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Aaron had expected her relationship with Katelyn to change after coming out. Rationally, she had known that Katelyn wouldn’t judge her for being trans, but Aaron had never been loved without conditions attached, and even now her mind struggled to grasp onto reason when fear was much more familiar.
Yet, surprisingly, not much had changed between them. Their relationship was as stable and comfortable as it had always been, remained a refuge where Aaron could retreat when the rest of the world was overwhelming – perhaps even more so now, with the knowledge of Aaron’s biggest secret out in the open. When they were alone, when Aaron could pretend they were the only two people in the world, Katelyn liked to refer to Aaron as her girlfriend, and in those moments, every struggle she had faced in her lifetime felt worth it.
Things were certainly not perfect; her discomfort in her body didn’t dissipate in response to the thrill of Katelyn’s easy acceptance, and being consistently referred to as male in her daily life was still a twisting pain in her chest, an almost constant presence that only ever faded into the background when she was either alone or alone with her girlfriend. She wondered every night, staring at the bland ceiling of the dorm she shared with two men – another reminder that the world saw her as one of them – if her search for happiness was truly worth everything she’d fought so hard to achieve.
Aaron had grown up surrounded by shouted slurs and whispered gossip, had met Nicky and shut down immediately in response to the loud way he proclaimed to be everything Aaron had been told was wrong. Being queer was bad enough, being trans was worse; it was never even considered as an option, a shameful secret not to be spoken out loud. She knew the likelihood of things going wrong if she ever chose to tell anyone else. She could lose the friendships she had struggled to form, could be shunned by the team that she had admittedly come to depend on, could lose any opportunities that might otherwise have been offered to her. She already had it bad enough, being a Minyard, coming from a broken home, having a past history of addiction, even having a murder charge on her record.
Katelyn never pushed beyond what Aaron wanted to share. She was a steady presence by her side, someone to lean on, someone she could turn to for advice, never someone who tried to control her as so many others had done.
In the privacy of Katelyn’s dorm, they explored what being a girl meant to Aaron. They discovered together that she preferred minimal makeup, that she could handle lighter products but hated the way heavier products felt on her skin. She let Katelyn walk her through the steps of the makeup routine she’d tried on Aaron that very first time, listened attentively to the way Katelyn described contouring to make her features appear softer or more angular. Aaron still didn’t understand the science of it, the reasoning behind every step, and she had failed miserably on her first few attempts, but she had smiled and laughed and Katelyn had watched her with sparkling eyes, and she’d felt truly happy.
There was safety in keeping this to herself – and Katelyn – as it meant no one could rip away this joy, could taint these moments. It also, however, meant that Aaron couldn’t act in ways that might bring up questions, especially since she had a brother who behaved as though he was entitled to every thought that passed through Aaron’s mind, who believed it was his inherent right to pry into Aaron’s business, nevermind the fact that she wasn’t allowed to do the same to him in return. Katelyn had offered to paint her nails once, and Aaron had felt such strong fury in that moment, knowing that Andrew would consider it out of character for her, wanting so strongly to say yes and forcing herself to refuse instead.
“What about this one?” Katelyn pulled a zip-up jacket from her closet. For the past few days, they had been trying to discover Aaron’s personal style, what called to her when she wasn’t weighed down by what was expected of her as a man.
It had started with a joke, an innocuous comment Katelyn had made about Aaron trying on one of her skirts, and the grimace Aaron had been unable to hide in response. She could recall vague memories of her childhood, of staring at her mom’s makeup with an intensity she could now recognise as envy, of jealousy towards girls who wore dresses and skirts and had their hair styled into pretty braids tied with ribbons. Yet the thought of wearing a skirt now made her stomach twist unpleasantly.
How could she claim to desire so deeply to be a girl and yet feel just as uncomfortable dressing as one as she did when she heard someone casually refer to her as “he”?
Aaron had, reluctantly, expressed those thoughts to Katelyn, who had watched Aaron’s face betray her and immediately turn forcefully neutral. There had been nowhere to escape, with Katelyn straddling her waist, reaching forward to cradle Aaron’s face in one hand, soft and warm.
“Being a girl isn’t about being feminine,” She’d said, “I personally like wearing typically girly clothing like skirts and dresses, but I don’t do it every day. I’m not suddenly no longer a girl if I choose to wear sweatpants tomorrow. Some girls hate stereotypically feminine clothes, so what? You’re not less of a girl for being more comfortable presenting a certain way.”
Aaron hadn’t been able to properly form words, her lungs fighting against her and her throat tight, so she had pulled Katelyn down, kissing her, hoping it could express the depths of her appreciation.
Katelyn was still awaiting a response, standing in front of her overflowing closet, holding up a green colourblock jacket.
“Sure,” Aaron agreed, catching the jacket when Katelyn tossed it into her lap.
It was oversized on Katelyn, which meant it would fit closer to size on Aaron, who carried more weight than Katelyn no matter how often she went to the gym or how healthy she ate. The jacket itself was neither feminine nor masculine, not in its colours or its shape. There was only the knowledge that the manufacturers had created it for women, it was meant to be worn by women.
She shrugged on Katelyn’s jacket. It was soft and worn and smelled of Katelyn’s laundry detergent – it brought Aaron immediate comfort.
She could acknowledge that it was ridiculous, there was nothing truly different between some of Katelyn’s clothes compared to hers. There was no reason for her mind to settle even slightly at the knowledge that she was wearing women’s clothing, for her ever-present self-hatred to lessen into something quieter. Katelyn even shopped in the men’s section at times, claimed the big t-shirts were comfortable as loungewear, and Aaron would never dare to consider her less of a woman for it. No matter how Aaron tried to consider the situation, she could not view herself under the same light as other women, as Katelyn.
“It looks pretty on you.” Katelyn was smiling, and Aaron glanced down at herself. When she looked back up, Katelyn had taken a few steps forward towards her.
Aaron couldn’t see herself as pretty, could not view herself in the way Katelyn claimed to view her. Still, she felt more right than she had in a long time, her girlfriend was smiling at her, and the word pretty played on echo in her mind. Not handsome or hot or attractive, pretty, in Katelyn’s forever genuine voice. Her acceptance, her love, meant more than anyone else’s ever would.