Chapter Text
I pull open the car door and savor the ability to stretch my legs once again. It has been a LONG ride to get home, though fortunately the weather did not make it any worse. That’s a big risk around this time of year. On the other hand, a delay would have let me procrastinate a bit longer, and I really wasn’t looking forward to what would come next. In front of me stood the house that I grew up in and still contains my parents.
My parents that I have not come out to.
I’d be highly tempted to just turn the car back around and head straight back if my legs weren’t holding a protest the French would be proud of.
I try to hype myself up for this ‘Alright Elise, you’re a big girl. You can do this. If your constant looks in the mirror have left you despairing that you haven’t changed, your parents who don’t know they should be looking for anything aren’t going to notice anything.’
I’m in the middle of preparing myself to start getting my suitcase out of the trunk when the front door bursts open, and my mom comes rocketing out of the opened launch door.
“Richie! it’s so good to see you! How have you been? How was the drive? Did you run into any issues? Was the weather bad? How’s Ryan doing these days?” Mom fired off questions like a machine gun, and followed up her barrage by enveloping me in a tight hug.
Ow. It might not be showing yet (annoying), but my nipples have been very itchy and sensitive recently. Being crushed into my mom at high speeds was not a pleasant experience. Of course she doesn’t know this, and I try not to indicate this. It’s fortunate that she can’t see my face right now, because there’s probably at least a bit of a wince.
“It’s good to see you too mom”
Several hopefully less painful looking seconds than they feel later, I am released from my prison, and Mom begins excitedly chattering her way over to the trunk. During which I begin to answer several of the more mundane questions “Drive was uneventful. Weather was fine. Traffic was a bit clogged up in the city but nothing crazy.”
All the while I try not to react to Mom picking up my backpack first, that’s where I packed my hormones. Intellectually I know that she’s not just going to immediately start searching through all of my stuff, but that doesn’t stop my brain from thinking out a hundred panic scenarios.
What if she hears some of the pills rattling?
What if she drops it and everything spills out?
Shut up me! Stop worrying about things that aren’t going to happen, and start worrying about things that will.
Namely the interrogation that was going to be coming soon.
My semester had actually been pretty exciting. I figured out that I was a girl, finally understood the mysteries that had been plaguing me since I was 12, and got way closer to Sarah in the process.
I had no plans to tell my family about any of that.
Obviously I would need to tell them eventually (though the idea of just cutting off contact and moving to where no one knew the old me was tempting), but today was not the day. I’m not particularly sure what my parents’ views on trans people are, they’ve said some odd stuff on queer people in the past, but also seemed to hold the belief that it wasn’t any of their business to interfere with how other people want to live their lives. Either way though, me coming out and saying “Surprise! I’m your daughter, not your son!” is going to be a big shock, and I want to make that change as smooth as possible for them. It would probably be a lot easier for them to accept if I already looked the part, so I want to hold off on telling them until I’ve got some time for the hormones to work their magic. When that day is… I don’t know. I’ve done some research, but the only consistent answer seems to be “depends on the person.” So I’ll just have to wait and see how this plays out.
For now, that means keeping everything under wraps. Which shouldn’t be too hard. Just don’t say anything stupid and revealing. I may be dumb enough to not figure this out until I was 20, but I’m not that dumb.
Finally coming back to reality. I finish unloading the rest of my stuff from my car into the house. Just get it inside first so we don’t have to deal with cold winter weather. With that I finally take my coat off and take a look around.
The house hasn’t changed much in the months since I was here. Same pictures hanging on the wall. Same furniture standing where it always was. Same-
“Hey, Big Dickie!”
Same annoying little sister.
With a sigh, I respond to her greeting “Hi Theresa…”
She stands there with a shit-eating grin. She found out Dick is somehow used as a nickname for Richard at some point in high school and since then it has been her favorite nickname for me ever since. Doing her duty as a younger sibling to annoy the hell out of me I guess. I don’t think she knew I was a girl the whole time but it’s certainly annoying. Whatever higher power decided that a trans girl should get a nickname based on her least favorite body part was being exceedingly cruel.
“Come on slowpoke, dinner’s ready. Dad made your favorite!”
As my arm is dragged to the table by my favorite menace, I smile. I don’t want to give this family up. I just want to be me when I’m here.
~~
So long and it’s like nothing’s changed. I take my usual spot by the window. Theresa is sitting opposite to me, and our parents on either side. Jacob’s not here, he’s busy doing stuff with his fiance’s family tonight, they’ll be around tomorrow. We’ve got food all around the table, everything should be great.
If only I wasn’t so nervous.
“So, son. How’ve you been all year?”
The son hurts but I try to not let that show. It’s not like I don’t get that in the rest of my life all the time. Soon, someday soon I can show them how wrong they are..
“Classes have been going well. 222 gave me a lot of trouble with the teacher constantly changing the requirements to simulate ‘an actual working environment,’ but I got through it in the end and don’t have to go back.”
“That’s good. How’s Ryan doing? You don’t talk about him much over the phone. Did something happen?”
“Not he’s good, I’ve just been spending a lot of time with Sarah recently so there’s not as much to say on Ryan’s end. He’s passed his classes but that’s all the news I’ve got.” Spending a lot of time with Sarah is one way to describe her helping me acquire hormones and deal with the absolute mess that is my head. I can’t tell them that but I’m hoping they don’t pick up on anything.
Unfortunately for me it seems Theresa has got a different implication than one I was intending. “Spending more time with Sarah I see? Does my brother perchance have a girlfriend?” she inquires smugly.
…well shit. Thinking about it, that would be the obvious implication. It’s not like it’s even out of the question. We’ve been good friends for a while and as we found out recently we are compatible as I guess I’m a Lesbian now.
That feels weird to think about.
Ryan even made a few jokes about it. Clearly our Lesbian friend is just pre-ordering a girlfriend before she’s done. Oh wait yeah she’s a Lesbian too, they don’t know I am. An excuse!
“Sarah’s very much a Lesbian, Theresa” I say. I hope the implication is enough. I’d rather not have to spell out the incorrect reasoning to her. Even if I know it’s a lie it still hurts.
“Aww,” my sister pouts.
I try to keep an eye on my parents’ reaction to this. It’s good to have more advanced intel to gauge how my future coming out will go. Unfortunately for me, my parents mostly keep a still face for this. Could mean they’re fine with it, could mean they’re just trying to “not air dirty laundry” as they tend to do.
“Hmm, it's good to see that you’re getting out of your room at least,” Dad states.
Ugh… this again. Look, I admit I was a bit of a recluse in high school. I just felt alone in the world and like I couldn’t understand any of my classmates. Why the hell would you want to brag about your dick so much? At least I still had Ryan. I eventually learned to not try to force myself in with the big cliques and have gotten better. Despite that, it feels like things haven’t changed with Dad and he still always hassles me about it.
“I get out plenty Dad…”
“It’s fine, I’m not trying to start a fight.”
“...Alright, sorry to say I don’t have much else to talk about. I call you every week. Last year was the big exciting one for me. I’m just keeping steady for now.”
Dad looks at me for a second and I briefly wonder if he can tell that’s the fattest lie I’ve ever told, but he moves on and I can feel myself release the breath I was unknowingly holding.
“Fair enough, though I believe turnabout is fair play as you know Theresa.”
My sister squirms as the roles are reversed.
“So dear sister, since you mentioned it. You wouldn’t have happened to acquire a boyfriend recently, would you? I do recall you having Lucas over an awful lot last summer.”
Revenge is sweet.
~~~
Alright, phone charger? Check.
Hoodies? Check
Christmas gifts for family? Check.
Now for the hard part, hiding the hormones. My immediate thought is under some clothes, but what if mom comes in and wants to help clean out some of the old ones? I have been living for a year and a half without most of them. I could try putting the hormones inside my nightstand, but who knows what kind of junk in there might turn out to be suddenly useful and we need to go searching. I could just keep them in my suitcase but I still need to access the antiboyotics every morning, so I’d need to leave the suitcase out, and my parents might question that. I’m tempted to just hide them in plain sight and put them in the bathroom, but that somehow feels like the dumbest argument of all even if it has a decent chance of working.
Fuck, what do I do? What should I do?
Knock Knock Knock
I can hear the voice of my dad through the door. “You in there son? Is unpacking going okay?”
“Uh… yeah Dad everything’s fine”
“Mind if I come in?”
Fuck fuck fuck, code red, if I say no that’s a massive red flag, I need to hide the hormones. Fuck I’ll just put it in my hoodie pocket and hope he doesn’t notice. Oversized hoodies, useful for many things.
“Yeah, sure.”
My dad walks through the door and I try not to act like my heart is beating faster than that rhythm game Sarah really likes playing.
“Hey, Dad. Need something?”
“I just wanted to talk, away from the big intensity of everyone.”
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
“About what?”
“Are you doing okay Richard? Is everything really going well up there in college?”
“Yes Dad, things are going well.”
“Look I know, we haven’t always gotten along, and I know you weren’t doing so well in high school-”
That’s an understatement.
“So I just want to make sure things are going smoothly. I don’t want you to feel like you have to bottle everything up until it bursts.”
“Do I not seem fine?” I ask, trying to get a read on what’s going on here.
“You do, but you also seem worried about something. I don’t know if it’s some trouble with friends, worried about some grades, or something else. Or maybe I’m just overthinking this.”
Fuck, he’s caught on that I’m acting off. I don’t want to just tell him, it’s way too early for this.
“Look Dad, I’m fine. Heck if anything I think I’m probably doing better these days than I have… maybe ever. I think I’m just a bit tired after the long drive and then the interrogation at the dinner table.”
“Fair enough. I’m glad to hear that. I just want to make sure given that I can’t see you that often now that you’re off at college making your own place.”
I give dad a smile. Things were rough between us for a while. I don’t think we really ever clicked with each other (for reasons that seem obvious now), and he put a lot of pressure on me in high school. But it’s good to see that, regardless of everything, he still cares.
“I’ll let you back to unpacking. Don’t want to waste your time, just don’t make too much noise tonight. Don’t wake us up, and we won’t wake you up.”
I smile at the in-joke, me and my parents have very different sleep schedules to put it lightly. It’s caused a few issues over the years but fortunately we learned to coexist in the same building.
“Will do dad.”
“Thanks Richie, and just remember. I love you no matter what,” he finishes with a warm smile.
No matter what. He specified that.
Does he know?
I mean, how would he know? I don’t think he saw the pills? Did he notice my face looks slightly softer despite me not having seen him in months? Hell did he put the signs together even before I did?
I don’t know
But, more importantly, should I do it? I mean he said, no matter what. That means he’d accept me right?
But what if it means he’d still love me even if he didn’t love me . Transgender identities still aren’t exactly the most common things. Hell I’m not even sure if he’s even interacted with queer people before. No one else in our extended family is queer (as far as I know at least). He could have no idea I’m thinking about coming out as trans, and thinking it’s something else.
Stick with the plan.
“I love you too Dad,” I reply, trying not to let my voice betray my inner turmoil.
~~~
Christmas morning has somewhat worn out its luster over the years. When you’re a kid, the prospect of getting presents is thrilling. I recall quite a few times when I had trouble sleeping the night before. As the years go on and you get your own money from summer jobs that you can spend on things by yourself, it loses its wonder a bit. Once you move out of the house you rediscover it as a time to just see everyone again after you’ve been off on your own for so long. But it appears I’ve discovered the secret fourth phase to the approach to Christmas morning, dread. As you get older, your parents have a habit of getting you less exciting fun toys and more clothes and essentials they think you need. Normally that’s still good if not exciting, but normally they aren’t buying clothes for the wrong gender for you.
So I’m going to need to sit there and pretend to be pleasantly unenthused at minimum towards the inevitable polo shirts I’ll be getting. My distaste for formal menswear was not a secret in this family. I never liked how they felt and ties were an unholy invention in my opinion (who thought that strangling yourself with a floppy piece of fabric was a good idea?). But regardless of my desire on the subject, my parents had the opinion that they were still necessary. Given that I wasn’t likely to get them on my own, formal wear had a tendency to show up in my gifts. Not everything of course, but they were there.
And now I had to pretend that they weren’t part of the biggest thing I was trying to hide from my life right now, great.
Alright Elise, you can hold yourself together. It’s not like you’ll even have to wear them many times, college doesn’t demand it on many occasions and I’ll be coming out before I need to get around to job interviews and other junk like that anyways. Hell you could probably burn them the second you get back to the dorm and no one would know. At least I wouldn’t have to pretend to get excited about them, that would be out of character if anything.
I steel myself and head downstairs for the morning, at precisely 8am and no sooner. We negotiated Christmas wakeup time last night and I was not going to waste any of the wonderful sleep I was allowed.
“Merry Christmas sleepyhead!” Mom called from the living room.
“Merry Christmas early birds,” I return.
“Is Theresa up yet?” Mom asks me.
“I heard her bumping around earlier, I think-.” I start before I’m cut off.
“I’m here.” my sister grumbles from behind me. She’s just wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, and her hair is a complete mess. She likely just rolled out of bed, and yet she still looks better than anything I’ve ever seen in a mirror.
Bad Elise! Don’t get jealous of your sister now, there’s time for self-pitying later.
“What are you looking at?”
“Just watching your hair have a party,” I quip back.
“Hey! Long hair takes work, not like you’d know.”
Well if I have any luck, I will.
DING DONG goes the doorbell, as if it was purposely trying to interrupt our bickering.
“Oh that must be Jacob and Rebecca! Let’s all go say hello!” Mom says excitedly.
Knowing that the time was in the past for sibling bickering. We head to go greet our older brother, while both being very underdressed.
My brother is the same as the last time I saw him. Like a slightly taller version of everything I do not want on myself. Not to say he looks bad or anything, he’s just… very man. We never got along well growing up, our parents tried to force us to do things together growing up but we would clash a lot. Eventually we just kinda drifted apart, and stayed out of each other’s way. This mutual understanding has lasted for quite a while, and I doubt much is going to change about that.
His fiance, Rebecca follows behind him. She’s nice enough (and definitely gives me some of what I can now recognize as envy), but I don’t really know much about her. Jacob only met her last year after I went off to college, and I didn’t get to see that much of her last summer. I say a polite hello when she walks in, but I don’t really know her well enough to do anything more substantial.
It’s soon time for gifts, we all gather around the tree. My parents pull up chairs for themselves, Jacob and Rebecca take the couch, leaving me and Therersa to just sit on the ground.
We distribute various piles and I look through what I’m going to have to react to. There’s one that’s obviously a book of some kind, and one that’s clearly a box for clothes. Nothing else seems really obvious but we’ll have to see what comes.
As for my gifts to family, I went as cheap as I could this year while still trying to make something nice. Having to deal with the unexpected expense of getting hormones meant my finances were tight right now. I went to the lab at college to use a 3d printer to make a vase for Mom. I did something similar for Jacob and Rebecca, making a heart shaped picture frame with some of their engagement photos inside. For Theresa, I got Sarah to draw some art for a band she’s into in exchange for helping her with her paper all night before it was due. Dad’s was the one gift I spent actual money on since I was out of ideas and just got him the same thing he asks for every year, golf balls. Not the most impressive, but he never complains.
Then it was my turn.
It wasn’t all bad, I got a fantasy book that looked interesting even if it could serve dual purpose as a brick. Some nicer headphones were nice, my old ones were falling apart at this point, but I couldn’t run from the suspiciously large and flat box forever.
“Hmm… wonder what’s in this one. Could be a box.” I joke. It gets a few chuckles from the family. It’s hard to go wrong with the classics.
Knowing that I couldn’t delay any further I gradually undo the wrapping paper to unearth the box inside. Taking a quick look inside I can indeed confirm that my suspicions are correct. Ugh, another polo.
I’m not going to cry or anything, it’s not like they knew better, and it’s not like I don’t get gendered male every single day anyways. I’m just sick of this.
“Thanks mom!” I say, trying my hardest to not reflect the extent of my inner turmoil. I think it came across as polite indifference at least.
“Show it off at least Richie,” Mom chides.
“Okaaaay,” I reply. Trying to come across as playful and sarcastic and not resentful.
I take the garment out of the box and demonstrate it to the family. It’s not ugly or anything. I like the blue/white color scheme. It’s just really not me.
Satisfied by my exhibition of male fashion, my family moves on, while I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ve gotten through the hard part.
Well, one of the hard parts at least.
There’s still the big dinner with extended family tonight, and that’s a lot more eyes on me that could potentially notice something is off.
Happy holidays Elise…