“So what do we do now?” I asked as I walked back into Emily’s room. “I was honestly expecting to get kicked out of your house by now, so I didn’t really plan this far ahead.”

Emily laughed and took me by the arm from where she had been waiting for me outside the bathroom door. “Lucky for you, I did plan this far ahead!” She escorted me back to the sitting area in her library nook and sat me down next to her once more. “I planned for a whole day and that’s what I’m going to get!”

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Emily proceeded to retrieve a notepad and pen from the nearby end table. She turned to face me with an expectant grin. As she adjusted her glasses, she said, “Emily Langenkamp here with The Rosefield Times for an exclusive interview with the enigmatic Lauren Monroe! Lauren, can you tell me more about your family?”

After a stunned moment of confusion, I laughed and blurted out, “What are you doing, you goofball?”

She huffed and adjusted her glasses again. “I’m very sorry, Miss Monroe, but this is a serious inquiry. Do you doubt my journalistic credentials?” The slight pout put me over the edge and goaded me to play along.

“My family, huh? Not much to say, really. I mean, I mentioned some of this the first time we went out. My parents are Mark and Monica. My little sister’s name is Maggie, she’s a few years younger than me and finishing up high school. We’re all on the taller side. Mom’s an inch shorter than me. Mags is three inches shorter. Dad’s six feet under,” I said perhaps a bit too cavalierly. 

“Holy shit, girl. That’s a lot to unpack, there,” Emily replied, breaking character. “If you don’t mind, can we talk about the elephant in the room?”

I shrugged noncommittally but eventually nodded an affirmation. “Yeah, so Dad became an alcoholic when I was younger, like seven or so. He was never abusive. In fact, he was really loving and caring. He went out of his way to spend time with me and Maggie and he doted on Mom like Gomez Addams over Morticia. I only just recently found out that he cross-dressed a bit in secret. Apparently, he was super closeted, but Mom knew. One day, Mom came home and found him…” I broke off a bit, feeling tears welling up in my eyes again. Shit. Fuck. Why was I getting so emotional? This was almost ten years ago.

Sensing that I was struggling a bit, Emily laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go into any more detail. You can stop and we can move onto something else.”

With a quiet shake of my head, I continued. “It’s not really that. I mean, I remember him pretty well, and I loved him, but there’s a lot of emotional distance. It’s just… I dunno. Talking about it made me think about it being me hanging up there.” I stopped suddenly, hit with a sickening realization. Apparently, Emily had the same thought.

“Lauren, I’m so sorry. Let’s, uh, let’s change topics,” she said in a rush. “We’ll come back to that in a bit, if you think you can handle it.” I was staring at the floor at this point, so I only caught out of the corner of my eye that she was wiping a tear out from under her glasses. “Um, the other thing. Why did you all have names starting with ‘M’?”

Unsurprised by this question, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Honestly, I just found this out from my mom! She did it on purpose. Apparently she just really liked alliterative names? I dunno, she was appalled when I chose the name ‘Lauren’ for myself because it broke the naming convention she’d set up.”

Emily’s brow furrowed. “Are you serious?”

“Serious as the other topic.”

She let out a sudden laugh. “Lauren, you have to be one of the most interesting people I’ve ever talked to.” She actually began jotting a few notes on her notepad, but it was in some kind of shorthand that I didn’t understand. Emily noticed my eyes following her writing and she admitted, “Stenography. Studied it in college before I dropped out.”

“Why did you drop out?” That didn’t make any sense to me. She was definitely smart enough, and there was no shortage of cash in this family…

Emily responded with a bitter laugh. “Daddy didn’t want me working in courts. He thought it would be a conflict of interest since my brother is going to law school. Nobody consulted me, nobody asked what I wanted. It was just ‘Emily, change your major.’ I couldn’t think of anything else that interested me, so I’ve been making my own money on my own investments and providing proofreading and editing services online.” She paused for a moment to squint at me. “But we’re talking about you, not me, Miss Monroe.” Emily took a breath and spun a pen around on the surface of her index finger. 

“Next question. Do you feel uncomfortable wearing women’s clothing?”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “Honestly, no. I mean, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about a certain part of me showing, but it’s been surprisingly fun to wear skirts and dresses and stuff. Like, I feel like there’s more color options, more textures, more cuts. Wearing clothes as a guy is just shirts and pants and sometimes a blazer or a sport coat if you’re feeling fancy. I don’t wear shorts unless I’m working out or playing a sport. Not a fan of tank tops, really. Don’t wanna look like some gym bro.”

“Wait, wait. You don’t feel uncomfortable at all?” Emily asked excitedly.

I shrugged. “No, not really. I mean, this skirt is way shorter than anything I’ve worn since I was in elementary school, so I was kinda iffy on that. But Mom helped me with my hair, I did my makeup, and the whole effect was really cute and I couldn’t wait to show you. I mean, you picked this outfit out for me, so I thought…”

“Oh my Jesus God, you are too fucking adorable,” Emily blurted out as she scrawled more notes on the paper.

“Huh, I never took you for being religious,” I remarked candidly.

Emily scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion for a moment before replying, “Oh, I’m not. But my extended family is kinda churchy so I guess some of the language became embedded in my speech. Does it help that I was being blasphemous?”

It took me a moment to realize what she meant by blasphemy. I was no theologist, but I couldn’t exactly fault her for that reference to divinity. Instead I just laughed and said, “I’m on team ‘believe it when I see it,’ and so far I haven’t seen it. So you’re good.”

“Next question, Lauren,” Emily went on. “Do you want to continue as you are, presenting in a feminine fashion, or would you prefer to dress more masculinely?”

I hesitated for a moment, weighing the impact of her words. On the one hand, dressing as Lauren had been pretty eye-opening for me and let me get close to Emily in a way I don’t think I could have as Michael. On the other, it was definitely giving people the false impression that I might be transgender and that my ex-friend Jeff was actually interested in me. Plus there was the matter of that crazy-ass dream. Things would be a LOT simpler if I could just go back to being myself full time. Sure, I could use what I’d learned from my experiences to change up my look more and experiment with my presentation. But I figured I’d genuinely be happier if I could just be my normal self.

“As fun as this has been, I think I need to put this behind me. I mean, I’m already in my twenties, I’m not actually transgender, and I think that running around as some kind of femboy might give some folks the wrong idea about me.” I toyed with the hem of the skirt I was wearing. “Plus, if we were going to maybe date or something, I’d like you to see me for what I really am.”

Emily carefully laid the pen down on the notebook and pinched the space at the top of her nose and between her eyes from under the frames of her glasses. “Lauren,” she began with a sigh, “Do you honestly think I haven’t already seen you for who you really are?” She dropped her hand and gave me an unreadable expression. “You’re sweet, you’re awkward, you’re trying so hard to do what you think is right. You’re a bit bookish, a bit athletic, and you adore your family. If the only difference between Lauren and Michael is the makeup and clothes, then I’m pretty sure you’ve already shown me your true colors.”

I could feel my face blushing again. I don’t think anyone had ever described me so directly as Emily just did. “Okay, but wouldn’t you rather be seen as normal? Wouldn’t you be embarrassed for me to meet your family like this?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “The only thing that matters to me is that my partner is genuinely happy.” She paused thoughtfully and an expression of embarrassment flitted across her face. “I’m about as far from normal as a cisgender woman can get. Seriously, you should read some of my fanfiction.” Having realized what she said, she followed that up immediately with, “No no, never read my fanfiction. That’s bad.”

I snorted. “Now I’m curious! Got any you can show me?”

“Noooooooo!” Emily whined. “I’ve just let you in on my deepest darkest secret!”

“As deep and dark as commissioning a drawing of your Sonic the Hedgehog OC?” I snarked.

Emily’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t…”

“Her name is Miranda. She’s a cheetah that could keep up with Sonic and so he saw her as a rival…” I admitted. The sheepish tone in my voice belied my embarrassment. Before Emily could say anything in reply, I placed a hand over her mouth. “You can never tell anyone! I would die if Maggie found out!”

Using both her hands to pry my fingers from her face, Emily stared me dead in the eyes and replied, “Can I just comment on the fact that most people, unless they are writers, tend to make OCs that they identify with?”

Emily’s phone suddenly blasted out with a song that was vaguely familiar, interrupting my not-at-all knee-jerk response.

“You’re not the boss of me, now!

You’re not the boss of me, now!

You’re not the boss of me, now, and you’re not so big!

You’re not the boss of me, now!

You’re not the–”

She flipped the phone face down, silencing the ringtone and denying the call. 

“Uh, was that anyone important? You could have answered, I don’t mind.” 

She let out a long sigh that sounded more tired than frustrated. “It’s my brother. The only time he calls me is when he’s on his way home. With a girl.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage.

“Well, looks like we’re going to have to end our day here. I have to go play the good little sister and entertain my brother’s future conquest until they get drunk enough to fuck,” Emily said in a voice dripping with venom.

“I mean… you don’t have to,” I replied. “Wanna come over to my house? My mom and sister are home and I’m sure they’d love to meet you. I mean, I don’t have as much cool stuff as you do, but I think–”

“Yes!” exclaimed Emily. “Let’s go! Let me just throw a few things in a bag…”

For the next few minutes, I simply watched in mute fascination as Emily darted from one end of her living space to another. First she retrieved a largish tote bag bearing the tell-tale PINK logo from Victoria’s Secret set with rhinestones. Don’t judge me, I recognized it from the mall – they always have sexy women in lingerie in the store windows! Anyway, she grabbed a few things from the wardrobe, a couple items from the closet, some items from the bathroom (including my wig) before finally standing breathlessly in front of me. “Ready?” she asked with a flushed face.

“Pffft, you didn’t have to rush, you know! Besides, you’re just hanging out for the evening, I can bring you back later tonight!” I chided. “What’s with the bag of supplies?”

“There’s a few things for you in here. But the rest is for me. I’m staying the night.”

I blinked speechlessly as Emily walked towards the door that led directly to the garage. “What do you mean you’re staying the night?”

She rounded on me with a smirk, a hand on one hip and the other holding the strap of her tote. “Because we’re going to look over some reading material, have a talk with your family, and see whether this is an egg that needs to crack.”

There was a lot to process. “Wait, you’re talking to my family? And what egg are you talking about?”

Emily just laughed as she headed out the door and I followed.