NOAH215Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaCTjbVhn8v
On Monday morning, I get a text from Mei.
My phone buzzes on the table when I’m eating cereal while Dad, on the other hand, is standing at the kitchen counter, facing away from me and making coffee. It’s not like he’s actively trying to avoid eye contact or anything, but he certainly isn’t throwing out a conversation starter.
I lift my phone while spooning another bite of chex into my mouth.
There’s an image attached; when I fully open the messages app, I check the conversation and lean in to look at the photo she sent me.
It’s a selfie she took in front of her roommate Kelly, who’s flopped onto her bed as Mei stands in front of it with her arm extended to hold the phone. Mei is smiling a huge, open-mouthed smile as she flashes a peace sign in front of Kelly, who’s lying on her stomach on her mattress, mouth open against the pillow and hair a mess.
The text below reads: I handled my drinks at this MIT party last night… Kelly clearly did too
I smile, shaking my head at my phone as my other hand idly pokes around my cereal. Setting down my spoon, I use both hands to text back.
She gonna make it to her marketing class?
I grab another bite of cereal while I wait for the three little dots to turn into a returning text.
She’s not gonna make it to the espresso machine
I laugh out loud at that. I catch Dad turning his head to glance at me out of my peripheral vision.
“What’s funny?” he asks.
I sort of shrug and shake my head at the same time. “Nothing.”
I set my phone down to resume my breakfast, rolling over spoonfuls of milk and Chex mix, watching the milk leak from the silver. I chew a lot to make sure Dad hears that I’m eating so he won’t expect me to answer an awkward icebreaker question.
There’s no need, though, because my phone requests my attention again when Mei sends another text a minute later.
Has Dad brought up the trip up here recently?
Not… really.
I think he feels weird not bringing me to visit Mei in Boston this coming weekend. He shouldn’t, though… I have a project due that following Monday, and Cass has been begging to do a Ryan Reynolds movie marathon, so I’ll be busy. I can see Mei when she comes home in a few weeks.
Besides… Mei wants him to come alone. She has plans for him. Plans that lie in the having-an-excruciatingly-awkward-conversation-about-his-transgender-son category.
I know she’s trying to help, I really do. I appreciate it. He’s been stubborn enough for three years, and Mei is coming home for summer break soon, so she says she doesn’t want to be with her family when “part of the family sure isn’t acting like it”.
I also think that in the back of her mind, she’s doing this for one more reason. She’s doing this because if Mom doesn’t make it out of that hospital, he’s my remaining parent; the parent who didn’t switch to “Noah”.
And each time I think of this, it just stings a little more, so I try not to, even though it’s probably true.
I just keep getting anxious about the conversation. What if he doesn’t listen? What if he just shuts her out like he does to me? What if he starts hating her too for trying to change his mind?
I swallow my last bite of cereal and roll my jaw, thinking as I lift my phone to reply.
Just once or twice. You ready to see him?
I don’t have to clarify what I mean by that text. Mei already knows. Seeing Dad after a while for her is just gonna be… well, complicated.
I mean, for god’s sake… his wife is on life support. Her mother. And Mei and Dad weren’t very close to begin with. It was always really Mom and her. Me, too, but… even I was a little closer with my dad.
Mei has been coping pretty well, I think; she’s always had that skill. She can find the positive in anything. She thinks about how Mom had such a full life with her family and all that, and… I think that’s helping. Of course, it’s still hard for her. It’s our mom. But it’s helping.
She texts back: As ready as I’ll ever be, I think
I don’t know how she gets by, honestly. I can barely see Mom anymore because of how much it hurts. How the reality that our dad is rejecting hurts.
So Mei seeing Dad this weekend? Well, I wish her good luck.
But after her planned conversation with him? I’m gonna need a slice of that luck myself. 215Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEyhXkMH55v
●○●○●215Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6HFMdKyjvW
The day before Dad leaves for that trip, I’m sitting in English at 11:28 a.m. when I realize I have to use the restroom.
Now, for any other student trying to stay awake as they sit in Mrs. Rutledge’s American literature class, excusing oneself to use the bathroom is a simple task. It doesn’t take much thought.
For me, it’s a marathon.
The first step is getting out of the room without multiple people sharing glances across the desks at each other. Glances that ask the unspoken question of which toilet is the weird kid gonna use today?
I could just hold it and wait till my lunch period. Except, I’m not going to do that. Why? Because at lunch, our giant free period, the bathrooms will be flooded with students. A.k.a, a welcoming party of judging eyes and unsubtle comments thrown at me.
So I take on the first phase of the process because right now is my best bet.
I manage to do so quickly and efficiently; I’m used to it by now. I sit in the back right corner of the room, so I just quietly pushed my chair back and walked along the side wall to get out the door, closing it behind me and not bothering to glance back at the eyes that are surely following me.
I don’t care anymore. If they want to stare, they can stare. I can’t stop them, even after three years. Three fucking years.
The halls are empty because it’s the middle of class. They will soon be loud with swarms of hungry kids in about a half an hour. I take advantage of the freeing silence and personal isolation from the rest of the student body, hurrying down the corridor with my black sneakers lightly patting along the hard floor beneath them.
I make it to the opposite end of the hall, where two dark, wood doors stand in front of me. One displaying a rectangular sign that reads, WOMEN, and the other, MEN.
I stand before them, flicking my eyes back and forth and rolling my tongue on the inside of my cheek. I’m thinking.
Then, with a glance down the hall, I listen to the comforting silence, and find more ease in the closed classroom doors with students listening to lectures in each one. Then I look back at the restroom doors.
And with a step forward, I take a breath and push open the one that says MEN.
At first, I feel very, very good. Free. I always do when I can sneak in here, unbothered by any guys using the urinals and turning back to see me stepping in only to hurry back out again, unwilling to deal with the drama.
But this is not one of those times.
Because as soon as I enter the bathroom, I realize that I am extremely not alone in here, and am in fact, joined by five boys leaning against the stalls and opposite wall by the sinks, all turning before the door has even closed behind me.
I’m just so pleased to see that they are the worst possible 18-year-old men I could see right now… three of them in their stupid lacrosse hoodies, the other two with their hands shoved in their cargo pants’ pockets.
Theo Garner is one of them, and he is not looking at me. He is looking at the floor, actually, clearing his throat as if nothing has changed from a moment ago.
“Oh, my,” Matt Boseman chuckles, eyeing me up and down. “Looks like we have a visitor, fellas.”
“You lost, Hart?” Mason pushes off the wall he was slouched against.
“No,” I say, my voice smaller than I want it to be. Despite it being low now, it still is always somehow weaker than theirs, and I hate it. “I just-”
“You just what?” Matt mocks. Nate Rodriguez laughs next to him.
“Hart, when you gonna give this up, huh?” He crosses his arms, sighing at me.
My jaw clenches, an angry frustration building up. Another feeling joins this combo, too: a particularly unnerving anxiousness.
I turn back, planning on tugging the door open to leave, but a voice emerges from behind again.
“Wait, wait, don’t go just yet,” Gavin says, and I hear his shuffling foosteps getting closer. “Sorry, we- we’re just messing around, you know. Don’t be so serious, Hart.”
My hand is hovering near the long handle of the door, my mind conflicted over what to do. What will they do if I just pull it open and try to go?
Because by the sound of their voices, I almost feel as if they wouldn’t let me.
My heartbeat picks up and I don’t know what exactly to say to them, but another voice takes that job instead, yet again.
“Someone’s quiet,” Nate teases.
A few chuckles. I picture Theo laughing along with them, not throwing in a comment too, but still amused. Still watching it all go down.
But when I glance back without fully turning around, he’s stone-faced, avoiding the interaction.
It somehow makes me angrier.
And then I feel a hand come to my shoulder, twisting me around. I nearly stumble back into the door, but my feet stabilize as I look up at Gavin grinning down at me.
Fuck him and his height.
But mostly, fuck the fact that my palms are starting to sweat.
“Why d’ya keep coming in here, Naomi?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow. “It’s not like you have a dick, huh?”
While the boys (except for stupid Theo) snicker behind him, he lifts a hand and uses it to poke my chest. I close my eyes for a moment, breathing in and trying to control my pulse.
“What happened to your tits, Naomi?” Gavin presses, stepping closer. I step back. “Go on, tell us. You get tired of them, or something? Not like there was much to begin with.”
While the boys are still laughing at his comments, I’m trying to figure out an escape route, but realize that the only other option is the window behind Theo, if I had some sort of acrobatic-stunt skills to flip over every guy in here and make it out alive.
Theo would likely just grab me and shove me back into his band of goons to get torn apart again by their words. Their stupid, fucking words.
And Theodore Garner would watch, dead silent.
“I asked you a question, you know.” Gavin pushes my chest again, harder.
I do stumble back this time.
And when I hit the door, I hear a new voice.
“Gav…”
Theo’s low voice causes Gavin to pause, pulling his hand away but still staring at me, eyes cold and stinging.
“Don’t,” he tells Gavin.
I look back at Theo, who’s not leaning against the wall anymore. He’s standing straight, staring at his burly lacrosse teammate, hands in his pockets and mouth tight.
And in that moment, in that one measly little moment that possibly had the energy to flip the world upside down, I think that maybe, just maybe, Theodore Garner is helping me.
But then Gavin turns around, looking at him, and Theo swallows and adds, “he’s not worth it.”
And I watch as Gavin looks back at me, scoffs under his breath, and juts his head to motion to his friends to follow him out the door.
“C’mon,” he mumbles, then shoves past me to grab the door and add, “Hart doesn’t need us to tell her she can’t use a urinal, right?”
And he’s swinging the door open and waiting for his stupid, stupid friends to follow, all slipping past me with a bump or a shove… except for Theo at the tail end, who doesn’t even look at me when he walks out.215Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWu1YQ5WTe1
●○●○●215Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1Pfm9arLzz
“Maybe he just is super, mega gay, and is denial of his enormous crush on you,” Cass says before popping another chocolate-covered almond into her mouth.
“Yes, that must be it,” I scoff. “Theodore Garner is an asshole to me because he wants to sleep with me, of course.”
She laughs a little, but it’s weaker, and I can see in her face why; she always looks sympathetic when we’re talking about my ongoing situation with the Lacrosse boys.
It’s about an hour since school got out for the day, and we’re in my room, sitting across from one another. She’s sprawled on my blue beanbag in the corner and I’m leaning against my wall up on my bed, my socked feet hovering off the edge of the mattress as I stare at the ceiling, chin tilted up and head pressed against my 2001: A Space Odyssey poster behind me.
“And by that logic,” I add on, even though I know she was joking, “they would all have a thing for me. They’re all assholes. I’m so sick and tired of it. Hasn’t it gone on a bit too long at this point? It’s just… pointless.”
“I know, Noah,” Cass says. “It sucks. It really fucking sucks. They are all very much assholes with tiny little penises.”
A sharp exhale escapes my nose at that and my mouth twists up.
“The whole group of Lacrosse goons is nauseating,” I say, “...but I…really, really want to punch Theo Garner the most, right in his stupid face. Because… he just watches it happen.”
“Yeah.” Her voice is quieter now. “I know he does. I’d like to punch him, too, I think.”
“I bet he thinks he’s on some higher ground than them.” I look up now, voice bitter. “Like, I bet he’s thinking in his head, if he doesn’t… shove me into walls, and call me shitty names, and- and taunt me in class, he’s got better morals. He’s the good guy. But I get the most angry when I watch him stand there in the corner, looking away.”
Cassidy pushes herself up more on the beanbag, nodding slightly and pulling her knees up to her chest.
“Maybe we should just spike their water bottles,” she shrugs. “You know, those big ones, the ones they use for practice. I’ve got Dulcolax.”
I laugh. “No… before a match. That’d be the only game I’d ever go to see.”
Cass giggles, dropping her knees. “Can you imagine? Coach Hank standing there all confused, watching nearly-nineteen year old men fall onto the turf, holding their asses?”
I grin. “My new daydream.”
She sighs a smiling sigh.
“Hey, think of it this way…” she says, “...they’ll be outta your hair soon enough. College will be swarming with eligible bachelors lining up outside of Noah Hart’s door, begging for a date…”
“Ah, because every single man I encounter at the University of Washington will be just drooling over the trans gay freshman,” I scoff.
“Of course they will be,” she grins. “You’ve got it going on. You’re a science whiz, you’ve got cool hair… you can quote every line from Rocky Horror…”
“My sex appeal is through the roof,” I joke.
She laughs, tilting her head back.
She returns her gaze to mine as it to add something else before I hear footsteps coming down the hall. My bedroom door is cracked, so I can just see out of it, and Cass is nearest to it, too. She peeks out well.
I spot my Dad pass by the room, a small, empty suitcase under his arm and serious look on his face… as per usual. When we hear him quietly padding down the stairs, Cass turns to me again.
“Packing for his flight tonight?” she asks.
I nod.
“I bet you’re excited to get a couple of days alone here.” She offers a small smile.
“I guess,” I shrug. “I mean, I’m already pretty on my own when he is here. Can’t remember the last time we had a prolonged interaction.”
She bites her lip and looks away. “I could say the same for my old man too, honestly.”
“Well, at least your dad accepts you as a person,” I mumble, staring at my hands.
But right after I say it, I grimace at myself and tilt my gaze up to meet Cass’s eye as she flashes a small, disapproving look.
“Sorry,” I say. “That wasn’t cool.”
“It’s okay.” She hauls herself off the beanbag and moves to my bed, shifting to sit beside me against the wall. “It’s true. I should be grateful. I hate what you have to go through with… him.”
She nods a little to my bedroom door.
“Me too,” I say.
It’s been nearly three years since I was “Naomi”, is what I want to say. Why can’t he just accept me already?
But I don’t say it, because I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. So instead, I look up at the ceiling again, tilting my head back once more and exhaling out all the bullshit. Cass does too.
“How’s he doing?” she asks cautiously. “Your dad… you know, not with that, but… with her?”
I already know who “her” is. I can tell by Cass’s tone of voice that she is frightened to ask, as if I’ll shatter into a million pieces at the mention of it. And every time I hear a reference to her, I do. Just a little bit. On the inside.
But I don’t want Cass to feel bad. She really cares, and I love her for it. So I respond.
“He’s the same as he’s always been,” I say tiredly. “Doesn’t talk about her, but I can see in his face that she’s always on his mind. He used to go see her nearly every day after work, on hsi way home. I think it’s hurting him more to do that.”
Cass just nods. It helps. Sometimes, you don’t want words as a response. Sometimes, you don’t want to hear the pointless “I’m sorry”s, and the “is there anything I can do?”s, because there really isn’t. Sometimes, you just want a nod.
“And even after that, I still wonder how he’s capable of leaving for a trip, even just a two-day one,” I say. “How he’s willing to leave where she is. I could do it… but I didn’t think he could.”
“Maybe that’s a good sign,” Cass offers quietly. “And… didn’t your sister have something to do with that?”
She did. Mei was the one who convinced him to come out. Not only because of the “the talk” thing, but I think she wanted him to get out of the house for a while. Out of the town. The usual, routine place where he’s just hurting. And I don’t think being by me is helping.
“She did,” I answer. “She thought it would be good for him.”
“I think it will be.” Cass nudges my side.
I hesitate, then say, “and Mom will still be here. When he gets back, she’s still gonna be… she’s…”
My voice trails off and I close my eyes. I feel Cassidy’s hand slide over mine on my leg and I turn my palm over so our fingers can intertwine.
I don’t need to say what she’s already getting from me: she’ll still be plugged in, like he’s had her for months.
Thinking about this, I bring my hands up to my face, pressing the heels of my palms to my eyes and groaning, my head jumbled and all over the place. I slouch down to my knees.
“Why does everything have to be so… stupid and complicated?” I say, my voice muffled.
“Because life is stupid and complicated,” Cass says. “And super, duper unfair.”
I don’t say anything back; I just sigh, burying my head into my arms for a moment. It’s quiet and hidden in there.
“But life can also be pretty cool,” she says. “Because you know what’s not stupid and complicated?”
I barely peek out from my little cave to look at her, which is when I spot her crooked smile.
“Milkshakes,” she says, pushing off the wall. “Come on. I know a place. Let’s not think for a while.”215Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgLWhyx1Tgh
