This one, ‘How do you know?’ appears curious but it’s laced with skepticism. It’s a polite way to say, ‘Prove it.’
I used to hate this question because people expect an impressive revelation, not the truth of quiet soul-searching and introspection. I rested my elbows on the table to mirror him and asked, “How do you know you’re a man? Not your body or what you wear, but inside, how do you know?”
“I …” He finished his beer and flipped his palm upwards. “That’s who I am.”
I lifted my hands to say, ‘Well, what is there to add?’
When the drinks arrived and Mallory slid one to me, Alex looked at his sister with wide eyes. “When she told you … ?”
“I apologized and thanked her for calling me in,” Mallory said. “I offered to buy her a drink to learn how to support her, and the transgender and LGBTQIA+ students in our studio. Not that I expected her to speak for the whole community at large. I just wanted her perspective.”
“We came here for beer,” I lifted my glass and took a sip to calm my nerves, “and talked until the bar closed. She shared her vision for the studio, to make it the best in town and expand to new locations, but she couldn’t do it alone. I shared what I’d learned while studying business before switching my major to social work.”
“By the time the bartender kicked us out, we were both hammered, bloated on French fries, and obsessed with each other.”
“Drunk on the joy of a new friendship.” I lifted my glass to cheers, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “When I showed up the next day, a trans flag decal was on the door.”
“The pink and blue one,” Alex murmured.
“Within a week, Grace was my assistant studio manager.”
“She told me, ‘Write your own job description, and good luck with your awful boss.’”
Mallory turned a critical gaze on her brother. “Here’s what I told Grace that night: If anybody — and I mean anybody — gives you shit or demands private information about your pronouns or deadname or anything, I’ll chew them out. If they disrespect you in our studio or anywhere that I consider home,” she made a circle with her finger to indicate the studio, the bar, the town, the state, ”they’re not welcome there.”
As her fierce protectiveness locked onto her brother, his expression shifted. By defending me and saying whatever got him into her studio, she’d earned his begrudging respect. The shift seemed to surprise both of them.
He finished his beer and dropped cash on the table as he said with an air of detached generosity. “You two stay and enjoy your night.”
Mallory tried to yell after him to stay. I put my hand on her forearm, remembering his assistant’s advice: state the facts, allow time to research, schedule follow-up, and expect nonstop questions.
“Hey Alex, we’re getting another Christmas tree for your mom on Saturday, to raise her spirits. Want to come?”
He blinked, glanced out the door, then threw that crooked grin like a grenade. “It’s a date,” he said before exiting into the cold December night.
Chapter 14Alex
Hunched over my laptop, a heavy weight on my shoulder startled me. I jolted upright at Dad’s concerned face. “You’re not usually up this early.”
Early? It felt like midnight, but … oh shit, the clock read 5:30. I hadn’t pulled an all-nighter since law school. I concealed my surprise with a groggy eye rub.
I’d turned the dining table into a makeshift desk: laptop front and center, flanked by my trusty black Montblanc notebook and an almost empty coffee mug. The mess resembled the inside of my skull, which felt shaken up when the word ‘transgender’ passed over Grace’s rosy lips.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I mumbled, which sounded more reasonable than ‘I lost track of time reading the entire internet and examining all my beliefs under a microscope.’
When Dad looked at my notebook — covered in acronyms and arrows pointing to definitions about dead names and hormone therapy and vocal training — his eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. The instinct rose to hide my research, but covering up would seem guilty, it would be better to act detached.
I yawned with an unrushed stretch. “I went for drinks with Mallory and Grace. And Grace told me that she’s …” Why did I hesitate? I’d read the word two thousand times in the past — oh shit, eight hours.
Dad tapped a circled acronym. “She told you she’s transgender.” He frowned into the filter basket of the coffeemaker d moved from the kitchen and poured himself a mug. “I didn’t think she’d tell you.”
I opened my mouth to ask why not … but why would she? Mallory had warned her mid-disclosure that she didn’t think I could handle it.
“She said she trusts me,” I defended, feeling inordinate pride that I’d earned her trust, although I hadn’t proven myself worthy of it. What would it take to become the person she thought I could be?
“It’s a miracle she can trust anyone, especially another man, after the what her father did. How’d you react?” Dad lowered carefully into a chair.
How did I react? Hard to say. Everything after the word transgender was hazy. “Um, surprised. Thankfully Mallory was there.”
Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you just say, ‘Thankfully Mallory was there’? Am I in a coma and this is some wild morphine dream?”
I rolled my eyes, not wanting to acknowledge that my sister might actually be cool … in an annoying way. “How’d you take it, when she told you?”
“Well, I was lucky,” Dad said, lifting his ankle over his knee. “She told your mom first, and Mom told me. Not to violate Grace’s privacy, but because Mom wanted me to be ready if she ever decided to disclose.” He sighed. “Your mom wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t be another man who told her he knew her body better than she did.”
Shit, I hadn’t thought of it that way. Had I ever …? Of course I had when I was stubborn and she’d said she’d play Santa.
‘You can’t decide to be a man. What if I told you I was a woman?’
‘I’d say, ‘Welcome to the club, we get pedicures on Tuesdays.’’
Fuck, I’d been such an oblivious, self-righteous idiot.
Not had been. I still was.
"I was still a nervous wreck. She was scared, and I wanted to reassure her without rushing her. When she told me, I —” He let out an amused little chuckle. I wanted to shake him to fish, but instead leaned back. “I thought of you.”
