Friday night at Lads Night In was explosive, in a variety of ways, with Tony discovering the Toni part of himself, or more now herself, along with two new, female friends, Jess and Sally. The day after was an emotional roller-coaster, where people actually smile at the new Toni—no-one ever smiled at boy Toni—and she discovered a wonderland bar where everything ended in tears. But tears for Sally, not Toni! Before Big-G took Toni home to be held and simply rest.

With Toni’s life finally filled with joy and fun, NO BORING!!! is it all going to stop when the big man, Big-G, says it’s time to take things seriously? Or is Big-G correct and will treating things properly as the new Toni be as fun, fun, fun as the partying and drinks? And will Toni end up back in Light Avenue?

--------------------

As I wake I reach over and check my phone. It’s 8am on a Sunday and I’m at home in bed, wearing a nightdress for the second time, with a man sleeping on my couch. At least I hope he is. Big-G said he’d be here when I woke up.

Last night was strange, I guess. My second night as Toni with an i. My first night out in public and it ended in tears. But not for me. It was Sally wailing that she’d been mean to me. The people in the bar terrified for me, because I’d been trans for such a short amount of time and they felt like they should look after me. Then G sitting with me on my couch for an hour after we got home and just, well, holding me. It was ups and downs but it was fun. My life had been missing ups and downs. My life was just flat out boring, in hindsight, but nothing about the past couple of days has been a straight line.

I stand and stretch my eyes wide, clearing out the grogginess, wondering why I’ve woken so early. Normally it’s midday before I’m out of bed on the weekend, and normally I’m not out late in bars, with drama and drinks. Yeah, it was fun, I guess. I do hope Sally’s OK...

I walk into my living room and Big-G is sitting on the couch watching a news station, blanket folded up carefully next to him with the pillow I gave him placed on top. He looks... I don’t know? Zoned out? Or zoned into something far away.

“Why am I awake so early?” I ask with a groan. “And why am I not hungover?”

“Because you’re excited. And happy,” Big-G says, eyes still on the TV.

“Then why are you awake?” I say.

“Because I knew you’d be awake and I didn’t want you to hear me snoring,” he says, but I don’t believe him.

“I need a coffee.”

In the small kitchen is a brown paper bag with eggs and a few other items in it. I guess G went to the store. I make my coffee, then realise I didn’t ask if G wanted anything, so yell into him but he’s fine, apparently.

My mind turns back to the paper bag and I think of Rohit, the worker in the store who gave me his number yesterday. Nothing about this has been boring.

I’m back in the living room and sitting down on the seat thinking of Ro. “You know a boy in that store gave me his number yesterday?” I say to G.

“No. We’re not doing that!” G says.

“Not doing what? Me talking about boys?” I say, with a smile.

“I said last night, when you were a little bit of a mess, shaking...” He turns to me and pinches his fingers together, an inch apart. “... today you take things seriously. There’ll be plenty of time for boys and fun once we make sure you can continue the fun for the rest of new Toni’s life.”

“Why are you being like this?” I ask, both perplexed and a little annoyed.

He mutes the TV and turns to me fully, swivelling on the couch. “I’ve seen this before,” he says. “Not with close friends, but people I knew. Someone comes out, it’s a bundle of laughs, for a while, but then something happens and it’s not fun any more. They’re frightened and scared and it takes months, sometimes years, sometimes never to help them gain even a little confidence back. They’ve lost too much time from their life and they regret it and resent it forever. Sometimes worse than that.”

“Jeeze,” I say. “OK.”

“Do you want to make your list while or after you drink your coffee? Either is fine,” he says, lifting up and placing a pen on a notepad back down with a small thump.

“What list?” I ask.

“The list of things you need to do. Because there’s a lot. Some things you’ll do on the spot, some you might not get around to for months. Some you’ll need to do soon enough but you’ll forget them if you don’t write them down. That list!”

“OK, fine! I’ll start writing a list,” I say. I take a sip of my coffee, place the cup down and pick up the pen. I stare at the page for a few seconds then write at the top HAVE FUN!!! NO BORING!!!

“You can talk aloud to me,” G says. “Just say it straight out. I won’t judge anything you come up with. I’ll offer advice if I have to, and if I can. But just talk to people. You need help with this, and some people in your situation never get help, so use it. And I promise, you will have fun. You will even have fun today. A lot of it.”

“I have been having fun,” I say, and think, and remember it like I’m living it again.

“Yeah, since Friday evening,” G says. “What about the previous 26 years?”

“Are you saying I wasn’t fun?” I ask, teasing him because even if it was boring for me, well, he’s being mean to old Toni.

“No, you weren’t fun,” G says. Which actually hurts me.

“Then why did you go to Steve’s for so long?” I ask. “I mean I was there and if I was a drain on everything?”

Big-G rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand kind of aggressively, or at least with force and says, “Please, no! Toni! You’re trying to force this into you having more of what you believe is fun. Old you wasn’t fun. But I liked you. And before you begin trying to toy with me not everything is about having fun. Not everything is a thrill a minute. Some things are just pleasant. Some things are simple everyday contentment. You feel comfortable with people, and things are normal and you don’t have to think. Sometimes you just want to relax and have a beer without worrying. And I could do that on Friday nights. Now, please, what do you have to do?”

“Fine, fine,” I say, and I can hear the grouch in my voice, but I do begin to think, a little. “I have to text Sally and see if she’s OK.” I take my phone from the table and text her, but I figure she’s sleeping off a monster hangover and won’t be awake for a while. Although I’m not too worried because I am certain Steph, the manager of Light Avenue, and Trevor, the security guard, got her home safe after they brought me and Big-G home.

“Right, done!” I say.

“Who else do you have to text?” Big-G asks. “Who might be worried about you?”

“My parents never worry about me. I suppose I could see how Jess is doing.”

“Who else? Who else might be worried about Toni? The new Toni?” G asks. “Who hasn’t heard from her in a couple of days?”

I think back to who knows the new, well, me, and think over the past few days. The people from Light Avenue know I’m with Big-G and anyway I don’t know their numbers. I’ll text Jess in a minute, I have texted Sally but I’m the one more worried about her. Then I think back further, to Friday night. “Alan and Steve?” I say to G, meekly.

“Yes, they might be very worried about you. They saw something from you they probably never expected to see.”

“OK. But not Steve!” I say.

“Why not?” Big-G asks. “Why wouldn’t you think he was worried about you?”

“He was acting like an asshole to me! He was mocking me and teasing, and saying things like, It’s your life, dude! in his big douchey voice.”

Big-G nods, and looks a little less angry with me. “That’s your decision, and as long as you actually consider things I’m happy too. But just let it rest with you why Steve might have been acting like an asshole. Your life is your choice, but don’t throw away people just because they’re a bit shocked. Shock does funny things to people.”

I nod at Big-G. He’s making a little bit of sense, which is annoying, but in a way it’s kind of nice. I pick up my phone and send the easy message first, to Jess. “Me and Sally went out last night. It was a lot of fun. Sally cried, but I didn’t!! Still fun, for her too. She’s fine. Really, definitely, guaranteed at home, so don’t worry. I know she’s at home. Probably really hungover. Big-G is here and being mean, making me write a list. I can’t wait to see you again. How’s the study going?”

Then I turn to the Alan text, and I’m not sure what to say. And just saying, I’m fine, after all that happened would be weird. I bring up the last messages we exchanged in the app and they’re all really brief. I press to make the cursor appear and write the letter ‘I’ and pause. I suppose I should just tell him what I’ve been doing. “I went out last night,” I write. “with Sally. Met some new, really nice people. You’d like them. Looking forward to seeing you. Toni.” I stare at the message for a while, wondering if just writing my name with an i is enough, well, to let him know. Then I hit send trying not to think about it.

I place my phone on the table and pick up my coffee, but as soon as I’ve taken a sip my phone beeps. Jess must have messaged me. I open the app but it’s from Alan, already. I pull it up, feeling my tummy flip. “I’m free all day if you want to have coffee. Can’t wait to hear what adventures Toni has been getting up to. Message or call literally any time, day or night, even just to talk.” And at the end is a Love You Lots and three heart emojis.

I put my phone to my chest and I don’t know what I’m feeling, apart from like I could cry. I rub my eyes and feel my face squeeze up. Alan’s one of my oldest friends.

“See! Taking things seriously can be a lot of fun,” Big-G says. “Now come on. Plenty of time for tears. Back to the list.”

“Alan was so lovely to me,” I say.

“Yes, of course. Now come on, list!” he says, tapping the pen on the pad. “What would you normally do on a Sunday. Do you have to do laundry for work clothes?”

“No,” I say. “I have three weeks worth of work clothes and normally I pay someone to wash and iron them. I’m fine for another two weeks.”

“Do you think with your new exciting life, one that isn’t just you working, going to Steve’s on Friday night and watching TV all weekend you’ll be able to afford to pay someone to do your laundry?

“No...” I say.

“Do you think the place that does your work clothes will be able to dry clean Friday’s dress?” Big-G asks.

“Yeah, probably,” I say. “I didn’t think of that.” I do think of the cum stains.

“Write it on the list!” Steve says. And soon, with me thinking aloud and G helping I have a massive list of things I have to do. One that could take me years.

I keep reading and re-reading it, knowing I’ll be adding things and it will absolutely grow when eventually Big-G says, “OK, breakfast. You’ll eat eggs will you?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I say.

“And you can sort out those big black sacks Sally gave you while I make them. Then get showered, and dressed. You can’t spend all day in a nightdress. At least not today. I’ll prepare breakfast then let me know five minutes before you want it.”

I go to my room and start to pull clothes out of the black bags Sally gave me in Light Avenue last night. At the top are a few dresses, a couple of summer dresses and a couple of heavier autumn and winter dresses. Beneath that are a few tops, a few sweaters, and some coloured cotton camis in their wrapping for beneath. There’s one Minnie Mouse nightdress, which makes me laugh. In the other bag there’s a couple of pairs of jeans at the top, three skirts, some fancier, dressy tops, and beneath that a heavy, butt length, navy coat that looks really expensive.

I immediately try it on over my nightdress and it fits like a dream. This will do me for months! I hadn’t thought of it until G walked me through it but a proper coat would really have been one of my most expensive purchases.

I’m admiring myself when I hear a knock on my door and G calls out, “You decent?” I yell at him to come in. “Nice coat,” he says, walking through the door.

“OK, our shopping trip, what’s not in the bags?” he says, pen held above the notepad he brought in.

“Shoes!” I say with a moan, and a little excitement.

“OK,” G says.

“Panties, bras,” I begin to list off, with Big-G writing. “Socks, pantihose, makeup, and..? I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either but do you really need socks? I get the panties thing but socks? Are they really that different? And you know you’ll need to save.”

“I suppose...” I say.

“Do you have any man t-shirts that might fit me?” G says. “A sweater or fleece or something? Or literally anything? I’ve been in these clothes since yesterday and unfortunately I develop an aroma quickly.”

“I think I have some things. Definitely some of the work branded gear they handed out that was too big for me. I’m always down the list when they’re giving stuff out.”

“That’d be great,” G says. “And do you mind if I shower?”

“There’s some towels in there.”

I pull out the spare clothes I have and hand them to him.

“OK, I’ll get showered and you pick out what you want to wear. I know that takes some time,” he says with a sigh, as he leaves through my bedroom door.

It doesn’t really take any time. There’s not as much clothes from the bags, given their size, as I thought there’d be. I pick out a tight, faded and slightly flared pair of pale, blue jeans, a string top for beneath and striped dark blue and pink fuzzy sweater. I try the jeans on quickly to make sure they’ll fit and notice a problem. A problem that sickens me. A useless lump of flesh between my legs problem.

I realise it’s probably one someone’s had before so I’m quickly on my phone and there’s a couple of suggestions. A few of the suggestions I don’t want to try and one that simply says more, and maybe smaller underwear. If that doesn’t work I’ll have to try the looser jeans, but the double panties thing seems to work out.

I’m standing in my manly, black and red striped bathrobe when I hear Big-G come out of the toilet. I stick my head around my bedroom door and see he’s dressed in his jeans and one of my company’s branded fleeces, hair damp. “Everything OK?” G asks.

“Yeah, fine I’m ready to shower, too,” I say. So I do, and unlike yesterday it’s not the long, wash away 26 years of worry shower. I make a go on my legs, just starting into them despite there not being much hair. My pits are fine and I’m not taking even more away on my crotch, but I do shave my face. It just feels easier in the shower instead of looking in a mirror. And I groan again thinking of Big-G seeing me with morning stubble.

Soon, I’m out, in my bathrobe and darting from toilet to bedroom. I dry, and yell to G, “Five minutes,” before teasing my hair into place with the mousse and getting dressed. My hair isn’t great but it looks more feminine than male, if not obviously so.

By the time I’m out G has breakfast set on the table. It’s just scrambled eggs, hot sauce and some herbs but it’s nice, it really works well together. “You’re a good cook, G,” I say, finishing up.

“Thanks, my dad taught me,” he says.

“I’ve never really heard you talk about your family.” I look at his face for some clue but it reveals nothing. “Am I prying?”

“No, not at all. I love them. I talk to them every few weeks. We travelled a bit when I was younger but it was relatively normal. My dad worked as a cook a lot, never a full chef, but he was good...”

“The eggs?” I ask.

“Yeah,” G says. “And my Mom worked every job under the sun. We weren’t well off but we were happy. I never wanted for much, even if everything I had was second hand.”

“That’s good, it sounds lovely.” I think of my parents, who never laughed or smiled, or cried, or ever really cared about anything. Yes, they cared about me and my sister, but it always felt like they were performing a duty, not that they said that. Then I think of who I am, in this exact moment. “What am I going to tell mine? Fuck. I didn’t think of that,” I say.

“Do you want to tell them?” Big-G asks.

“No!” I say.

“When will you next see them?”

“Not for months, longer, maybe?”

“Then say nothing. Worry about it then. You have enough to worry about now.”

I nod, pause for a second and say, “Are we going to have fun now?”

“Are you not having fun?” Big-G asks. “Was breakfast nice?”

“Yeah...”

“Did you enjoy checking out your new clothes?”

“I did, I suppose. But I could be having more fun. Extra fun.”

G stands, picks up the plates and says, “I’ll wash up, you finish getting ready and we’ll go. Make a mini list and then we’ll do the More Fun! things.”

After getting dressed and pulling and tugging myself to no avail to be more of a woman I’m standing in my bedroom all ready except for my shoes. I don’t have any girl shoes that work, and apart from my boy shoes I have nothing else. I suppose my white trainers are kind of androgynous. They’ll have to do. I don’t really have a choice. I put them on and am ready to go. But I’m not sure.

G is waiting by the door but I hold back. I turn my foot to him and say, “These trainers are kind of androgynous, right? Like, they’re not boy or girl?”

“They are entirely white,” G says. “What does that say to you?”

I nod, and my phone goes off. I pull it out with G sighing. It’s a message from Jess. “Glad you and Sally had fun. She’ll sleep all day long, I’d guess. Study is horrible so message me everything you do, I need some contact with the outside world. Listen to Big-G. He’s amazing!”

And the text reminds me of something. I hold up a finger to G to wait then I begin to type a message back to Jess. I hear G moan with impatience. “Trevor from Light Avenue said to wish you luck with your exams. He said sleep and fresh air are key. He told Sally to tell you but I doubt she’ll remember after all of last night.”

I put my phone away, pull my new, navy blue coat closed and say, “Right, we can go!”

“Are you sure?” G asks. And I nod and begin to walk. We’re about to step in the elevator when my phone goes off again, “Hang on, G.” I say and take it out.

“Trevor loves to wind up Sally. He’s so much fun. And such a sweetheart. Don’t believe a word he says though. There’s more to him than he lets on.”

I smile at Jess’s message. She seems to have Trevor figured out. “OK, let’s go, G,” I say. “Stop holding things up!”

“You’re such a woman!” G groans.

“Thank you!” I say. And we step into the elevator, ready for adventure.

Me and G walk and talk, not going any particular direction other than towards the city centre, where the big stores are. We’re not really chatting about anything in particular, which is nice. So much of the past couple of days has been directed at something. He was right about everyday things just being pleasant. As boy Toni I’d be pounding out steps, desperate to get somewhere, to the next thing. Then when I get to the next thing I wouldn’t care about it and it’d be the next thing after that. Now I’m happy to just walk, and feel the early autumn sun on my face, and chat with G. And when we walk we fall into an easy pace. I figure G doesn’t like being held up, but he’s in no rush. If he’s making even a little progress he’s happy.

We walk past a supermarket parking lot when G says, “Come on. We can get some of your things in there.”

“What? That’s a supermarket. A cheap one. The clothes they have will fall apart within about three months.”

“Do you really think you’ll be wearing those clothes in three months?” Big-G asks.

“What! Why wouldn’t I!?” I ask, all indignant. “Do you think I’m faking all this?”

“Christ! No, not at all. Have a think, Toni,” he says. “You’re brand new at this. Your style might change, it might not. Friday morning you were completely the old you. You wouldn’t even dream of buying clothes like this. In three months you might have totally different taste after letting it stew for a while. Do you really want to be saddled with expensive purchases you’ll never wear?”

“I don’t like that you make so much sense,” I say, actually a little bit annoyed at him. I’m getting annoyed at him being right quite often, now.

“It is genuinely a burden,” G says, with a hint of regret in his voice.

Soon we’re inside the clothing section and G is steering me around. He takes me straight to lingerie section, like he has an extra sense telling him what I should do but don’t want to do. I freeze up. “I can’t,” I say.

“Why not?” he asks.

“This is, well, it’s under-things. I can’t be in here,” I say. “People will think I’m a creep.”

“Will they think I’m a creep?” G asks.

“No, because you’re with a woman,” I say.

“Exactly,” G-says, and pushes me towards some bras. “You do know your size, don’t you?”

I find a white and a black bra that will fit me and the crappy forms Steve bought me as part of his plan, cheap and basic bras. Then pick up a load of packs of cotton panties in various colours and patterns, and some pantihose of various thicknesses, all dark.

Just as I’m finding a rhythm G drags me to the shoe section. “I have to get some underwear for me,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll have fun picking out shoes, but don’t go batshit. You’re on a budget.”

I parade around the shoe section trying to figure out what I actually need. I want to go straight to the heels but I know G will blow his fuse if I don’t get some immediately practical stuff to wear, and I’m probably not confident enough in heels yet to wear them out and about. I don’t even know what goes with what. Eventually I pick out a pair of peach fabric ballet flats with embroidery on the fabric, a pair of black, fake leather, ankle-high boots with buckles fastening them to the side and studs on the back, and a cheap pair of skate shoes with pink and yellow detailing, and yellow and green laces.

I’m taking a pack socks off their hook when Big G arrives back, holding a pack of boxers.

“I hope you’re not getting them,” he says. “I thought we agreed you don’t need them.”

I hold up the package of socks with butterflies and ladybugs on them and say, “But they’re so cute!” as I place them on the pile on my arm.

“Yeah, no arguing with you,” G says. Then places his underwear on my pile too and shoves some cash in my hand. “Let’s go.”

I’m feeling nervous in the queue for the cashier. The woman will surely know what I am and what I’m buying. She’ll think I’m a freak or something, or call security, or worse. They’ll call the cops. I’ll go to jail. They’ll lock me up! We get to head of the queue and my heart is racing when Big-G pushes me forward to an open position.

I place my pile down on the counter and the woman smiles at me as she begins ringing things up. “It’s so good your boyfriend comes shopping with you. Mine will just sit watching sports all day,” she says, with an eye roll as she scans my panties through.

“He’s not my—”

“She dragged me out here to get new boxers. Threatened to throw my old ones out,” G says, as I hand the woman my cash. “Then I couldn’t stop her.”

“They’ll wear them until there’s nothing left,” the woman says, handing me the bag. “Men! But I guess they’re worth it. Have a nice day!” And it’s over in a flash, with new customers coming in behind me.

“See? Easy as pie,” G-says. “Towards, Light Avenue.”

“We’re going to have fun?” I ask.

“There’s a department store near there I need to pick up some homeware in. I need to do things too, you know? The whole world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Doesn’t it? Are you sure?” I ask, trying to sound incredulous.

“If you don’t buy anything there you might be able to afford to stop into Light Avenue for a bite to eat, and spend a little time having fun.”

“Yes. I like fun,” I say. “Fun, fun, fun.”

After a bit more of a walk I’m standing inside a fancy-ish department store’s doors, near the makeup section, with purses and leather goods off to the side.

“I’m leaving you here,” G says. “I won’t be long. Please don’t wander off. I really won’t be long!”

As he walks away I decide I won’t look at the makeup as the women at the concession stands seem really intimidating, just as Sally said. Perfectly severe faces and sharp style, nine out of ten of them seemingly blonde. Instead I go look at some of the purses, thinking about what I’m wearing. I feel like brown would work better with my outfit, so I begin to peruse, talking a few down off the hooks and trying them out. A few I take to the mirrors, slinging them over to my shoulder, turning and twisting.

I’m having fun when I see something that immediately catches my eye. It’s a light tan purse, with a leather strap with darker, stained stitching on it. Embroidered on the front in greens, purples, blues and greys, and every other colour, is a frog sitting on a rock by a brook, with forest off to each side.

“What are you looking at?” Big-G asks. I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at it that G is already back, but I don’t know how to answer him.

“OK, fine, don’t talk,” he says. He leans forward and grabs the tag. “That’s not too bad!” He takes the purse off the hook and says, “Come on.”

“What are you doing G?” I ask.

“Getting me a gift,” he says.

“You’re getting you a gift?” I ask, confused. Why would he need a purse?

We reach the cashier and he places the purse on the counter before spinning me around, clamping an arm through mine to stop me from turning. I hear a beeping and some rustling. Then Big-G says, “Would you mind cutting the tags off and giving me the receipt. Don’t put it in with the purse”

“Sure thing,” the woman says. A few second later G spins me around again and hands a department store bag to me.

I look into it, not being sure why G is doing it and yes, the purse is in there. “But why, G?” I ask.

“It’s something my mother would love and wear to death, exactly her style, and my style too. And it will make me happy seeing you wear it.” I look at the cashier and she’s smiling, it’s a genuine smile. “And it really wasn’t that expensive,” Big-G continues.

The cashier, still smiling, says, “It wasn’t. Very affordable. But it’s still lovely. Just right for you.”

“Oh, thanks, G,” I say. And I give him a hug.

“My pleasure.”

As we continue down the street I feel like I’m walking on air, and I hold a tight grip on the handles of the department store bag, as though it and the purse inside will float off into the sky with me holding on. Never letting go. Both of us lost to the galaxies.

A few minutes later, with things still feeling like a dream, we walk into Light Avenue and my heart begins to pump. I look around but don’t see Steph or Trevor. G drags me to the counter where a man in the simple Light Avenue uniform is standing. I don’t recognise him, but why should I? “What can I get you?” he asks. “The kitchen is open for another hour if you want food.”

“Toni, what’ll you have?” G asks.

“A Coke,” I say, still looking around, searching.

“Will you eat half a grilled cheese?” Big-G asks.

“Yeah, I will, thanks,” I say.

“A beer, a Coke, and a grilled cheese and fries,” Tony says.

The bartender dots the order into the till, readies the drinks and hands them over as G pays. “Find a table and we’ll bring you the food when it’s ready.”

“Thanks,” G says. Then he grabs my arm and pulls me into the deeper part of the bar. As we walk past the alcove me and Sally were in last night I’m seeing a lot of things I don’t recognise. There’s a lot more nooks and crannies than I remember there being, with areas off the main thoroughfare. In fact there’s an entire, long bar area that has no staff behind it that I can only vaguely recall.

“This place seems to have changed overnight,” I say to G.

“Yes, some things, and people, can change very quickly,” he says, as he sits me down on a comfy bench, while sitting himself down in the chair opposite me.

It dawns on me he was talking about me changing. “That’s mean!” I say.

“Fun, fun, fun!” G says, putting my Coke in front of me then taking a drink from his beer.

I take out the black boots from the bag, which I realise actually have a bit of a heel on them. It’s low and long, but it’s noticeable. I rip the tags off, take off my trainers and slip my feet in, wriggling my toes. Then I take out the purse Big-G bought me and begin swapping things out of the one I’m still using from Friday night.

“Oh, it’s so nice!” I say. “Thank you so much, G.”

“Feeling better?” G asks.

“Much,” I say. “But I don’t know how, you know? Nothing has been bad. But somehow I just feel better and better.”

“Yeah,” G says. “Get used to it. But don’t let the bad times, which will come, take over. There’s a lot of good in the world. Even just normal Sundays with friends eating fries. That’s all the world is most of the time, if you’re lucky, and that’s how it should be.” He clinks his beer to my Coke on the table and then our food arrives. “If you’re still hungry after we can order more.” And we start into a late lunch.

With the grilled cheese gone we mostly slowly talk and munch on the occasional fry. Big-G is telling me a little more about his parents. They were kind of hippy, 60s and 70s people, but not that old, obviously, G is much too young for that. More they were free spirits, making do, having fun. He’s an only child and it’s obvious they love him to the ends of the earth, and everywhere they went both his parents and him had lots of friends. The way he describes some of his homes it seems like he was meeting new people every day.

Eventually the conversation goes quiet and Big-G says, “I’ve told you all about me, and my family, and why I like that purse. You tell me your reason.”

“Don’t laugh?” I say.

“Why would I laugh at a purse I bought because my mother would love it?” G says.

“OK... You know the story of the frog getting kissed and turning into a prince?” I say. Big-G nods. “Well, when I saw the bag it reminded me of me. Except instead of turning into a prince I turned into a princess. And there’s an enchanted forest around me, full of wonders and amazing things. And, I don’t know, I just feel blessed. I was bumbling around in a boring routine but now I can see the forest, and there’s so much life, and fantasy, and...”

I look up and see Big-G smile like I’ve never seen him smiling before. He’s like a little boy really looking at space for the first time. He coughs. “The next time I phone my Mom I’m telling her that story, then she’ll be flying straight here and demanding to meet you,” he says. “So I am never telling her that story because you and my Mom would drive me nuts.”

“Oh, don’t be mean to your Mom,” I say. “Or me. Tell her the story.”

“Of course I will,” Big-G says.

I place the purse on the table and take out my phone. I take a picture of it and message it to Jess, to break up her study, along with how G bought it for me and what we’ve been up to.

I’m just finishing up when I notice Steph is standing above me holding a tray. My heart begins to race and I suddenly feel very warm. “I’m so sorry for last night, Steph,” I say. “I really shouldn’t have—”

“Sorry for what?” she says.

“For causing so much drama and being all... Well...”

“Oh please,” Steph says. “Last night wasn’t drama, far from it. We were just worried about a new customer who’s going to be here a very long time. We told you both the story about the bar.”

“Yeah...” I say. “So no-one’s angry?”

“If anything we’re angry at ourselves for assuming we’d seen it all. You’re just kind of new to us. And that’ll be good in the long run, we’ll do better in the future,” Steph says, craning her neck side to side to stretch out. “Now if you wouldn’t mind scooting up I’d like to sit down.”

I slide up on the bench. Steph places the tray with the cocktail on the table next to us and sits. “OK, the main reason I wanted to see you! The main night shift gets on at about 8pm. Or at least whoever’s driving the mini-bus that night. You can assume for at least the next month, from 8pm onwards someone from here will take you home. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Why? I don’t plan on getting messy.”

“That’s not it,” Steph says. “As you explained last night your whole situation...” she sweeps her hand up and down in front of me “... was very sudden. We want to make sure if you’re in here you get home safe. So if you’re in here, and it’s past, let’s say 7pm, you wait for the bus”

“Are you saying..? That I’m not..? That I shouldn’t..?”

“No-one’s saying that,” Steph says. “There’s always things to be concerned about, reasons to keep your wits about you, but as you said yourself you didn’t even go out much as a boy. If a fresh-faced 21 year old was coming in here often, and we knew, we’d do the same for them.”

“You’d really do that?” I ask.

“Yes, of course. This isn’t some Toni only measure we’ve put in place, you’re not that special. We’ve done this for lots of people and it’s no real commentary on anyone. And if it gets you in here more often that’s good. We like seeing your pretty little face.”

“I have a very pretty face,” I say.

“And you’re so modest!” Steph says. “Hear from Sally?”

I shake my head.

“I didn’t expect so.”

“Do you know anywhere near here I can get makeup samples?” I ask.

“There’s a few places, but the best of them? No. Trevor would know better than me,” Steph says, picking the cocktail up from the tray on the table next to us. “Ask him. But first take this cocktail. I’d like to know what it’s like.”

“Sally is much better at tasting this stuff than me,” I say. “I really can’t tell any flavours or even what juice is in it.”

“It’s non-alcoholic so you don’t have to come up with excuses. There’s not enough on the menu, and making non-alcoholic drinks that people order one after the other all night is a real challenge. You said you’re not a big drinker, so it’s an important point of view.”

“OK, I will,” I say, as I pick it up and take a sip through the straw.

“Nice purse,” Steph says.

“If you ever need a smile ask her why she picked it out. It’s very cute,” Big-G says.

“How are you Gary?” Steph asks, standing up. “You had a few hours of sleep, at least?”

“Yeah, I did. Thanks for asking.”

Steph stretches out her neck one last time then says, “Go and find Trevor and ask him about the makeup. He’s in the smoking area. And find me later, when you’re free. I want to know what that cocktail’s like.”

Steph walks off, after giving G a squeeze on his shoulder, and G says, “Do you want to go find Trevor?” when his phone vibrates on the table, then mine. I pick mine up and it’s a message from Sally. “I’m so sorry about last night. I got wasted and made a fool of myself. Please tell me you’re OK with me, and we’ll organise our pedicure for next weekend. If you still want to. If not you and Jess should go.”

I lower my phone thinking of what to say. I did think Steph and Trevor would be angry at me but why would I be angry at Sally?

“Sally?” G asks.

“Is it obvious?” I say.

He holds up his phone. “Me too. She’s in one of her hangover miseries. Are you OK here?”

“You’re going somewhere?” I ask, beginning to feel nerves flutter.

“Not if you need me, or want me to stay, but I was going to go see Sally. I can usually get her out of the hangover dumps.”

My eyes open a little wider and I say, “No. I’m fine. Go find her! And tell her I am completely OK with her and she has nothing to worry about. I’ll text her the same.”

“Don’t text her yet, do it in about ninety minutes, or later. I’ll have found her and it’ll be better received.” He stands, and walks around the table, leans into me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll just grab my boxers from the bag. And you’ll be OK. I’ll stay if you want. And if not I’m only a call away even if you just want to talk.”

“No. Go to Sally,” I say. “I’m sure you don’t want to come makeup shopping with me. And thank you. For absolutely everything. Everything! I mean it.”

G smiles and is gone.

I sit, finishing my cocktail and people watching. There’s so many different kinds of people in here. People you’d never expect to see, not for a gay bar, or LGBTQ bar, or an LGBTQ pretending to be a straight bar that accepts everyone but is really focused on LGBTQ people, which is a kind of secret, according to Steph and Trevor. One they wanted to let me and Big-G in on. And most of these people seem happy and content. Which, I guess, is what I am now.

I take out my phone and am about to text Alan but instead decide to phone him. It rings a few times then I hear his voice. “Oh, Jesus, Toni. Tell me everything!” he says, and there’s so much excitement in my chest. This is one of my best friends.

“Do you want to meet me for a drink?” I ask, giddy.

“Hell yes!” he almost shouts. “Where?”

“I have to get some makeup samples. I don’t know how long that’ll take but not longer than about two hours. Do you know Light Avenue?”

“Some friends have talked about it but I’ve never been. There’s first times for everything, though, as you well know. I’ll be there in exactly two hours! I can’t wait. I’m going to hang up straight away and get ready.”

“I’m so—” But he actually has hung up. I guess he really was excited.

I gather my things and make my way to the smoking area, where I notice another bar, outside, after passing a third small one in a little empty room. How did I not see these things last night?

I look around for Trevor and notice someone sitting, with his legs crossed, reading a newspaper with a stack of more newspapers on the table along with an empty coffee cup and glass of water. “Trevor?” I say. He folds up the newspaper carefully, with a smile on his face, and places it on the table. “I’m not interrupting am I?”

“It’s never an interruption when it’s a friend.”

“Thanks for last night,” I say.

“I had a lot of fun,” he says, which I’m a little surprised to hear. He was still working. This is a job, no matter how much he enjoys it. “Sit down.”

“I enjoyed it too,” I say, with a little nervousness. “But it’s a quick question, is there somewhere near here that does makeup samples? The best place to go? Steph said you’d know better than her.”

“Steph is correct,” he says. “Go out the front door, turn left, walk about six or seven minutes up. There’s an independent pharmacy. You can’t miss it. Now go! Get beautified!”

I smile. “Thanks. Is there somewhere I can leave these bags?” I ask.

“There might be someone up there. But your bags are safe, don’t worry. If you want you can leave them in one of the changing rooms.”

I nod, and am soon standing outside the door marked private around the corner from the women’s toilet. I give a quick look around to make sure no-one is watching, then I’m inside the store room, past the shabby door inside there hiding this all away, and walking up the red carpeted stairs to Trevor’s Room.

At the top of the stairs I give a knock and say, “Hello?”

“Hello?” A girl reading a magazine says.

I walk in. She has long black hair and is wearing kind of spooky clothes. It’s not a costume and the dress isn’t goth. I don’t know how she’s dressed. Kind of like how Enya sounds, but less dramatic, more everyday.

“I’m Natasha,” she says.

“Toni. What are you reading?”

She laughs a sarcastic laugh. “Oh god, literally anything! I work in a candle shop nearby and between that and my shitty housemates making noise all night I’ll come up here and read whatever I can find for a bit of peace and quiet.”

“Sorry about your housemates. I live alone, thankfully. Although I’m not sure I can afford it any more.”

“Tell me about it? Did Trevor send you up?” she says with an eye roll.

“No, he did say someone was up here. I’m just storing my bags while I run outside.”

Natasha uncrosses her legs, leans forward and says, verging on conspiratorially, “I’m not sure about the doddery old man thing all being an act. I don’t doubt what he says about working in gay bars for forty years, but he can’t keep his stories straight.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, feeling a little weak at the thought Trevor might be playing games. He does play games, but it’s the thought of him doing it with me...

“Has he told you how important it is to spread your wings? Not to become too reliant on routine and comfort?”

“No?”

“And some people he’ll tell them this is an LGBTQ bar, other people he’ll say something completely different to, pretending like he’s letting them in on some big secret. He’s nice, but not all there, is just what I’m saying. And no-one I’ve talked to has actually painted Trevor’s Room on the door in nail polish. Ever. This place is just quiet, that’s all.”

I place my bags into one of the changing rooms. “I’ll be back later,” I say.

“I’ll probably still be here reading,” she says, with a sigh.

I walk out, out of the bar, turn left and a few minutes up the road deep in thought. Eventually, after some doubling back, I find a grey stone building with the classic pharmacy sign hanging out front. There’s no branding above the frontage, just an old family name. Walking in there’s carpets on the floor, which I find unusual for a pharmacy. It’s a little aged, but not unclean. It could do with some modernising. There’s a few plaques hanging high on the wall with a bit of dust on them. There is definitely all the usual pharmacy stuff, including makeup counters. It just doesn’t seem bling.

I walk up to one of the counters, at random, not that many of them are staffed. At the one I chose there’s a short, chubby woman standing at it, with simple, everyday, normal but nice makeup, hair tied up in a high ponytail, wearing a black and pink smock with black leggings. “Can I help you?” she asks.

“I was sent here to get some samples?” I say, a little nervous.

“Have you worn much makeup before?” she asks.

“Literally once in my life,” I say, blushing.

“You’re coming from Light Avenue, aren’t you?”

“Is that bad?” I ask, thinking of what Natasha said to me about Trevor.

“No, not at all,” she says. “We get a lot of business from people there, which makes sense with it being what it is, I guess.” She tilts her head side to side as she’s saying this to me, looking at how the light catches on my face, I guess. “When did you last shave?”

“This morning,” I say.

“What time?”

“Maybe around eleven.”

“Blonde? Wispy?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Do you mind if I bring someone on a ridealong, I want to try something with you.”

“What’s a ridealong?”

“They’re new staff and we’re training them in, I want to teach them some things.”

“That’s not a problem,” I say.

She walks off for a few minutes and I inspect the various tubs, tubes, pots, vials and so many things I have no clue what the difference is between them. She arrives back with a young looking woman, maybe nineteen or twenty years old, and turns to her and says, “Skin tone?”

The young woman says something in a language I simply cannot decipher.

“Hair? Facial and otherwise? Eyebrows?”

Continuing on the trainee says some of the same words the older woman had said as well as some new ones.

“Correct,” the older woman says. And they keep going with this for a few minutes while I stand feeling operated on.

“OK, thanks, you can go back to what you were doing.” And the younger woman leaves.

The remaining woman picks up an unbranded, white paper bag the younger girl was carrying and says “OK, that was great. Thank you. Now do you want me to go through the basics of putting this on?”

“A friend said it’s all on youtube, literally everything, millions of hours,” I say.

“Your friend is correct. And you can pause and rewind youtube, unlike me. Now what was new about you, I have done it a few times but not that often, mostly on younger girls, is the BB cream.”

“What’s BB cream?” I ask.

“It’s like foundation, but a lot lighter. It’s softer, much less cover. It’s easier to get a natural look with it. It has a sun screen in it far more often than regular foundation and it’s just less heavy on you. You have soft skin and not much hair so I think it will work. If it does, please come back and tell me. It’ll be important.”

“The friend said I should go with just a little bit more expensive stuff, not the cheaper or teenage aimed stuff.”

“For foundation she’d normally be incorrect. The teenage stuff is made a little heavier to cover acne and bad teenage skin. It provides more coverage for...” She rubs her face like she has a beard. “And for really heavy stubble there’s some stuff that’s designed for that, and scarring, and covering tattoos. You do not even need to go near that barring a catastrophe.”

“No catastrophes, please,” I say, with some nervousness.

“There’s loads of samples in the bag, enough for weeks, and all different things. Find what suits you then slowly build up what you need. You might need some other things, some things that can’t really be sampled, so we’ll walk around and pick them up. You have a little money to spend?”

“I do. Some,” I say.

“Before anything makeup you need care. Some cleansers, moisturiser, and all that. Just get whatever until you find what works for you. You have Normal skin, by the way. Not dry or oily. That could change if you come on or off hormones. Do you wear sunscreen?”

“If it’s really sunny...” I say. It’s not a complete lie.

“Always, always wear sunscreen, especially if you work outside. Do you?”

“No,” I say.

“OK, the BB cream should be enough if you’re in an office all day, for the next few months anyway, but if you’re not wearing that, or a foundation with SPF in it, put on sunscreen. You will thank me when you’re fifty.” We walk around the store picking various things up with her putting them in a basket when finally we’re near the checkout. “Do you need anything else?” she asks.

“I literally have no idea,” I say.

“I mean from the pharmacy, or in general. I’ve touched on most of what you need and there’s a few things that are just bonuses in the bag. Of course some women don’t wear makeup, almost ever. Or never. Just please do the facial care. And wear sunscreen.”

I think if I need anything else and something occurs to me. “Do you have ear plugs?” I ask.

“Cheap or expensive?”

“That’ll fit any ear,” I say. “For sleep.”

She says to the woman behind the checkout desk, “Foam earplugs,” then to me, “I hope you remember me when you’re having fun with youtube. And please, please, come back and tell me how you got on. And spend money, it’s how we can do this,” she says, just generally waving but I’m not sure what at.

“Thanks,” I say. And soon, after a rather large bill despite all the samples, I’m carrying two bags back from the pharmacy to the back of Light Avenue, and up the stairs to Trevor’s Room.

Natasha is still in there, still reading, and I feel like I’m interrupting, but I bought them so there’s no point wasting them. “Have you tried earplugs?” I ask her.

She looks up from her magazine, “What do you mean?”

“For your noisy housemates... You probably have,” I say. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. They might not work or they’re uncomfortable.”

“No, I haven’t,” she says. “It didn’t even occur to me but it’s obvious.”

“OK, don’t be annoyed,” I say, fishing around in the paper pharmacy bag. I pull out the earplugs and hold them out to her. “They were cheap. They might work?”

“You are so precious,” she says in a subtly deeper growl. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, I was getting makeup samples and it occurred to me.”

“If you ever need candles or are just bored, or something, I don’t know. Maybe you want to listen to whooshy music? The place I work in is down the street about fifteen minutes. You can’t miss it, it looks like how this stupid costume looks.”

I look at her dress again and remember what I thought before. “Like Enya sounds,” I say.

“Oh, fuck you, Enya. Just fuck off! I used to like her stuff, really, but non-stop, over and over?” She pauses. “At least we’re not selling rocks randomly picked up off a beach as healing crystals or some bullshit.”

I laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t realise Enya was a touchy subject.”

“No, I’m sorry to Enya. Sorry Enya!” she says, looking to the sky. “She likes cats, apparently. And lives in a castle. That makes her good in my books.”

“I’ll be downstairs if you want to go for a drink,” I say.

“In the noise? No way. But if you want to get away from it I’ll be up here a little while more.”

I smile at her, put away my shopping with the rest of it and go back to the main room to wait for Alan.

Looking around I don’t want to bother anyone. Well, not anyone. I wouldn’t bother anyone. I only know Steph and Trevor and they’re actually working. Instead I sit at the long bar I didn’t fully realise was there last night, up on high, cushioned stool with a back. It’s quiet with only two other groups sitting at the long counter.

“What can I get you?” a tall-ish woman, with short hair asks me.

“Draft beer, please.”

“Any particular kind?”

“Something low on alcohol?” I say, after a few seconds of thought.

She pauses for a moment and thinks. “What kind of beers do you like? Fruity? Dry?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“OK, I’ll try this one on you,” she says.

I think of this bar actually being really fancy, far fancier than the basic small places me and Steve would go to, just for an hour or two, and ask “Is it expensive?”

“Not particularly,” she says, placing a glass of beer in front of me. “Do you want me to open a tab for you?”

“Is cash OK?”

“Cash is always OK,” she says. So I hand over some money and she’s soon back placing my change in front of me.

I pick up the beer, taste it and say it’s really good. She tells me the name so I know, and something occurs to me. Which for some reason I just blurt out. “Why is everyone so nice here?”

“All our customers are nice,” she says, with a smile.

“The staff?” I say, hoping I managed to pull off my fake annoyed scowl.

“The honest reason is the pay is good and the training is good,” she says. There’s an evenness to her voice and simplicity to the words so I believe her.

“Why would good training help? To get a better job?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she says. “If you manage to last a few years here, even as a basic bartender, you can walk into pretty much any other bar in the city as a shift supervisor, at worst. Some places you’ll be a manager. Some places will even let you run the entire thing. The reason most of us figure is because they teach you how to do it well here. Really well. I know it does, I’ve been here four years. And other bars know it so it looks good on the résumé.”

I nod, and take a drink. “I’m sorry, that’s your tip,” I say. Pointing at my change.

“No, it’s not,” she says.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s too much,” she says, again smiling.

“Isn’t that for me to decide?” I ask.

“Normally it would be, for most people, but you don’t go out much and you actually have no idea how to tip,” she says. And I can see she has customer service painted all over her face, but there’s a glint in her eyes.

“Does everyone in here know me?” I ask, raising my arms in exasperation.

“Yes. All the staff, at least,” she says, still smiling and having fun. “But it would have been obvious you haven’t gone out much to any bartender worth their salt the moment you ordered, certainly not in places like this. If someone took advantage of you it’d be pretty scummy.”

“OK, what’s the correct tip? That you’ll accept?” I ask counting out how much of my $20 is left.

“Poor service, this much,” she says, moving the change to one side. “Average service...” She drags a bill over. “Good service, which should be the norm...” Another bill is dragged to the side, and two coins go back. “Exceptional service?” The rest of the coins go back and more bills come over. “If they’ve done something you’ll rave to your friends about how nice they were, and how you should all go, you buy them a drink. A drink which they clock into the till and maybe have when their shift is over. Some places they’ll drink with you, but that’s not too common any more. Got it?” she says.

I nod.

“I deserve this, agreed?” she says, showing some cash in her open palm.

“Yes,” I say. “Absolutely!”

“And don’t get all caught up in the moment and try to buy me a drink. Drunk people will get emotional and start buying everyone everything and no-one remembers they did. While guys will buy bartenders drinks and if they’re hitting on us, and it’s obvious if they are, and we’ll think they’re fools. Girls will buy things too, but now we’re getting into foggy, rainy night territory of socio-politics when it’s just me and you and I’m polishing the same glass for hours. But you’ll figure it out.”

“Will you watch my drink while I run to the toilet?” I ask.

She lifts it up and places it behind the counter. “Safe as Fort Knox.”

I stand and begin to walk to the toilet. At the end of the counter I see Natasha has been approaching. “Are you coming down here for a while?” I ask.

“Going home to try your earplugs,” she says. “I might finally get some sleep.”

“I hope you do,” I say, and we wave at each other and go our separate ways.

Soon, after I’ve pee’d, I’m back at the bar, with the bartender putting my drink back in front of me. “Your friend bought you a drink,” she says. “Just let me know when you want it.”

“What friend?” I ask.

“The one you were talking to when you got up.”

“Thanks,” I say. Natasha didn’t have to do that. The earplugs were about three bucks. The drink is there now, so I guess I might as well drink it, but I don’t want people doing things as an exchange.

I pull out my phone and am browsing, slowly drinking away when I remember I need to message Sally that things are OK between us. I hope G soothed her nerves, but even then I have to say the right thing. I’m staring at the screen, worrying about how to phrase it, when I realise I just need to say what I need to say. “I’m sorry too. You said no more fights earlier in the night then we both did silly things. But they weren’t bad. Everything’s OK. And I want to see you as soon as possible.”

I no sooner put my phone down when it buzzes again. It just says, “I love you. I’ll see you soon.” And I think the exact same thing so send I love you too back.

I finish my drink, wanting another but the bartender somehow knows, with one freshly poured, placing it in front of me. I smile at her, then notice Steph who taps her on the shoulder. They walk away a little and converse for a couple of minutes, before the bartender goes out the door at the side of the bar. Steph comes to me after checking in on everyone else. “How are you doing?” she asks.

“Good,” I say. “That bartender is really nice.”

“Yeah, she’s very good at what she does. We’ll be losing her soon. She has a great job lined up.”

“She showed me how to tip,” I say.

“Did you notice she gave you weird change?” Steph asks.

“What? How do you mean?”

“A weird mix of coins and bills. The non-obvious mix.”

I shake my head. I didn’t notice. “Wow. She really is good.”

Steph nods. “And you should know this already but you never have to tip me. Ever. But if you want to buy me something nice I like chocolate. Literally anything chocolate. I’ll go as loopy for a Snickers as I will for fancy Belgian stuff, but not too often because bar workers tend to eat like crap if they can.”

“What about Trevor? I ask.

“He likes smiles,” Steph says, when I feel an arm on my shoulder.

I turn around and Alan is standing there. “Hi,” I say.

His eyes are wide and he almost pulls back from me. “It is you. I went everywhere looking for you. You look the exact same but so different. I don’t know what to say. I’m really lost for words.”

“Just sit down,” I say. “It’s not a big deal.” It isn’t. It shouldn’t be.

I slide a stool back for him as he’s taking off his jacket, then he’s sitting down and saying, “It’s a huge deal. How long have you known?”

“Not as long as you,” I say, blushing.

“I didn’t know anything,” Alan says. “I only knew Friday night. I had no clue before then.”

“I didn’t know until Saturday,” I say, feeling completely foolish.

“How could you not know? Look at you! There’s no way this hasn’t been on your mind for years.” Alan looks me up and down as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

I’m getting embarrassed by Alan’s gushing and say, “I really didn’t know. It was all repressed or something. And then, boom, Friday night happened. And Saturday morning I thought, Why not keep doing this?”

“Did you always like men?” he asks. But it’s not mocking. It’s not even really curious. It’s almost like he’s challenging me to come up with something, anything.

“Alan, please, you’re embarrassing me,” I say.

“OK, I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll try to calm but down but Toni you frightened the shit out of people.”

“You mean you and Steve?”

“Well, yeah,” he says. And now it’s like he’s on the defensive.

“How is Steve?”

“Let me get a drink,” he says, and picks up a cocktail menu. He looks at it for a few seconds. “This one looks nice, what do you think?”

“I don’t know, I guess. I don’t really drink cocktails,” I say.

“I’m sorry,” Alan says. “I know that.” And he looks around the bar in wonder. “This place is fancy, I should have come here before.”

“It’s a nice bar.”

“And you came here last night?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“And you enjoyed yourself?”

“Yes!” I say. Do I really need to tell him that? I’m back here again. And he’s with me now!

“Fucking good. At last! Fucking hell, Toni.”

“What?” I ask. I can feel the tension in my voice coming through my throat.

“Let me get a drink. What are you drinking?” I tell him the name of the beer as Steph is stepping forward. He looks to her and says, “Can I get two of what Toni’s having? Please?”

“Some ID?” Steph says, and I look at her a little surprised, but she doesn’t take her eyes off Alan.

“Of course,” Alan says, and takes his wallet out of his pocket, then his license out, and hands it to Steph. She looks at it for a few seconds, back and forth between the card and him.

“Thank you,” Steph says handing the card back. “One or two beers? They’re low alcohol, if that’ll put you off.”

“No, not at all. Take for two, and Toni can have hers when she wants it, if that’s OK?” Steph nods. “And can I open a tab?”

“Not on your first night in here, no,” Steph says. “We’ll take as we go.”

Alan has a grip on my leg until his beer arrives, when he gulps down a bit and loosens up on me. “What were we saying?”

“You were saying it’s good I enjoyed myself, At last.”

“Yeah. Fucking hell Toni, you had us all worried.”

“Why?” I ask.

“How do you feel now? Put aside any scared or frightened about the newness but how do you feel, as Toni?”

“Pretty good?”

“You’re fucking glowing you look so happy!” Alan says, with his eyes nearly popping out of his head.

“Stop being weird,” I say. He is being weird, I tell myself. I know it.

“How am I being weird?” Alan asks.

“So happy, this, and At last, that. It’s weird. I’m just me,” I say.

Alan nods, a little shock on his face. “I’m sorry,” he says. “This is just new to me. And I am happy for you. And I am excited.” Again with the eye popping.

“I’m still me!” I plead.

“OK. Maybe I need to get to know you better before we start on the big stuff. I’m Alan. You must be Toni. Have you been up to anything interesting lately?”

“I went shopping today,” I say. That was easy. Simple. To the point.

“Did you get anything nice?” Alan asks.

“How’s Steve? Really?” I ask. I need to know. He was such an asshole to me and I want to know if he’s still being a dick.

“Weirder than all this,” Alan says, but it’s not the exuberant tone in his voice any more.

“Tell me about it, please.”

“Well if it’s weird for you that I’m excited, it’s just weird for him because he thinks you’re a dude.”

“Yeah... Does he not know about trans people?” I ask. Even I knew about trans people. Obviously.

“He does, but he doesn’t think. And you are happier. Which is making me happy,” Alan says. “And things are different, which is making Steve agitated. He’s been talking about Lads Night like nothing happened. And something happened, Toni. Please don’t deny it. Allow yourself to be different, and excited, and upset. Hell even be angry!”

“You’re treating me funny. I am a little angry!”

“Good!” Alan says. “Because you never got angry before. You’d just get pissy or mopey and annoy everyone.”

“Well everyone can fuck right off then!”

“Damn right! Fuck them!” Alan says, and he takes another big gulp of his beer. “This is why you’re different. Apart from looking different, and it’s not the clothes making you look different, it’s that you’re set better, you’re actually feeling things. And you didn’t until the other night. And if you did you ignored them.”

I take a sip of my beer and start to listen to the sound of the bar.

“Don’t ignore your feelings, Toni. I don’t want you to become a happier you without me,” Alan says. “Talk to me.”

“It’s weird that you’re treating me differently. And don’t say I am different!”

“OK... You tell me what’s different.”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Then we’ll sit and we’ll drink. And that’ll be fine, because I’m sitting and drinking with you. And I want to sit with you,” Alan says.

I take a drink, put the glass down and sniff. “People are being nicer to me,” I say.

“People were always nice to you, Toni. You’re a nice person. You were always a nice person. People want to be nice to you. Steve can be an asshole sometimes so even nice people treat him badly. And he deserves it. You did it Friday night.”

“I did not!” I say, getting het up.

“You were teasing him about pulling your thong aside and, you know...” Alan makes a popping sound with his lips.

“He deserved it, though,” I say.

“Yes, of course he deserved. He absolutely deserved it. But do you still think it wasn’t mean?”

“No,” I say.

“Oh please, Toni. He was uncomfortable with what was happening and you teased him. And you kept going, pushing him.”

“Yeah, but he was being mean first!”

“So? You see? You were being mean, he just deserved it.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say. And I turn around in my chair. “How do I look? Be honest, please”

“So, so happy. Glowing. And I’m happy too. I get to see who one of my best friends is and she can only be an even greater version of who she was,” he says with a smile.

“I really am,” I say, and I realise I’m smiling too.

“OK, now the weirdness is over, I hope, or at least toned down, I need a cigarette,” Alan says. “Is there a smoking area here?”

“You don’t smoke!” I say to Alan.

“I do when I’m out, and when was the last time you and me were out?”

“Three weeks ago,” I say.

“At night?” Alan asks, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, OK, you’re right. Can I come with you? How about we move outside?”

“If you’d like to,” Alan says. So we pick up our drinks, coats, and my bag, and walk outside to the find a table. I pass Trevor who’s doing his old man, check IDs and check vibes routine. And past the outside bar, towards the back where Sally was being drunk last night. It’s completely different when it’s not so busy. Like there’s actually air to breathe outside here.

We find a free table and sit ourselves down. Alan pulls out a pack of smokes, takes a cigarette out and lights it. Inhaling deeply he lets out a plume of smoke, looks at me and smiles.

“Can I have one of those?” I ask, pointing at the box.

“You don’t smoke,” Alan says.

“How do you know?”

“Because you don’t.”

“Please, I just want to try. Just to be able to say I’ve had one once. You know, actually trying things while I can,” I say.

He looks at me disapprovingly, opens the box and hands me a cigarette, “Who am I to stop Wonder Woman?”

I light it, trying not to cough, which I don’t. I actually don’t cough. And just as I exhale wondering what all the fuss is about my head begins to spin and I feel dizzy and floaty. I lift my hand to my head and say, “Woah!”

“Head spins?” Alan asks.

“Yeah,” I say grabbing into the table, but things are coming back to normal, slowly.

“That hasn’t happened to me in years,” he says, as I take another drag, somehow liking the feeling. “Now, please, don’t get addicted. Do not ask me for another one.”

“No, I just wanted to try, to say I have,” I say.

“What else do you want to try?” Alan asks, getting back to the good stuff.

I take another drag, trying to look all mysterious and sophisticated, and I’m sure I do look like that when I speak up. “Well... A boy gave me his number yesterday. G didn’t want to talk about it but I’m guessing you do,” I say, taking another drag.

“Was he hot?” Alan asks.

“He was nice...” I say.

“Yeah, but did he make you want to jump his bones? Was he hot!? Come on! Details!” Alan says, clapping a rhythm.

I feel like a teenager gossiping and talking about crushes, and about a foot tall with Alan being like this. “I thought about him in the shower...” I whisper, not to be coy rather this is uncharted territory.

“Oh, you’re going to have so much fun,” he says.

“What’s it like? Being with a man, I mean...”

“I’ve never been with a man as a woman,” Alan says, plainly.

“Oh come on, Alan,” I say.

“Just relax and enjoy it. Don’t feel pressured into anything. Take it comfortably and you’ll know what to do. I’m not saying anything else.” He crosses his arms and looks at me kind of suspiciously.

“What?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he says. “This all makes sense.”

“What does?”

“You’re Toni, my female friend. My girl friend. It’s just natural and works.”

“I still look like a dude, though, really. Everyone here is nice, but I’m not changing reality just by putting on clothes,” I say.

“That’s what I would have thought, but no. Not at all. I thought I’d see old you kind of nervous, maybe a little excited. Maybe too excited but this is all normal. And it’s not at all wrong. You’re not Tony with a y any more. Your a woman who’s one of my best friends. Toni with an i. I’m already forgetting about the old guy, sort of. Or replacing him with you in my mind. You’re you, nothing else.”

“Well, Tony with a y has to go to work tomorrow,” I say, cringing.

“But you’ll have one more drink?” Alan asks.

“Yeah, one,” I say. Then we have three, just chatting like normal. No arguments or weirdness. No mention of Steve, even though I want to. No Lads Night. And then it’s getting a little bit late and I’m forcing myself into the back of the minibus to make my way home, kinda light headed, with the bartender who’s driving, smiling at me in the mirror the whole way back home.

Getting home I get undressed, change into the Minnie Mouse night dress that makes me laugh, and begin to get ready for work tomorrow. I lay out my shoes, chinos, too weird, bulky man underwear, shirt and jacket.

Lying into bed I’m forcing all the thoughts out of my mind, about getting up and showered tomorrow, about getting the bus, as Tony, and being Tony at work, and people treating me like a nobody and no-one knowing or caring about who I am. And hopefully, eventually, the day passing quickly so I can get home and be me again.

I just know it’s going to be a long, long day of misery. Five, long, long days. Until the weekend again and I’m free to be Toni.