“That’s all right.” Gretchen’s voice is soft. “You don’t have to have it all figured out yet. You’ve got your whole life to make sense of it all.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I feel a dull but familiar twinge of sadness. Gretchen doesn’t know what this is like. It’s so easy for her to tell me to take my time. She doesn’t understand how badly I need to know. How it feels like nothing I do counts until I have it all pinned down. How it’s as though everything is on hold until the day I wake up and realize I have all the answers, and I know who I’m supposed to be. I’m a guy, or I’m not. I’m A or I’m B.
Or both. Or...maybe neither.
I hate the idea that we’re all controlled by some arbitrary binary system, and yet I’m desperate to find out where I belong in it. Even if my place is somewhere outside the system entirely.
The one thing I have figured out is that labels and pronouns and all of that don’t matter. Not unless I let them. As much as I love words and language, they’re just human constructs. A word can’t define me. Only I can.
And I can’t fix all the problems with the English language single-handedly. The one thing I can decide is what I want people to call me.
He. Him. That’s what I’m using. It doesn’t feel perfect. It doesn’t mean I definitely think I’m a guy. But out of the options I’ve got, he is the one that feels right. For now, at least.
There’s so much behind all of this. So much. But I swallow down my thoughts and smile into the phone. It isn’t Gretchen’s job to understand everything about me when I can’t even do it myself. I’ve been trying so hard to rely on other people—Gretchen, my friends at school, even my mom—to tell me who they think I should be, but in the end I’m the one who’s got to figure it out.
“When I get back to campus, I’ve got an appointment set up with Derek’s therapist.” My fingers twitch as I say the words. I know this shouldn’t be embarrassing—nearly everyone I know is in some kind of therapy or other—but it still feels like I’m revealing something dark and secret. “Just, you know. So I can talk to someone other than the inside of my own head.”
“T, that’s fantastic.” She sounds so happy, I start to wonder if she thinks there’s really something wrong with me. Then I remember that’s not how Gretchen works. She sounds happy because she’s genuinely happy for me. “I’m so glad you changed your mind. That’ll be great.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a start.” I swallow. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t say it. “Gretchen, I—I’m sorry. About everything. I was horrible to you.”
“What? No, you weren’t.”
“Yeah, I was. I look back on it and I feel so awful. I was so self-centered that first semester. All year, really. Probably in high school, too. I’ve always made everything about me and my issues. I never ever even asked you about yours.”
“Well, I never asked you much about your stuff, either. I was always scared I’d say the wrong thing and you’d hate me.”
I laugh. “Like I could ever hate you. You’re perfection embodied in the form of a blond Birkenstock-wearing Brooklynite.”
Her laugh is softer. “No, I’m not. You know that, right?”
Yeah, I guess. I put Gretchen up on a shiny pedestal from the first moment I saw her. I’d convinced myself she was the ideal girl for me before I’d even heard her speak.
The funny thing is, I was right. People—even Gretchen—are too complicated to be perfect.
At that moment, though, she was perfect for me. Maybe we were even perfect for each other.
It’s so weird, how you can love someone long enough for that love to change. I didn’t know love could change, but it can. Just like people.
“I think I do,” I say.
“Hey, T!” Chris’s voice booms in from the kitchen. I swear he’s gotten louder since high school. “Are you going to make me eat all these hot dogs by myself? Because I can, but it’s not gonna be pretty.”
“Who is that?” Gretchen asks. “That sounds like Chris.”
“Er. Yeah. It’s Chris.”
“Wait. Where are you?”
“I’m here.” I smile. My shoulders are starting to relax. The tension is flowing out of my body. Gretchen forgave me. “I’m at Chris’s house.”
“Wait, here? In Maryland?”
“Yeah. I flew in this morning. I’ll go back up to Boston tomorrow so I’m staying with Chris tonight.”
“Wait.” Gretchen’s stumbling over her words. “You’re here?”
“I’m here.” I let out a tiny laugh.
Gretchen’s laughing, too. “Wait. So I can—can I come over? Can I come see you?”
“That would basically be the most amazing thing ever, yeah. If you want to. I would’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t know if you were still, you know. Mad, or anything.”
I hear a jingle of keys on the other end of the phone. “I’m coming right now. I’m getting in the car.”