where she’s been sending her letters.
Exactly.
The clinic is called the Dr. Daniel Marovich Center for Gender Medicine.
Bert didn’t understand right away.
Gender medicine.
Tommy sighed heavily.
Bert, it’s a clinic that specializes in helping transgender people.
Hormone therapy.
Surgery.
The words hung in the air.
Bert looked at Tommy, not understanding what he was trying to tell him.
What does that mean? I think.
Tommy paused.
I think your wife was born a man.
The world around Bert seemed to stop.
The sounds of the cafe became distant and muffled.
He looked at the documents, but the letters blurred before his eyes.
That’s impossible, he whispered.
Bert, that’s impossible, he repeated louder.
We’ve been together for 10 years.
I would have known.
Modern medicine can work wonders.
Hormones, surgery.
A person can completely change their appearance.
Bert stood up from the table so abruptly that his cup fell to the floor and shattered.
Other patrons turned around, but he didn’t notice.
No, no.
This is some kind of mistake.
Bert, sit down.
Let’s talk about this calmly.
But Bert was already heading for the exit.
He needed to go home.
He needed to look Alex in the eyes and hear that it was all a lie.
That Tommy was wrong, that the documents were forged.
At home, he found Alex in the garden weeding the flower bed.
When she saw his face, she immediately knew that something had happened.
Bert, what happened? He stood in the doorway looking at the woman he had loved for 10 years, slender, graceful, with soft features and long hair.
How could he not have known? How could he not have seen? “Who are you?” he asked quietly.
Alex slowly got up, brushing her hands off the ground.
He could see everything in her eyes.
Fear, despair, and guilt.
“Bert, who are you?” he repeated louder.
What’s your real name? She took a step back.
Please, let’s talk.
10 years? He shouted.
10 years you lied to me.
Every day, every night.
I didn’t want to.
You’re a man.
The words came out of him like a knife.
You were born a man.
Alex turned pale and grabbed the fence to keep from falling.
It’s not that simple, she whispered.
It’s not what you think.
Then explain.
Explain to me how I could live with someone for 10 years and not know who he was.
Tears streamed down her face.
I’m a woman, Bert.
I’ve always been a woman.
I was just born in the wrong body.
Don’t you dare.
He barked.
Don’t you dare make excuses.
You lied to me.
I was afraid of losing you.
And you thought lying was the best way.
Alex sank down onto the garden bench, sobbing.
When we met, I had already been living as a woman for 5 years.
I had undergone all the surgeries, taken hormones.
I was a woman.
Bert looked at her and a wave of rage he had never felt before rose in his chest.
What was your name before? It doesn’t matter.
What was your name? A long pause.
Alexander.
Alexander Smith.
Alexander.
Alex.
Even the name was a lie.
Just a shortened version of a man’s name.
How old are you really? 39.
That’s true.
What else is true? What else did you tell me that wasn’t a lie? Alex looked up at him with tearfilled eyes.
My feelings for you.
My love.
It was all true.
Love.
Bert laughed bitterly.
What kind of love can be built on lies? Bert, please let me explain.
Explain what? how you played a role for 10 years.
How you lay in bed with me every night knowing that I didn’t know who you were.
I’m the same woman you fell in love with.
No, he shouted.
That woman doesn’t exist.
She never did.
He turned and walked into the house.
Alex ran after him.
Bert, where are you going? He went up to the bedroom and started taking things out of the closet.
I’m packing a bag.
I need time to think.
Don’t go.
Please, let’s talk.
Talk about what? He threw his shirts into the bag.
About how you cheated on me.
About how our marriage is a sham.
Our marriage is real.
I love you.
Bert stopped and slowly turned to her.
There was something in his eyes that made Alex step back.
You’re disgusting, he said quietly.
You stole 10 years of my life.
Bert, don’t come near me.
He finished gathering his things and headed for the door.
He stopped at the threshold without turning around.
When I come back, you won’t be here.
The door slammed shut and Alex was left alone in the house she had called home for 10 years.
Bert spent the weekend in a motel on the outskirts of a neighboring town, but he hardly slept at all.
He lay on the hard mattress, staring at the ceiling, his brain refusing to accept reality.
10 years of marriage, 10 years of intimacy with a person he didn’t know at all.
He searched his memory for moments from their life together, trying to find signs he should have noticed.
How Alex avoided getting undressed in front of him.
How she always took showers alone.
How they never had sex with the lights on.
He had chocked it up to modesty to her conservative upbringing.
What a blind fool he had been.
On Monday morning, he returned to Madisonville.
The house seemed strangely quiet.
Alex’s car wasn’t in the driveway.
Bert went inside and found a note on the kitchen table.
Bert, I’ve gone to stay with a friend in Cleveland.
I’ll give you time to think.
Please don’t make any rash decisions.
What we had was real.
Alex.
He crumpled up the note and threw it in the trash.
A friend in Cleveland.
Another lie.
Alex didn’t have any friends.
In 10 years, he couldn’t remember a single person she had called a close friend.
It was impossible to work in the workshop.
His hands were shaking.
His thoughts were jumbled.
By lunchtime, he realized he couldn’t be alone with his thoughts.
He needed to talk to someone.
Tommy came over as soon as Bert called.
“How are you?” he asked, studying his friend’s face.
“I couldn’t be worse.
” Bert looked like he had aged 10 years over the weekend.
She confessed.
“It’s all true.
” Tommy sat down on a stool.
Damn, Bert.
I’m sorry.
You know what the worst part is? I still love her.
or rather, I love the woman she pretended to be.
Bert ran his hands over his face.
How is that possible? How can you love someone who doesn’t exist? I don’t know, buddy.
I’ve never dealt with anything like this before.
She said she’d always been a woman, just born in the wrong body.
Maybe I should try to understand.
Tommy looked at his friend intently.
Can you understand? Bert was silent for a long time.
I don’t know.
I need time.
But first, I want to know the whole truth.
Who she really is? Where she came from? What else she was hiding? I can help with the investigation, but but what? Bert, have you thought about what you’re going to do next? If you decide you can’t forgive her, divorce, I guess.
What else? Tommy nodded, but something in his expression alarmed Bert.
Tom, what do you think about all this? Honestly, Tommy paused, choosing his words carefully.
You know, in the police force, we sometimes come across cases like this.
Transgender people, gender reassignment.
Usually, they just want to live in peace.
So, you think I’m wrong to be angry? That’s not what I meant.
She didn’t hurt anyone.
She didn’t steal or kill.
She just wanted to be a woman at my expense.
Bert exploded.
She lied to me for 10 years.
Yes, that’s true.
Tom, whose side are you on? Yours, of course.
You’re my friend.
I just think the situation is more complicated than it seems.
After Tommy left, Bert felt even more alone.
Even his best friend didn’t seem to understand him completely.
Maybe no one could understand what it was like to discover that your life had been a lie.
That evening, he drove to Dr. Hayes’s house.
The medical center was already closed, but Bert knew where the doctor lived.
in a small house near the center of town.
Dr. Hayes opened the door in his house clothes and didn’t seem surprised to see Bert.
Mr.
Jackson, I was expecting you.
You knew, didn’t you? All these years.
The doctor nodded and invited him in.
Come in.
I think we have something to talk about.
They sat down in a small living room.
Dr. Hayes took off his glasses and wiped them, a habitual gesture when he was nervous.
Yes, I knew from the beginning.
and you kept quiet.
Dr. patient confidentiality, Mr.
Jackson, I wasn’t allowed to say anything.
Even when I asked you directly, especially then.
The doctor looked at him.
Alex came to me 10 years ago with a complete set of medical records.
She had completed her transition a year before moving here.
All the surgeries, hormone therapy, everything was done professionally.
So, you approved of her deception? I didn’t approve or disapprove.
I just did my job.
monitored her health.
Dr. Hayes put his glasses back on.
Mr.
Jackson, Alex isn’t a bad person.
She just wanted to live a normal life.
Normal? You call lying a normal life? For people like her, sometimes it’s the only way.
The doctor paused.
Do you know how many transgender people are discriminated against, abused, even murdered, especially in small towns like ours? That doesn’t justify lying.
Maybe not, but it explains it.
Bert stood up.
Where is she now? I don’t know.
And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.
Is she your patient? Yes.
And I’m worried about her.
She’s been in a very fragile state for the last few weeks.
She was afraid you’d find out the truth.
She should have thought about that before.
Dr. Hayes walked him to the door.
Mr.
Jackson, whatever you decide to do next, remember that Alex is a human being, too.
She’s suffering just as much as you are.
On Tuesday, Alex still wasn’t home.
Bert tried to work, but his clients noticed his distraction.
By evening, he couldn’t take it anymore and drove to the police station to see Tommy.
Can you check where she is? Which hotel is she staying at? Tommy reluctantly agreed.
An hour later, he called back.
The Cleveland Plaza Hotel, room 412.
But Bert, why do you need this? I want to talk to her.
Get to the bottom of this.
Maybe you should wait.
Give yourself some time to cool off.
I can’t wait.
I need answers.
On Wednesday morning, Bert drove to Cleveland.
The trip took an hour and a half, and the whole time he rehearsed what he would say to Alex.
Questions swirled in his head.
Why did she choose him? Had she ever planned to tell him the truth.
Was there anything else she was hiding? The hotel was modest, but decent, located in the business district of the city.
Bert went up to the fourth floor and knocked on room 412.
Alex opened the door and he saw that she had been crying.
Her eyes were red, her face gaunt.
She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days.
Bert.
Her voice trembled.
How did you find me? It doesn’t matter.
Can I come in? She stepped aside, letting him into the small room.
The bed was covered with scattered clothes and empty takeout boxes stood on the table.
I didn’t think you’d come, she said.
I need answers.
Alex sat down on the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around herself.
Ask why me? Why did you choose me to cheat on? She flinched as if he had hit her.
It wasn’t planned.
We just met and I fell in love in that bar in Toledo.
Yes, you were so kind, attentive.
You didn’t try to get me into bed right away like other men.
Bert laughed bitterly.
Now I see why.
Bert, please.
How many others were there before me? Alex blushed.
No one.
You were the first.
The first you ever cheated on? The first one I ever loved.
Tears streamed down her face again.
Bert, I know I did the wrong thing, but my feelings for you were real.
Real? He moved closer.
What was real about you lying to me every day? About our intimacy being a sham? It wasn’t a sham.
No.
Bert grabbed her by the shoulders.
Then tell me, what did you feel when we made love? When I said I wanted children? When I imagined us growing old together? Alex sobbed.
I felt happy.
For the first time in my life, I felt truly happy.
At my expense.
I was going to tell you.
When? In 10 years? 20? I don’t know.
I was afraid of losing you.
Bert let go of her and walked over to the window.
Beyond the glass were the gray buildings of Cleveland, as faceless as his life now seemed to him.
You know what the worst part is? He said without turning around.
I still can’t believe it’s true.
When I look at you, I see the woman I fell in love with.
And at the same time, I know it’s an illusion.
It’s not an illusion.
I’m a woman, Bert, in every sense but the biological.
He turned sharply.
biological sense is the only sense that matters.
Why? Why are chromosomes more important than how I feel? More important than our 10 years together.
Because you lied to me.
Because I had a right to know.
Alex stood up and walked over to him.
Okay, now you know what next.
Bert looked at her and didn’t know what to say.
Anger fought with pain, disgust with the remnants of love.
I don’t know, he said finally.
We can try to start over now that there are no secrets between us.
Are you kidding? No.
She took his hand.
Bert, I’m the same woman you fell in love with.
Nothing has changed.
He pulled his hand away.
Everything has changed.
Only in your head.
In my head? Bert felt the rage rising again.
You think it’s just prejudice? What else could it be? Alex, you were born a man.
You have male chromosomes, male DNA.
No amount of surgery can change that.
My DNA doesn’t define who I am as a person.
It does to me.
They stood facing each other, a gulf between them that seemed impossible to bridge.
So, it’s over? Alex asked quietly.
Bert wanted to say yes, but the word stuck in his throat.
He looked at the woman he had loved for 10 years and couldn’t understand what he was feeling.
I don’t know, he repeated.
Bert, if you leave now, it’s really over.
Do you understand that? He nodded.
I understand.
And you’re willing to do that? Throw away 10 years of our lives? You threw them away before I did.
The moment you decided to lie.
Alex sank into a chair as if all her strength had left her.
So, we’ve reached a dead end.
It looks like it.
There was a long silence.
Then, Alex looked up.
What will you tell people in town? I don’t know.
probably that we just weren’t right for each other.
And the truth, Bert thought about how his neighbors would react, how people would look at him in church and in stores.
He thought about how Tommy and his other friends would react to the news that he had lived with a transgender woman for 10 years without even knowing it.
“No, I won’t tell anyone the truth.
” Alex nodded.
“Thank you.
It’s not for you.
It’s for yourself.
” He headed for the door but stopped at the threshold.
Alex.
Yes.
What was your name when you were a child before you became Alexander? She paused.
Andy.
Andrew Smith.
Andy.
A simple name for a simple boy who grew up to be a woman named Alex.
Bert nodded and left.
In the elevator, he felt like he was suffocating.
The walls seemed too close, the air too thick.
When the doors opened, he ran out into the lobby and was only able to breathe normally once he was outside.
The drive back to Madisonville was a blur.
Bert didn’t remember how he got home.
He sat in his car in the driveway and looked at the house where he had lived for 10 years with a woman who didn’t exist.
His phone rang.
Tommy.
Well, did you talk to her? Yes.
And it’s over.
Tom, I’m sorry, buddy.
Do you want me to come over? We can sit and have a beer.
No thanks.
I need to be alone.
He turned off his phone and went inside.
There were signs of Alex’s presents everywhere.
Her books on the shelves, photos of them together on the tables, her coffee cup in the sink.
It was as if she had just gone to the store and would be back soon, but she wouldn’t be coming back ever.
Bert went up to his bedroom and lay down on the bed without undressing.
He lay there in the dark thinking about how he would have to build a new life for himself.
Starting over at 42.
But before he could start a new life, he had to finish the old one.
On Thursday morning, Alex came home.
Bert saw her car from the workshop window and felt his heart beat faster.
He hadn’t expected her to come back.
After their conversation at the hotel, he thought everything had been said.
During his lunch break, he went home.
Alex was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea.
She looked determined, not at all broken like she had been yesterday.
Hi, she said.
What are you doing here? This is my home, too.
Not after what happened.
Alex stood up.
Bert, I thought a lot last night.
You’re right.
I should have told you the truth from the beginning.
But I didn’t.
And now we have to move on somehow.
We don’t have to do anything.
It’s over between us.
It doesn’t have to be.
She moved closer.
People deal with more complicated problems than this.
We can try.
Bert shook his head.
No, we can’t.
Why? Because your male ego can’t handle it.
What? You heard me.
The problem isn’t that I’m trans.
The problem is that you feel like you’ve been cheated on.
You think it somehow diminishes your masculinity.
Bert felt his face flush.
You have no right.
I do.
I was your wife for 10 years.
We were happy for 10 years.
And now you’re willing to throw it all away because of what happened before we met.
You lied to me and you never cheated on me.
Never hid anything important.
Bert was confused.
That’s different.
How? I never lied about who I am.
Who are you, Bert? Alex crossed her arms over her chest.
The kind, understanding man you’ve pretended to be all these years, or the narrow-minded transphobe you’ve just revealed yourself to be.
Don’t you dare.
Don’t dare what? Tell the truth.
You can, but I can’t.
Bert took a step toward her, and something in his movement made Alex step back.
Get out of my house, he said quietly.
This is my house, too.
Not anymore.
They stood facing each other, the tension between them almost palpable.
In Bert’s eyes, Alex saw something she had never seen before.
Something dark and dangerous.
“Fine,” she said finally, “but first, I need to pack my things.
” “You have an hour.
” Alex went up to her bedroom, and soon Bert heard the sounds of drawers opening and clothes rustling.
He sat in the living room and listened to his life being dismantled.
Half an hour later, she came downstairs with two suitcases.
Bert.
He didn’t answer.
Bert, look at me.
He looked up.
Alex stood in the doorway, holding something small and shiny in her hand.
I want you to know that I’ve never regretted our years together.
Not even now.
She placed something on the coffee table, her wedding ring.
Goodbye, Bert.
She headed for the door, but stopped at the threshold.
And one more thing, when I left on Monday, I thought about killing myself.
But then I realized, I have a right to live.
I have a right to be happy, and I won’t let you or anyone else convince me otherwise.
The door closed, and Bert was left alone.
He sat in silence, staring at the gold ring on the table.
10 years ago, he had put it on the finger of the woman he loved.
Now, that woman was gone, and he wasn’t sure she had ever existed.
That evening, the phone rang.
It was Tommy.
I saw Alex left.
How are you? I’m fine, Bert.
Maybe you should talk to someone, a priest or a psychologist.
I’ll be fine.
Are you sure? Bert looked at the ring on the table.
Yes, I’m sure.
3 days had passed since Alex had left for good.
Bert had hardly slept or eaten, mechanically going through the motions at his workshop.
Neighbors began to notice his strange behavior and Alex’s absence.
Where’s your wife?” asked Mrs.
Clark, who lived next door when she saw him at the mailbox.
She went to stay with relatives,” Bert muttered, not looking up.
“But it’s hard to keep a secret in a small town.
” By Friday, rumors about the Jackson family’s problems had spread throughout Madisonville.
In church, in stores, and cafes, everywhere, people were whispering that Bert and Alex were getting divorced.
Tommy stopped by every day trying to cheer his friend up, but he could see that Bert was withdrawing more and more into himself.
On Friday evening, he decided it was time for a serious talk.
“Bert, you’re scaring me,” he said, sitting in the workshop after closing time.
“You look like a zombie.
Everything’s fine.
” “No, it’s not fine.
When was the last time you ate a proper meal? Slept?” Bert shrugged.
“It doesn’t matter.
It matters.
Tommy leaned forward.
Look, I understand that you’re hurting, but life goes on.
You’re a young man.
You’ll find someone else.
I don’t want to find anyone else.
You don’t want to now.
You will in time.
Tom, stop it.
Bert turned sharply toward him.
You don’t understand what this is like.
Explain it to me.
Bert paused, searching for the right words.
For 10 years, I lived in a fantasy world.
I thought I knew my wife.
I thought we had real love, a real marriage.
And it turned out to be all a lie.
Not everything.
Her feelings for you were real.
How do you know? I saw the way she looked at you.
It was love, Bert.
Love built on lies isn’t love.
Tommy sighed.
Maybe we should go somewhere, take a vacation, get a change of scenery.
No, I want to stay here.
Why? Bert didn’t answer, but something flashed in his eyes that alarmed Tommy.
Something cold and determined.
On Saturday morning, Bert woke up with a clear head for the first time in a week.
He took a shower, shaved, and had breakfast.
Then he picked up the phone and dialed Alex’s number.
She answered on the second ring.
Bert, I need to see you.
Pause.
Why? To talk.
To have a proper conversation.
Maybe you’re right.
We can try to start over.
He heard her take a deep breath.
Are you serious? Yes.
Come home.
We’ll talk about it calmly.
Bert, I don’t want any more arguments.
There won’t be any arguments.
I promise.
A long pause.
Okay.
I’ll be there in an hour.
Bert hung up the phone and went to his bedroom.
He took a gun out of his nightstand, an old revolver he had bought years ago to protect his home.
He checked to make sure it was loaded.
He tucked it into his waistband under his shirt.
Alex arrived exactly an hour later.
She looked cautiously optimistic, but Bert could see hope in her eyes.
It made him feel something like regret.
“Hi,” she said, smiling uncertainly.
“Hi, come in.
” They sat down in the living room across from each other.
Alex nervously fiddled with the strap of her purse.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” “About us? About the future?” Bert spoke calmly, but his hand instinctively reached for the gun.
You said we could try to start over.
Yes, I think so, if you’re willing to accept me for who I am.
Who am I, Alex? She looked at him intently.
I’m a woman who loves you, who made a mistake by not telling you the truth right away, but who is willing to make it right.
Make it right.
Bert nodded.
And how are you going to make up for 10 years of lies? No more secrets, complete honesty.
She leaned forward.
Bert, I’ll tell you everything you want to know about my childhood, about my transition, about how I’ve felt all these years.
About your transition, about how I became a woman.
It was a long process.
Therapy, hormones, surgery, the hardest time of my life.
Bert listened and every word was like a knife stab.
She talked about becoming a woman and he saw a man in a dress.
How many surgeries? He asked.
Several.
Face, breasts, and the main surgery.
The main one? Alex blushed.
Sex reassignment.
Removal of male organs and creation of female ones.
Bert felt nauseous.
My god.
I know it sounds strange, but for me it was liberating.
For the first time, my body matched how I felt inside.
And you think I can accept that? I hope so.
She reached out her hand to him.
Bert, I’m the same woman you fell in love with.
The surgeries didn’t change anything about me.
He pulled his hand away.
They changed everything.
Why? Because I was born in a male body.
Because you’re a man, he exploded.
No matter how many surgeries you have, no matter what hormones you take, you’re still a man.
Alex pald.
That’s not true.
It is.
Bert stood up, his hand falling onto the handle of his gun.
You have male chromosomes, male DNA.
You were born with male organs, but I had them removed.
Cutting them off doesn’t change anything.
You can pretend to be a woman, but you’ll always be a man until the day you die.
Alex stood up, too.
You’re wrong.
Gender isn’t just biology.
For me, it’s only biology.
Bert pulled out the gun.
I lived with a man for 10 years and didn’t know it.
Alex saw the gun and backed away.
Bert, what are you doing? What I should have done a long time ago.
Put the gun down.
You ruined my life.
Bert’s voice was strangely calm.
You stole 10 years of my life.
Bert, please.
Alex raised her hands.
We can talk about this.
There’s nothing to talk about.
He pointed the gun at her.
You’re disgusting.
I’m a woman.
No.
Bert shook his head.
You’re a man who thinks he can be a woman.
You’re a pervert.
Tears streamed down Alex’s face.
That’s not true.
I’m not a pervert.
I just wanted to be myself.
Yourself? Who are you? Andrew, Alexander, Alex? How many personalities do you have? Bert, calm down.
Let’s talk.
I’m tired of talking.
Bert’s finger rested on the trigger.
Tired of your lies.
Don’t do it.
Alex backed toward the door.
Please stay where you are.
Alex froze.
Bert, if you kill me, it won’t change anything.
The pain won’t go away.
It will.
When you’re gone, I’ll be able to forget.
No, you won’t.
You’ll remember it for the rest of your life.
Bert was silent, aiming at her.
Anger and the remnants of love fought in his head.
Remember the good times? Alex said quietly.
Our first date, our honeymoon, the quiet evenings at home.
It was all real.
Lies.
No, it’s true.
My feelings for you were real.
your feelings?” Bert laughed bitterly.
“What did you feel when we made love? What does a man feel when he pretends to be a woman?” “I felt loved,” Alex whispered.
“Loved?” He shook his head.
“You know what I feel right now? Disgust.
For you, for myself, for all these years, Bert, you know what pisses me off the most? That I still love you.
Despite everything, I love a woman who never existed.
” Alex took a step toward him.
I exist.
I’m here.
No, there’s only lies here.
The shot rang out in the silence of the house like thunder.
Alex fell, clutching her chest.
Blood oozed between her fingers.
Bert, she croked.
He stood over her, still holding the gun.
“Now it’s over.
” Alex tried to speak, but only blood came out of her mouth.
Her eyes were blurring.
“I loved you.
” Those were her last words.
Bert stood in the living room staring at the body of the woman he had killed.
Strangely, he felt neither relief nor remorse, only emptiness.
Half an hour later, he called 911.
“My wife shot herself,” he said in a trembling voice.
“Please hurry.
” The police arrived 10 minutes later.
“Tommy was among the first to arrive.
” “My God, Bert, what happened?” “I don’t know.
” Bert sat on the porch, his head in his hands.
“We had an argument.
” She ran into the bedroom.
Then I heard a gunshot.
Where’s the gun? In the bedroom.
Next to her.
Tommy knew something was wrong.
Alex was lying in the living room, and the gun was indeed in the bedroom, but right now, his friend needed support.
Everything will be okay, he said, putting his arm around Bert’s shoulders.
Detective Sarah Mitchell arrived an hour later.
She was new in town, transferred from a big city and unfamiliar with the local tradition of covering for each other.
After examining the scene, she found several oddities.
Alex had been shot in the chest, but the gun was in the bedroom.
The blood on the floor indicated that she had died where she fell without trying to reach the bedroom.
“Mr.
Jackson,” she said as she questioned Bert.
“Tell me again what happened.
” Bert repeated his version of events.
An argument.
Alex ran to the bedroom.
A gunshot.
What was the argument about? About divorce? She didn’t want a divorce.
And you think that drove her to suicide? Probably.
She was very upset.
Detective Mitchell nodded, but something bothered her.
Where were you when the shot was fired? Here in the living room.
And you went to her right away? Yes, but it was too late.
After the police left, Tommy stayed with Bert.
How are you holding up? Fine.
Bert stared out the window where Alex’s body was being taken away.
It’s strange, but I feel relieved.
Relieved? The torment is over.
Both hers and mine.
Tommy looked closely at his friend.
Bert, are you sure that’s exactly how it happened? Of course.
What do you mean? Nothing.
Just asking.
But Tommy wasn’t sure.
He had known Bert for many years and had never seen him so calm after a tragedy.
The next day, Detective Mitchell continued her investigation.
She talked to the neighbors and learned about the problems in the Jackson family and that Alex had recently left home.
But the most important discovery awaited her in the medical records.
Alex was a transgender woman and according to Dr. Hayes’s records, Bert had only recently found out.
This changes the case, she said to her partner.
The husband had a serious motive.
Do you think he killed her? I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.
That evening, Detective Mitchell returned to Bert’s house.
Mr.
Jackson, I need to ask you a few more questions.
Of course.
Did you know your wife was transgender? Bert wasn’t expecting that question.
He was taken aback for a moment, but quickly regained his composure.
Yes, I did.
How long? A few weeks.
And how did you feel about that? It was difficult, but we were trying to work things out.
Mr.
Jackson, could you come with us to the station for further questioning? Bert realized he was under suspicion.
Can I refuse? You can, but it’s better to clear everything up voluntarily.
At the station, Detective Mitchell was more direct.
Mr.
Jackson, the forensic examination showed that your wife was shot at close range.
The angle of the bullet entry indicates that the shooter was standing in front of her.
And what does that mean? It doesn’t look like suicide.
Bert was silent.
In addition, we checked your gun.
It has only your fingerprints on it.
She took it from the nightstand.
She could have wiped the fingerprints off.
She could have, but she didn’t.
The detective leaned forward.
Mr.
Jackson, where were you between 2 and 3:00 on Saturday afternoon? At home with my wife.
Any witnesses? Bert paused.
No.
Understood.
And on Friday evening at the workshop with Tommy Rodriguez.
We’ll check.
After questioning Bert, they let him go.
But Detective Mitchell was almost certain he was guilty.
All that remained was to find the evidence.
She spoke to Tommy, who confirmed Bert’s alibi for Friday, but he seemed nervous and avoided giving direct answers.
Officer Rodriguez, did you know about the problems in the Jackson family? Yes, Bert told me.
And that his wife was transgender.
Tommy froze.
I knew.
And how did Bert react to this revelation? Hard.
Very hard.
Did he threaten his wife? Not in front of me.
Not in front of you.
A long pause.
I don’t know.
Detective Mitchell realized that Tommy was hiding something.
Perhaps he had helped his friend create a false alibi.
The next day, she received the results of the ballistics test.
The bullet had been fired from Bert’s gun, but at such an angle that suicide was virtually impossible.
Bert was arrested on Thursday morning.
Bert Jackson, you are under arrest on suspicion of murder.
You have the right to remain silent.
In his cell, Bert finally felt something like relief.
He no longer had to pretend to be grieving.
He no longer had to play the role of a heartbroken widowerower.
Alex was dead.
His secret was out.
But at least it was over.
Tommy came to see him in jail.
Why did you do it? Bert looked at him through the bars.
You wouldn’t understand.
Try to explain.
10 years, Tom.
I lived a lie every day, every night.
But to kill, she ruined my life.
She took everything from me.
Tommy shook his head.
She loved you.
A man can’t love a man the way I wanted to be loved.
Bert, she was a woman.
No.
Bert shouted.
She was a man and she always will be.
Tommy realized that his friend was lost.
Hatred consumed him from within.
The trial took place 6 months later.
Bert was found guilty of secondderee murder and sentenced to 25 years in prison.
The case was talked about for a long time in Madisonville.
Some sympathized with Bert, believing he had been provoked.
Others condemned him for killing an innocent woman.
Tommy resigned.
Detective Mitchell proved that he had helped create a false alibi, but did not press charges on condition that he be fired.
And Bert sat in his prison cell and thought about the woman he loved and killed.
Sometimes he dreamed of their happy days together and woke up in tears.
At such moments he almost regretted what he had
