“Well, hey there Valley Girl~”

Like a beam of radiance from heaven above, there stood Sarah.

“That’s never going to go away, is it?” I hope I can sell everything being ok with a small giggle and a playful line. I really don’t want to scare her away by putting my bullshit onto her right from the second day. That’s more of a third date material!

“Not on your life, Liam.” She drops down a bag of Micky D’s on the table and pulls up a seat - I guess that shitty cardboard pizza didn’t agree with her either. “So. Things ended a little abruptly last night…”

“I am so, so sorry about that!” God above, I knew that episode was going to sour everything! She’s probably just sat down to tell me what a creep I am to my face…

“You’re fine, you dork.” she said with a light giggle, cutting me off before I could go on another rambling apology tour. “I said yesterday, I totally get where you’re coming from. I just figured we should probably, ya’know. Actually talk about it. So go on! Here’s a free pass to ask me literally, whatever comes to mind. I promise literally everything is safe on the table~”

Oh. Ok… ok, I probably need to calm myself down. I’ve been on such edge ever since last night, and god knows my parents were absolutely zero help on that front. I truly have not missed this feeling of having to walk on eggshells around myself.

“So, anything then? Even if it’s just, like, where you’re from?”

“Born in Oshkosh, but we’ve bounced around the midwest for most of my childhood. Detroit, Madison, Penrith, Bloomington, Kalamazo, Menomonee Falls. I don’t think I spent more than two years in any one town~ Dad’s job requires us to be able to pack up at a moment’s notice, until I was about 15 - he decided the stability would help me both get through high school, and deal with all the medical nonsense that comes with being Trans.”

Well, impressive. I guess she did actually move around a lot, so I wasn’t wrong wrong, just half wrong. Like how a gross pickle isn’t disappointing, it’s ‘Half Sour’. And if I’m picking up what she’s putting down, that sounded a whole lot like a lead in for some more invasive questions.

“So, is that when you, figured it out? At 15? Uh, how exactly did that, come about? What was it like?” God above I sound like such a fool digging into that right away. But still, if I knew what she was thinking then maybe I could…

She just smiled and grabbed my hand softly, giving it a squeeze. I wish she’d never let it go. “Yeah, it was kinda a slow thing coming on for me. I actually did… well, suspect something much younger than that. Nothing like the stereotypical ‘knew from birth’ narrative, but young enough to just be getting into middle school. At the time I had a… family friend. She was a, coworker of my dad’s. She could read me like a book - one a drunk aunt at her book club just couldn’t wait to tell everyone all the juiciest bits three chapters ahead of where the club agreed to stop at. At this age, I’m still a dumb kid trying to work out why I want so badly to wake up and find myself recruited into the Sailor Scouts and why I read so many awful crossdressing mang -” oh, fuck me. I have to actively force myself not to tune her out and freak out, just, just keep listening! “- denly this woman just slithers up to me and demands to know why I haven’t come out to her yet. She has the nerve to not only tell me that I’m trans before I could make any decisions on that myself, but chastise me for not trusting her enough to tell her! Weeping over the ‘lack of care for our sacred bond’. The fucking nerve!”

I need to steer us back. I focus all of my mental space into her soft hands grasping mine, and give a short squeeze back to reassure her that it’s ok. “So, she told you first? What happened then?”

“What happens is that she pushes me deeper into the closet than I ever had before. Suddenly I needed to prove to myself how wrong she was - I shave my hair off, I tear down all the things I loved that were too ‘girly’. I swear I never, ever want to put someone through what she did me - I do think she was just trying to help, but her way of going about it did anything but. This isn’t something someone can just force out of another person, no matter how tempting it can be.” She gives me a look, her eyes sparkling. I can’t tell if it’s something she sees in me, or if she’s simply about to burst into tears.

“Well, you did survive that, and you showed her wrong. Right? Whatever, look at you now! You’re amazing!” It just kinda gushes out of me, too fast for my brain to go ‘whoa slow down pardner’. Still, she blushes and looks slightly away before replying.

“I, uh. I guess I did both? It took me those few more years to finally crack open from the pressure of faking everything from my personality to my interests to, well, my gender. I had just gotten into a massive fight with my dad over how he didn’t like ‘whatever phase I was going through’, when that friend of mine just shows up in my room, stares right into my eyes, and just says “Are you happier like this”. I should have started screaming at her. I wanted to get up and just start kicking her shins until she went down. Instead I just started sobbing harder than I think I’ve ever cried since. I realized that I wasn’t proving anything to her, that she was always going to be the same shitty person as she’s been for an eternity. I was only punishing myself because I didn’t want her to have been right about me, because I wasn’t ready to accept myself when she wanted me to. As soon as I got every single tear out of me, I get up, walk right back to my dad, and tell him absolutely everything.”

I felt stunned. She was practically pouring her heart out to me, entirely for my own benefit. To think she was dealt with all this on her own. I would have panicked and ran away. I did panic and run away.

“Wow. What happened from there? Did your dad take it well? Did you ever get rid of that woman?”

“Pfff, nah, she’s basically a leech. One she worms her way into you, you’re never getting rid of her. She’s actually pretty… nice, when it comes to brass tax. But I don’t think I’m ever going to actually forgive her for that night. As for my dad? Exact opposite response - he did a literal double take and claimed that he would have never seen it coming. But he actually turned out to be the biggest ally I could have ever asked for, practically cheering me on through every step of the process. Him being there for me is what allowed me to be here, basically.”

That… that should have made me smile. I have always been accused of being too empathetic for my own good - I’m exactly the kind of person to cry at a wedding for two total strangers. But I just, couldn’t help but compare that with my situation, with my own demanding parents… “What if, what if he wasn’t going to take it well? What if you knew he was going to flip out?”

Stolen story; please report.

“Then fuck ‘em.” I feel like my eyes bulged out of my head and she gave a joyous giggle at my reaction. “No, really! If he turned out to be a shit then I could have found friends to lean on through the trip. If he would have gatekept me then I would have either waited ‘til I could and bounced, or found some way to survive despite it. I dealt with enough dumb fucks trying to stop me that I am strong enough to get through all of it - with the support of my loved ones. One less loved one wouldn’t have broken me. I have had friends who had to fight with their awful parents over this stuff, but they made it through that fight, and they are happier people for having stood their ground~”

“But before they make to that end? How did they star… how did they survive that early period?”

She closed her eyes and gave one last radiant smile. “It was the little things. One small step at a time, one little change when they felt things were too tough. One little improvement to fight every small indignity.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I dish out simple taco salad on each plate. Topped with doritos of course, since none of us couldn’t claim to be white trash, and you can’t fight with tasty. I did manage to zhuzh it up with a nice cilantro lime juice dressing - that both my parents refused to touch, opting for some bottled italian mixed with hot salsa. Apparently I’m the crazy one.

“You know, as much as I was against it at first Liam, I’m so glad that you learned how to cook. It’s so nice to have days where I don’t have to deal with running to the stove after taking inventory all day.” Ma and Dad both worked at the same factory - it’s actually where they met. Ma would mostly count up the boxes and the figures, and Dad would forklift them where they needed to go. Eventually after a few years working and coming home at the same time, they realized they needed their personal time, and dad volunteered to switch to the graveyard shift to give each other space (and to get his paycheck increased to support their then young kid).

“Yeah, you did really learn how to cook something up proper, son. I guess we know who was the woman in that little ‘relationship’ of yours.” I feel my heart fall into the pit of my stomach at that.

“Jesus dad, can we just have one dinner without…”

“Liam! You seriously need to show more respect in this house! And come now Steve, we know he’s got himself a girl now. It was just a phase, just like he promised us.”

My dad just guffaws and points at me. “If he couldn’t take a ribbing like a man then he shouldn’t have taken it like a woman, Kate. Boy needs to know when he’s done wrong!” I suddenly don’t want to touch my dinner anymore. I don’t think I could keep it in my gut. “Don’t get me wrong though, I’m glad I’ve finally gotten through to you, son!”

“Just don’t be in too much a hurry to prove him wrong, Liam. I don’t wanna deal with a grandkid at 40!” I practically spit out my drink at mom’s comment - looks like I won’t be getting much of that either.

“Actually yes, please do son. Then you might finally find some use by keeping the family name alive. Lord above knows my worthless brothers aren’t going to be making any kids - it’s you or it’s no one.”

I just look down at my rapidly sogging lettuce and push it around with my fork. “Jesus, dad, I’m just a kid… Besides. You know I would never be a good parent. I don’t even think I should have kids…”

“Nonsense! I don’t care if you’d be the worst father in the world, Son. You’ll see when you get older - you’re hardwired to spread those genes on from god above, every man is. Maybe when you get into a real college and are surrounded by some real men, you’ll realize how wrong you were. You’ll be sowing your seed all over town! Instead of inside that faggot friend of yours.”

I couldn’t take any more of this. I don’t even ask to be excused this time - I just mumble a quick “I think I’m still sick” and bolt out of that room.

“Learn to take a joke Liam!” my dad shouts as I run upstairs and lock myself in the bathroom - the only door on that floor with a lock on it. It’s all I can do to keep from gasping desperately for air, tears running down my face. It was never this bad before they caught me - the would call me worthless and an embarrassment sure, but that was just for my failing grades and my freak outs. Normal things. But I couldn’t take them talking about my friends that way - Joey has done absolutely nothing wrong to deserve that talk. And they’ve been harder and harder on me for it too.

I grip the lip of the counter tight and dry heave against the sink - I think back to the conversation me and Sarah had this afternoon, and last night. She was so good at calming me down, maybe I could give her a quick call… No, no. I’ve made it through these before, I know what to do. I don’t need to burden her with this too…

Running my hand up and down over my sternum, breathing in and out as slowly as I could in this state, I just keep thinking about what she said. ‘ I have had friends who had to fight with their awful parents over this stuff, but they made it through’. Breath in. Hold. ‘They are happier people for having stood their ground’. Breath out. Hold. ‘One little improvement to fight every small indignity’.

I look at myself in the mirror. Tears in my eyes, streaming down and mixing with that awful trash stash of mine. Even Joey would mock me for wearing my goatee, how I quote ‘managed to make it through the entirety of highschool without learning to fuckin’ groom myself’. And to be fair, I did hate ever leaving it on my face at first. It had felt like armor eventually though - I have always had a double chin, being on the chubbier side. Hell, I was at a size that would have been considered morbidly obeese had I been a normal height and not 6’3’’. This hid that. It hid a lot of things.

“A little improvement to fight a small indignity.” I blink the last of the tears out of my eyes, letting the large dewy drops mingle grossly with the thick shag on my lip and my chin, keeping the salty taste out of my mouth for lack of travel ability. I pull my shaver I keep for trimming my neck and cheeks out of its holster, and fish my long-ignored shaving cream out of the bottom cabinet. At least this I can control.

And when I’m finished, it may not have been a radical change. I didn’t leave that bathroom a fresh faced dewied eyed cherub. I was a chubby boy with a baby face and a thousand cuts from skin unused to the motion and hands too shaky to hold properly. You could still see the stubble from my face, my black hair too dark to hide through my cartoonishly white skin. It wasn’t all that radical of an action, in the long run. But it was a little improvement. Just to keep going.

We all have to start somewhere.