“Have you tried to talk to him about rejuvenating?” Grandpa asked.
“He won’t listen,” Mom said, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I’ve almost given up trying. I bring it up every few months, still, but...”
We heard a door open somewhere, and changed the subject.
The next morning, I joined Grandma in the kitchen as she was mixing pancake batter, and helped out. I set Desiree on the corner of the kitchen table, and she chatted with us while we worked.
Grandpa, Mom, Nathan and Dad joined us one by one as we finished fixing breakfast and sat down to eat. When Mom had come in, but Nathan and Dad were still in bed, Mom said to Grandma, “Peter’s sleeping late — he did most of the driving yesterday.”
Grandma nodded and said, “He insisted on doing more than his share of the driving again, didn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Mom sighed. She glanced toward the hall that led to the bedrooms. “He doesn’t know I’ve been rejuvenated, but he does know I’ve had fewer health problems than he has lately, and he still wants to do 80% of the driving on a long road trip.”
“Health problems?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
“He’s had stomach ulcers a few times over the last couple of years,” she told me. “They started back when he was out of work for a while, and came back a few months after he got the job in Durham. And there’ve been other things... we’re not sure what’s going on. He hasn’t had as much energy as he used to.”
“Have you tried to talk to him about rejuvenating?” Grandpa asked.
“He won’t listen,” Mom said, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I’ve almost given up trying. I bring it up every few months, still, but...”
We heard a door open somewhere, and changed the subject. Dad came into the kitchen a few minutes later and served himself some pancakes. Nobody said anything for half a minute or so; then Nathan said, “How’d you sleep, Dad?”
“All right,” he said. “Woke up a couple of times, but didn’t stay awake long.”
“That’s good,” Nathan said.
Silence again. Eventually, Grandpa said, “Peter, you want to go out and take a look at the garden after breakfast? I’ve been doing some tinkering with the water feature.”
“Sure, that sounds good,” Dad said.
Okay, so we just had to get through breakfast somehow...
* * *
An awkward half-hour later, in which Grandpa and Nathan did most of the talking, I excused myself, put my plate in the dishwasher, and went to the restroom. When I got back, Dad and Grandpa had gone out into the garden to look at the fountain. Dad hadn’t eaten everything on his plate, which would have been unusual back when I lived with him, but which Mom said was pretty common nowadays.
When Mom and Nathan had finished eating, we moved into the living room and started a game of Parcheesi. We finished that game (Grandma won) and played most of a game of Scrabble before I saw Dad again. He and Grandpa came back in from the garden and we heard water running in the kitchen as they washed their hands. Then Grandpa came into the living room and watched us play for a little while, but I only saw Dad for a moment as he passed from the kitchen down the hall.
I didn’t see Dad again except in passing until supper. He was avoiding me at least as assiduously as I was avoiding him. We ate lunch at different times; Dad was taking a nap when Grandma, Mom, Nathan and I made sandwiches. Nathan and I, and then Mom, Grandma and I, went for a couple of walks, going as far as the public beach on the second one. Grandma and Grandpa didn’t live super close to the beach, but it was walking distance if you were up for a long walk. I enjoyed the day a lot, but it was marred now and then by seeing Dad and wondering if he was going to say something awful or even just stare at me disapprovingly. But when we occasionally passed in the hall or on the porch, he didn’t meet my eyes for more than a moment.
Supper was at least as awkward as breakfast. Nathan, Desiree and I tried to continue the conversation about the MCU movies we’d been having before supper, but it fizzled out, and there wasn’t any free-flowing conversation about anything else, either. And though none of us said very much, Dad said almost nothing.
Mom, Grandma, Desiree and I drove around looking at the Christmas lights in several nearby neighborhoods after it got dark; Dad, Nathan, and Grandpa stayed at the house, watching The Three Godfathers. As we were getting near the house again, I said, “Mom, do you think Dad might be depressed? Like, his health problems aren’t just physical?”
She didn’t reply for a moment. We drove past a house with an elaborate Santa-and-reindeer display that looked hand-painted, lit up with little spotlights. “You might be right. He’s certainly different now than he was before...” She trailed off. Before you ran away and turned into a girl, she carefully didn’t say.
“We really need to get him to a therapist even if he won’t go in a Venn machine. And I guess by ‘we,’ I mean ‘you,’ and maybe Nathan, because I’m the last person in the world he’d listen to.”
Mom sighed. “I’ll talk with him about it.” I could tell she didn’t hold out much hope that he’d listen to her, either.
Desiree snuggled closer to my neck (she was riding on my shoulder so she could see out the window) and Grandma drove us the rest of the way home silence.
* * *
The next day was Christmas Eve. We were going to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s church for a candlelight service in the evening. That left the morning and early afternoon wide-open, and we filled it with another walk, games, and conversation. Dad was rarely present except at meals, again, and didn’t say much when he was.
We rode to the church in different cars, Mom and Dad in theirs and Desiree, Nathan and me in Grandma and Grandpa’s, and met up in the vestibule. Desiree was riding in my purse rather than on my shoulder this time, with her head sticking out. Grandma and Grandpa introduced us to some of their friends before the service. I remembered meeting some of them on previous visits, and it seemed like almost all of them had rejuvenated since I’d seen them two years earlier — so much so that Dad seemed like the oldest person in the room, even though most of Grandma and Grandpa’s friends were their age.
Unfortunately, while all of them were okay with using the Venn machines for rejuvenation and healing, some of them had a problem with how I’d used them. Grandma didn’t go out of her way to introduce us to Mrs. Sproxton, a woman at least ten years older than Grandma who’d rejuvenated to her early twenties, but Mrs. Sproxton found us, and Grandma sighed and gave me an apologetic glance.
“I remember you mentioned Kathy’s family was coming to visit,” Mrs. Sproxton said, and turned to Mom. “You should take better care of yourself, girl. Knock off a few years. Have you even used a Venn machine at all?”
That was an awkward question for Mom to answer with Dad around. Fortunately, though rudely, Dad answered for her. “We don’t believe in using the Venn machines except for life-threatening illness or injury.”
“Why?”
Dad seemed about to answer, maybe in a louder voice than before — I wouldn’t have entirely blamed him, especially after Mrs. Sproxton turned her attention to me a few moments later — but stopped himself. He opened his mouth and closed it for a moment before saying, “I don’t really want to get into a religious argument on Christmas Eve right in front of my in-laws. Talk to me later if you really want to debate it.”
And of course, that was when Mrs. Sproxton looked at me, and said: “So this is your son who ran away and venned into a girl. Remind me what’s his name, Brenda?”
“My name is Lauren,” I said. Mrs. Sproxton looked at Grandma expectantly as if I hadn’t said anything, but Grandma didn’t reply the way she probably expected.
“Lauren and Nathan flew down here Thursday afternoon, a few hours before Peter and Kathy arrived. We’ve had a pretty good visit so far.” Mrs. Sproxton pursed her lips and seemed like she was about to say something else, but Grandma kept going after barely a pause for breath. “Oh, there’s Eileen, she’ll want to say hello to Kathy and the rest too...” And she hustled us along to meet another of her old friends, much more accepting and easygoing than Mrs. Sproxton. Not long after that, we went into the sanctuary and found seats, as the service was almost about to start.
Dad sat to the right of Mom, and then Nathan and I to her left and Grandma and Grandpa to my left. That kept tensions to a minimum, and after a few minutes, during which the pastor lit a candle and the ushers passed the light to each row of pews for us to light our candles from, I was able to relax and mostly forget about Mrs. Sproxton’s rudeness as I listened to the Scripture readings and sang along with the carols.
When we got home, we changed out of our church clothes into more casual things, and gathered in the living room to exchange presents. Until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t expected to see Mom in person around Christmas, and maybe not Nathan either, so I’d mailed them their Christmas presents right after I bought them. They’d brought those in their luggage and put them under the tree with the other presents.
After Grandma had invited me to spend Christmas at her house, and I realized that Mom and Dad were going to be there, I’d gone out with Sophia the next weekend and bought presents for Grandma, Grandpa — and Dad. I hesitated over the last one. If I’d mailed Dad a present back when we weren’t planning to spend Christmas in the same house, I felt like he would have been annoyed at my intruding myself on his attention, even if he’d have been delighted at the same gift if it were from Nathan or Mom. But now, with all of us together in person, it would be more rude to pointedly leave Dad out when I was giving something to everyone else.
So I’d texted Mom and asked her to check his movie shelves, and then I’d bought him a copy of The Mountain Eagle, a lost silent film by Alfred Hitchcock that had been rediscovered in an old theater in Poland a couple of years ago and just released on Blu-Ray. I’d put it in a larger box that Mrs. Ramsey had gotten some books in, and wrapped it, so Dad would have a harder time guessing what was in it — I’d done that with Mom’s book and Grandma’s tulip earrings, too, though Grandpa’s hat was big enough as it was and I didn’t want to bulk up my luggage any more, even though it was going to be venned with Nathan to weigh almost nothing for most of the trip.
Grandma asked everyone what they wanted to drink, and brought in a tray with hot chocolate, hot tea, and decaf coffee. Then they designated me, as the youngest, to take the presents from underneath the tree and hand them out, making a small pile where each person was seated. Then we went around clockwise starting with Grandma, who was the oldest (though she looked twenty or thirty years younger than Dad), opening presents.
We went around the circle a couple of times before anyone opened a present from me. I got a card game from Nathan and the first volume of a new science fiction series “from Mom and Dad,” though I was more sure than ever that Mom had done all the shopping on this one. On the third round, Mom opened the new Diana Gabaldon book I’d bought her (she liked her stuff a lot; I’d read the first one, but didn’t love it enough to read more). The next round after that, Dad opened the movie I’d bought him.
He read the tag, then paused for a moment, visibly resisting the impulse to look at me. After an awkward silence, he read the tag aloud: “...From Lauren.” He hadn’t deadnamed me for the last couple of days, but he hadn’t called me by my chosen name either, or spoken to me at all if he could help it. Hearing him say my name, however grudgingly, felt kind of nice, like I could hope for things to get better someday.
After he tore open the wrapping paper and saw what was inside, he again didn’t say anything for a few moments. He looked at the front of the Blu-Ray case, then flipped it over and read some of the text on the back, and finally told everyone what I’d gotten him.
“It’s The Mountain Eagle,” he said. “A lost Alfred Hitchcock movie that was recently rediscovered. Thank you... Lauren.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome.” He didn’t meet my eyes for more than a couple of moments, but... well, it was progress.
“Maybe we’ll watch it tomorrow,” Grandma said. “Kathy, you’re up next...”
We went on and opened the rest of the presents. Nathan and I didn’t have anything specifically from Mom or Dad; our gifts were marked “From Mom and Dad.” Even though I was pretty sure Mom had done all the shopping, at least for my presents, I made sure to thank both of them. Dad and I didn’t interact any more that night, but I went to bed with a hopeful feeling. I told Desiree about it as we snuggled for a while before I fell asleep.
“Do you think he’s starting to accept you as a girl, or is he just pretending to in front of your mom and grandparents?”
“I don’t know. There was that hesitation when he used my name... but that could just be because he’s still getting used to it?”
“Maybe.” She snuggled closer. “How can you tell the difference?”
I sighed. “Probably just by watching and seeing how he treats me tomorrow. If he’s avoiding me again like he was yesterday and most of today, well...”
“That’s still better than being an asshole like he was back when you first came out, though.”
“Yeah. Either way, I think things are better.”
“I hope tomorrow goes okay for you.”
I have several pieces of short fiction available in epub and pdf formats on itch.io. Most of them are part of ebook bundles where you can get a lot more trans stories for your money (look for the bit that says "Get this story and N more for $X -- View Bundle"). If you're not buying them as part of a bundle, however, you'd be better off buying them as part of my third short fiction collection, Gender Panic and Other Stories (Smashwords, itch.io, Amazon).
