“Of course.”
“Do you know you’ve said the words she and her about twenty times so far?”
“Yeah, that.” Toni nods. “I decided I’m tired of letting language have so much power over me. I’m sick of worrying about labels. I started using gendered pronouns when I went to London and then I sort of never stopped. I presented as male over there, too. I’ve even started spelling my name with a y. And using he and him pronouns full-time.”
“Oh.” The jolts are coming faster and faster. I can’t believe all this has happened, and Toni—Tony—never told me. I know we were on our stupid break, but it still doesn’t feel right. “What was that like?”
“It was amazing, actually. Audrey had a little minimeltdown while we were there, though.”
“Oh, poor Audrey.”
“Yeah. She’s okay now. Just needed some time to adjust.”
I’ll have to call Audrey soon. Make sure she really is okay.
“What exactly did you tell your mom?” I ask.
Tony’s smile falters. “Well. Actually, that’s the problem. I kind of told her I’m going to transition. Start on testosterone sometime soon.”
Another jolt. “Oh. I didn’t know you’d decided that.”
Toni shakes Toni’s head. No, Tony shakes his head.
“I kind of didn’t actually decide that,” he says. “But I told her I did. It just sort of came out.”
“What?” I don’t see how that’s possible. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Tony bites his lip. I sit back and take a closer look at him. He actually looks kind of miserable.
God, it’s so hard to think of Toni as Tony. As him.
“I’m actually kind of incredibly freaked out about it,” Tony says. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I need your help.”
“Sure, of course,” I say.
I don’t know how I can help with this, though.
I can handle the name change. I can handle the pronouns. Tony seems to be handling those things just fine, too.
But he flew down to Maryland and told his mom he’s going to transition to male—just on a crazy whim, apparently—and somehow I’m supposed to fix this problem?
“Why did you say that if you didn’t mean it?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” Tony slumps down on the couch. “Maybe on some level I did mean it? I don’t know for sure. That’s the whole problem.”
Holy crap.
“Um,” I say. “I’m not sure I can actually help with that. It sounds like you just need to think this through. Maybe, with. Um. A therapist?”
Tony’s eyes flash with something that doesn’t look like affection, but it fades as quickly as it appeared. So quickly I probably imagined it. “I don’t want to talk to a therapist. I want to talk to my girlfriend.”
Three weeks ago I wanted nothing more than to hear Toni use that word for me.
No, not Toni. Tony.
I replay that word in my head. Girlfriend. I’m somebody’s girlfriend again. God, it feels so good.
“Anyway, we can talk about this later,” he says. “How have you been? It’s so weird that we haven’t talked in so long. I’ve missed you so much. Even though your hair is still freaking me out.”
I smile and lean my head on Tony’s shoulder. He squeezes my hand. For a second it’s like we’re back the way we used to be. Like we’re in high school again. Like I can tell Tony what’s bothering me, and Tony will make me feel better.
Him. I can tell him what’s bothering me.
That’s going to be so hard to get used to.
“I’ve been okay,” I say. “Except Carroll and I aren’t friends anymore. That’s been hard.”
I choke up on the last part. Tony runs his fingers over the inside of my wrist. It feels so nice. “What happened?”
“Well.” I hesitate, but there’s no point holding this back. I don’t want to keep secrets from Tony now that we’re finally talking again. “We actually got drunk and wound up having sex last week, and he’s having, you know, issues.”
Tony lets go of my hand and jumps up.
I fall back on the couch. My heart flutters.
“You did what?” Tony asks.
“It was after Thanksgiving,” I say because Tony looks furious. “Believe me, I know it was a dumb thing to do.”
“You had sex?”
“Yeah.” I can feel my face turning red. I don’t want it to. I don’t want to feel ashamed.
“Carroll’s a guy,” Tony says.
“So?”
“So?” Tony’s pacing now. “That’s not—it isn’t—he’s so pathetic—”
I stand up, too. My calm from before is gone. “You broke up with me, remember? You don’t get to be angry about this.”
“I’m not angry.” Tony’s fists are clenching the way they do whenever Mrs. Fasseau is in the room. “I’m just shocked. He’s a guy. You’re gay, remember?”
“I thought you were sick of labels. Whatever happened to revolting against the gender binary?”
Maybe that was mean of me, but I’m not going to feel bad for saying it. Tony’s being mean, too.
Tony sits back down, breathing heavily.