“I thought you liked the new me,” I say.
“I do.” She sniffs again. “It’s still hard. It’s fun having a brother, I guess, but I miss my sister, you know?”
Oh, God.
“Say something,” Audrey says. “Or I’ll think you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad,” I say slowly.
Am I really Audrey’s brother?
Today was amazing. Having people call me he. Shopping in the guys’ sections without anyone looking at me funny. Having straight girls flirt with me.
Maybe I’m not gender variant. Maybe I’m, well. A guy.
It’s just—does it have to be an either/or thing? Having people look at me for a weekend and think I’m a guy is awesome, but these are people I’m never going to see again. Do I really want my own sister to think of me as a guy all the time? For the rest of our lives?
Am I still going to want to be a guy when I’m thirty? When I’m ninety? How the hell am I supposed to know?
Derek knows. He’s getting surgery this summer. He’s positive he’s never going to look back.
God, I envy that.
I can try out pronouns and labels as much as I want, but it’s not going to make me any more certain.
What if I never figure this out? What if I spend the rest of my life going back and forth? Is there a test I can take that will just tell me the answer? Like the personality test that told me I’m introverted and judgmental? (Not that I needed to take a test for that one.)
I guess it all goes back to what Nance said. Trying out labels, putting everyone I meet into little boxes—the way I did with all my Harvard friends, the way I did with all the British people I met today—it’s all a part of figuring myself out. Trying new ways to define myself. As a Harvard student. As gender variant, or gender nonconforming, or whatever else feels right on any given day. As part of my awesome group of friends.
For two years, I defined myself through my relationship with Gretchen. Now that that’s on hold, I’m adrift, wandering freely. Too freely.
It feels more important than ever that I come up with the right label to plaster on myself. A way for people to see me. People who aren’t Gretchen.
Because when Gretchen looks at me, she just sees me. It’s like she said—she really doesn’t care about all my gender stuff. She likes me for me. Loves me, I guess.
God, that’s true. She really loves me.
God, I’m an asshole.
I climb to my feet and rest my palm on the door handle. “Can I come in?”
Audrey sniffs, and for a second I think she’s going to say no. Then I hear her sliding back from the door. “I guess.”
I push open the door. The bathroom is tiny compared to the rest of the suite—just a toilet, a sink, a shower and a few square feet of cold floor tile. When I sit down next to Audrey, my not-very-long legs fold against the door awkwardly, my feet planted flat on the wall next to hers. She’s turned away, facing the shower curtain. I can’t see if she’s still crying.
I miss my sister, you know?
I want to be the sister Audrey wants me to be. No, not the sister. The sibling.
I need to stop defining myself according to other people’s expectations. I need to figure out who I am. Not just whether I’m a guy, either.
What do I actually want for myself? Outside what my friends see, or my girlfriend sees, or my family sees?
Maybe things will never be the way they were before between me and Audrey. Because I’m not the same.
Maybe that’s okay.
“Can I, uh, hug you?” I’m still not really sure how to initiate hugs.
“I thought you don’t do hugs,” Audrey says with a sniff.
“I’m trying to start.”
Audrey turns, and I get a glimpse of her red eyes before she tips her head onto my shoulder. Wow, hugging feels nice, especially when you’re upset. I don’t know why I stayed away from it for so long.
“Anyway, I’ll deal.” Audrey pulls back and sniffs again. “Seriously, I’m happy for you. You can be a boy or a girl or a dolphin or anything you want and I’ll be happy for you.”
I smile. “A dolphin?”
“I saw it on South Park.”
“Thanks for being happy for me. I’m sorry I made you cry.”
“It’s not like you did it on purpose.” Her voice sounds more normal now. “I know it’s really uncool of me to be upset about this. Sorry.”
“Uncool?” I laugh again. “Where’d you get that from?”
“I just mean, if I were more hip and modern and in college and stuff, I’d just go with it and not start crying randomly or whatever. The way Gretchen is.”
“Gretchen?” I swallow.
“Yeah. I mean, when you told her she was just, like, ‘That’s cool,’ right?”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess.” Gretchen never cried or anything. At least, as far as I know.
“So listen, don’t be offended, but I just want to sit by myself for a while.” Audrey taps my bare foot with her own. “I just need to, you know, think.”