Alexandrina

Slightly shorter chapter than normal today, but this scene ran overlong to the point of being almost a chapter unto itself, and there was no way of fitting the next scene into this chapter, structurally. Next time will be a longer chapter than normal to make up for it.

I stand there in the doorway and I just want to die. I'm acutely aware of the dress draped over me, ill-fitting fabric clinging to a form it was not designed for. Why did I think this was a good idea? I should have told Beth no, denied any knowledge of a dress; it's bad enough that Mum knows, but now Nana does too. And despite the warm smile on her face, I just know Nana is going to take this badly.

She looks at me. "Well, aren't you going to come in and give your Nana a kiss?"

Behind her, Mum sighs. "Beth, why don't you go and put the kettle on? I think we're going to have to tell Nana some things." Beth squeezes past me, on her way to the kitchen, and I step forward with shaking legs. Nana is sat on the sofa nearest the door, a cream recliner with puffy cushions that seems to be heaven for cats, and I perch myself down beside her. On the very edge of the cushion. I don't have it in me to relax. Mum sits down on an armchair on the other side of the room, watching me with an expression on her face that seems to be... exasperation, more than anything. Less that she resents having to explain things to Nana, more that she wishes it hadn't been sprung on her. And I can get that, to be honest. I wish it hadn't been sprung on me, too.

Nana beams. "I'm still waiting on that kiss."

I lean and kiss her on the cheek. She's always liked it when I do that.

"Now then," she says. "You, my dear, have the look of my granddaughter. I'm sorry to say, though, that I can't quite remember your name. Old age, memory isn't what it was. I did think it was Harry, but you're far too beautiful to be a Harry."

Despite myself, I blush. "I'm going by Hannah now," I tell her.

Nana claps her hands together, then turns to Mum. "How wonderful! I always remember how much you used to talk about two daughters. That was what you wanted, wasn't it?"

Mum nods. "I did expect to come by them both in more conventional ways, though."

"What difference does it make?" says Nana. "A daughter is a daughter. And Hannah is as beautiful as Beth. How come you didn't tell me the wonderful news sooner?"

"It's still quite new," says Mum. "I didn't expect... Hannah... to start wearing dresses so soon."

"And why ever not?" Nana asks. "I don't think I've ever seen her looking as happy as she does now."

For my part, I'm not really sure how Nana can look at me and see 'happy'. I mean, it's true that since I put on the dress some of those horrible pangs of dysphoria have eased a little bit—true that being a girl, being aware that I'm a girl, has recentred my view of myself. I am happy. Objectively speaking, she's right. But I'm also currently absolutely terrified out of my mind, running on pure adrenaline, having just found myself face to face with my Nana—who five minutes ago didn't even have an inkling that I'm trans—while wearing a dress. How the hell can anybody see 'happy' from my face full of fear?

As if she could read my mind, Nana puts her hand on mine and fixes me with a gentle smile. "It's in your eyes, dear. There's life in those eyes now."

Beth arrives with the drinks, Rusty coming through the door first as a furry herald. That cat is always an awkward bugger. In the time it takes for Beth to set one mug of coffee down on the table beside the sofa, Rusty has a) seen me and Nana occupying the sofa, b) seen Mum occupying one of the armchairs, and c) realised there's only one armchair left for him and Beth to fight over. In one swift jump he takes it. He curls himself right up and starts preening himself; he knows he's the king of this household, and he's probably feeling quite smug that he's the only boy who lives here. Beth sighs. "I'll stand then," she says. She finishes distributing everybody's drinks, then stands next to me. Rusty takes a break from his ablutions to give her a self-satisfied look; that's the last attention he pays to any of us all night.

"So you don't have a problem with me, Nana?" I ask.

Nana frowns. "Why would I have a problem with you, sweetie?"

My brain briefly short-circuits at the nickname 'sweetie'. I've only ever heard her use it for Beth before. "Because of this," I say. "Because I'm trans. There's a lot of people who would have a problem with that."

"Well, I don't think anybody good could have a problem with you," says Nana. "I've been around for nearly eighty years, I've seen my share of the world. I remember what it's like when people had to hide their differences. It's much better now that people are actually able to be themselves. Though I suppose if the world had been like this when I was your age, your mother might never have been born."

Mum turns her head sharply at this. "What does that mean?"

Nana giggles, a twinkle in her eye. "Do you remember Auntie Helen?" she asks. I don't, but I get the feeling that the question was intended for Mum, and Mum nods. Slowly.

"What about Auntie Helen?"

"Sorry," Beth interrupts. "Who is Auntie Helen? Nana, did you have a sister we don't know about?"

"Auntie Helen was Nana's friend," says Mum. "She lived on her own, poor dear."

Nana shakes her head. "Helen had a house of her own, but she didn't live on her own. She was round every Sunday for dinner—you must remember that, dear?" Nana turns to me. "Helen was the only person I ever loved—apart from my family, of course. I think today I'd have married her, but at the time you really couldn't do that. Of course, eventually I met your grandfather, and I was able to put my feelings aside for long enough to have a daughter. But you can't change who you are."

Beth giggles behind me. "Nana, are you a lesbian?"

And it's Nana's turn to giggle. "I've always found girls to be far more pleasant than boys," she says. "But I have no regrets. Helen and I still got to spend the better part of our lives in each other's company, and now that she's gone I have a wonderful daughter and two incredible granddaughters to make sure I'm not lonely."

Mum sighs. "Well, Hannah, I suppose if you're going to be my daughter then I'll have to give you advice on boys. As it seems all the other women in the family are gay."

I exchange glances with Beth, who bursts into another peal of giggles, then—reddening by the second—address Mum. "Actually..."

She rolls her eyes in exasperation. "Am I the only straight woman in this family?"

"Are you sure you're straight, Mum?" says Beth, through giggles.

"No, Elizabeth," says Mum, sternly. "I don't question your sexuality, so don't question mine in return."

"Sorry, Mum," says Beth. But when Mum's not looking, Beth gives me a wink.

It's not until late in the evening that Nana says goodbye—she'd only come round to borrow a Pyrex jug, and hadn't banked on spending the better part of three hours with us—and when she's gone I realise two things. First, I'm shattered. And second, I had a good day today. A really good day.

Beth hugs me tightly as we totter back into the kitchen to fix ourselves some bedtime drinks. "I'm proud of you," she says. "It would have been really easy to chicken out and hide from Nana, but you fought through."

"I didn't have much of a choice," I tell her. "Nobody told me Nana was here."

"Still," says Beth. "Oh, and that dress looks gorgeous by the way. Really brings out your eyes. I never got the chance to say so earlier."

That gives me enough of a euphoric high to get me upstairs and into bed.

*

Slipping into bed that night, my dress in the washbasket and no longer hidden away, I can't help but feel like I've crossed a divide today. Has it been a long day? A tiring day? Absolutely. But it also feels as though today is the day where Hannah finally asserted herself, where my transition became an inevitability. This morning it felt like a road that was destined to end in compromises. Be me, the girl I was always meant to be, and lose my mother. Nana too, probably. Or cling to them, keep my family close to me, but in doing so shut the door on my own happiness. I'd thought that to hold on to the family life (which, don't get me wrong, I value) would mean supergluing the mask of 'Harry' to my face, never thereafter to be removed.

And now I know that's wrong. I can have everything—the Christmases and birthdays, family meals and days out, don't have to end just because Hannah is here now and Harry is just a bad memory. I think of last December. Christmas dinner, at Nana's because it was her turn to host. I wasn't happy. At the time I didn't know why—in fact, at the time I didn't even know I was happy—but in hindsight it's palpable. The celebrations were muted because of it. Nobody's to blame, really; how can I, as a girl, have been happy to receive boys' shirts and boys' jeans and cards that said 'best son'? But how can anyone have been expected to buy for me the things I actually wanted? I'd lacked the words to say what I wanted. I'd probably have lacked the courage, too.

The question in my mind now is: when was the best time? I mean, no time like the present and all—but had I come out this time last year, would things have been better? What if I'd come out when I was ten?

Truth to be told, I don't know. Last year would have been different. For one, I might not have had so much support from Beth. Not that she'd have hated me—I'm fairly sure Beth is biologically incapable of expressing hate as an emotion—but her A-Levels bogged her down. There'd have just been too much on her mind for her to spend the time with me to unravel the knots of my gender identity.

Jessie, too. I couldn't have relied on her support. She said herself, the only reason she spoke to me was because she wanted to get to the bottom of a crush that seemed, to her, to be at odds with her own sexuality. It's coincidence that she happened to find me as my egg was about to crack. Would she have even thought to initiate a conversation a year ago? I know I wouldn't. And English class, where our friendship began to grow, was a lonely affair for me last year. Sophie Polkinghorne was still at school. Jessie had a desk buddy. I wonder if she and Sophie ever kissed.

Whether they did or not, the simple fact of the matter is that I'd have been on my own.

Alone, how long would it have taken me to unravel the weave? Would I have? Even if I'd told Mum, she might have convinced me to wait. To repress my identity. And so alone and so uncertain as I was, I'd probably have done just that. I can't picture a world where I'm confident enough last year to assert my identity, assert my girlhood.

Paradoxically, I feel as though coming out earlier would have led to me transitioning later.

In any case, I can't come out earlier. Those years have gone. All I can do is live in the present—and for the first time, the present is shaping up to pretty good.

And I'm shaping up to be Hannah forever.