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he’s ten years old, dressed in baggy hand me downs and his curly hair is sticking up in every direction. his parents are talking in the kitchen, using those hushed tones he’s learned to associate with worry or stress. the last time they spoke like that was when he’d cut off his pigtails and had to be taken to get his hair evened out professionally. the stylist wouldn’t shut up about “all that pretty hair” and tried to comfort the crying boy by telling him it would grow back.
he hadn’t been crying because his pigtails were currently sitting at the bottom of the kitchen trash can, but he couldn’t tell her that.
tomorrow is the first day of school and his parents trying to figure out small things like who’s going to walk him to the bus on mondays because elaine usually has at least three new cases added to her workload and can’t be late. doug assures her he can do it as long as she’s able to pick him up on fridays, but not too early because the honors reading program meets for thirty minutes after school is out. his father then murmurs something about the dress and matching bows his grandmother bought him for his first day of school. his mother shushes him and murmurs something back about letting their baby wear what she wants.
she clears her throat seconds later and says, “he. what he wants.”
“he? elaine what are you-”
“he told me that he’s a boy.”
there’s silence and he presses himself into the wall, hoping he can’t be seen.
“so what do we call… him? danny?”
“duke.”
the voice is so small it’s barely heard over the soft hum of the dishwasher.
doug and elaine turn, surprise on both of their faces when they see him in the doorway. his fingers are messing with the hem of his shirt and he hasn’t quite looked at them yet.
they don’t force him to.
“in my game…dukes are rulers of regions of kingdoms and sometimes former royalty. they’re really noble. i like ‘em,” he finally looks at them but doesn’t stop fiddling with his shirt.
“that’s a nice name. a good, strong name. duke.” elaine nods and slowly makes her way over to him.
doug hesitates because he doesn’t quite know what to say. when he regains his composure he moves to join his wife and son.
his son.
he bends down toward him and smiles, “so i guess you’re the duke of gotham, hm?”
duke’s eyes light up and he grins, nodding.
“and what’s your first decree as duke of gotham?” elaine asks.
“ice cream for dinner!”
“he didn’t even have to think about it. we shouldn’t have given him this power.” doug laughs, lifting duke in his arms.
later that night when duke is in bed, elaine and doug are still in the kitchen, smiles gone and they’re talking in hushed murmurs again. their immediate acceptance just reminds them that not everyone will be like them. the teachers have to be notified. someone has to tell them to call duke by his name. what about bathrooms? his friends who knew danielle and are expecting to see a little girl with pigtails tomorrow? will everyone respect his wishes?
“he’s just a kid, how does he even know-”
“he knows.” elaine cuts her husband off before he can finish.
“i know, i just,” doug runs his hand over his face, “tomorrow we’re sending him into a war zone.”
“we are and on some level, i think duke knows that. he’s smart, always had been. we can tell his teachers and the administration and he can explain it to his friends, but it’s up to them to respect his wishes.” she sighs deep and heavy, her body sagging against her husband’s, “we’re going to be fighting with people on his behalf until the day we die, doug. we signed up for that ten years ago and his gender identity doesn’t change anything.”
they’re silent for a while; elaine trying to think positively and doug prepping himself for possible confrontation tomorrow.
“he’s a special kid, huh?”
“yeah, yeah he is.”