Ian and Brice
Chapter 3 (Ian)
Copyright 2021 by Heather Rose Brown

In this chapter Ian reaches out to an old friend, barely avoids having another flashback, then has some of his anxiety put at ease in an unexpected way. When some of Ian's stress begins to fade, he senses something from one of his caregivers he'd almost given up hope of ever experiencing again.

=-=-=

I breathed in the light scent of fresh laundry while wriggling into the shirt Brice had let me borrow. After poking my head and arms through the right holes, I looked at the collar, and made some adjustments. While it probably wasn't low enough for anything to show, I still wanted to be careful. When I tugged at the bottom of my shirt, the soft texture made my stomach tingle, but not in a bad way.

I thought about the other shirt Brice had offered. My throat tightened when I imagined how close the collar would be to base of my neck. I sighed when I looked at the design on the shirt I was wearing, tried to pull it down more, then let go and decided it would have to do.

I turned to the locked door of my new bedroom, and reached for the handle. It was almost like turning up the volume on my anxiety when I started twisting the lock open. I groaned with frustration and relocked the door, then tried to think of something to do while my waiting for my nerves to settle.

That's when I remembered the laptop. I strode over to the desk, then grinned as I sat down. The screen lit up when I opened the device. A moment later, I found and clicked the link to the shelter's private server.

My first thought was to try sending a message about my suitcase to Mrs Birch. When I looked at server's user list, I saw her name was tagged as 'unavailable-in transit', and rolled my eyes. Of course she was still in transit, since she'd just dropped me off a little while ago.

My hands started getting clammy when I thought about where I'd been dropped off at, and who I was with. I searched through the chat channels to distract myself, but didn't see anybody in them. My mouse was hovering over the logout button when a message alert popped up. I smiled when I saw who'd sent the message.

Maggie_Forte: Hey Ian!
Ian_Sanderson: Hey Maggs!
Maggie_Forte: Hows it going?
Ian_Sanderson: Ok I guess.
Maggie_Forte: That a good or bad ok?
Ian_Sanderson: Well...
Maggie_Forte: Come on. Im your best bud. Talk to me.
Ian_Sanderson: I guess it's kinda bad.
Maggie_Forte: How bad is kinda bad?
Ian_Sanderson: Flashback bad.
Maggie_Forte: Oh ***!
Warning-restricted word detected. 1 minute chat lock initiated.

I grumbled when the message window greyed out, then grinned when I imagined the faces Maggie must be making, and the way she was probably swearing under her breath. Thinking about that helped shove down the memory dredged up by the flashback. My hands were only shaking a tiny bit when chat was unlocked.

Maggie_Forte: Grrrr!
Ian_Sanderson: How'd you forget about the nanny app?
Maggie_Forte: Been a long time since I was at the shelter.
Ian_Sanderson: I've missed you.
Maggie_Forte: Same here.
Ian_Sanderson hand hugs
Maggie_Forte hand hugs back

I smiled when I thought about the time my first real friend at the shelter suggested a way of hugging without making me freak out. My smile grew when I thought about how my newest friend learned about it.

Ian_Sanderson: How's Luka doing?
Maggie_Forte: Ok
Ian_Sanderson: You mean like my ok?
Maggie_Forte: I think better than yours.
Ian_Sanderson: Glad to hear that.
Maggie_Forte: So
Ian_Sanderson: So what?
Maggie_Forte: You wanna talk about it?
Ian_Sanderson: Talk about what?
Maggie_Forte: You know. IT.

My pulse started racing when I realized Maggie was asking about the flashback. I swallowed a couple of times, took in a deep breath, waited a few seconds, then let it out.

Ian_Sanderson: Not really. At least, not right now.
Maggie_Forte: Fair enough. New topic?
Ian_Sanderson: Yeah.
Maggie_Forte: So you all unpacked?
Ian_Sanderson: I wish.
Maggie_Forte: Not enough time?
Ian_Sanderson: More like not enough clothes.
Maggie_Forte: Howd that happen?
Ian_Sanderson blushes
Maggie_Forte: Uh oh. Shelter give you girl clothes again?
Ian_Sanderson: No, I got all boy clothes.

I peeked at the light purple shirt I was wearing, made another adjustment to the collar, then shrugged and looked back at the laptop.

Ian_Sanderson: Well, I had boy clothes.
Maggie_Forte: But not now?
Ian_Sanderson: Yes.
Ian_Sanderson: I mean no.
Maggie_Forte: Which is it?
Ian_Sanderson: Both.
Maggie_Forte: Hows it both?
Ian_Sanderson: I've got clothes, but not with me.
Maggie_Forte: Ah. Think I got it. Where they at?
Ian_Sanderson: Mrs Birch's car.
Maggie_Forte: Wow! Howd that happen?

While trying to think of an answer that didn't sound completely stupid, I heard a soft knock. Brice's shout came through the bedroom door when she asked, "Ya done gettin' changed, Ian?"

I switched my chat status to afk, then shouted back, "Yeah! Just finished."

"Great! Mae asked me to letcha know lunch is on the table."

My stomach twisted at the thought of eating around complete strangers. After trying, and failing, to think of a polite way to skip lunch; I sent Maggie a message, letting her know I had to go. My chair creaked as I stood. I gritted my teeth with determination, then turned to face the bedroom door, and whatever was on the other side of it.

=-=-=

There was a flutter in my chest when I opened the door. The flutter calmed when I followed Brice down the steps, and I was mostly okay as we walked through the living room. I was starting to wonder what I'd been worried about while entering the dining room.

My feet froze in place when I saw Trent at the far end of a round table with thick, sturdy legs. Even though I didn't know exactly why, something about seeing him sitting there at that particular table made me feel like I was in deep, deep trouble.

Icy prickles climbed up my back when the shadows of a memory started forming. I tore my eyes from the table and spun around. I tried to run, but my legs still weren't working, and I tumbled to the floor. I was vaguely aware of footsteps coming towards me as I rolled onto my side.

"You okay?" Mae asked as she knelt in front of me. The growing shadows faded when she gave me a worried smile.

"I think so," I said while trying to smile back.

"What happened?" someone asked from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder at Brice's frowning face. "I'm not sure," I said while shrugging. "There was just something about seein' your ... ummm ... I mean ... seein' a guy at the head of the table, kinda triggered somethin', and I sorta ... lost it, I guess."

"Ian," Trent said. At least ... I thought it was him. "Could you look at me?" he asked. Well, almost he. There was a softness, and ... something else in the voice.

After bracing myself, I turned my head, and saw Trent crouched next to Mae. Brice's foster parents gave each other a look, then Trent shifted in a way that made him seem ... different. Knots in my back and shoulders started to loosen.

The adults looked at each other again, then Mae turned to me and asked, "Does being around males make you feel uncomfortable?"

"Ermmm..." I said while trying to wrap my brain around the strange question. "I ... I dunno."

Trent's voice still had the new softness when he asked, "Would it help if I looked a little different?"

"Whatcha mean?" I asked.

Trent nibbled his bottom lip, then reached behind his head, and tugged on something.

Mae smiled and gave his hand a playful swat as she said, "Let me get that." She slid something off Trent's ponytail, and his hair flowed over his shoulders.

"Oooo ..." Brice said as she ran around my stretched out legs. "Ya gonna be Trish for a while?" she asked as she kneeled beside her foster ... parent.

"Trish?" I asked while pulling myself into a sitting position.

Mae stroked Trent's cheek as she said, "It's the name my beautiful spouse uses sometimes."

Almost all the tension I'd been feeling drained away as I studied the adult who seemed to be going by Trish now. "So ... you're genderfluid, like Brice?"

Trish grinned and said, "I think I'm more flexible than fluid."

"That mean you're still a man?" I asked as I leaned back.

Trish tilted his ... or maybe her head. "Would you feel better thinking of me as a woman?"

"Ummm ..." I said while I tried to think of an answer.

"Would it help if I changed clothes?"

"Oh yeah!" Brice said as she jumped to her feet. "Makeover time!"

Trish wrapped an arm around Brice's waist and said, "Maybe," then looked at me and asked "Would you feel better if I looked more like a woman?"

"Uhhh ... you ain't gotta do that." I sat up a little straighter. "Don't want ya doin' stuff like that, just 'cause I'm havin' issues copin' with stuff today."

Trish sighed, then reached out and touched the back of my hand. "Sweetie, coping can be a good thing. But ... where we can, we'd like to help you do more than cope. If you'll let us, we'd like to help you thrive, and grow, and be everything and anything you want to be."

My mouth hung open for a pretty long time. Eventually, I closed it, and thought about what I'd just heard. At the shelter, there'd been adults who said they wanted to help me, but they'd all been women. This was the first time a man had offered anything like that to me. But, then again, Trish didn't exactly feel like a man at the moment.

"Wow ..." I said as my eyes blurred with tears. "I can't ... I mean ... I ..."

A warm hand wrapped around mine. Even through the tears, I could tell it was Trish's hand, but I didn't feel scared, or even nervous. I just felt nice, and safe, and maybe, a tiny bit ... loved.