Appearance
5'11". Slender. Willowy. Androgynous. Fair skinned. Naturally medium brown hair, dyed white blonde. Straight, bellow shoulder blades. Blue hazel eyes.
Leigh's manner of dress is fluid. He doesn't care to label it as one style or another. He mixes male and female clothing together as he wishes. Will wear skirts one day and pants the next. His color choices range from rich and dark colors to light and soft colors. The cuts go from classic to daring. He dresses to suit his mood, as well as the situation he will be in (ex: work, eating out, party, casual outing...). His demeanor is hard to place as being distinctly feminine, or masculine. He may seem to hold more feminine gestures one minute, and then masculine the next. He is a creature of 'situation'.
Personality
As with any person, there is the positive and the negative… and so very often, these traits blur the lines, because truly, the beauty and goodness of a person’s soul is in the eye of the beholder.
Loyal and faithful, Leigh is the kind of friend and lover you want to have. Patient and reliable, determined. He is the steady one you can depend on. The constant. He is kind and affectionate, easy to approach and talk to, when one knows him.
However, he is also stubborn, as any Taurus can be. He is resistant to drastic and chaotic changes to his life, and always struggles with them, though he is a person who internalizes, and until it is too late, many will not notice just how bad he struggles with things. He is also prejudice, in his own way. He tries not to be, but no matter how open and accepting he is… he is prejudice against those who go against his morals, even if one does not expect him to be. He also holds to the ideals of needing to make money, to be able to live comfortably, and doesn’t understand those who do not work to likewise have material stability. He can also be rather lazy (e.g. procrastination) if he has nothing to do, and is not driven by a deadline or goal.
History
Born April 25th, Leighton Costică Dalca was so named through the combination of both his maternal and paternal grandfathers. Born to Emilian Dalca and his wife, Jeanine. A Lawyer and Doctor both in the busy world of Detroit, one child was all they wanted, and they barely had time for that one. However, the first generation Romanian-American and his New Orleans French-Creole wife wanted that semblance of family, even if Jeeanine needed to cut back on her hours at the hospital, soon leaving the hospital for a private practice in order to raise their son.
Leigh’s life was one of love and affection tempered with expectations. He was expected to be a proper son, to bring honor to his family, as his father was big on the concept of familial honor and duty, remnants from a strict Romanian childhood with a family steeped in Family and Tradition from the old world life of a small town in northern Romania.
At his paternal grandmother’s insistence, Leigh grew up being bilingual, not that it was any hardship to accomplish, as his father was still fond of the language he grew up speaking in his own home, and it meant that a boy growing up had something to make him distinctly unique among his class, even if some did not see it as such.
From a young age, it was seen that, while he held many distinctly Romanian facial features like his father, he had his mother’s slight, willowy form and softness to disguise the sharp features shared by his father and grandfather. Long legs and arms, he was not meant for sports, or so his father thought. Not such a bad thing, though he had hoped the boy would have at least taken to soccer. However, instead, he had Leigh focus on school, putting him in league with the smarter kids, and the geeks.
His grades along with his slender form and features that stayed more androgynous as he aged meant he did indeed gain teasing. However, being introverted and perfectly alright with a small circle of friends, he learned to lay low and off the radar of those who would cause him bodily harm for being different.
In middle school, things changed. Having developed a crush on a boy in his grade in elementary school, he decided to follow after and try out for Track and Field. Yes, he knew in that instinctive way of a still young kid that his crush on another boy wasn’t exactly ‘good’, but he was a kid, still relatively innocent in such things. His father was surprised, pleasantly so, when his son became a sprinter and a cross country runner, and rather good at both.
Joining Track and Field also saw his circle of friends expanding from just a small group of geeks and outcasts, though still one would never call him overly social. Still, it meant he was less of a target for those around him to make fun of, even if he still got those ‘gay’ and ‘girl’ comments thanks to his slight form, and his penchant for having more female friends than male.
Having never done anything about his attraction to other males, his crushes came and went silently. It was during the summer after middle school was over, and high school was about to begin that he confessed to his two closest friends. It was one of those sleep-over’s where they stayed up late in the living room, trusted due to their closeness with each other to not be watched like a hawk with the ratio of two boys to one girl, when it came out. Truth or Dare, when so many adolescent secrets came to light.
After that, things changed in Leigh’s life. David drifted away from him, still friends, but never as close as before, which Leigh attributed to his inability to completely accept having someone gay as a friend, especially after Crystal began to encourage him to grow out his hair longer. She even tried to get him to wear girl’s clothing – really, her drag queen uncle was a horrible influence – but he resisted. Resisted until he was in his Senior Year of High School, two boyfriends later, and never around his parents or at school. It was bad enough being openly gay, at school and to his friends – never to his parents – another to dress as a girl. Being on the Track team could only save him from teen cruelty for so much! But, he found he enjoyed it. The clubs they snuck into with fake id’s, the attention he got (mostly good), the fun they had with some close friends. They helped him enter the gay night life in Detroit and the Toledo Ohio Area, acting as each other’s support (as some were gay or bi as well, but not all).
In the way of teens, it would have never ended. It was good, they had each other, and made memories (both good and bittersweet). But, as things do, they changed, and changed fast. Shortly after graduation he came out to his parents about being gay… and in the ensuing yelling match with his father he also, in his anger, revealed his like for wearing women’s clothing, which he shouldn’t have done, but then… he was eighteen and upset.
The resulting fallout saw him, for the first time, visiting his mother’s home town. Usually, his maternal grandparents came to Detroit to visit the busy family. However, when Leigh had called his grandmother in tears the day after the fight, she urged him to come and spend his summer with them in New Orleans before going to college to become an LPN (as he did not want to be a doctor like his mother, and unsure if he wanted the managerial duties of an RN).
Shockingly, his grandparents, as traditional as they were, were more accepting of their grandson’s admittance to his sexuality and choice of dress. Sure, his grandfather gave him odd looks from time to time, especially when he wore a skirt, but… well, it likely had something to do with them being the grandparents instead of his parents. In fact, his grandmother’s quiet acceptance and his grandfrather’s gruff acceptance were a balm on the hurt and sadness caused by his father’s harsh words, and his mother’s tears.
In fact, he gained one of his most cherished memories of his grandparents that summer. Sitting on the balcony with them, grandfather reading the morning paper, grandmother on the bench glider, Leigh just looking out at the street, curled up next to her, wearing a long flowing skirt and a tank top. Out of the blue, his grandfather had asked, “So, is it that you wished to be a girl?”
“No, I like being a guy,” Leigh had answered honestly.
“Then why the…” the elderly man motioned to Leigh’s outfit.
“It is comfortable, and I pull it off better than a Scotsman in a kilt.” Leigh had grinned at his grandfather, and his grandmother chuckled as his grandfather shook his head and went back to his paper, smiling. And that, really, had been all the comment needed on the subject with them.
That summer had been good not only for Leigh, but informative as well. He learned much about his family. He learned the truth on how his youngest aunt had died when he’d been a child, having previous been told it had been a car accident, and then learning of her addiction to drugs, and how it had been her end. Likewise, he learned of why his parents never brought his family back to New Orleans, and why a gray and cross-dressing grandson was hardly the biggest shock in the lives of two elderly folk.
The reason? His eldest aunt, born a couple years after his mother, would forever look twenty-four. Zoe Chauvin was a vampire, a disgrace to her elder sister and her alpha strong-willed and dominating husband. It had been a shock to learn of this secret world within his own. He didn’t exactly know how to deal with it at first, but soon learned that just because his aunt drank blood and would forever be young didn’t mean she was less. He learned much from her, and they became close by the time Leigh returned to Detroit.
Back in Detroit, not much changed. The yelling was over, but his father was, in personality, a powerful, domineering man who would have his way. Wealthy in the way that was self-made, and expecting his family to be perfect in appearance, he placed heavy demands upon Leigh. If he wished to have his schooling paid for, he would comply with his demands: no dressing as a female in public, no boyfriends, no partying. He had to buckle down, or fend on his own. Demands that Leigh agreed to. Two years, he could deal with that.
And he did. For two years he did as he was told, and kept a low profile… and came to hate his father for it. He knew the lengths his father would go to in order to make sure he did not disgrace him in the public eye, and so had to keep turning down his friends. Soon, they just stopped asking. Soon he lost many of the friendships he had held dear through the years, and he became a recluse. It was his grandparents in New Orleans and his aunt Zoe that got him through it, using up many of the minutes on his cell phone to keep in contact.
Then, tragedy struck. He got a call from his grandmother, in tears. His grandfather was dead, passed away from a heart attack while trying to fix one of the chairs in the house, leaving her all alone. Hearing her so distressed, he did the only thing h could think of too do. Luckily, at that time, he had a few months of working experience under his belt at one of the Detroit hospitals. All he had to do we get references, and he was in New Orleans. It would take time, of course. He had to get certification to use his Associates Degree in Louisiana as opposed to Michigan. It didn’t matter, though. He would make it work. All he knew was that he could not let his grandmother live alone, especially since he knew his Aunt Zoe wouldn’t be able to be there for her as much as Leigh felt she would need.
His grandfather’s funeral was the first time his mother and father came to New Orleans since they were married. Then, almost a year later, they returned again. Everything had been fine. Leigh had thought he and his grandmother had a nice routine going. That the woman would be around for years to come. However, Nadine Chauvin missed her husband too much. She slipped away in her sleep, leaving the townhome she and her husband had raised their family in to the one, living relative that had been there for them, and needed it the most; Leigh.
This brought about issues, as it also meant the furniture was left to Leigh, and a small bit of the savings to help Leigh with the taxes he would now need to pay on the Townhome he owned. Not that his parents wanted to move there, but his father, well… the man felt his wife was slighted in this, being passed up by her son. After all, the place was in the French Quarter, it would have sold very well. It was his aunts that had him backing off the issue, both perfectly fine with the decision, for their own reasons (Caroline being married with her own home elsewhere).
Now it is all over. Her grandparents both gone, the funeral over, the will read, paperwork taken care of. His mother, father and Aunt Caroline (with her family) are gone. Aunt Zoe returned to her own home in the city… leaving Leigh alone in the large, spacious townhome, working twelve hour shifts at the local hospital (3 days one week, 4 the next). He still lives a mostly mundane life despite this, with his aunt being the only real supernatural connection he has, and he is fine with that. He is fine not knowing of anyone else out there like that, even if he knows to be cautious despite sticking firmly to the human and therefore mundane side of New Orleans.
First Person
Finally, the house is quiet. I was afraid for it to become quiet. Very afraid. I feared that there would be, metaphoric, ghosts in residence here. I was afraid to face the actuality of being alone in this place I barely know, and is not yet my home. It was why I put up with the fighting between my parents and my aunts in the house. Because, even among the yelling and catty comments, I was not alone. Then Aunt Caroline finally left this afternoon with her husband and kids. Tearful, noisy goodbyes. Promises for calls and emails. Invitation to come for Thanksgiving dinner with them.
I stood out there on the sidewalk long minutes after they had pulled away from the curb before finally going back inside.
I was wrong. There are no ghosts here to haunt me. How could there be? Nothing horrible ever happened here for me. Every single memory I hold is good and very dear to me. Every room holds a memory I want to hold onto and treasure. For the short amount of time I’ve been hear, this townhome has been my safe haven. It
is my home. I just hadn’t realized it until I was alone, and got to walk through each room, all those memories playing out in my head, reminding me of all the laughter and smiles I had here.
It is sad, and I’ve cried until my voice is hoarse, my eyes are red and puffy, and I look distinctly horrible. But I’m not as alone as I had thought I would be. This is good. I think, despite still getting use to the weather, this is going to be my home from now on. I have no need to go anywhere else.
I do, however, think I may need to find roommates. But I can take my time there. I’m not in desperate need, there is no mortgage needing paid. So I can be picky.
Third Person
Ever since Leigh was in middle School and found his love for running he had a routine. One he did not break in College, nor did he break it after leaving. Sure, he did not do so as rigorously as before, nor as often (in that it wasn’t every day), but the routine never ended. He woke up early every morning and ran. And when he did not run, he swam in the outdoor swimming pool (unless is was raining).
Today was the weekend. One of the few weekends he had both days off (which was every other week). So instead of running, he swam. He woke up before the dawn started getting underway, and in a pair of swimming trunks, hair pulled up into a bun, he dove into the cold water. He loved the cold water, cooled off during the night, without the sun touching it yet. It chilled him, but it was still good to feel. Even if he was shivering by the time he got out. But by then, the morning sun was up.
And his morning routine would continue on. Out of the pool he would go to shower, and then dress. What he wore depended on the day and how he felt. God, how he still loved this part of his day. He wasn’t in Detroit anymore. No longer under his father’s thumb. He could truly wear whatever he felt like wearing. He chose a pair of pants and a tank top for today.
And then he entered their bedroom. He paused in the doorway, eyes closing. The room still held that scent… that scent of both of them lingered upon everything here. He had a smile on his lips by the time his eyes opened again. There were boxes in a pile in one corner, retrieved from local businesses who had yet to throw out their broken down boxes. And so, he set to it. Hours of packing, putting away clothing to give to good will (keeping a couple shirts from his grandfather, and his grandmother’s shawls and cardigans). The figurines and jewelry was packed up into specific boxes for his mother and aunts. Zoe would pick hers up this week, the other two would need shipped. It took much less time to pack away everything than he had thought it would. And with everything stripped down to the bare essentials… it looked different. Which, he supposed, was a good thing. He had decided to move into this room. Especially if he was going to end up gaining roommates.
He then pulled the car to the front, and loaded up the good will boxes into it. He’s stop for lunch first, then drop off the boxes, and then… then grocery shopping. Completely mundane errands. Nothing special about them, or the human doing them. It was distinctly boring, and yet… that was alright. Leigh was alright with mundane and boring right now.
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notyourparade) wrote2012-11-11 05:29 pm
