“Alexander Winters?” The nurse calls from the doorway at the end of the hall.

Grumble

Hearing that name called out in full always grinds my gears in ways that are hard to explain… Oh wait, no it’s not.

Even if I won’t have to tolerate it for much longer, it still freaking sucks. It’s first thing on Tuesday morning, and Mom and I are at the surgery to see ol’ Doctor Harris for my latest oil change. Seeing as I will be off to school directly afterward, I’m in full boy-drag, sadly.

You remember I had to go see the good doctor a few weeks before D-Day, right? Yes, Derp Day, Day of Donkening, Dork Did A Dumbass Day; pick your poison. Due to said visit, Harris already knows all about me, so I’m surprisingly comfortable to go see him now that all our cards are on the table. Well, as much as I can be about this issue, that is.

When we arrive at his office, Harris is waiting for us and greets Mom with a friendly hug. “Hello Veronica, it’s good to see you.” He looks over at me and smiles, “Miss Winters, I hear you’ve had an eventful few weeks?”

I shrug sheepishly and make a face.

“Tony, glad to see you again,” Mom smiles.

“I see a request here from a Doctor Ward for a full workup and report,” Harris points out, sitting down at his computer. “I’ll forward her my exam from a few weeks ago and the panel of bloods I took at the same time. Everything should be relatively current, given the circumstances.”

“That would be fantastic, thank you.” Mom agrees. “What were her levels?”

What? Do you think just because Mom and Doctor Harris are old buds, that he would share my medical records with her? Ones he promised to keep private due to my age? He’s actually a good bean.

Harris glances at me and upon receiving my nod, pulls up the file. “Estrogen levels are within range for a girl in puberty and her testosterone levels are suppressed to within normal margins, although, they are a tiny bit on the lower end of the scale. Serum lipids are good, as is liver function; no issues as far as I can tell with her wider health. She’s a model patient on hormone therapy, if she was actually ON, hormone therapy,” he chuckles.

“Indeed,” Mom agrees, shooting me a slightly miffed look. “At least she’s not done any damage.”

“She was careful,” I offer hopefully, giving both adults my best innocent look. “I really did do my research.”

Harris nods in agreement. “In her defense Veronica, she did indeed: Her dosages are what are typically prescribed for the desired levels. The materials were… while, illicitly imported into this country, entirely legal in Canada.”

“Can we rectify that, now she’s out in the open?” Mom asks. “Or do you need to send her off to an Endocrinologist first?”

Harris shrugs and gives that open-handed gesture people use when they’re not entirely sure. “I can write a bridging prescription for her, but I would rather she see as an Endo for a formal prescription before too much longer. Transgender care is not my field of specialty and there are far more qualified people to help her,” he explains. “I’d rather not disrupt the treatment in the meantime; so yes, I can.”

Woo, I get to stay on the titty Skittles, result!

“I am glad that you spoke to your mother,” Harris adds, giving me a kindly look. “She really does have your best interest at heart, Holly.”

I look over at Mom and smile, “I see that now; I was a fool.”

“You were scared and alone,” Doctor Harris corrects me gently. “It’s entirely understandable, really.”

Harris turns to his computer and types for a moment before handing Mom a prescription and an appointment card. “Mercy’s Endocrinology department, Doctor Maya Anderson, two weeks on Friday, half past four?”

“Perfect,” Mom smiles. “Thank you, Tony.”

With that brief appointment, I joined the ranks of those on real, honest-to-good anti-boy-otics. It was a really affirming feeling to see that first proper prescription, even if it was in Alex’s name. Sure, it was a bridge to keep me tied over until I could see an actual Endocrinologist (Specialist Hormone Doctor), but it was a sign that this was real, official, and proceeding towards my end goal; being me for the rest of my life.

It also helped to confirm for me that Mom and Dad were fully onboard the Holly Express. There was absolutely no hesitation or fanfare when she got it filled at the local pharmacy on the way to school. The look she gave me when she handed over the bag in the car, however, spoke volumes.

“Thank you, Mom,” I offered quietly, clutching the paper bag tightly in my hands. “I know what this means to you.”

“We love you, Holly; never forget that fact,” Mom squeezed my hand. “I’m just glad that we’re able to help you properly now. I’m glad this is all out in the open.”

“I’m still sorry I couldn’t be your son, Mom.”

Mom looks at me and there’s a tear in her eye. “Holly, even sitting there right now in your suit trying to be him, I can’t see my baby boy anymore. Alex is gone and that’s ok; he never really existed. I’m going to mourn who my child was, and heal by loving who she really is.”

Blub. I love you, Mom.

 

 

The bus rumbled onward as the rain beat down on the windows, blurring the view outside. Super cinematic right? Welcome to late fall in my area; it’s very soggy.

“And we kissed by the river, it was… I’ve never felt so alive in my entire life,” I admit, shedding an actual happy tear. Both Megan and Kara beam with happiness.

“You deserve a little bit of luck babe,” Meg offers, giving me a squeeze. “I saw how much you cared about him; to find out he sees the real you too is just… too beautiful.”

“I have no idea how I’m going to keep this shit up for five more weeks.” I groan as I flop back against the glass. We’re on our way home from the Gym on Wednesday afternoon and it’s been the first chance I’ve had to debrief after the weekend of insanity that has rocked my world.

No Gary to interrupt our conversation you ask? The goblin is off exchanging farts with some of his buddies as far as I know. Either way, it’s just the three of us riding home on the city’s delightful public transit system.

Kara shrugs, “you’ve managed so far, it can’t be that different, right?”

“Back then, I was Alex all the time,” I point out. “Now, he barely exists, even at school.”

“How has Rick been since the weekend?” Meg queries, cursing under her breath as the bus's jolt throws off her nail-painting accuracy.

I make a face. “I kinda tried to avoid him but, well, he ended up finding me anyway. I think I feel a lot weirder about it than he does.”

“Damn straight,” she chuckles. “He’s the only guy with a hot girlfriend right there in school with him; I bet he’s cool with it.”

I really managed to get myself into a real mess, didn’t I? Here I am, actively trying to pretend to be the sex I was born. The wrong one, I might add, but pretend I must. Now introduce Rick into that mix and I’d fail pretty quickly. I have no problem with people thinking I’m gay, the truth is that I’m not. No, my problem with people seeing Rick and I being romantic together is me. There’s just no way I can pretend to be Alex when I’m with him that way.

It sounds wild, doesn’t it? The truth falls back to my house of cards analogy. My perception of the world as a boy is pretty tentative at best. Take a few cards off the top, and the house remains standing; my hair, my size, and my shape are all things that can be overlooked. I know with reasonable certainty that I struggle to behave remotely boyish around him. I was failing at that long before he found out the truth, and I don’t see that changing. Something about how he treats me makes it impossible for me to pretend. No, if people saw us together, they would see right through me.

I cannot let that happen, for both of our sakes. What happens after it all comes out? That’s a storm that I’m willing to weather. Will people call us gay? Probably. I’m not naive enough to believe this will be a happy-ever-after beautiful trans-fiction world where everyone can totally tell I’m destined to be a girl and that clearly, Rick is a straight guy dating a young woman. No, they’ll call him a fag and me a freak. That might be the real test.

Sigh. Why can’t life be simple?

 

 

Thursday morning began very much like every other day in my new reality, although I certainly felt a little more comfortable having taken that first icy plunge. Playing Alex should be easy; I’ve played him for most of my life. Somehow now it feels so awkward and isolating.

Morning classes are utterly underwhelming; we’re into the meat of the semester here and are working hard to get stuff done. Honestly, academia is a fantastic distraction from all of the girl/boy world bullcrap that keeps bothering me. Getting my head stuck in my work helps keep my focus away from the situation that I’m in. It used to protect Alex from having to face reality, now, it stops Holly from having to focus too much on pretending to be him.

By now, our courses are in full swing and our teachers have zero mercy. I told you private schools could be ruthless and this one is no different. I’m mostly caught up on my homework from my unfortunate absence but that doesn’t mean the workload eases up. Thankfully I have a free period this afternoon that should sort a lot of this mess out.

As w pour out of Physics, I run into a solid wall of dumbass.

“Watch where you’re going faggot,” snarls one of the bigger guys in my year, giving me a dirty look as though I am composed entirely of cow dung.

I hold my tongue and turn away; there’s no point getting involved in anything with these guys. Suck it up and ignore it, Holly, it doesn’t matter...

“Where you going fag-boy?” the lump growls, grabbing me by the shoulder and spins me around as I go to pass him by. “Who said I was done with you?”

“I did, see you later Kevin,” I point out firmly, stepping to the side.

Kevin frowns and tries to compute the fact that someone has ignored his defacto authority. It takes a few seconds before I feel him yank me backward by my hair.

“Yeeoowwch.” I yelp, falling backward to relieve the pressure on my head. “Get off me you fucking asshole.”

“You scream like a girl,” he chuckles darkly. “Bet you take it up the ass you faggot.”

“How about you go fuck yourself,” I spit, massaging my sore head. “I’m pretty sure nobody else is ever going to take up the challenge.”

Kevin Peterson stands there and blinks for a moment, staring at me.

“What?” I snap, “Leave me the hell alone asshole, fuck off.”

Inexplicably, the guy turns and walks away without another word. The few students that had hung around expecting a fight wander off, disappointed that bloodsport is no longer on the cards. I’m just collecting my things when Andy hands me my remaining textbook.

“You might want to put your hair back in its elastic, Rapunzel,” he chuckles, nodding at the black hair tie now lying on the floor.

“Huh?” I shake my head, slightly and hair falls into my eyes, suddenly it all seems to click into place. “Oh, uh, right,” I mumble, stooping to grab the tie and quickly returning my hair to its low pony.

Andy gives me a weird look but doesn’t say anything. “Are you ok?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned for my wellness.

“My hair’s still attached to my head, otherwise, no feelings hurt,” I shrug. “I have no idea why he stopped and left me alone.”

“You stood up to him,” Andy points out as we start walking to English Literature. “People don’t stand up to Kevin Peterson; he thrives off being the one in control.”

“I really didn’t feel like dealing with his crap today,” I sigh.

I’m not entirely sure why I just stood up to one of the school’s most prolific bullies. Honestly? I think a part of me was done with being dragged down by some tiny dick asshole that insists on making others feel bad.

Looking back, Alex never actually stood up to anyone in his life. The difference here is, that it wasn’t Alex at that moment. I know it sounds highly schizophrenic, but it was Holly that didn’t take Kevin’s shit. That moment of pain, when he pulled my hair, caused me to drop the Alex Mask entirely.

I glance over at Andy cautiously, now that I realize why Kevin stopped and why my friend reacted strangely. No, it wasn’t just the loose hair that really didn’t belong on a boy and it wasn’t just the tone of my voice. It was the pissed-off girl that came out of left field and slapped them square in the face. Dominoes… I let one too many topple and I cannot afford to do that.

Andy seems a little quieter than normal as we walk to class and it makes me really consider my friend for a moment. While Gary and I were friends because we were both nerdy rejects who were pressed together by the school system, Andy and I were always different. We became friends because in many ways, we were both seen as broken. It was a shared understanding that behind the exterior that everyone else saw, we were worth knowing.

“Andy?”

Hopalong stops walking and looks over at me. He’s never once judged me and he’s always been there. I’ve been seriously ignoring him recently and I feel guilty. Stupid gender crap has gotten in the way of a friendship that I valued. I smile and squeeze his shoulder, it’s a lot more manly than the hug I was trying my hardest to resist. “I’m really glad that you’re my friend.”

Andy chuckles and shakes his head. “I know.”

“Did you just pull a Star Loner on me?”

Andy smirks, “Don’t get your buns in a twist princess.”

I swear to god, If kicking him wasn’t a war crime, he would be limping more than usual.

 

 

Two hours later, it’s finally lunchtime and I drop into my spot at the table with a deep sigh. My brain is entirely frazzled from a morning of extreme academic focus and I am worn out. I’m a little early today, so I’m only the second arrival after our table head, Carson.

“You look like you’re fit to drop,” the Quarterback observes, filling his glass from one of the water jugs on the table before offering it to me.

I give him a nod and a smile of thanks as I kneed my temples. “Algebra has fried my brain, I’m basically useless now.”

“I know the feeling,” he chuckles, “I get that way tryin’ to remember crap in history. My brain doesn’t do good with dates; always feel guilty about not being good with that stuff. My Dad, he loves Archeology and it makes me feel like a bit of a failure.”

Carson colors up and frowns. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m unloading on you, Alex.”

“I don’t mind,” I shrug. This is the honest truth; I don’t. I’d rather people be honest with their feelings sometimes. I know how rich that sounds coming from me, shut up.

“I could maybe tutor you if you wanted?” I offer, surprising myself as much as him. “I’m getting A’s in History at the moment, maybe it might help with technique?”

Several of our tablemates start to arrive as Carson is about to answer. He thinks for a moment then seems to reach a decision. He gives me a quick nod and a thin smile, “I’m free last period today?”

I do a quick mental calculation as the table fills up. “Works for me,” I grin. “See you then, huh?”

 

 

Ordinarily, with my final two periods free today, I would be off home faster than a politician fleeing a funding inquest. Any excuse to get out of Alex and get my homework done in comfort at home is favorable to spending it as a boy in school. No, instead, I’m here in the library finishing off my Geography homework and waiting for my new student. I really don’t plan ahead, do I?

Was it a bad idea, to offer to help? No, not really. I am a good person, despite what you may think of me. The big thing is that I’ve never actually had anyone to offer help to before. Heck, I’ve not exactly been in a helpful headspace. Most of my associates, the nerds, are pretty smart folks. They rarely have ever asked for or needed assistance. Is it a bit of a stereotype, the jock needing help in class? Look, we all have weak points, and Carson like any other student here is actually pretty smart. You don’t tend to last here if you’re stupid. Even the sports stars don’t coast at this school.

Why did I offer? I’m not entirely sure. Perhaps being in a more of a Holly state of mind, I’m more willing to put myself out there to help others. It’s a nice feeling really, even if it does mean staying in Boymode for a little longer than I’d like. Alex didn’t have enough energy to help himself, but Holly, she’s going to be different, I’m starting to see that.

The Library door thuds dully as someone enters and the quiet space is filled with the soft slap of shoe leather on the parquet floor. I finish the chapter I was reading and look up as Carson Orlinski arrives, a cheesy grin on his face.

“I’m ready to learn Professor.”

I roll my eyes and gesture at the chair across from me with my pen. “Sit my child, and we can begin.”

I’ve described the library before, right? Big and gothic with lots of dark wood and tall bookcases. Well, the study area consists of long wooden tables with rather nice padded chairs. There are reading lamps and an area of computers off to one side. Just off the main area. Is a smaller room with printers and copiers and other such noisy modern machinery that Mrs Inverbrook believes to be uncouth. Right now, we’re on one of those long wooden tables and Mr Sports Star is unpacking his pile of textbooks.

Those computers that I mentioned? It was there that I first started to research what I was around age twelve. I had no idea how to explain what it was that I felt as a young child, only that I should have been like my sister Chrissie. It was those very machines that helped me to understand it had a word. When something has a word, it can be written; when it can be written, it can be answered.

“What are you guys studying?” I ask as Carson gets himself settled.

“The Russian Revolution through to the Soviet Union,” Carson explains, opening a textbook. “Trotsky, Stalin, Five Year Plans and all that; it’s just a blur to me.”

“Why do you find it hard?”

Carson makes a face, “It’s so damn dry.”

“So tell me about the last movie you saw.”

Carson’s face lights up at that question. “Oh man, there was this movie with Tim Journey, he plays this American Retired Army Captain who’s all jaded and traumatized from the stuff he did during the Indian wars. Well, now he’s in Japan to sell guns and train them to use them and stuff right? Well, he ends up getting attacked by Ninjas and he helps them fight off a revolution.”

Clearly, Carson enjoyed this movie. I raise an eyebrow. “How quickly did you recall all of that?”

He shrugs and looks confused, “I liked it.”

“So why are you struggling with this then?”

“I don’t get it,” he frowns.

I point at his textbook. “What you’ve got in there, blows that movie away. You’ve got revolution, war, an apprentice betraying his master, assassination, and murder.”

“Really?” he perks up and flips through a few pages. “Like what?”

I smirk and spread my hands like an actor on a Broadway stage about to reveal the big plot secret. “How about when Leon Trotsky, disgraced former Bolshevik leader got an ice axe in the head because Stalin wanted his influence gone so that he could clean up his control of power? He assassinated anyone who posed a risk to him; Generals, Scientists, and Politicians. Anybody who questioned his authority or his decisions was sent to the Gulag or executed. All of this meant that when the Germans did invade after they betrayed their pact with Stalin, the Soviets were on the back foot because they had lost so many of their leaders.”

The boy looks immediately enthused and I know I have him hook line and sinker. “See what I mean? Once you find a way to angle the story to be more engaging, you find it hard to forget.”

“We’re doing this in Senior history class,” Carson points out. “How do you know it already?”

I smile, “One of my Dad’s work friends used to work for The Antonov aircraft company when they were still part of the Soviet Union like, twenty years ago.” I offer. “He works for Dad’s company now, but he loved to tell me all about the sordid history of Communism and I found it fascinating.”

I won’t bore you with the nitty-gritty as I got Carson started with the October Revolution, Lenin, collectivism, and through to the rise of Stalin. Honestly, it's hours of material but I gave him the exciting cliff notes edition. It was surprising how quickly he became totally enthused by the material.

Carson grinned happily. “Honestly, you totally changed this for me, you should totally be a teacher.”

“No,” I shook my head. “I’m going to be a doctor like my Mom.”

“If you heal people anything you can teach, then you’re going to rock it,” he enthuses. “Alex, I really appreciate this. I was honestly hitting a wall on this stuff.”

“I’m glad I could help,” I admit before pausing. “I have to say though, I’m as surprised that I offered as I am that you actually accepted it.”

Carson shrugs, “I’m not beyond asking for help when I need it or I’d suck as an athlete. I’m normally pretty good in the classroom, but like I said earlier, I get a little stuck sometimes when I can’t work out how to engage.”

“I know what you mean,” I offer as I tidy up my books. “I can get like that sometimes.”

Carson shakes his head and gives me an odd look. “I don’t know why, but I feel like I can just talk to you about this stuff. I don’t feel like I gotta put on the whole Super QB cape.”

I get the feeling I should be picking something up here, but you know me by now, my social radar is basically Soviet technology; it only works when it’s Thursday, and sunny.

“Probably because I’ve nobody to tell that might believe me,” I chuckle darkly. “One of the benefits of being a loner.”

“You’ve got Rick though, right?” Carson points out.

Gerk

“Uh, I mean… I guess, we are friends, I suppose,” I admit, glancing up. His expression is neutral, I don’t think he’s asserting anything in particular. My heart rate did backflip briefly, I’m getting far too sensitive for this shit.

“I can see why he likes you though,” Carson continues as he shoulders his bag. “You’re real easy to talk to and you’re pretty funny. You’re nothing like the other guys.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“I ah… I’m just me,” I shrug.

“Yeah,” Carson agrees as we head for the exit. “That’s just it; you don’t seem to care how others see you, you’re different.”

Oh crap, even my broken social radar is screaming hard like an incoming missile threat.

“I’m no different to anyone really; I just want to get good grades, go to Medical school, and stay out of trouble.” I bluster, hoping it distracts him.

Carson shrugs. “Either way, you’re cool Alex, alright? Thanks for listening to my crap and helping. You didn’t have to and I owe you one, ok?”

He holds the library door open and stands waiting. Confused, it takes me a second to realize that he’s holding the door for me; ostensibly, another boy. If I could facepalm without it making this awkward, I would.

I keep my mouth shut and do what he’s expecting. Honestly, now I know why some guys behave a certain way around me, it’s far easier to go with the groove and just prevent embarrassment or beatings. Hell, maybe it will be funny one day? I might even write a book.

“I ah, I’ll see you around, ok?” I offer with a dweebish wave and a grin. I make like a banana and split before this whole thing becomes even more awkward. How do I manage to do this? Do I spray pheromones at boys like some kind of lady skunk? (Please don’t overthink that statement)

If this was fiction it would be hilariously awkward and not a little bit adorable. We’d all have a good laugh at the protagonist’s cringeworthy attempts not to attract the unknowing guys to her ‘true feminine self’. In real life, it's quite worrisome and not a little confusing. I managed to navigate one boy catching feelings for me successfully, the odds of two going the same way aren’t very likely.

I don’t want to date Carson, let me make that abundantly clear for you, dear reader. Sure, he’s a nice guy and he’s certainly an attractive guy, but I’m not interested. Rick and I are still working out what we are, but I’m positive that he’s more than enough for me.

What my exit from the nerd cloister is teaching me is that boys who are less familiar with me are picking up what I’m not trying to put down a great deal easier. It could be that unfamiliarity, or it could be that, unlike my nerdy brethren, they have more social experience than a chaste kiss on the cheek from granny at Christmas. The real problem here is that it’s spreading and far too soon.

What am I getting myself into?

 

 

“Holly?”

Parental yelling apparently does not change, even when you transition.

I stick my head out of my bedroom door and glance around suspiciously; the hallway is empty. “What?” I yell back.

Mom crests the staircase and raises an eyebrow. “Yelling what isn’t very ladylike, darling.”

“I’m a work in progress,” I shrug, “wazup?”

“I was going out to grab some groceries that we’re low on. Do you want to come with me?”

My homework is done and this seems like a good opportunity to stretch my legs. “Sure Mom, give me a few minutes?”

Mother dearest fixes me with a knowing look. “I know this is all exciting and new, but we’re going to the superstore for groceries. You do not need a full face of makeup, Holly Juliette Winters.”

Sunday names, and not even a crime committed yet. Well, that’s me told.

I joined Mom in the car a little under ten minutes later. While I might not have put a ton of makeup on, my hair was being rather rebellious and needed serious taming before I was fit for public consumption. I might not have gone over the top with my cosmetics, but I did need to avoid looking like a Halloween fright doll.

For my outfit, I ended up going with a simple pair of jeans, sneakers, and a nice cozy sweater. As far as outfits go, it wasn’t hugely removed from what I might have worn as Alex. The more important difference was that I now stood up tall and didn’t hide my body. Comfort is strangely beautiful in its own way.

Going to the superstore isn’t exactly exciting rip-roaring transgender drama, I know. Honestly, this made it into the book because it was one of the most normal experiences that I’ve had since my coming out. Even something as mundane as grocery shopping can really plant formative memories in one's young life when it’s finally a comfortable experience.

“Here you go miss,” the lady at the deli counter hands me the package and I place it into our cart. It’s a stupid little thing, but It makes me happy to hear it now. Now, it’s correct and it’s not giving the game away or ruining my secret. Now I’m not remotely ashamed to be called Miss, now I’m proud.

Mom returns from whatever she was grabbing and takes over pushing the cart down one of the isles.

“What do you want to do for dinner tonight? I was considering doing a casserole.” she muses as we pass between isles of canned products.

I give her a look, “Casserole would be ok. You seem unusually domestic, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” she replies examining a can.

“Come on, we don’t do groceries midweek,” I accuse, smelling Rattus Rattus. “What’s this really about?”

Mom glances around and looks a little sheepish. “I know how much I work, and I’m not around for you as much as I was for Chrissie when she was younger. I was trying to make some time to do normal things with you as mother and daughter.”

God, this moment still makes me cry to this day. It was one of the most human moments I ever witnessed from my Mom. She was doing her best to be there for me when I needed her the most. Even though she wasn’t really sure what she was doing, she was trying her best. Yeah, grocery shopping isn’t going to change the planet, but right then, picking up milk and cold cuts felt like the most valuable time in the world.

The cart abandoned, I pulled her into a hug right there in the canned vegetable aisle. “Thanks, Mom,” I murmur into her shoulder. “I love you.”

Mom squeezes me back, “I love you too, baby. I’m sorry that I’m not very good at this.”

“I don’t need you to be good at this,” I admit with a sniff. “I just need you to be my Mom. We’ll work this out as we go.”

Mom leans back and strokes my hair. “I can do that baby, I’m just afraid that I’ll let you down in the process. I should have said something sooner; when I realized what was going on. I love you more than any of this rubbish and I shouldn’t have let you suffer.”

I laugh, which catches both of us by surprise. “Mom, I would have denied it if you had. I don’t think I was quite ready to face this until very recently. I’m not sure if it was Kara and Megan, or even realizing that I wasn’t going to make it to college as I’d planned. The truth is, I was lying to myself as much as I was to everyone else. I knew what I was, but I was afraid of everything. Afraid of taking the risk and trying, afraid that I would never get the chance.”

“Are you still afraid?” She asks uncertainly.

“I am, but I know that I have you and the rest of the family. Heck, I have Kara and Megan, and I have…” I blush as I realize was about to say that I had Rick too. It takes me a second to remember that’s ok and that I don’t need to be embarrassed about liking a boy anymore, “...and, I have Rick,” I add, with more certainty than I feel. “I’ve got everyone I need, Mom.”

Mom smiles and looks a little more certain of herself. “I worry honey, this is so far outside my specialty that I feel a little lost. Unlike at work, I don’t get to wash my hands and tell myself I did my best if it all goes wrong. You’re my child and I’m afraid I’ll make a mistake.”

“As far as I’m concerned Mom, you’re doing just great. I was convinced that everyone would hate me. As far as I’m concerned, anything beyond acceptance is a bonus.”

We continue pushing the cart along the aisle as we talk. “That’s a very shrewd way to look at it Holly,” Mom points out. “You shouldn’t have to look at life that way at your age.”

“I had to grow up pretty quickly,” I point out.

“I’m sorry.”

I shrug, “You don’t need to be; the past is the past. Honestly? I’m just overjoyed that I’ll even get a chance to be me finally. Any outcome from this point onward is a good one. I can live with whatever comes next and I’ll do whatever I can to be the best daughter I can. Once I work out what that is, I guess.”

“When you unearth that secret, let me know,” Mom chuckles. “I was a daughter once myself and I have no idea what that is.”

We turn down another aisle and Mom starts referencing her list. I catch sight of myself in one of the glass-fronted cabinets and cannot help but stare. The girl looking back at me seems a little surprised, but she looks comfortable and carefree. From the bushy ponytail to the relaxed posture, she looks…I look, content?

Contentment is a new and unusual feeling for me. It’s not an emotion I’ve ever really felt before in my young life. Try to imagine spending the day with a small pebble in your shoe; no matter how much you shuffle it, you know it’s there and it either irritates you or it outright hurts. It’s always there until you finally take off the shoe and shake it out. Even then, your mind is still aware of the pebble’s effects for some time.

I’ve got a long way to go, but I’m throwing that damn pebble out and life is starting to feel pretty good without it.

 

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