MoonViews

The most shocking moment of my life? I can answer that without a moments thought.

It was the night of my fifth wedding anniversary, at the 401 East Capital Street restaurant, a high-end establishment my wife Cynthia had been wanting to experience since we moved to Jackson several months prior. As I would have done anything for the love of my life irrespective of cost or wait, I made reservations some two weeks prior and announced the morning of our celebration that she should wear something special that evening. She bounced with joy, clapping her delicate hands and smiling in a manner that enveloped my heart and made it her own, forever.

She was lovely. Absolutely precious. She wore my favorite: a sleek black dress and Chanel No. 5. Her blonde hair fell seductively across her shoulders and her excitement filled me with a gratitude and obligation to God I knew I could never repay. Every movement I made in life – every prayer I uttered – my entire being – revolved around Cynthia.

The restaurant was exquisite. Our tuxedo-clad waiter was most attentive to us and especially to Cynthia, having been informed by the owner of our special evening. A bottle of 1954 Cheval Blanc was chilled and waiting. I toasted our love and marriage and the candlelight accentuated her beauty as the crystal touched her lips.

“I love you, you know,” I told her.

“And I, you. Forever, Moon, Forever.”

She sat her wine glass down and seemed to hesitate for a moment.

“Is something the matter,” I asked.

“Well…” Cynthia became obviously nervous. Upset.

“What is it, honey?”

“Oh, Moon. It’s nothing. Just something silly,” she replied.

“Tell me, please.”

“Will you love me forever, Moon? Can anything come between us, honey?”

“Of course I will, and nothing can come between us. We both know that.”

“Do you promise,” she asked, a tear forming.

“Of course I do. Please, tell me what is the matter.”

“I … I’m not sure I can! I so want to! I am afraid I will lose your love, and that would kill me!” She began crying now.

Alarmed, I rose from my seat and hugged her, very concerned.

“Darling, please, what is it?”

“Sir,” the waiter inquired. “Is there something wrong with the wine?”

“No,” I said. “A moment alone, please.”

“Of course.”

I wiped a tear from my wife’s cheek and kissed her. “Darling, nothing can come between us. Please … what is it?”

“Honey, there is something I’ve been holding from you since we met.” Her nervous condition cut me to the quick. She was clearly frightened of telling me whatever was bothering her.

“Cynthia, nothing on earth can come between us. Nothing.”

“Please be sincere when you say that, my love. Please.”

“I am. I will always be.”

I returned to my seat and poured Cynthia another glass of wine. She sipped and composed herself.

“Okay. I believe you, honey,” she said.

“Very good. So what is so insignificant as to spoil our glorious evening?”

“Honey, two years before we met …”

“…the best day of my life,” I interrupted.

“…and mine. But two years before we met I had an operation … in Sweden.”

“Oh, darling, please! An abortion is no strange procedure! Is that all you’ve been worrying about?”

“Honey, it wasn’t an abortion,” she began crying again. “It was … well. You see … honey…oh, God, Moon! …. It was a sex change!”

“Wha…” I was stunned. “What?”

“A sex change, my love. I had a sex change.” Her … er… his? … tears flowed in earnest now. The waiter again approached our table and asked if he could be of assistance.

“Yeah!” I yelled. “Bring this bastard a Budweiser!”

He ran toward the bar and Cynthia looked at me in extreme anger.

"Are you telling me I've been sucking silicone for five years?!" I screamed.

“Oh, so now we see you for what you really are! A damned male chauvinist pig!” my wife screamed.

“What?! Hell, YOU’RE one, too, dammit!”

“I am not! I am a WOMAN!”

“Oh, yeah? Well pardon me if I wanted my wife to have FEMALE genes, you frigging pervert!”

“I am NOT a pervert, Mister! And you can forget getting any num-num tonight!”

“Tonight?! Hell, it sounds like I ain’t had any REAL num-num for five years!”

“Well it isn’t like I’m the most satisfied woman at the club, Swizzledick!”

“Hell no, it ain’t! You’re not a woman!”

“Oh, you cruel bastard!”

“Here’s your Budweiser, ma’am,” the waiter interrupted.

“So what the hell is your real name, if I may ask?” I said.

Crying profusely, Cynthia looked at me and said, “I was born Oscar Snodgarten.”

“Who!”

“Oscar Snodgarten, dammit!”

Of course all of that occurred five years ago. I cannot describe to you the confusion and misery that followed. My world collapsed. Everything I thought I knew and depended upon turned to ash overnight. It took me months to feel like I might be able to survive.

But true love is blind, the greatest poets teach us. And I suppose it is one of the greatest gifts to mankind that that is true.

Because tonight Oscar and I celebrate our 10th anniversary at the 401 East Capital Street restaurant.