Chapter Text
It was a weekend, he was drunk. Not just tipsy but well and truly drunk, a level of drunk right before blackout where he’d remember most of it but it’d be fuzzy around the edges. It was the amount drunk he hated to get, too close to forgetting but conscious enough to understand. His thoughts were all unfiltered, raw and unsurpressed.
He would’ve had more, he was far enough gone that it truthfully wouldn’t matter much in the morning. Unfortunately for him, he’d left the bar almost an hour ago and finished off the rest of the alcohol he had in his apartment within that hour.
It was a frustrating feeling. Especially as his thoughts swarmed and flowed freely in a way he’d never allow sober. There was one thought that kept popping up though, one that his drunken state wouldn’t let go. What if he really was just a woman? It was a question he had under tight lock and key but tonight there was a hole in the chest that he’d buried the thoughts in. They leaked out, seeping into the soil and out into the air, forcing him to breathe them in, to think them.
They constricted around his heart and he felt desperate for an escape, for some answers. Then, slowly, he remembered that he had every answer to every question at his very fingertips.
So, alone on his bed on a Saturday night, he picked up his phone and opened Google, and typed in “am i actuly s grl”, autocorrect fixing his mistakes as he went. He stared at the result, eyes widening a fraction at the title.
It was an online quiz labeled “Are You a Girl or a Boy?” popped up on his screen. He hovered a finger over it, hesitating. He clicked on it, something fluttered in his stomach. He couldn’t tell if it was hope or dread. A voice in the back of his head whispered that this was a bad idea. That he was better off the way it was.
His eyes flickered to his closet, the dress he’d purchased hanging up, perfectly pristine and ready to wear. He looked back down at his phone. The website stared back, a big green button urging him to start the quiz. It was just a silly internet quiz, it couldn’t be that bad, right?
Hesitantly, he clicked the “Start” button.
He answered the questions quickly, barely reading the words. They were all random, most not having a clearly gendered option. Still, with each question he haphazardly answered something swelled inside him, filling his stomach with something hot and fluttery.
He tried not to overthink his answers, going quickly. After a short 7 minutes and 20 questions later the quiz concluded. He felt a sense of both relief and dread wash over him as the final screen loaded: his results.
He watched, transfixed as the stock image of a woman appeared along with a little description explaining his results.
He didn’t bother to read the blurb about what made him a woman, just stared, blank faced at the bolded words “You are a Girl!”
The text was cheery, celebrating as though it were an achievement. He glared as mocked him. He waited for it to change, for the words to morph into something, anything else. To say it was all some big elaborate prank, pulled at his expense. But they never did. The truth was there, laid out blatantly for him.
The more he read the words the less his mind raged. It focused on one fact, settling with it. He suddenly felt all too sober. He was a woman.
He was a woman.
He was….
But he couldn’t be. It wasn’t who he was. He was Robert Chase, a doctor, a man. He was a man. He couldn’t be anything else.
The results on the screen seemed to scream at him. He felt his cheeks burn with wetness and embarrassment. He threw his phone down on his night stand and turned around. It was just a stupid quiz, it didn’t even know him. Probably if he took it again he’d get man. It was all random anyways.
For some reason he couldn’t quite believe what he was trying to convince himself of.
He rolled onto his back, looking up at his popcorn ceiling as he took a deep breath.
He didn’t have to think when he signed the cross and clasped his hands together, the process had been ingrained into him.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” he began, eyes automatically falling shut even as his face burned with shame, “I pray for you to guide me to your will, to help me see what you are trying to teach me. To follow the path you have laid for me. In Jesus’ name, Amen,”
He opened his eyes and was filled with disappointment when he didn’t feel better instantly. He heard the voices of old primary school teachers insisting that God could fix all, that no matter what God would always make him feel better. Instead his body felt hollow, his mind numb. He turned back over, back away from his phone and away from God. He wasn’t religious anymore, yet he still couldn’t help the burning desire for someone else to lead the way.
That thought only served to turn his numbness into anger, he was a man, he didn’t need anyone else to confirm this. Not God, and not some internet quiz. Even if God could lead the way, he wouldn’t waste his time and fulfil pathetic requests from drunks.
He pulled up the and ignored the tightening in his chest. He was a man. Plain and simple. Why would he ever think otherwise?
He pretended not to notice the way he’d purposefully faced away from his closet where the dress loomed hauntingly, a ghost of the life he could have.