Her name was Stevie and she worked at a hotel. Her curly blonde hair came down to just above her shoulders. They let her wear sneakers to work, and that day she had clean turquoise Converse All Stars. I’ve always wanted a pair that color.

I had twenty-five pizzas to drop off for a party at the hotel. Screaming kids descended on me in a pack before I could get the pies on the table. Their parents pushed them back and gave me a twenty-five dollar tip, a dollar for each pizza I suppose. It made my night. Stevie greeted me at the front desk and helped me find the right party room while loud music blared over the speakers.

But when I got back to the lobby, there was no music. It was peaceful, warm, and welcoming, because Stevie was all those things. She smiled at me and thanked me, even though I hadn’t done anything specifically for her. That smile, and the kindness she radiated, woke me from my dysphoric coma. It pierced the thick beard and thicker skin I’d grown as a means of not being harassed or killed. But the skin, beard, and burial of my true self were harming me more than any other person ever could.

I used to be Stevie, I thought privately as she handed me a free bottled water, just to be nice. I was crazy, and the transition fell apart, and my wife will leave me if I try to be Stevie again, but I’d rather be that than anything else. Why can’t I be like her? Why can’t I smile at people like that and have pretty hair and offer people comfort and wear my turquoise Converse to work every day?

The answer was that I could. In that moment my womanhood came closer to breaking through than at any other time. I couldn’t hold it back. I no longer wanted to.

In less than two weeks, my marriage ended.

The beard came off and I could see my own face without cringing.

Two months later, I moved out.

The month after that, I started my estrogen treatments. Estrogen has been good to me. I have emotions and I am able to care for others in a way I couldn’t before. Even with my life almost coming apart at the seams, I am happier, nicer, and more free. I am calm. I am myself. My body is slowly lining up with who I have always been inside. In becoming Stevi, I came home for the first time ever. I found a home, when I didn’t think I had one, and it is where I should have been this whole time.

And even though I still have to shave, this skin of mine is softer and tender to the touch. It still protects me, but it no longer imprisons me. My lovers can caress it and I feel like I’m living in a romantic movie, but this one doesn’t have to end.

If I could, I would go back to that hotel, find Stevie, and ask her out. Nothing fancy or intimate. Just a friends date with coffee, food, and more smiles. I will probably never see Stevie again, but in a way, I see her every time I look in the mirror. I am her; not a carbon copy, but the best version of me that I can ever be. And I am sure Stevie would not mind me borrowing her name.