Son for the Holidays

by roboscout

Summary:

Elise has had a pretty tumultuous semester in her second year at college with a lot of ups and downs. Fortunately finals are over and it’s time to head home for the holidays to relax and catch up with family. There’s just one problem. Her parents still think she’s their son, and Elise doesn’t know if she’s ready to break the news of her recent self discovery to her family.

A story about the messy nature of coming out in a family that doesn’t fit into clean categories.

Chapter 1: In Plain Sight

I pull open the car door and savor the ability to stretch my legs once again. It has been a LONG ride to get home, though fortunately the weather did not make it any worse. That’s a big risk around this time of year. On the other hand, a delay would have let me procrastinate a bit longer, and I really wasn’t looking forward to what would come next. In front of me stood the house that I grew up in and still contains my parents. 

My parents that I have not come out to.

 I’d be highly tempted to just turn the car back around and head straight back if my legs weren’t holding a protest the French would be proud of.

I try to hype myself up for this ‘Alright Elise, you’re a big girl. You can do this. If your constant looks in the mirror have left you despairing that you haven’t changed, your parents who don’t know they should be looking for anything aren’t going to notice anything.’

I’m in the middle of preparing myself to start getting my suitcase out of the trunk when the front door bursts open, and my mom comes rocketing out of the opened launch door.

“Richie! it’s so good to see you! How have you been? How was the drive? Did you run into any issues? Was the weather bad? How’s Ryan doing these days?” Mom fired off questions like a machine gun, and followed up her barrage by enveloping me in a tight hug. 

Ow. It might not be showing yet (annoying), but my nipples have been very itchy and sensitive recently. Being crushed into my mom at high speeds was not a pleasant experience. Of course she doesn’t know this, and I try not to indicate this. It’s fortunate that she can’t see my face right now, because there’s probably at least a bit of a wince.

“It’s good to see you too mom”

Several hopefully less painful looking seconds than they feel later, I am released from my prison, and Mom begins excitedly chattering her way over to the trunk. During which I begin to answer several of the more mundane questions “Drive was uneventful. Weather was fine. Traffic was a bit clogged up in the city but nothing crazy.”

All the while I try not to react to Mom picking up my backpack first, that’s where I packed my hormones. Intellectually I know that she’s not just going to immediately start searching through all of my stuff, but that doesn’t stop my brain from thinking out a hundred panic scenarios.

What if she hears some of the pills rattling?

What if she drops it and everything spills out?

Shut up me! Stop worrying about things that aren’t going to happen, and start worrying about things that will.

Namely the interrogation that was going to be coming soon.

My semester had actually been pretty exciting. I figured out that I was a girl, finally understood the mysteries that had been plaguing me since I was 12, and got way closer to Sarah in the process. 

I had no plans to tell my family about any of that.

Obviously I would need to tell them eventually (though the idea of just cutting off contact and moving to where no one knew the old me was tempting), but today was not the day. I’m not particularly sure what my parents’ views on trans people are, they’ve said some odd stuff on queer people in the past, but also seemed to hold the belief that it wasn’t any of their business to interfere with how other people want to live their lives. Either way though, me coming out and saying “Surprise! I’m your daughter, not your son!” is going to be a big shock, and I want to make that change as smooth as possible for them. It would probably be a lot easier for them to accept if I already looked the part, so I want to hold off on telling them until I’ve got some time for the hormones to work their magic. When that day is… I don’t know. I’ve done some research, but the only consistent answer seems to be “depends on the person.” So I’ll just have to wait and see how this plays out.

For now, that means keeping everything under wraps. Which shouldn’t be too hard. Just don’t say anything stupid and revealing. I may be dumb enough to not figure this out until I was 20, but I’m not that dumb.

Finally coming back to reality. I finish unloading the rest of my stuff from my car into the house. Just get it inside first so we don’t have to deal with cold winter weather.  With that I finally take my coat off and take a look around.

The house hasn’t changed much in the months since I was here. Same pictures hanging on the wall. Same furniture standing where it always was. Same-

“Hey, Big Dickie!”

Same annoying little sister.

With a sigh, I respond to her greeting “Hi Theresa…”

She stands there with a shit-eating grin. She found out Dick is somehow used as a nickname for Richard at some point in high school and since then it has been her favorite nickname for me ever since. Doing her duty as a younger sibling to annoy the hell out of me I guess. I don’t think she knew I was a girl the whole time but it’s certainly annoying. Whatever higher power decided that a trans girl should get a nickname based on her least favorite body part was being exceedingly cruel.

“Come on slowpoke, dinner’s ready. Dad made your favorite!”

As my arm is dragged to the table by my favorite menace, I smile. I don’t want to give this family up. I just want to be me when I’m here. 

~~

So long and it’s like nothing’s changed. I take my usual spot by the window. Theresa is sitting opposite to me, and our parents on either side. Jacob’s not here, he’s busy doing stuff with his fiance’s family tonight, they’ll be around tomorrow. We’ve got food all around the table, everything should be great.

If only I wasn’t so nervous.

“So, son. How’ve you been all year?”

The son hurts but I try to not let that show. It’s not like I don’t get that in the rest of my life all the time. Soon, someday soon I can show them how wrong they are..

“Classes have been going well. 222 gave me a lot of trouble with the teacher constantly changing the requirements to simulate ‘an actual working environment,’ but I got through it in the end and don’t have to go back.”

“That’s good. How’s Ryan doing? You don’t talk about him much over the phone. Did something happen?”

“Not he’s good, I’ve just been spending a lot of time with Sarah recently so there’s not as much to say on Ryan’s end. He’s passed his classes but that’s all the news I’ve got.” Spending a lot of time with Sarah is one way to describe her helping me acquire hormones and deal with the absolute mess that is my head. I can’t tell them that but I’m hoping they don’t pick up on anything.

Unfortunately for me it seems Theresa has got a different implication than one I was intending. “Spending more time with Sarah I see? Does my brother perchance have a girlfriend?” she inquires smugly.

…well shit. Thinking about it, that would be the obvious implication. It’s not like it’s even out of the question. We’ve been good friends for a while and as we found out recently we are compatible as I guess I’m a Lesbian now.

 That feels weird to think about.

 Ryan even made a few jokes about it. Clearly our Lesbian friend is just pre-ordering a girlfriend before she’s done. Oh wait yeah she’s a Lesbian too, they don’t know I am. An excuse!

“Sarah’s very much a Lesbian, Theresa” I say. I hope the implication is enough. I’d rather not have to spell out the incorrect reasoning to her. Even if I know it’s a lie it still hurts.

“Aww,” my sister pouts.

I try to keep an eye on my parents’ reaction to this. It’s good to have more advanced intel to gauge how my future coming out will go. Unfortunately for me, my parents mostly keep a still face for this. Could mean they’re fine with it, could mean they’re just trying to “not air dirty laundry” as they tend to do.

“Hmm, it's good to see that you’re getting out of your room at least,” Dad states.

Ugh… this again. Look, I admit I was a bit of a recluse in high school. I just felt alone in the world and like I couldn’t understand any of my classmates. Why the hell would you want to brag about your dick so much? At least I still had Ryan. I eventually learned to not try to force myself in with the big cliques and have gotten better. Despite that, it feels like things haven’t changed with Dad and he still always hassles me about it.

“I get out plenty Dad…”

“It’s fine, I’m not trying to start a fight.”

“...Alright, sorry to say I don’t have much else to talk about. I call you every week. Last year was the big exciting one for me. I’m just keeping steady for now.”

Dad looks at me for a second and I briefly wonder if he can tell that’s the fattest lie I’ve ever told, but he moves on and I can feel myself release the breath I was unknowingly holding.

“Fair enough, though I believe turnabout is fair play as you know Theresa.”

My sister squirms as the roles are reversed. 

“So dear sister, since you mentioned it. You wouldn’t have happened to acquire a boyfriend recently, would you? I do recall you having Lucas over an awful lot last summer.”

Revenge is sweet.

~~~

Alright, phone charger? Check.

Hoodies? Check

Christmas gifts for family? Check.

Now for the hard part, hiding the hormones. My immediate thought is under some clothes, but what if mom comes in and wants to help clean out some of the old ones? I have been living for a year and a half without most of them. I could try putting the hormones inside my nightstand, but who knows what kind of junk in there might turn out to be suddenly useful and we need to go searching. I could just keep them in my suitcase but I still need to access the antiboyotics every morning, so I’d need to leave the suitcase out, and my parents might question that. I’m tempted to just hide them in plain sight and put them in the bathroom, but that somehow feels like the dumbest argument of all even if it has a decent chance of working.

Fuck, what do I do? What should I do?

Knock Knock Knock

I can hear the voice of my dad through the door. “You in there son? Is unpacking going okay?” 

“Uh… yeah Dad everything’s fine”

“Mind if I come in?”

Fuck fuck fuck, code red, if I say no that’s a massive red flag, I need to hide the hormones. Fuck I’ll just put it in my hoodie pocket and hope he doesn’t notice. Oversized hoodies, useful for many things.

“Yeah, sure.”

My dad walks through the door and I try not to act like my heart is beating faster than that rhythm game Sarah really likes playing.

“Hey, Dad. Need something?” 

“I just wanted to talk, away from the big intensity of everyone.”

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

“About what?”

“Are you doing okay Richard? Is everything really going well up there in college?”

“Yes Dad, things are going well.”

“Look I know, we haven’t always gotten along, and I know you weren’t doing so well in high school-”

That’s an understatement.

“So I just want to make sure things are going smoothly. I don’t want you to feel like you have to bottle everything up until it bursts.”

“Do I not seem fine?” I ask, trying to get a read on what’s going on here.

“You do, but you also seem worried about something. I don’t know if it’s some trouble with friends, worried about some grades, or something else. Or maybe I’m just overthinking this.”

Fuck, he’s caught on that I’m acting off. I don’t want to just tell him, it’s way too early for this.

“Look Dad, I’m fine. Heck if anything I think I’m probably doing better these days than I have… maybe ever. I think I’m just a bit tired after the long drive and then the interrogation at the dinner table.”

“Fair enough. I’m glad to hear that. I just want to make sure given that I can’t see you that often now that you’re off at college making your own place.”  

I give dad a smile. Things were rough between us for a while. I don’t think we really ever clicked with each other (for reasons that seem obvious now), and he put a lot of pressure on me in high school. But it’s good to see that, regardless of everything, he still cares.

“I’ll let you back to unpacking. Don’t want to waste your time, just don’t make too much noise tonight. Don’t wake us up, and we won’t wake you up.”

I smile at the in-joke, me and my parents have very different sleep schedules to put it lightly. It’s caused a few issues over the years but fortunately we learned to coexist in the same building.

“Will do dad.”

“Thanks Richie, and just remember. I love you no matter what,” he finishes with a warm smile.

No matter what. He specified that.

Does he know?

I mean, how would he know? I don’t think he saw the pills? Did he notice my face looks slightly softer despite me not having seen him in months? Hell did he put the signs together even before I did?

I don’t know

But, more importantly, should I do it? I mean he said, no matter what. That means he’d accept me right?

But what if it means he’d still love me even if he didn’t love me . Transgender identities still aren’t exactly the most common things. Hell I’m not even sure if he’s even interacted with queer people before. No one else in our extended family is queer (as far as I know at least). He could have no idea I’m thinking about coming out as trans, and thinking it’s something else.

Stick with the plan.

“I love you too Dad,” I reply, trying not to let my voice betray my inner turmoil.

~~~

Christmas morning has somewhat worn out its luster over the years. When you’re a kid, the prospect of getting presents is thrilling. I recall quite a few times when I had trouble sleeping the night before. As the years go on and you get your own money from summer jobs that you can spend on things by yourself, it loses its wonder a bit. Once you move out of the house you rediscover it as a time to just see everyone again after you’ve been off on your own for so long. But it appears I’ve discovered the secret fourth phase to the approach to Christmas morning, dread. As you get older, your parents have a habit of getting you less exciting fun toys and more clothes and essentials they think you need. Normally that’s still good if not exciting, but normally they aren’t buying clothes for the wrong gender for you.

 So I’m going to need to sit there and pretend to be pleasantly unenthused at minimum towards the inevitable polo shirts I’ll be getting. My distaste for formal menswear was not a secret in this family. I never liked how they felt and ties were an unholy invention in my opinion (who thought that strangling yourself with a floppy piece of fabric was a good idea?). But regardless of my desire on the subject, my parents had the opinion that they were still necessary. Given that I wasn’t likely to get them on my own, formal wear had a tendency to show up in my gifts. Not everything of course, but they were there.

And now I had to pretend that they weren’t part of the biggest thing I was trying to hide from my life right now, great.

Alright Elise, you can hold yourself together. It’s not like you’ll even have to wear them many times, college doesn’t demand it on many occasions and I’ll be coming out before I need to get around to job interviews and other junk like that anyways. Hell you could probably burn them the second you get back to the dorm and no one would know. At least I wouldn’t have to pretend to get excited about them, that would be out of character if anything.

I steel myself and head downstairs for the morning, at precisely 8am and no sooner. We negotiated Christmas wakeup time last night and I was not going to waste any of the wonderful sleep I was allowed.

“Merry Christmas sleepyhead!” Mom called from the living room. 

“Merry Christmas early birds,” I return.

“Is Theresa up yet?” Mom asks me.

“I heard her bumping around earlier, I think-.” I start before I’m cut off.

“I’m here.” my sister grumbles from behind me. She’s just wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, and her hair is a complete mess. She likely just rolled out of bed, and yet she still looks better than anything I’ve ever seen in a mirror.

Bad Elise! Don’t get jealous of your sister now, there’s time for self-pitying later.

“What are you looking at?”

“Just watching your hair have a party,” I quip back.

“Hey! Long hair takes work, not like you’d know.”

Well if I have any luck, I will.

DING DONG goes the doorbell, as if it was purposely trying to interrupt our bickering.

“Oh that must be Jacob and Rebecca! Let’s all go say hello!” Mom says excitedly.

Knowing that the time was in the past for sibling bickering. We head to go greet our older brother, while both being very underdressed. 

My brother is the same as the last time I saw him. Like a slightly taller version of everything I do not want on myself. Not to say he looks bad or anything, he’s just… very man. We never got along well growing up, our parents tried to force us to do things together growing up but we would clash a lot. Eventually we just kinda drifted apart, and stayed out of each other’s way. This mutual understanding has lasted for quite a while, and I doubt much is going to change about that.

His fiance, Rebecca follows behind him. She’s nice enough (and definitely gives me some of what I can now recognize as envy), but I don’t really know much about her. Jacob only met her last year after I went off to college, and I didn’t get to see that much of her last summer. I say a polite hello when she walks in, but I don’t really know her well enough to do anything more substantial.

It’s soon time for gifts, we all gather around the tree. My parents pull up chairs for themselves, Jacob and Rebecca take the couch, leaving me and Therersa to just sit on the ground.

We distribute various piles and I look through what I’m going to have to react to. There’s one that’s obviously a book of some kind, and one that’s clearly a box for clothes. Nothing else seems really obvious but we’ll have to see what comes.

As for my gifts to family, I went as cheap as I could this year while still trying to make something nice. Having to deal with the unexpected expense of getting hormones meant my finances were tight right now. I went to the lab at college to use a 3d printer to make a vase for Mom. I did something similar for Jacob and Rebecca, making a heart shaped picture frame with some of their engagement photos inside. For Theresa, I got Sarah to draw some art for a band she’s into in exchange for helping her with her paper all night before it was due. Dad’s was the one gift I spent actual money on since I was out of ideas and just got him the same thing he asks for every year, golf balls. Not the most impressive, but he never complains.

Then it was my turn.

It wasn’t all bad, I got a fantasy book that looked interesting even if it could serve dual purpose as a brick. Some nicer headphones were nice, my old ones were falling apart at this point, but I couldn’t run from the suspiciously large and flat box forever.

“Hmm… wonder what’s in this one. Could be a box.” I joke. It gets a few chuckles from the family. It’s hard to go wrong with the classics.

Knowing that I couldn’t delay any further I gradually undo the wrapping paper to unearth the box inside. Taking a quick look inside I can indeed confirm that my suspicions are correct. Ugh, another polo.

I’m not going to cry or anything, it’s not like they knew better, and it’s not like I don’t get gendered male every single day anyways. I’m just sick of this.

“Thanks mom!” I say, trying my hardest to not reflect the extent of my inner turmoil. I think it came across as polite indifference at least.

“Show it off at least Richie,” Mom chides.

“Okaaaay,” I reply. Trying to come across as playful and sarcastic and not resentful.

I take the garment out of the box and demonstrate it to the family. It’s not ugly or anything. I like the blue/white color scheme. It’s just really not me.

Satisfied by my exhibition of male fashion, my family moves on, while I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ve gotten through the hard part. 

Well, one of the hard parts at least.

There’s still the big dinner with extended family tonight, and that’s a lot more eyes on me that could potentially notice something is off.

Happy holidays Elise…

Chapter 2: All Hands on Table

Chapter 2- All hands on table

Only 24 hours later and I’m already back in the car. Not to go back to college or anything.

That would be too convenient

I’m packed in the car with my family to go visit all of our cousins and aunts and uncles. If I was a bit of an odd one out over the years with my immediate family, I’m a certified weirdo with my extended family.

It’s not like I ever did anything, it’s more just what I didn’t do. I belong to a very sporty family, and it seems like I just never picked up that gene. I had my own hobbies, but they were never anything that overlapped with my cousins. Schoolwork is something, but most people don’t like talking about school that much on a holiday, and even beyond that I’m a good chunk younger than a lot of them. By the time I made it to college, most of them had already graduated and were off in the working world. Even then, when I went to college, I went a few states over, and no one else in the family was really close by.

As a result, I don’t really know these people that well. It’s harsh to say about people that you’ve theoretically been in the orbit of your entire life, but it’s true. Then a bunch of them got married, and that’s a whole other bunch of people that show up to family gatherings that I can barely recall the names of. I won’t pretend this is something I'm proud of. They’re not bad people or anything (as far as I know) it’s just hard for me to muster a connection with my cousins that I have very little in common with aside from having a shared ancestor.

At least it won’t be out of the ordinary if I’m awkward tonight.

...The fact that I was perpetually awkward and reclusive really is helping me out when keeping everything hidden huh? That’s… kinda sad.

Let’s try not to think depressing thoughts, don’t want to look sad for the family.

So… current situation. I’m crammed in the back of the family car as we drive down a bunch of backroads to make it to our uncle’s place. Mom and Dad took up front obviously while me and Theresa are crammed in back alongside the food we are contributing. My clothes are stiff, scratchy and dear God they do not feel good on my nipples right now.

It’s not like I can wear anything under the shirt to make it easier either. I have some sports bras at college courtesy of Sarah. I didn’t bring them home, because I didn’t think I needed to hide anything about my figure so far, and there was a risk my parents would find them if they ever looked through my clothes for whatever reason. In retrospect I really should have taken that risk, because my itchy nipples are far more likely to give me away than my parents searching every single pocket of my suitcase.

So I’m going to have to get through all of the gathering tonight with itchy nipples. Lucky me.

~~~

We’re here. I can’t hide behind my phone any longer. It’s time to face the music.

Said music being overplayed holiday music of course. 

 I get out and stretch for quite a bit. I really was not eager to get back in the car for as much as it was a brief respite from family awkwardness.

The winter air is cold, so we move fast to the door. It doesn’t take long before the doorbell is rung and answered.

“Hey hey! How are the inferior Bourkes doing?” Uncle Charles answers.

Dad answers his brother in kind “Quite well actually, much better than the Bourkes’ they have down here.”

Uncle Charles gets a sly grin in response to his brother’s posturing that I don’t understand. I don’t get this seeming need to insult the people you like. Maybe it’s a male thing? I dunno.

“Well then, let’s get you all inside so we can see if that’s all true” Uncle Charles replies, before moving out of the way to let us all in. We all oblige as quickly as we can so we can move onto the rest of the inspections greetings. We all throw our coats on a random chair before moving in to see the rest of the family.

It doesn’t seem like we got the whole crowd. Only two other branches of the family tree on my dad’s side have shown up. That’s only… a dozen or so people who could potentially figure me out? Give or take a few depending on whose partners showed up or who are spending this evening with their partner’s family.

I’m sure all this worrying is doing wonders for my heart.

We head into the kitchen to meet with everyone. The first one I can recognize is Aunt Caroline who immediately goes down the row of our family and envelopes us each in turn.

Ow. Once again people continue crushing my growing chest. At least the pain means stuff is happening right? That’s a silver lining. Being trans makes you take joy in some weird things.

After giving us a hug, Aunt Caroline looks us all over before focusing on me and Theresa.

“Look at you two, you’ve grown so much since I last saw you. You’re so cute,” She coos over us. I know it’s more because we’re the babies of the family, and not because I look particularly feminine right now, but I will take anything I can get.

Dad chides her “Carol, enough.”

“Yes, yes they’re very handsome and beautiful young adults now.” she waves him off.

One of my cousins speaks up from off to the side. “I dunno, Richie still looks like he could fit as an early high schooler, puberty really is taking it’s time on you my guy”

Panic. Panic. Not good.

I suppose it makes sense. I was always a bit of a late bloomer before I started transitioning, and late puberty makes for a more natural connection to pop into people's heads than what’s actually going on. It still means that people can notice me though. On the one hand, I can take solace in the fact that the hormones are having an effect. On the other hand, oh no. People can tell.

I turn to take a look at the cousin. I can recognize him as Dylan, but I’m still momentarily shocked. Holy shit, what happened to him. The guy is massive . Not even just tall. He’s broad and muscular too. I remember when we used to look pretty similar back in the day. Looking at him right now is like looking at a cursed mirror that shows you your worst possible outcome. THough 

“Dang dude when did you get so big?” I ask while dumbfounded.

He grins “Been working out a lot. What, you want some advice?”

I snort “Have you ever known me to be a physical person?”

“Not really, but I figured I’d ask. People change and I haven't seen you for a while.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass,” I reply.

“Cool cool. The hair’s new though. What’s up with that?” he inquires.

Yeah, it makes sense that he’d notice that. My hair isn’t exactly prone to being subtle. It’s very curly, and is prone to declaring rebellion against the laws of gravity. Supposedly it will be better when it grows longer and more hair can weigh the whole mess down, but for now it just kinda poofs out wherever it wants. It’s not a look I’m fond of and it’s basically the reason I was never able to experiment with growing out longer hair before this. Like with everything else with my body. I’m making changes now in the hope that they will pay off in the future. That’s all I can do. Hope

“Yeah, just haven’t gotten around to cutting it for a while, and apparently that means it does this.”

“Been that busy?”

“Yeah, classes were a thing, and who knows I might end up just keeping it longer just to see how I like it,” I answer.

“Got any ideas of how long?”

I shrug “I dunno, I’ll see how it ends up. Worst case scenario, I hate it and cut it all off.”

That’s of course not the actual answer, but answering that I want it as long as I can get it is going to raise suspicions..

“Huh, good luck I guess.” 

With that, the topics shifted, and I drifted off to my sanctuary in family parties like these. The snack bar.

Look I’m a growing girl, I’m gonna need the material.

~~~

As the christmas party settles in the rest of the family shows up leading to that whole song and dance repeating a few times. I got a few more comments on my hair, but nothing I haven’t seen before. At this point I really do have to question if I was worrying about things too much. Perhaps I was worrying too much about everything.

It’s not like that would be out of the ordinary for me. I’ve been seriously prone to over worrying about things in the past. When I first met Sarah, I was terrified I was going to say something weird and just come across as a creepy guy.

Funny how that one turned out.

With that I feel like I can finally take the opportunity to relax a bit. I don’t have to treat this like a spy movie, where every word is an opportunity to expose myself. If anything, worrying is more likely to give me away as Dad taught me last night.

I take another bite out of my bounty from the snack bar, and lean back. If nothing else, this branch of the family is in possession of a very comfy couch.

Unfortunately for my appreciation of the couch uncle Charles decides to spark up a conversation. “Hey little Richie, how've you been doing? College treating you well?” 

I know he’s trying to tease me by calling me little. Hah! Jokes on him. I’m happy about that these days.

“Yeah, things have been going pretty well. One of my classes was a bit rough this semester but I got through it.” 

I continue with the obligatory follow-up “How’ve you been, it’s been a while.”

I’m happy to hear him talk about his law job for a bit, but my thoughts on this conversation are very rudely interrupted.

Oh god my right nipple is on fire right now.

Not literally (though you could have fooled me), but it feels like there’s ants crawling underneath my skin and I desperately want to scratch it. I’m desperately holding on trying to keep a straight face.

Hold on…. 

Just a bit.

Longer!

I need to get out, hopefully he doesn’t think I’m rude for this.

“Hey Uncle Charlie, it’s really cool that the case has been going so well. Unfortunately I REALLY need to go to the bathroom all of a sudden. Do you mind if we resume this after I come back.”

“Oh yeah, sure. Do you remember where it is?”

“Yeah thanks.” I sputter out as I speedwalk my way to the bathroom. The second I get inside I lock the door and rip my shirt off. The relief is palpable. It’s like someone just poured cold water over a burn.

You know when I said I hate wearing this kind of stuff, I wasn’t thinking about being literal pain.

~~~

Aunt Caroline’s enthusiastic calls for dinner mark the end of the meandering and gossipping phase of the evening. Instead it was now time to begin the sitting and gossiping phase. I find an open seat at the table and grab a plate before heading back into the kitchen. 

I take a step back and wait a bit for it. It’s ladies first for the food at holidays, and I unfortunately am not recognized as one of the ladies, and need to wait to grab food with the menfolk of the family. It’s not a big deal, it's just …ugh. 

It only takes a bit before I can grab some food and make it back to the table. I’m hoping I can just sit and eat my food quietly without it being too inconspicuous

I don’t make it long.

One of my older cousins speaks up. “So… Richard, Jacob  has his wedding this spring. Any idea when it’s going to be your turn?”

Ah, romance. Apparently people REALLY like inquiring about it to me. It’s been the wedding decade for a few years now in this family. All the older cousins are getting married one after the other.

Meanwhile I’ve never even had a girlfriend before.

I’m not toxic or anything, it’s more just that I’ve never tried.

The whole process of dating just felt intensely uncomfortable to me. It’s basically advertising yourself to potential matches, and it just felt wrong to do that. If I couldn’t like myself, how could I present that picture as the summary to anyone else in good conscience? It feels like lying, and I don’t want to disrespect any potential partner by starting out on a foundation of deception.

This is one of many aspects of my life that makes a lot more sense now that I’ve cracked. 

I’m not opposed to the concept. Girls are indeed very pretty, and my least favorite organ is not shy in asserting its existence. At this point, I think I’d just rather date someone as myself, than having this awkward shell getting in the way.

Could you call that procrastinating? Maybe, but at least it’s a more concrete benchmark than just “when I stop hating myself.”

“Don’t expect me anytime soon, still an awkward mess around girls. You’ll probably have to rely on Eli to fill your wedding addiction for the next few years.”

That gets some light chuckles from the rest of the family. Is it enough to avert attention?

“Eh, it’s not that hard. You clean up after yourself better than most computing students I've seen. So you’ve got to at least look better by comparison.”

“I don’t really do much, just take a shower most days.”

“That’s better than most compsci students I’ve seen.”

I am suddenly reminded by the foul stench that pervades many of the students in the computing building. Many of my colleagues find the concept of personal hygiene more repulsive than the stench. I can’t understand them. Seriously people, it’s not that hard! Hot showers feel amazing (especially with estrogen softening your skin)!

“...You have a point,” I sigh

Some slight chuckles erupt from the rest of the table. I may not be dodging every stereotype of my major, but at least I’m dodging that one.

From here the conversation drifts away from me and the areas where I feel I have the knowledge to comment on. I hear about Adrian’s girlfriend who I’m just learning about for the first time and how her work is giving her trouble.I hear about how Dylan is looking into housing in a certain part of the city that I’m not familiar with. Alongside that there’s all the family gossip.

It’s not bad stuff or anything. I’m not hearing about how someone is dealing drugs, or how they’re stuck in a messy divorce. It’s all normal family stuff.

Just from a family I don’t feel like I’m not a part of.

I’m reminded of the time at the family reunion when I was younger. Our section of the family had scheduled two activities for the day. Golf and going clothes shopping at the Mall. I never got into golf like my male relatives did. Golf is stereotypically the middle aged office manager sport but it was surprisingly popular among my family even among the younger generations. I never really got into it though. I could never get the hang of making the ball do anything except roll along the ground at a faster pace, and the all-afternoon nature of the game just kinda bored me. There’s nothing wrong with it or anything. I’m not about to go on an anti-golf crusade anytime soon. It just wasn’t something I had any interest in.

So golf was out. So I get to go look at pretty clothes right?

Nope, I was a boy (so they thought), and my distaste for clothing (of the male variety at least) was well known. I had my comfy sweats, and I was fine with that (at the time). Why bother putting in the effort if I didn’t care about my appearance. So all that would happen was me getting dragged around while my female relatives try on various outfits all afternoon. Little did they know, I probably would have enjoyed it if I was allowed to actually participate and not just sit on the sidelines.

So in the end, when faced with the grand divide. What did I get to end up doing?

I stayed in the hotel room.

I didn’t fit in one of two clean categories, so I just fell through the cracks of the family.

It’s a question if I ever stopped.

No one says anything about me. I’m not a laughingstock of the family or anything.

I’m just there once or twice a year, and then I disappear off into my own world.

I don’t really know  these people, and they don’t know me.

That’s not how it’s supposed to work, but it’s how it has worked for me for so long. 

…Should I just go stealth?

Pack up everything and move far away where no one knows me. Cut off all contact and pretend to be a new person, a new woman. It’s not like people here would miss me.

No, I shouldn’t. I can’t just run away from my problems. That’s the attitude that got me this far in life without figuring myself out. 

Still doesn’t make the idea unappealing though.

~~~ 

1 hour 43 minutes and 13 seconds later it’s over. We're home again, and I can let go of the breath I've been holding. I eagerly stumble my way out of the car and into the house. This has been a long night.

The rest of the family follows me in swift fashion. Even for the social butterflies of the family, it's been a long night. It's also pretty late for my parents, so they're heading off to bed soon. Jacob is also going to be staying in his old room for the night since it's a bit of a commute to where he lives these days.

The worst of this is over for now. I'm solidly past the big events. From here I can just coast until I head back to college in a few days.

Though the attention I've gotten tonight does make me question if I should consider adjusting my timeline on this. People aren't noticing that I'm feminine per se, but there's been a few notes that I don't look like the college boy they think I am. That's definitely something to keep in mind. Whether or not they connect the dots is a separate question. Most of my family probably haven't ever even met a trans person (or at least not one they know was trans). They don't know the signs, and it's not a consistent presence in their mind like it is for me. So I think I have that going for me. But at the same time, the more signs they notice that something is off, the odds get greater and greater that someone can connect the dots.

I guess I'll have to talk with Sarah about it when I get back. She's been invaluable in giving me advice on the topic based on her own transition, and it might be good to ask about this. Though I probably should try to get her something. I owe her a ton.

My thoughts on the topic of what I should try to get for Sarah are interrupted when I feel a tapping on my shoulder.

“Yeah dad-” I start before turning around to see someone who was definitely not my dad (despite the similarities).

“Oh uh... hi Jacob.” I greet my older brother, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice.

“Hey Richard, can we talk?” He asks.

I can't read his tone, but the alarms in my head are blaring at code red. I need to calm down, don't let anything show. The more nervous I am, the more he might suspect something's up.

“Uh... sure. Anywhere in particular?” I ask, in a (hopefully) flat voice.

“Let's go to my room, so we aren't getting in anyone's way.”

“Sounds good,” I reply as I follow him up the stairs

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He wants to do this in private. Not good, Why else would he want to do this in private? He knows. He knows. He knows.

What's his angle here? Did he figure me out, and is keeping respectfully quiet? Or does he want to attack me? He's not the kind of person to be violent towards queer people (I think). Does he not know all the signs and has just noticed that this has gone beyond late puberty and is asking if I'm okay without letting the family know?

My mind is racing a mile a minute as each step on the stairs feels like an eternity.

Despite my best requests to any divine power, I cannot delay this meeting and I am forced to confront it.

Once we get inside, my brother shuts the door and turns around to face me awkwardly. That's a good sign. I think? He's not immediately showing rage at least.

It takes a bit but eventually he does speak up.

“Hey so, I know we haven't always been the closest.”

“...yeah”

“I'm not here to interrogate that stuff or anything, that stuff is all in the past. I'm just thinking about what to do going forward, despite what happened in the past, you are still my brother, and I do want to be a family.”

Nope, not your brother, but we are still family (for now, I love having that guillotine hanging in the future). That being said, this conversation isn't going in the direction I thought it would. He hasn't brought up my appearance, or me being different once. Is that not what this is about? Did I just panic over nothing?

“Okay...”

He takes a deep breath. He's building up to something big.

“So... as my brother. Would you be a groomsman in my wedding?”

A groomsman?! 

Me?!

I'm not even a man! I'm even planning on scraping away even more of the remnants of that lie by the time the wedding is due in spring.

But I have to.

It would be incredibly rude to my brother to say no to this without a good reason, and I can't tell him my reason why. Refusing would only serve to hurt my brother and put a ton of attention onto me I can't afford.

And if I want to actually try to hold onto my relationship with my family after all this, I need to try to put in the effort.

I have to do this.

“Absolutely Jacob. I would be happy to.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

 

Notes:

This is a new original series I've been working on and off for a while. This chapter has been mostly finished for at least a month, but I was getting some serious writers block. After a while I decided to push it over the finish line to finally put it out there. Plan was around 10-ish chapters but who knows how it will play out in reality.