If I asked, I was guaranteed to say the wrong thing. I’d sound just as dumb as I actually was when it came to this stuff. Then what would Toni think?
Better to stay quiet. Then Toni would know I was totally fine with it all and we could go back to normal. Whatever normal was.
TONI
It freaked me out how Gretchen wasn’t saying anything. I babbled to fill up the silence.
“I’m actually not really sure about genderqueer as a label,” I said. “It isn’t perfect, but the thing is, no label feels perfect. I hate that our society is so focused on labels, but I guess that’s how things are. Pronouns, too. I’ve already stopped using gendered pronouns. It took some getting used to, but it’s really freeing. You don’t realize how sexist our language patterns are until you really look at how you use language yourself, you know?”
“Gendered pronouns,” Gretchen repeated. “Like...okay. So you aren’t saying he or she anymore?”
“Nope.”
“How long have you been doing that for?”
“I started trying to do it in my head two weeks ago. It was really hard at first. I’ve only been doing it out loud since Monday.”
“Wow.” Gretchen looked down at where our hands were clasped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even notice.”
“That’s okay. That must mean I don’t sound totally awkward, at least.”
Gretchen didn’t answer. I babbled on.
“It’s not that I’m, like, completely opposed to the idea of gender,” I said. “It’s just that I want to challenge what society views as ‘normal’ gender. Like, it doesn’t bother me that much if someone calls me she—I mean, okay, it bothers me a little bit—but it bothers me way more if someone calls me a girl. Like when teachers are talking to a class and they say ‘Girls, settle down.’ You know?”
Gretchen nodded. She got it. Of course she got it.
But I wished she wasn’t being so quiet.
“I just know—” My voice hitched. My cheeks felt beet red. “I just know I’m not female. And, so, well, I don’t know what that makes me. Can you wait while I figure it out? Would you?”
Gretchen nodded but didn’t meet my eyes.
“So do you still, like.” I laughed to show what a stupid question I thought this was. “I mean. Even with all of this. Do you, you know. Do you still love me?”
GRETCHEN
It bothered Toni when someone called her she?
I called her she. I was doing it right now, in my own head.
Oh, my God. How was I going to stop using pronouns for Toni inside my own head?
I didn’t know, but I’d have to do it somehow. Toni stopped using pronouns in two weeks. I could do it for her.
Oh, crap. Crap crap crap. I couldn’t even not use her for one sentence.
It bothered Toni that people thought of her as a girl.
I’d been thinking of Toni as a girl from the day I met her.
She was a girl. She was my girlfriend. We were lesbians. Together.
Not anymore.
Okay. Okay. It was all right. I’d get used to this. I had to.
I loved Toni. Love conquered all.
Besides, this wasn’t that big a deal. We read a whole book about it. I knew the basics. I’d even wondered what it would be like to be transgender. Or what it would be like if Toni was. But that had been so hypothetical, and this was so...not.
Toni was giving me this sharp look. There were tears in her eyes. Oh, crap. I didn’t even have to speak for her to know I was totally screwing up the pronoun thing in my own head.
Then I thought back a few seconds and realized what she’d just asked me.
“Yes!” I laughed, a little bit of the tension draining out of me. Maybe it really was this simple. “Yes, of course! I’ll always love you. And of course I’ll wait while you figure it all out. You really thought I wouldn’t? Over something like this?”
“No. I don’t know.” Toni laughed, too, and wiped at the corner of her eye. “Sorry. No, I didn’t think that. It’s just—you’re the first person I’ve told, that’s all.”
We were both laughing. God, it felt so good to laugh. I squeezed her hand. Toni’s hand.
“I mean, there’s no reason anything would be different with you and me, right?” I meant it as a statement, but it sounded like a question. I wanted Toni to say she’d always love me, too. No, that Toni would always love me, too.
“Right.” Toni leaned her head on my shoulder. The weight of it felt so good. So important. We had to stay as connected as we could. I didn’t know how big this thing was, but I knew it wouldn’t come between us. “I don’t want that to be different at all.”
“So just tell me what you need,” I said. “I want to help. If you want to talk stuff through, or if you just need me to hold your hand, or, you know, anything. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
“I love you,” Toni said.
“I love you, too.”
We kissed. It was the first time we’d kissed after I knew, but it didn’t feel any different. It didn’t feel like I wasn’t kissing a girl. It just felt like I was kissing Toni. My Toni.