With Maggie’s assistance, I related a woeful tale of star-crossed lovers that would make Shakespeare proud. What? I read his shit in high school. Anyway, Mom listened intently and didn’t say anything about the ridiculousness of the situation. The pizza arrived and we continued the conversation over a large supreme, cheesy breadsticks, and soda. I was definitely going to need to hit the gym to make up for some of these calories I was loading today. When I had gotten to the situation that led to me running out of the salon, Mom finally spoke up.

“Michael, I know you’re pretty insistent that you’re not transgender and nobody can decide that for you. But your behavior does speak to some gender identity issues. Gender-fluidity? Non-binary? I mean, those are other options I’ve read about, anyway,” she said, sipping on her Pepsi. “You have plenty of opportunity to explore that before settling into a career path. You’re still in school, after all.”

I shifted uncomfortably. This was an awkward conversation to have while I was still sitting here all dressed up from my shopping date with Emily. “I don’t know, Mom. I mean, I’ve never really felt any strong leanings like that growing up. It feels like something I would have noticed sooner, y’know?”

My mom put a hand on my knee and looked me directly in the eyes. “Sweetie, when you were six, you wanted to go Trick-or-Treating as the Pink Power Ranger.” 

Maggie burst out laughing at that and added, “Don’t forget when he was fourteen and he had a complete meltdown about his single chest hair and you promised that if it got too bad you’d take him to get it waxed!”

For some reason I was getting really irritated. “That doesn’t mean anything! There are lots of guys who hate having body hair! And I was six! I probably had a crush on the Pink Ranger or something. I don’t know.”

“Maybe it means something, maybe it doesn’t! But I don’t want you to discount something that could make your life more meaningful to you just because you’re clinging to some twisted sense of masculinity,” my mom continued. She was quiet for a moment before saying, “Your father used to cross-dress, too, you know.”

I almost spit out the Mountain Dew I was drinking. “What?! I never knew that!” I exclaimed, utterly shocked at this revelation.

“He did it in secret. Hid it most from you kids. He didn’t want you to know about it and think he was a freak or a weirdo. The truth of the matter was there wasn’t as much acceptance for stuff like that back then, so he struggled with it a lot.” Mom sighed. “I don’t think I was as supportive as I could have been.”

It was really quiet for a bit as I put the leftover pizza away and put the dishes in the dishwasher. None of us really wanted to address the elephant in the room. Dad had committed suicide when I was still in middle school. Sixth grade, actually. I was only twelve at the time when I got the call to the counselor’s office from third period English class. I missed the next week of school. Maggie missed two weeks. Dad had offed himself while everyone was out of the house, hung himself in the basement. Didn’t leave a note or anything. I didn’t find out until later, of course. Just that he had ‘passed away.’

I realized Mom was worried the same thing might happen to me.

After taking care of dinner, I sat back down on the couch instead of running to my room to change. It was true that I didn’t feel particularly uncomfortable. If anything, it was kinda nice not wearing jeans. Mom sat down with me and Maggie came back, although she feigned disinterest by playing on her phone. 

For a few minutes, we just sat there in silence, feeling the moment. Finally I spoke up. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy parts of this,” I began, gesturing at myself. “But the fact is, this kinda thing doesn’t fly around here. I mean, it’s a fairly liberal town, but this neighborhood? This area? I’d stick out like a llama in a horse pasture.” I paused, reassessing what I’d just said. “Why did I say that? That’s a weird analogy.”

Mom laughed despite the heavy tone. “Honey, I’m glad I didn’t send you to school to become an author.” She gave me a hug from beside me on the couch. “But as you have already seen today, I do not give one single shit about public opinion. And the fucks I give could be counted only as imaginary numbers.”

“I know, but Chris, Tim, and Jeff are like my only friends, really. Like, I don’t really hang out with anyone else,” I protested.

“You were literally out most of the day today with a new friend, Lauren,” my sister quipped from across the room.

I threw my hands up. “That’s the problem! Today was Lauren, not Michael!”

Mom poked me in the ribs. “You’re pretty dense for one of my kids,” she said with a teasing smile. “Lauren and Michael are the same person, just a different presentation. Two sides of the same coin. Don’t discount your friendship with Emily for something as silly as that.” Mom grabbed my purse off the coffee table, a brand my mom and sister had explained to me was Coach, and fished my phone out of it. 

“You owe that girl an apology at the very least. I’m not going to push you to reveal your identity because for all you know Lauren is just as valid a part of you as Michael. But right now, she’s probably blaming herself for upsetting you and you just dropped off the face of the earth,” Mom said in that compassionate yet chastising tone that only parents seem to master.

I sighed and turned the phone on, dreading what I would see. As it started up, I saw a flood of notifications. And several missed calls. It seemed like everyone I knew was blowing up my phone. But it was the text messages that got most of my attention.

Well, that was… about what I expected, honestly. I navigated to Emily’s missed call and punched the button to call back. It didn’t even finish one ring.

“Lauren? Are you okay?” Emily asked. Her voice sounded a bit stuffy. Had she been crying?

“Uhm, yeah. More or less,” I replied half-heartedly. “Emily, I’m really sorry for what happened. I shouldn’t have run out like that. It wasn’t fair to you at all.”

“What? Why are you apologizing to me? I should be apologizing to you! I was forcing you to do things you weren’t comfortable doing. My brother always yells at me for not being able to read other people very well. I just thought we were having so much fun and I was getting a chance to hang out with a cute girl that was into, like, all the same things I’m into and I guess I was trying to show off too much and trying to make you–”

“Woah, woah, woah! Emily slow down, please?” I said, interrupting what had the potential to become the world’s longest run-on sentence. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. I reacted poorly and I handled it immaturely. So please don’t blame yourself for anything!”

Mom gave me a knowing smile and nodded at me encouragingly. Maggie seemed to be focused on her phone, but I could see the smirk on her face.

“So, I was thinking I’d like to make it up to you. I kinda ruined things today by freaking out. Do you think you’d like to catch a movie or something? Or just hang out at your place? I have to work a few nights this week, but I have Wednesday and Friday off…” I could tell by Mom’s reaction that I was probably blushing up a storm.

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m smothering you or clingy or anything. Maybe we could just watch a movie at my place? Or read? I have lots of books I think you might like. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to!” Emily’s nervousness seemed so counter to the relatively self-assured young woman I’d met earlier today. Had my disappearing act really upset her that much?

“Yes, I’m sure! I think you’re really cool and I’d love to hang out more. Maybe we can work out what we want to do later this week? I’m honestly feeling really spent and I’m not sure my head’s up to planning right now.” I replied honestly.

“Oh, whew!” she said. “When you left, I was, like, honestly afraid you wouldn’t want to see me again.”

I laughed. “I was worried that you wouldn’t want to talk to me! I half-expected a text or a voicemail telling me I was acting like a total ass and that you never wanted to see me again!” I admitted.

“Oh, uh, no. I hate voicemails. I never know what to say and I’m always worried I’ll sound stupid…”

“So you don’t deny I was acting like an ass?” I teased.

Emily gasped. “Oh my god, I didn’t mean it like that! You weren’t–”

I burst out laughing, the same girlish giggle that had started this whole crazy mess. “I’m just playing with you, Emily. Give me a call or a text later this week and we can make plans to hang out again, okay?”

“Okay, Lauren! I’ll talk to you later!”

After disconnecting the call I put the phone down on the coffee table and flopped backward against the back of the couch with a breath of relief. “That went better than expected.”

Maggie snickered into her phone screen and began singing, “Lauren and Emily, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N–” She didn’t get to finish because I chucked one of the throw pillows at her. Appropriately named, those things.