DerbyGhost

Two chapters in one night?? Woah! Well y'all have been so patient with me and I felt bad for leaving you looking over the edge of a bad cliff so why don't we just dive right off of it and have a lovely dinner of Pho and Family. Nothing can ever go wrong ever.

There are two kinds of awkward silence. The first occurs naturally during a lull in conversation in which both parties realize that they’ve kind of run out of things to say. Sometimes a phone is consulted in a time of struggle like this. And then you can be all “hey I saw this on the news” or “can you believe this weather? The forecast says. . .” and then segue into a Frankenstein’s monster of a conversation until your time together is up. Both parties will then vow to see each other more, hug or shake hands, and then silently wish that that awkward silence never happens again. Believe it or not this is the better scenario.

At least in this scenario, everyone knows that things are awkward. Everyone grasps at straws to keep things going. You're on a verbal Titanic. The boat IS sinking. But hey, at least there are lifeboats.

Then there’s that awkward silence when multiple people know that they desperately need to talk about something and are trying their damnedest to avoid doing such. When there’s not just an elephant in the room, but the goddamn circus is in town. The longer the silence goes on, the need to broach the subject exponentially increases. But proportional to the need to broach the subject, there is this desire to avoid the horrible consequences that will directly come from the conversation. And that’s why I was currently nose deep in a menu taking a very long time to decide just exactly what kind of pho I was going to order.

There were so many options! Rare beef? What makes the beef so rare? Did they find it from the most secretive of jungles? Was it one of those things that only rich people ate and now it’s available for the masses? And what were all the sauces in the middle of the table? Could I just taste them to find out? Wowee a lot of really important things to think about rather than actually talking with my parents.

And would you look at that! The drink menu. It seemed to be an excellent distraction and oohhhhh shit I still can’t drink huh. Please, God, if you’re out there. Could you just throw me like, an Orion or a nice Sapporo to just give me something to fixate on and drink rather than dealing with the familial crisis unfolding in front of me like a slow motion car crash?

I had tried shooting out a quick text at the start of dinner, but texting at dinner was one of the biggest pet peeves my parents had. I know it irked them, and I had sat through countless lectures at the dinner table about not being rude. I even tried to shoot a quick “help” to Elle but saw the absolute death glare on my dad’s face and decided that I didn’t want to disrupt things even more than I already had. Playing it safe was probably my best option if I wanted to survive this.

Maybe my parents were like raptors. If I just didn’t move or say anything, they wouldn’t bring up the fact that they mysteriously were sharing dinner with a daughter they didn’t know that they had. I’m glad I was at least able to quickly convince them that I was who I said I was. This would have been worse if I had to go through the whole “it’s really me” song and dance. Fortunately having my phone, wallet and Josh actually backed me up to prove that it was the “real” me. Whatever that means. And we could have certainly avoided any unpleasantness if they didn’t subsequently invite themselves to dinner. Then we wouldn’t have to talk about this and I can just go back to pretending that this conversation doesn’t need to. . this is impossible to think about isn’t it. I’m doing nothing but going in circles.

This was just so typical of them. Once again they stick their nose into my business and once again I have to feel like the bad guy for something that I’m not in control of. When I was a teen they took away the lock on my door because I was “keeping myself cooped up for longer than necessary.” It was around that time when I learned how to erase my browser history to stop them from asking annoying questions. And well. I was a teenage boy! It felt like something primal had snatched controls away from my brain and well. The internet is vast and full of wonders.

I quickly glance up from the menu and all I see is all three of my family members just staring at me. Josh’s face is completely blank. I feel like I fried his mind, which to be fair feels to me a bit like an overreaction. I know for a fact that he’s got at least one friend at his high school who is trans so I don’t get why he’s being such a drama king about all of this. He genuinely seemed like he was processing things until the ‘rents got here.

Mom has had this worried look on her face ever since we came into the restaurant. Usually I would read it as that overprotective mama bear attitude she can get when her kids are in some kind of bad situation. I don’t think I have seen that look since I got into a car crash and broke my arm my freshman year of college. And if you’re wondering, someone hit me. My driving record is still clean, at least until I get pulled over for driving without a license once I start driving again. 

Ultimately, I’m concerned. We never really heard talked about LGBT people when I was a kid. Whenever I brought up any kind of queer issue mom always brushed it aside or changed the subject. But like, they never said anything bad. And they were always polite when I talked about hanging out with my gay friends at school. So I’m going to have to just hope for the best with her.

Dad is the wild card. He had his hippy days when he was younger and he can be loose about things. But one thing that I’ve always hated is that his face has this way of becoming a complete blank canvas. Emotions were especially difficult to read off of him. When I was a kid I would get called into his room and until he started speaking I wouldn’t be sure whether I was in trouble or something good happened. “You’re getting a baby brother” and “I just got a call from your teacher” were delivered in the same tone and I just got in the habit of flinch first ask questions later. 

Not to say that he wasn’t a nice guy. His sense of humor was amazing, when he wanted it to be. I remember staying up late on Saturdays to watch double features of dumb old science fiction films. We would whisper jokes to each other about the bad special effects of the Wasp Woman or the fact that the science in They Saved Hitler’s Brain made no sense whatsoever (side note, everyone knows that Hitler was cloned in Argentina, there’s no way they could have saved his brain after what happened to him). It was sometimes hard for me to rectify the gentle goofiness of sci-fi dad with the harsh seriousness of Business Dad. I still feel like a little kid around him, like I’ve done something wrong and am about to be judged.

Sitting at the table in Pho-nomenal I looked at my family, who in turn were looking at me like a total stranger and it hurt. And the more it hurt the less I wanted to talk about what was really happening with me. Whether or not they responded well, this unnatural quiet couldn’t last forever. Eventually the silence just got to be too much. I had to break the ice somehow.

“So you’ve probably all noticed my new haircut. I think it's kind of flattering, but I wanted a second opinion. What do y’all think?” I paused a beat to see if there was any response. No? Nothing? This was premium comedy material and all I was getting was blank faces. Maybe Elle was right. Maybe I joked around too much. Alright, dancing around the issue isn’t going to help. I guess I’d better attack it face on. I cleared my throat and tried to be as serious as I could potentially muster. “Okay I can see we aren’t in a mood for jokes. So, I think I look a little different than the last time you all saw me.”

Josh let out a little laugh, ha seems like I was breaking through to at least him. Dad just rolled his eyes and kept his deadly serious expression on his face. “I think, Andrew, that that might be the understatement of the year.” Oh boy he’s pulling out my full name. Nobody calls me by my full first name besides Incel McCreepsalot. “I think you owe us a complete explanation on what. . . what happened. Why did you do this to yourself?”

Do this to myself? Excuse me? This is what you’re going to start the conversation out with, like right out the gate talking all accusatory? “Wow dad, it’s really nice to see you too. Love you so much. Have you lost weight? You’re looking great. Lovely audience. Josh, thanks for the chuckle. Okay folks, let’s recap what I said outside before we came in. My roommate hexed me to turn my body into one typically associated with a girl. I’m staying with my friend because I don’t trust living with him anymore, for good reason. Right? I think so. Uh, I go by Andi right now while I’m a girl and I would greatly appreciate you not calling me Andrew. Or if you’re feeling awfully cordial you can certainly go for Andrea. Look it’s almost the same as what you said but I just swapped an a in there. That’s easy enough to do right? It feels weird for you to call me Andrew in public when, like, people can overhear our conversation. It’s just way more comfortable for me. Umm I think that’s all I’ve got. Does that sound like I covered it? Cool let’s eat some Pho, I want the one with the meatballs and the rare beef in it. And maybe a beer? God I could kill for a beer right now.”

This time my mom chimed in “you’re going to turn yourself back right, Andrew? This can’t be permanent.” The concern on her face seemed to have bloomed into a full blown panic. Dang I would have thought out of the two of them that she would at least be kind of excited about having a daughter now, right? Isn’t that what a mom wishes for? A daughter that they can bond with and do mom and daughter things? LIke I wasn’t expecting her to roll out the welcome wagon right away, but instead she shifted uncomfortably in her seat and asked, “You are actually trying to turn back right?” There was something insulting in the desperation, but also something comedic at the scale of her panic in regards to the situation.

“Uh well yeah of course I’m trying. But you know there’s only so much that I can do. Magic isn’t precisely the same as science, and y’know we didn’t know it existed until yesterday. We can’t just press a button and spell happens. So let me tell you the brightest minds are working on it as we speak.” Which I guess was a lie. That spell book was still locked up in Elle’s apartment. But hopefully tonight I’d be able to talk with someone who knows a little bit about magic. My mom just gazed at me with a suspicious look on her face. I honestly didn’t expect them to seemingly go on the attack. I was mentally backpedaling, I needed to get this conversation back under control. I don’t know why I have to be so defensive about this. Why are they seemingly making this a big deal? It can probably be fixed. If I wanted it to. Which I did, obviously. Although the more they want me to change back, the longer I want to delay my inevitable transformation. Y’know, to just kind of really show them that this isn’t a big deal to me and that I’m still me. 

“So what are you? Transgender or something.” Dad seemed to grunt that question out, like he was spitting out something unpleasant. This is it? This is why they’re being so weird. Do they think I did this intentionally? That I was secretly trans and was hiding it this whole time and created some sort of convenient excuse?

“First of all: I don’t know why you’re saying that with that specific tone. Like it’s a bad thing. Like that would be a bad thing for me to be. Like it’s doing nothing here but make me feel incredibly uncomfortable. No I’m not, at least I don’t think I am. I guess.”

“You guess? How can you be here guessing about something as important as your gender? Your future. Andrew for once in your life take something seriously. There are serious repercussions to how you answer these questions.” There was an edge to his voice, like I gave a wrong answer. I don’t know what would be the right answer for them anymore.

How would I even begin to appease them? What do they want? Should I get down on my knees, wail and gnash my teeth about how my life is now a constant torture because I no longer have a penis? Am I uncomfortable with myself? Sometimes yeah. But I was uncomfortable with who I was before the spell happened in the first place. And they didn’t expect me to apologize for who I was before. 

My moods and my bouts of depression were just kind of taken as a given. And I don’t know if I want to return to that. If nothing can change I’m at peace with that, even if I’m interested to see what would happen if we could translate the spell book. But that doesn’t mean that like, I’m trans or anything. Does it? Trans people are totally sure that they were “born in the wrong body” or whatever. They don’t spend their time constantly questioning who they are. At least that’s what like two minutes of cursory late night googling seems to suggest.

I had to say something. I looked pleadingly at Josh and he looked away sheepishly and mouthed ‘I’m sorry.’ I know this is probably as uncomfortable for him as it is for everyone else. I guess I had to say something, mom and dad were looking more and more agitated by the minute. “Look I didn’t ask for this. This was just kind of thrust upon me and I’m just trying to adapt while I’m in this body.”

“For someone who didn’t ask for this it seems like you’re adapting extremely quickly. Whose clothes are those? Yours?” Damn mom and her perceptive fashion eyes. What mom, are you jealous? Sad that in like, a day I’ve developed a better fashion sense than you? Damn wow, where did that come from? That was like, ridiculously catty.

“Yeah I guess. They’re new. Elle and I had to go get something so I could go out in public. I didn’t want to wear my now extra large sized clothing whenever I left the house and I didn’t really fit into her clothes.” I crossed my arms across my chest. My dad raised an eyebrow, probably judging this action and placing it in the “girl behavior” pile. Is this an inquisition? If not it feels awfully close. My throat clenches and my breathing is starting to get a little shallow. I’ve never really seen my parents like this, and it was an awfully unpleasant side to meet.

“I used to have to drag you out to go shopping and now you show up looking like” mom paused like she was looking for the right words. “Well you look like a sorority goth. And I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that. It just feels weird. It’s weird for me to see my son dressed this way.”

“I dunno mom. What’s weirding you out, the clothes or the body under the clothes because something tells me you’d have this same kind of reaction to me if I was just wearing my old dude clothes.”

“I think her clothes look fine,” mumbled Josh.

“Thanks Josh. I appreciate that. And mom, these clothes are just what any average girl is wearing. Like Elle and I went for the most generic clothing. Like she wanted me to try on a skirt and everything and I just was not about that.”

Josh seemed to have gotten his stomach for conversation back “you’re saying like a lot.”

“I’ve always said like a lot. I’m not saying it more because I’m a girl. That’s super dumb. Like, now you’re just looking for something to nitpick about me. Why can’t we just be normal and have a nice Pho dinner and forget about all this. Or maybe, dear ol’ mom and pa, maybe this is a lesson to not show up to dinners you haven’t been invited to!” I don’t know why that popped out but as soon as the words left my mouth I felt the twin stings of elation that I spoke up to my parents and fear that I had just made the situation much worse than it already was. Which is really saying something.

Dad thumped his fist down on the table. Not loud enough to make a clatter but enough to shut me and Josh up, which I guess was his intention. “Are you even listening to yourself Andrew? You. Are not. An average. Girl. You’re our son. You show up looking like that, and what’s worse you don’t even seem to think there is anything wrong with that. Is this some sort of pressure from your friends, Andrew? Is Elle telling you that this is all normal and it isn’t odd for you to be here in women’s clothing? Look at you. You’re acting like some kind of freak. And you’re just here trying to have a conversation with us like nothing has changed. Everything has changed, and you’re just joking and being all casual.”

Tears stung at the corner of my eyes. Every time he said Andrew it felt like a knife in the back. “Dad what the absolute fuck.”

“Language,” mom chided. Of course she was going to take his side in this. They always took each other's side. I mean it makes sense since they’re parents, but she’s not going to call him out when he’s obviously going too far? Seriously?

And what’s the deal with this respectability politics? I can’t drop a single well armed F-bomb in a situation where I sure as hell want to say more? PG-13 movies are allowed a single fuck in the runtime and typically they’re deployed pretty strategically. I’ve heard way worse out of both their mouths when they thought that nobody was listening. And yet I can’t say it. Cool cool cool cool cool. I could tell that I was getting more agitated by the moment. My stress already was going nuts from the first moment that I saw them and now I felt the familiar clutches of a panic attack. Hello darkness my old friend, back to freak me out again.

“Oh so you’re going to language me but you’re not going to say a single goddamn thing about your husband who called me a freak because why? Because I’m not some sort of wreck sobbing in a room about the potential loss of my supposed manhood. Because I’m trying to keep living my life and getting used to what could potentially be the new me. Because I could be happy? Because I could like being a girl and continue living this way? What if huh? Stop for a second and think what if this is the way I want to stay. It could be that I don’t even want to go back. What are you going to do then huh?” I gasped and grabbed my mouth. What was I even saying. I know I had barely mentally prepared for the worst in case I couldn’t turn back, but really what if I liked being a girl more? Maybe when your heart is beating 1000 miles a minute that means it's not the best time to make a major life decision, but hell I already fucked around so I might as well find out.

My mom let out a light sob and quietly murmurs “You go off to college and it’s like we don’t even know you anymore. You talk back to us. You spend all your time hanging out with strange girls and you drink all the time and now this. You just don’t care about this? About being our first born son? You’re spitting on your family when what we’re doing is trying to understand you and. . . and your personal choices. It feels like my son is dead, and in his place is some stranger. This girl-” she stops, unable to continue. Good to know I’m a zombie, I guess. I know she was trying to whisper it. To keep it as a personal aside. I don’t know what her reasoning was for saying it, besides I guess to get it out of her system. I don’t care. I’d had enough. Here I was, their child literally in front of them that could definitely use some support and all I get is the third degree.

I stood up, partially shaking. We hadn’t even ordered pho yet. The sting of tears started welling up in my eyes and I knew that if I let one fall it was going to be joined by countless others. I wasn’t going to let them see me cry. I couldn’t give them that satisfaction. “This has been absolutely real y’all. Just fantastic. If you want to verbally harass me again, well you have my number. Byyyyyyye.” I turned around and made it out of the restaurant about as fast as my legs could take me. I think I started crying when I pushed my way out through the doors.

My family stayed behind, probably as shellshocked by this conversation as I was. Nobody left the table to chase after me. Nobody even made a motion to.

I slumped against the wall outside Pho-Nomenal. I started typing out a message to Elle, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t verbalize my feelings besides shitty, and I didn’t want her to see me like this. Coming to rescue me was one thing, I had already leaned on her so much. I couldn’t bear having her see me like this. Like some sort of pathetic blubbering mess. Instead I pulled up an uber and punched in Sweet Tooth. It was time to take Zoey up on her benevolent booze offer and maybe get fucking drunk.